"Daddy, why did you sleep on the couch?"
Alaric looked away from Josie and at the white, glossy modern cabinets of the Armory's newly remodeled kitchen. "Uh, well, I-"
"Why don't you go put your shoes on with Lizzie?" Abigail cut him off. "We've gotta get going."
Josie grabbed her sippy cup, following Abigail's suggestion without protest. "Okay, Mommy."
Once Josie turned the corner into what had become their living room, Alaric said, "I'm sorry."
Abigail continued her task of wiping down the black countertops without an expression at all.
"The Saltzman silent treatment?" He cracked a smile. "Using my own tactics against me."
An expression found her, one that was angry, as she turned away from him to put the dishes in the sink.
His stool scraped against the tile floor. "At least you can act like everything is fine in front of the kids."
She addressed him for the first time that day, "I'm not the one who acts like everything is fine."
He raised his eyebrows; she was sure of it. "Well, you don't exactly talk about it either."
"I did talk last night." The fabric of her dress swished as she faced him. "I did all of the talking."
"And then I had to tell you I would sleep on the couch so you wouldn't go to the loft!" He wasn't yelling, not that it would've made a difference with the way he rounded the island. "We're married, Abigail, I shouldn't feel like you are pushing me away."
"That is not what I was doing." She stressed the third word that left her mouth, emphasizing it the same way the next time she said it, "It's not."
"Then what were you doing?" He asked. "Because it felt a lot like you were doing what you always do."
"Look, Alaric, I know I was young when we met. That I had a lot to learn, that I still have a lot to learn, but I have always known that I was going to be in love with you for my entire life. So, I don't need you to remind me of that." The way she was looking at him was the way she would have looked at herself, even if the way he was looking at her was not. "And I definitely do not need you to remind me of the mistakes I have made along the way."
"I am sorry that I said what I did. It was unfair and uncalled for. It is definitely not how I really feel." He was going to admit something to her, something she decided she did not know if she wanted him to by the way he covered his face with his hands, but when he pulled them away, she knew he had to say it, "Sometimes I just get caught in the hurt of what got us here. I know I shouldn't, I know that, especially because we ended up where we did. Where I always thought we would. I've just never understood why you couldn't see that. I never understood why you didn't think we could make it work."
"I don't know," she admitted. "I guess a part of me just thought I had let you down so many times that you'd finally had enough."
"Oh, no, Bea." He pulled her against his chest. "No."
"I'm sorry, too, you know." She looked up at him. "My parents never fought. Not in front of us. I-I'm sure they had their issues. I mean, when you're together as long as they were, as long as we have been, they come up. But I hate when it's like this because as hard as marriage is, it's more beautiful than anything I could imagine."
"Being married to you is the greatest privilege of my life." He slowly leaned toward her, placing a kiss on her lips once she had closed her eyes in invitation. "But having a family with you is so much more."
The Mystic Falls Founders' Hall had been decorated for the Miss Mystic Falls Pageant as carefully as it always had been. The pageant was a tradition, one that did not leave much room for growth, so the differences between the year Abigail competed and the year she was judging did not seem to exist at all. There was a room she ignored the last time she was there, the one she was standing in now.
Pictures of the women titled Miss Mystic Falls lined the walls in order. She walked through them slowly, picking out people she recognized along the way, but she did not stop completely until she came upon one person's photo.
It didn't do her mother justice, but it captured her beauty in its purest form. Her smile was bright, bright and wide and full of pride. But that pride was not in herself, not like so many others, it was in her town. In the things she valued. In the things she instilled in the woman looking back at her.
Ruth, a woman who was once friends with Grams, joined her. "How long have you been married?"
Abigail looked from her mother's photo to her fellow judge. "Our second wedding anniversary was last week."
"Kids?"
She showed her the lock screen of her phone; it was a recent picture, one that showed they were further from four than they were closer to two. "Lizzie and Josie."
It took her a moment to respond, but, when she did, the surprise that came from people set in their ways was not there. "Aw, they're just gorgeous. Any more on the way?"
"Oh, there won't be for a while." She smiled at the picture. "These two keep our hands pretty full."
"Enjoy it." Abigail had heard it a thousand times, "It goes by so fast."
"Tell me about it." Her laugh was as nostalgic as it was eager. "I feel like it was yesterday that they were pumpkins for Halloween and now they're starting kindergarten in the fall."
Ruth's smile did not fade. "You're a professor at Whitmore now, right?"
"Yes and no. I have adjunct status. I teach one class, offer an internship through my primary employer, and spend the rest of my time researching anthropology topics that most people see no value in." She chuckled at herself, thinking of Henry Garrison as she did. "Before I was doing what I do now, I was a curator at the Perot Museum of Nature and Science in Dallas. I miss it, but being back in this side of the field is nice."
"I've always been a banker," Ruth told her although she did not have to. "There aren't many sides to it."
Her phone rang. "Sorry, excuse me."
Out into the hall and up the stairs, she slipped into an empty room. It was small and dark, practically a closet, but it was exactly what she needed. She read the name again, answering it with the opposite of what she would have months before.
"What the hell do you want?"
"My sister's on the warpath. The artifact that she's trying to assemble has the power to kill her. That's why she's after all three pieces of the bell. Lucky for you, I already stole the biggest part." Seline's voice was not the only thing she could hear over the line, but it was the only thing she listened to. "You have something I need. I have something you need. I have the bell. You have the tuning fork. Damon has the third piece of the bell, the striker."
"What's the striker?"
"It's an iron ball. My sister had him fetch it from the Maxwells. He doesn't even know what it is." Seline took a deep breath. "Look, I am partially responsible for the damage she inflicts on the world. If I want to make good, that starts with killing Sybil."
She thought over her words, the way she said them, and she found something. "I'm having a hard time taking you seriously because of everything you've done."
"I could've just as easily called Damon," Seline said. "You don't have to trust me. But I sure as hell am trusting you. With a weapon of terrible power."
"I'm at the Miss Mystic Falls Pageant. I can't leave."
Seline became the one asking questions, "Is Alaric there?"
"Yes."
"Then where are the twins?"
"Somewhere safe."
"I do care about them. I just-"
"I know that you care about them. Everyone who meets them cares about them, it's impossible not to, because those girls are amazing. They are so curious about the world, they live in a constant state of excitement, they care about everyone they meet, and that is just the beginning of a list that goes on and on about all the reasons why they are the best children in the world." She paused. "But the only reason you came to care about them is because of the time you spent with them while training them to become the next servants of Cade. To turn them over to the life that you have wanted to escape for over a century. To rip them from everything that makes them who they are."
There was a long break in their words. "I am trying to make amends."
"Thank you for calling me. For trying to make things right." She meant it, even if she thought she wouldn't have. "It won't be me you see today but know that I sent who you do."
Classical music played over the people gathering in the foyer. She walked down the stairs in a much different way than she had walked up them, but her steps were still rushed. They carried her in the direction of the person she was looking for but stopped when she ran right into someone by the front door.
"Bonjour!" Bonnie exclaimed. "Ric said you were around here somewhere."
Her eyes swept the crowd. "Where is he?"
"Enzo is helping him put the gifts we brought back from Paris in the car." Bonnie steadied her on her feet, holding her in her place. "You know, Paris where I've been for months. Paris where Enzo and I ate all the cheese and drank all the wine."
"Sorry. Hi, Bonnie. I missed you." It wasn't until she pulled herself from her hug that she noticed the necklace Bonnie was wearing. She didn't know how she hadn't seen it before; it was hard to miss. Silver, the round pendant surrounded a dark vial. It fell in the keyhole of her green dress, all the jewelry she needed to complete her look. "That is beautiful."
"Thank you. Enzo gave it to me on our last night in Paris." Bonnie took it into her hand. "It's filled with blood. Enzo's."
"That's..."
"Morbid? Charming?" Bonnie took up Enzo's accent, "'A mere symbol of an eternity with you, love.'"
"Like when I took the cure." Abigail tilted her head to the side. "Only the opposite."
Bonnie repeated, "It's just a symbol."
Caroline joined them. "I think it seems like one very specific symbol. Are you sure that's what it is? I mean, you don't want you to..."
"Don't worry, I'm not turning into a vampire any time soon."
"Yeah, or ever, right?" Caroline's attempt to mask her countenance was easy to see through. "I mean, according to the Bonnie Bennett that I've always known."
"Okay! Um, listen..." Abigail pulled them further from the guest. "Seline called me."
"Why would psycho siren-nanny call you?" Bonnie asked.
"She wants to make amends."
"And we care because?"
"Because that weapon we found out about could kill them both," she answered. "She has the bell, we have the tuning fork, and Damon has the striker. We have to put all of the pieces together."
Caroline grabbed onto her arm with force. "What?"
"Matt and Dorian are after the bell; we need to find the striker." She looked over her shoulder to see that neither Enzo nor Alaric had come back inside. "We obviously can't leave. If Sybil sees that all of us have left..."
"She'll know something is up."
Bonnie presented the start of the plan, "All of the guests are here. My job is done."
Caroline nodded. "I'm presiding over the ceremony but Abigail is a judge."
"So, once the dance is underway you, me, and Enzo can leave to look for the striker." Bonnie looked past them. "Or we could ask Damon about it in person."
Stefan and Damon, dressed in suits, walked through the front doors.
"What are you even doing here?" Caroline asked.
Sybil walked up behind them in a dress that was almost identical to the one Elena wore to compete in the pageant. "I invited them. Don't worry. As long as I get what I want, I'll make sure they behave."
Abigail came out of an upstairs room with the ballots that the head judge had neglected to bring along with him as they moved from one place to another. There were a lot of them, one for each girl, one for each judge. Keeping them organized was a task in itself, the little time she had to get them to where they were supposed to be making it a difficult one.
"Abigail."
She looked up. "Damon, why are you up here? Guests are supposed to wait downstairs."
"Sybil called me back here. She wants that ball of iron I've been lugging around. For the first time, I was actually able to tell her no." He raised the Christmas gift he received from her: Elena's necklace. "Because of this."
"If you haven't given her that bell striker yet, we need it. It's part of a weapon that can kill sirens."
"Absolutely not. I don't want Sybil dead until she fixes what's going on inside of my head!" He took two long strides toward her. "I don't know what's happening to me, but so far, this thing has been nothing but trouble. Why did you give me this?"
"It was Elena's."
"Yeah, I know that. Why does it mean anything to me? I hold it and I get this little flicker of warmth. And then..." He blew out a puff of air. "It's gone."
"God..." Her expression mirrored his. "What did she do to you?"
"After I flipped my switch, Sybil tinkered in my head. I don't know what it was, but she did something to guarantee that all my feelings for Elena went away."
"Damon, I gave you that necklace because it is as powerful as the love that you and Elena have for each other." There were tears in her eyes, ones that he could not find for himself. "Being here and feeling what you're feeling proves that a love that deep and real can win over anything."
"And, of course, you would believe that," he said slowly, "because yours did."
"Somewhere deep down in the part of you where Elena is buried, you care. Find that place, Damon. Fight for her. Or spend the rest of eternity trying to figure out what happened to the best part of you." She stepped past him, placing a hand on his shoulder for as long as it took to say, "It's your choice."
Caroline's voice was not the one Abigail focused on as she read the names of the Miss Mystic Falls hopefuls.
"I'm ready to get out of here," Damon said to Stefan.
They were standing right behind the judges' table, but Stefan's voice easier to hear, "You didn't hand over that stupid ball Sybil wants..."
"Why do you care?"
"Well, because fighting Sybil is keeping you from being the brother that I want."
"If this has something to do with me not pulling my weight with Cade, I think you're killing enough for the both of us."
"No, that's not what I mean, Damon. You know, when we set out on the road together, I really thought it would make us brothers again." The dance began. "But we can't seem to go anywhere without the past coming back to haunt us."
"What are you talking about?"
"This place. The memories. Dancing with Elena, ratting me out for drinking out of blood bags-"
"It's not my fault you fell off the wagon."
"But you could have helped me in my time of need. Instead, you were standing right here, falling for Elena as she walked down those stairs." She wasn't even watching the dance anymore, she wasn't looking for Alaric in the crowd, she was only listening to the brothers behind her. "You think this is where your love story began, but the truth is, Damon, Elena never would have looked at you twice if I had been there that day."
Damon scoffed. "That's old news, Stefan. I don't care about Elena."
"Really? Then why are you still holding onto this?" The necklace. "You know, when I gave this to Elena, it was to protect her from you."
She approached Damon as Sybil led Stefan away. The talisman was in the grass, the target of his eyes until she picked it up. Her fingers wrapped around it, held it tightly, and then she let it go into his grasp.
"Tell me you're not listening to him," she said. "He's not himself."
He shook his head. "I haven't been myself lately, either."
"I'm not going to let Caroline lose Stefan. I sure as hell am not going to let Elena lose you." She led him to the dance floor. "And I'm not going to lose you to Sybil's sabotage, either."
"I thought you were supposed to be deliberating which girl spun around the prettiest while these people relive their glory days."
She bowed to him. "You did this dance with Elena."
"Yeah, I'm aware of that."
"It meant something to her. It meant something to you. And this event, this place, it only means something to you because of the feelings you have attached to it." Right hand. Left hand. Both hands. "Your brain is trying to remind you of the truth."
His hands met her waist. "How is a stupid pageant supposed to remind me of feelings attached to something I haven't even forgotten?"
"Just dance. And trust that Elena is right here dancing with you." Round and round they spun. "There's another way, you know. We can fight Sybil. The striker is the final piece to a weapon. And if we use it, maybe we can break her influence over you."
"May I?" Stefan pulled Abigail away from Damon. "Judge Number Three and the Honorary Judge share a dance."
"Honorary Judge?"
"That's my title, much like Servant of Cade." He went stone cold. "What are you doing to Damon?"
She stepped to the side of the floor where no one was dancing. "What you would want me to do if you were you."
"I keep telling you that you don't know me, and you keep trying to prove me wrong." His words pushed her further from the people around them, but not as much as him reaching for her necklace did. "I could just rip that necklace off and compel you to forget us altogether. That would solve this. Or I could just kill you."
"No." Her walk turned into a run. "Stay away from me."
He followed her around the building, speeding in front of her to block her path. "You've never been one to cause a scene."
"Stefan, stop."
He pushed her against the wall. "You'd think someone would have known to just rip this off of your neck."
"Someone did."
"Yeah, you." He laughed as he toyed with the gold locket around her neck. "That little bit of vervain barely got you away from me, but we both know the only reason that worked was because I was fighting myself as hard as you were fighting me."
"That's not what I'm talking about. You know that's not what I am talking about."
"Trying to stir up my emotions?"
"No. Damon's the only one who can bring you back this time, I know that. But I'm still going to say this..." She looked into his eyes like she never had before, in a way that made her want to look away. "You compelled me, Stefan. You compelled me before I turned into a vampire. We have never talked about it, I have never told anyone about it, but you compelled me. I saw you on my way home one night the summer you were with Klaus. It was after you killed Andie. You compelled me to forget so that I wouldn't have to lie to Elena. So that Klaus wouldn't follow me home. So that we wouldn't find you. And I let you. I let you because I knew you were still in there. Like I know you are now."
Nothing changed in him, not that she could tell, not that she was expecting it to, but something in the way she was looking at him did.
Alaric ran toward them. "Get away from her, Stefan!"
"Hey, Ric!" He clapped his shoulder. "How did it feel to watch Abigail dance with someone else at this pageant for the second and third time?"
Alaric punched him in the face. It only sent him backwards a step, but it was enough for her to step from his reach and into Alaric's arms. He shook his hand out, the one he'd used to break Stefan's nose, and guided her away with the other one. She must have told him she was fine ten times by the time they made it inside, but that did not stop him from asking again. It didn't stop anyone else, either.
Caroline helped Abigail straighten out her dress. "Damon just took Sybil upstairs."
Bonnie passed her a bottle of water. "If he's giving her that striker..."
"I think it's time we wrapped up this shindig," Enzo said.
"How are we going to get everyone out of here safely?" Alaric asked.
"Well, I'm the Master of the Ceremony. You four make sure everyone actually leaves. I'll take care of the rest and get the striker." They followed Caroline as she moved to make the announcement. "Hey, everyone. Um, so sorry, but, uh, this year's pageant will have to be cut short due to a gas leak in the kitchen. Please exit quickly and get home safely. Thank you all for coming."
Violet approached Abigail. "So, who won?"
She faked a smile. "It's a six-way tie."
Caroline got to them as fast as she could, compelling Violet right away, "Now, go home."
"No," Violet defied. "We have to stay."
"Who told you that you have to stay?"
"The honorary judge, Stefan Salvatore."
Abigail pulled Alaric behind her under the cover of night fall. The path was poorly lit, almost forgotten, turning from concrete to dirt to stone. It was old, as old as the original building that stood where the new one did, and it led them to the courtyard.
"We got everyone out of there, we should go, too." Alaric stopped before he realized she was going to. "Abigail-"
Dropping his hand, she faced him. "I promised you that I would meet you in the courtyard at my Miss Mystic Falls Pageant."
"But Stefan spent the whole time trying not to kill Amber Bradley and we didn't get the chance to have our rendezvous."
"And, well, he's one upped himself this year by turning Violet Fell into a vampire."
He smiled at her when she smiled at him. "But here we are."
"Here we are."
They bowed to each other.
Right hand.
Left hand.
Both hands.
The simple intimacy of the near touch.
His lips met hers before his hands met her waist, pulling her into him without any effort at all. It was one of those beautiful moments, one made more beautiful by the covenant they had made. And, in finally fulfilling that promise, she realized that all of the promises they had made to each other would find a way to be.
That was not the end of the night, not as it would have been all those years ago, it wasn't even close. So, before they even talked about picking up their daughters, they stopped at the police station.
Matt had tracked down the bell, found it where they were never supposed. There was one other person who made it possible, Dorian. And he was the person approaching them with Seline.
Alaric cocked and aimed his gun. "Stop right there."
"Whoa! Easy, easy." Dorian put his hands up. "Hey. It's okay. I'm not sirened. I'm not sirened."
Matt lowered his gun only when Alaric lowered his. "Oh, you're not sirened, you're just plain stupid?"
"Please." Seline was no longer petitioning them, she was making something known. "I guessed what was going on thirty minutes into our little hostage scenario."
"Why did you bring her here, Dorian?" Abigail asked.
"You're gonna want to hear what she has to say."
"Once the bell is assembled, there's only one family who can ring it." Seline looked to Matt. "Yours."