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❝ this is never gonna end. ❞
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"RIGHT ON TIME,"
Enola had just finished burying the body of the poor pizza delivery girl when Damon came along with Matt and Jeremy. He dragged them into town where the streets were abandoned. It wasn't a strange sight considering the town was surrounded by miles and miles of woods. However, what had caught them off guard was the bar he led them into. It wasn't bustling like a regular bar. Instead the patrons laid dead on the ground as Klaus sat at the bar with a fresh glass of bourbon.
"What the hell?" Matt gasped. "Did you kill all these people?"
"Not exactly. They are in transition." Klaus confessed, eyes flickering to Jeremy. "Killing them is your job."
"I thought we agreed Jeremy needed more training," Enola said.
"Well, I thought about it." Damon nodded, turning to Klaus. "And then I realized that his idea was better."
"No way. I'm not doing it." Jeremy stubbornly shook his head.
"What makes you think you have a choice?" Klaus scoffed.
"You have to kill vampires to complete the hunters mark. Mark equals cure." Damon reminded. "You're in a bar full of almost vampires, so get your hunt on."
"You said I wouldn't have to kill any innocent people," Jeremy said before turning to his sister. "Enola, please."
"Go get the weapons out of the car," Enola instructed. "I'll be right behind you."
"If I hear an engine start, I'll kill Matt and Damon." Klaus warned as the three rushed out of the bar to prepare themselves.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Enola huffed.
"I think it would be best that you return to Mystic Falls with me," Klaus confessed. "I would feel a lot better knowing that you aren't surrounded by a bunch of newly turned vampires who want to rip your heart out of your chest."
"I'm not going anywhere," Enola scoffed.
"Now is not the time to be so stubborn," Klaus groaned as the vampires began to stir in their slumber.
"I'm not going anywhere because my brother is out there," Enola finished. "We fight together."
"Even if there is a chance of you ending up dead?" Klaus frowned.
