III: She Who Wants Everything

Once Elena and Bonnie arrived, Reese took off from Caroline's house, doing what she did best — running away.

The night was young and the moon was high. She trotted along the streets of Mystic Falls, fingers tightly gripping her phone, stopping every now and then to collect herself. Her head hurt — from both the injury and the thinking.

The sad thinking, or whatever she was supposed to call it. Introspection was not one of her specialities. She always had something to keep her busy; the wheels of her mind turning without rest; new, duplicitous stratagems hatching. Perhaps the single constant in her life had been that she always had an enemy and an onerous plan to raze them. When she bragged about her wits, people assumed it was well-rounded — it wasn't, and after confronting that fact seven years ago, she'd resorted to swaying wherever the present took her.

Reese was mechanical in nature: place a target in front of her and she'd demolish it clean off the face of the earth.

Then she'd do it again, again, again.

She felt unusual. Restless. Her feet carried her all the way to the Mystic Grill, and she failed to realize it until she was standing in the parking lot, watching the crowd through the glass windows.

A couple of hours ago, she'd sped out of here in her car to find Caroline.

Her car. Right. She left it near the clearing.

She walked the entire way over here.

And god, her head hurt like a bitch.

She gripped her phone harder, as if that would make Elijah show up faster. It was hanging uselessly by her side, the rigid edges pressed harshly against her palm, sending tingles of pain across her nerves.

She tried to force her thoughts away from what happened tonight, but they wrenched out of her control. She kept replaying it. That phone call; that vampire; that desperation she'd felt for reaching Caroline that she forgot to keep herself safe.

Not good.

"You seem to be in a perplexingly good mood." Thank fuck he was here. "Please don't burn down the Grill."

The sting her grip on the phone had caused ceased.

Without sparing him a glance, Reese said, "I want a car, Elijah."

She felt him burning holes into the side of her face.

Something hot and liquid slipped through her fingers.

"Reese," he said with a mixture of concern and firmness. "Let go."

Carefully, she wrenched her fingers open. Cool air soothed the burn she'd felt. She turned her palm and there it was, right in the middle, angry red, dark gray plastic melted around it. The glass screen was fine.

"And a new phone," she added, finally bringing her gaze to him. She liked that he was so stoic. It was normal. "I want to go home."

Home. With her current streak of thinking thoughts, she was sure a bit of brooding around that word and she'd be left with a full-blown crisis.

She didn't ask how Elijah knew where her apartment was — probably some good, healthy stalking from his side — as he vamped her there without a comment.

Her apartment was a testament to the spendthrift nature she'd developed on the run. It was one of the only penthouses she'd been able to find when she arrived in Mystic Falls, and since in the eyes of the government she was apparently underage, procuring it had been a bit of a hassle. So had high school, to be honest.

"You know," she told Elijah, leaning into the doorway of her apartment, "When I first came here, they sent child services."

Biologically, she looked to be anywhere between eighteen and twenty; chronologically, she was around thirty. It was complicated. And weirdly, saying thirty felt older than saying a thousand.

"I had to use a compulsion spell. On a lot of people."

"If I'm to interpret that you accidentally created more minions—"

"No," she cut off, looking affronted. "Jeez. I'm trying to talk about my feelings here."

"You don't expect me to believe you feel guilty for doing that." Do you?

"And why not?" She turned pouty. "I won't invite you inside if you act like this."

Reese did not, indeed, feel guilty for doing that. Elijah had helped her reign in the power of her compulsion spells enough for her to pull it off without messing up too much. It was more of a personal achievement than anything else.

"I won't get you a car if you act like this," Elijah replied.

She suddenly turned grim. "This petulance is below you, Elijah."

A pause. "I suppose I will make my leave —"

"Shut up. Come in."

The downstairs part constituted the kitchen and the living room. Upstairs were the bedrooms. Everything was sleek and modern, devoid of any kind of personality. Black, white, darker shades — not that different from her wardrobe, in terms of the color palette.

Although it was the fanciest she could find, Reese would've liked something bigger. A house. A mansion. She thought of the one they'd had back in New Orleans, hidden from the general public, and the abandoned Raven settlement near them. That time felt like a dream. Any happy memory associated with it was stained with scorch marks.

Reese was already on the couch when she realized Elijah wasn't following. She turned around to see him still in the doorway, despite her invitation.

"Oh," she said, waving a hand. "Yeah. Protective spells. You can come in now."

"I see Niklaus's paranoia has rubbed off on you."

"Hardly. My mind is just beyond everybody else's thinking capacities."

She would never claim otherwise. At least not out loud.

Elijah sat on the armchair. "Do you plan on healing yourself?"

"Oh," she said, as if she'd forgotten about the abrasions. "Right. I'll get to it. The reason I said I wanted to talk to you is because," she was lying, but whatever, "the Ravens know. I just killed a vampire today. And of course, I'm blaming it on your presence in Mystic Falls. So."

"You could've told me this in a text message," Elijah said.

"Maybe I wanted to see your face," Reese said, an incorrigible grin painting her face. "As I was saying to Elena today — oh, by the way, I asked her to rate you, and she said you're—"

"Perhaps you would like to stop deflecting and indulge me in the true reason behind you summoning me—"

"Summoning you?"

"I do not have time for games, Reese."

He should know by now Reese was always playing games. Yet he dropped everything when she called.

Why did she call?

"I wasn't going to pick a side," she admitted. It wasn't the exact reason, but it was a start. She was anticipating his reaction, as if a child awaiting test scores. "I still don't want to."

"Three years is a long time, Reese," he said. That was his way of saying it was okay. Nothing to be worried about.

"Yeah. They are."

A year by herself. Three years with Elijah. Three years with Nik. Three years with Caroline.

What she did was divide her brain into two halves — love and hate. It was a long drawn-out process, but when she accepted it, she'd place a name in the love part and then move on, never revisiting it again. She did it with Azzie and . . . it had been the easiest thing she'd ever done; loving Azzie.

Then it got destroyed, but she did it again with Elijah and Nik, the process made less arduous under the guise of them being her allies. She couldn't let them die while they worked together, right?

Reese was better at forming individual connections, from the track record. It was Caroline, not Mystic Falls. But Caroline expected things she wasn't willing to give.

"I know that it's okay," she said, getting to the actual problem. "It's just — distracting. I got angry today. I can't do anything if I'm angry."

She didn't have a thousand years of experience keeping her emotions in check like Elijah did. Part of that inability of hers is owed to her penchant for avoiding them, too.

Elijah was not irked in the least. "Then stop doing things."

She frowned. What the hell. "No."

"Then your sole option is to move through it," he suggested bluntly. "I cannot compel you to move past this, and even if I could, I wouldn't."

Reese crossed her arms and laid back on the sofa, kicking up her feet. "I don't like thinking."

"Clearly."

A beat.

"Don't you wanna know how much Elena rated you?"

"As tempting as that offer is, I'm afraid the answer is no."

". . . how do you think it's going to happen?"

Somehow, Elijah knew what she was talking about. "Melodramatically."

"It does seem to be inherent when it comes to you Originals."

Amused, he said, "If I recall correctly, which one of us disrupted a fundamental coven ceremony by . . . tearing out the hearts of every person in attendance?"

"I'm sure you've done something similar in the past."

"Well Niklaus certainly has."

Reese stopped herself from saying something that could give away the nature of her relationship with Nik — tumultuous at best, but beyond an average friendship — seeing as Elijah remained blissfully unaware of it. She had her doubts about how he might react to it.

She opted for a different question. "Do you think it's weird I kind of miss being on the run?"

"Extremely." Elijah was now on his feet, moving to her kitchen and proceeding to open the fridge, along with various other cabinets. "I do not think you planned on transitioning anytime soon, so, where is the food?"

She arched her brow. "I don't cook. I order from outside. Or I go outside."

From the kitchen, he gave her a disapproving glare. "You wasteful child."

"You hypocrite," she retorted, in the same tone.

He used to have her on a strict three-meals-a-day diet when they were training for whatever evil reason. She abhorred having to abide by timings for when she ate instead of simply eating when she felt hungry. Very irritating.

Of course, since she lived by herself, she dropped that rule pretty quickly. But she supposed old habits die hard. For Elijah.

She rested her head on the armrest of the couch, foraging around her brain for what else she could tell him. She quite enjoyed his presence. "Expect some sort of invite from the Mystic Falls gang. To discuss your deal with Elena. Damon likes to stick his nose into everything Elena does."

"I take it this discussion would be prone to violence then?"

She shrugged innocently. "Well, that's for you to find out . . . Elijah Smith."

She giggled saying it out loud. Elijah Smith. What a funny name.

He returned to his armchair, unmalleable and stolid. "I grow weary of your poor jokes.

"Are noble people allowed to lie?" She mused, closing her eyes, wincing as a wave of pain washed over her. "I won't be surprised if you people have a contract or something—"

"Oh, for god's sake," Elijah said. Reese heard not the slightest indication of movement, but a second later she could feel him staring down at her; she opened her eyes to see only the smallest trace of a frown on his face. "Why must you insist on remaining in pain?"

"I'm not drinking your blood," she said.

He sighed. "Then heal yourself."

Fine.

Whatever.

She only had to concentrate, right?

She screwed her eyes shut again, focusing first on the wound on her head. But all that she associated with it came to her in full force, too. Caroline. Anger. The vampire. The uncomfortable buzzing in her limbs as she forced herself to stop before she murdered those werewolves. Just Caroline opening up her fist wasn't enough.

She huffed, giving up and letting her eyes flutter open.

Elijah was still there, watching her thoughtfully. Thoughtful and disappointed seemed to be his primary expressions.

"Don't be a creep."

He blinked, unimpressed.

Reese yielded. "Fine. I'll have some of your blood."

They talked for some time, Reese drifting off mid-conversation, the tiredness winning over her will to distract herself.

When she woke up the next day, there was already a new phone placed on her coffee table.

─────────────

The Mystic Falls gang was scared. Of course, they'd be the last to admit it, but even after Elijah confirmed his position as an ally, they were plotting to get rid of him. Reese hadn't taken much heed to it — they came up with the craziest ideas — until Stefan had bought back John Gilbert. It had pleased her greatly to watch them waddle like headless chickens, trying, trying, trying. Most of the intricacies of the intellect required when dealing with vampires — when dealing with Originals — came naturally from experience. Their chances were nominal to begin with . . .

. . . until this morning, when she discovered what it was that had John Gilbert gloating like a vampire yesterday.

First, there was this: Elijah Smith and his work-in-progress book on small-town Virginia. (Because Elijah Smith sounded funny).

Second: A silver dagger.

Reese hadn't seen one since this morning — she checks up on her own stolen dagger often; one can never be too responsible with a weapon such as that. John managed to acquire one and passed it over to Damon, equipped with the knowledge needed to effectively use it, too.

Even though she'd expected it, she was still surprised when she spotted the bundle of blue cloth on the Salvatores' dining table, a fraction of the familiar, engraved hilt of the dagger poking out from it.

There was no way it was real.

There were five white oak ash daggers.

Three were currently buried inside Nik and Elijah's siblings. One was with Reese. One was with Nik. That left a temporarily spelled decoy she left with Elijah.

She would have liked to immediately rule out the possibility that it was the real deal.

But this was John Gilbert's doing.

Also, Nik did have a tendency to do strange and imbecile things at times.

She did not attempt to hide her wide-eyed staring, and Damon was delighted to notice it.

"So John Gilbert gave me this to kill Elijah," he said, beckoning her over. He picked it up from the confines of the cover and twirled it around, like a child showing off a toy. He pointed to a brown glass vial with it. "Said you have to dip the dagger in the remains of an old white ash tree that dates back to the Originals. If there's any truth in that."

Reese sighed and picked it up. Before she could examine it more closely and determine its nature, Damon snatched it out of her hands.

"You are not to be trusted with the Original killing knife," he said.

"And why not? If you're going to kill Elijah I deserve to see how," She grumbled, crossing her arms. "Seeing as I'm the smartest one here."

"Because you'll run off with it the first chance you get."

"Oh, don't underestimate yourself like that, Damon," Reese said. "I know you have a proclivity for repeatedly being a moron, but I'm sure you could at least run after me." Then, raising her eyebrows, she added, "That's if that dagger actually works."

"You don't trust John?" Damon asked sarcastically.

"Oh, I think you should be worried about whether he trusts you," she said, indirectly repeating John's own words. "He is here to protect Elena. Who is going to kill Elijah, by the way?"

"I staked him once," Damon said, smirking. "I can do it again."

She was being way too generous here. Seeing that John clearly didn't fill Damon in on the part where he'd die if he used the dagger on Elijah.

Well . . . what was it to her, anyway, if Damon died?

"So then that leaves one thing," she whispered conspiratorially, "Do you think it'll work?"

"Not really," Damon said. "That guy's a weasel. Can't put anything past him, right."

"Who's a weasel now?" Alaric asked, sauntering into the room, looking morose and sulky. He headed straight for the bourbon, poured himself a glass, and then plopped himself on the armchair, waiting for an answer.

"John Gilbert of course," Damon said, then quickly went over everything he'd just told Reese about the dagger. "Now what we've got left to decide is whether we trust him. Which we don't."

Now was the time to get to work.

"This is a severe lapse in judgment on your part," Reese said, settling down comfortably on another armchair. "Just another reminder that I am the smartest person in this room."

"You're also a pathological liar," Alaric said.

"And you're also a vampire hunter and a washed up history teacher. Two things can be true at once." Reese did not like Alaric, either. She had the urge to stick out her tongue at him. "Just goes to show . . ."

Damon poured himself a drink. "Reese thinks it's legitimate, great; don't let her near it."

Reese wasn't stupid, but Damon was. She pivoted the conversation, already the first parts of a plan assembling in her head. "You can try. But. Before that — the historical society tea party, or whatever —"

"Oh, yeah." Alaric stood up, downing his glass. "Jenna and I got roped into doing that."

"— I wasn't finished," Reese smiled coldly, "Elijah's guest of honor, you see, and before you try to engage me in one of your loser boy plans, I'll say that do whatever you want to do after I've had a chat with him."

"So you can spill the beans?"

"So I can catch up!" Reese exclaimed, seemingly appalled. "Elijah's a good old friend of mine. He taught me how to tear out vampire's hearts — cleanly."

Alaric rubbed his temple, shaking his head. "You had to ask."

"Says the vampire hunter."

Reese was dying to know exactly how John Gilbert got his hands on the dagger. For her, procuring the dagger was the result of . . . favorable circumstances. She didn't plan on it; it had been the last thing on her mind at the time. After everything went down: at Mykonos, almost dying, Nik . . . she had planned on running away. Before she left, she decided Elijah had done enough for her to help him out, and she undaggered him.

It worked out nicely, too. Nik got the message loud and clear: she was not on his side, she was not with him, despite the few . . . emotional discrepancies that might have suggested otherwise.

Even then, the dagger was a considerable burden on her for a while. It won't be the same for Damon and Alaric, probably because they did not possess the same relationship with the Mikaelsons that she did. It boiled down to a question with an inconclusive answer: Family, friend, or foe?

Either way, when it came to the Mystic Falls gang and them, her heart always leaned towards the Originals.

(It was Caroline, not Mystic Falls.)

As a Raven, though, she was taught to trust her mind, and her mind was telling her to preserve her neutrality; act in self-interest. Having Elijah daggered, she knew, would not benefit her. Openly betraying the Mystic Falls gang, on the other hand, would also not benefit her.

It could be argued the Raven Coven was a supernatural middle ground in itself. Witches, vampires and werewolves alike feared them.

Watching from the sidelines? It was in her blood, after all.

─────────────

In order to effectively execute her plan, Reese needed time alone with the silver dagger. A few seconds, at most, would do. Now, usually, one would think, oh, a few seconds, that's not a lot — it shouldn't be that difficult to tip the scales in her favor. But when the dagger was being guarded as vigilantly as it was by Damon Salvatore — arrogant, but undeniably clever, especially when it came to Elena — and given the delicate nature of Reese's disposition, it was a game of intricate slyness.

In no way should anyone judge Reese to have intentions beyond those that they have already assumed.

They had all the reasons to believe Reese would spill the beans to Elijah, or, on the contrary, would go steadily about her neutrality; her place as a negotiator.

The historical society tea party blessed her with the perfect circumstances to carry out the primary step of the plan.

The dress she'd chosen to wear was one she'd acquired during her time with Elijah. It was a simple, ankle-length, black satin dress with a Queen Anne neckline. Understated, so the attention transited towards her necklace: the perfect oval of the deep purple gem, radiating an unfamiliar feeling of power, rested on her chest.

She spotted Elijah the moment she entered, conversing with Mayor Lockwood. Keeping a direct watch on him was Damon, as expected. She had deliberately arrived after Damon, giving him ample time to locate Elijah.

She made her way towards Elijah and Mayor Lockwood, catching their conversation.

"Have you spent much time in Richmond for your book?" Carol asked. "There's such a wealth of history there."

"No," Elijah replied, catching sight of Reese. His eyes narrowed in a subtle, delicate manner that Reese caught only because of the experience she had in dealing with him. "I'm focusing mostly on the, uh, smaller regions of Virginia. Lots of research. Strictly academic."

"That's fascinating," Carol said.

"Always is with Elijah," Reese said, butting in the conversation. "He has a particular penchant for making things difficult for himself. I think he thinks it validates his . . . fine skills."

"Oh, hello, Reese," Carol greeted, not paying mind to her words as she took a sip from her champagne flute. "You two know each other?"

"Oh, we have . . ." Elijah trailed off. "A history."

Reese rolled her eyes playfully, as if to say, get a load of this guy. "We were neighbors. It's been a few long years."

"Well, it's a small world."

"Indeed," Elijah said, subtly shooting her a seething glare.

Reese pretended not to notice. "So, I take it that the book you're writing is going to focus on the historical aspect. Did you know there were witch burnings, right here in Mystic Falls?"

Elijah smiled. "Well, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't part of why I decided to come here."

"Ah," Carol reciprocated his smile, "You'll be glad to know we don't do that anymore."

A head of deep, black curly hair caught her eye: A man of almost 6 feet, with his back turned to her, dressed in a dark blue two-piece suit, holding a flute of champagne. He looked back and Reese put a name to him — Sam.

Interesting.

If Sam was here, that meant the others would be too.

It was her turn to send Elijah murderous glares. He also pretended not to notice.

Damon decided it was time for him to join the conversation, too. Carol noticed him walking over and smiled (ew), saying, "Damon, what a surprise."

"Carol. Hi."

He went in to kiss her cheek.

Reese pretended to gag, sharing a look with Elijah. The trace of a smile worked its way to his face. Since Carol's back was turned to them, Damon had a clear view, and he made it known he'd seen that with a roll of his eyes.

Then, as Carol introduced Damon to Elijah, and the air shifted to something tense, Reese excused herself and headed toward the drinks. Toward Sam.

Clever Sam, with his mirthful brown eyes and perfect brown skin. Those same mirthful eyes had pleaded to her for help when Elijah snapped his neck. The unconscious disheveled figure sprawled against wooden tiles. Sam, with his fangs piercing into the soft skin of her wrist.

Their little experiment; the first of countless.

He smiled as soon as he saw her.

Reese's stomach churned with guilt for the first time in a long time. She didn't move, though. She waited for him to close the distance between them.

"Reese." The way he said her name was powerful. He had no hold on her; she had a hold on him. A very rooted, unshakeable hold, courtesy to her past frenzied craze for power and some blood magic. Tendrils of the spell she'd put him under lived in his voice. Always a little breathless; always unnaturally joyful; always ready to serve her. "It's been so —"

"Long," Reese finished. "What are you doing here?"

He was dumbfounded. Blank. "What am I doing here?"

Of course. Elijah was here. That was reason enough.

"What did Elijah tell you to do?" She asked instead.

"He told me to enjoy the party," Sam answered without hesitation, gesturing to his flute of champagne. "He didn't say you were going to be here, but, you know, I had a feeling. The moment you walked in, I felt it."

Fuck.

He was trying to mess with her; Elijah was doing this on purpose. He knew it would disconcert her, after all these years, after everything that happened to Azzie . . . after everything Esther did.

Why?

"How have you been, Sam?"

Reese knew she was asking a bootless question. It would poke at his mind, try to tear down the banners of that spell, and it would fail, and his response would stay the same:

"I'm great." He smiled greatly, too. If Reese didn't know better she would never have doubted him. "Is this where you've been all these years? You know, we never stopped looking. The Ravens didn't either, but we took care of them the best we could." He paused. "Ezekiel did the best he could, too."

She knew that meant Ezekiel was dead.

She took a deep breath. "Sam, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

She wondered if the real Sam would've done anything for her. She could recall his doting eyes; his fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt when she got too close. It was a futile attempt to soothe her conscience. Real Sam had been too fragile for Reese.

Real Sam had never been her's.

Her Sam listened attentively to her instructions, smiled, and traipsed away to conduct his duties.

A few minutes later, when she was sure nobody was looking at her, she left too.

─────────────

Reese
so, r u done intimately intimidating damon?

Elijah
Certainly. Though I think it will take a bit more to fully get through to him.

Reese
perf. Pls keep him a bit more if u can

Elijah
Why?

Reese
breaking and entering.

Elijah
I don't know what you're doing, but since this is a small town, if you end up in jail again, I'm not bailing you out.

Reese
yes u r. u owe me. asshole.

Elijah
You have done nothing but complicate things for me since the day I arrived here.

Reese
well then ur GOING TO owe me. very soon.

Elijah
How splendid. Looking forward to it.

Reese
im a genius if i do say so myself

Elijah
Don't burn down their house.

─────────────

"This might take longer than I anticipated," Sam said, examining the Salvatore living room. "A silver dagger, you say?"

"Yes," Reese answered. "It'll either be hidden in a very obvious place, or in a very unobvious place."

"So, look everywhere?"

"Yes. Be thorough. And fast."

Sam zoomed away without another word.

She turned to the other two vampire minions standing before her, obediently awaiting her orders.

"Art," she said, the mousy boy widening his eyes due to the abrupt attention, "You'll go spy on Stefan and Elena for various reasons, but mostly because I expect the werewolves might try something. So, stay hidden. And if they do show up, protect Elena. Stefan can die."

He nodded, "Of course. Can you text me the address?"

"Hm." Reese waved him off. He disappeared with a whoosh. She turned to the last one standing. "Jake, as for you — go to the historical society tea party. Keep an eye on Damon Salvatore — tall, black hair, creepy eyes, very arrogant — not difficult to miss. If he tries coming back before we give you the clear, get into a scuffle with him. Pretend John Gilbert sent you, just for funsies."

"Anything for you, Reese," Jake breathed out, bowing.

"Yeah, yeah. Run along now."

She was lucky Stefan and Elena were out doing weird, romantic couple stuff today. Alaric and John were both at the tea party too, so Salvatore boarding house was empty and free to search.

Convenient, and made even more so by Elijah alerting her that their vampire minions were in town. Oh, how she'd missed them.

They did make it easier to break the law.

As for the bit about them entering the house, well— since it was owned by either Damon or Stefan, both vampires, that hadn't been a problem.

Reese quickly texted Art the address she'd procured through a locator spell earlier today, and then began her own search for the dagger, starting with the first floor of the house. She checked with the kitchen utensils first, then under the sofas and carpets; in the drawers and cabinets, but to no avail. She eventually made her way to the cellar, finding nothing but booze and medieval torture devices, the minutes ticking by.

She was on her way up from the cellar when her phone dinged.

Jake
Damon leaving with Alaric.

Reese
be violent hun
also try n procure some blood bags for me

"Sam," she called up, tucking her phone into her clutch, "How much is left?"

"Library and a bedroom," he shouted back.

"Alright. I'll take the library."

The Salvatore library wasn't exactly a treasure trove. There were three walls lined with books, surrounding an alcove of sorts in the center. Each title was obscure and mundane. Nothing particularly enjoyable.

Staring at the amount of books, though, Reese began to scowl.

There was no way either Damon or Stefan read this much.

What was the need for so many books? It was making her job that much more laborious.

She couldn't possibly check every single book. If Damon were to hide the dagger in a book, though, what would he choose? Certainly not 'Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas' by Tom Robbins. No, he was an arrogant vampire — he would choose something that aligned to his rapierlike humor, something like . . .

Reese bounded out of the library and upstairs to Stefan's room.

"Sam," she said, "get those journals over here."

And sure enough, there it was — stored in an indent carved into one of Stefan's journals. Very rude on Damon's part, but clever enough. She can't think of a single person that would willingly peruse Stefan's brooding translated into words.

She ran a finger across the glinting silver blade. Deep, powerful magic rang beneath it, sending soft vibrations into her skin. She shut her eyes, letting it hum through her mind, tingles erupting across her forehead.

"Well, it's definitely real," she declared, basking in the utter power of the spell that had been used to create it. If she had more time, she could find traces of the dark magic of every heart it's pierced before, like she'd done with Elijah's dagger. "No idea how John Gilbert got his hands on one."

She could speculate. Possibly, Nik let it go willingly, just to send an unsaid challenge to the community. See who'd be brave enough to step up and try to bring him down. Gloat a little. It's not like the daggers affected him, so.

Sam stared at her, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. " . . . you're not going to dagger Elijah, right?"

"Of course not," she sent him a reassuring smile. "This is just the first step in my plan. Completed."

Her phone dinged again.

"And right on time, it seems."

─────────────

After successfully escaping the Salvatore boarding house unscathed and setting the first part of her plan in motion, Sam dropped her near her apartment building. She dismissed him, forbidding him to mention even a word of what Reese had him do today. Then she waited for around five minutes, when Jake showed up, a little worse for wear, but equipped with the blood bags she'd asked for. She dismissed him too, and then headed directly for the forest.

She trusted no one but herself for this step.

That was what she reminded herself to keep her going, as mud squelched under her feet and stained her beautiful black boots.

The April heat of Mystic Falls was relentless, even at night.

The canopy of the forest blocked any moonlight, casting a deep blue shadow over Reese. It seemed perpetual. Coupled with the buzzing of insect wings and mosquitoes, a sheet of sweat was starting to cover her skin. Her usual purple leather blazer swallowed her frame, making the heat ten times worse. It was wet; the kind that cooled in an instant with a light breeze. And it was irritating.

But nonetheless.

This part was equally important for her evil scheming.

Because if Elijah were to be daggered and confined, there was another person who'd reap the benefits.

Yes, Katerina could become a loose end. She was much like Reese in that sense; always playing a different game.

When Reese arrived at the church ruins, she pondered for only a moment whether she should go. Then she weaved around the crumbling gray stone, descending into the tomb, coming face-to-face with the huge stone slab that functioned as a door.

She raised her hand and watched as the magic tugged at her veins and lifted up the slab.

Katerina's face (it still shook her at times, how she and Elena looked identical) was ashen white, peering at her disdainfully. She was in the dress she'd worn to the masquerade ball, though the smugness that had accompanied her that night had disappeared. The lack of blood was taking a toll, clearly.

"Hello Reese," she greeted, her voice gravelly and ghostlike. "Here to taunt me some more?"

"Hardly," Reese remarked, wiggling the three blood bags she'd carried. "I'm here to talk, of course. John Gilbert has decided to grace us with his presence — although I have this intuition that you already know."

There was a knowingness in her eyes; this twinkle that let you know she was ten steps ahead of you, even rotting inside a tomb. "Cat's out of the bag then, I'm guessing."

"You underestimate me, Katerina."

"Hardly," she repeated. "I'd say I'm the only one who knows exactly what you're capable of. We're alike, you and I. Half a life and constant lying . . ."

"Yes," Reese agreed, settling herself near the boundary of the tomb, "we can bond over that once you get out of here. For now, though, I've got something you want, and you've got something I want. I'm sure you know how this is gonna work."

Reese slid one of the blood bags toward the boundary, and Katerina lunged for it, the desperation shining through.

She tore through it, drinking hungrily, eyes threatening to flutter close. A thin line of blood trickled down her chin. She caught Reese's eyes trailing it, and as if to tease her, she swiped her tongue across it.

"Oh, we'll bond, alright," Katerina drawled, listening intently as Reese's heart skipped a beat. "So, what could Reese Yung possibly want from dear old me?"

Reese rushed to compose herself, bringing her stare to Katerina's eyes. "Hm. Just a few questions I'd like you to answer."

"By all means."

"Now, I know the basics of what happened to you," she began. "You found out Nik intended to sacrifice you. You got yourself turned into a vampire in the hopes he'd back off. Then, in true Nik nature, he decided to hunt you for eternity and get his revenge."

Kat arced her brows. "Nik, huh?"

"What I want to know," Reese moved ahead, ignoring her comment, "is how your bloodline managed to survive. Didn't Nik slaughter your whole family?"

"He did." Kat rested her head against the rock wall. "He found me in England. But I'm not from England. I was exiled from my home in Bulgaria. Take a wild guess why?"

A pause. "You had a baby."

"Very good," she cooed. "A baby out of wedlock. The shame."

"So it was given away?"

"Mhm. You know what happened after that."

The parts about her baby had graciously been left out by both Elijah and Nik when they'd relayed their versions of the story to her — though she knew that was because they had no idea Katerina wasn't the last of her bloodline, not after Nik slaughtered her whole family. Which was a move Reese questioned often — he was so desperate to break his curse, yet he killed the one way left to do that? To allow the Petrova bloodline to continue, if not through Katerina then through her remaining, very human family?

Seeing such criminal acts of idiocy committed in anger is another incentive that puts her off it.

"Interesting . . ." Reese trailed off, narrowing her eyes.

"He can be quite charming when he wants to be; Klaus." Katerina sipped from the blood bag down to its last dregs. "Then again, I suppose you'd know all about it, wouldn't you, Reese?"

"I'd say it was the other way around, actually."

"Interesting."

"Now, my next question is about the Petrova bloodline."

"It's tedious really, but . . ." she trailed off, then, a sudden spark. "You'd know better, little witch. You're more connected to it, I'd say, y'know all the drama with Ravens and vampires and Original witches . . ."

After all this time, one mention of Esther made her stomach drop. But she couldn't let it have power. Kat knew what she was doing, though. It reminded her of a conversation with Elijah; Reese had always found the doppelganger story quite fascinating. It was incomplete — she'd gathered as much.

Now and again, due to her link with Azzie (and consequently Esther), Reese felt them reaching out to her. When a voice in her mind would argue facts she had no memory of collecting nor concluding to, she had learned, it was usually Esther prodding into her. Saying this and that, planting thoughts in her head she'd never imagined carrying out.

She felt that familiar tug once more, as she brought up the curse.

"The curse was bound with the blood of a Petrova doppelganger," Reese stated, "And so it must be broken with one too. That's why doppelgangers exist — to break the curse." Nature finds a loophole.

A bitter expression flashed on Kat's face. "It's very fun, having your entire existence dialed down to a witch's curse."

"Well, I think there's more to it."

"Enlighten me then."

"From what Elijah told me, Tatia was the first. The curse was bound by her blood. Petrova blood. Assuming she was just an ordinary human being though, there was nothing special about her blood except until it was used to bind the curse."

Kat didn't say anything.

"Then," Reese went on, "that means it's Petrova blood in general that should bind the curse. There was no need for doppelgangers. Just for her bloodline to continue would've been enough."

"Huh," Kat scoffed. "Well that's a curious thing. What you're implying is that Tatia's blood was already—"

"Special," Reese completed. "That's why he needs the blood of a doppelganger from the Petrova bloodline instead of just anybody."

There were bigger forces at play here.

"But I don't think that affects my current situation very much, does it?" she asked rhetorically.

"Hm," Reese shrugged, agreeing. "That was more for personal reasons than my evil scheming anyway. Onto the next." She slid a second blood bag over to Kat. "What are you going to do once you get out of here?"

"Run, like I always have," she answered. "Another thing we have in common, huh."

"Very convincing answer. But I don't believe that."

"Why not?"

"You caused absolute havoc here. You could've just taken Elena and the moonstone and disappeared. But no . . . you turned Caroline. Triggered Mason and Tyler's curse." A realization that made her blood run cold. "You're gathering the ingredients to break the curse. So you can offer them to Nik. In hopes he'll stop hunting you."

"What a smart little witch," she smiled brightly, saccharine sweet. "I see why Elijah's fond of you . . . you're right, yes — vampire, werewolf, and witch. You can guess which one is which. Have you come to bargain for Caroline's life?"

"No," she replied. "I can handle that part myself. You know that Nik is not going to let you go even if you do manage to strike this deal. Anger issues, right? Inconvenient times and inconvenient people."

"Inconvenient for everyone but you, it seems." There it was.

"Ah. You want my story, Katerina?"

"I want to know why they're not trying to kill you."

A few bargains; a substantial amount of backstabbing; the usual. "My unattainable charm and wit. What else do you think?"

"I underestimated his spirit for vengeance," Katerina cocked her head, "but your whole MO is revenge — from what I've gathered, you outwitted both of them. Call me curious, but I'd like to know what I lacked."

"That's the difference between you and me, then: I'm a powerful witch, and you're just another vampire."

Unfortunately, that seemed to instigate an epiphany in Katerina's mind. She drew her brows together, eyes widening before a victorious smirk spread over her face. "Now it makes sense — you were never hiding from them at all . . . you're hiding from your coven."

"Hiding isn't the word I'd use," Reese clicked her tongue, "I'd say, more, shirking responsibilities."

"Where do your loyalties lie, I wonder."

"Where do yours?"

"Touche."

Reese's admiration for Katerina only grew. She'd thought her to be commendable since she first heard of her — she was smart, resourceful, clever — and this conversation aided in amplifying it tenfold.

It felt like Reese had finally met someone on her level.

"Alright." She picked up the third blood bag. "My final question — who'd you choose?"

Kat blinked. "What for?"

"C'mon. I know you know about that dagger. And that it kills the vampire that uses it." There was no doubt that she had a deal with John Gilbert. Once Elijah was daggered, his compulsion would wear off and Katerina would be free to leave the tomb. "Stefan, or Damon?"

" . . . Stefan."

"Hm. Poor choice. But I would've said the same thing if you'd chosen Damon, I guess."

Reese slid the last blood bag to Kat. She eyed it. "I have a question for you, too."

Shit.

"How are you going to bargain for Caroline's life if you run off before Nik shows up?"

Ah. A dilemma Reese had been avoiding thinking of. There wasn't much of a choice in the matter.

"I'd have to stay."

And see him again. Talk to him again. Beautiful, horrible Nik.

"Perfect. I'll expect something explosive, then?"

Author's note: im actually enjoying writing this so much. I love enjoying writing. I stayed up till 5 am finishing this chapter and i don't even feel tired like wtf.

anyways some flashbacks r gonna begin soon && reese and Caroline will interact more since ... reese has issues. and ofc reese & kat.