Dark Side.
Chapter 31: Katerina. Part III.
The journey from the coffee house to the car is a flurried mess of panicked speed. Even though they're safe from the sunlight the second they step out of the coffee house, Rose doesn't take the jacket off her head until Damon's hoisted her into the back of the car.
Every exposed inch of Rose's skin is covered in oozing boils, some bleeding even as they start to heal now that she's safe from the sunlight. Despite Rose's age being an advantage, her wounds heal slowly, skin carefully itching back together. It's proof of how serious the injuries were, and how much they must hurt.
"You're gonna be okay," Damon tells a Rose that is nothing but pained groans and distressed cries.
Cassandra can't fight the shudder that makes its way down her back. She has seen a lot of carnage through the years, mostly during World War II when she had no choice but to pay attention, and later in the 50s, but there's something about a serious burn that always makes her stomach churn.
"No—" Rose swallows with a shake of her head. She attempts to sound put together, but Cassandra can still hear that terror she's trying hard to mask. Maybe because it mirrors the fear running through her own veins. "I—I know."
"Who's behind this?" Damon demands.
"I don't know." Rose starts to hyperventilate. "Where's Slater?"
Damon spares a glance her way. His eyes send her a message she doesn't know how to interpret. Whatever he expects of her in this moment, Cassandra can't give him. She can't do anything but stand there, by the opened door, staring, with her hands fisted so tightly her nails dig into her palms.
"Iowa by now! Who the hell knows?" Damon barks at Rose after a second passes and it becomes clear Cassandra's in no condition to intervene.
"He's not behind this. He didn't betray me." Rose sputters, shaking fingers pulling at each other. "He wouldn't. He wouldn't betray me."
"Then who would?"
Damon's snap is sharp enough, and loud enough, to snap her out of her shocked daze. She takes a step forward, nudging Damon out of the way as Rose falls into a distraught rant of 'it's Klaus! It's Klaus!' and 'we're dead! We're dead!'. They might be all dead, but Cassandra does not need a noisy reminder of that fact.
"Rose, listen to me!" she demands, grasping her wrists. "This was not Klaus, okay? He is not here. This was a warning. You're safe."
It's a lie. This was probably Klaus. Well, Elijah, but Klaus can't be too far behind. They are definitely not safe. Cassandra, however, will not survive the trip back home if Rose spends it a blabbering, sputtering, crying mess.
"Okay, okay." Rose whispers.
When Rose presses her face against her jacket, and attempts to control her breathing, Cassandra allows a deep breath of her own, and closes the car door. Leaning her back against it, she closes her eyes, swallows back the sob that seems adamant to crawl up her throat.
This is not happening. It's not happening. How is this her life, again?
She opens her eyes at the same time her magic lashes out inside her chest. Still, she manages to source enough inner strength from somewhere within her for her magic to not change anything around them, enough that a strange sense of calm washes over her. One that's fake, but she'll revel on it until her other emotions run her over with the force of a train.
Only then noticing the stinging pain in her hands, she unclenches her fists to reveal the four, small, thin crescent moon indentations her nails left behind on each of her palms. In a haze, Cassandra watches, unblinking, until they disappear, the damage replaced by healed skin.
"Are you okay?"
The question makes her jump. The echo of Damon's voice around them is deafening. The fluorescent lighting too bright. No, she thinks, blinking up at a frowning Damon, I didn't even remember you were here.
"Can we go home?" she asks.
For some reason, it's not a question Damon expected. He nods anyways, and volunteers to drive. An excellent idea, considering Cassandra's mind resembles a murky swamp. She's in no condition to operate heavy machinery right now. Neither is Rose.
This time, the radio remains turned off and no one speaks a single word until they pull up at the Boarding House.
The sun is long gone before Rose dares step into the hearth room. Today was horrible, and Guilt has been digging its finger into her shoulder for hours. She endangered Slater's life by going to him even when she knew they were most likely being watched. She somehow managed to make whatever argument happened between Cassandra and Damon worse. Damon hasn't moved from the sofa in front of the fireplace, hasn't stopped drinking, since they got here; Rose thinks that might be her fault, too.
"I'm sorry about today," says Rose, hesitantly taking a seat beside Damon. "I had no idea that was gonna happen."
"I believe you." Despite having a glass in his hand, Damon takes a gulp straight from the decanter.
"And I'm sorry you didn't get the answers you wanted." Rose sighs, building up enough courage to say what she wants to say next. "I know you want to save Elena. I know you want to protect Cassandra, but finding Klaus? It won't help her."
An attempt on Klaus' life is not a solution; it's a death sentence.
"Got it."
Ah, there it is. The fake apathy, like he doesn't care. The worry in his eyes tells a different story. She watches him, quiet, and her heart fills up with such nostalgia, it hurts to breathe.
"You remind me of Trevor."
The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. It's true, but it may have more to do with her having missed Trevor so much today her very bones are aching, and less to do with the two men being similar.
"Why? Why him?"
The scoff that Damon lets out is not one Rose takes to heart. Instead, she allows herself a moment to think.
"Because he always talked a big game, he was always working on an angle, but, underneath it all, he was the best friend anyone could hope for." She admits, throat closing up.
Trevor cared more than anyone she had ever met. Rose may not know Damon for long, but she can tell already he's the same.
"And where did that get him?" Damon looks at her.
The warm light from the fire make his eyes seem warmer, not the icy cold they've been since they met. Perhaps it's not just the fire, but whatever thoughts are roaming through his head. Rose is reminded, suddenly, like a snap of fingers, of how attractive Damon Salvatore is.
"Dead; my loyalty to him almost got me dead, too."
Damon regards her for a moment. The absent glint in his eyes would suggest he's not actually looking at her. Still, she's suddenly conscious of the way she looks. After a beat, he pours some liquor into the glass he's holding, and offers it to her.
"Here's to friendship."
She clinks her glass against his bottle and drinks. The bourbon stings and warms her up all the way down to her stomach, where the warmth spreads through her body. Appreciating the taste, she drinks some more, and turns to watch the flames dance, copying Damon.
Silence stretches until Rose can sense it hanging like a ghost, a ghost that's starting to take form into Trevor. That's not something she'll survive.
She looks at Damon again.
He hasn't moved one inch. He sits with his eyebrows inched together and his hand tightening around the crystal decanter and his mind lost somewhere, somewhere that is not here. Somewhere that is probably not too far, either.
"It's okay to fight the way you feel about her, you know? Especially when she could end up dead soon." Rose lets him know with a kind tone.
She feels, in a way, sorry for him. He is just starting to realize how dangerous the situation really is, and the fact that the woman he's so clearly in love with is dead smack in the middle of it troubles him greatly. He's worn a frown as deep as a sinkhole since Elijah spoke her name with obvious familiarity, since they shared a conversation with the same trust family shares, even estranged family. Finding out how tightly wound her past is with their newfound enemy hurt him. Beside her, Damon groans.
"I'm not in love with Elena!" Damon protests. "I swear if one more person says that, I'm gonna kill her just to prove them wrong."
"I didn't say anything about Elena." Rose fights the urge to smile.
Damon turns to face her. She just sends him a look. It takes him two seconds but when he catches on to what she's implying, he seems strangely shocked.
"What? Cassie?"
"A mere observation from an outsider. There's obviously something between the two of you." Rose shrugs, noting the way he seems to hang to her every word now. "I don't know how she might feel, but you... you are transparent."
It's painfully obvious, to Rose at least. Damon is blunt and harsh most of the time, but there's a softness to him whenever the redhead is around. It makes him... almost likeable. Like the kind of guy Rose would like to get to know. He's kind to Cassandra, teasing, protective, and she has his undivided attention whenever she speaks.
"I'm not in love with Cassie. I just—" Damon shakes his head, never finishes the sentence.
He doesn't sound too sure, though.
"It's okay." Rose shrugs. "Denial is good."
She rises to her feet, walking back the way she came. She might think Damon is drop dead hot, but she's not sure she's interested in starting something with someone who's not available.
"Caring is dangerous." She adds.
Unwillingly, her mind goes to Trevor. Her best friend. Her family. The reason she's alive still. Her heart aches so hard she fears she might break.
"It can get you killed, uh?" Damon asks.
She turns back to him. He's staring blankly at the fireplace, hands playing with the bourbon bottle. She knows he doesn't expect an answer, probably isn't even interested in continuing the conversation. Still, Rose is beginning to realize that, when it comes to Damon Salvatore, she can't help but react.
"Maybe it's time for you to flip the switch on your emotions." Rose suggests, taking a step closer to him.
Heaven knows she wants to flip her own switch. Get rid of the fear and the pain. In front of her, Damon passes a hand down his face, takes a long gulp of the strong liquor that seems to be his favorite.
"I'll do it if you do," he says at last.
If Rose were to be asked directly, she'd say what happened next was a clear, easy way to become distracted from life.
They flash to one another, lips crashing. She doesn't think he means it, any of it, but his touch burns, and his kisses make her feel like maybe there's hope for the future. It's an excellent distraction from the constant fear that follows her everywhere, from the crushing, breath-taking pain that paralyzes her whenever Trevor's face crosses her mind, whenever she turns to tell him something only to remember he is gone forever.
For the first time since Trevor died, she doesn't feel so alone. Because Damon is just as lost as she is, as broken, just as in pain. He might be in love with Cassandra, but right now as they happily find ways to take the other's mind off the deadly danger they're all in, Damon and Rose are one and the same.
"It's a lie, you know?" Rose comments after. The two of them sitting comfortably next to the fire as they share a blanket. "There's no such thing as flipping the switch. Sure, when you're a newbie but then, after a couple hundred years, you just have to fake it."
Damon turns to her. He seems to consider her words. Something flashes behind his eyes. Before Rose can ask him what he's thinking, her phone begins ringing.
"Rose," is Slater's form of greeting.
Rose feels a small wave of relief. He's alive. She's not responsible for another life taken.
"Slater, are you okay? I'm sorry to have involved you." Rose apologizes.
"No, it's okay. I just freaked!" he sounds fine, a little shaken, but fine. Thank god. "Listen, I—I did some digging."
Beside her, Damon perks up, interested.
"Okay, what did you find?"
"You can destroy the curse, but you need the moonstone."
She shares a look with Damon, confused. That's not very specific.
"How? I don't follow."
"Can your friend get the moonstone? You need it."
"Yes, he can." Rose answers before Damon is done nodding. "What next?"
"A witch. If you have the moonstone, a witch should be able to figure out the rest. Good luck, Rose."
Slater hangs up before Rose can get another word out. A little out of character, but she chalks it up to Slater still being afraid. Chucking her phone on the rug, she turns to Damon.
"Well, it looks like Cassie has some work to do." Rose smiles.
She might be teasing him, but her intention is real. If they destroy the magic within the moonstone, then she'd get one step closer to not running.
"I'm afraid," a voice starts slowly. So sudden and unexpected that both Rose and Damon jump up. They turn towards the entrance. "I will not be able to do such a thing."
Cassandra stands in the step leading down to the hearth room. Her lips are pursed, eyes cold as ice, as she stands high, a thick leather-bound book secured in her arms. She is every bit the Lady she always was. Blue Blood incarnate. Rose can't help but think the other woman looks terrifying, especially now when her green eyes are trained on her. Legends and stories jump to the forefront of her mind and, for the first time since meeting her, Rose Marie understands that tales are not folklore or myth when it comes to Cassandra Woodhouse.
"Also, it's Cassandra to you." The words are a threat, not a warning. Rose nods mutely. She furtively glances at Damon, who is too busy staring at Cassandra, stunned, to say anything. "I have checked my grimoires, as well as the few from my family I still possess, and found nothing about removing magic from a crystal. I recommend you approach Bonnie with the subject."
Her tone of voice is so clinical and detached Rose thinks maybe she was wrong to assume the redhead had feelings for Damon. Except that she's incredibly tense, and the look in her eyes can only be described as murderous.
"Cassie, I thought you'd left." Damon's statement ends in an almost question.
Finally, Cassandra's eyes turn to Damon. The coldness surrounding her melts away into anger and what looks a lot like hurt.
"I did." She shrugs. "And then I figured we should all stay close, considering Niklaus is probably on his way here. News travel fast."
There's a stretch of silence in which Rose doesn't know what to do. Also, she's incredibly conscious of the fact that she's naked in the middle of something that's starting to look more and more like an argument. Except that the anger in Cassandra seems to slip away the longer time passes, and after second seventy, the young woman goes from upset to completely apologetic and almost ashamed.
"Obviously, I didn't expect to run into this. I didn't mean to interrupt." She shakes her head. The tight hold she has on the thick book lessens.
"Cassie, listen—" Damon frowns.
"Oh, no!" Cassandra shakes her head again. Her left hand goes up in the international sign for 'stop'. At her words, Damon stops trying to find a way to get up without exposing himself. "You don't owe me anything, really."
Rose notes she doesn't sound upset. Damon and Cassandra look at each other for a hot minute, with Rose somehow feeling like she's the one intruding. Suddenly, the lights around them flicker twice, the fire threatens to go out. Damon's frown turns from confused to worried.
"Maybe I should go." Rose suggests, already looking around for her missing items of clothing.
"No!" Cassandra exclaims, seemingly horrified. Rose turns to her, witnesses her lips stretch into a feigned smile. "You're both reading way too much into this. I should go."
With that the redhead turns around, scrunching her eyes close as she goes. Before Rose can even blink, Cassandra Woodhouse flashes out of the house in a blur of movement. She sits back against the chair behind them. She doesn't move or say anything. Eventually, her eyes go to the man sitting next to her. He seems confused about something. Whatever it is, he shrugs it off and turns to her with a smirk.
"That was awkward." She comments.
"Mmhm, we should lock the door next time." Damon hums.
"Definitely." Rose agrees with a smirk of her own.
It's embarrassing. Incredibly, painfully embarrassing. Cassandra can't believe that happened. That she confessed she feels something for him and then walked in on what was clearly post-coital chatting between Damon and Rose. She closes her eyes again, something not too wise considering how fast she's driving, and slams her head against the headrest. When she opens her eyes, she's not surprised to find her vision blurred with tears.
The image of Rose and Damon, together, in front of the fire, talking comfortably flashes behind her eyes again. It's a constant reminder that Damon does not reciprocate her feelings, not because he's in love with Elena, but because he simply does not care about her that way. She thinks him being in love with someone else might have hurt less than knowing he was available but not interested.
She unwillingly allows the sob biting at her throat to get out.
It was just so... embarrassing and upsetting and painful. She came in just as they were finished, too wrapped up in each other to hear the clear sound of her heels against the wooden floor of the Boarding House. She saw him kiss Rose one last time. Saw him mirror the smile in the woman's face. Cass couldn't remember the last time she'd been that shocked. She hadn't seen it coming. At all.
She knows she should have left then. But she couldn't. Nor could she look away. She fights off a shudder, wiping furiously at the tears in her cheeks. Judas, that was such a stalker move, staying in the shadows as they spoke! She should have left! But then Rose called her Cassie, like they were friends, like she wasn't a random stranger fucking the man she loved, like she isn't the reason Elijah and Niklaus know where she lives! It infuriated her.
Ugh. So embarrassing. So painful. And his face! Like he pitied her. She doesn't want him to pity her. She wants him to pretend like she didn't pour half her heart out to him, confessed she has feelings for him without really saying the words, and go back to being friends. And it's not like she can complain and be openly upset. After all, they're not together. Damon really doesn't owe her anything. That hurts even more.
Cassandra wants to forget this entire week. Wants to pretend the reason she really went to the Boarding House wasn't the fact she's terrified. Wasn't that she desperately needed being talked off a ledge. She wants to ignore the knowledge that her days are counted. Ignore that a very much alive and very much pissed off Elijah knows where she lives. Ignore that Niklaus is probably on his way to Mystic Falls. Forget that Damon doesn't love her.
Turning off her humanity seems so tempting she doesn't bother with a new list of reasons as to why it'd be a bad idea. Still, she hesitates. She's deadly without her humanity, and she refuses to turn off her humanity over a man. The image of the two vampires all cozy by the fire flashes in her mind again. It's the last drop. Without thinking, she makes a dangerous decision.
Closing her eyes once more, Cassandra focuses deep within herself, locating the damned, familiar switch without even having to look hard.
When she opens her eyes again, the fear is gone.
So is the pain.
And it feels fucking great.
A/N: This chapter can either be received well or terribly. In both cases, I am so sorr s.
Onto reviews,
Eennio: Well, here it is! I hope you don't hate me too much!
Gracen900: Thank you so much! Me too, love the back and forth in that chapter!
That was all for reviews this time. Thank you for reading and your support. It means a lot! I hope you're still keeping safe in these turbulent times. See you soon xx
For the record: UPDATED 10/05/2020