2012 — McKinley, Virginia

   Subject 63584.

   A simple five number sequence that became more of a name than their own. Repeat it. Again and again until it cemented itself deep within their brains. It was a series of number that represented nothing, not their names or who they were. The numbers meant that they were part of an experiment, part of an ongoing cycle that dug onto their very beings day by day.

   He sat at the last row of seats in the classroom, one leg extended in front of him as his hand rested on the desk. His eyes focused on the door, throat closing with both thirst and anxiousness. Whatever Dr. Wes Maxfield had injected him with coursed through his system quick. Or it could have been the anxiousness that made it move quicker. Not because of the old friend he had wanted to catch up with.

   He lifted his legs to the backrest of the chair in front of him and extended his other hand across the other seat. As comfortable as he could get, he waited.

   The doors to the classroom opened. One short boy walked in first, followed by two brothers. The eldest brother, the one with dark hair and deep blue eyes was the most familiar. 

   He cleared his throat. "Two-one-zero-five-one," he said. A form of greeting. The number he had been given long ago. 

   "Enzo?" The eldest brother's eyes widened. He stiffened and relaxed his muscles quick, leaning his head back as he stared. "It's been a while, mate."

   Enzo stood and ambled towards the back of the room, hands closing into fists right inside the pockets of his jacket. 

   "Who the hell are you?"

   Enzo's eyes fell on the boy and he huffed. Just the same, he thought. He let a sarcastic smile fall on his lips. "Lorenzo, but my friends call me Enzo." He extended his hand to him. "Ah, kidding. I don't have any friends." He waited a couple of seconds for the boy to shake it back. When he didn't, he scoffed and pushed it back to his pocket.

   The eldest brother took a step forward and looked at his brother. "Enzo's another Augustine vampire. Our cells were next to each other." He turned back to his old friend and pursed his lips with anger. "So we're here to meet somebody—Wes Maxfield. You know him?"

   Enzo's fist tightened in his pocket. "That's your first question for me? Not how have I been or how I managed to survive in that fire I left you to die in?"

   "Uh, does somebody want to tell me what the hell is going on here?" the boy asked, glancing around to the three vampires.

   "I'd love to," Enzo smiled. He took a step back and pointed at the many desks with his hand. "Have a seat. I've been waiting seventy years to tell my story." He climbed onto the desk and leaned back on his hands, waited until the boy took a seat. He needed to be heard, wanted to be heard. Damon had only experienced five years, he had seventy.

   He waited until the eldest brother took a stance by the boy. "Damon and I had been locked in those cells for years. Tortured. Beaten. Humiliated, but we weren't gonna let them break us. No. We decided if we're going to escape, we need to work together." He put the emphasis in together. "We needed each other."

   The younger brother walked back into the room after a phone call that didn't matter to him. "He's not sending her."

   "Tragic," Enzo muttered with distaste. "Can I continue my story now, please?"

   "Doesn't he know we have Aaron?"

   "He doesn't care. He's willing to risk it."

   "What?" The boy looked between the brothers with wide eyes. "Let me talk to him! He'll listen to me."

   Enzo jumped from the desk and moved towards a chair. With the strength he had gathered by the small bit of blood given to him, he ripped one of the desks from the floor and threw it out the window. He looked back at the brothers and leaned on one foot. "Where were we?" he continued. "Uh, ah, right! I was telling my story and you were all politely listening." He moved back to the centre of the classroom, as if he were its professor and the three idiots were his students. Quite joyful for him. "So I'd given Damon all of my blood ration so he'd have the strength to escape and save me in the process. Our plan began perfectly, didn't it?"

   He remembered the night as vivid as the very moment he was in.

   "I was waiting in the cage for him to release me, waiting for my friend, my cellmate. The only soul with whom I'd connected with in all those years of captivity." He kept his eyes on the black-haired man. "Then a fire starts, burns out of control, but Damon just can't get the damn cage open. He looks me in the eye as if he didn't recognise me, turns around, saves himself, leaving me to die."

   "Well, you didn't die, obviously," the brother said in a simple tone. 

   Enzo leaned back on the desk. "No, unfortunately, I lived. I was spared by one of the scientists so I could spend another fifty years on a table being opened and closed." The harshness left his face as he pushed a smile. "Now that we've all been acquainted, I'm gonna find something to wet my whistle."

   He ambled out of the classroom without care. Or without wanting to show care. He walked towards another classroom, a hidden drawer that had been full of booze. The drawer was empty, and the booze was half drunk on top of the desk. He sighed and turned to look at the perpetrator, watching as they stood by the window and kept their eyes outside. 

   "You could have left me more," he said as he grabbed the bottle. He swished the liquid inside it and decided to down the rest. Another unopened bottle rested by it. He grabbed it and took one last look at them before returning to the classroom. 

   The anger incinerated inside of him like the fire. Not just for him, but for them.

   Damon was scaring the boy, something about not liking him and wanting to make his eyes explode. 

   Enzo let out one single laugh. "It's frightening what you can find on campus these days," he said as he examined the bottles. Scotch, 1993. 

   "Knock yourself out," the younger brother said. "I'm going with plan B."

   "Damon's not," Enzo said as he poured the scotch into two glasses. "Damon's staying right here. He knows all my secrets, so he knows how ornery I can get when I don't get my way." He turned to look at the mention name, anger filling him like the other booze had done.

   Damon waited. "Call me if you find anything," he told his brother, "kill him if you don't."

   Enzo watched the younger brother leave with a clear look, the frightened boy right behind him. He took a glass and ambled towards the window, beginning to ask questions of what he had missed. Years and years of being locked in a cage, the world going on without him. It made him furious to know that he'd miss so much, that he'd been tortured for those years in the name of science. 

   Or so those that experimented him liked to say. At first, he thought it would have been fine that his blood would be able to help the medical world. A doctor, in a sense. Then he became an exhibit in the world of the rich. An atrocity, a freak of nature—a monster that healed quickly and could live forever. As long as no one decided to pierce a piece of wood through his heart.

   "What do you want?" Damon asked after Enzo's comment. "You want me to feel guilty? I couldn't save you, Enzo! Now, where's Elena?"

   Enzo shrugged his shoulders. "Did you even think about it after you left? The experiments, the cell..." He moved down the stairs towards him, the empty glass tight in his hand. "Or did you just go out and live your merry life to its fullest?" When he stood in front of his old friend the glass broke in his hand. It shattered around his feet and shoes, a warning that his anger got the best of him. 

   He licked his top lip and pushed a smile. Sarcastic. Full of the hatred that burned inside of him. It quickly desiccated when his eyes connected with the browns of the person that stood by the door. Dull and brown, not even a flame of hatred behind them. 

   Enzo looked back at Damon. "I shouldn't be the only one that's angry at you, old friend." He wrapped an arm around his shoulders and smiled as he turned him around. "I believe you two have met before."

   Damon furrowed his brows as he looked at his old friend. Then, they wondered towards the direction he was looking at. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. For a moment, he almost fell on his knees as he stared. 

   He recalled every moment he had spent with them, from that carefully planned meeting to the surprising goodbye. And yet, none of that prepared him for that.

   Damon shook his head and took a step forward. "Florence?"