The Queen of Unintended Consequences
By Terri Botta
Summary: What happens when a vampire gives up, gives in, and gives the girl exactly what she wants. An AU Season 3 fic.
Disclaimer: All rights belong to The Vampire Diaries belong to Kevin Williamson, Julie Plec, L.J. Smith and the CW. I just take them out and play with them. No money, no infringement intended, yadda yadda yadda. I'm poor so don't sue.
Author's note: Say hello to BadAss!Damon. Also, I had to make some minor changes to Ch 13 to correct a timing issue, because I'm OCD that way. I estimated the trip from "Mystic Falls" to Chicago to be just under 700 miles. If Damon averaged 90 mph, which is more than doable for him, he would have made the trip in 8 hours not eleven, which would put him in Mystic Falls around 5am. And I shortened his nap to 4 hours.
As always, much love to my betas Lisa Morgan and Glamoured-by-Eric
Chapter Fourteen
She hit him full force, slamming him into the rack of shelves behind him, and he lost his grip on the blood bags. One splattered all over the floor, but the other got smashed against the junk on the shelves, popped, and spewed cold blood all over him.
"What did you do?!" she screamed, grabbing him by his shirt, her red eyes blazing, fangs extended.
Words and explanations were on his lips, but he realized it was too late. Obviously, Elena had managed to gain access to a cell phone, and she had texted for help. In doing so, she had completely ruined any chance he had of staying in control of the situation, and guiding it towards a common goal of rescuing her and Stefan and killing Klaus. Once again, an eighteen-year-old girl had been able to FUBAR his plans, and she'd even managed to do it from over 600 miles away. Just his luck. He vamped out and pushed back, but Blondie held her ground.
"Answer me, you bastard, or I'll stake you right now!" she threatened, and he saw her reach for a stake in her jacket.
That was it. He realized that she had no intention of listening to him. None of them ever did. He was the evil one, the hated one. The one they expected to do all the dirty work then go back to his cave like good, little monster. Nothing he did for the good would ever make a bit of difference with any of them, and he was done taking their shit.
The last time they'd fought, Caroline had bested him, partly because she was angrier and partly because some part of him didn't want to hurt her. Now he threw off those reservations and went after her full-bore, because there was no way he was going to allow himself to lose to a blonde vampire Barbie doll less than three years old. He knew he wouldn't kill her, but he was going to rain down a world of hurt on her, and she would never forget the beating he gave her – ever.
He knocked the stake out of her hands, then head-butted her and followed with numerous blows that sent her flying into the stone wall. Her face showed her shock at the ferocity of his attack, but he didn't let up. He grabbed her and threw her down the hall, slamming her into the rocks hard enough to break her ribs, then he snapped both of her arms so she couldn't use them. She screamed in pain, and the sound made him pause for only a moment before he broke her spine low on her body to paralyze her legs. She gasped and stared wide-eyed at him as he fisted her jacket collar in both hands and lifted her broken, dangling body to his face. With her limbs out of commission until they healed, she was helpless, and the look on her face told him she knew it.
"When Jules and her dogs had you prisoner, who came for you? When Klaus was going to use you as his sacrifice, who was the one who set you free? When your were-mutt boyfriend couldn't keep control of himself, who sent you off and took the bite that was meant for you? Any debt I owed you, I have paid in spades! I owe you nothing!" he seethed.
She let out a strangled cry when he knocked her against the wall to make sure she was paying attention, and if she was surprised by his brutality, she shouldn't have been because he was only doing what everyone had always accused him of doing whether he did it or not.
"I wasn't going to kill your father! I didn't kill your mother because Liz is my friend! I am not the monster you paint me to be. Every time I have had to make a hard choice, it's because one of you birdbrains fucked up! Well I am done being your dog!" he told her.
"Yes! I left Elena with Klaus! And if you had come to me and asked me what was going on, I would have told you that I did it to keep all of us alive! I would have told you that I found out the reason Klaus can't make hybrids is because he needs Elena's blood for the newborns to make the transition. I would have told you that Stefan knew this, and that it was just a matter of time before he told Klaus, because my douche brother has been compelled to be Klaus's little bitch! And the moment he found out that little tidbit, he would have come after us for her, and we'd all be dead because we still don't know how to kill an Original!"
Her hips twitched so he snapped her spine again, ignoring her whimper and the tears leaking out of her eyes. He wasn't done, and she was damn well going to listen to him for once.
"Leaving Elena with Klaus was the hardest thing I have ever had to do, and she will hate me forever for it, but it was the only option that kept us all alive. As always, I did what I had to do because we had no plan and no way of defeating Klaus. He would have come here and killed each and every one of us until he got Elena, and you and I both know it, so spare me the stupid arguments. My only comfort is knowing that she's with Stefan, and he'll protect her as much as he can so long as Klaus doesn't compel him otherwise, which I doubt he will if he really does need her blood to make more hybrids. And before you ask, if I could have gotten Elena to run away with me, I would have, but she wouldn't leave this pathetic, little town and you useless wastes of space."
"Damon…" she tried, sobbing, her hands spasming as the bones in her arms healed. It had to hurt like a bitch.
"I was planning to get everyone together once you finished your daily experiment in public education, and tell all of you this so we could start forming a plan, but as usual Little Miss Martyr had to go and fuck up everything. I am guessing either she or you told Witchy?"
She nodded. "Bonnie and I got the same text," she confirmed.
"Is she on her way here?" he asked, wondering if Gloria had magicked the No Mojo Talisman into his car yet.
"She had a midterm this morning so I texted her that I would come here to see if you were back. Damon…"
"Shut up, I'm thinking," he snapped. "If she texted you, chances are she texted Ric and Junior Gilbert too. Which means I get to waste time defending myself against more pathetic attempts to kill me, instead of us working on a way to kill Klaus and save Elena and my brother. Wonderful."
"Damon. Damon, please…"
"No," he spat. "You don't get to ask me for anything. I have had a really bad night, and this day has sucked balls so far, so I am not in the mood. You came here with the intent to attack me and try to kill me without giving me any opportunity to explain myself. You've used up all your lifelines, Blondie, and I'm not letting you phone a friend."
He braced her against the wall with one knee as he used a hand to reach into her jacket and grab her phone. He crushed the phone in his hand and dropped the mangled remains on the dirt floor.
"Wh-what are you going to do to me?" she said, her voice frightened and sounding all of six years old.
He snorted at her to hide the pang of hurt he felt. "I'm not going to kill you, Blondie. Everything I've done is to save your sorry ass, and that's not going to change. You're Liz's daughter, and she loves you. And you're Elena's best friend. And believe it or not, I think you're turning out to be a decent vampire. I just wish you'd stop with the judgments. You're starting to act a little too much like Witchy, and one condescending, judgy bitch is enough. But you have to admit, things are fucked up now, and I'm not really sure what I'm going to do. It's obvious that I can't trust any of you, so if I want to find a way to kill Klaus, I'm going to have to do it alone."
"No," she argued. "No, we can help you. We can figure this out and save Elena and Stefan."
"Funny how I don't believe you. And you'd be better off listening to me when I tell you not to go after Klaus until we have a plan to kill him. To go after him without that is suicide. Don't do it. Tell the others not to do it. Elena is safe with Stefan for now. We're safe from Klaus hunting us, for now. Don't fuck it up by staging a rescue mission before we're ready," he warned.
He looked at her and saw her terror. His beast was rejoicing in his cruelty, but he took no joy in it, and he was fast becoming disgusted with himself, although he couldn't bring himself to be sorry for his actions. She'd needed to be taught a lesson, and he thought he'd proved his point so he eased up a little.
"I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to do any of this, but I didn't have a choice. I'll have to live with that, but I wouldn't have done anything differently if given the chance, and I won't regret it. But for now, there're things I have to do, and, since I can't trust you, I'm going to have to get you out of the way. I'm sorry for this, but I'll make sure someone knows you're here."
Her eyes flew open wide and the words of denial were on her lips, but she didn't get the chance to say them as he snapped her neck with one quick yank. She fell limp against him, and he steeled the trembling of his heart as he took her lifeless body and dumped it in one of the basement cells. He put two bags of blood in the cell with her because he knew she'd be starving when she woke, then locked her in and went upstairs.
The first thing he did was toss two more bags of blood into the microwave to heat up while he went to look for Gloria's talisman. If Blondie was right, he could expect Bitchy Witchy to arrive shortly after her test was over. He didn't know exactly when that would be, but he figured it'd be soon enough, so he was really hoping that the Good Witch had majicked him his No Mojo bauble.
He was on high alert and feeling vulnerable as he moved silently into the garage and peered into the Camaro's window, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw what appeared to be a pendant made from Black Onyx lying on the front passenger seat. There was a note with it that read "activate with a drop of your blood," so he punctured his thumb on a fang and smeared the blood on the stone. He felt the talisman come on-line and smiled.
'Thank you, Gloria. I knew you were someone I could count on,' he thought as he slipped the silver snake chain over his head.
Back in the kitchen, his meal was ready so he drained both bags then went to his room to take another shower and change clothes because he was splattered with blood. He was just finishing dressing when his Witchy Spidey Sense went off, and he knew Bonnie had arrived.
'This is going to be good.'
He feigned ignorance as he made his way from his room back to the living room, pretending nothing was amiss in the least. In a way, he was glad this was going down. For so long, he'd let them order him around, and he'd allowed himself to become a whipped pansy. He'd forgotten what it was like to be a powerful vampire more than capable of slaughtering an entire town in a single night – not that he'd ever done that, that was his brother's thing, but it was nice to remember that he could. And it had been too long since he'd practiced what the Bennett witches had taught him about protecting himself from magic. Back in the day, it was considered a status symbol if a witch had a pet vampire in her repertoire. Emily's daughter hadn't wanted anyone using him but her or her brother, so she'd spent a good bit of time showing him how to detect, thwart and defend himself against magic. At one point, he was rather adept at avoiding witches, and he'd even been able to bend some spells' intent, but he'd let his skills fall by the wayside.
'Maybe Bill Forbes is right. I have gotten lazy. About a lot of things. Time to wake up.'
His beast raised its head, grinning. 'Now you see. Now you understand. Let me out and I will take care of everything.'
He sighed. 'Not now,' he answered, knowing that the full repercussions of what he was going to do today wouldn't hit until later. These were his allies, people he had considered friends – or at least not enemies, and they were showing their true colors. He was betraying them, but they had betrayed him long ago. This was just the inevitable conclusion to a stupidity that he normally would have been smart enough to avoid.
He smelled the Magic coming off her long before he saw her so he wasn't surprised when she stepped in front of him in the hall, hands outstretched, face intent with concentration. He figured she was doing the blood-vessel popping spell, and he was glad his No Mojo necklace appeared to be working because he didn't feel a thing. He didn't let her know that, though, as he grabbed his head and pretended to scream in pain.
He waited until she was within striking distance, continuing to clutch his head and howl in agony, and when she got that condescending, little smirk on her face, he dropped the act and straightened up.
"Not today, Judgy," he growled.
She had enough time to process that her spell hadn't worked before he hit her with a right cross, snapping her head back and knocking her out with one blow. He'd pulled the punch to make sure he just TKO'd her instead of breaking her jaw or killing her, but she'd be out for a while. He caught her falling body before she could hit the back of her head on anything and carried her down to the basement. He thought about putting her in the same cell as Blondie, who was still out for the count, but he decided against putting a live meal in with a wounded vampire. That rarely ended well. He dumped her in the cell next to Blondie's and locked her in. Chances were she could Mojo herself out without any problems, but he figured he had at least an hour before she even started to wake up.
Back in the living room, a calm resignation began to set in as he cataloged the gravity of his actions. He'd left Elena with Klaus. He'd snapped Caroline's neck, and he'd knocked out Bonnie. Both were locked up in separate cells in the basement. He still needed to face Alaric and Jeremy, if only to tell them himself what he had done, although he doubted that their meeting would go any different than it did with Blondie and Witchy.
After everything that had happened, he knew he had to leave town. No matter what, Mystic Falls, his home and safe haven, was no longer a place of refuge and solace for him, and probably wouldn't be for at least fifty years. That hurt more than he thought it would, but the pain of loss was something he was used to. He processed it and moved on.
The grandfather clock read just after noon. Provided Ric and Junior Gilbert finished out the school day, they wouldn't get back to Chez Gilbert until after 3 p.m. That was if they didn't decide to come here and try to kill him in his own house before then. He quickly took out his phone and texted Ric.
:Need 2 talk. Meet me Gilbert house, 4 p.m. Bring Junior.:
He hoped that was clear enough. He didn't get an answer, but in truth he didn't expect one. Ric and he weren't on the best of terms, and they weren't texting buddies even when they were. If they kept to the schedule, that meant he had four hours before he had to be at the Gilbert house. That gave him plenty of time to make the necessary preparations for closing up the house for an extended leave of absence, but only if his "guests" stayed out of his hair.
Humming to himself, he retrieved a vervain dart from his weapons stash, then went to his bathroom. He ran a hand along one of the mirrors and let his fingers catch on the hidden lever, depressing it to release the clasp so he could open the secret cabinet behind the mirror. He selected a small amber-colored bottle of chloroform and reclosed the door. With so many of the townsfolk on vervain these days, he'd found it prudent to keep an alternative method of knocking someone out on hand.
He considered using a pair of his underwear just to get Bitchy's goat, but decided against it, opting for one of his older washcloths instead, then he returned to the basement and the cell he'd put Bonnie in, poured a very small bit of the chloroform (he wanted her knocked out, not dead) on the washcloth and laid the cloth on her face. As long as she was breathing in the vapors, she'd stay unconscious. Giving her a little pat on her cheek, he locked up the cell again and went into Caroline's, deftly injecting her with enough vervain to keep her down for several hours.
"I should do this more often," he commented to himself as he returned the chloroform its hiding place. "When executing a plan, just incapacitate anyone who could even remotely fuck it up. Makes life soooo much easier."
His levity fell flat as he faced his room, knowing that the previous night would be the last one where he would sleep in his favorite bed in a very, very long time, and a melancholy began to settle over him as he went to one of the supply closets on the second floor and drew out a large stack of sheets. Over the course of the next ninety minutes, he proceeded to drape sheets over all of the furniture and more expensive artwork, protecting it from dust and damage, then he made calls to landscaping and property management companies and contracted with them to have the house and grounds looked after. When he was done on the phone, he checked on his guests and found them still out.
He saved his bedroom for last, packing up what clothes he wanted to take with him in a black duffel bag, and storing the rest in his dressers. He took down the artwork and put the pictures and his books in his closet, covering them with a sheet, then he closed the drapes and covered the headboard and mattress of his bed with another sheet. It was a somber task. He loved this room and this house, and it hurt to know he had to leave it, especially under the circumstances.
When he closed the door of the Boarding House behind him and stowed his duffel, several fine vintage bottles of wine and liquor that he was not leaving behind, and a cooler of blood in the trunk of his Camaro, he felt like he was closing the door on an era in his life. Nothing was going to be the same from now on, and he'd be on his own again. It wasn't anything he hadn't done before, but he'd always had home to come back to. Now he didn't even have that.
He still had two hours before he had to be at the Gilbert house, so he took the time make the final rounds. He visited the Grill for a farewell drink and dropped in on Liz, explaining to her that he was leaving town and wouldn't be back for a long time.
"Does this have anything to do with your brother's disappearance?" she asked as he stood in her office.
"Yes," he answered.
"I wish you luck," the sheriff said. "But I can't say that I'm not going to miss you. You've done a lot for this town, Damon, and for me."
"I'll miss you too, Liz," he told her truthfully. He would miss her. She was a good woman and a good cop. "Take good care of that daughter of yours."
"I will. Now if I could only get rid of my ex-husband," she half joked with a roll of her eyes.
He waggled his eyebrows at her and smiled. "Want me to…" He pantomimed biting, making her chuckle.
"If I remember correctly, you already tried that," she commented.
"Yeah, but I got interrupted by the Morality Brigade," he explained with a smirk and a nonchalant shrug.
Liz laughed, then shook her head. "Thanks, but no thanks."
"I won't be here much longer, after that, you're on your own," he warned.
"I know, and I thank you for the offer, but we'll be okay," she said, smiling, but the smile was strained.
"Yeah, you will. You'll do just fine," he assured her, knowing he would keep tabs on Mystic Falls even if he was an ocean away.
"My only concern is who will supply the vervain with you gone."
"We grow it in the cellar of the Boarding House. I'll leave instructions with Alaric Saltzman on how to maintain and harvest it," he replied.
"That's great. Thank you for everything you've done, Damon. My daughter doesn't have a high opinion of you, but I know how much you've done for us."
Realizing that he was probably seeing her for the last time, he stepped forward and kissed her gently on the forehead. "No, Liz, thank you."
When he pulled away he saw the thin sheen of tears brimming her eyes, and he knew she really was going to miss him. The one person who should hate him and stake him on sight, was the one who had seen him for who he was the most – that and Ric, but Ric had ended up letting his hate cloud his vision.
"I really am going to miss you," she whispered.
He stroked her cheek with one finger. "I know. I'm really going to miss you, too."
"Will I ever see you again?"
"Probably not. I doubt I'll be back here in your mortal lifetime," he admitted with regret.
"That's what I thought," she sighed with some measure of sadness.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he knew he'd gotten a text message. He pulled it out and saw it was from Ric. It was just after three. Teacher must have had his phone in his desk and only now checked his messages.
:Where's Elena?: it read.
"I gotta go, Liz," he said. "Take care of yourself."
"You too, Damon. Good bye."
It sounded so final, and his heart began to ache. He walked out of her office without saying good bye himself. He hated good byes.
:With Stefan,: he texted back as he exited the police station. Well, it was true, wasn't it?
The next text didn't come for another ten minutes, and by then he was already at the library where he intended to go to write his letter about how to grow vervain. A vampire leaving instructions on how to raise an herb that could thwart compulsion and incapacitate him? How ironic was that?
:We'll be here,: Ric's message said, and he knew the dice had been cast. It was now just a matter of seeing what they rolled.
He wrote two letters. One was detailed instructions on how to grow, harvest and dry vervain. The other was a complete account of everything that had happened in Chicago – minus the personal parts about his time with Elena and their fights. He knew that he needed some way of making them understand if he couldn't get them to listen to him, so he wrote it all down, including the bits about him following Stefan from California in 1922, and the discovery that Stefan's friend, Nick, was actually Klaus. He wrote about Gloria, and the spell she did on Stefan. How she knew about Elena and what her blood could do. He told them that Stefan knew, and that he was under Klaus's control. He warned them about Rebekah, and her role as a complete Wild Card in the whole situation. He reiterated what he'd told Caroline about the suicidal stupidity of going after Klaus before they had discovered a way to kill an Original, and warned them not to try to rescue Elena until they had a workable plan in place. He did everything to make them comprehend the reality and gravity of the situation in hopes that they would understand. He only prayed they didn't burn the letters without reading them.
As he wrote, a detachment began to settle over him. Once again he was sacrificing everything for people who really couldn't give a shit about him. He was losing his home, his "friends," his colleagues, his brother, and the love of his life. All because he cared too much, loved too much, and tried too hard for those who would never see him for who he really was, nor would they even care to look. Why? Why did he do that to himself? It devastated him every time it happened, and it took him years to put himself back together.
It was almost enough to make him flip the switch.
His beast heard his mental ramblings and came to the front of its cage.
'Let me out. You know you want to. I can make the pain go away,' it promised with a seductive purr.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to turn it off for a while. Maybe by the time he turned it back on, he wouldn't hurt so much. His beast retreated without a taunt or a goad, probably because it knew it had already won, and now all that was left was the waiting to be set free.
He finished the letters at 3:50 p.m., and by the time he had put the last period on the last sentence, he had already begun to leave Mystic Falls. He erected a wall of cool detachment, an emotional distance that helped him look at the situation objectively and plan for what might happen once he got to the Gilbert house. He knew he could skip the reunion and just leave town, and that probably was the safest option, but he owed it to Ric and Jeremy to face them and tell them what had happened, even if he knew he was most likely walking into an ambush. If they tried to blitz him, he had to be ready to fight, but he was really hoping that they'd at least pretend to listen. If they did, they might actually learn something.
He tucked the letters into the inside pocket of his jacket and returned out to his car. It was exactly 4 p.m. when he parked the Camaro in front of Elena's house and walked into the lion's den.