a normal life

Once again, Damon found himself near the edge of a dusty road with numerous multicolored stars in his hand. As he walked towards the horizon, giant cloth bins filled with thousands of them, from smaller red ones to the larger, blue-tinted five-pointed beauties. A strong, sturdy wooden ladder connected the grimy road to the pitch black sky, right beside a wooden table with unintelligible blueprints.

Only the old, rusty lamplights illuminated his way. As he stared up at the empty sky, Damon let out a bitter laugh. "Seriously? What do you want?"

Silence – and even dimmer lights – greeted him. It wouldn't ever be that easy. Even in the center of his mind, he couldn't grasp the answers he sought. So he stuffed the stars into his pocket and moved forward.

"Phasmatos incendia," he murmured, watching the fire surge from his fingertips and illuminate the wooden table. The blueprints were ever-shifting, with a map that switched from Arabic (a language he had never mastered) to Italian to English and back, in an eternal loop that moved faster than he could read. The letters shifted too, and the longer he stared at them, the more he could feel the migraine in the back of his head.

He sighed, extinguishing the fire and pulling out the stars again. He had no idea where they were supposed to go, but he couldn't stop here. He couldn't turn back, and he certainly couldn't fling himself off the edge. He had to finish what he started.

"I'm sorry," he murmured to the tiniest star in his hand. "I failed all of you."

Its light flickered as he held it between his fingers, and the sky unfurled into a giant black grid. He furrowed his brow, staring at the stars between his fingers and then at the precise markings above him.

So he added, "Don't worry. Even if I did, I'll still make sure you'll go where you're supposed to."

An all-too familiar voice called from below, "Even without a map?"

Damon drew in a low, slow breath. He didn't dare look behind him, even in a dream – one wrong move, and he would feel that aching loneliness again. He didn't even think he deserved this conversation. He'd already screwed up things between them.

"You know me," he blustered, affixing the little star onto one of the gridded squares. "Sometimes, I can be so stupid."

"Even the stupidest ones need a little help, if they're willing to admit it." Her voice was soft, almost melancholy as she unfurled those blueprints behind him. As her fingers traced over the undecipherable, she cursed under her breath. "Okay, a lot of help."

He couldn't help the laughter escaping his lips – God, he missed her. He missed every little thing about her, to the point where he was actively imagining her in his dreams. If she ever responded to his text, then maybe he could say that to her face.

For now, he would settle for holding onto the ladder and glancing over his shoulder at her, and memorizing every little detail. How her brow furrowed when she was intent on saving someone from their own stupidity, or how the edges of her eyes crinkled when she peered up into his eyes.

"You missed me," she murmured, her expression softening considerably. "You really missed me."

"Of course I did." He swallowed his hesitation, jumping off the ladder to greet her properly (and dropping his stars back into that cloth bin). "Bonnie, you were – no, you are important to me."

This time, he rushed to embrace her, inhaling her citrus-y scent and closing his eyes to savor the moment. If only this were the dunya – the waking world – and if only he could tell her how much she had restored his faith in vampires, in those who didn't share his magic, without a single word.

Bonnie buried herself in his chest, wrapping her arms around him too. "Yeah, well - you have a funny way of showing it."

"I know. I shouldn't have said what I did." He held on a little tighter, peering down at her again. For a dream, her touch felt real. A little too real, actually. "Hang on. If I'm gonna apologize, I want to wait until we're awake."

"You don't have to." Her voice was softer, gentler as she clung to his shirt. "See, um – that's the best part about being a vampire."

"Hold on. You missed me so much that you'd walk into my dreams to see me again?" His laugh was incredulous. "All this time, I thought I had it bad when you –"

She stood on the very edge of her toes and pressed a finger to his lips. "Weren't you about to apologize?"

"That was before I realized you were waltzing into my head." His shoulders were shaking with laughter as he reached out for her wrist and gently set her hand back down. "How does it work? You just think about me and bam, you're here?"

"Sort of." Bonnie raised her eyebrows in amusement, pulling away and turning her attention back towards the blueprints. "More importantly, I uh, think you've got your work cut out for you."

"With the stars?" He shook his head. "Nah. I've got my trusty navigator. As long as we're together, we can put everything where they're supposed to be."

"Your trusty navigators. As in, plural." Bonnie teased, unfurling the blueprints and studying them for real. "So what do you say? Let's get down to business?"

He reached into one of the bins and nabbed a handful of stars. "You'd better believe it. Between you and me –"

"And me," Mason's voice called as his hands too reached into the bin. He shot Damon a lazy grin. "Like I'd let you do this on your own."

"Me either," Jenna's voice added, as she, Elena, and Stefan peered into another bin. "We're family. Let us help."

Stefan held up a giant, orange-tinted star towards his brother. "Yeah. We've got this, akhi."

One by one, new ladders emerged from the darkness as people – his parents, Alaric, even Tyler and Matt – rolled them towards the edge of the dusty road. Not a single speck of dirt clung to their clothes as they climbed those ladders and accepted the stars into their hands. The grid grew lighter too, with less precisions than before.

So, as he turned towards his ladder, he gave Bonnie an encouraging smile. "Yeah. We're not alone anymore."

As he tossed and turned, the space between his sheets had never felt emptier.

His dreams might've had Bonnie and all his loved ones, but the dunya only had empty, lonely space and citrus-scented pillowcases. He must've missed her more than he thought. With a groan, Damon forced himself to sit up and reach for his phone.

Five missed calls, fifteen texts, and one voicemail at the odd hour of – of 1:45 PM?

Shit.

Returning his first missing call, he put it on speakerphone and yelled, "Hello?" as he threw on the first clothes he could find (dark-washed jeans, a loose steel blue button-down shirt, his silver gunblade necklace, a handknitted wool scarf, mismatched socks, and his old, navy duffle coat).

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty." Mason replied with an exhausted laugh. "How long were you out?"

"Nooo idea." Damon fastened the buttons on his duffle coat, bringing his phone with him as he headed into the kitchen. "Forever, from the sounds of it."

"Ouch. So uh, Kathy didn't come back last night. I've been looking for her everywhere, but everyone thinks I've been looking for Elena."

"Well, they are doppelgängers." Damon winced in sympathy. He couldn't imagine how easy that task had been. "Tell me you knew that before you decided to date her?"

"Of course I did. I also knew that she was fucking desperate for something in Mystic Falls." So there had been a brain hidden amongst all that stuff and fluff. "I figured that if I pretended to fall in love with her and brought her here, I could keep an eye on her and get you involved."

As far as plans went, that was the stupidest one he had heard all semester. Mason was far from a brilliant actor, and Damon certainly lacked the experience to handle someone as seasoned and ambitious as Katherine Pierce. Hell, Bonnie and Anna lacked the experience, and they were far too familiar with the tricks up her sleeve.

(Did Mason want to get the grown-ups involved? Mom and Dad could probably wipe the slate clean, if they weren't so invested in planning this masjid fundraiser.)

Damon sighed. Loudly. "When were you planning on telling me any of this?"

"Oh, I don't know, during one of the numerous Skype dates we cancelled."

All this time, he could've known about the most powerful vampire Damon had ever encountered. He could've had months to prepare for her dramatic entrance, and he had squandered that precious opportunity to focus on his petty squabbles with Bonnie and Anna. Dammit, past him could've really used the upper hand here.

Katherine must've returned for something important. He couldn't imagine what would bring her back, though. Mystic Falls had little to offer, save for desiccated vampires and a girl who shared her face. Unless Elena held the key to the puzzle?

"Back up, first – you said she was desperate for something. Do you know what, exactly, she wanted?"

"Something called a moonstone." There was rustling of papers in the background. Mason lowered his voice, "The Lockwoods have had it for generations. I can't figure out where Carol's put it, but I give her that stupid gem and she'll waltz right out of here."

"No." Damon shook his head, even though he knew Mason couldn't see it. In-between bites of a super hasty breakfast, he elaborated, "If she was here for something you owned, she would've returned."

Considering her unpleasant history with Jenna's new beau, no one could blame her for bailing on Wine Night. Damon would've bailed too, had his best friends waltzed in with either Andi or Meredith on their arms. Hell, he would've especially bailed if Bonnie had showed up with someone else.

(His heart twisted into knots at the thought; she felt the same, right? Why else had she waltzed into his dreams, time after time?)

"So you're saying it's more than a moonstone?" Mason drew in a breath. "What on Earth could she want?"

Something bigger than their entire town, if she turned tail and ran at the first sound of Alaric sharing the same space. Whatever it was, Damon figured that she would play her cards and take her winnings, and in the process, reveal her hand. In the meantime, they should check on the kids after school. See if they had caught wind of these mysterious shadow selves.

"I don't know," Damon admitted after a moment. "But we'll find her. I promise."

"Thinking about a locator spell?"

"Those are risky, so no." Most of them also required blood of the caster or the one needing to be found, and Damon didn't feel like slitting his wrists open. He had shed enough blood for a lifetime. "If you can't find her, that's intentional – and my magic would only tell her that you knew the risks in bringing her."

Katherine would undoubtedly feel the invisible pull of Damon's magic, and in feeling that pull, she would know their real agenda. They had to bide their time and tap into their invisible wells of patience (wherever those were). Elena – and now maybe Stefan – were counting on them.

Mason sighed. "Fair enough. I just – I don't know where else to look for her, except maybe the festival. Aren't you volunteering this year?"

"Of course. It's not exactly hard." Damon wasn't exactly the most proactive – that award always went to Caroline Forbes – but he didn't mind helping where he could. "Aren't you coming?"

"And watch my brother act as if he runs the place?" Mason's grimace was audible. "No thanks."

Mason had a point. Every year, Mystic Falls heralded the winter season with a giant festival in the town square. Today, after the last exams were taken, the square would be transformed into a winter wonderland with booths and carnival games and occasionally a Ferris wheel, if they could find one in time. At sunset, the Mayor – Mason's gross older brother - would light the giant tree in Town Square, and the entire town was invited to partake in the ensuing light show.

In the early afternoon, the younger crowd would flock to the carnival games, the face-painting, and the booths selling hot cocoa. Most years, Damon and Stefan volunteered with the local Parks department. As soon as his exams finished, Stefan would join him, and they would assist little kids with buying popcorn or painting faces or whatever the festival needed. Their duties were never consistent, but the boys were rewarded with hot cocoa and volunteer hours on their resume.

Honestly, Damon didn't need a reward – though his growing collection of reindeer mugs were pretty awesome. Christmas wasn't his favorite holiday for the merchandise or the twinkling lights, but for the time spent together and the growing sense of camaraderie forged between volunteers. For all that he whined about his hometown, the Star Festival was one of the few town traditions that didn't hold blatantly Eurocentric or racist implications.

For the most part – their focus on Christmas and Hanukkah sucked, but the new heart surgeon Dr. Shah was hosting a Bodhi Day booth, and Tyler had organized a skit for Los Pasadas. Everyone had to start somewhere, right?

("Frankly," Aunt Carol had admitted to Mom a few days ago, "I'm just amazed Tyler wants to help out this year. Normally Caroline has to reel him in with the promise of food.")

But Mason wasn't thinking of camaraderie or familial obligations – he was thinking of the cunning shadow he had unleashed upon everyone, and his guilt was starting to haunt every word he spoke.

"Yeah, but – it's the biggest thing in town. Everyone's gonna be there. Hell, your nephew's doing stuff for that Mexican nine-day celebration – "

"Los Pasadas."

"That. So I really do mean everyone. If Katherine's running some weird scheme, chances are, she'll be there too."

"Or she'll use the festival as her cover, scope out whatever she's really here for. I can skip it, hunt her down, save the day, yada yada."

Sometimes, he remembered just how much he had missed his best friend. Damon allowed himself a laugh. "Fine. Worst-case scenario, neither of us see her, and then we'll grab some hot cocoa and perform that locator spell." Damon never liked those – they always made his nose bleed – but a little hot cocoa made even the worst magic bearable.

There was a moment of silence on the other line.

Mason broke it with a very hesitant, "We? What do you mean by that?"

Damon laughed, this time of relief. "Stefan grew into his powers. I'd tell you now, but it's a long story."

"Ah." Mason's voice softened. "After tonight, um – I'm sure I'll have all the time in the world to hear it."

"You'd better. Meet me after the festival?"

"Anything for you, akhi."

At this hour, approximately 2:15 PM, downtown Mystic Falls was bursting to the seams with activity. Tons of people were assembling booths and sharing hot cocoa to keep each other warm. Most high-schoolers were celebrating the end of their midterms, while middle-schoolers and little tiny kids were singing Christmas carols or stringing together popcorn strands – and so, as Damon approached the center of the festival, he couldn't even hear himself think.

He could, however, spot Caroline in the middle of the frenzy with her trusty wooden clipboard. If anyone knew the pulse of the town (and its myriad of events), it was her. Even now, she seemed so small in her giant earmuffs and oversized pink puffy coat. She was practically drowning in her gear, and she was what, seventeen? In this atmosphere, she could've passed for twelve.

Yet her deft hand guided everyone, child or adult, to their proper places, and her warm smile stood in place despite the freezing cold. A little chill never stopped this one from performing her proper duty.

"Caroline!" Damon called out to her, holding up the box of star ornaments he'd brought from home. Supposedly, his family had lent them to the tree since 1935? 1936? Far too long for Damon to care. "Where should I put this?"

She beamed, looking up at him from her clipboard. "Leave it over there? On the table behind me?"

"Um, sure." Damon set it down where he was told, right beside a collection of other neatly-labeled boxes. "How'd your last midterm go?"

"Pretty good. Mr. Saltzman's test was ridiculous, considering we'd barely covered the Civil War, but my essay was killer." She sighed at the memory, setting her clipboard aside to better inspect the glass ornaments. "You're friends with him, right? Tell him to write better study guides?"

Damon stifled a laugh. "I don't think I can, but you and Stefan should run that by him later."

"Speaking of Stefan…" Caroline sighed, giving him a stern face as she held an ornament up to the light. "How does he manage to forget about Secret Santa every year? I had to remind him again."

He signed up for volunteering, not friendship woes. Damon wasn't sure if he wore a neon sign signaling for emotional advice, or if Caroline thought he was a dummy, or if she believed that his new, shiny master's in Cognitive Psych meant something – but he had to nip this in the bud. Right now.

"He always thinks he has enough time," Damon said, peering down at her and mustering his most apologetic look. "If Elena's not hounding him, he'll forget and well, it's either too practical or super rushed. Or worse, both."

Caroline groaned. "Someday, his procrastination's gonna come back and bite him."

Damon pulled his scarf up to his mouth, if only to muffle his laughter. Caroline wasn't exaggerating: procrastination and Stefan had always been archrivals. See, every year after the tree lighting, the kids got together and did a small Secret Santa. They would each pick a name out of a hat, stick to a strict 15 dollar budget, and gift each other meaningful presents with their meager funds.

Except, every year, Stefan's gifts also erred on the side of borderline insulting: either it was a gas station gift card, a Mystic Grill gift card, or worse, dishtowels. None of them cooked enough for dishtowels.

(Frankly? It was a miracle that Stefan hadn't been kicked out of their Santa pool.)

"I'm sorry," Stefan's voice cut in, "Did you say I'm a procrastinator?"

For once, his kid brother was standing at his full height, with far more casual clothes than expected (Blue jeans? On a school day?). He looked comfy in a thick black parka, and he even had a gaudy ring, with some sapphire inset, but his frown and furrowed brow were classic Stefanizo.

Elena was giving the kid zero room to breathe too, with her fingers intertwined with his. Her black peacoat and earmuffs made her feel more mature, and she stood with poised confidence. "Aw Stef, I'm sure you're just fine."

Caroline exchanged disgusted glances with Damon. The nausea was rising, and – Damon clamped that scarf to his mouth as he forced the uneasy sensation down. Ugh, he wasn't going to puke over them today. He had enough on his plate.

Stefan's furrowed brow only intensified. "You okay, big brother?"

Damon released a long, slow breath, letting his scarf go. "Yeah, um, I think – I'll be okay."

Caroline's expression softened. "You should head over to the calligraphy booth. As for Stefan and Elena…" She flipped through her notes. "I was thinking the hot chocolate? Seemed pretty low-key after last year's goldfish fiasco."

Elena furrowed her brow. "Um, okay."

"Don't look at me like that," Caroline said with a sigh. "I know, I know, it's not your fault the bags froze, so those poor girls couldn't take any goldfish home, but you're just pouring hot chocolate. It can't be that bad."

Stefan had to bite on his lower lip to keep from laughing. "She what."

"You were there!" Caroline's hands were shaking as she raised her clipboard - if it weren't for the sheer distance between them, she would've probably smacked Stefan's shoulder. "I swear, that midterm must've fried your brains."

Stefan and Elena exchanged long, hesitant glances.

"You're right. It must've slipped my mind." Stefan admitted, bowing his head in deference. "So, uh, Caroline? Where should I leave my Secret Santa gift?"

Caroline blinked back surprise. "Um… what do you mean?"

Stefan reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a perfectly-wrapped, medium-sized box. The paper was even in a blue and white snowflake pattern; the edges were crisp; and the box sure looked heavier than a Grill or gas station gift card. (Maybe it was a book? It looked thin enough to be one.)

"You told me to get my present? After Mr. Saltzman's exam? So, uh, here."

Caroline's gaze shifted between the box and Stefan more than a couple of times. "I'm sorry, um. Did you say this is your present?"

"Yeees?" Stefan followed Caroline's gaze down to that pristine wrapping paper. Not a single scratch to be found. "It's within the limits, too – under fifteen bucks and everything."

A chilly silence ensued as Caroline set her clipboard aside and scrutinized Stefan – really scrutinized the kid – from head to toe. Her gaze narrowed, her shoulders tensed, and even her breath grew hitched as she took another step forward.

"Oh my god." She squealed, rushing towards him with outstretched arms. "You actually did it!"

Stefan flinched. "What do you mean?"

"You were on time, with a good present and everything." Damon smirked, finding some much-needed amusement. Just when he thought he knew his brother, he learned something new. "We didn't think it was possible."

Caroline giggled, pulling away long enough to add, "Yeah! Seriously, who are you and what have you done with Stefan Salvatore?"

"Um…." Stefan stepped back, staring at them with horrified eyes. "What do you mean –"

"I'm so impressed! Every single year, I have to send you, like, a hundred texts and fifty emails and maybe even check up on Damon…." As Caroline rattled off Stefan's sins, she tapped her fingers. On anyone else, it would've been annoying. On Caroline, this hyperactivity was expected. "I was this close to taping a post-it note to Elena's forehead, but Bonnie was like oh, don't even bother, it's gonna be bad…"

Elena drew in a deep, unsteady breath. "B-Bonnie? What about Bonnie?"

"We agreed to let her and Anna join Secret Santa?" Caroline tilted her head a little, concern and worry coloring her voice. "This isn't new information, Elena. Are you guys okay?"

"Never better," Stefan assured her, plastering on a cocky, almost overconfident smile as he moved towards Elena. His voice was unusually chipper, despite the weather and the apologies on his lips. "We're so sorry, Caroline, I don't know what's come over us."

"We really don't. We'll try to be better next time," Elena agreed, straightening her posture and ducking her head to hide the wide grin across her face.

For a second, her eyes met Damon's, and once again, a faded sepia photograph flashed in his brain.

"Caroline," Damon said, carefully enunciating every syllable as he diverted his gaze to the crowd behind her. "I forgot to tell you, but your mom was looking for you earlier. You should check up on her."

"I should?" Caroline bit on her upper lip. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah – just go. I promise, I'll get these two dumbasses where they need to be."

She gave them one last baffled stare before she nodded and turned towards the crowd, snagging the box of ornaments under her arm. "Got it. I'm counting on you."

Stefan's and Elena's shoulders were shaking with laughter as they watched Caroline disappear into the swarm of people. As their gazes turned towards Damon, he could feel the temperature drop almost instantaneously. Figures. Damon had wandered right into the eye of the storm – or perhaps they were the storm, and he was their first casualty.

"I didn't realize you cared," Elena admitted, with a catty air that reminded him of someone else altogether.

"I didn't realize you liked playing pretend." Damon stood up straighter, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he closed the distance between them. "Why bother with Mystic Falls when you've got bigger fish to fry?"

"For the doppelgängers, of course." Stefan tilted his head, regarding Damon with newfound understanding. There was wisdom in his voice, far, far beyond his brother's seventeen years, and in that moment, he felt like someone else altogether. "You didn't think she'd come all this way for a moonstone, did you?"

Damon stared. "I'm sorry, doppelgängers? As in, plural?"

"How else would you explain us?" Stefan ran a hand through his unnaturally-gelled hair.

All this time, Stefan – and some of their ancestors, it seemed – had followed the same unnatural order that governed Elena and Katherine. No wonder magic was coursing through every vein in Stefan's body: he was a living, breathing impossibility. If Elena had a shadow self in the form of Katherine, Stefan's was in the form of this stranger. God, they even had the same eyes.

Damon's voice grew hoarse as he dared to ask, "Did you know? About my brother?"

Elena – no, Katherine shrugged. "Does it matter?"

It kind of did. Two against one wasn't fair: He couldn't terrorize them – or even set himself ablaze - with thousands of eye witnesses. Sure, everyone was flitting between booths and carnival games, but the second these shadow selves left their constrained narrative, Aunt Liz would march in and Damon would be arrested for his efforts.

Katherine and this cheap Stefan knock-off were reading off a pre-written script, and for better or worse, Damon had to swallow down his fear and play his part.

That, Damon was beginning to realize, was exactly what they were bargaining on. No one would suspect Stefan's wardrobe or question Elena's sudden amusement and confidence. No one except - except the very person he had just shooed away.

This martyrdom was seriously starting to get old.

"Where are they," Damon said, his voice growing louder with each syllable as he suppressed his hesitation. "Where the hell did you take them?"

Katherine twisted a few strands of stick-straight hair. "Now, who said we took them anywhere?"

"You're stepping into their shoes." Anna's almost flippant voice countered as she approached them. She raised her chin defiantly at them, keeping her watchful gaze on the doppelgängers. "Hello, Katherine. I'm sure you heard about what happened to the last vampires who waltzed into Salvatore Manor?"

The Stefan knock-off let out a hearty, amused laugh. "You're bluffing."

"Nope." Anna gave them a smug, arrogant look as she rocked back on her heels. "You might be a Salvatore, but you're also as dumb as rocks."

He would've lunged for Anna then and there, had Katherine not embraced him from behind. In his ear, she whispered, with an almost-seductive grace, "Not in public, sweetie."

"You're not helping!" False Stefan squirmed in her arms, struggling to break free. "Let me at her. No one'll miss her."

Damon and Anna exchanged uneasy glances. If these two were intent on keeping the peace, they were doing a terrible job. Then again, perhaps that job really did fall on Damon's shoulders, and only he could hold their world together.

So he stepped forward, holding out his outstretched palm and summoning the smallest of flames, "I won't ask this again. Where is my brother?"

"He's standing right in front of you," the Stefan knock-off insisted, with a cocky grin that betrayed his true identity. "You don't recognize your family, fratellone?"

Damon's heart sank. For all that he had blustered about faith, about culture, about language defining him, Italian had never been the language that Stefan cherished. It had never been the language he studied night after night, except out of obligation to their departed Nonno. It wasn't the language everyone associated with Stefan.

For all the posturing and research this imposter had done, he had missed the most important detail of them all.

"Akhi," Damon corrected under his breath. "You mean akhi."

Stefan's expression softened. "Akhi, then."

"You don't need to know," Katherine smugly insisted, still holding onto her partner. "If you loved your brother as much as you claim to, you should've noticed a long time ago that–"

Anna growled, rushing to pin Katherine against the makeshift card table. It collapsed under their weight, crashing with an undignified thud. As she wrestled with her old friend, Anna's voice turned gruff and desperate, "Shut up."

Damon seized the opportunity and stretched his palm out towards these cowards. He didn't need to mull over pros and cons anymore. Worst case scenario, Katherine would ditch this loser and dig her perfectly-manicured nails into his skin. She would also attract everyone's attention – and it would be game over for both teams.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on imagining the microscopic blood vessels inside that empty brain of Stefan's lookalike. They would swell up and burst, one by one – the blood supply would cut itself off as their healing factor worked into overtime and –

And an almost inhuman shriek escaped Stefan's – no, false Stefan's lips as he sunk onto the grass, his knees digging into the earth and the dirt piling onto his jeans. "Make – make it stop…"

"Tommy!" Katherine broke from Anna's grip and rushed to his side.

"This was too risky," Tommy murmured, digging his fingers into her forearm. His hands were growing white, and his voice was hoarse and exhausted. "We can't – we can't keep pretending – hngh!"

Katherine narrowed her eyes at his assailants. "They're alive, if that's what you're after. Now let him go."

"You didn't answer my question." Damon didn't want to, not when he (rightfully) believed that they would turn on them in broad daylight. In fact, he stepped closer and imagined more blood vessels popping across that grey matter, swelling up in one big symphony before they burst in unison. "You'll have to be a little more specific, Miss Pierce."

She huffed, gazing down at her dirt-stained boots as if she were seriously contemplating his offer. The color was draining from Tommy's face; he couldn't take much more. Everyone here knew it. If she wanted him conscious – and 'alive' – she would have to play by his rules. She would also have to avoid the growing crowd.

Wait. People were already starting to abandon their posts and stare. Wouldn't be much longer before Aunt Carol, or Dickwood, or anyone "normal" caught wind of their little game. Katherine's expression faltered as she stared at the hovering crowd. It was growing too large too quickly, and for what? Doppelgängers, whoever they really were?

Biting on her lip, Katherine shoved the false Stefan into Damon's arms.

Instinctively, he pulled the unconscious kid close to him, burying him in his chest as he struggled to think. Now that Damon had this cheap knock-off, he could cease the attack altogether. The kid was way too limp and cold to be faking the pain.

"You should take him to a doctor," Katherine insisted a little too loudly, pulling her hands into fists. "I uh, I think he got super dehydrated. I could go with you and –"

"I think they'll be fine," Caroline insisted as she cut through the crowd. "Elena, come on. Tyler and I are gonna move you to calligraphy."

"No, I should go with him." Katherine's voice grew panicked. "I'm his girlfriend, Caroline. I need to make sure he's okay."

"Damon's also his brother," Caroline insisted, reaching out and squeezing Katherine's gloved hands as tightly as she could. "He'll take good care of him, okay? He'll bring him back soon. Have faith in him."

Katherine furrowed his brow. "Take good care of –"

"I uh, I just remembered I have to help Mom with something." Anna's eyes darted towards the Velvet Room's familiar sign. "I'll be back in ten?"

Caroline's sigh was an exasperated one. "Sure. I'll see you exactly in ten, okay?"

Anna shot her an amused, almost smug smile. "Of course. In the meantime? Take care of our girl."

As Caroline dragged (a supremely unwilling) Katherine off towards the calligraphy both, Anna and Damon once again exchanged uneasy glances. Katherine's posture was unsteady and wobbly, even when no one was watching her. This was past the point of pretending: she was genuinely bothered, and Damon couldn't figure out why.

Her Tommy was a vampire. He'd wake up soon enough – and neither Anna nor Damon were into sadistic torture. If her partner cooperated this time, he would be free to go.

Swallowing his hesitation, Damon nudged the kid. "So… what now?"

"We take him to Mom's store and question our moron," Anna insisted, reaching for Tommy's arm and slinging it over her shoulders.

"It's as good a plan as any," Damon admitted, following suit and slinging Tommy's other arm over his shoulders.

They walked back in silence to the Velvet Room, setting Tommy onto one of the smaller couches. As Damon headed back for a glass of water, he pulled out his phone and shot Mason a message.

We found something you should see. Head to the Velvet Room ASAP. Also: you couldn't find Katherine because she was pretending to be Elena. I don't know where Elena actually is.

Mason's reply was instantaneous: wtf? What do you mean, you don't know?

I just told you. She's taken Elena's place.

On my way. Stay there. Is she with you?

No. BUT I've got her partner-in-crime and Caroline and Tyler'll make sure Katherine stays where she's supposed to.

We really need a better game plan ಠ_ಠ

You're telling me. Can you text Jenna for me? I can't talk much longer.

Leave that to me. I'll let Alaric know too. They deserve to know.

Silently, Damon agreed. Now that Jenna had been brought into the fold, she and Alaric deserved to have every little detail at their fingertips. Alaric wouldn't be able to rush over, given that he was grading that 'ridiculous' midterm Caroline had mentioned, but Jenna? She had a better shot of ditching her duties and coordinating everyone together.

Tucking his phone back into his pocket, Damon paused and listened to – to muffled sobs?

"I'm so sorry," Anna was saying, almost inaudibly. "I should've guessed that the bitch would betray everyone to save her own skin."

"Even me?" Tommy's voice cracked. "That's not like her, Anna. I swear."

Damon bowed his head in deference as he entered the front room, this time with water and a couple of chilled blood bags. He couldn't look into Tommy's haunted, bloodshot eyes – the tears resembled his brother's, and right now? He had to focus on the information available to him. His brother and Elena were counting on him.

If only he had listened to Mason much earlier – if only he had buried the hatchet with Bonnie – then maybe, just maybe he wouldn't have to interrogate a broken shadow.

author's notes

a short glossary this time:

dunya - literally meaning "lowest," dunya refers to the earthly world and all of its material possessions, rather than the spiritual afterlife that awaits everyone after death.

akhi - Arabic word for brother, literally meaning "my brother."

fratellone - Italian word for big brother, often used in an informal context.