She's no match for a vampire's speed: within an instant, he's blazed through the space between them and has her pinned against the cobblestone by the throat. Lily claws at his forearms, but it's futile to try to overcome his strength. She can't breathe, she can't breathe.
"You really thought I would be incompetent enough to lose such a valuable prisoner? Sweetheart, I let you escape," his words are dripping sickly sweet. He mashes harder into her windpipe for good measure and the last of the tiny bit of air she has is forced out of her lungs.
The edges of her vision are blurring, Damon's face distorting into two from the lack of oxygen. Her blood is at a rolling boil: keeping up the ruse that she is helpless and at his mercy is taking all of her willpower. If he finds out she truly can be useful to him, his aggression may spike to make her concede to his every desire.
"Now, I'm going to go into that passageway and find out all your secrets, and you can do nothing about it." His two faces stretch with wicked grins.
Lily would much rather die at the hands of a vampire than use her powers to harm anyone else— even if it's a vampire like Damon. So she clutches his forearm and waits for him to let her go with a set jaw, her whole body screaming. Killing her would be stupid, she knows he won't. Damon isn't oblivious to the fact that she has potential she's hiding from him. He probably won't be able to get all the answers down that passageway without her, never mind if she's dead.
She never was good at tolerating pain, so him releasing her has Lily falling to the floor, skinning her knees, gasping to alleviate the agony. Damon still has a smug expression affixed at her sucking in air and sputtering because she still has her life. A vampire's existence becomes surrounded by violence the moment they turn, but to Lily that doesn't excuse taking pleasure in it. Her nails scratch against the stone floor, tendons in her hands flexing them into skeletal ridges and valleys.
He wants to take her to the edge of death? Well, since he wants it so bad, she'll show him real death.
"No, I can't," Lily rasps with a voice as delicate and vulnerable as torn tissue paper. Nursing a hand around her neck, painful and surely bruising black and blue, she brings herself to her feet, wincing at her bloodied knees. "So come with me."
Damon's eyebrows raise, blue icicle eyes stabbing in her direction. Seems he wasn't expecting complacency. But she's got no choice either way— and maybe some small part of her wants the secret to be no longer a secret.
And she can show him not to fuck with her at the same time.
Lily reaches down to pick up the lantern she dropped when Damon grabbed her, the candle inside still burning despite one glass side of it being smashed. The broken glass tinkles away from her as she picks it up as gingerly as you would pull a petal off a flower. Without looking at Damon, she heads down the damp corridor. His presence looms in her shadow.
Without her willing to her hands start trembling. The should-be steady cast light on the walls is unstable with her clutching the lantern. Damon is silent like she hoped he would be, but completely unexpected. An inkling of fear inside of her wishes this passageway wouldn't have a destination after all and they'd have to turn back. But the universe is cruel.
The stench hits her now but she's sure it's hit Damon long before her. After this, she hopes to never smell it again, and as little as possible even in her nightmares. At the end of the passageway, the dark-wood door is cracked open from when she left yesterday in a delusional stupor, memories nor common sense in the picture with the burning of the transformation. Because of the darkness cast by the door, neither of them can see beyond it yet. Lily takes in a breath in and out. This will be the last time.
As soon as she pushes it open, the light reveals the horrible deed left there. Lily enters the bloodstained chamber, heavy in her soul but giving Damon room to step inside. They meet an altar as soon as they walk in. A skeleton is draped across it, clothing falling off the rotted-away flesh in shambles, candle wax burned down to hardened globs. Lily's eyes remain fixed on it, while Damon's flit around the room, horror rising to his face. She has effectively disturbed even a hardened vampire.
The entire basement is filled with skeletons that surround a black stone coffin. On one side, human, a lot with talismans around their necks. On the other: remains donning vampire teeth. The floor is splattered with centuries-old gore and feathers. Cobwebs spun from spiders that shriveled up and died long ago drape from the walls and between bones. In the corner is a cracked, disgusting porcelain bathtub. As Damon steps around bones strewn in his path and gets closer, he sees that it is full of congealed, rancid dried blood. Lily lingers by the altar, letting Damon look all he wants despite the shame. The bastard asked for it.
Resting her palm on the skull of the skeleton there, she pats it soothingly like you would stroke someone's hair. Tears prick at her.
"I came to say goodbye, Mom."
Damon can't help but look in her direction, face more blank than she has seen it. But she knows at that moment he must pity her.
Lily palms at the book her mother's bones lie on, talking to her as if she's still there. "This is the last one, huh?" She hadn't expected one to be left: Lily thought they had finished. Gently, she pulls it free from underneath her, analyzing the writing still inked on the aged pages. "You wrote this one." With soft fingertips, she traces the lettering with the ghost of a sad smile.
"Okay." Sniffling, she tucks the book under her arm and reaches for her mother's talisman, freeing it from her neck. With the necklace dangling from her fingers, she sits down on the floor with the book lied open in front of her, seemingly undisturbed by the blood dried on the ground beneath her. Letting the beads trickle off her palm and onto the book's pages, she lingers for a moment before closing her eyes. Her marks begin to glow with blue light, and Damon stumbles back towards her, shielding his face and eyes when the book and talisman suddenly set on fire.
Still holding his arm in front of his face, he shouts: "hey!" When a powerful wind of energy disintegrates the source of the spell and is adsorbed into her body so fast he has no time to attempt to stop it. Welts form around her temples and eyes, and she screeches and wails again, just like yesterday, clutching at the sizzling flesh, eyes wide open with agony. Damon clutches her shoulders, shaking her.
"Hey! What's going on!?" All her muscles are stiff under his grip, but then a few seconds later, she quiets and becomes still, her blue light fading. The blisters visibly settle into white, swirling patterns before fading into her skin, now gone.
"You with me?" Damon shakes her again, thinking she's surely out cold. He's about to feed her vampire blood, considering she might be dead. But then she gasps, clutching fervently at his arms before realizing it's Damon and she lets out a breath. Not relieving but could be worse. Wordlessly, she stands up and moves away from him, rubbing at her temples, confused as to why she feels no pain there anymore.
"What did you do?" He accuses, waiting for her to give him answers.
"My mom's last step." Lily glimpses at him briefly. Then, she pulls her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she drifts closer to her remains again, lips lifting upwards by invisible strings, brown eyes bleak without their sparkle. "You can rest now, Mom."
Even if she doesn't.
"Let's go," Lily nods at him, cloak fluttering after her as she picks up the lantern and they step out of the chamber. Damon, dumbfounded, looks at the room once again before tailing her, clamping her by the shoulder just as she shuts the door behind them.
"Are you not going to tell me what the hell happened there?" Damon snorts, spinning her around with force so she has no choice but to face him. Her gaze darts away before her whole body heaves then releases a big sigh. At the implication she's finally going to talk, Damon releases his clasp and stares down at her through dark eyelashes.
"She turned me to a monster down there," she says barely above a whisper, like the words hurt to say aloud. Her tongue feels almost swollen in her mouth, it's a story forbidden to her memories. Confessing it to a vampire that will surely use the information to spite her is not going to bring relief, but pain. But she doesn't have another option— if she doesn't talk he knows he'll torture it out of her. And she surely can't escape him after showing him a sea of skeletons.
"What do you mean?" She bites her fat tongue hard at his question.
"My mother, Daria Rose, was a very powerful witch." She begins, hesitating when sees the sudden stiffening of Damon's shoulders. "She wanted to make a being that was the true embodiment of the balance of nature, one who could use magic freely in a way she never could." Lily looks down at the shadows around her feet. "And what better candidate than her daughter?"
"Wait a minute... Daria Rose?" Damon interjects, shuffling his weight and crossing his arms. "Lily, how old are you?"
He watches her face clench up, eyes shiny with tears again. "I don't know. Last time I was awake it was 1864. I was born in 1843." God, she's so sick of the sensation of needing to cry. Anger towards Damon and her mother has spurred on a major pressure headache that won't be relieved without an emotional breakdown.
Damon quiets before resuming speech again. "I thought Daria Rose was nothing but a myth. And the rumors didn't mention she had any children."
"You know of my mom?"
"I was turned in 1864." Lily's eyes go wide. While she's been sleeping, he's been a vampire this whole time.
Her breathing is shaky. "Damon, what year is it?" She can't look at him directly, she's afraid he'll see her fall apart.
"It's 2009."
She covers her mouth with her hand, clenching her eyes shut. "Dear God."
"Yeah, you might have some catching up to do," he snarks at her. Strangulation seems like a fair payback for his currently infuriating demeanor.
She rests her weight by leaning on the stone walls surrounding them, trying to seem like he doesn't get under her skin. "Seems like it."
Damon's dimples show as he presses his lips into a grim line. "So she sacrificed a lot of humans and vampires to do it."
"Yes. Her whole coven died for it. And whatever poor vampire she was able to catch." Lily huddles into herself, the space she takes up becoming smaller. "Animals too. She needed both humans and light and dark energies. And as it turns out herself."
Damon looks away at the flame flickering in the lantern. "So what are you?"
For the first time, she considers answering the question. If she spills it now, he won't terrorize her for answers and he won't find much information on her even if she tells him, anyway. She needs to keep herself as safe as she can. Lily decides enough is enough and opens her mouth.
"I am a nephilim."
They head out of the house, Damon mulling over her answer in silence. Turning around, he examines her, probably surprised that she's following him without a struggle. As he heads out the front door into the freezing air, though, he turns around at the sound of glass smashing behind him. The lantern is in pieces, flame licking the wood floor, beginning to eat away at it. Lily matches his hard stare.
"Let's go. I've already said my goodbyes."
"You're coming with me?"
"Who else is going to show me how to survive in 2009? The house is uninhabitable, and now I have a vampire who knows what I am. I don't have a choice."
The space between Damon's eyebrows creases in thought, before he nods, continuing to leave the cabin. Lily shuts the door behind them, not allowing herself to look back. They both stand together outside, looking through the dirty windowpanes as the fire inside the cabin grows into a roaring blaze.
They linger before heading back to the boardinghouse in an awkward, but much-needed silence, the sun barely peeking over the horizon and sending blue early-morning tendrils of light through the trees.
By the time they get back, the birds have started chirping and singing to one another. Damon lets her inside and Lily is immediately intimidated by the place. It's luxurious and huge compared to where she grew up. All she had seen was the basement and she wasn't going to spend the time looking back at the house when she was sprinting away from it.
"Welcome to the Salvatore house," Damon announces like a grand king welcoming a liege.
Her arms are tucked in close to her body to calm her anxiety, but her heart still jumps when she sees a man— no, a vampire— staring at her entering Damon's home. He's got his arms folded.
"Hey, brother," Damon chides, shutting the front door behind them and Lily feels the uneasiness in her stomach jolt at the action. "Someone's up early."
So he's Damon's brother. Makes sense to her— both men are handsome with dark hair. But his brother has green eyes instead of blue, and a stockier build. His jaw is set as he sizes her up. She would too if the person they had held prisoner in their basement waltzed through the front door.
"Stefen, Lily, Lily, Stefan," Damon introduces quickly like there is nothing wrong with this picture. Damon strides across the room for a tall bottle of bourbon, pouring himself a glass. She's surprised by him leaving their proximity. Guess he knows she won't go anywhere.
"What's she doing out?" Stefan deadpans.
"She got out by herself. But that wasn't a problem," Damon shoots back, lips curling up into a grin behind the lip of his glass of alcohol.
"How did she escape?"
"I don't know. Probably magic." He shrugs, sitting down on the couch, stance open and confident despite him being in the hot seat.
"So she's a witch?" Stefan's gaze darts to her again even though she hasn't moved an inch. Lily digs her fingernails into her palm.
Damon is mid-swallow and holds up a finger to request a second before he can speak. "Nope. nephilim."
"What the hell is a nephilim?" Stefan shakes his head like the jostle might knock a memory off a shelf up in his brain.
"Beats me. Biblical, I think," Damon's eyes drift to the ceiling.
Lily doesn't know if it's a bad idea to talk, so she doesn't.
"Hmm," Stefan hums in response. "Looks like you've got some work to do." Even though what he says seems nonvolatile, Stefan's face is drawn with lines that suggest his brother has pissed him off. She watches as Stefan observes her dated clothing, his jaw tilting to the side. "So let me get this straight, we can't put her back in the cell because she can just get out whenever she wants, and now she's a houseguest."
"Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!" Damon jests, like Stefan just won the grand prize.
"God, you're such an idiot."
"But you love it."
Lily looks at Stefan. He so doesn't.
"This is a bad idea," Stefan says, voicing the obvious. "God, you never should have brought her here in the first place."
"Stefan, if she wanted to kill me she's had a million opportunities already," Damon points out. It's true. Damon may be insufferable and devious, but she's never been one who could bring herself to take a life without someone forcing her hand. And she's not concerned about Damon killing her. He wants leverage over her, she's no good to him dead. And if he decides to try to hurt her— well, she's going to have to tinker with her powers a little to make sure she only disarms him and doesn't kill him.
Stefan considers his point. Then he brings up: "Just compel her to leave and forget everything."
"I tried to compel answers out of her when she woke up, but it didn't work. Looks like she's got an immunity to it."
She almost feels bad for Stefan as he glares up at the ceiling light. From what she's gathered so far, Damon's the unstable brother looking for entertainment and leverage over others while Stefan is just trying to live his life. Maybe he's gotten over a vampire's typical chaotic, frenzy phase. Damon, not so much.
She finally decides to speak up, she is still there, after all. "I know my word doesn't mean much, but I have no interest in harming you or your brother," she says sincerely. "Of course unless I'm threatened first. I just woke up from 1864 and I've already had enough bloodshed for more than one lifetime."
Stefan eyes her curiously. He nods at what she says, even though she's sure he took her words with a grain of salt.
"So, go pick a room," Damon says to her, now ignoring Stefan. "And take a shower. You reek."
She would almost be offended by that if it wasn't out of her control. "A shower?"
"Oh, boy." Damon chortles back. "Well. Let's get you situated. I would recommend the spare master bedroom." Damon leads her up the stairs, her eyes roaming the place, feeling overwhelmed by the place.
Stefan pulls out his phone, sighing out, exasperated. He dials a number into the keypad. "Hey, I need your help."