Setting Things Right
DG32173

Sarah: Here's chapter one. I hope you enjoy.

DISCLAIMER
Seriously, people. I can't even claim ownership to this theme, so how can I possibly own The Vampire Diaries? I can't. The only thing I can claim ownership of is what I write.

REVIEW REPLIES
Wow, I only had the prologue up for a few hours and when I checked back on it I already had three reviews! TVDiariesObsessed, Meskin10, and Destiny4eva, thank you so much for your lovely reviews! I'm glad you enjoyed the prologue and thought it was more original than I felt like it was. It will keep getting more original as we continue. This is an especially long chapter. I had already written it, but I post it in dedication to you three. Again, thanks for the kind reviews.


Chapter 1
Georgia

As I blink my eyes open, I see the Georgian scenery going by outside the passenger window of Damon's car. I turn my head to the left. And he's there. Damon's there, alive. I have three months to set things right so he doesn't die on Founder's Day.

"Morning," he says, sending me a smirk.

I look around. I can't give any hint that I know what is going on. "Where are we going?" I ask, shifting in my seat to get more comfortable

He raises an eyebrow at me. "A little place outside Atlanta," he replies. "We're almost there."

"Okay," I say.

Both eyebrows are up at that. "Okay?" he repeats. "Are you sure you don't have a concussion?"

"I'm fine, why?"

"I expected you to put up one helluva fight about this," he replies with a shrug.

"Even if I wanted to put up a fight, which I don't, it wouldn't do much good. You're the one driving," I point out. "And I do need a break from what's been going on in my life." That's the truth! "Spending that break from life with you sounds fun."

"I'll get you home safely," he promises. Then my phone rings. He pulls it out of his back pocket, glances at it, and then offers it to me. "It's your boyfriend." How could I not have noticed that touch of jealousy in his voice the first time around?

I take the phone and turn it on. "Hello, Stefan," I say.

"Elena? Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. I'm with Damon. I'll talk to you when we get back."

"You're with Damon? Tell me where you are. I'll come get you."

"Yeah, about that," I say slowly. "I don't need you to come get me. I'm safe with Damon." Damon glances at me curiously at that before turning his eyes back to the road. "And before you start to assume anything, no, he is not compelling me. So, like I said, I'll talk to you when we get back. Don't call back, because I won't answer. Bye, Stefan." I hang up on his protests. Then I settle back in my seat, sending a smirk at Damon.

He chuckles. "So, the kitten has the makings of a tigress in her, huh?" he teases.

"You better believe it," I tell him smugly. A flood of euphoria surges through me at being able to hear that once-hated nickname fall from his lips again.

"What's got you so hyped up?" he asks.

I send him a sly grin. "Wouldn't you like to know?" I tease.

"You just woke up in my car, in Georgia, after being in a car crash. You aren't demanding that I turn around and take you back to Mystic Falls. You've practically got this glow of happiness around you. You told my brother to leave you alone until we get back, something you would not have done yesterday. You even let me call you kitten. I think I have a right to know if you're going crazy, considering I'm pretty much responsible for you until I get you home," he retorts.

I chuckle. He would never believe the truth. "I'm not going crazy. I'm just very happy right now," I reply.

He raises an eyebrow at that. "That's not really an answer, you know," he points out when I stay silent.

"That's all the answer you're getting," I retort. "I plan on having fun on this break from life."

He rolls his eyes as we finally reach the small town Bree's Bar is in. We pull into the bar's parking lot. He glances at me when I don't protest as we get out. "No protests?" he asks.

"I just hope you know a way of getting me in without a fake ID. Mine's at home," I reply.

He chuckles as he leads me inside. I watch with barely suppressed jealousy as the overenthusiastic greeting between him and Bree plays out. He'll be mine soon enough. I'll make sure of it. Then she's asking me how Damon roped me in. "I don't know how he managed to pull it off," I tell her honestly, causing her to laugh. Next to me, Damon nearly chokes on the shot glass of bourbon. He was expecting me to deny being roped in, not 'play along' as he probably thinks I'm doing. As he reaches for my shot glass, I snatch it away and down it.

Damon gives me a pointed look. I know what he wants to talk about. "I'm calling Jenna," I say, grabbing my cell phone and walking outside to stand next to the Camaro. I select Jenna's name from my contact list and hit talk.

"Elena? What happened? Where were you last night?" she demands.

"About that," I say slowly, deciding to give her a heavily watered down version of the truth. "I was at Stefan's. We had a fight and I left. I kind of crashed my car. Don't worry! Damon got me out and made sure I was okay. He decided I need a break from Stefan and took me on a road trip with him."

Jenna sighs, obviously annoyed. "Why did you agree to go on a road trip right after a car crash?" she demands.

"I wasn't exactly asked. I sort of fainted in his arms from the overload of stress. By the time I woke up, we were already a couple states away, I know he'll keep me safe and bring me home in one piece, so I decided to roll with it."

"Stefan called, trying to find out where you are. He sounded upset."

"Stefan doesn't have the right to be upset. I'm the one who was lied to about something of major importance. If he calls again, tell him that I'm out of state and that you don't know which state I'm in. You won't even be lying."

Jenna chuckles. "Well, if he lied about something that important and you caught him in the lie, he needs to be able to handle the consequences," she agrees. "I'll figure out something to tell the school."

"Thanks, Jenna. I knew you'd understand. See ya when I get back."

"Don't be gone too long. I don't have that good an imagination. I'll see you when you return. Love ya, kid."

"Love ya, Jenna." We hang up. Just as I turn to head back to the bar, Stefan calls again. I growl in frustration. Can't he take a hint? I answer. "Stefan, I said don't call back," I tell him angrily.

"Elena, you need to let me explain," he pleads.

"I don't need to do anything. You lied to me, Stefan. I can handle the truth. I can handle that you and Damon are vampires. I can handle that my best friend is a witch. I can even handle that I look exactly like Katherine for some damn reason. What I can't handle is that you lied to me about what she looks like," I snap.

"I'm sorry, Elena. I was trying to protect…," he starts, but I cut him off angrily.

"I don't need to be protected from the truth, Stefan. It comes out sooner or later, and liars always get caught eventually. I hate being lied to. If you call again, I will let voicemail pick up." I hang up as he tries to protest.

I turn around and jump when I see Damon behind me. "You okay?" he asks, searching my face.

"As okay as I can be when I keep getting calls from someone I don't want to talk to," I tell him.

He smirks, wraps an arm around my shoulder, and leads me inside. "Well, I ordered us some food," he says conversationally. "Considering you missed breakfast this morning and I doubt you had dinner last night, I figured you'd be hungry."

"Starving, actually," I agree as we walk through the door. Bree sits the burgers and fries in front of us and passes Damon a beer. "I'll have one, too," I pipe up.

"Hmm?" he asks around a mouthful of French Fries, glancing at me.

"I figured I might as well enjoy this break from life to the fullest," I tell him with a grin.

Bree pass me a beer as well. I clink beer bottles with Damon. Then I lift the top bun off my burger and immediately set the pickles to the side, knowing what his reaction will be. "Come on! You don't like pickles? What's wrong with you?" he demands, snatching them up.

"You're the one with something wrong with them for liking those things," I tease. He chuckles. A few more bites in, I ask the same question I asked originally, even though I know the answer. "So, how are you able to eat if technically you're supposed to be dead?" I ask, lowering my voice for 'dead'.

"So long as I keep a healthy diet of blood in my system, my body functions pretty normally," he replies, lowering his voice on 'blood'.

"Stefan has to feed a lot more often than you do," I comment, bringing up a subject I've been meaning to discuss. "Why is that?"

"Yeah, animal blood is nowhere near as filling as human blood," he says, munching on a fry. I raise an eyebrow at him, wondering how he knows that. He grimaces. "I kind of opened my big mouth and promised to go a week on his diet to prove something. That was the worst week ever. Not only did I have to feed more often, but everything that makes immortality worth it was dulled down big time. Speed, strength, stamina, healing, pain block, powers, everything was diminished. After a hundred and forty-five years of reaping the benefits of being a vampire, it was almost like I had turned back into a human again, just a slightly enhanced one."

I grimace. "So that's why you're so much more powerful than he is," I murmur.

"Well, one reason, yes," he concedes. "But even on his diet, I was still better than him. I do admit there is one perk to his diet. My vision, hearing, and sense of smell were stronger than on human blood. But those play key roles in survival for animals. Taste and touch, which aren't as important to an animal's survival, where diminished as much as everything else. I guess vampires literally take on enhanced aspects of our prey."

"So, Stefan can see, hear, and smell better, but you're stronger in everything else?" I ask, taking a bite of my burger.

"Pretty much," he agrees.

I finish chewing my bite of burger and swallow it. "So, I know you're able to compel people not protected by vervaine, but what else can you do in the 'powers' department?" I ask.

"I can manipulate dreams," he says with a smirk. "I can also shape-shift into a raven or a wolf."

I narrow my eyes. "There was a raven following me around all summer," I remember.

"It wasn't me personally. I had a tame raven that let me see through its eyes whenever I wanted to."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of 'had a tame raven'."

"Stefan locked me up in the basement for three days," he growls. "He spiked Caroline's drink with vervaine that night you yelled at me about the bites on her and I fell for the trap."

I raise an eyebrow. "You were going to kill her at the party because I got mad at you?" I ask. I'm not exactly surprised that he would try to do it. I'm more surprised that he would try doing it at such a public event.

"I didn't succeed," he points out. "The second I tasted her blood, I was weakened enough for Stefan to overpower me. He gave me a shot of vervaine while I was down. He got me back to the boarding house and locked me up in a cell in the basement where Zach was secretly growing a patch of vervaine. Apparently our living relatives passed that down the line alongside our secret. Well, it took three days, but I managed to get out. Had to feed on my raven to get enough strength to get out at nightfall and go on the hunt. Sad thing about birds is that their size doesn't allow for much blood. I was starving and on the verge of desiccation by then."

"And that's when you found Vicki and her friends," I say softly.

He shrugs. "Yep," he says, popping the 'p'. "I usually don't go after druggies, but I was desperate and she and her pals where the first humans I came across. Vampires can't overdose, but blood loaded with drugs will get us high too. That girl just refused to die, though, in spite of the fact that I drained so much blood from her that she should have. So I took her back to the boarding house before dawn."

"Why did you turn her? I doubt it was because you liked her," I say. He opens his mouth, but I quickly cut in. "And don't say it was a pity turn. You don't do pity."

He smirks. "How did you get to know me so well?" he asks curiously. I just smile at him and eat a fry. "Well, I guess I turned her mostly because I was bored. Add in the fact that she just would not die when she was supposed to, I was curious what kind of vamp she'd make."

"A terrible one," I tell him.

"I know that now. I should have known better than to turn a druggie. Druggies have zero self-control, and vamps need self-control if they want to survive long."

"Why did you really send me away after Stefan called you to take care of the mess you made?"

"I told you that night. You were bleeding. I was still very hungry and you were a huge temptation."

"You mean you wouldn't have been able to live with yourself if you hurt me," I tease.

He rolls his eyes while he finishes his mouthful of burger. After he swallows, he takes a gulp of beer before answering. "I wouldn't put it like that," he retorts.

"Well, how would you put it?" I prod.

"One, I didn't feel like giving my brother a reason to try to put me back in that damned cell because I knew he'd make it a hell of a lot harder to get out again. Two, you'd already lost a lot of blood. Considering how hungry I was, I would have drained you completely if my mouth got anywhere near your skin. Three, I would have regretted killing you."

I nod. "So, back to the list of powers you have," I say, holding up my fist to tick off the ones already listed "We have shape-shifting, dream manipulation, and compulsion so far."

"I can control weather to an extent; I'm especially good with fog and mist," he adds.

I feel a delighted grin spread across my lips. "I have got to see that."

"You saw it once," he says. I look at him in confusion. "The first day back to school, you went to the graveyard afterwards to write in your journal in front of your parents' graves."

I narrow my eyes "That creepy fog was you?" I demand. "What about the raven? Was that you, too?"

"Guilty as charged. That time I wanted a look at you with my own eyes," he admits.

"You scared the hell out of me," I exclaim.

"I was intending on cutting you off in the trees and introducing myself. But that blasted brother of mine was already in the woods and you ran into him. I didn't want him to know I was in town yet, so I watched in raven-form from a tree branch above your heads. Even as a bird, I could smell your blood and knew he wouldn't last long. But he had already ruined my plan."

"You said that some of Stefan's senses are better than yours," I point out. "Why didn't he know about you being in town already?"

He smirks and takes a bite from a fry. "Because he didn't want to believe I would come back so soon. The last time we were in Mystic Falls was fifteen years ago. Truly believing something is a powerful tool, especially in vampires. But like all tools, it could work for or against you, depending on how you use it. Stefan didn't want to believe I was around, so his mind dismissed every clue he picked up about my presence in Mystic Falls until I literally showed up on his balcony. He couldn't dismiss the evidence of his own two eyes, after all."

I nibble thoughtfully on my last fry. "Well, since you were apparently in Mystic Falls during the summer, when did you get back and how did you find out about me?" I ask.

"I got back around the same time Stefan did," he says noncommittally.

"How did you find out about me, Damon?" I ask, watching him. He's fiddling with his last two fries nervously, like he's not sure if he should answer truthfully. "Damon, I can handle the truth, whatever it may be," I tell him. "To my knowledge, you have never lied to me before. Please don't start now."

He growls softly before looking straight in my eyes. Suddenly, I feel like my mind is held in a powerful, uncompromising grip and I can't tear my eyes away from his. "Remember what was forgotten the night your parents died," he says. I see his eyes dilate and contract rapidly, signaling that he's compelling me.

Before I can wonder what the hell he's talking about, I become ensnared in reliving a memory I didn't know I had.

"I know Bonnie. You're right. You and my mom both are. I just can't bring myself to tell him," I say into my cell phone. "At least not tonight, call you tomorrow."

As I hang up, a voice full of surprise makes me look up. "Katherine?" the beautiful blue-eyed man breathes. He's standing in the middle of the road and staring straight at me.

"Um, no," I say as I look over my shoulder, wondering if he's talking to someone behind me. But I'm the only one here. "I'm Elena,"

"Oh. You … you just look …," he says, tripping over his tongue. In the present I'm surprised at this strangeness in Damon's behavior, but my memory-self doesn't know that Damon never gets tongue-tied. He sighs, obviously annoyed with his self. "I'm sorry. You just really remind me of someone," he says, walking closer to me. "I'm Damon."

"Not to be rude or anything, Damon, but it's kind of creepy that you're out here in the middle of nowhere."

"You're one to talk. You're out here all by yourself."

"It's Mystic Falls, nothing bad ever happens here." And now I know why my life has turned upside down. I jinxed it myself. I look down at my phone then return my eyes to his. "Got into a fight with my boyfriend."

"About what? May I ask?"

"Life. The future. He's got it all mapped out."

"You don't want it?"

"I don't know what I want."

"Well, that's not true. You want what everyone wants."

"What, mysterious stranger who has all the answers?" I ask, smirking at him.

"Well, let's just say that I've been around a long time. I've learned a few things."

"So, Damon, tell me. What is it that I want?"

"You want a love that consumes you. You want passion and adventure. And even a little danger," he says, walking closer.

"So what do you want?" I ask, obviously catching him by surprise. Before he can gather his wits again, I turn at a familiar car horn honking. I see my parents' car making its way towards us. "It's my parents," I say, turning back only to find him directly in front of me. My eyes lock with his and I feel that powerful, uncompromising grip on my mind that means I'm about to be compelled.

"I want you to get everything you're looking for," he says, his eyes dilating and contracting rapidly as he compels me. "But right now I want you to forget this happened. Can't have people knowing I'm in town yet. Goodnight, Elena."

I blink my eyes as the memory releases me from its grip. I look at Damon to see he's watching me with a guarded expression. "I didn't know you could be such a romantic," is all I'm able to come up with to say.

He groans while rolling his eyes. But it gets him to relax enough to give me a smirk. "You just found out I met you before my damned brother and then made you forget it. And that's all you can come up with?" he demands, caught between laughter and exasperation.

I shrug with a grin on my lips. "That's all I can think of right now," I tell him. "But I'll probably come up with a whole lot more to say on that topic very soon."

He lets out an exasperated chuckle. "I think it's my brother who saved your life that night," he admits. "I could smell him all over those woods."

"If you had stuck around, you could have been the one to save me," I point out.

"Ah, but then Stefan would have known I was in town long before I was ready for him to," he retorts. "I took off at that point because I didn't dare stick in one spot for too long. I didn't want to risk him discovering I was hanging about."

I look around for Bree and spot her at the far end of the bar. "Hey, Bree," I call.

She signals for me to let her wrap up the conversation she is in. then she makes her way down to our end of the bar. "What can I do for you, sugar?" she asks.

"Do you think we could get something stronger than beer, a lot stronger?" I ask her. I notice Damon raise an eyebrow out of the corner of my eye, but I ignore him for the moment. "Our conversation has already reached points where we need something strong."

Bree chuckles, plunks two whisky glasses down on the bar, fills them to the rim with top shelf bourbon, and slides one in front of each of us. She leaves the bottle for us. "I've had a conversation or two like that myself," she confides to me in a loud whisper. "You might need that whole bottle before you're through. Let me know if it turns into a multiple bottle conversation." She then retreats from easy listening distance.

"Well, I've never seen that one just hand over a top shelf bottle of any drink," Damon comments. He raises an eyebrow at me. "And who's paying for all this?" he asks.

I smirk at him after taking a swallow, careful not to spill a single drop. "You are the one who dragged me along without my wallet or check book," I remind him. "I don't have so much as a penny on me. So you are picking up the tab, Mister Salvatore. And I intend on getting drunk on the good stuff."

He groans. "You have expensive tastes," he tells me.

"I just don't like cheap alcohol. I can barely handle beer, not even what's considered good beer. Besides, I'm not the one who insists on having a designer wardrobe that would draw envy from every Hollywood actor alive."

"I take care of it and it lasts," he protests.

"Clothing from Old Navy and Sears last just as long, is sometimes more comfortable, and doesn't cost a small fortune for just one outfit," I point out. "Hell, I could even go in Wal-Mart and buy all the clothes in my size and still pay less than what one of your outfits costs."

He groans and drains half the bourbon in his glass. "You will not put it to rest, will you?" he asks.

"I'm not the one who brought up the topic of expensive tastes," I tell him. "I doubt that any tab we could run up in here would be even a fraction of what you pay when you go shopping for clothes. I bet that outfit you're wearing right now is worth at least ten grand."

"More like fifteen," he admits.

"I don't even want to know how you can afford such a huge wardrobe when just one outfit costs you fifteen thousand dollars," I groan, taking a long swallow from my bourbon.

"I've been saving and investing ever since I got my first paycheck," he tells me with a grin. "I've racked up a few hundred million over the years. My father admitted that I was good with money when he refused to admit that there was anything else I was good at. He didn't like having to admit it, but I was the one in charge of the family fortune as well as my own personal funds. One reason the Salvatore family was practically royalty in Mystic Falls was that I had managed to get the family funds over the one million dollar mark before I turned twenty. And that was hard to do back then. We were one of the wealthiest families in the entire Confederacy, though I heard rumors of a few families in the Union that had fortunes in the tens of millions."

I narrow my eyes at his proud smirk. "You are gloating," I accuse.

"It's not gloating when it's true," he retorts with a grin.

"So you said the family fortune then was worth over one million. What would that be compared to today?" I ask.

"Over three billion," he replies after a second.

I stare in awe. "That's a lot," I admit.

He scowls, draining his bourbon. I refill it for him. "It would be a much, much higher amount than that today if Father hadn't willed it all to his youngest son, mine and Stefan's half-brother. That brat didn't know a thing about managing money and refused to learn," he says darkly. "The only reason his kids didn't end up living on the street was because I decided to take responsibility where he wouldn't. The woman he had been forced to marry and have kids with was not pleased with what he chose to spend the fortune on. When he reached his early grave with a bullet through in his heart, there was only a few hundred dollars left. I made a deal with the wife and kids: they keep the fact that Stefan and I are vampires a family secret, I'll take care of the bills and rebuild the fortune so they can still be among the respectable folk of Mystic Falls without being ashamed of what they're wearing or what the house looks like. I warned them that this would have to last through the generations of those who inherit the house and any who don't inherit it must never let a word slip, not even to their spouse. I told them Stefan and I better have our own rooms in that house and no one except us was allowed in them in our absence. I also said that each time ownership changed hands, Stefan and I had better be invited back in. They agreed to all the conditions. The living side of the family stuck to their side of the bargain, so I stuck to mine."

"Except you killed Zach and he didn't have any children to pass it on to," I point out, refilling my glass.

He shrugs. "I never promised not to kill any of them," he points out. "I only promised that the bills would be paid and I'd build the family fortune up. And I am still keeping those promises, though there is no one left to keep their side of the bargain."

"Does Stefan know about the deal?" I ask.

"Stefan does not know about the deal. And don't ever tell him about it either, or anyone else for that matter. I don't know why I even told you about it," he says.

"I will never repeat a word of anything you confide in me. You can trust me," I assure him, taking a swallow of my bourbon.

"For some reason, I do trust you," he tells me. "I haven't trusted anyone since before I was turned. Don't make me regret it."

"I will never betray your trust, Damon," I promise both him and myself. "That's not something friends do."

"Friends?" he repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I like to think we're friends," I tell him.

"Even after everything I've done to you, you still want to be my friend?" he asks, surprised.

"Everyone needs at least one person they can count on to be there for them through everything life throws at them; even as big a dick as you are, you need someone you can trust with everything," I inform him. He chuckles at that. "I want to be that person you can count on, Damon. Call it whatever you like. I'm calling it friendship."

He fills both our glasses again and holds his up. "To friendship, then," he says with a grin.

"To friendship," I repeat, clinking my glass against his.

Hours later

Following that, the hours fly by as Damon and I have fun and get drunk. I completely forget about Lexi's boyfriend and his grudge by the time my phone rings. I pick it up, noticing that it's Jenna. "Jenna!" I answer with a slight slur. She says something, but I can't hear it over the noise of the crowd. "Hold on! It's loud in here. Let me get somewhere a bit quieter," I say, grabbing my jacket and shrugging into it one arm at a time. I step out the door, putting the phone back to my ear. "Okay, now what …" I start, only to be grabbed from behind with a hand over my mouth. I drop my phone as I claw at the hand over my mouth as I'm half-dragged, half-carried around to the spot Lexi's boyfriend had chosen for his ambush on Damon. My buzz disappears the instant I remember why I'm being dragged off.

Soon, Damon shows up. I try to warn him to run, but it's too late. I beg and plead and cajole my heart out in desperation of saving Damon. Finally, I remember what I had said to get him to back off in the first go-round and use the words. He grabs Damon by the throat, glares in his eyes, and then throws him into a metal wall many yards back before vamping away. I rush to his side. I ignore the reek of gasoline as I kneel beside him. I help him into a sitting position.

I can tell he needs blood to get the breaks healed in any decent amount of time, though he realigns the broken bones easily enough. I roll up my sleeve and shove my arm at him. "Drink," I order him.

"What?" he demands. "No!"

"You need blood to heal, Damon. Drink mine," I tell him. He grits his teeth and looks away from me. "Dammit, Damon, just drink already! I'm offering my blood to you of my own free will. I know you won't take more than you need. I trust you, even if you don't trust yourself. If you don't bite me, I'll just scratch myself and you won't have a choice. My nails are long and sharp enough to draw blood in one go. I know you haven't fed in at least two or three days, which is why your bones are taking so long to heal. You won't be able to resist the sight and scent of fresh blood."

He sighs, knowing that I can be just as stubborn as him and knowing I will follow through with my threat. He turns back to me. "If I'm going to drink your blood, I might as well do it right," he says softly. He brushes my hair over my shoulder and positions me to where I'm sitting in his lap, my legs straddling his hips.

Before I can ask what he's doing, he dips his head and places his lips at the base of my throat and I realize exactly what he meant by 'do it right'. I know that Damon's favorite spot to drink from a human is at the pulse point at the base of their throat. I force myself to relax as I feel his fangs gently scrape my skin before they pierce the flesh. I had expected the pain I'd experienced the occasions I was fed on during the first time I lived these three months. But the only pain I feel is when his fangs initially break through my skin. Immediately after that I collapse against him, panting, moaning, mewling, gasping as wave after wave of pure pleasure like I've never experienced roll through me, cascading throughout my body from the spot where he's draining my life blood. I think his name falls from my lips a time or two because I can feel his lips curl in a triumphant smirk against my skin as he feeds on me. It's amazing that I can actually tell the difference between each of his smirks when they are so similar.

Soon, too soon, he retracts his fangs. I moan in disappointment that the amazing experience is over already. Then I gasp as his tongue slowly trails over the bite. Then I remember him telling me once that vampire saliva can seal wounds on a human and acts as a kind of disinfectant at the same time. But I know he's also making sure not a drop of my blood remains on the surface of my skin. I sag against him as his tongue teases and swirls over my skin, even in places that I know there is no blood. I can tell he's enjoying holding me in his arms like this as much as I am enjoying being in his arms. I let his tongue and lips do amazing things up and down my throat and over my collarbone.

Finally he sighs against my heated skin and pulls away to look in my eyes. "If we don't move now, we'll end up doing things that should not be done in such crappy surroundings," he tells me.

I groan. "Don't wanna move," I grumble.

He chuckles huskily. "My sentiments exactly, but I'm still doused in gasoline and desperately need to wash it off before the reek of it becomes trapped in my nose. And as much as I'd love to continue, I refuse to share another woman with my brother, especially if that woman is you."

I growl. "I'm not with him anymore. He lied to me. I have a feeling he'll continue to lie to me to 'protect' me."

"Make it official and I'll consider picking up where we are leaving off tonight," he tells me.

"I'll hold you to that," I warn him.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I still want to get Katherine out of that tomb," he warns me. "I will not let anything stop me from doing that. Not even you."

"I know," I tell him calmly. I hesitate before plunging ahead. "I might know a way of helping you open the tomb."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Oh?" he asks.

"Emily's grimiore," I say. "And I know where it's hidden."

He narrows his eyes. "And how do you know that?" he asks softly.

I shake my head. "Please don't make me answer that. You will never believe the truth and I don't want to lie to you."

He frowns. "What does Emily's grimiore have to do with the tomb?" he finally asks.

"Promise me something first," I beg.

"Depends on what you want me to promise you," he replies slowly. "I don't make promises lightly because I stick to them no matter what."

"If I ever seem more knowledgeable about things than I have any right to be, don't question it, please. I swear upon my parents' graves that I'll explain everything when the time is right. But I can't tell you anything for quite some time to come."

He narrows his eyes, thinking over my words. I wait patiently for him to come to his decision. Finally he sighs. "I know you would never use that particular swear lightly," he says. "So I promise I won't ask how you know things you shouldn't. But I will hold you to your vow of explaining yourself eventually."

"And I will," I promise. "But it won't be anytime soon, so you'll have to be patient."

"I've never had much patience," he admits. "But I'll try."

I nod. "Emily's grimiore has the spell she used to seal the tomb in it as well as the way of undoing that spell," I tell him.

"Already, you have me regretting my promise," he growls. "So, how will we get a witch to undo the seal?"

"I have to talk to Bonnie's Grams. I think I know how to convince her to help. But you have to promise to burn every vampire in the tomb with the exception of Katherine. I think I can wrangle Anna's mother free of the burning, if I work it right. And no matter what happens, you have to keep that promise."

He raises an eyebrow at my words. "You are keeping something from me. What aren't you telling me?" he asks suspiciously.

"You will not believe me until you see it with your own eyes. So I'm not going to tell you. When we get back, take me by the boarding house first so I can talk to Stefan and get my necklace back, then we'll make a stop at Bonnie's Grams to talk to her about the tomb before I go home."

"The grimiore?" he asks pointedly.

"We'll get it soon after we get back, I promise," I tell him. I pause in thought. "There's a decade dance at the high school coming up soon. The theme is the fifties. I was hoping you'd take me. I have a feeling you're a good dancer and I already know that Stefan hates dancing. Besides, Bonnie and her Grams will need some powerful natural event to call upon for aid in the spell, I'm sure."

"Witches and their hocus pocus," Damon growls. Then he shrugs. "I suppose I could take you to the dance. I liked most of the dances in the fifties. But what will everyone think when someone old enough to be a chaperone is dancing with an underage student?"

"Who cares what everyone thinks? It's not as if they know our true age gap. Hell, I don't know our true age gap, since you never did tell me how old you were when you were turned."

He chuckles. "Physically, I'm twenty-four," he informs me. "I was born June 28, 1840."

"That means you're a hundred and sixty-nine," I say after quickly calculating it in my mind. "That makes you a hundred and fifty-two years older than me."

"Yep," he answers, popping the 'p'.

"Apparently I find older men extremely attractive," I mutter to myself, even though I know he can hear me.

He just chuckles. "So, are we going to sit here all night? Or are we going to go find a motel room and sleep in a proper bed?"

I sigh. "As much as I like the position we're in right now, I think you really need to wash that gas off," I tell him. "And why are you going to sleep? I know vampires don't technically need sleep."

"Well, there are times when even a vampire gets tired out," he admits. "Besides, sleeping is a good way to pass the time when nothing interesting is going on."

I slowly get out of his lap and stand up. He's stands up so fast that I blink and I miss seeing him move. I shake my head. "Sometimes, you and Stefan make me wish I was a vampire," I inform him.

He raises an eyebrow. "That can easily be arranged, you know," he points out. "You would make an excellent vamp."

"I will have to take that offer into careful consideration and get back to you on it," I reply. "I'm not sure I'm ready to give up being human just yet. I'm not even a legal adult yet, not in the US at least."

He chuckles. "Just give me the word and I'll be happy to turn you," he tells me.

"Stefan wouldn't like that you made that offer," I point out as we begin slowly making our way back to the Camaro.

"Stefan can't stand the idea that anyone would want to be turned," he retorts.

"You know, I do think his diet of animal blood is a little wrong. Especially considering it's humanity that's ruining the planet," I comment. "But," I say, cutting off whatever he had opened his mouth to say, "I also don't think killing all humans is right either."

"Of course not," he growls. "Without humans, vampires would be forced to turn to the Stefan diet. Without humans, there would be no more new vampires. And without humans, immortality would be a complete bore. Humans are usually the ones who come up with all the advances in technology that makes life increasingly fascinating. Besides, humans outnumber vampires by a huge amount. I'm not sure about the exact figures since I have no idea how many vamps are in the world. But there are at least five hundred thousand humans for every vamp. I get the feeling that the exact ratio fluctuates every day." We arrive at the Camaro. He pauses, glaring at Bree's Bar. "I'll be right back," he growls.

I grab his wrist before he can walk off. He glances at me. "Don't kill her, Damon," I beg.

"She almost had me killed," he growls.

"Please, Damon," I plead. "I don't want the memory of such a magnificent day tainted with the knowledge that you killed her. For the sake of preserving this wonderful day, please don't kill her."

He frowns, running his free hand through his hair. "You enjoyed the day that much?" he asks finally.

"Yes. And if she hadn't let that vamp know you were in town, what I consider the best part of the whole day would not have happened," I tell him. He raises an eyebrow in question. "The best part was where you pulled me into your lap and drank my blood," I admit, positive that my blush is causing my face to glow. "I never thought being fed on could feel so wonderful."

He gives me a sly smirk. "Being fed on could range from sheer torture to absolute paradise for a human," he informs me. "It depends on three major things: what the vamp wants the human to experience, whether the human was completely willing to be fed on, and how relaxed the human is during the feeding."

"Even absolute paradise couldn't compare to what I felt," I reply with a small smile. "And if Bree hadn't betrayed you, I wouldn't have had that wonderful experience to top off an already perfect day."

He let's out a sound that's half groan, half growl. "Then I better let her know you are actually thanking her for betraying me," he grumbles, but I can hear the pleased undertone. "I won't kill her. But I will warn her against ever trying it again." He unlocks the Camaro. "Get in, buckle up, and lock the doors. I'll be right back. I still got to get my jacket."

I obey and watch him head inside. Not even five minutes later, he walks back out with his jacket in his hand. He unlocks the Camaro and climbs in the driver's seat. He starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. "I didn't kill her. But I made certain she understood that you are the only reason her heart isn't lying on the floor, separate from her body," he tells me as he steers the car towards a hotel as far from the bar as the town allows, even though it means heading south rather north. "She also confirmed what you said about the grimiore being the only option left. I am already impatient for the day you explain how you knew about it to arrive."

"There are likely to be a lot of things I will say and do that will only heighten that impatience," I murmur.

"You're certain you can convince Sheila to help me? After all, I did try to kill her granddaughter," he reminds me unnecessarily.

"I'm not completely certain. But she is a better bet than Bonnie. She's the more experienced witch, as well as the more powerful. And I have a feeling I'm the only one who can get her to completely go along with the plan. But you have to keep the promise of burning all the tomb vampires except Pearl and Katherine, no matter what. Not burning them will make things very difficult all around."

He shakes his head. "You know way too much, and I am seriously curious about how you know it," he grumbles.