It took only a moment until Emma heard the flurry of her mother's movements through the house as soon as she passed through its doors. That same reason was exactly why she'd sat in her car for an extra five minutes before making her way inside. She took that time to debate acting like nothing was wrong, like nothing happened. But Emma realized that wasn't the way.

"There you are!" Her mother exclaimed, a scolding look on her face as she came to stand in the hallway, a few feet away from Emma who was taking her shoes off at the door. "You know, while I may have eased up on your friend choices, the standard rules still stand. When your sleepover extends to another night the least you could do is call to tell me."

"Right, because we tell each other everything." Emma mumbled to herself, making her way towards her bedroom to drop off all of her things. Those exact words were why she decided to not hold her tongue around her mother. They'd made a deal to be honest and no longer keep secrets. Her mother may have broken it, but doing so herself would make Emma's judgement of it hypocritical.

"So how was the dance? I want to see some pictures." Marissa followed after her daughter, a somewhat confused look on her face. It wasn't hard for the mother to take note of the distant tone of Emma's voice. The somewhat concerning mood made her push back the scolding for a later time.

"I never made it to the dance." Emma said honestly, dumping her bag and dress on the bed before turning back to look at her mother as the older woman stood leaning against Emma's door.

"What do you mean? Why not?" Marissa questioned in surprise. It wouldn't be too unusual for the two high-schoolers to have skipped the dance and rather have fun on their own, but having heard stories about Rebekah made Marissa suspect a school dance was exactly her kind of fun.

"Well, let's see, there are multiple highlights to cover." Emma said, tone laced with sarcasm and evident annoyance. Unsuspecting that it was actually directed at her, Marissa moved into the room, sitting on Emma's bed and expecting a story about two friends bickering or something simple and mundane. "Let's start with getting locked away in a magical cave beneath Mystic Falls by the mother of my friend who was using her body as a costume."

That most certainly didn't sound mundane or simple. "You... Excuse me?! What did... How?" Marissa stumbled over her words as she tried to process the surprise as well as the speed and nonchalance with which her daughter had spoken the words.

"And funnily enough, that isn't the best part of it all." Emma added on with a fake smile on her face.

"That's not all?!" Marissa exclaimed in surprise. By the look on her face, Emma could already imagine her mother composing a new packing list and trying to remember where she'd stored away all the boxes.

"I want the journals you took." Emma didn't outright say the next part this time. No, she wanted to give her mother a chance to come clean on her own. Tell her there's something she can do about spells, or tell her something. But seeing the questioning look on her mother's face, Emma continued to add an extra explanation. "Dad's journals that went missing from the box."

They'd spoken about the journals before, her mother explaining taking them as simply not wanting Emma's memories of her father to be altered by the way his mind became obsessed. Apparently the three journals she'd taken held some of the worst instances of it. But now, Emma was questioning that considering she'd never gotten a chance to properly go through them.

"I told you I threw those away." Marissa reminded her daughter. And that part, at least, was true. She'd burnt the journals she took, not wanting to take the risk of hiding them and Emma still getting her hands on them.

"Why?" Emma prodded further. She wasn't about to back down. Not when her mother seemed to be the only way to get answers. Kol had offered his help, yes, but Emma couldn't be sure how genuine that was. Even if it sounded like he had no other motives aside from simply helping her figure out what was happening to her.

Her mother was her best bet. Because while she hated the lies which kept on piling up, Emma knew one thing for certain. Whatever Marissa did, she did it in her own twisted way of trying to protect her. A twisted cycle Emma was hoping to break.

"Sweetheart, I apologized for that already. Why are you bringing it back up?" Marissa questioned, and while the gentle tone of her voice was aimed at placating Emma all the younger Park woman caught was the absence of an actual answer to her question.

"Because you could have taken all of them. But you chose those three? What was in them that you were so desperate to hide?" Emma raised her eyebrow at her mother. Every new question brought them both closer to the truth. Emma to the answers she wanted, and Marissa to the reasons why she was asking about the journals in the first place.

"I don't know what you're-" Marissa tried to lie, tried to deny there being any other reason than those she'd already given. But she should have known it would be useless. She'd raised Emma to fight for herself and for what she wanted. Marissa never thought the fight and spark she'd managed to instil in her daughter would one day turn on her.

"You do know." This time, Emma's voice wasn't as forceful or demanding, but it was still laced with a pointed tone. One that made it clear that she was talking about something specific, and she knew her mother would be aware of what it is. "We made a deal, no more lies, no more secrets. But you're going back on that deal."

And Emma was right when suspecting her mother would catch on to what she was saying soon enough. Her words prompted the mother to heave a sigh of defeat. "What happened? What did you do?"

"Well finally." Emma threw her hands into the air, shaking her head as she proceeded to hang her dress in the closet before turning back to her mother. "And I don't know what I did mum, because you never said I could do anything. All I know is that a coffin was spelled shut and then it wasn't. And I could feel the magic, the spell. And there was this orange glow around my hands. And this feeling..."

By now, Emma was somewhat rambling, happy to have her mother ready to come out with the truth of it all again and give her the answers she so desperately needed. Being so close to them only amplified it. Whatever happened next, she wasn't about to leave this room without some kind of an explanation. At least one word for what it was, a definition, anything really.

"You siphoned the magic. That's what you felt. Taking it and making it your own." Marissa nodded her head, calmly explaining the situation to her obviously confused daughter.

"Siphoned? What, like gas in a car?" Emma questioned. When comparing it like that, it sounded slightly weird. But the more she thought it over, the more it made sense. "How? How is that possible?"

The buzzing which stayed with her long after she was out of the coffin... That magic stayed inside of her, if what her mother was saying was anything to go off. The flickering lights at the mansion, the stirring within her as it happened. It was magic.

"Emma, sweetie, I know you're confused, but trust me when I say, it's nothing good." Marissa said pointedly. She hoped this would never come up after the steps she'd taken to make sure Emma wouldn't remember her abilities after they left New Orleans. But she should have prepared for it the moment she learned how much time her daughter was spending around supernatural creatures.

"What do you mean it's nothing good?" Emma asked in surprise. She knew it felt good when she did it, but Emma knew nothing about this. Perhaps it really was dangerous. A momentary help, but perhaps it had done something to her that she wasn't aware of yet. It would be an explanation of what her mother was trying to protect her from.

"It's dangerous, for everyone around you. That part of us, it isn't natural." Marissa explained, remembering the words that she'd heard so many times before throughout her own life. Words which had been drilled into her mind so many times that she herself fully believed them by now.

"Us?" Emma couldn't stop herself from latching onto that particular choice in wording. "What do you mean that part of us?" She questioned in surprise. She searched her mind for any possible memories of her mother doing anything similar to what she'd done last night, but none seemed to come up.

"I understand what you did, because I can do it too." Marissa revealed, making Emma's eyes widen in surprise. Magic was hereditary, that's what Kol said. Her mother said that for as long as she lived in New Orleans she'd been aware of the magic and the supernatural. Now it was starting to make sense. Whatever Emma was, her mother was too.

"What the hell are we, mom? Witches?" She questioned with furrowed brows. She couldn't understand how that could be harmful. Yes, if knowing Bonnie and Esther had proven anything is that witches could be dangerous, but that was their own choice.

"Siphoners." Marissa finally gave her the official title and Emma couldn't help but chuckle.

"Original." She said, not even meaning it as a pun either, she was simply finding the lack of creativeness with the title somewhat funny. But she still wanted to know what exactly that meant. "What's a siphoner exactly? What is it that we can do?"

"You were on the right track with the witches." Marissa explained carefully, looking for the right words which could make up the definition. "Siphoners are witches born without the ability to generate our own magic. We need a source to draw it from, another witch, a magical or spelled object, a supernatural creature."

"Magical champagne, magical coffin." Emma muttered to herself, thinking back to all the other times she'd felt a similar sensation. She'd felt it with Kol too, but it wasn't like she'd pulled on it. She simply... sensed the magic. Magic involved in the creation of vampires that now ran through their veins. Their blood.

"What you said about it being harmful. I did it last night, will something happen to me?" Emma questioned, somewhat concerned by any possible consequences. However, Marissa quickly jumped in to deny it.

"No, no, sweetie. A small amount of magic, it'll just come out in small bits." Marissa reassured her daughter, Emma nodding her head in understanding. Flickering lights, wonky water temperatures, small amounts of magic coming out because she didn't know how to control it yet. But that also meant she could use it.

"So why is it bad then?" Emma asked curiously.

"Other witches, they don't-" Marissa started to speak, however, the sound of the doorbell cut her off. "Leave it, whoever it is can come back." Marissa said, ready to dive back into her explanations, but it was Emma who stopped her this time.

Putting a finger up to her lips, she made sure to subtly tell her mother not to say anything else about siphoners and magic. She pointed to her ears, explaining that it might not be a random delivery guy or something, but rather someone who could listen in. She may have answers now, but Emma still had to think over what she wanted to, or didn't want to tell the Mikaelsons.

And as she moved to the door, she found that it was a wise choice to make her mother stop talking once she opened the door to find a familiar blonde standing on the other side.

"Alaric is alive."