A/N: Thank you guys for your support.
She settled in the seat in a vain, weary attempt to ease the migraine spreading through her skull. The soft hum of the engine helped her muscles relax and she stared outside sightlessly.
It was half an hour earlier when he led her out of the castle, the starless sky above them, and she quietly hopped in the blue Camaro, reveling in its familiarity. It had his smell all over. After riding in that car for several hours in the past couple of days, it almost felt like home.
Alaric and Stefan were supposed to meet them in Durham and she saw the Tahoe drive off before Damon sat behind the wheel. He seemed about to say something, then thought better of it and started the engine instead.
Either he was too mad to even speak to her or bidding his time to bite her head off for being an idiot and putting them all in danger. Knowing his temper, it was probably just a matter of time until he snapped, although there was a chance she'd die of embarrassment first (had she really begged him not to leave?).
She had been so pissed at him that afternoon, after listening to his conversation with Stefan. If he meant what he said, then he still didn't see her as an equal; if he didn't mean it, he was still a dick for talking about her like that just to rile up his brother. But, in hindsight, that was no reason to go and almost get herself killed in a doomsday cult headquarters.
The wind roared twice as tree branches waved against the windshield. Thick clouds traveled the sky and occasionally covered the moon, the dark night in sync with their mood.
He couldn't be too happy with her right now, she idly conceded. He was never happy, but his toleration was probably at an all-time low. Yet he had come through for her, like he always did, and in times like this there wasn't a place in the world where she would feel as safe as in his company. Damn that sire bond.
As the car rolled on, her mental exhaustion translated in her lost gaze and feeble movements. Her hair was disheveled and knotted, her clothes looked shabby and her body was getting numb. Then again, ever since transitioning, she had been wounded in every joint, hurt in every nerve, tortured and bruised; "numb" was something she could work with.
Trailing her fingers on the glass, she looked outside at the streaks of brown and green as bits and pieces of the past few days flashed behind her eyes. Drinking human blood, shedding her own blood, red droplets running down Damon's cheekbones. Blood – at the end of the day, that's what it was all about.
She had met humans who hated vampires and vampires who hated vampires – like the Brotherhood, like maybe even Stefan, and, although humankind's hostility towards their supernatural predators was perfectly understandable, she was officially jumping off the self-hatred bandwagon. She didn't ask to be a vampire, but rebelling against her own nature would make for an unbearable existence. She bit her bottom lip at the thought of going home and descending into her old life. Back to pretending to be human and feeling guilty every time she failed.
The silence stretched between them, until someone cut in front of them and Damon punched the honk, cursing his own inattention. Caroline saw the white SUV pass in a blur as Damon flipped the bird, the wind bringing Alaric's laughter to their ears.
Clenching his jaw, the raven-haired vampire reached out and turned on the radio. He just wanted to arrive so he could maybe feed and allow his brain to shut off.
As the music filled the car, she turned to face him and her mouth hung open as she saw the puncture marks on his left wrist.
"Damon," she breathed, her voice full of concern. Her fingers ghosted over his knuckles before withdrawing quickly and she thought he had also felt the thrill that shot up through her body at their brief contact.
"You should have seen the other guy," he said sardonically and turned to look at her. When she glanced up at him, she caught his eyes unguarded for the briefest of moments. They darkened with a mixture of anger and lust that couldn't be defined, and it excited and scared her.
He averted his gaze and blasted the radio volume, seemingly trying to drown out his own thoughts. She leaned back in the seat, but didn't complain about the music. They were both so tired.
For time has imprisoned us
in the order of our years,
in the discipline of our ways,
and in the passing of momentary stillness
we can see our chaos in motion
Our chaos in motion
"We're here," he announced just as the song ended and the car drew up at Trinity Heights.
He pulled up in a private driveway and Caroline peered through the window at an aging bungalow.
"Shortcut?" She noticed that Alaric's car was nowhere to be seen. He nodded.
"Whose place is this?" she asked warily, climbing out of the car and spotting a dark-haired man, with light olive skin, standing on the prominent front porch. He rushed down and slapped Damon's shoulder soundly.
"Damon! It's been a while, mate."
"Enzo." Damon nodded. "This is Caroline."
The handsome man brushed his lips against the back of her hand, lingering a couple of seconds too long.
"Lorenzo, but my friends call me Enzo," he drawled, his mouth stretching in a smirk. "Kidding. I don't have any friends."
"I'll believe that," Damon said dryly.
Caroline listened for a heartbeat, but between the three of them she heard none. Then she looked up at the house. It didn't exactly have "vampire" written in blood all over it, but it definitely looked different from the other houses down the street – shadowy and slightly crooked.
"You've made yourself a nice crypt here," Damon commented as though he was thinking the same thing.
"It's not like I can go out during the day. Supersensitive skin, remember? Come on in."
Damon opened the trunk of the car to recover their things and Enzo pushed the front door open, gesturing for her to follow him. It was dim inside, as all of the windows were shut. A closed-string stair rose in the corner and the furnishings were old fashioned, but she absently noticed the hardwood floor didn't squeak beneath their feet.
"You can have any room upstairs," Enzo told the blonde, then added suggestively, "mine is the second one to the left."
Message delivered with a grin, he moved away to talk to Damon, who was waiting in the doorway for Stefan and Alaric, as the Tahoe pulled up in front of the house. Caroline scoffed at Enzo's retreating back and glanced up with distrust at the dark staircase going up to the second floor.
As she reached for the balustrade, she felt Stefan standing beside her.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She turned to him sheepishly. "I'm fine, just- I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to cause any trouble."
His severe frown eased and he followed her gaze, fixed on his older brother, who was watching them back.
"Damon's not thrilled," he commented. "I hope you agree you've had enough adventure for one road trip and consider coming home with us tomorrow."
At his remark, Caroline blinked, facing away from the elder Salvatore. She met Stefan's probing look with a smile that could be mistaken for a grimace.
"I desperately need a shower," she deflected. "I think I have zombie goo in my hair."
As she took the first few steps, she heard the new vampire introduce himself to the others. "Enzo St. John. I'm like a friendly neighborhood vampire these days. I don't technically own the place, but have been taking good care of it ever since the owners' tragic, unreported death. Tell me, do you think it's time for a second renovation?"
The furthest room, at the end of the corridor, was a suite paneled in cream with an arched window facing the main street. Most importantly, it had a clean bathroom and dry towels. Closing the door behind her, Caroline slipped out of her clothes, pulled the pristine curtain and stepped into the shower.
The cold water fell soothingly over her limbs and she let her thoughts aimlessly drift to light subjects. Soap rinsed off all evidence of the Bishop's touch and the water banished her distress down the drain. After a few minutes, she stepped out and changed into a terry cloth robe, drying her hair off briskly with a towel.
She felt fresh and invigorated, but as she passed by the mirror she found a few signs of hunger around her eyes. Feeding was the only task left to take care of, and she hoped there would be some plasma bags in the fridge.
She heard the click of the door in the bedroom and, as she emerged from the bathroom, she found him sitting on the edge of the bed, her duffel bag lying on the wooden floor near the door.
"Oh, thanks," she said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.
Damon looked up at her. He noticed, with some satisfaction, that a subtle trace of nervousness laced her scent, as his gaze roamed unabashed over her body. Her damp blonde hair fell down in loose waves over her shoulders, and the white fabric of the robe and her lifeless skin seemed to blend together.
Avoiding his gaze, she zeroed in on his wrist and the sight of the wound dispelled her thoughts.
"You need to take care of that," she said softly. The pores were welling up with blood and the abraded skin seemed about to burst.
"It's fine," he muttered annoyed, while the quivering of his fingers said otherwise. "I can just strap it up until I feed."
She sighed. "Well, come on then."
He shot her a suspicious look, but followed her into the bathroom, where she opened the medicine cabinet and retrieved a roll of gauze. She pulled his arm wordlessly, taking a closer look at his injured wrist before sprinkling cold water over it. He hissed.
"You know, if you don't mind turning into a zombie you should be able to have a normal life," she quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
"What would that make me, some kind of hybrid? Vampires don't become anything else."
She disguised her smile at his offended expression, using the moist gauze to dress the wound. As she pressed the cloth bandage on the spot, blood soaked the white fabric. Though her first aid knowledge was limited at best, she was in the vampire business long enough to be alarmed by the extended bleeding. It must have been a nasty bite, if his body was taking so long to clot. If anything, the gash looked worse than when she had first noticed it, and it probably stung like hell.
This wouldn't have happened if you weren't so careless, an inner voice nagged and her chest contracted with guilt. She quit her ineffective efforts and met his eyes.
"Drink from me." The words sprang from her mouth loudly and hurrying. "It'll make you heal faster."
Damon's eyes widened, fixed on her. There she stood, with disarming determination, offering him his dead heart's desire - her blood.
"No," he forced out, looking away. "I think I can heal one minor scratch on my own."
But her delicate eyebrows knit together and he could tell she wouldn't take no for an answer. Sure enough, she poked at the gash and he hissed again, immediately seizing her arm. At least the bite didn't interfere with his preternatural strength.
"You're rejecting blood that's being willingly offered to you?" she taunted. "I didn't realize we took the moral high road here."
"I'm not here for a snack," he sneered, but he didn't correct her assumption about his reasons to reject her offer. Without easing his grip, he looked down at her. "What happened today is never to happen again. We're all gifted with a sense of self-preservation. Start using it."
She lifted her chin, stubbornly. "So you're here to lecture me? You, the vampire renegade?"
He pursed his lips because she kind of had a point. He didn't think it was his place to lecture, all things considered, but somebody had to.
"You're the vampire in training, remember?" He fixed her an intense gaze. "But if you're going to be rushing to your death every other week, first werewolves and now zombies- I think I will kill you myself. Put us both out of our misery."
She wracked her brain for a comeback. Eventually settling for a dirty look, she mumbled, "Dickhead." But the corner of her lips lifted upwards, matching the smirk creeping on his face.
She noticed just how close they were and her eyes dropped to his arm, where blood continued to seep through the dressing.
"I can't take your blood," he said again, finally releasing her arm. "You're as hungry as I am."
She pushed away from the sink and stood up straight, the distance between them narrowing. Without a word, she bit into her wrist and brought it close to his mouth, the blood running down her arm. "I'm fine, but I daresay you need a strong shot."
His blue eyes bore into her earnest and veined ones for an endless moment until the hunger roared inside. His gaze traveled to her neck and his pupils dilated and contracted.
One, two, three fat drops of dark red blood rolled slowly down her forearm and hit the floor, the strong smell sending an electric current through him.
There's only so much temptation a vampire can resist. He grabbed her arm with one hand and placed another around her waist, pulling her closer. He licked the blood on her wrist before sinking his teeth to draw more. A shiver ran down his spine as her blood poured into his mouth, rich and dark like a good brandy.
Nothing he had ever tried compared to the thick elixir that coursed through her veins. It took a great deal of willpower to not drink more than he really needed.
They both let out a groan and she lifted her free hand, her fingers closing around a fistful of his black hair. She had never experienced the bruising pleasure of sharing her blood – not just blood, her accursed essence - with someone else on her own accord.
As he expertly pulled back and his fangs receded, there was a faint touch of crimson staining his mouth. His lips curled in appreciation and she stroked both his wrists, feeling nothing but the evenness of his fair skin.
They looked at each other through the haze of hunger and lust, and she found herself leaning towards him, willing him to give her whatever it was she needed to feel sated too.
He was still coming down from the high or something, but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips and she knew he wouldn't make the first move without the right incentive. Something akin to adrenaline pumping in her bloodstream, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, her hands sneaking under his T-shirt and boldly tugging at the waistband of his jeans.
He rewarded her effort by deepening the kiss and maneuvering them back into the bedroom, where he roughly picked her up, pinning her against the wall. She wiggled against him, rubbing his hardness, and he let out a low growl. "Damn it, Caroline." His lips swooped down to her collarbone, moving towards a spot at the base of her throat. "You drive me crazy."
"You make me crazy, you know that?" he had said softly, but there was a dangerous edge to it.
She tried to explain that she hadn't betrayed his secrets, but he wouldn't listen.
"It's okay. Unfortunately, I'm so over you now."
As the memory of that night flashed into her mind, her eyes snapped open and she leaned back, breaking the kiss. She tried to ignore the fire spreading through her body wherever he touched her.
"We shouldn't be doing this," she stammered. "Things ended badly between us. Like, really bad."
He didn't say anything at first, staring brazenly at her. Then he eased her back on the floor and pulled back. She sagged against the cold wall.
"You can't be serious," he said, and his voice was harsh. He probably thought she was a tease, but she had her reasons. In fact, she had a long list. She tried not to think too hard about the time when he was preying on her, or how he'd been a no show when she was transitioning. She could even understand what had made him so unfeeling – being despised by his father, betrayed by his lover and turned into a monster by a brother he could never measure up to in the eyes of those he cared about. She could understand all of that, but there were certain things she just couldn't look past.
"You tried to kill me and- that last night at the Grill, remember, you insulted me in every possible way." She heard the words tumble out of her mouth in a strangled voice.
Damon clenched his jaw like she had slapped him in the face. He had obviously forgotten that particular conversation, but the memories started coming back to him. She had failed to get him the amulet he so needed to bait Katherine and he had lashed out, calling her shallow and useless.
All this time, he wasn't sure if he had been cruel to her because she was an easy target, or because he just wouldn't let himself be sidetracked from the reason he had come back to Mystic Falls. He had been in a dark place back then, one without conscience or remorse.
Focusing on the blonde in front of him, he saw her pull her robe tighter around her body, almost in a protective way, angrily blinking back the persistent moisture in her eyes. She tried to slip past him, but he stepped forward, effectively trapping her between his body and the wall.
"What are you-?" she started asking indignantly, but he shushed her, drowning out her protest.
"Listen to me," he commanded, and even though he didn't hold that kind of power over her anymore she felt compelled to obey. When he spoke again his voice had a carefully controlled intonation. "I've been alive a little longer than you, and dead a lot longer than that. I've seen and done things you couldn't imagine and I don't exactly lose sleep over it. But I do wish I had handled things differently when I came back to town."
There was a heavy silence as she stood there, stunned, staring into his eyes. The honesty of his words tugged at her heart, but she wasn't ready to give in.
"But we can't change the past," she said sadly. "Whatever was between us is... tainted."
"Too late for a clean slate?" he asked bitterly with a tinge of sarcasm.
"I can't keep selling myself short," she finished.
He scowled. "Selling yourself short? I thought we just established that in order to keep you from dying again I've been parting with my blood, my pride and, occasionally, chunks of flesh."
"And I am more than willing to return the favor, but that's not what I mean!"
"Well?" he prompted impatiently.
"I don't know, Damon." She pushed him off her and he staggered back, caught off guard, before he steeled himself again.
"Even if I can look past the fact that you preyed on me, you were still a sadist dickhead," she continued, the words leaving a sour taste in her mouth. "Now you say that you want to help me and that you regret stuff, but how can I believe that? You were on a mission to find Katherine the first time around, maybe this time you're trying to make Elena jealous. Or maybe you're just on rebound."
He stiffened, drawing himself to his full height and towering over her. "Are you talking from experience?" he asked, his fury matching hers. "Still not over wolf boy?"
She narrowed her eyes. Was this his best attempt at deflection? After their disastrous break-up of sorts, to add insult to injury, he had decided to chase her brunette friend - he had also slept with countless women since, but they weren't her friends and they didn't bear a striking resemblance to her killer. So, yeah, this thing with Elena still bothered her.
In the end, it wouldn't matter if she could forgive him or not, if all he wanted was for her to fill in while Elena wasn't available. First Katherine, then Elena. The thing between them had never been about her. Maybe she hadn't been in love with him when they were dating, but at least she never hoped he were anybody else.
She tried to sidestep away from him, but he spun her around. One hand closed around her wrist and the other came up to cradle her head as he forced her to look up at him.
"For the last time, I don't have feelings for Elena. She's Katherine's fucking doppelgänger. So can you stop bringing her into everything?"
"Everything is about her," she insisted, shaking her head.
He stared at her like she was insane and his grip tightened around her wrist. "Not this," he said forcibly. "I've wanted you the first time I laid eyes on you and it's only gotten worse."
When his words registered, she stopped struggling and her face washed with surprise and confusion. Her eyes met his determined ones and everything else seemed less real than what she saw there. He searched her face for just a second longer before kissing her hard. He felt a sharp pierce in his lip and the metallic taste in his mouth. A pleased growl escaped from his throat as their tongues intertwined and his blood quenched her thirst.
Suddenly, she found herself plopping on the bed, his hands deftly pulling her robe open as he hovered over her. With that out of the way, his teeth dragged lightly over the gracious column of her neck while his fingers grazed her bare nipples. Her sighs soon turned into moans and she dug her fingers into his hair.
In an agonizingly slow pace, his lips trailed southwards, down her stomach and hip until he reached her thigh. He flashed a wolfish grin before he bit into the pale skin there. He sucked avidly like he wanted to brand her body forever and she hummed in mindless approval.
When he released her, licking his lips like a sated cat, and rid himself of his clothes, she stared hungrily at his naked body, before he roughly took hold of her breasts. His pounding erection teased her opening and he gazed down at her, taking in her rosy lips as his hands traced her flawless curves.
She was wondering if he would make her beg for it when his hands grabbed onto her hips and he buried himself deep inside her, his lips moving against hers again. Her nails left trails down his smooth back, her body sliding against his.
He pressed her against the bed, starting a harder and faster rhythm and she arched her body into his, throwing her head back. He watched her the entire time, until his thrusts became more frantic, his mouth meeting hers in another demanding kiss.
They kissed each other roughly and blindly, pushing their bodies to the peak of inhuman prowess, experimenting with the combination of affection and desire. She felt herself rise high and crash down, crying out his name unabashedly.
Throughout the night, Damon didn't let her rest until he was completely spent, his tongue tasting every bit of her flesh as he pounded against her with abandon. All control was gone and pleasure ripped through her again and again.
References:
The song is In The Kingdom of The Blinded The One-Eyed Are Kings by Dead Can Dance
I guess I brought Enzo from the future or something.
"I've been alive a bit longer than you..." Spike in Buffy The Vampire Slayer.