Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or any of its characters (the CW does as does L. J. Smith).

Chapter 3: Scenic

Previously...

"Turn on your humanity," he compelled.

My heart stopped. I began gasping for air; unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to think. Hot tears blurred my vision, I could feel them running down my neck, down my chest. Then, I couldn't feel my body at all. I fell in his arms; my limbs like jelly, his like solid concrete.

"Oh my God," I began to pant. "Oh my God…" It was as if I had turned on some internal light, revealing all that hid in the darkest parts of myself. It was not gradual, it was not progressive: a second before I had felt nothing, then, I felt everything.

Diluted evening light flooded the spacious room, bouncing off the various panels of dark wood. I had been staring at the same patterned rug for hours; my body unmoving, my mind awake and screaming bloody murder. Of all the terrible emotions swimming through my veins and eating at my heart, regret was the most dominant and vicious. Though I could hear Damon behind me, fingering the curtains he had just pulled away from the window, I didn't push myself to move. After a moment, he sat down, the bed shifting under his weight just as my arm did when he rested his hand on my shoulder. The small gesture lead my heart to dispense feelings far more pleasant than their predecessors: the satisfaction that came with being touched tenderly, the love for a brother who–despite the years that had passed–was no stranger to me.

"Evelyn you have to get up." His voice was gentle and he spoke slowly as if he was scared that I would crumble beneath his fingertips. "You've been in bed all night, all morning…all afternoon." He paused for a few minutes, stroking my arm in silence. "I'm not asking you to jump out of bed and get over it, I just think you should eat something." Though the hours had gone by agonizingly slow and my stomach ached with hunger, I hadn't realized that almost an entire day had gone by. Figuring that nothing could make me feel any worse, especially food, I pulled myself out of the bed and turned to face Damon who offered a small, sympathetic smile.

I tugged at the shirt I was wearing–one of Damon's dark V-necks–and raised my eyebrows in silent questioning. Damon's eyes widened with realization and he reached behind him quickly, producing a neatly folded pile of clothing.

"They're Elena's," he added as he handed it to me, and with that, he left.

After about ten minutes' work, I looked somewhat presentable: my slept on hair was thrown into a ponytail and the previous night's makeup was washed off and replaced. Elena's clothes, though a bit small, did fit; her dark denim jeans clung to my skin as did her navy short sleeve top. While I felt physically refreshed, my insides were still saturated with dread and my mind plagued with immeasurable guilt. Nevertheless, I managed to put one foot in front of the other and forced myself both out of the room and down the stairs. With each hesitant step I took, my brothers' voices got louder; by the sounds of it, they were having a rather tense conversation, one in which–with my vampire hearing–I could have easily eavesdropped on. However, deciding it was best not to intrude and that I really didn't want to go downstairs to begin with, I began backtracking, happy to go back to bed. It wasn't until I had made it all the way to the top stair that a vaguely familiar voice–familiar enough to pique my interest–made a sudden guest appearance.

"You want us to kill them." It was Stefan. He didn't sound stressed or upset, just curious, surprised even.

"You know, I'd do it myself but I have absolutely no idea where they are." There was that voice again: eerily calm, entirely commanding. "Besides seeing me they'd…" A pause; utter silence. I put my hand to my ear, listening to see if I was missing any hushed dialogue. "I'm sure you two are aware that there is another person in your house," he stated evenly.

"Evelyn," Damon called. "Go back upstairs."

But I didn't. I marched back down and into the foyer to find my brothers standing beside each other and in front of the man, who sat comfortably in a red armchair. I instantly recognized his structured face and perfectly styled dark hair; he was the man who spoke on the staircase, who saved me from the embarrassment I wasn't able feel. He was a Mikaelson.

Before I could take another step forward, both Stefan and Damon held me back, blocking my path with their bodies. While I appreciated their protection, I didn't need it, and gingerly removed their hands before continuing on my way. The man rose from his seat as I neared, his eyes watching me with playful curiosity, his previously stoic face shifting until some sort of amused smirk took form.

"Evelyn," I announced, putting out my hand for him to shake. He took it; his grip firm, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Elijah."

I drew my hand away and sat down on the chair opposite to the one he had just been sitting on.

"Please, continue," I insisted, crossing one leg over the other, feigning unmitigated confidence. Based on Stefan and Damon's body language, I was supposed to be scared of this gentleman and seeing as he was a Mikaelson, it made complete sense. But my curiosity strangled any fear that I felt and this aching need to function normally once again, to control my emotions and participate in life, conquered all. It was oddly sensational to feel curious and excited, to wonder and fear, to want to help and discover.

"You have until six minutes after nine to find them." Elijah's voice pulled me from my thoughts. He was staring my brothers down; still standing, still calm. "If you do not stop her before then, Rebekah will kill Elena." He moved closer to Damon and Stefan. "I suggest you get started." Then, he walked steadily out the front door–but not before looking over his shoulder at me.

Four Bourbons and two blood bags later, Damon finally managed to formulate some kind of plan to save Elena. Of course his initial idea was to simply kill one witch, who was connected to someone named Esther. Esther so happened to be both the mother and soon-to-be murderer of Elijah and his siblings. While I was still fuzzy on the details, Stefan made it clear that killing the witch–Bonnie–was not an option.

"So, Elijah is a good guy then?" I asked.

"No," Stefan replied while Damon simply shook his head.

"But you're saving him…and his family?"

"I think you forgot the part about them killing Elena if we don't," Damon shot back. Clearly, he was too distressed to continue treating me like I was breakable.

"So if they didn't have Elena, we'd be…happy? That they were…you know…getting killed?" I rubbed my temples, still trying to determine who was an ally and who was an enemy. So far Elena and Bonnie were friends and the Mikaelsons–including Esther–were foes.

"We'd be so very happy," Damon agreed, pouring himself another drink. I stood, grabbed the dagger from the coffee table, and examined it carefully.

"So, if you stick this," I traced the blade with my finger, "into one of them, you kill them all?"

"Something like that." Damon snatched it out of my hands.

"I want to do it." And I did. I craved to be useful; to help my brothers; to save a human's life instead of take it.

"Yeah, that's not happening. Even if a vampire could dagger an Original without dying, you would not be the one pulling the trigger, so to speak," Damon said, sticking the dagger in his back pocket as if to make his point.

"So what do you plan on doing? Compelling someone to do your dirty work for you?" It was an honest question but my tone was hostile; Damon was protective to a fault and always had been.

"No, lucky for us, our good pal Alaric doesn't need to be compelled into doing crazy, dangerous things…sometimes, he just does them. Actually, he's already at the Mystic Grill spying on Klaus and Kol…" The rest of Damon's words went in one ear and out the other; for some reason, something he said hit a nerve. Mystic Grill. The. Mystic. Grill.

"Oh God," I spewed; mortified. In less than a second and without an explanation, I sped out of both the room and house. But not before grabbing one of Damon's giant shirts.

Unlike the night of the Mikaelson Ball, the Mystic Grill was hopping with people: eating, chatting, drinking–excessively. And, as luck would have it, I had hardly even stepped into the building when I took notice of two barflies take notice of me. One of them instantly struck me as the blond Mikaelson who had compelled me to feel again, while the other was–presumably–his brother. Klaus and Kol; the two that Alaric, according to Damon, was spying on. While their faces were quite similar, with them being related and all, the expressions they wore were endlessly different. The dark haired fellow reeked of mischief; the smile he gave me was equally flirtatious and wicked and his eyes, which sparkled in the light, never left me despite the fact he began whispering something to his brother. The blond, on the other hand, seemed to take no interest in the conversation as he continued to stare at me intensely, his lips slightly parted in…awe?

Suddenly self-conscious and very aware I was getting distracted, without a second look, I made a beeline for the women's restroom. It was empty. I shoved open each and every stall just to make sure and–thank God–there was not a soul in sight. An extraordinary sense of relief settled within me and I took a huge breath I didn't know I was holding. The woman I compelled was gone–someone had helped her. The previous night had become a blur, featuring booze and overwhelming emotions, and ending with me passed out in blond Mikaelson's arms. I'd forgotten all about the poor girl I'd left standing in her underwear, in public washroom, and couldn't, for the life of me, remember if I had compelled her to stay there. I couldn't help but think that she was still in the stall, half-naked and helpless. Pleased with the outcome, I placed Damon's shirt on the counter (in case someone else found themselves lacking clothing) and exited the washroom smiling.

While the Mikaelsons were still present, my sour mood was long gone, replaced by a celebratory one. So, plastering on a confident smirk, I strode over to the bar both terrified and exhilarated. I only managed to down one shot of vodka before being approached by the Original duo.

"Hello there," the blond spoke, giving me a breathtaking smile. "Evelyn, is it?" His question was not so much a question as it was part of his not-so-subtle pickup line. I didn't respond, leading him to look down into his cup unsurely for a moment before recapturing my gaze. "Join us for a drink?" His brother raised his glass at that and wore a sly smile, but said nothing; for some reason letting his brother take the reins on this one.

I held up a finger at them, indicating that they would have to give me a second, then took another shot of alcohol. They quickly shifted from being confused to highly entertained; smiling at each other as if pleased that they had successfully won my attention. I gestured for the bartender, quickly compelling him to give me a bottle of tequila, then turned toward the boys who had continued to watch me diligently.

"Sure." They seemed immensely pleased. "But why don't you two take me somewhere a little more…scenic?" The blond let out an amused breath paired with another one of his award-winning smiles, while his brother did the gesture synonymous with 'ladies first'.

I strolled away, the men trailing behind me, stealthily pulling my cellphone out of the front pocket of my jeans. Before they caught up to me, I quickly sent a brief text to Damon:

I've got Klaus and Kol occupied. You're welcome.

Thank you everyone for following and favouriting this story! Don't forget to review and tell me what you think!