Damon wrapped himself in the distraction he found in Rose. She didn't remind him of any part of his past - or what he lost. In her he could pretend that he hadn't lost the comfort of the one person in his life that hadn't judged him in his youth, who hadn't held as tightly to the pain of betrayal that he'd wrought against her after all the years they'd been apart, and who had finally had one too many reminders that he wasn't the man she imagined him to be. Rose wasn't Abigail in the slightest and in that he found comfort - strange as that might sound to someone else.
She wasn't Elena either, even as she agreed to help keep her safe. And that too was a balm for his soul. While the dead ringer for Katherine Pierce acted in the exact opposite ways as her doppleganger - hellbent on dying for her loved ones in some suicide pact with morality - Rose helped keep him grounded and keep her ass alive, despite her best efforts. Stefan seemed willing to give his girlfriend anything, including her willingness to die. So a distraction was JUST what Damon needed.
The cruel reminder of his own hubris came when Jules bit Rose in retaliation for - shit - a ton of bad deeds. Ripping Mason Lockwood's heart out didn't endear him to her. Neither did trying to spike her drink with wolfsbane at the Grille with Ric's help. Biting Rose for his crimes wasn't fair.
Watching a vampire's decline from a werewolf's bite wasn't something he ever wanted to experience again - to see an immortal being go through THAT before being FORCED to slip into her mind and create a safe place for her, a place of her youth just so he could put her down and give her a peaceful end - it was a fate crueler than the usual death a vampire could expect. And one that HE had brought to her.
Reverting to his past bad acts came as naturally as breathing - Abigail was as easy to forget as she had been while she was locked away in her own mind for all those years - at least that's what he told himself as he introduced himself to that first victim on the dark road who stopped her car out of worry and kindness.
Staring at the girl, because she WAS a girl compared to him, too tall to really remind him of Abi - but the kindness in her eyes was there - the helpfulness, the attempt to pull him out of the darkness that was hovering around him like a cloak, that was pure Abigail Morgan and he just couldn't -
"I have a secret. I have a big one, but I've never said it out loud. I mean, what's the point?" He wasn't seeing her, this young inconsequential girl who had the ignorant need to try to save a stranger. "It's not gonna change anything. It's not gonna make me good. Make me adopt a puppy. I can't be what other people want me to be, what she wants me to be." The she, Elena Gilbert or Abigail Morgan? Elena, of course. Because Abigail had never wanted him to be ANYTHING other than himself, and that's the joke, wasn't it? The cosmic joke of his very existence. That he'd changed, truly changed for Katherine and lost Abi once, and now? "This is who I am, Jessica." He wasn't paying attention to Jessica, to this human child. Not really, his mind's eye was on Abigail Morgan - on what COULD have been with her. On the life they MIGHT have had, if only - "Because, you are my existential crisis. Do I kill you, or do I not kill you?" He was growing angry, not at her - of course he wasn't angry at her. Why would he ever be mad at Abi? She'd done nothing wrong. And not at, what was her name again? Right. "But I have to, Jessica, because I'm not human. And I miss it. I miss it more than anything in the world. That is my secret. But there's only so much hurt a man can take."
It was over before he could process it, before he thought about it - the blood could at least distract him. Right?
Abigail wasn't in the loop of just how terrible everything was turning out for Damon and his friends - at least not the ones she'd only seen in visions. She was up to her eyebrows in flour and baking mishaps. Alright, not all of her attempts were ruined - and it was these more or less edible bites that she was wrapping up and putting in a lined basket to take to Ric's lady-love.
Cat was watching from a safe distance - his fur bearing the hallmarks of having gotten too close and learning the errors of being too curious for his own good. She'd tried to soothe his wounded pride by telling him how the white powder made him look distinguished, but his blue rimmed green eyes were staring holes in her with distrust at just how honest her compliments might be.
"Honestly, Cat," Abi offered with a shake of her head, "would I lie to you?"
He arched his back and yawned, making it clear that he thought less of her word than she did when he turned away from her to stare out the window. Fighting her urge to laugh, she went back to work on the collection of cookies. She'd texted Ric earlier and learned that Jenna was feeling much better than she had when she'd first been impaled by Elena's less hospitable lookalike.
As she worked, she kept one eye on her phone and one eye on the street. It had been too quiet for too long - surely acting Mayor Lockwood would swoop down and insist on some community required volunteerism. None came, but Cat realized she was leaving when she started putting her things in her trusty bag - phone, grimoire, grabbing her keys and the handle of the basket - he jumped down from his spot at the window and worked diligently to make the journey to the door one fraught with fears of tripping over him as he wound himself through her legs.
"If you don't trip me," Abi muttered, looking over the basket at the fluffy cat that was purring as he rubbed against her ankles. "I promise I'll be home soon and I'll spend ALL evening curled up with you."
Closing and locking the door securely behind her, and in Cat's mewing face, a chill crept up her spine - the type that came from someone watching from afar. Her eyes snapped shut as she swallowed down her annoyance at the certainty that it must be Damon or someone he compelled to keep a watchful eye on her - like he'd had Ric do when they first met. Reminding herself that she couldn't stop him from a fool's errand, nor could she change whatever course he was one - she could only continue on her own forward - she straightened her back and her head rose.
Luka Martin watched as the Morgan witch carefully put a basket into the passenger's side of the Mini Cooper parked in her driveway along with a messenger bag. He studied the young woman, tiny and elfin, but no different looking from most of the students he matriculated with at Mystic Falls High School. His father had told him how much power he'd felt when he'd met her at the store, but standing across the street, hidden by the tree line, all he saw was a young woman dressed in jeans, a tank top, leather jacket and boots. Her long honey brown hair was braided over her shoulder, and he hoped, as he watched her slide into the driver's seat, that Elijah's obsession with her was warranted.
As she drove away, he considered the players in what he hoped wouldn't end up a tragedy - Bonnie Bennett, who he'd already me; the Salvatore brothers, Damon and Stefan, who were circling Elena Gilbert; Elena Gilbert herself, the focus of Klaus and who they should keep in their sights - and Abigail Morgan, who Elijah wanted kept within reach - but not necessarily under constant surveillance. She wasn't a player in this particular play - and Luka wasn't sure what part she was playing at all, but he hoped like hell that she wasn't going to make it all go up in flames.