A/N – 'Elena Gilbert Finds Another Way' tells how two vampires in love can build a meaningful life together, that is, a meaningful life for an eternal being.
This prologue has been updated, the content has essentially been left alone, however, I decided to lead off by retelling the story of Elena and Damon at Murder House, and Elena's first experience with Damon learning to "Snatch, Eat, and Erase" that is totally from Elena's perspective with some additions of my own. I should have done this earlier, it's a much stronger beginning. This rearranges the order of Bonnie's story just a bit.
Snatch Eat & Erase
"Murder House," the banner across the front of the frat house announced. This was the location they were looking for. As if a sign was really necessary, the macabre costumes and the music blaring from within made clear this was their destination. Elena glanced at Damon and Bonnie. Damon was dressed in 19th century formal attire including a top hat. He was supposed to be Jack the Ripper. Bonnie and she were also dressed in 18th century clothing and were supposed to be two of Jack's victims. Elena couldn't help wonder if, by the end of the evening, she found she had more in common with Jack than his victims.
Elena couldn't remember there ever being a time when she was more nervous and apprehensive about her performance as she was this evening. She knew this was really a test, a do or literally die exam. She knew there were three possible outcomes, two of which were disastrous.
First, she could fail to feed at all. She could discover that she couldn't summon the courage, or whatever it took, to choose a victim, compel them, feed on them and then make them forget. Elena knew, if she couldn't do it tonight, she wouldn't be able to, ever. That is, she wouldn't be able to feed until the hunger that had been growing more and more demanding finally overcame her ability to control. Then she would turn into an unthinking animal with only one thought in her being, to hunt, slake her thirst, and kill. Her near miss with Matt had already shown her how close she already was to that point. Elena knew herself well enough that if she crossed that line, she wouldn't be able to come back. She didn't know what she would become, but all connection with the Elena Gilbert that she knew would be gone forever.
Second, she could find that she had already passed the point of having control of her lust for blood and she would kill tonight. That would mean that any connection with the old Elena was already gone and everyone had just been kidding themselves. Of the two outcomes, she actually preferred the latter. The prospect of killing turned her stomach, but at least she would know. She dreaded the prospect of waiting for her hunger to overcome her sanity, yet she doubted she had the will to do what was necessary to prevent it. If she killed tonight, she knew the guilt would be enough to force her to take action. She felt her day ring on her finger. The curse of the sun for vampires was a blessing as well as a curse. She recalled how her mother Isobel died. If she killed tonight, she would end her life and nobody would be able to stop her.
As she considered the possibilities her heart began beating faster and butterflies were forming in her stomach. She already wanted to throw up. If it wasn't for Damon, she would simply turn around, run away, and give up. She would wait for the sun to rise and meet the death she should have had when Matt's truck crashed into the water. Discretely, she glanced up at Damon. She didn't understand why having him there was reassuring, how it gave her resolve, hope. Nevertheless, she knew, if she succeeded tonight, if she fed and didn't kill, it would be because Damon was there watching over her. Knowing Damon was there for her gave her the confidence necessary to lead the way up the steps to the front door. The door opened before anyone could knock.
"Hey, I'm Frankie, unassuming serial killer."
"I'm Jack with two lovely ladies I just rippered," answered Damon.
"Welcome to Murder House, Bloody Marys are free until midnight. Enjoy yourselves," encouraged Frankie.
"Well, hats off to these idiots. Oh, look, professor creepy," drawled Damon doffing his hat in mock salute and then pointing out Professor Shane.
"His name is Professor Shane, and he's not creepy," replied Bonnie indignantly. "I'm going to talk to him."
"You do that," replied Damon relieved to have Bonnie out of the way. As Bonnie walked away, Damon gestured at the crowded dance floor and said to Elena, "Inebriated sleezeballs all covered in blood. C'mon, pick one."
Elena surveyed the crowded room, filled with college boys and girls, mostly drunk, all having a good time. Her heart was beating wildly, her palms damp from nervousness. 'Pick one' he said to her, such a simple statement. 'Pick who might not live to see the next day, go ahead, just pick who your victim will be' is what Elena thought to herself. Then as if by divine intervention, she spotted a guy drop some pills in an unsuspecting coed's drink. What a creep she thought to herself, if anybody deserves this, it's him.
"I think I found one," she said nodding towards the guy she had picked out.
"Roofie guy?" Damon asked. Apparently, he had spotted the same thing she had.
"Hmm Hmm" Elena agreed.
"Nice choice, go get him."
Elena sauntered over towards the guy as he was chatting with the girl, probably waiting for the drugs she was unknowingly drinking to take effect. Elena considered which ploy to use to separate him from the party and get him alone. The horny bimbo act, as Damon so crudely explained this afternoon, was the obvious choice. Elena intentionally bumped into the girl, spilling her drink and then 'accidently' rubbed against the guy, allowing him to inadvertently feel her breast. Then she gave him a warm smile, a slight wink, and a nod towards a back room and said, "I'm sorry, drink?"
Roofie Guy, as Damon had named him was not slow in picking up the hint and stumbled over himself in his eagerness to follow Elena away from the crowded dance floor to a place more private. As they entered the adjacent cloak room, Roofie Guy asked, "Great party, right?"
Realizing that her hunger was about to be satisfied, the anticipation reached a peak so intense, her mouth was actually watering in anticipation. She had no interest in small talk with this guy, she could only manage an affirmative before she grabbed him and pushed him into the wall. It took the last of her self-control to speak to compel him to cooperate, "You're not going to make a sound."
She didn't need him to be still, she had more than enough strength to hold him as she sank her fangs into his neck and drank deeply. Just before she bit him, she saw fear mark his face and it excited her even more. As she gulped his blood eagerly, she was energized with his energy. She felt that nothing could ever be denied her, whatever she wanted she could take. The rush of confidence that filled her was incredible. A part of her brain that was not engaged with the raw sensations filling her soul wondered why this was so different than from when she drank from Matt, but she didn't care. All that mattered was this guy was hers, to do with as she pleased, and she was pleased to drink.
As she drank his blood, Damon came up behind her and said "Now remember, the idea is not to kill him."
Elena found his voice irritating. Leave me alone, she thought. Can't you see this one is mine?
When Elena didn't respond to him, Damon said more urgently, "Elena." Then even more urgently, "Elena, step away from the edge!"
Elena heard him and found that she couldn't ignore him any longer. Something inside of her forced her to obey him. As she responded, she compelled Roofie Guy, "Leave and forget about this." As Roofie Guy left, Elena at first was annoyed, even a little angry at being interrupted, then her awareness of their purpose returned and she felt victorious. She had done it, she had fed and Roofie Guy would see another day. True, she had needed Damon's help, but, that was why he was there. Suddenly she was confident and excited. With Damon watching out for her, she could do no wrong.
"Nice touch," observed Damon. "How do you feel?"
Elena laughed in relief. "I feel good!" She hugged Damon and whispered in his ear, "I want more."
Together, they went back out onto the dance floor. Elena discovered that she didn't have to do anything to pick the next victim. He picked himself out. All she did was dance to the beat of the music working out the energy she had from her first 'Snatch, Eat and Erase' as Damon liked to call it. In no time a guy joined up with her and started to dance. It was too easy. She caught his eyes, which wasn't hard, as he was staring intently at her with a look on his face. She had seen that look on others before, but put it out of her mind. She was still hungry. "Don't scream this isn't going to hurt," she compelled him. She drank eagerly from him before he realized what was happening. Since she had taken some of the edge of her hunger away with Roofie Guy, it was much easier to stop this time. She drank freely and as she sensed him begin to falter, she broke away. "You won't remember anything, you won't remember me, now go away."
As soon as he left, another guy stepped forward to take his place. Elena laughed, why had she been so nervous? It was all so easy! As Elena was enjoying herself, the objective part of her brain was making observations. The thought that caught Elena's attention was the realization that these guys tasted different, they had a different feel to them, they affected her differently than Roofie Guy, and Matt. Curious, she looked around for someone new. She spotted a girl by herself. Elena hadn't drunk from a girl yet. She finished with the guy dancing with her and compelled him to leave her alone. She sauntered over to the girl.
"Hi, I'm Elena. Don't you like to dance?"
The girl shrugged, "Hi, I'm Donna. I don't really like dancing like this, but you're obviously having fun."
Startled Elena asked, "Have you been watching me?"
The girl nodded smiling. "I've been trying to figure out what you're doing. There's a pattern, but I can't figure out what."
Elena responded with compulsion, "Let's talk someplace private and I'll explain."
Together, they went to a bedroom when Elena spoke, "You will stand still and not make a sound."
Similar to Roofie Guy, Donna could see what was happening, saw Elena's face transform as she placed her mouth at Donna's neck to feed. Also similar to Roofie Guy, Elena could see the fear before she bit into Donna's neck and drank from her. Elena realized the difference then. Donna and Roofie Guy tasted the same and gave her the same kind of buzz. The guys dancing with her tasted different and had a different affect. The difference in taste didn't come from their blood, it was their emotions! Elena found herself savoring Donna's blood. She was reluctant to stop, and had to force herself. There was something addicting to the fear that made her want more. When she broke away from Donna and of course compelled her to forget everything, Elena paused to consider what she had learned. She wondered if her victim had been truly terrorized, would she have been able to stop?
Elena noticed Damon hovering nearby, and realized he had been doing this all evening. Damon had been feeding as well, but the entire time he had been keeping close watch over her. At first, Elena felt a flash of irritation, she wasn't a child after all, but then realized what she had been doing, and gratitude swelled in her heart. Her instincts had been correct. Damon would never allow anything to get out of hand. He had left her alone to discover for herself what she could do, while protecting her from herself at the same time.
Elena realized that for the first time, since she had been turned, the hunger was gone. She still wanted more, but the need wasn't there. She walked past Damon back to the dance floor and started moving with the music. Her mood was lighthearted. She knew now that ultimately she would be okay. As she danced, Damon came up to her and began dancing with her. He was a mess with blood dripping off of his chin. Elena reached up and wiped some blood off her own face and giggled realizing she looked as bad as he did. She reached over to his face and wiped away some of the blood onto her finger and brought it to her mouth and sucked the blood off. It still tasted good, but it didn't carry the energy, the emotions.
Then she noticed Damon looking at her. He had the look, the look the other guys had and she understood what it was, what the flavor was. It was desire. They all wanted her. Elena had always known that she was attractive but had never realized how much she was wanted. She had been aware of the look many times before. Matt had it when they were dating. Stefan had it. Damon had it. Some of her teachers had it at times. She had always been afraid of the look, and now she understood why. They had wanted her and she had been afraid because she was weak. Instinctively she had known, if they chose, they could take what they wanted and that frightened her. But that look didn't frighten her anymore, it excited her. She was not afraid because she wasn't weak anymore. Now, a man's desire gave her power because she was strong.
As she danced with Damon she discovered something else. She knew that she had the look as well. She wanted him. She knew that she could have him, he couldn't stop her, because he loved her. She moved closer to him, almost touching him with her body. They swayed together, with their arms around each other's necks, tantalizingly close, teasing. Elena knew that tonight they would become lovers, because it was what she wanted. For now, she would savor the anticipation.
As she moved to the music, she noticed Bonnie was back, and staring at her. She was staring with a look of horror on her face. At first Elena was puzzled and then realization came crashing through. She wasn't supposed to be like this. She was betraying Stefan, she wasn't in love with Damon, she was in love with Stefan! What was she doing? How had she gotten like this? It must have been the blood. Nothing else could explain it.
"Oh my God, Oh my God!" Elena tore herself away in a panic and ran to Bonnie. "Bonnie, I've got to get out of here. Who am I? Why am I acting like this?"
"Because you listen to Damon and Damon makes everything he wants sound like a good idea." Bonnie answered her angrily.
"I should be here with Stefan, I shouldn't be here with him. I should be going through all this with Stefan." Bonnie was unaware that Elena was accusing herself and Stefan together. She accused herself for being so close to cheating on Stefan, and accused Stefan for not accepting who she was. Why did she have to go to Damon to learn about her new self, why couldn't Stefan be there for her?
"I'm guessing we should hit the road," Damon observed nonchalantly. He had heard, but chose not to respond.
Bonnie turned on him in anger. "You were supposed to help her and you let her get completely out of control."
"She wasn't out of control, she was having fun," he protested.
"This isn't fun! She's acting like a different person."
"She is a different person, she's a vampire," Damon snarled. "We're a predatory species, we enjoy the hunt, the feed, and the kill, and when the guilt gets to bad, we switch off our humanity and we revel in it."
"Is that what you want, her to be like you?"
"She already is like me, and do you want to know why I can drink my fill and leave someone breathing and not rip their head off like my brother does? Because I can revel in it, I can make it fun."
While Damon and Bonnie were arguing, Elena spotted Roofie Guy, her first 'snatch, eat, and erase' victim returning to the party. As Bonnie and Damon were distracted by their argument, Elena used her vampire movement to confront him.
"What are you doing here?" Elena asked, compelling him to tell her the truth. "I told you to go."
"I did, and now I'm back," he replied passively.
"Why? What are you going to do here? Slip some unsuspecting girl drugs?" Roofie Guy simply nodded. "Well, then what? Sneak her into a room someplace and force her to have sex?"
"No, there is a clearing I have prepared for her. I will rape and strangle her. Then, since all the other girls die staring at me, I imagine she will too. So I'll have to cut her eyes out, because I don't like them staring at me. Then I'll bury her."
Stunned by the frank confession Elena had compelled out of him, her brain stopped functioning for a moment. She even forgot to breath. Then Roofie Guy turned to go into the party. "Stop," she ordered. The emotions of the night swirled in her brain. The exhilaration of drinking blood, the excitement of dancing with Damon, the embarrassment of having Bonnie see her that way, and now rage was beginning to build as the awareness of this man's evil intent consumed her. The vampire predator nature that Damon kept identifying with began to take hold in her heart. "Girls, you said, how many girls?"
"Six, he replied calmly. Tonight, I want my seventh." His calm matter of fact statement decided her. She knew what she was going to do. She knew what she wanted to do. Her thirst for blood returned and intensified with anticipation.
"I'm your seventh," she said, compelling him. "Give me your drug." After Roofie Guy handed her his pills, she faked taking them. She made note to herself to ask Stefan whether drugs would have an effect on her vampire body. "How long until they take effect?" she asked.
"About 15 minutes," he replied.
"Well then, let's go ahead and walk. That way you won't have to carry me." Elena had to repress a grim smile at the surreal nature of their conversation.
She noticed Bonnie and Damon start with surprise when they noticed her walking away with this strange guy. She shook her head and gestured for them to stay away. "By the way, what's your name?" she was getting tired of thinking of him as simply Roofie Guy.
"Carl," he replied, "what's yours?"
"Jane," she answered, "Jane Doe." Since Carl was under compulsion he did not question the obvious lie. Even though it wouldn't matter in the long run, there was no way she wanted him to know her real name.
"There's my car, the blue Chevy." Carl paused, "I'm going to put you in the trunk of the car now."
"No you're not, Carl. I'll lie down in the back seat."
Carl nodded, "I'll lay you down in the back seat this time."
As Elena crawled into the car and lay down in the back she asked, "Why do you do this Carl?"
"I want to prove to my mother that I can get women to like me. She has always told me that women would never like me because I'm too fat and my winkie is too small." Elena was confused what a winkie was, but when she understood what he meant, she had to repress a giggle. Carl spoke again, "Oh, I guess I should tell you that you are actually the eighth girl. I wasn't counting my mother earlier. I hit her with a shovel several years ago and buried her in the back yard. I was working in the back yard when she came out to tell me it was time for my monthly inspection." Carl paused in his explanation as he entered the car, started it and began to drive off. "I decided I wasn't going to do that anymore so I hit her and she died. That was when I learned that people don't close their eyes when they die. She kept staring at me even though she was dead. It didn't matter how many times I hit her in the face with the shovel, she still kept staring. That's when I decided to cut out her eyes."
"Do you remember the names of the other girls you've killed, Carl?"
Carl nodded. "Yes, I remember them all. My mother's name was Patty. The first girl was Karen, then Barb, and Mindi, and Jill, and Claudia, and then Rita." He glanced back at her and smiled.
"What did you mean by being inspected by your mother?" Elena asked.
"Every month Mother would make me stand in front of a mirror naked and criticize how I looked. She made me masturbate to see how big my winkie would grow. She had a ruler to measure it. She always told me that if I couldn't reach six inches I could never be considered a real man. I never made six inches, so I decided not to do it anymore and I killed her."
"How old were you, when your mother 'inspected' you, Carl?"
"I don't remember not having been inspected. It was real hard when I was a young boy. I couldn't make my winkie grow. It made Mother mad and she spanked me with a belt."
"What did your father say?"
"I never knew who my father was."
The horror of the humiliation this man had received throughout his life brought tears of compassion to Elena's eyes. No matter what a monster he had become, no one should ever experience what he had described. Elena sobbed as she appreciated how grateful she was that she had grown up with a loving family. Regardless of the tragedy of her vampirism, she was so much more fortunate than this broken creature.
"We're here," Carl called out as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. He looked back at her and scowled in confusion. "I normally carry the women from here, but you don't need carrying."
"That's right Carl, I didn't take the pills so you won't have to carry me. That should make it easier for you."
Carl nodded. "That's real good. I get tired carrying the women, they can get heavy." He looked sharply at Elena. "You're crying, are you going to cause me trouble? A lot of the women cause me trouble."
"No Carl, I won't cause you trouble. I'm crying because I feel sorry for you," Elena responded softly.
Carl nodded. "That's good. You're very nice, I'm sorry I'm going to have to kill you. If you close your eyes when I do that, then I won't have to cut them out. There's a path right over here. It will take us to a clearing about 20 yards in. It's not much farther."
The macabre nature of their conversation no longer caused Elena to want to smile. For the first time Elena realized that evil cannot be measured by numbers. No matter how many women Carl killed, he was not evil. He was twisted and broken and needed to be destroyed, but he was not evil. He was simply a manifestation of the evil of his dead mother. The one person in the world Carl should be able to trust and love, warped him, abused him and molded him into the monster standing before her. Elena began to weep in sorrow for this poor empty soul that at some point in his life had a life, had a future, now he was hardly human.
As they entered the clearing Elena was still crying in sorrow for Carl, for the women he had killed, for the evil that human beings were capable of doing to each other. "Are the other women buried here?" she asked noticing the depressions in the ground around her. She shuddered as she thought of the horrific acts that had been performed over and over.
Carl nodded. He looked at Elena confused. "You're going to need to lie down now. I can't do what I need to do while you're standing there."
Elena spotted the shovel lying on the ground next to him. With vampire speed, she snatched it up and swinging it around hit Carl in the legs right at his knees. She clearly heard the loud crack of snapping bone and Carl cried out in agony as he fell to the ground. Elena knelt down next to him as he lay sobbing in pain. "You must lie still now," she compelled him softly.
Carl complied as instructed still sobbing. "Are you here to punish me?" he asked plaintively.
Elena considered the question. She had no right to punish this poor wretch. "No Carl, I can't punish you," she replied softly.
"You're here to stop me then, aren't you?" Carl questioned.
Elena nodded, "Yes, that's right. I'm here to stop you."
Carl nodded. "That's good. I need to be stopped. I've been having nightmares about women's eyes looking at me and accusing me. When you stop me, I believe the nightmares will go away." He paused, his voice choked with emotion for the first time. "I'm really sorry I hurt those girls." He paused again, and cried out as a wave of pain from his broken legs washed over him. "I'm not sorry about my mother. Are you going to hurt me?"
"Did you hurt all the women here?"
Again Carl nodded, "Yes, yes I did," The compassion in Elena's face changed to stern determination. "Well then, Carl you have your answer, don't you? Yes, it's going to hurt." Then Elena's face transformed into her demonic vampire face and she opened her mouth and plunged her fangs deep into Carl's throat, piercing his jugular. He screamed as his blood pushed into her mouth and down her throat. Elena easily took in the heavy flow of blood. Elena thrilled with excitement as Carl's life force emptied itself into her body and she drank eagerly sucking hard on his neck wanting all the fluid his body contained. As Carl's heart stopped pumping Elena instinctively sucked harder on his neck. She was determined to not leave any blood behind. She felt compelled that she not allow any of his life force be wasted. At last, the flow ceased, Carl lay still, and Elena raised herself from her bloody deed. She grabbed the shovel that lay next to him and savagely brought the blade down on Carl's neck precisely where the tell-tale marks of her fangs were left, nearly severing his head from his body and totally obscuring the cause of his loss of blood. It was only then that she realized that she was not alone. Elena looked around and saw Damon at the edge of the clearing, with an enigmatic assessing look. Elena knew he was waiting to see what she would do next.
"How long have you been there?" Elena asked.
"Not long, I was here to see the very end," replied Damon, "But I heard it all." Elena nodded.
Suddenly, the emotions of the day and this last horrific experience washed over and she felt faint. Damon quickly caught her and picked her up. "I'm very tired, and I don't want to talk. But first, I want to say before you ask, I'm alright. What I've done, I've done on my own. Don't blame yourself or anyone else. Now, I want to go home." As Damon carried her to the car, Elena realized there was one thing left to be done. "Damon, don't you have one of those, what do you call it, burner phones? Something that can't be traced back to us?"
Damon nodded, "It's in the car." When they got to the car, he got a handkerchief and wiped off his cell phone of any prints. Then he handed it to her with the handkerchief. "Be careful about prints, we'll have to throw the phone away after you use it. While you call in, I'm going back to the clearing to wipe off the handle of the shovel. We'll have to torch his car as there is no way to be sure you didn't leave any prints there.
As Damon walked back into the woods, Elena dialed on the cell phone. "911, what is your emergency?" was the response.
"I'm calling to report a murder … " Elena began.
Elena had finished telling the authorities about Carl's death, being careful not to reveal who she was, when Damon returned back from the clearing. She disconnected from 911 in midsentence and Damon took the phone from her and tossed it into the back seat of Carl's car. He siphoned some gasoline and splashed it in the interior of the car, and threw a match in to light it. They got into Damon's car and began to drive away. Elena looked back just as they heard the karuuumpf of the car exploding into an inferno.
"Please don't tell anyone else what has happened here. If you love me, you won't tell, especially Stefan." Then, exhausted, Elena drifted off to sleep. Damon drove in silence back to Whitmore to pick up Bonnie and didn't speak the rest of the way home, lost in his own thoughts.
Bonnie also was silent, lost in her thoughts. While Damon and Elena had been gone she had encountered another professor with astonishing information about Damon. She now questioned everything that she had assumed about Damon. She knew that what she had seen of Elena at the dance couldn't be dismissed as being all Damon as much as she wanted it to be true. She knew that something awful had happened with Elena and Damon after they had left her. Bonnie was afraid to ask what had happened to the young man Elena had left with. Bonnie could sense a darkness that existed in Elena and knew it hadn't suddenly appeared. It had to have been in her character before. Bonnie considered her own actions over the last year and realized she had her own darkness to deal with.
Never again would either Bonnie or Elena view the world with the same innocence as they had when the day began.
Will the Real Damon Salvatore Step Forward?
Earlier when Damon and Bonnie noticed Elena leaving with the college guy, they both started to follow. He turned to Bonnie, "This is one of the guys Elena fed from. Let me find out what is going on, I think it's better if you wait here." Reluctantly, Bonnie agreed. She sat down on a park bench to wait and was dismayed when she saw Elena get into a car with this guy. Damon used his vampire speed to get into his own car to follow. Now what was she supposed to do?
"Miss?" a man spoke to Bonnie while she was considering her options. "Excuse me, miss?" Still he received no reaction from Bonnie. Finally in desperation, he sat down next to her, "Hey Miss!" That caught Bonnie's attention and she looked at him annoyed, ready to tell him to get lost. "Hi, can I talk to you for minute?" the man asked, relieved to finally have her attention. Bonnie did not reply, but she did wait raising her eyebrow in inquiry and suspicion. "I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions," he stated.
The man did not realize that approaching Bonnie with the intention of asking questions was a poor way to introduce himself. The last thing she wanted was to field questions from a stranger. She looked him over, he was a black man, a little over six feet tall and looked to be in his early twenties. "I don't know you," she stated bluntly. "I want to catch up with my friends." Bonnie started to get up to walk away.
"It's your friends I want to ask about," he called out.
Bonnie paused, she wanted to just tell him to leave her alone, but decided she should at least hear what he wanted to ask. She didn't think it wise to ignore anyone asking about her friends without at least learning what his interest was. She waited to see what he said next.
He reached out his hand to introduce himself, "My name is Lance Corporal."
The ridiculous name caught her completely off guard as she returned his hand shake. She couldn't resist a smile. "Seriously? Did your parents hate you?" She was reassured when she realized the vibes from his touch brought no reaction from her. On a supernatural plane, he was totally normal.
Lance laughed ruefully. "My dad was in the Marine Corps when I was born and thought the name was funny. He had suffered a lot of grief with having the last name of Corporal so he thought it amusing to stick me with Lance on top of it. He came to regret it when he realized how he looked having a son with such a silly name and tried to get me to use my middle name of Edward. But I wouldn't have anything of it. Forever more, I am Lance Corporal just to show him."
Bonnie laughed, she was now completely off guard even though she knew this ridiculous anecdote was supplied for that very purpose. Nevertheless, she asked mockingly, "Uh huh, the truth is, you've used this story as an effective pick-up line for girls. Well it's a pleasure, my name is Bonnie Bennett. So, Mr. Lance Corporal, what kind of questions do you have about my friends?"
Lance laughed and raised his hands in surrender. "You've caught me. But look, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help overhearing you call the gentleman with you Damon. Also, I was in Professor Shane's class this afternoon and I heard you mention Mystic Falls as your home. Your friend wouldn't be Damon Salvatore would it?"
Bonnie's suspicions were instantly re-activated. "Exactly what is your interest in Damon Salvatore?"
"I am working on my dissertation for my PHD. Its topic is the effect of racism on the outcome of the Civil War. Captain Damon Salvatore is a vital anecdotal piece of evidence to support my thesis. I'm hoping your friend is a descendant of the Salvatore family and has some insight to the story."
Now Bonnie was intrigued. There may be some further indicting story about Damon's character that may finally end Elena's growing infatuation with the dark member of the Salvatore family. "So, are you saying Captain Damon Salvatore was a racist?"
Lance hesitated. "When you're talking about the 1860's, that is a complicated question. Keep in mind that he was raised in slave-holding Virginia. I would imagine that he would be considered a racist by today's standards. However, by the standards of the time, I have believed that the opposite is true of Captain Salvatore and just recently I have received documentation that confirms that he had very progressive ideals and was a courageous and tragic figure of the day."
Bonnie was amazed at this comment. "You have definitely captured my interest, Mr. Corporal. However, I don't see how I can help. I know very little about the Salvatore family history," Bonnie lied easily. She needed to be careful. She desperately wanted to learn more but she didn't want to give anything away about the Salvatore brothers and especially her involvement with them.
"Please call me Lance. What I would like is if you could arrange a meeting with Mr. Salvatore. Considering the history, I am amazed that the name Damon is used in the Salvatore family. It would imply that there has been some form of redemption of Captain Salvatore's reputation within the family. If that is the case it would provide an excellent point in the summary for my thesis."
"I'm confused. You seemed to speak rather highly of Captain Salvatore a moment ago, but now you speak of him needing redemption."
Lance smiled, "If you have some time I'd love to tell you the whole story. I am sure you will find it fascinating."
Bonnie looked around for her friends. It didn't look like they were coming back very soon. Lance Corporal had definitely succeeded in hooking her attention. She gestured for him to go on.
Lance allowed a moment of silence to elapse as he collected his thoughts. "Damon Salvatore was a member of the first wave of enlistments as soon as Virginia seceded from the Union. Even though he was a member of a prominent family he insisted that he not be given a commission claiming he wasn't qualified. His regiment was organized and assigned to the brigade commanded by Thomas Jackson, which became known as the Stonewall Brigade after the First Battle of Bull Run. Salvatore served with distinction up through the Battle of Chancellorsville in spring of 1863. He saw combat in all the major battles of the Brigade and soon caught the attention of General Jackson himself. Jackson became his personal sponsor and began moving him up the ranks. He was made Captain and given his own company just before Lee's first campaign to the north in 1862. He was decorated at Fredericksburg and given temporary command of his regiment. It was expected that soon he would be promoted, skipping the rank of major and be made colonel so that he could be given permanent command of his regiment. In reviewing Jackson's memoirs and instructions to his staff, Salvatore was marked for further promotions and may have ended the war as a general officer if fate had not intervened."
"What first caught my attention was an ambiguous comment concerning him from General Lee immediately after the Battle of Chancellorsville," Lance paused has he fished a document from his brief case and handed it to Bonnie. "Look there," he said pointing to a specific point in the document.
Bonnie read out loud slowly, "I see no other option but to grant Captain Salvatore's request for separation from the Army of Northern Virginia. It comes at a time when the South has desperate need for officers of Captain Salvatore's character and ability. However, after the unfortunate event at the conclusion of the latest battle, the men of his regiment simply will refuse to follow his leadership to their own discredit. My heart tells me to intervene on his behalf but I fear to do so would only result in rendering my own ability to serve the Confederacy compromised. I tell myself this but fear it is merely an attempt to mask my own moral cowardice in regards to an issue that will haunt the South long after this bloody conflict is resolved."
Bonnie looked up confused. "I don't understand, what is he saying?"
Lance explained, "There has long been a suspicion that at the conclusion of the Battle of Chancellorsville a massacre of Negro soldiers occurred. In the confusion of battle, a wagon train of Union supplies mistakenly drove into Confederate lines and was captured. The drivers were all Negroes and were Union soldiers in uniform. The use of black men as soldiers enraged many in the South and it is believed from such recordings like General Lee's that the men were executed rather than treated as prisoners of war."
"So you're theory is that Captain Salvatore had something to do with the massacre. But, his involvement may have been as a perpetrator if the massacre actually occurred."
Lance shook his head. "I don't think so. That would require General Lee to be supportive of the massacre and that is contrary to everything we know about the man. I believe that careful examination of the text clearly indicates that Salvatore opposed the massacre and therefore, being at odds with the general view of race, he undermined the confidence his men had in his leadership." Lance raised his hand as a gesture of emphasis, "Now we come to the really puzzling part of Captain Salvatore's story. The memoirs by a Mr. Gilbert regarding a minor battle at Willow Creek simply records Damon Salvatore and Stefan Salvatore as killed in action. However, in the memoirs of a Mr. Forbes it says the following," Lance pulls out another document and reads, "Damon Salvatore has displayed the same cowardice and moral corruption as he has shown at the Battle of Chancellorsville and it has cost him his life. It is tragic that his association with his younger brother Stefan has caused young Stefan to be afflicted with the same flaw and therefore they both have paid the same price for this infamous sympathy." Lance returned his papers to his briefcase and looked at Molly. "It has been a point in my thesis that Damon Salvatore was an exemplary officer in the Confederacy. That he had made significant contributions to the Confederate cause. However, his attempt to prevent the commission of a war crime caused him to be rejected by his command rendering him unable to serve as surely as if he had been killed in combat. In fact, his regiment had served with distinction with many battlefield honors up until that point, but there is not another positive mention of it for the remainder of the war. One could argue, that not only did the South lose the services of one its gifted sons but rendered ineffective an entire regiment directly as a result of its racial prejudice. Furthermore, that at a time when the South needed the complete support of its villages and communities they were instead distracted by racial division and the so-called Battle of Willow Creek was not an actual battle at all, but a repression of a slave rebellion."
Bonnie was stunned at the conclusions Lance was raising and the ramifications these statements had on her own conclusions of Damon's character. Was it at all possible that when Elena had defended Damon she could be justified? Bonnie shook her head in disbelief. "This is very interesting, Lance. But, you've reached these conclusions on very little evidence."
Lance nodded his head. "I would have agreed with you, Bonnie, until a couple of weeks ago when I received this letter from the papers of Tobin Williams from Danville, Virginia. Tobin Williams served with Salvatore from the beginning of the war and they were close friends until Salvatore's last battle. All of his correspondence spoke with great admiration of Salvatore, his courage in combat, his care of his men, and his canny ability to oppose and defeat the enemy. Then he wrote this letter to his wife after the Battle of Chancellorsville which proves my point and it raises questions regarding what actually happened at Mystic Falls in 1864." Lance handed a typewritten transcript of a letter to Bonnie to read.
My Beloved Maggie,
I am sure that you have read in the newspapers that our own General Lee has once again thrashed the enemy as they have attempted to invade and subjugate our homeland. God continues to protect our homeland from the despotic invaders of the North. It is clear that God desires our cause to be victorious since he has given to us such noble leaders such as General Lee and General Jackson. I am writing you to show that I have again survived a major engagement without injury. I thank God for his providential protection since many more deserving comrades have given their all for the successful conclusion of our great cause and have fallen in the glorious field of battle. However, our entire brigade reels in sorrow that our own beloved commander, General Stonewall Jackson, has fallen. Instead of praying for my own safety, please transfer all your petitions to the Almighty for the preservation of General Jackson, for next to General Lee himself, the South cannot spare such a great leader as General Jackson.
I must at this time, however, share with you a most disturbing development concerning Damon Salvatore. You note that I do not refer to his rank as he has proven himself so underserving of such an honor or courtesy. I only write this as I have to date written fondly of him and praised his accomplishments and leadership. In fact, I do confess that without his intervention I would not be alive today, yet he has shown himself so unfeeling to the true character of our cause that I would rather be dead and buried in the ground than to express any gratitude to him for any service he may have rendered. Therefore, I must write and correct the impression I may have given that I regard him as an honorable and admirable man.
Upon conclusion of the latest battle, we came across a number of darkies, counting of the number of fourteen, dressed in the blue uniform of our enemy. Now, not only does our enemy desire to invade our homeland and render a torch to our homes, he recruits our slaves against us to murder us in our beds, and ravish our women. It is clear to any thinking man, that this outrage is further proof that our enemy does not fight to preserve the Union as they are fond of proclaiming but to destroy our way of life, our very culture, and subjugate our country under the heavy boot of oppression.
Upon discovery of this infamous offense to our nation, there was only one response that could be considered by honorable and civilized men, and I am proud to say that it was my voice that was lifted to suggest it. These scoundrels, who dared to pretend to be men, should immediately be hung by the neck from the nearest tree. As I said, I voiced the necessity of this action and we, our beloved regiment, were well situated towards completing the task, when Salvatore came to us ordering us to halt immediately, that these darkies were to be treated as prisoners of war. I must confess I was speechless that my own friend should speak out against us, we who had fought so gallantly together. It took a moment before I could find my voice and I spoke passionately that to do anything less than to lynch these darkies whose presence were such an insult to humanity, would dishonor our regiment in the eyes of our society and the eyes of God. Salvatore then pulled his sword in defense of these abominations. Yes, he pulled his sword in defense of these against his own men who had fought by his side these many years and miles. Praise God, Major Gilbert, who hailed from the same region as Salvatore, road up and commanded him to sheath his sword. Major Gilbert came to our assistance and assured him that the lynching was required to send a message to our enemies that such insults would not be tolerated, that God himself would judge us harshly should we hesitate in performing our duty. Salvatore then cursed the Major and accused him of being a servant of Satan rather than the Almighty if he thought a lynching was God's will. He then proclaimed he would kill anyone who lifted his hand against these darkies dressed in the uniform of our enemy. This enraged the regiment so badly we quickly overpowered him. It is my opinion and I voiced it loudly that Salvatore should be hung along with the trash he was determined to defend, but the Major stated that military regulations would not allow this and we must refer the matter to General Lee. He had Salvatore bound and forced to watch as we completed the business of hanging all fourteen of the darkies who dared to pretend to be soldiers. I am sorry to tell you that General Lee has spared Salvatore and sent him home rather than dispensing the punishment he deserves. I am still of the opinion that if any man deserves the rope it is he. My prayer is that his home will not tolerate his presence and at best will hang him, but at least will drive him away with tar and feather as he has no honor and does not possess the courage to be about the Almighty's business. He is, without a doubt, the most miserable of cowards."
After Bonnie had finished the first few pages, she saw the remainder dealt with details of Tobin Williams' farm and expression of affection for his family. Bonnie could not process the implications this letter had about Damon's character. "I had no idea about this. Damon does not talk about his family and the Civil War. But, what does this have to do with the Battle of Willow Creek?"
Lance nodded, "Mr. Forbes comment in his journal clearly links Captain Salvatore's actions at Chancellorsville with the reason for his death at Willow Creek. If these are connected then the action at Willow Creek clearly must have to do with race and not the repelling of a marauding Union Calvary as their records indicate. It's weak I grant you. But I'm hoping your friend may have some knowledge passed down through the family that will validate my argument."
Bonnie nodded her head and gestured to the copy of the letter. "This is a copy, may I keep this and show to Damon?"
Again Lance nodded, "Of course, that is why I gave it to you. Please emphasize my desire to talk with him. Give him my card and have him call me. I'll be very grateful." Lance rose to leave. "I can see that you are profoundly moved by this story and had absolutely no idea that such events occurred?"
Bonnie nodded her head.
Lance smiled, "It is an unfortunate fact of history, that the ones in power control the definition of truth in many of the events of human affairs. I have learned the hard way, that when there is universal consensus regarding the events of history, then it is all the more likely that a cover up has occurred. Good day Bonnie, I hope to hear from you or Damon soon." Lance shook her hand good bye leaving Bonnie disturbed and confused.
Bonnie tried to process this new view of Damon Salvatore and failed miserably. Finally she concluded that ultimately it didn't matter. Damon's actions over the past 150 years easily cancelled the tragedy of his early life. However, if that were true of Damon, wasn't it equally true of Stefan? How could she justify calling Damon evil and Stefan good? Was Stefan's current feelings of guilt and his abstention of human blood enough? Gramps had seemed to think so, but Bonnie began to have her doubts. She realized that she needed to confront Damon and then she would decide what to tell Elena.
Bonnie Confronts Damon
After dropping Elena off, Damon went home and immediately poured a stiff drink. His emotions were in turmoil after the events of the evening. In his gut he believed that the revelry he and Elena had shared was a good thing. Since arriving at Mystic Falls he had failed at everything he had wanted to accomplish, reunite with Katherine, and then prevent Elena from becoming a vampire. Now, she had to come to terms with spending a very long life as a vampire. She had to find a way to live that would sustain her for centuries. He had seen Stefan's way fail too many times to believe that his way was best for her. After the events in the clearing he really had no idea what was best for her. He was beginning to realize Elena had too many other people, including him, trying to figure what was best for her. He understood now that Elena had to figure out what was good for Elena.
When the doorbell rang and he saw who was there he cursed under his breath. He really didn't have it in him to deal with recriminations from Bonnie. He thought briefly about ignoring the doorbell, but the demanding knock that followed emphasized that the coming confrontation could not be avoided. Once he opened the door, Bonnie came storming in.
"I'm not here to talk about Elena," she said. "I don't want to try to make sense out of this evening. I am upset, confused, and as I think about what my best friend is going through … Well, she would have been better off if you and Stefan were both dead."
"Hello to you too," Damon replied sardonically. "So, why are you here? You want to have a go at me? This may be an opportune time. I'm not much in the mood for a fight."
"It's too late for that. Killing you would not do Elena any good now."
"Good, now that we have that settled, I don't intend to ever kill you, and you don't want to kill me, at least not for the time being, all for the sake of Elena. So are we done now? It's been a really long day."
Bonnie took a deep breath and then asked, "What do you know about Tobin Williams?"
Damon's eyes narrowed suspiciously. How had she heard about Toby? "I've been around a long time Bonnie. I've known a lot of people. How about being more specific?"
"The Tobin Williams I'm talking about fought in the Civil War."
Damon got up and went to the bar and grabbed his bottle of whiskey. Bonnie wasn't sure whether he was stalling or really wanted a drink. Damon sat down across from her and kept his face averted as he filled his glass with bourbon and spoke quietly. "That was a long time ago, Bonnie. Why this sudden interest in ancient history?"
Bonnie handed him her copy of Tobin's letter with Lance's card attached.
Damon noticed the name on the card first. "Lance Corporal? Really? His name is Lance Corporal? How can you take someone with a name like that seriously?" Damon chuckled in spite of his tension with the introduction of the subject of Toby. Bonnie just shrugged, smiled, and gestured that Damon should read the letter. She watched his face closely has he read. As he comprehended what he was reading his first reaction was intense grief. However, it passed quickly and turned to rage. He snarled as he crumpled the letter and threw it into the fire. By the time he turned to face Bonnie, the old sardonic cynicism that Bonnie was used to was back. But now she knew that this face was a mask. "Why are you interested in ancient history, Bonnie?" he snarled. "What do you think you are going to accomplish?" Bonnie noticed that although he had burned the letter, he had slipped Lance's card into his pocket.
"Damon, Elena is the closest thing that I have to a sister. I love her and will do almost anything for her. Now that she is a vampire, she's trapped in this triangle between you, and Stefan. However this works out, it's evident that she has become part of your family. Like it or not, we are stuck with each other through Elena. I have tried to understand you from the beginning. Sometimes I think of you as simply evil, then, you do something that makes me question my view of you. I know you've done the same thing to Elena. I have to decide whether or not to tell Elena what I now know about you, and I don't even know what that is."
"What's Corporal's interest in this?"
"Lance is working on his doctoral thesis and your story figures prominently in the topic."
"Hope for his sake, he has time to start over, because this thesis is never going to get finished," Damon observed to himself. He took a long pull from his drink and spoke to Bonnie. "Toby was a real piece of work. We started the war really good friends but by the Battle of Chancellorsville I hated his guts. The war turned him into one mean son of a bitch." Damon paused recalling old memories. "We had a new guy in the regiment, name was Bobby Sanders. Well, Bobby cleaned Toby out in a card game one time. It was before Fredericksburg. Bobby made the mistake of gloating about it in spite of everyone else's warning. Toby made sure he got his revenge. You didn't make fun of Toby Williams. To understand what he did, you have to understand what happens sometimes in battle. At Fredericksburg, the Union Artillery would fire solid shot to break up our earthworks. These cannon balls come rolling along the ground like a bowling ball. Looks pretty tame, but you sure don't want to get in its way. It's so damn heavy, nothing will stop it. So Toby sees a ball coming our way and dares Bobby to try to stop it. The dumb son of bitch gets in front of the ball and tries to stop it with his foot. The ball took off not only his foot but also his whole leg up to just below his knee. Bobby just stood there staring at the bloody stump that used to be his leg with blood spraying all over the place. Toby just stood by laughing at him as we scrambled to tie a tourniquet on Bobby's leg to keep him from bleeding out. Toby wouldn't quit talking about it, making fun of 'dumb Bobby' until I ordered him to shut up. Toby didn't like that, I think that was part of the reason he was so anxious to see my neck stretched. I didn't care whether he liked it or not, he wasn't the one who had to see Bobby every day for five days until he died." Damon paused, took another drink and then told Bonnie, "Toby survived the war, but I heard that a couple of years later some animal attacked him and his family. Ripped them all to pieces." Damon glanced at Bonnie and grinned. "Just goes to show, what goes around, you know?"
Bonnie shuddered in horror at what Damon was describing, both the brutality and the implications regarding his revenge.
"I can close my eyes and still see those fourteen men hanging, dying. When you hang someone you're supposed to have them drop against the rope. The knot rests next to your ear and when you hit the end of the rope it will snap your neck like a twig. I do a better job, but it's pretty effective. Those black union soldiers didn't get that courtesy. They were dragged up off the ground and were strangled. As they died, they emptied their bowels into their trousers. The stench was awful. It was just about the dumbest thing I've ever done, standing up for those men. They were dead in any case, either right then or in a POW camp. There was no way they were going to survive the war and they knew it."
"So why did you stand up for them?" asked Bonnie.
"I just couldn't see myself living with it. Like I said, I was stupid. I'm still living with it, or dying with it." Damon laughed harshly as he took another drink.
"At least your conscience was clear," Bonnie tried to comfort him.
Damon glanced at her in amusement. "I was a sharp shooter at the beginning of the war. I was one of the best shots in Jackson's Brigade. I had the nerve to lie still while bullets were whizzing around like hornets and squeeze off a shot to kill a target. I could consistently kill a man 1200 yards away. When you're shooting a man that far away, it takes 3 to 4 seconds from the time you pull the trigger to when the bullet hits. You have to watch him and get an idea how he moves. You have to anticipate where he'll be 3 seconds later. You have to get to know him, get to know his tendencies. You take your shot and then you watch through the field glasses whether you hit him or not. You get to see the plume of red as the bullet blows his head apart." As Damon described this he gestured with his hand, starting with a fist and then spreading his fingers apart representing the spray of blood from a man's head. "A clear conscience? That ship had sailed before the end of the first year. I still don't know why I stood up for those colored men. I was a cold-blooded killer by the end of the first year. Why I cared about 14 more dead men is beyond me."
"But you were at war, fighting soldiers. Surely that made a difference."
"Bonnie, dead is dead. Everyone wants to live, soldier or not. After I was dismissed from the army I was happy to spend the rest of my life being the town drunk. Whiskey was my humanity switch and I wanted it off. Then I met Katherine and she showed me a way to not be human anymore and I was all in. Of course we know now how that worked out. "
"I marvel at the hypocrisy of humans. They get so horrified that vampires kill every so often, but you should have heard the men cheer when I succeeded in blowing the brains out of some unsuspecting officer across the battlefield."
"There is a difference, Damon, between killing combatants and killing innocent people."
"The first time I broke someone's neck was in the war, after the Battle of Antietam creek. He was 14. How he got in, I don't know. I was a lieutenant then. His name was James, a real sweet kid. Eager to get along with everyone. We kind of made him our mascot, tried to keep him out of danger. He got shot in the gut during the battle. The surgeons tried to fix him up, but when you were shot in the gut back then, there wasn't much hope. Infection set in. He spent three days in agony. I held him in my lap to comfort him. I listened to him cry for his mother, cry for help, and finally cry to die for relief of the pain. The stench of his infection was so unbearable I could hardly breathe. The others would have ended it as soon as the infection set in, but I wouldn't let them. I kept hoping for a miracle. Everyone begged me to end it, they couldn't stand listening to his cries, and they couldn't take the smell. Finally, during one of his more lucid moments James looked at me and thanked me for staying with him, then asked me to let him go. I remember kissing him on his forehead, and then I snapped his neck. Of all the people I've killed, he was the most innocent." Damon's eyes had moistened as he recalled the time. Bonnie touched his shoulder to comfort him, but he shrugged it away.
"Are you getting to know me better, Bonnie?" Damon sneered. "It's pretty simple, I'm a killer. If there is a problem, killing is the answer. Turning me into a vampire didn't make me a killer, I already was one. Becoming a vampire doesn't change a person, living changes them. The only thing being a vampire does, is make you an outcast, afraid to let others know what you are. It makes you a hunter as well, because you have to hunt to live. If a vampire is a slicer now, he was a slicer before."
Bonnie shuddered as she understood he was referring to Stefan. "You're very angry with Stefan, aren't you?"
Damon shrugged his shoulders. "I came back to Mystic Falls for only one reason, that was to rescue Katherine from the tomb. I have never dragged a human into this world, other than Vickie, and she was more than willing. I have turned a number, but it has been because they wanted it. Stefan, on the other hand, came to Mystic Falls to be with Elena. As soon as Stefan came into her life there were only two possibilities for her, death in the ground or death as a vampire. So here she is, and we've had a glimpse of her destiny tonight. Yes, I'm angry with Stefan. I'm angry every time I hear him say how much he loves her. If he really loved her he'd have never been part of her life, we'd both be gone and Elena would be a normal teenage girl."
"Bonnie, I'll tell you, I think Stefan will be bad for Elena. I know I am, the trouble is, now that she is a vampire I don't know what will be good for her. Will she be better off with Stefan, or alone, I don't know. Maybe I'm taking the easy way out, but after tonight, I'm convinced we need to leave her alone and let her work it out. But there is no way Stefan will do that."
"Aren't are you afraid she'll do something horrible and be lost forever?"
"No, as I said, being a vampire isn't what changes a person. I believe in her. She will make mistakes sure. But the compassion that Stefan calls her Achilles heel is her greatest strength. She will find her way, I'm sure of it."
Damon stopped and finished his drink. "I've never talked this way with someone I couldn't compel to forget. I want you to promise, don't tell anyone what was said tonight. If you tell any of this to Elena you won't be doing her any favors."
"You don't think she deserves to know? What you've told me will certainly help improve her opinion of you."
"It's in the past. She needs to decide things based on the present. Look, I think we're done. You've stirred up enough unpleasant memories tonight. Are you going to tell Elena?"
Bonnie considered, then shook her head. "No, it isn't for me to tell. Does Stefan know any of this?"
Damon shook his head. "Stefan is too concerned with being guilty to really pay attention. No he doesn't know a thing."
Bonnie nodded. "I'm not going to say anything to Elena unless she brings it up."
"That's a good plan. Good night Bonnie." With that Damon turned and left her.
Bonnie stared after him indecisively. She understood that Damon would not allow Lance's thesis to be finished. She hoped he wouldn't hurt him. However, she was glad she had made a copy of Tobin Williams's letter. She believed the day would come when Elena would need to know more about Damon's past. Finally, she turned and left as well.