Stefan turned sharply, facing Damon.
"No, Damon... you won't hurt her," he said firmly.
Damon took a slow step forward, his smirk unwavering. "Are you sure?"
"Because deep down..." Stefan continued, holding his gaze, "there's still a part of you that has compassion for her."
Damon didn't respond immediately. His smile faltered slightly—like something inside him stirred, something unwanted.
"I feared there wasn't even a trace of humanity left in you, Damon," Stefan said quietly. "That you'd truly become the monster you pretend to be."
"Why pretend?" Damon asked, shoving the feeling away and grinning again.
"Then kill me," Stefan said, voice low.
"Well..." Damon said slowly, "I am tempted."
"No, you aren't," Stefan shot back. "You've had lifetimes to do it. But here I am—still alive. And here you are."
Damon's grin faded slightly.
"Still chasing me. Still hunting me," Stefan said. "After 145 years... Katherine is dead."
Damon flinched, a visible crack in his mask.
"And you hate me for it," Stefan continued. "Because you loved her. And you torture me... because you still do."
Damon looked away, eyes darkening. His face—so often smug—now twisted with pain, confusion, and rage.
"And that..." Stefan said gently, "is your humanity."
Silence.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the tension.
"Salvatore!" Mr. Tanner barked from behind Stefan, striding toward them, clipboard in hand. "What the hell are you doing here? We've got a game to play!"
He stopped a few feet from them, hands planted on his hips, frustration radiating from every word.
Stefan turned quickly. "Mr. Tanner, wait—"
But Damon didn't even glance at his brother. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, a cold smile curling on his lips.
"If that's my humanity..." Damon said, eyes flickering crimson as he stared at Stefan, "then what's this?"
In a blur, Damon was behind Mr. Tanner. The coach barely had time to register the movement before Damon sank his fangs into his neck.
Mr. Tanner's gasp was strangled, cut short as blood sprayed in the air.
"No!" Stefan roared, rushing forward.
But it was already too late. Mr. Tanner collapsed, limp and lifeless, his eyes wide in frozen shock.
Damon straightened, blood still smeared across his lips, his face eerily calm. His eyes locked with Stefan's.
"Remember, Stefan..." he said quietly, almost gently.
"Always… anywhere… anyone."
And then—he was gone. Vanished into the night like a shadow.
...
All of the students were gathered in a hushed, tight crowd behind the yellow police line. Red and blue lights flashed rhythmically across their faces, throwing everything into a surreal, haunting glow. An ambulance sat parked by the school steps, EMTs moving quickly but solemnly.
On a stretcher, covered in a white sheet, was Mr. Tanner.
Matt stood off to the side, shoulders hunched, staring down at the ground. He had been the one to find him—lifeless, pale, his blood pooling into the cracks of the pavement. He hadn't said much since.
Around him, some students were quietly crying. Others simply stood, stunned, unable to process the weight of what had just happened.
Bonnie clung tightly to Aiken's arm, her eyes glossy with tears. Her lip quivered as she watched the EMTs wheel the stretcher away.
Aiken wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. He didn't say anything—his eyes scanned the crowd.
No Stefan.
'Damon...' Aiken thought grimly. It had to be him.
"Aiken..." Bonnie whispered, tapping his shoulder with trembling fingers.
He looked down at her.
"Look…" she said, and pointed across the road toward a building.
Aiken followed her gaze. There, lit faintly by a flickering streetlamp, was the number carved into the concrete over the doorway: 8.
They turned slightly. One of the police cruisers parked by the scene had its number clearly marked on the side: 14.
Then Bonnie looked down. Her voice caught.
The pavement below their feet—22 painted in faded yellow.
Bonnie's grip on his arm tightened. Her breathing hitched as a fresh wave of fear washed over her.
"Aiken..." she said again, her voice on the verge of breaking.
He looked down at her and gently cupped her cheek with one hand.
"Don't worry, Bonnie..." he said softly, reassuring her as he pulled her closer into his chest.
"We're gonna go through this together."
She nodded weakly, holding on like he was the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly become unpredictable and terrifying.
The sirens kept flashing.
...
A silver Porsche purred to a stop in front of a quaint yet quietly imposing house nestled among the trees. The porch light flickered on automatically, casting a soft glow on the wooden steps.
Aiken cut the engine and stepped out. He rounded the car and opened the passenger door with a slight flourish. "Milady," he said with a playful bow.
Bonnie smiled faintly despite everything, letting him help her out. Her fingers lingered on his for just a moment longer than necessary.
They walked together up the steps, and Aiken raised a hand to knock on the door.
"Finally presenting me to your grandmother?" Aiken teased, trying to lighten the heavy mood that still hung over them after the night's events.
Bonnie chuckled, rolling her eyes. "I don't know if she'll like you..."
"Why?" Aiken grinned.
"You're too... arrogant," she replied with a sly glance.
"Arrogant?" Aiken's smile widened. "Do I have to show you just how arrogant I can be?" he said, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.
Bonnie kissed him before he could say anything else. A soft, lingering kiss, full of emotion.
And that's exactly when the front door swung open.
"Get off my granddaughter!" a sharp voice snapped.
Aiken found himself suddenly shoved back—surprisingly hard—by a woman in her sixties, regal and commanding in presence, her eyes sharp with authority and power.
"Grandma!" Bonnie exclaimed, flustered and mortified.
"Hi, grandma." Aiken said smoothly, recovering and offering a handshake as though nothing happened. "I'm Aiken Hill. Bonnie's future husband."
Bonnie gasped. "Aiken!"
The older woman didn't take the hand. She didn't even blink.
She was staring.
Not at Aiken's face, but into him.
There was a shift in her expression—only slightly, but Aiken saw it. Recognition. Unease. Her magic flared in an instant, subtle but potent, like coiled lightning behind her calm eyes.
'She's strong…' Aiken thought. 'She's on the level of an elite member of the Gemini Coven...'
"You…" she began, her voice low and dark, not just angry now—but wary.
Then, without another word, she turned to Bonnie and practically shoved her inside the house. "Stay here!" she commanded, her hand raised, and the door slammed shut behind her as though willed by unseen hands.
"What—? Grandma!" Bonnie called, trying to open the door. But it didn't budge. Even with the key, it was locked—no, sealed by magic.
On the porch, Aiken stood calmly.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "So you noticed, huh?"
To be continued...
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How was this chapter? Liked it?
How do you guys find this new path the fic has undergone? Is it better than the last one?
Also, Aiken will still be going on a journey soon, it will be greatly different from the other, and, in my opinion, it is better. I really thought a lot about it.