The bond snapped for the fourth time at 6 PM on October 30th.
I felt it go—a sharp sensation like something tearing in my chest—and Vicki's eyes immediately went wild. She was across the room in a blur, fangs extended, lunging for my throat.
"STOP."
The command hit empty air. The bond was gone.
Stefan intercepted her a foot from my face, throwing her against the wall with enough force to crack the plaster. She hissed, tried to rise, and he pinned her with ancient strength.
"Now, Matt! Renew it!"
I cut my palm—the fourth time in five days, the skin barely healed from the last attempt—and pressed the wound to Vicki's mouth. She bit down reflexively, drinking, and I felt the familiar click of connection reforming.
Then I felt the cost.
My vision grayed. My heart stuttered. For a long, terrifying moment, I was certain I was dying.
When awareness returned, I was on the floor, Stefan crouching over me with a vial of his blood held out.
"Drink. You've lost too much."
I shook my head weakly. "Can't. Don't know how it would interact with my abilities."
"You're no good to her dead."
"I'm no good to her as a vampire either."
Stefan set the vial aside, frustration flickering across his ancient features. "The bond won't hold. I can feel it weakening already. Whatever connection you're creating, it's not designed for sustained use."
"I know."
"Then you know tomorrow is the limit." He stood. "One more day. Maybe two. After that, she's on her own."
Tomorrow was Halloween.
In the original timeline, tomorrow was the day Vicki Donovan died.
I lay on the floor until my strength returned, then sat up slowly. Vicki was in the corner, bond-calm again, watching me with an expression I couldn't read.
"You shouldn't keep doing this," she said quietly. "I can feel what it costs you."
"I can handle it."
"No, you can't." She crossed the room and knelt beside me. "I'm not worth killing yourself over."
"You're my sister."
"I'm a monster."
"You're both." I took her cold hand. "And I'm not giving up."
We sat like that until the basement door opened and Damon Salvatore descended the stairs.
"Adorable." His voice dripped with theatrical contempt. "The sibling reunion. I'd applaud, but I don't want to encourage this kind of melodrama."
Stefan was between us and his brother before I could blink. "What do you want, Damon?"
"Just checking on my creation." Damon circled past Stefan with predator grace, studying Vicki with clinical interest. "I have to admit, little brother, I didn't expect the busboy's tricks to work this long. A blood bond? Creative. Desperate, but creative."
Vicki snarled at him. "Stay away from me."
"Oh, the kitten has claws." Damon smiled, showing fangs. "Let's test them, shall we?"
He moved—vampire fast—and grabbed Vicki's arm. I felt her rage surge through the bond, felt her fighting the instinct to attack, felt the chain between us strain almost to breaking.
"Don't," I commanded.
She didn't attack. The bond held. Barely.
Damon's smile widened. "Impressive. But temporary. I can feel the bond weakening every second. By tomorrow night, she'll be mine again."
"She was never yours."
"She became mine the moment my blood turned her." He released Vicki and turned to face me. "Here's what's going to happen, blood boy. Tomorrow is Halloween. Big party at the high school. Lots of students, lots of blood, lots of opportunities for a newly-feral vampire to make a mess."
Stefan stiffened. "Damon—"
"By tomorrow night, your bond will be gone. Vicki will be running on pure instinct, and those instincts are mine to command." Damon's eyes glowed in the basement's dim light. "I wonder how many students a hungry vampire can drain before someone stakes her? Ten? Twenty? The entire cheerleading squad?"
The horror of his plan crystallized. He wasn't just targeting Vicki—he was setting up a massacre. Using her to create chaos, forcing someone to kill her, destroying everything I'd worked to build.
"I won't let that happen."
"You won't be able to stop it." Damon headed for the stairs. "But by all means, try. It'll make the show more entertaining."
He vanished, leaving silence and dread behind.
Stefan turned to me. "He's right about the bond. It won't last through tomorrow night."
"I know."
"If she loses control at the party—"
"I know."
"Then you know what you might have to do."
I looked at Vicki, still crouched in the corner, the rage from Damon's visit slowly fading. She met my eyes, and I saw understanding there.
"If I lose myself," she said quietly, "do what you have to do."
I couldn't answer.
That night, I didn't sleep. I sharpened stakes. I prepared blood bags. I reviewed everything I knew about fighting vampires, about my own abilities, about the odds of surviving tomorrow.
The math was brutal. If Vicki went feral at the party, dozens could die. If I staked her first, I'd be murdering my sister. If I let events play out, Damon won either way.
There has to be another option.
Dawn came, gray and cold. Halloween.
In the original timeline, Vicki Donovan died tonight.
I intended to rewrite that story.
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