A woman was walking slowly down the stairs. She took each step with a casual, graceful ease. In one hand, she held a glass filled with a dark red drink. She was tall, with long blonde hair that fell in loose waves around her shoulders. Even from across the room, he could see the distinctive green-hazel of her eyes, a color he hadn't seen in a very, very long time. A name surfaced from the depths of his memory, a memory over a century old.
"Lexi," he muttered under his breath, almost in disbelief.
In the space of a heartbeat, the figure on the stairs vanished. The air stirred beside him. Stefan didn't even flinch. One moment she was descending, the next she was standing right in front of him, face-to-face, having used her vampire speed to close the distance instantly.The drink in her hand didn't even slosh.
"What, Stefan?" she said, her voice a playful mix of mock offense and genuine warmth. "You forget me in just a hundred years?"
Her familiar voice, bright and cutting through the silence like a bell, finally shattered his deep reverie. The last of his distracted thoughts fell away, and he truly looked at her—his oldest friend, the one who had pulled him back from the edge more times than he could count. A slow smile spread across his face, softening his previously troubled expression.
"No," he said, the smile reaching his eyes. "Not at all. In fact, the moment I entered this house, I heard a voice. I already recognized it. That beautiful, unforgettable voice." He shook his head slightly, the wonder clear in his tone. "It's just that my mind refused to believe it was possible until my eyes finally saw you standing here."
Lexi studied his face for a long, quiet moment, her sharp eyes missing nothing. Then, with a small, knowing smirk, she turned and took a few graceful steps backward, sinking comfortably into the plush cushions of the sofa. She took a leisurely sip from her glass, crossing one leg over the other. She looked every bit the relaxed hostess, but her gaze remained intently fixed on him.
"Stefan," she said, her tone shifting from playful to gently probing. "You are still as lovely as ever with your beautiful words." She waved a hand, brushing away the sweet talk. It was a game they'd played for decades. "Now, anyway, tell me what happened. Start with the big one. Why did you lock up Damon?"
She leaned back, getting comfortable, her expression one of keen interest.
Stefan didn't answer her question right away. He walked over to the small bartender table in the corner of the room, needing something to do with his hands. He picked up a glass and began to pour himself a drink, the liquid amber in the low light. Without turning around, he asked a question of his own, his voice low. "Did you meet Damon? In the basement cell?"
Lexi took another sip from her glass. "Yes," she said plainly. "He's barking as ever. Demanding that I tell Stefan to release him immediately." She shook her head, a flicker of old amusement in her eyes. "He even tried to attack me through the bars. You know Damon. He never could accept that he couldn't defeat me, not even in the past. And now, in his current... weakened state?" She let the sentence hang, the meaning clear. It was a sad and futile display.
A heavy sigh escaped Stefan. He finished making his drink, the ice clinking softly. He turned around and leaned back against the edge of the table, folding his arms. One hand still held the glass. He stared into the liquid, as if looking for answers there. He was remembering that night clearly now—the chaos, the tension, the shocking outcome.
"Lexi," he began, his tone serious and direct. "I didn't lock Damon up."
This made Lexi pause. Her brows drew together in a faint frown of confusion. She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward slightly, placing her glass on the coffee table. If Stefan didn't do it, then the situation was far stranger than she had assumed. "If you didn't lock Damon," she asked, her voice measured, "then who did?"
Stefan took a slow breath, organizing his thoughts. "He's locked up by another person. A guy named Leo Whittemore." He said the name carefully, as if still trying to understand it himself. "As for the reason behind it all... I don't even understand that." He looked up at Lexi, his expression one of genuine bewilderment mixed with frustration. "The only thing I remember from that night is that this Leo showed up. Then Damon, being Damon, said something. Something that clearly upset him. Things escalated from a verbal clash to a physical fight faster than I could intervene."
He paused, the memory of Leo's overwhelming power flashing in his mind. "And now the situation is... like this." He lifted his glass and took a solid sip of the drink, letting the familiar burn help settle the unease in his chest. The whole event felt less like a simple fight and more like a force of nature crashing through, leaving Damon caged in its wake, and Stefan himself still trying to piece together what, exactly, had happened.
Lexi's hand, which had been resting on her glass on the coffee table, went still. Then her fingers tightened around the cup, her knuckles showing just a little white. This was a more serious detail than she'd first thought. She asked again, her voice lower, "So this guy... this Leo. He's a vampire, right, Stefan?"
Stefan, leaning against the bar table, shook his head slowly. "Not really." The words came out quiet, heavy with memory. His mind flashed back—first to the school parking lot just hours ago, with those terrifying red and black eyes, and then further back, to the critical moment of that night. He saw it again: Leo's hand, clamping around Damon's throat with ease, lifting his struggling brother clear off the floor as if he weighed nothing. And the face… the face that had looked back at Damon in that moment wasn't just human,it was hellish face.Something ancient and cruel.
"He is not a vampire," Stefan repeated, more firmly this time, looking directly at Lexi to make sure she understood the distinction. "He is more like… a devil from hell." He let the description hang in the quiet room. There was no poetic exaggeration in his tone, only a flat, grim seriousness. His gaze was hard, his expression completely earnest. He had seen it, and he had no other words for it.
Lexi leaned back into the sofa cushions, releasing her tight grip on the glass. "Devil," she muttered to herself, testing the strange, old word. In all her long life, through all the supernatural things she'd witnessed, that was a term she had never seriously used or heard applied to a living being. It was a myth, a story. It was hard to believe. But she knew Stefan. He wasn't a hysterical exaggerator. If he said it, and with that look on his face, there was a core of terrifying truth to it.
Her practical, survivalist mind immediately went to the next, most vital question. She looked back at Stefan, her hazel eyes sharp. "Is he more powerful than me?"
Stefan pushed off from the table and walked over, sitting down on the sofa opposite her. He set his drink down. "I only know for certain that he is more powerful than me. And far more powerful than Damon." He spread his hands, a gesture of limited understanding. "Beyond that? I don't know the limits of what he can do."
He hadn't wanted to talk about Leo. The whole thing about leo felt dangerous. But keeping it all locked inside, bearing the silent weight of that encounter alone, had become its own kind of burden. Speaking it aloud to Lexi, someone he trusted absolutely, made the pressure in his chest ease just a little. He wasn't as worried about telling her. Lexi wasn't reckless like Damon; she was calculating and controlled. And honestly, he thought, she might even be stronger than this Leo. It was a faint hope, but it was there.
Lexi fell silent again, her mind visibly turning over the concept of a 'devil' and what it meant for their world, and for Stefan.
Seeing her dive back into that heavy thought, Stefan decided to steer them away. He needed a break from the shadow of Leo Whittemore. He managed a lighter tone. "Anyway, you didn't tell me. Why did you come here all of a sudden? Is something important going on?"
Lexi's eyes refocused on him. The deep thought about devils wasn't gone, but it was shelved for a moment. Her expression softened, and a warm, genuine smile broke through her serious demeanor. "Of course it's important," she said, her voice regaining its melodic, playful quality. "It's your birthday today, silly. Happy birthday, Stefan."
The simple normalcy of the statement cut through the supernatural tension like a sunbeam through a dark room. It was such an unexpected, ordinary reason that, for a second, Stefan could only stare at her, his own worries momentarily forgotten.
He then reached up and scratched the back of his head, a little awkwardly. "Thanks, Lexi," he said, the words sincere. He actually did remember his own birthday—he wrote in his diary every single day, after all, so the date was never lost to him. It was just that… it had been a very, very long time since anyone else had remembered it, or cared enough to say the words out loud.
Lexi just waved a hand, brushing off the thanks as she leaned back comfortably into the sofa cushions. "Don't do formalities," she said, her tone easy. "That stuff doesn't exist between us." She grinned. "And I've already arranged everything. There's a party tonight, at the Grill. We're going. We're going to have some fun, tonight."
The mention of the Grill immediately sent a ripple of hesitation through Stefan. He sat forward slightly, his earlier ease fading. "But," he started, choosing his words carefully, "that guy, Leo? I heard him talking to Elena earlier. They're going there, too."
Lexi didn't flinch. Her expression didn't change even a little. If anything, she looked more focused. The news made her cautious, but it also sparked a sharper curiosity about this so-called 'devil' Stefan had described. A plan began to form in her practical mind.
"Don't worry, Stefan," she said, her voice calm and measured. "You said yourself you don't know the limits of his power. So, why don't we check? What if he's weaker than me?" She shrugged one shoulder, a calculated move. "Then your problem is completely solved. No more worrying. And if he's not… well, then we'll know exactly what we're dealing with. It's better than sitting here and wondering."
Stefan considered this. He gave a slow, thoughtful nod. She had a point. He was deeply troubled by Leo's presence, by the threat and the humiliation he represented. A part of him did want to show Leo that there was always someone bigger, more powerful. Let him feel a taste of his own medicine.
Having settled that heavy matter for the moment, he leaned back, a wry, almost embarrassed smile touching his lips. He decided to lighten the mood with a piece of personal news. "Well, Lexi," he said, "to tell you a little joke... I have joined high school. Again."
Lexi looked at him, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. She knew his pattern well—Stefan enrolling in school, over and over, was his way of clinging to a human rhythm, a tactic to keep his ripper side buried. "How many times do you have to graduate, Stefan?" she asked, her tone a mix of amusement and gentle exasperation. Then, she paused, her thoughts snapping back to the earlier part of their conversation. "Wait a minute, I missed something." Her eyes sharpened with fresh curiosity. "You mentioned Leo and Elena. Who is Elena?" A logical, wary assumption followed. "Is she another devil?"
Stefan couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at the idea of Elena being called a devil. He stretched his arms, working out the stiffness from a long, tedious day of pretending to be a student. "No," he said, the brief humor fading. "She is not a devil." His expression grew distant, then turned quietly serious as memories surfaced. He spoke the next words more to himself, a low mutter. "She is just like Katherine,the same appearance,same eyes… but she is not Katherine, either."
The name 'Katherine' hit the air between them like a physical object. Lexi's posture straightened instantly. She knew every shadow that name cast over Stefan's long life. Her voice dropped, layered with decades of concern and disbelief. "Don't tell me," she said slowly, her gaze locked on him. "Don't tell me she just looks like Katherine, and you've already gone and fallen for her."
Stefan didn't reply with words. He simply turned his head and looked at Lexi. The look in his eyes—a complicated mix of pain, defiance, and helpless confirmation—said everything that needed to be said. The silence that followed was heavy with understanding. Lexi leaned back, absorbing it, a deep, knowing sigh already forming.
....
6 Chapters Ahead
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