THE VILLAIN DIARIES
𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒔...
Author note
Cross-posted on Wattpad (and eventually AO3), this is a sequel to my post-canon TVD fanfiction, The Bourbon Diaries. It features Katherine Pierce, Stefanie Salvatore, Damon Salvatore, Elena Gilbert, Caroline Forbes, Bonnie Bennett, and Stefan Salvatore, as well as other original characters.
Updates may be a little slow as I haven't planned all the fine details of the story yet, but I expect to get a chapter out at least once every 2-3 weeks. I do have a good plan for the story as a whole, so it will be completed.
Lots of thanks to the amazing writer scarlett2112 for all her support and chats since I began writing on this site!
Tropes
• Villains to heroes • Heroes to villains • Enemies to lovers • Forced proximity • Captive romance • Revenge • Jealousy • Power play • Angst
Content warnings
• Sexual scenes • Blood drinking/feeding • Alcohol use • Swearing • Physical violence/fighting/injury • Death
STORY BEGINS BELOW! THANK YOU FOR READING!
Prologue: Cristian Balescu
May 1923
Grand Central Station, Chicago, IL
Fifty-eight years, Cristian realized. Fifty-eight years and they were back to how they started. In a few more years, she probably wouldn't remember him at all. But he'd signed up for this, knowing what was coming, and he wasn't letting Katherine Pierce get away now.
Entering the train station through the arch beneath the clock tower, Cristian held tightly onto her arm as he reached out and grabbed the nearest suited gentleman who appeared jaunty enough to still be a bachelor. Right now, any man who didn't have an antagonistic woman by his side, draining him of his wallet and soul, could damn well pay the toll for it. Pulling him close, Cristian locked onto his eyes, demanding, "Get me two tickets on a Pullman – the first one to leave for New York."
The man, who was twice Cristian's age, maintained a flat expression, blinked through his spectacles, and then looked down nervously at the vice-like hold Cristian still had on his suit sleeve. The fingers tightened in anger; the kind of grip that had been itching to lay hands on someone all morning and, now that it had, was tempted to slam this overclass motherfucker headfirst into one of the waiting area's marble columns simply for existing.
Cristian took a deep breath. He couldn't draw attention to himself by starting a fight in the middle of a busy station, especially since this wasn't the guy who got him riled up in the first place. The man he really wanted to hurt was off limits – off limits to him certainly, but he could damn well make sure he was off limits to Katherine too. Not to mention, he was on the clock; he'd already cheated death for long enough, and Cristian didn't have time to lose his temper. He needed to get as far away as possible as fast as possible. So, Cristian flared his fingers, and the man hurried towards the ticket office as soon as he broke free.
Pulling Katherine further inside, Cristian jerked her down onto a bench. The one thing he did appreciate about her right now was that she wasn't resisting. Sure, she'd been bitching and complaining the entire morning, but she'd let him pack a holdall that consisted mainly of her belongings, then kept up with his tempestuous foot-stomping around Chicago. Her compliance made it easier.
Actually... forget that. No, it didn't make it easier. This was Katherine Pierce: a woman who wouldn't recognize the word compliance if she looked it up in the dictionary. So the fact that she was here, all sulks but few protests, just revealed to him that there was a small subconscious piece of her that still remembered. That was the hardest part. She could run from him at any time, yet she hadn't, which meant a part of her still knew their history.
"You could have just compelled the ticket inspector instead," she pointed out critically.
Cristian remained standing, glaring down at her, as he placed the holdall down beside the bench. She was itching to start another argument, and he wasn't going to give her one. He could see from the way her lips pressed tightly together, her chin held high, her face fixed forward, that she was already pondering another way to strike at him.
Then she found it.
She lowered her hands to either side of her legs, her palms against the seat, her thumbs pressing against the skirt of her dress. Then her legs crossed, the lining of her burgundy dress slipping back along her thigh, her thumbs drawing back the sheer chiffon and lace outer fabric from over her knee. Several nearby men noticed. She'd made it look like an accident, but it was no such thing. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Cristian noticing all the male eyes on her – and she smirked.
Testing his self-control was one thing, but provoking him into mass murder was pushing it. Cristian stepped in front of her, blocking their view, grabbed beneath her thigh, uncrossed her legs, and repositioned her skirt. "I did my part to ensure no attention is drawn to us. All you have to do is sit modestly and not ruin that."
Katherine glowered at him. "You accused me of not keeping my legs crossed... so I am. Will you ever make up your mind?"
Cristian sat beside her, pulling her knees against his own. "I'm not the one failing to make up their mind, Katherine," he gritted in a low tone. "You wanted to come here – I came. You frequent bars alone at night – I let you. I cater to your every whim and, in return, I discover that you only came to Chicago because Stefan Salvatore is here."
"Was here," she corrected.
"Somehow I don't believe you," he snorted. "It must be because you keep lying to me." He glanced sideways at her for a reaction and received nothing. No apologies, no regret – nothing. He sighed. Every day he had to remind himself why he was here, and every day she was making it harder for him to remain. He knew there was something in her gut telling her to stick by him, she just had no clue what was causing it.
Katherine held her chin high and sniffed. "Washington DC."
"What?"
"If we're heading east, that's where I want to go."
"You're done making decisions for the both of us," Cristian replied. "We're not going within a hundred miles of Mystic Falls."
Katherine rolled her eyes. "It's over a hundred miles, moron."
It was one of her milder insults that morning, so Cristian let it slide. "New York will suit you. You can trade your nights out at backroom bars for days out shopping instead."
"Great," Katherine snarked. "Just let me know when you've compelled enough men to hand over their wallets."
Cristian narrowed his eyes at her. It didn't bother either of them that he didn't have a job, yet she still kept using it as ammunition. He didn't have time to work – she was work. But he would let her have her digs and pretend she wounded his masculinity. It was far better than admitting that the only thing that hurt him was knowing each year with her was going to be harder than the last. He was trying to keep this together for as long as possible.
The compelled man returned with two tickets, handing them to Cristian. "It leaves in ten minutes."
Standing, Cristian picked up the holdall, grabbed the tickets, and gave the guy a shove backwards after he had the audacity to direct his eyes towards Katherine and linger there a second too long. The man stumbled but kept his balance, then quickly turned and darted away. When Cristian turned back to Katherine, he was pleased to see she was already standing, ready to follow him.
He led the way towards the arched trainshed with more urgency than Katherine had. She kept a few paces behind him, but so long as she was following, he didn't really care. It was difficult to look at her anyway. Not just because of the betrayal, but because his eyes were rimmed with redness through tears, pain, and lack of sleep, his brown hair was unkempt from the number of times he'd been running his hands through it anxiously, and he was long overdue a shave. He didn't want to give her the pleasure of reminding her what she'd done to him. Katherine, as always, looked pristine, making him appear more like her lowly luggage handler than her traveling companion. He felt like an embarrassment in more ways than one.
They stopped at the wrought iron gates to the platform and Cristian handed the inspector their tickets. He glanced down at them; then ran his eyes over the bag crossed across Cristian's body.
"Don't you have any additional luggage, sir?" he asked, punching a hole through the date of their departure.
"You see the beautiful woman behind me?" Cristian waited for the inspector's confirmation nod, then added to his amusement, "She is my luggage."
The inspector chuckled and handed back the tickets. "They usually are, sir. If you make your way up the platform, someone will see you to your sleeper carriage."
"Not necessary," Cristian replied. "Which carriage is the lounge?"
"It's a long journey, sir –"
It was going to be an even longer one if Cristian didn't make use of the contents of his flask that he had tucked into the pocket of the holdall. "Lounge," he repeated more firmly.
The inspector nodded resignedly. "Six carriages up, sir."
They settled into the lounge by compelling two men to vacate their high-back, velvet-upholstered chairs by the window. Katherine then sat while Cristian made his way to the bar. At least, it had the appearance of a bar, even if it didn't serve alcohol. He didn't anticipate how frustrating it was going to be, living through the prohibition era with a woman who made him want to drink until he lacked the same memories she'd lost.
"Give me a set-up," Cristian said to the lounge attendant behind the bar that served only sodas, sundaes, and sandwiches according to its menu.
"That's prohibited, sir," came the man's reply.
Cristian sighed with inconvenience, then made the same request, this time with the help of compulsion. "I said, give me a set-up," he repeated. "Actually, make it two." He wasn't going to relax until Katherine did as well.
With two glasses in hand containing only ice, Cristian took them over to their seats, placed them on the small walnut table between them, and took out his flask. He didn't hide what he was doing – half of the male passengers likely carried alcohol on long trips like these – and he filled the two glasses halfway with bourbon and pushed one towards Katherine. While she sipped her drink delicately, he took a mouthful, enjoying the burn of it hitting his throat.
They never said a word to each other while Cristian counted down the remaining minutes until they were due to depart. As soon as they were out of Chicago, he would beat fate. This is the city where he was predicted to die – and this was the predicted year. So the last few months of living in Chicago had been a paranoid hell... and while he hated the reason he now had for leaving, he also felt relief that it would soon be behind him.
The departure time came and went, and Cristian's anxiety was beginning to spike. Two men entered the lounge, grumbling a complaint about a delay. He jumped up from his seat and stopped them before they went to the bar.
"Gentlemen, I overheard your talk of a delay... how long is it meant to be?" he asked them.
"Any moment now," one reassured him. "We just find it absurd that it's the first departure of the Cap –"
Cristian's heart launched into his throat and got stuck there. There it was. The word he had been avoiding for the past four months. Street names, businesses – he'd kept away from anything that contained that word. Katherine had enjoyed taking refuge in the Capital Jazz Café knowing fine well he wouldn't set foot in there. He avoided the Auburn Gresham neighborhood from the moment he discovered that the new Capitol Theatre was due to be built there. So why – why – was he hearing the word now?
The man was still speaking. "– and already the service has been –"
"What do you mean by 'The Cap'," Cristian interrupted urgently, his voice tight, his fear strangling him.
The man looked confused. "The Pullman? Capitol Limited?" He waited for Cristian's face to morph into recognition before he repeated the nickname of the new train service. "The Cap?"
The explanation was brief but enough to get Cristian springing into action. He launched over to Katherine, attempting to pull her into standing by her arm. She remained in her seat, yanking herself from his grasp. His vampire strength was nothing compared to hers and when Katherine didn't want to move, she damn well didn't. "We need to leave!" he barked at her pleadingly.
Katherine pinched her lips, blinking slowly, her tolerance level finally depleted. Then the entire carriage shuddered. The train was about to leave.
Cristian panicked, slamming his hands down on the table. "Move!" he demanded her.
She finally looked up at him as the train began its departure from the station. "Congratulations," she snipped. "It seems you have a better ability at commanding the train, than me."
"We can jump out," he pleaded.
"I will do no such thing."
Cristian leaned across the table, screaming into her face, "He's going to KILL ME!"
Katherine was the only one in the carriage who was unfazed. As Cristian dropped down into his seat with his face in his hands, she stood up. A few men were already starting to leave the lounge nervously and she compelled the rest to follow, including the attendants. Finally alone, Katherine leaned down over Cristian, taking his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks with her fingers.
Despite his distress, Cristian allowed himself to be comforted by her touch. He hadn't felt this kind of tenderness from her for the past two years. "If I stay on this train, I'm dead," he uttered mournfully.
"Listen to me," Katherine urged. Her touch became firmer, more commanding; until his eyes met hers. "Damon Salvatore is not on this train. If he were ever in Chicago, I would have known. Stefan would have known. Nobody is going to kill you. In twenty-four hours, we'll be in New York, and you'll never have to worry about this again. Now why don't you get some sleep? You've been up all night."
"I can't sleep," Cristian replied, lowering his eyes. "There are fifteen stops until our destination. He could get on at any one of them."
Katherine's thumbs slid beneath his chin, turning his face up towards hers. His blue eyes were terrified, staring at her as though it was going to be the final time. "I'll check on you at every stop and make sure you're still asleep."
Cristian drew his eyebrows together, confused. "What do you mean, 'make sure I'm still...'?"
Katherine snapped his neck and caught him before he hit the table. She faced him towards the window, his cheek flat on the table, and crossed both arms above his head. He looked relatively comfortable and now she wouldn't have to hear him complaining the entire journey. She didn't believe a word of that damn premonition of his. But – to be on the safe side – she'd find someone who was able to lock him alone inside the carriage. If he couldn't get out, Damon Salvatore certainly couldn't get in.
Before she left, she swallowed back both their drinks, then went to find something to amuse her for the rest of the journey.
Nineteen hours, eight stops, and eight broken necks later, Cristian awoke to the sound of banging on the carriage door. His eyes fluttered open to see Katherine sitting in front of him, holding her cameo daylight necklace aside, and folding up a wad of cash, which she shoved beneath her neckline,
"How the hell am I still alive?" As much as he was pissed at Katherine for rendering him unconscious for most of the journey, he found his anger evaporating each time he woke to discover that the premonition hadn't caught up with him yet. As vulnerable as Katherine had left him, trapped in a room unconscious from a broken neck, she'd also saved him a hell of a lot of worry.
"I told you," Katherine responded calmly. "Damon Salvatore is not on this train."
The banging continued.
Cristian pushed off the table, sitting upright and stretching his limbs. "That sounds like it could be him now," he said, referring to the commotion beyond the door.
"It's not," she reassured him.
"Then what is it?"
"I won a card game."
Cristian eyed her skeptically. "You won?"
"I cheated," Katherine clarified smoothly. "Unfortunately, he was not traveling alone."
Cristian groaned. "How many?"
"Half a dozen."
He felt the train beginning to slow. "Are we coming up to a station?"
"Washington DC," she answered.
Rolling his eyes, Cristian stood from his chair. "Impeccable timing," he grumbled. He wouldn't have put it past Katherine to start trouble deliberately before reaching her preferred destination. "Grab the bag, we're getting off."
The banging ceased briefly, only to be replaced by an argument outside between the men and a train attendant. But the interruption didn't last for long before they were trying to break down the door again.
Cristian lined himself up with the door, as far back as he needed to gain speed. The exit was immediately outside, and the train had now stopped. He rotated his body so that his shoulder was facing front and took a deep breath. "Ready?" he asked Katherine, who stood behind him. He wasn't sure he was ready himself. If the door wasn't as solid as it looked, he could end up with a shard of wood wedged in his shoulder as well as a lot of pissed off men outside.
"Just get on with it," she grumbled.
If there was one thing Katherine could do spectacularly, it was get under his skin enough that it injected a shot of adrenaline-filled anger into him. This time he needed it.
Cristian charged towards the door, breaking it from its brass hinges, using his full force to push the shield of wood back against his opposition until they collapsed in the corridor past the exit door. He then threw the broken door on top of the heap of men and turned quickly to leave the train.
As he pulled open the exit, a man at the back of the fallen group scrambled over the horizontal door, sliding on his stomach towards Katherine's ankle and grabbing it with both hands.
"Give us back our money, bitch!" he roared.
Cristian turned, swinging an arm out to push Katherine back, while he stomped down on the man's hand forcefully. He immediately howled in pain and released her.
Wedged in tight, body to body against Katherine in the little space they now had between the corridor and the exit, Cristian finally managed to pull open the exit door far enough for them both to squeeze out.
It was five o'clock in the morning and still dark as they both ran across the platform. As soon as they crossed the ticket barrier, they broke out in a vampire-speed sprint into the streets of Washington DC, turning down a further three roads until they were definitely out of sight of anyone who would have exited the train behind them.
They stopped – their backs against a wall – to catch their breath.
"I made a reservation at the Willard," Katherine finally said. "I telephoned them this morning."
Cristian chuckled between heavy breaths. "Of course you did." He looked sideways at Katherine with a smile. The bitch had planned this, that was for sure... but he was alive.
He was fucking alive.
As she turned her head to look at him, he felt exhilarated. The running... the hiding... it reminded him of old times. A rush of old feelings spread from his chest to the smile on his face. He'd needed this for a long time. He'd needed to be far away from Chicago... far away from Stefan Salvatore... and definitely far away from Damon.
And here he was. He'd made it.
But, as his eyes roamed over Katherine, taking in her beauty, her tenacity, and remembering everything they'd been through together, his focus dropped to her neck.
And his smile disappeared.
Stepping away from the wall, his stomach sank as he realized it was nearly sunrise and Katherine was missing something vital. "Where's your daylight necklace?"
She placed a hand on her neck. Then, as though it could be anywhere else on her body, started patting down the rest of her, turning in circles as she then checked the floor. Realizing it was nowhere around, her head shot up. "It must have broken off."
"On the train?" He had to damn well hope it wasn't still on that train. But it wouldn't depart for another twenty minutes. He knew, if that's where it was, he still had time to get it back. "Get to the Willard now, before sunrise," he told her. "I promise you I'll find it."
Katherine nodded; concern etched across her face.
He had only a few seconds to take in that expression – an expression which proved that, deep down, she still cared about his safety. Maybe she didn't remember why, but she did. It wasn't that she believed in the premonition – she likely suspected that the men were still searching for him, and they'd land a few blows before he could compel each of them to turn on each other instead. Nothing life-threatening, not as far as Katherine was concerned.
Cristian knew better. Don't let it be on that fucking train, he thought.
Before he left, he stepped in front of her, grazed a thumb against her cheek, and looked into her wide brown eyes. He couldn't confine her to the night, and they didn't have another witch in this city. She needed that necklace back. This is what he was risking everything for. He agreed to take that risk a long time ago, and now the day had come. So, with that reminder, he used his speed to vanish back to the station.
As soon as he got there, he retraced their steps, heading towards the platform. The train was still there, and the final person was disembarking. Luckily, none of the suited thugs were in sight. He walked up to one of the station attendants. He wasn't getting back on that train until it was absolutely necessary.
"Excuse me," he said, approaching the man in the big button blazer. "I was on the Cap from Chicago. My companion has lost a necklace. A lapis lazuli cameo attached to a gold chain. The chain is likely broken. Have you seen it?"
The man shook his head. No compulsion was necessary to ensure this man was telling the truth. His regret was genuine, and it was clear he took pride in his job from how impeccable his uniform was. "I'm sorry, young man, but if you wish to return to the train to search for it, you have fifteen minutes before it leaves."
Cristian expressed his thanks and headed towards the iron gates. He peered between the bars, his breath heavy. Was it overreacting to be this cautious? Chicago was behind him and the Cap was right in front of him. 1923. Chicago. The Cap. That's what he was told. The year, the city, and the place of his death. If he walked back on that train, he was one step closer to dying.
He couldn't do it. They could find a way to get another daylight necklace. Damn it, he already had another lapis lazuli necklace in his possession for her, all he needed was a witch to do the spell. How long would it take to find one? They could travel back to Mystic Falls overnight. It wasn't something he planned for, or even wanted to do, but he knew he couldn't get back on that train. There had to be a way. They had to find another witch.
With that, Cristian turned and began walking towards the station exit.
"I couldn't help but overhear," said a familiar voice behind him.
Cristian froze. He knew that voice. The harbinger of his death... the cause of his death... and it was standing right behind him. He wouldn't turn around. He would pretend he hadn't heard, and he would keep walking.
As soon as Cristian took a step, the man behind him took two. Could he outrun him? Technically, as vampires, they were the same age, weren't they?
"I found the necklace you were looking for."
The words pierced through Cristian's gut, and he closed his eyes in dread. This wasn't something he could ignore now. He knew Damon would have recognized that necklace.
Cristian slowly turned around and almost chuckled at the sight in front of him, looking so different and yet exactly the same. It was like the man was playing dress-up in early 20th-century costume, wearing the trilby, wool suit, and waistcoat. He was sure Damon would think the same of him if he had any idea who he was.
Cristian kept their interaction brief. "Thank you," he replied, offering an outstretched hand to take it, but finding his feet rooted to the spot.
Damon held up the necklace, letting it dangle from his fingers. There was something ominous about the display; like he was reluctant to part with it and goading Cristian to take it from him by force. "You said your companion was wearing it?"
Cristian cleared his throat. There had to be other necklaces like it. "Yes, my grandmother," he lied. "She was traveling with me. My traveling companion."
Damon released a piercingly cold look, as though that lie told him everything he needed to know. He remained like that for a moment, a knowing smirk forming. Then he visibly relaxed, nodding. "Of course," he responded. "It must be very sentimental." He stretched out his arm. "Go ahead, take it."
Cristian's feet felt heavy. This had to be a trap. But he couldn't act suspiciously. He had to see this through, take the necklace and leave. The more natural he appeared, the easier his escape would be. So, he took the dreaded steps closer to Damon, not once removing his eyes from his face, not even to blink.
As soon as Cristian was in reaching distance, he held out his hand to receive the necklace. He wouldn't take it – he would receive it. Taking it could result in a struggle; he couldn't risk that.
Damon's smirk widened at Cristian's obvious trepidation. He could be intimidating to most men... but this wasn't most men. This was a man with a secret he wanted to know.
Then, without breaking eye contact, Damon dropped the necklace into Cristian's hand.
"Thank you," Cristian repeated. It wasn't over yet. It wasn't over until he was out of Damon's sight.
Cristian's hand clasped around the necklace. He knew he had to turn around to walk away. He knew he had to rely on his vampire hearing to warn him of an attack as soon as he did so. By then would it be too late? He had no choice. He held his breath as he turned around and started walking.
In a brief moment of stupid hope, Cristian believed that really was the end of it.
But then he heard the slow footsteps behind him.
He instantly knew what this meant.
Damon was going to follow him to Katherine.
And Cristian was going to die... because he was never going to let Damon reach her.
Suddenly, self-preservation was no longer important. He had to get this necklace to Katherine, and he had to make sure Damon didn't find out where she was staying. That was his final mission.
With a new, heightened resolve, Cristian strode towards the empty ticket office where there were printed copies of train timetables. He grabbed one and carried on outside, the footsteps following him. If he sped up, so did the steps behind him. If he slowed down, Damon matched his pace.
Cristian reached into his breast pocket and took out a pen. He began writing on the back of the train timetable as he walked. He couldn't concentrate, not while he was panicking, and he ended up wincing at the inelegance of his chosen words. He should have had the foresight to predict this – to have prepared something more profound. But, with the words now committed to paper, he returned the pen to his pocket, wrapped the note around the necklace, and kept walking. He didn't turn around. He had no idea where he was going. He just had to find someone else who was walking alone this early in the morning.
It was then his ears picked up additional steps. He stopped focusing on Damon's footsteps for a moment to figure out where the new sound was coming from.
Two roads away. A right turn. Then a left one.
He needed to use his vampire speed, but he couldn't do it until he'd turned that first corner. Damon had no idea what he was yet. He probably suspected he was some poor sap of a human that Katherine had compelled to find her necklace while she relaxed safely indoors somewhere.
The right turn was coming up.
He took it.
He sped towards the new footsteps.
He didn't have time to inspect the man as he stopped in front of him and handed him the necklace wrapped in the note. He could have been anyone, he didn't care. The compulsion was all that mattered, and it had to be quick. "Take these to Katherine Pierce at the Willard Hotel," he said in a low whisper. "Run, now!" He then spun him around, directing him down a side street, watching him dash away.
The side street was the only way to leave the dead end road Cristian had found himself trapped in. He wasn't going to take it and lead Damon to his compelled messenger. For a moment, he considered returning the way he came, taking the risk of bumping back into Damon. But before the thought even left his head, it was no longer an option.
Damon had found him.
"Where's Katherine?"