A/N: This takes place while Damon trains Jeremy at the cabin. I was working on this right after "O Come, All Ye Faithful." That's why in my story Damon has been sparring with Jeremy before "After School Special."
Disclaimer: I don't own The Vampire Diaries, or Necco Wafers, or DiGiorno.
"Try to kill me," Damon says on day one, and Jeremy just rolls his eyes.
That's not the first time he asks, and that's not the first time Jeremy will refuse, but around the fourth time, Matt starts to look at Damon funny.
Damon thinks that's probably fair.
So Damon goes back to talking. This is how far away you have to be from a vampire before he can't smell you. Triple that if you're bleeding. Don't run from one, for the love of God. Fight in close quarters, when you can.
Jeremy doesn't do any eye-rolling for these lessons, but he does sigh a lot.
Matt kind of sucks at sparring.
And Matt is calling Damon a dick before he realizes, "Oops, did I say that out loud?"
Jeremy chucks a slow stake at Damon's chest, and Damon catches it while making a joke about defending Matt's honor.
He'd really like to take the joke further by maybe throwing in some castles and motes and swooning, but Jeremy throws another, faster stake at his head. So Damon shuts up and goes back to watching while Matt tries to pin Jeremy to the ground.
It's like watching a train wreck. It really is.
Damon has listened to Elena's voice mail exactly eleven times.
Actually, it's eleven and a half, because this is the day when Damon can't quite get all the way through it. He stabs at the "End Call" button, considers throwing his phone into the lake, and settles with dropping it in the dirt at his feet. It makes a light, unsatisfying thump. Damon was kind of hoping for shattered glass.
"Want a pizza?"
Damon tries very hard not to jump at Jeremy's voice. He thinks he succeeds. And he also thinks that Jeremy is getting better at sneaking up on vampires. Good for him.
"No," Damon says, keeping his eyes on the water.
Jeremy shuffles his feet like he's going to retreat, but he stops. Maybe he's noticing the phone on the ground. Damon doesn't know. Or care.
"We're getting mushroom," Jeremy tries again.
So Damon picks up his phone, puts it in his pocket, and follows Jeremy inside.
Mushroom is his favorite.
The fifth time Damon says, "Try to kill me," Jeremy agrees.
Matt watches.
Jeremy has one stake, and whatever the hell else he keeps in those cargo pants. Insert innuendo here.
Damon has… yeah, he's a vampire. Whatever.
They start close together, because otherwise Jeremy won't have a chance. Jeremy puts on a good show, though, raising the wooden stake in front of his chest and waiting.
Damon pauses and suggests, with a cock of his head, "Don't tell Elena." It's more of an afterthought, but Jeremy takes that as the starting bell.
He's faster than Damon would have thought. The stake whizzes toward Damon's ear before he thinks to duck.
So he doesn't feel so bad about throwing Jeremy into a tree. Something cracks. Damon hopes it's not Jeremy's wrist.
Jeremy needs to work on focusing his strength.
"Aim here," Damon instructs, motioning to his sternum. Jeremy pauses, but shrugs. He's never been able to so much as touch Damon with the stake, as Damon likes to point out as frequently as possible.
So Jeremy is really shocked when Damon doesn't move out of the way of his stab. At least, he looks it. Damon feels the stake hit bone, and loses vision for half a second before he can see Jeremy again, still and shocked. He's looking for that telltale desiccation, Damon realizes. Jeremy thinks he's killed him.
The stake makes a sickening slurp when Damon pulls it out. "That's what I thought," Damon says, a little short of breath.
That's about when Jeremy regains the ability of speech.
Loudly.
"What the hell was that are you out of your mind I almost killed you are you trying to get yourself killed you're supposed to fight back you should have—"
"Oh. My god." Damon reaches out, thinks about shaking Jeremy, and then drops his hands. "Shut up."
Miraculously, Jeremy shuts up.
"I knew you wouldn't get through the bone, you idiot. That's the hardest way to the heart. You either put your weight behind it…" Damon slaps the stake back into Jeremy's hand. "… or you stab from under the ribs, like all the other little girl vampire hunters." He backs up a step, takes a breath. "Again," Damon orders.
Jeremy just stares.
"For the love of—fine." So Damon lunges this time, and Jeremy raises the stake once again.
That night, Jeremy and Damon stumble inside and make it as far as the kitchen, falling into their respective corners. Jeremy is leaning over the counter with a wad of gauze pressed to his shoulder. Damon lies on the floor with the heels of his hands pressed into his eyelids.
Damon hears Matt pull up outside. Hears the door slam and the heavy footsteps walk to the cabin, through the door, and pause in the doorway of the kitchen. Then the footsteps inch closer to Damon, who finally moves his hands and opens his eyes.
Matt is standing there with a grocery bag full of what had better not be frozen pizzas. He takes a moment to take in the new rips in Damon's clothes, the blood that hasn't quite dried yet. Then he holds out a smaller, opened bag crinkled in his free hand. "Necco Wafer?" Matt offers.
Damon wrinkles his nose.
Matt pulls the bag back, frowning. "You're telling me a two-hundred-year-old-vampire doesn't like Necco Wafers?" he demands.
Matt's math is off, and Damon catches the jab, but he is so tired. So he just says, "Nobody likes Necco Wafers."
Jeremy grunts his agreement from his side of the kitchen.
Matt shakes his head and deposits the large paper sack on the counter next to Jeremy, who lifts his head. "What's in the bag?" he asks, half-interested.
"DiGiorno," Matt answers, and Damon throws a potholder at his head.
Damon makes sure to bring up sparring practice around Matt next time. Jeremy wants to refuse, but he won't with Matt there. Damon knows this.
So they're squaring off again. The sun is burning blisters into Jeremy's ears, but Damon is pale as always.
Damon allows for a short scuffle. Lets Jeremy shift behind him, try at the rib thing. Damon twists away, pivots, faster than Jeremy or Matt can see—
And the stake sinks into his back.
This time Damon wonders if he's dead, because he didn't actually plan for that one. Jeremy stands by, calm, watching as Damon sinks to his knees.
"You missed," Damon breathes, and isn't quite sure if he's kidding.
Jeremy is bent over Damon, pulling the stake out, when Matt pipes up, "Why the hell do you guys practice with wooden stakes?"
No one runs into town to get plastic stakes, and Jeremy takes to starting the sparring matches with Damon.
Damon knows it's the Hunter Mind Control Thingy. He knows. Okay?
Damon knows that he's started something he probably won't be able to stop.
So the next time Jeremy says, "Hey, try to kill me," Damon tells the young Gilbert to shut his trap and order a damn pizza.
Jeremy keeps asking.
"Not now, Baby Gilbert," Damon murmurs, pretending to read a 2007 issue of People magazine.
"We haven't trained all day," Jeremy argues. He's twirling the stake in his hand. Damon has read the same sentence twelve times.
"Go spar with Matt," Damon says.
Matt, who has just walked out of the kitchen, says, "No freakin' way," around a mouthful of cold pizza as he crosses the living area to head outside. He's maybe muttering something about being surrounded by homicidal lunatics as the door swings shut behind him.
"Fine," Damon grounds out, tossing the magazine on the table.
Jeremy doesn't kill him, but the match ends with Jeremy's knee in Damon's throat. And Damon can't see, but he's pretty sure the stake is hovering somewhere above his waist.
There is a pause before the knee disappears. Jeremy stands, and Matt claps politely from his perch on the picnic table.
There are moments of quiet, of calm. Moments when Damon leaves his phone in the other room and Jeremy isn't trying to kill anything. In this one, Damon is sitting, behind the cabin, in a wooden chair under a blue, buzzing lamp.
He hears the door creak, and says without looking up, "No."
"I'm not here to kill you," Jeremy says. He sounds tired for the first time in two days.
So Damon lets Jeremy sit in the chair next to him.
"I'm not going to fight you anymore," Jeremy tells Damon. "I'm starting to… I shouldn't fight you anymore."
"Sure," Damon says, leaning back in his chair. He watches a moth flutter around the lamp, inching closer to that lethal blue. Jeremy follows his gaze, and together they watch that moth hit the lamp with a sharp sizzle.
Damon keeps his eyes on the lamp and the moth, and wonders which one Jeremy is, nowadays.
End.
A/N: I love/read/respond to reviews. Just saying.
Thank you for reading!