The Last Petrova

The Ripper of Monterey

 "So this is where the famed Ripper of Monterey lives? I'm disappointed," I laughed, running inside and collapsing on the bed. "I'll be right back," Stefan said as he disappeared into... "Is that a closet?" I asked him, clutching at my head as the world swayed from all the drinking. 

I managed to stumble my way towards him. "What are you doing?" I mumbled, watching him scribble something on the wall. I squinted and frowned. "Are those names?" I wondered. Stefan nodded. 

"Nothing you should concern yourself about," Stefan said. "Now," he said, walking out of the closet, "Where were we?" he asked. I smiled, and grabbed two bottles of wine from the shelves behind him.

"Go find us someone to pair these with," I said, black veins rippling across my face as I shut the closet door behind me. Stefan tilted his head curiously. "I'm disappointed," he said, imitating my accent, and the tone I used to say these words just moments before. "According to Klaus, you're more in love with the hunt than I am. Why not join me?" he asked, outstretching a hand.

I smiled, then shook my head. "A lady needs her beauty rest, Salvatore, and even if my kingdom fell two hundred years ago... I am still a queen," I said, placing the bottles on the table and pushing him out the front door. "And don't even think of coming back here unless you've got someone good looking for me to kill," I said, right before I slammed the door in his face.

Still half drunk, I walked over towards the bed. That's when I noticed something sticking out from underneath the mattress. A pile of journals.

I pulled it out, and threw myself onto the bed as I flipped through the pages. There were numerous entries, some even dating back to the 1800s. The name 'Lexi' seemed to pop out a lot, as did the name 'Damon'.

Growing interested in the stories, I continued to read the entries. As I had heard from many rumors before, it seemed Stefan had a habit of turning his humanity switch on and off as the decades went by.

I dug the back of my head into the pillow, recalling the last time I had flipped the switch myself. 1918, a couple months before New Orleans had burned. I hadn't felt any bit of sadness or regret as we had fled New Orleans... And when I had turned it back on- or rather, when Elijah had forced me to turn it back on... All the emotions had come rushing straight back in. We had lost something that had belonged to us for centuries...

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Present Day

"What a charming little homestead. Do you feel that? Is anybody here?" Klaus says.

"It's been vacant for decades. People must break in all the time. Why'd you bring me here?" Stefan asks.

"Your friend, Liam Grant, the one who drank his wife's blood... I never could figure out why you wanted his name. And then you told me your little secret. It was all part of your special little ritual," Klaus says.

"To write it down," I recall. Klaus nods. "And relive the kill... Over and over again," Klaus says, walking over to one of the walls and swinging open a hidden door.

"You believe me now?" Klaus says. Stefan walks towards the door, and I follow him. We both step into the closet that's big enough to fit the two of-

Elena. Elena is here. She's right in front of me, smiling at Stefan with a gleam of hope in her eyes.

Why. Why. Why the hell- why would she- why did I even think to trust that Damon would keep his word and keep the last of my bloodline out of harm's way?

"Look what I found," Stefan says. Both Elena and I turn our heads wildly at him- 

"1918. Single malt." Stefan says, leaning forward and picking up a bottle of wine.

"My favorite," I chime in. "Let's go and find someone to pair it with, shall we?" I say, taking the bottle from Stefan's hands and leading Klaus out of the apartment, desperate to get him far away from here. 

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"Where's Rebekah?" Gloria says, when we enter the bar once more.

"She'll be here. I can't just conjure her on demand," Klaus says. All three of us sit down at the bar. Klaus glances at Stefan.

"What's with you? I thought Chicago was your playground," Klaus says.

"So this is why you asked me to be your wingman? Because you liked the way that I tortured innocent people?" Stefan says, gripping his shot glass extremely tightly.

"Well, that's certainly half of it," I mumble, raising the glass to my lips.

"What's the other half?" Stefan asks, looking at me. Klaus begins to pour tequila into Stefan's glass and his. When he doesn't pour any for me, I take the bottle out of his hands and bring the entire thing to my lips.

"The other half, Stefan, is that you used to want to be my wingman," Klaus says, as he raises his glass. Stefan doesn't lay a finger on his glass.

"So I'm confused. If we were such great friends, then why do I only know you as the hybrid dick who sacrificed my girlfriend on an altar of fire? Huh?" Stefan says with a mixture of confusion and anger.

Klaus nods slowly, then turns towards me. "All good things must come to an end. Isn't that right, love?" he says to me.

I stop drinking and stare at him. I open my mouth, then close it, unsure of what to say.

"Go on, Helena. Tell Stefan what really happened," Klaus says, nodding his head at Stefan. 

"I'm not drunk enough for this," I state, raising the bottle to my lips again-

I flinch slightly as Klaus sends the bottle flying the room. It lands with a huge shatter on the ground. 

"Tell Stefan what really happened," Klaus repeats.