She sped to the Salvatore boarding house, hoping she wasn't too late. All would have been in vain then.
Although she didn't want to show it, Stefan's words had struck a chord in her, especially after Klaus had pulled another one of his escapades. It made her wonder if she could truly build a family, a life outside of the Originals, where she could be happy. Maybe she was a thousand years late to do that. But it was yet another dangerous line of thought.
Friends weren't something Avra had, not anymore, at least. She didn't know how to behave or act.
This had propelled the realization that she didn't want Damon to die, at least not today, when she could save him. If he was going to die, it was going to be on her terms, and not at the mercy of fate.
She didn't want to see Klaus again, even momentarily, but the only cure to a werewolf bite was his blood, and if she wanted to save Damon, she'd have to tolerate his presence.
She had marched to Alaric's residence and swung the door open forcefully, any more force and the door would have detached from its hinges. Her eyes fell upon the scene before her, Stefan ripping through blood bags and the throats of some sorority girls, blood staining his mouth. The mad look in his eyes thoroughly contradicted the feeble voice of reason in his mind that despised his monstrous nature. His guilt for the suffering he caused only multiplied with every drop of blood he shed but the Ripper would not be stopped, he wasn't a monster for no reason, after all. Katerina looked over him with an expression akin to pity and Klaus only smirked, much like the tyrant and overlord being that he was, the joy he gained from being superior to them radiating from every pore.
As he recognized her presence, a multitude of emotions passed through his mind and he briefly lost his composure. He didn't expect that she'd come back. He immediately schooled his expression into his perpetual smirk, he couldn't show any sign of weakness in front of Stefan and Katerina.
Katerina Petrova was a survivor, who'd been running from his family for centuries, she'd use anyone and everyone to gain the upper hand against him. Avra wasn't a weakness though, he knew as much and he was sure Katherine did too, but he couldn't let her see him rattled.
From Stefan's perspective on the other hand, right now, he had murdered the love of his life in front of him. He was sure he hated the very ground he walked upon, with his memories compelled away, at least. It had been a small mercy to not make him watch as he drained her blood and the life left her eyes. Not that Stefan appreciated it.
"Back so soon?" He questioned, a false edge of mocking in his tone.
"I need a vial of your blood." She said directly, unwilling to engage in any small talk. Time was of the essence.
Her hardened eyes met the shock-laced face of Stefan Salvatore who was sprawled on the floor.
"Make whatever deal you will with his brother," She said carelessly, "It's none of my concern."
She wished to save Damon's life, she couldn't care less about Stefan. It wasn't as if Klaus would kill him either. He was too attached to his supposed "brother", the Ripper of Monterrey, for that.
Before Klaus could react further, she picked up a knife off the kitchen counter and stabbed him in his hand. Blood dripped from his wound into a vial she had placed under him.
It was some level of repayment for Elijah, at least.
She'd have preferred to stab him in a more vital location but it would have been inconvenient to collect the blood.
After the vial was filled, he reacted dramatically, as if he would faint from the blood loss, and pressed his wrist near his heart. The wound had closed up already.
"Oh, spare me the dramatics. A silver dagger hurts more."
She closed the vial and rushed to find Damon, leaving everyone in her wake, in shock.
Damon and her relationship wasn't love, certainly not. Love didn't sprout in a day or two, it took time. But it wasn't nothing either, capable of nurturing into love, if properly looked after.
Love needed time and patience to blossom. The luxury of which the likes of them couldn't afford.
It was care, it was something. And that was the most important part.
She hadn't even known she was capable of that anymore, after everything. In her heart, she had only used Damon, no strings attached, to get closer to the Mystic Falls gang and learn of their plans.
But perhaps in the midst of the chaos, in the forlorn moments of sharing a drink mourning their foolish hearts, something beautiful had been born, a bond had been forged, that gave some meaning to their shared despicable shades of eternity.
By no means, did it solve all their problems, but maybe just in that moment, the world sucked less with someone to share her sorrows with.
Whatever it was, she knew it would be a hard string to unravel.
As she arrived at the Boarding house, her eyes fell upon the sickly frame of the vampire.
Beads of sweat that had formed over his forehead glistened under the unfocused light of the dimly lit cellar. His face was pale and sickly, the exhaustion weighing down heavily in his eyes. However, a certain fire and dreariness presented in his eyes, as if of one who greeted the grim reaper and his scythe with a weary smile and voluntarily dipped his feet in the River Styx. Of a man who had lost everything.
Yet, there was something anchoring him to this Earth, like a ghost with unfinished business. His brother, the realization clicked. He roamed the Earth for his brother, extending his lease on life and tenancy of the physical plane. He was a dead man, living for the man who had wrongly given him his everything.
And death was an old friend, that had spared him and his brother 180 years ago when he had yanked his string out of death's terrible grasp.
In summary, he looked like shit. But her attention was immediately drawn to the gnarly bite mark on his hand. The flesh of his hand seemed to be ripped as it exposed the bone beneath. The magic of the curse spread further from his limbs, barely counteracted by his vampire healing. With every centimeter that it neared his heart, death welcomed him with open arms.
The sound of hurried footsteps drew Damon's attention to Avra, who was leaning against the doorframe, her lips parted slightly in shock. In all his days, he had never seen her speechless. First time for everything, right? He'd probably be able to better appreciate the humor in the situation if he wasn't dying.
"Hey, you came."
The relief in his voice was apparent, but so was the poorly-concealed surprise. Her betrayal had stung, even more so, when Ric had helped him realize that he might be falling for her, but on his deathbed, he truly lacked the energy to turn her away or be upset, instead, he was simply grateful for her presence.
He didn't think she would come.
A slight pang shot through her heart at the realization.
"I didn't think I would, either." She said with a self-deprecating laugh, a rasp at the end. "I couldn't lose my only drinking buddy, in this godforsaken town, though." She continued, shrugging off the sadness in her tone at his miserable state.
"Here," She handed him the vial of the crimson liquid, "Drink it, it will heal you." She continued, seeing him eye the container skeptically.
He was a dead man already, what did he have to lose, anyway? He tilted his head back slightly and swallowed the rancid-tasting liquid.
She patted his back slightly as he was thrown into a coughing fit. As she withdrew her hand, her fingers lightly grazed his hair, and she could for the first time, appreciate the softness of it.
Softly, she said, "I'm leaving town, there's nothing left for me here." There it was, the cold-harsh truth, not veiled by pretty words or roundabout sentences.
His shriveling hand hung in mid-air as he reached out to her, "Stay," He requested.
Her eyes indicated her helplessness.
"Stay, please." He begged.
She grabbed his palm suddenly, squeezed it gently, and said, "I can't. May we meet again, if our stars align. Live well, Damon Salvatore."
She wished she could say more. She wished she could tell him that she was sorry, for betraying him, for everything. But in her heart, she knew that if she were to do it all again, she would still choose Klaus.
It was the curse of Always and Forever. They were family, always. One that would fight to the death for each other.
And from the darkness of a corner in the cellar, a veiled spectator turned his eyes away from the scene. He knew what he had lost.
***
Klaus Mikaelson was alone again.
He was disappointed.
Disappointed at his loss, disappointed that she would leave again. He knew his faults, knew that he was the one who drove her away, that she would stand with him at the gates of hell with him, even after his stunt.
He was disappointed at his own failure.
He hadn't opposed her much when she wanted to draw his blood to save Damon's life. He was eventually going to give the man his blood, after striking a bargain in his favor with his brother, but the fact that she cared for the man she had met mere weeks ago and would rather be in his company than his own was not a pleasant realization. She would even be willing to make an enemy of him for the man had he refused, not that he could ever be cross with her, but still.
Death would be too easy for Damon. So, he granted him life. The elder Salvatore would be wracked with guilt, as he fell deeper and deeper in love with his brother's girl, the brother who had saved him and signed his life away for his.
He knew how that felt, certainly.