Chapter 13: The Road Back and Reckoning
The road to Mystic Falls stretched like a ribbon of memories and bloodstained truths, while the car hummed beneath the weight of silence that loomed over the three brothers.
Stefan Salvatore held the wheel steadily, his eyes fixed on the road without distraction, while Damon sat beside him, as usual, never one for silence.
In the back seat, Alexander stared silently out the window, the bottle of the witch's blood safe in Bonnie's hands beside him.
Bonnie had been with them from the start, but for her safety, she was left behind.
Of course, she was a very powerful witch, but even so, Stefan didn't want her involved in the fight.
Now, they had what they came for.
The one thing Bonnie said could break the curse.
"I'll need a few hours to prepare everything once we arrive," Bonnie said quietly.
Damon scoffed, "Sure you're not gonna turn him into a werewolf? Or a goat? Or something worse?"
Alexander gave a faint smile, barely visible. "That's what you're hoping for."
Suddenly, Stefan slammed the brakes, and the car stopped violently, jolting everyone.
Alexander straightened immediately. "Why did you stop?"
Stefan tightened his grip on the wheel, his voice low and tense. "There's someone on the road."
Everyone turned.
One person, standing under the twilight sky, his black coat fluttering in the breeze like the wings of a fallen angel.
His smile was anything but friendly.
And his eyes... blazed with fury.
Kol Mikaelson.
Damon muttered, lowering his voice, "Great. The other deranged Original."
Kol approached with slow, measured steps—a mixture of controlled rage and cold elegance.
"You were very busy in New Orleans. Busier than you should've been."
Alexander opened the car door and stepped out before anyone could stop him.
Kol's eyes locked on him immediately. "You must be the infamous illegitimate brother. Alexander, right? News travels fast. Especially when it involves... murder."
Alexander stood tall, his voice steady. "We didn't kill anyone who didn't fight us."
Kol's smile vanished, his voice hollowing out as if burning from within. "You killed her."
Alexander tilted his head slightly. "Who?"
"The witch. My witch." His voice cracked at the end, barely audible. "She was mine."
Stefan stood behind Alexander and spoke cautiously:
"She's the one who cursed our brother. She almost killed Rebekah, Elijah, Damon, and me."
Kol's gaze hardened, the light in his eyes sharpening.
"She was guarding something ancient... something you don't understand."
Damon stepped out of the car too, raising his hands halfway in caution.
"Kol, don't do this. If you want to talk, let's talk. Don't go full serial killer-Dracula on a highway."
But Kol wasn't listening.
With a flick of his hand, Damon was flung backward and slammed into the ground.
Stefan growled, "Enough!"
Then Kol lunged.
But Alexander was ready, meeting him mid-charge. A shockwave rippled across the asphalt as the two were thrown into the forest nearby, trading blows, blood quickly staining their fists.
Kol fought like grief incarnate—wild, desperate, destructive.
Alexander, on the other hand, fought like someone who had fed on rage for centuries—controlled fury, deadly precision.
"You took her from me!" Kol shouted as he slammed Alexander against a tree.
Alexander exhaled, blood trickling from his lips.
"She cursed me to suffer for a century. And you cry over the woman who sentenced me to hell."
Kol didn't care. His fists kept pounding without mercy.
From the car, Bonnie watched, murmuring protection spells in case things got worse.
Stefan rushed in to pull Kol off, but was thrown back with brutal force.
Damon pushed himself off the ground, wiping blood from his mouth, his eyes gleaming with fury.
"Alright. Now... I'm pissed."
The Salvatore brothers lunged together, grabbing Kol, trying to hold him still, while Alexander rose again, his face bloodied, but his eyes blazing with unyielding fire.
Kol was strong.
But Alexander... was done being hunted.
He roared and surged forward, landing a powerful punch that sent Kol crashing to the ground, where he lay motionless.
Alexander stood over him, panting, staring down.
"She chose. And now it's your turn to choose."
Kol stared up at him, breathless. "This... isn't over."
Alexander turned and walked back to the car.
"This never ends. Remember, I didn't kill you here out of respect for your brothers who helped me."
In silence, the brothers climbed back into the car.
And Kol remained on the ground, watching them fade into the horizon.
Mystic Falls was waiting.
And the air was turning, ready for the ritual.
As for the war... it had only just begun.
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The familiar sign that read "Welcome to Mystic Falls" passed like a ghostly shadow in the eye of a storm, as Stefan drove into the town.
The air was thick with silence, heavy as if waiting to explode.
No one had spoken a word since the encounter with Kol.
The tension still burned under their skin, bruises not yet healed, spirits still smoldering like embers beneath ash.
Alexander stared out the window, his jaw clenched, eyes lost in the distance.
The bottle of the witch's blood was now in Bonnie's hands, held as if it were a ticking bomb, pulsing with ancient magic.
It was more than just blood.
It was history.
It was vengeance.
It was dormant power.
They reached Bonnie's house at dusk, as the sun began to melt behind the trees, casting long shadows over the front yard.
Bonnie stepped out first, her bag in hand, speaking in a near whisper, "No one's entered the house since I left."
The house seemed to sense what was coming.
The air around it trembled slightly, as if old protections had been summoned again, awakened by the power Bonnie carried.
"I need time," she said, turning to them, "and complete silence. No interruptions."
Damon raised a hand in mock salute. "Sure, I'll take a nap on your porch while you play with prehistoric forces."
Bonnie ignored him and stepped inside.
Alexander paused at the threshold, hesitant.
Damon placed a surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder. "She'll make it work. If anyone can save you... it's Bonnie."
Alexander nodded. "I know. That's why... I'm afraid."
Inside, Bonnie entered her grandmother's old ritual room and began the preparations.
The candles lit themselves with a whisper's touch.
She poured the blood into a cup made of bone and obsidian.
She drew a circle of salt, hallucinogenic herb, and sacred tree ash.
She began whispering in Latin, her voice trembling only once.
And the house groaned in response.
Bonnie steadied herself and added a drop of Alexander's blood—taken from him earlier—into the mix.
Outside, the brothers waited.
Damon leaned on the railing, sipping from his flask. "If the brew works, we throw a party. Illegitimate brother party."
Stefan shot him a warning look. "Damon…"
"What? The trip's been insane."
Alexander wasn't listening.
His ears were tuned entirely to the faint echoes of magic from within.
The magic was growing.
Louder.
Unstable.
His heart pounded hard.
Then came the scream.
Bonnie.
Alexander rushed to the door, the brothers close behind.
Bonnie was on the floor, blood trickling from her nose, her eyes rolled back.
The cup trembled violently.
Stefan shouted, "Stop the ritual!"
Bonnie gasped, "I can't! It's not me—it's him!"
The blood began swirling unnaturally.
Images formed in the air above it—faces, memories, flame.
And then a figure took shape: a woman with dark eyes and cold lips.
The witch.
Even in death, her curse still lived.
"She's resisting the reversal!" Bonnie cried. "Something ties her magic—someone alive, from her bloodline!"
Alexander stepped toward the circle.
Bonnie's eyes widened. "No! You—"
"I have to end this," he said. "I won't be her puppet anymore."
He stepped into the circle, and the storm exploded around him, lifting his hair and slicing his skin like blades.
His body shook violently.
"Alexander!" Damon moved, but Stefan stopped him.
"No. He has to do this himself."
Within the magical storm, he saw her.
The witch. Laughing. Reaching for him.
He remembered her voice, her cruelty, how her spell shattered his soul.
He remembered her eyes when she said he was a mistake.
"No more," he whispered.
He raised his hand—a flicker of flame appeared.
Ash's power was his now.
He unleashed it with every ounce of pain from a hundred years.
The witch's image burned.
Silence followed.
The cup shattered.
Bonnie collapsed again—but this time, Alexander caught her before she hit the ground.
It was done.
The curse... was broken.
But things weren't over.
Outside, a black crow landed on the fence.
Watching silently, as if it knew.
And somewhere far away, deep beneath Mystic Falls in an abandoned crypt, something ancient... began to stir.
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