### Chapter 5: The Devil You Know
The courtyard in the heart of New Orleans was a shadowed stage, framed by ivy-draped balconies and the faint hum of jazz drifting from the streets beyond. Gas lamps flickered, casting a golden glow that danced across Katherine Pierce's flawless features as she stood there, a queen in her element. Her black silk gown clung to her curves like a second skin, the neckline plunging just enough to tease, and her dark curls spilled over one shoulder, framing eyes that sparkled with mischief and menace. She tilted her head, lips curling into that signature smirk—half-seduction, half-taunt—as she faced the Salvatore brothers and Lyra Voss. The air crackled with tension, thick with the scent of blood and the promise of violence.
"Well, well," Katherine purred, her voice a velvet blade, smooth and cutting all at once. "The Salvatore brothers and… a stray. Miss me?" Her gaze flicked from Damon's lazy grin to Stefan's clenched fists, then settled on Xander, lingering with a flicker of intrigue. "Oh, Alexander, you've brought friends. How charming."
Xander didn't flinch, his emerald eyes locked on hers, cold and unyielding. The crimson whip of blood he'd summoned hovered in the air, its tip quivering an inch from her face, a silent threat. Disgust churned in his gut—not just at her, but at the chaos she'd sown, the lives she'd twisted, including his own. She was beautiful, undeniably so, a siren spun from nightmares and desire, but he saw past the mask. She was a manipulator, a survivor who'd burn the world to save herself, and he'd be damned if he let her play him again.
Katherine's smile faltered, just for a heartbeat, as the whip's heat brushed her cheek. Then she laughed—a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver through the night. "My, my, what's this? A new trick, Xander? I didn't know you had it in you." She stepped closer, fearless, her heels clicking against the cobblestones, daring him to strike. "You always were the clever one. Too bad it won't change a thing."
Before she could finish her taunt, Xander moved—vampire speed blurring his form into a streak of shadow. His hand shot out, seizing her wrist with a grip like iron, and in an instant, he dragged her across the courtyard. The world smeared past—balconies, flickering lights, the startled gasps of his brothers and Lyra—until he slammed her down into a wrought-iron chair at the courtyard's edge, its legs scraping against the stone. Katherine hit the seat with a grunt, her smirk replaced by a flash of genuine surprise, then anger. She tried to rise, but Xander's hand clamped on her shoulder, pinning her with a strength that brooked no argument.
"Enough games," he snarled, his voice low and lethal, fangs glinting as the hunger flared again, sharp and insistent. The blood whip dissolved, but the power pulsed in his veins, begging to be unleashed. He leaned in, his face inches from hers, emerald eyes boring into her dark ones. "You turned us—me, Damon, Stefan—into vampires. Eternal monsters. And now I'm something else, something even you didn't plan. What was the point, Katherine? What was the goddamn point?"
Katherine recovered fast, her composure sliding back into place like a mask. She tilted her chin up, defiant, and flashed a smile that was all teeth—sharp, predatory, and utterly her. "Oh, Xander, don't be so dramatic. It's not a good look on you." She shifted in the chair, crossing one leg over the other with deliberate grace, as if she weren't being held down by a furious vampire. "The point? Survival, darling. Mine, mostly. You were just… collateral damage."
"Collateral damage?" Damon echoed, stepping forward, his grin gone, replaced by a scowl. He tossed his dagger from hand to hand, the blade catching the light. "You seduced us, fed us your blood, and got us shot by our own father. That's a hell of a way to survive."
Katherine shrugged, unrepentant. "I needed pawns. You three were perfect—handsome, loyal, just naive enough to fall for it. I didn't expect Giuseppe to go all witch-hunter on me, but it worked out, didn't it? You're alive—well, sort of—and I'm still here, looking fabulous."
Stefan's voice cut through, soft but raw. "You ruined us, Katherine. You took everything."
She rolled her eyes, a flicker of impatience breaking her facade. "Spare me the tears, Stefan. You're eternal now—stronger, faster, immortal. You should be thanking me. Most people would kill for what I gave you."
Xander's grip tightened, his nails digging into her shoulder just enough to draw a hiss from her lips. "Thank you?" he spat. "You turned us into monsters, and now I've got this—this *thing* inside me. Blood bending, power I didn't ask for. Did you do this? Is this your blood, your curse?"
Katherine's eyes narrowed, studying him with a new intensity. For once, the mockery faded, replaced by genuine curiosity. "Blood bending? Oh, that's… unexpected." She leaned forward despite his hold, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I didn't do that, Xander. My blood's potent, sure—I'm a doppelgänger's descendant, after all—but that's beyond even me. If you're something more, it's not my doing."
"Then whose?" he demanded, his patience fraying. The hunger surged, a red haze creeping into his vision, and he fought to keep it at bay. "Who turned me into this?"
Katherine smirked again, but it was weaker, a crack in her armor. "I don't know, darling. Maybe you're just special. Or maybe someone else has their claws in you. Ever think of that?"
The Weaver's voice slithered through his mind—*"The thread tightens"*—and Xander's blood ran cold, or would have if it still flowed like a human's. He straightened, releasing her shoulder but not stepping back, his mind racing. Katherine didn't know about the Weaver, couldn't know. But her words hit too close, and the unease gnawed at him.
Lyra moved then, silent as a wraith, her dagger drawn and pressed to Katherine's throat in a heartbeat. "Enough stalling," she said, her voice ice. "You killed my sister, Pierce. Slit her throat in Baton Rouge, left her to rot. Remember that?"
Katherine's eyes flicked to Lyra, and for the first time, a shadow of fear crossed her face. "A lot of people die around me, sweetheart. You'll have to be more specific."
"Clara Voss," Lyra growled, the blade nicking Katherine's skin, a thin line of blood welling up. "Blonde, blue eyes, witch like me. You drained her dry six months ago. Ring any bells?"
Katherine's smirk returned, but it was strained. "Oh, her. She was… inconvenient. Got in my way. You witches are so touchy about your little covens."
Lyra's hand trembled, rage flaring in her gray eyes, and Xander stepped in, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly. "Not yet," he said, his voice low. "We need her alive—for now."
Lyra glared at him, her scar stark in the lamplight, but she lowered the dagger, stepping back with a curt nod. Katherine rubbed her throat, smearing the blood with a delicate finger, and chuckled. "Smart move, Xander. You always were the practical one."
"Don't test me," he warned, his fangs aching as the scent of her blood hit him—rich, intoxicating, laced with that doppelgänger edge. He turned away, pacing a few steps to clear his head, the hunger roaring louder now. He needed to feed, soon, or he'd lose it right here.
Damon sauntered over, clapping Xander on the shoulder. "Well, this is fun. Katherine's still a manipulative witch, Lyra's ready to stab someone, and you're looking like you want to eat the whole damn city. What's the play, big brother?"
"We tie her up," Xander said, his voice steady despite the storm inside. "Take her with us. She knows more than she's letting on, and I'm not letting her slip away again."
Stefan frowned, hesitant. "Xander, she's dangerous. What if she—"
"She's not going anywhere," Lyra cut in, pulling a coil of rope from her pack—vervain-laced, judging by the faint herbal scent. "I'll make sure of it."
Katherine laughed, a sound that grated on Xander's nerves. "Oh, this is adorable. You think you can hold me? I've been running circles around vampires and hunters for centuries."
Xander spun back to her, his patience snapping. In a blur, he grabbed her by the arms, lifting her from the chair and slamming her against the courtyard wall, the stone cracking under the force. She gasped, her bravado faltering as he loomed over her, fangs bared, eyes black with veins pulsing beneath. "You're not running this time," he snarled, the hunger and anger melding into something primal. "You're going to talk, or I'll rip the answers out of you myself."
For once, Katherine didn't have a quip. She stared at him, wide-eyed, and nodded—barely, but enough. Xander released her, stepping back as Lyra moved in, binding her wrists with the vervain rope. The sizzle of her skin against it was faint but satisfying.
Damon whistled. "Remind me not to piss you off, Xander."
"Too late," Xander muttered, turning away. The hunger was a beast now, clawing at his throat, and he knew he couldn't wait. "I need to feed. Watch her."
He didn't wait for their replies, vanishing into the alley shadows, the city's pulse calling him. A drunk stumbled out of a tavern, reeking of whiskey and sweat, and Xander struck—fast, clean, draining just enough to steady himself. The blood hit his system like fire, calming the storm, and he returned minutes later, wiping his mouth, his eyes back to emerald.
Katherine watched him, tied and smirking faintly. "Feeling better?"
"Shut up," he said, but there was no heat in it. He looked to Lyra, then his brothers. "Let's find a place to hole up. We've got a long night ahead."
The Weaver's wheel spun silently in his mind, and the game grew darker. Katherine was a piece, Lyra another, but Xander was starting to suspect he wasn't the player he thought he was. Not yet.