(CHAPTER TWO:
COME DINE WITH ME)

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"WHAT THE HELL DAMON? I am not going to play human for some pathetic Come Dine With Me fantasy of theirs." I had started to rant, enraged by the suggestion alone of attending the dinner party. Not only did it sound incredibly tacky, I had zero faith in Damon's scheming skills. "I won't—no, can't—play nice with Klaus and Elijah. I'd practically be a liability." I reasoned, my voice rising to be far louder than I ever intended for it to be.

Although Damon was unamused, he snorted in efforts to indulge me. "Undaggering his siblings is not exactly 'playing nice' now." He defended roughly, exhausted from all the times I persisted that he was being weak by submitting to the Originals. "You're overreacting, per usual. We'll fake make our peace and make a swift exit once the entire clan arrives." He rolled his eyes, implying I was overthinking the entire situation. Something I profusely disagreed with.

"I wasn't even invited." I reminded him plainly. "Why should I have to come?" I proceeded to whine, folding my arms over my chest harshly.

Per usual, the Salvatore ignored my insistent ramblings, much preferring to drink himself raw in Bourbon. First, it was one glass. Gone. Then, two. Gone. Soon enough, he was on his second bottle. Gone. Furious at his ignorance, I yanked the glass out of his steady grip, resulting in his typically blue eyes to grow dark, a raging storm brewing inside of them. That was when I realised that I shouldn't have touched his alcohol.

"Don't touch the Bourbon and don't think I give a damn about your opinion." He hissed venomously, the words spiked with the most deadly poison. "Sure, we had fun in the past, but you've become such a Saint this century, Lottie. How prude." Damon continued to snarl, unimpressed by the 'new me.' In truth, I had changed for the better, my bloodthirsty ways were hazardous. "Now, you can either find the impulsive vampire I plucked off the streets or I'll drop your body into the ocean. How do you feel about the Atlantic?" He hummed, the menace that lurked in his tone becoming more prominent with every unkind word.

"Atlantic is bit of a cliché." I mused, refusing to be intimidated by my long time best friend. "I much prefer the Pacific." I remarked bravely, my body suddenly falling stiff before the two of us could bicker further. Paralysed, memories overwhelmed me once more—they tended to attack at the most inconvenient of times.

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CHICAGO, ILLINOIS [1922]

Exhilarating. In a word, Chicago was exhilarating. It was electric, the decade and the city. According to my humbled opinion, the roaring twenties were off to a fantastic start and were an amazing time to be alive—or, technically speaking, undead. To begin with, the idea of roaming the world, forever alone, was daunting, but the thought became more tolerable as I had new experiences. There was the opportunity to live in different eras, meet different people. Not that it was abominable to be a permanent teenager either since my body attracted prey and didn't have the limits of a matured body too. Overall, life was good and I was thriving.

Despite being a mere two years in to the decade, I had to admit that the music was far to superior to the previous years, the extravagant building designs were captivating and the clothing held a sense of sexy class to it. Everything was widely different to the humdrum tunes, bland structures and cotton dresses of 1908. Watching times change was fascinating, to say the least. I had spent a few of my years exploring the world, going on ventures, but I found myself magnetising to Chicago. Something was calling me there, it was a new, exciting place.

However, in saying how well-adapted I was, walking into Gloria's Bar had me on edge. Knots tangled in my stomach, the air thick with mystery. Even if the warning signs were there, I was craving a snack and this, apparently, was the hotspot for the wealthy. Unarguably, their blood was richer, maybe a little bitter, but far better tasting than those of another class. If I were to be frank, their blood was intoxicating and I was starving. Knowing of the owner's supernatural status, I slinked in the establishment, sticking to the shadows and plucked out the first person that caught my eye in the crowd. At this point, anybody would suffice. Today, I wasn't in the mood to toy with my food.

"Follow me outside, do not utter a word." I dilated my pupils, compelling a young man. If I wasn't ravished, perhaps I would have enjoyed more of a chase or allowed him to scream, but games were only fun when I wasn't underfed.

Leading him towards the back of a gloomy alleyway—one just large enough to fit possibly four or five people in—I positioned him in the darkest corner. The scene was ideal for feeding. Due to that, there wasn't a single hesitation when I plunged my canine fangs into the flesh of the man's neck. Oh so enticing. Around my mouth, the coppery liquid smothered my callous smirk as the euphoric feeling energised my body. Satisfied, I couldn't bring myself to pull away from the addictive drink and I only managed to do so when I sensed a new presence.

Licking a stray drop of the crimson liquid from my fingertip, I sighed longingly and released my prey to confront the person behind me. "You won't remember what happened, go inside and if anybody asks, you came outside for fresh air." I ensured my voice remained monotone when I compelled the innocent once again. Honestly, I was extremely irritated that I had to permit a delicious meal to walk away, but it would be impossible to proceed with prying eyes.

"Oh, there was no need to stop on my account. In fact, we could have shared." He, the voice was definitely masculine, edged closer to me with each deadly word. "Although, I do hate to share so that may not have worked out all that well for you. Actually, there is only one thing I do hate more than sharing." The figure announced, his two piercing eyes illuminating in the black cloak of the alleyway.

"Should I humour you? I presume you want me to feign interest and ask what it is. So, let me try my best." I cleared my throat with a cough, beginning to bat my eyelashes. "And that is, Sir?" I implored, my voice seeping with faux interest. Clearly, this man was a deluded vampire that would not even stand a chance against me.

In the dim light, I noticed his pearly white teeth shine through. "I hate when somebody doesn't stay dead." He answered with a dry, raspy chuckle.

For some reason, it hit home. Like a spark, the words set something alight in me, one million memories bombarding me. Now I recognised it, the accent, it matched perfectly that of the man that compelled me to kill myself over a decade ago. Squeezing my eyes shut, the name came to me. Klaus, he said he was related to Kol. Pieces fell together like a puzzle. Yet, the most important piece was missing—why did he compel me to kill myself?

Almost like he could read my mind, he spoke up. "From the way my brother used to talk about you, I gathered you're an intelligent girl, Charlotte." He opened with, standing only a step away from me now. "I doubt it will take you too long to figure out how you were such an inconvenience for me when living. And still are. Sadly, I can't give you the luxury of time right now." The vampire raised his hand, slowly, bringing it to hover over my chest. "I'm not a unreasonable man though. Would you prefer for your heart or head to be ripped off? I am quite flexible when I want to be." He acknowledged, my heart pounding as I frantically searched for an escape route. "Chop, chop. I do want to be on my merry way after I dropped your body in the Atlantic."

Stuck. I urged my feet to move, my mouth to move, but to no avail. All I wanted to do was fight back, I refused to allow him the pleasure that he had the first time around. Back then, Klaus prospered in my fear. But, my body had been immobilised, leaving me petrified.

"Enough, Nik." An unfamiliar blonde zoomed in to scold the man before turning to grab my face, forcing me to meet her startling navy eyes. "You will forget of Nik and I, the name Mikaelson will become nothing to you from this point onwards. You had a lover many years ago, but you will not remember his name." She coaxed, my body drooping as her soothing voice drew me under her compulsion. "Klaus did not compel you to kill yourself, your death was natural and this meeting will be but a blank in your mind." She, for I still didn't know her name, finalised. Following that, she had blurred away before I could fathom how I had managed to be compelled.

Blinking, my eyes roaming the empty, abandoned alleyway. Why was I standing alone in an alleyway?

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Another memory. It was difficult to even know if they were memories at times, in this case, the faces were unfocused and some names sounded jumbled in my mind. All I knew for certain was that Damon Salvatore had a striking resemblance to the man from the alleyway, except I couldn't recall why he had threatened to drop my body in the ocean. Distinctly, the piteous, powerless emotion I experienced when I was transfixed to the solid ground lingered in my head after the memory had played out. One feeling I didn't express all that often vulnerability.

"Lottie," Damon chimed, waving his hand vigorously in front of my impassive features. "Lottie!" He exclaimed, far more urgent this time as he freed me from my thoughts.

"I'm, uh, fine. Memories, you know." I stammered out, trying to regain the confident composure I once withheld. "I need some time to pull myself together, that one was a shocker, truthfully. But, only because I don't have it in me to argue with you any longer, I'll go to the dinner party with you." I surrendered to his wish, shaking my head a little as I tried to rid myself of that Chicago flashback. It had me rather winded. "Don't mistake this for me having a sudden surge of faith in your plan or trust in the Mikaelsons. This is the last time I'm putting myself on the line for those two idiots." I cautioned, narrowing my eyes into hot slits, burning my valid point into Damon's infant brain.

After a few drawn out moments, he nodded reluctantly. "Fine." He mumbled eventually, agreeing nonetheless.

Exhaling with relief, I let myself bask in the meagre moment of glory. Strangely, I never did like the Original Family—even before they did anything too treacherous. During my first meeting with them, I didn't take to any of them. First, I was introduced to Elijah and I couldn't find it in me to endure the man, I found him contradictory of his morals in regards to family. After, I met Klaus and found myself wary of him due to a mischievous glint in his eyes that never did seem to disperse. Lastly, I had encountered Rebekah, of which who I found remarkably annoying. And I knew there was more–according to Damon. I had no doubt they would be equally, if not more so, intolerable as the three I already knew.

"So, I'll pick you up in an hour and remember to make yourself look pretty." Damon winked in my direction before grabbing the rest of the Borubon bottle and striding away, content with winning our small spat.

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A.N: Next chapter, the Originals will finally enter, something I am excited to explore dynamic wise. If you are enjoying the rewrite, please do comment. Also, I'm going to start having a question of the chapter too.

Would you prefer a set date for updates or for me to pose them when the chapter is finish?