Oh look, I'm alive. :) SO sorry I took so long, I was in a massive slump and just hated everything I wrote so I was constantly deleting everything, and then when I finally felt onto something, I found out there was coursework or something due that I hadn't got done. But an extra-long (well, extra long on a word document anyway) chapter to make up for it. :)
Read, review, hope we're gonna have a good 2017 and I will see you soon(er than last time, I hope)
Muffled voices was the first thing that came back to Damon, jarring him back into consciousness. His neck was throbbing, his vision was hazy and his head was pounding, his nerves burning with an unfamiliar desire. He would've jerked upwards in shock if he could; he was still strapped down to the table, but he struggled nonetheless, remembering what Klaus had done to him.
"I will warn you that at first, he won't be receptive to the seed," Mindy was saying, Damon's lip curling in a sneer; damn right he wasn't going to kill everyone that he had actually begun to consider friends, "He'll fight it as much as he can," she said knowingly, "Especially with what you're asking him to do," she added.
"No-one can hold out forever," Klaus stated firmly, Damon fearing he was right, then what would become of him?
"Now take down the spell so Damon can leave," he said to Mindy, or more like ordered her in that cold tone of his, "He's not much use cooped up in here, is he?" he added, gesturing to Damon who was still tied to the table with the wood stick in his neck.
Damon groaned. He'd almost forgotten about that.
"You could thank me," Mindy said pointedly, folding her arms with an affronted look on her face that Klaus wasn't going to like.
He gripped Mindy tightly around the throat, crushing all the air out of her lungs and smothering her windpipe. "And I could also rip out your tongue," he said, his voice calm and even as she struggled and tried to pull his hand off her throat, "But, I think I'll settle for this," he said, giving her a small smile.
His werewolf claws extended and his grip tightened even more, Mindy's eyes bulging as blood started to trickle between Klaus's fingers. Her limbs went limp and her struggles ceased, her head lolling like dead weight, but Klaus didn't stop; Damon heard the squelching of flesh fill his ears as Mindy's body fell to the floor with a thump! her head still in Klaus's hand.
That too was soon discarded like a piece of rubbish, her blood pooling on the ground beneath her body and igniting a burning thirst inside Damon's body. Distorted whispers tickled the edge of his mind, but he managed to shut them out; this was not going to happen to him. He wasn't suddenly going to start killing anyone, right? And if what the witch said was true, he had a while before it actually started working, so that could give him some time to––
Damon yelled in pain as something was harshly ripped from his neck – the piece of wood Klaus had stuck in there – thrashing around in his restraints as much as he was able.
Klaus was laughing at him. "Easy," he coaxed him, Damon craning his neck to look at him, "You'll be out of sorts for a little while," he said gently, ripping the restraints off of him.
He helped him into a sitting position, and Damon usually would've shaken him off or snapped that he could've done it himself, but he could just about keep his eyes open. He was exhausted; the werewolf venom still slowly working it's way from his system.
He winced, putting a hand up to his throbbing head. "What did you do to me?" he wondered; he felt like something had literally been shoved inside his brain and it was just waiting to be yanked at to do, well, to do whatever Klaus wanted him to do.
"I already told you," the hybrid said with a smile, "I re-conditioned your mind," he said, a small hint of glee in his voice.
"What?" Damon's brows furrowed in confusion as he got off the table, wobbling slightly on his feet as his surroundings uprighted themselves.
"Although to start with, you'll probably be as stubborn as you always have been," Klaus said with a chuckle, "But eventually, the spell will start to wear you down, and your mind will just be ripe for the picking," he added, sadistic relish glinting in his eyes.
"Like Hell am I gonna be your little bitch," Damon snarled defensively.
Klaus just smiled at him; it was so infuriating Damon wanted to smash it to pieces: "You won't have a choice, Damon," he said evenly, his tone telling him that there really wasn't room for a debate on the subject, "Eventually the spell will consume you completely, until you've done what I asked," he explained, a nauseating feeling churning inside Damon's gut.
"After which, I might decide to let you live," Klaus went on, and Damon was about to shoot back some sarcastic remark, but Klaus had grabbed his face before he could even open his mouth, "But for now..."
Damon found he couldn't look away; he was trapped in Klaus' gaze; "You're not going to remember anything about today, or that I'm walking around a free man," he said, his voice a lot smoother than Damon remembered, "You're going to go about your life as normal until the seed starts to effect you," he finished, and Damon felt whatever pressure it was on his face leave.
The words spun round and round in Damon's brain until it became a dizzying cacophony, his bones becoming weak and languid while the fire in his head remained strong. Darkness swarmed his vision, his surroundings melding into one pool around him, and he pitched forwards, falling through the air until he fell hard onto soft, leafy ground.
A few found their way into his mouth as he groaned in pain, his brain thundering inside his skull. He spat dirt out of his mouth and pushed himself to his feet, finding his clothes torn, dried blood covering his hands and the unmistakable taste of it in his mouth. He looked around in confusion, finding no dead bodies. His entire mind was blank.
Come to think of it, there was a huge gap in his memory; he couldn't remember anything that happened after his fight with those two deputies, but he was on vervain, so he couldn't have been compelled. The only other option was that he drank so much blood, he passed out. But why would he have left the Pastor's ranch to go feed knowing Stefan and Elena were still inside?
A conundrum for another day, he decided as he wiped his bloody hands on his jeans, stopping short when he felt a strange tingling in the side of his neck. He shook it off, rubbing a tired hand over his face, chalking it up to just that. Tiredness. Trying to figure anything else out was literally giving him a headache.
He had no clue what time it was – other than it was morning – when he got back to the Boarding House, but he didn't care; he needed a drink and fresh clothes. He walked upstairs and changed his shirt, depositing the ripped one. It was torn clean in half, and he definitely would've remembered if he had slept with Rebekah again. (Over his undead body.)
Walking back down the stairs, Damon heard rustling coming from Stefan's room. He paid it no attention and poured himself a glass of scotch. As much as he probably should have given what happened yesterday – or had more than a day passed? – Damon just couldn't bring himself to care. If anyone dared try and kill him again, he would teach them not to bring a piece of wood to a supernatural fight.
"Damon? Is that you?" Stefan called out, Damon catching a whisper of, "Stay here," most likely to Elena who was up there with him. At least they both made it out all right.
"Who else would it be?" he called back with a smile as Stefan walked into the Parlour, relief washing all over his face when he saw him unharmed.
"We didn't see you at the Pastor's Ranch," Stefan said, again confusing Damon as to why he would've left them there in the middle of the chaos without even seeing if they were still alive. Well, figuratively speaking.
"I was worried," Stefan admitted, coming to stand next to Damon by the liquor cart, "We thought they'd killed you," he added, and Damon smirked; he had two fangs that said they didn't.
"Ye of little faith, baby brother," he said teasingly, patting Stefan reassuringly on the shoulder, downing his drink in one go. For some strange reason, it managed to dull the burning in his head. Whatever it was.
"So, where did you go?" Stefan asked, his brow furrowing a little, "Matt said you'd just taken off," he said with a confused look on his face, clearly wondering the same as Damon; why would he have just taken off when they had still been behind bars?
"Just to..." Damon trailed off, becoming confronted with that darkness in his mind when he tried to think back, "Actually, that's a very good question," he said with a shrug, Stefan looking at him in surprise.
"Can't you remember?" he said incredulously. Damon nearly snorted; if he could remember, he wouldn't be having this problem!
"No, I..." he trailed off again, trying to push through that darkness surrounding his memories, but rescinded when he felt the beginning of a searing pain tickling his mind, "I can't," he stated simply, at a complete loss for words on the matter.
Stefan gave a faint scoff. "How much did you drink last night, Damon?" he asked, tilting his head to the side with a knowing look.
"Just two of the Pastor's friends that stupidly weren't on vervain," Damon said with a shrug, or at least, he thought he did; he knew he didn't get blood on his hands from killing those two idiots, and it couldn't have been from him, because there hadn't been any indication of healed skin. "Last thing I remember, I was trying to kill Matt–"
"What?" Stefan cut in sternly, raising his eyebrows.
"–and then it's all a blank until I ended up in the woods and getting back here," Damon finished with another shrug, "Guess now I know what a teenage hang-over feels like," he added in disdain, rubbing a hand over his forehead and purposely pouring himself another drink.
"How did you all make it out, then?" he wondered, turning back to Stefan with a drink for him.
He took it and had a sip. "We had to get some blood to Elena before she passed away, and Rebekah managed to free us," he explained, sounding surprised about the outcome himself.
"Rebekah was there too?" Damon said in shock, wondering how the unholy Hell a bunch of wood-wielding morons could have possibly overpowered an Original Vampire. "And she suddenly had a change of heart and decided to help Elena, who she'd already killed once, live again?" he asked, looking to Stefan for clarification.
"Her humanity finds her in fits and starts, I think," Stefan said with a shrug, sounding like he was admiring her, while Damon just rolled his eyes. "But I'm glad we caught her on a good day - We wouldn't have made it out without her helping us," he admitted, Damon nodding with begrudging respect for her.
"It was strange though," Stefan went on, having a little more of the scotch, "None of the deputies were on vervain," he mused, Damon mildly surprised. It was like they had wanted them to be able to get free; if they hadn't, they would've taken every necessary precaution, and that included dosing themselves with vervain.
"Maybe they just got cocky," he suggested, Stefan making a face of agreement, but he wasn't going to dwell on it forever. It was Good Riddance to those pricks as far as he, and all the vampiric population were concerned. "Least you got out all right," he said as consolation, patting Stefan on the shoulder.
"Are you all right?" Stefan wondered sincerely.
Damon bit his lip, realising what Stefan had meant by it, and now they were both out of danger, it was time to deal with the elephant in the room that neither of them wanted to talk about. "No, not really," he admitted, sighing heavily.
"Damon..." Stefan trailed off, reaching out to put a hand on Damon's shoulder, but stopped short when he saw the glare Damon was giving him; as much as they did need to talk about it, he just needed silence. His headache was making him irritable. "We both asked her to make a choice, she made it," he said.
"I know, and it's not that, I just..." Damon thought better of trying to explain what was going on with him, because he had no clue of how to put it into words, and with any luck it would soon blow over. "Nevermind," he said dismissively, waving it away.
"So, what time do you want me to leave?" he asked, downing the rest of his drink in one go to try and mask the bitter expression threatening to take over his face.
"Leave?" Stefan repeated incredulously, putting his drink down and looking at Damon like he was insane, "What are you talking about?" he asked in confusion, his frown lines intensifying.
"That was the deal, right?" Damon asked in clarification, raising an eyebrow, "Whoever Elena chooses gets to stay, whoever she doesn't has to leave," he reminded him, Stefan's face falling a little.
"I guess now that she's a vampire, it'll be forever," Damon went on, but he wasn't bitter. No, that would be for lovesick teenagers; he was a vampire. A vampire who would probably be stuck watching a never-ending love fest between his brother and Elena if he didn't hurry up and get out of town, "So get your goodbye hugs in before the offer goes," he said with a wry smile, jokingly opening his arms.
He then rolled his eyes and put his glass on the cart, making to go upstairs and get his things, but Stefan caught his arm, looking shocked he was actually honouring something for once. But it wasn't for him, or even for Elena, it was for himself; he refused to be stuck on Elena forever. It did him no favours with Katherine, and the quicker he ripped off the proverbial band-aid, the easier the next few hundred years would be.
"You can't leave," Stefan said in disbelief.
"Watch me," Damon said with a sour expression, about to break Stefan's arm off of him if he didn't let go of his very expensive shirt.
"Damon," Stefan said with some urgency, "You can't leave," he stressed, but Damon was having none of it. If Stefan needed him, he could look him up in Italy, or some other place extremely far from this town.
"Who needs me here?" Damon asked with an incredulous scoff, "Really?" he added, not bothering to hide the dismay in his voice.
He was right though; Elena didn't reciprocate his feelings, Caroline wasn't his biggest fan, Bonnie hated him for what he did to her mother, Alaric was dead and buried six feet under, Jeremy, Matt and Tyler weren't even in the realms of friendship, Katherine wasn't even an option even if she did care about him a fraction of what he used to feel for her, and whatever he and Rebekah had went out the window the minute she killed Elena. He really was alone, just like that night.
"Damon, there's been a problem with Elena," Stefan said in a grave voice, but Damon was not going to fall for it again; be that sucker who did whatever anyone wanted purely because it concerned her. Although he feared it would be easier said than done.
"She killed someone already?" Damon said with a raise of his eyebrows, shaking Stefan's grip off him, "That was fast," he said with a whistle that Stefan did not appreciate.
"No, she hasn't," Stefan said pointedly, Damon shrugging off the glare that was sent his way, "It's strange though... she can't keep any blood down," he mused, folding his arms with a concerned look on his face.
"The animal blood taste that bad?" Damon wondered, not at all surprised when Stefan nodded.
"Well that's to be expected," he said with a slight shudder when he remembered being so desperate for blood after Stefan starved him that he killed his little crow, and how bitter the feathery thing had tasted, "You're trying to get her on your diet right out of the gate; took you years to get used to it, if I remember," he reminded him knowingly.
"And that was after I'd killed thousands of people," Stefan emphasised, Damon making a face of agreement, but with how disgusting the blood tasted, he couldn't blame him, "Call me crazy, but I'd like Elena to skip that part," he said with a wry smile.
"Why?" Damon asked, genuinely wanting an answer, "It's happened to the best of us," he said, looking pointedly at Stefan, not really understanding why the 'big spiral' was such a massive deal for other vampires when they came out the other side. In his experience, it had just been like getting off a roller coaster; a little dizzying, and a bit of a wobbly start, but easy to get over.
"She won't be able to handle it if she hurts someone, Damon," Stefan said knowingly, "Her compassion is her Achilles heel and everything is magnified for her right now," he explained, lowering his voice slightly so Elena didn't hear them, and Damon supposed he did have a point. Elena always seemed more in tune with her emotions than other people he had seen.
Then he thought back to her incessant need to save everything and everyone and how hard she took every death and how big the chip on her shoulder actually was; yeah, she was going to be in trouble.
"I just don't want it to get to the point where she feels she's in so much pain she has to shut off her humanity," Stefan said with an aimless shrug, Damon refraining from rolling his eyes. Treating Elena with kid gloves was only going to cause her more damage in the long run.
"She'll get over it, Stefan," Damon said surely, forcing a smile, "In about a hundred years, give or take," he added, making an unconcerned face.
"Yeah, like I said," Stefan said, raising an eyebrow, "I'd like her to skip that part," he repeated, Damon rolling his eyes that time.
"So, you're willing to starve her to death for your little plan to work?" he summarised, Stefan avoiding his gaze, "Just give her some human blood as a little test and see if she can keep it down," he suggested with a shrug, patting him on the shoulder and making to go upstairs for the second time.
But he stopped in his tracks when Stefan said, "I already did, Damon."
"What?" Damon said in disbelief, doubling back. Now he was officially intrigued. He had never heard of a vampire not being able to keep blood down before, usually after transitioning the hard part was controlling how much they drank, not the actual drinking part.
"She couldn't keep that down, either," Stefan said worriedly, running a hand over his forehead and looking like he was refraining from ripping his hair out in frustration.
"Well, was it–"
Damon stopped at the sound of footsteps, seeing Elena walking into the Parlour, looking a lot better than she had the last time he saw her. She looked a little exhausted, but the colour had returned to her face and, for all intents and purposes, she seemed back to normal. He figured she'd had enough of them talking about her when she could hear.
"Damon!" she said in surprised elation, a happy smile spreading across her face, "You're back," she said in a pleased voice, walking over to give him a hug.
Damon accepted the embrace with a pained smile, holding her close and avoiding Stefan's guilty expression. "Hey, Elena," he said back, gently easing her away from him, "Heard you're having vamp-issues," he poked at her.
"It's just a little snag in the road," she said with a shrug, although he could tell that deep down she was concerned about it, "I'll be fine," she said confidently, but Damon knew both him and Stefan needed to help her nip this false confidence in the bud before she condemned herself to misery.
"It's not a 'little' snag, Elena," he said pointedly, his tone purposely harsh so she would listen to him, "It's a massive pot-hole," he stated plainly, Elena frowning at him, "You can't keep human or animal blood down," he told her.
"Maybe it was just the batch we got from the hospital?" she suggested, Damon taking a breath at her refusal to acknowledge her problem. All it was going to do was make for a very quick route down desiccation lane.
"Have you tried out a living human to test that little theory?" Damon asked her, and Elena bit her lip, shifting uncomfortably. Her reaction was all the response Damon needed.
"Well there you go," he said with a roll of his eyes, "If you try a living, breathing human and it doesn't work, then we know for sure you're in trouble," he said, thinking there was no point getting their knickers in a knot over something, that for all they knew, could be solved easily.
But he should've figured for Elena it wouldn't be so easy. "I can't, Damon," she said, shaking her head, "I can't risk killing anyone," she stressed, getting herself worked up too quickly.
"Well, until you get over that little part of yourself, you're going to be one miserable vampire," he said with a sympathetic smile, watching her take a breath to calm herself, "Vampires eat people, it's part of the natural food pyramid," he said simply, knowing that that wasn't going to change any time soon, and especially not for her.
Elena sighed, her face tired and worn. She rubbed a hand over her forehead and Damon decided that was enough pressing for now, but he wasn't going to give up until she tried it. He wasn't going to stand by and watch her kill herself because she seemed to value the lives of total strangers more than her own.
"Stefan?" she said quietly, turning to him, "D'you think I could talk to Damon for a minute?" she wondered, "Alone, please?" she added, looking to him for confirmation.
Stefan and Damon exchanged a look. "Sure," he said with a small smile, putting a hand up to her face, "I'll be upstairs if you need me," he said reassuringly, giving her a kiss.
Hiding his obvious distaste, Damon turned towards the liquor cart. He had a feeling he was going to need quite a few if Elena wanted to talk about what he was thinking she did. When Stefan was gone, Damon turned to see Elena edging hesitantly forward.
"So," he said as he poured them both a drink, "Having second thoughts about all this?" he wondered, handing her the glass.
"No, I just..." she trailed off, raising it to her lips and stopping short with a surprised noise when she got a whiff of how strong the alcohol was. She put the glass down, making Damon smile into his, "I wanted to talk," she said, looking at him and wringing his hands.
"How are you doing?" she said in a gentle voice, although Damon sensed she was walking on eggshells around him. Maybe she figured she was never going to need to have this conversation with him because she thought she was going to die, and him as well.
"I'm not the one that can't keep blood down," Damon said, giving her a look as he drank from his glass, wanting to avoid that talk for as long as he could.
"You know what I mean, Damon," Elena said softly, giving him a sad look as he just stared at her, "I know I hurt you and I'm–"
"Do you really need to dredge all this up now?" he said, cutting her off abruptly, a little harsher than he would've wanted, his tone making Elena jump slightly.
"I want you to talk about it," Elena said in earnest, her eyes shining almost regrettably.
"Why?" Damon demanded, feeling his throat tighten. Did she really want to see him suffer like that? "You suddenly ghost writing for an Agony Aunt column in the Mystic Falls tribune now?" he asked sarcastically, downing the rest of his drink.
"Damon..." she tried, her voice trailing off at the glare Damon was giving her.
"Fine, you wanna hear the truth?" Damon asked her, taking a sharp breath and preparing to crack open a Pandora's Box that he was sure she didn't really want him to open.
"Just once, I thought I wasn't gonna be anyone's second choice, but guys like me don't get a happy ending, do we?" he said aimlessly, giving Elena a said smile, "I just get left alone to possibly die in a cold storage locker," he growled out, anger overtaking him in a monstrous wave, the glass in his hand shattered in his strong grip.
"I'm sorry, Damon," Elena apologised, and she really did sound sincere, but it wouldn't be enough. Not this time. "But I–"
"All I had to hold onto was the fact that you were driving to me, but I doubt you would've given me that even if Klaus had been killed and I was going to die, would you?" he said, now unable to stop since Elena was insisting he pour out his soul. Mentioning Klaus made him feel strange for a reason he couldn't understand, but he was desiccated and no longer their concern.
"Well how could I have properly made a choice with you taking away my memories?" Elena offered as a rebuttal, Damon feeling his stomach drop. He had forgotten that she would remember what he compelled away from her.
"What?"
"I remember everything that you compelled me to forget," she said, coming to stand close to him, folding her arms with a look of restrained anger on her face.
"You had no right to take away my memories!" she said to him, her voice rising and Damon choosing to hold his tongue, knowing that nothing he could possibly say would impact anything for the two of them, "How could I properly make a decision between you and Stefan if I didn't know how you really feel?" she said, still having the nerve to sound angry.
At that, Damon felt his anger reaching boiling point. Of course she could've made a decision! She knew he would go to the ends of the Earth for her and do whatever it took to protect her. He sincerely doubted him taking away a verbal "I love you" impacted anything where her feelings were concerned.
"Don't insult me by giving me that," he ordered, pointing a finger in her face, Elena looking shocked at his outburst. "You know how I feel about you," he stated, then he scoffed, "Hell, pretty much everyone within a ten mile radius knows how I feel about you," he added, chuckling to himself and rubbing a hand over his face.
What sort of fool was he to believe he was going to get the girl? Even Rebekah had been in love with Stefan and had only went to him because a busboy turned her down.
Elena sighed softly and put a hand on his arm. "Damon–"
He instantly smacked her arm away at the pleading tone in her voice, snarling as he pinned her up against the wall, a hand around her throat. He felt such an uncontrollable burst of rage, a fine red mist dancing in front of his eyes. Elena was gasping in his grip, trying to wrangle his hand off her, but he was stronger than her.
"I had enough of watching from the sidelines with Katherine and my brother," he hissed in her face, his voice distorting in his anger. He laughed mirthlessly as her hand came to grab at his throat in retaliation, taking a hold of her wrist in a bruising grip and effortlessly prying her hand away.
She gasped in pain, staring at him in open-mouthed shock as his capillaries weaved and snaked under his eyes. "I refuse to do it again," he snarled, tossing her hand away so hard it smacked back against the wall, Damon hearing the bones snap.
He went on squeezing her neck, seeing Elena's eyes bulging – unsure of why the sight in front of him seemed so familiar – and feeling her blood seeping warm and damp beneath his hand. He wanted to cause her pain, he wanted her to suffer as he had.
"D-Damon, you're hurting me...!" Elena gasped in pain, her voice strained and barely audible.
Damon released her like she was a white-hot iron, staring at the blood on his hands in confusion while Elena coughed her breath back into her lungs, looking up at him in betrayal. He caught his breath, backing away while she remained on the ground. He felt like he had breached something within his mind, a barrier to his darker impulses that he could usually control, but not this time.
"Damon...?" Elena weakly called over to him, struggling to get off the floor, and he saw that there were parts of ripped flesh that were slowly beginning to sew themselves together.
Hearing hurried footsteps coming down the stairs, Damon was out the door before Stefan could make it into the Parlour. What the Hell was going on with him?
Damon sighed as the bartender placed another bourbon in front of him – that being his eighth glass since his ass hit his usual stool – downing it and rubbing his aching temples. It felt like a constant itch and niggle inside his brain and it was driving him crazy. That had to be why he'd gotten so angry with Elena earlier, right?
Sure, he was thinking all those things, but he would never actually say them out loud unless he actually thought he had a chance. But he didn't; Elena had made her choice and it wasn't him. Honestly, he could've seen it coming––he tried hard to be the better man Elena wanted, while Stefan was doing everything that had repulsed her from him when they had first met, and she still chose Stefan over him. He could never win. That was just the tragedy of him.
"Sir? Sir!"
His head snapped up at the bartender's urgent calling, a sharp sting to his hand searing through him. He looked down to find he had crushed his glass and shards were stabbing into his palm.
"No, it's fine, really," Damon emphasised, eyes unblinking as they locked with the bartender's. A dazed look coming across his face, he nodded, giving him a small smile and moving off to serve a newcomer at the other end of the bar.
Get it together, Salvatore... he thought to himself in disdain as he picked the shards out of his hand, watching as the wounds knitted themselves together. Since when had he started getting so entangled in the wants and whims of a teenage girl?
"Did you do it?" Elena's voice demanded accusingly from behind him, Damon's haven of peace shattered, attempting to sit down on the stool next to him.
"That seat's taken," Damon said abruptly, Elena pausing and looking at him like he was crazy.
"But there's no one here," she said pointedly, gesturing to the empty seat.
Damon was in the mindset of letting Elena figure out for herself why she couldn't sit in the damn chair, but to prevent her from trying again, he spat out, "Well, I'm just going to pretend like there's someone there, because the alternative is just too damn depressing."
He finally spared her a look, seeing her expression soft as it finally resonated within her thick skull, and she nodded in understanding, taking the seat on his right.
The understanding look in her eyes went South as she asked him again, "Did you set off the explosion that killed the Town Council?"
"What explosion?" Damon asked in confusion, tilting his head to the side.
Elena gave him a stern look that was telling him to drop the innocent act, and ground out a warning of, "Damon..."
"What explosion, Elena?" Damon asked, truly not having a clue as to what she was on about. Why would he go out of his way to blow a bunch of people up? Especially when it seemed all too quick for the torture he had planned for them for attempting to kill his brother.
"You didn't hear?" Elena wondered in surprise, her eyes widening slightly.
"Honestly, much of yesterday is still a blank," Damon admitted with a shrug. He honestly didn't think he'd drank so much blood that he would have passed out, but whenever he tried to remember, all he got in return was a searing pain that he figured just to leave alone. If what he missed was that important, it would come back to him.
"Besides, if I was gonna kill a bunch of people, I wouldn't blow them up," he said pointedly, a mischievous glint forming in his eyes as he leaned in towards Elena, "I'd have a dinner party," he smirked, quirking his eyebrows at her as she shrank back, biting the inside of her cheek as she wasn't quite sure what to make of that statement.
"Anything else?" Damon asked, wondering why she was still sitting there like a little girl lost when he had just established he wasn't responsible for the deaths of the Council, but good riddance all the same, "You here to chew me out for earlier?" He looked at her expectantly, supposing he deserved something for shoving her into a wall.
"No, actually, I..." she trailed off nervously, looking around as if someone could overhear; she shuffled the stool closer. "You were right, Damon, I need your help," she admitted begrudgingly.
Damon sighed heavily, wondering what drastic realisation it must have taken for her to understand, "Of course you do. Pick your meal," he said invitingly, Elena making a startled sounding noise as he spun in his stool.
He hummed quietly to himself as he perused some of the ladies sitting around the Grill; he found three worthy 'candidates'. "You've got Asian fusion" – he gestured to a dark-haired Asian woman sitting with a few girlfriends – "Mexican" – then to a Latino chatting on her phone – "Or, what about some good old American comfort food?" He finished up with a typical All-American blonde girl eating fries and a burger.
"No," Elena said instantly, shaking her head stubbornly, "I can't," she stressed, worrying her lip between her teeth.
Damon rolled his eyes. What on Earth did she think his 'help' entailed if Stefan was on the bunny-eater side of the fence? A magical ticket out of her predicament? Until they figured out whether or not she couldn't even keep from the source human blood down, they couldn't start looking for a magical work around. Especially since the last one blew up in their faces.
He got up from the stool, Elena looking surprised at his abruptness, dropping down a twenty for his few drinks. "Fine, if you're so intent on having your way..." he trailed off, not giving Elena time to say anything, "Come on."
Grabbing her arm, Damon dragged her along with him, towards the bathroom. He pushed her inside, quickly checking for any humans. There were none. That would've been awkward, seeing as he would've had to compel them to leave.
"What are you doing?" Elena asked in confusion as he locked the door behind them.
"Giving you what you need," Damon replied as he turned around, extending his fangs and ripping a generous chunk out of his palm, blood oozing all over it and dripping on the floor. "Drink," he said to Elena, who at this point probably thought he was crazy.
"Come on, Elena," he urged her quickly, pulling her a little closer with his other hand, "We haven't got all day – accelerated healing, remember?" he reminded her.
Elena looked like she was a deer caught in headlights. "What?"
"You're a new vampire, Elena," Damon said plainly, keeping an eye on his wound in case he needed to reopen it, "You need warm blood from the vein," he emphasised, looking Elena in the eyes to try and make her understand, "Maybe this will do the trick," he proposed with a shrug, unsure of whether it actually would, but he was running fresh out of ideas.
"But just, don't tell Stefan," he added when Elena took a hesitant step forward, looking hungrily at the blood on his hand.
"Why not?" she asked, although Damon could tell she was throwing all caution to the wind as she became slowly transfixed by the blood.
"Because blood sharing is kind of personal," Damon said in a strained voice, wishing she would just hurry up and drink. His hand was starting to sting from keeping the wound open for so long.
"What do you mean it's personal?" Elena wondered. It was only personal if the vampires sharing their blood had feelings for each other – hence why Mikael didn't develop a string of groupies during his thousand year vampire feeding spree – but since Damon wasn't her first choice, he doubted it would cause her any repercussions later.
"Just drink," Damon urged her, when she still stood there aimlessly, knowing that would be all it took for her to break the strains against it in her mind.
Elena looked at his hand, and then up at his eyes, searching for permission. Damon nodded it and she took his hand in hers, pulling the bleeding wound up to her lips. He gasped at the slight sting of her fangs in his skin, but welcomed the feeling of his blood being drawn out all the same.
She gripped his hand tighter, sucking as much blood up as she was able to in her desperate thirst, her head falling against his shoulder as she closed her eyes. Allowing himself this one small thing, Damon let himself fall back against the bathroom stall, fighting to keep his own eyes open. He reached a hand up to stroke Elena's hair and clasp her to him.
If she wasn't going to choose him, then he was going to take whatever he could get.
The steady thrumming of a heartbeat was echoing inside Damon's brain. He felt soft ground beneath him and that unmistakable tang of blood in his mouth. And again, it wasn't his. He heard his phone ringing as he stood up, smelling the burning of a campfire, but he wasn't focused on it right now.
He was more concerned about the limbs and organs scattered everywhere around him.
Swallowing hard, Damon stared at the sight around him. His entire body was humming with a thrill of brilliance that embracing the Old Powers gave him. The blood still lingered where it had splattered; all over his face, neck and arms. It truly was a magnificent sight to behold, but when the Hell had he done it?
And yet again, when he tried to remember, he was beset by a painful throbbing in his brain, like something was resisting being pulled out and was remaining firmly embedded there. More and more he was coming to the conclusion he had been compelled, but he couldn't have been, because he was on vervain.
At least, he thought he was.
It slightly started him at the savagery he had exuded, but couldn't remember doing. None of the bodies remained intact – which was usually a Stefan thing – and he had even torn their organs out and drained a few of them of blood from the looks of it, which explained the slightly bloated feeling he was experiencing. He hadn't ever felt that before; he wasn't the one that lost control, and he wasn't a glutton. So he must have wanted to do it.
Snarling in annoyance, he dug his hand into his pocket, finally answering the call. "What!" he snapped at the unfortunate soul on the other end, having to hold it a few inches from his ear at the hurried, frantic words Elena was saying to him.
He took a breath, sighing to himself as he looked around. "Woah, slow down," he said, and he heard her take a big breath on the other line, "Are you okay?" he asked, tapping his finger on the phone and praying she didn't want to talk about his feelings again. That would take too much time, and he needed to hurry up and get out of the woods. Quite literally.
"Damon, just hurry please..." she begged, sounding frightened out of her mind, "I need your help," she said, her voice shaking. She really didn't sound good.
"Where are you?" he wondered.
"I'm at the Church for the memorial," she said, and Damon was confused at that; there was a memorial going on? "I'm really struggling, Damon," she said, sucking in a shaky breath.
"So go bother your boyfriend," Damon said, a little irritably. Honestly, he wasn't obliged in anyway to help her now, and he should have been on a plane ride out of here, but she felt entitled to keep sucking him back in. And until he snapped out of whatever rut he was in, he would continue to allow her.
"Damon!" she stressed in a hushed voice, Damon rolling his eyes.
"All right," he said to keep her calm, sighing to himself, "I'll uh..." he trailed off, looking around at his own current predicament, "I'll stop by the house and get you a few things," he said, hanging up the phone before she could say anything else.
As he set about hauling the limbs and organs – Christ had he really drained a heart? – and tossing them on the fire, he also set about wiping his face and arms clean on his shirt. Since he was stopping by the Boarding House, he could get another. Elena's crisis would just have to stay itself until he was good and ready.
After a shower and another change of clothes, he was suited up and on his way to the memorial with a new dress and some fresh bags of blood for Elena. If it was a bad batch from the hospital, his own private stash was the next best alternative until the next blood drive. If it wasn't, then they would either need to find a vampire willing to be bled dry whenever, or get Rebekah to compel Elena to feed on a human.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialling Elena's number. "I'm here," he said to her reassuringly, "You doing okay?" he wondered, and at the same time wondering where Stefan was to help her in all this mess.
"Not really," Elena said in a shaky voice, "I'm in the basement bathroom; I couldn't keep your blood down," she told him in a lower voice, and Damon wanted to snap at her to just get over herself and feed from a human before she killed herself. Surely it was enough to make her see?
He picked up a faint rattling and the rustling of paper. "Is that you at the door?" Elena asked as the sound of the rattling intensified.
"Not yet," Damon said, speeding up his pace a little. If someone managed to get that door open, then Elena was going to have one Hell of a mess on her hands. Figuratively and literally. She hasn't learned to compel yet.
"Sorry, there's someone in here!" Elena called to whoever was on the other side of the door, the rustling of paper becoming more frantic as she whispered, "Damon, hurry," she whispered worriedly.
He rushed inside in a blur of speed, heading down the stairs. He was about to go into the bathroom, but he stopped short when he saw a dark-skinned man sitting across the leather seats. One thing that stood out to Damon was the single black glove on his hand. He inhaled quietly, the smell of vervain filling his nostrils. Crafty bastard.
"Stalking small town funerals, are we?" he said in passing to the man, who gave a quiet scoff of laughter, knocking on the bathroom door.
Elena appeared through the crack, looking like she was about to pass out from relief. "Oh, Damon, thank God," she gasped, taking hold of the bag he passed her. Peering in, Damon saw bloody wipes strewn around the sink and toilet and a blood stain all down Elena's pink dress.
She poked her head around the door to look at the man, cleverly shielding her body. "Sorry, I–I spilt coffee all over my dress," she apologised, disappearing quickly and locking the door behind her.
The man had gotten up from the chair, looking at the locked door suspiciously. Damon leaned against it, regarding the man with an equally suspicious look.
"We have not met," the man said, coming forward, "I'm Connor. Jordan," he introduced himself, holding out his hand for Damon to shake.
Damon was having none of it and stayed put. "Damon," he said in a pinched voice, watching for Connor's as he purposely said, "Germaphobe."
He smiled to himself as Connor retracted his hand, giving the door a light knock. "Everything okay in there?" he called to Elena.
"Yeah, just a minute!" she called back.
Damon sighed, making a face as he looked at Connor who was still here. It wasn't like he could outright tell who was a vampire, but he certainly looked suspicious about the two of them. Oh well, one more for the buffet as far as Damon was concerned.
"So, what brings you to Mystic Falls?" he asked Connor, "Bible salesman?" he quipped, raising an eyebrow at the duffle behind him, although he really had no qualms about what was in there.
Connor laughed. "No, actually I'm in environmental clean up," he said, Damon just wanting to take one of those stakes he no doubt had in that duffel and ram it up his self-righteous ass.
"Heard you had a bit of a pollution problem," he went on, giving Damon a meaningful look. The niggling In his brain was making him want to torture this man to death. Slowly.
"Huh, well, I was unaware," Damon said with a shrug, mimicking his purposeful look, "I breathe pretty easy," he added, taking a deep one just to rub it in his face.
The door clicked behind him and Damon peeled away from the wall, Elena coming out in her new black dress and the bag slightly bulging with all the bloody wipes. He took it from her, slinging it over his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry that took so long," she said to Connor, an apologetic look on her face.
"No problem," he said dismissively, waving her off.
"Well, enjoy your stay," Damon said brightly, wrapping an arm around Elena to indicate they had to get the Hell out of there now, "We love visitors and the scenery is to die for," he said with a smirk that Connor didn't appreciate.
Damon mock-gasped to further annoy him, dramatically putting a hand to his mouth. "Funeral pun. Too soon," he said with a wince, walking Elena away from him.
When they emerged on the church grounds, the two of them walked behind a tree, Damon wincing at Elena's overall appearance – sallow skin; dark circles; large bags – and quickened his haste at finding her a blood bag.
"Here, I brought you this," he said, looking around for any onlookers and shoving it into her hands.
"But it didn't–"
"It's a little fresher and I warmed it in the microwave," he explained, pushing her hands back when she tried to hand it back to him, "Might trick your body into thinking it's fresh human blood," he suggested.
She pursed her lips in thought before she ripped the top off the bag, bringing it to her lips and sucking down a generous amount with a quiet, relieved sounding noise. But her expression quickly turned sour and her body surged forwards in revulsion as she spat out the blood in disgust, groaning in dismay.
"No, I can't. It tastes like..." She trailed off in dismay, flinging a glob of blood off her hands, some dribbling down her chin, "What's wrong with me?" she asked in despair, tears forming in her eyes.
Damon was at a loss himself as he wiped the blood off her chin, giving her a sympathetic look. "I don't know, maybe it's your doppelgänger blood, you're rejecting the transition," the suggested, but he wasn't sure. Katherine had never mentioned having any such difficulties, but then again, Katherine probably didn't make such a deal about feeding from humans, since at that time blood bags weren't a possibility.
"I'm dying, aren't I?" Elena breathed out, a tear leaking from her eye. She looked down and Damon lightly touched her under the chin.
"No, you're not dying," he said confidently, "Maybe it's just time to bite the bullet and try feeding on a human," he said gently,
"No," was her instant, bull-headed stubborn reply, "No, I don't–I can't risk killing anyone, Damon," she said, her voice getting a little higher as she got herself worked up again.
"Elena, you are a new vampire," Damon said sternly, but softly, looking her dead in the eyes as she tried avoiding his gaze, "You need warm blood from the vein, nothing else can really sustain you in the first few weeks," he said in honesty, just wishing he could make her see that everything would be okay. If killing someone was her primary concern, Damon and Stefan wouldn't let it happen.
"Maybe I'm better off dead," Elena said with a heavy sigh.
Damon grabbed her by the shoulders, her startled eyes darting to look at him. "Don't you think like that, Elena," he ordered her, "You'll be fine. Okay?" he said in a much gentler tone, Elena looking at him almost wistfully and nodding.
He allowed himself to bring a hand up to her face, gently stroking her cheek, a stark contrast to their dynamic earlier at the house and the Grill. Elena sighed, looking pained about something, and Damon understood what; he took his hand away and Elena closed her eyes.
The church bells rang and her revere was broken. "I have to get back inside," she said, licking her lips and heading back towards the church.
Damon rubbed a tired hand over his forehead and set about drinking the blood bags so he could dump the bag without wasting any. He spotted Stefan walking towards him as he sucked on a blood bag with vigour. Where had he been during this whole fiasco?
"How is she?" Stefan asked in concern, his brows furrowing.
Damon held up his finger as he gulped the blood down, Stefan looking a tad disturbed. "Brought her another blood bag and that didn't exactly go down a treat either," he said when he managed to tear his mouth away, determined not to waste any, "She was vomiting up my blood when–"
"She drank from you?" Stefan cut in, sounding dismayed. Having started on the last blood bag, Damon nodded relucantly, knowing he was going to chew him out regardless of whether it was to help her or not.
"Look, Stefan, I had to try something," Damon said in defensive, holding his hands up, "She can't keep anything else down and she's so insistent on not feeding on humans she's gonna end up a desiccated mummy come Tuesday," he added in exasperation.
"Did you tell her how personal blood sharing is?" Stefan asked, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes slightly.
"No, I conviently left that part out," Damon said, knowing that Elena would have flat out refused if he had, but he had needed her to try, and she had came to him for help; he wasn't in the habit of leaving people in that regard empty-handed, "It's not to sabotage your relationship, in case you're wondering," he added, seeing Stefan's look.
"I figured that maybe she could try a Mikael-style diet on vampire blood, but clearly that didn't go down so well," he went on with a shrug, "She needs fresh human blood," he said for what felt like the hundredth time that day, hoping he could drive the nail home with someone.
"If she hurts someone, she'll be desperate to turn the guilt off," Stefan said knowingly, Damon grinding his teeth in irritation. Stefan sounded like he had no intention of physically helping Elena retain nothing other than his deluded version of control. "Maybe even desperate enough to shut off her humanity," he added, looking at him pointedly,
"Stefan, she doesn't have a choice, and you know it!" Damon said In frustration, feeling it boil up inside him, his hands twitching with the desire to quite literally wring both their necks at their somewhat self-righteous stupidity.
"I know..." Stefan admitted in resignation, walking away with a laborious sigh.
Humming to himself in thought, Damon pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolling down his contacts and hovering over Katherine's number, while at the same time wondering why he still had it. But he decided against it, knowing that unless something was in it for her, she would never help Elena and would probably take pleasure in watching her agony.
Compulsion was probably going to be the next step if neither Damon or Stefan could talk Elena round. He discarded the bag and went inside for the service, spotting Elena up at the podium trying to nervously fumble some words out.
He dipped his fingers in the water bowl, flicking it across himself in a cross formation, fairly certain he got the order mixed up. "Don't know why that always makes me smile," he muttered to himself.
He took a seat next to Stefan, Matt sat a seat across, and looked up at Elena. She was fumbling over every word and her voice was shaking. Her skin looked even worse and her eyes looked dry and bloodshot.
"She doesn't look so good," Damon whispered to Stefan, motioning to Elena, "You sure it's a good idea for her to be here?" he asked, wondering why they were even all there in the first place. Who cared if the people who tried to kill all the vampires in town were dead?
"She wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now," Stefan said knowingly, and Damon nearly rolled his eyes. Because it was all about what Elena wanted, right? Damn her safety.
"Well it's her funeral if she gets spotted," Damon snapped, folding his arms in annoyance.
"What?" Stefan arched his eyebrow.
"There's a hunter here," Damon said in a low voice, Stefan's eyes widening in alarm. "I bumped into him downstairs when I was giving Elena a clean dress," he went on. With all his quips about 'environmental clean up' it was no wonder Damon managed to sniff him out. Him and his little vervain glove.
Up at the podium, Elena seemed to have found her voice, "I uh – when I talked to April earlier she was kind of nervous about coming up to speak," she said with a swallow, down casting her eyes to the podium, "And now that I'm up here, I'm kind of nervous too," she admitted with a shaky laugh.
"The worst day of loving someone is the day that you lose them," she went on, but her voice shook again at the sound of dripping water.
No. Blood.
Damon heard Caroline whispering, "Do you smell that?" to Tyler, and the scent of the blood suddenly became extremely strong. But they all had to resist; who knew what other tricks that Connor had up his sleeve?
"Nobody move," Damon whispered in a voice so low only all the vampires in the room could hear him, "Do not turn around, it's a trap," he ordered through gritted teeth.
God that blood was intoxicating. Damon inhaled deeply, wanting nothing more than to find the source and drain it dry, or Connor and rip him apart limb from limb. He glanced up at Elena; she looked on the verge of a breakdown.
Damon gave Stefan a harsh nudge, jolting him up and towards the podium where Elena was breathing in and out in a frenzy, trying to calm herself. He wrapped his arms around her and guided her back towards the seated, confused, crowd, murmuring soothingly in her ear.
The priest walked up to the podium, giving Elena and Stefan a confused look for a split second, before he took out his hymn book. "Let us join together in a song," he addressed the crowd.
They stood up and the room was filled with a melodious singing. Damon glanced over to Elena, seeing her burying her head into Stefan's chest, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes as she clung to him like a life raft.
"The blood. Stefan, the blood, I can smell it. There's so much..." she repeated in a panicked voice, inhaling shakily. Damon couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, and they most likely were.
"It's alright; just remember what we talked about," Stefan said to her softly, rubbing her arms gently, while she buried her head into his shoulder, making a noise of protest, "Focus, push back, come on you can do this," he soothed coaxingly, laying his chin on top of her head.
"What's wrong with her?" Matt asked worriedly to Stefan, giving Elena a brief, nervous glance.
"She's hungry. She hasn't fed," Stefan explained. Technically she had, several times, but nothing wanted to stay down.
"So, get her out of here," Matt said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"I can't. There's somebody watching us," he said in a quiet voice, grabbing Matt's arm and turning him back around when he attempted to turn around and see what he was on about.
"I'm gonna go rip his head off now," Damon stated with a cheery smile out of the corner of his mouth, chuckling to himself when he saw Matt's shocked expression.
"You do that, Damon, and you risk exposing all of us," Stefan said back, stroking Elena's hair and desperately trying to get her to calm down.
"Well, I think the risk will be slightly diminished when I, you know, rip his head off," Damon stated bluntly, those words jarring something inside his brain. He felt his eyes burn briefly, his fingers twitching by his side. This Hunter had to die...
"Stefan, I'm losing it," Elena whimpered, her voice muffled into his chest.
Damon huffed out a breath. "You have ten seconds before I go old fashioned on the new guy," he warned the three of them in a no-nonsense; Tyler and Caroline by extension, but he couldn't picture them caring that much.
"Don't do it, Damon. Please," Stefan pleaded with him, but he was having none of it. The only way they could all safety make it out would be if Connor was distracted, and thankfully Damon was crazy enough to become said distraction.
"Three, two, one. Bye." And with that, Damon was gone from the stands, exiting out the back way towards the bathroom, following the scent of blood like a hungry wolf.
He found Connor by the upper level balcony, overlooking the memorial through a sniper rifle. The source of the blood was an unconscious dark-haired girl with a stab wound seeping through the floor. Damon licked his lips, debating on a plan of action that wouldn't involve him engaging in a fight inside, not when the majority of the town was down below.
Taking a deep breath, Damon closed his eyes and burrowed deep within the Power he could feel radiating through his body; the blood he had drank earlier was enough to help him sustain the Old Powers. He focused hard, pushing all his energy outwards. His brain seared white-hot, fighting against that niggling feeling of stopping the games and just killing the Hunter. He had to be smart, no matter how much he wanted to splatter his guts all over the wall.
A telltale hissing spurred up from below the balcony, and Damon opened his eyes to see wisps of fog seeping from down the hall he had came. He followed them down, smirking to himself when he was engulfed in a thick fog even his vampire senses were having trouble guiding him through. He returned to the ground floor, hearing the confused priest and Carol Lockwood trying to restore order whilst making an evacuation.
He smiled triumphantly to himself when he heard the clunking of things – most likely wooden stakes and whatever he had been spying on them all with – being thrown back into his duffel bag. Looking up at the balcony, he saw Connor's head bob out of sight, making for the exit with his eyes narrowed in determination, and the fire to kill him burning deep inside him.
Cutting across the path, Damon disappeared behind a tree. He watched Connor run up to his car, a clear look of confusion written all over his face, and toss his duffel bag inside. When he got inside and started the car, Damon physically couldn't restraint himself anymore and rushed at the car.
His fist smashed through the window, splintering glass everywhere over himself and Connor, snarling voraciously in his face. Connor gave a startled cry, but was reaching for his duffel quicker than Damon would've thought, and he couldn't have that.
The metal of Connor's car door tore easily like paper under his strength, and before Connor could unzip the duffel, Damon had grabbed him around the throat and tossed him hard onto the ground, leaping on top of him with a roar. He sunk his fangs into his neck, tearing his skin and spurting blood over his face.
Damon heard the gunshots before he felt the pain of them; three shots to his stomach from a firearm that Connor had already concealed on him. He paid the bullets little to no attention, his adrenaline and hunger pulsating strong enough through him to liken the pain to a few pin pricks.
Grabbing hold of the gun before Connor could shoot him again, Damon crunched the gun to twisted metal in his fist, Connor stifling a scream through gritted teeth as his hand was caught up in the mess. He chuckled at Connor's expression, a mix of sheer confusion and surprise, and reared his head back, sinking his fangs into his neck once more.
Damon was suddenly ripped away from Connor's neck, his bloody streams of flesh still dangling from his lips, his surroundings flying by as he was smashed against something hard. He hissed and snarled, lashing out violently at Stefan or whoever was foolish enough to tear him away from his meal. The chuckle that followed sent shivers down his spine.
His blurred vision cleared, Klaus Mikaelson coming into view in front of him, and the feeling of bark pressing into his back and Klaus's hand pressing into his chest breaking him out of his blood-induced haze. He felt his heart threatening to burst out of his ribcage – a mix of adrenaline and surprise – as Klaus watched him with a calculating smile.
"Well, this feels a little familiar..." Klaus murmured to himself, looking Damon up and down.
"Klaus?" Damon said in shock, struggling aimlessly against his grip. He was seconds away from killing Connor and he had to go and pull him away? Klaus standing in front of him wasn't even Damon's biggest concern; it was that he had been interrupted.
"Hello mate," Klaus greeted him almost jovially, "Don't you look dashing," he added with an appreciative smile, Damon for some strange reason betting he was referring to the blood covering his face rather than his suit.
The pressure on his chest increased, like Klaus was going to break past the barrier of his bones any second and snatch his heart away. "I just came to see if there had been any bloodshed," he said, Damon not having a clue what he was talking about – How had he even made it out of the coffin?
"But as far as I can tell, everyone I despise is alive," he said with a sneer, succeeding in confusing Damon further.
"What are you talking about?" Damon asked, vaguely wondering if Klaus had had anything to do with that massive gap in his brain that was painful for him to even consider poking at, "What did you do to me?" he demanded heatedly.
Klaus just smiled away his concerns, but then the look in his eyes turned as cold as ice. "I think I need to give you some incentive to listen to me," he said lowly, seemingly more to himself than Damon.
His eyes filled with amber and black, and Damon didn't have any time to react as Klaus tore his shirt open, exposing his chest. His fangs extended, and Damon fruitlessly tried to move, screaming out in agony as those fangs embedded themselves into his chest, ripping at his flesh.
Pulling away with a satisfied gasp, Damon felt his hair get seized and his head yanked up. "And for your own sake," Klaus said coldly, Damon wincing in pain, "You'd best hurry and start listening to me," he growled in warning.
His hair released from Klaus' iron grip, Damon fell to his knees in agony as the wolf venom pulsed through his system and the hybrid disappeared.
So there ends another chapter. :) I know at the moment Klaus is showing up in fits and starts, but I need it so nobody except Damon knows he's out of the coffin for now (well, even Damon doesn't know) and until he manages to get over his feelings for Elena, there will still be some very few Delena scenes; I'm trying to do it in a way that doesn't seem too fast, or just an effect of the spell on Damon's mind, so I'm trying to create a balance between the two of them.
And I also want to clarify that the sire bond doesn't exist in my version of this story/season 4. I'm just gonna be putting it down to Elena's doppelgänger blood being weird because of it's magical properties. There still might be some speculation that she is sired to Damon though, but just speculation.