Title: Wings of a Butterfly
Author: Traxits
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries (TV series).
Pairing: Damon Salvatore/Jeremy Gilbert.
Chapter Rating: Mature.
Chapter Content Notes: Violence, blood, character death.
Chapter Word Count: 3019 words.
Author's Notes: One more chapter! I promise.
[[ … Chapter Nine: Dying … ]]
"Ste-Stefan!" Jeremy coughed, forcing himself to stand. He clutched at the edge of the nearest table, and he blinked to clear his vision. Stefan looked up, concern in his face as he left Giuseppe on the floor across the room.
"Are you all right, Jeremy?" His voice was low, and Jeremy's eyes narrowed as he looked Stefan over. He was unusually pale, and there was a strain in his face that Jeremy didn't remember seeing before. He must not have completed the transformation yet.
Jeremy managed a faint smile. "My fault," he muttered, and he looked back to Giuseppe. The old man was leaning against his desk, staring, wide-eyed, at Stefan.
"You're dead," he whispered.
Stefan looked up from Jeremy, his eyes focusing at the sound of someone else speaking. In that moment, Jeremy realized that he was seeing a raw vampire, one freshly born with their instincts completely intact. Stefan had lost most of his societal trappings, and as he crossed the room, there was something strangely feral in his movements. He made Jeremy think of a stalking cat, and when he leaned over his father, licking his lips, Jeremy's breath caught in his throat.
"Not yet. I will be." But no matter what Stefan said, he was staring at Giuseppe's neck, entranced. Jeremy wondered if he was listening to the blood rushing through his father's veins, and purposely, he deepened his own breathing, trying to lower his pulse. Something told him that Stefan would be attracted by the beating of his heart.
"Where is Damon, Stefan?" Jeremy pitched his voice low, and Stefan didn't look away from Giuseppe, although his head tilted just a little to one side.
His voice sounded detached, almost bored, when he answered, "Damon's safe. We're both just waiting now."
Waiting to die. Jeremy shivered. It was something he understood. "What did you come here for?" He was genuinely curious, and he figured that the longer he kept Stefan talking, the easier it would be to get him out of the house. He couldn't quite remember, but he was pretty sure that Stefan killed Giuseppe. Jeremy wasn't certain he could stand any more death, given that his clothes were still slightly damp with Salvatore blood.
Stefan lifted his eyes, blinking slowly as he glanced back over at Jeremy. He frowned, his brow furrowed; it was like he couldn't remember. "I... I came to say goodbye to father. Someone shot me, and..." He stopped, held out a hand, and looked at it carefully, watched it tremble. "I just wanted to..." He looked up at Jeremy. "I didn't want to disappoint him any more."
"You've never been anything but a disappointment." Giuseppe took the moment to step away from Stefan, his hands shaking as he reached behind him toward the mantle. "That's why I shot you."
"Giuseppe, hush." Jeremy drew another deep breath, and he held out a hand to Stefan. "Ignore him, Stefan. You've done what you can. We need to go back and see Damon."
"You shot your sons?" Stefan hesitated, looking between both Jeremy and Giuseppe, and he slowly reached out to brush his fingers against Jeremy's. "Even in our death, he only feels shame," he murmured, and Jeremy felt his heart twisting in his chest once more. This night would never end, it seemed, and every time he thought he had gotten himself under control, something even more tragic managed to happen. He twisted his fingers around Stefan's, stepped a little closer to him.
"You don't need his approval," Jeremy replied quietly. He glanced at Giuseppe, saw him reaching for a cane propped up against the wall, and scowled. "Giuseppe, don't—"
But it was too late. There was a cracking sound as Giuseppe snapped the cane over his knee, and he charged Stefan, improvised stake in hand. Stefan held up his hands, shouting for Giuseppe to stop, and then, in a flash of movement that Jeremy knew he'd never be able to decipher, Giuseppe cried out. There was a terrible crunch, and then Giuseppe was across the room, facing the wall, and even Jeremy could smell the blood.
Giuseppe rolled over, and the stake was in his chest, below his heart but still fatal. Jeremy's mouth went dry as Stefan rushed over, pulled the stake out. Stefan was begging his father to let him help, even as Giuseppe was screaming for Stefan to leave him.
And for Jeremy, time seemed to slow the instant that Stefan saw the blood on the end of the stake. Stefan trailed his fingers over it, smeared the blood between his forefinger and thumb, and slowly, slowly, he brought one fingertip to his mouth. His eyes closed the moment it touched his tongue, and Jeremy blushed, biting his bottom lip. Stefan trailed his tongue down the entire length of his finger, and Jeremy shivered.
There was something strangely intimate about seeing it, about watching Stefan's reaction to his first taste of human blood as a vampire. He wore such an expression of sheer ecstasy that Jeremy was uncomfortable looking at him, and he averted his eyes to watch Giuseppe's growing horror. Stefan pushed the old man's hand away from the open wound, and Giuseppe's breath quickened, which only made the blood pump out faster.
Stefan's eyes darkened, and then he grabbed at his mouth. For a moment, Jeremy didn't know what was happening, then Stefan tilted his head back, tears in his eyes, and Jeremy caught a glimpse of the fangs. Just as suddenly, the pain seemed to fade, and Stefan looked back at his father.
Jeremy understood, in that moment, what Damon and Anna had each once tried to explain to him. Vampires could turn off their humanity, like a switch, and it must have been easier to deal with what they'd done. Stefan was a completely different person when he bent over his father, and Jeremy drew a deep breath, trying not to let himself watch. The noises— slurping and biting and these low, territorial growls— were bad enough. He closed his eyes.
When the sounds finally stopped, Jeremy's eyes eased open, and he swallowed at the sight of Stefan right in front of him. Stefan was breathing harshly, leaning forward and scenting Jeremy's throat, and Jeremy quickly did what he could to keep himself perfectly still under the scrutiny. Stefan drew back after a minute, a small smile quirking his lips. It wasn't the same Stefan— wasn't Elena's Stefan— that stared at him.
"Stefan," Jeremy spoke lowly, tried to keep his voice even, "we need to get back to Damon."
Stefan's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer to Jeremy. Jeremy didn't let himself move, although he could rapidly feeling his courage draining away. It wouldn't do him any good to die here, in the Salvatore household, when Emily wouldn't be there to send him home.
"Damon is dying, Stefan."
The black in Stefan's eyes receded at that, although he still didn't look... normal. Jeremy wondered if flipping off their humanity like that was a defensive mechanism, a way of coping with the horror that their new existence seemed to inevitably bring. Stefan would have been truly anguished over his father's death, and when he finally got control of himself, he would be. But that might not be for years. Jeremy swallowed, and he held out a hand.
"Let's go to Damon."
Stefan nodded, and he took Jeremy's hand before they left the house. Jeremy let Stefan lead, and as they walked through the trees, Jeremy did his best to cheer up. He hadn't screwed things over too badly, after all. Damon and Stefan were still both vampires, Giuseppe was still dead, and Katherine—
Well, he didn't know what had happened to her. Perhaps she'd gotten away, perhaps not.
Jeremy stumbled into the clearing, lacking Stefan's ability to actually see so well in the dark. Stefan didn't let go of him though, just kept him on his feet and pulled him over to the water's edge. When his eyes had finally adjusted to the moonlight sweeping across the lake's surface, Jeremy recognized Damon. It was strange, and he actually had to reassure himself that it was Damon.
"Brother."
Damon twisted around at Stefan's voice, and his eyes narrowed. He looked pale, even paler than Stefan had, and sickly. He was sweating, even in the cool air.
"What have you done, Stefan?" His voice wavered, and a fresh pain shot through Jeremy's chest. He'd never heard Damon sound so vulnerable, so uncertain. He started toward him, only to feel Stefan's grip on his arm tighten. Immediately, he went still; he didn't want to provoke Stefan into anything.
Stefan smiled, and Jeremy forced himself to focus on Damon's face, to look away from the creature wearing Stefan's face. "I brought you a gift, Damon. The ... the shaking, the pain? It's there to tell you that you need to feed."
"We agreed! This is meaningless, Stefan. Without..." Damon stopped himself, and he sighed. "You swore that you weren't going to."
"I went to see Father." Stefan held up his hand at Damon's frown, sighing slightly. "I know. There..." He hesitated, and Jeremy nodded.
"There was an accident, Damon," Jeremy said, and he did his level best to look supportive. Damon's eyes narrowed, and he sucked in a breath as he looked Jeremy over. "Not me. Giuseppe. He's dead."
"There was blood everywhere. And—"
"No; no, Stefan—"
"I brought you what you're needing, Damon." Stefan glanced down at Jeremy, leaning over enough to breathe in just by Jeremy's throat. Jeremy swallowed, and he bit his bottom lip. "You will feel better. You'll be able to think again. I can! I can think, I can see, Damon. Like nothing—"
Damon was sighing— no, no, Stefan— shaking his head, but he stopped when Jeremy shook his as well. "It's all right, Damon," Jeremy murmured, shooting a pointed look toward Stefan's grip on his arm.
Damon's back straightened, and he held out a hand. Jeremy breathed a small gasp of relief when Stefan pushed him toward Damon, and quickly, he folded up to sit beside Damon. He reached down and took off his shoes, letting his toes dip in the water. The coolness seeped into him, seemed to steady him.
He glanced over at Stefan, who looked content for now, although that was more likely to change the longer that Jeremy continued to breathe. Damon's hands lifted, and he pushed one of them into Jeremy's hair. His fingers rubbed a small lock between them, and he sighed a little more loudly. "You weren't supposed to be here," he said quietly.
Jeremy smiled a little, wondering if perhaps Damon knew, instinctively. Then he leaned forward into the touch, closing his eyes. "I brought you here, Damon." He knew that it wasn't what Damon meant, that Damon hadn't wanted Jeremy to see him like this, but he didn't care. He opened his eyes and glanced up. "I couldn't leave you."
"Should have," Damon replied, and for a moment, Jeremy wondered if Damon would kiss him again. Then Damon leaned back. "Doesn't matter. I'll be dead soon." He dipped his feet into the water, and Jeremy inched a little closer to him.
"Do you have to?" He bit his bottom lip, and he quickly looked out across the lake when Damon's head snapped toward him. "I mean, what if there was something worth being here for later?"
"What are you talking about?" When Jeremy didn't look back at him, Damon reached out and put his hands on Jeremy's shoulders. "Jeremy."
Jeremy couldn't ignore that tone, and he looked back at Damon. He gently dislodged Damon's hands. "There are things going on here. Things that you don't know about, Damon. There's a future planned—"
He gasped as he ended up on his back, staring up at Damon. He shivered at the weight of Damon straddling him, but he didn't struggle. He knew better than that.
"Katherine's dead, Jeremy. Any 'planned' future—"
"Planned was the wrong word," Jeremy said quickly, placatingly. He offered a faint smile. "But there are things in motion a lot bigger than you and a lot bigger than me and a hell of a lot bigger than Katherine."
Damon leaned down over him, and Jeremy knew his heart raced when he could feel Damon breathing, could feel Damon's nose so lightly touching his skin. A noise might have escaped him, but he couldn't be sure. He did know that Damon's hands worked their way up until they were buried back into Jeremy's hair. His eyes closed.
"How do you know what you know, Jeremy?" Damon's voice was low, right over his ear, and Jeremy shivered, his eyes squeezing a little more tightly closed. Damon's body was beginning to respond to the proximity, Jeremy could feel it. "You kept Katherine nervous, and I had to take this," Damon pulled back and held up the bracelet so that Jeremy could see it, "off. It burned."
"It's Vervain," Jeremy whispered, and Damon's eyes narrowed. Jeremy licked his bottom lip, still struggling to breathe, to stay as calm as he could. "It was to protect you."
"Not lucky at all, was it?" Damon leaned back down, the bracelet hitting the first just beside Jeremy's ear. "You knew. You're a liar, Jeremy." Then Damon's touch was gone, and Jeremy shivered at the cool air against his skin. Damon was looking back over the water, breathing more heavily than he should have been. Jeremy twisted around, tried and failed to locate Stefan.
He sat up very slowly, carefully, and he touched Damon's arm. When Damon didn't snarl at him, Jeremy grew bolder; he leaned against Damon just a little, reaching up to brush Damon's hair back from his face. Jeremy frowned at the heat he felt in Damon's forehead, at the sweat still coating Damon's body. After just a minute, he took off his jacket, bloodstains and all, and draped it over Damon's bare shoulders.
"Warming a corpse." Damon's voice was slurred, and Jeremy smiled faintly, sadly. All of the pieces had finally fallen into place, and he knew what he had to do. He looked up just long enough to make certain that Emily was still in the small house, and then he crouched down in front of Damon.
"You're going to hate me, Damon," Jeremy murmured, and he slid his palm across Damon's cheek. There was heat in the backs of his eyes— only once had he cried more than that night— but he kept the smile in place. He reached into the knife sheath on his back. He eased the knife out slowly, and Damon simply watched him, so listless that it scared Jeremy where nothing else ever had.
He bit his bottom lip briefly, bracing himself, and he lifted his eyes up to look at Damon as he laid the knife across his palm. "I've done this before, you know," he finally said, conversationally. He didn't admit that it was for a different vampire, under very different circumstances. "Although, this is easily the most selfish thing that I have ever done." He wrapped his hand around the blade and jerked it back, hissing as it sliced his palm open.
Damon's eyes widened, and he started shaking his head. But there was no where to go, and even with his extra strength, he'd waited too long. He was weak, barely holding on at all. Jeremy held out his hand, not pressuring any more than the scent alone would.
"I don't want you to die here, Damon," Jeremy whispered. "I need you to be here."
The scent of blood had brought Stefan back, and there was a low growl from Damon as he noticed his brother. Stefan didn't approach, but apparently, only his presence was enough to push Damon over the line. He took Jeremy's hand in his own, drew it up to his lips, and, keeping his eyes trained on Jeremy, licked.
Jeremy shivered, his lips parting, and slowly, as the Damon lapped the blood pooled in Jeremy's palm, the grip on his hand tightened. Damon snarled, and Jeremy cried out at the feel of fangs tearing into his skin, and when Damon looked at him again, his eyes were completely black. His Damon was gone. That made two of them that he had managed to lose.
He watched for as long as he could, trying to assure himself that Damon looked better, that there was color returning to his skin. The sweat dripped into the ragged wound on Jeremy's hand, and vaguely, Jeremy was aware of the slight stinging that accompanied it. He couldn't feel the actual cut though, and he was grateful. He dragged a deep breath into his lungs, and he reached out, touching the side of Damon's face lightly.
"I left," he swallowed back a soft cry when Damon's teeth sank deeper into his hand, "a letter—"
Then he couldn't focus, couldn't think beyond some small part of him that was wishing he'd cut his wrist instead. He was going to die from a wound in his hand. How lame was that? He might have laughed, but he wasn't sure. He heard Damon and Stefan both growling, Damon gathering Jeremy as close to him as he could, and then there was Emily, crying about something.
Jeremy wanted to tell her to go ahead, to cast the spell as soon as he died. There was no need to make Damon or Stefan one kill him a second time. But he couldn't lift his head, couldn't put enough air into his lungs to make the words. He was dizzy, his head swimming, and he thought for a moment that he might be sick.
Something velvety and black began to wrap around him, and he realized that he was dying. Dying slowly enough this time that he could really feel it. His body was shutting down, one part at a time, like the lights across an open room. He couldn't feel anything but cold. Cold and Damon's tongue against his skin.
And then he felt nothing at all.