Chapter 2
"Where the hell have you been?" Stefan demanded before Damon even had the front door shut.
Damon hesitated a second, seeing the panic in his younger brother's eyes. He slid out of his jacket. "It's nice to see you, too, little brother."
"I'm serious, Damon."
"You're always serious, Stefan," he reminded him, going towards the wet bar. He needed a drink to steady his nerves.
"Jonathan Gilbert is dead."
Damon paused, slowly lowered the crystal tumbler he had picked up. He turned to face Stefan. "Really?" A slow smile blossomed on his face.
"Did you kill him?" Stefan demanded, crossing the room to stand in front of Damon.
"Unfortunately, no."
"But you were at the Gilbert's." Stefan's tone rang with accusation.
His eyes went hard as ice as he folded his arms across his chest. "I was."
"Why?" Stefan took a step back so as not to grab his brother and shake him.
"Not that it's any of your business, but I went to see Jeremy. John killed Anna in the basement. I thought he should know." Damon kept it short. No need to tell Stefan he had offered to wipe Jeremy's memory again. Or that he had kissed Elena on the front porch. This tenuous truce he had found with Stefan was something he didn't want to jeopardize.
Not yet, anyway.
"Wait—why do you think I killed Uncle John?" Damon demanded, his mind going back to Stefan's question.
Stefan frowned and he rubbed his forehead. "He was clearly murdered by a vampire. His fingers were cut off and his body drained of blood."
Damon's brow creased. "Drained? All the tomb vampires are dead. If it wasn't you, and it wasn't me, then who the hell was it?"
"I don't know," Stefan muttered, stalking to the other side of the room by the fireplace. A log cracked, sending a spray of sparks into the chimney. "But he was killed inside the house, so whoever did it—"
"—has been invited in," Damon finished darkly. He poured a large splash of brandy into the tumbler and downed it all at once. The burn of the alcohol diminished the sharp longing in him for blood. He was craving it after his encounter with Bonnie.
"Exactly," Stefan concluded with a grimace. He braced a forearm across the mantle, looking over at Damon. "It really wasn't you?"
Damon tried not to be offended. "Of course not. I didn't even see John when I was there."
Stefan nodded and turned back, staring at the flames.
"Why aren't you with Elena?"
Stefan shrugged and moved away from the fireplace, restless. He sank onto the couch. "Elena said Jenna's a mess. The police are there. She asked me to wait until they were gone before I came over."
"I take it Elena didn't see anything either?"
Stefan shook his head. "She got held up at school. She couldn't find her dress and got home late."
Damon stiffened, thinking. He had seen Elena with a garment bag draped over her arms as he came out of her house and met her on the front porch.
Ever observant, Stefan noticed his confused look. "What is it?"
Damon shook his head, setting the tumbler down. "Probably nothing."
Stefan opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by the shrill ringing of his cell phone. Damon watched his eyes soften, knowing it was Elena that was calling.
He needed another drink.
"Hey," Stefan said by way of greeting. He suddenly stood up, the movement graceful and smooth despite its quickness. "Wait—what?"
Damon froze, turning an ear to the conversation. With his heightened sense of hearing, he could pick up the fear and panic in Elena's tone.
"He isn't breathing, Stefan! I think … Oh, God! Jeremy, wake up!"
Stefan sucked in a sharp breath, his warm brown eyes meeting Damon's gaze. "I'm on my way."
Damon was only a second behind his brother. They hit the front door at a run, heading into the woods.
It was chaos.
Bonnie had arrived only minutes before. Elena had called and she had come right over, that her uncle had been killed. Bonnie had barely made it to the front door and was hugging Jenna just as her best friend started screaming. The absolute pandemonium that ensued in the following two minutes was nothing short of numbing.
Bonnie had followed Jenna, a deputy, and two paramedics up the stairs to where Elena was standing in Jeremy's room, desperately shaking the lifeless boy. The deputy had pulled her aside with the medics rushed to the teen's side, starting CPR. Bonnie and Elena had huddled in the doorway watching with rounded eyes. Jenna was pacing in the hallway, her fingers spearing her hair and she shook her head in disbelief.
After a few anxious looks, the paramedics lifted Jeremy onto a stretcher to move him downstairs and to the awaiting ambulance outside.
Elena's hand flexed around Bonnie's. "I called Stefan. He said he's coming."
Bonnie nodded slowly, moving back as they began carrying Jeremy down the stairs.
"I need to go with him," Elena whispered brokenly, stumbling over her feet as she started for the stairs. Jenna and Bonnie followed.
Deputy Collins, a rookie with wide green eyes and freshly cut dark hair, stopped them at the door. His face was apologetic. "I'm sorry, but one of you needs to stay here."
"I'm going with my brother," Elena told him, her voice wavering.
"My nephew needs us," Jenna added firmly.
He truly looked sorry now. He twisted his hands, wringing them together. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but someone was just murdered in your kitchen."
"Unbelievable," Jenna muttered, turning away. She looked at her niece. "Elena, go with Jeremy. I'll stay."
"You're sure?" Elena pressed, already hedging towards the door.
"I'll stay with her," Bonnie offered quickly with a reassuring smile. "Go with Jeremy."
"Thanks," Elena said softly. She hugged Jenna suddenly. "I'll call you when I hear something."
"Tell Jeremy I'll be there soon," Jenna added as Elena rushed down the stairs. She and Bonnie watched Elena leap into the back before the doors slammed shut. Red and white lights blinded them as they swirled in the night. A siren pierced the stillness as they headed for Mystic Fall General Hospital.
"Ms. Sommers?" Another deputy appeared in the doorway to the kitchen and beckoned to Jenna.
Sighing, Jenna turned and hurried down the hall, Deputy Collins following. Bonnie was about to shut the door when a hand appeared out of the dark and stopped her.
She turned, surprised, to find both Salvatore brothers on the front porch. She suspected both had run over, but neither appeared winded.
Stefan peered over her shoulder. "Where's Elena?"
"She went to the hospital with Jeremy," Bonnie replied, studiously ignoring the way Damon was staring at her.
Stefan stiffened and looked at Damon, who waved him away.
"Go," Damon told him. "I'll stay here and see what I can find out."
Stefan nodded once at Bonnie and turned. He jumped off the porch, neatly landing on the balls of his feet. He blurred into the darkness, making use of his enhanced speed.
Bonnie finally met Damon's gaze. She was surprised by the intensity in it. His pale blue eyes seemed to be glowing in the inky darkness.
"What do you know?" he finally asked her, leaning against the doorframe.
"Not much," she replied after a beat. Her eyes moved across him, assessing. The black t-shirt and jeans seemed to be an everyday staple of his wardrobe. Her gaze lingered on the way the muscles in his forearm flexed when he hooked a thumb in the pocket of his jeans.
"Where's Jenna?"
"Talking to the deputies in the kitchen."
"Have you …" Damon frowned. "Did you see John yet?"
"No," she admitted. "I got here as Elena started screaming." She shuddered, remembering the way Elena's desperate cries had shattered the night. She could remember the night she found Grams unconscious. The night they freed all the vampire locked in the tomb.
The night she freed Damon.
Her spine went rigid at the memory and she turned, heading into the kitchen. She knew without looking at he was following. She could feel him moving silently behind her. Jenna and the deputies had moved into the parlor and were talking in hushed tones, but she kept moving.
Bonnie stopped short at the doorway to the kitchen, the rusty smell of blood assaulting her senses as her eyes moved across the crimson splatters on the tiled floor and white cabinets. She braced her hands against the doorframe for support, sucking in a sharp gasp. She had never expected … this.
John's body was slumped against the far cabinets, his mouth frozen open in a scream of horror. His throat had been ripped open. The fingers of his left hand were missing. No, wait. Not missing. They were on the countertop.
Oh, God.
Her stomach roiled and she started to back away, only to hit something firm and immoveable. She clamped her eyes shut and felt her knees start to buckle.
Hands settled on her waist, holding her upright. Damon lowered his mouth to her ear. "Easy," he admonished in a tone that could only be described as gentle.
She turned her head and opened her eyes, stunned to see his face so close to hers. God, had his eyes always been that blue? Unnerved, she swallowed hard.
"I'm fine," she told him, forcing her voice to be firm. She stepped away from him, watching as his hands fell back to his sides.
The corner of his mouth hooked up in a smirk. "Sure you are." Shaking his head, he brushed past her and moved into the kitchen, studying everything. He knelt in front of John, taking care not to step in the blood.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, edging further into the room. She wrapped her arms around her waist, shivering.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Trying to figure out who did this."
"Oh, you mean it wasn't you?" Bonnie asked archly, snorting.
His jaw tightened as he stared up at her.
Now she smirked at him. "I thought you were the big bad vampire in this town, Damon."
He stood up fluidly, crossing the room to her in two strides. His eyes flashed with anger and impatience. "Do you want to say that a little louder? I don't think the cops out there heard you."
She rolled her eyes and sighed, shaking her head. "If it wasn't you, then who did this?"
His eyes narrowed and he pressed his lips together. "That's what I'm trying to—" He cut himself off as his eyes found something of interest behind her. He moved around her quickly, walking to the kitchen table where a black garment bag had been draped over one chair.
"What?" Bonnie pressed, curiosity getting the better of her. She watched as he slowly unzipped the bag. Frowning, she came up behind him. "Why are you so concerned about Elena's dress?"
"Because this is Elena's dress." He dropped the bag suddenly, stepping back. He looked wildly around the room, eyes wide.
"Right," she said slowly, not catching on. "It's Elena's dress. The one she wore in the parade."
He spun on her, grabbing her forearms in his hands. His fingers overlapped. Something in his expression kept her from moving and breaking free.
"Stefan said Elena couldn't find her dress. That she was late coming home because it was missing."
"So someone brought her dress home?" Bonnie finished, guessing.
"I saw Elena outside with this bag," he hissed, his grip tightening, but not painful. "She was coming inside and had this with her."
"But if Elena had the bag, then why would—"
Damon cut her off. "It wasn't Elena."
She frowned, perplexed. "But you said that…" Her eyes went wide and she gasped. "Oh, my God."
Damon released her, stalking to the window. He raked his fingers through his hair. How the hell had he not noticed? He could practically hear the wheels turning in Bonnie's head as she put the pieces together.
"She's back, isn't she?" Bonnie finally said, her voice cold and detached. "Katherine's back."
