There was a fact that Abigail had yet to come to terms with, one she wondered if she would ever be able to. Her parents had lied to her for her entire life. It changed the way she thought about them; they felt further away, like a mystery.
Bonnie knew the whole story behind Elena's adoption. A story she couldn't tell Alaric. One that detailed Elena's connection to Kathrine, Stefan at the accident, and the lies to cover it all up. They were not new, but each time she heard them something about them felt that way.
"I can't believe you're adopted," Bonnie whispered across the table. "I never saw that coming."
"And it gets weirder," Elena said. "I looked at my birth certificate. It lists Miranda and Grayson Gilbert as my birth parents."
"None of it makes any sense." Abigail leaned back in her chair. "Which is why you should ask Jenna."
"No, no," Elena groaned. "I am not asking her about it."
"First of all, the Elena I know would always want the real truth," Bonnie noted. "Good or bad."
"And second of all?"
"You just found out your boyfriend is a vampire, so unless your birth parents are aliens..." Bonnie trailed off, joining in their cynical laughter. "How bad could it be?"
"Ah, okay, look, we have to go." Elena hastily gathered her things. "My outfit for the dance is severely lacking accessories. And if I stand a chance at being historically accurate, I need Abigail's help."
Decade dances at Mystic Falls High School were taken so seriously that they had been noted among the most important nights of the year. It was trivial, really, but when Abigail, Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline took over the committee, they became better than they ever had been. This year's 1950s dance was sure to top the rest, thanks to Abigail's research and Caroline's attention to detail.
Abigail led the way to Jenna's car while Elena searched for the keys in her purse and described what she was going for, something casual but impressive. Her phone rang out in the quiet back parking lot, stopping them in their tracks.
"Hello?" Elena rolled her eyes at Abigail, implying that it was a prank call. "Who is this?"
"You hit me with your car," a man hissed from behind them. "Is that a new one?"
They barely looked over their shoulders before doing the only thing that they could think of to get away: run. They made it to the car, fighting against the faulty locks for safety. The doors wouldn't open, no matter how many times Elena clicked the button the way Jenna told them they would have to.
"You got away from me," the hooded man yelled. "You won't-"
They finally got into the car, but they did not let themselves feel relief. Only half a second passed before the key was turned into the ignition, roaring the small car to life. Elena threw it into gear, speeding in the direction of boarding house without a word.
"Why me? What does he want with me?" Elena asked from the couch. "And if he's trying to kill me, then why call first?"
"That's because we're predators, Elena. We hunt. We stalk. It's often as exciting as the kill." He held the Gilbert pocket watch out to her. "I want you to take this."
It looked different, broken, so Abigail grabbed it out of Elena's hand. "This is Jeremy's pocket watch. How did you get it?"
"I took it from Damon, who took it from Logan after he..." He sighed. "Logan must have stolen it when he was with Jenna."
The face of the watch had been transformed into something that resembled a compass. The needle spun. Clicked into place. And pointed right at Stefan.
"What happened to it?" Abigail asked.
"Well, it's not just a watch," he explained. "It's a sort of compass, but it points to vampires."
She turned it over in her hand. "Why did our dad have it?"
"The Gilberts were one of the founding families, and back in 1864, they were among those who sought to eradicate the vampires." He looked down at the reflective gold as she turned it over I'm her hand. "The compass was used to find us."
"Did you know them?"
"Yes." He didn't give her more than that, keeping his focus on the matter at hand. "I want you to keep this. That way, you'll know if you're ever in danger."
When they entered the living room the night of the dance, Jenna, who was dressed as a housewife, gave them a strained smile.
"I spoke to the insurance company," Jenna said. "Car's totaled. You can keep using mine for now."
"Thanks." Elena looked her up and down, bringing to light a tension that was only growing. "So, you're coming to the dance?"
"Alaric asked me to help chaperone."
To herself, Abigail said, "Of course, he did."
Elena paused just at the base of the stairs. "Why didn't you tell me, Jenna?"
Jenna stood upright. "Your mom was gonna do it eventually. I never thought I'd have to."
"If my mom were here right now and I asked, she'd tell me the truth."
"Your dad was about to leave the office one night when this girl showed up. She was sixteen, a runaway, and about to give birth. He delivered her baby, and he gave her a place to stay, but a few days later, she disappeared. And there you were." Jenna smiled softly. "All Miranda ever wanted was to be a mom. Your parents tried so hard to have Abigail; they just didn't think it would happen again."
"Well, why were our parents' names on the birth certificate?"
"Your dad was a doctor, Elena," she said. "He took care of it. They didn't wanna lose you, so they kept it quiet, told as few people as possible, but if anyone ever wanted proof, they had documentation."
"What else do you know about her?" Elena shifted in her seat. "The girl?"
"Just her name. Isobel."
Abigail knew she'd have the best outfit. Inspired by a photo she saw in a book she got for Christmas years ago, every piece of it came from the vintage shop in town or was something that she inherited. The way she had done her hair and makeup reminded her of an old picture of her grandmother at a school dance much like the one she was on her way to. And it all came together exactly how she had imagined it.
Elena crossed into her room having taken her advice to complete her look with a pink scarf tied around her neck. They laughed as they posed for pictures against one of her bare walls, but when there was a stirring somewhere in the house, one that they only noticed because they had grown used to checking over their shoulders, they took to silence.
The Gilbert compass whirled around, a telltale sign that there was a vampire nearby.
"Damon, where is Stefan?" Elena asked frantically into her phone as they descended the stairs. "He's on his way? Okay, thank you. This compass was spinning; it must be him."
A man jumped in front of them. As he pulled Elena against his chest and hovered his sharp teeth over her neck, Abigail froze. And, before she knew it, she was on the ground with Elena in her arms, Stefan was standing over them, and the attacker was nowhere to be found.
Damon paced in front of them as they recounted what happened minutes before. "How did he get in?"
"He was invited in," Elena admitted. "He posed as the pizza delivery guy last night."
"Well, he gets points for that." He moved to stand in front of them. "Did he say what he wanted?"
"No," Abigail practically yelled. "He was too busy trying to kill her!"
Stefan looked between the older siblings before settling on his own. "And you have no idea who this is?"
"No," he scoffed. "Don't look at me like that. I told you we had company."
Abigail looked up at him. "You think there's more than one?"
"We don't know." He sat down next to her on the couch. "Not for sure."
"Damon," Stefan broke the silence, bringing the room to a halt. "He was invited in."
"Then we go get him tonight." He looked from one person to the next. "You two up for it?"
Abigail nodded as Elena asked, "What do I have to do?"
"Let your boyfriend take you to the dance. We'll see who shows up."
Stefan shook his head. "That's a bad idea."
"Till we get him, this house isn't safe for anyone who lives in it." He stood up. "It's worth a shot."
Elena took Stefan's hand and pulled to his feet. "With the two of you, I know we will be safe."
The students of Mystic Falls High School were dressed in their best 50s getups dancing, chatting in groups, or sneaking drinks out of flask as soon as they were out of the gaze of the chaperones. Stefan, Damon, Elena, and Abigail, however, didn't fall into any of those categories. They had invented one of their own: a man hunt.
Abigail scanned the dance floor from Damon's side, looking for any sign of danger. Her friends were coupled off, laughing over the music. Just past them, on the edge of the shadows, Alaric was already looking at her.
"Hey," he said only once she was in front of him. "Look at you."
She looked down at her gingham skirt. "Well, I tried my best."
"It's perfect," he chuckled. "I'm not surprised."
"I love themed dances!" Jenna bounced over to his side. "I went to school here, you know. We had all the decades, sixties, seventies, FYI."
"Oh!" Alaric looked from Abigail to her aunt almost apologetically. "Can I get you a drink? I hear the punch is real boss."
Abigail slid up to the table Elena, Caroline, and Bonnie positioned themselves around. "Having fun?"
"No," Caroline said. "But you know how long this took, so I'm staying."
Bonnie ignored her question, eyes trained on the Salvatore brothers. "What's Damon doing here?"
"He wanted to come, so I brought him." Abigail hated the way they were looking at her. "He promised to behave."
Caroline scoffed. "So what? Are you two together now?"
"No!" She defended herself. "He's my sister's boyfriend's brother, I have to tolerate him."
Elena shrugged. "It's not like we can kill him."
Bonnie turned her attention back to the group. "There's a thought."
Caroline hummed. "I'll help."
Stefan wedged himself between Abigail and Elena to see Damon and one of the cheerleaders practically flying across the dance floor.
Abigail looked over at him. "You really can't take him anywhere, can you?"
"Uh," Stefan faked hesitation. "No."
Elena laughed, but her expressions fell rather quickly when she caught sight of her attacker in the back corner. "He's here."
Stefan pushed them in the opposite direction he stepped. "Get Damon."
With her hand wrapped tightly around Elena's wrist, Abigail took off toward Damon. She was scared to let her sister go, to lose her in the crowd, to leave her alone. She couldn't remember the last time she moved so fast, ignoring people even as they reached out for her. But, just before they made it to their destination, she lost her grip.
She made it back to the spot where Elena had been, but she was already gone.
Taking her chances with the direction she turned, she rushed out into the empty hallway. And, as she approached the cafeteria, she knew it was the right choice. The vampire turned around; vein surrounded eyes latching onto her in a matter of seconds.
He charged toward her, intent on taking out anything or anyone that got in the way of his real target. She ran toward Elena, even if it was the opposite way to safety, tripping over a mop bucket. It was what she needed. Wood.
She broke the mop in half over her knee, throwing one part of it to Elena before taking up the most defensive stance she could find. He advanced toward her first, gripping her wrist before she could even thrust the makeshift stake toward him. He was laughing at her, at her attempt to fight him off, and squeezing her arm just to prove a point.
"Hey, dickhead," Damon yelled over frustrated groans. "Nobody wants to kill you. We just wanna talk."
Stefan stabbed him through the stomach with Elena's half of the mop. "Now you feel like talking?"
He fell to his knees. "Screw you."
"Wrong answer. Why are you doing this?" Stefan pushed the stake deeper into him. "What do you want with Elena?"
He took a shallow breath. "She looks like Katherine."
Damon stepped forward. "You knew Katherine?"
"Oh, you thought you were the only ones," he gasped. "You don't even remember me."
"Tell me how to get in the tomb." Damon towered over him. "That's what this is about, hmm?"
"No."
Stefan pushed in the stake.
"The grimoire!"
"Where is it?"
"Check the journal! Johnathan's journal. Johnathan Gilbert's."
"Who else is working with you?"
"No," he shrieked. "You're gonna have to kill me."
Stefan removed the stake from his stomach, and then, almost as fast, drove it into his heart.
"How are you gonna find the others now?" Elena asked.
"He had to die," Damon said simply.
She looked down at his desiccated body. "But-"
"Elena, he's been invited in."
A metal creak came from the hall. Damon took off in the direction of the heavy double doors immediately. Abigail followed him, stopping just shy of being seen. She could see everything. But no one could see her.
Alaric was walking down the hallway, and seemed to be the cause of the noise.
Damon cut into his path, compelling him, "What were you doing?"
"Looking for Ms. Hilden."
"Why are you in Mystic Falls?"
"I got a job as a teacher."
"Do you know what I am?"
"You're my student's brother."
"Is everything you're telling me the truth?"
"Yes."
"Then forget we had this conversation."
Damon sped away.
Alaric dropped a handful of vervain.
Abigail turned the corner. "You know."
He didn't say a word. Not even as he drove her to his loft, not as they walked up the stairs, or as he paced in front of her. He settled in the armchair nestled in the corner, but Abigail remained in her place in the kitchen, leaning against the island. Waiting.
"My wife was a parapsychologist. She spent her life researching paranormal activity in this area. It was her work that led me here." He nodded, encouraging himself to continue. "I came here because I know what happened to her. A vampire killed her."
She pushed herself forward, allowing her steps to lead her to the couch. "And you think the vampire that killed her is here?"
"I know he is," he said darkly. "I saw him."
"Alaric, who did it?"
His head turned in her direction, and, slowly, he met her eyes. "Damon."
"He can never know why you're here." Each word came out quieter than the next. "He'll kill you without blinking."
He stood up. "I just want to find out what happened to my wife."
She watched him return to pacing. "I thought you just said Damon killed her."
"Yeah. I saw him draining the life out of her." He ran his hands through his hair. "He must have heard me coming. He just...disappeared. So did her body. They never found her."
"If I know Damon..." She crossed over to him. "Damon is ruthless."
"Don't you..." He took a step toward her, leaving little space between them. "Don't you ever get scared?"
She nodded; eyes hooded. "All the time."
"I, uh..." He led her to the coat closet. "I have this."
The closet was full of wooden stakes, vervain reciprocals, and weapons that each had a special purpose. There was a duffle bag on the floor, and if she had to guess, she would say it's contents reflected what she was already looking at. And, although it was full of everything one would need to kill a vampire.
"You may have all of this, but if you haven't been up against one of them, you don't know what it's like," she said. "Tonight proved that to me."
"I killed Logan Fell," he said. "The night of the career fair, before I saw you at the Grill."
"Damon said-"
"It was me." After a beat, he added, "Isobel told me about all of this. I never believed her, but now I know that she was just trying to prepare me for this."
"Is-Isobel?"
"Yeah, my wife. That was her name."
"Wait," she said. "Was Isobel from here? Is that why she picked here to research?"
"Yeah." He furrowed his eyebrows. "I mean, not too far from here, actually."
She looked away from him before she could give away that she had made some sort of connection, eyes catching a leather-bound journal on the coffee table. "Is that Jonathan Gilbert's journal?"
"Yeah," he sniffled. "Jeremy is letting me borrow it."
She picked it up as she sat down, letting her hands run across its surface. As she flipped through the pages, he sat down next to her. It was closer than he had ever been to her, relatively speaking, but she still didn't meet his eyes. At least until he placed his hands over hers.
"I want to thank you." The journal was out of either one of their grasps now. "For-for-I...I really appreciate you."
Taking in the flecks of color in his eyes, she whispered, "Ric."
"We're-" He leaned forward. "We're..."
"Ric."
He licked his lips. "Yeah?"
"You have to be careful with all of this." She interlocked her fingers with his, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. "I can't lose another person."
"I know," he whispered into her hair. "I know."