Disclaimer: Don't own TVD.

AU

Damon and Elena.

This is an M story. Read at your own discretion.


A Sinner before the Gates of Heaven

Chapter Four: Only Thing in This Whole World

Going to see the witches always sounds more ominous then it actually is and, as he drives, Damon entertains himself with the thought that they are the terrifying idea that people had created of them so long ago, who rode broomsticks and entertained themselves by cursing those that crossed them.

They're not, obviously, but the image of Sheila Bennet on a broomstick entertains him endlessly as he manoeuvres his blue Camaro through the quiet streets of Mystic Falls.

Idly, Damon glances out to his left and raises an eyebrow as he sees the curtain of a tightly locked house flutter at the sight of his car.

The residents of Mystic Falls may be scared shitless of the night that wraps itself around their cosy little town but most of them are damn curious about what happens at night and who roams the streets.

Some can't even help themselves when they hear a car drive past.

Even though they're terrified and curious about what happens, Damon wonders if they are even aware that the vampires they so desperately try and preserve themselves from are only a fraction of the supernatural population of this town.

He highly doubts it.

He supposes that if the people of Mystic Falls knew about the witches he was going to pay a visit too, the witches he needed to see wouldn't be living in the small house protected by much more than simple vampire etiquette.

Humans, he knew, were afraid to touch vampires because most knew too much about how they operated and mostly, humans tended to want to keep their necks intact.

Witches were a different matter, persecution has reigned supreme over them before and Damon has no doubt that if some key members of Mystic Falls' council found out about them, the fear of the night would be taken out solely on two witches he liked having around.

He like having them around not just because Sheila Bennet and her niece, Bonnie, were both powerful witches in their own right but because there were some things he needed to know that they only knew and shared when he asked at the opportune moment.

Now, he knows, is an opportune moment.

There are too many coincidences which have happened in the past few hours for him to not need to know, fully, what is going on.

There's also the fact that there's a girl asleep in his room that the more he thinks about her, the more curious he becomes.

Elena Gilbert, he tests out quietly in his head.

Elena Gilbert, a member of one of the founding families, a daughter no less and a girl who's blood smells so pure, it attracts the unwanted attention of some of his kind. There's something about that piece of information that's niggling in the back of his mind, some memory from his human years that he can't quite grasp.

Shaking his head, Damon dismisses that niggling memory and instead focuses back on the girl he's spent more time then he considers being wise.

She's also, apparently, Caroline's best friend and currently, the sole, possibly unwilling, resident of his bedroom. Christ, he can almost see her curled onto her side in his big, hand carved bed, her hand pillowing her serene, softly smiling face and that long tangle of ebony hair falling negligently over one uncovered shoulder.

She would look beautiful, he thinks.

Damon finds his eyes narrowing at the involuntary thought. It's been a very long time since he's considered someone truly beautiful. Longer still since he's considered someone to be beautiful in such an innocent way.

A hundred and forty-five years, he thinks suddenly, it's been a hundred and forty-five years since he's considered someone to be beautiful in that way.

Unbidden, the image of a girl with the same dark as Elena, curled in the same position he imagined her to be in, rises in front of him. He thinks for a second that he's seeing Elena and then realizes that he's not. Her features are not as sharp, her skin more porcelain then olive, her mouth a little fuller then Elena's.

It takes only a second for him to realize that it's a memory he's seeing, a memory that makes him feel warm with nostalgia for a few moments and then the feeling is pushed aside as he's assaulted by the pure smell that is so much stronger then Elena's.

The second the smell hits him, it fades and the image of the sleeping girl vanishes with it.

Damon wants to curse and is grateful that there's not a whole lot of traffic in Mystic Falls during the night. Otherwise, he's sure; he would be causing the only traffic jam Mystic Falls has ever seen.

It doesn't make him shaky that the memory, if it is a memory, has caused him to slam on the brakes and stall his car in the middle of the road but more determined to know what the hell is going on.

His fingers beginning to tap the steering wheel, a habit that he acquires only when he's attempting to connect dots, as he restarts the Camaro, determined now, to get answers from the witches he's sure know something about these coincidences.

It doesn't take him long to reach the friendly house sitting at the very of a street boarded up so tightly, Damon has no doubt that it's one of the original streets in the town.

The witches house is sitting without it's blinds closed and, he's sure, the door is unlocked because, unlike other residents of Mystic Falls, the people who live in that house know damn well how to protect themselves from him.

Witches are, after all, one of the few supernatural entities who have any real power against them.

Though he knows he should be cautious about approaching this house, Damon's also very aware that Sheila Bennet knows he's coming and is prepared.

Her granddaughter is the one he has a feeling that he should watch out for. Bonnie Bennet is not his greatest fan and he has a feeling that if she finds out exactly why he's decided to pay them a visit, she's going to hate him all the more.

There's nothing like facing off a new witch whose concept of the supernatural is still so irritatingly written in black and white that they often fail to see the real reason those closest to them allow him into their lives.

Bonnie, he knows, tries to take that one step farther because her grandmother has yet to let her in on the secret of her heritage.

He often wonders if Sheila will let him be there when Bonnie discovers why her grandmother is so accommodating with him.

Before his thoughts can go any further, the door swings open before his foot can touch the bottom step of the porch and Sheila steps out, her head held high and her brown eyes cast down to meet his head on.

There's not much Damon respects anymore but this witch, standing on her porch, swathed in soft grey wool and emanating the kind of calm, controlled power he knows comes from years of practicing a craft that has so many more complicated rules then anyone knows, is one of the few people who he gives his respect willingly.

"Damon." Sheila greets him, her voice quiet and little husky, and her eyes never wavering from his.

"Sheila. Long time, no see."

He inclines his head only slightly and glances behind her to see Bonnie framed by the doorway; her long, chocolate hair pulled back and her mouth set in a frown as eyes similar to her grandmother's glare at him from her safe position.

He thinks, idly, that the younger Bennet witch has always had crazy eyes.

"You've come about the girl." Sheila draws his attention back to her and he nods once.

"On the ball as usual, Sheila."

She narrows her eyes only slightly, a glimmer of amusement shining bright before being snuffed out by her granddaughter stepping out onto the porch with her.

"What girl?" Bonnie demands and he raises an eyebrow.

"None that concern you, Little Miss Nosy." Damon snaps and Sheila places a hand on her granddaughter's arm, an eloquent look of warning passing over him.

"It concerns me, vampire, when you're talking about people I know."

"Bonnie, go back into the house." Sheila intervenes sharply before he can retort and Bonnie looks like she wants to argue before she nods, walking slowly back into through the open door with a pointed glare aimed solely at him.

"You should train your guard dog better, Sheila. She jumps at any invitation."

Sheila only raises an eyebrow. "You should know better than to provoke a witch, Damon. Especially when you've come alone. I can only prevent her from doing nothing for so long."

He considers her words for a moment before shrugging. "The girl. That's why I'm here."

Sheila eyes him and then smiles thinly. "I am bound to tell you little, Damon. We are secretive for a reason and the motives of those who cast a spell based on coincidence are hidden, often from her sisters."

Respect, solely, keeps him from reacting irrationally to her words. Iron will keeps his voice from wavering from a tone of curiosity and the combination of both keeps his eyes steady on Sheila's slightly amused ones.

"So you can tell me nothing, then."

Sheila considers him for a moment, as if weighing something in her mind, though her eyes show nothing but the slight amusement of before and then she sighs.

"I am bound to this by my ancestor Damon, you know this. You know too, she is the only thing in this whole world that will set you free from this place."

He waves his hand impatiently at her words. "Obviously, but you seriously can't give me a clue? Even Miss Scarlett in the Study had a freaking clue."

"Always impatient," Sheila laughs only a little at his words then, closing her eyes, she draws in a deep breath and, in a voice soft with respect, begins to recite something he vaguely remembers hearing years ago. "Thrice they shall be saved. Two entities intertwined by fate's hand, one the only thing in this world that will give love boundless until forgiveness from the other is asked for."

Damon feels only the whisper of a power older then Sheila whisper over him as those words wash over him and he forgets to be cool. He's heard those words before, back when they were said as an explanation – or was it a spell? – and the need to punish was in the forefront of another witches mind.

He's heard them before, so he's sure that they're only a fragment of the explanation he's looking for in regards to Elena Gilbert.

Sheila is watching him shrewdly when his eyes return to hers and she inclines her head only slightly at the question in them.

"There is more but that, Damon, you must discover for yourself."

She doesn't move quickly but Damon finds himself alone in front of the cheerful witches house, his mind full of an almost memory triggered by the excerpt Sheila has just treated him too.

She has given him something to think about but something he should think about when the sun is high in the sky and definitely something to think about when Elena Gilbert isn't sitting in his room.

Turning back to his car, he wonders if Elena has an idea of what Sheila's terrible clue means and then figures it can't hurt to find out.

Especially if she's the only thing in this whole world that's going to free him from this town.


She rolls on top of him, her fingers twining tightly with his even as she sinks down onto him, a breathless moan erupting as she begins to rock and he moves with her, setting a rhythm and enjoying the slowly building burn low in his gut as she leans down to kiss him.

Their mouths tangle in a familiar dance as her blond curls curtain their faces and her grip on his hands tighten as her breath hitches in a sound he knows means she's about to come and he thrusts up once, hard, and is rewarded by her tearing her mouth from his to whimper out his name as she tightens around him.

"Stefan."

The slowly building burn erupts into white hot flame the second his name falls from her lips and he lets out a guttural groan that could be taken for her name but he knows it's not when she giggles drunkenly as she slides, boneless, down his body so she can settle her head in the curve of his neck.

He gently untangles his fingers from hers as she sighs comfortably, wiggling only slightly when he slides one hand down the length of her body to settle on her hip while the other strokes back the blond curls that have stuck to her forehead earlier.

Silence overtakes them and he relishes it for a moment, pulling his thoughts together as he continues to absently stroke the blond curls that are tangled beneath his fingers.

He knows that he needs to explain to her why he attacked someone she considers to be her best friend earlier and he knows, too, that she will accept his explanation unfailingly though he doesn't doubt that an apology will go astray either.

Caroline, he knows, will be thinking about how her best friend could have ended up like her and he doesn't blame her but he knows, too, that he will apologize for losing control but apologizing for attacking Elena Gilbert is something he won't do simply because Caroline will take his apology for attacking Elena and use it to soothe the wound he left when he attacked her three, nearly four, years ago.

And apologizing for finding his eternal mate is not something he thinks he can do.

He supposes that he should apologize to Elena for attacking her but knows that the words are easier said to Caroline, who accepts the flaws he fights every time he leaves the house at night with his brother.

Stefan furrows his brow slightly as he wonders if it will be possible to apologize to Elena for attacking her without Caroline hearing before he realizes that the silence they'd fallen into has stretched longer then he figures the blond can stand.

Glancing down, he wonders if she's asleep. Then he hears the sniffle.

"Car?" He asks softly. She sniffled again and he hates the funny feeling he gets in his stomach at the sad sound. "Caroline?"

She resolutely keeps her head down even as he begins to stroke her hair again gently, the hand on her hip sliding off find the hand she has splayed on his chest and intertwining their fingers even as he feels a solitary tear drop onto his skin.

"Caroline, look at me."

He really thinks for a moment that she's going to dig her face deeper into his neck when he speaks, the way she used too when Damon demanded to know how she could have made a stupid mistake and she didn't know she could stand up to his brother or him, for that matter.

She doesn't though; she tilts her head and meets his gaze, her blue eyes more brilliant because of the tears she's trying so hard not to shed.

"What's wrong?" He asks, though he's got a pretty good idea of what's going through her head.

"Do you think she remembers me?"

He smiles softly at her tiny, insecure voice. "Of course she does. How could she forget you?"

Caroline bites her lip at his words and he can see the wheels in her mind spinning and he knows what's about to come.

"Do you think he's going to kill me if I go and see her?"

"Probably."

She eyes him and he makes a face at her reaction the dry tone of his voice. Those blue eyes he adores start to glimmer with more than tears now.

"How willing are you to really piss him off, tonight?" She asks conversationally and he shrugs.

"You mean anymore then I already have?"

"Exactly."

He considers her question, his thumb beginning to rub circles on the back of her hand and chooses to ignore her involuntary shudder at his action.

Then he looks at her earnest face and knows he's screwed.

Stefan knows he will face the wrath of his brother and the lectures from Elijah millions of times over when Caroline looks at him in the earnestly, innocent, breakable way she has that makes him want to do anything she asks just so he can see the smile he loves light up her face.

"He's easier to deal with when he's really pissed, so pretty willing."

She tries to contain her squeal and fails and causes him to laugh as she props herself up and plants one, quick kiss on his lips.

"Thank you! I love you, Stefan." She says, excitement edging her voice.

"I love you, too." He replies. "Don't thank me though; you're dealing with Damon if he catches us. Elijah too."

Caroline ignores him as she jumps out of bed and he watches her, admiring her form as he realizes that maybe, going to see Elena Gilbert might not be a bad idea.

There has to be something special about her.

After all, Damon doesn't bring home human girls and lock them in his room for no reason and Stefan finds that he's curious about why he's brought her back and why Elijah was so silent before Caroline had pulled him away earlier.

He has a feeling that Caroline's best friend is more than just a random girl he chose to attack in moment of weak control.

He's got a feeling that she's much more than a random girl.

"Stefan, are you coming naked to terrorize her even more or are you going to wear pants?" Caroline demands from the foot of their bed and he rolls his eyes.

She is, possibly, the only thing in this whole world that can ask him something like that with no thought to being embarrassed.

He supposes she can ask it, though, because she is his whole world.


The dream unsettled her.

In fact, Elena thinks, the dream unsettled her so much; she's actually considering doing this.

She's standing in front of an open window – apparently, he can lock doors but not windows – and examining the study oak tree and its branches she had noticed before but never considered as a means for escape until she had woken from her dream and realizes that climbing trees was something she used to do, all the time.

She chooses to ignore the voice that reminds her when she was climbing trees before she was nine and, often, she wasn't wearing a dress and clamps down hard on the voice that is trying to tell her she needs to think about the implications of the dream her subconscious had dredged up from some forgotten part of her mind.

Instead, she continues to examine the tree and the branch that extends towards the open window.

She can do this, she knows. She can absolutely jump onto that branch and climb down the oak and run for it.

It's not a solid plan, at all, Elena knows but she also knows she doesn't think she can stand sitting in that room any longer, trying to figure out what's going to happen to her.

Though she's always had a healthy appreciation for her imagination, Elena has never realized when left alone she could come up with so many different scenarios.

She hadn't realized, either, that the most unsettling scenarios would be the incredibly vivid ones that involve him waking her with his mouth, rousing her with long, drugging kisses and callused hands sliding down to drift slowly up her thigh, catching the material of her skirt and shifting it up even as she welcomed him into the cradle of her hips, her mouth eagerly responding to his and her body becoming pliant and willing beneath his.

She hadn't realized she could imagine those scenarios. While awake, anyway.

The sound of a bird squalling brings Elena back to the present and she blinks rapidly as she realizes she's allowed herself to think back on one of those scenarios and curses herself for it.

She doesn't need to be thinking about that right now. She doesn't need to be thinking about her dream either and she really doesn't need to be thinking about how she could potentially kill herself by attempting to climb down a tree for the first time in twelve years.

Taking a deep breath, Elena decides she might as well take the plunge and steps out onto the barest hint of a ledge by the window.

Swallowing hard, she balances herself there for a second before reaching out and grasping the sturdy looking branch in front of her. Unlike the movies, the branch doesn't move and it isn't just within reach, she can grips it tightly, easily enough.

Hoping she has the upper body strength for this, Elena reaches out her other hand and grasps the branch and with one very deep, shaky breath, she swings off the window ledge in one smooth move and then, for a second, she hangs there, doubt flashing in her mind before she starts to swing until she can manage to wrap one leg around the middle of the branch.

Using it, she pulls herself up onto the branch and releases the deep breath she'd taken before.

Ha, if I can do that, she thinks, I can climb down the rest of this stupid tree and run.

It turns out to be surprisingly simple to climb down the rest of the tree, her own confidence in her abilities and the bright moonlight aiding her as she nimbly climbs down the tree.

The second her feet touch the ground, she feels a split second of relief at having escaped the room only to have it punctured by the sound of clapping from behind her.

She spins, her heart hammering and then sinking as she's faced with the man who's saved her, twice, standing behind her and watching her with a sly smirk and a hard edge in his eyes.

"Bravo. I suppose you're the only thing in this whole world that would consider climbing down a tree and running to be an awesome escape plan, hmm?"

She glowers. She can't help it. She hates it when people are condescending. Before she can formulate a blistering, instinctual reply, though, she meets his eyes and discovers, for the first time in her life, what it means to have the world stop.

His eyes, she thinks dumbly, they're so blue and full of so many things she wonders if anyone has ever thought they could drown in them. It's like being hit by a wave of everything and, yet, nothing because to understand everything she has to understand nothing, first. It's a primal tug low in her belly, which speaks of secrets she doesn't know, that are hidden in darkness and between his sheets. It's the danger she remembers from seeing him that first time hours ago and knowing he's dangerous not only because of what he is but who he is, as well.

Has anyone, she wonders numbly, ever looked into the eyes of a person and discovered so many things they've never known until right that moment?

Has anyone ever looked into someone's eyes and seen the only thing in this world?

"Elena!"

The sound of a voice so achingly familiar to her is what breaks the gaze she found herself involuntarily dragged into and Elena finds her eyes darting upwards, to the window she'd recently escaped from only to meet another pair of blue eyes framed by swinging blond curls.

She stares for only a second before her mind registers what, exactly, she's seeing and then she gasps out loud.

"Caroline?"


A/N: So, I originally toyed with the whole idea of having Caroline and Stefan be kind of friends with benefits and then I realized that it would be detrimental to both Caroline as a character and Stefan. Hopefully, you'll see what I mean in the coming chapters, where their relationship will be explained more fully. Besides, I like the idea of Stefan happily ensconed in a loving relationship with someone who isn't Elena because, lets face it, he's tidily out of the way then and Damon and Elena can do what needs to be done. If only that would happen in the show! Anyway, I hope you guys the chapter and are even more confused about what the hells going on. Don't worry, it'll all be explained. In bits and pieces. Slowly. Though not drawn out to the point where its painful. I hope anyway. I really hope everyone liked it though!

Again, thanks for the reviews!