This story takes place immediately following the events of 4x15, "Stand By Me."
It presents an alternate account of Elena's journey back to her humanity. There is no Silas or Shane character in this version.
Stefan and Damon followed Elena down the sidewalk as her house burned to the ground behind them. For a good while, no one spoke. Elena seemed preoccupied looking about her as if seeing the world for the first time- as though with brand new eyes. Neither of the brothers knew what to say. The magnitude of Elena's actions still held them both in a slight state of shock.
After a time, sirens could be heard racing up the street. A neighbor must have reported the fire. Damon had no desire to deal with inquisitive humans tonight, even if that just meant compelling one or two or a dozen to go away. He opened his mouth to say something, but Stefan beat him to it.
"Elena, maybe we should get you home - back to our place," he corrected himself.
At first, she acted like she hadn't heard him and continued to walk through the darkness ahead of her. "Elena-"
This time she spun around and graced them with a dimpled smile, the kind that normally made her seem impishly adorable, but this one didn't reach her eyes, so it just seemed disingenuous. "No, you know what? I actually feel pretty great, so I think I'm going to go out."
Stefan frowned and Damon could almost taste the disapproval rolling off of him it was so thick. "I'm not sure that's the best idea right now-"
She disappeared, using her vamp speed to leave them behind.
"Great," Damon scolded his brother. "Now we'll never find her. Maybe this wasn't the best time for your judgmental dad impression."
Stefan rounded on his brother and skewered him with a glare that gave even Damon pause. "This is all your fault. I told you to help her, not force her to turn it all off."
"Really, Stefan, my fault? You didn't see your face or Barbie vamp's. Elena was spiraling and neither of you had a clue what to do. This was the only way." Plus, he couldn't stand for one more second to see Elena in such anguish. He would have done anything to take that pain from her. "She'll party hard for a bit, and then I'll get her to turn it back on. Easy peasy, no harm no foul."
Stefan hissed, "We both know it won't be that easy. Nothing with you ever is. Your rash decisions always end up costing someone, and it's rarely you. This is just another example of you taking the easy way out instead of helping Elena deal."
"Go home, Stefan, before you say something you'll regret."
Still muttering, his brother took off.
Damon turned to look back down the street. Fire trucks and cop cars were parked in front of Elena's house, and several fire fighters tried valiantly to stem the blazing fire. He doubted they'd be able to rescue the house. Elena had been very thorough when she doused it with alcohol.
Just then, he noticed someone walking towards him, a police officer who no doubt wanted to ask the mysterious man on the sidewalk if he'd seen anything. A slight breeze stirred the silken black strands trailing over the collar of his leather jacket, and if he'd been human, he would have shivered. Well, to be precise, if he was human, he'd be dead. Like a hundred and fifty years ago dead.
"So, Damon, am I correct in assuming it's no coincidence that you happen to be standing here while Elena's house is on fire?"
He grinned and widened the eyes he knew how to use to great effect. "Liz, my favorite sheriff. Would you believe me if I said no?"
"Probably not. What happened?" She had one hand on her hip and the space between her eyebrows was crinkled with concern.
"Long story short, we needed a cover story for Jeremy's death."
Liz's face grew long, and Damon remembered that she'd known Jeremy since birth. She turned from the waist up to look back at the halo of flames engulfing the Gilbert residence and then nodded her head gently, looking again at Damon.
He rushed on, "I know he deserved better, but saying that Elena didn't take this very well is a massive understatement."
"I can imagine. Poor girl. Do you need anything from me?"
He was about to respond with a no, but a sudden thought changed his mind. "Reach out to Caroline tonight. She was quiet when she left and we both know that that can't be a good sign. I think Elena scared her."
"I will. Damon, thank you."
"Night, sheriff." He gave Caroline's mom a quick, bitter smile before darting away. But he wasn't going to follow Stefan home. No, he wasn't ready to go home yet.
He had no idea what time it was when he returned to the Salvatore mansion, except that it was still dark and the position of the full moon said it wouldn't be for much longer.
He found Stefan in the library sitting on a couch in front of the fire, chin in hand, firelight casting a warm glow across his gothic features. The furrows in his brow were so deep Damon imagined his face might get stuck that way. At least then the curtains would match the carpet. He raised his bottle of liquor in a drunken salute. "Hello, little brother. Leveling up our brooding skills, are we?"
Stefan shot him a disgusted look and rose, marching upstairs to his room and slamming the door with a bang that didn't require vamp senses to be heard.
Fine, Damon had no desire to be around the sanctimonious little prick anyway. He could huff and puff and storm around angrily all he wanted, but eventually he'd calm down and realize that Damon had helped Elena the only way he could. Besides, it was time she unwound a little and enjoyed the perks of being a vampire. She was on a path to becoming as mopey as his brother.
He collapsed into his favorite leather chair and took another swig of bourbon. He couldn't recall when he'd exchanged a glass for the entire bottle. Maybe it was that little side bar he'd found. Shit, maybe he'd robbed a liquor store. He grinned. He rather liked that scenario. He did not want to admit to himself that he'd wandered from bar to bar and then through the Mystic Falls cemetery purely on a quest to maybe run into Elena. Just to make certain she was ok, of course. He was confident she was. She was tougher than Stefan would allow her to be. But it never hurt to see for himself.
And, what wondrous fortune, in his travels he'd gained an incredibly powerful buzz and somewhat of a spotty memory. His vampire metabolism wouldn't allow him to get completely black out drunk, but he was definitely going to give it a good attempt.
The more he drank the blacker his mood became. Damn Stefan for not being willing to admit that his way was the only way. Damn Katherine for appearing out of nowhere and beating them to the cure, thus killing Elena's brother. That bitch, always ruining lives.
They were only in this situation because Elena couldn't handle losing the one family member she had left. As much as he wished it otherwise, he knew he wouldn't be enough to get her through. Not this time. Not even with a super handy sire bond, he thought darkly. He took another long drink, relishing the burn of the bourbon as it slid down his throat. Something 98.6 degrees would be better, but for now this did the trick.
Did Elena really love him? Who knew? For a brief moment, he'd thought the answer was yes. Instead, all he'd learned was they were dynamite in bed together. He'd never doubted that though. The sexual tension between them was combustible enough to set off the aforementioned dynamite, and he was … well, Damon Salvatore. He had almost two centuries under his belt of pleasing the opposite sex. People complained about him for a lot of reasons, but sexual prowess was not one of them. Not even Katherine.
He tried to take another swallow and frowned when he realized the bottle was empty. One brave soldier down, time to find another to join the gallant fight.
He looked up and for a moment & thought that he'd summoned Katherine with his thoughts. She stood before him in stilettos and a black dress so tight and short that he had no trouble recalling what lay beneath it. Her silken hair was long and framed her face like a dark halo. He stared stupidly, unable to summon one of his usual snarky quips.
Then, Katherine smiled, and he realized Katherine wasn't Katherine. It was Elena standing in his library like a tall cool drink of pure sex. They'd never been able to confuse him…well, except that once when he kissed Katherine on Elena's porch because he'd thought she was Elena…but he hadn't known the bitch vampire had returned yet, so he refused to count it.
"Elena, you're…here." Looking completely un-Elena-like.
"Mhmm." She took the liquor bottle out of his unresisting hand and studied it. "Gross. Bourbon. You know you can compel a bartender to give you something good, right?"
He stiffened and said indignantly, "Did you come here to mock my choice of liquor?"
Though half of her face was in shadows, he could still see her secretive smile. "Not exactly." She turned on a long slim leg and tossed the container carelessly onto one of their expensive leather couches. Walking towards the doorway, she inquired over her shoulder, "Is Stefan here?"
He flashed in front of her, blocking her path into the hallway. "Right now's probably not a good time to ask me about my brother."
She pouted. "Aw, why not?" She reached up and traced the V-neck of his black shirt. He forced himself to ignore the shiver her touch sent ricocheting through him. "Did you two get in a fight? I hope it wasn't over me." She looked up at the ceiling, knowing the younger Salvatore could hear her. "It's ok, Stefan, I'm fine now, I promise. For the first time in a really long time." She leveled her gaze and met his eyes. "Thanks to Damon."
"What game are you playing?" he asked through gritted teeth. Her resemblance to her evil doppelganger apparently didn't end with her new wardrobe. She was behaving like a little minx.
She leaned close enough that her breath stirred the raven curls of hair on his neck and murmured, "I got bored, and well, I figure I owe you. Turns out, you did me a favor."
Before he could react or fully comprehend her implication, she shoved him against the wall, and books tumbled off the shelves in a noisy cavalcade. Her lips sought his and claimed them and for one moment he sank into the kiss, eyes closed, hands tangled in her dark waterfall of hair. The scent of the lavender shampoo she used enveloped him and clogged his senses like a drug. He felt brief pressure as fabric dug into his skin and then gave way when she rent his shirt right down the middle. Her hands slid along his chiseled torso, and he groaned. God, he wanted this, wanted her; he really did. Elena, his sweet, darling Elena, the most thoughtful, compassionate person he knew. Even as a vampire she had retained the goodness that made him love her so fiercely.
"I want you to fuck me, Damon," she whispered huskily, something his Elena would never say.
Dammit, why shouldn't he give her exactly what she was asking for. Why shouldn't he take exactly what he so desperately needed from her. He'd been so good, so honorable, respecting the sire bond, respecting her and not wanting to take advantage of her. But now…now she was right in front of him and begging for a good tumble. And goddamn if every miserable cell in his entire miserable body wasn't one hundred percent willing and able to comply with her very explicit wish.
His hands tightened in her hair and forced her head up from where she was trailing kisses along his collarbone. Hot, wet kisses that scorched a path straight to his groin.
Though he was technically dead, she had the ability to make him feel incredibly alive. But he couldn't go through with it, not like this. Being with her for that one perfect night before it had all blown up in his face, when he'd believed that it was as simple as two people desperately craving each other and finally getting their moment, that night had been like taking a sip of the finest, most rarified wine. Having her like this would be like settling for warm, gritty water.
"Stop. Elena, this isn't what I want," he panted.
She laughed and cupped his hardness, which drove him momentarily insane. "Liar, we both know this is exactly what you want."
Seeing her before him, lips swollen from kissing and her hand on his dick, he almost caved again. God, he should do it. After all she'd put him through, toying with him while she was with Stefan, pretending that she didn't feel something for him while professing her undying love for his anemic brother, he should just throw her down on the ground and give her the ride of her life. Images of how warm and willing she'd been the first time scorched through his brain like wildfire.
But then he looked into her eyes, eyes which had always been full of life and light, and he saw how flat and dark they were, like a candle that had been suddenly extinguished. His Elena was nowhere to be found in their espresso depths, and suddenly all desire fled. He couldn't allow this to happen. It would mean nothing to her, be nothing, and he couldn't handle that. Being with her meant everything to him.
He shoved her away from him, causing her to stumble. "Not like this." He didn't dare move and relinquish the support of the wall behind him for fear that his knees would betray him and give out.
Shoving hair out her face, she scowled up at him, eyes flashing. "And here I thought you were the fun brother. Clearly, I was wrong."
"Elena-"
"I'm outta here," she muttered.
"Dammit, Elena-"
Just like that, she was gone. Who knew when he'd see her again. He scrubbed his face with one hand and took a few breaths to settle his composure. Tonight had been just one fucktacular episode after another.
As he bent to reshelf the books Elena's failed seduction attempt had jarred loose, a thought occurred to him. He'd overtly told her that he didn't want her to do what she was doing – but she'd continued anyway. Was the sire bond broken? Could it be that easy? All along, had all that had been required was for Elena to turn it off, killing the emotions that created the sire bond in the first place? He was unable to suppress the smile that stretched across his striking features. Then, a ghastly thought occurred to him as well, erasing the upturn of his lips. If the sire bond was broken, there was no way for him to ensure Elena regained her humanity in a timely manner.
He sensed the moment Stefan stepped into the library, an aura of righteousness preceding him like a physical entity. It seemed Stefan was correct. Damon's actions had created unforeseen consequences, but he'd be damned if he gave his brother the satisfaction of knowing that. He'd just keep his discovery to himself.
"Was that Elena I just heard leaving?"
Damon sighed. "Can we not do this right now?"
"I'm just curious what our new Elena wanted, that's all."
"She's not our anything," he snarled, angered that Stefan was pretending like he hadn't heard every fucking word.
"Well, she's certainly not yours, Damon."
The ugly reminder that her feelings for him were nothing but a by-product of the sire bond sent him over the edge he'd been teetering on since Elena's visit had left him raw and shaken. He lashed out. "If you must know, oh brother mine, she wanted a quickie before resuming her humanity-less shenanigans."
He watched as Stefan took in the scene before him, Damon in his shredded attire, the books spilled across the floor. It only hurt for a tiny instant as Stefan immediately assumed the worst about him. "You son of a bitch. How could you?"
When Stefan launched himself at his brother, Damon was taken by surprise for the second time that night and fell with a grunt, the younger vampire's hands wrapped around his throat. However, Stefan never could hold his own in a fight against him, and he quickly reversed their position, flipping his brother beneath him. He smirked as he pinned the struggling Stefan. "Relax, nothing happened. Apparently, I'm Saint Damon now."
His brother stopped squirming. "We've got to find her. She's out of control."
Damon sat up and cautiously released him. "Why? Because you're jealous?"
"I'm not jealous," he quickly protested. "She's going to do something she regrets. If it's not sleeping with you, it'll be killing innocent people."
"First of all, nobody regrets sleeping with me," Damon informed him. "Secondly, I think you're wrong. We need to just let her get this out of her system."
"I find your lack of reaction to this rather disturbing."
He rolled his eyes. "Can it, Stefan. Even you got to ride the emotionless roller coaster. More than once, I might add. Just give her a few days, let her have her fun, and then this'll all be over."
Stefan stood and glared down at Damon who was still crouched on the floor. "You do realize that when she comes back to herself, she'll never forgive you."
Damon grew deathly still, enraged that his brother would give voice to a fear he wasn't willing to face yet.
His brother continued, "I hope you're prepared for that. And when she needs someone to help her get through what you've done to her, you better believe I'll be ready."
Damon's hands curled into fists and he imagined how satisfying it would be to smash them into Stefan's insipid face. The only thing that prevented him from giving in to that impulse was Stefan's timely retreat.
When Elena turned it back on, when she let everything come rushing back, if the sire bond really had been broken, she'd return to Stefan. She'd choose Stefan. It was always fucking Stefan.
Most of the time being Damon Salvatore was great. He took what he wanted, when he wanted it, lived life to the fullest, didn't have any regrets, and could give a flying fuck what anyone else thought.
This wasn't one of those times. It was day three since Elena Gilbert, the girl he loved, had gone off the rails thanks to him. He had no clue what she'd been up to since their run-in at the Salvatore mansion, and despite what he'd told Stefan, he was worried about her and continuously found himself watching the CNN news reports on the Mystic Grill TV above the bar in case there were reports of strange animal attacks. Not even Bonnie or Caroline had heard from her.
Matt Donovan appeared in his vision, and he waved his empty glass at the blonde bar back. "Hey, quarterback, help a brother out."
Matt frowned at him. Whatever. The kid always looked like he'd just sucked on an especially sour lemon. "I think you've had enough. Don't you have somewhere else you can go, other people you can harass?"
"Don't make me compel you."
When Matt didn't budge, he grimaced. "Fine. No tip for you." He spun on his bar stool and was greeted with the sight of a sneering Klaus. The elder vampire's leonine features looks positively wolfish.
"I thought I might find you here, Damon. So predictable."
Great. A perfect ending to a perfect night. The smarmy Original was the last person he wanted to see, especially since the last time Damon had seen him, he'd been trapped in Elena's living room. "Here's a tip: go home and shave. You're starting to look like you're homeless."
Klaus blocked him from getting up. "Insulting my appearance. I expected better from you."
"Really?"
"No. Shall I buy you a drink?"
"You know, Klaus, that's an offer I rarely refuse, but in this case, I think I will."
Klaus raised a hand and covered his heart. "Ouch. Consider me wounded. You," he gestured at Matt, "two of…whatever Damon's having."
Damon resigned himself to the fact that there'd be no shaking the Original until he'd had his say. Some might consider him charming with an air of old-world sophistication – Caroline certainly did, proving she was a dumb blonde and her instincts couldn't be trusted – but he personally failed to see the appeal. "What do you want, Klaus? I'm really not in the mood."
"Are you aware that I've neither seen nor heard from my beloved sister since your joint outing to Nova Scotia?"
"And I should care about your dysfunctional relationship with Rebekah why?"
"Well, normally, I'd agree with you, but you see, I really need that cure."
"And whatever Klaus wants, Klaus gets," Damon muttered sarcastically, looking down into his glass.
"Precisely. Since Rebekah is acting like a petulant child, you are going to tell me where it is and who has it."
"Hate to break it to you, Klausie, but it's not here in Mystic Falls. Katherine has it, and she's got quite the head start. Knowing her, she's hiding out somewhere sunny and sandy, draining the local boys dry in more ways than one. That bitch." He drained the amber liquid Matt set down in front of him in one gulp. He savored the fiery trail it etched down his throat.
"Ah, the lovely Katarina." Klaus picked up his glass but didn't drink. "I should have known she'd be involved somehow. How it must have chafed Rebekah to be outwitted by her."
Damon gave a shallow grin. "I don't think it sat too well with anyone. Katherine never does. Sorry, not sorry I can't help."
Klaus clapped him on the shoulder and stood. "Never fear, Damon, you've helped me more than you know. Enjoy the rest of your evening."
The Original's cheeriness left him unsettled. Why exactly was Klaus happy when a vampire who'd eluded him for five hundred years had absconded with a cure which he desired for himself? Rather than try to unravel that particular riddle, because frankly, he didn't care enough, he grabbed Klaus's abandoned drink and polished it off, saluted Matt's sourpuss, and headed out.
Leaving the Grill, he savored the brisk night air. He watched three young giggling women hail a taxi, and he suddenly found himself in the mood for something stronger and more satisfying than alcohol. Screw going home and drinking micro waved blood bags and facing judgmental silent treatment from Stefan.
It didn't take long for him to select his target, a lone brunette wandering in a dark part of the town square. She smelled like cheap beer and seemed confused.
"Lost?" he queried, appearing in front of her. She peered up at him, suspicious at first, but his devilish good looks lulled her into a false sense of relaxation. It was amazing to him how rarely anyone was willing to doubt a handsome face. Of course, it worked out in his favor, so he was hardly going to knock it.
"Actually, yes, do you know where the bus station is? I thought it was around here, but…" she shrugged sheepishly, embarrassed by her ineptitude.
"Right this way. In fact, it just so happens I know a short cut."
She smiled at her good fortune and willingly followed him down a dark alley. He waited just long enough to lead her beyond the light of the street lamps before he pounced. He didn't even bother to compel her not to scream or fight back. Honestly, he wanted to taste her fear, relish in her cries. It reminded him that he was a predator, not the neutered creature he'd become trying to gain Elena's approval. Not that it mattered now with her being MIA and humanity-less.
As her blood flowed into his mouth, rich and warm and thick, he listened to her heartbeat slow and briefly considered not stopping, wanting to enjoy every last drop. His bloodlust was strong tonight and he was so hungry. But no. He didn't particularly feel like spending his night dragging a corpse out to the woods and digging a shallow grave.
With her blood dripping down his chin and staining his teeth, he compelled her to forget that he'd attacked her, fed her just enough blood so her neck injury would heal, and even told her how to find the bus station. Turned out he was a saint.
"Good, now that that's taken care of, we can get down to business," said a voice behind him.
He whirled and was confronted with the sight of Klaus standing nearby, almost completely obscured in shadow. "Jesus, Klaus! Creep much?"
The Original smiled wickedly. That was the last thing Damon remembered before he heard the snap of his own neck.
Awareness returned slowly, and it was painful and unpleasant.
"Good morning, princess," an eerily cheerful voice filtered through his haze. Klaus's face swam into focus. It was upside down. Why was Klaus's face upside down? Shit, he was upside down, hanging by his ankles. When he extended his arms fully, his fingertips just barely grazed the tiled floor.
"What the hell?" he groaned. "Is this revenge for trapping you in Elena's house? I promise you that was not my idea." Of course, he hadn't exactly objected to it either. But, he would just casually forget to mention that.
Klaus didn't answer. Instead, he was busy examining and arranging blades on a small table nearby. Damon's skin began to crawl. He did not want to find out what the Original's intentions were as far as those long, shiny knives went, especially since it seemed to involve himself being at the elder vampire's mercy.
He rattled the chains holding him. He knew he wouldn't be able to break them, but he couldn't resist trying. "I hate to break it to you, but this isn't exactly very creative. In fact, I like to call this one 'Been there, Done that, Got the T-Shirt.'" He was of course referring to his brief, agony-filled interlude with Rebekah in this very room.
Klaus ran a finger along one wickedly long curved blade and smiled at the bright red blood that erupted on the pad of his finger. "Damon, has anyone ever told you that you talk entirely too much?"
"More than once, actually."
Klaus moved close enough to reach out and touch him. "Hmm, perhaps you should take them to heart. They just might know what they're talking about." In one swift motion, he bent and slit Damon's throat. Damon would have screamed except his wind pipe was severed and he couldn't draw any air into his lungs. Because he was upside down, he had the unfortunate experience of feeling his blood streaming down his face.
However, it only took a moment for the wound to heal enough for him to rasp, "As much as I appreciate the attention, at least my last torturer was sexy. No offense."
"None taken." Klaus struck again with the knife in a motion that opened him from nipple to belly button.
This time he did scream. "Why are you doing this?"
"I need Elena. Well, to be more precise, I need her blood. You're going to get it for me." He gestured at Damon with the knife.
Damon laughed, and it sounded a touch desperate. "Didn't you know? Katherine killed her brother so Elena jumped off the deep end. Your doppelganger is currently driving an emotionless party bus through Whothefuckknowswhere, USA."
"Oh, I'm well aware, Damon. After our little chat at the Grill, I paid a visit to your brother and he was quite forthcoming in regards to the rashness of your actions. Tsk, tsk, poor Elena, so grief-stricken you used your sire bond to compel her to turn her humanity off." He steepled his fingers in front of his face and shook his head melodramatically, a mocking look of sympathy adorning his features. "I wonder if she'll ever forgive you."
Damon pursed his lips and cursed Stefan mentally. Really?, he thought. Bitching about me to Klaus is low even for you, dear brother. "Then you know that I have no idea where she is. I can't help you. In fact, you really should be torturing Stefan, not me. He's the one who's desperate to return Elena to her original factory settings."
"But you see, Damon, I don't need Elena to regain her humanity; I even find it rather adorable how distraught it makes you Salvatores. Rather, my plan is to bleed you until any vervain is out of your system, then I'm going to compel your obedience. Why you, you ask, and not Stefan? It's true, I do prefer your brother, since he is an artist whilst you are an amateur. Nevertheless, I still hope to one day restore our friendship, ergo I can't very well kidnap and compel him-"
"Again," interjected Damon.
"Yes, once was enough," Klaus agreed. "That means I'm left with you. I suppose I could just hunt down Elena myself, but I've always preferred to let the minions handle the dirty work. Don't worry, while I do enjoy listening to your misery, I promise to make this as quick as possible."
"I still don't understand."
Klaus grew impatient. "I'm going to make this simple for you. I want the cure. Katherine has the cure. I need to find Katherine. My witch can do a locator spell to find her using doppelganger blood."
Damon couldn't take his eyes off the knife in Klaus's hand. He asked, voice laden with dread, "What are you going to compel me to do?"
"To find Elena and to acquire her blood by any means necessary. And of course to maximize your efficiency, we'll have to go ahead and shut that pesky humanity off."
Damon's screams reverberated through Klaus's mansion all night.
Gravel crunched beneath the brand new tires he'd just had put on his blue '67 Camaro convertible as he pulled up the driveway of Elena's family lake house. He situated his car in park behind a metallic silver Toyota sedan.
He waited for a moment, hand resting on the gear shift, absorbing the scene in front of him.
Elena's Ford Escape was up at the very top of the driveway. Stretched out behind it was a string of various vehicles, approximately a dozen or so.
Afternoon sunlight sparkled on grey-blue waters somewhere off to his right.
It was funny. Once he possessed the proper motivation and one hundred percent focus, figuring out where Elena was holing up had taken exactly one guess. He was a little surprised she hadn't picked somewhere more remote, since she seemed to want to avoid her friends, but then he'd never been able to understand the inner workings of a Gilbert brain. At any rate, it made his mission easier. Which he had every intention of completing, but only after he'd had a little fun first.
Three people, two guys and a busty female, were standing on the porch, plastic red Solo cups in hand, chatting away about banalities on which he couldn't even be bothered to eavesdrop. Music was playing, the sort that was too trendy and too meaningless.
After a quick glance in his rear view mirror just to make sure everything was in its rightful place, he made his way to the front door, flaring his eyes and smiling broadly for the full figured lady on the porch who literally began to preen. He had that effect on women.
Not a chance in hell, honey, he thought caustically.
The door was already half-way open so he just pushed it the rest of the way, lounging in the entrance like a lazy, lithe panther, shoulder on the door frame, thumbs tucked in the belt loops of his perfectly tailored black pants.
It was no chore at all to spot Elena. She was front and center, a young man swooning in her arms as she drank from his carotid. No one around her was reacting in any way, making it obvious these 'friends' had been compelled to attend Elena's little get-together.
She looked 'Elena-like' this time in a navy blue top with spaghetti straps made of lace and short, short, short jean shorts accented with a leather belt and eye-catching golden buckle. Her feet were bare, toes polished a coral pink that matched her nails, and there was a silver toe ring on her right pinky toe.
He waited for her to notice him.
Her mouth lifted off the guy's neck, and he listened as she purred into his ear, "Now go away and forget this happened." She didn't even bother to heal his wound before he stumbled away.
Finally, while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as almost an afterthought, she met his gaze and froze.
He winked. "Nice technique, young grasshopper."
"What are you doing here?" Elena demanded in a tone that made it clear she was unhappy to see him.
"You're having a party, aren't you?" he asked innocently.
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she moved closer and tried to look behind him. "Where's Stefan?'
"You know, I'm a little hurt I didn't get an invite."
"Where is he?" she repeated.
"I'll just assume it got lost in the mail." With that, he strode inside, not actually needing an invitation because its owners, Elena and Jeremy, were both technically dead.
He paused at a table in the entranceway holding several trays of finger food. He picked up a cheese cube with a fun-colored toothpick poking out of it from one of the trays and stuck it between his lips. "Ooo, fancy. Someone compelled herself a caterer."
"Damon!" she exclaimed, at the end of her patience.
"I have no idea where my baby bro is," he said nonchalantly. "He's probably out having a circle jerk with his furry little woodland friends right now."
"You seriously expect me to believe that you came here alone? That you two aren't plotting something stupid? Am I to take it that you're the quote-un-quote distraction?"
"I am distracting enough on my own, thank you very much. I don't need Stefan for that." He slid right up to her and favored her with a half-smile. He leaned in so that she could feel his breath on the shell of her ear and whispered, "The world doesn't always revolve around you, Elena."
He pulled away and walked around her into the main room where the majority of people were gathered. Most of them had bloody necks and open oozing fang holes.
He could feel her studying him as he surveyed the crowd.
Finally, she said, "There's something different about you."
"Is there?" he asked lightly.
She was silent for a moment, then decided to change tact. "I'm surprised it took you so long to find me."
"Who says I was looking?"
"Why else would you be here?"
A skilled deflector, he pointed at a red-head sitting on a couch who was staring demurely into her drink while a swarthy guy with too much facial hair attempted to hit on her. "I'm thinking that one."
She knew instantly what he was talking about. "Too skinny."
He snorted. "You're one to talk." She glared at him, so he asked, "Who would you pick then, Miss Persnickety?"
She looked around for a moment before gesturing towards a young Asian man who already had bite marks. "He was pretty delicious."
Damon blurred forward and buried his fangs into soft flesh, rending more than he drank. He let go and looked up. "You're right. Delicious." He offered her easy access to the other side of his victim's throat. "Duet?"
She gave him a look like she wasn't sure if he was serious.
He moved his chin once in a reassuring nod. He knew she would find his invitation more than she could resist. He was extremely comfortable with the darkness inside of him, unlike Stefan who was pathetic in his pathological refusal to accept his true nature. But to Elena, flipping the switch was still shiny and new and overwhelming. He could well remember how intoxicating and liberating it felt to experience freedom from all guilt and regret for the first time.
She joined him as he'd known she would and struck like a tiny fierce cobra. Her throat pulsed with each swallow. It was probably the most erotic thing he'd ever seen, the blue and purple veins dancing under her eyes currently closed in rapturous delight.
He could remember vaguely that there were reasons why he wasn't supposed to sleep with Elena, but they felt ill-defined now and far away. Definitely not relevant to this moment here and now. He wanted her because he could remember how good their sex had been and because of how hot she looked right now, a petite siren with caramel skin and a kindred bloodlust.
When Elena released her grip, the guy was dead, completely drained. Damon let go and the body fell to the floor between them with a thump. "Million dollar question time," he quipped. "Did that just make you as horny as it did me?"
The old Elena would have looked shocked and protested fiercely that of course killing people did not turn her on. Then she would give him the look, her doe eyes full of disappointment, and he would know that he'd been judged and found severely lacking.
The new Elena just smiled softly, the only answer he needed, and she ran a finger through the blood on her chin. She touched her bloody fingertip to his lips, and he blurred into action.
He grabbed her hips and forcefully hoisted her onto a table behind them. With a rough jerk, he yanked her torso flush against his and wrapped her long legs about his waist. His hardness settled into the apex of her firm thighs.
The new blood racing through his system was like the most exquisite high, one that made the world more vivid, colors brighter, sounds and smells sharper. Though the emotions were absent, on a purely physical level, his skin thrilled when it made contact with hers, and he could feel her practically vibrating. Beneath his touch, Elena burned like fire, and he was eager to immolate himself on her pyre. He kissed her with a demanding urgency, but after a moment, she turned her head, so that his lips fell on her cheek.
"I think you already had your chance." Though her words spoke of denial, her body still pressed eagerly into his.
Little vixen, he thought, angry that she would play games with him now. He was past games. Their previous sex, while explosive, had been tender and solicitous, each concerned with the pleasure of the other. This time it would be violent and consuming. He'd take what he wanted, and her eternally young, supernaturally strong body would handle the punishment he doled out. He suspected she'd welcome it.
He trailed kisses across her collar bone, and she arched the column of her throat. "Isn't Elena Gilbert famous for her second chances?"
She grabbed his face between her hands. She forced him to look her in the eye, though his hands didn't stop their exploration beneath her shirt. He detected a hitch in her breath when they discovered a particularly sensitive spot.
"I mean it. Tell me what you're up to."
He leered, eyes flashing. "I'd rather just show you."
She laughed, the sound ringing like bells, and released him, hands sliding down his triceps. "I can't just leave. It's my party after all."
He pressed his mouth against hers. "You're not really leaving, we're just taking this party somewhere more private."
He felt her mouth curve upwards in a grin. "Fine. Race you."
He snagged her by an elbow before she darted off. "If I win?"
She dimpled cutely. "Trust me, you don't want to."
She vanished into an empty bedroom and he felt himself grinning. He'd always found the hunt as much fun as the kill.
He knew it must be morning time, because he could feel warm sunlight shining through a window onto his bare chest, but he didn't know exactly what hour it was since he hadn't opened his eyes yet. He still felt all warm and tingly and wasn't quite ready to wake up yet. Elena's head rested on his shoulder and her legs twined about his. He could feel Klaus's imperative urging him to hurry, but he told it to fuck off for a while.
"I figured it out. I know what's different about you," she murmured sleepily.
"Hmm," he responded pleasantly. Sex tended to put him in a good mood, especially good sex that lasted for hours. She was a little hellcat in bed. A very flexible, enthusiastic little hellcat and he had the claw marks to prove it – or he would if he wasn't blessed with supernaturally swift healing.
Her fingertips began to walk up his chest. "You turned it off. Your humanity."
"Hmm," he reiterated in the same agreeable tone. He played idly with the ends of her hair. They were so soft, just like every other inch of her.
"Why?"
He let her question evaporate into the air. He wasn't in the mood to answer difficult questions.
There was silence for awhile, golden silence. He needed to get up and go, but he still wasn't ready yet to go through the trouble of becoming vertical.
Elena resumed speaking. "I've never done most of that stuff, you know, that we just did."
He smirked. "Stick with me, kiddo. We're just getting started."
"Stefan was only ever into the missionary position."
His eyes snapped open, mood soured abruptly. The last thing he wanted to think about right now was Elena and Stefan in bed together. He was vain enough to feel slighted that a woman he'd just thoroughly fucked was recalling her past lovers – his brother – while lying next to him. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, hunting for his clothes.
She seemed to realize she'd made a mistake. "You're not leaving, are you?" She crawled over and hugged him from behind, pressing her bare breasts into his back. "I thought we were just getting started."
He gave her a tight look over his shoulder. "Yeah, I hate to be a dick and run but… I'm going to be a dick and run. I got what I came for."
"What? You weren't just using me for sex, were you?" Her words were light, and she began to do something very interesting with her hands south of his waistline. She didn't sound like she minded being used at all.
"Me? Use someone for sex? It's like you don't know me at all," he delivered with biting sarcasm.
She laughed and flopped onto her back on the bed. "And I get accused of being like Katherine."
He stood, pulling on his shirt at the same time. First, she had the audacity to bring up Stefan, something that was still royally pissing him off even if, granted, he came off more favorably, and now she was comparing him to the duplicitous bitch that'd basically ruined his life. He felt the need to take her down a peg or two.
"Actually, Elena, the sex was just a perk. This is why I'm here." He picked his black leather jacket off the ground and revealed a syringe in the pocket filled with a dark red liquid. "Sex was just an easy – and fun – way for me to get your blood."
She jerked upright, mouth gaping in shock. "You stuck a needle in me? While I was sleeping?"
"Didn't hear you complaining when I stuck something else in you last night," he taunted lewdly.
She shrieked in outrage and lunged at him, attempting to wrestle the syringe out of his hand. "I'm going to kill you," she hissed through fangs, vampire aspect on full display.
He pocketed it and easily deflected her in one fluid motion, pinning her down on the bed, looming over her. She struggled furiously, tendons standing out in her throat and arms, and he enjoyed it immensely, especially since she was sans any clothing. "Get in line, sweetheart."
She must have realized she wasn't about to outmuscle him, so she stilled and asked, "Damon, why?"
"You think you'd be used to people wanting your special doppelganger fluids by now."
Her eyes narrowed and she whispered, "Klaus. It has to be. That's why you turned your emotions off. He made you." Her gaze darted up to his. "Why does he need my blood?"
"I never agreed that that's what happened."
"Tell me, Damon!"
He sighed. He supposed he'd brought this on himself by revealing more than he should have, flashing the syringe like a cocky bastard. "There's a spell one of his witches knows that can locate Katherine using doppelganger blood. I-e, Klaus needs yours."
He watched her grow deadly calm. "No, he can't be allowed to get his hands on the cure. I won't go back to the way I was, poor, defenseless, and sad all the time," she sneered in derision of her former self. "I like the way I am. Admit you do, too."
Truthfully, he did like her better this way. She was strong and fearless, bold in taking what she wanted and willing to do all sorts of things in bed that would give humanity-burdened Elena pause for sure. Rather than answer, he reminded her, "I'm compelled, remember? Don't have a choice here."
"What exactly did he say to you?"
"Elena –"
"I'm tired of repeating myself, Damon!"
He blinked, shocked enough by her outburst that he found himself complying. He adopted an infuriatingly smug European accent: " 'Damon Salvatore, you're to locate Elena Gilbert and obtain her blood. And tick tock, time is of the essence.' "
"Ok, so he told you to obtain a sample of my blood, but not to actually bring it to him."
He performed a quick mental review of Klaus's command. "I think we both know what he meant."
"What he meant isn't what he said. There's your loophole. Damon, think about it," she urged.
He was, furiously. Was he ready to return to Klaus because he'd just assumed he was supposed to or was there actually an outside force obliging him? He performed a quick internal scan and had to admit that he couldn't find any compelling reason to obey the ancient vampire. Yes, pun intended.
It wasn't like Elena to be cleverer than him. He had to admit he was impressed. How had he not noticed such an oversight in the Original's wording? And why had Klaus been so careless? Was he that arrogant, that used to always being obeyed? "What do you propose I do about it, then?" he drawled.
"Let's go after Katherine ourselves."
He raised his eyebrows. "I thought you didn't want the cure?"
"I don't. We can go after her and destroy it so no one can use it against me. We both know a witch who might be…persuaded into helping."
"You do remember Katherine's a hundred times stronger than both of us, right? Your plan is pretty flimsy."
"Would you rather just be Klaus's lapdog? You know Katherine better than I do, and you can help me track her." She wiggled invitingly against him. "If you don't have to leave just yet, allow me to convince you how much I want you to go on a road trip with me."
He grinned and brushed his lips over hers. "I stand corrected. Your plan is amazing."
In the end, it was surprisingly easy to convince Bonnie to perform the spell. She hadn't needed any special coercing, which Damon found mildly disappointing. He wasn't a particular fan of the witch, and he and Elena had spent all morning and early afternoon dawdling in bed and imagining creative ways to force Bonnie to aid them in their search for Katherine. But as it turned out, when they knocked on her door, she readily agreed to help, eager to get revenge against the person who'd killed her boyfriend.
That didn't mean she trusted them. The three of them were gathered on Bonnie's back porch because she refused to invite Damon into her house. The witch was hunched over a grimoire and various magical ingredients and herbs littered the glass table.
Elena perched on the wood railing, absently swinging her legs and studying her fingernails.
Close by, Damon sat on the back of a wooden bench, his booted feet planted on the seat. Sunlight glinted off his black wrap-around Ray-Bans.
As Bonnie was busy making sure she'd memorized the right words for the spell, Elena asked in a flat tone, "Can we hurry up? I'm getting seriously bored. You do not want me to get bored."
Damon understood her sentiment. He'd never liked witches. They made him twitchy. The sooner they had the answers they needed the better. Then they could get the hell out of here. He was starting to feel peckish.
He flashed Elena a wicked smile, promising with a look all the things he'd do when they were alone to alleviate her boredom.
Bonnie scowled. "I've never done this spell before, and I want to get it right."
Elena flapped her arms. "It's just a locator spell. Haven't you done that like a thousand times? It'd been nice to know that we could find Katherine using my blood a long time ago."
"Tell me about it," Bonnie muttered. She raised an eyebrow in Damon's direction. "I still can't believe you're going along with this. Elena doesn't really want to destroy the cure. She never wanted to be a vampire in the first place."
Damon's smile turned brittle, cold as ice. Had she been able to see his eyes through the Ray-Bans, she would have been afraid.
Elena hopped down off her perch on the railing. "Don't talk about me like I can't hear you. You don't know me at all. I like being this way." She grabbed Damon's hand and smiled cutely at him.
Bonnie continued speaking directly to Damon. "It's disgusting that you're taking advantage of her like this."
Damon still didn't respond. As usual the witch had no idea what she was talking about, and he felt no need to defend himself. She didn't know that the sire bond had been broken – he wasn't even sure if Elena had figured it out yet. At any rate, everything that happened between him and Elena happened of her own free will.
Faced with his silence, she appealed to Elena. "How is it possible that you can really forget all of the horrible things that have happened to you? How can you just forget Jeremy?"
Elena pouted. "I didn't forget. I just don't care."
Damon brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. "That's my girl." He rapped the knuckles of his free hand on the table top. "You," he growled, speaking to Bonnie. "Less judgey and more witchy."
The Bennet witch pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes but glanced back down at her grimoire. "I'll need some of Elena's blood."
Elena bit the heel of her hand and offered up her dripping palm. "Where do you want me?"
Bonnie collected the blood in a wooden bowl and spread out a map of the United States on the table.
Damon laughed. "I guarantee Katherine Pierce is somewhere more exotic than the North American continent."
"Then, I'll get a bigger map if this doesn't work. This was the only one I had on hand," she groused. "Now be quiet and let me concentrate."
She lit a bundle of stinky herbs on fire and began to stir the air with the wafting smoke. She dabbed her finger tips in Elena's blood and flicked them at the map, scattering blood across its surface. She began to chant words that sounded like Latin, but weren't – hey, he was a good Catholic boy.
Damon and Elena leaned in eagerly and watched the blood drops flow in the same direction until they all converged on the same spot.
Elena wrinkled her nose. "Really? Atlanta? I was hoping we'd get to go somewhere fun like Italy or Japan."
Bonnie shrugged, looking a bit exhausted. "That's where she is, assuming the spell worked correctly."
Damon put his arm around Elena and drew her close. "Don't worry. We had fun in Georgia last time, remember?"
She gave him a withering glare. "No, you almost died and I had to save you."
"There's no need to exaggerate." He nuzzled the curve of her throat.
"I'm not," she replied frostily. "Lexi's boyfriend was about to set you on fire and I-"
"Yeah, yeah, let's not rehash all of the details."
"You brought it up."
He shrugged nonchalantly, giving her hair a gentle tug. "Did I? Just remember you're with the fun brother now."
She responded with a small smile and stroked his bottom lip with her thumb.
Bonnie stood abruptly, shoving her chair back and slamming her palms on the table. "I performed the damn spell; I told you where Katherine is. Now leave."
Damon rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "Come on, Elena, before the fun police arrest us."
Elena looked at Bonnie like she was a bug under a microscope. "Ok, I'm ready to go. I just need a snack for the road."
Using vamp speed, she pounced on the Bennett witch before she had time to defend herself magically and savaged her neck. After a few moments, Elena raised her head and licked her lips. She released Bonnie who fell limply to the ground. The witch was breathing, but only shallowly.
Damn, he was turned on by her ruthlessness. Damon extended his arm towards Elena. "Shall we?"
"You don't want any?"
"I can wait. I want to get this show on the road."
Elena rested her hand in the crook of his elbow and they walked around to the front of the house where they encountered Caroline who was just exiting her car. She looked perfectly put together, not a single hair in her styled hairdo out of place.
"Hi, guys," she said with false cheeriness. Her smile looked like it was frozen on her face. "Are you guys visiting Bonnie?"
"Nope," Damon said. "We were just leaving."
"Together?" Somehow, she managed to sound disapproving without losing the smile.
"Fuck off, Blondie," he sneered. "Isn't there a drag show somewhere missing its queen?"
She ignored him, something she was quite skilled at, he observed irritably. "Elena, how are you feeling?"
"I don't feel anything, which means I've never felt better."
"Hmm. That's nice. So you're hanging out with Damon, now?"
"What's your point, Caroline? Oh, wait, I don't care." Elena sounded done with the conversation. He knew he certainly was.
"I just don't know if he's the best role model for you right now. Or ever." A distracted expression spread across her pretty features. "Do you smell blood?"
Elena declared smugly, "Oh, that's Bonnie. I needed a pick-me-up. She could probably use your help so she doesn't bleed out all over her porch. I hear blood stains are a bitch to get out of wood."
Caroline gave the pair an outraged look then vanished around the back of Bonnie's house.
Elena looked immensely pleased with herself. "Whose car do you wanna take?"
"Mine. No way in hell you're driving," Damon asserted.
"Okay, but we do what with my car? I can't just leave it here; Bonnie will probably set it on fire or something."
"Hmm, good point. Give me your keys."
"Why?" she asked suspiciously, though he was pleased when she obeyed him and pressed the small fob into his hand.
"Leave this to the professionals, please." Quick as a wink, he darted out to the sidewalk and intercepted the unlucky jogger passing by just at that moment.
The woman started and yanked her earbuds out. "Can I help you?"
He smiled, and it was incredibly insincere. "Actually, you can. Do you see that little SUV over there?"
"Uh, yeah?" Her eyes darted back and forth between Damon and Elena's car.
He moved closer until he filled her vision, and before she could react, he ensnared her with his compulsion. "I'm going to need you to drive it to the Salvatore mansion for me. Can you do that?"
"Sure, I'll drive it to the Salvatore mansion," she mumbled.
"Okay, then, bye-bye," he commanded brusquely.
She began to turn away.
"Don't forget these." He dangled the keys in front of her and she snagged them before stumbling towards Elena's SUV.
Damon returned to Elena. "There. What would you do without me?"
Elena made a face but settled into the passenger side of his Camaro. Before he could put the key to the ignition, she straddled his thighs and began kissing him. Tossing his sunglasses in the backseat, she slid her fingers through his jet black hair.
Though startled, he found it easy to respond. He could still taste blood on her lips, simultaneously sweet and salty. Combine that with the smell of her arousal filling the small interior of his Camaro and he was rock fucking hard.
Her touch drifted lower until he felt her undoing the fly of his jeans. He captured her wrists and secured her hands against his chest.
He nipped her lip hard enough to draw blood and whispered, "Maybe we should put some distance between us and Mystic Falls first?"
At Elena's disappointed look, he clarified, "I just don't want Caroline showing up ready to stake us. Not that I couldn't handle Buffy the vampire, but I'd rather spend my energy in other ways." He arched his eyebrows suggestively and then grew serious. "There's also a certain Original vampire who's probably looking for me right about now that I'd rather avoid."
"Practically the only reason I wanted you to come with me is so we can have lots of crazy sex."
"Believe me, you and I are on the same page as far that goes. No, the same line, the same fucking word. As soon as we put this town in our rear view mirror, lots of crazy sex coming right up. We just need to get out of here first."
When she was reluctantly back in her seat, he reached over and gave her thigh a squeeze, then started the car. Loud music blasted from the speakers, and he turned the knob on his radio until it was at a conversational volume.
Elena immediately reached over and turned it back up.
As he readjusted his sunglasses, he gave her a stern look over the rims. "The first rule of fight club is: You do not touch my radio. And I didn't realize you liked Motorhead."
She leaned back in her seat and stretched her arms overhead, though there wasn't much room, so it mostly consisted of her pressing her hands against the roof. "I do now. Drive."
He grinned broadly and revved his engine. "Let's go catch ourselves an evil slut vampire."