The Hellhound In TVD

To say Rebeker was enjoying herself more than she was supposed to would be an understatement. Yes, there was a looming threat trying to erase their very existence and use their blood to bridge the gap for horrors forgotten by time. 'It certainly would look good on Mother's "bloody resume," though Rebekah had to admit, in a twisted, dark way, it was impressive.

It was the work of a psychotic genius. Rebekah was fairly certain it classified Esther as one of the most deranged entities in the history of the world. I mean, come on, who in their right mind would want to dismantle the world by releasing things that had spent eons festering in a rage-filled incarceration? But that wasn't why Rebekah was humming as she painted her nails a vibrant, defiant crimson this morning.

Her mood was up because for the first time in a millennium, the power dynamic in the family had shifted. Michael had implemented a strict "containment protocol." No Original was allowed to move without a direct clearance or a specialized escort. It was a tactical necessity. Michael knew Esther's game; he knew that a single Original caught off guard was just a blood-bag waiting to happen. To prevent them from being blindsided by another "Banshee-special," they were effectively under house arrest in a temporary, high-security estate on the edge of town.

Klaus, predictably, was in a foul, murderous mood. His sprawling manor was a pile of ash, the majority of his hybrids had been vaporized by Michael's "excessive" defense of the forest, and he was currently homeless and prohibited from "replenishing" his ranks. Michael had explicitly forbidden the creation of new hybrids to keep the magical signature of the town clean, and even if Klaus wanted to defy him, there were barely any pure werewolves left in the region. Most of them had already been scouted or converted into Michael's elite Death Dealers.

Klaus stormed toward the front door, "And to where might you be going, brother?" Elijah's voice drifted down from the upstairs landing. He looked down at Klaus, his expression one of calm, stoic observation, though his eyes held a warning.

Klaus stopped, as his hand gripped the brass doorknob so hard it began to groan under the pressure. He looked up at Elijah, with a mask of pure irritation in his face. "Out, I need some fresh air, Elijah. This 'protective custody' feels remarkably like a prison cell, and I have never had much patience for cages."

Rebekah didn't look up from her nails, but a sharp, cat-like smirk pulled at her lips. "I suspect that 'fresh air' will be accompanied by a few dead bodies before long," she remarked dryly. "Nik doesn't know how to breathe without the scent of copper in the air."

Klaus spun around, glaring at his sister. "If I wanted a commentary on my lungs, sister, I would have asked. I am going for a walk. Unless, of course, the 'High Commander' has decided I'm to be shackled to the radiator?"

"Our brother simply wants you alive, Niklaus," Elijah said, his tone unwavering. "A walk is a luxury Esther would love to capitalize on. If you step past that threshold, you are not just a man on a stroll; you are a target."

"Don't be a martyr, Nik. Mother is out there, and she's unpredictable. Walking out that door is exactly what she wants. You'd only be playing into her hand by... well, being Klaus. Arrogant, loud, and remarkably easy to bait." Rebekah said.

The air in the hallway shimmered for a fraction of a second before Elijah appeared at the base of the stairs, his suit jacket buttoned and his expression unreadable.

"Which is precisely why I shall accompany him," Elijah said, with a calm voice that shocked Rebekah.

Klaus blinked, his irritation momentarily replaced by genuine confusion. "You? Since when do you volunteer for a suicide mission in the name of 'fresh air'?"

Elijah adjusted his cufflinks and gave his brother a steady gaze, "I find that my own patience for these walls has reached its threshold, brother. A brisk walk and a moment of civilization may be just the thing to clear the mind before the next storm breaks. Besides, two targets are far more difficult to isolate than one."

Klaus's confusion melted into a look of amusement. He shot Rebekah a triumphant glance, a silent 'See? I have backup.' Rebekah simply rolled her eyes, the sheer level of brotherly posturing making her want to scream.

"Bloody hell," she muttered as the two brothers stepped out into the morning light. She sat in silence for exactly three seconds before she stood up, grabbed her coat, and followed them. "If they're going to get themselves murdered, I'm at least going to be there to say I told them so."

The Mystic Grill

At a corner table, Elena and Stefan were hunched over coffee, Elena's entire body tensed the moment she saw Rebekah cross the threshold. Her hand tightened around her mug, until her knuckles turned white. Rebekah noticed the reaction instantly and a cat-like smirk spreading across her face as she leaned against a nearby pillar, relishing the flicker of fear.

"Now, now, sister," Klaus chuckled, stepping past her with an easy, predatory grace, "Be gentle. We're here for the atmosphere, not a hunting trophy."

He walked straight to their table, pulling out a chair with a screech of wood on tile. "Hello, love," he said, his eyes locking onto Elena's.

"Klaus," Elena managed, her voice tight.

"Oh, come now," Klaus said, spreading his hands in a gesture of mock innocence. "No need to look so guarded. We're all friends here, aren't we? United against a common, rather maternal threat. I thought a little morning camaraderie might soothe the soul."

Stefan shifted, his eyes narrowing as Elijah approached and stood behind Klaus. "Elijah," Stefan acknowledged.

Elijah inclined his head. "Stefan. I trust the morning has been... peaceful?"

"Peaceful isn't the word I'd use," Stefan countered. "Shouldn't you three be keeping a low profile? Your mother is quite literally trying to unmake you. Walking into the town's most popular diner seems like a bad tactical move."

Rebekah scoffed, sliding into the seat next to Klaus. "We are the Mikaelsons, Stefan. We don't cower like some bloody sewer rats just because Mother Dearest is feeling a little murderous. If she wants us, she can find us in the light of day. We aren't going to spend our lives hiding in the shadows."

Elijah placed a hand on the back of the chair, his gaze sweeping the room. "While my sister's delivery is a bit... spirited, the sentiment remains. We cannot protect ourselves by ceasing to exist before she even strikes. We are here to observe the board, not hide beneath it."

"A little murderous?" Klaus chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. "I think that's a bit of an understatement, sister. Mother isn't just looking for a stern conversation and a time-out. She's out to wipe us all out, down to the last drop of our blackened blood. It's a family reunion with a side of genocide."

"Glad to see your sense of humor is as warped as ever," a gravelly voice interrupted.

They all turned to see Alaric approaching the table. He looked like he hadn't slept in forty-eight hours. He stopped a few feet away, his eyes moving from Klaus to Elijah with weary suspicion.

"Ah, the lonely hunter returns," Klaus greeted him with an amused glint in his eye. "Come to join our little tea party, Ric? I'm afraid we're fresh out of bourbon, but the tension is complimentary."

Alaric ignored the jab, looking straight at Elijah.

Elijah inclined his head, "Ignore my brother's levity, Niklaus finds comfort in the macabre. Rest assured, Mr. Saltzman, this mess is being handled with extreme care. We are acutely aware of what is at stake here, not just for our family, but for this entire town and our bloodline. We take our responsibility in this matter quite seriously."

"Responsibility?" Elena cut in, her voice trembling with suppressed anger, "Since when have any of you cared about responsibility? You've spent centuries doing whatever you wanted, and now we're the ones caught in the crossfire of your mid-life or mid-millennium crisis."

Rebekah let out a loud, theatrical scoff, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, "Oh, don't worry your pretty little 'betrayal-filled' head about it, Elena. Just sit tight while all the heavy lifting is done for you. You're like a pretty little tea party doll who just needs to sit there, look distressed and wait for the adults to finish the work."

"That's enough, Rebekah," Stefan said, his hand moving instinctively toward Elena's, "She's been through more because of your family than anyone should have to endure. You don't get to mock her for being human."

Rebekah stood up abruptly, her chair scraping harshly against the floor as she did. She didn't say another word because of how absurd that claim was, I mean just look at Katherine but no, Elena has suffered more according to the nonsense Stefan just said. She simply turned on her heel and moved to the bar section of the grill with resentment.

Klaus chuckled, watching her go. "My apologies. My sister has always had a flair for the dramatic. But then again," he looked at Elena, his smile deepening, "you did choose to dagger her once or twice. Memories like that tend to linger."

Elijah cleared his throat, steering the conversation back on track. "I couldn't help but notice the absence of the elder Salvatore. I would have expected Damon to be hovering nearby, armed with a quip and a glass of something high-proof."

Stefan shifted in his seat, "I'm not my brother's keeper, Elijah. Damon is... elsewhere."

"Damon does what Damon always does," Alaric added, crossing his arms. "No one can predict his next move. He's probably out there doing exactly what he wants to do."

———————

"Damon, I said NO!"

The Camaro ate up the asphalt of the winding backroads, Bonnie sat with her arms crossed, staring out the window at the blurred treeline, while Damon tapped a beat on the steering wheel.

"Oh, come on, Bonnie! Lighten up, will you?" Damon nudged her shoulder playfully with a hand, "The world is ending, the forest is a giant ashtray, and we're on a road trip. It's practically a vacation. Let's play a game."

Bonnie cut him a dry look. "I'm not playing 'I Spy' with a vampire, Damon. You'll just see a squirrel three miles away and brag about it."

"Not 'I Spy.' Never Have I Ever," Damon smirked, his blue eyes flashing with mischief. "I'll go first. Never have I ever... tried so hard not to be this good-looking."

Bonnie blinked, then let out a slow, heavy breath, shaking her head at the sheer, unadulterated narcissism of the man. "You are unbelievable. Have you ever, in your entire hundred-plus years of existence, not been completely full of yourself?"

Damon's smirk widened into a wicked grin. "Of myself? No. But a lot of ladies have commented on being quite 'full' when I'm in them."

Bonnie's face scrunched up in immediate regret. "Okay, gross! Stop. I so did not need that mental image, or any image involving your... whatever."

"Hey, you asked, Maleficent," Damon chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "Come on, it's your turn. We've still got another hour before we hit Monroe. Distract me before I start singing 80s power ballads."

Bonnie sighed, leaning her head against the cool glass of the window. "Fine. Never have I ever... thought I'd be a witch currently stuck in a car with a vampire who once tried to kill me."

Damon held up a finger, looking at her with faux-offense. "Okay, for the record, I was not going to kill you. I was using 'aggressive negotiations' to get what I wanted. It's called tactics, Bonnie. Look it up."

"Oh, is that so?" Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "Is that what we're calling 'strangulation' these days? Tactics?"

"Oh, yeah," Damon countered, nodding vigorously. "And let's not forget you've done that witchy brain-melting juju of yours on me more times than I can count. Which, by the way, I just so love. So, by my math, we're even. Square. Besties."

Bonnie stared at him, bewildered. "What the hell kind of logic is that?"

"My kind. The kind that keeps me charming and you from setting my upholstery on fire," Damon retorted. "Now, my turn again. Never have I ever thought I'd find a witch who isn't too annoying to spend a road trip with while we go find another witch to help stop the literal Armageddon."

"Hey! I'm not annoying!" Bonnie snapped, reaching over to shove his shoulder.

"Oh, yes you are," Damon sang.

"Oh, no I'm not!"

"Oh, yes you are."

Bonnie grabbed a stray napkin from the center console and threw it at his head. "Whatever! You're the one who's annoying."

A comfortable silence settled over them for a few minutes, the playfulness lingering in the air. But as they crossed the county line, Bonnie's expression shifted. She looked at Damon's profile, "What is this, Damon?" she asked softly.

Damon didn't glance at her. "What is what? It's a Camaro. It goes fast, it looks cool—"

"No, not the car," she interrupted. "I mean this. Right now. You, me, this trip. Why are you really doing this?"

Damon stared straight at the road. Suddenly, he spoke up and his voice lost its sarcastic edge.

"Look, Bonnie... the world is shifting. The 'Big Bad' we used to worry about is currently eating blueberry muffins at the Grill while a Viking ghost prepares to turn us into ritual soot. Everything is falling apart," he said. "I'm making sure our secret ace doesn't lose her mind before the final hand is dealt. You're the only one who actually knows how to fight this kind of magic that I somewhat trust and if you crack under the pressure of being everyone's savior, we're all dead. Unless of course Michael does save the day."

He flicked his eyes toward her for a split second before returning them to the asphalt. "You've been thrusted into a life you didn't ask for, carrying a weight that would break most people twice your age. But you're doing well. You're standing your ground against life and the Originals. I'm just... making sure the grounding wire stays intact."

Bonnie felt a lump form in her throat. She looked at him, truly seeing the man behind the snark for a moment, "Wow. The great Damon Salvatore has a heart after all."

Damon didn't smile. He just exhaled a short, dry breath. "It's a dead heart, Bonnie. Don't go spreading rumors."

Bonnie looked away, a small, genuine smile playing on her lips