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↳ 028, the murder of one

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"𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄?" asked Colette, moving from where she sat against Alaric's windowsill as Damon stalked across the room with a bag that smelled like chocolate.

"Walking down the stairs," he said, holding a finger up before continuing with, "opening the front door, and...she's gone."

Alaric nodded, lowering the wood saw and it turned back on, the sound grinding in their ears as it cut through the old sign. It turned out Rebekah hadn't burned all the white oak like she'd thought. Damon had swiped the old sign from Wickery Bridge and stashed it before it could be destroyed.

He cut them good sized stakes and as he finished up the last few with the power saw, Damon and Colette began to whittle them sharp points. She worked quickly, making sure it was filed to a point sharp enough to nearly prick her skin. Every so often, she'd look up from her work to find Damon with his brows knitted together and lost in thought as he worked on his own share of stakes.

Stefan picked up one of their stakes and brought it to Damon as he said, "Needs to be sharper."

Damon looked up from his knife to take the stake back. He glanced down at the point before nodding. "Got it."

"Finally have our own stakes to kill an original," said Stefan as he looked at their finished pile, overlooking the ones still needing sharper points and carving. There was an interesting gleam in his eyes as he regarded them, he finally had his way out. He could truly be free. "I'm not going to miss because you can't whittle."

"I said I got it," snapped Damon back, inspecting the stakes more carefully. "Stop micromanaging."

"Just give it to Cole."

"I said I got it."

"At least hers don't need double checking."

"Stefan, I swear to all that is holy–"

Colette snatched the stake from his hands with a sigh. She pressed her finger to the point and she realized that if it didn't make her bleed by first pressure, then it needed to be sharper. She began to carve and shave down the wood as Alaric unplugged the saw.

"It looks like you guys have this under control," he said, wiping his hands down on his jeans. "I'm going to call the sheriff." He worked his arms through the sleeves of his jacket. "I'm going to turn myself in."

This caught all of their attention, heads turning with scowls and furrowed brows.

Damon rolled his eyes. "No, you don't."

The other man's eyes narrowed into a glare. "I have a homicidal alter ego," he snapped. "Unlike some people in this room, I would like to take responsibility for the people I've killed."

"If you wanted to turn yourself in," muttered Damon with another eye roll, "you wouldn't be saying it out loud. Just saying."

"Of all the people, you cannot psychoanalyze me right now. I killed Caroline's father," a moment in time Colette had somehow missed entirely, "and I nearly killed Meredith. Everything has changed."

Stefan pushed away from the counter he'd positioned himself against to say, "Look, you're not turning yourself in, okay? Bonnie's herbs are working and we have originals to kill."

"Always the planner, this one," said Colette, pointing the stake she had in her hands in his direction.

Damon sawed at his stake, resting the flat end against his leg. "His morals get very questionable when he has revenge on the brain."

Stefan's eyes narrowed. "Klaus needs to die," he looked at Colette and offered her a pitying yet mocking glance, "and we finally have a chance to kill him." He pointed at Alaric. "So, you are not turning yourself in."

Damon stood, fishing something out of his pocket. "Here's your ring, Ric. Put it on."

"Didn't that thing turn him into the psycho killer we're trying to steer clear of right now?" asked Colette, eyeing the two men as she leaned forward to pick up her next stake to work on.

Alaric nodded with another tight glare. He was so not in a fun mood today. "That ring is the reason I've killed people."

"It's also the reason you're alive," said Damon. "You're going vampire hunting, Ric. Wear it."

He took the ring and looked at it for a moment before sliding it onto his finger. Colette handed off her newly finished stake to Stefan as she gave her history teacher a frown. "Looks like today's not your day, buddy."

"Don't call me that."

She smiled. "Aw, I'm sorry, Mr. Saltzman, did that make you uncomfortable?"

He scowled, his lips pulling back and the blonde scruff against his face catching against the dim lights. She'd never been in his apartment before and everything she saw didn't surprise her. It was dark, moody, with barely any decorations, and smelled faintly of musk and wood (different wood than white oak).

Although a part of her wanted to explore further, she also didn't want to know what she'd find hidden in drawers and cabinets, even closets. What if her history teacher was a secret freak? What could be worse than finding his arsenal of vampire killing weapons? What could be worse?

"Just keep making them sharp," she said with a playful roll of her eyes. "We all know Damon can't."

From her left, Damon poked her in the side with the stake he was working on and she flinched away to drape a hand over her forehead, feigning death.

Had they spoken at all about what happened? No. Did she want to speak to him about their miscommunication and the fact that she needed to disclose how she felt to him? No. But were they going to have to have that conversation anyways? Yes.

There were a lot of things she hadn't done since the night on the bridge. She hadn't seen Naya, not physically. She had infiltrated her dreams but that was all she would give her, nothing more than a tiny taste of her venom.

"They almost done, now?" asked Damon, holding up his stake towards Stefan. "We have to meet the others, we can't keep at this all day."

Stefan swiped the stake from his hand and nodded firmly after looking at the point. "Grab the bag, we'll carry them in that."

"You text them yet?"

Colette answered Damon quickly, "I sent it about five minutes before Elena got here, so we're good to go." She opened her phone, searching through the message group and the names. "Why Matt? You really think Rebekah is going to get close enough for him to, you know?"

Stefan shrugged. "Better to not ask and have our only chance wasted."

Colette often had dreams of Rebekah. Filtering between the ones of Naya and Colette's own colorful visions, Rebekah was a frequent flier and Cole didn't know if that was a good thing or not. There was something off about the woman in each dream, something that just didn't seem right and when Colette would wake, she couldn't put her finger on it.

There was a lot of things she just couldn't dare put her finger on lately, whether those were good or bad would be a later issue, of course.

"Where's Bonnie?" asked Stefan as they approached the three figures bundled tightly in warm clothes. "We texted her too."

Caroline turned, her scarf tied tightly around her neck. "Uh, well, Bonnie's mom bailed on her. Again." Her eyes drifted over them, her blonde hair in loose curls against her shoulders. "So I think we should leave her out of this one."

Colette felt Matt's eyes on her as he said, "What are we doing here?"

Damon smirked as Cole adjusted the bag on her shoulder. "We found some more white oak. Long story." His smirk turned to a grin as he said, "Wait for the movie."

"Hang on," said Elena with a frown. "White oak? You have a weapon that can kill Klaus?"

Colette dropped the bag on the ground with a grin of her own. "No, but we all do." She bent down, unzipping the bag and revealing its contents to the group.

"Klaus has always been one step ahead of us," said Stefan, hands folded behind his back, "but now we have the advantage. We're all armed and they're all linked." He spun one of the stakes in his hands, the smooth wood moving perfectly in his grip. "Meaning we only need to kill one of them. We need to seize the best opportunity, which means we need to prepare for every opportunity."

"Scenario number one–" said Damon, holding up a finger. He stepped forward, taking Elena by the shoulders and moving her to the center of their circle. "You are to play Klaus."

Elena held up her hands, shaking her head. "No, stop."

Stefan rolled his eyes. "Rebekah is our target. So we'll distract her and catch her off guard. To do that, we need to keep Klaus separate and occupied." Stefan turned to look at Colette but his eyes shifted over her with a smirk and turned to the blonde. "Caroline."

The girl frowned. "Why do I always have to be Klaus bait? Can't it be Colette?!"

"Because Colette broke his heart," said Stefan with his ever annoying smirk. "And he's obsessed with you."

"More like obsessed with using me to get back to Colette," snapped Caroline, crossing her arms.

Colette smiled softly, shrugging. "It's not my fault he behaves like a high schooler." She glanced back at Damon before her eyes found Caroline's again. "Besides, he'd know something was up if I suddenly went to him."

Caroline kept her frown as Damon stepped forward and took her by the shoulders as he did with Elena. "But for now, you're going to be Rebekah." He pointed at Matt. "We'll use the quarterback to distract her–"

"And why can't Colette do that?" asked Matt with a scowl. "Rebekah barely looks my way when Cole's in the room, so why me?"

Stefan sighed loudly and Colette grinned. There was a shift through the trees, a cold breeze making its way towards them. She felt chills spark up against her back and she held back her shiver, even when Damon's calculated eyes found her face as the wind nipped at her cheeks.

"Just keep her distracted," instructed Damon. "Talk to her."

"How?" spat Matt, hands in his pockets and clear disdain in his eyes, his nose scrunched up in annoyance.

"Act interested," said Colette. "She'll be on your every word if you just act like you want her."

"She's lonely, desperate," said Damon.

"Clearly," smiled Caroline, "she slept with you, after all."

Elena chuckled and even a genuine smile spread across Colette's face. It was true, wasn't it? Rebekah just wanted a body and when Colette couldn't offer, she went to Damon, but he'd done the same thing too.

Damon gave them all an annoyed smile before taking Caroline by the shoulders again as he spoke. "Beefcake holds bombshell, I come up behind her, grab her arms like this," he folded Caroline's arms against her back and she squeaked out a wince.

"Which gives me time for one shot." Stefan raised his stake and pretended to stab her. "Got it? Good. So, we all have one stake, we keep it hidden and we look out for any opportunity we have."

"No last minute attacks of pity for any of them," said Damon and his eyes found Colette with ease. His expression read everything she needed to know. The distrust. The annoyance. The slight fear.

"Why're you looking at me?" she snarled, crossing her arms. "You should be looking at Elena, she's the one in love with protecting Elijah."

"But you're also the one in constant cahoots with the two blondes."

She rolled her eyes. "I can't help that I'm a magnet to psychopaths."

"You don't have to worry about either of us," said Elena, her arms crossed and her face shielded by a layer of her straight hair. "Not after what happened to Bonnie's mom."

Damon glanced at Caroline. "Barbie?"

"Oh, I'm ready," she said with a grin. "Anything that will free Tyler of his sire bond to Klaus."

"Bus boy?"

Matt scowled but it formed a brief smile. "Do I have a choice?"

"Good point."

Stefan picked up the bag of stakes. "We have twelve of these, so each one has to count. We only have twelve shots to kill an original." He bent down and picked up the crossbow Colette hadn't noticed they'd brought with them. "Alright, next scenario. Matt, you play Klaus."

He handed the bow to Elena and she brought it up to eye level. Colette watched from the side when the wind shifted again and it blew back her hair, a small aching pain erupting behind her eyes. She blinked and saw black and when she blinked again, she saw colors.

Rebekah and Klaus, together. Finn embracing Sage. Klaus speaking about blood and rituals. Rebekah mentioning a witch.

Colette stumbled back, her side pressing up against a tree.

Damon strung up in chains. Blood everywhere, blood dripping and pooling and spreading. The stakes burning.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

Finn was dead, covered in protruding veins, his body cold and dry. Blood spilling from Sage's mouth, nearly black. Sickness...she was sick.

When she blinked again, the visions were gone and the others were busying themselves with a third scenario except for Damon. His eyes were narrowed, watching her carefully. She pushed away from the tree, smoothing her hair back and forced a smile and a nod. Pulling her phone free from her back pocket, she found Klaus's number and sent a message before she could think otherwise.

Breaking the link already? Thought you'd be quicker than this.

"Do you really think he's going to be able to break it before we get our chance?" asked Damon as he sorted through the firewood in his bedroom. "I doubt he can get Finn to comply that easily."

Colette leaned against his bed as Alaric took position by the fireplace, watching with disdain. "He can if Sage is involved," she told him, her arms crossed. "I think they're more in love than we gave them credit for."

"Yeah, no kidding."

"If he's willing to break the bond, then we really only have twelve stakes for five of them..." Alaric frowned. "Do we really think that'll be enough?"

"It's all we got," said Colette with a shrug. "We don't have much of a choice at this point." She looked towards Damon as he placed his stake down with the firewood. "Do you really think that's a good place to hide that?"

"Did you learn nothing from the moonstone?" said Alaric with another deep set frown.

"Why?" he asked them with a sigh. "Where'd you hide yours?"

Before either could answer, there was a change in the air and Colette's nose picked it up right before the noise. A door slammed, perhaps even the front door. It was loud enough to tremble the floor and Colette rose slowly, the scent of perfume in the air.

Damon stood from his crouch. "What the hell was that?"

Colette moved forward first, holding out her arms for the boys to stop trying to leave so quickly. The air was filled with tension, with anger. It wasn't sudden but a steady growing emotion and when Colette left the bedroom, she was knocked back against the wall effortlessly.

While she did hit the wall with a sharp pain jittering down her spine, she recovered in seconds. She saw the blonde take hold of Alaric and toss him down the stairs before grabbing Damon.

"Think wisely," snarled Colette. "I'd hate to ruin your pretty face if you decide to do anything...rash."

"I could say the same of you," said Rebekah with a soft grin that pursed at her glossed lips. Colette could smell it from here. Strawberries. In the hand she wasn't using to grip Damon by the throat, Colette caught the glint of a knife.

"Put it down," said Colette on a breath and Rebekah smiled.

"This is between me," her grin was cruel, "and my lover."

She thrusted the knife forward and Damon flinched, his groan moving over Colette's skin like ice. She jerked her wrist and the blade dug deeper, twisting inside his gut, working its way through his organs. The fresh cherry scent of blood filled the air and Rebekah leaned forward as Damon sagged against her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she purred. "Did you think you were my only one?"

"Of course I didn't," Colette responded just as coldly. "But it's not like you were my only one, either." She felt power surge through her finger tips and she imagined this magic were growing claws. "I have a thing for blondes and siblings." She took a step forward but Rebekah took one back. Colette cocked her head to the side and felt her own awful grin come to her lips. "Afraid?"

Rebekah chuckled. "You'll just have to come and find me to get your answer."

In a flash, Rebekah was gone and so was Damon. Colette could still smell her in the air and she snarled, biting the air with fangs in a flash of anger so hot it burned under her skin. There were droplets of Damon's blood on the carpet and Colette stepped on them as she marched towards the stairs.

"What about me?" groaned Alaric, holding his head as she passed him without a second thought.

"Help yourself," she hissed as she headed down the steps. "I'm sure your alter ego would love to help heal your wounded pride since you were no help."

"Like you were?" he spat back and she turned her head to grin at him, her fangs piercing her bottom lip.

"I can still smell her," she smiled, "and I have her trail. So, yeah, Ric, looks like I'm still more useful than you."

He peeled his hand from his forehead and she saw blood.

"There's a first aid kit in the kitchen, I suggest you find it."

She didn't bother sticking around to see if he had a concussion or if he could even walk before stalking out the front door. She kicked a foot back, going into a runner's stance and took off through the trees when a new scent caught her nose like rot.

It was polluted.

It made her slow her step, it made her falter.

Moments later, faster than she'd wished, hands grabbed her and took her to the ground. Her head struck the forest floor, sinking heavily against rocks where she saw black coat her vision.

She opened her eyes what felt like seconds later to feel herself being dragged by the ankles. Her shirt was up against her shoulder blades, her back scraping against the ground. It smelled like someone's home and she had an awful feeling she knew which home she was in.

She kicked her foot weakly, her body slower than normal.

"What–" She could barely speak, her body burning but not from power or glory.

"Oh," came the soft sound of her brother's voice. Surprised. "You're awake."

He stopped dragging her and her feet hit the ground. She felt heavy. There was something trying to fight its way out of her system, she could feel herself trying to burn it out as quickly as she could. She knew what this awful burn was and she swallowed thickly, trying to find her words.

"Ver–" Her throat was dry, like paper. "Vervain?"

Tommy nodded, grabbing her by the wrists to help her sit up. He propped her up against the couch in Naya's living room. The fireplace was on and she could barely hear the crackle of the wood or the flickering of the flames over the fog in her head.

"It was the only thing that could keep you down," he said, crouching in front of her. "I just hope it doesn't affect the blood too much."

"Blood?"

He nodded again, grabbing her by the arm and producing a needle attached to a tube in his other hand. What were those things called again?

"Venous sticks," said Stella, her face appearing in Colette's mind. "Venipuncture, you see it all the time on television."

"Or hospitals," added Adam with a smug glint in his eyes.

Were they a memory? Or a vision? Something from the present entirely?

"Where's the tourniquet," muttered Colette, licking her lips.

Tommy prodded her arm roughly with his thumb, looking for a vein. "Can't wait around following the normal steps." He found what he was looking for and in an instant, pushed the needle into her arm. She felt it slide through her flesh and she squirmed.

She'd never liked giving blood. She watched it be drawn from her and into a bag, a sudden lightheadedness filling her brain that faded with the numbness in her lips that would tingle when she had blood drawn. Behind Tommy, in a duffle, she could see more of the blood bags just waiting to be filled.

"How–how long have I been out?" she asked, her head lobbing to the side, searching for a window.

"Few hours."

"That much–"

"Vervain, yes."

"And where's–"

"Naya will be home soon."

There was something off in his eyes. He wasn't entirely there. Sweat gleamed his brow, he was pale, and there was a slight shake in his grip. There was something off completely, it even hung heavy in the air and on his breath.

Was he sick?

"What's wrong with you?" she whispered, feeling her strength slowly begin to return. With every ounce of her blood leaving meant the vervain leaving her system. Her body was fighting its poison as he tried to suck it free.

"Nothing," he muttered, already finished with the bag. He pulled it free from the central line he'd created and reached for another bag. He paused, he still needed to close the fresh blood bag but its scent had caught his nose, just as it had hers.

"You shouldn't," she whispered and he glared.

"I promised Naya we'd taste it together," he mumbled with his narrowed eyes. "It'll help her with her healing." He met her gaze and his glare hardened. "There's still scarring, tendons that need fastening."

"My blood won't help." It would hurt them, drive them crazy with need. It would only be a curse.

"You don't know a damn thing." He wiped at the sweat against his brow. Even in a daze, Colette could smell the sickness, the wrongness that clung to his skin. It was festering inside of him, something so close to her own poison that she could hardly understand.

"Tommy," she whispered. "Are you sick?"

He flinched away from her as she reached for him with her free hand. He glared at her, shaking his head. "I'm fine–"

"You aren't."

There was something wrong here. Something was infiltrating them. A parasite.

He let out a laugh on the brink of a scoff, of something rude. "You don't know a damn thing."

She heard the fire crackle and her fog lifted. "Then tell me."

"We aren't family," he spat at her and she flinched. She'd said as much to him but weren't they better than this? She wanted them to be better than this. "You're a vessel to what we need."

The room flickered with the fire, their only true light. She hadn't noticed how dim it was here, how darkness was threatening to fight its way inside. How late was it? Where were the others? Had they been looking for her?

"Why?" she whispered. "Why me? Why my blood?"

"It'll protect us," he muttered. "It'll keep the originals away, it'll keep us safe."

"By keeping you from a true death?" she asked with a frown as he withdrew the blood bag for an empty one. "By giving you corrupted power?"

"Your plot to kill them," he muttered with a laugh and a shake of his head, "won't work. They can't die, not in the way you all want them too. They're here–" He coughed. "–to stay."

"Did Naya see something?"

"Have you not been seeing it too?"

Her brows furrowed as he coughed again. Had she been seeing things she didn't understand? Were her dreams trying to spell it out for her? The visions she kept having?

"Killing them..." He shook his head. "It won't work. It–it won't."

"Tommy," she whispered, seeing images flash behind her eyes but she couldn't allow herself to fall into them. She couldn't get lost, not with Tommy here. "You're my brother."

"No," he whispered and she felt his emotion creep up his throat. "No, I'm not. Not really."

She took his hand and he faltered with the needle and she swallowed back her wince. "Tell me what's going on."

"You can't–" He shook his head. "The originals can't die, it's why we need your blood. It's the only way to protect ourselves from them."

"Why can't they die?"

"It's their bloodlines," he muttered. "If you kill one...their entire bloodline dies with them. It's what Naya was seeing, it's why she had to push your transition. With your blood, we could win against them. They couldn't come close to us, not with that much power."

"Juicing me for blood won't help you," she told him with a frown. "I've seen you and Naya, visions of you both high on my blood. It'll only weaken you in the long run, it'll keep you psychotic, it won't be good–"

"It doesn't matter!" he cried out and she flinched again, her back hitting the couch. "If we aren't the very best, the most powerful, then what's the fucking point?!" His hands went to his head, like he was trying to claw at his hair. "Power is everything, it's the only thing that cements your place in this world. If you aren't powerful? If you're just as weak as everyone else, you're a target. You were a target before turning, just like me. I–" He shook his head. "We need this power to keep going or there will always be someone else to work under, someone else to bend a knee for."

"Aren't you already doing that with Naya?" she asked him and he glared. "She's controlling you, you're her dog."

His anger licked at the flames as it did her skin. He was a dog, nothing more.

"Why are you so loyal to her?" she asked. "I'm your sister, I would've given you my blood if you'd just been there for me. If you'd stuck by me."

He looked away, his jaw working with how hard he was clenching his teeth.

"What's made her so special?"

When his eyes met hers, she knew she'd lost him. "She is perfection. She is the goddess. There is nothing that won't stop her from getting what she wants. She knows exactly how to handle a situation, how to handle me. She trusts me to handle things," he motioned to the mess he'd made, "and she loves me."

"She doesn't love you," said Colette with a sad frown that ran all over her face, encompassing her eyes. "She never has, Tom."

"You're just being a bitch."

"I'm being truthful."

He wiped at his face again, still sweating. The temperature in the room wasn't high, it was even, almost chilly. Was it from her? From him?

"She's been using you."

"I don't care."

"You should!"

His glare was like ice. "This power will give us so much. We will be strong, we'll be like fucking gold. Nothing can stop us." He coughed into his hand like a child. "We'll be like gods."

"It will kill you," she told him, urging him to believe her. All she needed was to see a flash of her old brother in there, to see he was still inside this shell of a man. "If you take it the way we all know you will, it will kill you. Your bodies aren't meant for what's inside me."

"It's the risk I'm willing to take."

"Tommy," she begged as he readied the third bag. "Please."

There was something growing in the room. Something urging to be free. He coughed again and this time Colette could smell the rot on his breath like he was breathing it down her throat. The cough was wet and she lurched forward just as the blood spewed past his lips and against his hand.

He faltered where he sat, leaning to the side as he tried not to fall. She took him by the shoulder, blood spewing against her arm from where the needle was still drawing from her.

"Tommy," she whispered, taking him into her arms and lowering him carefully to the ground where he tried to fight her but she could feel his power draining. "Hey," she touched his face and it was slick with sweat and cold with a new coming stiffness, "look at me, Tommy, please."

His eyes found hers and fear swelled up in the room. She could feel death taking her hold on him. His sire had been killed tonight, she could sense it heavy in the room and within him. She'd seen him die in her vision, she'd seen the effect take over Sage's body an hour later.

"What's happening to me?" he breathed on a shaky breath. There were veins crawling up his skin, crawling up from his chest. His hands were already gone to this world, limp by his side and against the floor where his fingers laid in the spilled blood.

"Tommy," she whispered, brushing the hair from his face as she blinked away tears.

"Don't cry for me."

She blinked and they fell down her cheeks.

"I don't–I don't deserve them."

You're my brother. You're my blood. My family.

She smoothed his hair down, feeling it against her skin. It was where the last of his warmth was coming from. "It's okay," she muttered, sniffling deeply. "Mom and dad, they're–they're waiting."

I love you. I love you. I still love you.

"No," he whispered to her with a sad smile, "they aren't."

"Tom–" His name died on her tongue as the veins took him completely and his eyes went gray, as did the rest of him. He was heavy in her arms, only dead weight and a lost brother.

She bent down, pressing her forehead against his head and suppressing a sob through clenched lips. He'd never known who his maker was but it seemed that it came from Finn's bloodline, something they would never have known until this very moment.

When she pulled away, his body nothing more but a true shell, she let out one shaking sob before collecting herself. She'd vowed to kill him, she'd made that promise to end his life and although it was over, that it was all gone, it still stung just like she wished it wouldn't.

Couldn't her anger override this feeling of loss? Couldn't her own rage dissipate within these ruins?

Lying her brother's body down amongst her spilled blood, she stood and walked numbly into the kitchen. She reached down against the stove, turning it on and she smelled gasoline enter her nose. Going to the oven, she turned that on next where she placed a pillow inside from the living room. It would catch fire and those flames would help lick up the gasoline filling the room. It wouldn't reach the living room fast enough, not as fast as she needed it to.

Leaving the kitchen, swiping her hand across the counter and towards the sharpness calling her name, she stopped by her brother's body to stare down at his unseeing eyes. It happened so fast, too fast.

Naya would get a longer death.

When she left the house and was off in the woods, she heard a small explosion behind her and knew it was the house. The perfect mansion. The lasting image of Naya's perfect life, the one she tried so hard to keep preserved. Nothing there would even be hers again, and when the police would find Tommy's body, it would hopefully be the end of her reputation.

Teen goes missing, months later boyfriend dies in tragedy. But where are the parents?

Boyfriend dies in house fire, house fire similar to the one at the Copeman residence. Boyfriend, looking murdered amongst all the blood and the stab wounds (given by the sister they would never know was there). It would be enough, she hoped. Especially once the police started asking questions, demanding answers from parents that are no longer of this earth and who have been lost in death longer than it seems.

She let the smells of fire wrap around her as she ran, knowing there was more heartbreak coming for her as she resumed her original plot. Damon had been taken and she could only hope she wasn't too late.

She'd had enough of murderous siblings for one day and she didn't need to see another die.

You'll have time to mourn later.

Would she? Would she sob for her brother?

Yes. Not now but you will. He is just as lost as you.

Arriving at the Mikaelson house, she burst through into the foyer and she smelled the blood before she ever saw it. Its scent could paint a vivid picture and as she turned to her left, she saw the mess the blonde had caused.

Was this her final breaking point? The last true straw?

"What have you done," Colette breathed, stalking forward and towards not just the one blonde worthy of all this destruction towards the man she'd wished were hers, but the two who were butting heads, as if there could ever be just one ,moment of peace. "What have you done!"

"Colette," said Stefan, his hands gripped tight against something in his hand hidden away in his sleeve. "Stay back."

"Let him go," she snapped, her eyes barely able to focus on the carnage. Blood streaked down Damon's chest, his shirt hanging open. He was damp with red and sweat, his knees buckled, his weight on his wrists that were bear clawed to chains. She'd seen him like this before, in flashes of awful images but this was worse. Seeing it in person and smelling it, it was all so much worse. "Haven't you done enough?!"

"Aw," cooed Rebekah. "Upset that I took your boyfriend, are we?" Her lips curled into a perfect red smile. "He practically threw himself into Elena's arms in the visions I created, why must you always run in and be his savior when he clearly has his eyes set on someone else?"

"Enough, sister."

Colette peeled her eyes from Damon to look at Klaus. He stood stoically, hands folded behind his back. She could feel his eyes on her, roaming and trailing over her body, the way she held herself. Could he sense what was wrong? Could he smell the death lingering on her palms?

She'd hidden the blood on herself perfectly. Back behind the closed part of her jacket, looking nothing more than water marks on her jeans. But could he sense more than what she was showing?

"Perhaps she knows where the other takes are?" snapped Rebekah, motioning towards Colette and finally drawing Klaus's attention away from her. "Or must we go about this all over again? I'm sure Damon would love to pull out his own liver, right, Stefan?"

The skin around Damon's wrists was pulled back, caught in the claws of the trap. The sharp metal had nearly peeled his flesh back all together when it seemed the originals had stopped having fun.

"You're awful," breathed Colette, Rebekah's eyes trailing towards her at a lazy pace. "How could you–you do something this terrible?"

"Aren't you forgetting who we are?" She smiled, something unrecognizable in her eyes.

"Clearly I was wrong about you," she whispered back. "All of you."

"Stefan needs only to bring us the two other stakes," said Klaus, looking unrattled although his scent would tell her otherwise. Whiffs of something sad, like a salty breeze from the sea.

Rebekah rolled her eyes. "This is ridiculous." She stalked back towards Damon, taking the chains by one wrist and unlatching the trap. He sagged to one side before she released its latch and he fell to his knees.

He could need a strong feed to heal these wounds.

"What are you doing?" asked Klaus, stalking forward as Rebekah turned, wiping her hands together.

"I brought him here," she snapped at him. "I get to release him. My rules now." She glared at her brother before her eyes landed on Stefan. "Bring us the stakes and you both live. Take your brother as a sign of good faith."

Walking forward and bending down only to grab the bag lying between Colette and them, she stalked off without another word or glance. It seemed Stefan had tried to dupe them, bringing only some of the stakes with him as collateral for getting Damon back. She wasn't surprised it didn't work.

"Bring us the stakes," said Klaus, holding one in his hands. "All of them. Or I'll wage a war against everyone you love. I hope I'm being clear."

He'll never die. They can't die.

Tommy's words echoed inside her head like a bullet ricocheting against her skull. She stumbled back and Klaus steadied her with one hand but she couldn't stand the way he touched her. She hated that he was still so gentle with her, so caring.

"How could you?" she breathed, her eyes landing on Stefan, on Damon. How could they have known that this would all end in death? "How could you do this?"

Stefan's brows furrowed and Damon, barely even conscious, gave her barely a glance.

"Finn...Finn's dead," she whispered, Klaus helping her stand and she wanted to recoil away. "He's dead."

Tommy, please–

Don't cry for me. I don't deserve them.

Pulling away and staggering towards the door, she let that scent of blood she knew so well sneak up behind her and follow her out into the night.

Her brother had died thinking only of her blood. How could this ichor be their salvation? How could the gift from gods be so mind shattering against everything else?

She felt the gods laugh at her, she felt them judge her for her own pain, even as the night air chilled and cooled around her.

She would never be free of this burden, not until death.

A true death would bring them peace.

AUTHOR'S NOTE━━ok hey.....long time no see besties....

soooo i was sick, then it was end of school/finals, then i had a major dog sitting job, then wattpad lowkey got rid of all my graphics....lost track of time and had no time to edit/write but i hope yall enjoy this one eee (unedited ah!!)

rip......rip tommy. what were your thoughts on him? his death? shocking? no? 

let me know what you guys thought!!!!

vote/comment and maybe colette will get a happy ending w her one true love