My throat burned momentarily from the alcohol. I tucked the matte black flask back into a bag, which I then stuffed unceremoniously into the glove compartment. The warmth from the vodka settled in my stomach, easing some of my nerves. Tapping my fingers against the steering wheel, I watched the slow crawl of people making their way to the Lockwood Mansion, the bright melding of colors reminiscent of an artist's paint palette.

The line forming reached the sidewalk, and that was saying something since the pathway to the front door seemed like a mile long. Glancing to the glove compartment, I bit my lip. Would another sip hurt?

Movement by the passenger side window had me snatching my hand back as if I'd been hurt. Steadying my breathing, I rested my forehead on the wheel. Worst case scenario, I embarrass myself and have to live with that. And we don't get the compass. Best case scenario, we get the compass and I still retain my dignity.

I frowned at my dress, or more accurately at my legs, which were about ten shades lighter than my arms and face from lack of sunlight (I hadn't shown my legs since last year, since my last season of cross country, in the fall) and sighed deeply. Okay, it'll most likely be an exchange of my dignity for the compass. A nice middle ground, I guess.

Although I would have been more comfortable with company, would have felt more comfortable knowing I wasn't alone, it would counteract having a distraction in the first place. Sheila and Bonnie would already have the hardest time out of everyone, being related to me. Caroline might even get dragged into it by being my friend. Lexi was the only one who wouldn't draw attention (at least, not because of me) and we couldn't leave all the work to her.

So, I had to be alone. And as far away from them as possible.

The sun was gentle on my skin as I stepped out of the car, keys rattling as I stood and wobbled slightly in my heels. Crossing onto the sidewalk, the shade of a nearby tree caused goosebumps to spread quickly against my bare back and shoulders, the drop in temperature chilling me to the bone. Shoving the keys into the clutch Caroline had forced me to buy (the sound had begun to irritate me), I held it, along with my phone, in a death grip.

The sun finally touched me again, warmth soothing some of the cold from my skin. In the buttery light, my bruises and scrapes appeared almost lovely. They looked worse under bright, fluorescent lights, the harshness of it washing me out but coloring in the bruises. Still, they were noticeable and that was all that mattered.

As I neared, wedges (Caroline's word—I called them heels because anything with a lift to them were heels to me) thudding rhythmically against the pavement, I shivered. The dress was cut modestly above the knee (is that considered modest?) and covered me completely from the neck down (in the front, of course) in something called a halter top (Caroline's words, again). I had to psyche myself up before putting the dress on when Caroline had told me I couldn't wear a bra with it. Or, moreso, that I shouldn't. My back was the main course, and the bra would only cover it up. Not to mention, according to Caroline, everyone would be able to see it and it would throw the entire outfit off.

I swallowed tightly, praising everything I knew when I found out there was padding around the chest area, enough that I didn't flinch whenever my chest moved. Other than the dress, the heels were my biggest worry. They were comfortable enough, more comfortable than actual heels with a twig-thin stick holding you up like four inches, but I wasn't used to walking in them so my pace was semi-slow, almost dramatic.

Finally, I reached the end of the line, unable to stop my head from bowing as I felt one, two, three pairs of eyes on me. Unfortunately, my hair didn't fall forward to cover my face and shroud me momentarily from the outside world. Instead, the few loose strands by my cheeks tickled my skin and fluttered from my vision when I exhaled heavily.

Caroline had taken it upon herself to do my hair and makeup, the first time she'd done it in years. I used to let her practice on me all the time before I found the courage to tell her I didn't want to anymore. It had been so strange, then, to refuse her. I'd never really liked having so many things on my face, my skin felt like it was suffocating. Especially when my acne got worse and I started to break out. I'd relented and let her stick to eyes and lips, but after a while the sight of myself, reflected in that tall vanity mirror of hers, would cause me to cringe.

Seeing Caroline wearing the makeup herself was another story. She loved glitter, so much so that she'd be dusted in a fine layer of it after an afternoon spent doing her eyes. She reminded me of a fairy, each speck of glitter that kissed her skin an individual freckle. But she'd missed doing my makeup. I could tell from the way she'd glance at me from the corner of her eyes as she applied mascara, eyeliner, blush—you name it. I never understood why.

Today, she definitely went all out. She had to practically sit on my lap to get me to stop flinching and prevent my eyes from watering, ruining all her hard work. Bonnie had to hold my shoulders down as Caroline, perched on my knees, slowly and precisely did her thing. After a few minutes I became comfortable enough to sit somewhat still.

Caroline gave me dark makeup around the eyes (a smokey eye, she had called it) which created this perpetual hooded expression (Caroline had, in fact, called it sexy) that bordered on 'I slept two hours last night and the lights hurt my eyes'. It didn't look bad, but I failed to see the appeal of it on myself. Mouth dry, I licked my lips, freezing in the middle of doing so when I remembered the dark red lipstick carefully applied to them. Using my phone screen as a mirror, I checked to make sure I didn't smudge it. Caroline will kill me if I did.

I shuffled forward with the line, as I had been for the past few minutes, and was startled nearly out of my skin when I saw that I was third in front, greeted by the bottom step of the front stairs. Blocked by the hulking body of a man in a light grey button up and a woman in five inch heels, I couldn't see past them to find out what had made them stop. But then I heard a voice—a voice that made the hair on my arms prickle and stand.

"Nice to see you both. Please, come in."

Tyler had always had this...fear of his dad. Maybe he didn't have it all the time, but when I met him in elementary school and we'd begrudgingly become friends, I could see something was up with him. I thought he was like me. Parentless. Or that he had lost someone close.

The answer was much worse than that. He had both parents, but half the love. He had a comfortable life with extravagant things, but an invisible rope around his neck with his family's name on it. I remembered the first time I'd been over to the Lockwood Mansion, the high ceilings and fancy furniture reminding me of those fairytales Bonnie would read to me. I had asked Tyler once, if he was a prince. He told me he felt more like a prisoner.

Second in front, the people protecting me from view began to move inside. I managed to compose my expression, reminding myself that this was a game. And it started the moment I left Bonnie's car.

Slowly, carefully, I climbed up the last two steps to the top, focused on my heels to make sure I didn't break an ankle. The first person I saw was Mr. Lockwood. Then Mrs. Lockwood.

Then Tyler.

Something lodged its way in my throat and I found myself unable to speak. I'd braced myself for his dad, for those unkind eyes and that hard, unblinking stare. It was like middle school all over again. I hated the way his voice seemed to shake the entire mansion, how loud his whispers were when he expressed his displeasure at me coming over. A displeasure which only grew once Bonnie had shown up along with Tyler and me on the front step. I got a small pass, for being mixed and having light enough skin to only cause occasional sidelong glances and pinched mouths. Bonnie though, was too dark. Too different. We never went over to Tyler's place ever again. And Bonnie and I never told Rudy or Sheila.

"Mayor Lockwood," I drawled, my tongue having to peel itself from the roof of my mouth. I gave a small smile, tipping my head slightly. "Mrs. Lockwood."

Tyler. I'd only gotten a glimpse of him. His face had healed far better than mine, but I could see where some of the bruising had been covered with makeup, the swell of his bottom lip interrupted by a dark scab. He stood by himself on my right hand side, easy to ignore in favor of his parents who stood on my left.

Mrs. Lockwood recovered smoothly, quickly. She stared at the hand I held out for only a millisecond before accepting it, giving it a gentle shake before withdrawing. Her eyes didn't linger on the faint yellow bruise on my wrist, or the bright pink of my knuckles.

"Thank you for coming," she said, in that picture perfect voice I imagined salespeople to have.

Mr. Lockwood, on the other hand, didn't have as much experience (I assumed) dealing with people he didn't like (in a polite manner, at least). The corners of his mouth had curled down at the edges, shutting off the smile he'd had on his face just moments before. My hand hovered between us, his own still and unmoving by his side.

Just as I was about to pull away and straighten, his fingers curled around my palm and squeezed. I forced back a wince and instead grinned, feeling a sudden rush of power because, because— I'm not that child anymore. You can't bully me.

I squeezed back, nails biting into his skin only long enough to leave those telltale half-moons but not draw blood. He didn't wince, didn't react to the pain. An insincere smile tugged at his mouth as he let go.

"Have a great time."

I smothered a grimace, his voice doing nothing but transporting me back to my childhood. I moved toward the gap between Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood and Tyler, realizing too late that Tyler was much closer than I'd realized, my shoulder most likely going to touch his on my way in.

I paused, hesitating. It was brief, but it felt like years had gone by as my feet refused to unstick from the ground. Play the game, my mind whispered. Play the game and win.

Holding my hand out slightly, aware of how close we were, I raised my eyes challengingly to his, daring him to back down. His fingers, rough and calloused, enveloped my hand. I'd forgotten how much bigger he was than me, in height and in build. He let go just as quickly, expression neutral, but I knew him well enough to know that inside he was disgusted. And angry.

I smirked, pleased. Flexing the muscles of my back (in an extremely unsubtle manner), I took my time walking inside, wanting whoever was near (mainly, the Lockwoods) to see what I so proudly put on display. Unlike Tyler, I wasn't covering up or trying to hide the evidence of a fight. It was my badge of honor, and I was going to make sure every last person at this party got an eyeful.

Scanning the room I was in, filled with soft chatter and flowers, I tried to find someone to make my first target. I needed it to be near the front, since everyone agreed they'd be at the far back, far away enough to be unbothered and unhindered by whatever I got myself up to.

Shaking off the jitters that Tyler's appearance (and admittedly, Mr. Lockwood's as well) had on me, I wandered into a room on my left. A man who looked like a priest excused himself from a conversation with a woman, leaving her alone near the entrance to the next room over. Circling the table in the center, it felt almost too easy.

The woman (all I could see was the back of her) wore a green dress and had loose, long flowing hair that reminded me of caramel and chocolate mixed together. It bounced as she moved—wait moved?

Her lower half came into view as she migrated into the next room, bare legs moving opposite from me. I quickened my pace, trying not to seem like a predator after its prey. She stopped near the middle, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, painted nails reflecting the light almost as much as her multiple rings.

I neared, feet steady despite the slight nerves buzzing along my muscles. The woman tucked her hair behind her ear, no longer facing away from me and instead turning in my direction, eyes roaming over the decorated walls and the couple a few feet away.

"Sam! I've been looking for you."

My lips, slightly parted, emitted no sound. I nearly choked on the breath I'd been about to use to speak when Damon, in a black button up shirt and blazer, wrapped an arm around the small of my waist.

I recoiled, hardly hearing the words that were coming out of his mouth from the sheer overriding panic that engulfed me. All I could make out were "date" and "stunning" as I nearly staggered into the table behind me. The necklace, tucked under the halter top and hidden from view, burned my chest and subsequently, my fingertips. Damon winced, veins immediately crawling down the sides of his face; the aneurysm was involuntary on my part but instinctual and necessary.

I broke away, seriously contemplating the consequences of setting him on fire as I did so. Damon covered the side of his face that was in view of the woman I'd intended to make my first target. She was watching us, her attention no longer on the decor. Behind Damon's shoulder, a small group of men and women were looking in our direction as well.

"Sweetheart, I understand if you're upset," Damon said through gritted teeth, the lack of strain in his voice almost impressive. "I just thought I'd surprise you."

The aneurysm stopped. Heart beating frantically in my chest I turned on my heel sharply and left, heading toward the small side door I knew would let me escape. What I had done was extremely irresponsible, despite being in self-defense. I still didn't know if the council knew of my family being witches, and regardless of if they knew or not, the guests clearly didn't. I also risked outing Damon, risked outing Stefan as a consequence along with Lexi.

As I stepped into a new room, multiple pairs of eyes landed on me. Most were curious. Some were confused. But a majority flickered between Damon and I, as if expecting something to happen. As if they had been waiting for this moment.

Eyes watering, something behind my ribs cracked. I clenched my jaw and moved toward the side door as fast as I could without actually running. The doors were open already, the treeline practically within reach. My heels sunk slightly into the grass, slowing me down, and that was all it took before Damon's voice reached my ears.

He was following me. Of course he was.

Everything was spinning, spiraling into a whirl of muted black and faded colors. In the center of that spiral was Sophie's face, grossly distorted. I stumbled against the side of the mansion, legs weak, and managed a hiss when Damon grabbed me before I could fall.

Her heart would break if she heard of this, I had thought. Sam Bennett showing up to party with a woman by her side. A different woman. Older, beautiful in a way that humans couldn't be (beautiful in order to draw in prey).

I half-sobbed, pushing Damon away from me. How stupid of me to think that was the worst thing that could happen. A man instead of a woman. Equally as beautiful, but twice as damning. She wouldn't just think I'd moved on, but she'd also think I'd forgotten about her. About my promise. Promises. She knew I wasn't only attracted to women, but to have a man as my date while she's still locked up? Oh god, oh god. It should've been me. I should've been the one to be taken away. She never deserved this, I've been so selfish—

Damon slapped my cheek, not too hard but hard enough to daze. My head knocked into the brick wall behind me, sharp and quick. The rough surface scraped at my back, dragging and pulling at the exposed skin.

"Something tells me you should've seen this coming," Damon quipped, twirling a strand of my hair around his index finger. "This isn't really helping your case, you know."

He tugged, yanking my head forward and ripping out a strand or two in the process. My hand twitched, the desire to give him another aneurysm nearly overwhelming. It would be a pleasure to watch him bleed from his eyes, ears, and mouth. If I were stronger, I could snap his neck with a twist of my wrist, or set his entire body aflame in an instant.

"Ah, ah, ah," Damon tsked, my half-raised hand in his vice grip. His lips ghosted over my knuckles, breath fanning over my fingers. "If you try anything," he whispered, only loud enough for me to hear, "you'll give yourself away."

"Fuck you," I spat, teeth bared. I wouldn't be surprised if the necklace had burned a hole through my chest, all the way through, from how hotly it scorched my chest. "You're not supposed to be here. I thought I made it clear that I'm not someone you want to piss off."

Damon held my hand between both of his, the smile pulling at his lips cold, unfeeling. "If you wanted me to listen, you should've tied me up."

"I'll do worse than tie you up," I seethed. "Back up or I will set you on fucking fire."

The power from the necklace was on standby, shoved deep somewhere low in my stomach. My own magic, on the other hand, pooled at my hands.

Damon glanced down at the one he was in contact with, brows raising challengingly as if he could feel the power radiating from my skin. "If I knew I made you this excited, we could've worked something out."

An awful cracking sound filled the small gap between us, silencing the retort that had been at the tip of my tongue. Damon's pained expression was enough to tell me that the sound belonged to him, and when I let my eyes fall onto our hands I caught sight of his middle finger, bent in the wrong direction with the bone clawing through the thin skin where the base connected with the palm.

Damon took two steps back, swiftly snapping the bone in place. The sound that it made was somehow worse than the one of it breaking, echoing grotesquely in my ears. Yet, I felt no remorse. Magic or no magic, I could still defend myself with my own physical strength. Normal human strength, no suspicions raised.

"I told you to back up," I pointed out, quickly surveying our surroundings. There were some people, many feet away, near the back where a glimpse of an expansive white tent could be seen. They paid us no mind. "Tell me what you're doing here before I make your head explode."

"Well," Damon hummed, low and mock-sweet, "since I'm unable to reign terror on the citizens of Mystic Falls, I decided you were a perfect substitute."

He didn't approach me, didn't let his perfect mask falter. His nonchalance unsettled me, but he was far outnumbered and we were in public. On the show, he found the talisman and attacked Caroline. But he only attacked her once it was dark out. Coward.

"Look, I really do not have the time or the patience to stand here talking in circles." I, despite my better judgement, neared him. Damon stood his ground, the glint in his eye morphing into something manic. "There are people here who know about vampires," I whispered harshly, the hair on the back of my neck prickling just at the thought of being overheard. "Whatever it is that you want to do, here is not a good idea."

"Oh, but you seem to have no issue with my baby brother and his little blonde friend. Sounds like you're being unfairly biased toward me."

"Because you have no reason to be here!" I snapped. "The talisman isn't in the fucking box, Damon. What else could you want?"

He assumed a relaxed position, head lazily swooping down to meet my gaze. The lack of tension in his body further unnerved me. He knew something I didn't. He was playing at something and I was being used for it. "I have my own reasons. Personal reasons."

What personal reasons can he possibly have? The drinks are surely spiked with vervain, so no one would be compel-able. The talisman has been destroyed, and the moonstone is safely hidden away. What is left in the Lockwood Mansion except the Gilbert compass? What does he know that we don't?

"You don't get to have personal reasons. You either tell me or I'll break your neck."

Damon no longer seemed phased by my threats, by the magic that surrounded us and was most likely eating away at his senses. The situation had changed without me knowing, his attitude a complete 180 from what it had been before.

"Do you not know what personal means, sweetheart?"

The words fell on deaf ears. I'd caught movement out of the corner of my eye and spotted people trickling closer. They were chatting, mingling, but some were looking at us. The small bubble we'd created suddenly burst, and everything poured forward in a rush.

"I won't cause any trouble," Damon promised, his voice a soft whisper. Despite his sudden gentle demeanor, he absolutely reeked of insincerity. "I'll be with you most of the time."

The insincerity did not come across as blatant lying, but rather manipulation. He looked exactly as he had when I'd first seen him inside, almost puppy-like and with a here-to-please attitude. Gone was the cockiness and in place was an act. A good act, too. Something told me if I tried to resist, I'd end up looking like the crazy one.

And I couldn't risk getting myself kicked out of this party. Which meant no violence, physical or magical. There was no conceivable plan I could think of, in this moment, which would get Damon off the premises without making a scene.

Not to mention he was a stranger that was related to Stefan and now here at this party with me. He couldn't be outed (not that I'd even consider that) and therefore had to seem normal, human. If I kicked up a fuss about him lying, he'd be isolated. He could become a target.

Yet, still...this wasn't my problem. He brought himself here, whether or not he knew of the consequences before, he knew of them now and he still decided to stay. If anything happened to him, it wasn't my responsibility.

Except he can drag Stefan, and Lexi, and our entire group down. He can be that first domino to tip over, causing the rest of us and what we've built to be knocked down effortlessly and immediately.

Against my will, I began considering what he said. Our plan required me to be the distraction until the compass was found. I needed to draw the eyes of those around me with whatever I could come up with. And (without thinking of the consequences, without thinking of Sophie and how this would inevitably reach her) Damon provided that distraction. In a way, he worked better than Lexi ever could've. He was a man. I was the town lesbian and crossdresser. He was dressed nicely, the clothes wrapped around his body exuding wealth. I was wearing a dress for the first time in years. He was older, immortalized at age 25. And I was 16.

The only problem was that Damon obviously had ulterior motives. Yet...how bad could the damage he dealt be if there was vervain in the drinks and most likely in the council members? If the talisman and moonstone were not in the building? Did he also know about the compass? But what could he possibly want with it? And how could he possibly know? Burnt sage and privacy spells have always been used before important discussions, and even when topics were discussed in public, not enough information was ever given.

And even if he did know, he wouldn't have much of a chance against our group. Two witches, a vampire that was far older than him, and a charming human blonde who knew everyone at this party all held the advantage.

Damon could see the fight in me disappearing, and his smile grew wider at the fact. He probably felt smug that his plan worked out. He was going to stay at this party under the pretense of being my date. In a sense, he won.

But, I would make sure he left my side as little as possible. He's going to be my bitch for the evening.

"Okay," I said, as nonchalant as I could. Lodged somewhere in my throat were my pride, dignity, and the consequences of my actions. But he didn't have to know that.

Judging by Damon's reaction, he didn't care what dilemma I was having. He grinned a little too sharply, a predator moments away from claiming its prize, and offered me his arm.

I stared at it, repulsed. "What have you told people?"

Lowering his arm, Damon leaned into my space. It took all of my strength to not step back, understanding that I had agreed to this game and needed to play my part. "That I met you through my brother and I was so infatuated that I just had to get to know you. We've been seeing each other for a few weeks. I found out about this party last minute, and decided to surprise you. Your reaction played really well into that last part, if I do say so myself."

Smothering a scowl, I mulled over what he said. No loopholes. Can't work my way out of this one without sacrificing Sophie.

Sophie…I haven't heard back from Sheriff Forbes. How are you doing? Are you holding up well? Were the rumors true? And how long do you have before they break you? Will you break at all? Have you already been broken?

Hold on, Sophie. After Enzo, I'm getting you out next.

"We should get this show on the road."

I blinked repeatedly, disoriented. Damon's arm was in my line of sight again, held out for me to grab onto. Exhaling deeply, I wrapped my arm around his slowly, carefully, as if he were sharp glass that I was trying to pick up with my bare hand. As our sides pressed together, I thought of Sophie. Thought of how she'd be free soon. Soon.

Stepping inside, I snapped out of my thoughts the moment I felt a wave of attention knock into us. Damon beamed, practically preening under it. His focus was solely on me though, and as he spoke I tuned it out. I had to make a decision quick on how exactly I wanted to act, how I wanted to be perceived. It had to be interesting enough to keep people talking throughout the afternoon and evening.

Damon was clearly playing into his role of the infatuated date, and doing it well. As amusing it would be to put up a front, to be a completely different person in front of all these people, I had to play it safe. The council—I didn't know how much they were aware of the supernatural. Especially witches. And despite the fact that we couldn't be compelled, I didn't want to give off any vibe that would be misinterpreted as that.

So, I loosely held onto Damon's arm and nodded along to what he said as we drifted down a hallway. I kept my expression neutral but not completely disinterested. All the advice I had given myself was still applicable. The only difference was that instead of hitting on other people, I had a permanent target.

Smoothing down the loose strands by my face, I let the arrogance I'd psyched myself into having right before stepping out of Bonnie's car pool in my belly. The alcohol from before had hit my system at some point, lost in the chaos of the Lockwood's or Damon, and it warmed my skin.

Turning a corner, I was about to tell Damon to slow down and let us linger in one room, when I spotted Caroline and Bonnie. I froze mid-step and Damon noticed quickly enough to stop before he yanked me forward. They hadn't seen us, and I fumbled with my clutch, fumbled with the stupidly small and hard to push latch that kept it closed.

Damon said something, and I nodded again distractedly, letting him pull me somewhere else while I pressed the home button and unlocked my phone.

"Give me a sec," I muttered, facing Damon but focused on my screen.

Change of plans. Damon's my date. Don't ask questions because I can't answer them right now. Keep doing what you're supposed to. I have everything under control.

"That's incredibly cocky of you, don't you think?" Damon asked, reaching out and trailing a finger down my arm. "I'm not someone who can be controlled."

"It's rude to look at people's phones without their permission," I bit back after pressing 'send.' Closing my clutch, I crossed my arms as an excuse to break his contact with my skin. "Don't act so high and mighty with me when you were absolutely and undoubtedly whipped by Katherine."

The atmosphere that'd been built between us, this charade, turned upside down the moment I finished speaking.

"How about we set a few ground rules," Damon said darkly, his once bright blue eyes shifting into something close to black. "Don't mention Katherine. At all."

Ah, hit a nerve. "Sure," I agreed easily, "but only if you stop touching me."

"It's what dates do," he argued, but didn't put up a fight. He removed his hand (that'd he put back on my arm despite me moving away) from my bicep. "I promise to be a perfect gentleman tonight."

True to his word (for once) Damon was a complete gentleman. Since he'd already established his character as infatuated with me, I had the power to drag him from room to room as I pleased, making sure to linger when I could and doing my best to pass the time.

I worried guests would lose interest in us. There were only so many times I could fidget with a button on Damon's blazer or wrist cuff, only so many times I could flaunt my back to a room full of people, before it grew old. My feet were beginning to grow tired and I had many close calls touching my face, meaning to rub my eyes but realizing if I did I'd smear Caroline's hard work away.

Damon didn't seem to notice my anxiety, his entire demeanor relaxed and self-assured. He walked with purpose and caught on to my performance quick, at times egging me on or adding his own flair to it. Like when he touched the small of my back but pulled his hand away quickly, pretending to be concerned with causing me pain because of the bruises.

That had certainly caught a lot of people's eyes. He had fussed over me, hands hovering over my skin as he apologized profusely and made sure I was okay. He seemed completely dedicated to this persona of his and as long as he didn't try anything suspicious, I wouldn't stop him. Even if it was incredibly embarrassing.

"I'm assuming you're getting an earful from the guests about me?"

We were near the front of the house again, tucked away in a corner of a room where I sat on a bench to rest my feet. No one was close enough to overhear, and Damon blocked most of me with his body (he decided to stand in front of me like some kind of creepy bodyguard).

Despite his serious expression, I could tell he was amused. "Why do you say that?"

"You wouldn't have touched my back unless you already knew why it looks the way it does."

"I sense...tension," he replied cryptically, scanning the room for other people. Whatever he saw, he deemed acceptable enough to face me again. "Are you going to forbid me from using my super hearing?"

"No."

"Then why bring it up at all? Seems to me like you're getting worked up over nothing."

I almost impulsively answered, almost told him that it wasn't nothing and that if he was going to be a dick about it then he could shut his mouth. But the words became stuck in my throat.

Why did I even say anything? Where did I think this conversation would go?

You want any excuse to feel angry, don't you?

I froze. The voice in the back of my head, the one that lived perpetually in the corner of my mind and seemed to be active whenever I was especially vulnerable, knocked me off balance. Before I could even recover, it continued, whispering, You're always so ready to bite before you even bark. Your mouth is salivating just at the thought of having an excuse to be violent. It's all you've ever been good at. It's all you'll ever be good at. Tell me you don't feel your blood beginning to boil. You want to hurt him. You want to see him in pain.

Do it. Do it. It's what he deserves.

"Forget I said anything," I muttered dismissively, my entire body prickling in disgust. Set this whole fucking town on fire. You know you'd love to watch it burn. Scrubbing at my arms with my nails, I shoved past Damon. "Let's keep moving."

Roaming down the main hallway for the seventh time, Damon trailing after me like a kicked puppy, I shook off my uneasiness and insecurities as best as I could. If you can't keep your cool, then you can't be here. Stop being so angry.

The early afternoon light had shifted into early evening, orange tinted glow spreading along the walls and immaculately clean tabletops. I let the soft heat of it, what little could reach me, settle into my pores.

The halls were emptier now, more and more people having gone outside to where the food and drinks were. I was leading us there, partly hungry and partly intrigued by the music that was playing. But a few feet away, tucked almost neatly into a shadowed corner, was Mr. Lockwood's office.

"Damon," I said, quickly turning to face him. "Let's go into that room over there."

"Is this the part of the date where we play seven minutes in heaven?"

I rolled my eyes. "We can pretend."

Damon's eyebrows nearly collided with his hairline, his entire demeanor going from abashed (an act) to confused (his character breaking) to something deeply amused (all Damon). "Why pretend when we can play the real thing?"

"Just—" I turned away from him in irritation, sweeping our surroundings one last time, "follow my lead."

The door was easy enough to unlock before we even reached the door. There was only slight hesitation at essentially showing Damon the Lockwood's secret safe, and potentially being locked in a room with him and the compass. I knew he wasn't to be trusted. He wasn't a friend, as much as I wanted him to be (it would make everyone's lives so much simpler if he were).

Yet, I couldn't leave him outside. He was my alibi as much as I was his. Once the door slid shut and was locked, I rushed over to where the safe was.

"Be the lookout," I huffed, lifting the carpet and then the false wooden panel. My body was angled in order to keep Damon in my peripheral. "Listen to see if anyone knows we're in here or they're coming inside."

I didn't check for confirmation and instead focused on unlocking the combination. The click it made echoed in my ears, the sweetest sound I'd heard all day. Gently lifting the lid, I peered down inside. There was a brief moment of panic when I realized I wasn't wearing gloves and that my fingerprints would be left all over the insides of the safe.

"Do you have, uh, like a napkin or glove or something?" I asked, holding my hands out in front of me uselessly.

Damon sighed, and in a flash a handkerchief was in my palm and he was back by his spot near the door. "Don't dirty it. It's expensive."

Like before, the safe was filled to the brim with important looking papers, a box here and there, and a large yellow envelope. It smelled stale, as if it hadn't been opened in a while. Something sunk in my stomach when I'd cleaned out the safe and there was no sign of the compass. I stared at the empty insides, using my phone's flashlights to better see, but it was just a carcass.

Pressing my wrists to my forehead, I took a deep breath. And then became mildly hysterical.

"It's not here," I hissed, eyelashes suddenly wet and chest tight. "It has to be here, somewhere. It has to be."

Everyone had been hoping it would be on display, considering it was a piece of history, an antique that Mrs. Lockwood wanted. Yet, we all knew that was too easy. The safe was the only other option. This room was the hardest to get into and the most secure (to them) and if it wasn't in here, then it had to be with someone. Lexi's gonna need to use those pickpocketing skills after all.

"Someone's coming," Damon warned, startling me out of my thoughts. "They know we're in here."

As best as I could with one hand covered in a handkerchief, I stacked everything back inside and closed the safe. The wooden panel slid into place perfectly, smoothly, and before I could do it myself, Damon had the carpet moved back into its original position.

"Tha—" I cut off as my shoulders pressed into the opposite wall, lower back curving against a desk. Damon mussed my hair, dragged a thumb along the side of my mouth, and crowded into me so closely that I couldn't see anything but him. His cologne smelled of bourbon and lime, both clean and smokey.

The door swung open, and I stiffened completely. Damon had a hand against my cheek, angeling my face toward his, but he didn't do much other than let his forehead briefly press into mine.

"Excuse me," someone said loudly, clearing their throat. Damon immediately pulled back, still keeping his other arm around my waist. I felt like a fish out of water, wide eyed, panicked, and unable to do much else. "How did you two get in here?"

I didn't recognize who was speaking, but their tone of voice reminded me of someone who was in charge and who had probably spoken to Mrs. Lockwood. The light reflected off the keys in their hand, all I could see from my awkward position.

"The door was unlocked," Damon replied easily, embarrassment thick in his throat. I cringed to myself behind the safety of his shoulder, using his arm to plant both my feet back on the floor. "We're sorry for the disruption," he apologized, bowing his head.

I shuffled out slightly, peering my head to the side to make eye contact with the woman who stood with her hands on her hips. "We just wanted some privacy," I added as an excuse, not having to act, unlike Damon, because of the genuine heat crawling up my neck.

After the woman finished scolding us, and my ears were burning from how much I did not want to be in that situation, she let us leave with a warning.

"I need a drink," I muttered once we were down another hall and away from the staff. "Jesus Christ."

"Before that, you should make sure you're presentable."

I suddenly remembered what Damon had done, and I narrowed my eyes. "Did you ruin my makeup?"

"Had to make it convincing, Bennett." He winked, brushing the loose strands of hair beside my face while managing to avoid contact with my skin. "You should fix your hair too while you're at it."

"You did this on purpose," I accused. "You wanted to get rid of me."

"What's that phrase..." Damon mused, tapping his chin with his index finger, "kill two birds with one stone?"

"Damon," I started, frustrated, but he quickly cut me off.

"I'll be here when you come out," was all he said.

"You're gonna look for the talisman," I murmured, but unlike before there was no malice. Biting the inside of my cheek to stave off my growing annoyance, I shrugged, uncaring. I knew it wasn't there and that there was nothing to worry about. "Be my guest."

He didn't say anything. He was gone by the time I turned around, hand on the cool metal doorknob of the bathroom.

The lights inside were bright, too bright, and my appearance was more haggard then I'd initially assumed. My lipstick definitely looked kiss smeared, hair no longer neat and tight. I patted it down, trying to smooth it out, tucking a loose strand in here and there.

Once that was decent, I wet a paper towel on the sink counter and carefully wiped around my mouth, the dark red bleeding into a vivid shade as it came off. Re-applying it proved to be tedious. My hand shook too much, the color spilling out of the lines.

Frustrated, I wiped it all off, exchanging it for my own chapstick. I was thankful that the lipstick had left a stain on my lips that still made them look like they had something on them. Without the red on my mouth, I appeared slightly less striking. Yet, how I looked didn't matter as much now. We had to rely on Lexi rather than a distraction for the success of our plan.

Picking up my phone, I sent a quick message in the group chat, only briefly skimming over the ones that had been sent since my out of the blue message over an hour ago.

Compass is not in the office safe. Lexi, it's go time.

Damon wasn't outside when I exited. I wandered down the hall, expecting to see him talking to a guest. Maybe he's outside?

I glanced over my shoulder, thinking he'd been toward the front of the house rather than the back and I'd accidentally left him behind. But the hall was empty.

I nearly collided into someone as I turned back, my entire body curling away from theirs instinctually. "Sorry," I said quickly, only realizing after I had spoken that it was Tyler.

He stood stoically, face impassive. This close up, he had to literally look down at me. I refused to move, despite how demeaning it felt.

We stared at each other, silent. Something hard and cold passed between us, slithering up my spine and coiling tight around my shoulder blades. Fury mingled with magic burned my fingertips. In this exact instant, this exact moment, I hated him more than anything else in the world.

Tyler hated me too, had hated me and here, in this vacant, dimly lit hallway, he let it seep into his expression and bleed into those dark brown eyes of his. He looked so much like his dad, like his mom, too. They all had that distant, clouded look to them. It specifically reminded me of when Tyler had accidentally broken an expensive vase and I'd been grabbing a snack from the kitchen when his dad came home. He didn't know I was there. Didn't know I could hear him yelling, hear the sound of his belt whipping against Tyler's back. Didn't know I could see through the glass pane door separating one room from the next. Didn't know at all, probably, because I hid until he left. Tyler pulled his shirt on and pretended it didn't happen. He never talked about it. It was just another thing swept under the rug.

It was strange... I could feel how easy it would be to fall into that pit of anger deep in my stomach. It would take practically nothing to bring it forth, to lash out at Tyler again. Just the thought of Sophie made my blood boil.

And Tyler had a bottle of anger, repressed and waiting, inside him too. We were built similarly like that. We dealt with pain, fear, rage—in almost identical fashions. All were unhealthy, all were based on trauma.

He didn't flinch, didn't pull back. Even when I advanced a step, he held his ground. Almost as if he were disinterested in my presence, but angry at it all the same. Tyler wanted me to be angry, because it would be easier on him if I were. He wanted me to act first so he had an excuse. Like at the homecoming game, he used my anger to fuel his. After all, it was easier to hurt someone who gave you no choice.

But that was the problem. It was easier for both of us to act rather than to think when it came to one another. It was easier to hate than to forgive. The word itself tasted like acid on my tongue. Forgive. He hadn't done anything to deserve that. But maybe, just maybe, I could make him think.

"Your childhood wasn't your fault," I blurted, surprising myself, surprising Tyler, and probably surprising the waiter who was carrying a tray full of champagne a few feet away. "It wasn't your fault," I repeated, feeling like a cheap impersonation of Robin Williams in Good Will Hunting. I could only hope the message would be at least half as effective as it was in that movie. "What you do now though, you're completely responsible for. Remember that."

Without missing a beat I skirted around him, moving quickly so that he didn't have a chance to respond. I made a beeline for the back doors and sacrificed safety for speed, ankles wobbling precariously in my heels.

I took one step outside and exhaled nervously, the lights from the tent reminding me of Christmas. The smell of food wafted over, soft piano music blanketing the Lockwood's massive backyard. I spotted Stefan almost immediately, a giggling Elena held close in his arms as they danced. The smile on Stefan's lips made him look incredibly young, incredibly human. He dipped his head low and brushed his nose against Elena's cheek.

"What happened with the Lockwood boy? Seems like you two have some unresolved tension."

"Nothing important," I replied easily, Damon's presence ruining the few moments of calm I'd managed to steal. "You're awfully cheery for someone who didn't find what they wanted."

"I always have a backup plan. This time is no exception."

Ugh, I hope he didn't kill anyone, I thought with a frown. Wait...oh my god what if he actually killed someone

Sharply, almost involuntarily, my head whipped around toward Damon. He nearly blended in with the darkness, eyes glittering from the lights of the tent. I blinked, and his face became blurred, smudged, partially grotesque. A woman's face began to overlap his, but it was pixelated and unfocused. The image of the woman moved, a pleasant laugh rattling the air in response.

All at once my muscles seemed to seize, tensing for one long second before giving out. Damon's face—normal, this time—came swooping into view.

"Whoa there, you could give a guy some warning, you know," he grimaced, mouth twisted in annoyance. "I need time to prepare my lines."

"Gotta...sit down," I gasped, the soft grass beneath my heels unstable. It seemed to tip and shake regardless of how I stood, as if it were upset. "Please."

It was only once the back of my knees hit cold, smooth stone that I realized my vision had been swimming, my surroundings a smear of dull colors and faint lights. The base of my skull throbbed, the pain shooting its way up, up, up, until it curved over my forehead. Like a crack in delicate ceramic, it only took a few moments for my head to break apart.

I wheezed, chest tight. I couldn't seem to get enough air. I couldn't seem to speak, couldn't tell Damon I was suffocating, couldn't perceive much else other than the hot, unforgivable pain stabbing at my brain.

White static screamed in my ears. The grass, dimly illuminated, melted. Like a bottomless spiral, black and white and spinning erratically, everything shifted and became a hypnotic swirl of gray.

Despite the raging pain, I gritted my teeth and focused on looking past the spiral. The black and white faded, almost as if the opacity was turned down on an image. The grass became a flat puddle, smooth and lifeless. My chest burned, lungs nearly depleted. A light reflected off the ground which was dark wood now, no grass in sight. I followed it up, bursts of color shattering holes in the spiral like fireworks.

Immediately, as the distractions disappeared, my eyes honed in on the Gilbert compass. I would know it anywhere.

But there was another object there. Slim hands brought the two together. I tried to zoom out, managing to see a few pairs of shoes but no faces. The vision darkened momentarily, the compass being opened with the edge of a knife. The glass covering lifted, and the inside was removed. I didn't recognize it, the colors seeming less vibrant and detailed as I saw in previous visions.

It was set aside in favor of the second object. It was a container, egg-shaped and old looking. On the lid there was a star inside a circle on the center, multiple lines branching from it and ending in dots. The gold lock was unclasped, and I was greeted with a familiar sight. The Gilbert compass. While the outside of the compass was smooth, worn gold, the interior did not match what I had been seeing. Inside this box was the actual inside of the compass.

In one fluid motion the new interior, bright white and beautiful gold, was placed inside the shell of the Gilbert compass. It was turned, the echoing click locking it in. The arrow moved wildly for a few seconds before settling to the left.

"Fuck," I choked out, swallowing down oxygen so desperately I started coughing. A bubble of air caught in my throat, only dislodging when I thumped a weak fist against my chest. "Shit."

"Are you going to explain what just happened?" Damon hissed, his voice breaking through the fog. My head lolled onto his shoulder, muscles completely lax. "I'm not a babysitter."

The sounds of the party trickled back in, my surroundings finally settling into something solid, real, unmoving. I was crumpled against Damon, who was straddling the bench and effectively shielding me from seeing any of the guests. I made a feeble attempt to sit up.

"We...need to leave."

My own words sparked an intense panic within me. Foolishly, I tried to stand. My legs wobbled violently, the world spinning angrily in response. Damon shoved me back down none too gently, his act almost completely gone at this point.

"Explain. Now."

"I had a vision, you moron." I glared at him, teeth bared. "We have to leave. All of us. Right now."

"Excuse me for being doubtful, but this seems like a plan to get me to leave."

"Are you serious?" I snapped, frustrated at my weakened and disorientated state. "The party is practically over. Both of us literally did what we came here to do. Why—"

"Ah ah ah. But you don't know what I came here to do."

The simple statement made any part of me that was near him prickle, thousands of imaginary needles stabbing my skin in warning. Swallowing down my budding hysteria, I steadied my voice. "Look," I started slowly, raising my hands placatingly between us. "I get it. You don't trust me. I don't trust you either. But I'm telling you, we all have to go. The Founder's council, they have a device that works like a compass. But instead of pointing someone in the right direction, it instead points to where the nearest vampire is."

"Ooh, that's an interesting plot device," Damon mocked. "One I'll believe when I see it."

"Emily Bennett was literally the one who spelled it! She did it for Jonathan Gilbert," I blabbered, the information having no effect on Damon. The sarcastic retort about to roll its way off his tongue had me fumbling over my words. "The arrow on the compass moves! Which means there's a vampire nearby. And there's literally three of them here to choose from. Which means it's going to happen soon."

He leaned in close. "Are you sure you're trying to convince me to leave? Because all I hear are reasons to stay."

I stared at him dumbly. The arrow moves. None of us would stay to let that happen because we all have half a brain to understand what self-preservation is. So the vampire the compass finds must be Damon. Which means he's not going to leave.

"Do what you want, then," I said, phone already in hand. "I'm not your keeper."

Yet you manage to increase my workload by a hundred percent like a fucking nuisance.

"Sam, is everything alright?"

At least ten feet away, Caroline stood. She eyed Damon, who didn't even care to turn around, and nervously fidgeted with the cream colored clutch in her hands.

"Caroline," I breathed, irritation forgotten almost immediately. As I made to stand, Bonnie's voice broke through the monotony of the ringing (I had already forgotten I'd even called her in the first place). I held my hand up for Caroline to wait. She nodded quickly, still standing a good distance away. "Bonnie? Where are you?"

"Oh joy, the other Bennett witch," Damon remarked, dusting imaginary lint from his suit jacket.

"With Lexi. She's been doing her thing. Unfortunately, no luck so far."

I already knew that. "We have to leave. Immediately. Find Grams and meet me out front. I'll explain there."

"I-I...okay. Okay, I will. We'll be there."

Caroline had drifted closer, ignoring Damon and his sneer and instead peering down at my face. "What's going on?"

I put my phone back, clasp not giving me any trouble this time. "I had a vision," I answered. "It's too late, they have the compass and they're going to use it."

"There's nothing we can do?" Her back stiffened, fingers tightening on her clutch. "Do they know?"

I shook my head. "I don't know when they take it out on a test drive, but I have a feeling it's tonight. So if we leave now, they shouldn't be able to track anyone." After a pause, I turned toward Damon with a scowl. "I should rephrase that: They shouldn't be able to track Stefan or Lexi."

"Oh, what a shame."

"If something happens to you," I hissed, lip curling. "If you get caught, you put Stefan and Lexi at risk. So just listen to me when I say that it's not safe here."

Damon pursed his lips as if he were in deep thought, then shrugged. "Nice try, but I really don't care. Now, I'm going to go mingle with the guests," he paused, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "The date could've been better. Maybe next time."

As he made to leave, I swayed precariously toward Caroline in a rush. I'd been afraid Damon would near her, hurt her, but he left without even so much as a glance in her direction.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her tall frame blocking me from view of the tent. I appreciated the gesture, especially since I had to grip her forearms to stay upright. Her pretty white cardigan fluttered in the cool breeze, tickling my knuckles.

"Just tired," I murmured. My head felt like it'd been wacked by a stick. Repeatedly. "I think I triggered a vision while trying to have a different vision. I don't even know if that's how that works."

"We'll figure it out," Caroline reassured, taking a quick glance over her shoulder. She led me down the side of the mansion, away from curious eyes. I could see the questions she had about Damon brimming in her own, but she held back. "Come on, let's go."

"We have to tell Stefan," I protested.

She kept moving, eyes bright despite how little light there was on this side of the mansion. "I'll text him right now. Don't worry."

As we walked, my energy began to return. My senses, still frazzled and a little fried, were slow in registering my surroundings. Like my necklace, for example. It took me a while to realize it had been pulsing a steady warmth throughout my body that helped me move without much issue. My migraine, though, persisted.

It only got worse the longer I thought about how Damon would be the vampire to trigger the compass for the council. And if the council didn't have that meeting right now, or soon, that meant it would happen after the party, late into the night. Which meant Damon would be sticking around until then.

The front was empty save for a few people scattered here and there, all of them engrossed in private, intimate conversations. Bonnie, Lexi, and Sheila were nowhere to be found; I wrung my hands nervously.

Caroline finished sending a text to who I hoped was Stefan. She appeared concerned as she scanned my face, brows forming a worried v-shape over her eyes.

I leaned heavily on her arm, lightheaded, but attempted a smile anyway. "I'm alright. Nothing a good night's sleep can't fix."

"I know that." She shifted her weight from one foot to the next. "I was...thinking about what people were saying."

"They're always saying things. And they always will."

"Yeah well, they shouldn't."

I laughed, crinkling my nose. "You should tell 'em that."

"Oh, they'll get a piece of my mind, that's for sure," she huffed, one hand on her hip. The edge of her skirt brushed against my fingertips, making my hand tense. "What happened, though?"

A long sigh escaped my lips. "We made a deal. He—"

"Caroline? Sam?" I coughed on my next few words as Elena's face popped into view. She jogged the last few feet toward us, her expression warm and inviting. I smiled back instinctively but felt my stomach churn. "I didn't get a chance to say hi. You both look beautiful."

"So do you," Caroline replied, almost timidly.

Elena's gaze lingered on me, brows creasing in worry the longer she stared. Her and Caroline can be so similar, at times. "I'm not feeling too well," I said, lowering a hand to press against my lower abdomen. "Got really bad cramps out of nowhere."

"Oh," she breathed, reaching for her handbag. "I think I have some ibuprofen on me?"

Stefan appeared suddenly beside her, startling everyone but Elena. I stepped back and Caroline involuntarily dug her nails into my forearm. I forced a laugh to play it off, but his tight expression and his anxious eyes made it die quickly. Elena, slightly oblivious, gave him a smitten smile as greeting while she handed me a small white packet.

"There's two inside. I hope it helps."

The kind gesture made my eyes sting. I blinked repeatedly to erase the sensation. "Thank you."

"Are you both leaving?" Stefan asked, cutting straight to the point. He rested his palm flat against Elena's back, subtly (but not too subtle for it to go unnoticed by me) tugging her closer to him. "It is getting dark."

Caroline nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. Lexi and Bonnie should be here soon, too. Are you two staying?"

I shook the pills out onto my hand from the packet while they spoke. The pair fell onto my hands like two tiny beacons of light, so bright in the dark of the quickly disappearing sun. They slid down my throat slowly, the lack of water making it uncomfortable, but not impossible.

"Sam, I heard Damon's your date?"

I licked my lips, expecting this question. "Yeah he's...a real charmer. Which is unfortunate for me, but lucky for him."

"Have you two...really been dating for a few weeks?" Caroline shot Elena a heated look which she shrunk under, probably realizing that it wasn't the time. "I'm sorry—"

"It's okay," I reassured quickly, squeezing Caroline's forearm to calm her down. "I just wouldn't call it dating, you know? More like talking. But, yeah. I guess we have. Technically speaking."

She nodded, probably a little confused but not willing to push it. "Did he leave already?"

Elena looked around and Stefan's expression hardened in response. I hope she didn't see him trying to woo the guests without me. "He uh...went out to grab some medicine and a heat pad to help with the...pain."

I cringed internally, and could tell Stefan was doing the same. Caroline, in an effort to prevent Elena from cringing as well, fake squealed and clapped her hands together.

"That's so sweet!" she exclaimed, but then began pouting. You can always count on Caroline to improvise, and improvise well. "If you guys are going to get to play nurse and patient," she winked at me, which made me blush in embarrassment. "I think it's only fair that the rest of us continue this party at my house! But with greasier food and more alcohol."

"I'm in!" Bonnie hopped down the last step on the front porch, Lexi not far behind her. She smoothed down the front of her dress, hair spilling over her shoulders as she neared. "We both are. I'm starving."

"The food here was too fancy, too underseasoned, and too small," Lexi complained, saddling up on Stefan's other side. "I'm craving a burger and fries. Ooh, maybe even a milkshake!"

Elena seemed unsure, eyes seeking out Stefan's for his opinion. He wrapped an arm around her waist, voice tipping into that low and gentle pitch of his. "That sounds like fun."

Caroline squealed again. "Then let's go!"

"I'll look after Sam." Sheila, who had come from the side of the house rather than the front, reached for my arm. Slowly, I eased my weight off Caroline and onto Sheila. "You kids have fun and be safe. It's a school night."

We split up without complication or fuss. Caroline went with Lexi, while Bonnie, Sheila and I all clambered into Bonnie's car. I laid down on the backseat, the position easing some of the pressure on my head.

"Had a vision," I started, as the car rumbled to life. "I'm okay, just tired."

"Where's Damon?" Bonnie asked worriedly, the turn signal ticking rhythmically. "He was glued to your side and then he just disappeared."

"He didn't believe me when I told him we had to leave so he just. Stayed."

She scoffed under her breath. "Of course he did."

"Dear, what did you see?"

"The compass, of all things," I muttered. I shifted onto my side, closing my eyes. "They have it and they're gonna use it."

"Did you see when?" she asked gently, her hand brushing a stray hair from my forehead.

"I don't know the exact time but something tells me it's today."

"What did Damon want?" Bonnie blurted, frustration clear in her voice. "Did he try anything?"

"He was still hoping the talisman would be there," I said, realizing after the words had left my mouth that, other than making him incredibly stubborn, was also kind of sad. He's in denial. If this is how he acts thinking Katherine is in the tomb, he's going to absolutely go off the rails when he finds out she was never even in there to begin with. "We made a deal. Which I guess was broken since he literally left. I...I'm so tired. Can we leave this conversation for tomorrow?"

I felt awful doing so but couldn't focus much past the ear-splitting headache. The car rolled to a stop and Sheila helped me out of the car. Bonnie gave me a soft smile, quick and reassuring, before driving off. The last thing she probably wanted was to go and pretend everything was okay at Caroline's, with the others. But it was a small price to pay to get Elena (and Stefan) out of the party. The feeling low in my gut that she would be safe there with them all kept me from asking her to stay.

A pot of water was put to boil. I wandered into the bathroom and started the process of removing my makeup. The wipes on the counter smelled fresh, clean. Caroline had left them there for me, a neon pink post-it note on top reading "USE THESE OR ELSE" in black ink.

I rested my elbows and forearms on the sink, slouching horribly and nearly laying my upper body on the counter. My bones were so heavy, I just wanted to rest.

The makeup around my eyes wiped off easily, smoothly, the once pristine white cloth now bruised black and brown. I moved onto the other eye, but miscalculated the movement. The wipe fell into the sink.

As I reached for it, in time with the throbbing of my skull, my vision blacked out. I held onto the counter's edge for stability.

The arrow moved frantically within the compass, unsure of where to stop. All at once it froze, the sharp end pointing somewhere off into the distance. A treeline appeared, thick with trees and dark. We found it.

A few minutes passed. The sounds of Sheila busying herself in the kitchen spilled through the closed bathroom door.

Okay, I thought, gently wiping away at my other eye with a trembling hand. Okay...what are the pros and cons of sneaking out and going back to the Lockwood Mansion?

There was no doubt in my mind that the vision took place there. And that Damon, the goddamn idiot, was the vampire the compass had found. He hadn't left. Wouldn't leave. Which I already knew, but couldn't just...let it be. I didn't trust him to realize (or frankly, care) on his own that he was putting himself in danger. But regardless, I couldn't let him be found. He'd out Stefan and Lexi.

Yet, that was only a minor problem. Even if Damon had left, the compass would still work. It would still do its magic-thing and point out vampires nearby. Damon was only going to speed up that process. No, right now, the compass was the real issue.

If I go back, how would I even get the compass? What can I possibly do that Lexi's pickpocketing skills couldn't?

I also didn't know who was using it. Or when they would use it. If I had the vision now, did that mean it was about to actually happen? How much time did I have?

Tossing the wipe in the trash, I pressed my palms to my eyes, seeing stars. I sat on the floor, the cool tile calming my nerves slightly. I needed to focus on the vision.

Replaying it, I focused on the little details. The shape of the trees. The texture of the ground. How dark it was. Where the weak source of light was coming from (behind) which I assumed was the mansion.

Currently, the sun had almost completely set and the sky was a smear of dull, warm colors fading fast into that familiar inky darkness. I drank my tea in silence on the living room sofa, lids drooping from exhaustion. The ticking of the clock on the wall indicated each passing second, which turned into minutes, which became nearly an hour. I washed my mug and shuffled to my room.

"'Night, Grams."

She smiled tenderly, allowing me my space yet still showing the concern creasing her eyes. Despite the early hour, she didn't question me. "Rest, dear. Let me know if you need anything. I'll be here."

Since it was a weeknight, the party would not go on late. Adults had work, kids had school, and some had both. Most guests would have left by now.

Searching in my closet for all black attire reminded me of my first visit to the Lockwood Mansion. A lot of the clothes I'd worn then were still grouped together, almost as if waiting for me to wear it again.

This time I added a beanie and a mask (which only covered the lower half of my face). I pull the hood of my jacket over my beanie for extra protection. I hoped that from the back I would look like a random person out on a late night bike ride. There were a few people who did that here, whether for exercise or for fun. All I had to do was keep moving. If I stopped, and someone got a good look at me, they would become suspicious.

The latch on my bedroom window slipped from my fingertips multiple times, my sigh of relief when it unlocked fogging up the glass. The walls rattled gently, the faint groaning from the pipes indicating the water in the shower was running. Everything was turned off in my room, the door was locked, and I slid the window closed after me.

Jeremy's bike rested against a pole near the back door. I never did have a chance to return it before shit seriously hit the fan. He hadn't asked for it back either, which was unsurprising as he hadn't spoken to me at all since that night at the hospital.

The loose silver chain came off easily, but echoed loudly in the empty, dark backyard. I quickly hid the key under a rock and draped the chain on the grass.

The route I took was the same as before, mostly streets with fewer lamp posts and traffic. I went out of my way to ride down streets with only a couple of houses scattered throughout it. The air, crisp and cold, numbed the tops of my cheeks and forehead. Everything else was covered, protected. Hidden.

Before I knew it, the treeline I'd been looking for came into view. Immediately, I ducked within it, biking along the smooth path that lay just a few feet within the thick of the trees. If I studied the dirt close enough, I could make out the tire grooves from the last time I'd been here.

Eventually, the path circled back to the main road. I hopped off the bike and carried it the rest of the way in, leaving it against the large root of a tree when the ground became too difficult to walk on. Spotting the roof of the mansion through the thinning of the trees, I maneuvered my way around, three or four times, to see what I was up against.

No people were leaving or entering. The lights inside were dim, curtains drawn. The tent outside, once a warm bright light during the party, was now empty and picked clean of life. Fixing myself to the right wing of the mansion, I observed the building for any movements.

Occasionally, a shadow could be made out past the thick of the curtains when the room had a particularly brighter light on. Yet, even after half an hour of lying in wait, I only spotted movement three times.

I neared the area where I had previously entered—the kitchen—and rubbed my gloved hands together. There had been no movement here, but the drawn curtains and dim lighting made me suspicious. After a party, I could only imagine the copious amount of things which needed to be washed. There had to be someone here, but because the light was so weak I couldn't know for certain.

There was a second door closer to the front of the house that I could try. If I remembered correctly, it led to a sitting room of some sort. The lights were completely off in that area, but I felt safer nearing that than I did a kitchen.

As I stood from my crouched position to move, my vision went white. I stumbled back, startled, and fell into a tree. It took a few frantic blinks to realize that it hadn't been a vision that overcame my sight, but instead just an extremely bright light.

The person that had stepped outside (a worker, I assumed) walked briskly toward the tent, cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. I had to squint to see them properly, the apron around their waist damp from what I assumed must've been sink water. As they neared the backyard, the bright light disappeared.

You have got to be kidding me, I thought as I raised my eyes up along the kitchen exit and noticed a very subtle, dark shape floating above it. Of course they would have a fucking security light installed.

It hadn't been there during my previous visit, and its sudden, weirdly timed appearance made my skin crawl. How am I supposed to get past that?

"I thought you said this place wasn't safe."

I was on the floor before I could register falling, the terror that seized me manifesting in a rush of magic. I nearly set whoever spoke on fire before I realized it was Damon.

"C-christ," I stuttered, chest heaving, "it's not smart to scare a witch, you absolute tool."

"I've been here the entire time. It's not my fault you didn't notice."

He sauntered near the treeline, near the house, close enough to being outside the protection of the woods that the moonlight illuminated his face. His entire demeanor screamed unphased, relaxed. It only served to make my previous anger resurface like a wildfire.

"Why the hell would you stick around after the party when I said it was dangerous? I get it. You don't believe me. But the party was your focus, right? So why are you sticking around?"

He turned to me, shadows crawling down his cheeks and forehead. His eyes were bottomless pools of black. "Since you made a big deal of this so-called vampire compass, I decided to see if it works."

"Do you realize how stupid that is? They'll attack you."

His head tilted, and now I could see the cool, blue glint of his eyes. "I'll attack first."

"Oh god," I groaned. "You're an idiot. An idiot with terrible ideas."

Damon stepped closer, the slow and controlled movement making the hair on the back of my neck stand. Watch it. He's not a friend, Sam.

"Do you have a better one?" he asked mockingly.

The sight of the mansion stirred fear low in my gut. The security lights were unexpected, and once I was inside it was going to be another challenge to find Mr. Lockwood's office without being seen. And then what? And then what? Destroy the compass? You can never properly plan something out, can you?

Without a word I left Damon to circle the building again. The left wing had some movement, an occasional flurry that had me backing up further within the safety of the trees. Despite the kitchen being on the right, it seemed the left was busier. Each entrance, I noted, had a black, almost box shaped blur above it.

How do I get inside?

I ended up back where I'd begun at the right wing, eyeing the second entrance. Damon was no longer there, but I didn't care to find him.

Taking a deep breath, I reached my magic out. It wrapped around the light like an extension of my hands. I tried to unscrew the bulb, but felt nothing other than smoothness all around. It must be inside, then. Boxed in.

Breaking the entire floodlight wouldn't be the smartest choice. It would leave evidence. It might also make noise. Yet my options were limited. Especially without a proper spell or the ingredients for it with me, I would have to rely on sheer power and even on a good day, I was weak at best. Still a fumbling baby witch.

As the words crossed my mind, my hand brushed against my necklace. It was warm in my palm, pulsing a comforting heat deep into my skin. I was still a baby witch, yes, but I also had an absurdly overpowered advantage quite literally right at my fingertips.

From within the safety of the cover of trees, I raised an arm, feet steadying on the soft ground. The light, a black brick in the dark, wasn't so blurred in with the wall it was mounted on. My sight had adjusted enough to make out the edges, curves, even a slight reflection on the glass of the moonlight.

There was a section in my mom's grimoire that focused on energy depletion, suppression, and concentration. There were a few spells there, some more complex and completely out of my element while others were...doable. Especially since I didn't have any ingredients or remember most of the spells, I would have to rely on sheer power.

With little effort the necklace flared to life, heat redirecting itself to my fingers. I inhaled deeply, staring at the security light intently. Softly, quietly, I began chanting what I could remember of the spell. My other arm raised instinctively, magic firing off on every nerve ending. I staggered back, suddenly breathless, a rush of endorphins flooding my head like I was drowning.

There was no discernible change in the light. It remained off, not triggered, the side of the mansion cast in a dramatic shadow that the moonlight barely touched. I gasped from exertion, slapping a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound. A gentle breeze kissed the tops of my cheeks. My knees trembled.

Cowering back a few steps, I searched for a rock among the damp dirt and gnarled tree roots. The first one I saw was the size of my palm, weighty, but smooth to the touch. Tossing it in the direction of the mansion took an alarming amount of effort, part of my energy still directed toward keeping the security light off.

Despite that, I still breathed a sigh of relief when the sensor didn't trigger. It was quickly followed by a deep inhale— and then another. The person who had exited earlier was still smoking, far away enough that they looked like a small blur of white and black against a backdrop of shadowed green and brown.

Without another thought I sprinted for the door. A bead of sweat collected on my upper brow as I forced myself to hold the sensor off while channeling some magic toward unlocking the door. The resounding click was a small victory compared to how exhausted I felt when I stumbled inside, the room silent, dark, and smelling of disinfectant.

Catching my breath, I nervously rubbed my gloved hands against my thighs. The visions had taken more out of me than I had initially thought. Yet, even if I had known, I would've still done this. Would've still tried to destroy the compass tonight. To not do so, to not make at least an attempt, would be to doom my friends, our efforts and time and sacrifices. Small sacrifices compared to what we would all have to give up if I didn't pull through.

The hallway was empty, unilluminated; it appeared like a hollowed out log. One light was on at one end, the distant sounds of dishware clattering and scrubbing confirming my previous thoughts about the kitchen. It would've been an awful idea to enter from there. Though, if the kitchen was there, then I had a better idea of where Mr. Lockwood's office was.

If I remembered correctly, that was where the council had their meeting for the first time in season one. And I wouldn't have ever made the connection if I hadn't been in the actual room myself (which thank god I had been).

Sneaking down the hallway side that was darker, I decided to circle the mansion to avoid the kitchen at all costs. There were no noises over here except the soft drag of air through my covered nose, the fabric pressed snug against my face. Turning down another hallway, this one brighter than the last but still dim enough to keep my nerves from worsening, I all but glued myself to the main wall. I had reached the front of the mansion and now just needed to slowly make my way to the office, which was down (another) hallway that was completely lit up.

A clatter to my left sent me sprawling to the floor behind a sofa, my body in a low pushup position and my gloves (thankfully) keeping the sound I made relatively quiet. Someone passed by quickly, a large gray box in their arms filled with dirty dishes. They swiftly collected two empty champagne glasses on a nearby table and disappeared from sight, leaving me slumped on the ground and sweating profusely.

Please don't let me be caught. Please.

With those words and a few moments to collect myself, I pulled myself up and creeped down the dreaded hallway. My reflection caught on the many shiny things displayed along the walls, the bouncing light and glittering decorations seeming to signal my presence to all in the mansion.

As I turned the corner, down the corridor that led to Mr. Lockwood's office, the sound of many voices hit my ears. I plastered myself against the wall, painfully aware of how exposed I was.

How am I supposed to get inside? Should I go to the other hall, try from there?

There was a large mahogany desk to my right and a display cabinet farther down my left. They could be used as cover to get closer to the door.

But what, then? I couldn't destroy the compass without seeing it. I needed the door to be open, I needed to see inside. My magic reached out, tentative; I felt the presence of people but nothing else.

My chest ached from the effort. Regardless of the power I could draw from my necklace, my body could only handle so much. I couldn't try something new, especially not at this point, without risking going into cardiac arrest. Sheila always warned me about overexertion.

When in doubt, distract.

It had to be something big enough to draw the council's attention but not big enough that whoever was inside felt scared enough to hide the compass. I needed a visual on it.

I crouched behind the desk, hands trembling. Around the corner, a tall, silver candle holder gleamed. The candles were lit, hot wax coating the sides. From earlier today, most of the floor was covered in carpet. The material was semi-coarse, probably expensive. I didn't know how quickly it would catch fire, or if it would even catch fire at all.

The entire mansion burning down was not on my list of things to do. I shifted my gaze to the display cabinet, slim and delicately shaped. It was near my position, maybe too near, but the lack of glass panels made it easy to have something fall. It had to be easily breakable and weighty too. If I went around the corner, into the side room that was engulfed in darkness, I could do it from there. I would have to peek out to look for the compass, but hopefully they'd be too distracted with whatever broken item would be on the floor to notice a shadow in the corner of their vision.

Before I could move, a worker shuffled past. They held a black tray with dishes and crystal glasses. Without hesitation, without even a second thought, I reached out, just as they were almost completely around the corner, and shoved at the tray with magic.

For a few seconds, there was only a horrific cacophony of shattering glass and ceramic. I pressed myself further into the desk before realizing I had to move, and quickly.

In the darkness of the side room I cowered behind a loveseat, terrified that I had been spotted in my frantic sprint over. I hadn't checked for witnesses.

The door to the office opened just as I finished moving, and Mrs. Lockwood emerged. She blocked the entryway for a brief moment before her neck flushed and she disappeared a foot down the hall where the worker was.

"Mrs. Lockwood, I'm so—"

"Do you have any idea how expensive this is?" she scolded the worker sharply. "This is antique. And you broke it so carelessly."

Crawling along the floor toward the doorway, I stuck my head out to see better. Mr. Lockwood exited too, blocking some of the light. He shifted, kicking at some of the glass shards by his feet, the bowing of his head revealing three faces behind him.

"Go grab a bag to pick this mess up."

Without thinking, I'd stood and pressed myself flat against a wooden cabinet. I was in clear view, but blanketed by the dark. I didn't dare to breathe. I held still, waiting for the right moment, the right shift in people to get a better look inside.

Mr. Lockwood rocked back on his heels, a look of disgust marring his face. Mrs. Lockwood came into view again, a scowl on her lips. I felt incredibly awful for causing the worker to be on the receiving end of not only one, but two expressions of anger. God, I really hope they don't lose their job.

Mr. Lockwood moved aside to make room for his wife to enter the office and everything, from the dust motes floating down from the high beam of light in the hallway to the blood flowing in my veins, stilled for a fraction of a second. Miranda Gilbert, Sheriff Forbes, and another man I vaguely recognized stood near the back of the office. In this man's hands was something round, shining warmly between his fingers like liquid gold.

My knees buckled, heart stuttering against my ribs. Motivated by pure instinct, I set the object on fire with a quick raise of my arm. There was a shout, a frantic toss of the compass onto the floor, and I squeezed my open hand into a fist right before it was blocked from view. Over my labored breathing, the sounds of twisting metal echoed down the hall.

I kept squeezing, my fist trembling from the effort and cramping. The volume of the screaming increased, a furious commotion taking place within the office as the fire, still raging, grew larger. I didn't stop, though. Couldn't. Despite the stomping and attempts to put the fire out, I pushed on. Only when I caught a glimpse of the compass, deformed, half-melted, and nearly black, did I finally unclench my fingers. Swaying forward unsteadily, I caught my breath.

At some point a piece of cloth had been used to smother the flames. I looked up, grateful to not have caused any serious damage or injuries, and almost collapsed when I made eye contact with the man.

Immediately, I broke out into a run down the hall, the recognition in his expression enough to trigger my fight or flight response. It hadn't been a coincidental glance or an unobservant scan. He had seen me.

The yelling kicked back up again, the voices of the workers mixing with the council's. I couldn't hear what they were saying over the sound of blood pounding through my veins, and it didn't really matter anyway. What mattered was getting the fuck out of this place. NOW.

I burst through the double doors I'd entered from, startling violently when the floodlights blinded me and my surroundings. I faltered for just a second before sprinting directly into the treeline, the light surely alerting everyone to my position.

A brief wave of absolute panic overcame me as I struggled to find the bike immediately. Everything was dark and cold and I could hear voices beginning to spill outside. But the panic only lasted a few seconds before I nearly tripped over the bike, the relief that shook my bones draining.

Lifting it, I sprinted further into the woods. A flashlight beam whipped near where I was moving, and I ducked to avoid it illuminating my figure. It focused on a section of trees twenty feet to my right.

My vision went white, then black, and then white again. It fizzled out almost like a dying spark, the sound incomprehensible, impossible to make out, and the colors faded. My brain rattled in my skull like a single penny in a tin can when my forehead struck the bike's handlebars, the pain knocking me out of my momentary daze. Wiping dirt from my mouth, I sat up unsteadily, knees all but knocking into one another.

Damon.

"Damon," I echoed, the sound getting lost somewhere in my throat. "Damon," I tried again, sweat slick palms slipping against the cool metal of the bike. "We gotta go."

More voices. They seemed closer than they were just seconds ago. I held the bike up despite the protest of my muscles, but I didn't move. The council has vervain. What if they're armed, too? I can't leave him. Fuck, I can't leave him.

"Damon," I whispered, backing away from the light which spilled onto my legs. "Damon, please. Please. Leave."

If he was caught, Stefan and Lexi would immediately be thrown under the bus. If he was caught, I would be found out too. And Bonnie. And Sheila.

I stumbled, but held onto the bike for dear life. If I left it, Miranda would immediately know it was Jeremy's. She would know I was the last person who had it. I hitched it higher, ignoring the welling tears in my eyes and anxiety twisting at my heart.

"Shit," I cried, dropping the bike and raising my arms. My necklace flushed my veins with untapped power, but my body trembled as it pooled in my fingertips.

There was a chance Damon had already left, a chance he'd left before I'd even entered the mansion. But it felt unlikely. He wanted to see what the big deal was about. He would've stuck around. He has to be here. He wouldn't just leave.

The beam of light returned, skirting just against the curve of my shoulder. I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I had to do something. Incapacitating them seemed like the best idea, yet my stomach curled into itself. I didn't know how I'd handle it. If I'd have any energy left.

Do it for them. Do it for them.

Just as I lurched forward, the spell nearly rolling off my tongue, a hand covered my mouth. I recoiled, afraid, gloved fingers gripping desperately at the bark of a tree, but my feet left the ground and the world started to spin erratically.

I fell for what felt like hours before I touched the ground again, shoes dragging against smooth concrete. The moon was bright here, out of the thick of the trees. Bright enough to let me see far down the side of the road I was on, which was vacant on both sides. A pain in my left calf caused me to realize my bike was here too, partially on me.

I pulled my leg free and stared at the tear in my glove where a sliver of skin, unbroken but an irritated red shade, stared right back at me.

"You definitely owe me for that."

Damon blocked the moonlight briefly before he knelt, wrinkling his nose at the bike.

"For what?" I asked, dazed.

"Rescuing you. Or is that something you only consider an idiot with terrible ideas would do?" he pouted, bottom lip jutting out exaggeratedly.

I blinked tiredly at him. "What took you so long?"

At this, he stood, but didn't respond. I slowly mimicked him, the bike taking an obscene amount of energy to bring upright. I swayed from the weight of it, shin taking a stinging blow as I staggered to catch my balance.

"Looks like you're going to owe me twice."

I hardly had time to register the words before everything was spinning again, my stomach rolling dangerously. This time, I was hyper aware of the passing of time particularly because of the awful rushing of blood to my head, the heat of it closing up my throat. I realized why when the world stopped moving and I was unceremoniously pushed off of Damon's shoulder, the bike landing by my thigh on spiky, cool grass.

"Thanks," I grunted weakly, choking back the urge to vomit. Damon watched me as I slowly stood and dragged the bike to its original spot by the house. The chain clattered quietly as I secured the lock, the echo of it blurring into a ringing doorbell. My vision didn't have to fade for me to know to brace myself against the pole, chest tightening in anticipation.

"I know about you."

I coughed, the sound loud in the still of the night. My head lolled back, weight slumping almost completely onto the pole. I nearly knocked my face into it, the tender spot of my forehead missing it by centimeters.

"You know, I could kill you right now."

I stared at Damon, unresponsive. Something warm trickled down my upper lip and pooled there for a moment before continuing down my chin. My peripheral was all but gone, vision tunneling severely. I could barely bring myself to wipe blindly at my face.

Damon hummed, head tipped low and eyes gleaming. "Maybe next time," he mused, before disappearing.

I wiped at my face again, tasting blood when I licked my chapped lips. Pulling myself along the side of the house, I somehow managed to shove open my window. With the last of my strength, I hauled myself inside with only a few dull thuds. On the ground, face first on the hardwood floor, I only half-closed the window with my foot before giving up. I passed out instantly.


...


end author's note: hi everyone! I hope you've all been well these past few months. for the first time in a while, I'm updating sooner than I usually do (those six month gaps were trying to kill me). it's been a little over three months this time, and I intend to keep this up! usually I have some grand (and unnecessary) update on my life, but quarantine has made it so that not much has happened. but, for 2021, I have something to look forward to! many things, really. and overall, despite how terrible this year has been, despite how much my mental health has dipped, how it's been a year since I've seen some of my friends, family members, and my beloved partner, I am grateful to be alive and well. and I am especially grateful everyone I care about is doing okay. please take care, and stay safe. you are all in my thoughts. let's hope 2021 is a better year!