A/N: This one is kind of short, but you'll probably see why I wanted to end it where I did. For those who wanted to read the phone sex scene, sorry but I'm doing this story without any true smut (although maybe pushing the boundaries occasionally) so you will have to imagine that for yourself. Maybe someday I'll do something like the "smut outtakes" for this story, but it's not really my comfort zone as a writer, I'm afraid.

Chapter 11

A thousand miles away in Chicago, Becca suddenly clutched at her stomach as pain rushed through her. "Damon . . ." She gasped out his name as she realized that it wasn't her own pain that she had felt; it was his. Someone had attacked Damon. She had felt it when he had been attacked at the Seventies Dance, too, but this was worse. He was hurt worse. Frantic, she reached out through the bond between them. He wasn't dead. She was certain of that, but she got no response as she sought him out. Nothing but another wave of pain, duller this time. And she realized that pain was all that Damon was feeling right now.

She looked up to find Elijah, Magdalena, and Alexander all staring at her in puzzlement. She tried to answer the unspoken question in their eyes. "It is Damon. Someone hurt him."

Magdalena looked at her skeptically. "Rebecca, how do you know that?"

Becca answered absently. "We formed a blood bond." She fumbled for her bag and fished out her phone, dialing his number. Her hand shook as she willed him to answer even as she knew that he wouldn't. Couldn't. Sure enough his phone rang four times and she heard his voicemail. Damon's phone. He probably won't call you back, but feel free to waste your time and leave a message. She closed her eyes at the sound of his low, velvety voice. He would be okay. He had to be. She knew her own voice was shaky. "Damon, it is Becca. Call me back." She stopped there, aware that if someone had taken him prisoner they might listen to any messages.

Next she dialed Stefan. He answered on the third ring, voice puzzled. "Becca?"

"Stefan, are you at the house?"

"No, Elena and I went out to dinner. Why?"

"Something has happened to Damon. I need you to look for him."

"What could have happened to Damon? He was going to the Grill to meet Alaric."

Becca felt her annoyance building, but she tried not to keep it out of her voice. "Something happened to him. I felt it."

Stefan didn't answer right away, and Becca braced herself for an argument. She heard Stefan filling Elena in on their conversation and Elena's worried response. Then Stefan's voice was back, louder. "Okay, Elena and I will head back to the house and look for him. I'll call you back."

"Thanks." Becca hung up on Stefan and called Ric. She couldn't believe that Damon needed her and she was a thousand miles away. Not even an Original could cover that kind of territory quickly.

Ric answered immediately. "Hey Becca. What's up?"

"Damon is not there, is he?"

"No, but he should be here any minute."

"Something happened to him, Ric. I could feel it."

The phone went silent for a moment, and she heard fear in Ric's voice when he spoke again. "What sort of thing?"

She shivered. She didn't want to say it out loud. It made it more real. "I felt pain, like maybe he was staked. And . . . he is unconscious right now, wherever he is."

"Shit. He's alive, though, right?"

"Yes, I am sure about that. Can you look for him?"

"Of course. Amaya just walked in the door. I'll get her to help, too. We'll find him, Becca."

"Thanks. I am catching the first flight back."

•••••

When Alaric and Amaya arrived at the boarding house, Stefan and Elena were already there, kneeling on the front steps. Elena came over as they got out of the car, brown eyes filled with concern that deepened as she apparently read the look on Ric's face. "Becca called you, too, didn't she?"

Ric nodded. "Have you found anything?"

Stefan glanced up. "There's blood on the door and on the step. Probably Damon's. And he dropped his keys." He held them up, and the keys jangled slightly.

"Shit. Becca said she thought he had been staked. So you think he was probably taken?"

Stefan nodded reluctantly. "That would be my guess. If they used vervain, almost anyone could have done it."

Elena suddenly turned around. "Wait a minute. How did Becca know what happened? Isn't she in Chicago?" Ric had to admit that he was wondering that himself, but he had just assumed that it was a vampire thing. Or an Original thing.

Stefan hesitated a moment before answering. "Damon and Becca formed a blood bond."

Elena still looked suspicious. "What's that?"

"It's . . . an exchange of blood between vampires, usually lovers. I've never formed one, but from what I understand, it lets you feel something of what the other person feels. Usually it takes time to develop, but apparently they took a short cut of some kind." He shook his head. "It's typical Damon, somehow."

Ric wasn't sure he could process that information. He noticed that Elena looked shaken by that news, but he decided to ignore her reaction. "It's also typical for this to happen while Becca's out of town. Why is nothing ever easy around here?" He continued after a moment as another thought occurred to him. "Of course, that might not be a coincidence."

Elena looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Well if someone wanted to get to Damon, it would make sense to come after him when Becca isn't around. Assuming you don't want to tangle with an Original, that is."

Stefan looked thoughtful. "For that matter, if someone wanted to get Becca's attention, they just might go after Damon."

Ric knew with a sinking feeling that Stefan was right.

•••••

Damon cracked open his eyes with a groan. He was lying on a hard stone floor, and bars swam blurrily in front of him. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his vision, and his body failed to respond as he tried to move. As his mind cleared slightly, he recognized the effects of a large dose of vervain in the pervasive weakness of his muscles and the burning ache throughout his body. He tried again to move, and the slight shift of his body set off a wave of excruciating pain through his wrists. When the spots cleared from his vision, his confused mind finally processed that his hands were bound behind him with ropes soaked with more vervain. He could smell his own blood where the herb continued to burn through his skin, and he knew with a sinking feeling that he would be unlikely to regain much of his strength as long as the ropes touched his skin. He had been drinking a small amount of vervain every day for months, but he had nowhere near the level of tolerance that would let him get out of this situation. A few more futile and painful attempts to move and Damon discovered that his feet were bound as well, although at least there his socks protected him from the worst effects of the vervain.

For long moments, Damon just lay there, breathing raggedly and fighting both the pain and the helplessness that he felt. There was really nothing that he could do, and he hated that feeling. He cursed quietly.

He didn't know how much time had passed when the bars moved as someone opened the door to his cell. "Awake so soon?" Before Damon could come up with a response, the voice continued. "We'll have to remedy that situation." Then he felt another prick in his shoulder, and another dose of vervain plunged him back into unconsciousness.

•••••

Damon dragged himself back to consciousness, only to find that his situation had not improved in the slightest. He was still weak as a kitten, and trussed up like a hog – and not only was he mixing his animal metaphors, but there wasn't a dominant predator in the bunch. In short, Damon was helpless. And pissed off.

He had no idea how long he had lain there, squirming periodically against ropes that were fucking tight and not giving way in the slightest. Whoever had tied him up really knew what they were doing, and they had known exactly what effect the constant exposure to vervain would have on him, too. He was not dealing with amateurs here. Still, Damon was starting to wish that someone would show up and get to the torturing, or whatever they had planned for him. He was bored. And, vampire or no, his shoulders and arms hurt from being jerked behind him and held in the same position for so long.

Finally, the door to Damon's cell opened and a man walked in. Damon groaned and tried unsuccessfully to do something useful, like sit up. "Can we just get on with this already?"

The man gave him a bemused look. "Impatient, are we?" He pulled out a long wooden stake and Damon suddenly suspected this was one of those "be careful what you wish for moments." The man – vampire, Damon decided – spoke again. "You are in luck. I've just learned that your lovely girlfriend will be here much sooner than originally anticipated, and I think it's time to send her a message."

"Huh?" Damon stared at the other vampire. He had been expecting this whole thing to be about revenge for someone he had killed during his long and misspent life, and his brain was struggling to process the words he had just heard. He didn't have long to try to puzzle it out. The other vampire paused only a second before driving his stake deep into Damon's stomach, and Damon cried out at the pain. The world swam around him, and he was only vaguely aware of being dragged from his cell, the stake still in his body.