Anarchy

It's difficult to see her room destroyed in this way. She'd felt above reproach for too long and though it feels foolish to be so impacted by this, it's good in a way. It reminds her to remain vigilant. To not let her guard down. She'd just seen three young women sacrificed by their own people hours ago and even know it felt like everything happening was outside of these walls. Like none of it could touch her.

But it had.

The white oak stake is gone as are her confessions. The truth of who she is.

Elena wedges the floorboard back in place after throwing the fairy crosses and the first edition of Little Women in her bag. She runs cold water in the bath and carefully lathers soap over the wolf pelt. Watching bloody water run down the drain and theorizing who might have done this to her.

Astrid is the only real contender on her list.

She was the one of few vampires who had remained at the compound during the raid on the Harvest. And the only one among those few who hated her. They'd been poking each other for weeks and she shouldn't be surprised that it had accumulated to this. It all felt so personal. The way she tore Marcel's present to pieces. The tattered cards on the ground. Destroying the wolf pelt.

The white oak stake puzzles her. There's no logical explanation for why she would take it. She sincerely doubts Astrid has any clue what it was considering the rarity involved.

As she's hanging the wolf pelt over the bathtub to dry, there's a knock at her door. She keeps her hand steady on the doorknob. "Marcel," she greets him, her tone remaining impassive. "Can we skip breakfast this morning?"

"I didn't come here to take you to breakfast, Katherine." She watches him for traces of last night. She wants to know - if she hadn't seen him at the Harvest with her own eyes, would she see it on him now? "I have something important to show you."

"It can wait."

"I wish it could, but I need you." Elena is careful to keep the door cracked only enough for this conversation, but it's difficult to shut Marcel out entirely. He's taller and she can't account for that. "What happened here?"

She purses her lips and opens the door begrudgingly. Watching him from the corner of her eyes to see a hint of recognition. Finding none. "I don't know. I went out for a drink and when I came home it was to this."

"Who did this, Kat?"

Turning the question around on him is appealing but she holds her tongue. "I honestly don't know."

"Do you want help cleaning up?" He seems so shocked when he sees the typewriter broken and spread out in bits across the floor. Seeing him like this, she can't imagine him having any part of this. "Shit, Katherine."

Marcel looks genuinely upset, holding up a handful of keys in his palm. Trying to pick up the typewriter and having it fall apart in his hands. Elena bends down next to him, collecting the torn remains of the playing cards she never got to gift him. "I meant to give this to you as a present. It's silly. Not much really. Just a set of playing cards."

He stares at her for such a long time, studying her face, that she begins to feel self-conscious. And then his hand is on her shoulder and he's closing the gap between their bodies. Moving them to stand. A gentle kiss on her forehead makes her want to break but she won't. "I've had too much on my mind lately and it's a terrible excuse. But maybe, I don't know, maybe if I had I would have been able to help with this. How long has this been going on?"

She holds her breath, trying to figure out what he's talking about because she doesn't want to admit she doesn't know. She doesn't have to.

"Since the Halloween party?" he asks and he's so quiet as he hovers over her. Holding her in his body like he's her protection. And maybe she used to think of him that way, but between the wolves and the witches she's not sure anymore.

"I can deal with it, Marcel."

"I know. I didn't mean to insinuate that you couldn't. I just want to help." He pushes her hair back and his hands are so warm against her cheeks. He holds her like he'd never let her go. She's thought about it many times, but this is the first time it's made her nervous. "Maybe you can move your things into my room until you figure the situation out?"

"Yeah. Maybe." She nods, offering him a pale smile. "What is it you needed to show me?"

Marcel extends his hand out for her and she regards it with a distant curiosity. This hand had welcomed her to New Orleans and offered her a place to stay. This hand had warmed her body, trailing ecstasy down her skin. This hand had swiftly cut down his enemies, cursed the wolves and interfered in witch affairs.

And she takes it.

Walks through the hallways with him, up another set of stairs to his bedroom. All the while he explains to her what happened last night and she nods along silently as though she hadn't been there.

It's strange to hear his side of events. The way he describes taking his most trusted inner circle to stop the Harvest. How barbaric it was to see those young girls cut down by the hands of people they trusted most. He had seen blood that night, but Elena saw the tears.

"How did you find out about it?" It had been on her mind since she saw him in the cemetery last night.

"Before he left, Father Kiernan warned me."

"How did he know about it?" There's a shocked quality in the question, edging towards scorn. She's quick to add an explanation without being asked. "The witches aren't the sharing sort. And Kiernan didn't seem like the kind to take sides."

"It's true." Marcel tilts his head in that particular way she still finds charming despite her better judgement. "Sophie only approached him after the charity ball. After Agnes and he got into it over the Harvest. She was trying to convince him. Make him see the necessity of the Harvest."

"Sophie?" Elena's hand loosens in Marcel's but he doesn't let go. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"The truth? Because I want you to know." He leads her up the stairs and she looks over her shoulder to see if anyone is following them. But in the early morning hours, no one else is moving about the compound. "Speaking of. I'd appreciate a little bit of that from you, Katherine. Where is it you've been disappearing off to?" She swallows and keeps her lips pressed softly together.

"Am I not allowed to be on my own, Marcel?" She tries to tease, but she's too worried. They've arrived at his door, but he doesn't move to open it. Let's her hand go so he can cross his arms over his chest.

"You know that's not why I'm asking." He levels her with quiet certainty. His eyes pierce through her like he knows more than she's ever let on. "I know you've been going somewhere. I notice when you're not here. Just tell me the truth. I need to know before I open this door."

She clenches her jaw, feeling trapped with no way out. It's a test she hasn't studied for and still knows the answers. He's caught her and seeing if she'll tell the truth. "I've been meeting with the Deveraux witches." He nods like he isn't surprised and Elena feels a strange relief bloom in her chest at having passed. "Jane-Anne was the first person I met in the city."

"Did you know about the Harvest before now?" His voice is low. A hushed whisper that she matches without knowing why. "Were you fine with it?"

"I wasn't. That's why I kept leaving. To meet with Sophie. To try to help her convince them not to go through with it." Elena bites her lip unsure of why she wants so badly for him to believe her. That, of all the secrets she keeps from him, condoning the Harvest isn't one of them. "I wanted to think the best of them."

"That's what I like about you." Marcel reaches out to her, carving a line across her cheek with his thumb. "But do you know now that you can't trust them? The lengths they are willing to go to alone-"

"Sophie isn't like that."

"I know Sophie Deveraux." He holds her jaw in his hand. Licks his lips like he's afraid to tell her something. Looking at him, she knows how easy it would be to fall back into him. It's always been her fatal flaw. Forgiving anything for a pretty face. "We go back. Were involved. I'm assuming she told you. But I broke it off before I ever started pursuing you."

"You think she's a scorned woman?" Elena shakes her head, diverting her eyes from his. "Fed me lies?"

"I think she's been gone from this city for too long to know up from down. I think she wants to believe the best from her people just like you want to believe the best from her. Just like I used to." Marcel tilts her chin to look at him again. "And I think sometimes we need to know when to stop believing and see what is right in front of us."

"What if what's right in front of us is just as confusing?"

"Here." His hand is off her chin and on the door handle. She shouldn't notice the way her body reacts to his hands when they're no longer on her but she does. "Let me show you something that I think might clear it up."

She's not sure what to expect when he opens the door to his bedroom, but it certainly wasn't another girl in his bed. This tiny thing surrounded by his heavy wooden furniture. Her small frame moves softly with the slow breathing of a deep sleep. Marcel treads lightly, rounding the corner of his bed to stand near the girl. Elena recognizes her as the only witch who survived the ritual last night.

"Marcel." He holds his finger to his lips and she lowers her voice. "What is this?"

"Her name is Davina." Marcel looks down at her and she recognizes the look in his eyes. Pride. "She was the only girl I was able to save last night. The only girl who fought back."

"What are you doing with her here?" She stays by the end of the bed, watching Marcel with the girl. "What about her parents?"

"Her family was willing to kill her. I can't send her back to them." Marcel's lip curls with blatant disgust at the idea. "I may not be perfect, but I would never. Never hurt a child. I'd be signing her death sentence if I sent her back."

"You're just going to keep her in the Abattoir?" Elena grips the end of the bed to keep her feet planted in one spot. To stay instead of joining Marcel. "They'll come looking for her."

"Let them. Katherine. This." Marcel pushes back Davina's hair from her face to emphasize his point. "This is why I can't rule beside them. There is a lot I'm willing to do for my people. For this city. But not this. Never this. Do you understand?"

Watching him hovering protectively over the girl makes her think about Jeremy. Her chest aches with the thought. The strange mix of hope and nostalgia that leaves her wondering how different her life may have been if a vampire like Marcel had tried to save her. Someone like him instead of the ones she got.

They make a pretty picture. Marcel with his unabashed affection and Davina with her angelic face. Elena could step forward and take her place next to him. Fill out the picture even more. This sacrificial lamb and the two lions that took her in.

But it's not as simple as he wants to present it.

She knows that Marcel's morality is more flexible than he wants to admit. The bold assertion that he would never hurt a child makes her want to ask about the wolves. Ask if he'd thought about the pack's children when he cursed them. She wonders how old Jackson was when it happened. Was he a child who had to grow up without parents because of a decision Marcel made decades ago?

Where was the line drawn when it came to hurting children? Was it only about killing them?

Elena has known for a long time that some deaths don't require even an ounce of spilled blood. Some deaths are deeper. "I do. I understand."

"I know how you must be feeling right now." Marcel leaves Davina's side and is at hers in a few quick strides. "About Jane-Anne and Sophie. But when it came down to it they were both willing to let Monique die."

"Sophie didn't –."

"Sophie went to an old man." Marcel reaches out for her hands once again. Holding them both in his and bringing them to his chest. "A human that couldn't have done a damn thing to stop it. When she could have come to me."

"What would you have done if she had?" she asks, glancing back at the lamb. It makes her feel so old. This girl with the sacrifice still fresh on her face makes Elena think of her own as being much longer ago than it actually was. She's tricked herself into thinking that she's over it. And looking at Davina helps with the lie.

Helps her to feel older.

"Anything to keep those children safe." He tries to hide it but Elena catches that dark thought passing through his eyes. Knows that Sophie's fears would have come true if she'd given Marcel more advance notice. He slinks behind her, positioning her purposefully to face Davina. His hands are on either side of her arms when he bends down to whisper in her ear. "What do you think about moving your things here? About staying tonight? I've missed you, Katherine."

She leans into him, letting a chill fill her body. Bringing her hand to his. She keeps her chin down while glancing up at him to catch a smile. Demure like in those old black and white movies she loves so much. "I'll collect my things."

"Then, I'll see you tonight." Marcel holds her. Wraps his arms around her and smiles so broadly that it breaks her heart. Standing here with him, her thoughts with Sophie and her heart with Jackson, she wonders how many multitudes can exist in one woman before it shatters her from the inside out.

On her way back to her room, she catches Thierry and Diego with their heads together. Mercy approaches them, hesitating at the invisible circle the surrounds the men before Diego waves her into it. Vampires inviting vampires in.

While Diego watches Mercy walk closer, he catches sight of Elena next to the railing. Nudges Thierry and eventually Mercy catches on. She leans against the railing, watching them as they watch her. The men don't smile, but there's a light in Mercy's eyes. Not quite a smile. Not quite anything.

Thierry is the first to leave. Elena nods at Mercy and she returns her focus back to Diego. Elena returns to her task.

It's easy to pack her things when half of them have been destroyed. She lays out her clothes and leaves the dresses behind. Packs up her bathroom and touches the pelt, running her thumb over the dry fur. Folding it carefully and hiding it in her bag under her shirts. She pushes the wreckage under the bed, the ruined typewriter and her playing cards, and it feels like destroying what little hope she had left.

The room is as abandoned as she is now. Full of only ruined and pretty things.

She shoulders her bag set to return to Marcel's room. It will be safer for her but will make it harder to come and go. And she's eager to talk to Davina once she wakes up. To get her perspective of the Harvest.

Except when she returns to Marcel's room, both he and Davina are gone. She unpacks her clothes and sets them on top of the dresser. But she's learned her lesson now. Keeping the wolf pelt safe is her priority.

While he is away, Elena uses his absence to her advantage. Slings her bag across her body and begins the walk to Rousseau's. She approaches an empty bar. It's still too early to be busy but she didn't want much of audience here for her first time seeing Jane-Anne since the Harvest. She's too anxious and nervous to bear the idea of a crowd.

"Hey," a blonde woman greets her with a smile. Turning the corner with a box of booze in her arms. "Can I get you something?"

Elena glances down at her name tag – Camille. "Is Jane-Anne in? Or Sophie?"

"Sophie's in the back." Camille nods to the storeroom. Leaving her a menu that she doesn't need. "Take a seat and I'll grab her for you."

She eyes a table in the corner, far enough away from the few customers to allow the kind of discretion she needs. Sits down and situates the bag across her lap. Tapping her nails against the buttons until she sees Sophie round the corner from the backroom with Camille at her heels. They split off and each step Sophie takes toward Elena she can feel her heart beating faster.

She's not sure what else to say. Sophie looks so fragile like at any moment she might break and Elena knows there isn't anything she can say to take away the pain. Everything that comes to mind feels insufficient so she doesn't say any of it. "I'm surprised to see you working."

"I'm surprised to see you here so soon." Sophie takes the chair next to her. The two women turn their back to the rest of the bar like it's only the two of them.

"How's Jane-Anne?"

"She's adamant that it would have worked if Marcel hadn't gotten involved. Won't leave her bed. Just keeps muttering about how he shouldn't have been there. That Monique would have been fine if he'd stayed out of it." Sophie leans on one hand, massaging her temple. "Katherine. You didn't tell him, did you?"

"I wouldn't." It doesn't even occur to her to tell her about Father Kiernan. To warn her about trusting people she shouldn't.

"Shit. I'm sorry." Sophie leans forward, bent over the table. "I shouldn't have asked. Jane-Anne is paranoid. Thinks you sabotaged it. She's getting in my head."

"Don't be sorry."

Elena slides her hand across Sophie's shoulder and rests her chin against her arm. Sophie takes a sharp inhale and sits up. "How are you? Were you able to get back to the slaughterhouse?"

"Yeah. I got back fine. Soph." Elena shakes her head, not wanting to tell her anything about her room being ransacked. "What's next?"

"I'm not sure. My sister won't really talk to me about it." Sophie's gaze wanders around the wall. She breathes out slowly and intentionally. Elena is familiar with all the tricks to suppress tears. "Not like anyone else will now. I can only pick up bits and pieces when she's on the phone. They're looking for Davina. The last Harvest girl."

"What do you think about it all?"

"I don't know. I don't want to think about any of this. We're burying Monique." Her niece's name gets caught in her throat and Elena immediately reaches out to hold her hand. "We are taking care of the Harvest girls tonight. Entombing them. There are rituals, preparations we need to make."

"I'm sorry." She strokes circles into the back of Sophie's hand, wishing she could show up for Sophie the way normal people do. "I would be there for you if I could."

"I know." Sophie smiles and it almost reaches her eyes. They sit together, holding hands and staring at their intertwined fingers for a long while before Sophie speaks. "They're going to want to find her. Finish the sacrifice. Do you know where Marcel took her? After it all."

Elena's breath catches in her throat. "I can find out."

She bites her lip. Hopes Sophie won't press her on this. That she won't catch her in the lie. Hoping that she won't ever be caught.

"Jane-Anne is convinced that if we don't find her and finish the ritual that there will be devastating consequences. To her and the city." Sophie swipes her fingers across her lips and lets the gesture morph until she's running her hand through her hair. "To everyone I guess. She won't give me details but keeps talking about it like the apocalypse. This awful thing with no specifics. Fuck. What if she's right?"

"We'll figure this out." The other woman falls into Elena's arms, wrapping her arm around her waist. She leans into the hug. Leans into the feeling of someone else seeking comfort from her body in this way. Into the feeling of being the strong one. The one that isn't crying for once.

"Thanks." Sophie wipes away her tears, her cheeks round and she blows out all the air in her lungs. "I should probably get back to work. And you should get back to the vampire's compound before Marcel notices that you're gone. Actually, it's probably a really terrible idea for you to keep coming here. At least for a while."

"It'll be fine," Elena waves her off and Sophie's expression turns, her face brightens like she'd heard a sick joke.

"You don't really know that man at all if you think he'll be fine with you crossing enemy lines."

"Do we ever really know the people we sleep with?" Elena pushes her chair back and leans over Sophie, kissing her forehead. The gesture doesn't faze her. She doesn't question the closeness she already feels for Sophie. Only that it's there. "I'll be fine because it's me. And I'll make it fine."

On the walk back to the Abattoir, she realizes what she said. How close it was to the real Katherine's life philosophy.

It might have bothered her a few months ago.

Once inside the Abattoir, she feels the armor returning to her skin. Piece by piece like she used to need for leaving the compound. It's busier now after sundown. Vampires milling around, waiting for a plan to form. There's a strange energy buzzing about the courtyard. Like a colt in a pen just before it opens. The potential energy building until its ready to burst.

The room parts slowly for her. Familiar faces, people she never bothered to know, watch her with a mix of respect and apprehension. She surveys the room as she climbs the stairs. Astrid raises her glass and gives her a knowing smile. A certainty settles in Elena's bones that solidifies the fire in her veins.

She's somewhat surprised to see Marcel in his room as she drops her bag on the dresser. Her clothes are no longer there and he nods to the right-hand drawers. She opens them all before she finds her pajamas on the bottom. It should be endearing to imagine him folding her clothes and organizing them equally in his own dresser. It would have been at one point, but the issue of trust between them makes it difficult.

"How was Sophie?"

The question makes her freeze. She glances up at the mirror to catch him watching her intently. Looking for a reaction. "She's sad Marcel. Her niece died last night in the Harvest."

"Her niece was sacrificed last night by her own mother." Marcel sits on the bed but the way his jaw flexes makes it seem like he'd rather be pacing the floor. She wonders how difficult it is for him to contain his anger. "A parent should protect their kids from harm. That's how it's supposed to be."

"I'm not arguing that." She flips her waves over her shoulder and leans against the dresser. "You asked me how Sophie was. I told you."

"Are you insistent on this friendship with her?" Marcel's hands are collected between his knees. It makes her think, absurdly, of prayer.

"She hasn't done anything wrong."

"And Jane-Anne?" He raises his brow. "The rest of the witches?"

"I'm not friends with the rest of the witches." She shakes her head, not liking where this conversation is headed. Is willing to have it if it means he thinks he's figured her out. As long as it means she can keep hiding her connection to the wolves. "What are you getting at, Marcel? Are we not allowed to be friends with witches?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm just worried about your involvement with the Deveraux family overall."

The space between them is overwhelmingly far. She eyes the gap. "I can handle myself."

"I know you can," he smiles broadly and gestures for her to close the chasm. "Come here." She complies. Let's her body settle into his. Between his legs, she drapes her arms over his shoulders. He traps her in them with his hands on the swell of her ass. "Are you ready for bed?"

"You don't want to go out tonight?" Her fingers dance at the back of his neck, cradling his head.

"There's nowhere I'd rather be than right here with you."

Marcel pulls her in closer and she does something uncharacteristic for her. She tilts his face towards her own and leans over, kissing him. She parts his lips with her own and explores the sharp edge of his teeth. Partly because she wants to. She'll always find him attractive even if she doesn't think he's safe anymore. But she mostly does it because she wants to trust her more.

The 'Elena' her friends and family knew would never use her body like this. Mixed her sexuality and desire to manipulate someone. But that Elena is long dead and even if she weren't, maybe her friends and family didn't actually know her if it comes so easily the way it does.

His shirt comes off and then hers. He stretches her body thin across his bed and she feels impossibly long. The way he touches her is both strange and familiar. His hands are possessive and she wonders if that's just what people do. Yearn to possess and claim. When he enters her, it feels possible.

In the middle of the night when the sound from the courtyard has died down, Elena watches Marcel sleep. Admires the soft rise and fall of his back. Still, she sneaks out of his bed to wander about the empty Abattoir on her own. She had lied earlier to Sophie, but now that Marcel moved the little witch, Elena was curious to know where he'd hidden her.

The corridors are dimly lit filled only with the sound of her feet gently falling against the hard wood. There's an ownership she has over the night. When the world is quiet and dark nothing can touch her. When she's alone.

Her search yields nothing but she does find a room that holds particular interest. Stacks of different books spilling out of boxes. Like at one point someone was searching for something and left the room as it was for years.

Ledgers filled with numbers that don't mean anything to her. But the names are important. Her finger traces the curves in Elijah's name. Dealings he made with a wolf pack, the Guerreras. She wonders if they are the same wolves out in the bayou.

Journals are amongst the other books. Weeks, sometimes years, pass between each entry but it's clear who is writing in these diaries. She signs her name with a flourish at the end of each entry. Rebekah Mikaelson. The girl she'd briefly seen in Chicago. Details of her life but the one Elena finds most important is her gushing love for Marcel and bemoaning her ill-fate that her brother won't allow them to be together. It's all very Romeo and Juliet in theme.

Reading it makes her sick.

Grimoires are at the bottom of the next box. Piles and piles of grimoires. None of them look to be from the same coven. Many are written in different languages that she's never seen before now. An impressive collection that must belong to one of the Mikaelsons, but she's unsure of which one.

She knew the 'M' couldn't have stood for Marcel. At one point, she wished it could but she knew better. It's terrible how she's been galivanting in the aftermath of Mikaelson rule this whole time without knowing it. The real reason Katherine hadn't wanted her to come here.

"Are you snooping?" His voice is closer than she had anticipated. Those last few steps had been silent. She hadn't caught them.

"You called me your queen once." She cranes her neck to look at him towering over her. Her legs tucked under her while she sits in a sea of history. "Can a queen really snoop in her own kingdom?" He shakes his head, gifting her an amused smile. "What is all this Marcel? Do you know the Mikaelsons?"

"I take it you do too." He cocks his head to the side and it seems like such a normal way to have this conversation. Marcel in a cotton tee and shorts. Elena in one of his shirts and just underwear underneath. They could be a normal couple talking about why she can't sleep instead of the most dangerous creatures on the planet. "Yes, I know the Original family. They were my family once. Until they weren't. Until the abandoned me."

Marcel joins her on the floor amongst the evidence. He takes a deep breath before launching into the story of his involvement with the Mikaelsons. How Klaus took him in and how he fell in love with Rebekah. The story of his childhood. A human living amongst the most powerful vampires in the world. She wants to interrupt and ask how strange that was, but she doesn't want to derail him when he tells her how he was finally turned. And then later, when Mikael found his children and the excruciating way he was tortured and displayed on stage.

"But even worse than that was how they left me." Marcel picks at his cuticles and Elena scoots on the floor closer to him, touches her knee to his. "They said they loved me. Klaus claimed I was like a son to him, but they didn't even care to check on me. See if I was really dead. After they fled, Mikael burned down the city. And I was left to rebuild. On my own."

"I know about rebuilding." She reaches out to him; her fingers are light against his temple. "And I know about being on your own."

"How do you know them?" He captures her hand and presses it firmly against his face. Leaning into her. His lips on her palm but he doesn't kiss her. Just keeps his inquisitive eyes on her.

"Five hundred years ago," she begins. The story sounds strange coming from her mouth. Too much like she's the victim except Katherine told it like a warning. "I was just a girl. Until I met Klaus and he ruined my entire life. He punished me for something that anybody would have done in my shoes. He killed my family. Everyone I had ever known. I've been running since."

"What happened?" Marcel drops her hand and reaches out to her like she's a thing that can be broken. Even though the world has already tried and failed. "Why did he hurt you?"

"He wanted to sacrifice me." This part is hard to get out. It feels too true. "To break the Sun and Moon Curse. Punished a naïve girl for having the gall to want to live."

"Sounds like Klaus." Marcel stays quiet for a long time. So many emotions pass over his face that it's hard to keep track of one in particular. They're too complicated for her to comprehend. The years of stories etched into his expression. Finally, he parts his lips and what he tells her feels like a secret. "Rebekah and I brought Mikael to New Orleans to chase Klaus out of town. We were both worried about how he would react to our relationship. Historically, we had good reason."

"Klaus likes to have control over everything." They both nod solemnly at that. She stares at their limbs intertwined like jungle gym bars. "I want to trust you Marcel and I know you have a good heart."

"I wasn't keeping this from you, Kat. I couldn't have known that you knew them."

"It's not that," she sighs. "It's the wolves." She can feel his hand twitch against her thigh.

"What is your obsession with the wolves?" He tries to make his voice sound light and casual. But she can hear the low tremor in his throat.

"It's not about them. It's about you." She holds his gaze. Sucking in her cheeks, careful to keep her expression blank. "Knowing who you are and where your lines are drawn. It's about trust. Don't you trust me?"

Marcel drops his head and she reaches out to gather his hands in hers. Willing him to tell her. He licks his lips and looks back up at her. Pinches the edge of his mouth tight. "Tensions were high after the Mikaelsons fled. The different factions in the city were attacking each other on sight. Day or night. In fighting amongst the wolves. They were dangerous. Out of control. At the time, it seemed like the only option was to eliminate the biggest force amongst them." He squeezes her hand and whatever story he's telling is the truth. At least to him. "So I brokered a deal with the witches. With your Deveraux witches. To curse them and to take them out of play. It worked, for a few decades. There was peace in New Orleans finally."

"Not anymore."

"Not if the witches are willing to kill their own for power." His jaw tightens and he squints. "Is this what you needed this whole time?"

"I want to support you." When Marcel looks at her now, it's like he's seeing her for the first time. Something that she hadn't noticed before. Something guarded was dropped. "But I can't do that if I can't trust you. Will you keep hiding things from me? Or will you tell me the truth?"

"Will you tell me the truth?" It's an easy thing to go unnoticed. The way they both dance around answers. Like when she first met Stefan. The games the Salvatores played with her. Keeping her in the dark. Only now, she knows the steps.

She's so familiar with the eight count that it's easy to waltz along with him. She offers him an answer that isn't too. "I don't want to keep things from you, Marcel."

It's difficult to understand what it means to be a person who does terrible things for good reasons. It wasn't so long ago that she had so staunchly believed there was never a good reason to do something awful. But her world tilted when her parents died and it kept spinning long after that. Rotated so many damn times that when she looked around nothing was the same. She certainly wasn't.

She'd done a lot of monstrous things.

And most of them hadn't been for any good reason at all.

Over the next few days, she keeps track of Marcel's movements. Noting the exact times of his comings and goings. Marking them in her journal and highlighting the only consistencies of the days. On the next full moon, she feels comfortable enough to leave the Abattoir again to sneak off into the bayou.

When she walks into the clearing, she notices him immediately. Jackson sits up when he sees her and she's astounded that he's here. Wonders how many nights he looks for her as wolf. Wonders too if he would be waiting here for her next full moon and the ones after that. Steadfast, he makes her feel safe in a way he shouldn't.

A vampire's natural enemy.

"Elena…" Jackson is stunned into silence when she launches her body into his. Wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest. She breathes in that familiar cedar scent of his and wants to cry. "Are you okay?"

"New Orleans is fucked," she mumbles into his shirt. Wishes she could become a werewolf too so she could run with him and not worry about the headache-inducing politics of the city. "The witches tried to sacrifice four of their own to gain access to more power to contest Marcel only he found out about it and saved one of the girls. And now he's keeping her somewhere away from the witches who are obviously looking for her to complete the sacrifice."

"Damn," Jackson rears his head back to look at her. His arms slowly circle her waist to keep her close. "All that happened in a month?"

She nods just a little, her mouth set in a frown. "And I don't know what to do. I don't know who to believe in anymore. Someone broke into my room at the compound and trashed it. Stole something important. It had to be a vampire, but I don't know who and I don't know that I can trust anyone."

"You can trust me." It's an easy thing to believe when the deep rumbling of his words echoes through her body. Even easier with the way he looks at her and holds her. "Let me introduce you to someone. Someone you can come out and visit. Talk to even when it isn't the full moon."

They walk side by side through the swamp. Occasionally, Jackson will clear the path for her and the further she gets from the city the lighter her chest feels. They catch up with each other while they walk. Jackson seems more curious about her life outside the brewing conflict though Elena is left to awkwardly ask him about his time as a wolf. Is surprised to find that Jackson does recall it.

"I'm," he hesitates over the word. Rolling his eyes like he's concerned she'll find it embarrassing. "I'm the alpha of the Crescent Wolves. It means something. I can control my actions and I can remember my time as a wolf."

"Are the Crescent wolves the same as the Guerreras?"

His shoulders stiffen. "Not at all. They were wiped out a long time ago." She's about to ask him more questions about it when she notices they are walking towards a tiny shotgun house in the distance. "This is where Eve lives. She's nice. You'll like her."

"Will she like me?" The question makes her feel like she's meeting her boyfriend's parents and the thought makes her frown.

"Eve is good people," Jackson assures with a firm nod. "She doesn't discriminate."

They walk up the steps to the front door and to Eve's credit her smile only falters a little when Jackson introduces her to Elena. She scrunches her nose and shakes her head, muttering about her own manners when Elena asks to be invited in.

It's a strange night. The longest she's spent with Jackson while he was able to talk to her though it doesn't make much of a difference. He's not an especially talkative person. Not like Eve. They chat well into the night with a steady supply of beer. The bottles collect impressively on her kitchen counter as the evening wears on. The closer it gets to midnight; the more Elena knows she needs to head back to the slaughterhouse.

The more she wishes she didn't have to.

But she can't run and hide now. She owes it at least to Sophie to try to fix things.

"You know, Eve, if you needed anything from town I could always run it to you. If you ever wanted to send me a list, we could organize drop-offs. Whatever it is the wolves need." Elena shrugs, trying to ignore the smile on Jackson's face and how warm it makes her feel. "Or the people that live out here."

"What a mighty fine offer." Eve waves her off, yawning into the back of her hand. "I may take you up on that."

From that night on, Elena takes on a self-appointed role as the pack's protector. Every few days dropping off supplies for them. Walking through the bayou in her wolf skin and pretending she's part of a family again. The first time Eve sees her, she nearly screams but Elena is quick to peel back the wolf head from her own to assure her that she's safe. After that, she entrusts the wolf skin with Eve to keep it hidden in the bayou for her. It's a relief, building foundations on equal ground this way.

Marcel has become predictable again. He leaves after dinner and returns by midnight. Always headed in the same direction. If she wasn't so preoccupied with the wolves, she might be more curious about where he was going.

But she's having too much fun with her adventures to care.

She's on a rampage. Stalking the edge of the city as the wolf. Snatching up stray vampires like she's the boogeyman. The reminder of Diego and his people attacking Jackson is on her mind with each kill. She's messy on purpose. Using her transformed claws to dig into their chest, ripping into their throats with her shiny teeth. Leaves their bodies where the land grows wild as a warning.

And the stir it causes at home.

Diego has no choice but to admit to Marcel and Thierry that he saw a bipedal wolf on the full moon when there should have been no wolves at all. Admits that he's been losing vampires and finding pieces of their bodies strewn between the city and the bayou. It sends them in a tailspin. Between the witches and the news of this strange wolf, Marcel doesn't know what to do. He asks Elena not to go out at night, fearing for her life. Even so, he keeps to his schedule and she uses the fairy cross to her advantage. Holes herself in their room and sneaks out under the guise of this pretty blonde thing she becomes with the glamour.

Two weeks go by without incident and it makes her feel powerful. Invincible. The vampires are too scared of her by now to give her much trouble. She has a bag tied around her neck. Antibiotics and other needed medicines. Some of the children of the community are sick with a cold.

They should call her Balto. Without Bonnie or Caroline though, she has no one to share the joke with.

As the city lights fade, she trades this disguise for the one she favors. Morphing once again into the wolf. Standing so much taller and broader than she's used to. Her feet put massive prints in the dirt as she heads toward Eve's home in the swamps and she admires the impression she leaves behind.

On her way, she hears voices stalking behind her. Under the new moon, there shouldn't be any human voices between her and the city. She turns back around, lifts her head in the air to listen for them and counts three distinct voices. Diego amongst them.

Elena braces herself. Diego is the only one she's truly nervous to encounter. A man and a woman emerge first from behind the trees. She recognizes the woman. Black hair shaved on the sides. The man must be one of the newer recruits. She'd never seen him before.

"It's just a wolf," Diego states firmly as he appears. "And wolves can die. It's not some mystical creature. Remember that."

It sounds rehearsed and it must be because as soon as he's done speaking, the two vampires flank her. She focuses on the man first, hoping that one death will quell their thirst. He lunges at her, sloppy and inexperienced. Elena swipes at his shoulder, her claws digging into the flesh there and exposing tendons. Quickly, before he can react, she digs her claws into his chest and lifts him over her head. Letting his body fall down her arm while she clutches his heart.

Her lip curls and the air in the bayou is filled with her guttural growls and the wet sound of death. She throws his body to the ground and hunches her shoulders, watching the woman stagger back. Diego is on her without warning. Knocking her back, her knee slams on the ground and her groan sounds like a roar. He's behind her now, his arms tight around her neck.

Controlling her head. Her teeth. They assume she has venom like the rest.

"Quick, Des! Finish this. Rip out its heart!" Diego keeps a firm hold on Elena. Without the element of surprise or fear, she doesn't have much. Diego is older and stronger than she is. As the woman approaches, Elena feigns a subdual. Helpless growls that embolden the woman. When she steps within arm's reach, Elena strikes up. Aiming for her chest but overestimating. Her claws come back out the vampire's neck, a ruined heart somewhere in the mass of flesh in her hand.

Diego is smart and quick on his feet. He isn't one to let an opportunity pass him by. His hands plunge deep into the werewolf's back. The mechanics of the skin are still a mystery to Elena but what is clear to her now is Diego's hand through her shoulder. Blood pools in her mouth and she staggers to her feet.

It won't take him long to tear her to bits once he's put his mind to it.

Through the underbrush, a great grey wolf with his white mask jumps over the dead vampires. Snarling and snapping his teeth at Diego. Lunging and forcing Diego from certain victory. Elena falls to all fours, swallowing her own blood with every gasp. Her wolf, Jackson, keeps the pressure on Diego. Snarling and circling Elena. She leans up and clutches her shoulder.

Inside the skin, Jackson knows where she is. Can see her through it. He lopes towards her, keeping an eye on Diego. She places a great claw carefully on his back and Jackson sniffs the blood on her shoulder. Stretches his neck out to lick her clean.

Diego makes a move to finish her and Jackson catches the flicker of movement behind her. He howls and a chorus of other voices join in. An alpha calling the army he commands. Yellow eyes illuminate in the depths of the swamp, slowly growing bigger as the cacophony of howls grow louder.

Elena holds Jackson closer as the wolves pour out from the trees around them and Diego takes off. Affording one last look to the picture of this towering wolfman holding on to its four-legged kin as the beast licks blood clean from the wolf's breast.

She closes her eyes as the wolves surround her like water in a stream. Pouring around her, their fur brushing against her own. Diego is forced deeper into the bayou on the threat of their snapping jaws. Chasing the only outsider they see amongst them.

And she remains.

A/N: There are times where it seems like the end of this arc is so far away and then I look up and see we are only two chapters away and all the pieces are falling into place for Elena to be able to face Klaus's arrival in New Orleans on more equal footing.