Chapter 11

Damon sat, staring into the unlit fireplace, swirling his glass absently. He felt unsatisfied by the evening's events; he and Emma had been interrupted to soon for his taste. He found himself conflicted by his feelings toward her reactions. He recognized his anger and frustration and knew the reason; he didn't like that she was mad at him. The conflict came from his understanding where she was coming from. It wasn't fair of him to lie to her, in this case lying by omission. He was surprised at the guilt he felt for lying, it usually came to him as easily as breathing. That's why he felt conflicted.

He downed his glass of crimson liquid and stood to pour another. He must have eaten less on his trip than he thought; he was especially thirsty. He felt as though he hadn't drank that last glass. He devoured his second glass quickly and poured a third without thinking about it.

"Damon." Stefan appeared across the table from him.

"Brother." Damon acknowledged, sipping from his glass and walking back over to his favorite chair.

"Where have you been?" Stefan asked, following him.

"Why is everyone so concerned with my business? No one cares about what I do for a century then all of a sudden I'm gone for two days and everyone wants to know 'where I was.' Not sure I like this rise in popularity." Damon replied. Stefan crossed his arms but didn't budge. Damon rolled his eyes. "Business. Taking care of some loose ends so that I can settle down here for a while. I didn't want to have to leave suddenly for any reason. Is that satisfactory with you?"

"Business?" Stefan was skeptical.

"Yep." Damon emphasized, taking a sip. "Really very boring. Not quite sure why anyone is interested in it."

"Because business for you usually means nefarious things." Stefan walked over and sat on the arm of the couch, arms still crossed. "You're not known for going out and saving puppy dogs."

Damon tilted his head, conceding Stefan's point. "True. But I'm also in that 'changing' process. Trying to be a good guy, remember?"

Stefan smiled hollowly but didn't reply. He stared at Damon as Damon drank from his glass. Damon tried his best to ignore him. If he pretended Stefan wasn't there, maybe he wouldn't be any more.

"So you saw Emma tonight?" Stefan broke the silence moments later.

Damon squinted at his brother, wondering what he was up to. "Yes."

"Did you two talk?"

Damon smirked. "A little."

Stefan sighed, shaking his head. "I don't want details."

"Sure you do. We're all curious about details. I want details about you and Elena whenever you're ready to share." Damon flipped the conversation around, not really wanting to talk about himself. For once.

Stefan glared at him. "Don't hold your breath."

"Why not? It won't kill me."

"You're a jerk." Stefan couldn't help his smile.

"So are you." Damon replied, finishing his third glass. He still didn't feel satisfied. "Hey, did you mess with my blood?"

Stefan made a face. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know why, but there's something funny about it. I don't know, maybe I'm just missing the fresh stuff." Damon peered at his empty glass curiously.

"I haven't touched it." Stefan assured him. "Temptations aside, I wouldn't mess with your things. I know how you get."

Damon knew Stefan was incapable of lying so he had no choice but to believe him. "Weird." He shrugged it off for the moment. "So, speaking of things that are not any body's business, how are you and Elena?"

"Do you really want to know or are you trying to make me uncomfortable?" Stefan countered.

"Indulge me."

"Elena and I are fine, thank you."

"No 'high school drama' to speak of?" Damon prodded.

"You know she's not like that."

"Well, with her little witch best friend gone, she might be depressed. Depressed girls do silly things." Damon shrugged.

"She is upset about Bonnie but all the Founder's Day preparation is keeping her pretty busy. Her family was very involved with all of it and she feels like she has to take her mom's place." Stefan sighed, rubbing his eyes. "She's over extending herself."

"Concerned about the town. Another reason she's nothing like Katherine. Point for Elena." Damon commented, almost to himself. "Working hard for others, another point for Ms. Gilbert."

"There's no comparison." Stefan emphasized.

Damon held up his hands. "I wasn't comparing. Just commenting." All of a sudden, he stifled a yawn. A yawn. Vampires didn't yawn.

"Apparently I overextended myself this evening." Damon told his brother who immediately looked at him with concern. Damon waved him off. "I haven't slept in two days, I am going to take a nap to catch up. I'm fine."

"Damon, you shouldn't be-"

"I'm fine." Damon cut him off, anger flashing across his eyes momentarily. "See you tomorrow." He stood, slamming his glass on the table, and stalked from the room toward his bed. Maybe a nap was exactly what he needed to clear his thoughts. Talking to Stefan certainly hadn't helped.

Blood. It was everywhere. He could smell it's coppery scent; he could taste the delicious, salty liquid on his lips. The bedsheets, blanket, and pillows were soaked. He couldn't stop drinking and there seemed to be a never ending supply. His need outweighed every thought and his thirst never seemed to be sated. As he became aware of what was going on, he realized he recognized the bed.

He sat up in horror, looking down at what he'd done. There was Emma, eyes glazed over in death, her blood spilling from the wound on her neck that he had made. He had loved her... and he had killed her.

"Just like I predicted." Jake said from the door way.

Damon whipped his head in Jake's direction but Jake wasn't moving. He just stood in the doorway, his eyes accusing. Damon looked back to his dead girlfriend wondering how he had gotten here and what the hell had happened. Horrified, he closed his eyes, wracking his brain for the answer.

When he opened his eyes he was in his bed, at home, alone. Blinking a few more times to be sure, he sat up, running both hands through his hair. A dream; it had been a dream. He tried to remember the last time he had a dream. He couldn't remember one since becoming a vampire.

Dream...more like a nightmare. His head was pounding and he was famished. He threw the covers off him and headed downstairs for his drink. He couldn't think straight until he got rid of the hunger pangs. He listened as he walked; the house was empty. Stefan must be out. Good.

He poured himself a glass and downed it. Making a face he stared at the empty cup. That hadn't helped a bit. Why was he drinking from a glass anyway? The only thing that sounded good was fresh blood; a fresh kill. That thought sent warning bells through his head but every time he tried to figure out why, the reason slipped away, like sand through open fingers.

The need to feed was the only thing driving him. Damon had enough sense about him to know he couldn't do anything in Mystic Falls. He began running toward the next town; far enough away to not bring suspicion to any one in his home town.

He was on the hunt and he was very, very hungry.