Title: Under a Different Moon (6/?)

Spoilers: slightly for 2.09 and 2.10

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Notes: Okay, I finally fixed this up. I didn't want to fail at my Monday schedule so I wrote it up quickly, but I'm glad everyone liked it anyways. It still seems weird to me (maybe it's how fancy-worded I got... I jump around styles, I'm sorry) and I may fiddle with it in the future. Anyways... those who have not read it before, enjoy, and those who are reading again, thank you!(:

(now with a fancy line to separate my rambling)

Thus, they fell into this easy, simple sort of routine: friends by day, lovers by night. They fell asleep and woke up in each other's arms but got ready in their own respective rooms; any romance outside of the walls of Damon's bedroom, anything more than their cordial friendship, and everything would crumble at their feet. She battled his longing for Elena and he quelled her restlessness.

They understood each other, but they were only friends. Nothing more.

Well.

—

This cycle continued on for about a week and a half, until one day when Rose woke up alone. To Damon's credit, the blinds were closed and there was even a note, written in his untidy scrawl: Witch problems. Be back later. She smirked and laid it aside, grabbing the glass of blood he'd also left for her and downing it. Then, moving into the hallway, she knocked on Trevor's door, as was her morning custom, before going into her own room. Once she was decent looking, she had the whole morning to spend relaxing or reading or talking with Trevor—something they hadn't really done in ages. That is, if she could find him.

However, she gave up easily, believing he had gone to Richmond to check on Slater or something of the sort. The lack of his presence disturbed her, though, being so used to having him by her side. Rose was still not used to staying still.

Thankfully, somewhere around one in the afternoon, Trevor breezed back in, throwing her a small smile.

"Where've you been?" Rose asked, giving him a smile in return.

"Slater's," he replied, in an absent-minded way that didn't suit him at all. "He's okay, just freaked out."

Something in his tone set off alarms in Rose's head; this was not the Trevor she'd known for over five-hundred years. She stood up and asked, bluntly, "What's up?"

Trevor stopped dead mid-step and spun around. "Nothing."

"Oh? You sure you went to see Slater, then?"

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't—no, Rose, I know what you're thinking. I'm not that stupid."

She still wasn't fully convinced, but turned away all the same.

—

It was dark before Damon returned home. From her room, Rose heard his and Stefan's cars pull into the driveway, gravel crunching. Their voices reached her (something about a man named Luka and Elena's friend Bonnie) and the front door opened, then shut. She didn't hear them come upstairs because her ears were suddenly fixed on Trevor's room, where she could hear him presumably talking to himself.

Pity she knew him so well.

"No… they wouldn't… please, just—" Trevor nearly dropped the phone as Rose entered.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed, rushing over and taking the phone from him. "Damon and Stefan just got here, what if they heard you?"

"Ah, hello, Rosemarie," said the voice on the other line.

She raised the cell phone to her ear delicately, as if it would explode, and swallowed once. "Elijah."

"My dear. You have considered my ideas, yes?"

Rose resisted the great urge to fling the phone across the room. "The Salvatores would never risk something like that. They will never sacrifice—"

Suddenly— of course— Damon entered the room, looking livid, and the last word fell unbidden from her lips: "Elena."

Damon didn't even say anything; he simply walked up and wrenched the phone from her hand. Raising it to his own ear, he asked in a low voice, "Who the hell is this, and what do you want with Elena?" When he received no reply, he tossed the phone angrily onto the dresser and spun to face Rose. Neither of them spoke up until she couldn't bear it.

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough." Then, raising his voice, he called for Stefan, who promptly rushed into the room.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"If you don't mind, brother," Damon said, eyes still locked on Rose, "please escort our guests outside." When Stefan hesitated, Damon said, louder, "Now, Stefan, before I do something violent."

"This isn't what it looks like, Damon," Rose pleaded. But he had seen what he wanted to see, and the look in his eyes told her that no amount of reasoning would get her out of this.

"I trusted you," he said as Stefan and Trevor left, "but I guess I was wrong."

"Damon—"

"Out. Get out."

—

Trevor was waiting for her, as expected.

"You're lucky I covered your ass back there," she said, walking away from him, unable to look at his face.

Of course something like this would happen. We always end up way over our heads but this, this...

"Rose—" he started.

She spun around angrily and cut him off. "We had a home, Trevor. An actual, proper home. I can't believe you would do something so stupid as contact Elijah when you knew, you knew it wouldn't work, that the Salvatores would never accept help from an Original. Now they think we betrayed them, and I—" She paused to wipe the tears that had spilled from her eyes. "I just wanted to stop running."

Trevor looked genuinely upset. "I'm sorry, Rose. I'll make this right, I promise." She shook her head. There was a long pause until Trevor tried again: "We could at least go and see Elijah. Even if we can't be there directly, we can help Elena from a distance."

Maybe we can set this right. Maybe.

Rose hesitated but nodded, the tiniest of smiles gracing her face. Then, she started walking away.

"Hold on, where are you going?"

She didn't answer his question directly; instead, calling over her shoulder, she replied, "Unless you want to break into their garage for our car, I suggest you start walking."

—

Inside the boarding house, Damon Salvatore poured himself another drink and tried not to regret his decision.

But what else was he supposed to do?