A/N: So, this was supposed to be 10k ish words, and include another flashback and more from the plot, but my computer did a system's update while I stepped away for a moment and didn't auto-save any of what I'd written for this chapter and the next.

I thought it would be very unfair to make you wait another month when it was my mistake, so I'm posting this. I know it's sort of another filler chapter, which you guys don't seem to like very much (a lot of you just nope'd out of last chapter, woops) but I will try to stick to schedule and bring you the chapters surrounding the Dinner Party sooner rather than later.

Let me know what you guys think about this one.

Again, thanks so much for your support, and thank you for understanding.

Dark Side.

Chapter 43: The Magician, the High Priestess, and the Reversed Five of Cups.

"You know, love doesn't mean 'I never want you to change'. But I don't think it means 'I don't care if you change' either. So I suppose it might mean, 'I believe that you'll always be the person I adore'. A declaration of faith, perhaps."
—Bloom Into You. Sayaka Saeki.

There might come a day when the weight of what Tyler did, of what happened within the four walls of that rusty white-trash trailer, creeps in too close for Caroline to ignore. Cassandra said it while praying it wouldn't.

When it does, however, she's not surprised. Praying never gets her very far. Action is much more effective.

It's not in the way she imagines Caroline expected it to happen. It is not rage in the way it is with Bonnie. Not grief in the way it is with Elena. Nor is it the unravelling that's come to be expected from Damon.

It is a quiet rumbling under her skin, like the quiet before an earthquake. It is a pit in her stomach that won't go away. Finding every little thing irritating. Utter calmness in the face of probable Armageddon, and the world ending at the smallest inconvenience.

Like now, when Mr Giles failed her and Caroline's body is experiencing more pressure than the deepest point in the Mariana trench over it.

"That's only like twenty percent of your grade, you'll be fine." Cassandra reminds the blonde, glancing over the algebra test that's been shoved in her face.

Caroline collapses onto the booth bench, slamming her notebook and textbook on the table and swinging her golden bag onto it for good measure. Damon pulls his glass away from the bag's proximity with a distasteful furrow of his mouth. The exam in question ends atop the notebook, a myriad of big Xs and question marks that culminate in an F at the top of the paper.

"I've never failed anything in my life, Cass!" Caroline moans in a staccato whine. "I mean, what if this goes on my record and affects my college applications?"

"Right. As if you won't get a perfect SAT score."

In front of them, Damon mutters something about being too old for teen drama. Cassandra ignores it.

"They look at grades, too," insists Caroline with a tone that screams duh! "I am not letting algebra be the reason I don't go to college!"

She shakes her curls off her face, spreads both hands out like she can grasp that F and hide it from the admissions office of whatever college is her first choice. It's a little amusing, even if Caroline is two breaths away from exploding. Maybe Cassandra could get her a stress ball. Pretty and cute, maybe sloth-shaped so the suggestion to take it a little slow is ingrained into the stress ball itself.

Instead of letting the words you've got to relax out, Cassandra suggests, "just ask to resit the test, that's what I'm doing."

There's a beat of silence, during which Caroline frowns at her and Damon pauses with his glass halfway to his mouth. Two tables over, a baby coughs and lets out a wail. A waitress rushes past their table with two portions of fries nestled into parchment-lined wire baskets.

"You failed a math test?" Damon checks.

He and Caroline share a glance. They both look at Cassandra like she just explained life in Jupiter. Telling them she knows the Originals didn't gather such disbelief.

"No—Mr Giles failed me because he's an idiot." Cassandra explains with a little snort. "I asked to resit the test with him and Principal Weber so they can witness my brilliance."

She's not humble enough to deny she's boasting. She is self-aware enough to admit she's bitter. For centuries she's fought to be recognised in academia and be as renowned as her male colleagues—when it comes to women's rights, the world keeps going backwards the further into the future she gets—and Benjamin Giles accusing her of cheating because she'd aced his supposedly-hard-actually-simple algebra test without needing to write down the procedures is salt sprinkled over an open wound that refuses to heal.

"I'm not brilliant at math, Cass!" Caroline bursts out.

No, she is not and it's painfully evidenced in this failed test. There's… well, there's a lot of room for improvement.

"Obviously." Damon quips, tilting his glass Caroline's way.

"Damon." Cassandra shoots him a look.

"Obviously." Caroline mocks, pulling a face at him.

Damon returns the grimace. It earns him a disgusted little huff from Caroline, which is followed by both of them rolling their eyes at the other. Cassandra can't decide between laughing or sighing. She taps Damon's ankle with her foot under the table, asking him to cut it out.

The tiny wrinkle between Damon's eyebrows smoothens away as their eyes meet. He eases back on his seat, shuffles until his calf presses against hers.

"What I don't get is this, you're five-hundred-years-old," he lowers his voice to avoid anyone overhearing. He waits as the frazzled waitress rushes past their table again, this time empty-handed. "Why don't you just compel yourself an A?"

"Because she's better than some people we all know," Caroline chirps, giving Damon a side-eye that makes it clear he's some people.

Cassandra swallows a laugh, puckering her lips to avoid smiling.

It has less to do with any real comedy and more to do with the icy hatred Damon and Caroline once shared having melted into warmer animosity. They pull faces and throw insults lacking in heat with ease and peculiar familiarity. Which means that, like with Caroline's atrocious attempts at math, there's room for improvement. A relief, since Cassandra can't help but find it distressing, Damon and Caroline's intolerance towards each other.

Damon hums, contemplative, before he levels his eyes on her, raises an eyebrow. Cassandra relents.

"Because if I compel him, I don't get to witness the moment Giles realises I'm smarter than he'll ever be."

Also, she has a thing for getting things on her own merit.

"And there's that." Caroline admits. With a pouty grumble, she adds, "what am I gonna do?"

Cassandra doesn't pay attention to the puppy dog eyes or the pout. Even if it's effective enough that Damon looks ready to give in and offer to compel Giles to change Caroline's F for an A. Cassandra can tell by the way he shifts, how his mouth tenses and relaxes.

"You know what you're going to do," she says before he can groan out a fine, rolling his eyes and adding a warning that he won't do it again just to hide the fact he does want to help.

"I don't have time! With you guys killing an Original, and the rest of us running around trying to find a way to save Elena from a gruesome ritual, and werewolf attacks, and Klaus looming over all of us, and my relationship with Matt hanging on by a thread, and finals, and finishing all that's needed for the upcoming decade dance, when the hell am I gonna have time to study for a repeat algebra test?"

That is all one breath. Caroline slumps on the table, elbows slipping until her chin nearly touches the surface. Damon, eyes widened at his tumbler glass, whistles under his breath. Cassandra kicks him a little harder than she intended. His hand slips under the table to rub at his shin, a low hiss escaping past his lips. Sorry, she mouths at him.

"Okay. Breathe." Cassandra orders, twisting in her seat so she can face Caroline. "You're just adding one more thing to a busy schedule. You love those."

"Because I'm good at it." Caroline grumbles into the crook of her elbow. "I'm not good at math."

Cassandra shrugs. "We'll study together."

Caroline peeks at her, eyes alight with excited hope. She downplays it, sways her head side to side, flings out a hand in a noncommittal wave.

"I don't know… I mean, do you even need to study?"

Not even a little bit.

"Caroline," she drawls. "Quit acting like this isn't exactly what you were hoping to hear."

"Okay!" Caroline perks up. Grinning, she throws her arms around Cassandra, giving her shoulders a quick squeeze. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Cassandra laughs with a roll of eyes that does nothing to hide her fondness.

"You're welcome." She sing-songs.

When they separate, she catches Damon's eye for a fleeting second before Caroline's quick-fire chattering begins again. There's a tiny quirk to his mouth that's almost a soft smile, even when he looks both happy and pained.

Their eyes meet. Her eyebrows ask what's wrong? His mouth says nah, don't worry about it.

"Right! So, I'd better start adding more sessions to my study schedule." Caroline scoots out of the booth, gathering her bag and the failed test from the table as she goes. "When's your test? We should start as soon as possible. Monday? Before we go to Elena's?"

"Uh…"

She didn't even know she's invited to Elena's. Elena mentioned it as a maybe we'll do this but no proper time had been set and next she heard of it Bonnie had been invited. Since she and Bonnie have still not really fixed things between them, she figured four a party does not make.

Caroline makes it sound like Cassandra's presence is a given, not a maybe. Unconsciously, she looks at Damon, seeking support in a situation she usually would not need to. He hesitates, struggling with some guarded thought.

"That sounds like a plan," he encourages.

"You're not invited." Caroline deadpans.

Damon does not hesitate to return the fake tight-lipped smile. Caroline catches the inappropriate retort brewing in his mind and opens her mouth to shoot it down before it can fully form. Probably with a scathing obliterating remark of her own.

Cassandra clears her throat, interlaces her fingers, leaning her chin where the knuckles meet, and allows her eyes to show this is as far as she's letting it go. Damon replaces his fake smile for a polite nod. Caroline's mouth flops closed.

"Okay, well, I gotta go meet Bonnie." She shrugs, beginning to walk away with enough pep that her curls bounce around her shoulders. "I'll text you, okay?"

She points one finger at Cassandra like a judge adjourning court and then she's off, disappearing amongst the early Saturday crowd of The Grill.

"Finally." Damon utters it low enough into his drink that Cassandra is pretty sure she's not meant to hear.

Unfortunately for him, she's got some ears on her, which he realizes right away, judging by the small grimace that pulls at his mouth.

"Don't do that." She requests, not annoyed quite yet but well on her way. "Don't get grouchy because you don't like my best friend."

"I like Caroline!" Damon says.

Cassandra doesn't hide how unconvinced she is by that. Like might be a slight exaggeration. There may be room for improvement, but they're not in like yet.

Damon exhales through the nose, shuffling on his seat until he's leaning on his elbows. The movement brings him closer, and the sunlight streaming from the window illuminates the twitch of his eyebrows, how his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. His eyes are bluer than the sky. She wishes she had her camera with her. She wishes they weren't careening towards an argument. Again.

"But she got you all to herself yesterday and today she hijacked our nice morning. And you're spending our Monday with the Powerpuff Girls."

Damon's mouth pulls to the side, his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. He says all this to the glass between his hands and then presses his mouth shut.

She doesn't mention how the only reason they're here is to meet Alaric, so Damon can get sufficient intel on Elijah and dagger him. This is not Damon looking for an argument. This is Damon not knowing how to articulate his feelings properly. Unfortunately, it doesn't pair well with her propensity to overprotect her loved ones.

Cassandra waits until her temper settles. The baby a few tables over wails again and is promptly shushed by his mother. It only makes him cry louder, a high-pitched continuous sound interrupted by pitiful snotty coughs rattling his congested chest. Someone shouts at the rushing waitress for some extra ketchup.

"You just said it was a good idea." Cassandra reminds him. "If you wanted to spend time with me you could have said."

And she would have told Caroline Monday was no good, but they could meet up on Tuesday.

Damon cants his head, mulling that over. He tilts his glass, examining its content, how the amber liquid swishes towards the lip before settling. He bites the inner corner of his mouth.

"I did yesterday," he says, voice uncharacteristically strained as he looks at anything but her. "And you blew me off for blondie."

Not out of malice, but Cassandra recognizes cancelling last minute is something Katherine would do, did, just to teach him a lesson, to remind Damon of his place and worth. Cassandra's never done that, but, yet again, until last week she'd never given him an ultimatum either.

"Caroline went through something traumatic last week with barely any time to recover," Cassandra begins.

"Oh, you don't have to remind me of what happened in that clearing." Damon comments, sardonic.

He's not talking about what happened to Caroline. He's talking about what Cassandra did, because he's still cross over her going in without any backup, because she abandoned her weapon and fought a pack of werewolves empty handed, werewolves that were armed. She won but Damon insists on focusing on what would have happened if she hadn't.

Cassandra snaps. "So she gets me for as long as she wants because—"

She halts mid-sentence, teeth digging into her bottom lip.

"What?" he demands.

Whether he knows where she was going or not is a mystery, but there's no denying he's caught onto the fact that it would have been hurtful. His mouth tightens, the blue of his eyes has frosted over.

"She's been there for me when you haven't." Cassandra finishes with a sigh.

She might as well have struck him. The ice guarding his gaze fractures, eyebrows wobble as Damon looks down at the table, jaw clenched so tight the muscles strain. Cassandra hunches into her seat. She twirls her ring around her finger once, twice, thrice, letting the magic always pulsing within it connect with her own.

"You're right. You have no idea how I wish I could turn back time and change that," Damon apologizes, breaking the silence that engulfs them, "but I'm done playing, Cassandra. I will always put you first and I will always choose you." The promise is written across his face, in the quiet fervor behind his eyes. Damon's so sure of himself she can't help but believe him. With a little shrug, he concedes, "and you should have fun with your friends, I just—we've lost so much time already, I feel like we'll never—I'll never make up for it."

Oh. Oh.

She's so used to being the one constantly yearning his company and expressing that desire, she's never stopped to consider it may be the same for him. It's not like Damon's been overtly vocal about it. Except, a little voice reminds her, in his own way, he has. She just hasn't believed him, has begun to suspect his latest mistakes weigh more.

Silent, Cassandra slips out of the bench. Damon's apprehensive blue eyes trail her until she's sitting right beside him. His eyebrows relax and his mouth softens, and she hates Katherine and Stefan for convincing him that he's such dirt the simple act of Cassandra choosing to stay takes him aback.

"You and I have all the time in the world," Cassandra tells him. She peels the glass away from him to save it from an early death. "And when it comes to lost time, I think we can agree there's blame to share. Do you still blame me for faking my death?"

Damon's answer is resolute. "No."

The knot deep in her chest unspools into nothing. Cassandra squeezes his hand. In response, Damon tangles their fingers together.

"And I don't blame you for not looking for me, or for believing it." How could she when it was exactly what she'd wanted until after Chicago? "I don't blame you for falling in love with Katherine. I kind of get it, actually."

Katherine is a trap easy to fall into: beautiful, cunning, the best thing to ever happen until she gets mad. To a child of abuse like Damon, what Katherine offered was love. How was he supposed to see the red flags when he'd never been shown any different? How is he supposed to unlearn that when not many have bothered to try?

"That was the biggest mistake I ever made," Damon disagrees.

His fingers tighten around hers in an effort to keep her from pulling away. Cassandra does anyway, slowly disentangling her fingers from his only to press her hand to his jaw. Damon tenses all over before relaxing, allowing himself to lean into her palm.

"I don't want to dwell on years lost anymore." Cassandra means it. She's not quite sure what to do with all the love she holds for him, but she does know where to start. "So, how about we concentrate on the future together?"

Damon stares at her, stunned. She trails the side of his face with the pads of her fingers, brushes his dark hair away from his forehead. Her thumb sweeps across his cheekbone. Damon smiles in answer, so brightly, so beautifully she aches. His shoulders loosen.

"That sounds like a good plan," he says around a smile he's having trouble containing.

He even looks away from her, mouth quivering into an uptilted line, but it will not abate. This is not a happiness that can be contained, pouring out of him through his smile and the sparkle in his gaze when their eyes meet. His arm snakes around her hip.

Damon's looking at her in the same way he always has, like she's a rare work of art he can't believe he's lucky enough to behold. Her stomach lurches at that look, sending her heart into a gallop.

"Yeah?" Cassandra manages through a giggle.

Damon seems oddly pleased by it. The arm he's draped around her hip brings her flush against his side. When she slips her hand to the back of his neck, he leans closer without her needing to prompt him. Their lips touch in a small, chaste kiss, gazes held.

"What are you doing later?" she breathes, fingers hooking on the collar of his shirt.

"Anything you want," Damon says with a sly smirk and half-drooping lids.

His suggestive tone paired with those disarming blue eyes warm the blood in her veins. Desire stirs low in her belly. She presses her thighs together. Damon's smirk turns a little cocky. Fine, two can play at that game.

Cassandra drags her nails down his torso feather-light, follows the movement with her eyes. When her hand reaches the waistband of his jeans, she hooks one finger through the beltloop, plays with the hem of his shirt with the others, neither lifting it nor slipping her fingers under it but suggesting that she could at any moment. Damon shifts in his seat, muscles flexing right under her touch. She looks up at him, wets her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.

When the air gets caught somewhere in his throat, and his eyes turn just a little hazy, Cassandra grins, triumphant. Damon's eyes flash dangerously. Her only warning is a tiny growl contained to the back of his throat before he sweeps in and captures her mouth with his own.

This is a Kiss. It is not the chaste brush from before, or the tentative exploring from a week ago. Damon kisses her like a man starved, like he's been dragging himself through a desert and has finally found water. It's indecent. Cassandra can't find it in herself to care.

She presses against him, kissing back. His hand splays across her ribcage, the other cups her cheek, tangles in her hair. When his tongue brushes the seam of her mouth, she can't help the tiny moan that escapes her as she opens her mouth to him, tilts her face closer, roams the expanse of his chest with her hand. Oh, fuck Alaric and his reconnaissance mission, they should just go home. There, they'd be able to continue this without her having to worry about scarring any nearby children.

She breaks away. Damon follows her, a sound of protest leaving him as he tries to kiss her again. She moves at the last moment; his mouth drags against her cheek.

"We're in a room full of people." Cassandra chides.

Her voice is not above a breathy whisper in his ear. Damon dips his head lower, presses a fleeting kiss to her jaw on his way down.

"I don't care," he says against her neck.

The words vibrate on her skin, shooting tiny shivers down her spine. When Damon presses an open-mouthed kiss there, Cassandra hums in appreciation. Her hand tightens around his bicep. It's unfair. She wants more, more, more but this is not the time nor the place. Her eyes flutter open.

Cassandra tugs at the hair at the nape of Damon's neck until he unlatches. Damon's mouth is swollen. His eyes, all heavy lashes and roaming about her face.

"I do."

Damon sweeps his hand up her shoulder and neck, fingers tucking behind her ear to cradle the back of her head. A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Expression unguarded, he looks so fondly at her, so moved for some reason she cannot fathom, her heart overflows.

Cassandra kisses him one last time, slow and steady, a kiss much appropriate for the setting but just as sinful.

"No kissing in front of me, please!" Alaric pleads a little louder than necessary as he flops down on the seat in front of them.

Damon and Cassandra both jump at the intrusion. Her cheeks warm. So wrapped up in him was she, she didn't hear Alaric approach. The history teaches leans against the backrest, at ease, one fist knocking against the table twice as he grins at the two of them in a manner that can only be described as colluding.

"You two have a fun morning?" he teases, index finger wagging from Damon to Cassandra.

Not that there's much wagging to do, with how close they are Alaric might as well just point. Cassandra scratches behind her ear, an excuse to hide her face behind a curtain of copper red curls, face scrunched into a grimace. She hates PDA, hates witnessing it as much as she hates partaking in it. Damon doesn't mind, never has—even back in 1864 when open physical affection was regarded as indecorous he'd show affection through touch—but to her such displays are an easy way to show those against her where to strike. This is a habit she's not willing to break quite yet, not when Niklaus is about to discover her plotting against him, this time for real. And they just spent who knows how long making out like teenagers in arguably the most public setting in the whole of Mystic Falls.

Damon drops his arm from around her, but he doesn't scoot away. His hand doesn't get very far, either, landing atop her thigh as she straightens in her seat and crosses her legs.

"How about you tell us about your morning." She requests from an Alaric that is still looking a tad too entertained.

"You got anything on Elijah?"

Elijah and Team Mystic Falls may share the same goal, but they differ in execution, which means Elijah still needs to be neutralized. Not something Cassandra thought she'd ever be on board for, but it's not like it'll be permanent.

Alaric's expression sours at Damon's question.

"Not really. All he did was have Jenna walk us around the old property lines." He answers, thoroughly unimpressed.

Bending halfway out of the booth, Alaric rises a hand to signal a nearby waitress. Not the frazzled one from before but a brunette Cassandra recognizes from her AP Literature class. As if sensing eyes on her, Dana looks up from the pad in her hands to nod at Alaric and returns to the two teenaged boys sat in front of her, their knees knocking and hands interlinked under the small table. Satisfied, Alaric returns to their conversation.

"Oh, and get this! According to him and his research, your family didn't actually found anything." He tells Damon with a scowl that lets everyone know exactly what he thinks of Elijah's bragging.

Damon's top lip curls in distaste. Cassandra rocks forward, a reaction she cannot contain. Thankfully, she catches her mistake with enough time to bite down on her tongue. The taste of her own blood is preferable to snitching on herself. Because Nik spoke about it, Mystic Falls centuries before it went by that name, how he and his family had the privilege of calling this beautiful land home before vampirism. Of course, that would have been about the time he ought to have mention he was a bloody hybrid, too, but that's not the issue at hand. The issue is that it keeps happening; she keeps biting her tongue and rearranging sentences in order to hide what truly happened after Katherine sold her out in 1883.

Disclosing that two months ago would have Stefan sharpening the pitchforks and Bonnie gathering timber for a very flammable stake. April has brought with it an unconditional wave of trust and support from those around her, though, and, glancing at Damon, Cassandra thinks perhaps it is time to explain.

Not now but some time.

"What do you mean?" she asks Alaric instead.

"Some bullshit about Salem witches, I don't know. I wasn't paying attention." Alaric guesses. Rolling his eyes, he tacks on, "it was kind of boring. Of course, Jenna thinks he's charming."

Salem witches? What the hell does Elijah want with Bonnie's ancestors? They would know if Alaric weren't simmering at a low heat.

"Mmm-hmm, jealousy, jealousy." Cassandra tuts.

Damon chuckles beside her. His hand gives her thigh a short squeeze.

"I'm not jealous. I'm telling you; it was boring." Alaric insists.

Sure it was.

The bell above the door jingles. Cassandra looks up in time for Elijah to walk in, his hand flat against the heavy door as he holds it for Jenna to come in. Chivalry is not dead, after all.

Oh, she can just imagine what Alaric has to say about that.

"Here comes Jenna with her new boyfriend." Damon quips.

Much like Alaric did with Dana, he lifts a hand and waves. Jenna catches the gesture and smiles in acknowledgement. She nods their way and turns to speak to someone behind her. Cassandra's smile disappears.

"And your new girlfriend," she says wryly.

Andy Starr falls into step with Jenna as they start towards them. She knows Andy is nothing but Replacement Rose with the added bonus of providing dinner. She understands this, but the woman is so infatuated with Damon and over-insinuating the mere sight of her makes Cassandra grit her teeth. It doesn't help that she's nice to Cassandra, has never actually attempted to sleep with Damon. Nor does it help that Andy's job makes her useful; she's an ear in places they wouldn't normally be allowed in, not even with Liz's help.

"This oughta be good." Alaric snorts.

Damon shoots him a glare before angling his body towards her, arm resting atop the table in front of her.

"First, she is dinner, not my girlfriend, and second, what else was I supposed to do when Alaric is fifty shades of green and anyone else would have been too obvious?" Damon whispers to her.

He rushes through his words, keeping them at a low pitch in an effort to keep Elijah from making them out. Cassandra purses her lips, not eager to get into this here with so many people to witness it. Alaric is tapping his fist on the edge of the table, but it is clear he's trying to eavesdrop.

"Hey." Damon's hand shifts from her thigh to her upper back, fingers grazing either side of the knot in her spine. His voice doesn't go up in volume, remains that steady softness. He keeps his eyes on hers, purposeful. "I drink from her wrist."

Cassandra blinks. That hefty revelation is the last Damon says as Elijah, Jenna, and Andy reach them, and he pulls from her to greet them with a polite smile.

"Hi."

"Hey, guys," Jenna says.

Her hand sways in a feeble wave. When Alaric remains his moody, grumpy self, Jenna's already awkward smile turns bitter. Elijah settles for an acknowledging nod. Andy, unfortunately, decides to fill the silence.

"Hello, Damon, Ric," she says with a sultry drawl and an added foxy glint to her eyes. Cassandra can't tell exactly which man she's directing all of that to. Even Jenna is glancing at Andy uncomfortably. "Cassandra." Andy kindly adds.

There's no insinuation, thankfully. She still doesn't reply. Jenna watches the silent greeting, eyes the lack of space between Damon and Cassandra. Her expression sours even more. Interesting.

"So, I heard you guys had quite the meeting of the historical minds." Damon prompts.

He widens his eyes, props an elbow on the table and ensures he looks at all three of them as he says it. This is a conversation everyone is invited to. His interest is feigned but he looks and sounds so genuine Jenna's frown vanishes and her shoulders relax. Elijah nods in acknowledgement, eyes fluttering over Cassandra briefly.

"It was super interesting." Andy tells them, gesturing towards Elijah with one hand. "It's really sad how much of our town's rich history is overlooked by education. Elijah's research is eye-opening."

"It really is." Jenna hums.

Elijah does a little shake of his head, retracting into himself as if to say oh, please, there's no need. Cassandra thinks Jenna may only be agreeing to piss off Alaric and it works. Alaric huffs, clearing his throat before scooting out of the bench.

"Well, I've got papers to grade, so—" he juts his thumb over his shoulder.

He also only says this to Damon and Cassandra. Even though he's standing right next to Jenna. Something which Jenna herself clocks immediately.

"Aw, come on, Ric!" Damon complains. Jenna's mouth closes. "We've only just started." To Elijah, he says, "I'm a big history buff."

Elijah hums, eyes wandering to Cassandra again. She meets his gaze, stifles a snort at the deadpan skepticism there. She can't blame him. Damon's been nothing but hostile, his sudden offer of camaraderie is a tad suspicious.

"We should continue this," Andy rises her hands up in the air like the idea just came to mind. In truth, it was likely Damon's not-so-subtle pointed look that prompted it. "How about… a dinner party?"

She glances at Damon out of the corner of her eye, seeking approval. His nod is a near imperceptible twitch.

"I'd be happy to host. Say, tonight, around 8-ish?" Damon proposes.

He spreads his hands out as if the invite were something tangible they may take home. Cassandra looks at their companions, wondering if anyone catches how rare such hospitable energy from Damon this is. Alaric just loves the idea. His jaw is tightened so hard, Cassandra worries for his molars. Jenna appears uncomfortable, Cassandra can't tell whether that is because this dinner party includes the boyfriend she's fighting with or because it includes Damon Salvatore, who she tolerates at most. Elijah merely stands back, studying all of them with calculating eyes, waiting for a shift or a tell that would betray their true intentions.

Andy is the first to agree. "I'd love to!"

"Actually, tonight might not work…" Alaric trails off, angling towards Jenna.

"I'm also free." She cuts in.

Alaric sends her a look that conveys how badly that was the answer he wanted her not to give. Jenna stands a little prouder, chin lifting in a challenge.

"I'd be delighted." Elijah allows a minute smile, a little too reminiscent of Nik's own cunning smile to Cassandra's liking. "Will you be in attendance?" he asks her, directly addressing her since she became outnumbered by adults.

Both Andy and Jenna blink at her like they genuinely forgot she's there. Uneasiness clouds Damon's face at the question, and even Alaric frowns at Elijah, bemused.

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, Cassie's spending the rest of the day with her friends." Damon elaborates, unapologetic. "Studying for finals, very important." His tone turns sarcastic at the end, shaving some credibility off the statement.

Something Jenna doesn't fail to notice. The frown returns.

"Yeah, as a legal guardian I am not thrilled about her attending without any of her parents," says Jenna, eyeing Damon up and down with her nose upturned. "Especially when she spends so much time already with inappropriate men."

Her eyes trail to the table, left eyebrow shooting up her forehead. It's as effective as a pointed finger. Clearly, she didn't miss the moment Damon slipped his hand back on her thigh, or maybe it was the moment Cassandra grasped his index and middle finger with her own. Busybody.

There's an awkward beat of silence, where everyone decides the best way to deal with that comment is to avoid eye contact. Alaric gazes at Damon's half-drunk bourbon with longing. Andy rocks on her heels, straightens the cuffs of her blouse. Elijah is containing a chuckle, covering it with a light cough. Cassandra would be doing the same if it weren't for every single muscle in Damon's body tensing the moment the word inappropriate left Jenna's mouth.

Cassandra may look eighteen, ish, but she is not a teenager. While biologically, six years is quite an age-gap given the context—no human twenty-four-year-old should be dating a human high schooler—within reason, age means very little when it comes to dating in the vampire branch of the supernatural world. Some people look young and are ancient, like her, others look old and are young. She suspects Damon understands this, after all he's had no qualms with being with her or Katherine and the both of them are much, much older than him.

No, his issue likely stems from the way Jenna said it, with judgement dripping from every syllable. She said inappropriate in the way one might say scourge. She said men in the way one might warn against a snake.

Dana bounces to the table, pad and pen in the air, and halts. She notices the tense atmosphere with a smile that's frozen in place before nodding to herself and twirling away.

This time, Elijah has more trouble controlling his chuckling.

"Not to worry, Jenna," he starts, exhaling half a laugh. He steps closer to the table, joining the semi-circle the women have created. "Her parents might not be present, but she will still be with family."

Cassandra stills. Alaric starts, barely, thanks to his hunter's instincts, but enough that Elijah notices. His hazel eyes glint with self-satisfaction at the reaction such an innocent sentence has elicited. It only grows as he takes the eldest Salvatore in.

Damon's entire aura has switched to murderous violence. The increasing storm cloud that's been shadowing his features darkens into a glower so fierce Cassandra can feel the air around him thrumming with rage. His hand on her thigh slips over and under, pulling her closer to his side and gripping so hard were she human she would bruise. Gone is the friendly young adult from a moment ago, eager to offer companionship and erudite conversation over some good food and a bottle of wine. This is a creature of the night unleashed, ready to pounce at the slightest move from Elijah.

Cassandra finds it adorably touching, if unnecessary, the proprietary touch and protectiveness. She is, after all, the strongest of the two. It is mighty hot, though.

"What?" Jenna blurts out, more confused that disbelieving.

Andy sports a similar expression.

Elijah declaring Cassandra his through blood isn't just to get under Damon's skin. It's a tip of the hat to decades of relation, a reminder not to throw their careful truce out the window. This is not a bridge she wants burning, Elijah's advising. Pity, that she already lit the match.

"Elijah's my uncle's son," Cassandra says before Elijah can get a little too carried away and declares them half-siblings.

"Um…" Andy's head flicks from Elijah to Cassandra, tilting as she studies them in turn. "You don't share the same last name."

It's the polite way of saying they look nothing alike. Cassandra raises one eyebrow Elijah's way, all explain that one, will you, while her hand grazes Damon's arm under the table, thumb stroking the crook of his elbow. Damon's muscles loosen only just, and while his eyes cool and are no longer alight with murder, his jaw remains strained.

"Mother's side," explains Elijah with a tone that suggests this is a point people raise often, and Andy should not be embarrassed.

"Why didn't you say so?" Jenna laughs, delighted.

Cassandra shrugs, unconcerned. "I told everyone who needed to know."

She doesn't see how it's any of Jenna's business, who she dates or who she's related to, but it appears nosiness is engrained into the Gilbert family and isn't a trait she may attribute to only Elena.

"She means the inappropriate man," Damon quips without missing a beat.

He shoots Jenna a tight-lipped smile that is much bitterer than the one he granted Caroline earlier. Alaric widens his eyes in warning. Jenna ignores it all. In fact, she acts as if Damon hasn't even spoken.

"Well, in that case, I'm totally fine with you coming tonight," she tells Cassandra.

As if Cassandra needs her approval. It's not even Jenna's house. Fucking hell.

She doesn't even want to go to the dinner party. Cassandra has no desire in being part of the literal stabbing of Elijah's back. Unfortunately, if something untoward is brewing under wraps, Elijah wants her there.

"And I insist that you do," Elijah says politely.

It is clear, however, that if she is not present, he won't be either. Damon, Cassandra, and Alaric share a fleeting look. Well, it looks like she's got a night filled with politics and expensive wine ahead of her. Funny how some things never change.

Cassandra leans against Damon's side just to enjoy the way Jenna's lip threatens to curl in disapproval. Around a smile, she says:

"I aim to please."

The double entendre is not missed by anyone.

Damon smirks. Alaric's eyes roll to the back of his head. His hand covering his mouth passes the snort that escapes him as a cough. Andy's lips part and her eyebrows rise, Elijah, so accustomed to her antics, manages to refrain from reacting, but it is Jenna's two-seconds-away-from-clutching-her-pearls scowl that turns Cassandra's smile into a full blown grin, wicked and untamed.

A/N: Here you go! I hope you enjoy this one.

Onto reviews,

EEnnio: God, me too, we're so close to a present day klaus x cass meeting it feels incredibly far away but I can't wait!

Essay Guest: Here's a chapter! I was going to post yesterday but I was too sleepy lol I love flashbacks so I'm glad you liked last chapter's! And I'm sorry you're gonna have to wait a little bit more because my computer is stupid and I have tons to rewrite but I'm glad you're still loving the story!

Nerdalertwarning: it's here! Hope you like this one!

Crazy Devil Girl: Glad you love it! Yeah, kat and Cass making up would be great but I just don't see it happening quite yet. I wanted them to, but they didn't lol. And yes! I definitely see the whole damonxcassxklaus as a thing that came up in the 20s when they met Stefan, and she was all 'oh you have nothing to worry about' and now... oops? So yes, Klaus definitely knows about Damon to some degree, is he possessively jealous? well, we're gonna have to wait to find out ;)