Damon grunted, leaning his head back against the wall with a hollow thud, "Shit, It always comes back to Elena, doesn't it?"
The heavy silence that followed was shattered by the shrill, frantic ringing of Abby's phone on the counter. She snatched it up, her eyes showed confusion as she saw the caller ID.
"Jamie?" she answered, "Where have you been? You were supposed to be back an hour ago."
"Mom, I'm outside," Jamie's voice crackled through the phone, sounding breathless and tight, as if he were trying to speak without moving his jaw.
Abby opened her mouth to demand what was wrong with him and if he was ok but, the words were cut short by a sharp knock at the front door.
"I got it," Bonnie said, she moved to the door and pulled it open and a look of confusion came over her.
Jamie was standing on the porch, frozen with his phone still pressed to his ear. His eyes were wide, and darting toward the shadow looming directly behind him. It was a tall, pale man standing there, dressed in simple coat and plain Jean pants. He held a simple iron rod in one hand and offered a smile to the woman that had opened the door.
"Well... hello," the man said in a soft and cultured voice that had an accent to it.
Inside the kitchen, the clatter of Abby's phone hitting the linoleum floor echoed throughout the house. She had gone ghost-white, her hands were trembling as she'd recognized the man behind her son and in front of daughter.
"My name is Finn," the man continued, offering a small, amused smile, "Finn Mikaelson."
Damon vamp-sped behind Bonnie just in time to hear the introduction of the Mikaelson that had missed the family dinner, "Shit," he muttered.
—————-
Alaric, Meredith, and Stefan were gathered around the counter with Elena, Anna, and Jeremy standing beside the pillar close to the kitchen, watching the man who currently held the room hostage with his presence.
Michael stood by the other end of the dining table with a faint smile playing on his lips at what he'd just told them.
"Wait... what?" Alaric asked, his hand instinctively hovering over the heavy ring on his finger.
Michael rolled his eyes, at the gesture made by his former teacher "Oh, yes. You heard me quite clearly, Ric. I'll be needing that ring of yours and Jeremy's too. The little trinket that keeps death at bay."
"Why?" Stefan stepped forward, his eyes narrowed at Michael, "Because it's capable of fracturing the wearer's mind? Because it gives them a split, serial-killer personality that has a habit of leaving bodies in its wake? Michael if that's true then why do you want it?"
"It doesn't just create a 'killer,'" Michael corrected the vampire, "It hones an instinct and creates a vessel that hates supernaturals mostly vampires with a purity that is quite refreshing if I do say so myself. But yes, the side effects are... messy and that's why I want it."
Elena looked from Alaric to Jeremy and finally to the ancient hellhound, her brow furrowed and asked a question, "How exactly do you even know that? How do you know it can make the wearer go mad?"
"Well," Michael said, turning back to the room, "you already know that Emily Bennett was the witch who created the rings for Jonathan Gilbert, your ancestor. What you don't know is that those rings have a nasty side effect that activates after a little bit when the wearer dies over and over again."
Anna nodded slowly, her expression clouded with an old memory. "It's true. I remember my mother mentioning it... only in passing and I heard a rumor once," Anna added, "When the ring was passed down to Samantha Gilbert... she went a bit insane. They said she started talking to people who weren't there before she finally snapped."
Michael chuckled which made the hair on the back of Anna's neck stand up. He looked at the girl with a glint of amusement,"There is no such thing as being 'a little insane,' sweetheart. That's a human delusion used to comfort the weak. In the world of magic and blood, it is binary. Either you are, or you aren't."
Michael then let out a heavy sigh as he moved to lean against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest, "But we haven't seen anything like that yet," Meredith argued, her hand resting protectively on Alaric's arm, "Ric is fine. He's the same man he's always been and he hasn't been having any murder tendencies as of yet."
Michael nodded slowly and a thin, sharp smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "That's because he hasn't died enough times for the rot to settle, Doctor. The side effects of that ring don't manifest on the first 'miracle.' They require a certain... frequency of trauma."
He looked directly at Alaric, his eyes glinting with a dark, sardonic mirth. 'You really should thank me, Ric. My presence here, keeping the local bloodsuckers on their best behavior, has spared the world from 'Evil Killer Ric' for at least another season. I'm practically a public service announcement for mental health aren't I??. But it will be sad as enhanced original Ric won't be a thing and quite frankly I don't think we need that.'
"You see," Michael continued, "the mechanics of that ring are quite specific. When a person dies while wearing it, they don't just wake up. Their soul is shoved onto the Other Side. They must navigate that gray purgatory, find their own cold meat, and reconnect with it in order to be revived. It's a spiritual scavenger hunt."
"The resurrection time varies from minutes to hours and sometimes longer. Because each time you die, you wake up further and further away from your body. The distance grows, and the tether frays."
"And when they come back?" Jeremy asked with his voice barely a whisper. "Do they remember what they saw? Because that doesn't seem to be the case so why is that?"
Stefan nodded grimly, his eyes fixed on Alaric's hand. "No. They forget everything that happened while they were on the other side. It's a clean slate, or so it seems."
"Precisely," Michael said, pointing a finger at Stefan in mock approval, "But here is the 'fine print' Emily Bennett didn't put in the manual. In-between those resurrections, the minds of the wearers are left wide open. They are vulnerable to the manipulation of every vengeful spirit lingering in that veil. This constant psychic battering damages the human psyche, causing the ring to forge a defensive shell. An alter ego."
He looked to Alaric, and tilted his head. "We call it The Darkness. An alter-self born of survival and spite. It develops to the point where the wearer has no memory of their actions during its tenure. If you'd died just a few more times, Alaric, you'd have started to notice the gaps in your timeline."
"The more you use it, the more the Darkness takes the wheel. Eventually, there won't be enough of Alaric Saltzman left to even realize he's gone."
Michael let out a sharp, final breath, his posture relaxing as if he'd just finished a tedious lecture, "Well, enough revelations for one evening. I'm bored of being the harbinger of mental collapse."
He stretched out his hand, palm up, his fingers twitching in a silent, commanding gesture to the two men with the rings, "Both of you, hand them over."
Alaric didn't hesitate and quickly pulled the heavy heirloom ring from his finger as if it had suddenly turned white-hot. Beside him, Jeremy followed suit, sliding his own ring off with a look of pure distrust.
"I'm not exactly ready to trade my sanity for a longer life expectancy," Alaric muttered, dropping the ring into Michael's waiting palm, "I've got enough baggage without a homicidal passenger taking the wheel every time I trip and fall."
"Wise choice, Ric," Michael chuckled with his voice dripping with dry sarcasm. "Though I'm sure the 'Darkness' would have found your taste in flannel quite cozy. It's a shame, really. I was looking forward to the conversation."
He pocketed the Gilbert rings with a flourish, then reached into his other pocket. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed two bands of polished, midnight-black stone toward the men. Alaric caught his out of the air; Jeremy scrambled to snag his before it hit the floor.
"What are these?" Anna asked, leaning in to inspect the dark, glass-like surface of the ring on Jeremy's hand.
The moment Alaric and Jeremy slid the obsidian onto their fingers, they both buckled. A sharp, audible grunt escaped them as their veins briefly turned black before settling back to normal.
"Wow," Jeremy gasped, gripping the edge of the table. "What the hell was that? It feels like... like my blood is made of caffeine."
Michael paused at the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. "Think of it in those primitive gaming terms you children are so fond of. Consider this a permanent stat boost. Strength, speed, sensory perception all significantly buffed. Unlike that piece of damned jewelry I just confiscated," he held up the rings, "these obsidian rings are a marked improvement. They aren't anchored to the Other Side; they are anchored to something else I wouldn't mention to you."
He flashed a sharp, predator's grin. "As for the rest of the functions? Well, a little mystery keeps the soul young. You'll figure it out when the time comes." He turned his gaze toward Jeremy, his expression softening into a mockery of kindness. "Oh, and Jeremy? You can thank me later."
He shot a deliberate, knowing wink at Anna before he vanished in a blur of motion that left the curtains fluttering in his wake.
"What the hell was that about?" Jeremy asked, looking at the spot where Michael had been standing, then back at Anna, who was looking uncharacteristically flustered. It would be a fun night tonight.
Stefan leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. "Well, he did say you'd find out. Knowing Michael, 'finding out' usually involves a trial by fire or something unexpected, you'll just have to wait and see."
Elena, who had been quiet during the exchange, suddenly looked around the room, her brow furrowing and pulled Stefan away before asking, "Hey, uhh is everything okay with Damon? I haven seen him in a while so… plus I texted him to meet us here twenty minutes ago."
Stefan sighed as he thought of the best thing to say while thinking, 'He's probably enjoying another drink with Bonnie somewhere.'