Author's Note

Wow, long time no see! I've been pretty busy with life, and while I can't promise my next update will come in a timely fashion, I hope this'll be enough to hold y'all over until then. The reviews have been fantastic, and I really appreciate you telling me what works and what doesn't – so keep it up! Feedback is always fantastic, and I'm especially grateful to those that've commented so far.

Just a quick note: I also rely on the tie-in comics for additional canon (esp. regarding Mason Lockwood), so bear with me if something seems off from them! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this.


A Normal Life

Bonnie had texted Stefan with one sentence: she's at the old cemetery.

What was it with supernatural creatures and their affinity for the macabre? Damon would've chosen somewhere less gothic: considering her circumstances, even her house would've sufficed. He wouldn't suffer amongst the dead, if he was no longer one of them. The irony, even for him, was a little much.

The second Stefan read the text out loud, Jeremy bravely puffed out his chest and declared, "I'm coming with you."

"Oh no you're not," Elena insisted, tugging hard on her brother's arm and pulling him back towards her car. "You've had enough adventure for one night, baby bro."

("I'm only a year younger!" Jeremy protested, to everyone's chagrin, as he pulled against her grip. "Come on, guys! I'm not five years old anymore!")

To Stefan, Elena mouthed 'IOU?' before strapping Jeremy down into the passenger seat. Damon firmly pressed against the kid's arms, holding him down as the kid squirmed, twisting and turning into the leather with every second.

"It's for your own good," Bonnie echoed, though her piercing gaze missed – and instead, Matt's eyes glossed over as he headed towards Elena.

"Yeah, it's for our own good," Matt agreed, climbing into the back seat. "'Lena, mind giving me a ride home?"

Elena blinked back confusion, folding her arms as she silently looked at Matt and then at Bonnie before she closed her mouth shut. Damon couldn't blame her: merely seconds ago, Matt had been clamoring to chase his sister himself. Bonnie's Jedi trick sorely needed some minor adjustments if it worked on everyone except her intended target.

"Um, sure," Elena finally said, sliding into the driver's seat and revving up the engine. "Stefan, text me later?"

"Easily." Once Elena's car was out of sight, Stefan tossed the car keys to Damon.

Their car couldn't match a bloodsucker's speed – at least, not while obeying traffic laws. Damon ignored every single one of them, pressing as hard on the acceleration as possible. Stefan clung desperately to the side of his seat, clenching his teeth and bracing himself for impact. "What is wrong with you, Damon?"

Maybe he wanted to reach the cemetery before Vicki munched on some stoners. Had that thought ever popped into his brother's brain? Damon gripped the steering wheel tightly, releasing it only when he had parked haphazardly near the curb. If the police gave him a ticket, fine. At least he was trying to save some girl's life (or what remained of it).

Stefan hopped out as soon as the doors were unlocked, running off towards the center of the cemetery. Damon followed him at a brisk pace, keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of his least-favorite bloodsucker. Usually, bloodsuckers moved too damn fast. Sure, Damon was in shape: between his soccer matches and charity runs, he could run without breaking a sweat. He was no Mason Lockwood, but Damon wasn't trying to compete with his beast of a friend. Bonnie - and now Vicki - were in their own league. With every pounding step against that dirt road, Damon could feel his calves ache. After a few minutes, Stefan nearly collapsed onto the road, leaning on his knees for comfort as he stopped to catch his breath.

"Just leave me behind," Stefan had wheezed, his breaths growing shallower by the second. "I'll get there sooner or later."

If Vicki weren't a fledgling vampire, Damon would've scooped his brother into his arms and kept running. As it was, they'd already lost time. Before he could argue, Bonnie emerged from the side of the road. She sighed at Stefan, then seized Damon's arm and shoved him forwards.

"Keep your eye out for anyone suspicious," Damon called, unsuccessfully wrestling with Bonnie's iron grip. While Stefan's magic couldn't fend off a vampire, Stefan could distract one with a well-timed spontaneous combustion. The kid could hold his own, even if he wasn't the most physically gifted.

Stefan, in-between breaths, gave his brother a disgruntled look. "We fall under that category, but sure."

Once Damon and Bonnie fell out of Stefan's hearing range, she grumbled, "I was able to explain everything to Vicki, but then I heard your friend the newscaster is here. I don't know how, and I don't know why…"

"But I'm guessing Vicki has something to do with it."

Bonnie nodded grimly. Damon bit on his lower lip, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Stomping leaves aside, he snuck a glance at the bloodsucker beside him. If he didn't know that she had just sprinted to the other side of town, he would have never guessed that she had ran that entire distance. Her dark hair was still perfectly curled; her lipstick hadn't smeared; and she was still confusedly looking at him behind those thick lashes. Compared to her, he must've been one hot mess.

"Why are you still here?" The words tumbled from his lips faster than he could stop them.

"Well, why are you?"

"Don't answer my question with another question." Damon brusquely stepped aside, listening carefully for other voices, crunched leaves, crumbled stones, or anything that would indicate a person's presence. Save for their own footsteps, the woods were eerily quiet tonight – not even the crickets were chirping.

Bonnie smothered a laugh. "That's rich, coming from the boy who thinks he has to protect everyone."

"Excuse me?" Damon stopped in his tracks, watching as Bonnie continued without him. "Not my fault she had to go and get herself bitten."

"Doesn't mean you have to be the one that saves her."

Stupid Bennett Bloodsucker logic. Damon reluctantly walked towards her, completely ignoring how she all but stopped for him. "I didn't ask you to help me."

"You don't like how we're on the same side, huh?"

Damon gritted his teeth. "We're not on the same side. We just happen to have the same damn goal. Where did you say Scumfell was?"

Bonnie vaguely gestured towards the west, keeping her steps brisk as she led him past another row of graves. Taking care not to step over anything, Damon followed her. The last time he had visited the cemetery, he had laid flowers on Uncle Grayson's grave, promising that he wouldn't let his mentor's research end in vain. Damon was no doctor; he couldn't heal people through prescriptions or kind words. The best he had were his elixirs and spells, and even those couldn't delay the inevitable. Stefan had wanted to follow in Uncle Grayson's footsteps, devouring medical textbooks whole when he wasn't reading "higher literature." No wonder Stefan had asked if vampires caught disease, if he was unconsciously echoing their mentor.

Damon's throat tightened as he pressed on, taking care to avoid his mentor's grave. "Is Anna with him?"

"Not sure. I only heard his voice." She paused. "The Fells were a Founding Family too. Is there some ancient rivalry between you and…"

Damon snorted. "Like I care about that. I just happen to hate racist assholes."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow at him. "Big words coming from another white boy."

"Another white boy who studied sociology," Damon corrected, wrinkling his nose at her. So maybe he still had a lot to learn, and he wasn't the most politically correct person around, but dammit, he wasn't oblivious like Scumfell. College had opened his eyes to the world - a much larger one that lied beyond Mystic Falls and its homogeneity. The less he resembled that idiot, the better. "So Scumfell and Vicki. Great. Just the two people I wanted to see tonight."

Bonnie halted, holding her arm out to prevent him from moving forward. "Sssh," she said. "I can hear them."

Too bad he couldn't. Damon frowned, squinting at the darkness ahead of them. "What're they saying?"

"Something about…" She tensed. "We've gotta hurry."

Damon internally groaned. Not another run! He couldn't match her pace – nor would he want to – and his muscles already hated him. Adding additional pressure would increase his (already long) recovery time. Bonnie sprinted ahead, forcing him to hasten his pace to see her in the distance.

Just in case, he held his hand up and whispered, "Luce." An orb of pure light formed from his palm, illuminating the clearing before him. The grassy area was mostly clear, save for two people near the edge. As Damon held the light up, he could see Logan sneering above Vicki, with a small handgun pressed firmly against her chest.

"So it was you," Logan was saying in his broadcaster voice to an imaginary audience, "You were the vamp killing those people in the woods."

"She did no such thing, idiot."

Logan turned, his eyes widening as he noticed Damon and the glowing orb of light in his hands. "Wh-what the hell? Salvatore?"

Vicki broke from Logan's grasp, shoving him against the nearest tree as she scrambled towards Bonnie. Still catching her breath, she protectively folded her arms across her chest. Without missing a beat, Damon threw the ball of light at Logan; it dispersed into a shower of light, throwing Logan squarely on his backside as he stared up at the remaining sparks.

"I could ask you the same question," Damon said lightly, forming another ball with the palm of his hand. "Aren't you a little old to be creeping on teenage girls?"

Logan sneered, holding his hand up to shield himself from the light. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not dumping her for Donovan Jr., if that's what you're implying."

Bonnie stared at them in disgust. "Could you two stop your pissing contest for one moment?"

"For what? Salvatore to protect some vamp?" Logan said, now scrutinizing Damon. "I should've known you were in league with them."

"Ew, no." Damon formed yet another ball, watching as Logan instinctively shrunk back from him. "You've got the wrong girl." Er, wrong bloodsucker. But considering the watch in Logan's hand, Damon had to tread lightly. One wrong move, and Vicki would die from Logan's new baby gun.

"How so? This watch points to vampires," Logan said smugly, nearly tossing it into the air, "It works just fine, 'cause it's pointing to Vicki and…" He paused. "Vicki and your friend."

He aimed squarely at Bonnie and pulled on the trigger. Instead of the metal bullets Damon were so used to, little wooden stakes flew through the air towards them. Damon held his arm out, "Guardian!"

No protective forcefield could contain wooden bullets that fast. Bonnie sidestepped, yet the bullet was faster. Hitting the back of her calve, Bonnie screeched, falling to her feet.

"Stop protecting them!" Logan hissed, though his widened eyes said what his cautious body language wouldn't. For the first time since they'd met, Damon truly frightened him. Funny how it only took seven years or so for the tables to turn. "They've done nothing for us! Don't you know how many people've died, because of them?"

Besides Coach Tanner, who was already kind of a douche? Damon inched closer and closer, holding up his hands. "One?" Damon ventured to guess. "Vicki was bitten by a raccoon, and she was the last animal attack the town saw."

(He could hear Vicki scoff, "Yeah right. Like a raccoon could be that painful," before Bonnie elbowed her. Hard.)

Logan hesitated. "One more death than we needed. If we let them be, they'll kill us all. Don't you want to prevent that?"

"Can't prevent something that won't happen." Damon grimaced. The last time bloodsuckers had wandered into town, Dad and Aunt Sheila had protected everyone from harm. Now that Damon was of age, the responsibility squarely fell on his shoulders – and if Logan kept up his reckless attitude, he'd start another turf war. The idiot was the one preemptively attacking Vicki! For God's sake, her life had been one giant joke before the supernatural decided to intervene.

"Yeah? Mind telling Coach that?"

Damon's stomach twisted into knots, as his breathing involuntarily became shorter and shorter – for a millisecond, Fell's face morphed into the unmistakable features of Coach Tanner, before Vicki broke the silence with cautious steps forward.

Damon seized the moment and tackled Logan, pressing firmly on his old enemy as he tossed the gun aside. More wooden bullets shot the nearest tree.

"Don't you dare," Damon hissed, half-tempted to melt the gun then and there. "You think I'm on their side, Logan? Huh?"

Fear crossed Logan's eyes, as his body went unnaturally limp. Damon could hear his heartbeat racing faster and faster, until Logan managed to say, "Wh-what are you—"

"Relax. I'm not planning on killing you."

Logan then rolled over, reaching over and squeezing Damon's neck. "You always were a pansy, Salvatore."

Vicki aimed a punch squarely at Logan's head. He jerked forward, loosening his grip long enough for Damon to pry himself off the now unconscious newscaster. As Logan limply now lay in his arm, Damon looked up at Vicki.

There was a gleam in her eye – triumph? – as she inspected her handiwork. She was taller than Damon remembered, or maybe she had stopped slouching altogether.

"Nice job," Damon said, because she had voluntarily saved him from untimely suffocation. Except – wait – there was definitely blood dripping from the crown of the poor guy's head. Damon tensed as she approached him. "That your first time?"

"Just the first time it worked." Her lips curled upward in a slight smirk as she reached for Logan. Her veins started pulsing, her face contorting as she inhaled sharply.

Damon held his hand out protectively as Bonnie pulled the stake out of the back of her calve and limped forward. She said, "So you have a choice now, Vicki. You can go ahead and eat some of his blood, or you don't transition."

Vicki stared down glumly at Logan – at the nape of his neck – before she asked, "Not much of a choice, is there?"

Not if she wanted some shadow of an existence, an "unlife" that Damon wouldn't have wished on anyone else. Damon was going to regret this in the morning, just like every other life choice he had made since Bonnie arrived, and yet…

He lightly pressed his hand to the new wound on Logan's neck. "Guarigione."

The wound sealed itself, leaving only traces of blood on Damon's fingers as he carefully laid Logan against the nearby tree. Bonnie regarded him coolly as he let go of Logan, her hardened eyes and defiant chin saying what her voice refused to.

Vicki stared blankly at Logan. "I thought you hated him."

"I do." Damon's gaze didn't leave Logan as he rose to his feet unceremoniously, turning back to where he had left Stefan. "Doesn't mean I want him dead."

Mom would've been proud. The thought stung, because he had thought about killing this man how many times now? He had the perfect opportunity at his feet, with a new bloodsucker who needed someone's blood to finish the transition… and it still wasn't enough. Even death by bloodsucker wouldn't have sufficed for this asshole, because Damon would've indirectly allowed it to happen.

"I don't want Vicki dead either," Stefan's voice called as he rushed towards them. "I was thinking, while you put me on guard duty… what if bloodsuckers aren't that bad, Day?"

If bloodsuckers were good, decent people, then they wouldn't be staring at an unconscious Logan Fell, and Damon wouldn't have healed his worst enemy. Damon wanted to yell until his face was blue, to impulsively lash out at Stefan for even saying something so senseless, because that was the stupidest statement he had heard this entire month.

Vicki shrunk back. "You don't have to call me that."

"I'm not. You don't deserve to die because some idiot decided to turn you." Stefan pulled out his car keys and lightly nicked the vein in his wrist, steadily holding it up to Vicki's mouth.

Before Vicki could protest, her eyes had already turned black as she involuntarily bit his wrist and slowly sucked in the blood, her veins pulsing with each additional sip.

Damon lunged forward. "Stefan Giuseppe Salvatore!" He focused on Vicki, on the brain vessels squarely lodged up in that dense head of hers, and watched as she writhed away from Stefan. As she screeched, Damon pulled Stefan into his arms.

Stefan grimaced. "What were you thinking?"

"That's my line." Damon glared at him. "You let her feed on you?"

"She has enough for the transition. I can take it from here, Harker." Bonnie interrupted, before they accidentally started another brawl on some soul's grave. To Stefan, she gave him a bow of acknowledgement. "Stefan, thank you."

"It's nothing." Still, Stefan winced as he stared down at his arm and involuntarily reached for tissues in his left pocket. "I swear, I thought vampires' saliva had some kind of anesthetic in them."

Despite the absurdity of it all, Damon couldn't help laughing. "That was your biggest concern?"

"Well, yeah." Stefan rolled his eyes, watching as Bonnie and Vicki headed in the opposite direction – undoubtedly back to Bonnie's house, where she could give Vicki the big speech on how to be a vegetarian vampire. "Mosquitos have it. Fleas have it. Freaking bedbugs have it. Why the hell don't vampires?"

"That is a good question I don't have the answer to." Damon pushed Stefan forward, allowing his kid brother to lean on him for support as they walked back to the car. "Have you ever considered maybe not using yourself as an experiment? I might be able to worry less about you, baby bro."

"Aw, you worry?" Stefan teased, letting his wrist hang limply as he pinched Damon's cheek with his free hand. "Here I thought you didn't care, gattino."

Damon nearly swatted at him, only pulling his hand back at the last minute because his kid brother was the injured party here. Out of respect – more for Aunt Liz than Scumfell – he gestured towards the unconscious newscaster. "So are you going to call Aunt Liz or should I?"

"Aunt Liz?" Stefan blinked back surprise. "Why would we call her?"

"They're working together. Probably to prevent some vampire uprising." Damon paused, now realizing the far-flung implications of his light spell. "And they'll add me to the list, now that Logan knows about my little secret."

As if his life weren't stressful enough… Damon sighed, pulling out his phone and facing the inevitable as they climbed in the car. With any luck, Aunt Liz might write this off as a side effect of the hallucinatory drugs Logan had been taking, but he doubted it. Logan seemed smart enough to ingest vervain, so Bonnie's little mind trick wouldn't work on him, even if Damon had condoned the effort.

Stefan grimaced. "Because you defended an innocent girl's life? Damon, come on. I doubt it."

"You never know with that asshole."


Except, when they made the phone call on their drive back to the Manor, Caroline had answered the phone rudely, with a "Damon, what the hell? You're interrupting Movie Night!"

Stefan didn't even try to hide his laughter, which thankfully assuaged Caroline's ruffled feathers. She said, much more sweetly, "Oh, hey, Stefan! Is this serious, then?"

"Eh."

His kid brother was the most helpful when he wanted to be. Damon groaned, keeping his focus on the road rather than Aunt Liz's shallow-minded teenage daughter. "I wanted to tell your mom that we found Vicki Donovan. She's staying with Bonnie for the night."

"I didn't even know she was missing…" Caroline's voice grew distant, undoubtedly as she checked her own cell phone. "Oh, no, wait, Matt texted me a minute ago to ask. Thanks for the heads up."

Aunt Liz's voice cut in with, "Damon? Is everything okay?"

Damon tensed, his shoulders rising as he tried not to focus on the inevitable: if the entire town realized the Salvatores had supernatural powers beyond most people's imagination, the Council would strip them of their privilege and ostracize them. While Damon hated tradition, he didn't want his parents to lose the rights they had inherited. "Yeah, I guess. Have a good night, Aunt Liz."

"You too," Aunt Liz said as she hung up.

Stefan awkwardly reached for Damon's other hand and lightly traced patterns in his brother's palm as Damon drove back home. "You gonna be okay?"

Now that was the real question. Damon couldn't keep his head straight anymore, and he was pretty sure that some small part of his brain was going crazy from the inner turmoil that ruled his thoughts. If he was outed as a wizard, then he'd have to leave the life he had always known. Mason had wisely left town before they could ban him; only now did Damon wish that he had made the same choice. If he had, right now, then he wouldn't be battling himself every time he opened his mouth. Even the silence of the drive back was deafening. The music from their radio didn't help – it was all white noise to their ears.

"I think so," he said slowly as he parked the car in their garage, because what else could he tell his kid brother? As he headed back inside with Stefan, he added, "Yeah, I will be. Come on, let's get some sleep."


For the next few days, Damon waited for the other shoe to drop. He had half-expected Aunt Liz to break through his front door with her .42 customized handgun, yelling at him to hold his hands up as she recited his rights to him. (He had a lot of nightmares about jail, he belatedly realized one morning half-way through making Stefan tea. That couldn't possibly be healthy.)

Nothing happened. Instead, work kept him preoccupied, as his supervisor had left for a conference, leaving him, Misao, and undergraduate interns in charge of their clinical trial. Between answering numerous phone calls, answering emails, and generally running himself ragged, Damon hadn't exactly had much downtime. Maybe half a week had passed since that night, when he arrived home early to cook dinner and finish up his presentation for the Augustine Society. As Damon left the stew to simmer on the stove, he passed through the den, stopping when he noticed Stefan and Tyler in the middle of the room.

"Sorry I've been MIA," Stefan was saying, lying down next to a cross-legged Tyler. "I would've helped you polish that treaty, but… life's been weird."

Tyler shrugged, his gaze intent on the sketchbook in his lap. Mason had always said that of the Lockwoods, Tyler best knew how to wield a paintbrush. When Tyler thought no one was looking, he sketched his surroundings in a hand-sewn notebook. Once, Damon could have sworn he saw his exhausted likeness on the page. Aunt Carol and Uncle Richard framed every one, claiming it was 'some local artist' since Tyler refused to associate himself with the art world. ("I'm not hipster enough," he had claimed once, after Damon had caught him mid-sketch. "It doesn't exactly go with my image here. It's more Jeremy's than mine.")

Smudging his lines with the edge of his palm, Tyler sketched his best friend deftly, with quick, bold lines that expressed Stefan's every move. "I get it," said Tyler. "I'm just really tired of talking."

"What happened? The short version, so I can pretend to be helpful?"

Tyler glanced up from his sketch. "Vicki and I took a break."

Damon was pretty sure that the true story was nowhere near Tyler's condensed events, considering that he hadn't heard from either Bonnie or Vicki since that fateful night, but whatever soothed Dickwood Jr's ego.

Stefan's entire expression softened as he scooted closer. "Oh god. I'm sorry. Are you… Well, that's a dumb question."

"Dumbest question ever," Tyler said, snorting slightly as he resumed his sketch. "I'll be okay. She wasn't exactly my girl, you know?"

Every so often, Tyler would say something so stupid that Damon wondered how he and Mason were related. Women weren't exactly objects, frat-bro-in-training. Mason respected women far more often than his nephew, whereas Tyler callously regarded them as people who pleased him, instead of an equal partner in life. The whole idea made Damon nauseous.

Stefan's expression also grew uneasy. "I guess. So what do you wanna do?"

Tyler casually reached for colored pencils and started to shade in his sketch. "I don't know. Anything'll be a good distraction."

"Anything? You sure?" Stefan grabbed the pillow nearest him, holding it carefully as he took it out of its pillowcase and held it in his hands. Damon recognized that gleam – it was the same one that appeared in Stefan's eyes every time he won an academic tournament – and for a second, Damon was tempted to stop him. Honestly? If Scumfell knew, the whole town certainly wasn't far behind.

"I'm pretty sure." Now Tyler was staring – gawking, really – as Stefan tore open the pillow and let the feathers fly. "Uh, Stef…?"

"Remember when you said I might be psychic? You were right." Stefan was speaking far too quickly as he held out his hand, barely above the feathers, and concentrated on them. "Tyler, I've got actual magic in me."

"No!" Tyler was shaking his head, scoffing at the feathers flying straight into his face. "Stef, I think you've been watching too much TV."

"Really." Stefan scowled, his gaze focused on the feathers before him. He inhaled sharply, and then… then the feathers – all of them – floated in mid-air, forming a light ring around Tyler. Tyler gasped as they wove in and out around him, forming multiple rings that encased him long enough to lift him about a centimeter off the ground. This wasn't a trick that could be written off by fans or air conditioning or even a breeze from outside: the multiple rings were far beyond a simple trick of the wind.

"Holy shit." Tyler whistled as his hand reached out for the feathers, lightly dancing across the edge of his palm. "You… you're a real wizard?"

"Honest to God." Stefan laughed, performing the cross symbol across his chest as he allowed the feathers (and Tyler) to float back down to the ground. "Promise me you won't tell anyone?"

There was no hesitation in Tyler's voice as he said, "I promise."

Maybe – maybe Damon had assumed far too much about Tyler, if he were sitting up straighter with a tightened throat and awe in his eyes. To this kid, Stefan commanded respect, and Tyler was just the bodyguard who shielded him from the world. Stefan hadn't told a single soul – not even Elena, because she would've blown down their door and demanded a proper explanation. If Stefan had knowingly, purposefully burdened Tyler with this knowledge first, it said more about his brother than Damon cared to admit. For a second, Damon could've sworn he was looking at a mirror, of a time he remembered so long ago, before Tyler's voice jolted him back to reality.

"Uh… does Damon know?" Tyler said, gesturing towards the doorway.

Stefan nodded, turning his head towards Damon. "Yeah, it kind of runs in the family. Hey, is dinner ready?"

"Almost," Damon said, remembering his stack of books in the library and the decreasing desire to see yet another graph about his clinical trial. God, sometimes school was the worst. When he didn't actually want the distraction, it had to rear its ugly, flame-breathing head and demand results as soon as possible. "I'll call you in about ten minutes."

Right as Damon slammed the door behind him, Tyler had to stage whisper, "Not gonna lie, bro, this explains so much about your family."