The day I chose to give in to a demand that I should have known was inappropriate, I worked hard to think of how to include my stipulation. How could I, with the power within me, create my own life partner? Obviously the family that had lost one son to the wolf-men I had created were grieving, and wanted knowledge that I could ease that grief, and add to their own power against the culprits. I wish I could say that I thought long and hard about this demand. I could say that I considered disregarding the very notion that these mere humans could order my appeasement to their whims.
I didn't. And that, even as I sit with your father reading across from me as I am writing this down, compels me to admit that I should have truly considered the future. This family wasn't trustworthy. Not only to me and the village that welcomed me, but amongst themselves they were not open and forthcoming. The first two sons of this family were obedient and showed their familial loyalty easily. Then came the mother's shame, a son born of her lust for the very beast that killed her youngest. The following three, son, daughter, son, also easily obeyed their familial bonds. It was the son, that shared no blood with the mother's husband, that should have given me a much needed pause.
I wanted, so much that I convinced myself it was necessary to my continued existence, a partner. Humans, even those that had been gifted with strength and power, were not similar enough to me that their company satisfied my needs. This demand, of something more than wolf and witch, made me think that my power, which I was far more knowledgeable in the use of could finally be useful to giving me my own gift.
Looking back, as anyone can tell you, will do nothing for the present. I cannot take the gifts back, and given that way the Earth and its inhabitants have adjusted to my gifts, I suppose I wouldn't want to. I only wish, given the cleared sight of looking back, that I could clearly see that this family could be the very end to the world as we know it.
Jessa was reading through the journals, looking for any type of explanation for the thought processes that her mother used to "gift" humans with curses that created far more issues that answers. Damon was sleeping beside her, in the bed at her house for once. She'd insisted that they both needed a break from the constant stream of invaders of the boarding house, and he, showing the first signs of exhaustion she'd ever seen in him, agreed.
Taking a break, she turned her head to study him. She was always taken back by how innocent his face relaxed in rest. She wasn't ignorant of the things he'd done during the time they'd been apart. Jessa knew he'd killed people, innocent people. She knew that, unlike her, he hadn't spent his time in celibacy either.
She couldn't find the basis to blame him for these actions. Not only was it simply a part of his journey, which twisted and turned until they came back together, but it shaped him. If she, as her mother had written, looked back with the hindsight of knowledge, Damon hadn't been without blame even during his mortal years. Nor, if she was truly honest, had she been growing up. This belief that he needed somehow to seek redemption was ridiculous.
Redemption. Jessa had heard Elena, now that she could hear clearly at a distance that even shocked Damon, multiple times use this word to try to validate her repeated dictates on the need to find Stefan. Elena used it to try to warp Damon into seeing things from her perspective. She dangled this belief in redemption, and the theory that he in some way lacked in his being the necessary humanity that would somehow rush to him upon freeing Stefan from the Ripper he'd become. Jessa felt there was a word that worked for this theory and ploy: manipulation.
Elena, in a cloud of beautiful humanity and innocence, believed that she was pushing toward reuniting with her true love. Jessa, the bystander, and to be honest unafflicted by her charms, saw it as far similar to Katherine. The outcome may be different, as were the tactics, but in honestly the manipulation was clear.
What Jessa couldn't answer, and she wasn't finding any help in her mother's journals, was how the doppelgänger could use this, even without the power of compulsion to get anyone take her words and move toward action? It almost seemed, that while Damon had the harshest pull, the whole damn town saw Elena as some sort of prodigal child. The one who could do nothing wrong, and had only the very best qualities. It was strange. Then again, perhaps Jessa's vision of Elena was marred by the very knowledge of what Katherine had been capable of and thus wasn't giving her the benefit of the doubt. Afterall, she had lost the only parents she knew in a very traumatic fashion.
Jessa gave a quiet sigh, and felt Damon shift next to her. Before she could apologize for waking him, his arms had pulled her toward him. His lips, even in his half-conscious state, sought hers. She gave in willingly, loving the feel of his lips taunting hers into a dance that she'd only learned and yet, she hoped was excelling in. Before she could pull away, he did, and looking down into her eyes, he smiled.
"Hey, you," he whispered, giving her nose a little nudge with his. "How long have I been sleeping?"
She smiled back, reaching up to push his dark hair from his eye. "A few hours. Are you hungry?"
His grin became a little more predatory. And his eyes darkened. "Very." He answered, and his lips crushed against hers in a more heated kiss. Her mouth opened under his attack and their tongues touched. A low moan escaped from her throat, and he pulled back again. He gave a heavy sigh, and pulled her toward his chest as he sat himself up against the headboard.
Jessa knew why he sighed, and why he'd pulled away. This couldn't be permanent or even guaranteed until they knew that the obsession that Damon felt for Elena was handled. She sighed heavily too. They still weren't entirely sure what precautions they could take to make sure a mini-Jessa didn't result in going to far, too soon. She gave a dark chuckle and looked up at his confusion.
"Who knew that you'd be the voice of resistance and reason in the bedroom?" She said, widening her eyes. His answering smile assured her that they were still ok, if frustrated.
He gestured to the journal that had fallen to the side of the bed. "Anything helpful yet?" He asked, hopefully.
"Nope." She said, pulling the book into her lap. "I wish you could read the damn thing. It's like 'dear diary' for my psychotic mother who wants to relive how important she is to human-kind." She glared at the book, but opened it up to where she'd left off. Sadly, no one aside from herself could actually see the damn writing. She actually wished she could share the absolute boredom that came from knowing that her mother sat somewhere, only doubting one "gift" she gave.
"How far have you gotten?" He asked, seeing only a book on her lap, with blank pages facing him.
"Well, aside from the 'gifting' of you know curses on three different supernatural species, I've learned how she controls her powers. Hers are more confusing? I don't know how to really explain it. Maybe because she created witches, the powers channel more easily for me? For once, I suck at explaining things." She threw her hands up in defeat.
"Show me," he said, kissing her hair. "Give me a demonstration of how your powers are easier to use."
She smiled, knowing that he was once again distracting her. She turned around, so she was facing him, and took both his hands. "OK, so you know how my mom seems to work with sending visions? I think I can do something similar, yet a little more focused."
He raised an eyebrow, and pressed his hands against hers. "Then show me."
"Trust me?" She asked, swallowing hard. He nodded and smiled. "I'm going to show you the first time I died." His smile disappeared. "It'll be fine, Damon, I just want to show it to you. Remember, I'm right here, holding your hands."
Suddenly he was in her childhood bedroom in his family's home. He could see her sleeping, and watched as she woke to a dark house. As he watched, she reached for a book on the beside table and lit the lamp. She settled against the headboard and opened the book, but he could sense her stiffening with some knowledge and she sat down her book.
"Miss Pierce, if you have something you wish to discuss with me, I suggest you do so before I am loud enough to have you removed."
He watched as Katherine stepped from the open window, and glared down at the memory of the girl he'd left behind during the war.
"What is it about you that all these people love?" Katherine hissed. "You're not that pretty. You're far too small all the way around. And yet, they give you the position of lady of the house. It doesn't make sense."
His eyes never left Jessa as Katherine stepped closer to the bed. He knew that she was in such danger, and yet, he was absolutely riveted to the scene before him.
"You know, I can make you tell me." Katherine whispered. Jessa, so small, yet so strong willed still refused to answer. He watched as Katherine sat upon her bed and looked deeply into the light green eyes that he loved so dearly.
"Tell me why you are so important to the Salvatores." Katherine whispered. Jessa laughed. Damon's heart clenched, both with pride for how strong she was even in the face of such clear danger, and also because he knew that Katherine would never abide being laughed at.
"Don't laugh." Katherine ordered, a little less sure, but still maintaining eye contact.
Jessa giggled more, and said, "Does that ever work?"
Katherine stood and clenched her fists. "Yes, unless, are you on Vervain?"
Vervain, Damon had forgotten about what Jessa answered, "No, I'm allergic."
Katherine sucked in a breath. "You're one of us?"
Jessa looked at Katherine like she'd lost her senses. "Am I insane? No. I'm not whatever the hell you think you are. I just happen to get hives when I'm near Vervain."
She watched as Katherine paced her room trying to make sense of what had occurred so far. Damon, even without knowing from the things that Jessa had told him about the past, knew that this wasn't going to be easy to witness. He watched as Katherine stalked toward her. "Fine, I didn't want to have to do this so early in the game, but I suppose your death will give me a better foothold here."
Jessa's eyes went round. Katherine was going to kill her and Damon was helpless to watch, just as the woman sitting across from him in reality had been. Katherine was on her, ripping at her neck with her teeth. As Damon heard Jessa's quiet gasp at the pain of Katherine's teeth cutting through her throat and the sound of her precious blood gushing, there was a gasp, and then a gag.
Katherine had fallen back as Jessa was clutching her bleeding throat. Glaring at Jessa, she began throwing up black bile, and cursing the young girl who lay upon the bed. "What are you?" She gasped as the last of the bile came out.
"Jessica Warren." Jessa whispered, and Damon heard the first hint of her fear. Katherine rose, slightly unsteady, but with death in her glare. A flash and Katherine was upon her. He heard the snap of the throat that he had the pleasure of touching daily, and the scene went dark.
He pulled his hands away from hers gently. He needed a moment to collect his feelings, the powerlessness of watching someone he knew he couldn't live without die at the very hands of someone he allowed ultimate power over him. His anger raged, and he wanted nothing more than to find the bitch and truly end her. How dare she kill, not knowing that it wouldn't be final, the one person that made Damon's life worth living. He looked down at Jessa, grabbing her hands with his and stared at her as his anger was released.
"I'm so sorry," he said, his eyes tearing up. "That it happened, that you were alone. Most of all, that she's still breathing air that could be used by someone much more worthy."
Jessa, reached up and wiped away a tear that escaped his eye. "I didn't show you so you could feel miserable, Damon. I wanted to show you that because of that moment, and what it lead to for both of us, we're HERE." He fell forward and laid his head in her lap. As her fingers stroked the silk of his dark hair, she continued. "You, Damon, and I had to find ourselves separately. How, if we hadn't, would we KNOW without any doubts that we're right for one another? I know we're holding off and I know why. I just need to you know one thing: You don't need redemption, Damon. The very fact that you have made mistakes and yet, you're still the man I remember, that tells me that you're just as human as you were then."
He started to speak, but she shushed him. "No, I could give a shit about what the rest of this God-forsaken town thinks, Damon. I've never lied to you, and I won't start now. You are, and have always been, the man I will hold others to measure their humanity. Many, including your brother pre-vampire and therefore pre-ripper, are found wanting."
Damon smiled up at her, and slowing ran his hand through her hair. With a speed that neither even noticed any longer, they were in each other's arms. Kissing the very breath from one another, they fell back onto the bed, and clasped together fell into a peaceful sleep.