X: Look At Me Now
Reese had been in Mykonos for a year now. A flash of a year. A year she had spent feeling like a tape on fast-forward. No sound. No concrete images. Memories were rare, too — she could barely recall the details of most of the major occurrences these past twelve months.
The initial days were overwhelming.
Rumors spread like wildfire in the orphanage which meant Reese garnered a notorious reputation before she'd even arrived. Witches from every coven imaginable lived in the hallways, each with their own bit to say on Reese's heritage and the circumstances that led her to their doorstep.
She felt their scrutinizing gazes, the weight of their expectations, and the whispers that followed her every move.
It was an intricate game. A challenge to find her place among them; to adjust herself to the social groups and power dynamics of the coven.
And in hindsight, it should've captured her attention.
But it couldn't.
Not when the mere flicker of a flame was enough to send shivers down her spine, igniting the memories of the one event she could recall. The fire. The screams. The acrid smell. Magic was nothing but a reminder of her shortcomings: her weakness; her failure to do anything to help mom and dad; the root of their issues.
(She found no interest in her classes, either.)
She supposed Azzie noticed.
That's why there were no candles on her birthday cake.
It was a simple chocolate cake, lathered in brown frosting, 'happy birthday reese' printed in dark pink icing. Azzie baked it herself, solely because baking it at home offered the opportunity to add a . . . special ingredient to the batter.
See, Ravens never missed an opportunity to party as it is.
And the teenagers? Training with them?
They never missed an opportunity to party and get high doing it.
A three-tier birthday cake with pot in it was probably the only incentive they had for attending Reese's birthday party, so she supposed it was sweet of Azzie to do it.
And so, the party was in full swing. Buzzing with excitement.
They'd gathered deep in the forest, a circle around the light of the bonfire, surrounded by nothing but darkness and trees on all four sides. Someone had brought in a loudspeaker that spilled dance pop music; the cake was on an old wooden school table set next to the fire, depleting every minute as witches cut out slices for themselves.
Nobody bothered to approach Reese.
A few bothered to wish her; those younger witches that sought to 'network' their way into the coven by landing in the good graces of the bloodborn Ravens.
She stood in the periphery, watching the world pass her by, trying to convince herself that the flickering of the flame wasn't going to swallow her whole.
"So, another year closer to greatness," a voice near her ear said. "Yet the power-hungry Reese Yung doesn't seem very happy about it. How curious."
Reese didn't have to turn to see who it was, but she did anyway.
Azzie had crept up on her. She wore a questioning smile, silently asking Reese what was on her mind.
"This party is boring," Reese said by way of explanation, dodging the question. "I would've expected better from you, considering you're the popular one out of us."
"Well, my good will only extends so far as getting them to attend, Reese." Azzie spoke without much pause in between her words. She was already high. "Maybe if you stopped acting like you'll burn them if they look at you too long . . ."
Haha.
"I will burn them if they look at me too long," Reese affirmed, eyes narrowing. "They're untrustworthy."
Azzie giggled, as if that was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. She draped an arm around Reese's shoulder, spluttering.
"They're supposed to be untrustworthy. And cunning and deceitful and selfish and . . ." she paused, looking for more descriptors, "and revenge-y or whatever. You know that's like, part of the criteria of becoming a Raven?"
"The problem is they're trying to be cunning and deceitful and selfish," Reese sighed. "It's not going very well; they're all too set in their ways."
"Maybe that's a good thing." Azzie's face loomed near; her nose brushed against Reese's cheek. She continued in a whisper, "You and I — it's instinct for us. Hereditary."
Reese comprehended half of what Azzie was implying.
She turned, leaning in close. "Is that such a bad thing?"
"It doesn't feel like a good thing," Azzie replied. "Not to me, at least."
They were nose-to-nose now. For some reason, Reese's stomach twisted. She swore she could hear her own blood pumping through her veins. Was she sick?
"Being like them wouldn't get us very far." Reese had personal experience in that department. If she couldn't have love, she wanted power. "Because we are what we are. It's like a never ending circle."
Azzie swallowed, seed brown eyes boring into her. "Right. With great power comes great responsibility."
A strangled laugh broke out of Reese, easing the tension. "Are you really quoting Spider-Man now, Az?"
"Hey, wisdom comes from many sources, okay."
Even comic book superheroes.
"Now, you need to grab a cup or have some cake and show these people you can let down your hair once in a while, okay?" Azzie instructed, arm dropping from her shoulder so she could grab her hand. "It's for strategy purposes, only."
Make them think you're normal. Disguise yourself. That was always more Azzie's style.
"I don't like parties," Reese protested. "Last time I partied my house burned down and my parents died."
Usually, people got awkward whenever Reese mentioned her parents. Which is why she mentioned them so often, being extra certain that her voice lacks any emotional depth — no sadness, no contempt, not even a hint of annoyance — leading them to pause, think, what the fuck, and leave her alone.
Azzie was used to her now, though, and she took it in stride. "Yeah, but you don't really have a house to burn down, or parents to lose anymore, do you?"
"You're cruel," Reese accused, though there was no force to it. She was working hard to fend off a laugh. "Get away from me, witch."
"And you're miserable," Azzie shot back. "I'll balance you out. At least until you come into your own."
One thing that irked Reese was Azzie's habit of assuming that this friendship they'd forged — or whatever it was, if she took into account the way her heart raced when Az touched her — would be short-term. That someday Reese would stop being sad and therefore stop needing Azzie.
Come into her own; what the fuck was that supposed to mean?
Because if she reflected on it, Azzie was the only person Reese had by her side this whole year.
"You need to have fun while you can, Reese," she insisted, leading her into the depths of the party, "'Cause the moment we join the coven you can forget about the notion of a personal life. Trust me, I've seen it happen to every person in my family."
"The council is set in their ways," Reese said, repeating Azzie's own words from a few months ago. "I can't wait to become a magic dispenser for thousands of people that despise my existence."
They were at the cake table now. Reese's face lit up golden. She took it on herself to stare into the fire, fists clenched. Her heart was racing again, but this time, it was paralyzing.
The crackle of the wood burning . . . she swore it was screaming at her.
Get out of here, it said. Run. Please, Reese. Please.
"That's the spirit," Azzie said as she cut her a slice. "If you say it enough times, you'll start to believe it."
She then grabbed her arm and led her back to the edge just as quickly as she'd led her into the crowd.
Reese knew the coven meant everything to Azzie.
The politics, the power struggles . . . it was part of who she was. She'd grown up in it. Adapted to it; developed a knack for it. She could read a person just from the way they approached her and nail down their intentions in a matter of minutes. It was extraordinary to watch.
She was meant for this, yet she despised it more than anyone else.
Eventually Reese figured out that Azzie wanted to be kind. She wanted to be compassionate and caring and empathetic for it went against everything she was supposed to be. Her non-violent act of rebellion because violence was an inherently Raven trait.
She accepted the cake from Az, breathing out. Wilfully, she told her, "One day I'm going to leave this shithole behind. And I'll never come back again."
"You're set in your ways too, Reese."
"Maybe. But I'm not pretending to be something I'm not."
"I applaud your optimism."
Reese cracked a joke. "It's very enduring. Survived the fires of nostalgia."
Though she argued it wasn't optimism.
It was just strategy. Cunning. She needed something that kept her going.
Inherently Raven, right?
In a rare wave of bitterness, Azzie said, "I don't think we'd be able to escape this shitshow coven even if we became vampires."
Unspoken was the fact that even death would only be half an escape.
(It wasn't that there could be no exceptions. Reese knew that looking back on it. Azzie was as powerful as Reese, but Reese was capable of a kind of cruelty Azzie would never come close to.
But then again, had Reese really escaped?)
─────────────
Present Day
Their stay in New Orleans was memorable, but short-lived even after the run-in with Marcel.
Early in the morning they left, with Reese instructing Damon to backtrack exactly the way they came. She claimed it was essential to catching their Raven 'witch', ie, Jo, the vampire who'd been sent to kidnap her and would definitely be on her trail, murder on her mind after what happened to Rafe.
She needed a Raven who was on the Registry; it didn't matter if they were a witch or a vampire. That certainly made it easier — fast and hassle-free.
So, they found Jo, extracted a vial of blood, killed her, and went on their merry way to Mystic Falls.
Straight to the Salvatore Boarding House.
Straight to Damon's opulent yet strangely disgusting room . . . that emotion in particular was probably exclusive to Reese, though.
It was in her nature to constantly analyze what was in front of her (from a neutral perspective of course) and everything about Damon just screamed tears. In a way, it reminded her of Nik: that innate frustration and need to grab both his shoulders and shake.
"I'm telling you now," Reese said, hands on her hips, lip curled up as she glared down at the insides of Damon's closet. "She's gonna find it here sooner or later."
"Of course, she'd willingly look inside my closet." Damon, leaning casually against the door frame, watched Reese's frenzied inspection of his closet, wincing as she began to tear his shirts off the hanger and throw them into the air. "I've got a stunning fashion sense, one day–"
"She'd look just to count how many skeletons you're hiding."
"I'm not the only one with skeletons in my closet, dovey."
"But I'm scarier. And gayer. She'd want nothing to do with my closet."
"I don't have time for your scariness, or your gayness." Damon stepped over his clothes on the floor to his now empty closet. He used his vampire speed to run around the house and a few seconds later, there was a collection of maps set up inside his closet. "This enough?"
Their goal here was to create a live map to track Stefan and Klaus while simultaneously keeping a check on werewolf communities so they could make sure the two parties never get anywhere near each other. Well, that was Reese's goal. Damon just wanted to find Stefan, but whatever. They were 'partners' now, so what she said, he would have to do.
Now, the first spell was pretty simple: a bit of Damon's blood and a minute or two of concentration was all she needed to achieve a live monitor on Stefan.
The second one required patience. It was delicate work. She doubted she'd be able to get it on the first try.
"If I'm going to hijack the Ravens' community spell, I'm gonna need some sustenance," Reese said, stepping into the closet and stretching her arms. She was jittery with anticipation. This would be a true test of her magic. Not her power, but her magic. "Some french fries, please."
Damon rushed away without a word.
He was eager to get this over with, she suspected.
50-50.
The Ravens had made it as far as they had — an organizational structure from the international down to the local levels — through a tedious process of data collection and record keeping. They had the largest archives out of all the covens still functioning presently. They mapped out not only the locations of their own members but also of other covens, vampires, werewolves, and any other remarkable supernaturals.
They had started to maintain live trackers on basically every major supernatural community (except the Originals, somehow), long before Reese came into the picture. This was one kind of magic restricted to the older council, so she did not have any particular knowledge about how it was implemented either.
All she had was the blood of a Raven on the registry and a vivid imagination.
How hard could it be?
Impossibly hard, Reese realized, an hour into the task.
She simply wasn't meant for this sort of intricate magic.
Basic locator spells and memory fixes were easy — they were part of their primary training as Ravens. But Reese's forte was combat; brute force. Snapping necks, tearing out hearts, enhancing her punching and kicking using magic. That was what she excelled at. That was how she thrived these past few years.
Theoretically, she knew what she was trying to achieve was possible.
She lacked the training and the knowledge to actually pull it off. Her spell kept straying and marking the locations of the Ravens instead of the werewolves. She wasn't reaching deep enough.
She let out a deep breath, stretching her arms.
The aftertaste of over-salted fries burned in her mouth.
Damon came in ten minutes later to find Reese sprawled on his bed, eyes screwed shut, hair spilling out around her head. He blinked. Felt that familiar smirk make its way across his face. Now what was this?
"Well, this is a new level of invasion." He raised an eyebrow. "Don't redecorate without my permission."
"Shh," she hummed, without opening her eyes. "I'm meditating."
"Didn't peg you as the zen type?" He swerved around the mess that spilt out of his closet — crumpled maps and streaks of blood that stained not only the paper but also the floor and his clothes. "Struggling with your hocus pocus?"
"Don't."
"Why not?"
"This doesn't concern you."
"You're in my room. Destroying my closet. And sleeping in my bed."
"Let go of your material possessions and achieve true freedom."
"You're one to talk."
Reese felt the mattress dip. She refused to open her eyes to Damon's insufferable smirking and let him ruin her meditation — code for trying to reach Esther and figuring out what exactly she had to do.
"What, exactly, is the problem?" Damon asked.
"Unless you're being inhabited by the spirit of a century-old Raven witch, I doubt you'll be able to help."
"Fifty-fifty, Reese."
Hm. What was the harm in telling him, other than, perhaps, a blow to Reese's ego?
"I'm trying to tap into the Ravens' live monitor on werewolves," she said, opening her eyes. She turned on her side to face him, supporting her head with her hand. "Only my perpetual focus on combat magic means I lack the delicacy required for this spell."
Damon stared at the ceiling. "What was the point of going to New Orleans then?"
"That was a warning." It was not nearly enough. "That puts us in the game. But this is about being one step ahead."
Read: this is about revenge.
After a few moments of silence, Damon decided to pepper her with a few sanctimonious words: "You're not being nearly practical enough about this."
Reese sunk into her hand, putting her entire weight on her elbow. "Enlighten me."
"Everything is already taken care of." When she didn't respond, he continued, "You said it yourself: your coven hates werewolves. They'd hate hybrids even more. And now that you've let out word of Klaus' plan, they'll be doing everything in their power to prevent him from finding any pack—"
Reese sat up so fast she heard something crack. "Fuck. You're right."
Before he had a chance to comment on that, she rushed to the closet. She tore apart another map and replaced it with a fresh, unstained one of the United States.
Things had just gotten so much simpler.
She poured the last of Jo's blood on the map and focused on that — the coven, the witches, the encampments. Their entire system. Her hand hovered over the pool of blood as thin lines began to separate from it and snaked to different parts of the country. Along the coast, the smoky mountains, the bayou, the Appalachians, and so on. None in Virginia, since that was Reese's territory, and she wasn't on the registry.
"I don't expect a thank you," Damon peered over her shoulder, "so you can repay me by doing me a favor instead."
"No cleaning, driving, cooking, organizing, washing —"
"How about talking?" Damon grasped both her shoulders and steered her out the door. Strange, he was being too nice. "You really excel at that, so it shouldn't be a problem."
"— torturing works, I'm not really in the mood for killing or kidnapping, but it's better than dusting —"
"Maybe catching up, coffee and shopping —"
Reese halted in her tracks. "No."
"You owe me." He clicked his tongue. "Also, kinda too late."
They were in the Salvatore's living room now.
As if waiting for this very moment, the front door swung open, and in stepped Elena Gilbert. She took no more than a second to comprehend what was happening — that Reese was, indeed, alive and right in front of her — and lunged forward to hug her with an exclamation: "Reese, what the fuck!"
─────────────
Elena looked well.
That was the genius observation Reese made throughout their conversation.
Her skin was rosy and clear, her eyebags practically non-existent, hair shiny and pin-straight as usual. The lack of the Niklaus stress factor was doing her good. Even if she was probably biting her fingers down to their tips worrying for Stefan, she could afford proper sleep and food without fearing for her life.
So yeah, she looked really good. Healthy and pretty.
It made Reese conscious of her own condition: the pinkish eye bags, the chapped, peeling lips, the tangled black hair. She hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in days, let alone access to skincare and chapstick. Her clothes lacked their usual style. She was wearing a t-shirt and skinny jeans she'd purchased in a hurry from a random store on the road.
Talk about a downgrade.
She hadn't even been home yet.
"So, resurrection's treating you well." Reese dipped a fry into her chocolate milkshake. Swirled it around in the froth. "A very rare sight in this field of magic."
Elena's doe brown eyes seemed to be fixated on surveying Reese. Assessing. Top to bottom.
Reese popped the fry into her mouth.
"It's Bonnie's doing," Elena replied, picking up a fry of her own from their shared plate. "I don't feel any different than I did before."
"That's a good sign."
What the fuck was up? Why did Reese feel so painfully awkward?
"You look," Elena paused, " . . . well, too, for someone who was just kidnapped."
"I look like I haven't showered nor slept in weeks."
"And that's perfectly understandable."
All the noise of the Grill washed over Reese. She massaged her forehead, brows furrowed.
"I'm not looking for understanding," she said without looking up. "It's nice that you aren't dead, I suppose."
No, it isn't . . .?
"Likewise," Elena nodded. "Reese, are you okay?"
Her voice seemed to have amplified, echoing ten times louder in Reese's ears. It grated on her nerves. She slapped her hand on the table, attempting to anchor herself.
"Peachy," Reese grated out. "I think I need another milkshake. Strawberry, maybe."
"Ok." Elena wasted no time and slightly raised her arm, beckoning Matt.
He, in turn, wasted no time in coming over. No doubt he'd kept one eye on them this whole time.
"Welcome back, Reese," he said, voice peppy.
She blinked. He was smiling at her. "Thanks, Matty. Nice to see a friendly face . . . and sorry for knocking you out."
"With my own rifle," he shook his head, though the smile remained. "Talk about embarrassing. No hard feelings, though."
"Right."
He nodded. "So, uh, what can I get you?"
"Just a strawberry milkshake," Elena said, "Thanks."
That ache reverberated through her head the moment Elena opened her mouth. Shut up, Reese wanted to scream. Her jaw clenched, betraying her sudden irritation.
Again, what the fuck was going on?
"So, I wanted to talk to you about Caroline."
It would be impossible to withdraw from this conversation, wouldn't it? But what could Reese say that could explain . . . well, any of it. She'd lied to Care multiple times. Made amends for it. And then removed her from a situation she didn't wish to be removed from by compelling her using magic. If someone did that to her, she'd be well beyond angry.
Was there anything left to salvage their friendship?
Was it even worth the effort anymore?
Whatever it was, Reese's thoughts were overpowered by Elena. And that strange, grating irritation.
She clenched her fists. Tried to keep her face devoid of anything extreme, lips pulled into a thin line. "Right, of course. What about her?"
"What about her?" Elena parroted. "She's furious. Rightfully so. And you need to talk to her."
"I've got other things to worry about."
"Like what?"
"Like, finding Stefan."
"I know you don't care about what happens to Stefan, Reese." The corners of her mouth turned down in a frown. "This is just about Klaus. Is he really more important than Caroline?"
She shrugged. "Right now, he haunts my thoughts. Night and day."
Elena leaned forward. Her eyes widened, reflecting a mixture of concern and surprise. She opened her mouth but took a few moments before she actually spoke. "A-are you in love with Klaus?"
Reese met her stare with an equal amount of solemnity. "Is that what you guys gossip about these days?"
"I mean," she let out a puff of air, "Care mentioned that she sensed something when you guys were at Ric's apartment. And, well, Damon's been going about it forever."
"Right, I noticed that." Reese began to nod in agreement. "Well, since both of their love lives are so stable, I've got no choice but to believe them. This burning anger must be love. What do I know about what I feel, after all?"
"Ha," Elena sighed. "So funny. You know we're genuinely concerned about you, right?"
Reese scoffed, unable to keep the irritation at bay. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm in no need of your concern. Or your help."
"Everyone needs friends," she said matter-of-factly.
"You should focus on staying alive, lest Nik decides he's had enough of Stefan and takes a rendezvous back to Mystic Falls."
Even as she said it, a voice inside her urged, that Elena should be dead. Kill her.
Her nails dug into the skin of her palms.
Esther, that bitch.
Now she reached out?
"You keep changing the topic." She bristled. "We have a lot to talk about, but I guess the first thing I should ask is, how long are you staying in Mystic Falls?"
"Not too long, if things go well."
There was . . . too much going on.
What was the objective here?
Reese had done her spells. She had access to not only Stefan and Klaus' locations but also all the werewolf packs in the country. This was all she needed to kickstart her game of bait and kill with Nik — she reveled in the thoughts of how she'd dangle those werewolves in front of him and then murder them right as he was closing in.
The close proximity to the Ravens was just an inconvenience she'd learn to deal with.
Then what?
She'd wake up Elijah, of course. Nik would spill sooner or later. And if he didn't, she had her methods.
Was that all there was to be for her summer?
It wasn't that she doubted her competence. More that both her major goals revolved around the Mikaelsons, and that was rather sad?
"Are you going to look for Stefan?"
"Among other things," she replied calculatedly. She wanted to do other things. "And before you ask, no, I'm not taking you."
Matt interrupted whatever Elena's reply was going to be by setting a tall, cold glass of strawberry milkshake on the table. He'd placed two straws in the glass for them to share, but Reese grabbed it before Elena could.
She immediately began to slurp, relishing the sugary sweet strawberry syrup.
Milkshakes were godsent, truly.
"Alright, here's the game plan," Reese declared, her tone casual, almost dismissive. She was shooting to end this conversation as soon as possible, since she couldn't fade out of it. "You're going to stay here and enjoy your summer, have your parties, live your life, etc. You're going to forget about Stefan. And any time between a few weeks and a few years, I'll get him home."
Elena's expression turned into a mix of disbelief and irritation. "Forget about Stefan? Reese, he's out there with Klaus, who's murdering people. This is not just some casual summer fling."
She shrugged. "Vampires murder people every day. This is just a bit nastier."
Elena's eyes narrowed, a spark of anger lighting within. Finally, something that got to her. "It's cruel. I can't just abandon Stefan like that."
Reese, ever nonchalant, tilted her head slightly. "Maybe being abandoned is what he needs."
Elena's silence glared.
"What? You have to admit he's too uptight."
"Not everyone is weirdly comfortable acting like a cold-blooded psychopath like you."
"Psychopath? Really?" Reese responded, her voice colder than before. She tried to maintain her composure, but the anger was bubbling beneath the surface.
Now, that was just inaccurate.
She lost her mind.
For a couple of seconds.
Her control over her emotions wavered, and her magic, usually an extension of her conscious will, began to glitch.
The lights in the Grill flickered briefly, drawing the attention of a few patrons scattered around. Glasses trembled on the shelves behind the bar. Largely, though, the customers remained ignorant of the magical turmoil brewing around them, lost in the noise of the summer.
Reese, clenching her fists, tried to rein in the outburst, but it was as if the magic had taken a mind of its own.
Elena noticed. She shifted back. "Reese, what are you doing?"
"Just a minor malfunction," Reese answered through gritted teeth. "I've had enough for today, thanks."
Later, back at her apartment, Reese had some food for thought.
She headed straight for comfort, with the AC on full blast and her summer night suit on. She put on a face mask and cucumbers over her eyes. The speakers blasted ABBA on full volume, and she hummed along, lying on her marshmallow-soft bed.
God, it felt good to be back.
In her head, as she did whenever her mind was muddled, she made a list:
1) It would be fun leading Nik on with the werewolves. For a while, at least. That was the first thing she would do, as soon as she left Mystic Falls. Moving on,
2) There must be some way for a witch of her standing to enjoy her summer without attending high school-hosted ragers. She could take a trip, attend a workshop, or go partying, although the last one was doubtful. Whatever. She would figure it out.
3) Elijah.
4) Esther. Now, this was a growing cause for concern. She supposed their recent interaction had, in a way, renewed that mind link. That would explain why Esther's voice kept urging her against Elena back at the Grill. It made sense because now that she was home, she was unable to grasp why she'd gotten so annoyed. It's not like that was the first time someone had called her a psychopath.
Plus, it was Elena Gilbert — why would her perfectly normal concerns grate on her nerves like that?
Ergo, there was something to dig for in that area.
Reese took the cucumbers from her eyes and ate both of them. Her phone's buzzing called her attention.
A text from 'Elijah.'
Elijah
It's you in cat form.
Reese
omg so cute. pls bring back.
Elijah
A witch with a black cat? Too cliche.
Reese
literally shut up. i want it.
Elijah
Sure. Name?
Reese
. . .
Elijah
Don't say it.
Reese
Hehehe
ElijahFor the love of all things sacred.
Reese
Salem ;)
Author's Note:
... hey....hi
Unedited. Clearly.