Title: Wings of a Butterfly
Author: Traxits
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries (TV series).
Pairing: (eventual) Damon Salvatore/Jeremy Gilbert.
Chapter Rating: Teen.
Chapter Content Notes: Mild references to violence.
Chapter Word Count: 2866 words.

[[ … Chapter Five: Drifting … ]]

Jeremy lay awake, staring up at the ceiling. He was exhausted— keeping up the pretense had been easy enough in the trenches, but only because no one had really been interested in anything beyond surviving the next attack. In the Salvatore house, Jeremy had to be careful of everything, had to make sure that his manners were what would be expected, had to make sure that anything unusual he said could simply be explained away as a turn of phrase. However, no matter how worn out he was, he couldn't sleep.

His room was directly above the study. And he could hear the shouting, hear Damon trying to shush his father, trrying to remind him that they had guests, but Giuseppe was beyond that. He'd been drinking since early afternoon, and whenever Jeremy saw him, he always seemed to have a glass of brandy or whiskey or whatever it was that he drank so heavily from.

It was a little surreal, given that most of the times that Jeremy had seen Damon, Damon had been the one holding the glass, swishing the alcohol inside around so absent-mindedly. That had been in 2009 though, and here, in 1863-soon-to-be-1864, Damon rarely drank anything at all.

Jeremy stood at the first crash, reaching for the jacket Damon had found for him. He couldn't lay there and listen to another night of it. He crept out into the hall, stopped for just a moment at the top of the stairs, and when a hand fell onto his shoulder, he jumped, biting his tongue to keep from shouting. He glared at Katherine, who had a small smile on her face before she quickly shifted into a concerned expression.

"Is everything all right?" She sounded genuinely worried, and Jeremy stared at her, realizing that she was probably getting information about the Salvatores. She was new in town, after all, and she would need to know everything about the family that she could exploit.

He hesitated, then smiled warmly at her. "Of course, Miss Pierce. Did they wake you?" When she nodded, Jeremy glanced back toward the study door. He heard a second crash— probably another glass thrown into the fireplace. "They'll settle down soon. You can go back to bed."

Katherine didn't move though, only crouched down to sit just beside Jeremy on the top stair. "Will you wait for him?" She looked up at him through Elena's eyes, and Jeremy couldn't let himself look at her. He drew a deep breath before he nodded. Katherine could hear his heartbeat, could smell the emotions surging through him. He was well aware of that simple fact.

"I will. Go on. Everything will be fine."

Something in her face shifted at those words, and she leaned a little closer to him. He fidgeted, but he couldn't pull away from her without triggering questions that he didn't want to answer. "Miss Pierce?"

"You are such a good friend, Mr. Gilbert." She smiled widely, and Jeremy realized vaguely that she was flirting with him. It was there in the way that she tilted her head to look up at him, there in the way that she reached out and lightly touched his wrist. He couldn't stop himself then; he jerked his hand away from her, standing and stepping down a step, just to put some space in between them.

Her smile faded a little then, and she slowly stood as well, her eyes narrowing sharply. Quickly, Jeremy gave her a bland smile of his own— he was getting better at those.

"Miss Pierce, my apologies, but... You look like my sister." He laughed as quietly as he could, reaching up to rub his hand over the back of his neck. He drew a breath when she stood, and she leaned in to look at him, her pupils narrowing to pinpricks.

Jeremy felt a chill run down his back, he had the briefest memory of Damon sitting beside him, telling him that everything was for the best, and he stood perfectly still. He was pretty sure that she was going to compell him, and he was thankful for the Vervain that he'd stashed in the pocket of the jacket.

"Jeremy," she said lowly, reaching out to brush her fingers over the front of his shirt. "You won't remember this."

"I won't remember this," he repeated quietly, careful to keep his breathing as even as he could. He had never seen anyone being compelled, but from the satisfied nod she gave him, he figured that he had guessed the reaction correctly. He didn't move until she disappeared down the hallway, and then another crash from the study and the door flew open.

Jeremy quickly stepped back into the hallway upstairs, and when Damon stormed by, he reached out and grabbed his arm. Damon spun around, but the anger faded once he saw who it was. Jeremy reached up, one eyebrow raised, and wiped some of the blood from a small cut just under one of Damon's eyes. Damon offered him a faint smile, and Jeremy sighed before he dragged Damon back into his room.

They had medical supplies there thanks to the need to change Jeremy's bandage, so he pushed Damon down to sit on the bed and started wiping up the blood. There wasn't as much as there could have been, and truthfully, by the time Jeremy leaned back, Damon was sagging against him, practically asleep already. After just a moment, Jeremy peeled off Damon's boots, sighing as he noticed the glass stuck in the bottoms of them.

"I hate him," Damon muttered, slamming his hand against the pillow with less force than he probably intended. Jeremy put a hand in the middle of Damon's back; he didn't move it, just let it rest there, and Damon turned over after a minute, so that Jeremy's hand rested in the middle of his chest.

Jeremy folded one of his legs under himself and sighed, leaning back. "I know," he replied quietly. For what it was worth, he wanted to say, Damon would get away from Giuseppe. For that matter, the man didn't have much longer to live. But he couldn't say those things, couldn't let himself slip up that badly. "It's funny," he realized outloud, and he had Damon's attention, so he continued the thought, "My... friend back home fought with his father. All the time."

Damon's eyes narrowed, but he didn't interrupt.

"And the man was a real jerk. He'd belittle his son in front of everyone, practically hit him right there." Jeremy propped himself up with one arm. "Then he died, and Tyler... He just looked so lost at the funeral. Not because he missed his father, but because he didn't know what to do without that constant there anymore."

"Is this one of those, 'deep down, you really love your father' stories, Jeremy?" And there it was, the Damon that Jeremy knew. He grinned at the disbelief written over Damon's face.

"Oh, hell no. Your father... he's a piece of work. I think a lot of people will feel safer after he's gone." Jeremy shrugged.

Damon snorted, but a faint smile touched his face as he pushed his hands under the pillow under his head. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Lot of people."

Giuseppe would be in a mood the next morning, and Damon wouldn't be much better. Jeremy brushed Damon's hair back and watched him drift off. He sat on the floor, back against the bed, for the rest of the night, just feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him. He had to get back home, had to before he lost control of himself and started changing things. He was pretty sure that he'd already changed a few things, but nothing that would be truly terrible.

He wouldn't let himself think about every time travel movie he'd ever watched.

By the time the sun rose, he was grateful. Damon was curled up on his bed, fresh scratches on his face and hands, but he looked peaceful enough. Jeremy sighed, pulled his jacket back on, and headed out toward the maze in the back. He crossed the yard, realizing only then that they hadn't set an actual meeting place.

"Mr. Gilbert."

Apparently, that didn't matter. He turned around and offered Emily his most charming smile. She only arched an eyebrow, clearly not impressed with it. He supposed that after living with Katherine for any amount of time, one did cease to be impressed with charm. Instead, he offered her his arm, and they headed out, away from the house.

"Miss Bennett," he finally said, only once he was certain that Katherine wouldn't be able to hear them. She stepped away from him, tilting her head back expectantly. "Look, I wouldn't ask to speak to you like this if it weren't important."

"What exactly did you need to speak with me about?" She folded her arms over her stomach. "And it's not about any daughter. I can feel the magic on your skin."

Jeremy licked his bottom lip, unable to stop himself from glancing at his arm. "Is it noticeable?" He frowned. "Like, to people who aren't witches?"

Emily studied him for a moment, and then she sighed. "No. Who spelled you and why?"

"Your... Your grand-daughter." He laughed a little sheepishly, and when her lips pursed, he held up his hands. "Honest. Well, I think she's like, five grands down from you, but still. She was practicing your teleportation spell. You wrote it down in your journal?" He pressed forward, encouraged by the way she shifted, concern in her eyes. "It didn't work quite the way we thought it would."

Emily rubbed her upper arm, casting a quick glance toward the house. "No one knows that I have a journal," she finally murmured. "Not even Katherine."

"Good. Keep it that way. I just want to go back home, Emily. I'm not here to... do anything. I just want to go home." He leaned back against the nearby tree, sighed, and looked up to the sky. "I'm so tired of lying to everyone here."

"You're from... the future then?" Her frown deepened when he nodded. "I can't break the spell," she finally said, and she held up a hand before Jeremy could protest. "I've been feeling it out since I met you. It's... It is still writing itself, and I can't cast over the spell that's holding you here. My apologies."

"There's nothing at all that you can do? Are you saying that I'm stuck here?" Jeremy slid down to sit in the pine needles. He hadn't really considered the fact that she might not be able to break the spell. He had just assumed that, since she was so powerful, she could do anything.

She knelt down beside him, lightly touching his arm. "I can't right now, no. I can keep an eye on you though, and perhaps I can think of something else to do instead." A very faint smile touched her lips. "I can feel her," she said, and for a moment, Jeremy wasn't sure what she was talking about. "She's so strong."

"Bonnie? You can feel her through the spell?" Jeremy's eyes widened. "Can you tell her to stop?"

Emily looked up at him, and then shook her head. "No, it's not like that. I just... I can sense her. It's not like a connection that I could communicate through." She patted his arm— he supposed it was meant to be comforting. "She must have put too much power behind the spell. It wasn't supposed to do this."

A faint grin curved Jeremy's lips. "I might have baited her a bit," he finally admitted. "Provoked her into proving herself."

"Never a good thing to do with a witch," Emily retorted, and Jeremy nodded.

"Believe me, I know that now." He started laughing. "If I ever make it home... Well, I won't bait her like that again." He sat there until she stood back up. She dusted off her skirt, and she studied him for a moment more.

"I will watch this spell, Mr. Gilbert. You have my word."

Jeremy smiled, and he must have looked pretty pathetic, because she reached out and touched his cheek lightly. He pushed himself up to his feet, nodding. "Thank you," he said, and then she was looking toward the house once more.

"I have to get back."

He nodded again and watched her go, leaning his head back against the tree. He stayed there until the cold was too much, and then he finally headed back in. He walked into his room just as Damon rolled over and reached up, rubbing at his eyes blearily.

"Where were you?" he muttered, and when Jeremy shucked his jacket over the bottom of the bed, Damon touched it with his foot before he shook his head. "Outside? Really? It's too early for that."

"Ready for breakfast? Gotta face the world, Damon." Jeremy purposely kept his voice cheerful, and he pushed a hand through his hair. He was flushed from the cold air outside, and he didn't want Damon asking too many questions about his little trip. He didn't have a suitable cover story yet.

Damon groaned, pushed his face back into the pillow, then sighed and crawled out of the bed. They both headed down to the kitchen. Neither of them cared for eating with everyone else, so Cook already had their plates set aside. They ate in the dining room, well aware that Giuseppe and Stefan and (now) Katherine would be eating either in the breakfast room or their private chambers.

They were walking back upstairs for Jeremy to fetch his charcoal and book when Damon finally asked, "What do you think of Miss Pierce?"

Jeremy closed his eyes briefly, and then he shrugged as he gathered his things. "She seems nice enough," he said carefully, and he smiled a little at Damon's snort.

"Nice enough? Really? She's beautiful."

"Is she?" Jeremy flashed Damon a grin. "I have a sister who looks similarly, so perhaps that's clouding my judgement."

"Oh? I should meet this sister," Damon shot back quickly, and then they were laughing as they headed down the stairs into the sitting room— Jeremy's favorite room to draw in— Jeremy quickly reassuring Damon that no, he was not to meet the sister that looked like Katherine.

"You're not her type anyway," he had just said when they stepped into the room. He felt his amusement fading. Stefan and Katherine were already sitting in there, one of his notebooks in his lap. Katherine offered them all a wide smile.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully, her eyes raking over Damon. Jeremy felt himself bristling, uncertain as to why. It wasn't like Damon was his to be defensive about, and somehow, seeing her flirt with Stefan didn't spark the same reaction in him. He had been chalking that up to the simple fact that it was like watching Stefan and Elena.

"Morning, Miss Pierce," Damon replied, just as warmly as she had. Jeremy simply smiled, his hand tightening around the small tin with the charcoal. "Are you spending the day with us?"

"Only if you'll have me. You will, won't you? Have me?" She batted her eyes, and Damon exchanged a grin with Stefan.

"Anytime you like."

Jeremy was pretty sure that Damon was thinking of entertaining Katherine in a completely different manner than what they were really talking about. Then it occurred to him that that was probably what had attracted her to Damon in the first place. He took to her word games with complete ease.

"Jeremy was going to draw some. Would you like to see? He's quite good." Damon looked back over his shoulder toward Jeremy, raising an eyebrow. Jeremy shrugged a little.

"I'm passing fair," he finally said, but there was no way out of it. He took a seat on the small settee beside Katherine, and he opened the sketchpad— he had previously folded all of the pages with sketches of someone other than Damon so that he couldn't embarrass himself in this sort of situation. She ooh'ed and ahh'ed over the pieces, the way any lady of the time might have.

Had she been anyone else, Jeremy would have enjoyed the praise much more. Instead, when she touched his arm, he felt his skin crawl. Finally, when he turned to a blank page, she scurried across the room, taking up a seat across from him.

"Draw me," she said, tilting her head down a little, giggling to herself. "I was planning on having my portrait taken, but this is so much more fun."

Jeremy hesitated, glancing up at Damon. At Damon's nod, he finally put the piece of charcoal to the paper and started. He kept telling himself that it was Elena, sitting across from him with that warm smile, that it was Elena who came over and exclaimed so happily over it.

She pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, and he blushed briefly before he reminded himself that it wasn't Elena. It was Katherine, and she was there to further her own agenda. The rest of them were all expendable.