Beck and Call

By Maia's Pen

Chapter 1

I miss the sound of her heartbeat. I want to tell her so, but I won't because that would sound creepy. Given our current kidnapped-and-held-captive situation, I'm guessing that Elena Gilbert is creeped-out enough as it is. I'll keep my longings for the euphonious functioning of her cardiovascular system to myself. I do possess self-control despite what the residents of Mystic Falls may believe. The fact that I am trapped in this vampire-escape -proof cell with Elena and Stefan and have not dropkicked his head in proves it.

I blame Stefan -not for us presently being held prisoner, I have no damned clue what this is all about. I blame Stefan for allowing Elena to die. That's right: I. BLAME. STEFAN. Stefan Salvatore, all-powerful vampire who can snap a tree trunk like a toothpick, but can't handle dragging two measly humans out of a submerged car at the same time. I am astounded that he can eat with chopsticks or ride a bike. Rescuing Elena and Matt should have been child's-play. What's wrong with him? Has animal blood diluted his coordination? Made him that unforgivably weak? If I had been in Stefan's position I could have saved them both. But, if for some reason I had to choose, hands-down it would have been Elena. Matt would be a waterlogged corpse. Why? Because she is Elena and I will always save her. I can't not save her. I don't give two shits how pissed-off she would have been or if she had fought me kicking and screaming all the way to the surface. I would have saved Elena and be listening to her melodious heartbeat right now. I will bask in her hatred any day over her nonexistence.

The fact that Elena chose Stefan over me, again, changes nothing. The fact that she now possesses fangs and bloodlust changes nothing. I must be addicted to wretchedness; thrive on being the bad brother. When it comes to Elena I'm an emotional masochist. There was a nano-second where I thought that if she loved me that I could be a better me . . . ah, to hell with that. Better Damon sounds stupid, Bad Damon is much cooler.

"Damon, do you hear anything?"

"Are you really going to ask me the same question twelve times, Brother?"

"Well, do you?" Stefan's voice is drenched in desperate demand. I don't have to look at him to see the worry creasing his brow; he's such a nervous-nelly. He's been like this since he was two and he's gotten worse with age. He needs to relax, take a lesson from a vintage bottle of Cabernet. Stefan is lucky that he is not still human or he'd have given himself a nervous-breakdown before his hair turned grey. "Do you think the Originals are behind this? Or maybe the leftover Klaus hybirds? I can't figure out why I feel so weak and why we can't break out of this cell. What could this door possibly be locked with?" To make his point Stefan jiggles the door handle for the millionth time; and for the millionth time the door doesn't budge.

I squint, pinching the skin between my eyebrows in lieu of the flesh from his face. "Let's be silent, Brother. We don't know who could be eavesdropping so we should keep our theories to ourselves. By the way, that's thirteen."

Of course I want to escape, but we can't. Of course I want to know what the hell is going on and why we were abducted, but I don't. The only thing that we can do is conserve our energy, sit tight and wait. Our vamp-nappers are bound to show up eventually.

I'm not exactly sure how we got here, in this cell; I just know that we were ambushed and abducted. After Elena awoke from death as a vampire, Stefan convinced her to drink human blood and complete the transition. With her transition finished, Doctor Fell was comfortable releasing her into Stefan's custody, which I'm fairly certain, was this morning. Of course it is impossible to gauge time when you have been unconscious for god-knows how long.

I picked-up Stefan and Elena at the hospital and drove them to the boarding house. The drive was a touch awkward because Elena was ignoring me, but at least Stefan seemed as normal as Stefan can be. Elena must not have told him about our conversation prior to her death, the one where she chose him. Anyway, I'm not sure how to explain what happened next . . . our kidnappers were waiting for us. As we walked from the car to the front porch they darted us. Darted us as in shot us with medicated darts. The idea itself is laughable because I could be shot-up with enough tranquilizers to take down a bull elephant and stay on my feet. These kidnapers -their little vampire heist - was legit, impeccably well-planned. I don't know what they laced those darts with but it was not Vervain, it was worse. As far as I have been aware in my nearly two centuries of existence: Vervain has been our one and only true weakness, so it's a tad unnerving to realize that there is now something else, some bizarre drug that can lay us out-flat in an instant.

The accuracy of our abductors aim was unbelievable, we didn't even hear them coming. Sneaking up on three vampires is an impressive feat. All I remember is the pop-pop-pop -sound. Being a new vampire Elena was the most vulnerable and she went down first. Not surprisingly I-don't-drink-human-blood-right-now-Stefan went down next, followed by me. We all woke up here, about an hour ago, with bad headaches and even worse outfits. For some reason our captors dressed all three of us in identical black and red checkered hospital gowns, which barely keep the draft off of my checks, if you know what I'm sayin'. To top it off we are being stored in this gross box of a room. It's barely a ten-by-ten foot space, no furnishings or windows, just a solid metal door and the delightful fragrance of mildew. The door won't budge at all. We've already tried breaking through; it's beyond any of our physical prowess. This room is not unlike the cell in our basement that was used to hold the late Evil Rick. I cringe at the memory of Rick's passing . . .

"Damon," Stefan seethes my name, yanking me from my silent mourning. "I definitely hear something. Will you please try to listen? It disturbs me that you can't hear this."

"It disturbs me that you were born without a brain."

"Damon, this really isn't the time-"

"Oh relax, Brother, at your age you should have learned how to take a joke by now-"

"Damon!" Elena shouts my name and like a well-trained dog I can't stop my sight from finding hers. Dammit, where is my impulse-control when I need it? When my self-preservation is on the line?

Dead Elena Gilbert is as disarmingly gorgeous as the living version. Physiologically I am no longer capable of blushing, and for that I am presently thankful. Looking into her eyes has always been my undoing; if she demands my attention I am helplessly at her beck and call. Loyal with every beat of my black heart . . . metaphorically speaking of course, since my heart hasn't properly functioned since 1864. Gee whiz, am I ever fixated on heartbeats today? I must be suffering withdrawal from Elena's.

Realization hits me like a wrecking-ball drenched in Vervain: Elena is an immortal vampire. Elena will spend eternity loving Stefan. I will spend eternity wising that she would love me instead, yada-yada, blah-blah. Oh, what a wonderful infinity I have ahead of me. I really need to get a hobby. Maybe I should download the new Angry Birds app?

"Damon! Are you listening?" Elena repeats her verbal assault, oblivious to the affect her voice has on me. I guess that puts me another notch up on the creep-o-meter, being captivated by her yelling at me qualifies as creepy. Elena has not spoken to me at all since she . . . died. I am hearing my name upon her blood-thirsty vampire lips for the very first time. That's hot. Yeah, creep-o-meter skyrocketing.

If Elena wants my attention; I'll give it to her. My sight holds its own against the acquisition in hers, but my valor is fleeting. The turmoil in her gaze is overwhelming: shades of sorrow, regret and resentment battle one another before all crashing down upon me - earth obliterates ice and I blink, my sight finding sanctuary upon a moldy crack in the tile floor. Elena is a far grander sight to behold, but at least the moldy crack doesn't make me want to gouge my own eyes out with my thumbs. Elena has never been so furious with me, not even when I snapped her brother's neck. I'm guessing that her subconscious has granted her a few welcoming gifts into vampirism. Gifts being a nice way of saying suppressed memories. A few suppressed compelled memories, to be exact. I don't have to ask, it's been on her face since she was reborn a bloodsucker: Elena remembers everything. Everything that I compelled her human-self to forget and I reckon that she is none too happy about it. In some ways it's actually a relief that she remembers, but it's also embarrassing . . . for one thing, she now recalls seeing me cry after my first confession of love to her. Oh well, it's not like I do it all the time. I'm still manly, dammit.

Manly and . . .

. . . and suddenly exhausted. I shift my weight, relaxing against the cool wall. Have I slept at all this decade?

Now Weariness smashes me like a sucker-punch from Klaus.

I'm on my ass. My legs have given out, totally collapsed beneath me - unreliable sons of bitches!

Stefan is talking to me, he sounds rushed, panicky, but for some reason I can't comprehend his words, it's like he is speaking an alien language.

Elena joins Stefan in looming over me, their faces look weird . . . worried? They look like freaky checkerboard aliens in those gowns . . . hmm . . . now whose topping the creep-o-meter? I vote for the loomy checkerboard alien twins.

Wha-? Where'd they go? Stefan and Elena are gone. Dead flesh replaced by blackness. The entire room is gone . . . utterly swallowed by the dark.

I must be inside of a coffin. Good, now I can finally rest.

Wait! This isn't normal . . . what am I thinking? My body-something-is . . .

. . . Shit! I'm cringing, cursing, bucking, oh god . . .

. . . There is lava in my veins! Molten lava sears through my right forearm. My body buckles, crumpling like a ball of burning paper. What is happening to me! My mind functions as my body is devoured by liquid flame!

I can feel Stefan at my side, supporting my weight, keeping my face from the floor. I hear him talking again, he sounds distant, but I am able to isolate a few words and they are not comforting: "He's convulsing!" Stefan announces my state as though Elena or I can actually do anything about it.

"Is he having a seizure?" Elena sounds terrified and I can feel her eyes upon me like twin searchlights, scanning for the source of my pain. Strange how I am ignorant to what is happening to my own body, yet so able to notice the proximity of hers – she is nearby, but physically distant, allowing Stefan to hold me.

"Damon!" Stefan's voice cracks, he is teetering over Panicville. He pulls me to my knees, forcing me to face him. "What the hell is wrong?"

On cue to his question I blink back to reality, as though I've just been injected with ice water, chasing away the unbearable lava burn. I shrug as nonchalantly as possible, my arms feel like wilting plants and I fail to shove Stefan away from me. "I dunno, I'm fine, quit hovering." I force a smile, knowing it looks fake.

Stefan clings to me like saran wrap, not at all deterred by my shoving attempt. "That didn't look fine! You were having a seizure or something, Damon!"

"Stefan's right, Damon, stop being so damn proud. You are HURT! JUST ADMIT IT!" Elena has gone full-out vamp-o: crimson veins burst around her eyes, lacing them like an intricate spider web tattoo. She is ravenous, dangerous, irate, panting, seething, crawling out of her skin and so unbearably sexy. Stefan and I both forget what the hell is going on and gape at her.

Elena hisses like a super bitchy feral cat, show-boating her pearly-white fangs. I smother a smirk. Elena is what I like to call hangry – something new vampires experience constantly - they are hungry and angry 24/7. Anything that ticks them off also makes them ravenous and visa-versa. Elena is unaware of her physical change and (thankfully) the fact that she's caused my gown to feel a smidge too tight in the frontal region. She continues her tantrum, fangs bared: "Why are you so selfish, Damon?"

Good Samaritan Stefan steps-in: "Elena, calm down. If Damon did not want us to know that he was injured, then that's his burden." Stefan coaches her, but does not let go of me or make any movement toward her. I think he is preparing to protect me, should she attack. It's times like these that I really adore my little bro. Stefan continues his well-meaning lecture: "It's normal for new vampires to overreact during emotional stress, but, Elena, you need to practice recognizing when you are overreacting so that you can rein yourself in."

God bless Stefan, that oblivious big-headed tart. He thinks Elena is just stressed out from her rebirth, transition and now being kidnapped. He does not even seem to notice the scalding sideways glares that she has been berating me with or the fact that this momentary hissy-fit contained more words than Elena's addressed me with since turning vampire. I'm not a rocket scientist but I know that her accusing me of being selfish had nothing to do with me supposedly hiding my injury. How ironic that we three have been kidnapped and jailed and my priority is missing her heartbeat, hers is lancing me with bitch-eye, while Stefan is rightly concerned about what is going to happen to us. I'm off my game, usually I'm the planner.

"It's okay, Stefan," I finally manage to shrug out of his grasp. "I'm not sure what happened, my arm just started hurting . . ."

Both Stefan and Elena snap their full-attention upon me, making me feel very self-conscious.

"So does mine," Elena indicates to her to her right forearm.

"And mine," Stefan frowns, "though not as much as yours obviously, that can't be a coincidence."

"Thank you for stating the obvious Stefan!" Elena snarls, causing a resurgence of scarlet to garnish her eyes.

Stefan chooses not to acknowledge her new vampire PMS. "Damon, what do you think our shared arm pain means? Do you think Elena or I might suffer a convulsion too?"

I grind my teeth; apparently he thinks that I have magically obtained a medical degree in vampire science. I am freaked out by whatever-the-hell caused me to convulse and I am working really hard not to show it. Usually when I am this freaked I'll just devour a teenage girl or at least a bottle of bourbon, since I don't currently have access to either I remind myself not to punch him in the knee and I answer truthfully: "No clue, but god only knows what our kidnapers could have done to us while we've been out cold. They could have extracted every bone in our forearm and we'd never really know. We've obviously been out long enough to nearly heal from whatever it was." I roll up my sleeve, proving that there are no physical signs of tampering.

"Well, we may find out soon," Stefan warns, rushing to the door. "Damon, I swear that I hear something. I think someone is coming!"

I roll my eyes and my brother gives me one of his mature good, noble Stefan looks – the one that is disappointed in me for not taking the impending doom of our immortal lives seriously. No matter how many times I disappoint him, he always seems to think that it's the last time. His misguided faith in me is flatteringly irritating right now. I don't respond to his comment about someone coming, I don't hear anything and I have nothing to say (it happens once or twice in a decade). I choose to remain seated on this cold, hard, fungi-infested floor and admire the masterpiece which is Stefan and Elena. She joins him to listen at the door, he enfolds her in his arms and she cuddles against his chest. The décor of bloodlust instantly fades from her eyes and she looks like my Elena again. Got to love new vamp mood swings. Stefan plants a soft kiss upon her head and they make lovey-dovey eye contact. How sweet, I bet they thought they'd have all of eternity to spend canoodling together, but now, with this sudden twist of fate their time together may be in jeopardy. Boo-hoo- hoo-wah-wah- whatever.

I am in need of a distraction and so I humor Stefan and tilt my head toward the door to listen. His eyes have narrowed into worrisome jade slits, his mouth forming an unflattering frown. "Hear it?" Stefan presses.

"Is that fourteen times? Fifteen? I'm losing track. You are persistent, Brother. Persistent and paranoid."

"He's right, Damon," Elena spits my name like venom upon her tongue. "I hear it too, footsteps?"

I sigh and listen harder; as much as I hate to admit it, the lovebirds are right. I'm not sure why my hearing was not up-to-par a moment ago, but now I can hear the footsteps coming. They are coming fast. In fact there are four unique sets headed our way, seemingly traveling down some sort of lengthy corridor. What's more interesting is that they are human. I can hear heartbeats and blood pumping through veins; a twinge of hunger rushes me and I have to concentrate to keep my façade human. Across the room I see Elena's eyes darken again, she covers her face with her hands, struggling to regain composure. Stefan's arms are around her, but not in a tender, lover's way - he is prepared to forcibly restrain her should she lose control and try to eat whoever stands opposite that door. I am also ready - ready to sacrifice my undead life for Elena as I sacrificed my human one for Katherine.

The humans don't knock, they barge right in.

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NOTE: Hiya! This will be a short story, just a few chapters in length. After watching the Season 3 finale my Muse would NOT let me rest until I banged this story out. I have never read the VD books, only watched the show, so I am not an expert. I am merely a Demon-obsessed fan girl. xD I hope you enjoy my little story. Feedback is always appreciated. Best wishes, Maia's Pen