Little Niklaus skipped town.
Well… that wasn't surprising in the slightest.
The moment Damon had name-dropped Mikael, the Mikael, capital M, Original boogeyman and professional son-terrifier. Niklaus had vanished with a speed that was both impressive and deeply ironic. The so-called King, fleeing like a cat that had just heard a vacuum cleaner.
Funny how fear worked.
"Oh well," Michael muttered to himself as he walked through Mystic Falls. "That problem's shelved."
Another, however, was not.
Where the hell did Rebekah go?
In the original timeline, she was very much still in Mystic Falls, undaggered and having the time of her life.
Michael could find her if he wanted to. That wasn't the issue. The issue was that she very clearly did not want to see him.
"Oh yes," he sighed internally, "that is absolutely a thing."
He grimaced. "I did disappear for over a millennium without so much as a postcard."
Fair enough.
"She's pissed," he admitted to no one. "Can't even blame her."
Still, his attention shifted quickly because the board had changed.
Stefan hadn't turned off his emotions.
That alone was a monumental deviation.
Stefan was still with Elena, which meant Damon's chances of building anything meaningful with her were currently… nonexistent.
But.
Michael smiled faintly.
There's always hope.
"If I plan the next set of events correctly," he thought, "things should still play out the way I want them to."
Then his brow furrowed.
"But first… where exactly is Matt?"
That thought followed him until another sound cut in.
He rounded the corner of the forest just in time to see Stefan, Alaric, and Elena move from a practice dummy that had a wooden spike through its abdomen.
Michael slowed down, watching with mild curiosity.
Alaric was mid-lecture.
"Rule one," Ric said, circling Elena, "never let them get close. Surprise is everything."
Then, because Alaric Saltzman apparently woke up every morning choosing chaos, he dropped a vervain grenade straight into Elena's hand.
Michael blinked. Stefan blinked.
"…Ric," Stefan muttered in panic, "what the hell—"
Elena yelped, reacted purely on instinct, and threw it. Unfortunately, she threw it at Michael.
"Oh, sure I get the almost exploding grenade sent my damn way," he said calmly.
He blurred and backhanded the grenade straight back into the air—
BOOM.
The explosion went off harmlessly overhead, scattering green mist and shrapnel in a very dramatic but entirely ineffective display.
Michael dusted his hands.
"You know, Ric," he said mildly, "if you want to teach her how to hunt vampires, maybe don't start with grenades."
Alaric winced. "Point taken."
Michael tilted his head. "Though, credit where it's due. Excellent reaction time."
Stefan looked back at Elena and smirked.
Michael then turned to him. "Fortunately, there's a live test subject right here you can practice with."
Stefan sighed and shook his head, "Thank you for volunteering me."
"Oh, you definitely live to serve," Michael replied. "You're welcome."
Elena stepped forward. "Michael."
He smiled warmly. "Elena."
Then he blurred forward. Suddenly he was behind her, hands raised but not touching.
"Alright," he said with his voice becoming calmer, "Listen carefully. If you're facing an entity with superior speed, strength, and centuries of experience, the first thing you accept is this—"
He leaned closer.
"You are going to die at least seventy percent of the time."
Elena stiffened.
"But," he continued calmly, "we're here to reduce that number."
He guided her stance with light taps to her shoulders and hips.
"Never stand square. You move through your opponent, not away. Distance is a lie especially when it comes to vampires but angles you see, well those are truth."
He demonstrated it to her carefully, stepping aside as he motioned for Stefan and then, Stefan lunged, Michael redirected him with minimal effort.
"Eyes first," Michael said. "Then throat. Then joints. Pain disrupts a vampire's focus and that focus disruption creates openings."
He pointed to Stefan. "Again."
They sparred slowly at first and then Michael had Elena try and try again on Stefan.
Michael corrected Elena's movements, showing her how to shift weight, how to twist instead of resist, how to use momentum rather than fight it.
"The use of pressure points are also important when you fight vampires Elena," he added. "These are gifts."
He tapped Stefan's waist. "Here."
Stefan immediately stepped back as his left leg literally gave out under him.
Stefan hissed and stumbled back, "…Ow."
Michael grinned. "See? Biology doesn't care how immortal you are, it works just the same."
They continued for a little longer and to their surprise, Elena improved rapidly and when she finally landed another hit, Stefan actually had to step back and reset.
Michael folded his arms, satisfied.
"Good," he said. "You won't win every fight."
He met her eyes.
"But now? You won't go down without making them earn it."
——————————————-
Rebekah Mikaelson found high school to be a rather strange experience.
That, in itself, was saying something considering she had lived through plagues, crusades, and several centuries where bathing was considered optional.
It wasn't her first time posing as a student. Over the years, she had worn many faces in many institutions of learning. Yet Mystic Falls High felt… different. Uncomfortably so.
Perhaps it was because this town was where she was born and raised. Most of the students seemed far more concerned with everything except their classes such as social standing, fleeting romances, trivial drama that felt like the end of the world to them. Rebekah watched them move through the halls with dramatic urgency and couldn't help but think:
'Oh, poor little things. They move as though all their lives depend on this.'
She was over a thousand years old. She remembered a time before structured education was considered important at all. Knowledge had been practical then. Limited to how to survive winter, how to tend land, how to bear children and keep them alive.
Had she never become a vampire, she doubted schooling would have ever mattered to her.
She had been raised to be a wife and a mother. Her family had been modest by Viking standards, not poor, but far from powerful so education, such as it was, had been incidental.
That all changed after they became vampires.
Once they began posing as nobility, education became essential. Languages, history, etiquette, mathematics . She had learned more than most humans could dream of, over lifetimes stacked upon lifetimes.
Which made this place all the more ironic.
These public schools didn't truly care about education either. The system existed more as a holding pattern than a place of enlightenment.
Still… there were exceptions.
Rebekah had noticed a handful of students who were genuinely intelligent and
brilliant. Even so, they deliberately dulled themselves to fit into their chosen social circles. That had surprised her.
When she'd compelled and asked why, the answers were always the same. They didn't want to leave their friends behind.
Humans, she realized, understood the ending of this chapter far better than she ever had at their age. And because of that understanding, they chose not to rush it unless they absolutely had to.
Rebekah respected that.
As for her own presence here? It wasn't because she needed the education.
She had nothing better to do.
She was keeping an eye on the Salvatores mostly, she was here to enjoy her freedom. To breathe. To exist outside that insidious box Niklaus had shoved her into for decades at a time.
And because she allowed herself to actually know people, to listen and to engage, she found that she was, quite unexpectedly, enjoying herself.
Of course, there was still that reason. The one she wasn't ready to confront. The one she knew she couldn't avoid forever.
Rebekah smiled faintly as a flyer caught her attention.
There was going to be a bonfire later tonight, "Oh," she murmured to herself. "How bloody marvelous."
—————————————-
Michael, meanwhile, stood well apart from the illusion of normalcy.
From the outside, the bus he occupied looked suspiciously like the Mystery Machine from scooby doo. Fortunately, appearances were irrelevant.
He sat on the bus with a cloaking spell, hidden from everyones eyes, and from above it Michael watched the students drift between classes like pieces on a board.
His eyes glowed faintly red as he focused on a particular pair, Matt Donovan and the lingering soul of Vickie Donovan.
He listened idly as Vickie spoke, her voice threaded with desperation.
"The witch I've been talking to says there's a ritual," she said. "Something that can push me over to this side."
Michael stopped listening halfway through.
'Ah,' he thought calmly. 'The pretty little girl. Esther.'
So she wanted to use that.
Interesting.
"Well," he mused, "at least it helps fulfill one of my secondary objectives."
Jeremy approached then, calling out to Matt, breaking the conversation. Michael tilted his head, watching the ripple effect of the interruption.
"Oh," he said quietly. "That will do nicely indeed."
His gaze shifted to the other side of the school and saw Bonnie with Caroline and Elena near the parked cars parked, sunlight catching in their hair. From the opposite end of the courtyard, Stefan jogged up to Elena, smiling.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Now," he wondered, "where exactly is Damon?" His attention lingered on Bonnie for a moment longer before he dismissed the thought.
'Later,' he decided. 'That can wait.'
For now, he returned his focus to Matt and to the fragile soul tethered beside him.
Michael leaned back, fingers steepled.
"Hmmm," he murmured.
————————————-
Night had settled quickly over Mystic Falls, One section of an abandoned building stood hollow and silent, its walls stained with old neglect.
Michael exhaled slowly from where he was cloaked.
'Man,' he thought, 'I would rather be enjoying the bonfire right about now.'
Firelight, music, laughter and booze. Then again… Rebekah would be there. And that would make things awkward.
Very awkward.
He grimaced faintly, leaning against the wall and then final inevitably acknowledged the truth he'd been dancing around. Deep down, he knew exactly what was happening.
They were avoiding each other.
Two immortals, over a thousand years old. Afraid of a conversation because it might get awkward. The absurdity of it almost made him laugh.
'Really?' he mused.
He shook the thought away before it could linger, refocusing his attention on the scene unfolding before him.
Matt knelt on the dusty floor, candles arranged in a crude circle. Their flames flickered nervously. Between them sat a photograph of Matt and Vickie, smiling.
Michael's expression hardened as Matt sliced his palm, hissing as blood welled up. Vickie's ghost hovered close, her voice urgent, almost feverish.
"Concentrate on me, Matty," she urged.
Michael turned his gaze away from the ritual itself.
Under normal circumstances, he would never allow something like this. It violated the balance of nature itself. It was and is a taboo to life and death and those were lines not meant to be crossed so casually. He knew all too well what happened when those boundaries were abused. The Other Side. The veil thinning. Spirits slipping through cracks that were never meant to exist.
He knew how this ended. But that wasn't what he wanted this time.
'Besides,' he thought dryly, 'I am the ultimate matchmaker of all.'
His lips twitched.
'And what could possibly go wrong with the veil coming down, huh?'
Twack.
The sound echoed sharply through the building.
Michael blinked as he looked back down to
See that Vickie is now partially alive and physical, no longer bound to the air and she stood very much alive, gripping a wrench she got from the table. Matt lay crumpled at her feet, unconscious.
Michael stared at the scene.
Then at Matt.
Then back at Vickie as she bolted for the exit.
"…Damn," he muttered. "I mean, seriously, man. That's your brother."
He glanced down at Matt again.
"And you just smacked the lights clean outta him." A shrug followed.
"Well. That escalated efficiently."
Michael stepped forward, finally allowing himself to become visible. He crouched, picked up Matt's phone, and unlocked it with ease.
"Now," he murmured, scrolling through contacts, "who do we call about your newly resurrected homicidal sister… ah yes there she is."
He dialed the number and the phone rang once.
Twice.
"Hello?" Bonnie answered, Michael smirked. "Well hello to you too Miss Bon Bon."
There was a pause form the other end
"…Michael?" Bonnie said cautiously. "Why are you calling me from Matt's phone?"
"Ah," he replied pleasantly, "because Matt is currently unconscious due to a ritual he performed to bring his dead sister back."
Bonnie sucked in a sharp breath.
"The same sister," Michael continued smoothly, "who is now very much alive and currently headed toward Elena with murder on her mind courtesy of a wicked witch's helpful suggestions."
"…What?" Bonnie said with panic and urgency in her tone which made him roll his eyes.
"Yeah," Michael went on, unfazed. "You heard me. You should probably relay that little detail to Stefan and Damon. Immediately."
Bonnie's voice sharpened. "Why aren't you stopping this? You also have magic."
"Because," Michael said calmly, "my magic interacts with soul-based spells in a… let's call it complicated way. If I interfere directly, this gets worse."
He glanced toward the doorway Vickie had fled through.
"Which is why," he added, "you need to get down here and end the ritual."
"…Damn it," Bonnie muttered. "Fine. I'm on my way."
The call ended.
Michael slipped the phone back into Matt's pocket, straightened back up
"Well then," he said softly, eyes gleaming. "Let's see how the night plays out."