Chapter Text
After many trials and triumphs, they finally had the cure in their possession. It only took a few casualties, but hey, one of which was only little Gilbert. Damon could say that, the twerp had been resurrected from the dead, courtesy of Bonnie's renowned loopholes.
Now, Elena Gilbert sat in the living room of the Salvatore boarding house, the cure in small, shaky palms. She stared down at it, varying expressions flitted across her face. Sorrow, relief, regret, sorrow again, the poor girl had worn that expression for too many of her teenage years. Caroline sat beside her best friend, palm rested atop Elena's shoulder. Bonnie's reserved seat beside her remained vacant, given she was dead. Though they didn't know that yet.
"Elena, you can take it," Jeremy spoke from where he sat in an armchair across from his sister. "It's yours. We did this for you."
"That's the problem, Jer!" Elena shouted suddenly. She seemed to flinch at her own outburst, carding a shaky hand through her hair. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
"It's okay, Elena," Caroline ushered, her palm moving from Elena's shoulder, gliding down the length of her arm, then back again.
"So many people deserve this cure before me," Elena's voice waned, her gaze lingering on Stefan before attempting a pleading stare at Damon, until she ultimately fixed her gaze on the ground. "I just wish there was a way to..." she trailed off.
"Elena," Caroline warned, eyes saddening at her friend's pretence of hope. It wasn't the first time she'd mentioned sharing the cure.
"—no, there has to be a way. There's always a loophole," Elena's words blurred together, mind racing. The room was left in silence, save for the grinding of metal as the gears in Elena's mind whirred.
Damon stared at Elena and the desperation that molded her face, frowning at her persistence. A flare of anger puffed out his chest slightly, an emotion he'd felt much too often whilst loving Elena Gilbert, in his opinion. He'd bent over backwards, so far he'd been as physically contorted as he was mentally; jacked full of wolf venom, toeing around the brink of death and even then, still, his priority was Elena and getting that damned cure to her just so she could have the life she yearned for. Of course, that wasn't enough.
He knew that wasn't fair, that he was just as selfish as the next person, but that didn't change the fact that he was a moment away from shoving the cure down Elena's throat before her only chance at a human life was revoked.
Elena drummed her fingers against her thigh. "If we can't duplicate it, maybe we could pass on the effect," Elena began slowly. It sounded as though she had been working at this theory for a while. "Like Esther's spell, she tied the Mikaelsons' fates together with a binding spell. Whatever happened to one of them, happened to the rest."
Stefan pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against, guarded expression disrupted by the furrow of his brows. "It's a reach, but it's worth giving it some thought."
Damon scoffed. Sure, he could give it some thought; nope. Not happening. He voiced as much.
"Come on, Damon," Stefan said in his exasperated tone, the one he seemed to reserve solely for Damon. "Out of all the ideas we've had, how is this any more far fetched than the rest?"
Damon didn't have enough fingers to count all of his reasons. "It's sure as shit a contender for the dumbest," he said. Elena scoffed at that and Damon cringed, having sort of forgotten it was her idea.
"It's worth a shot," Jeremy supplied unhelpfully from his corner.
"We don't know that," Damon let out, incredulous, stepping forward. "Am I the only person who sees how risky this is?"
"It looks like it, which makes you the minority, and the majority rules," Caroline snapped despite her previous dismissal, standing up next to Elena like a personal bodyguard. "Ergo, your opinion is dismissed."
Damon huffed through his nose, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
"Right, someone call Bonnie," Stefan spoke with finality.
Jeremy stood suddenly. "No. Not Bonnie," he asserted, joining the circle they seemed to have made around Elena. "She's done enough, already."
"But, Bonnie's mum!" Elena snapped her fingers. "We could cure her, too!"
"Not. Bonnie," Jeremy repeated.
Elena's eyebrows rose in subtle shock, blinking at him. Jeremy stood strong, arms crossed over his chest even under the gaze of everyone who'd turned to stare at him.
Stefan, forever the peacemaker took another step forward. "I might know someone else who can help us."
A knock of the door sounded. Those sat in the lounge room glancing up toward the front door. Stefan sat up, but before he made it even halfway across the room the door swung open, a loud crash following as it flung into the wall behind it. Revealed was a tall woman, lean with an assured stance. She poked her buzzed head inside the door, assessing the house before stepping inside, the door promptly swinging closed at her command.
"Stefan Salvatore," she stated as her eyes landed on him.
Stefan's shoulders squared, arms crossing over his chest. "Gloria," he acknowledged curtly.
Damon squinted, recognising the woman. He'd frequented her bar sometime in the late 1910s before Klaus had gotten his weird, premature wolfy claws on it and claimed it in the early 1920s—if his very muddled memory served him correctly.
The remaining persons in the room looked between Stefan and the witch, atmosphere buzzing with anxious tension. "She's going to help us?" Caroline spoke up amongst the silence, her voice climbing an octave, very much doubtful.
"Yes, she owes me," Stefan stated, gaze never parting with the woman. The woman tilted her head upward, glancing down at him over her nose. Then her face broke into a smile, shaking her head slightly.
"Alright, alright. I'm here, ain't I?" she chuckled. "Let's skip the unpleasantries."
She ambled into the living room, cautious eyes scanning her company before halting to stare at Elena, a certain tenseness settling in the muscles of her shoulders. "And this is the doppelgänger?"
Stefan took careful steps toward the woman, his dubious trust in the witch evident with how he was treating her akin to an actively ticking explosive in his palms. It was making Damon increasingly nervous considering this witch seemed to be very powerful, a few notches above their pay grade
"Yes, I don't believe you've met her yet," Stefan spoke pointedly.
"I've met one of them," Gloria spat, her stern gaze raking over Elena. The witch's hand reached to glide across a large scar that stretched along the juncture of her neck, the dark pigment of the witch's skin disrupted by the scar tissue that had healed over what Damon presumed to have once been a stab wound. It was no surprise; Katherine always managed to leave a mark wherever she went. If anything, Damon was only surprised she hadn't stabbed the woman in the back, which would have been all the more fitting.
"Katherine did that to you?" Elena whispered.
"Indeed," Gloria uttered. "It was quite difficult to spell myself better while gargling on my own blood."
"Yes, and that's horrible," Stefan interjected, cautious. "But she isn't Katherine."
Gloria simply hummed, before reaching into the bag slung around her shoulder. She retrieved a thick, leather book, a grimoire. Letting it fall to the coffee table with a thud, she knelt herself down on the carpet, the book's spine cracking as she opened it.
"You mentioned a binding spell," Gloria quoted in a swift change in subject.
Elena scrambled to join her on the floor, kneeling opposite her. "There was a spell that Esther performed, the original witch. She used my blood to bind the fates of all of her children, then tried to kill them all."
"I am familiar. Word of a spell such as that gets around quickly," Gloria stated, flipping to a yellowing page in the grimoire, her gaudy bangles chiming against one another with the flick of her wrist.
"We thought that maybe you could..." Elena's voice trailed off in question. Gloria laughed, looking up at the other.
"No, silly girl, that spell is much too powerful, even for Esther herself. She had the help of hundreds of witches in order to perform it, both dead and alive." Gloria shook her head, but pointed a skinny finger to the page she'd flipped to. "However, I know of one similar."
Elena opened her mouth to respond before she was cut off. "But, I have to ask, what it is you need this spell for?" Gloria arched a brow.
"Right, of course," Elena said, placing her fist on the table. She unravelled her fingers, the purple capsule falling atop the surface.
"Extraordinary," Gloria breathed out. "I'd only heard of stories."
"We want to expand its effects to multiple people," Stefan spoke assuredly. "We were hoping with the fates of multiple people bound, if just one were to take it, the cure would transfer to every party involved."
Gloria worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she considered the other's theory, glancing down at the grimoire with furrowed brows. Her eyes followed a finger she swiped across the words as she searched the pages.
"Is it even possible?" Damon quizzed, still unconvinced.
"Truly? I don't know," Gloria murmured. "This is dark magic, a spell I've yet to perform. And fate by definition is blurred amongst the world of magic. Esther's spell was defined purely on the basis of life and death, but this one, it's very vague. I'm not certain if it will grant the change between species."
Elena deflated, hands fidgeting in her lap.
"But." Gloria reached for the cure, holding it above herself between two fingers, the contents glistening in a curious chromatic glow. "I have faith."
"Faith," Damon parroted in disbelief.
"Call it an inkling," Gloria smirked. "It's a witch thing."
Before Damon could share his very much explicit opinion, Jeremy interjected. "What does the spell need to be performed?" he asked, leaning further forward in his seat.
Gloria peeked at the pages once more. "Those involved in the spell, I will need their blood. Herbs will be necessary—yes, yes, I have those," she began mumbling to herself, before her eyes ceased roaming the page. She glanced toward the group, her expression grave. "A sacrifice will also be necessary," she stated, and before anyone could ask: "A death sacrifice."
The room stilled, everyone exchanging looks. "Now, I told you this was dark magic," Gloria berated, tone scolding.
"Lighten up, folks. There's always a loophole, right?" Damon spoke, quoting Elena's earlier claim.
Caroline gave him a look. "This isn't funny, Damon," she sneered.
"Ease off blondie, I'm serious," he retorted. "Let's just get an original to kick it, they're never dead for long. It's frankly annoying."
Everyone seemed to consider Damon's words a moment, something that would do them well to make a habit out of, he believed.
"A surprisingly not stupid observation," Stefan spoke up. "I'm impressed, brother."
Damon furrowed his brows, palms splayed out in an incredulous gesture. "And this is the thanks I get."
Turning to Gloria, Elena offered a serious look. "Will that work?"
"Hypothetically, yes, it should," Gloria stammered, albeit with an unsure look on her face. "But I am less than comfortable with the amount of loopholes going on. Too many and I can't guarantee the spell's behaviour. Don't come hunting after me if something goes awry, you hear me?"
"And apparently that's good enough for us," Damon said pointedly. A small part of him hoped it went wrong just for the blissful opportunity to say I told you so. "Who's going to be the sacrificial lamb?" he asked.
Elena thought for a moment, though just a moment as their choices were fairly limited. Klaus was off the table from the get go, for reasons so blazingly obvious their mentioning is redundant. Rebekah still had a running penchant for Elena and with the others dead and buried, there was really only one considerable option.
"Elijah," Elena stated. "He would do it."
Murmured agreements were exchanged amongst the group, and Jeremy stood suddenly. "I'll talk to Abby. Bonnie would want that," he spoke with vacant eyes gazing to an empty part of the room.
"Which I suppose leaves me to fetch the noble brother." Damon grimaced, retrieving his mobile from a pocket. "Let's all hope he's forgotten the events of our last dinner date."
A few hours had passed, and Jeremy had since returned with Abby Bennett who adorned her perpetually uncomfortable expression from where she resided in a corner. Damon had been watching Elena sit on the couch, fidgeting obsessively with her daylight ring, facial features flinching at an internal war she'd managed to conjure up in her head. So, it was no surprise when she decidedly shot up, eyes meeting Damon's gaze as she approached him. He had a fair idea of what she'd been mulling over for the passed hour, and he wasn't particularly floored for what was to come.
"Damon, we need to talk." Elena held Damon in place with a steely gaze. Damon glanced around the room, meeting the gaze of more than a few prying eyes that quickly turned away at being caught. He looked back at her, flicking his head for her to continue.
"Alone," she deadpanned.
Damon dipped his head in an exaggerated nod. "Alright, then."
When she sidestepped him, brushing her shoulder against his own as she walked into an adjacent room, Damon got the hint, following after her. He stood several feet away from where she'd paused in the middle of the room, her back turned to him. Then she swivelled slowly, massaging at her palm in a nervous habit. Her eyebrows dipped upon seeing the space Damon had put between the both of them.
"What is it?" Damon didn't bother lowering his voice, knowing very well Caroline had tucked her hair behind her ears to hear better upon the two leaving the room.
Elena opened her mouth to speak the monologue Damon knew she'd been preparing, but then her expression flipped, completely abandoning her script as she stared Damon down with narrowed eyes. "You would have rather died today than become human, and you expect me to be okay with that?" she quizzed with incredulity.
Damon frowned at that familiar flare of anger. "I didn't say you had to be okay with it," he let out, exasperated. "What, you want me to apologise? Because, Elena, I am not sorry."
Elena's face hardened, tilting her head at him in subtle fury.
"But you know what I really am?" Damon continued. "Selfish. Because I make bad choices that hurt you. Yes, I would've rather have died than be human. In fact, I'd rather die now than spend a handful of years with you only to lose you when I'm old and miserable and you're still you."
Upon hearing his words, Elena's expression immediately softened, and she rushed to step forward in a conspicuous act to close the gap between them. She reached for Damon's hand that hung idle beside him, her fingers grazing over his knuckles. "Damon, this is our chance. We can be old and miserable together." She now grasped Damon's hand in her own, squeezing.
"Take the cure with me," she whispered.
Damon just let his hand be held, looking down at the doe eyes that stared at him with such fondness he felt sick. She smiled at him, nodding her head slightly, encouraging. Damon clenched his jaw, eyes fluttering closed as he turned his head to the side.
The hand around his began to quiver.
Then Elena stepped backward, hands unclasping Damon's, leaving his hand cold as the warm pressure of Elena's own retreated. When Damon opened his eyes, he was greeted with a pair of wet ones. Elena stamped her lips together, attempting to mask her devastation.
"Okay." She dipped her head, finger tucking a loose strand of hair to join the rest behind her ear. "Fine."
The faint click of the front door opening sounded from the other room, and Damon was beyond grateful for the divine intervention. He looked to Elena once more, who heard the last piece of the ritual arrive also, fussing over the mascara she was determined to not let run.
When Damon walked back into the main room it was silent, poorly masked judgement charged the air, primarily radiating from Caroline's general direction. Usually, Damon would opt for a snide remark to shake the attention from himself, but he was feeling especially uncomfortable given he'd just spilled his heart to a room of barely acquaintances, his brother, and perhaps an original vampire depending on how much he'd heard. Damon guessed not much, given Elijah's calculating expression.
"I feel as though I have missed something important," Elijah spoke, analysing those in the room, particularly Damon who was the centre of all attention.
"No, you didn't." Damon stilled as Elena's voice sounded from the now occupied space beside him, her stance strong, although the puffiness of her eye bags poorly concealed with now blotchy makeup told plenty. "You're right on time."
Elijah hummed. "That's exactly my question." He stepped further into the house, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer. "What exactly am I right on time for? I'm afraid Damon didn't make such information very clear when he requested my presence over the phone."
Everyone in the room, including Elena turned to stare at Damon, annoyed.
"Right, about that," Damon uttered awkwardly, scratching the nape of his neck. "See, in order for Gloria over here to perform her witchy binding spell, we need a death sacrifice. This is, hopefully, where your fine self will come in."
"Is that so?" Elijah tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed at Damon's blatant avoidance of answering why they wanted to perform a binding spell. Elijah glanced to Gloria, to Elena who still remained a vampire, to the former Bennett witch now turned vampire, then finally to the cure that still rested atop the table. He hummed in understanding, and Damon had to give it to him, he wasn't only brawn.
"This is dark magic you're attempting," Elijah stated simply.
"We know," Elena told solemnly with a pleading look. Elijah eyed her with a thoughtful gaze, weighing up the admittedly exorbitant request.
"Very well." The original nodded, although hesitantly. "I hope I am correct in assuming my death is merely a temporary arrangement."
"Of course. You have my word." Damon smiled.
Elijah squinted his eyes at the other. "Such solace."
Gloria extended her hand, gesturing for Elena to come. The former walked briskly toward her, offering a hand of her own. Gloria's knife sliced the skin of Elena's palm, an immediate trickle of blood followed. Elena grimaced, watching the blood dribble down her hand, soaking the parchment below.
Bonnie's mother approached from behind Elena, tentative steps leading her inside the circle. She held out her own hand, hissing as the blade surfaced crimson blood. Elena and her linked palms, a reassuring squeeze shared between the two.
Elijah shrugged off his blazer, folding it neatly before hanging it over the back of a nearby couch. He then walked to his place in the middle of the circle, unflinching as the blade traced a line of his palm, his blood joining the mixture.
Gloria nodded. "We are ready." The witch closed her eyes, shoulders rising as she inhaled deeply. Then she began to chant.
"Si Hoc Legis, Salve. Tribum, Melan Veras."
The effect was immediate, light bulbs pulsing lazily at the magic's interference. Elena and Abby held each other tighter, eyes squeezing shut as a buzzing coursed beneath their skin.
"Si Hoc Legis, Salve. Tribum, Melan Veras."
The fire within the fireplace began to quake, flames reaching higher as embers spat onto the hearth. Candles in the area lit ablaze, pulsating an intense heat throughout the room. Elijah grunted, bringing a hand to clutch at his chest, above where his heart resided.
"Si Hoc Legis, Salve. Emnis Abortum."
Glasses within cabinets rattled, windows beginning to shake. Elijah let out a shout, concerned gazes flitting to observe him. The original's face twisted, teeth clenched as he seethed.
"Si Hoc Legis, Salve. Emnis Abortum."
Elijah collapsed, dropping painfully to one knee, the rest of his body attempting to fold in on itself as his shoulders slumped heavily downward. The hand that wasn't clawing at his chest lay planted to the floor in an attempt to keep himself balanced. Elijah's chest heaved, hair falling forward to obscure his tightly shut eyes as he dipped his head. The chanting continued, began to grow louder.
Elijah let out another agonised yell, head flinging back this time, revealing blackened veins that crept out from underneath the collar of his dress shirt, clawing up his neck and over the edge of his jaw, reaching across his cheekbones. A spasm seized his body, his arm giving out, leaving him curled on the floor, fist berating at the floorboards as his yelling persisted.
Gloria yelled to Elena, who hurriedly retrieved the cure from her pocket with clumsy fingers. She glanced back at Elijah once more with guilt ridden features. A frantic tug at her hand from Abby forced her attention back to the cure, lips quivering slightly as she stared at it in her palm. After a moment of hesitance, she threw the vial back, downing the liquid. Gloria continued the chant a few moments more, her voice growing hoarse before she quietened, breathing heavy as she brought a hand to her face, fingers smearing the blood leaking from her nose.
Elena's head began to nod, eyes drooping as she fought for consciousness, until she began to sway, sluggish steps betraying her balance and sending her falling toward the floor, Abby following suite. Stefan had sped to break Elena's fall, hand cupping the back of her head to prevent its harsh collision with the floor. Caroline followed to catch Abby, hooking her arms underneath the woman's shoulders.
"It is done," Gloria huffed out, nodding solemnly.
The room returned to a state of equilibrium as the lights ceased flickering, the fire simmering down to weak flames. In a corner, Elijah's desiccated corpse lay cold on the floor.