summary: Katherine expected to find the Salvatore brothers exactly as she had left them in 1864. "She likes that he's still chivalrous. It suits him so nicely."
title: "Some of them want to use you. Some of them want to be used by you. Some of them want to abuse you. Some of them want to be abused." ~Sweet Dreams (are Made of These) by Annie Lennox
note: Seriously, guys, your reviews & favorites & alerts were so wonderful. I'm so glad you enjoyed the fic, I really love writing these :D So here's number two, I hope you enjoy it.
She congratulates herself once again on her genius plan to pick up her doppelganger's things back at the high school and get into the house. If John Gilbert is in there, she will get the perfect chance to kill him, once and for all.
As she steps on to the porch, wondering at the best way to get invited in, she gets a shock.
Damon Salvatore, a hundred and forty-five years older but with the exact same face, walks out. And she wants to drop her jaw, run up to him and trace the changes in his face, the darkness in his eyes...but she resists, says instead, "What are you doing here?" Would what's-her-name have said that? Shit, I am in way over my head.
"A failed and feeble attempt at doing the right thing," he answers, and she's stunned at the darkness in his voice. All those years chasing after her must have been hard on him. She notes to herself that she likes his hairstyle – it suits him. And the black of his outfit brings out his eyes with stunning clarity. She wonders if he can tell how hard she's studying him.
"Which was...?"
"It's not important," he says, shaking his head like he's warding off bad thoughts and then giving her a smile. "Here, I'll take this for you."
She likes that he's still chivalrous. It suits him so nicely. She finds her voice comes out kind of confused when she says, "Thank you." Her doppelganger would probably say thank you, right?
He sets her things on the swing the Gilberts have, and then he turns, his voice is sort of soft. Vulnerable. Not the way it had been a century ago, not open and trusting – more guarded, quieter, like he's measuring each of his words. "You know, I came into this town wanting to destroy it...and tonight I found myself wanting to protect it. How does that happen?"
She's about to respond with something inane about it growing on him or something, but he doesn't seem to want an answer.
"I'm not a hero, Elena." (Elena! That's the girl's name. She should remember that.) "I don't do good. It's just – not in me."
He looks sad as he says this, and she's surprised. He used to be so willing to do anything anyone asked of him, so desperate to please. "Maybe it is." I remember when it was.
He shook his head dismissively. "No. No, that's reserved for my brother."
She wants to ask how they are, now. If she completely decimated their relationship. He sounds some mix between bitter and fond, like he wouldn't be Damon if Stefan wasn't Stefan, but it still annoys the hell out of him. A small, unselfish part of her hopes that they still share those deep, you-know-everything-I'm-thinking looks, the way they once had. But then – she's selfish, so that part quiets itself quickly.
"And you," he adds, "and Bonnie." (This Bonnie character...the best friend, right? Oh, God, she's impersonating some saint and she doesn't even remember who the main characters of her life are. She's so screwed.) "Even though she has every reason to hate me, she still helped Stefan save me."
"Why do you sound so surprised?" she asks, letting her curiosity get the better of her. She hopes Elena is this inquisitive too.
His answer is quick, obvious: "Because she did it for you. Which means that somewhere along the way, you decided that I was worth saving." He's coming closer, and she knows what he will do next – if nothing else, he still has that same boldness in him that she'd loved so much. She wonders how Elena feels about this darker brother, the one with so many layers he's impossible to understand – always had been, even when he tried to wear his heart on his sleeve. She wonders if she truly does love him and just won't admit it. Probably. That's the kind of thing a saint tangled up in the Salvatore brothers would feel. Hell, she had been a bitch tangled up in the Salvatore brothers and it had still been impossible to stop herself from falling for them. Both of them.
His voice is shaky as he says, "So I just wanted to...thank you. For that."
She looks up at him and she's stunned by the sheer level of adoration in his eyes. He's really so head-over-heels for this Elena? This girl who looks exactly fucking like her except with some heart of gold?That has to be some symptom of never moving on. Right? Because how can it be possible that this dull-as-dishwater girl snagged both of their hearts just the way it had been done back in 1864? It has to be some mirroring, some transferring of their feelings for her. It can't possibly be real, not after all Damon had done to free her from the tomb, not after how Stefan had worshiped her.
Right?
"You're welcome," she finally says. Because she's going to claim credit for every fucking thing these three have done since meeting. It's all thanks to her anyway.
Then he's leaning forward and she's watching him expectantly. But he doesn't go for her lips. He leans and brushes the tenderest of kisses on to her cheek. Seriously? Damon is so whipped for this girl that he will kiss her cheek instead of going for the home run?
When he pulls away, he studies her face. She thinks her disbelief might have translated into wanting more on her face, and hell, she does want more. Who cares if it will fuck with this carefully created universe this trio of woe have constructed? A Salvatore kiss is worth a hell of a lot.
It feels like eons of his eyes traveling between hers and then her lips (and her determined hints of staring at his lips) before he finally presses a kiss to her mouth. And even then it's no mind-blowing, breath-taking Salvatore smooch. It's this are-you-sure-this-is-okay, don't-want-to-overstep-my-boundaries closed-mouth kiss.
She will not accept that as her hello. So she opens her mouth under his and he obliges her, and damn, one hundred and fifty years has only made him better at this – Christ, he always has had such a talented tongue. And his hand is on her face and in her hair and here we go, it's the mother of all welcome home kisses.
She wants to shred his clothes and let him know just which doppelganger he's involved with here when she hears the door open. The hand that's gripping his collar forces him to turn away as she turns to look at the door.
The aunt – aah, dammit, what the hell is her name? - is standing there looking totally scandalized, like she just saw a baby puppy get shot to death.
"Hi," is her inspired response to the situation.
"It's late," Aunt Stick-Up-My-Ass says tightly. "You should probably come inside." Ba-bing! There's her invitation. As much as she wants to fuck Damon into next year, she walks to get her things anyway. He looks over his shoulder at her like she might say goodnight or something.
She doesn't, and Aunt Bitch slams the door in his face. "What are you doing?"
"I - " she wonders briefly what to say, and then settles with " - don't want to talk about it."
Oh, Mystic Falls, she thinks as she walks to the kitchen, how I've missed you.
Suffice to say Stefan doesn't give her quite as warm a welcome.
She walks in the door to hear Stefan clattering down the stairs. Never did have a bit of grace, that boy. That was all Damon's job, although she liked to pretend Stefan was a better dancer because she felt safer in his arms.
"Hey," he says, and his voice is so different it's almost scary. He's brisk, clearly comfortable around Elena. Not heart-palpitations-nervous like he'd been around her, back in the day. He's also serious, frown lines creasing as he says, "How's Caroline?"
"Not good," she says, and turns to him, trying to look out of her mind with worry. Really, she's out of her mind with anticipation – will she be able to get two fantastic Salvatore kisses tonight? She grabs him – probably too roughly, Elena seems like the passive-aggressive type – and pulls him to her. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around her.
She breathes deeply, remembering just how lovely and intense his scent had been. It's changed, slightly – somehow more current, more fitting with today's times, but still comforting and familiar.
She's missed him like hell.
"Mmm," she murmurs into his neck, unable to resist a smile of victory, "just what I needed."
She pulls back to kiss him, but she can see she's made a wrong move. He's frowning at her – something in her tone of voice was too Katherine and not Elena enough. Shit. No Stefan kiss for her, then – she'd reserve that honor for later.
She goes in for the gold anyway, but he pulls her down by her hair, his fangs bursting out, and flings her over the couch. She jumps to her feet. "Katherine," he hisses.
"At least I fooled one of you," she smirks back, still proud of her victory with Damon.
Then she's up against the wall, rolling her eyes because he's really quite weak. She could easily overpower him, but she lets him have his fun.
"Feel better?" she asks demurely, and he lets out a demonic growl of rage before slamming her into the opposite wall. Ugh. He really has gotten feisty, hasn't he? Back in the day, he was so much of a gentleman that even kissing a lady was a sin.
She almost misses terrified Stefan, who would do anything she asked of him. He had been fun to play with. But strong Stefan certainly has a sexiness to it – had he not been currently pinning her up against a wall by her neck.
Someone moves to open the door, and she takes advantage of Stefan's momentary distraction to break his arm. She then leisurely walks away, before using her vampire speed to flash out before Elena and Damon can see her.
She can still hear them, though, Elena's stupid concerned voice as she says, "Stefan? What happened?"
And then Damon's, his rough tone startling, considering the way he'd acted on the Gilbert front porch - "Katherine happened."
She smirks.
Oh, this is going to be so much fun.