AN: Hrm...okay. This chapter IS over 5000 words. Bring snacks. ;p Thanks so much for the replies! Can't wait to hear what you think of this one!
Chapter Eight – Through The Looking Glass
Waking in a silent hotel room, Elena blinked groggily at the thin bands of sunlight filtering through the venetian blinds on the windows. Directly in her line of sight, a matching twin bed stood empty and unmade. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought through the cobwebs cluttering her mind as her sluggish brain filtered through the details of the previous day and night. Memories returned in snapshots - the long drive with Damon, the bar, pretending to be Katherine…the whiskey…the kiss…the blood…playing with Damon's ring…almost throwing up in his car…
The kiss.
Elena gasped, sitting up far too quickly and instantly regretting it. A sharp stab of pain shot through her head and she closed her eyes again as her stomach heaved dangerously. She took a few deep breaths and while the nausea eased, her head continued to pound with a headache that wasn't quite a hangover, but an annoying reminder of her night of enthusiastic drinking.
"Damon?" she called, opening her eyes one at a time when he didn't answer. The empty silence should have been enough to tell her she was alone, even though his bag was on the floor, indicating he couldn't have gone far. Gingerly, she climbed out of bed and made her way to the window.
Peeking through the blinds, she spotted Damon standing by the Camaro just outside their room, holding a cell phone to his ear. He squinted in the bright sun, impatiently listening to the person on the other end as he paced the length of the car. Elena watched him for a few minutes, taking in the typical Damon Salvatore uniform of black boots, black pants and a neutral colored shirt. Today it was white, the long sleeves bunched around his elbows. Her gaze drifted upward, eventually settling on his mouth and instantly, the memories of their kiss became more than mere snapshots.
Bringing a hand to her lips, Elena swore she could still feel him there, still taste the whiskey on his lips and the solid strength of his body pressed against hers. Every minute detail of those few seconds they had been connected were seared into her brain. Even now, the places he'd touched her burned like a brand, her palms still tingled where she had cradled his face.
Taking a step forward and dipping her head for a better view, Elena stared, unable to reign in her thoughts. Questions pushed to the forefront, replacing the sensory observations. What had Damon been thinking? Why had he been so upset with the vampire who'd tried to touch her? Why had she kissed him? Why hadn't he kissed her back?
Why did I want him to?
Damon lifted his gaze from his steady contemplation of the cracked pavement, his eyes latching onto hers through the window. Gasping, she pulled her hand away, letting the blinds snap back into place. Eying the door, she moved to open it and join him outside, but stopped when she realized she was still in her pajamas. Automatically, her hand went to her hair, and she wondered what kind of state it was in. Before she could question her own actions, Elena found herself in the tiny bathroom, studying her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. Her hair was one long, tangled knot and she ran hasty fingers through it before twisting the tap and splashing cold water on her face.
The sudden chill brought her up short, stopping the hasty routine. "Oh my god, Elena! What are you doing?" she demanded of her reflection. She was…primping. For Damon. She had lived in the same house with him for weeks and now, after one stupid kiss that wasn't even real, she was suddenly concerned if he saw her with bed head. Snatching the towel from the chrome rod bolted to the wall, she dried her face roughly. Bracing her arms on the edge of the sink, she closed her eyes and tried to organize her racing thoughts into some semblance of order.
Okay. Facts. So, Damon was hot - when he wasn't being a complete ass. His eyes were a crazy gorgeous blue and she couldn't deny that on the rare occasions when he genuinely smiled, she got a little weak in the knees. A little. Just because she saw right through his charm didn't mean he wasn't good at it. She just…knew him. Understood it was all an act. Except when he meant it. Groaning in frustration, Elena pushed away from the sink.
It's okay to love them both. I did.
"No," Elena muttered aloud, running her hands through her hair. I love Stefan. Searching for the longing ache deep within her heart for her missing boyfriend, she pretended not to notice that it felt more like a memory than true emotion. No matter what Katherine said, no matter what ridiculous thoughts her stressed out psyche obsessed over, she would not love them both.
The hotel room door opened, alerting her to Damon's return. Purposefully not glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she turned off the light and walked resolutely into the room. Propped up by pillows on his unmade bed, Damon was sipping from a blood bag like it was a juice box. Seeing her, he grinned. "Afternoon, Sunshine." He held out the blood bag mockingly. "Thirsty?"
Ignoring the stomach turning offer, Elena looked at the digital clock by the bed. "Afternoon? You let me sleep all day?"
Damon shrugged. "You're cute when you're asleep." Then he winked. "And quiet. Besides, there was nothing else to do. We have to wait until dark to track down Landis."
Nodding, Elena took a seat on her own bed, one leg curled beneath her. Sometimes she forgot that not all vampires had magic jewelry that let them play in the sun. "Who were you talking to out there?"
"Caroline."
Elena waited expectantly, but he said nothing more. Sighing, she prompted. "And?"
"And…nobody. Just Caroline," Damon replied, glancing toward the ceiling as he frowned. "Well, I'm sure Lockwood was there, but I didn't ask to-. "
"Damon," she said, exasperated. "That's not-."
"I know what you meant, Elena," he interrupted evenly. Taking another sip from the blood bag, his gaze slid back to her and held. With a great deal of self-control, she refrained from fidgeting and stared back at him. They regarded each other silently before he said. "Tyler and Caroline ran into some vampires last night. They worked for Klaus."
"Oh, my god, are they okay?" Elena's eyes went wide, forgetting everything else for just a moment.
"Well, if they weren't, I probably wouldn't have been talking to Caroline about it, now would I?" Damon raised a brow pointedly and Elena fought the urge to throw a pillow at him. It was way too early – or late – to keep up with his wit. Sensing her frustration, he rolled his eyes. "Yes, they're fine. Klaus's vamps…not so much."
"Well, what happened?" Elena demanded.
"Do you want the details or do you want the Caroline version of events?" Damon asked dryly.
"Just the details," Elena smiled.
"Thank you," Damon replied gratefully, explaining in as few words as possible how Tyler and Caroline had pulled off the road at a rest stop and had been ambushed by two vampires. "They only caught a few things. Just that the vamps were on Klaus's payroll and had been following them since they crossed the border into Pennsylvania. No mention of Stefan, but Caroline seemed pretty positive that they were protecting something."
"Like what?"
"She didn't know, but she'd spent a lot of time contemplating it and shared every single idea with me," Damon said, shaking his head. "They're going to keep looking around and see if they can figure it out."
Elena paled. "They're staying? Shouldn't they go back to Mystic Falls? Something could happen to them."
"Right, because it's safer in Mystic Falls," Damon scoffed, sitting up. The empty blood bag dangled from his fingertips as he braced his elbows on his knees. "They're fine. Between the two of them, taking out the vamps was easy. Even with Lockwood neutered at the moment."
"I just don't want them to get hurt," Elena fretted, bowing her head and playing with the worn but clean edge of the rumpled sheet. "If anything happens to them…"
"It won't be your fault, Elena" Damon insisted firmly. "And it's not up to you anyway. Tyler and Caroline are doing this for Stefan."
Elena bit her lip and sighed. Knowing he was right didn't make it any easier to accept. If anything happened to her friends, her family…Blinking back tears that suddenly blurred her vision, she took a deep breath and changed the subject. "So, tonight…I should be Katherine again, right?"
"No," Damon shook his head, rising abruptly from the bed. Finishing the blood in a few gulps, he tossed the empty bag in the small wastebasket next to the ancient television. Keeping his back to her, he repeated. "No more charades. It's too risky."
"Risky? You said I did fine last night," Elena protested, standing up and moving to the foot of the bed. "That whole bar believed I was Katherine."
"Yeah, well, it's going to take more than some eyeliner and an attitude to fool Landis," Damon promised. Glancing over his shoulder, he added. "And I don't like looking at you and seeing her."
"Damon, that's silly," Elena argued, grabbing his shoulder and trying in vain to make him face her. Undaunted, she moved in front of him, slipping into the small space between his rigid frame and the scuffed and scratched chest of drawers. "We look exactly alike."
"No, you don't," Damon shook his head once, narrowing his eyes. Abruptly, he tucked a strand of her long hair behind her ear, letting his thumb graze her cheekbone. Elena held her breath, every nerve ending suddenly attuned to the place he was touching her like it was starved for the sensation. Damon's thumb skirted lower, sweeping over her full lower lip and just barely making contact. "Maybe Katherine does when she's pretending to be you, but…you are different."
"How?" Elena asked, warming immediately to the idea that someone – anyone – could see a physical difference between her and Katherine.
"It's…your eyes," Damon cocked his head, studying her openly now, all other concerns forgotten. "Katherine looks through people. You look at them."
Wide-eyed, Elena said nothing as the thumb on her lip grew bolder. Dipping his head, Damon brought up his other hand, framing her face. Her heart beat loudly in anticipation as she read the intent in his clear blue eyes. Guilt twisted in her stomach, warning her to pull away, that it was unfair to allow him to touch her with such intimacy when she couldn't return his feelings. Still, she didn't turn away.
She couldn't.
Knowing it was stupid and selfish, Elena was desperate to know what it was like to kiss him without agenda. Not because he was drunk and upset or dying or because she was pretending to be someone else, but because he was beautiful and broken and in that moment completely vulnerable. A certainty arose from some deep, unknown place in her mind that if he kissed her now, she'd get an answer to a question that she'd never been brave enough to ask.
The shrill ringing of a cell phone shattered the loaded silence. Closing his eyes, Damon held her for another beat, then let her go and turned away. Losing his touch shocked Elena to the core of her being as she realized what she'd nearly allowed to happen – what she'd wanted to happen. The phone continued its plaintive cry and she released the breath she'd been holding, darting furtive glances at the tense set of Damon's shoulders as he stalked across the room to retrieve it.
"What is it, Ric?" he demanded by way of greeting. Elena leaned against the dresser, fingers curling around the edge while her heart beat erratically. Staring at the floor, she listened to Damon's end of the conversation long enough to ascertain that Jeremy and Bonnie were safe before retrieving her bag and retreating into the bathroom. At the threshold, she glanced back, daring to meet Damon's eye for a moment before closing the door. The vulnerability was gone, his crystal blue gaze giving away nothing.
The burst of water from the showerhead was a grounding force, bringing Elena back to reality. Stripping off her pajamas, she stepped into the shower, shivering under the punishingly cold spray. The nausea had returned – this time from guilt. That girl out there wasn't her, couldn't have been her. Allowing Damon to kiss her, wanting him to, made her no better than Katherine and she refused to give in and love them both. Nobody would survive that. Not a second time.
Stefan glanced at the clock for the second time in as many minutes. Only two hours until he could see Katherine again.
For weeks, Stefan had indulged in his every whim to Klaus' endless delight. No kill was begrudged, no game too depraved. Playing the Ripper was exactly the opposite of playing Stefan Salvatore, even-tempered high school junior. Where his former self would have raised eyebrows if he had strayed from the path of the righteous, the Ripper only surprised when he showed mercy. The freedom of those initial days had become just another prison, another code of conduct he was forced to follow. The pressure was leading Stefan to a whole new level of insanity as he now counted down the seconds until sunset.
As the day had crawled by, staying out of Klaus's way had been his top priority. He didn't think the Original suspected the truth about Katherine, but Stefan couldn't trust himself. As a human, his morals prevented him from telling falsehoods and as a vampire his natural inclination to tell the truth was only amplified. Human blood did nothing to help his duplicity. Quite the opposite, in fact. With the warm elixir coursing through his veins he was usually too euphoric to hold back. Truth, lies, none of it made any difference. He'd get his next fix regardless.
Katherine, however, superseded the bloodlust.
At last, the sun set. Eluding Klaus' entourage of compelled servants, Stefan slipped up to the roof. Breathing in the cool night air, he wasted no time, leaping across fifteen feet of open air to the neighboring building. Landing soundlessly, he jogged across the tarpaper and dropped off the ledge, landing in the next alley over. Mindful of potential spies, he stuck to the shadows, making his way through the Charleston streets to the same cemetery he'd met Katherine in the night before. Every human he passed was a temptation that threatened to shatter his fragile sense of free will. The gate was locked, but that mattered little. Without bothering to check for witnesses, he leapt over the high stone wall and landed quietly on the well-tended grass.
Crouching on the ground, Stefan surveyed the cemetery. The crypt he and Katherine had nearly destroyed the night before looked much the same, save for the plywood over the broken entrance. Closing his eyes, he searched for her scent, and was momentarily crippled by bitter disappointment when he didn't find it. Just as he was about to get up and begin the pursuit on foot, he caught a hint of something else. Flowery, sweet, distinctly feminine - not Katherine, but intriguing nonetheless. Rising, the scent grew stronger as he took a few steps forward. Stefan's curiosity and hunger warred with his need to find Katherine. Convincing himself he could potentially kill two birds with one stone, he delved deeper into the tombs.
The search took only minutes. One hundred feet in, near the center of the cemetery, Stefan came upon a crypt with its door hanging askew. Senses piquing to the thrill of the hunt, he cautiously approached the crypt. Five feet away - more than enough distance to make a clean escape in the unlikely event it was necessary - he tasted the air again, this time catching the distinctive hint of jasmine and sandalwood. Katherine's perfume. His entire being sighed with relief knowing she was near.
Boldly, he approached the crypt, opening the door on its solitary hinge. A single blink accustomed his eyes to the blackness within and at first, he saw no one. A whimper sounded from the back corner, muffled and desperate. Discovering the owner of that cry, Stefan narrowed his eyes at a bound and gagged young girl huddled in the far corner. Hope blazed from her wide green eyes as she silently beseeched Stefan for help, even going so far as to hold out her taped hands to him. Fiery red hair hung in ringlets around her pale, tear-stained face. Intrigued but wary, Stefan hovered, unmoving, in the doorway.
"Do you like your present?" a voice purred from behind him. Stefan's body tensed and relaxed at the same time hearing the voice he'd hungered for all day. Like a true creature of the night, Katherine emerged from the shadows, clad in a slinky black dress reminiscent of the one she'd worn in the tomb in Mystic Falls. It hugged every luscious curve as she sauntered over to him.
"My present?" Stefan repeated, more to hear the sound of her voice than for clarification. Wrapping his arm around her as she molded herself to his side, he didn't resist the urge to bury his face in her hair.
"Well, our present, really," Katherine replied, the smile evident in her voice. "Unless you don't want to share. I thought about getting you one that looked like me, but why settle for a cheap imitation when you can have the real thing?"
"I'll share," he promised, curling his hand around her hip, completely intoxicated by her even as the human girl's fear made his mouth water. Katherine's very presence was a balm to his frayed nerves. Despite a century of hating her, of convincing himself that everything they shared had been compulsion, at this moment the relief he felt with her was so palpable, so instantaneous, he couldn't get enough. "I don't understand this. Only weeks ago I hated you. Now, you're the only thing that…that I want."
"Mmmm," Katherine murmured, framing his face with her hands and holding it mere inches from her own. "There's a thin line between love and hate, Stefan. Those aren't just pretty words."
Forcing himself to take a step back, Stefan resisted the sudden urge to kiss her. Maintaining contact by cradling her hands in his, he pressed. "It's more than that."
"What do you mean?" Katherine frowned, an odd expression for her perpetually aloof features. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who somehow felt…safe all of a sudden.
"The blood…it calls to me. Demands that I just…take and take and take. I'm helpless to it," he explained, fighting for every word. He'd never tried to explain it to anybody - not even Damon or Elena after they'd sobered him up last time. "I can't stop it. I feel out of control. Except with you. You make me feel…normal. Even with human blood in my system, I can…think."
Stroking his face, Katherine said nothing for a long moment. The girl in the corner continued her whimpering, but Stefan ignored it. Eventually, she shrugged. "I don't know the answer, Stefan, but…I said I'd stay and I will. There's no reason you should have to live denying your true nature. You are so much more than that."
"Klaus grilled me about you when I got back this morning," Stefan confessed. "I lied and said I hadn't seen you, but I don't know if he believed me."
"Deceit was never your thing," she smiled, taking his hand and leading him to the low stone bench for mourners that ran along the wall. Sitting down, her skirt riding up past mid-thigh, she gracefully crossed her long bare legs. As she ran the toe of her spiked heel up his shin, she smiled. "That's one of the things I always loved about you."
Stefan scoffed and closed his eyes, reveling in the peace Katherine brought to him and at least for now, refusing to question it. "What else did you love about me?"
"Your honor. I thought it was so cute how chivalrous you were with me. I practically had to drag you into my room our first night together," she revealed, lacing her fingers through his. "What did you love about me?"
Opening his eyes, Stefan found her smile still coy, but the moonlight filtering through the door illuminated an earnestness that he'd never seen in her before. Whatever his answer, she was very keen to hear it.
"What did I love about you," he repeated. "Your spontaneity. Your fearlessness. The fact that you had the guts, even then, to be exactly who you chose to be, society be damned. Damon was always good at bucking expectations. I never could…even when I wanted to."
Katherine made a face. "Damon played at it, but all he ever wanted was the acceptance that came easily to you."
"I don't want to talk about Damon," Stefan shook his head, thoughts of his brother conjuring up his life in Mystic Falls and the girl he'd left in his brother's care. The girl he'd managed not to think about for days. Briefly, he let his gaze drift over the girl still huddled in the corner. The hope that had lit her features upon his arrival had vanished, replaced by a steady stream of tears now coursing down her cheeks. Suddenly, remembering the reason he'd needed so badly to see her, he sat up, turning on the bench to face Katherine fully. "We're leaving Charleston early tomorrow for Savannah. You have to come."
"Savannah? What's there?" Katherine raised a brow.
"I don't know, but that's Klaus's next stop."
"Why does he want me, Stefan?" she demanded, gripping his thigh.
"He says he has unfinished business with the original Petrova and he needs you," he explained, the truth falling from his lips. "What do you know about her?"
"Nothing. Klaus and Elijah never talked about their past," Katherine replied, rising to her feet and pacing in agitation. "I mean, they had siblings, boys and a single sister, but with all your research to avoid the sacrifice, you probably know more about them than I do. What do I have to do with the Original Petrova?"
"I don't know," he lamented. Desperately, he rose as well, stopping her midstride and grabbing her shoulders. "I didn't want to press because I thought he might realize I'd seen you and I…I won't let him hurt you, Katherine. Whatever his plan is, I don't care. I don't know why, but I need you. The bloodlust…the insanity…true nature or not, it's too much."
Uneasy, Katherine braced a hand on her hip, shaking her head. Stefan waited, afraid if he said more, she'd somehow disappear right before his eyes. Seconds passed, became minutes, until eventually she muttered a curse and sighed. "Fine. I'll follow you to Savannah. But you have to promise me, Stefan, that you're not going to give me away. I can't fall under Klaus's control again. I can't."
"I promise," he replied at once, willing to offer her anything to get her assurance that he'd be able to see her again when they arrived in Georgia. "I won't say anything and I'll figure out what he wants with you so we can stop him."
"You can't stop Klaus," Katherine snapped in a moment of real fear. Stefan couldn't remember seeing her like this. Her control over every situation was as much a part of her personality as her seductive charm. "All you can do is run and hide. Which is what we'll do when we know what we're up against, agreed?"
Run away with Katherine. The idea was tantalizing, opening up a world of possibilities. Stefan didn't even need to consider it. He nodded. "Agreed."
Instantly, she relaxed, even offered him that slow smile that set him on fire from the inside out. Rising from the bench, she took his hand and guided him to the far corner. In the silence, Stefan heard the human girl's heartbeat skip, then race as if chased by the devil himself. The obvious sign of fear sent a ripple of anticipation down his spine. Katherine wrapped her arms around his and whispered in his ear. "Let's enjoy your present, shall we?"
Fangs descending at the suggestion, he watched as Katherine grabbed the human's bound hands and yanked her to her feet. Presenting her to Stefan like a gift to a king, she raised a brow. "First taste?"
"Let's do it together," Stefan suggested. Katherine's grin turned truly wicked, her fangs descending as well. Simultaneously, to the music of the girl's muffled sobs, they leaned in and pierced the tender flesh of her throat.
Damon winced as the Camaro bounced down yet another gravel road, scanning the scenery for signs of Landis. Much to his annoyance, Gregory had given him an actual address, rather than directions, which would have been helpful if Damon hadn't forgotten that they were in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. Roads weren't so much a reality as a vague idea.
Sitting silently in the passenger seat, Elena kept her eyes on the surrounding forest, barely sparing him a glance, let alone a word. She'd been quiet all afternoon, keeping her nose buried in a book while he'd pretended to peruse the pathetic basic cable offerings on the ancient television. In reality, he'd found himself… brooding.
He'd spent most of the night lying awake, analyzing every move Elena had made as Katherine. Then he'd gone over the details again in the early morning hours as she slept, in a vain attempt to convince himself it had been nothing more than an act. The confusion, surprise and faint hint of desire he'd read in her eyes when they had broken apart, however, had not been what he would have expected from a woman who spent her days professing her love for his brother.
Eventually, Damon had convinced himself to blame the alcohol and forget about it, certain that after Elena had slept it off, she'd be consumed by regret. He thought he'd been right when he'd caught her peeking at him through the blinds, but the girl who had greeted him when he went back into the room hadn't been afraid to look him in the eye. To let him get close. To let him touch her. In fact, he was almost ready to believe that if Ric hadn't called, Elena would have allowed that kiss to happen.
Of course, if it had, the current silence would have been a hell of a lot more awkward.
As Damon took a right, turning onto yet another gravel road, Elena sighed. "So are we going to find this Landis sometime this month?"
"Do you see any road signs?" Damon sneered, accelerating as the forest began to recede from the edges of the gravel. "Wanna go back and ask Greg for better directions?"
Elena glanced at him and said sourly. "I'll pass, thanks. You still haven't told me how you know these guys."
"It's not much of a story," Damon shrugged. "Like I said, I ran into them in the 20s, right after they'd turned. They were making moonshine like every other backwoods idiot in the South, only since Prohibition had just been passed, they decided to take advantage of a perfect situation."
"A perfect situation?"
"Can you think of a better way for vampires to make money?" Damon glanced her way, raising a brow. "The mob wasn't the only one cashing in. You have a bunch of humans going out at night with the sole purpose of getting as drunk as possible. Food came to us – no compulsion necessary. The speakeasies we ran made money hand over fist and when the feds showed up to shut us down they had this strange habit of forgetting they'd ever been there."
"Nice," Elena muttered, sarcasm dripping from the word. "So you ran a bunch of bars?"
"Not exactly," he paused, debating for a half-second whether or not to tell her the truth. He wasn't in the mood for a fight, but a believable lie didn't come to mind. "For a share of the profits I…controlled the competition."
"What do you mean 'controlled the competition'?"
Damon shrugged. "I made the competition go away."
"Away?"
"Yup."
"You mean you killed them?"
Damon paused and glanced at her, the anger in his voice surprising him. "Yeah."
"Why am I not surprised?" she grumbled, crossing her arms and glaring angrily out the window again.
"Because you know me?" Damon countered, earning a snort of disgust from his traveling companion. "Seriously, Elena, you're gonna get mad at me over a bunch of wannabe mobsters I killed ninety years ago? Why am I not surprised?"
"You want me to be happy that you killed innocent humans?"
"Innocent?" Damon scoffed, staring at the back of her head, inadvertently pressing harder on the gas pedal. "These guys would have turned on each other for…ten bucks and a fifth of shitty gin. If you want to be mad at me at least make it about someone who deserves it."
"I'm sure there were plenty," she replied haughtily, tearing her gaze away from the window and meeting his defiantly.
"You have no idea," Damon taunted her, enjoying the way her eyes widened as he readily agreed with her. At times like these, when Elena climbed back on her high horse, casting judgment on everybody in her path, he relished the chance to remind her that most of his kind didn't spend their days constantly bemoaning their past. Rubbing her face in it may have been petty, but it was cathartic all the same.
The forest had receded significantly, the road cutting right through a natural clearing. The Camaro sped along far too quickly over the gravel, climbing up a gentle hill. Damon was too busy glowering at Elena to notice much of anything except the condescending set of her jaw and the accusation flashing in her eyes.
Cresting the top of the hill, the headlights suddenly lit upon a figure, a pale specter of a woman clad all in white. Damon saw it at the same moment that Elena screamed, so he knew it wasn't just his imagination.
"Damon, stop!"
Damon gripped the wheel tightly, slamming his foot on the break as the Camaro screamed in protest and began to spin.
