My knees tremble, threatening to send me tumbling across the side walk as I force myself to take my first steps in what feels like hours. We have been waiting, watching for her to arrive. With each passing moment the doubt in my heart grew, leaving me feeling small and helpless.

  Why did I let them talk me into this plan? This isn't going to work, I just know it.

  With a shake of my head I banish the thoughts that have been tormenting me since the moment I arrived at my post. We decided to split up, to each have our own roll. Zeke, who everyone acknowledges as our weakest link, has agreed to stand as our look out. While it did take some prodding, he now stands at alert on top of the playground slide, eyes peeled for anything that may be amiss.

  It was a text from him that that first alerted me of our plan officially being set in motion. The buzzing from my cell phone seemed to spark me to life, like a shock of electricity surging through my body, I was suddenly at full alert. I did not need to search for her as I peeked around the corner of the building, her energy was like a black hole sucking in all light and goodness. My eyes went straight to her, gliding down the street like death itself.

  She did not glance in my direction, yet I was certain she knew exactly where I was. From that moment I have not been able to catch my breath. Even after she vanished into the Coffee shop, it's like I can feel her hovering over my shoulder.

  I struggle to pull in air, to calm my jittery nerves, and continue to push forward. I straighten my back, lifting my chin, doing anything I can to portray the confidence I so desperately wish I had.

  If only Damon was with me, he always manages to make me feel stronger that I am. Makes me feel safe even when my world is crashing down around me. He has his own place in this plan however, and even if I am not completely happy with it, I have agreed to go along.

  Damon, Stefan, and Elena are already inside the coffee shop. It was very important for them to arrive first, wanting to make sure that no type of trap would be set on us. I couldn't argue with that point, it only makes sense. I wanted them to get out of there as soon as they were convinced the coast was clear, but they refused.

  Going with Damon's plan to make their presence blatantly known, they are lying in wait, pretending to leisurely enjoy a cup of coffee. The moment she sauntered through that door, I yeaned to reach out to them, to ensure that no harm has come their way. I hold my impulsiveness in check, even as my fingers twitch to dial one of their numbers.

  I can't think about them now, no matter how much my heart desires to keep them safe. I must stay focused on what I came here to do, that is the only way that I can truly keep them out of harms way. I may have agreed to their plan, agreed to try and trick her into letting me see the book so I may learn how my mother did what she did. What I did not tell them however, I will do anything it takes to keep them from getting hurt.

  If that means I die, well then so be it.

  I can't know what to expect from this meeting, but I know deep down it's not going to go as smoothly as everyone hopes it to. I will be ready for anything.

  Ignoring my sweaty palms, I grasp at the door handle and swing it open with determination. Warmth rushes over me, embracing my clammy skin and pulling me into the cozy room. Soft instrumental music plays, just barely able to be heard over the soft conversation of customers I recognize from my many years coming into this shop. The sweet scent of coffee tempts me to the counter, every part of me wanting to fall into my usual habits in this place that has always been my sanctuary.

  A cold chill courses through my spine as I feel her gaze land upon me, reminding me of why I am really here. Hatred bubbles inside me, my heart turning cold as I stare back into her dead eyes. My fear some how ebbing away, slowly being replaces with an anger that is much easier to strive off of.

  As if sensing the change in me, her thin lips tweak up at the sides into a sinister grin. Her appearance may look more battered than earlier, but I am not stupid enough to believe that she is any weaker. Her skin may be paler, a few more wrinkles appearing on her aging face, but I know she is still as sharp as she ever was.

  Without breaking eye contact, she slowly lifts my mothers journal from her lap and gently places it on the table before her. Taunting me with it, a silent dare for me to come and get it. My muscles tense, everything in me wanting to charge at her, but my better judgment holds me back. She seems to take pleasure in watching my inner battle, casually tapping her fingers on the leather cover.

  Once more, doubt clouds my mind. How am I supposed to trick her into letting me look through the book?

  "Reza!" Jim's booming voice startles me out of my thoughts, "Your usual?" he asks, already grabbing for the large plastic cup.

  "Not today," I answer back, attempting to smile, but it feels broken.

  "Oh?" he pauses, hand in mid air as if unsure what to do with himself now.

  "Just meeting someone, won't be staying long," I explain, turning away from him to try and end the conversation.

  "Ok, that's good I guess," Jim mumbles to himself, and my heart sinks at the thought that he may feel forgotten.

  No, now is not the time to be thinking about people's feelings. They can get over it when their life is no longer in danger!

  Pushing my shoulders back, I take a deep breath and urge myself forward. I walk towards her table unwavering, a single mindedness taking over my very being. This will end now.

  " Well, hello vita mia," she greats, a subtle mocking laces her tone.

  "Brigida," I answer back, taking a small amount of pleaser in the way her eyes widen in surprise for the slightest of instances. "Or would you prefer I call you Grandma? Maybe Nana, that could be cute." I jeer, lowering myself into the seat opposite her.

  "Bridget, please," she answers, her eyes narrowing on me as she considers me a new, "Brigida is so old fashioned, don't you think?"

  I allow myself to glance around the room just for a moment, hesitating only once when I find the three people I am looking for sitting at the corner table watching me. Even if part of me hates that they are here, another part of me finds comfort in knowing they have my back. I look away quickly, not wanting to draw attention to them.

  "I would think you to be old fashioned, with how long you have been around and all," I counter, turning my attention back to her and leaning back in an attempt to seam at ease.

  "Seems someone has removed the wool from over your eyes," Bridget jibes at me, "pity, I was having fun playing with you."

  "Mom let me in on a few secrets," I explain, feeling a slight triumph as she purses her lips in distaste.

  "Knew I should have struck her down the moment she rose up," Bridget scowls, "but what can I say? She was my daughter after all. I suppose some sentimental part of me liked having her roaming around."

  "How sweet," I answer sarcastically, glancing down at the journal that still lay within her clutches.

  "So, what's the plan?" she asks conspiratorially, stopping her tapping only to pull the book closer to her skeletal body.

  "I don't know what you mean," I retort, glancing away dismissively.

  "Oh, come now," Bridget chides, watching me out of the corner of her eye as she glances around. "Do you really think these people will keep you safe?"

  "I don't need them to," I snap, not appreciating the way she is looking at everyone as if they are her prey.

  "That's right," she returns her attention to me with a crooked grin, "you have your little vampire friends to protect you."

  "Leave them out of this," I demand, a cold sweat breaking over my skin as I hear the emotion in my voice.

  "Oh, don't worry," Bridget chuckles softly as one hand disappears into a bag that she has at her side. "I promised no one would get hurt if you do as I ask."

  "Like I am supposed to trust you," I huff, narrowing my eyes at her skeptically.

  "I haven't lied to you," she argues, "I've never hidden anything from you, really," she continues as she lays the anthem on the table beside the book, as casually as if it were part of the cutlery.

  My eyes widen at it, my stomach twisting as the memories of her slicing into my skin comes crashing down on me. Absentmindedly I rub my wrists, glancing around the room in horror that someone may notice the threatening weapon.

  "You tried to kill me," I hiss, trying to keep my voice down even as my panic rises.

  "This is true," Bridget agrees with a nod, "but that's only after your mother betrayed me. How was I supposed to trust another person after something like that?"

  "What she did had nothing to do with you," I argue, once more resisting the urge to try and snatch the journal away from her.

   "It had everything to do with me. I gave her everything, and she turned her back!" she seethes, her fingers tightening on the journal as her own anger bubbles forth.

  "She just wanted a different life; can't you understand that?" I try and explain, a part of me still wanting to believe that there is some sort of reasoning that can be done here.

  "How could she rather live a few measly years with that oaf of a man?" Bridget counters, her eyes softening as if she is honestly looking for answers.

  "But that's the thing," I explain softly, "she wanted a normal life with my dad."

  "Balderdash," she curses under her breath, once more returning to tapping her fingers casually on the soft leather journal.

  "Did you never want a normal life?" I ask, trying to build some sort of connection. Maybe she will be less likely to try and kill me if she sees me as family?

  "Never," she barks, her lip rising in a snarl at the very idea of it. "I don't see the appeal of living under a man's roof, doing his bidding and caring for his offspring."

  "But, life isn't like that anymore," I argue, maybe this is a sort of foot hole that we can start building on.

  "Sure, it is," she disagrees, "life will always be the same for these humans. Its not a man versus woman thing, it's the way they live with no imagination, no real ambition."

  "So, you would rather be alone and be able to do a few parlor tricks?" I challenge her.

  "Parlor tricks?" she repeats, raising an eyebrow at me. "Oh dear, there is still so much more you have yet to see. With one wave of my hand I can take the very life from every human here, adding their years to my own. Turning them into my own little henchman."

  "Seriously?" I question, sounding a bit more curious than I intend to. It's not that I would ever do anything like that, but it is kind of crazy to know that it can be done.

  "Oh yes, once you know how to control death, you can control life itself," she answers, eyeing me with a knowing expression as she slowly pushes the journal in my direction. "You wish to know more," She tempts me, yet keeps a solid grasp on the pages between us, "I can see it in you."

  "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice coming out breathy as I glance up from the journal to her.

  "Normal isn't for you either," she proposes, playing with the book as she surveys me carefully. I watch almost memorized as she lifts the cover up, allowing the pages to escape her grasp and flutter closed before repeating the process. "It's a wonder that she named you after her, the very first of our kind. You could be just as great as her you know."

  "Who?"

 "Nereza was the very first woman to ever concur death. That wasn't her birth name, but the one she was given once she began her conquests. Means darkness you know, because she could control that which others feared."

  "I am nothing like that," I mumble, remembering how small and insignificant my life has always been.

  "You could be. You want so much more in your life, don't you?" Bridget continues, smiling almost sweetly as I meet her gaze once more. "You can have that you know. Excitement, adventure, and of course the power to have whatever you want."

  "I thought you wanted my power," I respond without really answering her.

  "Oh no," She waves her hand dismissively before leaning back with a sigh. For a moment she looks tired, showing the tole all her years have taken on her.

  "Then why try and kill me?" I demand, not believing her.

  "I have yet to learn if it was intentional or not," Bridget begins to explain, glaring down at the journal, "but when Allesandra locked away her powers, she began to drain mine away as well."

  "How?" I ask, gawking at the book once more. Every time I think I understand what is going on, there is another twist in the tale.

  "I am still working on that little detail," she grumbles under her breath, running a sharp nail across the leather of the journal as if she wished to destroy the thing. "At first, I didn't realize it, just a small trickle of my power ebbing away from me, but over the years it grew. Eventually I no longer could ignore the truth, and I had to come searching for it. For this," she explains, her glare hardening on the book.

  "So, if we did nothing, would you eventually just wither away?" I wonder, earning myself a scowl from the old woman before me.

  "And we wouldn't want that, now would we?" she asks through clenched teeth.

  "Where do I come in?" I ask, avoiding her question all together.

  "Well," Bridget starts, sitting up straight in her seat once more, "to start, we will need your blood."

  A small squeak escapes me as she quickly snatches my hand from across the table, her sharp nails digging into my skin as she yanks me towards her. I fall forward, leaning against the tables edge as she maneuvers my hand to rest against the warn leather of the book. My free hand pushes against the table, but it is useless, her grasp on me is too tight.

  "Hold still or we will make a mess," she orders as she slowly picks up the dagger, watching me with steely eyes as she skillfully glides it across my palm.

  The all to familiar bite of the blade has me squirming in me seat, pulling even more desperately for freedom. The slight taste of copper fills my mouth as I bite down on my lip, knowing if I cry out that it will only draw attention to us. What would happen if someone came over? What would she do to Jim if he tried to step in?

  "There now, not so bad is it?" she teases, fingers tightening around my skin, forcing my blood to ooze out of the fresh wound.

-----------------Damon's POV-----------------

  Staying still while she has been within reach of that retched woman has been one of the most torturous experiences of my life. No one else is paying them any attention, but I am. I watch them, their every move, every breath, under my steady supervision. 

  Nereza warned us that she would know we are here, but I don't give it much thought. I do not doubt her, I just don't give a damn. Let the wretch know where I am, let her know that I am watching.

  Should make her know that with one wrong move, one inkling of an attack, and she will be begging for death

  Other than a singular comment about vampires however, the old woman hasn't paid us any mind. I hone in on their conversation, my every sense trained on the two-woman talking in a small booth at the side of the room.

  At first glance they appear innocent, maybe even sweet. Just another young girl spending time with her grandmother. No one would guess the turmoil that is building in this little shop. How could anyone know that within a few feet of them, a battle is being raged. That these two fragile looking woman, are truly warriors making their stands. 

  A fight that I should be partaking in. My muscles ache to lunge forward, to strike while Nereza has her distracted. I clench my fists that rest on the table, and hold my ground instead. No matter how much I yearn to rip the woman to shreds, I have to wait. I have to keep my distance and give Nereza the chance to do what she feels is right. 

  It's not that I don't think she can do it, I just wish she didn't have to. I wish to whisk her a way and hide her someplace that this evil could never find her. 

  She would never forgive me if I tried. 

  So, I will sit here. I will guard her from afar, and I will insure that she remains alive. 

  When Nereza's heart beats faster with both fear and anger, it takes everything in me to stand my ground. My every instinct demands to run to her side, yet I remain seated, focusing harder on noticing every detail of their conversation. I curse under my breath when I feel the dynamic change, when Nereza starts softening and begins to try and understand.

  Her weakness is family, she wants to be accepted and embraced by the ones she comes from. How can we expect her to destroy a member of her own family?

  "Settle," Elena mumbles softly beside me.

  She sits tense, also ready to attack at a moment notice. She has another purpose however, one that she thinks I haven't realized. She is supposed to keep me in check, as if I am a lose cannon this is going to ruin everything.

  "She is doing fine," Stefan adds, his eyes closed so he can put all his focus on listening to the conversation that is going on behind him.

  I clench my jaw, hardening my gaze on the woman who has threatened Nereza's life too many times to be left breathing. I don't care about her sob story, not that it is much of one anyways. I am not fazed by her reasoning, my only concern is ending her so that Nereza can stay safe.

  The soft gasp that escapes Nereza's lips is like a roar in my ears. Anger erupts inside me as I watch her fall forward, panic evident in her shining eyes.

  "Damon," Elena warns, reaching out for me.

  "No," I utter, refusing to allow anyone to stand in my way.

  I tense, my eyes blazing with rage as the delicate scent of her blood tickles my scenes. Stefan's eyes snap open as he too realizes that things are getting out of control. He stands, stepping in my path.

  "We have to see where this goes," Stefan tries to reason, but I am hearing none of it.

  "I will not just sit here and watch her get killed," I snarl, pushing away from the table.

  Stefan stands his ground, ours eyes locked in a silent battle as he considers our options. The moment I hear Nereza's heart quicken even more, the scent of her growing stronger and filling my senses, I make up my mind. I am going to be at her side, no matter who I have to go through. My muscles tense in preparation for a fight, but Stefan steps to the side, turning to take his place beside me instead.

  "This has gone too far," I growl, charging forward as I let my inner beast take control.

-----------------Nereza's POV-----------------

  "A little this, a little that, and of course a little of our blood," Bridget whispers softly, not explaining exactly what she is doing as she carelessly runs her own finger across the edge of the blade.

  I watch in horror as her blood falls to the journal cover, mingling with mine and absorbing into the leather.

  "Now is your time to choose vita mia," she comments with a wicked grin pulling at her thin lips.

  "Chose what?" I ask, fear making my words quiver as I force myself to look away from our blood and back into her intense gaze.

  My heart thrashes against my chest, an urgency crushing in on me that I do not fully understand. What just happened? Something changed, everything feels like its happening so much quicker all of a sudden. I need time. I need to be able to breath and to think!

  "What kind of life do you want?" she answers my question with a question of her own.

  She releases my wrist, and I instantly pull it into myself, cradling it against my body. Finding no more need for me she instead shifts the blade into her dominant hand, watching me closely with a mischievous sparkle in her eye.

  "Do you choose to come with me, to learn our ways, and help me kill these parasites. Or will you die with them?"

  As her words sink in I glance behind her, finally taking notice of Damon who is quickly closing in on us. My eyes widen as I realize that she has had this planned the whole time. She is going to kill them, and she is going to make me watch.

  Damon rushes forward, not hesitating as she spins to face him. The furry in his blood shot eyes never wavering even as the blade sinks into the flesh just above his heart. He roars, he sharp fangs flashing in the light as he cries out in pain.

  Screams echo through the shop as people finally take notice of the danger that they are in. I hear them scurrying away, not wanting to get caught up in the violence, but I do not dare turn to look. I can not run and hide like they are, like I once would have.

  This is my fight, and I need to make my stand.

  "No!" I shriek, jumping to my feet and reaching out to stop her.

  I wince in pain as the wound in my hand makes contact with the book, but I do not slow down. I continue forward, leaning across the table and grasping at her arm.

  As soon as my skin makes contact with her, there is a violent pulse in my mind. Bridget glances over her shoulder, gaping at me with wide eyes.

  "What are you doing?" she demands, but I do not have an answer for her.

  Honestly, I have no idea what I am doing. I am just responding with whatever instincts I have, grasping onto anything that might be able to save Damon.

  I close my eyes, focusing on the pressure building in my mind. It spreads, overwhelming my very being and blocking out my surroundings. I can no longer feel my body, I can't hear the chaos that surrounds me, I am once again floating in the darkness.

  This time however, I know that this is not nothingness, I am not lost. For the first time in a long time, I am in control. It is my choice how this story ends.

  I allow the pulsing inside to vibrate throughout my soul, taking in my truest wish. I let my inner eye wander to what is important to me, and not once does it have anything to do with the power that Bridget offers. I recall Zeke, the way he has always been there for me and make me laugh. I think about Elena who has always made me feel accepted. I remember Stefan who always has my back.

  I focus on Damon, my heart swelling with emotion as all the love I have for him comes forth. He makes me feel safe and strong, because I know no matter what he will be there to help me through. I can't let him die. There is nothing that would be worth killing him to achieve. Saving him however, that is worth everything.

  I chose him, and I always will.

  A scream shatters through my peaceful darkness, pulling me back into the real world. My eyes flutter open, taking a moment to adjust to the bright light that is spilling forth from the book below me. It wraps around me, its energy making my skin tingle with warmth.

  "This isn't possible!" Bridget bellows as she yanks away from me, but freezes as the light entangles her in its embrace. She shrieks in horror, clawing at herself as if to try and break free.

  "You're the one who told me I can have anything I want," I answer, a smile slowly pulling at my lips as I realize that I have won.

  "You fool!" she shrieks, raising her hand to strike me, stopping in horror as she notices it start to deteriorate.

 Her cries of pain fill my ears as her skin shrivels, withering away to nothing. She collapses, her legs no longer able to carry her weight. As she hits the floor she is nothing but a pile of bones and frayed material. Still, that continues to age, crumbling away to dust that is unrecognizable for what it is.

  The light fades, the energy returning to the book and sealing itself away once more.

  A heavy silence fills the air. No more crying, no more fighting, just a moment of peace.

  I feel lighter, the pressure in my mind no longer constantly pushing at me. I sway ever so slightly on my feet as I stare at the book, unsure what to do with it now. Is it still dangerous? If I opened it up, would all that power come rushing out again?

  Shifting my attention to the remains of my grandmother, I tilt my head considering her. What should we do with that? Would it be rude to just sweep her up?

  So many thoughts swirl in my head that seem almost ridiculous considering the situation that I was in just moments before. Yet, here I am, thinking them.

  I lift my eyes from the pile of dust that lies at my feet, meeting the gaze of the person I was so close to losing. Damon stands before me, watching me closely as if at any moment I may combust. I sigh, relief overwhelming me as I see the wound that Bridget caused already healed and forgotten. I open my mouth to speak, but no words seem quite right for this moment.

  "Are you guys all right?" Zeke shouts through labored breaths as he bursts through the door, saving me from having to think of something profound to say. "What is going on in here?"

  "Oh, you know," I answer softly, turning to face him with a small smile pulling at my lips. "just kicking some necromancer butt."