A little bit of a shorter update this time, but I assure you its because the next one will be a big one. At least as far as the storyline goes. ;)
As I was reading your reviews - THANK YOU for them! - there were a couple asking for Stefan and Damon bonding. I had to giggle to myself because I'd already finished off this update. I think those of you who like the brotherly bonding will be happy.
But really, thank you a thousand times over for reading and reviewing. I'm sure I speak for anyone who writes anything in a public forum when I say it goes a long way with the encouragement to continue to do write and post. I'm really proud of this story so far and I'm glad you all are receiving it well. So yes, thank you again!
Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Diaries.
"Where are we going?"
"You've asked that at least a dozen times since we left Mystic Falls," Damon replied, glancing over at Elena in his passenger seat. It was a beautiful day, mid-70s with no humidity and a light breeze. He'd put the top down on his Camaro before they left and he found that he rather enjoyed how Elena looked with windblown hair.
"I wouldn't have to keep asking if you'd just answer the question."
"It wouldn't be a surprise if I answered the question."
"Are you kidnapping me?" Elena asked. She was half serious, even with a smile on her face.
"I could if I wanted to," Damon said. He glanced at her again. "But it appears you're with me of your own free will, so that takes the criminal element out of it." Elena rolled her eyes as her smile grew bigger. Damon grinned and squeezed her hand which he'd held in his since he'd slid behind the wheel, letting go only long enough to shift gears when he needed to. He kept his eyes on the road before him which was winding through the mountains, climbing higher and higher with each mile.
He'd arrived at Jenna and Ric's just after the sun, eager to whisk her away for the day to some undisclosed location. He hadn't given her an arrival time, just told her when she'd talked to him just before his flight the night before that he'd pick her up the next day. She hadn't been expecting him so early when she'd met him at the door in sleep shorts and a tank top, her hair piled on top of her head. He'd merely grinned, wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt, and kissed her after making a witty comment about her pajamas.
Ric and Jenna weren't due back from their weekend getaway until late that evening and while Elena had arranged for Jeremy and Bonnie to take over Ella duty, she had a couple of hours to kill before they were set to relieve her. Damon had taken the delay in stride, helping Elena with a simple breakfast and then occupying Ella while she went upstairs to get ready for the day. She'd returned downstairs an hour later to find Damon sitting on the couch, Ella tucked into his side, sucking on her thumb, and hugging her favorite baby doll under one arm, her head resting on Damon's chest as they watched a cartoon. Without Damon seeing her, she'd snapped a photo before making herself known.
Once Jeremy and Bonnie had arrived, Damon had given her just enough time to rattle off instructions and tell Ella goodbye before steering her out the door and into his car. They had been driving for the last hour, Damon intent on not letting Elena in on where they were headed, Elena anxious to know what Damon was up to. He flipped on his turn signal and slowed down, turning onto a gravel road that most people probably drove past without ever realizing it was there.
"My kidnapping theory is starting to look way more likely," Elena commented, noting the desolate gravel road flanked by woods.
"Just sit tight," Damon replied. A couple minutes later, the road opened into a big clearing. Damon pulled to a stop and shut off the engine. "Come on."
Taking Damon's lead, Elena opened her door and climbed out of the Camaro, taking in her surroundings while Damon retrieved a bag from the trunk. They were surrounded by tall pine trees and in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by soapstone, was a body of water. Elena recognized the place even though she had never been there.
"Steven's Quarry, right?" she asked, falling into step with Damon as they walked closer to the edge of the water.
"Yep," Damon confirmed. He jumped up onto a set of rocks overlooking the quarry, set his bag down, and offered his hand to Elena. She took it and carefully navigated the slick stone to stand with him. To their left, a waterfall spilled into the quarry. Damon lowered himself to sit on the stone and Elena did the same.
"I've never been out here," she told him, her eyes still taking in the scene. "It's beautiful."
"I was hoping you'd see it that way," Damon said. "I figured my odds were good, given that you live in the middle of pine trees, but you never know. The whole kidnapping commentary had me worried." Elena smiled at his wit.
"I'd actually forgot about this place," she said. "I think there were parties out here when I was in high school, but I never went."
"I spent most of my teenage years here," Damon told her. "Usually during school hours, but those parties were pretty great too. It's a wonder no one died out here, given the amount of alcohol we consumed and all these rocks. They filled the quarry with water years and years ago, but this thing goes down a few hundred feet. If you fell in you probably wouldn't get back out without some help and I promise there weren't many people around capable of helping at most of those parties.
"So what, you not only skipped school, you skipped town too?" Elena asked. She was intrigued by the little nugget Damon had revealed about his past, no matter how small it was. He kept most of his cards close to his chest and the more time she spent with him, the more curious she became.
"Truancy officers were a bitch," Damon answered. "And there was always the chance I'd cross paths with my dad while I was supposed to be in English class. So I'd come out here, hang out until I felt like going home."
"By yourself?" Damon nodded.
"Ric came with me a few times, but I liked flying solo."
"And you'd just sit out here and do what?" Elena pressed.
"Think. Drink. Play my music too loud. Smoke too many cigarettes. Sometimes I'd keep it tame, pull out a book and lounge right here," he smacked the rocks they were sitting on. He reached over and took Elena's chin in his hand, ran his thumb over her lips. "You're the only girl I've ever brought out here." She smiled, noting that Damon seemed in wonder of that fact as he spoke.
"What makes me so special?" she asked as Damon's hand slipped along her jawline and into her hair, his eyes on hers.
"You're different," he told her, moving slowly towards her.
"How so?" Her words were nearly a whisper.
"I'm still working that out," Damon told her, just before his lips met hers. While Elena was ready to rip his clothes off and have her way with him, he maintained control, pushing down his desire with a promise of fulfilling it later in the day and with some effort, pulled away, not wanting to rush when they had the whole day ahead of them. He reached for his bag and unzipped it, revealing an eclectic mix of snacks.
"You packed lunch?" Elena asked with a grin, taking in the fruit, granola bars and a box of cheese crackers he had shoved into his pack.
"I intended to have a better spread," Damon admitted. "But the stream of dead daddy casseroles has dried up and there wasn't anything in the fridge with an expiration date that wasn't expired. And apparently, the one grocery store in town doesn't open until mid-morning. I improvised."
"Do you even know how to grocery shop?" Elena asked. She took out the box of crackers and opened them. Grocery shopping seemed like such a mundane task, something far below Damon, even though he had proven he knew his way around a kitchen and didn't entirely lack domestic skills.
"You go in a store, pick cart and fill it with food. It's not hard."
"Fine. You know how to grocery shop. But do you actually grocery shop?"
"No," Damon admitted with a sheepish half grin. He reached for the crackers. "My fridge in New York has a couple of beers, a bottle of hot sauce and a jar of mayonnaise that probably has a layer of mold growing on it. I left a carton of Chinese in there before I flew down here for the funeral, so that smelled great when I opened the door yesterday."
"No groceries and yet you're practically a gourmet chef," Elena teased.
"I'm a man of many talents," Damon replied, smirking. He leaned back on his elbows, watching Elena as she continued to take in the scenery, idly munching on crackers. She was stunning, her long hair with the slightest of waves from her hurried attempted at straightening it while he waited downstairs blowing gently around her. She looked comfortable, relaxed. And he couldn't get enough of her. "I missed you, you know." She turned to him.
"You missed me?" she asked, a hint of disbelief coloring her tone. Damon nodded.
"I did," he admitted, as much to her as to himself. "I realized it while sitting at the bar downing scotch and checking my phone for text messages. It was actually a pretty pathetic moment in my life." Elena laughed and sat the box of crackers aside.
"I may have missed you too," she said, moving so she was also resting on her elbows.
"In between all that wine you consumed with Rebekah?" he asked playfully. Elena ran a hand down his chest.
"Of course. You left me with fond memories of Thursday night," she told him. "It made me eager for a repeat performance." Damon decided later was now.
"A repeat performance?" he asked as he moved so he was hovering over her. "I think we can manage that." She smiled and pulled him down to her, not a thought in her mind in that moment other than how much she wanted the man above her.
Damon studied the handwritten lines of the leather bound book open in front of him, slowly running his finger down the page, pausing every once in a while to re-read a line or make out a word that had been smudged by years gone by. He flipped the page and continued reading, engrossed in the documents before him. With his email caught up and no more conference calls scheduled for the day, he'd taken to pouring over old mill records to fill his time. He vaguely registered the front door opening and closing and heard Stefan's footsteps making their way to the kitchen where Damon had set up shop.
"Hey," Damon greeted, barely glancing up from the books.
"Hey," Stefan replied, surprised when Damon spoke first. He stopped on his way to the fridge when he realized what Damon was doing. "Dad's old records from the mill?" he asked, picking up a book and opening it to a random page. The date was May 26, 1958 and there had been a large delivery of cedar that day.
"Yeah," Damon confirmed as he turned the page again. "You been out there lately?"
"No," Stefan admitted, flipping the page in the book he'd picked up. "It's probably been two years since I did anything other than stop at the office to talk to Dad."
"I went out there last week," Damon told him. "A guy named Pete showed me around. It's impressive." He continued flipping through the book. "They wrote down every single tree that came through there back in the 40s. Doesn't make much sense as to why, but no one can say Salvatore timber didn't document everything. Looks like they stopped logging individual trees and went to trailer loads in '48."
"It's all computerized now, right?" Stefan asked. He put his book down and resumed his walk to the fridge, set on a beer after a long day at the hospital.
"Since '04," Damon confirmed. "Apparently someone lost an arm right before Thanksgiving in '03 and that inspired our old man to go digital, get his men off the line and stop feeding wood through the saws by hand."
"I remember that," Stefan said as he pulled open the fridge. "There was a lawsuit."
"Dad won," Damon replied. "They proved negligence on the man's part. But Salvatore Timber still covered his medical expenses and gave his family a tidy sum to get them through the holidays." He shut his book and stretched his arms over his head, realizing he'd been reading over them for a couple of hours now.
"I guess Dad figured that was the right thing to do," Stefan said. Damon realized Stefan was looking through the fridge in search of food. He heard Elena's voice in his mind, encouraging him to be nicer to his brother, attempt to bond with him. He groaned inwardly as he bit the metaphorical bullet.
"Want to get some dinner?" he asked. Stefan stopped and turned towards Damon.
"What?" he asked, surprised for the second time in minutes. He wasn't sure he'd heard his older brother correctly.
"Dinner," Damon repeated. "There's this burger and beer garden place on the edge of town that's supposed to be pretty good."
"The Pharmacy," Stefan told him with a nod of recognition. "A guy I went to high school with owns it. It lives up to its billing."
"So how about it?" Damon asked. "Not sure if you've figured it out yet, but there's not much here that's not a granola bar or a mealy apple."
"Let me run upstairs and change out of my scrubs," Stefan told him.
"Make it snappy," Damon replied. "I'm hungry." Stefan rolled his eyes and started out of the kitchen. "And don't bother with taking time to fix your hair," Damon called after him. "You're in a relationship now. It's okay to let yourself go."
"Be back in five minutes, tops," Stefan shot back. He was surprised by Damon's sudden change in attitude, but he had a pretty good idea as to what – or rather who – was behind it. He hurried upstairs and quickly changed into jeans and a t-shirt. Then, for spite, he ran some gel through his hair to return the front to its usual poof. He returned downstairs to find Damon pocketing his wallet and cell phone.
"Well done with the quick change," Damon quipped. He reached out and patted Stefan's freshly gelled hair. "Let's go. I'm driving."
"Why do you get to drive?" Stefan asked, following his brother to the garage.
"I'm older."
"Fine. But I have the better car." Damon scoffed.
"Hardly," he replied. "My Camaro is pure American muscle." They climbed into Damon's car, their argument over foreign versus American-made cars continuing the entire drive to the restaurant.
Damon had to give credit where credit was due. The Pharmacy had lived up to its reputation. He and Stefan had opted to sit outside, their picnic table now littered with peanut hulls, plates loaded with burgers and fries and empty beer bottles. The place only offered locally produced beers and Stefan had turned out to be knowledgeable about the local breweries, giving Damon recommendations which had proved to be spot on and earning himself a touch more of Damon's respect in the process.
"This is dangerously good," Damon commented, turning up his second bottle of Jomo.
"You should try the Snow Blind. It's seasonal – won't come out until around Thanksgiving – but damn, it's good."
"I'll keep it in mind," Damon said. He took a big bite of his burger which, he'd learned from their waitress as she'd given her standard spill about the menu, was 100% sourced locally. It was easily one of the best burgers he'd ever had.
"How was New York?" Stefan asked. So far, they had managed to keep conversation flowing and civil, no snide comments or low blows exchanged. It was a feat for Stefan, a near miracle for Damon.
"It was New York," Damon answered with a shrug. "I flew in, took care of business and flew right back out." He took another swig of his beer. "But it was loud," he added, remembering how annoyed he'd been by the constant hum of the city, something he'd never paid much mind to before, merely raising his voice to be heard if he were on the streets and letting the medley of traffic, horns and sirens lull him to sleep at night. "Mystic Falls is so quiet that the streets sounded like a U2 concert turned up to 11."
Their waitress appeared, asking if they needed anything. They both requested another beer, an unspoken agreement passing between them that it would be their third and final one, at least until they got home.
"Where's the British babe at tonight?" Damon asked. "Figured you'd want to be with your hot girlfriend instead of your hot brother after another 48 hour shift."
"Her name is Rebekah," Stefan told him pointedly. "Stop calling her the 'British Babe.' It's rude."
"Or it's a compliment," Damon said with a shrug. "I'm just saying – she's not ugly." Stefan rolled his eyes.
"She had a work thing tonight," he said, answering Damon's question. "She works in fundraising for UVA. They were having some reception or something for alumni of the art department."
"You planning on sticking with her?" Damon asked. He silently wished Elena were around right then to witness him making an effort to bond with his brother. He'd be sure to give her a detailed recap.
"I mean, yeah," Stefan said with a shrug. "I love her, you know? We've been together for almost a year and it's been good. She understands my crazy work hours, supports me in what I do. I'm actually going to spend Thanksgiving with her family."
"Where's she from?"
"Surrey, originally, but her family moved to Chicago when she was nine for her dad's job and they've been there ever since. She's got four brothers. They'll probably kick my ass, just because. One of them plays rugby so I'm guessing he'll be most likely to deliver the fatal blow." Damon smirked, fitting together a few facts to come to a realization.
"Her last name is Mikelson, right?" Stefan nodded and Damon outright laughed.
"What?" Stefan demanded.
"The rugby player brother? His name is Flynn Mikelson. I don't know much about rugby, but I do know he's got a reputation for being ruthless. You're screwed if you mess with his little sister."
"Thanks, Damon, that just made me feel a hundred times better about meeting her entire family."
"You're welcome," Damon said, working his way through the large portion of fries on his plate.
"What about you and Elena?" Stefan asked. "What's going on there?"
Damon's first reaction was to tell Stefan to mind his own business or else that there was nothing going on with him and Elena. But he stopped himself, realizing that there was something going on between them and Stefan may actually prove to be beneficial. He knew Elena well, after all, a fact Damon was still trying to reconcile, and he was a relationship kind of guy. His brother might actually have something to offer.
"It's – complicated," Damon said. "Not in a bad way, exactly, just…" His words failed him as he tried to figure out how to explain what was going on between him and Elena.
"Just complicated," Stefan said with an understanding nod. "I get it. She lives here, you live in New York. And, to point out the obvious, relationships aren't your strong suit." Damon checked himself before retorting with something defensive – or offensive – regarding his experience in being half of a couple.
"She's pretty great," he admitted instead. "She's beautiful, but she's also smart, successful. Compassionate."
"She likes you too, you know," Stefan told him. "She and Rebekah spent all of Friday night discussing their respective Salvatore. She's yours to lose, brother."
"What'd she say about me?" Damon asked curiously. "And why did Rebekah tell you, anyway? Isn't there a girl code or something?"
"I don't know about the girl code, but she just told Rebekah that she liked you. You've gotten under her skin. She sees past some of your more…" he faltered, trying to find the right words to describe Damon's less than attractive habits without upsetting Damon.
"Questionable behavior," Damon supplied.
"Questionable behavior," Stefan repeated with a nod. "She thinks you're a good guy under all that big city swagger." Damon didn't respond, keeping his eyes on his plate of food as he ate. He was having trouble relating to the fact that Elena saw him as a good person when he saw himself as damaged and reckless.
"You ever consider moving back here?" Stefan asked. He knew it was a bold question, but it was one he had to ask. Damon hesitated before he responded.
"No," he said honestly. Because he hadn't considered it, at least not seriously. "But I never say never. I've learned life is unpredictable. You can make all the plans in the world until one big wrench comes along and screws them all up." Stefan nodded, wondering if Elena could possibly be one of the wrenches Damon was speaking of. Since he was already asking difficult questions, he decided he'd take the plunge and ask the hardest one of all.
"You ready for the reading of Dad's will tomorrow?"
"Should be pretty straightforward," Damon said with a shrug. "Chester will read a document, you'll get a house or two, maybe the lumberyard, surely a ton of cash. And then I can relinquish my executor duties and resume a normal life."
"Damon, in all seriousness, what makes you think you're written out of Dad's will?"
"Stefan, you're an adult now. Surely I don't need to explain to you all the ways and all the times that our father proved he only gave a damn about one of us." Stefan shook his head sadly.
"That's not true, Damon," he said. "He loved you. He was proud of the man you've become. He'd have told you himself if you'd given him the chance."
"I've long since accepted the fact that you believe Giuseppe Salvatore walked on water," Damon said, his tone turning cold. "Consider this topic closed for conversation." Stefan pierced his lips and nodded, downing the rest of his beer. He reached for the fresh one the waitress had just deposited on their table.
"So, how about the Redskins? Think they've got a chance this year?"
"A snowball's chance in hell," Damon replied, running with the change in topic. "But Harper James will have a good year."
Knowing his window talking about anything significant with Damon had passed, Stefan continued with the sports talk and kept things superficial for the remainder of dinner, even managing to carry it through the ride home, taking advantage of the fact that Damon knew a significant amount about some of his favorite teams to pick his brain.
As they pulled into the garage of the Salvatore Boarding House, however, the usual tension between the brothers started to fill back in.
"I'm going to call Rebekah," Stefan said, ending an argument over who was the best running back in the AFC. "Thanks for picking up the tab."
"Harper James was mentioned," Damon replied. "It's now a business meeting I can deduct from my taxes." Stefan shook his head as he got out of the car and headed inside. He unlocked the phone to call Rebekah but before he dialed, he texted Elena.
Just had dinner with Damon and everyone survived. I owe you one.
Remember, I live almost exactly where the fictitious Mystic Falls is believed to be on a map of Virginia. There are TONS of quarries around here, all filled with water after they had been maxed out. I thought it was pretty cool to incorporate a little bit of my town's soapstone history into the story. :)
Thanks for reading - please let me know what you think!
