When Elena gets home, her thoughts begin to coalesce around Damon again. Can she be with him fully knowing, even with his more humane snatch-eat-erase technique, that he's taking away a person's consent when he drinks their blood? She's grateful he doesn't have to kill people, but isn't she condoning his behavior by continuing a relationship with him? What kind of person does that make her? She's crazy for him, and it's so complicated. What the hell is she going to do?
Ric's admonition slams into her.
It's all an illusion...
As much as she wants to be angry, the reality is that this was always going to be the result, whether today, next week, next month, or next year. She has been fooling herself thinking that she could have a romance with a vampire. Frustrated, she pulls a Seagram's cooler out of the refrigerator and takes a long swallow.
Elena doesn't want to deny her feelings for Damon, strong ones at that. Maybe their relationship will lead nowhere in the end? She's been so wrapped up in him- the way he brings sunshine to an otherwise cloudy day- she's never even considered what a future with him might look like. Would he want her to become a vampire? He's told her a little about the mechanics of becoming a vampire; is that something she would ever even consider?
Suddenly she's knocked on her ass, overwhelmed by the finality of what becoming a vampire means. If they're to build something lasting and not this short-lived romance, surely he'd want her to stay young and beautiful through eternity. Maybe she's getting ahead of herself here? They've never talked about anything but 'now', so maybe she shouldn't make waves? Still, she knows how she feels. Elena can't help but wonder if he's felt that touch of magic too?
When the doorbell echoes through her house, she's snapped out of her reverie. In times like these, she thinks she should invest in a security system so she can see who it is, pretend she's not home if she wants. Instead, she has to rely on a peephole.
Speak of the devil...
Damon's winking at her through the peephole. She opens the door but only a few inches.
"Something wrong?" he asks. His brows draw together as he looks at her.
"I don't feel good; I don't want you to get sick."
"Elena." Damon steps in closer, "I'm a vampire, I don't get sick."
"I didn't know."
"Now you do. I could go to the store, make you some chicken noodle soup?" he offers, his lips curling into a smile.
"Damon, it's Las Vegas. No one wants soup when it's 115 outside," she replies drolly.
"Would you rather I bring popsicles or ice cream?"
"No. Actually, Damon, I want to be alone tonight..." Elena forces a smile and steps back to shut the door.
"Are you sure nothing's wrong?" he asks, grabbing the door before it closes.
"Positive," she says. Without meeting his eyes, she snaps the door closed. She watches him depart while hiding behind the curtain in the front window. Elena knows she'll have to face him sooner rather than later. She intends to ask him about using the mind control thing on Elijah. But for tonight, she can try to put it aside and not think about him...
Who is she kidding? How is she not going to think about Damon Salvatore?
"Sheila Leigh Walsh married Allen Blackthorne in 1982 and had two daughters, Stevie and Daryl. Their divorce was not amicable. Each accused the other of abusing their children. Sheila went on to marry Jamie Bellush in 1993 and had quadruplets two years later. They moved to Sarasota, Florida, to escape the constant surveillance of her ex-husband.
Blackthorne was unhappy with his divorce from Sheila. He began to harass her after she won custody of their children. When the Bellush family moved to Florida, he tracked her down using a private investigator. Blackthorne wanted to hire a man to beat Sheila up. He asked Danny Rocha- a golfing acquaintance- for help. Rocha was allegedly motivated to carry out the crime when Allen told him that Sheila was abusing Stevie and Daryl. Rocha contacted Samuel Gonzales, who introduced him to his cousin. Jose Luis Del Toro agreed to do the attack for $14,000.
On November 7, 1997, Del Toro traveled to Sarasota, Florida, in a car registered to his grandmother. He stopped at a gas station to ask for directions. On his way to the home's address, Del Toro was spotted by a neighbor. That man memorized the license plate number, an act which would later lead directly to his capture.
When Del Toro arrived at the Bellush house, he broke in and observed Sheila with her children. In an interview with police before his conviction, he told them that he saw how caring she was. He was about to leave, but Sheila saw the open door. When she noticed him, Del Toro shot her in the face with a .45 caliber handgun and slit her throat in full view of her toddlers. Her body was found a few hours later by 13-year-old Stevie when she returned from school. The quadruplets had been walking around in Sheila's blood, leaving small bloody footprints all over the crime scene.
Jose Del Toro fled to Mexico after committing the murder. He was extradited to the US in July 1999. He pled guilty to first-degree murder and armed burglary charges in 2000. Circuit Judge Paul Logan gave Del Toro two consecutive life sentences, the maximum penalty for both charges. In a plea bargain, Sammy Gonzalez pled guilty to conspiracy to commit murder in June 1998; he was sentenced to 19 years in prison. Danny Rocha opted to go to trial instead. He was convicted of first-degree murder in January 1999; he received a life sentence.
Allen Blackthorne was convicted of federal charges of interstate conspiracy to commit murder and interstate domestic violence. He received two concurrent life sentences without the possibility of parole. In 2001, Blackthorne was nearly killed during an attack by a prison gang. Afterward, he was segregated from the general prison population. Blackthorne died on November 18, 2014, at the federal prison in Terre Haute, Indiana.
Ann Rule details Sheila's story in "Every Breath You Take: A True Story of Obsession, Revenge, and Murder". This book is especially interesting because Sheila, the murder victim, had asked that her family request Ann to tell her story should she be murdered. Consequently, the family offered Ann a tremendous amount of information as a way to honor Sheila's wish.
I'm Elena Gilbert, and this is 'Someone Knows Something'."
As the following days stretch into a week, it's painfully obvious that Elena is avoiding him. Why? Damon doesn't know what he could have done. Is it just the fact that he's a vampire? The very thought is painful. He hasn't felt this way about any woman since Katherine. And now, being with Elena, he has to wonder if he really did love Katherine Pierce? Or was it merely infatuation that he conflated to love?
Everything's happened so fast between them. Perhaps Elena needs some time? He can't leave just yet, not with some psycho vampire on the loose, killing random women in Las Vegas. What if Elena were to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Damon threads his fingers through his hair, trying to come up with a reason for the distance that has cropped up between them. Sighing, he retreats to the bathroom to take a shower. Maybe the hot water will help him relax?
When he steps out, Damon stops in front of the mirror and wipes the fog off it. Taking a look at his freshly-showered self, he studies his reflection, a reflection that- aside from his hairstyle-has not changed in over a century and a half. He can't help but wonder if maybe that's what's gnawing at Elena. After a little grooming, Damon gets dressed. Deciding they need to talk, no matter what the outcome, he leaves his hotel room determined to get some answers.
Elena's initial idea had been to embrace the decision to distance herself from Damon. Still, she cannot deny that she misses him something fierce. A few days have turned into a week; her heart still yearns for him. Not having Damon in her universe has shaken her to the core. Never did she believe the pain would cut this deep, and he's not here to swoop in to make her feel better.
She wraps her arms around her middle, hugging herself tightly. It's a futile gesture. She can't hold in all the thoughts that are threatening to burst out. Sometimes it feels like her heart's literally been yanked out of her chest. The only reason it hurts so bad is that she let herself fall in love, head over fucking heels.
Until now, Elena could never comprehend her mother's pain when her dad left. Miranda buried that part of herself. She was never really the same afterward. Now Elena understands only too well the pain her mom felt.
If not for her job, Elena doesn't know what she'd do with herself. Her house feels like a giant sucking void. Pleasure-filled memories of Damon jump into her consciousness when she least expects.
She needs a distraction. She's about to sit down for a little research when she hears a firm knock on her door.
Stepping out of his car, Damon stares at Elena's house for a few moments, sucks in an unnecessary breath, trots up the porch steps, and raps firmly on her door.
"Damon?" she opens immediately, somehow knowing it's him. "What are you doing here?"
"We have to talk. I need to know what's going on with you?"
"I suppose it's time. Come on in." Elena steps aside, allowing him to pass.
"You want to tell me what I did? Because, until yesterday, everything was fine..."
"I was at the police station the day you talked with Elijah. I saw you use that mind trick on him. Why would you do that if you have nothing to hide?" Elena asks, her arms crossing over her chest.
"That's it? That's why you've given me the cold shoulder for a week now?" Damon asks incredulously, raking his hands through his hair. He stares at her and thinks about what she means to him. He had risked swimming for the light- Elena's light- for that's who she is. And, at first, she'd joined him in this wonderful abyss...but now? Fearing where this may lead, a visceral pain begins to prick at his insides.
"It's more than that, Damon. But, please, I want an answer." Elena replies, brushing her palms together.
"I didn't kill those women. How many times have I told you that?"
"Then why wouldn't you answer Elijah's questions without feeling the need to compel yourself out of being a suspect?"
"I told him that I had nothing to do with the killings. I've repeatedly told you the same thing. It's painfully obvious that you don't trust me."
"I know you've told me repeatedly. Why didn't you just get up and leave instead of using your mind juju-thingy on him?"
"Because he wasn't going to stop. Now let me ask you a question. Do you really want the police wasting their time with me when the real killer is still out there? I didn't kill any of those women; I refuse to be considered a suspect. And if I had killed them, I'd have had a smorgasbord," he fumes.
"Do you really have to be so flippant about it?"
"Why not? It's nothing I haven't done before," Damon shoots back.
He watches Elena's eyes widen at the confession. She stammers, "Y- you…You can't do this, Damon. Not in this town. Not around me."
"Why is it suddenly so important?" Damon demands to know.
"Because I don't want to think about you like that," she snaps back.
"Like what? A monster? Sorry to disappoint you, Elena, but last time I checked, I was still a vampire!" he rants, his hands tightening into fists.
"I guess I wish that you didn't have to act like one!" Elena sighs, sucking her lower lip into her mouth.
"I'm not human. How about you stop trying to turn me into one?" Damon lashes back and storms out, slamming the door so hard behind him that the picture frames rattle against the wall.
"We're not open for another hour!"
"I don't care!" Damon shouts back, collapsing onto a barstool and cradling his head in his folded arms on top of the bar. The clang of pots and pans echoes from the back of the pub followed mere seconds later by a thundering voice that commands his attention.
"Who are you? And why shouldn't I have you thrown out of here right now?" the dark-haired woman threatens. "You think you can just waltz in here! What makes you so goddamn special?"
Damon steeples his fingers beneath his chin. "I'm supposed to meet Ric Saltzman. He told me to walk in."
Lucy huffs, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed, glaring at him. "Wait 'til I get a hold of him!"
"How about a drink?" Damon asks, waggling his eyes.
"I still don't know why I shouldn't throw you out?"
"Because I'm charming, handsome, a loveable rogue...bourbon please?" he prods, smiling like the Cheshire cat.
Rolling her eyes, Lucy wheels the ladder to the bourbon section. Damon watches as she shuffles a few bottles around, finally latching onto the Angel's Envy.
"Do you have any snacks? Peanuts? Pretzels? Anything?"
She sets the bottle and a glass on the bar in front of him. "Don't push your luck," Lucy counters, folding her arms across her chest as he pours himself two-fingers worth. Ignoring her for the moment, he closes his eyes and takes a long draught of the bourbon, savoring its sweet and spicy oak-tinged finish as it burns a path across his tongue and down the back of his throat.
"Damon, I told you to meet me here at 5; you're early," Ric grouses, drawing his brows together.
"Waltzed right in and said you gave him permission," Lucy grumbles, "so I gave him your bourbon." She raises her chin defiantly.
"You what?" Ric's eyes snap to hers.
"You heard me." Lucy narrows her own on him.
"Tell me why I put up with you?"
"Because I'm you're goddammed partner," she cackles.
"Yeah. Yeah." Ric rolls his eyes. "Can you give us a little privacy now?"
"He's the one who came in uninvited!"
"It won't happen again," Ric responds, placating her.
She glares at him for a minute. With a huff, she disappears behind the kitchen's double doors.
"What did you want to see me about?" Ric reaches over the bar for a glass and takes a seat beside him.
"I made a quick trip to LA to show Lexi the picture. Quite honestly, you couldn't identify Mickey Mouse with the quality of that photo."
"Why Lexi? Do you have a hunch it could be Stefan?" Ric asks while filling his tumbler.
"The thought crossed my mind. Lee and Lex convinced me otherwise. I watched him die, Ric!" Damon emphasizes.
"How did it go with Lexi? You two are like fire and gasoline."
"We tolerate each other for Stefan's sake. We touch base when the mood strikes." Draining the rest of his bourbon, Damon caps the bottle, pushes it aside with his empty glass. Boosting himself up and over the bar, he returns the bottle to the spot Jo took it from.
"You know we have a bar flip for that, right?" Ric gripes.
"Where's the fun in that?" he shrugs, waggling his eyebrows. "Do you have a stake in this place or something?" Damon abruptly asks.
"I do. Lucy and Jenna are best friends."
"Do I get to meet her, Jenna I mean?"
"Nope! I told you I don't want her anywhere near the things that go bump in the night. She's blissfully ignorant about the supernatural and I want to keep it that way. Now, why don't you tell me the real reason you wanted to see me?"
"It's Elena. We had a fight, but that's not the point. The point is, I'm in love with her, and that drives me crazy. I'm not in control."
"I know what happens when you're not in control. You better get some real fast because if I suspect you killed someone, I'll lock you up and let you desiccate," Ric warns forcefully, raising his glass to his lips. "What did you fight about?"
"Duly noted...And, no, I haven't killed anyone. Elena happened to see me compelling her cop friend," Damon explains, raking his hand through his hair.
"Why would you do that?"
"Detective Mikaelson was questioning me about the murdered girls. I had nothing to do with it and I'll be dammed if I'm going to be a suspect. Plus, while they're wasting their time on me, the real killer is probably already planning his next attack."
"I'm not going to run interference for you with Elena. I warned her about vampires. If she wants to be with you, that's her decision to make. If not, I expect you to respect her choice and get out of Dodge..."
"You have my word." Damon raises his right hand to mock swear. "I need to run. Thanks for the drink," Damon calls to Lucy when she pokes her head out.
"Let me know when you leave." Ric calls over his shoulder.
"Will do," Damon hollers behind him as he ducks out the door
Elena parks her car. She runs to the scene, having heard the 420 come over her scanner. Goosebumps erupt on her skin as she approaches the dark and desolate alley. Although she's no stranger to crime scenes, they still give her pause. Buried amongst the greasy chicken bones and soggy half-eaten pizza, lays the cold, lifeless body of what appears to be a young woman in her early twenties.
The mutilated body, tossed away like a worn-out rag doll, leans near the bottom of the drab, olive-green dumpster, rusted out from years of leaking garbage bags. How had she come to be here? One shoe appears to be missing. The other has the heel broken off. Perhaps she did struggle to save herself?
Across the alley, barely visible among the debris is a baseball bat. Is that what was used to end the life of this unfortunate woman? During early evening until closing time, any screams coming from the alley would have been drowned out by the patronage inside the pub.
An unseasonable downpour has all but washed away any footprints the killer might have left behind. With it comes the humidity, causing steam to rise from the oil-slicked pavement. Elena watches the forensic technicians slowly and methodically scour every inch of the alley. They're looking for any trace of evidence the rain and the killer may have left behind.
The alley- with its dark shadows- is home to all kinds of strays. From the malnourished mongrels to the vagrants passing through, they're all looking for a place to spend the night. Within days, the only thing left to show a murder has been committed here will be leftover pieces of crime scene tape.
Elena gets as close to Elijah as she can without crawling under the yellow tape barricade. "Do you know anything, Elijah?" she calls aloud, waving her hand in front of her face at the overwhelming smell of decomposing flesh.
"Elena, hi," he grumbles and lifts his mask. "Put this on." He hands her a mask from his pocket.
"Well?"
"Megan King is what the DL says; however, she's been here a while, and the body's in an advanced stage of decomposition. We'll need dental records or DNA to confirm her identity," Elijah elaborates.
Elena looks around, a little surprised that Damon's nowhere to be seen. If he is here somewhere, he's doing a damn good job of keeping himself hidden. She can't think of him now; she has a job to do. "Anything else you can share? If not, I'm leaving before I puke." Elena's stomach roils under the stench that permeates the very air they're breathing.
"My gut tells me she's another one of his victims. But we won't know for sure 'til we get Rebekah's autopsy report."
"I'm so sick of this Elijah." Elena shakes her head despondently.
"Go home. Call me tomorrow. I may or may not know more." Elijah slips his mask back on and returns to his forensic analysts. Elena watches him for a moment before departing. When she reaches her car, she looks back just in time to see someone duck into the shadows. Fearing for her safety, she quickly jumps in and speeds away.
Damon stays out of sight, losing himself among the throng of morbidly curious onlookers at the scene of yet another kill. With his visual acuity, he catches a glimpse of a red rose and broken fingernails. She struggled to save herself.
Vampires like to toy with their victims before moving in for the kill. Their hearts race. Adrenaline floods their veins, enhancing the taste. Damon snaps out of his musing when he hears her voice. Not wanting to be seen, he retreats a little further but keeps his focus on her voice.
Only when she leaves does Damon step out of the darkness.
Having played the avoidance game for the last week himself, Damon decides that he needs to know where he stands with Elena. He hops into his Camaro, determined to get an answer. When he arrives, he marches to her door and pushes the doorbell- hard.
It doesn't take long for her to appear. "Damon, what are you doing here?"
"We need to talk," he announces as he pushes past her to go inside.
Elena takes a deep breath. "I've got some coffee in the kitchen." After pouring a cup, she slides it to him and picks up her own, taking a swallow. "What is it that you want, Damon?"
"Are we going to let this distance between us grow and fester? Or are we going to do something about it? I care about you, Elena; I know you feel it, too. Do you want to throw this all away?"
She keeps her eyes focused on the ring he wears. "I can't do this anymore," she says softly and sucks in a deep breath.
Damon's eyes narrow. "What did you say?"
"You heard me- everything is amplified- that's what you said. And yes, I feel it, too, deeply, and as much as I want to continue to explore it, I can't do this anymore. I just can't."
Damon's fists curl inward, and he narrows his eyes. "God damn it, Elena, you're willing to let one encounter with Detective Mikaelson wreck this thing we have?"
"It's more than that, Damon," she refutes, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
"I don't understand what started the snowball's slow slide down the mountainside? Our chemistry is insane...I think I love you, Elena." He pauses at her slight gasp. "What suddenly has you so spooked about being with me?"
"I think I love you, too," she admits, "but there are other things to consider."
"Such as?"
"I don't want to be a vampire," she replies.
"Have I ever brought that up? No! I haven't! If that's something you decide you want at some point, then we can talk about it. I would never force or pressure you to make a life-changing choice like that. Do you really believe me to be that selfish?"
"I'm going to get older, and you're going to stay the same- sinfully handsome and forever young," she lashes back at him.
"Vampirism is not a choice to be made on a whim. What kind of man would I be if I asked you to die for me?"
"No, it's not that," she pleads with him while wringing her hands.
"Just so you know, Elena, young or old, you'll always be beautiful in my eyes."
"I want children someday, Damon. Can you give me that?"
"No," he answers tonelessly. Stepping close, he raises her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look into his eyes.
"It's over, Damon. We're done." She steps back but doesn't shirk away from his stare.
For a millisecond, Damon has a comical look on his face as if his insides have been kicked out. He quickly regains control of his emotions. She is the most precious woman in all the world. The one he truly loves, the one he cherishes. There are times when loving someone means that you have to walk away. He knows he can't be selfish with her. If that means he has to compel away his presence in her life, that's what he'll do.
"You know I can help you forget... At least the memories you don't want to keep," he offers.
"No! No compulsion. I want to remember. All of it. All of us," she answers without hesitation.
Damon reaches out to stroke her cheek, his touch lighter than a butterfly's wing.
"No, Damon..."
"Shh," he says softly and instead of kissing her on the mouth, his lips brush her forehead.
"Goodbye, Elena," he says softly as he turns to go...
Already feeling the visceral ache of loss, Elena closes her eyes until she hears the front door slam shut. Only then does she collapse to the floor and pull her legs against her chest. Tears fall unbidden and sobs wrack her body at the gravity of what she's done.
Hi everyone! It's DE, they have to have a bump or two ;)
Thank you all again, you're the best.
Thank you to Eva and Morgan.
Chapter title: 'Is This Love' by Whitesnake.
Take care and have a wonderful day. 'Til next time...