"Being against evil doesn't make you good. Tonight I was against it and then I was evil myself. I could feel it coming just like a tide... I just want to destroy them. But when you start taking pleasure in it you are awfully close to the thing you're fighting." -Island in the Stream, Ernest Hemingway
gradually, then suddenly
Something was dripping. Drip drip drip. Over and over again. Each time the tiny drop hit the floor, it set off a nerve in my already pounding, heavy head. Everything hurt. The blood flowing through my veins felt like it was on fire. My throat was throbbing, demanding attention. My fingers blindly scrabbled at a cement floor as I peeled my eyes open, the dusty air burning them. I shoved myself up, leaning heavily against the wall and looked around the dimly lit area.
It was some sort of cellar, the bars in front of me were the obvious sign. As I squinted my eyes, I expected to see a door on the other side or stairs leading up, but all there was was another part of the room. I crawled over to them, letting my hands wrap around the bars and immediately spied a mess of raven hair and long eyelashes set on a pair of closed eyes. Damon.
He was laying on a small, waterstained cot, looking like he was in a vervain-induced coma. I helplesssly looked over him for any sign of wound or blood, desperately wishing I could shake him awake and ease both me and himself, but there was no way to the other side. The gate had a heavy lock attached to it, a large key hole set in the middle. I didn't understand this room; what was the point of having a cellar with bars in the middle, dividing the room in two? But more, I didn't understand what we were doing here. Or why. I shut my eyes, scoring my memory for what I last remembered. I was in my car... going to the boarding house... to see Stefan. Yes! Wait, no. Not to see Stefan. To see Damon? Or was it to see Stefan? Or maybe it was just to get blood? No, it had to have been to see Stefan. What did I need to see Damon for? I pushed that part away, knowing that I was going to the boarding house for something. I pulled up in the driveway... got out of my car... and then I was hit. With a bullet. A wooden bullet? And then... a face looming over me; a black face. Connar; the hunter. And then nothing.
I swore under my breath as I looked around again, desperately seeking a door. Finally, behind me, sat a big metal and bolted door, not unlike one in the Salvatore basement. I forced myself to my feet, ignoring the dizzy feeling that washed over me and immediately tried the handle, not surprised when it didn't budge. Frusteration and hunger bubbled through my as I walked back to the bars and sank against them and turned my attention back to Damon helplessly.
He looked out cold. There were small, bullet shaped holes rimmed with dried blood on his blue shirt, and as I studied them a wave of worry and hopelessness washed over me. "Damon." I called out, my voice hoarse and strained. I cleared it, ignoring the aching need for blood that seemed to swell up in every inch of my body at the dryness of it and tried again, "Damon." Nothing.
I looked around for anything I could throw at him, and spotted a small rock in the corner. Huffing, I picked it up and threw it through the bars, watching it hit his shoulder and tumble to the floor. Finally, he stirred and almost immediately his eyes snapped open. I sighed, relieved.
"Elena?" he asked, eyebrows pulling together as he rubbed his head and sat up, eyeing me over the same way I did to him. Seemingly relieved at what he found, he sat back. "You okay?"
"Yea. You?" I asked, and he nodded once. I watched him look around, taking in the bars and the door and watched the pieces click together in his eyes. He groaned, more from the situation we were in then from the massive headache he probably had. "I am going to kill that little shit. I should have done it while I had the chance." he turned his eyes towards me, almost accusingly. "You shouldn't have stopped me."
The worry that was churning through me quickly turned to annoyance at the tone in his voice and I glared at him through the bars. "This isn't my fault." I said, ignoring that voice in my head that corrected me that it was, indeed, my fault for convincing Damon to not kill Connar weeks before. Of course, Damon being Damon, immediately saw through me and he scoffed.
"What does he want with us, anyways?" I asked. There were other vampires in town; there was a whole family of Originals playing house in a mansion while sipping English tea and painting masterpieces, and yet he chose to lock Damon and I in a cellar together. And then there were bars seperating us; why? Questions ran through my mind at rapid pace, almost in tune with Damon's pacing as he wandered about his side of the cell.
"My guess is he went to the boarding house and we were the only ones there." Damon said distractedly. He was leaning against the bars, his face pressed against it as he tried to peer through the door's window on my side.
"But why?"
"Elena- I don't know." he sighed, exasperated. When it became clear that there was nothing to see on the other side of the door but darkness, Damon turned around and stalked back to the cot, sitting on it with a huff. "Well, at least I get the bed." he said sarcastically, eyeing the stained mattress with disdain. I recognized his attempt to distract both of us and sat back, prepared for his onslaught of sarcastic remarks. "And-" he continued thoughtfully, looking at me, "At least I'm stuck in here with you and not Caroline." He mock shuddered. "Or, God forbid, Stefan. Ugh. Talk about brotherly bonding."
I rolled my eyes and looked away, drawing my attention towards the leaking pipe on the other side before he spoke again. "But I'm sure you wish it was Stefan in here instead of me."
My eyes snapped back to him, where he was watching me, almost apprehensively. His typical Damon-conclusion didn't surprise me at all, and in a way, he was right. Being trapped in here with Stefan probably would be easier. I didn't want to think about being stuck in a cell with Damon for God knows how long. Not because he was cynical or sarcastic or so damn infuriating but because I didn't know what being stuck, this close to Damon without a place to hide or the excuse to Stefan would do to my mind, or let alone, my heart.
As usual, I pushed all of this aside to think about later and looked him in the eye. "I don't want to be in here in the first place, Damon."
Before he could reply, we both heard a pair heavy boots stomping down the hall outside the cellar. Immediately, Damon was by my side, as close as he could get before the bars seperated us and I pressed against them. Expecting to see Connar's face appear through the door, we were dissapointed when all we saw was a hand shove a bundle of red and plastic through the bars. The blood bag fell to the ground with a dull thud and immediately, I had the bag clutched it my hands. The area around my eyes grew hot and I could feel the veins throb in my skin. Then, I remembered the other hungry vampire in the room and the situation we were in and I immediately let it drop back to the ground. Ashamed, I looked towards Damon.
"You should drink it." he started, looking from me to the bag. "The door is on your side, so if he comes in you'll need your strength." It made sense, but somehow I doubted Connar would be dumb enough to barge in here, unprotected. And I wasn't sure if I could just... snap his neck like I've seen Damon do so easily. So far, my slate was clean and I didn't want to dirty it, even if it was Connar.
I shook my head, looking at the blood longingly before tearing my eyes away from it. "What if it has vervain in it?" I asked. I wasn't really sure how you could inject vervain in a sealed blood bag, unless they took the blood from someone who already had vervain in their system, but I wasn't about to find out the hard way.
Damon sighed, his eyes telling my I had a point before he nodded to it. "Let me see it." I picked up the bag, struggling to not grip it too tightly and passed it on to Damon. He opened it and brought the tube to his lips, the red liquid going up it slowly, almost tantalizingly, and into his mouth. He pulled it away after a second and held it back out to me. "It's clean." I wanted to take it from him, wanted to drink all of it and be selfish. God knows I'm the most selfish person on the planet when it comes to him. But this wasn't a need to kiss or need to shove him against the wall, this was survival. I didn't want to be selfish with the blood, didn't want all of it.
Clenching my hands into fists, I shook my head. "You should have some of it first." He looked worse off than I did. His usual pale skin seemed a deathly shade of white and there were dark shadows under his eyes. I wandered how he wasn't guzzling the blood down right that moment like I was so tempted to do.
"Elena, don't be stupid." he said, eyes gleaming with annoyance. He still didn't retreat his hand and I pressed myself further into the wall. Damn him and his stupid need to protect me, why couldn't he just accept my concern for him?
Taking a deep breath and forcing the bloodlust away, I straightened up and pushed my hair behind my ear. "I'm not. You drink half of it, and I'll drink the other half."
He looked like he wanted to refuse me, and I wouldn't have been the least surprised if he had just thrown the bag at my face until I lost the tiny fragment of control I had conjured up. He must have known that he was in a bad state though, because after a moment, he brought his hand back in and put the tube between his lips. I watched the blood drain from the bag slowly until the remainder of it lay somewhere near the middle of the hospital lable and he tore his mouth away. For a moment, I was distracted by his tongue reaching out and licking away a drop of blood on his bottom lip before his voice surfaced through the daze. "Here." he said, hand sticking back through the bars. Finally, I allowed myself off the wall and not soon enough the bag was back in my hand and the tube was in my mouth. Too thirsty to care about savoring it, the blood was gone all too soon.
"Thanks." I said softly, not really sure why I was thanking him. I heard the cot's mattress creak under his weight as he sat down on it, skin back to it's regular pallor.
"You don't have to thank me." he said, closing his eyes and leaning back. I sighed and sank back against the cement wall, resting my head on the hardness of it and closing my eyes in sync with his. The silence weighed on me, and soon enough those inevietable questions were flitting through my head. I thought back to Stefan and Caroline and Jeremy and Bonnie, wondering if they knew where we were and if they were plotting a way to rescue us. Did they even know where we were? I didn't even know where we were. The room was windowless, the only light source coming from a single, hanging lightbulb on Damon's side of the room. I had no idea where Connar lived and I doubted that he was keeping us in his home anyways. I didn't even know why were here. I had no idea how long we had been out for or if it was night or day. Looking down at my wrist, I really wished I had taken to wearing a watch like Jeremy.
I heard something shift and I opened my eyes, seeing Damon eye me from the bed. He seemed to know what I was thinking, because soon he was standing up and walking to sit as close as he could get to the bars. I shifted over so I was closer and we both leaned against them, the barrier between us not allowing any room for touch.
"Stefan will come for us. You know how much he hates passing up the opportunity to be the white knight." He said, a corner of his mouth lifting up into an almost smile. Something inside me softened as I realized that he was trying to distract me and I matched his smile with my own and leaned my head against the bars, wishing for the millionth time that they weren't there.
I scoffed softly and rolled my eyes at his typical dig at his brother. "Yeah, I guess he does." Looking up at him and into crystalline blue, I found reassurance somewhere in those unfathomable eyes of his, and felt some of the turmoil battling inside me chip and fade away. When his fingers brushed mine through the bars, I knew that being stuck here, with Damon, was probably the worse possible thing that could ever happen.
A/N: Hi guys. I know I shouldn't be starting a new fic while I still have an unfinished one, but I couldn't resist. I got this idea when I was rewatching season 3 of Lost, when Kate and Sawyer are stuck in those cages. If you've seen it, you probably know where I'm going with this. It's only going to be three chapters long. Update will probably be in the next few days, I don't plan on stretching it out, possible four chapters. This is set near the end of Season 4. Thanks for reading and enjoy! :)
