AN: Welcome back. What can I say? Pilar and I weren't ready to let go of our version of Mystic Falls, so we've dreamed up a third part to the saga. If you haven't read Self Inflicted Wounds and Down a Crooked Path I would recommend clicking on my user id and checking them out. You'll probably be a little lost without having read them.
As always, huge thanks to Pilar for being my beta - although she's really more than that, she's as much the author of these fics as I am.
So, without further nonsense from me...let's dive right in.
Momentum Deferred
Chapter One - A New Day in the Old Town
Studying her reflection, Bonnie Bennett leaned closer to the mirror, turning her head first left, then right, as she scrutinized the hairline above her unlined brow. The early morning sun shone through the small window in her front door, bathing the entryway in a warm, golden light. Glinting off of her rich, dark brown hair, the rays brought out the amber undertones of her natural color.
Well…natural was a relative term to a witch.
You're so vain, she mused with a rueful smile, humming a few bars of the old song and breaking the silence of her otherwise quiet house. The face staring back at her from the mirror looked like any other college student preparing to head off to class during her first month back from summer vacation.
Except that Bonnie hadn't been a student for more than two decades.
Twenty-two years ago, when she and Elena had both graduated from college, it had hit her that her best friend would never look a day over twenty. Looking around at the smiling faces of Caroline, Stefan, Damon, and even Katherine, Bonnie had realized that while they stayed eternally youthful, she'd not only feel her years, but she'd also begin to look them.
No thank you.
There were perks to being a witch and goddamn it, Bonnie Bennett had decided to use just one of them for purely selfish reasons. The spell to slow the aging process had been fairly easy to come by – no true witch in history wanted to live up to the wart-faced, decrepit hag of a stereotype – and now at forty-five years old, she was pleased to say that she didn't look a day over twenty-five. Younger, when she got enough sleep.
Shouldering her messenger bag, and grabbing a scarf, she checked her light jacket for her keys as she prepared to head out of the door. Ironically, she was on her way to class, but she was teaching, rather than taking lessons. The knob of her front door was twisting in her hand just as her cell phone rang.
"Dammit," she cursed under her breath, quickly weighing the pros and cons of letting it go to voicemail as the familiar refrain of Blondie's One Way or Another continued. She was already going to be late, and calls from Caroline Forbes had a tendency to always make her later. The tune came to an end, followed by a tone that signaled a voice message. Immediately, the refrain started again as Caroline called back.
Reaching into the top pouch of her bag, she retrieved the slim device with a sigh, coming to peace with the fact that she was going to be more than five minutes late.
Probably more than fifteen if Care was feeling particularly chatty. She missed her best friend terribly and loved getting phone calls from whatever far off locales she'd decided to visit on any given day, but…sometimes…
Caroline Forbes was just freaking exhausting.
"Caroline!" Bonnie said into the receiver, forcing a smile onto her lips that she hoped would mask her impatience.
"Bonnie! How are you?" Caroline's bright and eternally chipper voice sang through the earpiece, turning the witch's strained smile into a genuine grin.
"Horribly late for class," she admitted before quickly adding. "But good. How are you? Where are you?"
"Stateside," Caroline replied with a laugh. "And I'm good," she added, her voice trailing off slightly before she murmured. "All things considered."
All things considered…
Bonnie's smile left her face as she groaned internally.
How could she have forgotten?
"He's still not speaking to you?" she asked, trying to sound sympathetic when she really wanted to shake both of her friends until they came to their senses. Caroline and Tyler Lockwood had broken up for the millionth time nearly six months ago – although to hear Caroline tell it, the pain was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.
"No," the blonde said as Bonnie headed back into her living room and dropped her bag onto the coffee table. Class would have to wait if her friend needed to talk. Despite her frustration with the situation, Bonnie had made a promise to herself ten years ago to always be there when Caroline needed her – a promise that she knew went both ways.
"You never told me why you two broke up," Bonnie said, adding a silent this time as she settled back against the cushions.
"I know."
Seconds passed.
"Wow, Care. Really? You're still not going to tell me?" Bonnie asked incredulously. How was she supposed to be there for her friend when she didn't even know what the problem was?
"I didn't call you to talk about men," Caroline replied, neatly dodging the interrogation. "I called to invite you to a party."
Blinking in surprise and glad to be sitting down, a feeling of déjà vu swept over Bonnie. There had been a time when an invite to a party from Caroline Forbes had been a near-monthly occurrence. However – just like Stefan, Katherine, Damon and Elena – Caroline had eventually been forced to leave Mystic Falls and the event planning business she'd managed for ten years. Even in a town used to turning a blind eye to the strange and unusual, an eternally seventeen-year-old party planner had begun to draw attention.
"A party," Bonnie repeated, wracking her brain for any upcoming occasion that merited one. "What kind of a party?"
"A birthday party."
"For who?"
"Katherine."
Bonnie's phone hit the floor with a clatter.
"Hello? Bonnie?" Caroline's voice sounded tinny and far away as Bonnie clumsily recovered from her shock and fumbled for the phone
"You're inviting me to Katherine's birthday party?" she exclaimed, her voice two octaves higher than normal. "Katherine Pierce? You've got to be kidding me."
Caroline sighed impatiently over the phone. "Yes, I am throwing Katherine a birthday party and I want you to be there."
Bonnie paused before stating flatly. "You can't be serious."
"I'm always serious about parties, Bon. You know this," Caroline retorted haughtily before her excitement clearly overcame her and the rest of her words gushed from her lips in a torrent. "It's going to be in Europe, in a castle in Bulgaria and it's going to be amazing. I've been there for the past few months planning and you will not believe this place, Bonnie, I'm telling you. It's a straight up medieval castle with a drawbridge and a dungeon and towers with those pointy roofs and a throne room. It has a throne room."
"Perfect for Queen Katherine," Bonnie muttered as Caroline continued to gush, unperturbed by her friend's less-than-enthusiastic response. It had been ten years since they'd all been together – Damon, Elena, Caroline, Tyler, Stefan, Katherine, Alaric , Jeremy and her – and things had changed in that time. Somehow, someway, Caroline and Katherine had bonded and become best friends in a strange, sire/siree way that Bonnie did her best not to think about.
It was just…too weird.
"And look, I'll even pay for your airfare if you don't have the money to spend right now," Caroline's bright chatter cut through Bonnie's thoughts, bringing her back to her living room and the present moment.
"You're not paying for my airfare," Bonnie replied, wondering what kind of present she'd get for a five hundred year old, spoiled and already wealthy vampire.
"Well, I'm not letting you use money as an excuse not to come."
"How about my job?"
"Everyone has vacation time."
"How about the fact that I don't like Katherine?"
"No one likes Katherine except me and Stefan, that's not the point," Caroline answered matter-of-factly.
"Caroline, I love you," Bonnie began. "But there's no way I'm going to fly to a Bulgarian castle to celebrate Katherine's anyth-."
"I'm inviting everyone."
The vague phrase stopped the witch mid-word, reaching into her chest and wrapping around her heart to squeeze. The old pain flared to life, morphing from a dull ache into a sharp stab of sorrow and regret. "Everyone?" she whispered, hardly recognizing her own voice.
"Yup," Caroline replied with forced cheer.
Damon and Elena. Bonnie hadn't seen either one of them in seven years. Not since… Blinking away the tears suddenly stinging her eyes, she asked. "How do you…how do you know where they are?"
"Damon was wasted when Stefan called him the other night and the dummy actually answered his phone," the blonde vampire explained. "It didn't take much to get him to slip up. I got on the first available flight to the States and now I'm on my way to Chicago."
"Chicago?" Bonnie repeated, her eyes widening in surprise and alarm.
"Returning to the scene of the crime, I guess," Caroline muttered. "I hear all crazed serial killers do it."
"Not funny," the witch murmured.
"I know," the vampire admitted by way of apology. A heavy silence fell over the line as Bonnie toyed with the idea of actually seeing her oldest friend again. With everything that had happened, the prospect was both exhilarating and terrifying.
Mostly terrifying.
"Do you really think…" Bonnie swallowed past the lump in her throat before continuing. "Do you really think that you can get everyone there?"
"I don't expect Tyler to show, but otherwise…" Caroline paused before adding a determined. "Yes."
A part of Bonnie wanted to ask her how she'd do it, how she'd make the impossible happen, but most of her just wanted to accept and believe in the blonde's unique brand of magic – the magic that had always made every event she'd planned since high school a fabulous success.
Classes be damned, she thought with a determined nod. "Then I'll be there."
"Excellent!" Caroline cried, turning back into the bubbly cheerleader she'd never really outgrown. "I'll get in touch with you about the details but my flight's boarding, so I've got to go. I love you!"
"Love you, too," Bonnie replied. "Good luck," she added before hanging up the phone. Fragile hope wrapped around her heart, digging its painful thorns into the tender muscle. Caroline needed to deliver. She wasn't sure that she'd survive the disappointment if she didn't.
"What kind of party is Caroline planning now?"
Nearly dropping her phone again, Bonnie looked toward the kitchen to find Jeremy standing in the doorway. "Oh my…you scared me!" she gasped, her shock quickly melting into the familiar warmth she always felt when Jeremy Gilbert appeared in a room.
"Sorry," he smirked, clearly not sorry at all as he crossed the living room to stand next to the couch. "Next time I'll be louder."
"You better," she replied with a grin, tossing a throw pillow at him.
"I said I will," he laughed, ducking out of the pillow's path with ease. "So, what's Caroline up to?"
Hesitating, Bonnie's smile faltered slightly as she took in Jeremy's still boyish features. She used spells and charms to stay looking young, but time had barely touched the boy she'd fallen in love with so long ago. A few fine lines around his eyes were the only flaws that marked the passing of years.
She really didn't want to add to them by bringing up painful subjects.
"I'll let you know if she pulls it off," Bonnie replied with a coy shrug as she rose to her feet. "I have to go or my students will invoke the five minute rule."
"I thought that was a myth?"
"It is, until they do it," she said as she wrapped her scarf around her neck and dug her sunglasses out of her purse. "See you tonight?"
Jeremy nodded. "Nowhere else I'd rather be."
"Ooo, smooth, Gilbert," she teased, letting herself out of the front door and into the Virginia sunshine. "So smooth."
His laughter followed her to her car, a simple and joyful counterpoint to the tumultuous emotions that Caroline's unexpected invitation had stirred up within her heart. She would always be grateful that she and Jeremy had been allowed a second chance to get it right, even if it had come out of something…well, awful.
Nothing's perfect.
Sliding behind the wheel of her car, she tossed her bag into the backseat before starting the ignition and buckling herself in. Reaching up, she adjusted the mirror and nearly choked on her second huge surprise of the morning as a startled cry erupted from her throat.
"Grams!"
"Bonnie," her grandmother announced grimly from the previously empty backseat. "We need to talk."
Exhausted and dangerously hungry, Caroline eyed the bellhop longingly as he opened the door for her and dragged her luggage into the suite. She'd planned on going hunting later, after she'd checked into her hotel, showered and tracked down Damon, but she could feel the pressure of her fangs against her gums, could already taste the warm blood flowing down her throat.
If I wait, I might lose control, she reasoned as the bellhop did a sweep of the room, making sure that there were enough towels and that the minibar was fully stocked. The smart thing to do would be to feed now before something happened that she couldn't take back.
Sure, Forbes.
"Will there be anything else, miss?" the bellhop – Charles, his nametag stated – asked pleasantly.
"No, thank you," she replied, smiling sadly as he turned around and walked out of the door. There was no way she'd lose control. Her control was legendary – in another hundred years, it might even be as legendary as Stefan's Ripper hijinks.
Hating herself for not being more like every other vampire that she knew, Caroline flopped down on the king-sized bed and stared at the ceiling. Chicago. It had been seven years since she'd been in the Windy City and after what had happened, she'd hoped not to return for at least a century.
So much for that.
Why are Damon and Elena here? she wondered, closing her eyes as she relaxed into the plush mattress. Why not New York or Vegas or anywhere else? The Chicago skyline had taunted her from the plane as they'd made their descent, calling to mind images of mangled bodies and blood – so much blood. During the seemingly endless cab ride from the airport to the hotel, she'd been unable to tear her gaze away from the innocent humans going about their lives. They had reminded her of the ones who hadn't survived that night seven years ago, giving rise to the guilt and sense of failure that was never far from her mind. She'd been so sure of herself and the plan that night – embarrassingly arrogant and naïve – they all had been.
Well, everyone except Damon, of course.
The reality of her situation hit her suddenly, shaking her confidence in her plan. Damon – if she even found him – would think that she was crazy. A party for Katherine? He wouldn't want to go. Not in a million years. She'd be lucky if he'd even talk to her. She'd probably have better luck approaching Elena, but that…
Caroline shuddered.
That wasn't an option.
Drawing a deep breath, she pushed herself to a seated position and reached for her purse, retrieving her tablet. Flicking a few buttons, she brought it to life and placed a call. In a few seconds, Stefan's tired smile filled the screen.
"Made it okay, I see."
"I just checked in," she nodded, an involuntary smile tugging at her lips upon seeing her best friend's face. Midnight in Chicago meant it was eight o'clock in the morning in Bulgaria and judging by Stefan's sleepy countenance, he hadn't been awake for long. Katherine – unsurprisingly – was nowhere to be seen.
"Are you sure that you want to do this, Care?" he asked, sipping from a white mug that either contained blood or coffee – the thought of both made her mouth water again and she was momentarily distracted.
"Do what?" she countered, relaxing into the wonderfully comfortable pillows.
"Track down Damon," Stefan clarified, setting the mug down on the glass topped patio table that she could picture clearly in her head. Life at the villa in Katherine's home country had been beautiful and idyllic and Caroline had hated to leave, but parties didn't plan themselves and she was determined to make Katherine's five hundred and nineteenth birthday unforgettable.
And if it happened to bring everyone back together – including Tyler, Damon and Elena – and fixed them, made them like they'd been ten years ago before it had happened, then she was more than willing to track Damon down.
"Yes," she replied crisply, her mouth set in a determined line as she nodded for emphasis. "He's part of our family and he needs to be there."
"I've told you a million times, Caroline," Katherine's voice carried through the electronic device from the other side of the world before her face actually appeared. Clad in a short, black silk robe with her hair piled high on her head, she sat gracefully on Stefan's lap and crossed her bare legs. "I don't need Damon and Elena at this party."
Well, I do, Caroline thought to herself, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety in her gut. She'd been grappling with the sensation for ten years, but in the last six months, ever since the night she and Tyler had had their final screaming match – and for the first time in over twenty years of breaking up and getting back together, he'd been the one to walk out – it had been worse than ever.
She and Tyler hadn't spoken since the night he'd walked out, leading her to believe – and fear – that this time it was for real. This time it was really over. Her stomach rolled with nausea. She didn't know what to do with herself without Tyler. Together or not, they'd always been in some form of a relationship and to lose it so suddenly at the age of forty-five…
The knot of anxiety in her stomach turned into a boulder.
Oh my god, I'm having a midlife crisis, she realized with irritation. Pushing the thoughts aside, she forced her trademark bright smile to her face and focused her attention on the screen of her tablet. "You can joke all you want, Kat, but I know you love Damon, too," she insisted, telling herself that the sight of Katherine and Stefan cuddling like a couple of high schoolers in love didn't make her want to jab her eyes out and binge on cheesy romantic comedies. "Elena's part of the deal and besides, more people attending means more presents for you."
Making a face, Katherine groaned and closed her eyes, resting her forehead against Stefan's crown. Smirking, he rubbed a comforting hand up her bare thigh and raised a brow at Caroline. "If you're sure you know what you're getting into."
"Hey, I am not a baby vampire anymore," she snapped, rolling her eyes at her friends. "And I've dealt with cranky Damon before, okay? Stop acting like I'm about to face a den of psychotic hunters or werewolves or something."
Stefan's features sobered as he dropped his gaze. "You haven't seen him like this, Care. Trust me." Looking at her again, he tightened his grip on Katherine. "This is…different."
"It's his own fault," Katherine muttered, her words muffled by Stefan's shoulder as she curled up like a cat on his lap. "Everyone knew it would happen. It always happens. It comes with being a vamp-."
"Stop," Caroline whispered, closing her eyes and her mind against the onslaught of ten-year-old memories. Swallowing, she forced the horrific images away and took a breath before opening her eyes. Stefan's concerned gaze stared back at her. "It doesn't matter what happened in the past, what matters is now and now it is time to celebrate your birthday, Katherine." Sitting up straighter, she pushed her long blond hair off of her face and lifted her chin. "So, where exactly did Damon say that he was?"
Closing the tablet with a decisive click, Caroline determinedly grabbed her purse. She was going to get her family back – no matter what it took.
Staring at the plain glass of bourbon, Damon idly wondered if anyone really understood how much work it took to be drunk twenty-four hours a day. Not falling down stupid drunk – that was easy, just swallow as much of the stuff as fast and often as possible – but fuzzy drunk, numb drunk. The kind of drunk where the drinker could still function, but all of those pesky emotions and feelings that drove them to the bottle in the first place were just out of reach.
It took effort. It took knowing one's limits.
And for a vampire, it took a hell of a lot of alcohol.
Here's to the poor man's humanity switch, Damon thought, tipping back the glass and swallowing the amber elixir in a single gulp. He barely felt the burn as he gestured at the bartender for another. He missed the burn, missed the warmth as it slid down his throat and into his stomach, but as long as it did its job, he wouldn't complain.
Numb.
Empty.
Nothing.
Bullshit.
Sobering instantly, Damon growled low in his throat and dropped his head as what little buzz he'd had going vanished. That was the trouble with being a vampire – or at least the trouble with being him – all it took was one reminder of what his life was really like – just a tiny bit of truth – and all of his hard work went right down the fucking drain.
Grabbing the bartender by the wrist as he set his new drink down in front of him, Damon caught his eye and pushed some compulsion at him. "Bring me the damn bottle," he ordered before releasing the man and gulping down his bourbon.
The bar was a hole in the wall on a side street in downtown Chicago. Booths lined one wall from the door in front to the kitchen in the very back, the padded seats torn and scuffed in the dim glow of the bare low-wattage bulbs. The bar itself ran along the other side until half way back where it gave way to some rickety high tops and a lone pool table. The floor was permanently sticky from years of spilled drinks, the high shelf liquor was abysmal and Damon was pretty sure he'd seen a rat shit in the sink behind the bar. The place was disgusting and none of that mattered.
Damon didn't care.
He wasn't there for the company or the atmosphere.
He was there for Elena.
Always Elena.
It always came back to her
The bartender returned with the bottle of bourbon, setting it down in front of Damon with a blank expression before returning to his work. Turning his attention to the dusty, smudged front window, the vampire looked across the street to a neon sign glowing above a black awning. A line of people waited behind a velvet rope in the chilly night outside of the door as a bouncer the size of a mac truck stood guard at the door.
Elena was there.
Hours ago, she'd walked past the long line, straight up to the bouncer and within seconds had been ushered inside. Damon had watched from his seat in the bar, a hint of a smile touching his lips. He doubted that she'd used even a hint of compulsion – not in that short, black dress that showed off her long, bare legs to perfection.
He pictured her in there now, having the time of her life. The heat from all of those moving bodies would make her make-up smudge a bit and her long, dark hair frizz, but she'd still be the most beautiful woman in the room, drawing lustful stares from men and women. They'd all flock to her, like moths to the flame, not only because of her vampiric nature but also because Elena Gilbert had that effect on everyone she met. They'd do anything to dance with her, to be around her, while she sampled their blood in small, hedonistic sips.
Fuck, I really want to be drunk.
Closing his eyes, he shoved those thoughts aside and took a swig from the bottle of bourbon. The liquor raced down his throat, settling at the pit of his stomach like boulders as he slammed the bottle back down on the scarred surface of the bar almost hard enough to break the glass. Opening his eyes, he looked toward the window again and nearly fell off of his stool.
Standing just inside the door, in all of her blonde, perpetual prom queen glory, was Caroline Forbes.
What the hell?
"Hi, Damon," she said with a smile he recognized from another lifetime. He stared, thoughts of Elena momentarily sidelined as he tried to wrap his fuzzy brain around the fact that Caroline was really there, standing in front of him. She wore an expectant expression, as if they'd made plans to meet and he was an idiot for having forgotten.
How did she even find…?
Scowling, he shook his head. "Goddammit, Stefan."
Having succeeded in drinking himself into oblivion two nights ago, Damon had nearly convinced himself that his most recent conversation with his younger brother had been an alcohol induced nightmare – but the blonde now standing before him proved otherwise. He couldn't remember a word of what he and his brother had discussed, but he'd obviously let something slip.
Yet another fresh hell I've created for myself.
"Nice to see you, too," Caroline sighed, making a face as she strode toward the bar and claimed the seat next to him. Taking another slug of bourbon, Damon stared at the surface of the bar, running his fingertips over the scratches and gouges left by decades of patrons. It had been six years – no, seven years – since he'd seen Caroline. Since he'd seen any of them.
He couldn't decide if he'd missed them.
Flashing her sunny grin, the blonde flagged down the bartender and ordered a Cosmo without the barest hint of irony. The forty-something behind the counter mixed the drink without complaint, even digging out a martini glass – much to Damon's surprise – before placing it on a napkin in front of her. Primly, she picked it up and took a sip, her gaze wandering over the assorted patrons with seeming innocence, but he knew what she was doing – the same thing all vampires did when they found themselves surrounded by a crowd of unsuspecting humans.
Perusing the menu.
"Aren't you going to say something?" Caroline asked after nearly ten minutes of silence – nine more than Damon had expected to get. Silently, he took another drink as she continued. "I traveled all day, on five different planes, I might add. Vampire or not, do you have any idea what that much recycled air does to your skin? My face feels like the Sahara."
Closing his eyes, Damon rubbed the back of his neck and turned his attention to the window and the club across the street, mentally cursing his new drinking companion. He didn't have time for this, didn't have the energy to deal with Caroline-fucking-Forbes.
"I haven't even eaten since…yesterday morning," she continued unperturbed, narrowing her eyes as she calculated the time difference. "I'm starving. I'm so hungry I could eat this entire bar."
She said it with a laugh and a wink at the bartender, but Damon knew that it was a warning.
"How is that my problem?" he asked. "I didn't invite you here."
"The least you could do is say hi to an old friend," she chided.
Tearing his gaze away from the window, he glared at her. "Hi," he said through clenched teeth. "Now why don't you leave so I can get back to-."
"Back to what, Damon?" Caroline asked, raising a brow. "Drinking and brooding?"
"Back to my life," he snapped. "A life that hasn't included you for seven years. Ever since you rode out of Chicago on that judgy high horse of yours."
The blonde bristled but otherwise refused to rise to the bait. "Nice life, Salvatore. Next you're going to tell me that all of these bar flies are your besties."
"Maybe," he shrugged.
"Ugh, you are so…" Closing her eyes, she took a breath to steady herself. "Don't you want to know why I'm here?"
"Not especially."
"Damon!"
He took another sip of his bourbon, studiously avoiding her gaze.
Silence reigned before Caroline let out a huff of exasperation, grabbed the bottle out of his hand, and threw it to the floor. The wood was worn enough that it didn't break, merely bounced once—twice-before rolling across the floor and coming to a stop against the far wall, its contents spilling to the ground.
Furious, Damon lifted his gaze to meet the unblinking stare of an equally furious Caroline.
Defiantly, he signaled the bartender for another.
"Don't you dare!" Caroline hissed as the bartender brought over another bottle.
Lifting the bottle to his lips, he went to take a healthy swallow, only to have the opening pushed down, spilling the liquor into his lap before he was able to right it.
"Goddammit, fine," he growled, slamming the bottle of bourbon down on the surface of the bar as he turned on the stool to face her. "Let me guess. My brother sent you here to check up on me after I answered my phone the other night and like a goddamn asshole told him one too many specific details, leading him to figure out where I was." The words tasted bitter in his mouth, full of self-loathing. He'd been ignoring Stefan's phone calls for years, keeping the brotherly relationship going with vaguely worded texts so that there'd be no search parties or rescue missions.
Damon didn't need either. He was fine. He and Elena were fine. This was just a phase, something that every vampire had to go through at some point or another and when it was all over, they'd go back to the way that things had been.
They'd be perfect again.
Two nights ago, however, he'd been…weak. Drunk and missing her more than ever, noting her absence in a way that he hadn't since before they'd gotten together. He'd answered his phone without thinking, without even looking at the caller ID, harboring the vain, ridiculous hope that it would be Elena's voice on the other end.
Instead, it had been fucking Stefan.
Ironically, his brother's voice had been welcome that night, a respite from the loneliness and the memories. Their conversation, the actual words, weren't even a hazy memory now, but clearly he'd revealed far too much in his pathetic state. Not only had he given his brother cause for concern, he'd felt the need to send out a search party.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
"Tell Stefan that I'm fine," he said. "He can call off the intervention."
"Stefan didn't send me."
Damon scoffed. "What do you mean he didn't send you?"
"This isn't an intervention, Damon," Caroline said, trying and failing to not look smug over the fact that she'd surprised him. "This isn't even about you, really. It's about Katherine."
"Katherine?"
"I'm throwing her a party," she continued, unzipping her purse and digging through the contents for a moment. "A huge, extravagant, amazing party for her five-hundred and nineteenth birthday. It's going to be in a castle in Bulgaria near where she grew up. An actual castle with a dungeon and towers. It doesn't have a moat or a drawbridge though, but that's okay. It's still awesome. Here."
She held out an envelope made of thick, expensive paper. Glancing down, Damon saw his and Elena's names elegantly scrawled across the surface in black ink.
"An invitation," he said, eyeing the object as if it might come to life and attack him. "Seriously?"
"Well, what did you expect," she snipped. "A text message? Damon, when I throw a party, I throw it right."
With effort, he kept his jaw from hitting the bar as he stared at her. Caroline's priorities had always been skewed, but this brought crazy to an entirely new level. She'd tracked him down in Chicago to personally invite him and Elena to a birthday party for fucking Katherine – the vampire who'd made most of his long life a living hell and had only recently become a true ally. Seven years ago, Caroline had witnessed the reality of his and Elena's life firsthand and still…
She wanted to throw a party.
"Unbelievable," he muttered, ignoring the invite as he gulped his liquor.
"What is that, a no?"
"I figure 'no' pretty much went without saying," he retorted, glancing across the street at the line of people still clamoring to get into the club. He was certain that Elena was still inside, but if Caroline and her stupid party invitation had made him miss her, he'd be pissed.
Well, more pissed.
"Look, Damon-."
"Caroline, I'm not gonna 'look' at anything," he snapped, reaching the end of his patience. "There's no way in hell I'm going to a goddamn birthday party for Katherine of all people and I can guarantee that Elena won't be caught dead there, so why don't you get on another plane and head back to my brother? You can tell him that you tried and we can go another seven years without seeing each other."
"No."
"Excuse me?" he replied incredulously, a spark of rage igniting in his chest. He hadn't felt an emotion this powerful in years, but the sheer audacity of Caroline's appearance, of her goddamn invite, made his eyes burn and his fangs prick against his gums.
"No," Caroline replied, her mouth set in the firm, uncompromising line that Damon recognized from many a town function. Leaning forward, she dropped the pretense of pleasantries. "It's been ten years. Ten years since…since everything went to hell and our family broke and I'm sick of it. I miss my friends, Damon, and that includes you, even if you are a fucking asshole most of the time."
She shoved the invitation across the bar until it was directly in front of him. "I understand that you're trying to be all Zen about this and let Elena figure it out on her own because 'it's something that every vampire goes through,'" she continued, throwing mocking air quotes around the mantra he'd apparently repeated one too many times. "That's very perfect boyfriend-y of you, but you know what? I haven't gone through it and I have no intention of flipping my humanity switch and leaving my friends behind because life decided to shit all over me."
Damon tensed, wanting to jump to Elena's defense, or rip Caroline's head off, but the blonde didn't give him a chance to do either. "It's time to bring her back, Damon. Time to make her remember the people who love her and need her and just really, really miss her."
He swallowed, glancing down at the cream colored envelope. "And you think that a birthday party for Katherine is going to make Elena flip her switch?"
"I don't know," Caroline shrugged, sliding off of the stool as she shouldered her purse. "But I'm inviting everyone and you know I'll get them there. Seeing her family may make her remember what she's missing."
Turning away from him, she headed for the door, getting halfway there before whirling around and facing him one last time. "You were right," she said, meeting his eye with obvious effort. "Seven years ago, you were right and we were wrong. We should have listened to you," she admitted, hitching her purse higher on her shoulder. "But that was then. Your way hasn't changed anything, so maybe it's time to try something else. "
"Clever, Forbes," Damon scoffed, turning his attention back to his bottle of bourbon and taking a drink. He tried not to give into the old anger that threated to consume him at the blonde's admission that they'd all fucked up seven years ago by not listening to him. If there was one thing he'd learned in his almost two hundred years it was that dwelling on the past was pointless. "Appealing to my vanity, but what makes you think that I know where Elena is?"
"Please," Caroline rolled her eyes as a satisfied smile curved her lips. "The party's a week from Friday."
Turning around, she left without a goodbye, leaving Damon alone in the bar with a half empty bottle of bourbon, damp pants, a fancy party invitation and a feeling of indignation in his gut that he hadn't felt in years. Goddamn Caroline Forbes. She knew him too well, knew that the prospect of helping Elena, no matter how remote, would get him to do anything.
Picking up the invitation, he eyed it skeptically.
A birthday party. For Katherine.
Shaking his head, he tucked the envelope into the inner pocket of his jacket, chugged down some more bourbon and slipped off of the bar stool. There was no fucking way that Elena would accept Caroline's invitation.
But, Damon thought with a grim smile as he headed across the street to the club. It might just get him in the door.
So...what do you think?