Dark Side.

Chapter 16: Bad Moon Rising. Part I.

"From girl to woman to who I am now.
From love to anger to this cold marrow.
From fire to shelter to fire."
—The Glass Essay. Anne Carson.

The guest bedroom in the large, Victorian-styled house, the one right by the stairs, is large enough that Cassandra could have converted it into her room. It even has its own en suite bathroom, and she thinks once it was the master bedroom. The house came fully furnished, and this room had the best bed. Now, however, is a simple, yet chic, guest bedroom. Caroline Forbes' home for the last two days.

Cassandra rummages through the large, wooden chest by the room's window. She's certain she has some form of lapiz lazuli somewhere in the house. Stefan is getting Caroline in a couple of minutes so he can teach her how to feed on woodland creatures, but Caroline isn't going anywhere unless Cassandra finds some lapiz lazuli to charm.

So, she leans further into the chest, shaking her right hand when a long piece of purple tulle snakes around her arm. She throws the tulle over her shoulder. The fabric stays in the air for a moment before crumpling down to the floor, joining a bra from the 50s, a red lace garter belt with a broken fastener, a tenor ukulele, an old deck of Marseilles tarot cards, and a white cat collar with a dangling pentagram for a name tag, despite the fact that Cassandra hasn't own a cat in forty years. Clearly, she needs to clean more often.

"I don't get why you have to go." Caroline complains from the bed.

Elena texted her this morning, letting her know that she, Damon, and Alaric were going to Duke to see Isobel's research. Damon is certain the Lockwoods are werewolves, and he wants the scoop on them. According to Alaric, Isobel's research is the answer. Elena, however, is more interested on the information her biological mother might have on Katherine. I'm going with you, was the automatic reply from Cassandra. Because if they're snooping around not just on the Lockwoods but on Katherine as well, who's to say Isobel's research on Cassandra won't surface as well?

Cassandra fights the urge to sigh. She pushes off the chest's edge and turns to Caroline. Her annoyance dims when she looks at her friend. Caroline is sitting on the made double bed, hugging her legs to her torso, ankles crossed. Front teeth dig into her bottom lip. Eyes stick to the comforter. Her first controlled feed is important, and Cassandra guesses she wishes she could have as much support as possible.

"Okay, remember what I told you yesterday?" she asks Caroline.

She keeps her voice soft, her eyes open and clear. Caroline is already upset. Finding out that all her friends were lying to her, that Cassandra was part of the vampire club too, and that everyone had kept this massive secret from her, hurt her.

"The tragic story about you and the Salvatore brothers and the drama that's been going on in Mystic Falls without me noticing?" Caroline rolls her eyes. A slight scoff leaves her lips as she leans her chin on the crook of her elbow, eyes avoiding Cassandra's. When she speaks next, it's with a small voice. "Yeah, I remember."

"Isobel knows things about me I don't want them finding out." Cassandra explains. "So, I need to get that information before they do."

"Like what?" Caroline perks up at the prospect of gossip.

"Like where I was the past century." Cassandra admits, going back to the chest. Damn, where the hell is that jewelry box? "If Damon sees just how close I was sometimes, then he'll tell Stefan."

"So?" Caroline asks.

Cassandra pulls at the sleeve of a particularly heavy knitted sweater. The thing comes out at the third tug, covered in lint and a snowflake-shaped Christmas tree ornament tangled in the front, clattering and thudding following on its wake. Oops.

"There's other stuff, okay?" Cassandra insists.

"Like what?" Caroline wonders. Her tone is back to cheery and curious, but Cassandra has no intentions of answering that. "C'mon! I'm bored and hungry and I can't eat until stupid Stefan arrives."

Cassandra rolls her eyes. She lifts her old, tattered, leather-bound copy of The Works of Edgar Allan Poe, to find the small, ornate wooden jewelry box she's spent the last hour looking for, right next to the left bottom corner of the wooden chest. She knew it was here!

"You're sulking." She sing-songs, opening the little box.

Inside, there's a pair of diamond, rose gold studded earrings, and a small ring. It's a simple silver band with a tiny lapiz lazuli stone surrounded by silver and a delicate ornate flower to one side. Delicate and small, the ring is perfect. It can be used everyday without taking attention from other accessories. Just what a fashion-driven girl like Caroline needs.

"Right, this'll do." Cassandra rises to her feet.

Walking to the bed, she puts the ring by the foot of the bed, the only part of it covered in sunlight. She lifts her hands up, one palm facing the ceiling, the other hovering over the ring. Closing her eyes, she racks her mind for the right spell, knowing well that if she gets even one word wrong, Caroline is doomed.

"Is the fact that you're a witch one of those secrets?" Caroline asks.

Cassandra squints one eye open. Caroline is leaning forward, dangerously teetering between keeping her legs to her chest or falling over. Her narrowed eyes jump from the ring on the comforter to Cassandra's overturned hands, skeptic.

"It used to be, yes." Cassandra closes her eyes again, quietly begins to recite the correct spell in her mind.

"What else?" Caroline presses the topic.

She doesn't reply, simply keeps focusing on the spell at hand.

"Isn't Stefan supposed to be here already? See, if you weren't leaving, I'd know how to be a vampire already." Caroline unknowingly interrupts her. Again.

"I can't teach you how to feed."

"Why not?" Caroline whines.

"Stefan is our local animal blood diet advocate." Cassandra nearly snaps, exasperated. "I don't feed on Bambi."

"Oh." Caroline nods and looks away, sullen.

Cassandra sighs. Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. She waits a few moments, but Caroline doesn't make a peep. So, she returns to the spell. She recites the words once, then twice, then thrice. Each time, she allows a little more magic to flow through her, slow and controlled. The air doesn't pick up around them, the lights don't flicker. Everything is as it should. Proudly, she opens her eyes and hands Caroline the ring, barely holding back a smile.

"Is that it?" Caroline cautiously takes the ring, sliding it on her index finger.

"That's it." Cassandra confirms.

"You sure? I mean, nothing happened." Caroline eyes the ring up close. She shoots the blonde a look. "Right, sorry. Thanks." Caroline adds with a sheepish smile.

Just then, there's a knock on the front door. Caroline jumps, startled. Cassandra guesses the girl is still not used to her senses being heightened. A quiet knock is now pretty loud. Cassandra smiles, amused, and turns to the door.

"Your ride's here." She comments. "Let's go."

Caroline follows her down the stairs. Stefan is waiting by the door, accompanied by Alaric. Damon and Elena are waiting in the car, ready to go to Duke. Cassandra grabs her bag from the small table by the door, as well as her black capelet knee-length coat. She locks the door behind them, wishes Caroline 'good luck' and leans close enough to Stefan to whisper and have no one else hear—"Tonight's the full moon. Do not go out into the woods at night."

Stefan looks at her, all furrowed brows and confused eyes. She just nods, once, sharp, and walks away. She hopes he listens. Mason knows the Salvatores are off limit, but he's inevitably jealous, and there's no telling whether his wolf-self will be able to hold back. Mentally prepared for the most awkward road trip ever, Cass jumps into the backseat. After all, Elena is still angry at Damon. And, secretly, so is she.

Cassandra looks out the window, index finger lazily playing with the rubber rim between the door and the window. Alaric decided to take the long way to North Carolina for some strange reason, and the forest flashing by around them—bright greens mixing with dark greens and browns, with the random splash of yellow and orange—is a colorful distraction from the tension building in the car.

The radio hums softly in the background, loud enough that the music can be heard, but low enough that it won't drown out any conversation. Not that any conversation is taking place. Elena has spent the last forty-five minutes doing nothing but glower at Damon, arms crossed. Damon has been looking out the window, arm leaning on the window, relaxed, like he's not the reason this car-ride is the most uncomfortable one in the world. And Alaric is smart enough to not stray his eyes away from the road. He doesn't say a thing. Cassandra leans back on her seat, lazily sliding down until she's in a more comfortable position for her neck. And joins the 'let-us-be-silent' party.

"How are you doing back there?" Damon glances back at Elena.

The girl had wanted to be as far away from him as the confined space allowed, which included sitting behind Alaric, not Damon. Unfortunately, that meant Damon could do what he's doing now: look back and get a clear visual of Elena. Cassandra glances at Elena. All she does is roll her eyes, cross her arms a little tighter, and look away.

"You know, this whole pretending to hate me thing is getting a little silly." Damon adds casually.

Almost like the possibility that Elena might really hate him doesn't scare him to his very core. Cassandra goes back to staring at the scenery, adamant on ignoring the brewing argument.

"I don't think she's pretending," says Alaric. A small scoff passes his lips. "You did kill her brother."

Damon has a rebuttal ready within seconds.

"There's a huge asterisk next to that statement: he came back to life."

Yeah, not that you knew it'd happen, Cass thinks bitterly. She keeps quiet, though, bites her tongue and leans until her right cheek is flat against the cool car window. They still have about two hours and something to go. No way is she spending that whole time arguing. Specially when she needs them to not be mad at her today. Fortunately—though perhaps it's more unfortunate—Elena doesn't want to keep the peace.

"Yeah," Elena says. "Thanks to a ring that you didn't know he was wearing."

"Why are you so sure I didn't know?"

Damon leans back again, this time far enough that he can make eye-contact with her, not just Elena. A smirk stretches across his face, one a smidge to fake to be believable, his eyes jumping from Elena to her for a millisecond before going back to the human girl. He doesn't want her to tell. Doesn't want her to admit that, actually, Damon had no idea Jeremy would come back, and it nearly killed him. Along with everything else.

"Did you?" Elena challenges.

She turns to Cassandra as well, clearly not missing the way Damon's eyes strayed towards her. Cassandra remains silent, looking back at a suddenly hesitant Damon. He widens his eyes slightly. The message isn't entirely clear. Does he want her to shut up, or back him up? She's leaning towards the latter, but she's crossed with him still. So, wordlessly, she turns back to the window.

"Yes!" Damon answers.

"You're lying." Elena scoffs, clearly not missing the slight waver of his voice.

Huh, so maybe Elena does know Damon better than Cassandra thought. For some strange reason, she finds that incredibly annoying.

"Are you two going to argue like an old married couple the whole way there?" she wonders aloud. "Because if that's the case I might consider walking the rest of the way."

Alaric chuckles. Their eyes meet through the rearview mirror. Despite her intentions of being taciturn and part of the background today, she finds herself smiling. It's nice to know she's not the only one tired of the other two passengers in the car.

"We're not arguing like a couple!" Elena protests. She turns on the spot until she's completely facing Cassandra. Her leg tucks under her; the seatbelt strains against the sudden movement. "He killed my brother and keeps insisting we pretend it didn't happen."

"Because, I repeat, he came back to life!" Damon argues.

His previous nonchalant tone steps back to reveal an exasperated one. Cass partially understands. Jeremy is okay. So, really, let's just be thankful and move on. Except Jeremy is basically the only immediate family Elena has left. They've gone through hell together. So, yeah, she has a right to be upset for as long as she needs to. And Damon has no right to protest that. He's the King of Not Moving On.

"Just like I knew he would." Damon continues, hand moving about to stress the point. "Cassie, tell her."

Then, he turns back around, looks at her like she can genuinely back him up right now. And, well, she could. She can stretch the truth a little, say Damon knew Jeremy would come back, he was just upset because neither Katherine nor Elena loved him. Lie and say he felt no guilt that night because he knew Jeremy would be okay. Except that she asked him to back her up the night of the carnival and, instead, he went rogue. She asked him to support her decision to help Caroline, and he tried to draw a stake through the blonde's heart not once, but twice.

"Don't drag me into this."

It's not what anyone expected. Even Alaric turns away from the road for a split moment to look back at her. Maybe it's because of how coldly she said it. Damon blinks at her, confused and borderline hurt. She doesn't understand why. After all, Elena Reason-He-Gets-Up-In-The-Morning Gilbert has been treating him like trash for the last week and he doesn't seem that affected by it.

Cassandra looks away. After a heartbeat, Damon turns back around, too, facing the right way without so much as an inhale. A silence tenser than before envelops them, deepening as the radio breaks up and the pop-music station fades, replaced by white static. Cass focuses once more on the pretty scenery flashing by, wishing she hadn't said anything.

The rest of the trip occurs in scarce polite conversation—'Do you guys want some food?' 'Can you turn the AC down, please?' 'Does anyone need a pee-food-drink break? There's a rest stop coming up.'—and wavering radio stations when they move between radio towers.

They reach Duke University around 2: 30 pm, a little later than planned due to traffic. As Alaric explained, Isobel worked at the Anthropology Department, located at Trinity College. It's Cassandra's first time at the university, and the overall gothic architecture has her wishing she'd ignored all the prejudice she has for North Carolina when it came to pursuing higher education in the past.

Inside, the building is everything one would expect when thinking of anthropology and the humanities. The walls are wooden, reddish brown in color, the floors are adorned with Persian rugs. Leather couches; big, tall paned windows. There's even a copy of Tutankhamun's sarcophagus by the door, all golden and vibrant blues and greens and reds. Surprisingly, it's buzzing with people. Students and faculty alike. Who would have thought people where so interested in the study of humankind?

Alaric leads them further into the building, to a room that can only be described as cluttered. The back wall is nothing but windows, decorated with Xs crisscrossing down the glass. The sideboard in front of the windows has way too many papers and books for it to be considered professional. Case in point, the only woman in the room is currently sitting atop the even more cluttered desk as she browses through a magazine absentmindedly.

"Excuse me, hi, I'm Alaric Saltzman," he says. "We spoke on the phone."

The woman, a dirty blonde who looks to be, biologically, about Damon's age, looks up at the same time she jumps from the desk, magazine discarded and hand out for the taking.

"Yes, of course. I'm Vanessa Monroe." She introduces herself. Lips stretch into a close-lipped polite smile as she shakes Alaric's hand. "Research assistant; comparative folklore."

At this, the woman's eyes trail towards the other three members of Alaric's not-so-little party. Her reaction to each person is different, but somewhat telling. At least, in Cassandra's opinion. Vanessa looks at Elena—her eyebrow quirks upwards—moves to Cassandra—her smile tenses—and finally turns to Damon. Her eyes widen the smallest of fractions before tracing the outline of his body with her eyes in the least subtle, yet fastest, way. Before doing it all again, this time without the reactions.

"Uh… let me just grab Isobel's keys." Vanessa hastily turns to the desk.

"These are my friends Elena, Cassandra, and Damon." Alaric clears his throat. "I hope this isn't too much of an imposition."

Vanessa turns back around, keys dangling from her hand. She glances at everyone once more before turning to Alaric, somewhat more enthused now.

"Oh, please." She dismisses, moving towards the wooden door on the right. "Isobel's office is right through there. Isobel was one of my first professors. I'm a grad student. She was brilliant, and one of the reasons I went into folklore." She explains as she passes keys on the ring until she finds the right one.

"Uh, I have to ask—" Vanessa pauses, key inside the keyhole. "Has there been any news?"

Oh, well, this is awkward… Cassandra thinks. Sometimes she forgets there are people out there who genuinely miss Isobel, who don't know what happened to her.

"No, I'm afraid not." Alaric shakes his head.

"It's this way."

With that, Vanessa opens the door. The first thing Cassandra notices is that this place hasn't been touched in a while. A fine layer of dust permeates surfaces, bookshelves without overly interesting books, research that got started but never finished. The second thing, is that this is a cherished office. Not just by Vanessa. But by Isobel, too. Cassandra found Isobel annoying and overly obsessed when she first met her. Now, she realizes the woman was, is, passionate about her field of study to the point where it became the most important thing in her life. This office, filled not just with vampire paraphernalia, rivals one of the many secret apartments in Cassandra's possession. At least when it comes to information about the supernatural.

Big, wide bookshelves stand on every wall she can see from the entrance. They're filled to the rim with books, ancient manuscripts, rolled parchment. Cassandra steps forward, unwillingly admitting that her interest is piqued.

"Feel free to look around. I'll grab the lights," Vanessa says.

Nobody bothers to acknowledge her. The four of them venture further into the room. Elena immediately goes to one of the farthest bookshelves, one that seems to lead into a hidden crevice of the large office. Alaric stands between the desk located by the window, overlooking the courtyard, and a coffee table with an opened text book. She moves to the desk, wondering if that's the research Isobel had been conducting before deciding nothing else mattered but that she became a vampire. If that's the case, maybe it contains her. She may be impressed, but her objective is the same: locate every information Isobel has on her and burn it.

She's curiously flipping through the notebook placed next to a model of a human skull on the desk when Damon joins her, uninvited. He picks up the skull, bringing it up to his face before turning it towards her, nose crinkled in muted disgust. It'd be adorable, were she not annoyed with him. When she doesn't react, not even with a raise of an eyebrow, Damon sighs.

"You're mad at me."

It's not a question. He drops the skull on top of the desk. It lays on its side, forgotten. Cassandra nods. Damon moves until he's no longer one step behind her but beside her. His eyes don't stray from her face. She ignores the way her heart flutters at his total focus. Ignores her blood cooling, her mind calming until she almost forgets why she's mad. She's not forgiving without apology. Not this time.

"I'm sorry," Damon tells her. Well, that took a whole of a lot less than she thought it would. It's not feigned, either. "I didn't mean to almost hurt you."

She frowns. He either knows she has feelings for him and understands their one-night-stand ended up becoming a painful memory full of yearning… or… what? Cassandra repeats his words in her mind, racking her brain for a moment in which Damon physically wounded her.

"You think I care that you nearly drew a stake through my chest?" Despite her better judgement, a snort bursts out of her. "I know you didn't mean to, Damon."

"Then what's the problem?" Damon asks, stepping closer to her with a frown.

His tone suggests he's confused. Does he really care so little for Caroline that he has forgotten already that he tried to kill her? Does he care so little for her that he forgot already that she asked him not to? Oh, woah, don't go there, Rationality warns inside her, not this early in the day.

"You wanted to kill my friend." If anything, Damon looks even more confused now. So, she explains: "Caroline, in all her bubbly, puerile character, is probably one of my closest friends here."

"Hardly," scoffs Damon.

She stands a little straighter, juts her chin out, leans forward until they're almost face to face.

"Factual." She manages through clenched teeth.

Caroline was human when they met. Not just that, she was an oblivious human. She had no idea the supernatural existed. Which meant that, unlike Elena, she didn't hear any biased statements about her from either Salvatore. She didn't remember anything about vampires, didn't know anything about Katherine, in order to fear her. The most Caroline did was be intermittently jealous of Cassandra, and even that started to occur less and less often.

As a vampire, Caroline still has the version of Cassandra she first met in her mind. So, she doesn't care that Cass was absent for a century, doesn't doubt every step Cass takes. She doesn't look for subliminal messages in her words. Cass allows herself to be, well, herself when she's around the blonde. It's fun. Bubbly, bright, control-freak, borderline neurotic, Caroline Forbes became her friend. And Damon, who she loves, who she's willing to kill for even if he doesn't ask, attempted to kill her without reason.

"She's Caroline!" Damon protests, stubborn.

"So you keep saying." Cass shakes her head. "What's the point of this,"—she gestures between them. Her heart grows heavy until she's not sure she can breathe through the knot in her chest—"if you can't respect the simple wish of allowing my friend to live?"

Damon doesn't say anything. The disbelief in his face, the one telling her he really didn't think this is why she's mad, disperses into contemplation. His eyebrows cinch upwards, his eyes clear as realization strikes him. Without missing a beat, he turns to apologetic. His hand reaches for her elbow as lips part, ready to ask for forgiveness. This time one he means.

"Cassie, I—"

Whatever else he planned on saying die on his lips as a terrified gasp pops from the other end of the room. A sound that should not occur within the safe walls of this office. Cassandra glances to the right. Elena is pressed against the bookshelf behind her, arms to her sides as hands grasp the lower shelves. Her face is the epitome of fear.

Cassandra's eyes move across the room, searching for the source of Elena's fear. There, by the door, and holding what seems to be a heavy, 17th Century crossbow, is Vanessa. And she's ready to strike. Vanessa pulls the trigger at the same time Damon flashes towards Elena. The arrow embeds itself into his back. Damon lets out the smallest of groans before collapsing to the floor.

"Cassandra, don't!" Alaric shouts, taking two strides in her direction, arm stretched out like him grasping her arm is going to be enough to stop her.

Cassandra doesn't listen. She simply reacts.

UPDATED: 16/01/2020