Light shines through the trees, waking him from slumber. He feels the raw earth beneath him and the sun on his naked back.
Coming back to himself after three days as a wolf is… grounding in a way Klaus didn't expect.
He opens his eyes slowly, inhaling deeply. The world is sharper. Louder. Every sound, every heartbeat, every shift of air hits him with predatory clarity. His muscles feel coiled, ready, alive.
He smiles.
"Oh, that is… magnificent."
Elijah stands a few feet away, arms folded, posture painfully composed. The kind of composed that means he's holding himself together with sheer willpower — and maybe a touch of dread.
"How do you feel?" Elijah asks.
Klaus rolls his shoulders, testing the strength humming under his skin. No ache. No weakness. Just power — the kind that thrums in his bones and whispers you were always meant to be this.
"Like I've finally become what I was born to be," Klaus says. "And I remember everything."
Elijah's eyes flicker. "Three days in wolf form is not a trivial experience."
"No," Klaus agrees, "but it was… clarifying. And I am sure my good and noble brother was cleaning up all the messes left behind."
Elijah doesn't comment on that. He never does when Klaus is being insufferable on purpose. "Our agreement still stands."
Klaus smirks. "You really don't trust me."
"History suggests I shouldn't," Elijah replies. "You release our siblings. We kill Mikael. Together."
Klaus's smile sharpens. "Oh, I intend to. I'm quite tired of running, are you, brother?"
Because now he's not just an Original. He's the apex predator.
The old cemetery is quiet in that heavy, suffocating way that only places steeped in magic can be. The air tastes like dust and old spells — the magic still lingers like a warning.
Mikael lies in his stone coffin, body stilled and desiccated. Eyes closed, bound by witchcraft designed to keep him locked and immobile. His body wrapped in chains, probably for good measure. A prison of silence.
Elijah hesitates at the threshold, if only for a second. Klaus doesn't.
They step inside. Klaus's presence brushes against the spell, and the magic reacts — a faint ripple, like the air flinching.
Mikael's eyes snap open.
No gasp. No movement. Just pure, silent, murderous rage burning in those ancient eyes.
Elijah goes rigid. Klaus tilts his head, almost amused.
"Awake enough to witness your end," Klaus murmurs. "How fitting."
Mikael can't move. The witch's spell holds him down, locks his voice away, traps him in that awful paralysis. But his eyes follow Klaus with a hatred so sharp it feels like a blade.
Elijah's voice is quiet. "Let's finish this."
The noble Original quietly takes a white oak ash dagger from the pocket of his suit.
He had sent a compelled human inside the tomb before — to confirm Mikael was indeed there and to find said stake.
Klaus nods and takes the stake from Elijah's hand. His brother knew — he wanted to do it himself.
He reaches into the coffin, fingers brushing over Mikael's chest — feeling the faint echo of power still clinging to him. Then he lifts the stake.
"Goodnight, Father," Klaus says softly. "Do try not to haunt me. I'd hate to enjoy it."
He drives the stake into Mikael's heart in one smooth, decisive motion.
No scream. No thrashing. Just a violent shudder, a flash of incandescent fury in Mikael's eyes — and then nothing.
The spell collapses with him, dissolving into the air like smoke. The body burns.
Mikael is truly, finally, dead.
Elijah closes his eyes, grief and relief tangled together. Klaus stands over the body, breathing steady, gaze unreadable.
"It's done," Elijah says.
Klaus nods once. "It is."
For a rare moment, they stand together in silence — two sons over the corpse of the man who made them monsters.
Then Klaus turns away.
"We have siblings to wake," he says.
Summer is about to start, and I need a break.
Not a nap. Not a "let's pretend Mystic Falls is normal for five minutes" break. A real break.
So I pack a bag, grab my keys, and leave before anyone can stop me.
I wanted Caroline to come as well, make it a girl's trip. But Elena had just gotten sacrificed, and her uncle/bio dad had just died for her to be alive and human, so my favorite blonde decided it would be bad timing for her to leave.
Heck, I could tell she thought it was bad timing for me to leave. However, I will not be bound to this town due to doppelganger issues — not now, or ever.
Lucy's been on my mind — her, her family, the part of my magic that doesn't come with trauma and martyrdom. Maybe I'll visit.
Maybe I'll just drive until the universe loses my forwarding address.
The radio is blasting some early-2000s throwback as I drive out of town, and I'm singing along. Windows down, wind in my hair, zero vampires in sight.
The life of a normal American teenager for once — not bad at all.
For approximately thirty minutes.
Then I hear it.
A thump. Then another. Something shifting in the trunk.
I turn the music down. "No. Absolutely not. I am off-duty. I am on vacation. I refuse."
The thump happens again.
I pull over, muttering every swear word I know and inventing a few new ones. I walk to the back of the car, open the trunk—
—and Kol Mikaelson blinks up at me.
"Hello, darling," he says, like this is the most natural place in the world to be.
I stare at him. "Kol. Why are you in my trunk."
He grins, completely unbothered. "Long story. Short version: I needed a ride out of town."
I close my eyes. Count to three. Consider screaming. Consider setting the car on fire and walking away.
Of course. Of course the universe couldn't give me one peaceful roadtrip. Not one.
Kol stretches like he's getting comfortable. "So… where are we going?"
I take a deep breath.
"I was going on a solo trip," I say. "Alone. Without vampires. Without you."
Kol tilts his head, studying me. "That sounds tragically dull."
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Get. Out. Of. My. Trunk."
He hops out, dusts himself off, and leans against the car like he owns it. His expression makes it very clear he has no intention of going anywhere.
"Roads are dangerous these days," he says lightly. "You shouldn't be alone."
"I am a witch," I remind him. "I am the opposite of 'alone.' The universe won't leave me alone for five minutes."
He smiles, slow and sharp. "Exactly. Consider me… company."
"Why are you here?" I scowl at him.
"Well, I have yet to have time to learn to drive — being dead for a century and all." Kol explains with a shrug.
"Okay, that tells me why you are not in your car. Not why you are in mine." I glare up at him, hands on my hips, radiating frustration.
"Well, Elijah will be opening the coffins soon. Nik will find my lovely note, which means I needed to get out of Mystic Falls for a bit in case he returns. Oh, and who else does not want Nik to find me?" He points at me with a smirk.
And just like that, my peaceful getaway becomes a hostage situation with a sarcastic Original hitchhiker.
Perfect.
Kol pushes off the car and strolls toward the passenger door like this is a roadtrip he was personally invited to.
"Absolutely not," I say, stepping in front of him.
He blinks at me, all faux innocence. "What? You expect me to walk? In this heat? In these shoes?"
"You're a vampire," I deadpan.
"Yes," he says, "but I'm also dramatic. It's part of my charm."
I stare at him. He stares back, unbothered. The worst part is that he knows I'm not actually going to leave him on the side of the road. Not because I like him — I don't — but because the universe would absolutely punish me for it. Probably by dropping another Original into my backseat.
I sigh, long and suffering. "Fine. But you sit quietly. No murder. No mayhem. No… Kol-ing."
He grins like I just handed him a birthday present. "I make no promises."
"Kol."
"Alright, alright. I'll behave." He pauses. "Mostly."
I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of my head. I get back into the driver's seat, and Kol slips into the passenger side with the smug satisfaction of a cat claiming a sunbeam.
As I start the car, he glances at me sideways. "You know, Bonnie Bennett, you and I make quite the team."
"We are not a team."
"Temporary allies?"
"No."
"Travel companions?"
"Absolutely not."
He hums, amused. "You'll come around."
I grip the steering wheel tighter. "If you say one more word, I'm turning this car around and dropping you at the nearest bus stop."
Kol leans back relaxed, folding his hands behind his head.
The drive is quiet for all of thirty seconds before Kol starts humming. Loudly. Off‑key. To a song he definitely only half‑heard through some grieving medium on the Other Side.
I turn the music up. He hums louder.
I consider driving into a ditch.
Eventually, the gas light flicks on, and I pull into a station off the highway. It's one of those places that looks like it hasn't been renovated since the 90s — flickering lights, questionable bathrooms, a snack aisle that probably violates several health codes.
Kol steps out of the car and looks around with the kind of reverence usually reserved for holy sites.
"I've seen these before," he says, eyes bright. "People used to stop at them all the time. Never thought I'd actually walk into one."
"It's a gas station, Kol."
"Yes, but it's real now."
He wanders toward the pumps, inspecting them like a scientist studying a new species. "So this is what they look like up close. Fascinating contraptions. I always wondered how they worked."
"You've literally watched people use them."
"Yes, but watching and doing are very different experiences, Bonnie Bennett."
He leans in, sniffing the pump. "Still smells dreadful."
"Because it's gasoline."
He nods thoughtfully, like this confirms a long‑held theory.
While I start pumping gas, Kol drifts toward the convenience store. He stops in front of the automatic doors, waiting.
They slide open.
Kol freezes.
His eyes go wide.
"Oh," he whispers. "So that's what that feels like."
"It's a motion sensor," I say.
"I know what it is," he snaps, offended. "I've just never had one open for me before."
He steps inside like he's entering Disneyland.
The snack aisle nearly kills him.
He stares at the shelves, overwhelmed. "I used to watch people eat these. All these colors… all these flavors… I never thought—"
He grabs a bag of Doritos, holding it like a sacred relic. "Cool Ranch. I've always wondered what this tasted like."
"Kol—"
He grabs three more bags, a pack of gummy worms, and something called "Extreme Sour Lightning Bites."
"I need these," he says, voice solemn. "For science."
"You do not."
He ignores me and heads to the refrigerators. When he opens one, the cold air hits him and he gasps.
"Oh, that's delightful."
"It's a fridge."
"I know what a fridge is," he says, sticking his entire head inside. "I've just never felt one."
I drag him away before he climbs in.
At the counter, the cashier — a bored teenager who has seen everything and cares about nothing — scans the mountain of snacks Kol has accumulated.
Kol leans in conspiratorially. "You know, I've watched people buy these for years. Never thought I'd get the chance."
The cashier blinks. "Uh… cool?"
Kol beams like he's been blessed.
Back at the car, he tears open the Cool Ranch Doritos and takes a dramatic bite.
He freezes.
Slowly, reverently, he whispers, "Bonnie Bennett… this is the greatest thing humanity has ever created."
"Please don't tell your siblings that."
"Oh, I won't," he says, licking the powder off his fingers like a heathen. "I'm keeping these for myself."
Of course he is.
I start the car again, praying for patience, sanity, and maybe divine intervention.
Kol crunches loudly beside me.
This roadtrip is going to kill me.
A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! I'm currently terribly sick with the flu and have spent the entire week at home — so, lo and behold, I ended up writing a new chapter for you all.
I've also been editing this book. The story is still essentially the same, just with a few adjustments: some scenes were cut, others were added, and a few moments were refined. Overall, the plot hasn't changed, so you don't need to re‑read anything unless you want to.
This chapter idea has been sitting in my head for years, and it finally made it onto the page. I'd love to hear what you think of it.