Cynthia held her breath and counted to ten to resist the urge to swing her shovel against Damon's thick skull. She knew that Damon probably had trust issues that required seven league boots to traverse, but come on. Throw her a bone here.
"Do you have any idea how agonizing it is living through the slow path of a story you already know? It's like waking up on January first knowing your Christmas presents three years from then. And every other birthday and holiday."
Seriously, she had made and thrown out over a dozen plans. Mapped people she needed to talk to, how to get a hold of them, events she wanted altered, the whole shebang. In the end, it was just a mess of utter boring that Cynthia didn't want to touch. There was nothing wrong with a normal day to day life, a house with doors and carpets, and a mortgage or roommates. Except for the part where no one in Mystic Falls could really safely live a 'normal' life.
Beyond even trying to plan for the future, it was seriously mind numbingly boring. When you watch a show, it skips over all the tedious bits between plot and drama. Now, Cynthia had to live through it. Rewatching episodes is bad enough if you're not interested in rehashing the story – news flash: she wasn't – but this idling interim was driving her slowly mad. There was so much new and alien to her, and so very little joy.
Settling for a compromise with herself, Cynthia scooped up a shovelful of dirt and then flung it at Damon's clothes. That may or may not have set off a playful tussle that was not precisely productive in terms of digging up Giuseppe. But details.
By the end, both dimension traveler and mistrustful vampire were dirt covered and laughing. Cynthia stole a hug in a moment of rest. If he hadn't caught that she liked and trusted him from her actions so far, more words weren't going to help.
"Stefan didn't make any shirty comments about vervain or something, did he? Because if he did, I'm going to soak him in a vat of it."
Damon smirked at that. "Well, now I feel almost obligated to say yes."
Whatever had caused the flare up of jealousy, insecurity, distrust, or whatever had been hounding Damon, he clearly did not intend to share.
Cynthia rested her shovel on the ground again as Damon stared at her.
"If I have to go to school one more day this week, then there will be chaos and mayhem. And then Elena will be upset since she only approves of drunken fun. Then Stefan will brood, and Jenna will get involved, and I would just rather avoid all of that. Soooo, can we go dig up Daddy now?" She tugged at his hand, grinning with her tongue tucked between her teeth. "You can tell him how his beloved, bigoted Confederacy lost the war. Although, give it a decade or so and who knows where America will be."
She might almost prefer vampires if their future presidential candidates were more promising. Then again, world and life ending chaos on a massive scale wasn't precisely comparable, was it? They say history repeats, so maybe it will all be more of the same anyway.
"If I'm still here when all of the dust settles, so to speak, you should take me to Europe. We could have a ball," Cynthia babbled aimlessly. "Even if you do find Katherine. I'm sure she won't begrudge one favor, do you?"
Damon looked amused, she could just tell by the flickering electric torch light. "Do I even want to ask?"
"Only you can answer that question," Cynthia said solemnly. "Now, you, find me his stupid gravestone so I can dig up the correct dirt. I'll get started. You can get another shovel and a carton of eggs. Grave robbing waits for no man."
He was too far out of the light to be properly seen, but she did catch a choked question. "Eggs?"
"Mhmn," Cynthia nodded in response to his query, ignoring his piercing gaze again as best she could. "I did say we were going to desecrate it. If anyone asks, I blame Tyler."
Because he was a complete douche who had a thing against Stefan. Kind of weird, all up in arms about his bestie's ex girlfriend but has noooo problem whatsoever banging said best friend's sister.
Did Tyler have a thing for Elena?
Because that would be hilarious.
Maybe it was just an anti Gilbert sentiment.
Cynthia's musing kept her occupied as they moved on. Literally, Damon had finally started to lead the way. For a small town, the cemetery was appropriately large. Cynthia set her pack down next to the tombstone and rested the light on top to give as much light to the area as it could.
Feeling his eyes on her again, Cynthia looked up. "Do you wanna vamp speed this done? Or are you going to go and get yourself a shovel and help me out here?"
"Sorry boss," Damon could fake contrite unnervingly well. "I'll get right on that."
"See that you do," Cynthia repressed the urge to giggle. "And don't forget the eggs!"
Damon sped away, leaving Cynthia alone to stubborn soil and her thoughts. Grave robbing wasn't something she had considered in her own life. Only a few minutes in to attempting to dig up a coffin the long way, and the girl knew that it was not going in her future career possibilities either. Cemeteries were creepy at night, and the work was hard on the arms. Knowing that ghosts existed in this reality was not helping matters. Giuseppe had been pure human, so hopefully he had passed on and wasn't yelling at her from the Other Side right now.
If he was, then screw him.
"What did this Tyler ever do to you?" Damon asked as he rejoined her with his own shovel swinging loosely in one of his hands.
She shrugged at his question. "Long story, but in general, not a fan." Definitely not of the boy right now, anyway.
The vampire shrugged at her evasion and promptly switched tacks. "This is as far as you got? It's been almost ten minutes, slowpoke."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I not working quickly enough for you?" Cynthia asked regretfully, contemplating the wisdom of engaging in a proper dirt war now that they both had shovels.
"Not even close. I don't want to stay here a second longer than necessary."
That being said though, Damon did start helping. He was far quicker than Cynthia was. What a jerk.
A useful jerk, but the smugness made him a jerk all the same.
"So what are you going to do if the grimoire isn't in his grave?" He asked conversationally, either because he still wanted to test her or he was actually curious. Cynthia wasn't sure which.
Regardless of his motives, Cynthia didn't waste a beat. "Salt and burn his bones, Pikachu. Might do that anyway, if you don't mind fetching salt."
His mild reproof held humor, but was a clear 'no' all the same. "I'm not a delivery boy. Amazon doesn't deliver at vampire speed."
Yet. Ha!
"Aww, but you could be a great mail man!" Cynthia grinned up to him, hoping he could see her in the dim light. Vampires have heightened senses, but does that grant them dark vision, effectively? Or no?
Anyway, Cynthia was pretty sure that there were plenty of people she could get to agree that Damon would rock at going postal. Joining the post office, going on murder sprees, being a secret lover, he could do it all. How could delivery possibly hold a chance at slowing him down?
"Why would you want salt anyway?" Damon asked, effectively cutting off her mental rambling. For the best, Cynthia supposed. "What's the point?"
"If you were Voldemort, it would prevent you or Stefan from using a dark, necromantic ritual to come back to life as a snake hybrid. More relevantly, supposedly it prevents ghosts. Something about part of the body, hair, bones, or blood, having to be left. I'm not well versed in Supernatural at all. But I thought it might be poetic if nothing else."
Cynthia had trailed off, her voice growing quieter self consciously as she threw herself more and more into digging. Damon didn't want to do emotions at this point, and very well might not appreciate her suggestion.
All he did was keep digging and reply mildly, "I'll keep that in mind the next time I get an itch to dig up the dead."
Once they had finally reached the casket, Damon jumped her out of the pit. When asked, he claimed it was because she was a hazard to herself – okay, so she had continued trying to dig through the wood of the coffin, but it wasn't her fault her hearing wasn't good enough to distinguish between soft rock and wood. Cynthia suspected he might want a moment alone though. Either with his dad or just to test the truth about the grimoire.
Either way, in the space of a few moments, the bound journal was placed into her hands.
"Your spoils, my lady. I'll close it back up. Look for that tomb spell. I don't trust him to not have removed it. Not the nicest of men, my father."
Cynthia had no idea what she was looking for, but she tried skimming the book with the aid of the now dying flashlight. She kept hitting it, as if that was going to actually fix the battery problem. The light did flare occasionally, so Cynthia just went with it.
"Any luck?"
He was not done filling it in already, was he? He was. What in the seven bleeding hells? Just?
Ugh, vampires.
"Honestly, I think you need a witch to know for sure. I'm not really sure what I'm reading. My Latin is outrageously rusty, and I'm not seeing any recognizable diagrams. I think I might have saw the pendant a while back, but that either could have been to charge the crystal or to use it."
"A witch, huh?"
Damon was looking at her again and very clearly grinning, and Cynthia suddenly wasn't sure if she was going to like what happened next. He looked far too pleased. Not knowing if the spell existed should not make Damon look happy.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Cynthia asked cautiously, relacing her arms through the straps of her pack.
"Oh, no reason," Damon was smirking now. "I brought my car along with the shovels. Let's go."
It took longer than it should for Cynthia to realize they weren't going to either the Gilbert's or the Salvatore's house. In her defense, this was not entirely because she was bad at direction. She actually did just fine during the day. It was more that this town was relatively new to her – especially in terms of navigating it and not just recognizing buildings as being frequently used settings. The dim light didn't help, that was all.
Driving past the town limits was a bit of a giveaway. Truthfully, it was going over fifteen minutes without passing a single street light that completely convinced Cynthia.
"Where exactly are we going, Damon?"
Don't say the haunted witch house. Don't say the haunted witch house.
Damon's smile was all edges as he lowered his radio enough for her to hear him properly. "You said we needed a witch. I'm getting a witch."
Her brain was stuttering to a stop. She could feel it.
"But the Bennett's live in town," Cynthia said slowly. She was missing something. Something that should be obvious.
"Didn't say it was a Bennett witch. Settle down, kitten. It's a long ride to Georgia."
Damon was toying with her now. Oh, she was sure the man was completely serious about driving to Georgia. That must be where that witch of his that he'd promptly killed lived. But really? Dragging her on a road trip with no preparation or even a change of clothes?
This was just cruel.
To be sure that he knew how she felt, Cynthia started singing as obnoxiously loud as she could, and not to the songs playing on the radio. A few songs in, Damon leaned over and whispered in her ear, "This is not a game you are going to win, kitten."
Challenge accepted. She just sang louder. Damon raised the volume on the radio to the point where Cynthia could feel her eardrums crying. She shut up, then huddled down in her seat and sulked for a minute until Damon's laughter drew her back.
The blissful quiet helped too.
"How long is this trip going to be?" Should she text aunt figure Jenna and give her a heads up? Or was texting in the middle of the night, known as three am, a bad idea?
Maybe later. At a more decent hour, Cynthia could text and say she needed a personal day and that she had left before school. If she remembered to.
"As long as it needs to be." Damon was a clear fountain of information. "That's all you have to say? Because, I have to admit, I was hoping for a bit more fun for the next several hours."
Cynthia just snorted. "If you want fun, you need to give me sugar. And soda. Both. My brain runs on sugar and water and sunshine and happiness! I mean, all brains run on sugar. And I know serotonin and dopamine are the only two things we really enjoy, but sugar and sunshine do a pretty good job of producing those for me."
"And the water?"
Damon was laughing at her. She might sulk.
"I get thirsty, especially when I drink soda. But I also just get thirsty. Water tastes good."
He was smirking at her again. "So does blood. And alcohol."
Cynthia huffed. "I'm napping. Food when the sun comes up."
That was so and order, not a request.
"That's six hours of my life that you owe me."
She wasn't even fully aware and this man was complaining. How close of attention was Damon paying to her heart rate and breathing pattern anyway? Cynthia rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, bringing the seat back to an upright position. It was too cramped with windows and roof up to properly stretch, but she did several neck isolations at least. First clockwise and then counterclockwise. Or, as she preferred to call it, widdershins.
"What're you talking about, Pikachu? You owe me like three days."
The question was half slurred from sleep as Cynthia twisted around, looking for her phone. After a slightly mad search, she ended up fishing it out from where it had fallen between the seat and the door.
"Who's counting?" Damon replied casually. She wanted to throw something at his smug perfect face. "All's well that ends well, right?"
Cynthia grumbled in reply and focused on her phone. How beautiful, she had a bevy of texts and missed calls to reply to. Even one from Matt and Jeremy. She sent everyone (copy and pasting because she was not that dedicated) a generic apology saying that she was sorry, today had hit her extremely hard. She had stayed up thinking about the upcoming Founders Ball that meant so much to Mom and Dad, and she had to take a personal day.
It felt super weird to use Mom and Dad still. How was she going to fare with John Gilbert? Assuming she actually was Elena's twin, which seemed possible enough. At least, her physical form appeared to be related to Elena.
Cynthia sent the same message to everyone – including her possible future brother in law – except for Jeremy. To him, she added: Nice to know you would miss me, loser. Have you asked her? Or are you just going to let Ty win by default?
Maybe not nice to get involved, but Jeremy could seriously do better than drunk puppy dog. It wasn't his best look. It wasn't that she particularly liked Vicki any more today, but happiness was important. And not just hers. Jeremy found a lot of happiness with Vicki. That was a good enough reason, in Cynthia's book.
Flicking her phone to vibrate instead of sound, Cynthia twisted her head to stare at Damon who was staring at her instead of the road.
"Can the human get food now? Or is eating still not in your master agenda?"
Damon chose then to finally look back at the road as he should have been the whole time. How good of him. The corners of his mouth were curling in an annoyingly pleasant smile. Cynthia was hungry. She was not in the mood for these shenanigans.
"I can't tell you my secret diabolical plans, Cynthia! If I did, I'd have to kill you. And you are actually tolerable company, so that would be quite the shame."
"Please, Damon. Don't be shy. Feel free to tell me how awesome I am," Cynthia bit back at him. "Wax eloquent; I won't judge. Much."
Her kidnapper chauffeur snorted, then reached over and ruffled her hair. "Keep dreaming, sweetheart."
Dirt fell onto her shoulders, and Cynthia mourned the fact Damon apparently didn't believe in allowing people things like showers before stealing them for road trips. What happened to the glamour of a tv show? Damon might be able to pull any look off, but this was not Cynthia's idea of a good time.
They stopped by a gas station not long later, and she did her best to clean out the caked dirt from her skin and hair. Her clothes were a complete bust, unfortunately. A proper wash might save them, but all she would accomplish by scrubbing it with soap in a gas station bathroom would be to make it and her skin wet.
The petite brunette crumpled up all the dirty paper towels she had accumulated and chucked them in the bin before leaving in search of proper food. Using the term proper very loosely, of course. It took a matter of moments to resign herself that she would not be getting vanilla coke. No such beast seemed to exist at this little shop, much less pre-refrigerated. Instead, Cynthia got a proper sized bag of white cheddar popcorn, several bags of Wildberry Skittles, and a large bottle of both water and Mountain Dew. And, because she was done with being completely covered in filth, Cynthia also grabbed a shirt. Her choices were Disney or touristy, so she went with Tinkerbell.
It was somewhat size appropriate, anyway. And it wasn't like she had an attachment to the Carolinas.
"I see you believe in keeping a very healthy diet," Damon quipped, but didn't tell her to put anything back. That earned him a bright smile.
Cynthia stuck her tongue out at him playfully when the vampire started to read the nutrition facts. So didn't want to hear it, she wasn't the one that decided a gas station was the best place to get food.
Damon tapped her nose and warned, "Careful," before turning to the gas station attendant and leaving Cynthia very confused. She wandered off back to the restroom with her new shirt since it had been scanned, wondering what exactly that 'careful' had been in reference of.
"Sooo do you... want to play road trip games or something? Because this whole silence thing is going to get boring fast. Actually, no, it already is. I'll go back to sleep and leave you miserable if things don't change soon." That was a horrible lie. She was too wired to sleep. Cynthia was happily nomming on skittles already, her legs bouncing against the seat. "I've only seen a handful of state license plates at best though. And if we play punch bug, you'll probably take out my arm. So I'm not sure what we could play really."
"Want to play bumper cars or demolition derby?" Damon asked darkly, his eyes and smile far too bright in comparison.
Cynthia scrunched up her nose in distaste, tensing slightly at the idea even though she thought he was joking. "No, no I don't. Why would you risk your car anyway?"
Damon rolled his eyes, as if she should have known he had no intention of risking his baby. "You really have to stop petty things like realism from getting you down, kid. We're living in a tv show, and I'm a main character. Embrace your secret extra self."
Despite herself, Cynthia found a smile twitching across her lips. "Is that how we're playing it now? How very Goosebumps."
"Oh, absolutely," he sassed back. 'I can't wait until the part where... Mn, no, actually, if Katherine really is a bitch, the last thing I want to do is steal goodie two shoes Elena from my brother. Nice to know it would have worked, but I'll pass. On the fun side, I have a little guide to help make everything so much more fun and exciting."
Yeah, she was definitely smiling now.
"Figured out where we're going yet, kitten? Excited?"
Cynthia fixed him with the dullest of stares she could manage while wanting to bounce through the roof with her pretty candy. "A bar. In the middle of the day, I'm thrilled. You going to dance with me, Salvatore? Or just drink my weight in alcohol?"
"Please. Why would I stop at your weight? Afraid I'll drive while intoxicated?" He asked mischievously. "You got a thing with cars? Because I've never seen you drive. You haven't taken your not parents watery death personally have you?"
Cynthia shook her head viciously, chewing unnecessarily hard now. "Nope, all me. But you know what? Wild berry skittles makes everything better. No. Sugar makes everything better. It's magic. I bet if I poured a pixie stick on you and you had enough faith and trust that it would work too, we could go fly up to the moon!"
Babble and distract. Not even entirely intentionally. It was hard to stay in a brooding mood, and that was no fun anyhow so why try?
"And straight on til morning?" Damon asked wryly, much to her pleasure.
Cynthia fist pumped the air. "Yeah! Exactly!"
"Isn't it supposed to be the second or third star, not the moon?"
"Damon, Damon. If we don't go to the moon, how will we ever see what spring is like on Mars?" She almost managed to sound mournful at his lack of imagination.
"Space rovers? They're the newest thing, you might not have heard of them, seeing as you're from another planet, kitten. But how they work is..."
"Ugh," Cynthia cut him off, mock shoving his arm. "Lame, Damon. Lame. What is this, pick on the human day? Why don't we talk about the fact you want to drive several states rather than just picking up the phone and giving you're witchy ex a call?"
"How is she supposed to read the grimoire over the phone? Think it through, Cyn. Besides, you apparently can't handle going to school again this week. You should be thanking me for rescuing you."
"Thank you, Damon," Cynthia said sweetly, then turned to the window to stare at the blurring trees for a while.
It occurred to Cynthia that on some level, Damon might actually trust Bree. Which was kind of sad, given the whole mutual attempt to kill each other, if she remembered correctly. That or he was just running full speed ahead and embracing an impulsive take charge attitude. Cynthia wondered what outcome Damon really, truly wanted. If he had to choose, would he want Katherine or his brother back. If he even knew which he wanted, given the brother's propensity to gall for and fight over the same girl. Damon had declared he was disinterested in Elena though.
If she was the betting sort, Cynthia would put her money on Stefan even if Damon did want Elena. The two did a lot and meant a lot to each other, even if they disagreed on what constituted as 'helping' almost all of the time. No matter how deeply buried it might be, Damon cared about his little brother.
"So we show this lady the grimoire and ask her to come up with us? Now or at her convenience? Are you two still close enough for her to leave her territory and come do your bidding, D?"
"I do have friends other than you, you know." The sarcasm was so rich in his voice that Cynthia wanted to try and paint it across his cheek. "No need to sound so surprised."
She rolled her eyes, brushing off the impulse at the same time. "Fine, fine. If you insist."
Cynthia didn't want to chatter Damon's ear off from her hyperness and overwhelm him with needless trivia he probably could have continued existing forever without hearing and been none the worse off. But there were hours and hours left and she had consumed so much sugar and soda and how was she possibly meant to stop herself?
"I lived in Georgia for a while," she chattered. "Before, I mean. I actually thought I was in Covington when I first woke up. Cause that's where a part of the show was filmed. They've got the clock tower and the Mystic Grill awning. Except it's over like.. A tax office or something. How weird is that? People who don't watch the show and visit have to be beyond confused."
Damon said nothing. Or nothing that registered. His mouth might have moved, but Cynthia was full sugar go.
"I wonder what Covington looks like here. If it exists. And what about shows that the actors played on? Like Raising Hope or Heroes or.. Or FIREFLY! Is your witch an actress too? Does she have time to juggle three jobs? Witchy necromancy stuff, running a bar, and acting? I mean, Degrassi doesn't really need Nina, I don't think. Never watched it or Raising Hope. But Heroes and Firefly have some pretty important roles I would say."
"Having a reality crisis there, kitten? We can make a day of finding out which tv series exist if you want later. Or better yet, we can make a night of it. After we check out that tomb."
"And kill most of the vampires there," Cynthia asserted, ignoring the squeamishness she felt. It was a mercy killing. And for the best.
But it was also still murder, and that felt wrong. A sense of morality that Cynthia was going to have to grow out of if she wanted to survive being stuck here.
"You're not meant to be grinning to your ears when you go Van Helsing on a bunch of starving, desiccated conscious corpses." Damon might have complained, but it was clear he was pleased. So Cynthia didn't correct him that her pleasure was primarily just surrounded by the dopamine and serotonin and endorphins she was running high on right now, and not to do with the idea of massacring some large number of vampires. Maybe a little bit by the idea of having him willingly watch shows with her though. That could be hilarious. Especially if anyone else got involved that wouldn't mind the two's choice of drinks.
Damon had finally turned the radio on again, and the rest of the ride was fairly peaceful with only mild conversation. Her phone had started buzzing at crazy at one point. Cynthia was convinced aliens were trying to communicate with her via Morse code. Damon thought his brother didn't understand the concept of a 'personal' day that involved ignoring him. The correct answer was a mystery, because early on she had handed Damon her phone, and the man had obligingly chucked it in the backseat.
Cynthia did have a moment of panic at that point, because she couldn't remember the phone having a case. Up until she remembered that Cynthia Gilbert only had a dumb phone that used T9, something she had not missed.
It was going to be almost seven years before she could play Pokémon Go.
This world was too cruel.
They pulled up outside Bree's Bar with its deceptively casual entrance that reminded Cynthia of Greenies. Except for the part where it was blue, and not in Santa Monica, or on a pier at all. Okay, so an awning wasn't a lot of evidence to be making comparisons with, but it resonated intangibly to her. Damon swaggered and Cynthia skipped up to the door. The summer sunlight wouldn't have you believe it, but it was late enough in the evening for the bar to have opened, if only just. While Damon went to greet the witch she should not call Zoe, Cynthia bounced around helping take chairs down from tables.
She was actually pretty entertained by the amount of help she was able to give before anyone stopped and questioned her. Not knowing where to put her purloined rag – it wasn't her fault someone just abandoned it on a table! - had apparently signaled her as a stranger.
"Aren't you a little young to be here?" A nice enough lady with a buzz cut, nose stud, and a gorgeous sleeve of ink asked her. "Not that we don't appreciate the help."
"Is anyone too young to assist those that they can for as much as they are able?" Cynthia replied philosophically. The Tinkerbell shirt and dusty pants and shoes probably marred that image a bit, but she was sure the rag resting against her hip brought it altogether beautifully.
Her question earned her a laugh anyway. And in a matter of moments, she felt a cool arm wrapping around her shoulders and easing her back several steps. Cynthia turned, and seeing it was Damon, relaxed into the hold as he moved them back to the bar.
"Sorry about that, I had to retrieve a lost kitten," Damon smiled. "Cynthia, meet Bree."
She obligingly waved excitedly. Meeting people could be nice. "Hey, Bree! Did you ever think of naming your bar the Prancing Pony? And making it an inn?"
By the look on Bree's face, Cynthia knew that yet another person thought she was batshit crazy. It wasn't her fault that she'd been dumped in fictional fairyland. She hadn't had all that much sanity to begin with, her anchor had been her boyfriend. So why not be insane? Magic or madness, right?
"I think I'll just stick with the bar. It works just fine."
Cynthia shrugged and watched as Bree pulled out a bottle and poured a line of shots as she toasted Damon. It wasn't her loss if the other woman didn't appreciate a good Tolkien book.
"You know, "Damon began, with a smarmingly innocent voice she didn't know he was capable of and never wanted to hear again, "Cynthia here is actually the reason he came to see you."
Bree's sharp gaze was on her, prodding Cynthia to speak without needing to say so much as a word.
"And how is that?" The witch asked after tossing back two shots of her own.
The petite brunette perched next to Damon and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I suppose Damon did rescue me. I was basically waist high deep in a grave when he decided we should go on a trip down memory lane. Bonding, I guess."
"One night and he already has you roped in?" Bree questioned, handing the two menus since they didn't seem inclined to leave anytime soon.
"Tight as a chokehold," Cynthia responded cheerfully, sharing a knowing smile with first Bree and then Damon. "Actually, I have been wanting to meet you. Damon clearly respects you."
Bringing the grimoire to her however unannounced, over going to the Bennett witches who lived in the town had Cynthia suspecting he either thought Bree was more powerful or simply liked her better. So she ignored the disbelief and confusion that flickered so quickly in the older woman's eyes.
"I don't suppose you could put me in touch with Lexi, could you?" She pressed. "Pretty blonde, wide face, light eyes I think, big Bon Jovi fan, and Stefan Salvatore's personal wrangler? Oh, and can I have a burger and fries, please? And a cherry coke."
"You don't need any more soda, kitten." Damon countered. Apparently his patience was only so deep. Cynthia sulked.
"I do so need all the soda," she muttered under her breath, folding her arms across her chest defensively.
Bree took Damon's order as well – much the same, except with a beer – giving Cynthia a long calculating look before leaving to put their tickets in.
A few handsful of minutes later, the bartending witch returned. "You came here for Stefan? I would have thought Damon here was still obsessed with Katherine."
Damon half shrugged with a smile, "You caught me. There may be more than one motive. Except Cynthia here has made a pretty good argument that the vampires under that church should be staked. And that we may have more pressing problems."
"Vampires?" Bree's question held a threatening amount of darkness.
So naturally, Cynthia interjected herself. "Apparently Emily had to save all of them, to even save one. It's a long story. But really, could you possibly get Lexi here? Or I could give you my number so you can pass it on, or something? Because I'm pretty sure she has a friend who could help me and my twin as well as the Salvatore brothers a lot. And we can help her out in return."
Cynthia leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. "I have news for Elijah that he will very much want."
She had gotten up and twirled away after that, trying to learn the bar dances that had started up as the two friends waited for their food. Bree's response had been equivocal, but amounted to 'can you wait here a while'. Damon wasn't in any rush, and Cynthia was sure he still wanted to talk about that little spell cookbook of theirs/his/Emily's.
All in all, it was actually quite a bit of fun. They ate, laughed, and even danced. Damon had tried to dodge her, claiming he would dance with her as her escort to the ball. Cynthia's argument that it would be all fake and for sure and not for enjoyment and won him over in the end. Something she was more than thrilled about. Karaoke she dodged, no matter how Damon tried pleading with her. The petite brunette was determined to only going to embarrass herself one way in public at a time, and tonight's choice was dancing.
Cynthia knew that sooner than later, they would have to go back to Virginia. Even if she convinced Damon to rent a hotel and stay the night to do touristy things tomorrow like the World of Coke or the Botanical Gardens, they couldn't hide forever. And at some point, her guilt about him compelling them free things should kick in. Shouldn't it?
Or at least she should be responsible to her not relatives and sort of friends.
Not just yet though. Right now, they could and would have fun. Cynthia would check to see what had caused her phone to virtually explode when they left the bar. It wasn't as if she could do much from over here anyway. Except leave Damon to try to flirt and charm his way back into Bree's good graces. And hope Bree did decide to put her in touch with Lexi or Rose or someone in the vampiric world who could be trusted. Just because Cynthia wasn't actively trying to plan ahead didn't mean she was going to ignore potential windfalls thrust in her lap, like a witch who is friends with a 300 year old plus vampire who surely surely has some idea of the importance of the Mikaelsons. Or knows someone who does. Lexi would just be awfully convenient given Stefan was her BFF, and Stefan thought Elena hung the moon right now. So protecting Elena's happiness is something he would want. And therefore, Lexi should theoretically want the same.
And hey! Maybe she could get a Bon Jovi concert out of bringing Lexi in a bit. Because why ever not?
A/N: This chapter took quite a bit longer than what has become usual for me. I've actually scrapped and rewritten it almost half a dozen times before I got to this version. Here's to hoping you guys don't hate it.
Thank you all so much again for the love! DarkDust27 your review was brilliant, and I hope you enjoy the way Cynthia responded. LizzyB, Elysium Phoenix, ShieldShadow77,and I Growl ForFun (and all my lovely guest reviewers): thank you guys so much! I'm glad you like this story so much and enjoy the Damon/Cynthia dynamic. They are a joy to write. And to make up for how little Damon/Cynthia we had last chapter, in this one, they get loads of time together!
I know this chapter is a bit shorter than the previous, not terribly, but it's been my goal to continuously improve my word count. I figured since it was taking so long to roll this one out, it would be okay to go ahead and take a slight knee so I could post this and start work on the next chapter for y'all.
DFTBA guys! Reviews are love. Reviews are life. So are references, ten points to the house of your choice for any you guys catch. Because I have loads of fun sprinkling them throughout the story. =D