Damon slammed the empty glass down on the bar, his jaw clenched.
"So you're telling me this high school girl is basically fate's puppet? Again?"
Michael raised a brow. "I wouldn't call her a puppet. But yeah—she's caught in something much older than she realizes. Older than all of us."
Camille leaned on the counter, her voice quiet. "You really believe this stuff? That nature created these copies to balance immortality?"
Michael nodded. "It's not belief, Camille. It's truth. Nature demands balance. The first immortals defied that balance—and so the Doppelgängers were born. A bloodline destined to repeat, to suffer, to die… unless someone breaks the cycle."
Damon scoffed, turning to face the pool table where Stefan was laughing softly with Elena. "So what, she's supposed to die just because some ancient force says so?"
Michael looked him dead in the eye. "She wasn't the first to die. And she won't be the last unless someone makes a different choice."
"Still, calling her fate's puppet is a bit of a stretch," he added, shrugging. "All the Doppelgängers died natural deaths. Only one death is needed per cycle, and let's be honest—most people hardly make it past 80, especially with our kind of lifestyle."
They looked at him and slowly nodded.
"Hmm… that's true. Yeah," Damon agreed, taking another sip of his whiskey. "So then… her dying isn't exactly fate's punishment, right?"
Michael nodded.
"Yep. If you look at it from a normal person's point of view," he said as the conversation drew to a natural pause, each lost in their own thoughts.
"Anyway, Cami, I have a gift for you," Michael said with a sly grin as he looked at her.
Camille raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Hmm? What is it?"
"It's a surprise. And you'll love it," he said, smiling wider.
"I'll be the judge of that," she replied with a smirk, folding her arms.
"Mystery and attitude. I'll give it to you later," Michael added.
"Ugh, this whole flirt-fest almost made me puke," Damon muttered as he turned and walked away, shaking his head.
With the day at the bar finally over, they signed out and began walking home together.
The home they were headed to wasn't the same old place. Camille now stayed in a newly renovated house—a guest home, actually—granted to her with a bit of Damon's help. He had managed to get the Sheriff to run a few strings and make it happen. It wasn't massive, but it was cozy and came with a beautiful porch that overlooked the woods.
As they walked up the path, Camille glanced at Michael. "So… what's this surprise gift you were talking about earlier?" she asked, nudging him with her elbow.
Michael chuckled. "I didn't forget. Just wanted the right moment to give it."
"Well, moment's here, hotshot."
He said as she sat down on the sofa, "I'm going to do a magic trick on you."
She looked at him, raising a brow. "Are you going to give me a spell like you did with Bonnie too?" she teased.
Michael shook his head. "No, not this time. I'm going to turn you into a true vampire."
She blinked. "True vampire? But... am I not already a vampire?"
"No," he said calmly, sitting across from her. "Not a true vampire. You're what's called a pseudo-vampire."
"Pseudo?" she echoed, confused. **"What do you mean?"
Michael leaned forward. "You see, vampires were created by a witch. She used the blood of a doppelgänger to copy the essence of a real vampire and make one. But the thing about doppelgängers is—they can only copy 99% of someone's blood and essence. That remaining 1%… that's what makes someone a true vampire. And none of the current vampires have it."
Camille stared at him in shock. "So what you're saying is... none of us are truly vampires?"
Michael nodded. "You're close, but not the original. I can give you that missing 1%—but once I do, there's no going back."
"What will happen if I turn into a true vampire?" Camille asked as he sat beside her.
Michael smiled calmly. "Nothing bad, honestly. You've already experienced all the negative parts of being a vampire. This would only give you the good things."
She raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"You'll gain two more powers," he explained. "One is True Shapeshift. You'll be able to transform into mist, a wolf, or a bat."
Her eyes widened slightly. "A wolf? As in… werewolf?"
Michael chuckled. "No, not exactly. Think of it like a royal wolf—just bigger, stronger, faster. More primal, but still in control."
Camille leaned forward, intrigued. "And the second power?"
"That's what makes a vampire a true vampire," he said seriously. "Blood Manipulation. You'll be able to control blood itself—yours, your enemies', anyone's. That power alone sets the originals apart from the rest."
She stared at him for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Alright. Then let's do it."
Michael nodded as he reached for the spell he had learned from the Darkhold. Unlike the witches, he didn't need to wait for sacred ground, a celestial event, or the support of a coven. His power came from his own Template—modeled after a max-level character from the Hogwarts Legacy game. With that strength at his disposal, he had more than enough power to make the spell work flawlessly.
As Michael began to chant, his voice took on an otherworldly echo, each word laced with ancient power. The lights dimmed slightly, the air thick with magic. A glowing sigil appeared beneath Camille, pulsing with a deep crimson hue. Her eyes widened, but she didn't flinch—she trusted him.
"Don't move," Michael said, his hands weaving through the air, tracing invisible symbols. "This won't hurt… much."
The energy surged through the room like a heartbeat. Camille gasped as her body lifted a few inches off the couch, suspended by the spell. Her veins glowed briefly, then darkened, as if filled with molten gold and shadows. Her fangs sharpened, her senses spiked, and a powerful pulse of energy exploded from her chest—then vanished.
She dropped back onto the sofa, eyes burning with a deeper, richer shade of red.
Michael stepped back, visibly drained but satisfied. "It's done."
Camille sat up slowly, feeling the shift in her body. "I feel… different."
"You should," he said, smirking. "You're no longer a pseudo-vampire, Camille. You're a True Vampire now. Stronger. Faster. Deadlier. And with a connection to the oldest bloodline magic."
Camille touched her chest. Her heartbeat was silent, yet she felt more alive than ever.
"…So what now?" she asked, glancing up at him.
Michael shrugged, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Now? Now we see what you're really capable of."
*******
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