30 Minutes Later
Alaric/Klaus sat at the table with Jenna, Michael and Stefan, plates half-touched in front of them. The air was thick, uneasy, stretched thin by too many half-truths.
"Oh, I know this all sounds so crazy," Klaus/Alaric said lightly, standing as he reached for the wine bottle. "But… vampires are real. Would you care for some more wine?"
Michael's fingers paused mid-motion.
"Immortals," he said quietly.
Both Klaus/Alaric and Stefan looked at him.
Michael leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together, voice calm and measured as he spoke. "There's no such thing as true immortals. Not really. Not even among those who call themselves immortal vampires."
Klaus/Alaric tilted his head, intrigued despite himself, "Nothing that lives can be immortal," Michael continued. "True immortality contradicts life itself. Nature doesn't permit it. It never has and it never will."
He laced his fingers together, as if constructing a lesson rather than delivering a threat.
"What exists instead are allowances. Exceptions. Delays. Nature tolerates certain beings for a time longer than others but it always balances the scales."
They listened attentively even Jenna, despite herself.
"Those who proclaim they will outlive the sun," Michael said softly, "eventually discover that the sun does not need to die for them to end. Wine left untouched still turns sour. Mountains erode. Stars burn out."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"False immortals mistake endurance for eternity. And all that truly waits for them… is the same thing that waits for everyone else."
Klaus/Alaric's eyes narrowed. "And yet," he said smoothly, "those false immortals have gone to great lengths to remove anything capable of killing them."
Michael laughed once, quietly. "More wine sounds lovely, then. Why not."
The casual dismissal landed like a slap.
He added, dryly, "If we're discussing delusions, we may as well be well-hydrated."
"Okay, enough of this." Jenna's chair scraped loudly as she stood. She looked at Alaric, really looked at him now.
"It's like you don't even care that Isobel is dead. Elena's biological mother burned to death, and you're sitting here talking about supernatural creatures with your student?"
"Jenna—" Klaus/Alaric began.
Michael's gaze softened at her distress, but it was Jenna who snapped first.
"Get out."
The room froze at that.
"Excuse me?" Klaus/Alaric asked, disbelief sharpening his tone.
"I don't know what it is you're trying to do," Jenna said, voice shaking, "or why you're saying these things, but—"
"Jenna—" he tried again.
"I said get out!" she shouted, Michael sighed quietly, almost regretfully. 'So much for the wine.'
Stefan pushed his chair back, standing. "You heard her."
Michael rose as well, his voice suddenly firm and final.
"Yes. You heard her."
Klaus/Alaric straightened, meeting Michael's gaze with open challenge.
"I'm afraid I don't want to." Michael's eyes darkened just a fraction as a faint, dangerous smile curved his lips.
'How… defiant of you.' Michael thought while looking at Alaric/Klaus.
"Fine! I'll go," Jenna said sharply, pushing back from the table.
She barely took a step before Klaus snatched up the knife and moved toward her, his voice dropping into something cold and dangerous.
"You're not going anywhere."
The motion never finished as Michael's hand flashed out in a precise, controlled backhand, careful not to take off his head. The blow spun Klaus/Alaric sideways without shattering the body he was wearing. Before Klaus could recover, Michael was already there, fingers closing around his throat, lifting him just enough that his heels scraped the floor.
"Bad idea, Niklaus."
"Michael!" Jenna screamed. Stefan reacted instantly, grabbing the knife from the table, his eyes locked on Michael in disbelief.
"Jenna, get out of here now!" Michael barked.
"You can't kill me, Kanen'tò," Klaus/Alaric rasped, lips curling even as his hands clawed at Michael's wrist. "We're like brothers."
Michael's lips twitched.
"Really?"
His eyes glowed, molten red as his face shifted and his fangs sliding into place, claws extending from his fingers. The air grew heavy with the temperature spiking.
"Michael!" Jenna cried again.
"Stefan, get her out. Now."
For a brief, terrible second, Jenna saw him fully. The glowing eyes, bared fangs, claws wreathed in embers. She gasped as Stefan grabbed her and vanished in a blur, the door slamming behind them.
"You know you won't kill me," Klaus/Alaric said, voice steadier now. "We're family."
Michael chuckled softly, leaning closer.
"Yes. We were once, Niklaus." His grip tightened just enough to hurt.
"You were like a little brother to me. A gentle boy who loved to paint… to carve wood, not flesh."
Klaus's eyes flickered, "That boy is gone," Michael continued, voice low and venomous. "Replaced by you. Now you paint with your victims' blood. Now you carve people apart simply because you can."
He leaned in, eyes burning.
"I know what you've done. I know how many you butchered. Thousands. Not for survival or for family."
A pause.
"Just because you wanted to."
"They were against me," Klaus snapped. "Against my family."
Michael shook his head slowly. "I don't even want to argue with you anymore."
He raised his clawed hand, embers dancing along the tips, stopping just shy of Klaus's throat.
"I only have one question."
Klaus swallowed, "Where is Rebekah?"
The claws hovered so close the heat singed skin.
"You wouldn't," Klaus whispered, something like fear breaking through.
"Oh," Michael said calmly, "I very much would."
He was about to invoke his compulsion spell the 'Cede'
When something shot towards him at great speeds.
Michael twisted aside as a stake streaked past, slamming into the wall where his head had been a heartbeat earlier. Blood and dark ritual-markings ran along the wood.
Michael turned around to see who dared.
The warlock stood in the doorway, hands already outstretched to cast another spell.
Michael exhaled slowly, 'Ah. That explains it.'
"Well," he muttered, "I really don't have time for this."
He lifted his hand and his own magic coiliedeffortlessly around his fingers.
"Why don't you get a taste of your own medicine?"
"Phasmatos navaro pulsus sanguinox."
The warlock screamed. His blood turned instantly acidic, volatile and boiling beneath his skin. Veins glowed an angry red as his flesh blistered from the inside out. He clawed at himself, shrieking as blood poured from his ears, nose, and mouth.
His eyes liquefied, melting from their sockets.
Then he collapsed silent.
Michael looked back toward where Klaus had been and was met with an empty space.
The house was empty save for him.
Michael sighed, rubbing his temple as the heat faded and his features returned to normal and he walked towards the wine to pour himself glass… or maybe just chug down the whole thing.
"…How," he muttered to the quiet room, "did Elijah manage to deal with him for a thousand years?"
[Lockwood's mansion]
"Klaus and I faked the Sun and Moon curse dating back over a thousand years." Elijah said as he and Elena walked in the backyard
"But if there's no curse..." Elena started
"There's a curse. Just not that one. The real one's much worse. It's a curse placed on Klaus." Elijah interupted as Elena's phone started to vibrate
"What are you talking about?" Elena asked
"Klaus has been trying to break it for the last thousand years. And you are his only hope." Elijah said
"What is this curse?" Elena asked as the phone was still vibrating
"Your phone will not stop its incessant buzzing. Answer it, please." Elijah said handing her her phone
Elena took the phone and answered it, "Stefan… what's wrong? No. No, no, no, no. Ok, I'll be right there." she hung up and looked at Elijah "Klaus went after Jenna. I have to go to her."
"I'm afraid that wasn't part of today's arrangement." Elijah said
"She's my family, Elijah. I have to. I'll be back. You have my word." Elena replied
"That doesn't mean anything to me until you live up to it." Elijah said before watchiing as Elena ran off.
1 Hour Later
Salvatore Boarding House
Michael had been standing in the library for the past twenty minutes, utterly still.
Just watching as Jenna sat curled on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, eyes red and unfocused. Fear clung to her like a second skin.
'What a pitiful thing,' Michael thought distantly.
The silence stretched on for another moment.
'I probably should help her.' Michael thought.
'Then again… I'm not obligated to.'
He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face.
'…But I did traumatize her with my hound face,' he admitted to himself.
With a quiet sigh, Michael turned toward her.
"Jenna."
She gasped as she shot to her feet, spinning around. The moment she saw him, her breath hitched. She backed away until her shoulders hit the wall, hands trembling.
"Stay away from me," she ordered, voice cracking.
'How original,' Michael thought dryly.
He raised both hands in a placating gesture and stepped closer, an amused but careful smile on his face.
"Jenna, I'm going to need you to calm down for me, please," he said gently. "And let me explain what happened back there, okay?"
She didn't move. He tilted his head slightly. "Besides… if I wanted to hurt you, I'd have done it in the past twenty minutes."
Her brow furrowed.
"I've been watching you."
That made her swallow, but after a long moment, she nodded. Slowly. Hesitantly. She walked toward him and sat back down on the couch, leaving a cautious distance between them.
Jenna covered her mouth with her hand, her voice barely above a whisper.
"You know… my sister, umm Elena's adopted mother used to tell us stories."
Michael blinked. "She did?"
Jenna nodded. "Yeah. I didn't know any of it could even possibly be true. I thought it was all just… fairy tales."
A faint smile touched Michael's lips.
"Well," he said calmly, "in my experience, all fairy tales are derived from the real thing."
Jenna stared at him.
"So… most of those supernatural tales are real?" she asked.
Michael nodded once.
Her throat bobbed. "You're one of them."
"Yes, I am" he replied simply. "But at the same time… I'm unique."
She frowned. "Unique?"
"I'm a special kind of supernatural," Michael said. "The only one of its kind. The first… and the last."
Jenna hesitated, then asked the question that had clearly been burning in her.
"What are you?"
Michael leaned back slightly, eyes distant.
"I've been known by hundreds of names throughout the millennia," he said. "Some in dead languages. Others distorted by time."
He met her gaze.
"The Fire Watcher, The Ash-Born, The Ash Walker."
Her breath caught.
"But the name most people know," he continued evenly, "is the Hellhound."
Jenna went still.
"Hellhound…" she echoed. "As in, the hounds of hell? The ones that drag souls down to hell?"
Michael shook his head. "No. Not demons."
He spoke patiently, carefully, "I guide souls from this life to the afterlife. My fire burns away the impurities of this world from them. Nothing more. Nothing less."
She searched his face, fear mixing with awe.
"…Can I see?" Jenna asked quietly causing Michael to study her for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"Well," he said softly, "I owe you that much."
Then the air around him shimmered as heat rolled outward as his eyes ignited, glowing like molten embers. His pupils sharpened, fangs sliding into place as claws emerged, faintly wreathed in fire, and the room seemed to glow a little before he reigned the fire in completely.
Jenna gasped but this time, she didn't run.
She stared, wide-eyed, trembling… but still standing. And Michael held her gaze, unmoving, letting her see exactly what he was.
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