Get ready bitches. This is one plot-heavy MFer. MF standing for Mystic Falls obviously, get your head out of the gutter. Grab a snack, sit back, and (desperately try to) relax :)
CHAPTER 14
BLOOD STAINS THICKER THAN WATER
.
The party was in full swing when they exited the car, the citizens of Mystic Falls littering the bright, sun-scorched front yard, pouring in and out of the mansion like sand through an hourglass. Damon scanned the area with a keen eye.
"Did the whole town seriously show up?" He sounded almost impressed.
"They feared risking Mayor Lockwood's wrath if they dared disobey," she said sarcastically. "Or maybe it was Carol's. It does seem like more of a Carol thing to do."
"What, come up with the dumbest plan in human history?"
"You're one to talk, Mr. Soap Bowl."
He shot her a puzzled look. "What?"
She sighed and shook her head. "Never mind. Let's go inside, shall we?"
"Only if you promise to take my arm."
"Sure. Would you rather I use a chainsaw or a butcher's knife? Can't just rip it off to take it with me."
He rolled his eyes. "Do you want to sell this plan to them or not?"
She pursed her lips. "Ffffffine." The word came out with unexpected difficulty. "Fine. Whatever. It'll be like performing in a play. Where you're my love interest. Gross."
"Mature."
After drawing a long, deep breath, she got into the headspace of a young girl who lost both her parents to a vampire attack. That part was easy. Being that young girl and vowing vengeance against the species at large was less so, but after picturing the unimaginable pain her father must have undergone and blinking back a few stray tears, she was there.
She faced Damon with a brilliant smile, pretending that his hair was lighter, his eyes were greener, his lips were fuller, and his skin was warmer. The rest of his face was similar enough. "Come on, Damon." His name felt wrong falling from her tongue. She wrapped an arm around his and pressed herself against his side. "Let's go."
She could tell by his eyes that he was curious to know more about her, and about how quickly she was able to change her attitude towards him. But there was also something else. He was looking at her like she was someone so familiar, and was even more curious to know how deep the familiarity ran.
They walked down the rest of the long, curved path to the mansion. She heard a gentle ballad playing inside, and made out Tyler's face beside the front entrance. He was on edge. It wouldn't be noticeable to anyone who hadn't known him for years, but she could tell. A couple approached the door, and she saw him utter the words "come in" by watching his mouth.
After the gang reluctantly assented to her plan and before she went to speak to Damon, she had asked Tyler to verbally invite in every person who came to the party during daylight hours, in order to keep Stefan's identity a secret. Persuading him had not been easy, but ten minutes into the argument she had grabbed his hand and begged him with her eyes, saying that she would make the same effort to protect him, and to not force her to choose between the people she cared about. She wasn't sure if she actually won by saying that, but she got him to do what she wanted.
He spotted them. His face hardened and he took a step forward before halting, like he was actively holding himself back from lunging towards them and socking Damon in the jaw. He watched as they climbed the steps to the porch, unable to keep a subtle sneer away from his face. She tried to calm him down by offering a smile, but he ignored her in favor of glaring at the man around her arm.
"Hey." His voice was tight. He held a hand out. "Tyler Lockwood. Heard a lot about you."
Damon looked at his hand, then back at him. "Funny. I haven't heard a thing about you."
Tyler's sneer deepened. "No. You wouldn't, would you? People tend not to talk about their personal lives with their abusers."
"Tyler," Angela said gently, though part of her felt touched at his anger. "Not now."
He finally looked at her, and wordlessly implored her not to continue with this plan. Telling her that—like Stefan said—they could find a way to prevent Damon from having any hold over her. But she had found a way to gain something from this too. Something that she was willing to sacrifice her comfort for, and would do so in a heartbeat.
Tyler must have realized that she wasn't going to give in. He looked back at Damon and rolled his tongue against his teeth. "Sure. Come in." As they were passing by him to enter the house, he grabbed him by the elbow. "But if you do anything to upset her in there, I won't listen to what she says. You will be outed to the Council, and you will get a stake through the heart. That cool with you?"
Damon raised his eyebrows. "Sure. As long as you're 'cool' with her hating you for it. Because judging by the look on her face, that's what's going to happen."
She didn't notice how frustrated Tyler's threat made her up until that point. Neither did he, and it visibly threw him off-kilter. His grip slackened until his hand fell away, seemingly all on its own.
Damon's mouth twitched in an effort not to smile. "Great meeting you, Lockwood." He patted his shoulder. "Bye now." Without hearing another word, he led her inside.
Angela paid extra attention to the sun bathed wooden floors, colorful flower arrangements, and elegantly dressed people in an effort to calm herself down. It's fine. He doesn't know how much bigger this is than him. He's only trying to protect his friend. Relax.
She locked eyes with a man—an employee at the local gas station, though she couldn't recall his name—and saw his face turn a light shade of pink before he turned away and walked into a different room. That was when she noticed that he hadn't been the only one looking.
People were staring at her. People were staring at Damon. People were staring at them together. Of course they were. They were beautiful. Damon knew it too, and she could see him looking awfully smug as they walked further into the mansion.
"You know," he said lowly, "if their plan was to invite vampires into the house, you'd think they'd at least stick some vervain in the air conditioning."
It was difficult not to smile, as the idea had occurred to her too. She managed it out of spite. "The only genuinely competent members of the Council are Caroline's dad and my uncle, John. Neither of which are here."
"Ouch. No offense to Uncle Zach?"
"Stop calling him 'uncle'. It's creepy." Speaking of creepy, her eyes scanned the large foyer in search of Stefan, and she frowned when she didn't find him.
"Looking for someone?" Damon's breath brushed against her ear, and she jerked away in surprise. Her reaction amused him far too much for her liking.
She schooled her expression and emitted a light, twinkling laugh that would make it seem to anyone like she was enjoying his company. "Get fucked."
"Angela Gilbert?" That voice drew her attention to her right, and to Rudy Hopkins. He scratched the back of his bald head and stepped closer. "I almost thought you wouldn't show up this year."
"Mr. Hopkins," she said with a genuine smile. "It's good to see you."
"And you. Look at you. Your father would be so proud of the beautiful young lady you've become."
My vampire-hating father, seeing his daughter arm in arm with a vampire. For once, she understood how Elena felt. She fought to keep her smile from falling. "Thank you."
"Oh." His eyes became sad. "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean—"
"No. It's okay. You were his friend. You lost him too." If anything, that only made him sadder.
"Hey, Dad?" Bonnie appeared to wrap her hands around his arm. "I think Mayor Lockwood was looking for you. Something about building a new playground?"
"Ah. You'll have to excuse me." He gave her and Damon a polite nod. "You two enjoy yourselves."
"You too," Damon said as they began walking away. Bonnie turned her head to look at him, her face stony, before they disappeared into the next room. Damon leaned in so only Angela could hear. "Is he on the Council?"
"No. Though he's part of Mayor Lockwood's cabinet. He knows about the supernatural, he just doesn't care for it."
"Hm. Does he know that his own daughter's a witch?"
"Yes."
"And here I thought I had daddy issues. Although, you know, my dad did actually kill me."
"He would never hurt Bonnie."
"You don't have to kill your daughter to hurt her." She didn't know what to say to that. He began leading her in their exact opposite direction. "What's over here?"
"Study area. Rec room. Library."
He snorted. "Who puts a study and a rec room in the same wing?"
"Stupid rich people, that's who."
"They're stupid, alright." It was the study he pulled her into, a room quieter than most of the house. It sported rich browns and dusky plums, and there were fancy bottles of liquor that, to her, seemed all too tempting.
When her gaze fell on the small table in the corner, her breath got caught in her throat. She unwound her arm from Damon's and stepped forward, captivated by the pair of wedding rings. 'ON LOAN FROM THE GILBERT FAMILY' read the cream-colored place card.
Her parents were always deeply involved with the town's affairs. Each year, they would help the Lockwoods set up the heritage display, just like Jenna and Elena had done this year— minus Angela's interference as to a certain pocket watch. She knew that they would be glad to contribute to the town's history after their passing, but she resented the sight of their wedding rings up on display. It reminded her that they truly were gone. That she could never see them again, not unless she died and found peace. Would she find peace? Or would she be damned to oblivion and never see them again?
"Did these belong to your parents?" Damon asked.
She nodded.
He reached out to touch one—her mother's—and when his finger grazed the diamond, she nearly turned around and slapped him. They were not his to touch. They were not anyone's to touch. "Pretty." How many people here said the same thing? How many people here had touched them? She bit the inside of her lip so hard she tasted iron. "Let's go find the sheriff," he said, and led her back outside.
They found Carol Lockwood first. Or, rather, Carol Lockwood found them. She hurried over to them with a big, fake smile, glancing between her and Damon. "Angela! How wonderful to see you. And with a… date."
Damon extended a hand. "Damon Salvatore. A pleasure to meet you."
When Carol placed her hand in his, he pressed his lips against her knuckles. Keep the vervain from touching your skin and make yourself out to be a gentleman. Smart. Carol's face remained frozen in surprise, before it melted into a charming smile, all of her fakeness gone. Just like that. It made Angela's blood simmer.
"Oh," Carol stuttered lightly. "I see. Are you related to Zach?"
"Zach's my uncle. Though I'm afraid he's not coming tonight. He had some things to take care of back home."
Carol waved him away, one shoulder rolling forward in a motion that seemed more seductive than usual. "Oh, you don't have to lie in order to spare my feelings. Zach's never been one for events like this."
"He is a bit of a hermit, isn't he? Although…" He lowered his voice as if he were about to reveal some giant secret. "That green thumb of his is an invaluable asset to this community, wouldn't you say?"
Angela narrowed her eyes, wondering how exactly he knew about the vervain. Had Zach and Stefan already tried to lock him up?
Carol glanced between them, clearly unsure as to whether this topic was suitable for a seventeen-year-old. "Well… yes, his back garden is quite magnificent."
"I know about the vervain, Carol. I know a lot, thanks to Damon."
He looked down at her with what was supposed to be a loving smile. It made her want to hurl something at him. "Yes, you do. Angela's a remarkably fast learner. And an innovative thinker." He rolled his suit jacket up ever so slightly, revealing a mole that was close to his wrist. "She inspired me to get one of these myself."
Carol's lips parted in surprise. "Oh. I see. How did you meet, if I may ask? I didn't know you were seeing someone, Angela."
She made herself giggle. "It's honestly kind of silly, but I wanted to keep him to myself. Like my own little secret. We bumped into each other at the Mystic Grill and got to talking. When I found out that he was a Salvatore—an adult Salvatore, Stefan's brother—I assumed that he knew about vampires. Turns out he's a hunter, and since he was willing to teach me how to be like him… well, the rest is history."
"Zach told me about you," Damon said, watching Carol like a hawk. "About the Founders' Council. What's your strategy to catch this thing that's been killing people? If I may ask."
The set of Carol's mouth became tight. Her eyes darted around, like she was searching for someone. "I don't think that's an appropriate conversation to have here."
He smiled, though it made him look more like a snake than a human, ready to stretch open his mouth and devour his prey. "Of course. I apologize. I don't mean to pry."
"I do," Angela said. "How many more children are going to have to lose their parents before we do something about it?"
Carol blinked in shock, before her face hardened. "We? Angela, your father may have convinced us to tell our children about the supernatural, but that's as far as it goes. This is not a responsibility that the Council shares with you. You have no clue what we are doing to try and kill this monster."
She narrowed her eyes, genuine ire building up at being talked down to. "You're right. I don't. But if you told me, maybe I could help you kill it sooner."
"This is not a matter up for discussion. You're far too young to be worrying about vampires. I won't hear any more." She graced them with a tight smile, her gaze lingering on Damon. "It was nice meeting you. If you'll excuse me."
Angela watched her walk into the foyer, greeting a member of her husband's cabinet with a hug and a loud, musical laugh, so different to how she had been not ten seconds ago. Was there such a thing as an honest politician, she wondered.
"You're sulking," Damon said. Angela's nostrils flared with a sharp exhale.
"I'm too young to be worrying about the vampires that killed my mom and dad, but I'm not too young to be getting groomed by an adult. What kind of logic is that?"
"It's because I'm attractive." She turned to shoot him a heated glare, and in response he rolled his eyes. "I'm not bragging. People like her don't care about women being mistreated as long as the man mistreating them is attractive. She's disgustingly predictable, which is perfect for me."
That placated her some. "Is that mole real? Or did you draw it on?"
"You'll be hard-pressed to find someone with Mediterranean roots who doesn't have these things all over their body. Convinced her, though."
She pursed her lips. It would be painful to say it. It would be physically painful. But it would also be beneficial to the plan at large if she started making amends. "Well," she said sourly, "if you must know, I thought it was clever."
His eyebrows rose. "Did you now?"
"Yes. I thought kissing her hand was clever too. Assuming it was a calculated move and I'm not severely overestimating your brainpower, that is."
"It was." His smile was smug, and it grated at her soul. "You think I'm clever."
"I think something you did was clever. There's a difference."
"You complimented me," he goaded.
She sneered. "A decision I'm regretting already. And I think you can let go of my arm now. We look like we're either severely codependent or like you're my granny who can't walk straight."
He unwound his arm from around hers, surprising her when he didn't put up a fight. "You're funny. I didn't realize you were funny."
"Maybe because you were too busy choking me into hating you."
"Will you give that up already? It was one time."
Technically, that was true. He only properly choked her one time. But there was absolutely no way he thought that was the reason she disliked his company so much. "Sure," she said, her voice clipped. "When you give up your obsession with the woman that abused your baby brother."
He narrowed his eyes, silently warning her to watch her mouth. "Trust me. He enjoyed every minute he was with her."
"Did he? Tell me, when you sleep with human women, do you feed on them first and then compel them out of their fear? Do they enjoy that too? Do they enjoy having their ability to consent stripped away? If anyone ever did to my siblings what Katherine did to your brother, I would hunt them down and skin them alive. No matter their species. No matter my feelings for them. No matter how long it took or what I had to do to get there. So why did you stay in love with the woman that raped the young boy you tried so hard to protect from your father? Solve that mystery and then, maybe, you'll see me get a lot funnier."
She went to walk away, but his hand shot out to grab her by the elbow. Her heart leapt to her throat, not expecting to be pulled back towards him so suddenly. His expression was neutral—a mask for the people around them—but his eyes were blue fire, and blue fire burned the hottest. "You have no idea what you're talking about." His voice was quiet and still, and somehow that instilled more fear in her than it would if he were yelling.
She swallowed. "Don't I? Or are you just afraid that I may be right?" She tried to free her arm, but he wouldn't budge. "Let go of me, Damon. It'd be stupid to make a scene." Her next attempt proved to be just as fruitless, and she struggled not to grimace when his fingers tightened painfully around her forearm.
He didn't say a word, his gaze somewhere lightyears away— or ago. She had never seen him look like that. She had never seen anyone look like that. For a moment, she was so sure that he was going to snap back to reality and break her arm. Or no. No, he would make someone else do it, or orchestrate an accident so that he wouldn't have to deal with her anymore. Her heart was beating so hard that the blood in her veins began to vibrate, shaking her body from the inside out.
"Damon." That voice made her so weak from relief she wanted to fall to the floor. Harper's normally sincere smile was guarded, and he came closer. "It's nice to see you again. It's been a long time."
Damon turned his head towards him and blinked once. "Ah. Yeah. You. I remember you. You always followed Pearl around like a lost puppy."
Harper's lips twitched in displeasure. "Kind of like you and Katherine. You know she left us to die? Though the way I hear it, she left you to die too."
"Brought me back, actually, but nice try."
"You and your brother." He looked at where Damon's hand was wrapped around her elbow. "I may have been left to rot for over a century, but I still remember my manners. It's not polite to hold a woman against her will."
Damon followed his gaze, and seemed surprised to find that he was still hanging onto her, like the action had been completely involuntary. He slowly unwound his fingers from around her arm, allowing her circulation to go back to normal. He looked into her eyes, and it was like he was seeing her for the first time. He blinked again, finally coming back from whatever had taken hold of him.
Angela glanced around the room to make sure that no one was watching them. They weren't. Damon's actions must have looked far more subtle than they felt. She rubbed her arm in silence.
"I'm going to go find something to drink," Damon said.
"What about the sheriff?" Her voice came out childlike and small. She hated it.
"We have five hours. I can afford to find something to drink."
She nodded and let him leave. Harper approached her like one would approach a wounded animal. She hated that too. She hated being seen as weak by people who didn't truly know her.
"Are you okay?"
She drew a shallow breath. "Yeah. Thank you. For being my knight in shining armor."
"You seem like a nice person. You shouldn't be treated like that."
"I know. Meaning, I know I shouldn't be treated like that. I'm not sure if I'm a nice person."
"You've been nice to me."
"Give it some time. Maybe I'll ruin your life without even knowing it." He didn't respond to that, and she closed her eyes in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't wallow in self pity. Especially in front of other people. How are you? You seem to be adjusting well. I hear you're going to be our football coach."
"Yeah. It's been… strange. Anna's been helping me a lot. I'm not used to so many white people treating me this way."
She felt a twinge of anger in her chest. The thought of what he must have gone through was enough to make her furious if she dwelled on it long enough. "Things aren't perfect, but they're getting better."
"I know. I wonder what my sister would've said if I told her how much would change in a hundred years."
"Depends on her personality. Though my guess is she wouldn't believe you."
He chuckled. "Yeah, probably not. She never trusted as easily as I do."
"I didn't know you had a sister."
"Irene. She got really sick when I was a boy and passed away in the night. Pneumonia. No one could ever replace her, but when I met Anna and found out that she lost her siblings too, it felt like fate. I found a new sister in her. I would do anything to make sure she doesn't meet the same fate." So don't ever think about hurting her. It was left unsaid, but the way he was looking at her made it very clear.
"I understand how you feel. Everything I do, I do as a result of trying to protect my brother and sister." And if I have to protect them from you and yours, I will. He got the message too.
"The strongest motivator is usually love, isn't it?"
"And fear."
He inclined his head. "And fear. I think the principal of your school is somewhere around this place. I should go ask her about that position."
"Of course. It was great talking to you, Harper. I look forward to seeing you at school."
He smiled. "So do I."
He went out into the back yard, and she decided to try and find more familiar faces. Starting with her family.
She spotted Jenna and Jeremy among the crowd in one of the downstairs seating areas. Jeremy was talking to two of his friends from school—Fred and Derrick—and they shared a smile when he noticed her. On the other hand, her aunt was oblivious to her presence, continuing to not-so-subtly steal finger food from the buffet table and stuff it down her purse. Angela went over to her, the sight amusing her to no end.
"What are you doing?"
Jenna startled, visibly panicking at being caught red-handed, before she realized who it was and relaxed. She blew some hair away from her face. "Being that person, apparently. Don't judge. I haven't eaten since breakfast and rich people have amazing food. Do you think you can learn how to make these?"
"You could always give it a shot. Most of this stuff doesn't require any heat. Might not have to call the fire department."
"Yeah, yeah. It's good you're finally here. Elena's been getting edgier with every passing minute. Just so you know, as a psychology major, I feel the need to tell you that you're a little too dependent on each other."
She ignored that last part. "Where is Elena, by the way?"
"Think I saw her upstairs, hanging out with that Donovan kid. Don't tell her I said this, but I still think they look cute together."
She gave her a small, mischievous smile. "So does that Donovan kid. Have fun burgling the Lockwoods."
Jenna shoved a mini chicken wrap in her mouth and saluted. "Will do."
On the way to the staircase, she kept a sharp eye out for Stefan, but he was nowhere to be seen. It disappointed her more than she cared to admit, and she decided that he must be upstairs or in the back yard. Assuming Damon hadn't pulled a Damon and snapped his neck to keep him from coming. But what reason would he have to do that? Simple spite, for all she knew. Thinking about the decades of unresolved trauma between those two always made her head hurt.
The engraved railings were the same as they had been all those years ago and would likely be well into the future. The upstairs was less crowded, and when she peered through one of the open doors, she spotted Bonnie and Caroline chatting with a few of their fellow cheerleaders.
Caroline caught her eye and went to open her mouth, but Angela shook her head, silently saying that she was okay and that she didn't want to interrupt. Caroline deflated, but respected her wishes.
She heard masculine laughter come from down the hallway—familiar laughter—and followed it until she discovered Matt Donovan sitting next to her sister. Elena had clearly taken her quip to heart, and when she moved just right, Angela could see the half-empty bottle of champagne hidden behind her back. She could also see the slight flush on Matt's fair cheeks, and it didn't seem to be caused by any feelings he still harbored for her sister.
"Stick 'em up!" Angela said, bringing her hands together to form an extremely inaccurate gun. "This is the party police."
Elena calmly looked at her and pursed her lips so she wouldn't smile. "Oh no. I'm too young to go to jail."
Matt brought his hand up to stifle a laugh. "Hey, Angela. Long time no see."
The only real reason there had been a 'see' at all was because he was Tyler and Elena's friend. Not that he was bad company. They just never truly clicked, and she didn't want to add one more name to the list of people she had to protect. Or mourn if she failed.
She narrowed her eyes, staying in character. "What's your excuse, Donovan? Allowing my sister to corrupt you like this is beneath you."
He reached over and dug the bottle out. "A boring party and the druggie sister who decided to ditch it. Cheers."
Elena clicked her tongue. "Aaand that's how I know you're drunk. You start complaining about Vicki. But never mind. Angie, you're here. What took you so long?"
"My date was late picking me up."
"Are you serious?"
"Yup."
"Ugh. He is such a jerk."
"Yup."
"You came here with a date?" Matt asked, surprised.
"Don't read into it. Like, at all."
"Or question it," Elena said. "I've stopped questioning it."
That confused her. "You have? Since when?"
"Since now. I can't pretend to understand why you do some of the things you do, but we're sisters. We're supposed to support each other. And if you want to come here with a world-class jerk, the best thing I can do is be there if you need me."
"Wow. That's way sweeter than what I was expecting, considering you've been drinking alcohol."
"Eh, this stuff's not that strong. Matt's just a lightweight."
He snorted a goofy laugh. "No way, I drank you under the table that one time."
Elena's mouth dropped open in playful indignation. "Only because it was my first time! My tolerance is sky-high."
"Whatever you say, Elena," he replied, shaking his head and taking another swig of champagne.
"Anyway," Angela said. "I'll leave you two be. Try not to get totally wasted."
He gave her a thumbs up. "You got it, Mom."
As she grinned and began to walk away, she distantly heard Matt crying out before Elena giggled and said, "Enough. This is mine now. Drink any more and you'll get us in trouble."
The light streaming in through the windows had turned from golden yellow to auburn red, and she could see the electric blue sky reddening near the horizon. A flock of starlings swept in a great arc above the treeline that bordered the Lockwood property, drawing her gaze from the sky to the yard, where she saw Anna and Pearl mingling with the rest of the guests. After a moment, Pearl looked up and caught her eye. She raised her glass in a greeting, and Angela nodded in return, wondering if other vampires could sense whenever someone was watching them. It would be a lie to say it wasn't disconcerting, but she imagined it was an invaluable asset to have.
Light became shadow in the corner of her vision, and she turned to see who had joined her. At first she didn't recognize him. True, his face was the same, but his hair was different, and it made his face look different too. Like something out of a Renaissance painting. Where it was normally styled to provide volume, this evening it was styled back, with a few strands falling into his eyes and making him look more like his brother than ever. But his eyes were too soft, his eyebrows were too straight, and the natural upward curve of his lips was too kind. His suit was similar to his brother's too, but instead of a black button-up it was the color that same sky she had been gazing at would be in an hour or two, ripe with the promise of darkness.
He was examining her too, and she took an unreasonable amount of pride in how his lips parted and drew a shallow breath. He looked at her face again, his expression better suiting a young, lost boy than a century-old killer of the night.
The tension in her cheeks let her know that she was smiling. It would be impossible not to. "Fancy meeting you here." She was surprised at how low and seductive her words came out. His lips remained parted, before he remembered himself and brought them back together.
"I thought I heard your voice."
"You can hear more of it if you'd like. Seeds have been planted with Carol Lockwood, but Damon left me alone before we could talk to the sheriff. Not that I'm complaining."
"Did you get here safely? You were half an hour late."
"Were you counting the minutes?"
"Of course I was." The sincerity of his comment left her speechless. "I only came here for you."
She let out a quiet breath, ending it in a chuckle. "I'm sorry I dragged you away from the thrilling act of staying at home and writing in your journal. On the bright side, once the night is over, you'll have a lot more to write about."
He inclined his head with a playful smile. "That's true."
She looked back at the window; at the clear sky and the way the sun reflected off the grass. "The weather's too nice to stay cooped up inside. Not to mention, the air's cleaner out there. And the lights they hung up are pretty. Join me?"
"I would love to."
There was a path laid out in light grey tile, leading from the large patio to the gazebo and to the front of the house, making it so anyone traversing it had to witness the merit of the gardeners, and the way the landscaper Carol no doubt hired planted colorful flowers and verdant shrubbery. A fourth of the back yard was more a garden than anything, and exuded a pleasant, sweet scent to attract people and bumblebees alike.
It was down that path she led him, closing her eyes and breathing the fresh air so deeply she felt like she was a bumblebee herself, flitting about the sweet-smelling flowers. She let it out with an audible exhale, and opened her eyes to find that he was watching her. "I've always loved this place. Even before I became friends with Tyler. It's like being in a different world. Though I would know, wouldn't I?"
He smiled. "We had a garden like this when I was young. At my first home. There was a maze too, though it was totally decorative. Anyone older than two years old could see over it."
"What was it like? Growing up there? Or… here, I guess."
"Different. Very different. Things I spent my childhood thinking were normal, I grew up to realize were abhorrent. The way my father treated Damon. The way my father treated my mother. The fact that my father forced Damon to join the Confederate army because he was too much of a coward to do it himself, all so he didn't have to treat people like people and 'lose' any of his money. He thinks he was the only one affected by him growing up. My brother. The reason I never say anything is because compared to what he went through, I have no right to complain."
"That's not true. Trauma is trauma, and deserves to be addressed."
"Somehow I doubt he'll want to hear it. The way things are right now."
"You never know. Maybe it'll tear away some of the resentment he holds for you. If he thinks you didn't have to feel any of the pain he did, it might be the reason he's shutting you out so much."
He furrowed his brow, staring ahead in contemplation. "Maybe." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. You asked an innocent question and I…"
"No," she cut him off. "No, I don't want you to give me some fabricated answer because you think it'll please me. I want to learn about you from you. Remember? Not a group of storytellers that might not have even been telling the truth."
He looked at her, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. "Speaking of… I've been wondering about something. Did the actor playing me look exactly like me?"
"Why, how would you feel if he did?"
"A bit disturbed, to be honest."
She laughed. "Well, good news. He didn't. I mean, he did a little bit, but… he looked more like Justin Bieber than you do."
His eyebrows shot up. "Justin Bieber?"
"Mhm. But Justin Bieber when he's older, obviously."
"Huh. Wait, if you know what Justin Bieber looks like when he's older, does that mean you know who wins the Super Bowl each year? Or which stock markets rise and fall? Could you become a millionaire?"
"You want to know something terrible? I can't remember watching a single Super Bowl in my previous life. But Uncle John has been getting me stocks for my birthday every year since I was six, so investing in Google definitely paid out."
"You didn't watch a single Super Bowl?" he asked, surprisingly incredulous for his normally calm demeanor. "You weren't American, were you? Because if you were, that's probably a crime somewhere."
"I'm almost positive I wasn't, but if I was, I would be gravely offended," she teased. "Not everyone can be a sports nerd like you."
"No, it's not sports as a whole. It's just football."
"Still a nerd."
He paused and turned his entire body towards her. "Are you making fun of me?"
"Yes."
"Didn't anyone ever teach you to respect your elders?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, continuing to walk forward. "I'll get you a nice cane to make it up to you."
He was back beside her in a heartbeat. "You're lucky we aren't alone."
"Why? What would you do if we were?"
"September 17th. Thursday. School. Bonnie tickled you. You reacted. That's a weakness I can exploit."
She looked at him in surprise. "Wait, you remember that?"
"Writing down things that take place every day does wonders for your memory."
"Uh huh. And do you write about my potential weaknesses often?"
"I write about everything new I see."
She narrowed her eyes skeptically. "Okay. That's creepy." She said it more than meant it, but teasing him fuelled her.
"You just told me that the actor who plays me in a parallel universe looks like Justin Bieber, and you think that's creepy?"
"Super creepy. But don't worry. It's more endearing than it is off-putting. Still haven't figured out how you pull that off."
"Well, if it counts for anything, your spookiness is endearing enough already."
They continued like that until the blue of the sky was driven away by the reds and purples of the horizon, talking about nothing and everything, and she was once again shocked at how quickly time seemed to pass whenever he was around. As the reds and purples threatened to turn into the deep, dark azure of his shirt, she decided it was time to go back inside and find the man she had come here with.
He was still at the small bar downstairs, but he wasn't alone. Liz Forbes was sitting next to him and listening intently to something he was saying, interjecting every now and then when he would stop. Angela made sure her posture was perfect and smoothed out her dress in a motion that was wholly unnecessary.
"Damon," she said when she was close enough. "Sheriff Forbes. How are you?"
Liz smiled one of her standard tight-lipped smiles and nodded. "I'm working. How do you think I'm doing?"
"Oh, come on, Sheriff," Damon said, tilting his glass and making the alcohol swirl around. "You can have one drink, can't you? I promise the vampire won't attack you here." Angela nearly rolled her eyes. He would know, wouldn't he?
Liz shook her head. "You've known me not ten minutes you're already a corruptive force. Catch me when I'm off duty. Maybe then you'll have as much luck getting me to drink as you do hunting vampires." She gave Angela a stern, motherly look. "He told me about you two, by the way. I don't approve."
Damon pulled a face. "I think I'm perfectly lovely."
"You're too young to be forcing this responsibility on yourself. You could get yourself killed. Stop trying to throw your life away."
Angela crossed her arms. "You're the sheriff, right? And you're not a bad person. You're not unjust. You want to protect innocent people. Right?"
Liz wearily closed her eyes. "Yes."
"I want to protect people too. I won't be able to rest easy until I know that what happened to my parents can't happen to the rest of my family. They've been invited in, Sheriff. They have to die. If you won't help me, I'll find someone who will. I already have."
"You're in over your head. You're seventeen, Angela. You're a child. You're not even supposed to know that vampires exist. I'll never understand what possessed your father to make us tell our children."
Angela did. Blackmailing her own father by threatening to show his vampire torture porn mag to the entire town was not something she was proud of, but she did find it funny whenever she thought about it; in a disgusting, horrifyingly macabre way.
"Fine. Keep me out of the loop. But tell me, how come you haven't given your children any vervain spray? You know, like pepper spray but with vervain? Have you not invented it? Did the thought even cross your mind?" Liz opened her mouth, but she cut her off. "How is it that the Council has been wasting vervain for decades and a teenager who's not even supposed to know about vampires comes up with an efficient way to prevent compulsion? Have you ever thought about making vervain bombs? Vervain grenades? Vervain anything? Have you ever taken a vampire alive to test the exact length and width a wooden bullet needs to be to actually kill them? Have you ever thought about coating the barrel of your gun with vervain so that when that same bullet shoots out it packs an extra punch? How about—"
"Alright, alright, enough!" Liz put her hands on her hips, her nostrils flaring in anger. "I get the point."
"I want to help. I can help. Let me help."
"What do you want me to do? Appoint you Royal Advisor?"
"Letting me into the king's inner circle would be a start."
Her face twisted in disbelief. "You want to be part of the Founders' Council?"
"Why not? I am a member of a founding family, am I not?"
"You're a—"
"A child, yes, you said that already. But I'm a child that can help you. You and any future Council members. In less than a year I'll be eighteen. Eighteen. That is the age when you legally become an adult, isn't it? Less than a year is nothing. Why not let me start now? You can use all the manpower you can get."
"I don't approve."
"That's not your choice to make. Present my request to the rest of the members. Tell them everything I said. Then vote. Our country prides itself on its democracy, doesn't it? Make use of it."
Liz watched her in silence. She slowly shook her head. "You're John Gilbert with a pretty face."
The comment took her aback. Of all the people to be likened to… "John Gilbert has been wanting to train me since I found out the truth. If he's not here when you vote, make sure he votes right."
Liz glanced between her and Damon. "Look… I'll bring it up during our next meeting. But I can't make any promises."
Angela nodded. "That's all I ask."
"I just want you to be safe. You understand that, right?"
"I do. But keeping me disconnected from the rest of you isn't the way to do that."
Liz rubbed her forehead, wincing as if she were feeling the beginning of a migraine. "When did you become so willful?"
"When I found something to fight for."
Liz brought her hand down and set it on the bartop with a sigh. She scrutinized her for another long moment before pushing herself off the bar and walking away.
Angela finally allowed herself to relax, knowing that the night's mission was complete. Even if nothing came of it immediately, the seeds would be planted in everyone's minds. Progress was progress, and getting Liz to do a near 180 on her stance was definitely something to be happy about.
"You do realize you just made things harder for me," Damon said. "With all the inventions you pitched."
She slowly turned to look at him. "You're kidding, right?"
He rolled his eyes. "Obviously. That was strangely impressive. And… kind of hot."
"Never call me hot."
"What, am I not allowed to call someone hot as a compliment?"
"Never compliment me."
"Tough luck. That was hot."
"You're the worst person I've ever met."
He smiled with his teeth and drank the last of his drink. "I know."
She pursed her lips. "Are you going to apologize?"
"For what, calling you hot?"
"No, jackass, for grabbing me like that earlier. I didn't like it."
He shrugged. "You crossed a line."
"Crossed a line? By what, telling the truth?"
"By crossing a line. Things aren't as clear-cut as they seem from your perspective."
She frowned, sliding into the barstool beside him. "So tell me things from your perspective." He rolled his neck to look at her, his face blank. She huffed. "I'm not your enemy, Damon. I don't want to be your enemy. I approached you as an ally, and you made me your victim. Apologize and start treating me with respect, and we can put everything behind us. There's no reason we should butt heads."
"Or, how about we both go home and never speak to each other again? Liz agreed to give me a seat on the Council. I don't need you anymore."
"If you think that, you're an idiot."
He clenched his jaw, a scowl threatening to break through his expression. "And you're an idiot if you think I'll open my heart to you after a couple drinks. That pretty face Liz talked about might be working on my brother, but I'm not stupid enough to think that deep down, you're anything but a conniving, black hole who makes the people around you your pets and discards them when they no longer need your help."
Her legs went numb. No one had ever spoken to her like that. Not one person. Not ever. Her head spun, and tears blurred her vision. For a second, he looked hurt by the pain he must have seen on her face, but he said nothing to make things better. Why would he? He was the worst person she'd ever met. She swallowed, trying to keep the tears at bay and not make a scene, but they kept building and building.
Someone came up to them. Stefan. His face was hard as stone as he looked at Damon. He shifted his gaze onto her. Onto her trembling mouth and wet eyes. His jaw ticked. He held a hand out. "Dance with me."
She looked at it in confusion. Stefan hated dancing. She placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her from the barstool and into the middle of the large room.
The song playing was mechanically manufactured to be slow-danced to, and when one of his hands fell to her waist, they looked no different than the rest of the people dancing around them.
She was still struggling to stay calm, constantly glancing around them to make sure that nobody noticed how upset she was. She bit the inside of her lip, hoping that the pain would be enough to distract her and make her think of absolutely anything else, but nothing would work.
"Hey." He was frowning, his eyes as full of concern as hers were of tears. "Do you want some air?"
She nodded subtly, her voice coming out a whisper. "Please."
He let her go, and the hand that was pressed against her waist shifted so he could guide her through the crowd. He was a warm, solid presence by her side, and she tried to focus on him. His hand gently resting on her dress, his breathing pattern, the faint scent of flowers that still clung to him from their walk in the yard.
He led her out the front door this time, with everybody being either inside or in the back. He would seem to anybody else to be guiding her, but she was the one moving towards the marble fountain, the steady, solid feel of his hand on her lower back helping ground her.
As soon as she lowered herself onto the fountain, she grasped its edge and took a deep breath, smelling freshly watered grass and the strawberries that led to William Tanner's death. Beneath the sounds of the party inside, she heard the crickets playing their nightly orchestra, and if she focused hard, she could pretend that this was just another normal year in Mystic Falls. That she was a normal girl sitting next to a normal boy and that she was as calm as the crickets.
"I'm sorry," she said. Stefan sat down beside her. "I didn't mean to panic."
There was a beat of silence. "Are you sure that letting him roam free is the best course of action?"
She wanted to laugh. "You want to know something? I'm not sure about anything anymore." He said nothing to that. "At the end of the day, he's your brother. Whatever I think about him isn't nearly as important as what you do. If you think that attempting to punish him is the right thing to do, I won't stop you."
"Attempting to punish him or actually doing it?"
She slowly shook her head. "How do you always manage to focus on the right thing?"
"A skill I've honed for over a century. Give it some time."
'Time is an illusion, Stefan,' she wanted to say. Her eyes were no longer brimming with tears but they stung, and she let them close. "You might succeed in locking him up this time, but last time you tried, he murdered Zach and escaped. Trying to stop Damon from doing something rarely ends well."
There was a beat of silence. "Is that why you let him treat you this way? You're trying to protect Zach?" Something in his voice made her look at him, and it seemed as though the tears had transferred from her eyes to his. He was that lost little boy again, looking at her like she was something so foreign and heartbreaking.
"No. I let him treat me this way because I'm a moron who believes he can change. God, how stupid am I?"
"As stupid as me," he said. It got her to smile.
"Why do you believe me? About Zach. About everything."
He exhaled sharply through his nose; a tired laugh. "Because deep down, I recognize that that's something my brother would do. And… and maybe it's because I don't want to think otherwise. I don't want to think that the girl who saved my life and helped control my hunger and whose company I've grown to cherish so much could be doing it all to get inside my head. To make me trust her. I can't think about the possibility that that girl is trying to manipulate me. I can't do that. I can't do that again."
The more he spoke, the more he seemed to be speaking to himself, though she was willing to bet that his words affected her more than they did him. It was like he had dug his hand into her stomach and ripped out her insides, dropping them on the floor and pointing at them with a long, accusatory finger to make her look at herself. To truly look at herself. 'Again' he said. Again, after Katherine. The revelation hit her as badly as the revelation that she had died. She was just like Katherine, wasn't she? She wasn't like Stefan. She was like Katherine. She wanted to lie and manipulate to get her way, and she had almost decided to manipulate Damon into falling in love, just like Katherine did. Because no matter how badly she wanted to change and no matter how badly she fought against it, that kind of thing could never fully go away. But even still, she knew one thing for certain.
"I would never do that to you."
She hated the tears that finally spilled past the edge. She hated them with everything she had, because even though they were sincere, they felt cold and calculated. They could convince him that doubting her made her unbearably sad, and they could make him avoid speaking his mind in front of her. They could make him force himself to not think any thoughts that might displease her so he would never slip. Was her thinking this way manipulative regardless? He was beginning to look terribly worried.
"I'm sorry." She gave a light laugh, like she was mocking herself for being silly. "I don't mean to…" She gestured at her eyes. "I just… I…"
"Angie."
She closed her eyes and took a breath that was shaky, trying to calm herself down. Something brushed against her cheek. She saw that it was his hand, and it wiped a tear away before it could reach her jaw. He smiled sadly. "You're an open book, you know that?"
She pressed her lips tightly together, trying to put an end to the crying. "I just don't want you to think that you're not allowed to doubt me."
"I don't think that."
"Because you are. I want you to. I want you to doubt me and I want you to tell me that you doubt me. Because I want us to speak openly with one another. Because I cherish your company too, and I don't want to do anything to make you hate mine."
"You won't."
"How can you know that? You can't know that."
He wiped another tear away, his touch featherlight. "I can be pretty sure." There was a heaviness to his words, like there was something more he wanted to say but he felt it was too soon to say it. Part of her wanted to press him on it, but the rest of her didn't want to risk making him uncomfortable.
She took another soothing breath. "Have you always been this kind to people?"
"You of all people should know how unkind I can be."
"Everybody can be unkind. Not everybody can be kind. Not even people who were taught to be." She gently pried his hand away from her cheek, resting it on the marble fountain and squeezing it once. "You're so kind to me that I'd almost be worried if you didn't have murderous impulses."
That got a small laugh out of him. "So you would be worried if I was human?"
"If you were human we never would have met, so my opinion of you wouldn't matter."
"I guess that's true. I still don't understand how you can be okay with this. With me. With what I am and what I've done."
"I'm okay with what you are because I get what it's like. I've never been able to fully connect with the people around me, because I'm undead too. Maybe not in the same way as you are, and we have a different burden to bear, but I know how it feels to be a stranger in your own home. As for what you've done… I already told you. Your ability to wake up every day and fight the urge to do it again is what I admire about you so much. Why I was drawn to you in the first place."
"You were drawn to me?"
Her mouth opened and closed. "Well. Um. Don't you have to be drawn to someone to keep talking to them? At least in some way?"
She saw him trying not to smile. "I was drawn to you too."
"You were?"
"You're part of the reason I decided to enroll in the school."
"I am?"
"I wanted to know what kind of person could be strong enough to go through what you went through and still put the people she loves first. And I wanted her to know me too. Granted, I didn't know that she already knew everything about me."
She let out a small giggle, feeling the heaviness in her chest slowly dissipate. "Not everything. I don't know what your favorite novel is."
"The Great Gatsby. Hands down."
"That's a good one. You know they're going to make a movie adaptation with Leonardo DiCaprio?"
"Really? Is it going to finally win him an Oscar?"
"No. Should've gotten it all the way back in Titanic. What was that like? When the Titanic sank. How did people react?"
"I… don't remember much from that year. After March, at least. 1912 was the year I became…"
"Oh," she breathed. "I'm so sorry." 1912, she reminded herself to write in the bottle under the rock in the backyard. 1912, the year that Stefan met Sage and became a ripper.
He shook his head, his eyes no longer red rimmed and wet. "It's okay. I was that person. I did those things. They need to be remembered. If they're not, I might do them all over again. I just don't know if this is a good conversation to have right now."
"Yeah, no, you're right." Her next breath was easy to draw. She looked down at the fountain they were sitting on, running a hand over the smooth, cool marble. A memory made her smile. "You know, after Tyler and I became friends and I started coming over here all the time, there's always been a part of me that's wanted to get in this thing. Say a big 'screw you' to Richard Lockwood for being an ass to his son and ruin the sanctity of his marble fountain by jumping around in the water."
"I did that once. Got in a fountain." For some reason, him saying that like it was some big accomplishment made her laugh.
"Whoa," she said. "Someone likes to live on the edge."
He laughed along good-naturedly. "Would it help if I said I did it naked?"
She gave a giant gasp, covering her mouth like a demure lady. "No."
"Oh, yeah. Lexi was there. She still hasn't let me live that down."
She sighed. "Ah, Lexi. She's the best, isn't she?"
He adopted that pleasantly confused face he sometimes wore around her. Like he found her amusing in the oddest possible way. "Yeah, she is."
Her gaze wandered back to the mansion. There was nobody else in sight. Nobody but Stefan and the crickets. And there was nothing else in her brain other than the overwhelming need to do whatever the fuck she wanted. That was twice now, that she felt that need. The only other time she felt it was after they defeated Emily and opened the tomb. And both times were because of Damon Salvatore. At that moment, another thought entered Angela's brain. Fuck Damon Salvatore. And fuck Richard Lockwood.
She narrowed her eyes. "You know what?" She stood up and kicked her heels off, their silver lustre reflecting the moon amidst the plush grass. She needed no help mounting the fountain, and she paid no attention to the pair of green eyes she felt watching her. Glancing once more at the mansion and finding no one there, she carefully stepped into the water. It was warmer than she was expecting it to be.
The fountain was large and flat, with plenty of room for her to move until she bumped into the statue in the middle; a swan with its wings outstretched, its skyward facing mouth ejecting water as a child looked at it in awe. She wondered how the steady stream felt to the touch. She waded through the water and fanned out her fingers, placing them over the mouth. There was a second where she basked in the pleasantly ticklish sensation she felt between her fingers, before a sprinkle of water veered from its predestined path and sprayed the skin between her collarbones and dress. She stepped away with a surprised squeal.
A quiet laugh came from behind her. "Is it everything you hoped it would be?"
"Yes. It is. Although…" She moved behind the statue and wrapped her fingers around one of the wings, peeking at him like a timid water nymph. "It would make me much happier to have you in here with me."
He laughed again, this time breathlessly. "I'd have to go back inside soggy."
She rested her arms against the statue and her chin against her arms. "You can roll your pants up." He still looked unsure, but she figured that if he was willing to enter a fountain naked, he would be willing to enter one clothed. "Come on, Stefan," she teased. "You were raised a gentleman, weren't you? How can you deny a lady's simple wish?"
He stared at her a moment longer, undergoing a complex emotional process if his facial expressions were anything to go by. Finally, he sighed and removed his suit jacket.
She smiled in satisfaction and watched him get inside, his midnight blue button-up rolled up to his elbows, his black slacks rolled up to his shins, his feet bare. Once he was close enough, she went to cover the mouth of the statue in order to splash him as payback for laughing at her. He caught her wrist before she could and gave her a look that she supposed was meant to be reprimanding.
Inside the house, she heard the dying notes of a ballad as another one picked up. It gave her an idea, though it would be pushing things to a place she wasn't sure she was ready for. She was already pushing things, she realized some time ago. But at that moment, she didn't care. It was the first time since her parents' murder that she felt close to fully alive, and she never wanted the feeling to end.
"We didn't get to dance, you know," she said. "Not properly."
The tips of his fingers trailed across the wing's blunt edge as he moved to stand beside her. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"I don't know. What do you think I'm saying?"
"I don't really dance."
"Remember who you're talking to, Stefan. I know you have moves."
"We could slip."
Her jaw dropped in mock horror. "Are you telling me that one of the most powerful vampires I know is incapable of getting us to safety if we start to fall?"
He pressed his lips together so he wouldn't smile. "You're using my words against me."
"Not so fun when it happens to you, is it?"
He sighed, and though it sounded like he meant for it to come out long and disapproving, it was almost wistful. He offered her his hand. "Well then, Miss Gilbert, may I have this dance?"
She laid her palm against his. "You may, good sir."
He chuckled and pulled her close, his other hand falling to her waist. "Nobody said 'good sir'."
"I'm pretty sure they did."
"Never."
"Not even once?"
"Not even once."
"Darn. There go all my hopes and dreams."
He looked so carefree in that moment. It made her heart ache. "What are they, by the way? Your hopes and dreams."
"Honestly? At this point, the main one is to ensure that my family survives what's about to come. Beyond that… I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."
"You don't have any desires?"
"Oh, I have plenty of desires. I just don't have any dreams." Not anymore. "Although… maybe happiness is a good one. And freedom. To travel the world. To do anything I want. Yes. I dream of being happy and free all the time, forever."
"Not a bad dream at all."
"How about you? You've been around for a while. Surely there's something you want more than anything."
"I guess I want what I've wanted this whole time. My brother."
"That's not a bad dream either. And not hopeless. Even if it might make us stupid for believing so."
He didn't thank her verbally, but the hand that was splayed across her lower back lightly ran up and down the fabric of her dress. It made butterflies erupt in her stomach. "What's about to come? That your family needs to survive."
"I… don't want to talk about it right now. If that's okay."
"You're too polite sometimes. Of course it's okay."
"I've never been accused of being too polite. Besides, ladies are supposed to be polite, don't you think? Good sir."
He nodded sagely. "Well, in that case, allow me to treat you like a lady." He broadened the distance between them in order to pull her into a twirl, the water splashing up and licking her legs. The dizziness brought on by the spin made her laugh.
"See?" she said gleefully, crashing back into his chest. "I knew you had moves."
He chuckled. "Don't tell anyone. My reputation will be ruined."
"What, your reputation as the new, mysterious, loner guy?"
"More like the very old, mysterious, loner guy."
"Uh huh. Maybe I'll just tell people you're a vampire instead."
"You could," he said quietly. "I wouldn't stop you." That was a question, she thought, posing as a statement. 'Why haven't you?'
She gave the shoulder beneath her palm a gentle squeeze. "I would never do that. Not to anyone. Even if I didn't like talking to them as much as I like talking to you."
He opened his mouth, but something in the direction of the mansion caught his attention. She followed his line of sight, and her heart leapt in fear. A light had turned on upstairs, and she saw the dark silhouette of Mayor Lockwood pacing back and forth in his office. He seemed to be talking to someone on the phone and was definitely about to step out onto the balcony and spot her and Stefan desecrating his precious marble fountain.
She pulled away from him in panic. "We need to go. If he sees us, we're dead." If it was Carol they might have stood a chance, but Richard lacked all of the minute softness his wife held. Stefan jerked her towards him in a motion so quick it made her gasp, but when wind whipped at her hair and her mind went fuzzy she understood what was happening.
Her back was pressed against something hard and rough, and she blinked rapidly to focus her vision. She could still feel his hands around her waist, looser now, like he didn't need to keep them there but didn't want to take them away. His eyes were focused above her head and to the side, where she assumed the mansion was. The trees surrounding them were too dense for her to tell exactly where they were, but when she caught a glimpse of wrought iron fence, she knew that they were still on the property. A door creaked somewhere behind her, and a masculine voice that sounded like Richard's said something too distant for her to discern.
"Stefan," she whispered. "He'll see our things."
He shook his head. "Too far away." Like hell they were too far away. Her shoes were silver and shiny.
She turned to look behind the tree she was pressed against. "Are you sure?" Before she could expose her head, he took ahold of her chin and turned her back towards him.
"I'm sure he can't see our things, but if you do that, he'll be able to see you."
She gave a faint sigh. "How is it fair that you get to see him but I don't?"
His hand left her chin to move some of her unruly hair back in its place. "I'm sorry, who saved who here?"
"You saved yourself too. It doesn't count."
"Oh, is that how it works?"
"Definitely. Didn't they teach you that in hero school?"
A soft smile spread across his lips. "No."
The feeling of his fingers brushing her hair would have been enough to make her fall asleep if they belonged to someone else. But they didn't, and the more attention she paid to them, the more it felt like every nerve on her body was coming to life just to die all over again if it found he wasn't touching it.
His hand trailed up from her hair to her cheek, his thumb barely brushing against the corner of her mouth. She heard nothing but crickets, flowing water, and music as they stared at one another, all coming together to create a beautiful symphony of night. His thumb moved back and forth against her skin, and his eyes held something so tender and ancient in them they made her heart begin to pound. He's going to kiss me now. She was sure of it. He's going to kiss me and I'm going to let him. I don't know how I'll wake up tomorrow and survive knowing he could die, but right here, right now, my fear doesn't matter. Right now, he's going to kiss me and I'm going to let him.
"Well. Isn't this cozy?"
Damon was watching them from some ten feet away, his head cocked to the side as if the sight of them was something terribly interesting.
Stefan froze before pulling away, his skin no longer touching hers. She wanted to whine like a petulant child. "What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here, brother? Stealing my date is beneath you, don't you think? Oh. Wait."
Angela fought to catch her breath. "What do you want, Damon?"
"Your sister's accusing me of eating you. Which was annoying enough to make me come look for you." He examined Stefan's clothes, his expression morphing into one of incredulity. "Did you go swimming?"
Stefan glanced at the mansion and stepped away, letting her know that the coast was clear. "Come on," he said stiffly. "Let's get you inside."
Damon's eyebrows rose. "That's not a no."
Angela let out a sharp breath and breezed past Damon to put her shoes back on.
He grabbed her arm.
She gasped, feeling numbness spread from the skin beneath his fingers. She looked at him in shock, her heart beginning to pound for a completely different reason than before. Stefan took a sudden step towards him, his eyes wide.
Damon instantly let go of her, his face twitching like he was cursing himself. He looked her straight in the eye, the slight changes in his face evident of him fighting a battle with himself. Over what, she didn't know. He glanced at Stefan, then back at her. Finally, he grunted. "I'm sorry."
She stared at him, half in disbelief and half in expectancy. It was the beginning of an apology, but when the rest of it never came, her disbelief won. "That's it?"
He stayed silent, his mouth opening and closing a few times, like he had the words but they refused to come out. She scoffed, turning back around and making for her shoes.
"I'm sorry," he said again, as she was sitting on the edge of the fountain and putting them back on. "I shouldn't have said that. And I shouldn't have grabbed you. I'm an idiot. Okay? I am the idiot. I wanted you to hurt, and I made you hurt. And I know you probably don't understand what happened. And I'm sorry for that too."
She got up from the fountain and walked, stopping barely two feet away from him. He did seem ashamed, in his own weird Damon way. But right then and there, in the mindset he had forced upon her, she didn't care. Her hand shot out, her palm stinging when it struck his cheek like a whip. He took it, his head freely turning to the side and back to her. Satisfied he had nothing else to say, she turned around and made for the mansion, wanting nothing more than to see her normal, loving sister.
It didn't take long, finding her in the room Jeremy and Jenna had once been in. Elena lit up when she saw her, and hurried over to take her hands in hers. "There you are! Everyone else is already up in Tyler's room."
She furrowed her eyebrows. "Tyler's room? Why, what's going on?"
"Who knows? Bonnie just told us to meet her there. Are you okay? Your mascara's a little runny."
She took a second too long to reply, and she was so sure that Elena would figure it out. And if Elena figured it out, Tyler might find out and ruin everything by telling the Council. "I know. I forgot I was wearing makeup and rubbed my eyes. I'm tired as hell."
Elena shook her head with a smile, completely oblivious. "Well, we're going home soon anyway. Come on. Let's go see what the big deal is."
They reached his room in no time, the path engraved in both their brains, and opened the door to see near-complete darkness. "Whoa," Angela said, resting a hand against the doorframe to ensure she wouldn't trip. "What?"
She heard Tyler's snort, and followed the sound to the middle of the room. When she squinted and let her eyes adjust, she saw that he, Bonnie, and Caroline were all sitting on the floor, but they were just about the only things visible.
"I'm pretty sure we're about to join a cult," he said, amusement coloring his voice.
Bonnie hushed him. "Come on you two. Get in here."
Angela and Elena shared a look. Closing the door behind them, they staggered into the middle, until they found enough space for them both to sit down. Judging by what she had seen before and what she could feel now, they were sitting in a circle, with Bonnie heading it, closest to the window that overlooked the back yard.
"Are we allowed to ask what's going on, or will our benevolent leader sacrifice us to the Cow Gods?" Angela's comment made half the circle chuckle, and someone hit her arm. Someone who she guessed was Bonnie, as she was the one that spoke next.
"Oh, stop it." Her words were scolding, though she sounded like she wanted to laugh. "Okay. Now, since we're all here… there's something I want to show you. I've been wanting to show for a while—as soon as it happened, really—but I wanted to do it properly, and I wanted to do it better. And now I finally can."
"Bonnie, what…" Elena trailed off into silence.
A small flame had appeared on her right hand side. It flickered and danced, small and singular as the sun, low in the still black sky. Another flame, above the first. That one burned brighter. White. Like the moon. Another flame. Then another. Then five. Then ten. Then twenty. Stars. They bathed the room in orange light, creating shadows where there would normally be none, and coloring their surroundings like sunset.
Angela's eyes met Caroline's, which were wide in wonder. She covered her mouth, her blonde hair brushing against her bare shoulders as she turned her head this way and that. "Oh my God… Bonnie."
"Bonnie…" Elena let out a stunned breath. "This is… You can do that?"
Tyler frantically looked between the candles and the girls. "What the fuck?"
Bonnie burst out laughing. "I know right?" she nearly shrieked. There were tears in her eyes. Everybody's crying tonight. But these were tears of joy.
"Bonnie," Angela said, grinning wide. "You're a fucking witch."
Bonnie looked happier than she had ever seen her, and the sight was infectious. "I'm a fucking witch."
Elena laughed. "You're a fucking witch!"
"I'm a fucking witch!"
Tyler was shivering with adrenaline, though he seemed ecstatic. "You're a fucking witch!"
"I'm a fucking witch!"
Caroline squealed. "YOU'RE A FUCKING WITCH!"
"I'M A FUCKING WITCH, BITCH!"
Caroline and Bonnie brought their hands together and screamed, making the rest of them double over with laughter. The next minute or so was filled with various iterations of the battlecry, until they all calmed down enough to even begin to think straight.
"This is so cool," Tyler babbled. "This is so fucking cool and insane. This is insane. Holy shit, this is insane."
Angela laughed. She rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. "I think we need to give him another hour, guys."
"Wait, so, like, what can you do now?" he asked. "Can you set other things on fire? Can you set people on fire?" There was a pause. "Can you set me on fire?"
"Uh…" Bonnie's eyebrows were high on her forehead. "Do you want me to?"
There was another pause. "No."
Bonnie giggled, still giddy like the rest of them. "Well, I can tell you one thing I can do. I can wake up Grams."
"Do you know how?" Elena asked. "Is there like… a spell, or whatever?"
Bonnie frowned. "Felix said that the ancestor who put her to sleep should hold the key. But I don't know where to find it."
"That's Emily, right?" Caroline asked. "Or was it another ancestor?"
Elena nodded towards her. "It could be, right? If Ms. Sheila hurt Emily enough to where she couldn't cast the spell."
"You've been talking to Felix?" Angela asked stiffly.
Bonnie blinked. "I wouldn't say 'talking to'. We met once, so I could ask him about Grams and how to manipulate the energy around me."
"Please don't talk to him again. He gives me a really bad vibe."
She frowned. "If you say so. If we wake up Grams, I'll only need to talk to her anyway."
"Well let's hope that it's Emily who holds the key. Because if it is, I know exactly where to find it."
"You do?"
"Oh, yeah." Angela smiled. "Have I ever told you about the time me and your grams went grave robbing?"
Long after she explained that Emily's grimoire had been a crucial step in earning Sheila's trust so many years ago… long after she had gone home with her family… long after she had changed into her pajamas… and long after she had broken down on the bathroom floor, the day's events proving too much for her to take to bed, she stretched her arms above her head and felt a slight, residual ache in her elbow. Damon, on the exact opposite side of Mystic Falls, Virginia, sipped the last of his Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey. Alive.
On a scale of Rose to Kol, how badly do you want to hit Damon with an undefined wooden object? I'm a solid Season 5 Enzo. Still love him though. He's such a dick, but if you put some things in this chapter together, it makes sense that he would blow up like that.