I don't own anything, if I did... many things would be different.

Sorry it took so long to update... I won't lie and promise it won't happen again, because it almost surely will.

- Chapter 9 -

Neither Damon nor Caroline left their room until it was dinner time. They'd even slept a couple of hours after a healthy lunch of blood bags heated at their personal microwave. It had been very good asking the old man for a room with it's own appliance, the blonde vampire thought as she sipped the warm, delicious red fluid. Now, rested, fed and, more importantly, warm again, the two friends descend the flight of stairs in hopes of joining the evening meal. Caroline had opted for a long dress, thick enough to keep the cold out, but airy enough to feel natural. Damon had instead went with his usual black jeans, a dark green blouse with a serpent coiled around the shoulder blades and his signature leather jacket. Inside the restaurant, the hustle of human life was heart warming and beyond comforting for both of them. Maybe it had been the cold making this town creepy, may be it had been their imagi–

NO! It hadn't been the cold or their imagination, they realized. The moment they'd stepped inside, all activity stopped suddenly and abruptly, it chilled Caroline to her very bones, more than any winter. People's heads turned to scrutinize the new comers, some glaring, some indifferent, others intrigued, but all fearful beneath it all. The only one apparently unaffected was the old man – Mark Trotter – who greeted them with the same smile and friendly remarks as when they'd first arrived earlier today. The moment he arrived, the other guests shifted their view and resumed their meals as if nothing had ever happened. Damon's bad feeling only increased.

Old man Trotter smiled, his eyes twinkling making the brunet remember Dumbledore, a character in a book series he'd read not long ago. He'd never trusted the old wizard as he can't help being suspicious of their host. He turns to Caroline and watches as she laughs and jokes with him, appearing not to have noticed the eery reaction all around. Either that, or she's a far better actress than he ever gave credit – which might actually be true, considering her choice in college classes, drama club and all that. Is she only manipulating the situation to their advantage? Is she fooled by the kind act? He can't figure out, regardless, they need to eat and there is a table for two just a couple feet away. He touches her shoulder, almost blinded by the megawatt smile she always seems to have plastered on, nodding toward it. She agrees, moving in time with him and they order the night's special dish – something with pasta, that he isn't sure he likes or dislikes.

Taking a seat, they occupy the time by talking, something they'd been sorely lacking lately. Damon asks about her and Klaus, she asks about Liz and him, he mentions the amnesia, she reciprocates by wondering how he's coping with Katherine's death. A game of cat and mouse, never ending... until she breaches the most important and untouchable subject – Stefan. Damon recoils as if burned and chocks on the drink he'd been in the middle of swallowing, but answers nonetheless. She listens, attentive and without a sound as Stefan was her friend, her best friend and hearing about him in a bad light hurts, but she knows better than to be naïve about people, she knows the truth. She can't blame him, it's not in her to truly hold a grudge, but he's not absolved of any crime either. They, him and Elena, couldn't have known what was happening, she realizes that, maybe Damon does too, maybe he doesn't, but the fact remains, they were needed. For once, they were both truly and irrevocably needed and that is where it had gone wrong, they'd left him behind.

"But he'd heard! Elena told him, if he hadn't anyway. The fact stands: They left me when I needed them most, they could careless about me! I was in the middle of getting cut in half for heaven's sake and they just rode off into the sunset with their judgmental and holier-than-thou attitude!" he raises his voice. Caroline closes her eyes and a tear stains the tablecloth, her hand stretches out to take his, but she can't reach it in time, the food has arrived. Blinking several times to keep the rest of the tears at bay and keeping her head bowed as if drinking from her glass, she waits for the waitress to leave, before lifting her head to look Damon dead in the eyes. Green meets ice-blue and she smiles. Smirking, he nods at her. It is a moment of absolute clarity between the two and immediately they realize they hadn't been talking lately because they'd forgotten how they are together, the rape had changed things and her recovery had also, but now they remember. They never talked much, they didn't need it half the time because since Stefan left, since she'd found Damon there and saved him, they've gotten closer than anyone else, they can understand one another without words, with only a look or a smile or a gesture. That's who and how they are.

The diner is filled with noise, buzzing all around, the snow storm roaring outside, the happy voices loud inside. Caroline is sipping her glass of wine, waiting for the dessert, Damon has gone to the bathroom, probably to munch on the pretty redhead waitress serving the table next to theirs. She loses focus for a second and sighs, eyes opening wide, head falling back until she's staring at the ceiling, drowning out the hustle around herself. It's quiet, the smell of fried chicken and strawberries whiff past her as she breathes in. She feels warm, her skin flushed and her mood uplifting, she blinks.

A gasp! She is trying to get air into her lungs, panting and sweating, she struggles with it. Her eyes open, the diner is still there, unchanged, Damon still hasn't returned – how could he, it's only been seconds – but she still finds it hard to calm down, hard to steady her breath. She lets her eyes shift from one person to the other, frantic, fast – impossibly fast – hoping for a sign that she hadn't imagined it. She couldn't have made up the knife whirring toward her, nor the laughter surrounding, engulfing her. Bewildered, she sweeps every wall, every table, every inch of the bar, every chair, but not one thing is out of place, nothing is wrong, yet her mind is saying the opposite, why?! She was never one for vision, nor for surprise attacks out of nowhere.

The dragging of a chair, wood scraping wood, breaks her concentration, her hand griping the handle of the knife and her eyes are met with confused gray. Damon has returned. He stops her hand from reaching it's mark, his chest, and shakes his head. He feels it too, she tells herself and it's true, he does, but that is not here nor there. They aren't safe, there are many things that seem wrong and dangerous. Maybe it is only paranoia, God knows they both have enough reasons for it, maybe it isn't. They aren't willing to risk it yet. They stay silent and aware.

A shaky smile, a flicker of her eyes in fear, a sip of wine. She's alright. No need to get alarmed over nothing anyways. You just blinked, there was no knife, the old man hasn't moved from his corner near the band. The dessert arrives, the young woman serving bats her lashes at Damon, Caroline frowns. The gesture seemed forced, too false for it to have been genuine. He lifts an eyebrow, eyes piercing and dark, a smirk gracing pink lips. Caroline smiles bemused into her drink. He's playing along, but he's enjoying it too. The best type of work.

Klaus sat at Bonnie Bennett's bedside, staring off into nothing, his eyes unfocused and his body rigid, unmoving. He'd stopped breathing, he'd forgotten to do it. Itching, his eyes blink of their own accord. Caroline! There is something wrong with her! He knows it because the little witch next to him cried it out just seconds ago. His leg is moving, up and down on the toes of his foot, fast and unconsciously. He is restless.

The little witch had, beside gotten him worked up when she screamed "Caroline", also stopped breathing for about half a minute. Nothing some vampire blood couldn't heal. Nonetheless, the two occurrences were obviously connected. She's stable now as he watches over her, though he can't seem to be able to move from his spot on the chair near her bed. A headache is slowly creeping it's way from the blasted rings and alarms inside the hospital, the nurses running around like chicken's without their heads. Smiling darkly at the mental picture of one particular annoying nurse headless and running away in fear, he almost doesn't feel his phone vibrating inside his jacket pocket.

"Yes." short, snide and between gritted teeth came the answer. Were it anyone else, they would've apologized and hung up, but his sister just chuckled and replied.

"Hello to you too, Nic." he takes a deep breath, whatever she's calling about has something to do with their mother so he needs his head clear, or perhaps she's found out about Katerina's killer, in which case he needs to be even more controlled.

"What is is, little sister?"

"You might not like it, Nic, but I think mother dearest had her hands buried deep in this Katherine situation. Finn said she had a fondness for rituals and what happened to the doppelgänger is very much a ritual, I would know, I've found the spell used for it. Apparently she tried creating a human strong enough to kill us, but without him being immortal. Elijah knew about it too, but he'd thought it had failed, Kol is worried he's wrong. Nic, I think I'm afraid of our mother after finding this, not that I thought of her as sweet and fluffy before. When will you return? Has your blond cheerleader caved in finally, or not?" He would have usually gotten mad at her for the obvious disregard toward Caroline, but her voice shook through the phone and he could practically taste the tears running down her face. Also, if what she was saying was true then it meant Caroline's rape was also connected to his mother which could only anger him further.

"Bekah, it'll be a while longer, but worry not, I shall return before you know it. Perhaps a month or two." She sighs and whispers a "goodbye Nic" that seems small, defeated, and hangs up. He throws the cell onto Bonnie's bed, watching as it lands near her hand, and gathers his head into his hands, his body twisting, his eyes closed shut tightly. Why did his family keep hurting him so?