V: Tomorrow It Will Be You

6th September / 2002

The Raven Coven, should their secrets be indulged, would be considered most dishonorable in their practices.

ㅤThe first would be their existence itself; as witches, spread across the world, hiding in plain sight, they were both accustomed to and taught to handle situations in which curiosity got the best of humans — plainly. Magic was to be kept utterly hidden, whether that entailed simply renouncing the practice for some time or more brutish measures or a nice compulsion spell.

ㅤThat inevitably formed the basis of all their secrets. The Ravens were a powerful coven, feared by the rest of their kind for the magic they practiced digressed from the conventional spirit and ancestral magic. Reese was privy to the fact that the fear they alarmed in the witch community was due to their rather maudlin affinity for theatrics and the security that came with being labeled villains. No one dared to actually touch them.

Reese would happily admit she enjoyed having them fear her; witches, vampires, werewolves alike. It allowed her to not have to waste time on silly brawls and grudges. In fact, if she were, to be honest, she was quite content spending her days honing her craft and roaming about, just enjoying life without a worry.

Unfortunately, she was not born for a life without worry.

Their purpose was to give sanctuary, a home, to witches cast out by their own covens. A second chance everyone wished to have. And they've made good on it: training schools, orphanages, fair chances and an equal weight of influence for every council member, regardless of past grievances. A harmonious arrangement, but even then, the very core of their power depended on the survival of the three founding bloodlines, the ones who created this special magic that had them rejected by society — the Crowleys, the Biduris, and the Yungs.

ㅤRaven magic was all about amplifying their power through the mind and emotion. It had a . . . rocky history, so to speak, what with the blood links, mind links, life links . . . the sacrifices in the early days, and it would be impossible to forget the dark magic era. But it bled back to them; the power imbalance — although easy to ignore, especially nowadays — between Ravens by blood and the rest.

ㅤReese had the delectable luck of being extra important, as the last witch alive of the Yung dynasty. Along with her rugged good looks, she inherited a shoulder-sagging weight of responsibilities and expectations. I bear it so they don't have to; the words of her late father, words she shirked at every turn.

To go hand-in-hand with that, though, she was also the daughter of a notorious Gemini siphoner and vampire hunter.

So when it came to mind games — it was in her blood.

With every neck snapped, every heart ripped out, her power grew stronger. Restless. It became sensitive to the softest of emotions; a mere second lost in her mind instigated a tidal wave of unchecked power.

She had learned to revel in that knowledge, weaving it around her to create an impenetrable shield.

Nobody could truly beat her, so why let it bother her?

( Elijah refrained from voicing it, but she knew he was reminded of Nik. )

Whatever it was, her magic worked too well.

The reason behind their plan was simple: Elijah's compulsions wore off the moment he was daggered, and when he came back, his minions were gone. Together they could use magic and put them under a more powerful spell.

They chose a country club. After hours, it was just the workers putting everything back in its place, and cleaning up after another exhausting day.

Sam was the first one she saw, putting away the golf equipment. He was handsome — nervous, shy-smiling, mirthful. He remembered her from earlier that week when she'd approached him at the local bar.

"Reese," he exclaimed, shocked, tightly gripping a golf club. "What are you doing here?"

"Making vampire minions," Reese answered truthfully.

Sam let out a breath of relief. He found it funny. "You're not supposed to be here, y'know."

"I wanted to see you."

He grinned. "To make me your vampire minion?"

"Precisely."

He shuffled closer to her. She sighed. This was the hard part.

Her fingers clenched into a fist; the magic tugged at her, begging to be let out. She obliged, and so, Sam fell to the floor in a dreamless slumber. For now.

"I hope you don't plan on making small talk with everyone here," Elijah said, stepping out of the shadows. "We'd be here for hours, and we cannot afford to waste our time."

"I know that," she said. "I wasn't making small talk."

She was, and they both knew it.

Nonetheless, in no time at all, the reception area of the country club was littered with the bodies of its employees, each soundly sleeping.

"This is much more tedious than I expected," Reese told Elijah, watching him pour his blood out into a plastic bowl they'd nicked from the kitchen. "Much less fighting. And noise. And destruction."

"I'm sorry, what kind of fight did you expect the humans to put up with you?"

"They're so . . ."

"Weak?" Elijah offered.

"Vulnerable," Reese amended. "How do they even trust themselves enough to get out of their houses? I can't imagine."

"They don't usually have their lives constantly endangered from supernatural forces."

"They do now."

Some humans were just unfortunate enough to get tangled up in worlds they ought to stay away from. It was terrifying — the idea of a superior being playing chess with their lives. What, exactly, made her and Elijah this lot in particular? She would say because they were the first ones they found. Why were they the first ones they found? Fate decreed it so; they were in the wrong place; simply bad luck — plenty of viable answers.

Either way, they were part of the supernatural world now.

The process they'd picked was slow-going, but straightforward. She took inspiration from Esther's work, modifying it to fit her kind of magic. They fed the humans a mixture of her and Elijah's blood, charmed with intent, and then snapped their necks.

Again, Sam was the first to wake up in transition; the first to complete it by feeding on her blood and confirming the permanency of their spell.

Elijah trusted her enough then to let her dagger him, and see if his added compulsions wore off.

They didn't.

It was a great achievement, until over time, they noticed the cultish devotion their newly created vampires began honing toward them.

Advantageous as it was, it made the reality of what they'd done trickle in. Reese felt the frightening guilt of her actions twist in her stomach, backtracking the progress she'd made.

Her power was real. Dangerously real.

She wondered, not for the first time, but with an intensified curiosity, what her mother had been like. It must have taken a deadly sort of ambition to garner so much fear when by nature, she was born without magic.

─────────────

Present Day

With all the commotion Elijah's arrival had caused, Reese had fallen behind on her schoolwork. Now that he was incapacitated for the time being, she decided to take to the Grill and spend the day catching up — there was a reason, after all, that she chose to attend high school. To finish high school. Her abrupt departure from New Orleans in '85 had ruined Sophomore year, for all it was worth.

The mortal school curriculum was neither as exciting as the Raven witch curriculum, nor as dangerous. She didn't need to get her hands dirty for a good grade. Instead of nerve-racking assignments and fugacious deadlines, high school was utterly banal.

Reese loved it.

"Have you seen Caroline today?"

Matt placed a tray of french fries on her table.

"No," Reese answered, looking up from her work. "Not since, uh, last week."

Matt pulled out a chair. Pointedly, he stated, "You haven't been in school."

Oddly enough, Reese liked Matt. He was human and uninvolved with the mess they were in, for the most part. There was the whole ordeal with Vicki — she wasn't privy to the details — but if he'd stumbled into anything he shouldn't know, he'd probably been compelled to forget it. He was a breath of fresh air, especially now that more people, in general, were aware that she was a witch. Moreover, the pieces of her past that had come to light. Matt was just Matt.

"No." Reese set down her pen and reached for the fries. "I've been flunking the past week. Just been busy with some family drama."

Matt knew her parents were dead. "Cousins?"

"And aunts and uncles," Reese added, only because she liked the idea of having cousins, aunts and uncles. "Plus, y'know, Care and I haven't exactly been on talking terms."

"Right. Yeah. Me too."

She popped a fry in her mouth. "What happened?"

"I'm not even sure, to be honest." He slumped in his seat. "Just, uh, stuff, I guess. With Tyler, before he left town."

"Huh. Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out." Reese had adopted a fixed vocabulary of words and phrases to use when trying to comfort someone. She recited those with precision because honestly, she didn't care about Matt's troubles with Caroline. "Also, keep the fries coming. I'm catching up on schoolwork."

Matt went back to work.

It wasn't long before someone else pulled out the chair and sat in front of her, though.

"We haven't heard from Elijah once in the past five days," stated Jonas Martin.

Reese peered at him through her eyelashes. "He's currently indisposed."

He would've been here if she hadn't replaced that replica with the real dagger.

"What?" Something twitched in Jonas' face. A mixture of fear and animosity. "Did he leave Mystic Falls?"

"No," Reese said, sitting up, "he is, for all intents and purposes, dead."

"Elijah's an Original. He can't be —"

"— killed. I know. That's why I said for all intents and purposes. He'll be back before you know it."

A beat. "Was it them? Stefan and Damon?"

"Yes."

"And you just let them kill him?"

"Like I said, he'll be back before you know it."

"They called us here," Jonas said. "Bonnie Bennet wanted to have a civil conversation."

"They're probably going to try and convince you to work with them."

"They're our enemies."

Again, for all intents and purposes, yes. "I suggest you be careful. Anyone that stands in their way usually ends up dead. Either by accident, or they remove you from the equation."

Jonas knew what lengths they'd gone to with his son, Luka. Hypnotizing him — that kind of magic needed skill, sure, but also ambition. The Mystic Falls gang were driven. They loved deeply. As long as Elena's life was in danger, she doubted anything could deter them.

"You seem to stand in their way pretty often," Jonas stated, as she was the exemplar for whoever was on the outs with them. "You're not dead. They haven't killed you."

"They can't kill me," Reese emphasized. The righteous say what they say about power, but it got her this far. "They couldn't even if they tried. And maybe you're powerful enough to hold them back, but I doubt your son is. They clearly know that."

He fell silent, his gaze weary.

She continued, "This is all I'm going to do to help you. It's your decision. Now, I think they're waiting for you, so."

She gestured to the other side of Grill, where Bonnie and Stefan were sitting, along with Luka, staring intently at them. Jonas snapped out of his thoughts, nodded his thanks, and left.

The world seemed hellbent on diverting her focus today, though. After Jonas and Luka left, Bonnie made her way over to Reese. Stefan had probably been trying to listen in on her and Jonas. Having caught nothing, their next step was —

"So, we're having a girls' night," Bonnie said cheerfully, nicking a fry from her plate. "Me, Elena and Care, tonight at Elena's place. You're invited."

"Mhm." Reese smiled derisively. "Thanks for the invitation."

Bonnie noticed it but didn't react to it. ". . . so, you'll come?"

"No. I'm busy."

"With what?"

"Schoolwork," Reese said, like it was obvious.

"You never used to miss before." There was a tiredness in Bonnie's voice.

Reese looked up. Bonnie was frowning, and it looked genuine. "Things have changed. None of you exactly consider me a . . . friend anymore, which is fine. So, skip the small talk and ask what you wanna ask."

"That's not true," Bonnie said, face pinched together. "We've been friends for three years, Reese. We were just a little shocked when we found out you were a witch, and that you'd been keeping it from us."

"Bonnie." Reese let go of the mask of contempt for a minute. Whatever was happening was happening; it didn't change that they had been friends. Good friends. "That was one thing. But let's not pretend that what's happening isn't happening."

"That's kind of the point for girls' night," Bonnie argued. "Just have one night to relax. Gossip, watch movies, eat ice cream, and . . . do high school things." Then, she added, "and make up. Care's been miserable without you, Reese."

Reese took a moment too long to answer. "Bonnie, please. I don't want to fight. But I —"

"Why can't you just," Bonnie interjected, a little frustrated; she tapped her fingers on the table, "just—"

"Pick a side?" Reese finished. "I do care about you guys. But I knew from the moment I stepped into this town that one day, Elena's time would come. I've accepted it. And Elijah — he's my friend." Her best friend, despite the betrayal and the lies. It was just their way of life. "When I was on the run, he was the only person I could rely on. I can't pick a side. My answer isn't going to change, no matter how many times you ask."

She said more than she meant to.

Old habits, probably. That sense of comfort she'd fallen into around those three girls refused to leave.

Finally, Bonnie said, "Well, the Martins agreed to help us."

"Good for you."

After Bonnie left, Reese was decidedly not in the mood to study.

Admittedly, Reese didn't have anybody to hang out with. She briefly wondered if she should ring up Sam, but . . . hanging out with her compelled minion? How pathetic was that? She wasn't Nik.

Carried away by her whims, she decided she would bring Elijah back to her apartment.

She needed an excuse to go to the Salvatore house though, now that she'd announced her position in this supposed battle. Elena would have no reason to keep her secret anymore, either. They'd probably be informed of her ties with Nik soon enough.

What reason could she possibly have to show up there?

Her phone dinged with a text message, presenting her with the perfect opportunity:

DE(A)MON:
you haven't come to see me.
i'm offended. i thought we were supposed to bond.
xo
kat.

─────────────

August 20 / 2003

"It does not please me to say it," Elijah said, looking down at her, "but you would not last five minutes in a fight with a vampire."

Reese, wheezing on the floor, raised her arm. A gust of magic knocked him backwards. He hit the wall with a loud thud.

"I don't need to," she panted out, clutching her stomach. "I have magic."

Elijah, the petulant little shit that he could be, rolled his eyes, springing back to his feet. "How many times do we have to have this conversation, Reese?"

Despite herself, Reese grinned. "At least once more, Mr Mikaelson."

"Do not quote Pirates of the Caribbean to me."

"Ha! You got the reference!"

He lent her his arm. "Get up, Reese."

She took it and let him haul her up, not putting in any effort. "You know, the more you train me, the stronger I'll get, and maybe just as prone to stabbing you in the back."

"And when that happens, I assure you, I'll rue the day I decided to show up at that dastardly ceremony." He adjusted the rolled-up sleeves of his white button-up, then positioned himself, ready for her to make the first blow. "Again."

Reese groaned. "This is useless. You're a vampire. There's no way I'd win against you without magic."

"I didn't forbid you from using magic." He repeated those vexing words, always singing the same song, over and over. "There is no use of that power if you don't —"

"— utilize it, blah blah blah," Reese finished, sighing with exaggeration. "I mean, isn't it better for me to utilize it as violently as I can?"

"This violence is imbecilic and will only get you so far when you have no aim."

"Ah," Reese exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "Word of the day!"

"You're lazy."

"You call me lazy, I say I'm just making my work easier."

Training with Elijah was by far the sole thing that had come out of this deal that made Reese regret it. Sometimes.

They'd barely spent a day apart in the past three years, and with that, Elijah had barely spent a day not training her to fight.

To be perfectly honest, she'd included it as part of the deal. He was right — during the year she'd been more or less by herself, some of the scuffles she got into with vampires hadn't ended greatly for her. There were numerous injuries. Healing magic was complicated, seeing as she wasn't a dispenser of biological knowledge, and at the time, she hadn't had an immortal vampire blood bag by her side, ready to heal her at a moment's notice.

Really, it was disgraceful how familiar she had become with the metallic taste of blood, inching down her throat.

The bitterness didn't even make her flinch.

(On the other hand, that probably meant she would last longer as a vampire than the average Raven witch, if it ever came down to that. Not that it would — she simply enjoyed having the knowledge she was better. In some way.)

Elijah's goal was to help her refine her magic, and she'd finally figured out his master plan.

Three years.

First he taught her to keep a calm head. Get that accidental magic in check. Said he knew what he was doing because he'd been a vampire for a thousand years, and so felt every emotion ten times more intensely for a thousand years. He was different from Nik in that regard. She rarely saw him express his anger violently. And it worked. It was like a habit now — that shield she'd built up, deflecting anything that could prove to cloud her judgment.

Then they worked on holding back. On actually controlling the power. How he let her feel the guilt of that compulsion spell, how he let it motivate her.

And now they were on the final step. Refining, sharpening, whatever. A combination of the previous steps. Know when to hold back, and when not to.

She hadn't seen it happening until Nik paid her a visit ten days ago and pointed it out.

"Isn't this just wonderful?" Nik had circled her, arms spread. His lips red, and pulled into a wide smirk, eyes sparkling with — if Reese didn't know any better — she would say it was joy. The coffins of his family were spread out across the room, all of them sealed shut, except one. "My collection is almost complete, save for one pesky older brother."

Reese had felt unsure.

She was standing in one place, letting him feel like the predator, arms crossed. "You realize this is just putting me off, right?"

"Oh, I'll convince you yet."

He'd stopped right behind her, chest pressed against her back. His breath tickled her neck. She clenched her jaw, trying not to lean in.

He had always stepped too close, even back when they'd both been toying with each other, and she had always enjoyed it.

"You seem to be mistaken about my intentions, little dove," he'd whispered, right into her ear. "I know you, Reese. My brother, noble and kind as he is, he's already failing to keep up with you. It's been, what, three years? How many Ravens have you killed? How much closer are you to getting what you want?"

His knuckles softly trailed down the side of her neck, pushing back her hair.

Her stomach twisted.

She had felt his eyes boring into her, dark and blue.

"It isn't so easy to convince me," she'd breathed out, tilting her face to meet his stare. They were nose to nose, and all she could see was blue. "For all I know you'll be just as slow as him."

"Oh, I don't have to convince you of that." He'd stepped back, letting cool air rush in between their bodies. "Go back. See it for yourself."

Now she was seeing it for herself, and she couldn't help but feel like she'd been played for a fool.

Elijah and Reese had the same end goal: get rid of Esther.

Only, Elijah's goal was an extension: kill Nik, and then get rid of Esther.

Reese didn't mind it.

She knew Nik. He was a nuisance. She did not care for him, despite those months she'd gotten to know him, pre-ceremony.

Well, she did not care for him enough to want to save him.

He did his best to tail them. Deep down, she was aware there was a reason she let him actually find her this time.

"At this rate, I might as well sit down and wait for desiccation," Elijah commented, prompting her.

Reese made her decision with the first blow, holding back her magic, and then letting it trickle forward just as he blocked her punch.

There was a deafening crack.

Elijah smiled at her.

─────────────

Present Day

"Hello, Reese," Damon smirked at her, leaning on the wall, just behind the door. He had a glass of bourbon in one hand, the other crossed across his torso. Ever since he'd hauled Elijah's graying body to his cellar and caught her kneeling beside it the next day, the gloating had become insufferable. "Come to caress Elijah's dead face again?"

She smirked right back, slinking into the house. "Someone told me I can do better."

"Oh, Reese, I'm flattered, but—"

"Shh, back off, Damon." Katerina greeted Reese with her signature smile; head tilted, peering through her eyelashes, sly and duplicitous; pointer finger fondling with a lock of Reese's hair. "Reese is here to see me. Aren't you?"

A scowl wiped that irritating smirk right off his face. The idea of Reese and Katerina — the two most untrustworthy, on-and-off friends of the group — getting along was not exactly pleasant.

"You know, Reese, we have plenty of space in the cellar," Damon said, brisking away from them. "I'm sure we can find a way to put you right next to Elijah."

She followed him into the living room, eyes narrowing with interest on what seemed to be a brown box full of journals. "And risk me undaggering him?"

"Tut, tut." He adjusted himself on the divan and picked up an old diary. "We both know if you wanted to do that, he wouldn't have been rotting in my cellar for the past week."

"Ah. I'm getting predictable." She swiped out a diary with a brown leather cover from the box, flipping it open to a random page. "I should switch things up." With a sinister voice, she started speaking, "Emily Bennet was taken from the council today. They kidnapped her and took her to the same location her ancestors were burned a hundred years ago."

Damon snatched it from her grip. "Give me that."

"How morbid," she commented, reaching for another one. "Johnathon Gilbert. 1866. Isn't that the crazy one? Or was that Samantha?"

"Get up and be a good host Damon," Katerina said, dropping on an armchair. Then, to Reese, she said, "Nice car."

"Thanks. It was a gift."

Kat smiled that damned smile. "From Elijah?"

"Mhm."

"How cute," Damon said derisively. "You don't happen to know where the site of the witch massacre is, do you, Reese?"

"And why would I know that?"

"You're a witch. Like you never let us forget for even a second."

"I'm a Raven Coven witch, Damon," Reese sneered. "It was spirit witches that were killed. I've never particularly cared about them."

"Lies," Damon hissed softly, "Elijah wanted to find it, so I'll function with the presumption that you do too."

Ugh. "Well, Elijah and I don't have the same goals. He wanted to kill Klaus. I don't particularly care for him."

"Lies."

Had Elena told them?

"I don't believe a word out of your mouth."

"Okay," Reese said. "Katerina, do you want to know where the site of the witch massacre is?"

Kat considered it. "I'm hungry," she said with purpose.

Okay.

Perhaps Reese was a little tempted to caress Elijah's dead face.

She felt she could think when he was around. Everything he had taught her seemed to come back ten times stronger in his presence. She was never not trying to make him proud, deep down, even when he was dead. It was pathetic.

"Did you try to burn him?" Reese asked, repulsed, Elijah's body at her feet, suit scattered with burn holes. "Where's the respect for the dead, Damon?"

"Says the dead-face-caresser!" He shouted back.

(Reese has definitely not gone grave robbing before.)

Kat put a finger to her lips. Reese got the message and put a muffling charm up around them.

"He can't hear us," she said.

"So," Kat said, with emphasis, "When's Klaus coming to town?"

"If only I knew that."

She reckoned it would be with the upcoming full moon.

"Haven't you noticed," Kat drawled, "a distinct lack of Raven vampires after your life, this past week?"

"Do you take me for a fool?"

Kat just raised her brows and shrugged. "You don't think they just decided to put an end to that, what, ten-year-long hunt for you?"

"You think this is Nik's doing," Reese stated.

"It wouldn't be the first time."

She could see why he would do something like that. Eliminate all her other enemies, probably to draw attention to himself. Send a message, loud and clear, that he was the one she should be worried about. Granted, under these circumstances, Nik wasn't her enemy.

But she supposed that didn't necessarily mean she wasn't his.

"Well, he has issues." Reese crossed her arms. "The real question is why are you trying to help me?"

To be fair, it was Reese that decided she had a grudge against him in the first place.

Kat went for the blood bags she'd claimed she wanted. "I'd like to keep you indebted to me."

"I'm not going to save you from Nik."

She winked at her. "You'll want to. I don't think he was very happy when you abandoned him."

What was that supposed to mean?

"What do you know, Kat?"

"Ooh, a nickname," she purred instead of answering her question. "Nik. Kat. Am I to be your next conquest?"

It reminded Reese of the way blood had trickled down Kat's chin, that night in the tomb.

She wasn't too keen on the effect Kat had on her, even locked away in a tomb, using her words to twist her way through Reese's facade. She was identical to Elena, yet Reese only felt that attraction when she was around Kat. Something about her . . . something about that prospect of danger, knowing she was clever enough to rival Reese.

Judging by Reese's track record, it wasn't too surprising.

"You know, he was never actively searching for you. Not once. You could've lived —"

Kat raised a hand, face pinching together. She swept her gaze around the cellar, then pinned it on Elijah's body. Reese followed it, spotting what had caused her abrupt concern. The dagger embedded in Elijah's chest was moving, ever so slightly.

"Don't do it, Reese," Kat whispered.

"It's not me."

Reese stepped forward, silent, and waved a hand through the space above Elijah. The air rippled and dizziness waved over her — an unmistakable bout of nausea that made her blood run cold. She stumbled away from it.

"Spirit magic," she said, clenching her fist. Her body felt light. Out of her control. The sick rush that washed over her whenever she came in contact with spirit magic. "The Martins."

The dagger stopped moving.

Before Kat could rush headfirst into that fight, an invisible force picked up a wooden stake and drove it through her abdomen.

"Damon!"

Reese crouched on the floor, waiting for the dizziness to subside, as the dagger started moving again. She clenched her fingers harder, tighter, glaring at empty air. There was a power struggle between her and whichever Martin was here, spirit-walking.

Damon rushed in, knocking against the frame of the doorway. He wrenched out the stake from Kat, squinting, eyes knocking about, assessing the scene. "What the hell is happening?"

"Damon," Kat repeated, as if trying to convey something else in her tone.

He spotted the dagger, slipping up and down, the struggle.

Reese's concentration broke when she saw him pick up the flamethrower.

Her eyes widened. "Damon, don't —"

It was too late, or he didn't care to listen.

A column of fire erupted from the thrower, spreading, and catching onto the invisible figure. Luka Martin, outlined in burning gold, screamed in pain as his literal soul got fried. She watched him flail about, then vanish, back into his apartment, probably with his father next to him.

Damon wasn't stopping, so she raised a hand, blocking the fire.

"What the hell are you doing?" Stefan asked, behind Damon.

"Some kind of crazy ass psychic witch attack," Damon replied, dropping the flamethrower, rendered useless. He grabbed Reese's upper arm and forced her upright. "Reese, what the hell—"

Reese used her magic to knock him off her. "This is it. I'm taking Elijah."

He advanced on her, too close, jaw clenched. "Don't for one second think that I'm going to let you —"

"What are you gonna do, stop me?"

She waved a hand. His neck snapped, and he fell to the floor.

Stefan blocked her way now, though his demeanour was much gentler than his brother's. "Reese—"

"You should go deal with Jonas, Stefan. It would be in your best interest."

Stefan bristled. "It was—"

He cut himself off by zipping away.

She spared Kat a glance, leaning against the wall, on the floor, then took out her phone and placed a call.

"Sam," she said, "be a dear and come carry Elijah's body for me, hm?"

─────────────

Elijah's dead, gray, disappointed body was staring at her.

It was unfortunate because she was trying to meditate, and she couldn't focus.

Yesterday, not long after Luka died, his father had also been killed. That was what Reese had warned them about. She didn't have to fear the Mystic Falls gang. She was much too important to die because of something so trivial. Something that wasn't the forecenter of her story. But still, she sensed a message in the tragedy of the Martins, one that corrupted her thoughts — yesterday it was them, tomorrow it will be you.

It was stupid.

What they did was a testament to how far they were willing to go for Elena; for their own.

But they couldn't get Reese. They didn't know anything about her that she didn't want them to know. Her weaknesses . . . only her coven knew that, because she shared those with them.

Here was the thing: the Martins were dead, Elijah was out of the picture, Isobel was here, and she knew that the sacrifice was going to happen. The curse would be broken. It was inevitable. It was a fact.

The problem was Esther's pesky voice in her head, planting an untoward, abrupt thought: Elena Gilbert should die.

So there she was, in the middle of her living room, back stiff as a rod as she tried to reach Esther through the Raven link.

Despicable Esther who'd made a permanent abode in Sweet Azzie's mind.

She screwed her eyes shut and reached and reached and reached. That tug of magic in her arms traveled to her gut, then spread to her forehead, but all she felt was Azzie.

Esther had put that idea in her head, and now she was turning away, pushing Azzie to the front.

But the thing was, Reese always felt Azzie, a consistent, soft presence. Her magic brushing against Reese's. Empowering her. Supporting her, even after all the betrayal and heartbreak.

If she wanted Nik to kill Elena, then there had to be a catch.

Esther wouldn't let her know unless she was certain Reese wasn't going to help Nik, which was the one thing Reese wasn't certain about. Nik would pull her in if he could get his hands on her.

He had a proclivity for convincing her to do just about anything. Exhibit A: stabbing Elijah in the back.

And he was coming.

Reese was staring right back at Elijah, propped up on her couch, frustrated, when the bell rang.

Damon stood in her doorway, arms crossed, traces of the anger he'd shown swirling in his eyes.

"I'm not giving Elijah back," Reese told him before he could even ask.

He managed to peek inside and bristled at what he saw. "Have some respect for the dead, Reese."

Reese didn't respond.

He smirked. "Speaking of, are you by any chance aware of the box of severed limbs and heads out here by your door?"

She narrowed her eyes. "If this is some sort of joke—"

He backed up, raising his arms in surrender. "No joke."

Reese pushed past him and into the hallway.

And sure enough, there was a brown cardboard box kept next to her wall. There was a dark wet patch at the bottom of it, oozing out a diluted mixture of water and blood. The flaps were open since Damon had rifled through it, and the stench of rot floated up to her nostrils. Inside, perched upon an abundance of ice, were several cleaved-off body parts — arms, ankles, hands, flaps of skin, and lastly, a head — caked with rusty, dried blood. They were random, with no visible pattern, except the one thing that connected them to each other — a black tattoo of a raven in flight.

Katerina's words came back to her, haven't you noticed a distinct lack of Raven vampires after your life, this past week?

"Shit," she muttered.

"Yeah," Damon said, flapping about a small notecard that she hadn't spotted before. "By the way, who the hell is Nik?"

Reese snatched the notecard from him. His handwriting was on it. 

You're most welcome, little dove.
Love, Nik.

Instead of catering to Damon's enquiries, she chose to grumble, "Damn dead Raven vampires. He killed them. For me. What an asshole."

"Reese," he repeated, this time with conviction. "Who the hell is Nik?"

"Nik. Niklaus." She closed up the flaps of the box, and looked up at Damon, partly for the sake of dramatics, and partly out of her own irritation. "Klaus. He's here."

Damon blinked.

A moment of silence.

Then, "Wait a minute, you know him?"

Author's Note:

Chapter 5. Hehe. This is more of a filler, but next chapter is gonna be fun. finally a teeny tiny glimpse of reese&nik. 2 more chapters till s3, too. so. fun.