𝕍𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕊𝕦𝕔𝕜 ⦉ᴛᴠᴅ⦊

Ch 27. Love?

The dark cellar reeked of mildew and despair. Stefan Salvatore huddled in the corner of his dank prison cell, his eyes wild, skin sallow. The lack of blood was driving him into a feverish delirium, warping his sense of reality.

He was back in 1864, the cloying scent of smoke and gunpowder assaulting his nostrils. The cursed night when everything went wrong. When the sanctimonious Founders' Council discovered Katherine's true nature and started their vicious purge against the vampires. 

"Circle around that way. I'll distract them. Go!" Stefan's hushed voice carried urgency as he issued orders to his brother Damon.

He sprang into action, luring the dim-witted human battalion away from the carriage containing his lover's captured vampire brethren. Among them was Katherine Pierce, the beginnings of an all-consuming obsession simmering in Stefan's heart. 

Damon worked swiftly, dispatching the lone guard with human efficiency. As the groaning man crumpled, Damon snatched the keys and threw open the carriage door.  Katherine's limp body tumbled out, her striking eyes flickering open as the brothers hurried to untie her gag.

"We're going to get you out of here!" Stefan's promise was Molotov-heated, even as the gunshot tore through Damon's chest.

"No!!" Stefan's scream cleaved the night as his brother's lifeless body struck the ground. He scrambled for a rifle, retaliating, but searing pain lanced through him as bullets ripped into his flesh.

The vision blurred and distorted. Suddenly Katherine's face was replaced by Elena's, her warm eyes brimming with tears. "I love you, Stefan..."

"Stefan!" Damon's concerned baritone snapped him back to the present. His brother's forehead creased with worry as Elena peered at Stefan through the bars of his cage...

♤♤♤♤♤

Caroline smoothed her palm over the cool metal bars, her brow furrowed with concern as she studied Stefan's fitful form on the tiny cot within the cell. His slumber was plagued by intermittent bouts of restless tossing and turning, the sheets tangling around his long limbs.

"He just keeps drifting in and out," she murmured, glancing over her shoulder at Elena with troubled eyes. "Maybe the lack of blood is really starting to take a toll."

Elena leaned back against the damp stone wall across the narrow corridor, her own gaze locked unblinkingly on her boyfriend's tormented sleep. "It's so hard, seeing him locked up like this," she said thickly, her voice hitching with the barest tremor of remorse.

A derisive scoff cut through the heavy silence, causing both girls to turn. Damon lounged against the adjacent cell door, his expression a mask of pointed indifference as he regarded Elena coolly.

"Well, you're the one who put him in there, weren't you?" His tone dripped with pointed accusation. "Don't go getting all weepy on us now."

Elena bristled, her back stiffening as she fixed him with a reproachful glare. "You both helped make this decision."

"We did what needed to be done," Caroline interjected in a placating tone, shooting Damon a quelling look before he could unleash another scathing retort. "Stefan was out of control - we had to contain the situation before it put everyone at risk."

Damon arched a sardonic eyebrow at the gentle admonishment, but his response was mercilessly dismissive as he leveled his focus squarely on Elena again.

"I couldn't very well have him running around chewing on people while the town was on high alert looking for vampires, now could I?" He delivered the words with mock innocence, though his eyes glinted with thinly veiled contempt.

"It had nothing to do with you actually caring about him?" Elena challenged heatedly.

The vampire's derisive snort was full of acidic disdain. "Your thing, not mine."

Caroline shot him a reproachful look, her lips pressing into a tight line. "You're a terrible liar," she murmured lowly, taking a step closer and grasping his arm in a gentle but meaningful squeeze.

Damon held her judging gaze for a taut, loaded moment before something imperceptible flickered across his striking features. A muscle ticked along his clenched jaw and then he shifted, shrugging out of her grasp as he straightened away from the bars. Without a word, he pivoted on his heel and strode from the cellar, leaving Caroline and Elena to keep their solemn vigil over Stefan in his absence.

♤♤♤♤♤

The quarry's still waters reflected the moon's pale visage as Stefan jolted awake, chest heaving. His trembling fingers brushed over smooth skin where the fatal bullet wound should have been. A heavy ring adorned his finger, ancient and inscribed with cryptic symbols.

Emily Bennett's solemn face swam into focus, her expression an inscrutable mask. "Katherine had me make that for you weeks ago."

Stefan's voice was a dry croak. "Where am I?"

"The quarry just north of town. My brother and I brought you here last night." Her next words dropped like tombstones. "We found you dead in the woods."

A chill slithered down his spine. "Where's Damon? Am I...am I a..."

"Not yet," Emily said flatly. "You're in transition."

The haze slowly lifted as horrible realization crept in. "But how? I never..."

"You had Katherine's blood in your system when you died." Emily's words were laced with pity. "She's been compelling you to drink it for weeks, Stefan."

He recoiled in revulsion, Katherine's betrayal a white-hot brand. "No...I never..."

"No compulsion was necessary for your brother." Emily's voice was leaden. "He drank from her willingly."

Stefan found Damon slumped by the river's edge, expression hollow. When he spoke, his words were tattered shreds of heartbreak.

"I woke up last night. Didn't know where I was..." Damon's bright eyes looked bruised. "I went to the church. Watched them drag her inside. Set it ablaze. The whole place went up." His teeth clenched, jaw taut. "They killed her, Stefan. Katherine's gone."

♤♤♤♤♤

The ornate object sat heavily in Damon's palm as he studied it with a furrowed brow, turning it this way and that as if its secrets might be unlocked through sheer scrutiny alone. So consumed was he in his examination that he didn't immediately register Caroline's approach until her melodic voice broke the weighted silence.

"You couldn't have been more obvious out there," she remarked, a hint of teasing lacing her tone as she settled onto the arm of the sofa beside him. "You're worried about your brother."

Damon's gaze flickered up, his expression softening almost imperceptibly at her presence before the familiar mask of nonchalance slipped back into place. "You're the only one who can always tell when I'm lying," he deflected smoothly, her statement hanging unanswered between them like a challenge. "How do you do that?"

A small, enigmatic smile tugged at the corners of the blonde's lips. "I just know," she replied simply with a delicate shrug of one slim shoulder.

An inscrutable look passed between them, loaded with unspoken nuances and half-realized truths that seemed to tether them together in that crystalline moment. But then Caroline's teeth snagged her bottom lip in a show of sudden, flustered uncertainty, and the delicate tension was broken.

"Did you, uh, ever figure out what that is?" she asked, gesturing toward the bizarre artifact that looked like a pocket watch from the outside, cradled so carefully in his palm, clearly aiming to change the subject.

Damon's eyes dropped back to the object, his brows knitting once more as he studied the intricate mechanics with a slight shake of his head. "Nope," he said at last with a rueful quirk of his lips. "Whatever it is, it doesn't seem to work."

"Maybe it needs some kind of...activation?" she suggested thoughtfully, leaning in to get a closer look herself. "You know, like a spell or a key or something?"

The older Salvatore's piercing blue gaze cut sidelong toward her, a hint of begrudging consideration flickering across his striking features. "Huh," he grunted noncommittally, though his thumb began absently tracing the grooves along the orb's polished metal surface as if seeking any minuscule clue he might have missed.

So engrossed was he in studying the mysterious object that he didn't immediately register Elena's approach until her pointed inquiry sliced through his contemplation.

"Pearl didn't say anything else about it?" Elena asked, her gaze flickering between them as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Caroline shook her head. "She thought it was some kind of vampire compass at first," she explained, shooting a sideways glance at Damon. "But it seems this Jonathan Gilbert was more of an unhinged scientist than anyone realized."

A muscle ticked along Damon's chiseled jaw as he deliberately pocketed the artifact, his striking features hardening imperceptibly. "Have you spoken to your uncle lately?" he asked Elena in a tone of forced nonchalance.

The brunette's brows knit together as she regarded him warily. "I've been avoiding him, actually," she admitted. A brief pause, then: "I've been here most nights."

An unreadable look flickered across Damon's face before his lips curved into a tight, unfriendly smile. "So you'll be gracing us with your delightful presence again tonight?"

The sarcasm was biting, provocative, daring Elena to rise to the bait. Her eyes slitted in a look of faint exasperation. "Is that a problem?"

"Yes," Damon stated bluntly, his gaze gliding over her in an appraising look of open disdain. "You're a complete nuisance."

Caroline tensed beside him, shooting him a reproachful glance that he patently ignored. But Elena simply huffed out a wry chuckle, shaking her head in resignation.

"See you later," she tossed over her shoulder as she turned on her heel and exited the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence in her wake.

Caroline waited until they were alone before rounding on Damon with a critical look. "Why do you keep trying to antagonize her like that?" she demanded in a hushed tone.

Damon's smile didn't reach his eyes as he turned to face her fully. "Because she's trying to take over my house Barbie," he drawled, his voice low and unflinchingly irritated as his stare openly raked over Caroline's form. "And that really gets on my nerves."

♤♤♤♤♤

Damon descended the creaky wooden steps into the cool shadows of the cellar, a glass bottle sloshing faintly in his grip. He stopped before the barred cell door, eyeing his brother's huddled form on the cot with a carefully measured look.

"Brought you something to eat," Damon announced without preamble, giving the bottle a little shake to prompt Stefan's attention. "100% Stefan diet approved, promise. You know what will happen if you don't eat - you'll get all rotting and crusty. Not a good look, even for you."

Stefan didn't so much as twitch from his dejected ball on the thin mattress, his voice muffled by the arms wrapped around his bent knees. "I'm not hungry."

Damon scoffed loudly at the petulant refusal. "Of course you are. We're eternally hungry, isn't that what they teach in Vampirism 101?" He rattled the bottle again insistently. "Take it. The human blood should be long gone from your system by now. Unless..." His eyes narrowed to icy chips. "You want to explain why you're still rotting away in here like a prisoner? Feeling sorry for yourself?"

Still, Stefan remained unnervingly motionless and silent, steadfastly ignoring his brother's prodding.

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Damon shrugged and turned away from the bars. "Fine then, starve. See if I care."

He stalked back up the stairs and into the living room, looking disgustedly at the bottle still clutched in his hand. Caroline glanced up from where she was perched on the sofa, her planner open across her lap as she chewed the end of her pen thoughtfully.

"No luck getting him to feed?" she asked carefully, taking in the pinched lines of frustration etched across his chiseled features.

He shook his head curtly at her. "Nope, he's not budging."

Before Caroline could respond, Damon's phone began ringing shrilly, making them both start. He pulled it from his pocket and eyed the caller ID with a slight frown. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Alaric Saltzman," the voice on the other end responded.

Damon arched an incredulous brow. "Before I hang up, how did you get this number?"

"Ah, it's a mystery," Alaric replied lightly, undeterred. "Listen, I've been doing some digging on Elena's uncle. You interested?"

Interest piqued despite himself, Damon demanded, "What kind of digging?"

"I've got an old friend from Duke who studied criminology with me back in the day. Let's just say he's become a very proficient digger over the years."

"Well, did he find anything?" The vampire asked impatiently.

"I had him run a track on John's cell records," Alaric explained. "He was getting calls from the same number that Elena dialed to get Isobel. And then that number was disconnected."

"Isobel knows John," Damon stated with a dismissive shrug. "We already knew that much."

"Right, well after that, he started getting calls from a new number," he continued. "I had my friend run a geotrack and got an address. It's an apartment over in Grove Hill."

Now Damon's brows hiked upward in surprise. "Wait...Isobel's in Grove Hill?"

"I don't know," Alaric admitted. "I thought maybe we could take a look together, see what we find."

"Perfect," he replied, his tone brimming with anticipation. "Just give me the address."

"So you can go without me?" Alaric countered knowingly. "No way, I don't think so."

"I'm not going with you," Damon stated flatly. "You tried to kill me, remember?"

The history teacher's reply crackled with wry amusement. "Yeah, well you did actually kill me first."

Before Damon could respond, his phone began buzzing with another incoming call, "Hold on"

He glanced at the caller ID and rolled his eyes dismissively upon seeing Elena's name. Without hesitation, he rejected the call and put the phone back to his ear.

Seconds later, Caroline's phone started ringing. She checked it and smiled apologetically at Damon. "Hi, Elena."

"I'm just grabbing some clothes, and then I'll be right over," Elena's voice replied. "Hey, why didn't Damon pick up my call?"

Caroline's gaze flicked questioningly toward Damon, who was already shaking his head in a clear rebuff. "He's, uh, talking with someone. What's up?"

A brief pause, then: "How's Stefan doing?"

Damon fixed the blonde with a meaningful look, making a spinning motion with his finger to indicate she should wrap up the conversation. 

"Okay send me the address," he told Alaric abruptly. "We will meet you there in an hour." A beat, then he added with a wolfish grin, "Barbie's coming with us."

Caroline's brows hiked upward in surprise, even as Alaric's resigned sigh filtered through the line. "Done. See you soon."

Damon pocketed his phone with a satisfied smirk after his curt exchange with Alaric. Whatever investigative detour the history teacher had roped him into, at least it provided a welcome distraction from the increasingly stifling atmosphere of the Boarding House.

He sauntered over to join Caroline on the sofa, his sharp gaze not missing the way her shoulders relaxed as he settled beside her.

"He won't eat anything," Caroline murmured, worry furrowing her brow as she nodded toward the cellar, in the basement.

The dulcet tones of Elena's inquiry reached Damon's ears then, and he rolled his eyes dramatically. "Is Damon done with his call?" the girl was asking with her usual earnest inflection.

"Yes," Caroline replied through gritted teeth, the epitome of forced politeness. "Why?"

Elena didn't seem to register the strain in her friend's tone as she barreled onward. "Can you, um, ask him what kind of...what Stefan's favorite type of animal blood is? That he prefers?"

Damon watched with no small amount of twisted delight as Caroline's delicate features contorted with revulsion. "Ew, gross!"

"Caroline, please..." Elena begged.

With an aggrieved huff, Caroline thrust her phone into Damon's waiting palm. "Ask him yourself."

Damon's lips curved into a cutting smile, all sharp edges and thinly veiled mockery. "Well now, isn't that a disgusting thing to ask?" He made a show of grimacing in distaste.

"Your joking isn't helping," Elena shot back, her own annoyance finally bleeding through.

"On the contrary, Ms. Gilbert," Damon purred silkily. "It's helping me quite a bit." His piercing stare flicked pointedly toward Caroline before returning to the device. "Now hurry it up with the questions- Barbie and I have places to be, and we can't babysit my pouty brother all night."

A moment of tense silence crackled over the line before Elena muttered tightly, "I would say 'drop dead,' but..."

"Ha ha ha" Damon fake laughed, unable to resist twisting the proverbial knife with one final biting remark. "Stefan's favorite treat is puppy blood. You know, those cute little golden retrievers with the big floppy ears? Mm-mmm, to die for."

The ensuing offended squawk was almost too satisfying before the line abruptly went dead. Elena had clearly reached her limit of his taunting for one night.

Damon tossed the phone back to Caroline with an unrepentant grin. "What? Too far?"

"God, why did you have to put that disgusting image in my head?" Caroline demanded, thwacking his arm in a fit of outraged disgust even as reluctant amusement danced in the bright depths of her eyes.

Chuckling darkly, Damon reached out to toy with a loose tendril of her silken hair, his expression all playful arrogance. "Because getting a rise out of you two is just way too much fun. I'm a horrible person like that."

But even as the brazen words left his lips in that low, honeyed rasp, Damon's stare dropped meaningfully to her mouth, his thumb continuing its idle stroking against her jawline. A beat passed, two - the fleeting pocket of time seeming to stretch taut as a tightrope between them.

Then, almost reluctantly, Damon's hand fell away as he hauled himself to his feet with a resigned grunt. "Well, break time's over. You'd better go get ready for our little field trip, Barbie. Can't keep the professor waiting."

He tossed a dazzling wink over his shoulder as he sauntered toward the staircase, leaving a flustered, flushed Caroline in his wake to ponder the sudden charge that had electrified the air between them.

One thing was for certain - it was going to be an interesting day.

♤♤♤♤♤

Elena jabbed the end call button with a frustrated huff, Damon's taunting laughter still ringing in her ears. Shoving her phone into her pocket, she whirled around and yanked open her closet door, determined to find something suitable to wear for her upcoming unpleasant task of coaxing Stefan to feed.

"Sorry."

The deep timbre of that gravelly voice had Elena's head snapping up in surprise. There, backlit by the faint glow of the hallway light, stood the unmistakable silhouette of her uncle John. She blinked slowly, suddenly hyperaware of how very alone they were with the bedroom door closed tight.

"Uncle John," she murmured, clearing her throat. "I didn't see you there."

He stepped further into the room, hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jeans in an aggressively casual pose. "I thought we could talk. We haven't had a chance to catch up."

A frisson of unease rippled through Elena as those dark eyes watched her. She busied herself rifling through hangers, keeping her movements brisk and her tone light. "I'm actually just heading out, so..."

"Well, it won't take long."

At his insistent rumble, Elena stilled and pivoted to face him fully. "What did you want to talk about?"

John lifted one broad shoulder in an artful shrug, his expression carefully blank. "Well...I know you know."

She arched a brow, saying nothing as she waited for him to elaborate. When he didn't, Elena prompted with patent impatience, "Know what?"

"It's really silly to keep pretending." John pursed his lips, shaking his head almost regretfully. "What do you think your mother would say if she knew you were dating a vampire?"

A tense beat fell between them as Elena absorbed the weighted implication of his words. Of course, he knew - he was a Gilbert through and through, steeped in the family's sordid history whether he cared to admit it or not.

Inclining her chin ever so slightly, Elena met his scrutinizing stare with a boldly defiant one of her own. "Which mother?"

John looked at her, seemingly unable to answer. She didn't wait for a response, merely brushed past him toward the door, her restraint a hairsbreadth from shattering. This confirmed her suspicion, John was probably sent by Isobel.

♤♤♤♤♤

Stefan cradled the pail of cool river water, each jarring step sending tremors through his battered body. He lowered himself beside Damon on the quarry's rocky edge, nudging the wooden basin toward his brother's bloodied hands.

Damon didn't acknowledge it at first, his thousand-yard stare piercing the rippling water's surface. Slowly, mechanically, he dipped his ruined shirt into the pail, sloshing crimson clouds that bloomed then dissipated.

"I bet Johnathan Gilbert has told Father by now," Stefan said, voice pitched low. "Wonder how he took the news that we're dead."

A muscle ticked in Damon's taut jaw. "As if he cares. He betrayed us."

"He thought he was protecting us, Damon." The words felt hollow, a feeble attempt at rationalization. "Protecting this town."

"God, this sun hurts my eyes," Damon grimaced, squinting against the bright rays spangling the quarry.

Stefan nodded, swallowing against the tightness in his throat. "It's part of it. The muscle aches, the sick feeling...Emily says it's our bodies pushing us to feed. To complete the transition."

Damon stilled, grip tightening on his soiled shirt until his knuckles shone bone-white. "That's not gonna happen."

A lump formed in Stefan's throat as he studied his brother's anguished profile. "Is that your choice then? To die instead?"

Damon's smile didn't reach his haunted eyes. "Isn't it yours? This was all to be with Katherine." His voice cracked like shattered glass. "But she's gone. I want it over."

♤♤♤♤♤

The dank chill of the cellar seemed to seep into Elena's bones as she descended the creaky wooden steps, her heart heavy with trepidation. Stefan sat hunched on the cot, a haunted shadow of the man she loved, tension vibrating from his taut frame.

"How are you feeling?" she asked gently, eyeing the undrunk bottle of blood with concern. "Damon said you need to drink that. You can't survive without it, Stefan."

Stefan's jaw ticked, but he didn't look up, didn't acknowledge the offering in any way. "I don't want to survive," he rasped out at last, the words seeming to scrape his throat raw.

Elena's breath caught, dread congealing thick and choking in her chest. "What? Don't say that..."

But Stefan's eerie calm only seemed to deepen as he met her stricken gaze with hollow eyes. "I'm sorry, Elena. But no more. After what I've done...it has to end. I just want it over."

♤♤♤♤♤

The tense atmosphere hung thick in the dimly lit living room as Elena watched Damon methodically pack a duffel bag, his movements clipped and purposeful. She gnawed her lip anxiously, Stefan's harrowing words echoing like a death knell in her mind.

"He's just being dramatic," Damon stated with an indifferent shrug, not even bothering to look up from his task. "Stefan's not actually going to starve himself."

Elena's spine stiffened at his cavalier dismissal. "Then why would he say something like that?" she pressed, unsettled by the memory of her boyfriend's hollow, hopeless gaze.

Beside her on the couch, Caroline shifted uneasily, equally disturbed by Stefan's seeming desire to end his immortal existence. "Yeah, it's almost like he's trying to punish himself or something..."

"Because he feels guilty over hurting that poor girl," Damon supplied, his tone edged with faint impatience now as he zipped the duffel shut with a decisive tug. "It's typical martyr, wrist-slitting angst from Stefan - nothing new. It'll pass."

He swung the bag over his shoulder with a grunt, turning to face them both with an inscrutable look. But Elena's frown only deepened, her brow furrowed.

"Will it, though?" she challenged softly. "Stefan seemed to be in a lot of pain down there, Damon..."

The briefest muscle tick worked its way along Damon's chiseled jawline before he rolled his eyes dramatically. "Yeah, well, his pain will pass, too - once he stops being a stubborn idiot and eats something."

"I don't think Elena meant physical pain," Caroline interjected, holding Damon's probing stare unflinchingly.

For an endless beat, the weighted silence seemed to stretch, loaded with unspoken tensions and half-buried truths passing between the trio. Then, finally, Damon exhaled a low, rueful chuckle, looking away.

"Trust me, Blondie, I know exactly what she meant," he muttered, stifling another sigh as he strode purposefully toward the exit. "But we don't have time for navel-gazing analysis right now."

"Are you gonna be okay here if we have to run out?" The blonde asked, worry evident in her tone as she addressed her friend.

Damon fixed Elena with a pointed stare, his icy blue eyes glinting with something akin to disdain. "We have to go on an errand with the teacher."

Elena felt her frown deepen at his cavalier tone. "The teacher? Alaric? Are you two friends now?"

Damon scoffed, zipping up the bag with a sharp tug. "I don't have any friends, Elena. Except maybe Barbie." He jerked his chin toward Caroline, who was hovering nearby, her delicate features etched with concern.

Swallowing hard, Elena brushed off the sting of his callous words. She was used to Damon's prickly indifference by now. "Right."

"You should stay up here," Caroline said softly, placing a gentle hand on Elena's arm. "You shouldn't be down there by yourself."

Elena forced a small smile, grateful for Caroline's steadfast support. "I'll be fine."

Damon's gaze hardened as he slung the duffel over his shoulder. "You know...You're very trusting of him, given the circumstances."

A muscle ticked in Elena's jaw as she met his stare head-on, refusing to be cowed. "So are you. Otherwise, you wouldn't be leaving."

For a beat, Damon's piercing eyes bored into hers, unreadable. Then his lips curved into a sardonic smirk. "That's because I don't care much about you."

The words sliced through Elena like shards of ice, but she didn't flinch. She was well-acquainted with Damon's particular brand of cruelty. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode out, Caroline trailing behind with an apologetic glance.

As the front door slammed shut, Elena sank back into the couch, suddenly weary. She knew there was no reasoning with Damon Salvatore. But at least she had Caroline. At least she wasn't alone in her fear for Stefan.

♤♤♤♤♤

The morning shadows draped an ominous air over the nondescript Grove Hill Residence as Damon, Caroline, and Alaric approached cautiously. Alaric consulted the records in his hand.

"This is the one here. It was paid three months in advance," he murmured, his brow creasing with concern.

Caroline eyed the building warily. "They seem to have everything planned. But what's the actual aim?"

"Do you think it's a trap?" Alaric asked, voicing the question they were all considering.

"If it is, we're walking right into it." Chewing her lip, Caroline swiveled her gaze to Damon. "Do you need an invite?"

Damon exhaled slowly, his muscles coiled with trepidation. "This is where it gets tricky. I may or may not be able to get in."

Alaric frowned. "Yeah, how does that work? You always have to be invited in?"

"By the owner or the person of entitlement," Damon explained flatly. "Short-term rentals and hotels are a gray area. You kinda gotta play it by ear."

The blonde arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "So we're just going to wing it? Great plan," she said, lacing her words with sarcasm.

Alaric chuckled dryly. "Could we not kill anyone tonight, please?"

Damon leveled him with a look of feigned hurt. "You mean, you just brought me along for my company?"

The hallway was dimly lit and eerily quiet as the trio stood outside the nondescript apartment door. An air of unease hung heavy between them.

"This is it," Alaric muttered, double-checking the apartment number on the records in his hands.

Caroline's posture was tense, her eyes alert as she scanned their surroundings warily. "I don't like this...it feels wrong."

"When has that ever stopped us before?" Damon quipped, though his usual nonchalance was clouded by the undercurrent of apprehension thrumming through him.

Shooting him a look, Caroline worried her lower lip between her teeth. As his partner in all things, she knew that bravado often masked Damon's deepest doubts.

Alaric's grip tightened on the doorknob. "Moment of truth," he said gruffly. "You ready?"

Damon rolled his broad shoulders, the movement rippling with tightly leashed power. "As I'll ever be."

With a resolute nod, Alaric turned the knob. The door swung open with a creak of protest, revealing...nothing. Just a silent, vacant apartment within.

The three traded weighted glances, holding their collective breath. Caroline's fingernails dug into Damon's palm as they steeled themselves and crossed the threshold together.

Damon's gaze roved the vacant apartment as he nodded tightly at his ability to enter. "Yeah, I'm good. No permanent resident, apparently."

"Let's just be cautious, Damon," she murmured, her tone laced with tension. "We don't know what we're walking into."

Alaric followed closely behind, his senses on high alert. "It doesn't look like anyone's home."

They fanned out, searching for any signs of occupation or clues to explain the strange lead they'd been following. Caroline drifted towards the kitchen, her brow furrowing as she pulled open the fridge door.

"Um, Damon..."

He was at her side in an instant, his body going rigid as his eyes fell upon the unmistakable blood bags lining the fridge shelves. "Uh, Ric, we have company."

The words had scarcely left his lips when a figure suddenly launched itself at Alaric from the shadows. Moving on adrenaline rush and with unexpected swiftness, Caroline shoved the attacker back, accidentally placing herself squarely between the threat. Damon reacted instantly, positioning his body in front of the blonde - shielding her, protecting her with a low, feral snarl.

"Back off!"

Alaric lashed out with his vervained stake, driving the assailant back momentarily before he lunged again with vicious tenacity. Damon moved as a blur, throwing the man off Alaric while making sure the blonde securely behind him, his protective stance unwavering.

"Boys, boys, that's enough," Damon growled, his demeanor shifting as recognition flickered in those icy blue eyes. "I know you."

The disheveled vampire froze, chest heaving as he glared back at Damon with a mix of fear and defiance. "Damon?"

"Your name is Henry," Damon stated flatly. "You were in the tomb."

A tense beat passed before the vampire gave a jerky nod. "Yes...sir. What are you doing here?"

♤♤♤♤♤

Stefan crept up the tree-lined drive toward the looming Salvatore estate, childhood home now rendered unwelcoming and foreboding for some reason. As the columned facade emerged from the shadows, he tensed, catching the low murmur of voices drifting from within.

"May I offer you a drink, Mr. Gilbert?" His father's polished tone was all genial hospitality.

"Thank you, Mr. Salvatore." Johnathan matched Giuseppe's courtly affectation.

There was a pregnant pause before Giuseppe continued, "This won't take much longer."

"I want to make sure the founders' archives are accurate."

The hairs prickled on the back of Stefan's neck at the ominous weight behind those words. He inched closer, straining to hear.

"Be sure you document the loss of civilian life in the church," Giuseppe instructed, an undercurrent of steel beneath the rehearsed indifference.

"They were hardly civilians, Mr. Salvatore."

Giuseppe's response was clipped. "As far as anyone needs to know, they were. As the record keeper for the Council, what you write will be passed down through generations. Certain details should be kept only between you and me."

Stefan's breath seized in his lungs as terrible realization took hold. His father meant to rewrite the truth, to bury the secret of the undead existence.

"For example?" Johnathan prompted.

"My sons." The words landed like a death knell. "They will be remembered as the innocent victims of the Battle of Willow Creek, not for their shame."

A crucible of roiling emotion threatened to consume Stefan. Anger, sorrow, bitter resignation all vying for control.

"Certainly, Mr. Salvatore," Johnathan acquiesced at last.

♤♤♤♤♤

The musty apartment felt charged with tension as Damon, Caroline, and Alaric settled onto the worn sofa, facing the disheveled vampire named Henry. Damon's arm was slung possessively along the back of the couch, his fingers lightly grazing Caroline's shoulder in a subtle gesture of both possession and protection.

Henry shifted uncomfortably under that penetrating stare, throat working as he swallowed hard. "So, how do you know John Gilbert?"

"Well, I've known him for years. He's a good friend." the Salvatore answered, his voice a study in calculated nonchalance even as his piercing blue gaze bored into Henry. "How do you know him?"

With a tremulous exhalation, Henry raked a hand through his lank, greasy hair. "I met him right after I got out of the tomb. He's been helping me out."

Nestled against Damon's side, Caroline's eyes narrowed to icy slits of crystal blue suspicion. "Helping you out how?"

"Adapting," Henry explained haltingly. "It's a whole new world...cars, computers, match.com. There's so much to learn. He helped me get this place."

From his position on Caroline's other side, Alaric studied the vampire through shuttered eyes, his intense scrutiny undisguised. "So do you live here alone or is there someone else here?"

A muscle ticked in Damon's chiseled jaw as he regarded Henry with glinting disdain. "That's my friend's very passive-aggressive way of asking if you know a woman named Isobel."

Henry's head whipped back and forth urgently. "Uh, no. No, I don't know an Isobel. I know John. He's my only real friend." His voice took on a wistful tone. "He really showed me the ropes...how to use a microwave, separate my whites."

Caroline arched one perfectly sculpted brow, her arms folding across her chest in an unconscious mimicry of Damon's subtle protectiveness. "What else do you do for him?"

For an endless beat, Henry's gaze skittered away evasively before summoning the nerve to meet their weighted stares once more. "I help keep an eye on things...you know, with the others."

Interest flickered across Damon's features, his body tensing imperceptibly. "The others?"

A grim look stole across Henry's features, aging him in that moment. "From the tomb," he intoned flatly. "They're still pissed at the founding families for trying to burn them alive. I'm cool, but those tomb boys...they want revenge."

Alaric's frown deepened to craggy crevices. "What does John want with them?"

A ragged, humorless chuckle tumbled from Henry's cracked lips. "He's just keeping an eye on them, you know? Trying to make sure they stay out of trouble."

"Well, that's John," Damon said, his tone laced with sardonic derision as he exchanged a weighted look with his companions. "He's such a do-gooder."

The tense silence was shattered by the shrill ringing of Henry's phone. The vampire flinched, digging into his pocket with a rueful chuckle.

"Heh. That's John now."

Damon's eyes narrowed to icy slits as he leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees in a deceptively casual pose. "Oh. Hey, let me talk to him."

Henry's brow furrowed in confusion even as he extended the phone. "All right. Yeah." A flicker of uncertainty crossed his features as Damon made no move to take it. "Are you gonna answer that?"

Damon arched a challenging brow. "Am I gonna...answer that?"

His gaze slid sideways to meet Caroline's, a silent communication passing between them in that loaded look. Her minute headshake was barely perceptible, a clear no.

The wariness emanating from Henry in palpable waves abruptly gave way to dawning realization. His nostrils flared as he scented the trap, lips peeling back from elongated fangs in a feral snarl. In a blur of motion, he launched himself at the weakest link - Alaric. The blonde was out of question with the way she was guarded.

But Damon was faster. His powerful arms closed around Henry in an unbreakable vice, restraining the raging vampire even as Alaric surged forward, stake driving deep. Henry's agonized howl reverberated through the room.

The blonde merely sighed, having seen this dance many times before.

Damon released his captive, allowing the injured vampire to crumple to the floor in a boneless heap. His gaze swiveled to Alaric, one brow arched sardonically. "'Let's not kill anyone tonight.' Your words. Just pointing that out."

♤♤♤♤♤

The dimly lit cellar felt like a tomb, the damp chill seeping into Elena's bones as she descended the creaky stairs. Stefan was huddled in the corner, his eyes sunken and haunted. Though his body remained motionless, she could sense the predator lurking beneath, readying to pounce at any moment.

"You know Damon hasn't slipped me any vervain lately," Stefan rasped, his voice a hollow whisper. "I could snap those pretty little bones of yours without so much as blinking."

Elena swallowed hard but stood her ground. "Maybe you could. But you won't."

"Just go away," he pleaded, averting his gaze. "I don't want you here. I don't want to hurt you."

With a trembling hand, Elena pushed open the heavy cellar door, the rusted hinges screeching in protest. Stefan's head snapped up, his obsidian eyes boring into her.

"What are you doing?" he growled. "Get out!"

"No." The single syllable emerged as a whisper, but resonated with determination.

In a blur of motion, Stefan was suddenly inches from her face, his icy breath fanning across her flushed skin. "You're taking a stupid risk. One false move and you're dead."

Elena's heart pounded, but she refused to back down. Extending a shaky hand, she offered him the glassine vial of deep crimson liquid. "Drink this. Please."

With a feral snarl, Stefan smacked the vial across the room, splattering its contents in a macabre Jackson Pollock across the stone floor. As his features contorted into those of a monster, Elena held her breath, paralyzed.

"I said leave!" he roared, flecks of spittle spraying her face.

Mustering every ounce of her courage, Elena planted her feet and drew herself up to her full height. "No."

♤♤♤♤♤

Caroline sighed, running a hand through her tousled blonde locks as she surveyed the aftermath of the scuffle with Henry. As much as she loved the life of intrigue and danger, some days it just wore on her. She was only human after all.

"You guys can search this place top to bottom," she said, already moving towards the door. "I need to head back."

Damon's head whipped around sharply, concern flaring in those glacial blue eyes she loved and feared in equal measure. "What? No, it's not safe for you to go alone."

She offered him a small, reassuring smile, letting her fingertips trail along the stubborn line of his jaw. "I'll be okay. You know how I worry about Elena." Caroline chewed her lip fretfully. "Even though I trust Stefan, she has a tendency to do something reckless when he's like this."

Damon arched one dark brow skeptically. "Like open the door to the basement cell and try to cozy up to her vampire beau?" His mouth curved in a humorless smirk. "Yeah, that sounds like Elena."

A puff of reluctant laughter escaped Caroline's lips. "Exactly. I don't want her doing anything dumb while we're out playing Sidney Bristow."

The measured silence that fell between them thrummed with the connection they'd forged through so much shared turmoil. Damon's gaze was hooded, indecipherable as he examined her with that penetrating stare. Then, finally, he exhaled a harsh breath and dug into his pocket.

"Here." He tossed her his car keys, which she snatched deftly from the air. "Take my car, at least. And call me the second you get there."

In the moment, Caroline stepped into his personal space, rising on her tiptoes to brush a soft kiss on his cheek. "Always do," she murmured against his cheekbone.

Then, with one last pointed look towards Alaric to impress upon him the need to watch Damon's back, Caroline slipped from the apartment. She could only hope Elena had enough sense to not put herself in harm's way tonight.

She left in a huff, not noticing the dumbstruck vampire and amused teacher.

♤♤♤♤♤

The cellar reeked of mildew and hopelessness. Elena perched on an upturned crate, her knees hugged to her chest as she studied Stefan's haggard form hunched in the shadows. His reddened eyes, sunken into hollow sockets, barely acknowledged her presence.

"Talk to me, Stefan," she implored, desperate to reach whatever shred of sanity still flickered within him. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

His cracked lips parted, unleashing a rattling sigh. "I'm making the decision I should have made years ago."

Elena's brow knitted in confusion. The pain emanating from him was almost palpable. "What are you talking about?"

"To complete the transition..." Stefan's voice was little more than a tortured rasp. "You have to feed."

"I know that," she said carefully, fighting to keep her tone steady despite her hammering heart.

Stefan dragged his haunted gaze up to meet hers, his eyes pools of anguish. "It was a choice I shouldn't have made."

The heavy oak door creaked open as Stefan slipped into the study, his father's sanctuary. Giuseppe looked up sharply from behind the imposing desk, eyes widening in shock.

"Dear God..."

Stefan met his father's stricken gaze unflinchingly. "Even in our death, you only feel shame?"

Giuseppe rose unsteadily. "You're one of them now."

"No." Stefan shook his head, jaw set. "Father, I came to say goodbye."

"I watched you die," Giuseppe said hollowly.

"You were there when we were shot?"

The damning confession slipped out in a pained exhale. "I pulled the trigger myself."

White-hot fury lanced through Stefan as the pieces slotted into place. "You killed your own sons?"

"You were both dead to me the moment you sided with the vampires," Giuseppe spat, righteous contempt blazing in his eyes. "I only thank God that your mother isn't alive to see the disgrace you've become."

Stefan's next words were a desperate plea. "I haven't turned yet. I don't want to. I'm going to let myself die, Father. Please."

But Giuseppe was already moving, retrieving something from his desk drawer - a long, viciously sharpened stake of polished oak. With a sickening crack, he snapped it in two.

"Yes, you are."

Horror paralyzed Stefan as his father rushed him, stake raised to strike. Instinct took over - he flung out his arms to block the blow, catching Giuseppe in the chest and sending him crashing back against the wall with bone-jarring force.

Giuseppe crumpled to the floor with a guttural cry, the stake protruding from his heaving breast. "Uhh!"

"Father, I didn't mean to!" Stefan rushed to his side, panic wrapping icy tendrils around his hammering heart.

"Get away from me," Giuseppe snarled through bloodied teeth.

"No, let me help you, please!" Frantic fingers scrabbled at the embedded wood, wrenching it free in a sickening gush of warm crimson.

The cloying copper scent enveloped him, igniting an insatiable new hunger. Without conscious thought, Stefan raised his trembling fingers to his lips, chasing that first metallic taste.

His father's bleeding wound called like a siren's song. He leaned closer, tongue flicking out to lap at the viscous fluid. An electric tingle sparked along every nerve-ending as the thick, viscous liquid flooded his mouth.

"Ohh...Ohh!"

Giuseppe's agonized moans barely registered as Stefan descended into mindless gluttony, laving and sucking at the pulsing artery until it ran dry. His jaw unhinged in a twisted rictus, razor-sharp fangs emerging to shred pliant flesh.

"Oh God, what's happening to me?" 

The guttering candlelight cast monstrous shadows across his contorted features, warping and elongating as an unholy wail tore free from Stefan's new nightmare form.

"How can you even look at me right now?" Stefan's gravelly voice echoed with self-loathing.

Elena leaned forward intently. "You need to be able to talk about these things, Stefan. I need to hear them." She rose fluidly and crossed to the cot, pulling something from her pocket. "Come upstairs. We can talk about it more, and we'll keep talking as long as you need."

Stefan's eyes slid to the glint of his daylight ring resting on the cot where she placed it. His brows knit skeptically. "You're so sure I'm ready?"

Elena met his gaze steadily. "And when you feel the same way...I'll be upstairs." She turned and headed for the stairs.

As she reached the doorway, Elena's eyes landed on the slender figure of Caroline hovering protectively in the threshold, one hand gripping a vervain syringe. She had clearly overheard the anguished exchange. Their eyes met in a wordless communication of mutual understanding and concern.

With a solemn nod between them, Elena ascended the stone steps, leaving Stefan alone to wrestle with his demons.

♤♤♤♤♤

Damon pulled the last dregs from the drained blood bag, his lips staining crimson as the thick liquid coated his tongue. Licking his lips, he surveyed the modest living room with a critical eye before tossing the empty bag into the sink. "Find anything yet?"

Alaric emerged from one of the back rooms, mouth set in a grim line as he shook his head. "No, I looked everywhere. The place is...clean. Suspiciously so."

Arching one dark brow, Damon retrieved a dusty bottle of amber liquid from behind the refrigerator. "Well, I found this tucked away behind the blood supply. Guess our vampy friend couldn't resist knocking a few back."

Alaric snatched the bottle, squinting at the faded label as wry disgust contorted his features. "Ugh, this was a real dead end."

"I wouldn't beat myself up over it," Damon rejoined with a dismissive shrug. "What did you think you were gonna find here? Isobel lounging around in a smoking jacket with a snifter of brandy?"

Alaric's jaw clenched, fingers tightening convulsively around the bottle's slender neck. "I...I've gotta stop this, man. I can't keep searching for her like this."

Damon's gaze sharpened as he studied the taut lines of Alaric's face. "Really? After only two years? That's actually moderately healthy for one of us."

"What are you going on now? 146 years?" Alaric muttered darkly.

Damon's lips curved in a wan smile, but his eyes were a shuttered mask. "I used to think the 200 mark would be a good stopping point for brooding over the past. Now..." He exhaled harshly, raking one hand through his inky locks as unwelcome thoughts of a certain blonde human slipped unbidden into his mind. "Now I don't bother with it much."

"Because you have a future to look forward to," Alaric finished knowingly. It wasn't a question.

An infinitesimal muscle ticked in Damon's taut jaw as he absorbed the implication. "Yeah...maybe." He refocused on the other man with renewed intensity. "But why keep looking for the past when all you're going to find are dead ends?"

Alaric snorted humorlessly, leaning back against the wall as weariness seeped into his voice. "No answer is ever enough, I guess. I keep thinking I want to know the precise moment my wife decided life with me wasn't enough anymore."

The vampire's crystalline gaze grew distant, inward as old memories flickered behind his eyes. "Isobel charmed me too, you know. She talked a good game - smart, sarcastic...there was this excitement about her, like she had tasted the infinite and wasn't afraid." His brow furrowed contemplatively. "I suppose I should have realized then that there had to be some connection to Katherine. Some reason I didn't just kill her outright like I did with so many others."

The muscle in Alaric's jaw clenched spasmodically, his knuckles blanching around the whiskey bottle. "That's enough, Damon. I don't want to hear any more about her."

"Fair enough," Damon murmured, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

Alaric's piercing stare bored into him as the words ground out through gritted teeth. "I'm just done wasting my life chasing ghosts. Searching for answers I really don't want to find anymore." He straightened abruptly, a shudder passing through his body as if physically shrugging off an immense burden. "I'm through with Isobel and all of this vampire baggage. I'm done."

In the weighted silence that followed, Damon could hear the faint ticking of the clock in the hall. He said nothing, allowing the history teacher to find what peace he could amid the ashes of his obsession.

♤♤♤♤♤

The thick wooden door swept open, and Damon sauntered into the parlor, his lips curving into a teasing smirk as his ice blue eyes landed on Caroline. "Honey, I'm home. Did you miss me?"

Caroline looked up from her laptop, where she had been diligently mapping out plans for the upcoming Founders' Day float. Her bare feet were propped up on the arm of the plush sofa, ankles crossed casually. She rolled her eyes at Damon's blatant flirtation, but couldn't resist matching his roguish grin.

"I was lost without you... for about 30 seconds, then I found the laptop," she shot back dryly.

From across the room, Elena's pen scratched against the worn pages of her leather-bound diary, the petit brunette seemingly absorbed in her writing. Until, that is, Damon's derisive snort shattered the quiet focus.

"Ugh. God, you're still here?" His lip curled with obvious distaste as he raked his gaze over Elena's hunched form.

She raised her head slowly, her soft brown eyes hardening into polished stones as they met his contemptuous glare. "Were you expecting anything else?"

"No," Damon drawled, his voice a disaffected rasp of boredom. "Ahh."

Crossing the parlor in three long strides, he scooped up Caroline's legs and deposited himself on the sofa, draping her sleekly muscled calves over his denim-clad thighs. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, his palms smoothed over her shins fondly.

Elena's eyes narrowed at the brazenly intimate display, but she said nothing, refocusing on her journal with a disapproving purse of her lips.

"So, how was the 'errand'?" she asked tonelessly after a pause.

Caroline echoed the question, watching Damon's expression eagerly. "Yeah, did you find anything useful after I left?"

A humorless smirk twisted the vampire's full mouth as he shook his head. "Futile. Although..." His eyes danced with wry amusement. "I think I witnessed the teacher having a bit of an existential crisis."

"An existential crisis?" Her delicate brows hiked in surprise. "That's...unexpected. What happened?"

Damon chuckled, his long fingers tracing idle patterns along the curve of her calf. "Well, it seems the fact that he's wasting his life searching for his Isobel has finally hit poor Ric where it hurts."

"Ouch," Caroline grimaced. "That's rough."

"Sounds like Alaric needs to take a vacation," Elena remarked flatly, her focus still glued to the worn pages before her. "Clear his head."

"Or a therapist," Caroline giggled, flashing Damon a mischievous grin.

His full lips curved in response as his deft fingers found the arch of her foot, kneading the taut muscles with firm yet soothing strokes. "I'll pencil in a session with the good doctor myself, if he keeps moping."

"So, what's the latest on this Founders' Day float scheme of yours, Blondie?"

Caroline sucked in a sharp breath at his ministrations before regaining her train of thought. "Well, I've been brainstorming some vintage theme ideas. I was thinking of going full 'Gone With The Wind' this year." She searched his face eagerly. "What do you think?"

Damon leaned back consideringly, his piercing eyes roving over Caroline's features as he mulled over the suggestion. Finally, one corner of his sensuous mouth quirked upwards. "Gone With The Wind, huh? I like it. Classic, but still deliciously scandalous." His gaze heated with undisguised appreciation. "Plus, it gives you an excuse to get all dolled up in those fancy antebellum gowns."

The blonde felt her cheeks warming under his bold perusal, but rallied with a saucy wink. Before she could respond, however, Damon refocused his thoughts with a dismissive flick of his raven brows.

"Speaking of enablers of bad behavior...has Stefan eaten yet this week?" His mouth curved in a taunting smirk as he cut his eyes towards Elena. "Wouldn't want a repeat of the Miss Mystic incident."

Elena's pen stilled, her shoulders stiffening as she glared at Damon's casual baiting. "I thought you didn't care about his welfare anymore," she bit out acidly.

Damon's grin stretched wider, all wolfish arrogance. "Call it morbid curiosity, Elena. I'm a thrill-seeker at heart."

She exhaled a harsh breath through her nostrils. "Well, I think he's getting there, slowly. But he's got a lot of guilt to work through still." Her soft brown eyes sparked with righteous indignation as they clashed with Damon's flinty stare. "And it doesn't help that you've spent the last century and a half punishing him for something Katherine manipulated."

"Hold on a second," Caroline interjected, her brows knitting together in a smooth frown as she leveled her gaze at Elena. "You don't even know what actually happened between them, Elena. You're speaking out of turn."

Damon's eyes had narrowed to frigid slits, his full lips flattening into a grim line as the muscle in his jaw ticked visibly. "So this is my fault now?" His tone dripped with lethal quiet.

Elena lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed. "No, it's no one's fault, Damon. I'm just...saying you're not exactly innocent yourself. You've made it your life's mission to make him miserable."

Something fractured behind Damon's flinty gaze as he surged to his feet, every lean muscle coiled like a tiger about to strike. Caroline hastily set her laptop aside and reached for his hand, her delicate fingers wrapping around his in a futile attempt to gentle the roiling storm.

"Let me ask you a question, Elena," he bit out, his voice a low rasp of mordant fury. "In all this important soul-searching and ceremonial cleansing of Stefan's demons, did you ever manage to get the rest of the story?"

Elena blinked, momentarily wrong-footed by the intensity of his reaction. "He...he said there was more," she allowed carefully.

A mirthless chuckle rumbled from Damon's chest, as bitter and corrosive as bone-deep regret. "Yeah, that's an understatement."

Planting her feet, Elena lifted her chin in that stubborn tilt Damon found so inexplicably irksome. "Tell me then, Damon. Tell me the truth."

For an endless moment, he said nothing, his crystalline gaze locked with Caroline's in an intimate exchange that needed no words. At last, a muscle feathered in the taut line of his jaw as he gave the barest nod of acquiescence. 

"You want to know the unvarnished truth about how this all started, Elena?" Damon's tone dripped with derisive disdain as he gestured towards the cellar his estranged brother was listening in.

The brunette watched him warily, holding her ground despite the clear warning in his low rasp. When she said nothing, Damon inhaled a deep, bracing breath through his flared nostrils.

The quarry's jagged rocks cast long shadows across the forest floor as Stefan approached, a small figure clutched firmly in his grasp. Damon stiffened at his brother's arrival, eyes narrowing.

"What are you doing? Who is that?"

"I brought her for you. She's a gift." Stefan guided the trembling young woman to a flat boulder. "Have a seat, please."

Damon was on his feet now, agitation rolling off him in waves. "What have you done, Stefan?"

"Damon, I've been to see Father." Stefan's voice took on a distant quality, as if recounting someone else's tale. "He came at me. I didn't know my own strength. There was blood everywhere. He was dying, and the blood was too strong. I needed it. I had to have it."

Horror and revulsion warred on Damon's features. "You fed."

"Yes." Stefan's face glowed with rapture. "And it's incredible. My body is exploding with power, Damon."

"No..."

"I can hear things from far away. See through the darkness. Move like it's magic." His words rushed out in a giddy torrent. "And the guilt, the pain...I can turn it off. Like a switch. Katherine was right. It's a whole new world out there."

Damon flinched as if struck. "Katherine is dead, Stefan. There's no world without her."

Stefan stepped closer, eyes blazing with fervor. "No. You can turn that off too. You don't have to feel that pain anymore."

Damon backed away, shaking his head violently. "I don't want it."

"You're weak," Stefan pressed. "You'll be dead soon. You need this."

"No."

"You'll die!"

"No, I can't..."

Grasping Damon's shoulders, Stefan bore down with intense urgency. "Please. I won't let you die."

Damon's resistance was crumbling. "No...I can't..."

"Don't fight it," Stefan's voice took on a silky, hypnotic quality. "We can do this...together."

In one blurred movement, Stefan's fangs pierced the young woman's jugular, ruby droplets welling from the punctures. Damon swayed, pupils dilating as the rich, coppery scent enveloped them both.

When Stefan pulled back, offering up the still-warm body, Damon lost his battle. A guttural snarl ripped from his throat as he descended into the blood frenzy, all lingering humanity consumed by the insatiable monster within.

Damon fell silent, his piercing gaze growing momentarily distant as the ghosts of the past flickered in its icy depths. When he spoke again, his voice was little more than a grating rasp.

"From the moment Stefan had his first taste of human blood, he was a different person entirely." A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw as he refocused on the two young women watching him intently. "I suppose I should thank him, in a way. It's been one hell of a ride."

The derisive chuckle that followed was as devoid of mirth as a death knell. Caroline's fingers tightened around his convulsively.

"That's why he's like this," she murmured, realization blooming in her eyes. "He's feeling the full weight of his guilt over what happened."

Elena inhaled a shuddering breath, her hand fluttering to her lips. "Oh my god...he said he wanted to die. That's why he won't feed, why he's torturing himself like this." Her brown eyes were bright with dawning horror. "Now I finally understand."

But Damon had already turned away, his arm slipping around Caroline's trim waist as he guided her towards the door. "His choice," he threw over his shoulder, tone clipped. "If he's stupid enough to make it, so be it."

As the words slipped out, his hold on Caroline tightened infinitesimally, betraying the bravado.

Elena's head whipped around, her features hardening. "Don't do that!" she called after him sharply. "Don't pretend like you don't still care, Damon!"

But he didn't respond, continuing his relentless stride down the hall without a backwards glance. Elena closed her eyes briefly, visibly reining in her emotions, before turning on her heel and hurrying towards the cellar stairs.

She found the dank chamber empty, a cold knot of dread coalescing in her stomach at the sight of Stefan's ring glinting dully on the cot.  Scooping it into her palm, Elena whirled and raced back up towards the main floor, her pulse thundering with panicked urgency.

♤♤♤♤♤

Pearl moved with efficient, practiced motions as she methodically packed away her belongings. Her fingers trembled almost imperceptibly as she folded a delicate lace shawl, tucking it gently into the worn leather case.

John had tried to charm her into giving him the device, but she saw through his lies and leaves, revealing she gave it to Damon instead. John was up to something and it wasn't safe here anymore.

The floorboards creaked behind her, announcing Anna's presence before the girl even spoke. "Hey, what's the matter?"

Pausing, Pearl turned to face her daughter, struggling to keep her expression neutral. "I need you to pack your things. We're leaving."

Anna's brows knit together in confusion. "What? No..."

"I was wrong to think we could make a home here." Pearl's voice was soft but resolute as she resumed her packing. "It's time for us to move on."

"But I don't want to move on," Anna protested, hurt and bewilderment warring in her tone. "I want to stay here."

Pearl shook her head firmly. "We can't stay, Anna. There are too many people here who know the truth about us...too much history."

Crossing her arms defensively, Anna lifted her chin in that stubborn tilt Pearl recognized all too well. "So what, you're just going to give up? Pack us up and move us out without talking to me about it?"

The brief flicker of resignation in her mother's gaze spoke volumes. "It's not safe here anymore. You know that as well as I."

"Please," Anna implored, stepping closer until she could grip Pearl's arm beseechingly. "This is about more than just safety, isn't it?"

Pearl held her daughter's stricken gaze for a long, weighted moment before nodding slowly. "Is this about Jeremy?"

A fine blossom of color crept into Anna's cheeks as she averted her eyes mutely. Pearl exhaled a troubled sigh, reaching out to smooth the loose tendrils of Anna's hair in a maternal gesture.

"You gave me my life back, Anna," she murmured. "I'm just trying to protect yours now. But I can't force you..." Her throat worked as she struggled for composure. "It's your decision."

♤♤♤♤♤

Caroline found Damon in his bedroom, staring sightlessly out the arched window as the slanting rays of the afternoon filtered through the glass. A half-empty glass of amber bourbon dangled from his long fingers.

"Damon?" She kept her voice low, gentle, as she approached him slowly. "Are you okay?"

He didn't turn, but the taut line of his shoulders relaxed infinitesimally at the sound of her voice. "Blondie," he murmured, the gruff endearment almost inaudible.

Emboldened, Caroline crossed the remaining distance to stand beside him, close enough for their arms to brush. "Should we...I don't know, do something? Aren't you worried Stefan might actually go through with it this time?"

Damon's jaw clenched, working silently for a long moment before the words ground out, low and raw. "Yes, I'm worried."

The simple admission seemed to drain what little bravado he had left. His piercing gaze slid towards her, wide and painfully vulnerable in a way Caroline had never witnessed before. It made her breath catch in her throat.

"Part of me wants to believe he'll change his mind once he's had a chance to calm down," Damon confessed quietly. "That he'll shake off this martyr delusion like he has so many times over the centuries."

She nodded mutely, sensing there was more he needed to say. She waited him out, holding his gaze steadily with her own.

Finally, he inhaled a shuddering breath and turned bodily to face her. His free hand found her waist, pulling her intimately close as if seeking an anchor in her presence.

"But even if he doesn't...even if Stefan finally goes through with his melodramatic desiccation fantasy..." Damon's voice was little more than a hoarse rasp, thick with emotions he refused to put voice to. "I can't take that choice away from him, Caroline. After everything, it's the only thing I can still give my brother."

♤♤♤♤♤

Stefan stood on the edge of the quarry, his gaze fixed on the still waters below. The memory of that day weighed heavy on his heart, the echoes of their brotherly bond shattered by darkness. The silence of the quarry enveloped him, a stark contrast to the turmoil within.

The quarry's still waters reflected the nascent dawn, pale pinks and golds staining the surface like an overturned painter's palette. Stefan watched the sunrise with new eyes, each ray seeming to blaze brighter, colors rendered in vibrant hyperreality.

He turned to study his brother, now an eternal companion in this interminable existence. "How do you feel?"

Damon's face was an inscrutable mask as he absorbed their new reality. "You were right," he said at last, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw. "It is a whole new world."

A hesitant smile played across Stefan's lips. "We can explore it together."

But Damon's expression twisted into a sneer of revulsion. "You got what you wanted...you and me for all eternity." His tone dripped with venom. "But hear this, brother. I will make it an eternity of misery for you."

"Damon!" Stefan called out, stunned, but his brother had already blurred away in a vampiric burst of speed.

The vision distorted and he was back in the dank cellar, alone and aching with weakness. Time seemed to unspool in fragmented loops as the quarry materialized again. Emily's somber face swam into focus.

"You've transitioned," she stated simply.

Stefan touched his new razor-sharp fangs in wonder. "You'd have rather found me dead?"

"Katherine saved my life once. I owed her." Emily's voice was tinged with resignation. "That doesn't mean I'd wish her curse on anyone."

"It feels more like a gift," Stefan murmured.

Emily's obsidian eyes bored into him. "That will change."

He frowned. "Why is that?"

"Because even in death, your heart is pure, Stefan." Her words carried the weight of prophecy. "I sense that about you. That will be your curse."

As she turned to leave, panic gripped him. "Emily, wait..."

♤♤♤♤♤

Harper moved efficiently around the modestly furnished living room, carefully packing away the rest of Pearl's belongings into sturdy travel cases. His motions were deft, economical - borne of decades spent as a devoted soldier following orders.

"Thank you, Harper," Pearl murmured, watching the younger vampire with a fond expression.

Harper paused, rising smoothly to his feet as he met Pearl's gaze. "You're welcome, Miss Pearl."

A small, wistful smile curved Pearl's lips as she surveyed the nearly bare room. "Annabelle should be back in a minute to collect the last of her things." Her eyes grew momentarily distant before refocusing on Harper intently. "You know, you don't have to come with us if you don't wish to. I release you from any obligations."

Harper's expression remained impassive, but there was a newfound light in his eyes that spoke of deep loyalty. "This was never my true home, ma'am. I was just a soldier left behind, doomed to die alone on the battlefield."

He held Pearl's gaze steadily as she reached out, placing her palm over the man's hand in a gesture of fealty. "You saved me from that horrible fate. My life is yours. I'm coming with you."

Moisture shimmered in Pearl's eyes as she studied the former soldier. After an endless moment, she gave a small nod of acceptance, squeezing Harper's hand in silent gratitude.

"Let me help you with those cases," she murmured, turning towards the bags.

Harper opened his mouth to protest, but the words stuck in hir throat as a searing pain lanced through Pearl's chest. A stake had flew in from the opened door. The older vampire crumpled with a strangled cry, her hand flying to the deep wound as blood blossomed across her pale blouse.

"Miss Pearl!" Harper's shout was drowned out by the percussive roar of another stake punching into Pearl, followed by another and another in rapid succession.

♤♤♤♤♤

The crackling fire cast a warm glow over the Salvatore library, but did little to soften Damon's brooding countenance. Slouched in the wingback chair, he nursed a glass of bourbon, his lips quirked in a perpetual smirk as Caroline paced before him.

"...and I was thinking we could use white and red roses for the float this year," she prattled on, undeterred by his apparent disinterest. "White symbolizes purity and red symbolizes love - perfect for celebrating Founders' Day, don't you think?"

Damon's eyes followed the tantalizing sway of her hips as she moved. "If you say so, Blondie."

Before Caroline could respond, the library door swung open to reveal Elena and Stefan. Damon straightened imperceptibly in his chair, his smirk slipping as he eyed his brother's haggard appearance.

"Little boy lost," he murmured, the biting words lacking their usual sting.

Elena shot him a quelling look before turning to Stefan with poorly concealed concern. "I'll be upstairs, okay?"

He nodded woodenly. "Okay."

"Good night, Damon," Elena offered with forced brightness before sweeping out.

The moment she disappeared, Caroline visibly deflated with a sigh of relief. "I need my bag, I left it upstairs," she announced, already pivoting on her heel. Her job of distraction Damon from gloom brooding was done.

The blonde's footsteps faded away, leaving the brothers alone in the flickering firelight. An heavy silence descended, thick with unspoken history.

"Thank you," Stefan said at last, his voice gravelly.

Damon's brows arched in surprise. "No, Stefan, thank you," he replied, the sarcasm laying thick. "You're back on Bambi blood, and I'm the big badass brother again. All is right in the world."

But Stefan shook his head slowly. "I mean it. Thank you...for helping her take care of me."

Something flickered across Damon's chiseled features before the mask slammed back into place. "You brood too much, little brother," he chided, feigning nonchalance. "Everything on this planet is not your fault. My actions, what I do - it's not on you. I own them. They belong to me." His piercing gaze bored into Stefan's. "You are not allowed to feel my guilt."

Stefan held his stare steadily. "Do you feel guilt?"

A muscle ticked in Damon's clenched jaw as he considered. "If I wanted to...it's there," he said at last. "Emily waited until after I turned to tell me she'd been successful protecting Katherine with her spell. She didn't want me to know about the tomb." His lips curved in a humorless smile. "She thought it would impact my decision."

"She didn't want either one of us to turn," Stefan murmured, comprehension dawning. "She said it was a curse."

Damon barked a harsh laugh. "Witches - judgy little things."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The query hung heavy between them. Damon's piercing blue gaze grew momentarily distant as he answered. "Because I didn't want you to know. Because I hated you." His jaw worked silently. "And I still do."

The admission seemed to sap what little bravado he had left. When Stefan simply watched him steadily, he sighed. "But not because you forced me to turn..."

"Then why?"

Damon's eyes glittered like shards of ice as he held Stefan's gaze, his voice little more than a grated rasp when he spoke.

"Because she turned you," he confessed roughly. "It was just supposed to be me, Stefan. Just me."

♤♤♤♤♤

Anna's breath caught in her throat as she stepped through the front door of her stately home. An eerie silence blanketed the entryway, the air thick and stale.

"I'm back," she called out hesitantly, her voice seeming to swallow rather than carry.

No response came, and a tendril of unease unfurled in the pit of her stomach. Anna ventured further inside, her bootheels clicking on the hardwood floors. As she rounded the corner into the parlor room, the bottom dropped out of her world.

"Oh!" The strangled sound ripped from her lips as she recoiled, a hand flying to her mouth.

Pearl lay motionless on the antique divan, her once vibrant features frozen in an agonized rictus. Multiple stakes protruded obscenely from her chest. Beside her on the floor, Harper's body was crumpled and lifeless, killed by the same brutal instrument.

"Mom! Mama!" Anna's shrieks pierced the stillness as she staggered towards Pearl, collapsing to her knees beside the divan. With trembling hands, she cradled her mother's face, willing her to awaken. "Please don't leave me again. No, please wake up! You have to wake up!"

But Pearl's glassy eyes stared sightlessly ahead, her limbs already growing cold and stiff. A guttural sob tore from Anna's throat as she crumpled against the divan, rocking Pearl's body as the reality crashed over her in waves.

She was alone again. 

In the dense woods outside, John Gilbert slammed the trunk of his sedan closed, the heavy thunk echoing amongst the shadowy trees. A smile carved lines into his weathered features as he pulled out his cell, punching in a familiar number.

"Sheriff Forbes," he spoke when she answered, all businesslike briskness. "It's John Gilbert. Sorry to call so late. I have an update about the vampires..."

♤♤♤♤♤

The amber liquid sloshed against the sides of the tumbler as Alaric drained the last few swallows of his bourbon. He signaled the bartender for another with a lazy flick of his wrist, his shoulders slumped in the kind of bone-deep weariness that went beyond the merely physical.

This wasn't his first stop since dropping Damon, nor would it be his last if the night played out like all the others. Alaric's fingertips traced the curved rim of the fresh glass as he struggled to quiet the endless thoughts of recrimination and regret whirling through his mind.

So lost in his turbulent thoughts, he didn't immediately register the presence settling onto the empty barstool beside him. It wasn't until her throaty alto caressed his name that Alaric jerked upright, his entire body going rigid.

"Hello, Ric."

The hairs prickled along the nape of his neck as he turned with agonizing slowness, afraid to even blink lest she disappear like a phantasm.

"Isobel..."

♤♤♤♤♤

Isobel's lips curved in a small, inscrutable smile as she studied Alaric openly. "It's good to see you," she purred. "You look good. I hear you're a high school history teacher now? How is that?"

Alaric recoiled as if she'd slapped him. "Where have you been, Isobel?" he bit out, his hands clenching into white-knuckled fists on the bartop.

She had the gall to shrug one slender shoulder. "I don't have any reasons that are going to comfort you," she replied easily. "I don't have any explanations that will satisfy you. I wanted this."

The cavalierness of her admission lanced through him like a physical blow. "It's that simple?" He choked out.

Isobel's eyes glittered with callous indifference. "Yeah. You were supposed to mourn me and move on."

Move on? Alaric barked a harsh, mirthless laugh that was more a strangled sob. "You were my wife," he rasped, anguish rendering his voice unsteady. "And I loved you. How could I not search for you?"

Her smile took on a sharper edge. "Because I wasn't lost, Rick."

From her jacket pocket, she extracted a pen and small notepad which she calmly used to scribble something down. "I understand you know my daughter Elena," she said without preamble. "And I hear she's been looking for me."

She tore off the sheet and extended it towards Alaric with a perfectly manicured hand. "So I want you to arrange for a meeting with us."

Alaric's gaze dropped to the proffered note, his stomach churning violently as the words blurred on the page. "You want me to deliver a message?" he mumbled numbly.

Isobel's smile didn't waver. "Yeah."

With an inarticulate growl, he snatched the note and whipped it aside, the paper fluttering forgotten to the floor as he surged to his feet.

"Screw you!" he snarled, every shredded nerve ending thrumming with impotent rage and devastation. "You selfish b*tch!"

He shoved past her without a backwards glance, uncaring of the startled glances thrown his way as he stormed out of the Grill. The cold night air did nothing to temper the hollow acheeclipsing his battered heart.

Alaric jammed the key into the driver's side door, his entire body thrumming with a toxic cocktail of hurt, anger, and utter bewilderment. He needed to get away from Isobel before he completely unraveled.

He noticed her presence behind him. "What do you want from me?" The demand burst from his lips before he could swallow it back.

She seemed to materialize from the shadows behind him, her movements lithe and predatory. "I told you."

Alaric barked a mirthless laugh as he whirled to face her. "I'm not gonna do anything for you."

In a blur of motion too fast to track, Isobel's hand was locked around his throat, choking off his air as she slammed him against the solid metal of the car door. Alaric's eyes bulged, fingers scrabbling uselessly against the vise-like grip.

She leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. "You better tell Elena that I want to meet," she hissed in a deadly undertone. "Or I'm going to start killing the citizens of this town one by one. And I'm going to start with your history students." Her nails dug bloody crescents into the soft skin of his neck for emphasis. "Got it?"

With a negligent flick of her wrist, she sent Alaric crashing to the unforgiving pavement. He landed hard, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs. Gasping raggedly, he watched through blurred eyes as Isobel tossed the crumpled note to land beside him.

"Think it over," she all but purred before melting back into the night's shadows.

Alaric dragged himself upright, his entire body throbbing in time with the frantic pounding of his heart. With a trembling hand, he scooped up the note, the words blurring and kaleidoscoping before his eyes.

♤♤♤♤♤

The cafeteria hummed with the usual lunchtime chaos - the clattering of trays, the raucous laughter of rowdy boys, the shrill giggles of girls clustered in packs. Caroline and Bonnie had staked out a corner table, their heads bent conspiratorially over the blonde's laptop.

"Alright, show me what you've got," Bonnie prodded, leaning closer as Caroline's manicured fingertips danced over the keys.

"Let's reference last year's Miss Mystic float," Caroline began, typing the search into the Bing image gallery. "This is what they did." She turned the computer so Bonnie could see the screen, featuring a photo of a garish, over-decorated mess of a float.

Bonnie's nose wrinkled in distaste. "Ew. Okay, so what are we doing instead?"

A sly grin curved Caroline's glossy lips. "Southern classic elegance."

Understanding bloomed in Bonnie's bright eyes. "Gone With the Wind?"

"How'd you know?",  the blonde tipped her an impressed nod..

"You channel Scarlett daily," the curly brunette replied with an impish smile.

A melodic peal of laughter fell from Caroline's painted mouth as they dissolved into a fit of giggles. But even as she laughed, her azure gaze couldn't resist scanning the rambunctious sea of faces flooding the cafeteria. "Where's Elena? She's supposed to be helping with this."

Her friend shrugged, avoiding Caroline's probing gaze. "I don't know."

But Caroline wasn't having it. She set her laptop aside and pinned Bonnie with an intent stare. "Okay, what's the deal?"

"What do you mean?" The witch hedged.

Caroline's perfectly arched brows climbed. "Don't play dumb with me. You and Elena are fighting - spill!"

Bonnie exhaled a frustrated sigh. "It's nothing, Care."

"It's not nothing!" Caroline insisted, her voice adopting that familiar shrill tone. "You know this whole float is supposed to be about friends creating something together. And everyone is fighting - Matt and Tyler hate each other, you and Elena are on the outs. And I don't like it!"

Her eyes grew round and imploring as she reached across the table to grasp Bonnie's hand. "I can't fix it if I don't know what's wrong."

Bonnie's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I still can't stop myself from blaming the Salvatores for my Grams not being here," she confessed in a small voice. "It's irrational, I know. I'm sorry."

A crease formed between Caroline's perfectly arched brows as she digested this. "I understand, Bonnie," she said at last, giving her friend's hand a reassuring squeeze.

Bonnie managed a wan smile. "I know her age was finally catching up to Grams. And technically they aren't responsible for it. But I can't help feeling like doing that spell made her death speed up." She exhaled a shuddering breath. "Listen, I need to go. I'll talk to you later."

The blonde watched wordlessly as Bonnie gathered her things and hurried away, disappearing into the swirling crowd. A slight frown tugged at the corners of her mouth as she pulled her phone from her bag, her fingertips instantly seeking solace by pulling up her message thread with Damon.

But her vampire's name was noticeably absent from the latest notification. Instead, it was a new message from Alaric that had her stomach plummeting.

♤♤♤♤♤

The classroom door burst open with a bang, all eyes swiveling towards the slouching figure leaning against the frame. A lazy smirk played over Damon's chiseled features as he met the string of unamused looks leveled his way.

"Sorry I'm late," he drawled, not sounding the least bit apologetic as he sauntered inside. "My dog ate my, uh...never mind."

Damon's gaze snagged on Caroline, his smirk molting into something infinitely more lascivious. "Heya, Blondie."

The blonde didn't respond so Damon's wandering attention landed on the two other occupants with a visible curl of distaste.

"What's with all the furrowed brows?" he demanded, upper lip curling ever so slightly at Elena and Stefan's mutual glares.

Alaric cleared his throat, clearly wanting to get down to business. "I saw Isobel last night."

The name landed like a lead weight, effectively smothering the playful atmosphere. Damon's entire body went preternaturally still, that relentless smirk evaporating like smoke.

"Isobel is here?" His quiet murmur seemed to reverberate through the room. When Alaric gave a tight nod of confirmation, he reiterated, "In town?"

♤♤♤♤♤

Damon raked an agitated hand through his raven locks, pacing like a caged panther before whirling on Alaric. "Did you at least ask her about Uncle John?" he demanded through gritted teeth. "Are they working together?"

Alaric could only shake his head mutely.

"No?" Damon pressed, impatience sharpening his tone to a cutting edge. When Alaric didn't respond, realization dawned in those glacial blue eyes. "No, you didn't ask."

His jaw clenched hard enough for the muscles to chord and flutter beneath his tanned skin. "What about the invention?"

"Didn't ask," Alaric ground out.

He barked a derisive laugh utterly devoid of humor. "Did she know about the tomb vampires?"

The teacher's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I don't know."

In a blur of preternatural speed, Damon was looming over him. "Did words completely escape you?" he hissed.

Alaric held his gaze steadily, seemingly unperturbed by Damon's question. "No, I was a little too distracted by my dead vampire wife to ask any questions."

The words seemed to douse Damon's interrogation like a bucket of ice water. He took a step back, reclaiming his personal space as he whirled to face Caroline. His expression was carefully shuttered, not betraying the roiling curiosity simmering just beneath the surface.

"What did she want?" His tone was casual.

"She wants to see Elena, Damon," the blonde let out.

Stefan stepped forward, his features drawn with worry. "Alaric is supposed to arrange a meeting," he explained, shooting Elena a sideways glance. "We don't know why or what Isobel wants."

Caroline turned to face Elena fully, her expression softening. "You don't have to see her if you don't want to," she said gently.

But Damon instantly scoffed, his lips twisting in derision. "Of course she has to, Barbie," he drawled, his tone laced with mocking condescension. "How else will we find out what that psychotic bitch wants?"

Elena lifted her chin defiantly, her warm brown eyes glinting with determined resolve. "I don't really have a choice."

"She's threatened to go on a killing spree," Alaric added grimly.

Damon's brows shot up in an exaggerated expression of mock surprise. "Oh! I take it that's not okay with you guys?" His cutting sarcasm sliced through the tension like a hot knife.

The blonde rounded on him, hands finding her hips as she fixed him with a level stare. "God, Damon, be serious for once."

But Elena was already shaking her head, her features set in that mulish expression they all recognized. "I want to do it," she insisted, meeting each of their concerned and one disinterested looks steadily. "I want to meet her. If I don't...I know I'll regret it."

The weighted silence that followed was broken only by Damon's snort of indifference. He opened his mouth - no doubt to deliver another scathing remark - but Caroline cut him off with a quelling look.

♤♤♤♤♤

Elena smoothed her trembling hands over her jeans as she settled onto the vinyl booth. Despite the bustling lunchtime crowd filling the Grill, she felt utterly alone and exposed in that moment. Her gaze sought out Stefan hovering near the pool tables, drawing strength from his reassuring presence. 

"Can you hear me?" she murmured under her breath, knowing his preternatural senses would pick it up. "Thanks for coming. I'm...nervous."

A small smile curved Stefan's lips as he met her eyes across the decades, telegraphing his support and affection in that simple gesture. Elena's own lips moved in a silent echo of the words burnished on her heart.

"I love you."

As if drawn by a magnetic force, Stefan smile. It made he feel like his steadfast presence is at her side. Elena was acutely aware of every minute shift in his expression, in his body language, as an impeccably dressed woman approached their table with feline grace.

"Hello, Elena," the newcomer purred in a honeyed tone that triggered a shiver down Elena's spine. "You look just like her...that's eerie."

It took every ounce of her composure not to immediately recoil. She lifted her chin instead, regarding the woman - her mother- with forced steadiness. "You've met Katherine?"

"She found me after I turned," Isobel confirmed with a casual shrug of one silk-clad shoulder. "Genetic curiosity, I suppose. She would be fascinated by you."

Elena's breath stuttered in her lungs as unwelcome images blossomed. Her gaze was inevitably drawn to Isobel's hand where a glittering antique necklace rested against the hollow of her throat.

"Is that how you can walk in the day?" She heard herself ask faintly.

A serpent-like smile curved Isobel's blood-red lips. "Katherine helped me obtain it."

Elena steeled herself, determined not to let Isobel rattle her further. "Who's my father?" she asked in a measured tone.

Isobel's perfectly sculpted features contorted in a sneer of disdain. "Not important. He was a teenage waste of space."

The callous dismissal sent a lash of hurt through the young girl, quickly smothered under a swell of indignation. "A name would be nice," she pressed.

But Isobel had already moved on, chin tilting as she studied Elena through half-lidded eyes. "It would, wouldn't it? You ask a lot of questions."

Shifting tactics, Elena lifted her chin a fraction. "Why did you compel that man to kill himself? Right after he told me to stop looking for you."

There was no remorse or guilt in Isobel's cool gaze, only bored indifference. "Dramatic impact," she said with a casual shrug. "I wish it would have been more effective."

A tendril of nausea twisted in Elena's gut at the admission. "Human life means that little to you?" she rasped.

The vampire's smile didn't reach her eyes. "It means nothing to me," she confirmed with an airy dismissal. "It's just part of being what I am."

Elena shook her head vehemently. "No, it's not. I know other vampires - that's not true."

But Isobel had already moved on, her shark-like gaze drifting over Elena's shoulder to settle on where Stefan hovered tensely. "Your new boyfriend over there by the pool table?" she purred. "Stefan Salvatore. Why Stefan? Why didn't you go for Damon?" Her perfectly arched brows quirked. "Or are you enjoying them both like Katherine did?" 

The insinuation hit Elena like a physical slap. Her mouth dropped open as mortified color flooded her cheeks. Stefan shifted uncomfortably under Isobel's blatant scrutiny.

"Or is it because of the blonde?" Isobel's derisive chuckle sliced through the weighted silence. "Damon always did have...unconventional tastes."

♤♤♤♤♤

The neon sign of the Mystic Grill cast an incandescent glow across the freshly power washed street, reflecting off the puddles that had formed. Across the way, Damon Salvatore leaned against the brick facade, his chiseled features partly obscured by the shadows. His icy blue eyes watched the drama unfold within the restaurant with a dismissive shrug.

Caroline Forbes paced restlessly beside him, anxiety etched onto her delicate features. "We should be in there," she murmured, wringing her hands.

Damon's lips quirked into a sardonic smirk. "Yeah, I want to see the drama unfold."

Caroline rolled her eyes and stalked over to where Matt had just exited the Grill, no doubt to remind him about some mundane human task for the upcoming day.

Alaric Saltzman shot Damon a reproachful glance, the shadows accentuating the hardened lines of his face. "No, Isobel made it clear we're not to step a foot inside."

A derisive snort escaped Damon. "Why me though? I don't even care what happens to Elena. It's not like I'm going to kill Isobel in a crowded restaurant."

"You're not going to kill her. Period." Alaric's gruff tone brooked no argument as he stared Damon down.

Undeterred, Damon arched an insolent brow. "She ruined your life and you still want to protect her?"

Something flickered behind Alaric's eyes, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he was assailed by memories. "She's my wife." He paused, correcting himself with a haunted look. "Was my wife. I looked for the woman I married but she wasn't there. Whoever that is, she's cold and detached."

"Yeah, she's given up her humanity," the vampire observed impassively.

Alaric shook his head, brow furrowing. "Yeah, see, I don't get that. Stefan has his humanity, he's a good guy. And you're a dick and you kill people but I still see something human in you. But with her there was...nothing."

A ghost of a smirk played across Damon's lips. "You can turn it off, like a button you can press. I mean, Stefan's different. He wants the whole human experience. He wants to feel every episode of How I Met Your Mother, so he shuts his feelings out. The problem is, as a vampire, your instinct is not to feel. Isobel chose the easier road - no guilt, no shame, no regret." His gaze cooled as he pinned Alaric with an intense stare. "I mean, come on, if you could turn it off, wouldn't you?"

Alaric held his stare, his expression inscrutable. "You haven't."

A hollow chuckle escaped Damon's lips. "Of course I have, Ric. It's why I'm so fun to be around."

Doubt flickered across Alaric's features as he evaluated Damon shrewdly. "It isn't off now is it?" His gaze drifted over to Caroline, still deep in conversation with Matt, letting the implication hang in the air between them. "It's pretty obvious when you are around her."

♤♤♤♤♤

Inside, Elena leveled an impassive stare at her bio mother across the table. "Why did you want to meet me? Can't be just to catch up."

Isobel's eyes glinted with calculation. "Because I'm curious about you. But the real reason is: I want what your uncle wants. Jonathan Gilbert's invention."

Elena's brow furrowed in confusion. "How do you know my uncle?"

"I used to spend a lot of time here when I was younger," Isobel replied coolly. "John had a crush on me for years. He was the first one that told me about vampires."

Understanding dawned on Elena's features. "So what made you want to be one?"

Isobel's full lips curved into a hollow smile. "It's a very long list of reasons, Elena. All of which I'm sure you've thought about."

The girl bristled. "No."

"That was your first lie," Isobel countered silkily. "It's inevitable, you're going to get old, Stefan won't." Her gaze drifted over to where Stefan stood, his expression pained. "Forever doesn't last very long when you're human."

Defiance hardened Elena's jaw, but her eyes betrayed a glimmer of uncertainty. "I'm sorry, but I don't have what you're looking for."

Elena made a move to get up, but Isobel's hand shot out, gripping her arm in an iron grasp and forcing her to remain seated. "Sit down," she hissed, her voice laced with menace.

Stefan started toward them, his expression thunderous, but Isobel leveled a cold stare at Elena. "And tell your boyfriend to walk away. I want the invention."

Elena struggled against Isobel's grip. "I don't have it." 

"I know that," Isobel said silkily. "But Damon does, and you're going to get it for me."

Helplessness flashed across Elena's features. "He's not going to give it to me."

Isobel's smile was as chilling as a winter wind. "Then the blood will be on your hands." She abruptly released Elena and rose to her feet. "It was nice meeting you, Elena."

As Isobel swept from the restaurant, Elena crumpled, tears streaming down her cheeks. Stefan hurried to her side, his expression a mix of concern and bewilderment. Bonnie chose that moment to arrive, taking in the scene with widened eyes. Elena looked up at her friend, then over at Stefan hovering protectively behind her. Bonnie met Stefan's gaze for a tense moment before turning on her heel and leaving without a word.

♤♤♤♤♤

Caroline turned away from Matt as they said their goodbyes and started walking back towards where Damon and Alaric stood vigil across the street from the Mystic Grill. The streetlights bathed the quiet street in a warm glow.

Suddenly, a woman seemed to materialize from the shadows, her dark eyes appraising Caroline coolly. "Hi, I'm Isobel."

She arched an inquisitive brow as realization flickered across the blonde's features. "Ah, I see so you've heard of me."

Caroline could only gape, struck dumb by the unexpected appearance of this formidable woman she'd only seen in the background of faded photographs in her mother's background check of Alaric- Elena's bio vampire mother.

Isobel's lips curved into an inscrutable smile as Damon started toward them. "Ah, so I guess you aren't his little blonde blood bag. Who would have thought?" Her dark eyes danced with undisguised amusement. "I guess history won't be repeating itself, huh? See you around, Blondie."

And just like that, she melted back into the shadows, disappearing as suddenly as she'd arrived. Damon reached Caroline's side, his brow furrowed with a quizzical frown.

"What did she want with you?"

The human could only shake her head slowly, still trying to process the bizarre encounter. "I honestly have no idea."

♤♤♤♤♤

Damon lounged shirtless on the plush sofa, a lazy smirk playing across his lips as he surveyed the scantily clad Cherie. "Oh oh Cherie, you won again. I hope I'm wearing my good underwear."

He rose languidly, fingers toying with his belt buckle as he prepared to make good on his losses. The sound of slow, deliberate clapping cut through the charged atmosphere. Isobel emerged from the shadows, dark eyes glittering with sardonic amusement.

"And it's just one blast from the past after another," she drawled.

Damon paused, letting his hands fall away from his fly before closing it as he regarded his protégé from the past

Isobel's full lips curved into a mocking smile. "Dégage, Cherie."

Cherie shot him a pouty glance before slinking from the room, wisely not pressing her luck. Damon's gaze coolly tracked Isobel as she prowled further into the dimly lit space.

"It's good to see you, Isobel," he said silkily. "I was just having fun with your naughty little minion."

"How did you find me?" Isobel demanded, all traces of amusement vanishing.

In a blur of preternatural speed, Damon closed the distance between them until his chiseled face was mere inches from Isobel's. "Searched all the neighborhood bank-owned foreclosures and found the most expensive one."

His lips quirked with dark amusement. "I thought you'd appreciate the... irony."

Isobel arched an inquisitive brow. "Oh, I should have known. You're the one who taught me that." Her expression hardened. "What are you really doing here?"

Damon leaned in, his lips brushing tantalizingly close to her ear. "Well, you caused quite a stir, you blew into town. Saw everyone except for the man who made you. I'm a little hurt."

"I'm so sorry." Isobel twisted with vampiric speed, wrenching Damon's head viciously to the side. "Did you bring the device?"

With an almost nonchalant air, Damon disengaged himself from her grip. "Heh. Ow. What are you doing with John Gilbert?"

"We dated a few times when we were young," she replied coolly. "He was a little bit in love with me."

A sardonic chuckle escaped his lips. "I'm sure. One of the many. Now, this little invention, what do you want with it?"

Isobel waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, me personally? I don't want anything with it. I'm just doing what I'm told." Her gaze cooled. "You know Damon, we're on the same side."

With a sudden burst of speed, Damon slammed Isobel against the wall, his chiseled features twisting into a sneer. "Why are you doing her dirty work?"

Unruffled, she met his furious stare. "Don't kill the messenger. We both know that you can't control Katherine. She does what she wants."

His grip tightened infinitesimally. "So do I."

Isobel leaned in, her lips a hair's breadth from his. "Oh really Damon? You do?" A throaty chuckle escaped her and they both dissolved into laughter.

In a blur of preternatural speed, they crashed onto the sofa, bodies intertwined as if caught in the throes of passion. But then, just as suddenly, Damon slammed Isobel to the floor, his powerful hand locked around her throat, pinning her in place.

"Now that I have your attention, listen up," he growled. "You do not come into my town and threaten the people I care about. Going after Elena? Cool, not my business. But you leave Caroline alone or I will rip you to bits because I do believe in killing the messenger." His glacial eyes bored into hers with lethal intensity. "You know why? Because it sends a message."

He emphasized his point by slamming Isobel's head against the floor with brutal force. "Katherine wants something from me? You tell that little bitch to come get it herself."

♤♤♤♤♤

Caroline huffed out an exasperated sigh, brushing an errant lock of silky blonde hair away from her face as she surveyed the chaos surrounding her. Papers and open notebooks were strewn haphazardly across her crimson duvet, creating a veritable blizzard of scribbled notes and circled passages.

"Where is it?" she muttered under her breath, riffling through the unruly piles with mounting frustration.

Her bedroom was her sanctuary, her haven away from the mind-bending insanity that her life had become. With Damon by her side, navigating the supernatural world didn't seem quite so impossible. But nights like these, when he was off handling whatever fresh crisis had arisen, she found herself retreating here to sort through the tangled web of secrets and mysteries.

"Aha!" she crowed in triumph, finally extracting the battered leather-bound journal she'd been seeking.

Reverently, Caroline trailed her fingertips over the tooled cover, an odd sense of trepidation uncurling in her stomach. This book contained her wildest theories and speculations - thoughts so out there, they couldn't be uttered out loud.

Taking a fortifying breath, she flipped open the worn pages to the section she'd flagged with a bright pink sticky note. Her eyes scanned the looping scrawl, her throat tightening at the words leaping off the page:

"Jonathan Gilbert's inventions might be spelled by Emily Bennett to work against vampires..."

A frisson of unease rippled through Caroline. That singular sentence spoke to the depths of deception and darkness lingering beneath the carefully-cultivated surface of their hereplease Founder's legacy. How deep did the rabbit hole go?

Gnawing her plump lower lip, Caroline's eyes drifted back over her meticulous notes and underlined excerpts. Pushing aside the haphazard piles of notes and papers, Caroline drew the thick printed document towards her with a steadying inhalation. Her fingers traced the inky symbols almost reverentially, though part of her still felt a deep sense of trepidation about breaching its contents.

Though she had painstakingly printed out this complete replica of Emily Bennett's grimoire, poring over its ancient pages felt like an intrusion. This wasn't Caroline's legacy or heritage to claim - it was a highly personal, even sacred, piece of history passed down through generations of the Bennett bloodline.

For all her curiosity about uncovering Mystic Falls' darkest secrets, did she have the right to unravel such profound occult knowledge? The grimoire's spells spoke to archaic, primordial forces that shouldn't be disrupted or wielded without the utmost reverence and understanding. Especially not by someone who was just a human.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Caroline's mouth as she realized her casual decision to take Latin years earlier as an extra subject was now profoundly beneficial. The grimoire's incantations and ceremonial instructions were extensively coded in the ancient Roman lingua franca.

Tracing a finger over the faded Latin script, she mouthed the syllables reverently. Despite her assiduous studies into modern covens' practices, these archaic rites operated on an entirely different, more elemental spiritual plane that called to her like a Siren's song.

This was her first time truly immersing herself in the grimoire's contents since discovering it hidden in the Salvatore crypt. As she bent close to decipher the intricate patterns, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was crossing a point of no return into profoundly dangerous metaphysical territory.

The blonde startled slightly at the sound of her bedroom window sliding open with a quiet scrape. She didn't need to look up from the grimoire's ancient pages to recognize the dark, sleekly powerful figure slipping through the opening with feline grace.

"You know, most people use the front door like normal people," she remarked dryly, not allowing her surprise to disrupt her study of the intricate diagrams and Latin incantations.

Damon's trademark smirk carved ludicruss lines around his intense gaze as he crossed the room in a few long strides. "Where's the fun in that, Blondie?" he purred, chin dipping to brush a lock of spun gold away from her cheek.

He allowed his fingers to linger perhaps a beat too long, drinking in the sight of her brow furrowed in concentration while she pored over the book. His smile took on a decidedly wolfish edge.

"Find anything...enlightening?" Damon murmured, his heated stare drifting pointedly over the notes and papers scattered across Caroline's crimson duvet.

Despite herself, Caroline felt warmth bloom in her cheeks at his nearness and the heavy-lidded heat radiating off him in waves. Damon cultivated an air of danger and delicious sin like his own carefully curated cologne.

Her lips parted to respond, but Damon had already zeroed in on the thick tome occupying the center of her research cyclone.

"Is that Emily's grimoire book?" he demanded, wasting no time closing the distance between them. His intense gaze held Caroline immobile as surely as if he'd compelled her.

She nodded wordlessly, unable to ignore the frisson of anticipation uncurling low in her belly at his proximity. Throat suddenly dry, Caroline wet her lips before speaking.

"I've been going through it," she answered, gesturing for Damon to take a closer look. "Check this out."

As he leaned over her shoulder to inspect the grimoire's worn pages, the spicy virility of his scent enveloped Caroline completely. She willed herself to focus past the dizzying distraction. 

"That's the vampire compass," Damon stated flatly after a long moment.

A smile tugged at the corners of Caroline's mouth as she met his stare triumphantly. "Yeah, my theory was actually right. According to Emily, Jonathan Gilbert never succeeded in inventing anything."

She flipped rapidly through the tome until she found the passages detailing the Gilbert inventions, boldly annotated with Emily's elegant hand.

"Emily secretly spelled them all with magic," Caroline continued, pride ringing in her tone. "The compass, the rings, and..." She hesitated a beat before pointing to the intricate design of a strange contraption. "The mystery device."

Damon's eyes narrowed as he studied the diagram intently. "Yeah, that's it," he said at last, seemingly unsurprised. "Well, part of it at least. I only got my hands on the one piece."

Caroline's finger traced over the looping Latin inscriptions encircling the schematics. "Emily pledged her loyalty to Katherine, but she couldn't stand by and let innocent people keep getting killed," she realized out loud. "This was the only way she could think of to help - by letting Jonathan Gilbert believe he'd invented these anti-vampire devices himself."

Shooting her a sidelong look, Damon exhaled a low whistle of appreciation. "So does this magical tell-all say what tall, dark and scruffy's doomsday contraption actually does?"

His fingertips skimmed over Caroline's bare arm, scorching a path along her sensitized skin as she refocused on decoding the spell book's contents. After a few tense seconds, she shook her head slowly.

"No, not explicitly," Caroline murmured. "But it implies this is some kind of weapon meant to be used against vampires."

Her gaze met Damon's squarely. "It's what Isobel wants..."

The weighted silence stretched between them, both sharing an inscrutable look. Caroline couldn't shake the nagging sense of confusion and wrongness about the whole scenario.

"But that doesn't make any sense," she blurted out finally. "Why would Isobel want a weapon designed to harm her own kind?"

"Good question, Blondie." His fingertips found her bare arm again in an absentminded caress. "Last I checked, she was still reveling in being an immortal creature of the night."

She watched his expression morph from casual interest to something far more predatory and calculating at his pronouncement. His icy eyes glittered with cunning menace.

"Well then, reason is no important," Damon purred in that low timbre that never failed to make Caroline's pulse spike. "We just better make sure she doesn't get her manicured hands on it."

♤♤♤♤♤

The bright spring sunlight filtered through the trees as Matt hammered away at the float, brow furrowed in concentration. The familiar sound of approaching footsteps made him glance up.

"Hey man," Tyler greeted him. "So Caroline tells me you've been on your own for the past two weeks. Is everything okay?"

Matt's grip tightened on the hammer as irritation flashed across his features. "You're asking me about my mom. Seriously?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Look, man, why don't I just tell her to give you a call when she comes back to town?"

Tyler backpedaled, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "Dude, that's not what I meant okay? I'm just trying to...I don't know what to say."

Tersely, Matt cut him off. "Good men don't say anything. You're a dick, end of the story." Tossing down his tools, he brushed past Tyler and stalked away.

Left standing alone, Tyler could only watch his retreating back with a rueful expression. "I know," he muttered under his breath before squaring his shoulders. "Yeah, whatever."

♤♤♤♤♤

The sunlight streaming through the classroom windows cast elongated shadows across the desks as Bonnie leaned over Emily's ancient spell book, brow furrowed in concentration. She glanced up as the door opened, admitting Elena and Caroline.

A warm smile curved Caroline's lips as she took in the sight of her two closest friends together again. Bonnie had filled her in on the emotional reunion she'd shared with Elena that morning after the shattering revelation about her birth mother.

"Hey!" Bonnie greeted them. "Thanks for meeting me. I wanted you guys to see this."

Elena's eyes widened as they landed on the aged leather tome. "Is that Emily's spell book?" she asked, awe and trepidation mingling in her voice.

Bonnie gave a slow nod, her expression inscrutable as her fingers traced the intricate symbols etched into the spell book's cover...

♤♤♤♤♤

Outside, Jeremy strode across the courtyard, his expression troubled, when a familiar voice called out.

"Jeremy!"

He turned to see his sister hurrying toward him. "Hey, have you seen Stefan? I need to find him."

Jeremy shook his head. "No, not lately. Listen, do you have a second?"

Elena's brow furrowed with concern. "Yeah. What's up? What's going on?"

Running a hand through his tousled hair, Jeremy hesitated. "Well, it's Anna. I've left her all these messages and she hasn't gotten back to me, not even a text."

Realization dawned on Elena's features. "Anna? I didn't know that you guys were still friends."

"We're more than friends," he admitted quietly as he met her gaze head-on. "Look, something could be seriously wrong and if you know anything you've got to tell me."

Elena lifted her chin a fraction. "I haven't talked to her, Jer."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Are you lying to me right now?"

"Why do you say that?" she asked, her voice taking on a defensive edge.

"Because that's what you do. Lying. You lie about everything." Jeremy shook his head in disgust. "I know what Anna is and I know that you know. So tell me, do you have any idea where she is?"

Elena's jaw tensed. "No, but Jer...Jeremy wait! Jeremy!"

But he had already turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving Elena staring after him helplessly as the rift between them stretched ever wider.

She whirled around, her heart stuttering in her chest as she came face-to-face with Isobel. "Isobel. What are you doing here?"

The vampire's dark eyes glinted with undisguised calculation. "I'm your mother, Elena. I want to be more involved in your life."

Steeling herself, she lifted her chin in defiance. "I don't want you in my life."

Isobel's full lips curved into an inscrutable smile. "I understand that. You already have a lot of people that you care about." Her gaze drifted over Elena's shoulder to the trio clustered nearby. "But I've been studying. Let's see if I got this right."

Her eyes landed on Bonnie. "There's the witchy best friend, Bonnie. Gonna stay away from that one."

Next her scrutiny fell on Jeremy, radiating sullen anger. "Oh...sad little brother Jeremy."

Finally, she raked her eyes over Caroline in a decidedly predatory manner. "And there's Caroline...queen bee Caroline. Also Damon's Caroline, the one he came to threaten me to stay away from." A hollow chuckle escaped her lips.

"Oh..." her gaze slid over to where Matt stood working on the homecoming float. "And there's Matt, friend, ex. Lots of connections there."

Elena stiffened. "Matt is not involved in this." 

"He's involved with you, isn't he?" Isobel countered smoothly.

Growing increasingly unsettled, Elena shook her head. "Look, you shouldn't be here. You need to leave."

But Isobel remained maddeningly nonchalant. "No, I have some friends here too." She nodded toward a shadowy figure loitering near Matt. "You see that man over there, standing next to Matt by the float? His name is Frank, he's very handsome and he's also quite handy. He noticed that the axles are a little rusty, which is very dangerous. So, all you have to do is apply a little bit of pressure and..."

Terror flashed across Elena's features as Frank suddenly sprang into action, leaping onto the float trailer directly above Matt. "No!"

With a sickening crunch of metal, the rusted axle gave way, the massive trailer crashing down onto Matt's outstretched arm. He let out a guttural scream of agony as Elena tried to surge forward, only to be caught in Isobel's iron grip.

"Get this trailer off!" Matt bellowed through gritted teeth. "Come on guys, help me!"

Tyler and several others raced over, straining against the weight of the trailer as Stefan arrived in a blur of speed to assist. Finally, after a few endless seconds, they managed to shift it enough for Matt to wrench his mangled arm free.

Caroline was at his side in an instant, cradling him as he fought to remain conscious. Her stricken eyes lifted to meet Isobel's triumphant gaze as she turned het attention back to Elena, her ruthless message received loud and clear.

"Caroline, call an ambulance," Stefan let out, his expression grim.

Cradling Matt's injured arm, Caroline fumbled for her phone with shaking hands. Elena rounded on Isobel, anguish and fury etched across her delicate features.

"Why are you doing this?"

Isobel's dark eyes glittered with cruel amusement. "I'm showing you how easy it is to hurt the people that you care about."

Understanding bloomed, swiftly followed by dread. "And you're doing this just because of Jonathan Gilbert's invention?"

"Hand it over and all will stop," Isobel stated coolly.

Elena shook her head frantically. "I told you, Damon is not going to give it to me."

"Then I make the blonde do it." Isobel's lips curved into a vindictive smile as she jerked her chin toward Caroline. "I think you underestimate how much Damon cares about her."

Desperation lent an edge to Elena's voice. "He'll kill you before he gives it up."

For a beat, Isobel's expression hardened into something feral. "Is that before or after I kill your brother Jeremy?"

Ice flooded Elena's veins as she whipped around, scanning the scattered groups of students. "Jeremy?" Her gaze swung back to Isobel, pleading. "Jeremy?!"

But Jeremy was nowhere to be seen. And Isobel had vanished into thin air.

"The ambulance is saying 15-20 minutes," Caroline reported tightly.

Tyler stepped forward. "I have my car. I can take him to the hospital." 

Matt grimaced through the waves of agony. "Caroline can take me."

"I didn't drive," she protested.

Stubbornly, Matt shook his head. "I'll wait. It's fine." 

"You will not wait, okay?!" Her voice rang with steely determination. "You need to see a doctor. Tyler is driving, end of story."

Finally acquiescing, Matt gave a terse nod. "Fine!"

"Go!" Caroline urged Tyler.

Tyler hurried off before letting out, "I'll bring my car around."

Caroline crouched beside Matt, gently cradling his mangled arm. Her expression was a mask of forced calm, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil churning within. Isobel had struck at the innocent part of their makeshift group, and it was clear no one was safe from her twisted agenda.

♤♤♤♤♤

Bonnie traced her fingers over the ancient symbols in Emily's spell book, a crease forming between her eyebrows. "Where is the device?"

"Damon has it," Caroline replied, still looking shaken from the events with Matt and Isobel.

Stefan's expression was grim. "He's going to be difficult to reason with."

Resolve hardened Elena's features. "We'll go to him, I'll talk to him."

But Stefan shook his head. "He's not just gonna hand it over, especially if it's harmful to vampires."

A pensive silence fell over the group before Caroline spoke up hesitantly. "What if it's not?"

They all turned to look at her, varying degrees of confusion and consideration flickering across their faces as the implications sank in.

♤♤♤♤♤

"Absolutely not!"

Damon's unequivocal refusal sliced through the weighted silence like a whip crack. His piercing blue gaze flicked with undisguised contempt between Elena and the device cradled in his hands.

Elena squared her shoulders, seemingly undeterred by his obstinance. "Just hear me out," she insisted in that maddeningly reasonable tone.

But Damon had already moved on, upper lip curling in derision as he turned his focus to Caroline. "I'm not gonna give this device to Isobel so she can hand it off to Uncle Scruffy, who'll no doubt try to use it to kill me." His expression carved into something feral and predatory. "Call me selfish, Blondie, but I like being a living dead person."

Before the blonde could respond, Elena tried again with her best empathetic look. "But it'll be useless. Bonnie can take its power away."

Damon's sardonic laugh was a harsh bark of sound utterly devoid of mirth. "I don't trust her," he countered, slanting a look at the young witch that made it clear he considered her more foe than friend.

But Bonnie didn't rise to his mockery. "I can remove the original spell," she stated simply, holding his icy stare without flinching.

Sensing an opening, Caroline laid one hand on Damon's tense forearm, her touch instantly dousing the flames of his ire to slow-burning embers. "John and Isobel will never know," she murmured with quiet urgency, willfully ignoring Elena's disapproving look. "We can stay one step ahead of them."

For a long beat, Damon's devouring gaze remained locked on Caroline's earnest face, the faintest crease forming between his brows. Despite his best efforts, she could see calculation flickering through those crystalline depths as he weighed the precarious scenario.

At last, he exhaled a low curse, grip tightening around the innocuous device that had suddenly become such a flashpoint. "God, not you too, Barbie," he growled in a voice that could have stripped paint.

Elena opened her mouth - no doubt to unleash a fresh torrent of pleas - but Caroline cut her off with a look that brooked no arguments. When she turned that steady, imploring gaze back to Damon, the words seemed to plummet like pebbles into a still forest pool.

"Look, I get it," she said, keeping her voice low and soothing in a bid to neutralize his rising hackles. "But we're running out of options here. We can't just sit around and hope for the best." Her azure eyes held his stare steadily. "They have Jeremy."

"Okay, so I'll get Jeremy in my own way," he growled at last, stubborn defiance flaring in his gaze.

Before she could interject, Stefan had stepped forward, pinning his brother with a look of incredulity and concern.

"Really? How are you going to do that?" The undercurrent of challenge was unmistakable. "Because Isobel is a vampire. And Jeremy could be dead the second you walk in the door."

Damon's lips peeled back in a mirthless smile as he turned his icy blue gaze on Bonnie. "You sure you're up for this, witchy?" His tone dripped condescension. "No offense, but you're no Emily Bennett. That girl knew what she was doing."

Anger sparked behind Bonnie's eyes, but she kept her expression impassive. "I've been practicing my powers. Getting stronger."

"It's not piano lessons, honey." Damon tsked, shaking his head in mock sympathy.

But Bonnie simply arched one eyebrow. "Your favorite book - name one."

Damon blinked, clearly thrown by the random demand. "What?"

"Any book," Bonnie pressed, unruffled. "Just name it."

After a tense beat, Damon's eyes narrowed to icy slits, but he played along with a derisive edge. "Call of the Wild, by Jack London."

Extending one hand, Bonnie turned her focus toward the study's towering wall of books. The ancient tomes lining the shelves began to shudder and rattle. One lexically-battered hardcover flew free, sailing in a low arc to slap decisively into Damon's upraised palm.

He glanced down at the faded cover, cursive title clearly visible - Call of the Wild by Jack London. Damon's mocking smirk slipped as he met Bonnie's level stare, a flicker of reluctant respect kindling in his eyes.

"Not bad..." he muttered at last. "For a parlor trick."

His gaze cooled to a piercing arctic blue as he considered the room. A muscle ticked in his chiseled jaw as he tossed the innocuous-looking device up and caught it again in an idle display of nonchalance.

"Say I did go along with Sabrina's spell purge on Captain Eye Thing's little doomsday device..." His tone dripped condescension as he twirled the object between nimble fingers. "How do you know it won't just piss them off more?"

Before anyone could respond, Elena surged forward, resolve hardening her delicate features into an implacable mask. "We're doing this, Damon. And we're doing it my way." She extended her hand, palm up in a silent demand. "Now give me the device. We're wasting time!"

He barked out a harsh laugh utterly devoid of mirth. "You seriously need a reality check if you think I'm doing anything your way."

Whirling on Bonnie, his crystalline eyes glittered with dark amusement. "And I don't trust you. I tried to kill you, remember?"

For her part, Bonnie didn't so much as flinch. "You're right," she said evenly. "You can't trust me."

Elena opened her mouth - undoubtedly to launch into another impassioned plea - but the words seemed to catch in her throat as an idea took hold. "But you can trust me."

The derisive sound that escaped Damon's lips could have shriveled flowers. "Who told you that? I definitely don't trust you."

Before Elena could muster her rebuttal, Caroline was closing the distance between them, drawing Damon's smoldering gaze like a moth to a flame. "But you do trust me. And I trust Bonnie." Her voice lowered to an intimate murmur that seemed to leech some of the agitation from his rigid stance. "Damon, please."

For an endless beat, the only sound was the faint ticking of the grandfather clock as Damon searched Caroline's face in studious silence. Finally, he exhaled a low curse and crossed the space between them to deposit the device into her waiting palm.

Caroline's fingers curled around the object reverently even as relief bloomed in her azure eyes. "Thank you."

Elena gaped at the startling turn of events as if she could scarcely believe what she'd witnessed. Damon didn't so much as spare her a glance, his attention utterly consumed by the blonde vision holding his future in her hands.

Stefan watched the intimate tableau unfold with a guarded expression, no doubt wary of the unpredictable path his brother's actions might take them down. But in that moment, it was clear where Damon's loyalties lay - and with whom they were inextricably entwined.

♤♤♤♤♤

The flickering firelight cast dancing shadows across the ancient tomes spread out on the study table - including Emily Bennett's spell book. Its worn leather cover was emblazoned with intricate symbols that seemed to thrum with otherworldly power.

Beside the spell book rested the unassuming device - an innocuous-looking metal cylinder that had precipitated so much turmoil. Bonnie ran her fingertips over the raised markings with a furrowed brow as she steeled herself for the ritual.

On the periphery, Damon lounged against the edge of a stately dresser, arms folded across his chest as he watched proceedings through narrowed eyes. Though he'd ultimately acquiesced to their plan, his body language exuded a sense of coiled tension, as if he remained poised to strike at the first sign of trouble.

Caroline hovered at Bonnie's side, agitated energy lending a nervous tic to her movements as she twisted a lock of golden hair around one finger. Her azure gaze kept flicking to Damon and back again, as if reassuring herself of his continued presence.

With Elena and Stefan maintaining a respectful distance, a heavy silence descended over the study, broken only by the crackle of the fire. Bonnie's voice rang out in a commanding tone as she began the familiar intonation of the spell.

The very air seemed to thicken and churn with invisible currents of power. The candle flames danced erratically, responding to Bonnie's growing command over the mystical forces.

When at last the young witch's voice stilled, a ringing quiet lingered in its wake. She exhaled a shuddering breath and reached for the device with a trembling hand.

"Done."

Bonnie held it out to Elena, who accepted it gingerly, as if it might combust at any moment. Damon immediately pushed off from the dresser, impatience written in the taut lines of his body.

"Great, now what?"

It was Caroline who answered, her voice laced with nervous energy. "Now Elena gives it to Isobel."

♤♤♤♤♤

The Mystic Falls town square should have been a picture of tranquil suburbia - a playground for children, benches shaded by stately oaks, and the perpetual trickle of the stone fountains. But on this charged night, an air of menace cloaked the open space like a suffocating shroud.

Elena paced the brick pathway with anxious strides, her slight frame taut with nervous energy. Though the spring evening was mild, goosebumps rippled along her arms as her eyes endlessly scanned the deepening shadows.

The slightest scuff of a boot against pavement had her whirling, panic seizing her chest until the familiar silhouette of Isobel materialized from the gloom. The raven-haired vampire prowled with leonine grace, dark eyes missing nothing.

"Where is the device?" Isobel demanded without preamble.

Elena's fingers reflexively curled around the object burning in the pocket of her jacket. "Where is my brother?"

Isobel tsked, shaking her head in a mockery of reproach. "This isn't a negotiation. Where is the invention?"

Defiance sparked behind Elena's gaze, squaring her slight shoulders. "Where is my brother?"

For an interminable beat, the two women stared each other down in a contest of wills. Then Isobel's lips curved into a smile as cold and immovable as ancient marble. "Do you really think that I came alone?"

It was then that Elena became aware of two hulking figures emerging from the tree line to flank Isobel - her minions Frank and Cherie, no doubt. Her pulse kicked up a stratospheric notch even as she struggled to maintain her tenuous bravado.

"Did you really think that I came alone?"

The words had scarcely left her lips when a familiar figure stepped from the shadows to Elena's left - Stefan, eyes blazing contradictory warnings of protectiveness and caution. A few paces behind him stood an impassive Damon, looking for all the world as if he'd been plucked from one of the Romanov-era paintings that lined the Salvatore manor's halls.

And at his side, luminous even in the waning evening light, was Caroline. Though her eyes were wide and her features slightly pinched with trepidation, she held herself with a core of understated strength and conviction.

Almost subconsciously, Damon angled his body a fraction toward the blonde beauty in a clear subconscious gesture of possessiveness - his to defend, his to protect. His piercing stare raked over the other vampires with undisguised menace before settling at last on Isobel.

For a suspended breath, the dueling factions sized each other up across the dimly illuminated plaza. Then Isobel's dark eyes glinted with undisguised cunning. "For god's sake, call home."

Elena's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Call home and ask to speak to your brother Jeremy," Isobel enunciated slowly, as if speaking to a child.

Though wary of whatever game Isobel was playing, Elena had no choice but to comply. With trembling fingers, she pulled out her phone and tapped Jeremy's contact. The line rang once...twice...

"Hello?" Jeremy's familiar voice broke the tense silence.

Relief flooded Elena's system, quickly smothered by simmering dread. "Jeremy, are you okay?"

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine," he replied in a tone utterly devoid of stress. "Uncle John hit his head. It was an accident."

Elena's breath caught in her throat as a muffled feminine laugh echoed down the line - no doubt from Jenna.

"We're all laughing," Jeremy added, seemingly oblivious to his sister's panic.

"But yeah, I'm okay," he finished casually.

Elena struggled to find her voice. "I'll...I'll be home soon, alright?"

"Yeah."

And just like that, the call disconnected, leaving her staring at her phone's black screen with mingled fury and trepidation. When she lifted her gaze to Isobel's once more, it was scalding with promise of retribution.

"You were never going to hurt him," Elena accused, glaring at Isobel through eyes bright with unshed tears of fury.

Isobel's perfect lips curved in a condescending smile. "No. I was going to kill him, Elena." Her dark eyes glittered with ruthless amusement. "Don't delude yourself looking for any redeeming qualities in me. I don't have any."

Fighting down the wave of nausea those callous words induced, Elena pushed on desperately. "But you took a risk, using Damon to get the device to me. How did you know he would give it to me?"

"I didn't," Isobel said with maddening simplicity. Her obsidian gaze sliced sideways to settle on Caroline, who stood frozen beside Stefan and Damon. "But I knew the blonde would get him to...because he's in love with her."

The words detonated like a grenade in the midst of their tense stand-off. Damon's piercing blue eyes swung to Caroline with the force of a physical blow. The vulnerability, the visceral longing in his stare was searing. Caroline's rosebud mouth parted on a soundless inhalation, her eyes sparkling with a complicated tangle of emotions - wonder, yearning, fear.

Stefan's own eyes had gone glacial, cutting between his brother and the girl.

Only Elena seemed oblivious to the crackling undercurrents swirling around her. With a dejected slump of her narrow shoulders, she pulled the device from her jacket pocket and flung it at Isobel's feet in complete capitulation.

Stooping to scoop it up, Isobel straightened with a remorseless smile. "Such a predictable thing, love," she purred, her tone drenched in patronizing derision as she gave Caroline a lingering once-over. "Powerful enough to render even the most fearsome of predators...tame."

On the word "tame", her dark eyes cut to Damon just as he instinctively shifted a step closer to Caroline - a subconscious need to shield her from Isobel's scathing assessment.

A heavy silence descended, the weight of Isobel's cruel parting words seeming to leech the color from the world around them. Elena stood motionless, spine curved under the crushing burden of defeat and humiliation.

When she finally lifted her gaze to Isobel's retreating form, her voice emerged low and tremulous but amazingly steady. "Thank you."

Isobel's booted feet stilled on the brick path. Slowly, she turned, arching one sculpted brow. "For what, precisely?"

Though her slight frame practically vibrated with pent-up emotion, Elena's expression was serene - an eerie calm before the storm. "For being such a monumental disappointment." She exhaled a shaky breath. "It keeps the memory of my real mother perfectly intact."

For an interminable moment, Isobel simply stared at her, dark eyes unfathomable. Then, "Goodbye, Elena." Her tone was laced with an edge of surprising weariness. "As long as you have a Salvatore on your arm, you're doomed. Katherine was smart - she got out." Her ruby lips twisted in a contemptuous sneer. "But we all know you're not Katherine."

On that ominous note, she turned and melted into the night, her minions trailing in her wake. Only when the sounds of their footsteps had entirely faded did the profound silence shatter.

Stefan moved first, crushing Elena to his chest in a embrace. Her fingers fisted in the soft cotton of his shirt as she clung to the solidity of him, drawing strength from his comforting scent and the thrum of his borrowed heartbeat. 

After an endless moment cocooned in his protective warmth, she lifted her gaze to search out Damon. He stood a few paces away, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket in a deceptively casual pose. But the molten intensity of his stare wasn't focused on her at all.

No, his ice-blue eyes were locked on Caroline with an unguarded hunger that spoke of a far more primal want than simple physical desire. The teasing glint, the perpetual challenge usually held in those fathomless pools was nowhere to be seen. In its place burned a molten vulnerability so raw it almost seemed indecent to witness.

If Caroline registered the blunt impact of that smoldering regard, she gave no outward sign. She met Damon's searching gaze with a placid calm, seemingly impervious to Isobel's wrong assumption (which according to her was just to stir up trouble) about the nature of his feelings for her.

A muscle ticked in Stefan's taut jaw as he watched the heated exchange, telegraphing his tumultuous emotional state as he processed this new dimension to his brother's inner world.

It was only when Caroline held out a reassuring hand to Elena that the moment shattered. Letting out a stuttering exhalation, Elena disengaged from Stefan's embrace and flung herself into Caroline's slender arms with a hitching sob of relief and release.

The picture they made - two fragile human girls taking refuge in one another's strength - seemed to rouse Damon from his trance-like fixation. With an indrawn breath, he tore his magnetic gaze away from Caroline and threw one last indecipherable look at the trio.

Then, without preamble, he executed an about-face and strode away with that prowling, lethal grace that was his distinction - a magnificent panther slipping from their midst.

♤♤♤♤♤

The decanter clinked dully as Damon upended it over an antique crystal tumbler, the amber liquid sloshing against the sides. He had just raised the glass to his lips when the sound of footsteps preceded Stefan's arrival in the dimly lit study.

"Would you like one?" He offered without preamble, unhurried movements betraying no inner turmoil as he set the decanter back on the sideboard with a dull thunk. "Say it, whatever it is. Purge, get it out."

Stefan hesitated, unease clouding his chiseled features as he wrestled with where to begin. "It's about what Isobel said..."

One of Damon's black brows peaked in wordless inquiry. "What about it?"

Expelling a harsh breath, Stefan met his brother's inscrutable stare head-on. "Well, I know that you and Caroline have bonded and I know that she cares about you...and I know you care about her. It is clear with the way you are protective of her."

A pregnant pause stretched out as Damon's unfathomable eyes coolly appraised Stefan over the rim of his glass. Then, "Well, this is certainly going in an interesting direction."

The younger Salvatore shoved an agitated hand back through his tousled hair. "I'm just...confused."

Damon's porcelain features remained an impassive mask as he lowered the tumbler and licked an errant drop of scotch from his bottom lip with studied nonchalance. "Caroline is a very good friend. In fact..." His gaze sharpened with challenge. "She might qualify as my only friend. Is that a problem?"

Stefan shifted his weight, running a hand through his tousled hair. "On the risk of sounding like a gossipmonger..."

Damon's lips curved into a sardonic half-smile. "Oh, there's no risk there. You do sound like one."

Steeling himself, Stefan met his brother's unwavering stare. "Are you actually in love with her?"

For a long beat, Damon was motionless, eyes hooded as he studied the contents of his glass. When he finally spoke, his tone was deceptively casual.

"Come on, little brother. Do you seriously think that?" He tipped back the remainder of the scotch and set the crystal tumbler down with a dull thunk. "Barbie is my friend, and probably the only one keeping me in this town."

His cultivated nonchalance didn't quite mask the undercurrent of something more profound. Rifling fingers through his inky locks, he fixed Stefan with an intent look. "She's stopped me from going off the rails more times than I can count. I'd call that the very definition of a friend."

Stefan searched his brother's face, seeing the truth shining through the cracks in Damon's emotional armor. He opened his mouth, then closed it, opting to simply nod in acknowledgment.

"If that's all you've got for tonight's rendition of 'Let's Dissect Damon's Psyche'..." Damon made a shooing gesture as he swirled the last few umber drops in the bottom of his glass, expression inscrutable. Then, "I just realized something..."

Stefan's brow furrowed. "What?"

"About John."

Damon's cryptic response only deepened the crease between Stefan's eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, he fixed his brother with a look of faux pity. "Am I the only one around here who has the ability to put two and two together? Isobel! Hello?"

He ticked off the points on his long fingers. "She dated John when she was 15, got pregnant, and ended up at the doctor's office of John's brother. Now..." He spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture. "What do you think John's role is in all this? Go ahead, think about it. I'll wait."

Stefan's jaw ticked as he worked it through, brow furrowing deeper until comprehension suddenly flooded his features. "You think John is Elena's father?"

"Ding ding ding ding!" Damon's tone dripped with paternal sarcasm as he gave a exaggerated golf clap. "We have a winner."

Shaking his head slowly, Stefan refused to be baited. "What proof do you have?"

In a blink, Damon's face went carefully blank. "I don't need any proof. That's a DNA test for John, Elena and Maury Povich to deal with." His lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. "But I know how well you deal with these bombs, so...sleep tight."

He tossed back the last swallow of scotch and set the glass down with a decisive thunk before turning on his heel.

"Oh," he threw over his shoulder as an afterthought. "And next time, try to be more subtle."

Stefan could only watch in stunned silence as his brother's broad back disappeared through the door and into the shadows beyond. Dropping into a wingback chair, he cradled his head in his hands, feeling like the tenuous ground had just shifted once again beneath his feet.

♤♤♤♤♤

The flickering glow of the muted TV cast John's craggy features in washed-out blues and grays as he slouched on the couch, long legs outstretched. The shrill trill of his cell phone sliced through the silence.

Glancing at the caller ID, he connected the call with a terse, "Hello?"

"On your doorstep, you'll find what you've been looking for." Isobel's cultured voice brooked no argument.

John was already moving, crossing the room in a few long strides to pull open the front door. Sure enough, a nondescript manila envelope lay on the welcome mat. He scooped it up, fingers drumming against the textured surface.

Worrried about his ring that Isobel had snatched earlier, he let out, "And my ring?"

"Don't screw this up," Isobel warned. "You know what you have to do."

A muscle ticked along John's jaw, but he inclined his head in mute acknowledgment. "I got it. I won't fail."

Ripping open the envelope's seal, he upended it over his palm and caught the heavy silver ring and the device as they tumbled out, glinting dully even in the dim light. He slipped it onto his finger, a sense of grim purpose uncurling inside him.

"You better not," Isobel's disembodied voice carried a lethal edge. "Katherine wants all of those tomb vampires dead. And I want to add two more names to that list."

John's lips flattened into a grim line, already anticipating her response. "Let me guess..."

"Stefan and Damon." There was no inflection to her tone, no hint of doubt or mercy. "I don't want this life for her."

"That was always part of the plan," John stated, implacable. "Consider them gone."

A weighted pause, then, "She's our daughter, John. We owe that to her."

His eyes slipped closed as he absorbed the words, allowing their crushing weight to resonate within him. When he opened them again, they glinted with steely resolve.

"I know."

The call disconnected with a harsh buzz of finality. Sliding the phone into his pocket, John stared sightlessly at the sealed envelope crumpled in his fist.

♤♤♤♤♤

The iron Gate creaked in protest as Bonnie pushed through, making her way along the familiar path lined with weathered headstones. Withered petals crunched underfoot, carried on the chill spring breeze that teased escaped tendrils of her dark hair.

Grams' grave appeared ahead, the simple stone monument stark against the lush backdrop of newly budded trees. Bonnie's steps slowed as she neared it, throat tightening with a swell of emotions.

Dropping to her knees on the packed earth, she reached out with trembling fingers to trace the loving inscription. "I did something bad, Grams," she confessed in a tremulous whisper. "And I lied about it."

Bonnie dropped her head, squeezing her eyes shut as the admission lanced through her like a physical blow. "I pretended to do something I didn't really do. I just...I couldn't do what they wanted me to. It wasn't right."

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, streaking her cocoa skin. "You would have never done it, so I couldn't either. But when Elena and Caroline find out, they're never gonna forgive me."

Her slender shoulders shook with the force of her ragged breaths. Drawing her knees up, she hugged them close and simply rocked back and forth, drawing what little comfort she could from her deep connection to this sacred space.

"I'm so sorry, Grams," she whispered brokenly. "I know I should have been stronger, should have found another way. But I was just...so scared. Of myself, of this power inside me that keeps growing." Lifting her head, she searched the treeline as if hoping her grandmother's spirit might materialize. "I don't know what to do."

Only the plaintive call of a morning dove reached her. Bonnie shuddered and dropped her forehead to her knees once more, hot tears soaking the fabric of her jeans as sorrow and shame washed over her in crashing waves.

What she had done - or rather hadn't done - may very well have devastating consequences. But in that moment, she couldn't find it in herself to regret following the ethical code Grams had instilled in her. Her friends would simply have to understand...or cut her loose entirely.

The thought was nearly enough to break her apart, but Bonnie hugged her arms tighter and pressed her face into her sleeves, drawing strength from the meadow's tranquil energy. Whatever lay ahead, she would shoulders its weight with her head held high, secure in the knowledge that she had done the right thing.

______________________________________

A/N: That's it for this chapter. The amount of edits this chapter went through 😬

1 more chapter to go for the 1st season to end.

I have a lot of things planned for the last chapter so it's going take me a while to formulate it into a cohesive unit. So it might take me some times.

There will be a lot more of Caroline's friends next chapter.

And there are going to be many revelation 😉

Anyways, What did you think of this chapter?

What do you think of Stefan still feeling guilty?

How do you feel about the Flashbacks?

What do you think about Caroline and Damon's conversation about Stefan?

What are you thoughts on Damon and Alaric's vampire humanity switch conversation?

How do you feel about Isobel's stating Damon's in love with Caroline?

Is Damon and Caroline's relationship progressing at a natural pace?

What do you hope to see in the next chapter 👀?

Let me know your thoughts and opinions ❤️

Until next time 👋🏻

✍️🏼✍️🏼✍️🏼