TVD: The Siphoner

"Guys, this is…" Bonnie started, then paused, turning to the boy beside her. "Sorry, what's your name?"

"Aiken. Aiken Hill," he replied with a small, genuine laugh. This girl… she was just too much.

"Bonnie… you invited a guy without even knowing his name?" Elena said, chuckling softly.

Stefan glanced at Elena as she laughed, the sound pulling his attention like gravity.

"Bonnie, huh? So that's your name," Aiken said to her, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"Bonnie Bennett," she said, smiling. "I hope we'll get along."

"Elena Gilbert," Elena added.

"Matt Donovan," Matt said, offering Aiken a handshake. Aiken took it without hesitation.

"Stefan Salvatore," Stefan introduced himself, giving Aiken a firm handshake as well.

...

Bonnie, Elena, Stefan, Aiken—and Caroline, who had inserted herself into the group the second she saw Stefan—were all seated at a table together.

Bonnie kept sneaking glances at Aiken. She didn't even try to hide it.

"So, you were born in Mystic Falls?" Caroline asked Stefan, her tone a little too bright.

"Mhm," Stefan nodded. "I moved out when I was little."

"And your parents?" she followed up.

"They're dead," Stefan said flatly.

Tension crept into the group like fog rolling in. Everyone went quiet—except Aiken, who stared at Stefan with a thoughtful expression. He was trying to figure him out. Stefan wasn't human… That much he was sure of.

"I'm sorry," Elena said gently.

Stefan just nodded.

"Do you have any siblings?" she asked, trying to shift the mood.

"No one I have a relationship with. I live with my uncle."

Caroline jumped in, switching focus. "So, what about you, Aiken?" she asked, her voice sharp with irritation. "Your parents must be so proud of you."

There was a bite to her words.

Aiken didn't flinch. "Yes. In fact, they were so proud of me that they kicked me out when I was eight."

"Aiken…" Bonnie murmured, her eyes softening as she looked at him.

Caroline's smile faded. Her jab had gone too far, and she knew it. "I… I didn't know—"

"Joking," Aiken said casually, cutting her off.

"You—!" Caroline snapped, glaring at him, her cheeks flushing with frustration.

Aiken laughed softly, but when he turned, he saw Bonnie still staring at him. Her gaze wasn't just curious anymore—it was heavy with something deeper. Sympathy. Recognition.

She knew what it was like to be abandoned.

Aiken met her eyes… and for a brief second, his heart fluttered.

No. He shut that feeling down immediately.

Elena let out a small chuckle at the tension, unaware of the undercurrents between Bonnie and Aiken.

Stefan looked at her again, more captivated by the second.

Caroline saw the way his eyes lingered on Elena. Jealousy twisted in her gut. Her voice turned sweet—but sharp underneath. "So Stefan… you probably don't know about the party tomorrow."

"The welcome party," Elena explained. "Start-of-the-year tradition."

"At the waterfalls," Caroline added, shooting Elena a glance.

"Will you be there?" Stefan asked, his attention laser-focused on Elena.

Elena hesitated. With everything that had happened recently, she hadn't planned on going. But under Stefan's gaze…

"Yes," she said softly.

"Aiken, you?" Bonnie turned to him, a strange mix of concern and anticipation in her voice.

"Maybe," Aiken said with a shrug. "I don't know yet."

"I hope not to see you there," Caroline muttered.

"Then that's a reason to come," Aiken replied instantly.

Caroline's eye twitched.

Not only was Stefan ignoring her for Elena, but now Aiken was deliberately pushing her buttons.

Her irritation reached a boiling point.

...

Aiken slammed the door shut behind him, breath coming fast, heart pounding—not from running, but from something far deeper.

He didn't waste a second. He darted across the house, sweeping books off his desk, dragging open drawers, and scattering items onto the floor. The house creaked under his movement, every corner filled with scattered tools, old papers, and strange materials. It was chaos—but organized chaos. Every item had a purpose.

He didn't have time.

The stolen magic pulsed faintly in his chest, warm and foreign. Little by little, over the course of the evening, he had siphoned it from her. From Bonnie.

Yes, that's right. Aiken Hill was a Siphoner.

A freak. An abomination, according to the Gemini Coven.

He had joked about it at the Grill—about being kicked out at eight. But it wasn't a joke.

The memory clawed up his throat. The way they looked at him, as if he were something to be disposed of. The moment they left him in the woods like he was nothing.

He would've died there.

But a hunter found him. A man who didn't ask too many questions, who took him in and raised him like a son. And Aiken—smart, cautious, and quiet—never told him what he really was. He didn't want the man to look at him the same way his family did.

Even as a kid, he knew how to keep secrets.

But then, last year… the hunter vanished. No goodbye, no trail. One day, gone. Aiken searched. For nearly a year, he searched every whisper, every report, every glimmer of a clue. And found nothing.

So he came to Mystic Falls.

Not to give up.

To start again.

Aiken pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle from the false bottom of a drawer. He unwrapped it slowly, revealing a half-assembled pendant: wire-thin etchings of runes, shards of obsidian and silver.

His future.

He couldn't cast spells. He had no natural magic. But if he could finish this—this artifact—he could siphon from it, store magic, use it when he needed.

It wasn't until he met Stefan—something cold and ancient behind those eyes—that he realized how much he needed protection, so, this idea immediately popped up in his head, that's why he accepted Bonnie's invitation without hesitating.

And that night, he approached her not to talk. Not to get closer.

But to take. He needed enough magic to make the artifact.

And now, after a hour of siphoning, he had stolen just enough.

Aiken sat cross-legged on the floor, the pendant pieces in front of him. The latent magic shimmered beneath his skin, begging to be used.

He closed his eyes. The room dimmed. The magic inside him stirred. He reached for it—not to cast, but to channel, to shape, to forge.

Runes lit up faintly on the metal.

The pendant pulsed.

And through it all, one image kept flickering in his mind.

Bonnie.

The way she had looked at him—worried. Soft. Curious.

She wasn't like the others, was she?

But no. He couldn't let himself think that way.

She was a witch.

He couldn't like a witch.

He only needed her magic. Not her.

To be continued...

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