[Alaric's Apartment]
Katherine had one arm buried in the fridge, rummaging through neatly stacked blood bags, when a familiar presence prickled at the back of her mind.
She didn't bother turning around. By the time the door creaked, she was already there, vamp speed snapping her into place.
Damon stood in the doorway, smug as ever. Beside him was Andie, gripping her purse like she wasn't entirely sure this counted as a good life decision.
Katherine arched a brow.
"What are you doing here?"
"We're here to rescue you," Andie said brightly.
"No, sweetie," Damon corrected, strolling past Katherine without waiting for permission. "We're here to see if she deserves to be rescued."
"Right," Andie muttered, stepping inside after him. Katherine scoffed. "Charming as always."
Damon glanced around the apartment, taking in the empty glasses, the blood bags, the too-clean surfaces.
"I figured you might still be kicking," he said casually. "Alaric-Klaus was blending in way too easily. That kind of performance doesn't come without a little coaching."
Katherine folded her arms. "And what makes you think I had anything to do with it?"
Damon smirked.
"Good thing we also happen to have a surprise, one who actually knows him. And stays about two steps ahead of the bastard." Katherine laughed, sharp and disbelieving.
"That's funny. No one is smart enough to outmaneuver Klaus."
"Yeah," Damon said lightly, "that's what everyone says right before they die or so I'm told."
She studied him more carefully now.
"Is he really that powerful?" she asked. "Because hundreds have tried, Damon. Thousands even."
Damon's smile widened, almost proud.
"Oh, it's not just power." He leaned in slightly.
"He's the one who taught Klaus and Elijah how to walk. How to fight. How to think."
Katherine froze.
"What?" she breathed.
"Oh yeah," Damon said, enjoying it far too much. "Which is exactly why thanks to his charming sense of humor we've already caught Klaus off guard twice."
Katherine's smile lingered, but her eyes sharpened with suspicion.
"And this mysterious miracle worker," she said slowly, "let me guess, he just decided to help you out of the goodness of his heart?"
Damon snorted, "Yup. He's going to help us take down Klaus." She scoffed. "That's it? No hidden agenda? No ancient grudge wrapped in poetic revenge?"
Damon's expression shifted, just enough to be telling.
"Seems he actually cares about your descendant," he said coolly, "unlike you." Damon said before he held up a phial
Katherine seeing the phial asked "Is that...?"
"Vervain? Your salvation." Damon said
"It's not going to undo anything." Katherine replied.
"There's always a loophole. Did he tell you to stay in this apartment until he said it was ok to leave?" Damon retorted.
Katherine opened her mouth to speak but couldn't "You can't say. Did he tell you to do absolutely everything he says until the end of time?" he asked
"No." Katherine said
"There's your loophole. Drink this and it'll prevent any further compulsion." Damon replied before she came over to take it but he didn't give it to her
"Give it to me." Katherine said
"Answer one question first. You double-crossed us with Isobel, why?" Damon asked
"I didn't think you could stand a chance against Klaus, so I was looking out for myself."
"And where did that get you? Here." Damon said before he threw her the phial "Be careful with that. If he finds out you have that, you're never getting out of here."
Katherine sighed before she took a sip and started to cough "You owe me. And I will collect." Damon said before he looked at Andie "Come on."
"Nice to meet you." Andie said closing the door behind her
Gilbert House
Michael sat comfortably beside Jenna, posture relaxed, voice warm as he spoke about his time at Duke University, how he'd found most of Alaric's lectures strangely compelling.
"He always had a way of making history feel… personal," Michael said with an easy smile. "Like the past was watching you back."
Alaric/Klaus, wearing him like a borrowed coat chuckled.
"Yeah," he said lightly. "You always were the observant one, weren't you?"
Their eyes met. Michael returned the look with a mirthful smile that lingered just a second too long.
A moment later, Stefan arrived, stopping just behind them. Sensing the shift, Alaric/Klaus straightened and gestured toward the kitchen.
"I'll cook something," he offered.
Michael laughed. "You? Cooking?" He shook his head. "I distinctly remember that being a health hazard but by all means, lead the charge."
In the kitchen, Alaric picked up a large knife and began chopping vegetables with deliberate, measured movements.
"You know," he said casually, "I find chopping… calming. The feel of the blade in the hand."
Michael leaned back in his chair, unfazed.
"Ah yes," he drawled. "Nothing says domestic bliss like ominous knife monologues. Please, Mr. Chef, don't stop on my account."
Alaric paused, glanced over his shoulder, then smirked and continued chopping.
Jenna turned to Stefan. "Have you seen Elena? I need to tell her something important."
"She's still at my place," Stefan replied.
That was when Alaric abruptly stopped cutting. He wiped his hands, turned, and fixed Stefan with a sharp look.
"Well then," he said smoothly, "would you like to tell her, Stefan… or should I?" Michael watched, amused. 'Oh, this should be good.'
"Tell me what?" Jenna asked, distracted, already rehearsing how she'd explain the loss she thought Elena had just suffered.
Alaric tilted his head.
"Do you believe in vampires, Jenna? No?"
She blinked, utterly confused.
"Well, who does, right?" Alaric continued with a chuckle. "But believe it or not, they do have a place in our history. And as a history teacher, I find them fascinating."
"Why are we talking about this?" Jenna asked.
"You've been angry with me for keeping secrets," Alaric said evenly. "And this is one of mine. I'm obsessed with vampires. There. I said it."
"Are you joking?" Jenna asked.
Michael leaned forward slightly, smiling.m, "Well, you see, Jenna, Alaric gets like this sometimes. Back when we were still in school—" he chuckled softly, "—Ric had a fascination with the supernatural. An interest he actually picked up from Isobel. Isn't that right, Ric?"
Alaric's eyes flicked to him, then he smiled.
"It is very interesting and intriguing, after all. Don't you think?" He turned to Stefan. "How about you? Are you a fan of vampires?"
"In literature," Stefan answered calmly. "Bram Stoker. It's dense, but I appreciate it."
Michael nodded approvingly.
"Ah yes, yes. A very interesting read."
He leaned back. "Well then, Ric,tell us more. Why don't you?"
Alaric's smile widened.
"Hmm. Did you know that vampires are among the oldest creatures of the night?" he said. "Except for werewolves, of course."
Michael laughed outright causing Alaric to frown slightly. "What?"
"Oh, nothing," Michael said, waving a hand. "It's just… the assumption that vampires are the oldest."
He looked thoughtful for a moment.
"In most mythologies, there are things far older. Dragons. Gargoyles. Naiads. Necromancers. Pixies." His eyes returned to Alaric. "Even creatures people rarely think about anymore."
He paused, then added lightly,
"Creatures like hellhounds."
Alaric's smile thinned. "Is that so?"
"Oh yes," Michael replied pleasantly.
Stefan watched the exchange closely, unease settling in his chest.
Michael hadn't said any of that without a reason. The question was, what reason hadn't Stefan grasped yet?
——-111————————-
"Werewolves, dragons… hellhounds," Jenna said with a shaky laugh. "Okay, now I know you're both joking. This isn't the time for this."
She reached for a bottle of wine, clearly done with the conversation. Michael lifted a hand immediately. "Oh no, no, no Jenna, this is actually very serious." He smiled, easy and disarming. "This particular study took Ric a lot of time. Years, really. It's not a joke at all."
He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "In fact, he once told me something about the… what were they called again?" Michael glanced toward Alaric. "The Aztecs. Yes. That's it. What was it again, Ric?"
In the kitchen, Alaric's grip tightened around the knife. For just a moment, his knuckles went white. He swallowed, then spoke evenly.
"Well, according to what I've read, there's an Aztec curse placed on both species," he said. "It keeps werewolves slaves to the Moon, and vampires bound by the Sun." His gaze slid from Michael who looked utterly unconcerned to Stefan, whose shoulders had gone rigid.
"Isn't that right, Stefan? They say these creatures would do anything to have the curse broken. And they wouldn't care who they had to kill to do it."
Michael hummed softly. "About that."
Stefan glanced at him, surprised, as Michael continued calmly,
"You know, I read the same thing. But a true fan of the supernatural would know the Aztec curse is fake."
Stefan stiffened. Alaric's eyes narrowed, though he only chuckled under his breath and said nothing.
Michael stood and wandered closer, hands loosely clasped behind his back.
"That curse always struck me as… odd," he went on. "Written like it was authored by a very, very drunk child. Don't you think so too Ric"
Alaric cleared his throat sharply.
Michael tilted his head. "You alright, Ric?" He smiled faintly. "You look a little… off."
Alaric forced a smile but nodded. Michael turned back toward Jenna and Stefan.
"You see, one text I came across in my travels suggested something else entirely. The real curse isn't on two species." His eyes slid back to Alaric.
"It's only on a special vampire."
The room went still as he continued, "That curse," Michael said evenly, "suppresses his true self. And he wants it gone."
Alaric had gone pale. Michael frowned slightly, feigning concern. "Are you sure you're feeling okay, Ric? You're looking a little peaky." He glanced at Stefan. "Doesn't he look a little peaky to you?"
Stefan nodded slowly. "Yeah… he does."
Jenna looked between the three of them, clutching the wine bottle, completely lost.
"What the hell is going on?" she asked.
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