Cut and Dried
Summary: Damon and Elena run into an enemy with a definite ax to grind. Can they save each other before it's too late, or will the past do more than just haunt them… Post 3.2
Allrighty… let's get these two in some trouble.
Chapter Two
"Elena?" She felt someone shake her roughly. It helped clear a bit of the haze, but she still felt like she was trying to fight her way up from the bottom of the ocean. "Elena, what happened?" This time she recognized Alaric's voice and doubled her efforts to open her eyes. She felt a sharp smack to her cheek and her eyes popped open.
"Ric?"
He let out a relieved breath. "It's about time."
Elena struggled to sit up and realized she was lying on the pavement down the block from the Grill. Damon's Camaro was still parked at the curb, but there was no sign of Damon. "Where is he?" she asked, trying not to sound panicked despite the fact that was exactly what she was feeling. When people around you tended to die or disappear, you held onto the ones you had left with both hands.
"She took him," Alaric explained. "She was just closing the trunk of her car on something when I came around the corner, and it looked a lot like a body. It was Damon?"
"Yes. He…" She let Alaric help her to her feet despite the dizziness it caused. "We have to find him. She'll kill him."
"Who was she?"
"I don't know. A witch. But she definitely knew who we were." She looked up at him and frowned. "How did you find us anyway?"
"I was on my way to the Grill," he said. The words to get hammered because Jenna's dead were understood. "I yelled when I saw her shove someone's hand inside the trunk, then I saw you on the ground and ran. For a second I thought she was going to grab you anyway, but she got in her car and drove off."
"We have to find her. Now."
"We will," he assured her, "but first we have to get you home. We don't know what she did to you. Elena, you wouldn't wake up."
Elena shook her head angrily, grateful that the dizziness seemed to have passed. "I'm fine. Damon's the one in trouble."
Alaric ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "At least, let's get out of the street. We're sitting ducks out here." He pointed down the block toward his SUV and began to head in that direction assuming she would follow.
As soon as Elena got in the car, Alaric took off like a shot, eager to get home. "You're sure you'd never seen her before?"
"No. Damon didn't know who she was either."
"He doesn't know her and she already wants to kill him?" Alaric laughed cynically. "That's a new record even for him. It doesn't normally take long, but they at least have to meet him."
"Not helpful, Ric."
"Sorry." He tried to look contrite, but Elena could tell he was still amused at his own joke. He and Damon's relationship was definitely a love-hate sort of thing, more like hate with a side of tolerance because Damon was occasionally useful, if nothing else as a drinking buddy.
"She's powerful, whoever she is," Elena said, speaking mostly to herself. "She barely had to snap her fingers and Damon was down for the count. Me, too. No chanting or anything."
"Damon must have pissed her off somehow."
"Probably." Elena frowned in thought. "But she wanted me, too."
"What exactly did she say?"
"She said she had plans and that we were just getting started."
"A hired gun maybe?"
Elena shrugged. "Maybe. She definitely wasn't from around here."
"Wonderful," Alaric said tiredly. For the first time, Elena really looked at him. As was the usual since Jenna died, he looked exhausted, hung-over, and a bit scruffy. He was better since their trip to the mountains, but it still took time. She knew what it was like to lose people, knew more than most. Elena was down three sets of parents now. Alaric was down two women he'd loved. All the more reason to make sure Damon stayed in one piece. He was part of their screwed-up, dysfunctional extended family.
"We need Bonnie," she stated firmly. "She's the only one who can help us."
"She's still out of town," Alaric countered. "And Damon's her least favorite person at the best of times."
"That doesn't matter. We need her."
"Holy-!" Alaric abruptly slammed on the brakes, throwing Elena into the dash. She had just enough time to look up and see the witch standing as bold as day in the middle of the road. At the same moment that registered, she felt the car jolt.
After that it was a cacophonous, eardrum-shattering overload of glass breaking, metal screeching, gravel and pavement crunching and scraping. Very distantly, she thought that she really, really should have put on her seatbelt at some point. She'd been so upset, though, she just hadn't been thinking. Whatever the case, it was too late now. If she broke her neck, it would be her own fault.
It felt like forever, but finally the rolling car came to rest on its side. She could hear the engine ticking and the tinkle of glass falling and it took Elena several seconds to realize she was pressed against the steering wheel, lying across Alaric who had been wearing his seatbelt. He was also out cold.
Elena felt something warm slide across her face. It took almost no time at all to recognize the scent of blood since she was around it so often these days. She was also feeling light-headed for the second time that night. Every muscle and bone in her body hurt, but that was fading as was everything else.
Elena felt another jolt and guessed the car had been righted. She heard the car door open and felt hands around her ankles pulling her toward the passenger side door.
"Tut tut, Elena," the witch chided. "You didn't really think it would be that easy to get away, did you?"
Elena awoke to one of the most soothing feelings she knew. Gentle fingers were gliding over her head, smoothing back her hair in a slow, repetitive motion. Over and over, the fingers swept across her hair, easing her from sleep.
As a little girl, she remembered falling asleep on the sofa with her head in her mother's lap as she stroked her hair. She remembered resting her head against her father chest, listening to the deep rumble of his voice as it echoed through him, as all the while he ran his hand over her hair. They'd loved her, and they'd never been afraid to show it, instinctively soothing a child without giving it a second thought. It had been as natural as breathing to them.
They were gone now, though. Jenna was gone. Stefan was gone.
"Don't move, Elena."
In direct opposition to the order, Elena immediately tried to sit up. That decision failed miserably when every single part of her body seemed to seize up and she fell right back where she was.
"Shh. It's all right. Just lie still." The calming phrases repeated over and over. "Shh. Don't move."
"Damon?" She hated how weak she sounded, but decided to be proud that she could talk at all.
"Don't talk and don't move," he said gruffly. "You're a mess."
Elena had to agree with that statement. A quick internal check told her that she'd managed to batter and bruise every bit of her, and rattle her brain in the bargain. Even now, she could feel dried blood on her face and in her hair and wondered how long she'd been unconscious.
"I don't think anything's broken, but I'm not sure." Damon resumed the repetitive motion of running his fingers over her hair.
Elena very, very slowly opened her eyes. She was in a small room, maybe six by six. There was no furniture and the walls were bare. The floor was hard, like cement, covered in old stained linoleum and the walls were a dingy white. Damon was apparently sitting with his back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. Elena was lying on her side, with her head in his lap, giving her a good view of his boots, which looked like they were going to need a definite shine when they got out of this.
Elena shifted experimentally and immediately regretted it when every nerve ending in her body protested. Once the pain ebbed, she realized that not only was Damon's hand in her hair, the other hand was lightly resting on her side.
"By the way, you're banned from riding in cars," he said dryly. "You keep flipping them like this, you're gonna eventually get killed whether you like it or not."
"Tell your friends to stop standing in the road then."
"My friends would never be so rude," he shot back, "and I can't seem to convince psychotic killers to stay away from us."
Elena huffed out the barest laugh. "Still your fault. Birds of a feather."
Damon grunted his disapproval. "I may be a killer, but I'm not psychotic. They can go flock somewhere else."
The hip Elena was resting on was beginning to hurt unmercifully. Knowing if she waited to think about it, she wouldn't do it, Elena abruptly turned so that she was lying on her back. At least she thought she did. Her vision had blacked out and her ears were ringing.
When her vision started to clear, she focused her eyes to see Damon's worried face hovering over hers. He had pulled her closer so that she was half in his lap now, one arm supporting her back while her head rested against his chest, the other arm wrapped around her, holding her gently, but securely to him.
Damon frowned. "Are you genuinely stupid or were you having a blond moment? I said don't move."
"Stupid," she managed to wheeze.
"Well, now that we're agreed, don't do it again," he ordered.
"Right."
They both fell silent for several minutes while Elena tried to pull herself back together. The longer it went on, however, the more she realized just how close she was to Damon, how securely he was holding her. She knew it should be awkward, but at some point, having Damon close to her had changed. He still loved to surprise her and scare her and invade her personal space, but that was when she was well. When things were bad, it was always like this. Comfortable, soothing, safe.
"Is Ric ok?" she asked.
"Alaric was with you?"
"He was driving. Do… do you think she killed him?"
"Don't know," he said quietly, and she could hear a tiny hint of worry in his tone. "Mary Poppins just threw you in here and gloated that you'd wrecked your car and nearly killed yourself ahead of schedule."
"Mary Poppins?"
"British? Witch? Likes toying with children?"
"Not a child," she said, although she sounded petulant even to her own ears.
"Sure." She didn't even have to see his face to know he was smirking. "What's the name of the bear on your bed again?"
"Jerk."
"Mm hmm," was his only reply.
"We need to get out of here," she stated the obvious.
"Well, I was working on that until someone chucked a half-dead brunette at me. I've been told I'm easily distracted."
Elena involuntarily laughed at the thought of calling a man easily distracted when he'd spent 150 years relentlessly chasing Katherine. The movement was jarring and she gasped, but that hurt, too. Her ribs were on fire and she wanted to weep from the pain.
"Breathe, Elena." Damon's voice was low and steady, but very firm. "In and out. Nice and slow."
"Can't," she whispered. "Hurts."
"Do it anyway. Blue is not your color," he drawled, but she could hear the panic sneaking into his voice. "Now breathe. Nice and shallow, just like Caroline."
"Damon," she said through gritted teeth.
"What?" he asked innocently. "I could have said easy and shallow. I was taking the high road."
She knew he was trying to distract her, and to be honest she was too grateful for it to yell at him for being a jerk about Caroline. In any case, she quit listening to exactly what he was saying, and simply focused on the even, soothing tone. It helped her calm down and steady her breathing. It still hurt so badly she could hardly function, but for now all she had to do was get air in and out of her lungs.
"Elena?" She felt him brush a hand gently over her hair again before returning it to her side where he'd been holding her. "I need you to listen very carefully."
She nodded and made a concerted effort to focus her jumbled thoughts. "'Kay."
"I can heal you."
Yes, please, it hurts, was her first thought, but she knew there had to be more to it. Damon sounded very serious and it was a rare enough occurrence that when it happened she knew to pay attention.
"I can do it, but if she kills you before we can get out of here, it's game over for you and your pesky humanity. If that happens, and you wake up a vampire, she'll have the chance to kill you again. I won't make the choice for you. That got me in real trouble last time. Especially when this time has the potential to get you murdered twice in one day."
Damon shifted his hand so that it rested over her abdomen and a fresh pain exploded in her body that was beyond agonizing. She cried out and grabbed on to anything she could, only belatedly realizing she was gripping Damon's shirt, clinging to him for dear life.
"Well, I guess that answers that question."
"What?" she bit out.
"You're bleeding internally, Elena. Who knows what else is wrong."
"Can't you… get us… out of here?"
"Not without another witch or a wrecking ball to knock the whole building down. She's got us sealed in tight."
Elena turned her face toward his shoulder, wishing there was some way to get closer, some way that he could magically fix all of this. She knew she was crying and bleeding and ruining his, no doubt, unconscionably expensive shirt, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
"Have to do it," she said tightly. "M'not gonna make it."
He tilted her back and the coppery tang of blood in the air struck her nostrils. Barely a second later, she felt his wrist pressed to her lips and the warm slide of blood in her mouth. Her first reaction was always to retch, but this time at least she fought it. She was dying and she knew it. It was getting harder and harder to breathe and she could feel the pressure growing in her belly as it became more and more distended. Even now, she could feel herself fading.
"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," Damon's voice was harsh, "you have to drink it for it to do any good. You've got the wrong Salvatore to play Prince Charming. I don't keep dwarfs on standby and kissing girls in comas is just creepy, so drink, woman."
With a supreme effort, Elena managed to swallow a mouthful of blood. Almost instantly, she could feel a different type of warmth begin to spread through her body, easing the pain away. She swallowed again, easier this time.
Suddenly, the door flew open and banged against the wall. Like a giant hand wrapping around her, Elena was ripped out of Damon's arms and slammed into the opposite wall. The tap of the witch's heels echoed as she entered the room, but the last thing Elena heard as her vision went black was Damon's scream.
More soon…
