Story: Misguided Ghosts.
Chapter title: Sink.
Summary: But he's taken far too much from this kid. And they barely even know each other.
Author's Note: This is a Damon/Jeremy. I think it'll end up being slash but not explicit. I really want to mess with Damon's character a bit. He's probably one of my favourites on TV lately and I've always been a fan of Jeremy. This takes place pretty much directly after the season finale. Story title taken from the Paramore song of the same name. Chapter title taken from the Brand New song of the same name. I would recommend listening to Sink while reading this; it's such a Damon song.
Jeremy.
It surprises him when Damon is the first one he goes to after waking. He's not sure how he managed to even move his body across town, all the way to man's front door.
But there he is, standing only a few feet from the door bell. He glances nervously down at his watch. It's four in the morning and dew is quietly spreading over the lawn, the blades of grass gleaming under the silver moon. He feels a tug at his shoulder, like he's telling himself to leave.
The door opens before he can decide.
"The little brother." Damon's shadow falls across the dark porch. The lamp from inside makes Jeremy's head hurt and he blinks before carefully lifting his eyes to meet Damon's.
"Uh, hi," he says awkwardly, suddenly realising how absurd it is that he's at a near strangers house at 4 AM. He shuffles his feet.
"Are you ok?" Damon's tone is curious, and his brows are furrowed, lips frowning slightly.
"No," Jeremy breathes, swaying on his feet. His eyes drop as he steadies his chest.
"Are you drunk?" The other sounds somewhat impressed underneath his mock scorn.
"No," Jeremy says again, this time his face pointed fully upward, his eyes wide and scared and almost pleading.
"I—do you want me to get Stefan or your sister?" He sounds somewhat uncomfortable about having Jeremy bleed his heart out in front of him.
"No," Jeremy snaps quickly. "Please. I just… need your help."
And Damon steps back and Jeremy moves forward and the door shuts with a thud behind them.
xxxxx
They're in the study and Jeremy's sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands clasped together. Damon is walking slowly next to the bookshelves, a glass of scotch in hand.
"Was it Anna?" he asks in a low voice, stopping in front of a dusty globe, his eyes peering down at the other.
"It was her blood," Jeremy replies to his knees. "She gave it to me before she… I took a bottle full of pills."
Damon's quiet footsteps continue, the ice clanking against the glass. "So, now you're here for Vampire 101." His voice is snarky and patronizing.
"I shouldn't be here." Jeremy quickly stands, his head dizzy and eyes blurry. A hand presses onto his shoulder, pushing him firmly back down onto the couch.
"No, you shouldn't," Damon says, sitting on the chair across from Jeremy, his long legs stretched out over the wooden arm. "But you are. So now we're going to deal with this."
"We?" Jeremy dares, glancing upward.
Damon stares at him, his mouth twisting in thought. "Yes," he says finally. "We. Us." A grin breaks across his pale face, only it's not inviting. It's a grin that seduces and then hurts. Stalks and then attacks.
Jeremy only allows himself to get wrapped up in it for a moment. But then his lids shut and he takes a deep breath. This is almost as dangerous as dying for the second time.
Damon.
Damon is actually amused by Jeremy. Maybe intrigued is a better word. The boy lay on his bed, mouth red from the hospital blood Damon had given him. His chest is rising and falling in exhaustion and Damon watches as the night slowly passes and the scotch is slowly drained and he isn't thinking about this kid's sister.
At about 9 he goes back into the study and shuffles around the piles of boxes stored in closets and underneath window sills. He brushes the dust off the one he's looking for, the green velvet familiar in his hands.
The inside is musty but the rings glitter as if new. Damon picks up a square black jewel with a silver band wrapped around it. It's the least suspicious looking. A stranger would merely think Jeremy a bit queer, but appearances aren't what worry Damon.
The sun slants across the floor as he moves closer to the boy. A hand lies on the cool sheets and Damon takes it. The fingers are thin, like his own, but have a flushed warm feeling to them.
Damon quickly slides the ring upon his fourth finger before carelessly pushing the hand away and turning on his heel to leave.
xxxxxxxx
Damon takes him hunting later that week.
It's a warm summer night and the Virginia hills smell fresh and new. They walk through the woods and Jeremy jumps at every cracked twig, every fluttering bird.
"We can just go down to the butchers and dig through the trash if this scares you," Damon drawls, rolling his eyes.
"I'm fine," was the unconfident reply.
No matter how much shit he gave, Damon understood that fear. He remembers the first time he ever grazed a human's neck with his mouth, his intentions sick and delicious. He remembers before he could flip that switch, turn off his emotions. It took months.
Damon blinks. They're still walking in the forest and Jeremy is still flinching and twitching like he might have a fucking seizure or something.
"Ah. Here we are." Damon's dark eyes fall on a man steadily walking through the woods with a large walking stick. "Ask him for directions," he hisses into Jeremy's ear.
The kid looks like he's been asked to burn a kitten. Damon nudges him roughly in the shoulder.
"Uh, hello! Hello there?" Jeremy stammers, lifting his hand. "Can you give us directions back to town?"
The man stops and Jeremy looks terrified at the amiable smile he has. "Sure can, son," the man says. He looks older, maybe in his 40's. He has a back pack and a brimmed hat on.
Damon is slow in his advancement, moving past the man and circling him. He sees Jeremy's eyes flicker to him nervously and Damon smirks.
And just as the stranger begins talking about the interstate, Damon attacks. His arms latch around the man's waist, dropping to his knees, bringing the man with him.
"Now, Jeremy," Damon growls, yanking on the man's hair and leaving the neck exposed.
His dark eyes are flooded with fear and Damon is pretty sure he can hear his dead heart starting to throb in his chest.
The man's limbs flail, jabbing Damon in the throat. "Come on!" He yells. "Just do it!"
Jeremy swallows and drops down, hovering over Damon and the man. He lowers his head, his skin gently brushing the exposed vein.
"I'm sorry," Damon hears him whisper before the teeth come out and the man wails and blood is dripping on all of them. And Jeremy is gasping as he feeds, his face pale in comparison to the dark blood. There's the sick drinking sound, the sticky blood is smeared everywhere. Damon's eyes drift down, seeing Jeremy rip skin and veins with his fangs. He looks hungry but disgusted and tears fall into the man's open flowing wound.
After a few minutes, Jeremy coughs and pushes away, his arms wrapped around his waist, hunched over the ground.
Damon is panting slightly, and he slowly stands, pulling the dead man with him. He hides the body in a bush after finishing the meal. Wiping his mouth, he walks back to Jeremy.
If it was anyone else, he'd walk away, leave, maybe throw a douche comment over his shoulder. But he's taken far too much from this kid. And they barely even know each other.
"The first time is always the hardest," Damon says into the quiet, clearing his throat.
Jeremy doesn't speak; all Damon can hear are his muffled sobs.
So Damon doesn't say anything either because his head is pounding and he really wants a drink. He sits cross legged on the forest floor, watching the boy's shoulders rise and fall.
"The worst part is," Jeremy says finally, lifting his head slightly, "that it tastes so good." His voice shakes and he presses his palms against his eyes.
Damon winces. "I know," he says quietly, "but these feelings won't linger. You're going to be able to turn them off. I promise. It just takes time."
Jeremy inhales before slowly letting out a shaky breath. "Promise?"
"With everything in me."
"Then that's not saying much." His face slowly lifts and even though his eyes are puffy and chin bloody, he manages a small smile.
"No, it's not," Damon murmurs, smirking.
The silence quickly falls between and he watches the boy carefully. His eyes flicker to the side, almost like a puppy, and his bottom lip sticks out in a permanent pout.
"Let's get you a drink before I take you home," Damon says finally. Jeremy nods, wiping his eyes.
"We should probably get you cleaned up though," Damon says quietly before reaching over. His finger runs along the boys' lower lip, the corner of his mouth, the dimple in his chin. His cold hand presses against the warm cheek, fingers brushing against a stray strand of hair. Jeremy signs and leans into Damon's palm, his eyes falling shut. The eyelids are dark, purple veins showing through.
"Now little children won't cry when they see you." Damon pulls back and Jeremy's looking at him in a way he likes but despises.
"C'mon, Gilbert. It's past your bedtime."