To Be Or Not To Be » Stefan Salvatore

Chapter 12 - Crossing the Line

Flashes of shadows and blood. Glimmering silver slicing through the dark.

Skye's dreams were a swirling storm of fragmented images, and she was sure—somewhere, deep in her frozen, terrified mind—that every limb of her body had locked up in fear.

Consciousness slipped in and out like a tide. One moment, she was anchored to reality. The next, she was lost beneath the waves.

Voices filtered through, muffled and distant, as if she were submerged in water.

And then—she was drowning.

Water in her ears. In her mouth. In her nose.

She choked. And choked. And choked.

She didn't need to understand what was happening to know exactly what it was.

She had blacked out the moment the fire had torn through her nerves, the moment the visions had burned too bright.

Her scream had been the last sound she made before her world was swallowed whole.

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The others had no idea what had happened.

They had tried everything to wake her.

She didn't stir.

If not for the shallow rise and fall of her chest—the slow, fragile rhythm of her heart—they would have thought she was dead.

Klaus had laid her on the classroom table while Bonnie worked to break the boundary spell.

When he learned that their mother was blocking the young witch with immense power, he knew exactly where she was.

Jeremy and Matt had been sent to the cemetery to put an end to whatever twisted plan Esther had crafted next.

And when Bonnie finally shattered the spell, Klaus had wanted—needed—to go to the cemetery himself, to end it once and for all.

But he couldn't.

Not with his sister lying there, still and unmoving.

So he had done what he always did.

Without waiting for the others, without dwelling on whatever chaos had just unfolded, he had taken Skye home.

Carried her in his arms, silent and furious, and laid her in her own bed.

No one had protested.

But Stefan had said something before he left.

Something about how Skye had packed her bag. How she had been ready to leave.

Klaus had pressed his lips into a thin line.

And then he was gone.

Once she was safe, he had turned his attention to the corpse of their mother—finally, finally taken care of.

He had put her in a coffin and told her ghost, wherever it lingered, that she would never bring him down. That he had won.

Then, he had undaggered Rebekah.

And now?

Now all that was left was to pack his things, take the doppelgänger, and leave Mystic Falls behind.

Skye would come with him.

Whether she wanted to or not.

He was her brother.

And she was going to listen.

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The sheets were soft. Familiar. The scent in the air was floral. Not musty. Not humid. Not the boarding house. So where was she?