You have leftover cake for breakfast. The sugar makes you nauseous this early in the morning. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices. (Plus, this cake really won't be good for much longer. Waste not, want not).
You're going to need some cake before dealing with the two youngest Mikaelsons all day. You're grateful they're not there when you wake. Even with the weeks trapped inside your house, you still need some time to yourself.
Funny, considering how lonely you were just a few days ago.
You have enough time to start one of Elijah's books (1000 Gardening Questions Answered by an author you don't recognize. You have brief hopes of turning your garden bed into something that can sustain life once spring comes). You read it curled up on Rebekah's velvet settee with an old blanket wrapped around you. Last night went well enough that you feel you deserve a slow start to the day. It feels extravagant to have a lazy morning. A remnant of being forced to work mornings for years.
Your mind wanders to the previous evening. You haven't gotten past the Mikaelsons' admission at dinner.
Their mother killed them.
(You knew that vampires aren't alive, so the Mikaelsons must have died at some point. But their mother… You swallow bile).
Even your parents, with all of their faults, never tried to harm you. Not like that. Nothing in any of your psychology classes offers a balm for that kind of grief. (You suspect the Mikaelsons haven't found one either).
Do parents affect us that much, you wonder. They've lived for a thousand years and still run from the memories of their mother. The words in front of you swim until you're just staring blankly at the same page.
Eventually, when the sun has risen to shine directly in your eyes, you get up.
You get dressed in real clothes and try one of Rebekah's perfumes. The scent lingers in the air when you spray it. The label says it's amber and cedar, but to you it just smells deep and rich. You have to resist using the whole bottle.
You come out of your bedroom and there's someone in your house.
Well, you amend, two someones.
"Haven't I mentioned that I'd prefer you to knock?"
"I don't recall, no," Kol says pleasantly.
"I literally said it yesterday."
"He has severe memory loss," Rebekah cuts in, "From being an idiot."
"I believe you mean brain damage."
"Kol," you say dryly, "You're actually making your case worse for yourself."
Kol scowls while Rebekah laughs.
"Are you ready to escape your home?" Rebekah asks pleasantly, "We have quite the day planned."
"I do have things I need to do," you say.
Rebekah balks. "What on earth do you have to do?"
The Mikaelsons do tend to think they're the center of the universe, you note. You suppose you might feel that way after a few centuries.
"Get groceries, for one."
Rebekah's nose wrinkles. "Just send one of Elijah's minions."
"— I also want to stop by the restaurant to see my coworkers."
Rebekah's look of disgust deepens, but she offers no response. She seems aware it's not polite to isolate someone completely. You're glad. You don't think you could offer up a valid excuse if pressed.
"If you must," Kol sighs.
Your lips twitch like they want to smile. You put on your winter coat for the first time in nine months. Your spare key is kept safe in your pocket.
"Are you guys sure this is safe?" You ask when you reach the threshold. Your shoes pinch from lack of use.
"Oh, absolutely not," Rebekah says, "But you can't stay trapped in that house any longer."
Her words don't fill you with optimism. You think momentarily of the weeks you've spent trapped in your house, the sunk cost of staying safe. You wonder if it's worth it to give it up now.
Ultimately, it's the idea of seeing the outdoors that compels you.
You step out onto the porch anyway and breathe in the fresh air. The last of the leaves have fallen off of the trees outside your house. You smell snow clouds brewing. Tension melts.
The Mikaelson siblings step behind you. You feel their presence at your back before Rebekah touches your shoulder. A few days ago it would have felt threatening. You drink in the comfort.
"Ready?" She asks.
"As I'll ever be."
They take you to the back of a car. An unfamiliar vampire is sitting in the driver's seat. Kol and Rebekah wrap themselves around you in a way that almost abates your touch-starvation.
"Shopping first?" She asks.
You're not going to win that argument.
"Of course," you say and Rebekah grins.
She drags you and Kol to the first boutique she finds. Kol suffers through it with a bored expression that speaks of many years of enduring this. You, on the other hand, are less experienced.
"Rebekah," you rebuke, "I can't afford anything in here."
"That's alright, I can."
"I said you can get me a dining table, not a dress," you say dryly, "You already fulfilled your end of the bargain." Your muscles tense under your skin. Kol watches in amusement. He makes no move to help you.
"Consider this my price for making me run errands."
"We haven't even going to the store yet," you murmur under your break. Kol smothers a laugh as Rebekah uses you as a dress up doll. The clothes are beautiful: soft cashmere and silky satins. They're better made than anything you currently own. Better than anything short of being tailored, you suspect. You've never been fond of clothes shopping. (Any shopping, really). All it does is remind you of what you can't afford.
Somehow, even with Rebekah and all of her money, it's worse.
Rebekah frowns when she finally looks at your face after forcing you into yet another dress.
"What's wrong?" She asks. You wonder why the Mikaelsons all think you're the oblivious one when they act like this.
"… I don't particularly like people buying things for me."
Rebekah breathes for a moment, eyes searching your face.
"Don't like being bought things or don't like being taken care of?"
You think it's her matter-of-fact tone that stings the most. Your face flushes with a deep, deep heat. Something inside of you writhes.
"Let her be." You jump at Kol's presence at your shoulder. Rebekah sends him an unhappy look.
"Fine," Rebekah says, throwing aside the stack of garments, "I don't like their stock anyway."
You get back in your clothes and start to relax. Kol eyes sweep over you. He looks away before you can say anything. They drag you to other stores, but they don't try to buy you anything. You appreciate it.
"I assume you still want to stop by that god forsaken restaurant."
"Hey," you say, "The food isn't that bad."
Rebekah just rolls her eyes, even as she gives the driver the address. You wonder if the driver is a vampire or not. You doubt he's getting paid.
Poor guy.
As the car gets closer to the restaurant, you feel yourself growing more anxious. You suspect Kol can tell. He doesn't say anything, but the way his hand brushes your implies comfort. You're not sure how to feel about it.
It's Tuesday, so Kate is working. You're glad; your plan couldn't work without her. Not that you don't trust Megan, but you don't think she's capable of what you have in mind. (You don't even know if you'll be able to get through this with Kate, and you've known each other for years).
"Just wait out here," you say as you open the car door, "I'll be out in a minute."
"Are you sure?" Kol asks and you hope the suspicion you detect isn't actually there. You give him a tight smile .
"I'll be quick, promise."
Reluctantly, he lets you brush past him and stumble out of the car. Rebekah seems, at most, bored. You're thankful for it.
You walk inside the restaurant and get the strangest sense of deja vu. It's been so long since you've been here it feels wrong to be back. It feels like you've been living in a dream. You guess that in some ways, you were. (Maybe, you still are).
Sometimes, if you take a step back, you can get lost in what's become of your life.
You slip in through the swinging doors into the kitchen and Kate drops her rubber spatula.
"Oh my god," she blurts out, "What are you doing back?"
"Just popping in," you say. You absently check behind you to make sure no nosy vampires have followed you. There's barely anyone in the restaurant.
"Where have you been? The managers haven't told us anything. Do you still work here?"
"I think so," you say. This is going to be harder than you expected.
"When are you coming back?"
You shift uncomfortably. "I don't know," you admit, "I don't know if I will."
Kate, if possible, looks even more confused. You're not used deceiving people, and especially not Kate. You're not sure how your friends dwindled down to only the people you work with. It doesn't stop the rush of guilt that encompasses you.
"I don't have a lot of time, I just wanted to drop this off."
Kate's expression deepens into something more like worry as you press your spare key into her palm. Her eyes search your face.
"Honey, are you okay?"
You don't answer.
"It's just in case," you say, "Please don't worry about me. But if you don't hear from me for a while, or something happens to me, I want you to be able to get in my house. I don't know a lot of people who would help me." She looks like she desperately wants to interrogate you, but she refrains. Her spine straightens.
"What do you need me to do?" She asks.
Relief melts through you.
"There's an address book in my entry way table, top drawer. Call my parents and let them know what happened. I doubt they'll care, but they should still know. No matter what, do not let them have anything in the house. I don't care if you donate everything to GoodWill. I don't want them getting shit."
Kate doesn't blink.
"Okay," she says, "Anything else? Anyone else I should call?"
You can't come up with a single name.
"No," you say finally, "That's it." Kate keeps looking at you, eyebrows creasing.
"Sweetie," she starts, "What's going on? What kind of trouble are you in?"
"I don't know," you confess, "I don't think I'm in any trouble yet. This is just in case."
"Most people don't have this kind of 'just in case'."
You smile a bitter smile. "You have a point there."
"Is this part of the reason you haven't been at work?"
"Yes," you admit. You check the time on your phone. "I should probably go back."
She watches you for a long moment. You avert your gaze. To your surprise, she envelops you into a hug. You feel your spine pop.
"I want you to know you can tell me anything," Kate says, "Even though I know you don't want to right now. I will always help you."
You blink back the wave of exhaustion that brings. You hug her back.
"I know," you lie. It's harder to let go than you expect.
Kol and Rebekah don't suspect anything when you get back. If anything, Rebekah just seems eager to continue with your adventure.
"I suppose you still want to go to the grocery store?" She asks, "Even though I don't see why."
"That's because you guys don't eat food."
"Excuse you," she interjects, "I'll have you know I go out for dinner quite often."
You look at her with forced amusement.
"Not quite the same thing as cooking."
She rolls her eyes and you let her. They're silent on the way there and you lean your head back on the seat, weariness embracing you. You finished the one thing you've needed to do today, and neither of your chaperones seem the wiser.
Or so you hope.
Rebekah stays in the car when you get there, citing her exhaustion at trying on clothes. You don't think that counts when you're the one she made try them on. Kol just gives an ever-suffering sigh and drags you out of the car by your ankle.
He barely complains when he accompanies you. Strange, for him. Kol also doesn't try to attack any of the shoppers around you, so you're counting that as a win. He seems mostly focused on steering the cart through the multicolored aisles.
"Dairy section," you direct him. He narrowly misses hitting a popcorn display.
"Have you not been to a grocery store before?"
He looks at you wryly.
"Do I look like the kind of person to frequent a corner store?"
"You could have just said no."
Kol just grins, a quick flash of teeth.
"I'm surprised you volunteered to go shopping today," you say, "It doesn't seem like your thing."
"It isn't, but someone has to keep an eye on you."
"Rebekah could have," you point out, "You let me go into the restaurant on my own."
He gives you a pointed look.
"Only because I respect the need for privacy when plotting."
You still and a wave crests inside you.
"I don't know what you mean," you say unconvincingly.
"Don't worry," Kol grins, "Your secret is safe with me."
"I—" You stutter. "It's nothing bad, I promise. It's just…"
Kol cuts you off.
"I'm not Elijah. If I thought you were trying to harm Nik, I would probably help you."
"I'm not! I'm not going to hurt anyone. It's…" You struggle for words.
"My family is complicated, I know."
You deflate. "Yeah," you echo, "It is."
Kol nudges your shoulder. You get the odd sense he's trying to cheer you up.
"Don't worry," he reassures you, "Only an idiot would think you're capable of hurting us. Unfortunately, Elijah is an idiot, but I'll protect you from him."
"Aw, Kol," you say dryly, "It almost sounds like you care."
He rolls his eyes.
"I've made that more than apparent."
He says it flatly, but you can tell he means it. You're struck by his conviction.
"I'm assuming you need something from here," Kol says as he wheels into baking aisle. You let him change the subject, strange tension still in the air.
"You guessed correctly," you say, "Do you have any pastry preferences? I don't have anything planned."
He shrugs. "Nothing in particular. I like raspberries. There was a raspberry bush that grew near our home when we were young."
You're startled by the unprompted mention of his childhood. (Does it hurt them, you wonder, to think about the Before).
You force a smile. "Raspberry tarts it is." You brush past him to get pastry flour, and he visibly swallows and averts his gaze.
"… Are you okay?"
He flashes an insincere smile.
"It's nothing, just hungry."
You're confused for a moment before you realize.
"Oh," you say, "Am I making it worse?" You try backing away, but he grabs your wrist.
"You're fine. It's just all the people…" He grimaces. "Sorry."
You look at him, eyebrows knitting together.
"I'll hurry up. Will you be okay?"
He does roll his eyes at that.
"I'm not going to start attacking people in broad daylight," he mutters, "I do have some measure of self-control."
The expression on his face doesn't give you much confidence.
"Just don't die."
"I literally cannot."
You're already halfway down the aisle. Your list is almost empty, you just need english muffins and chicken. Someone steps out in front of you and you almost crash into them.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't see—"
Damon Salvatore grabs your wrist and flashes you a sharp grin.
"Sorry dearest, you're coming with us."
There has to be some special sort of irony that this happens the one day you actually leave your house. (The thing about so clearly knowing the consequences of something, is that when they do happen you're still surprised). Klaus is going to lock you inside a stone tower and never let you out. Also, you realize when you're dragged out into the parking lot, Kol and Rebekah are going to be in deep shit. You hope Klaus doesn't take it out on them.
"Drive, Stefan!"
"You know," an unfamiliar voice calls, "I still don't know how morality of kidnapping a human works out."
Damon rolls his eyes.
"Stop worrying about ethics, brother-mine, and drive before Double Trouble turns us into vampire smoothies."
Stefan nods and steps on it.
"Can you let go?" You demand. Damon glances down at you like he didn't even register you trying to wrestle your arms away.
"Request noted and denied."
You growl and struggle harder. All it does is frustrate you and bruise your wrists. "Mother fucker."
"Is this really all the defense you have?" Damon marvels, "You're useless."
"I am human, asshole."
His lips curve into a grin.
"Why has Klaus been hiding you away?" He wonders, "There's nothing special about you."
You don't answer.
"Well," he muses, "We'll find out soon."
"Damon," Stefan says dryly, "If you're done taunting her, you should probably blindfold her."
Damon sighs and forces you to look at him.
"Stay still," he intones. He lets go of your wrists and you dive for the door handle.
"Fuck!"
Damon pulls you back into your seat. He exchanges a look with Stefan through the rearview mirror.
"She's on vervain?" He asks incredulously.
Damon looks at you, gears turning.
"It looks like it."
You have a feeling you shouldn't have let that one slip.
"Well," Stefan remarks, "That'll make this more difficult."
"Way more," Damon agrees, "Well, looks like we're going to our house. On the bright side, you don't have to wear a blindfold."
You're tired of vampires.