Title: Footsteps of a Traveler
Author: Traxits
Chapter Rating: Teen.
Chapter Warnings: Mentions of a suicide attempt, overprotective family members, epic boy-girl friendship.
Chapter Word Count: 5115 words.
Author's Notes: None.

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[[ … Chapter 4: Seeking … ]]

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The next few days were absolute hell because Jeremy didn't see Damon a single time. He went through the motions, trimming his hair, trying to gauge, based on how his father kept eyeing it, how short he'd been keeping it. Anna noticed what he was doing the next day at school, snorted, and somehow he found himself in the boy's bathroom with her carefully cutting it for him. A few guys came in, but one narrow-eyed look from her, and they bolted almost as quick as they'd come in. Jeremy snorted his amusement, exchanging grins with her in the mirror, and for a minute, things felt right. He felt like maybe this was what his life was supposed to be.

Then she'd say something, reference something they'd done together, and the moment shattered, left him giving her a wry, almost apologetic smile as he shrugged. She laughed at him, leaned in to kiss his forehead— the last time she'd kissed him, it hadn't been anything nearly so chaste, but did he still want that? Really? Because what he'd had with Anna wasn't anything at all like what he had with Damon. What he had had with Damon, maybe, if the bastard wasn't ever coming back.

Jeremy sighed, and it wasn't until Anna nudged him that he focused back on her, on what she was doing. He reached his hand up, brushed his fingers through his hair. It was strange, it being short again. He'd gotten used to it long. He grinned at her, thanked her, and then she reached out, brushing her fingers against his wrist before she asked quietly, "Are you okay, Jeremy?"

"Fine," he replied and he twisted his hand around to curve his fingers around hers, trying to reassure her. "I'm fine. I... just keep thinking is all. If I could shut that off, I'd be great."

"And just what is the great Jeremy Gilbert thinking so hard about?" she asked, letting go of him to hoist herself up to sit on the counter in front of him. It was funny, he decided after a minute. Last time he'd done this, it had been Elena who was in the boy's bathroom with him so early on in the school year, and that incident had been absolutely nothing like this one. He turned, leaning back against the counter, shrugging. Anna inched over to him, laced her fingers together, and propped her head up on his shoulder.

"I don't actually know anything about this place," he finally admitted, and she hummed a short tuneless note right there by his ear, but she didn't say anything. He glanced over at her. "I mean, okay. I... you know I went back to your time and everything, right? You read the journal. But this... this isn't where I came from. It wasn't like this when I left."

"You changed things," Anna replied with a little shrug, tipping her head to look up at him a little easier. Her voice was playful, but her eyes were sharp and focused. Serious. It was a good look on her. "You can't honestly have expected things to be exactly the same when you changed things."

"Well no, but I was hoping that I'd have something. I don't know. Memories maybe? I don't even know what all is different." He reached up, brushed his hand through his hair. "And what if I fuck up? This town is packed with vampire hunters, the Council... what if I fuck up and someone figures it out?"

Anna stayed quiet for a minute, then she slid off the counter and she brushed the loose bits of hair from his shoulders, giving him that so-confident grin. He'd missed that grin. "Well. I don't think they'll figure out that you baited some young witch into casting a spell that landed you in the 1800s where you met the original Salvatore brothers and actually participated in the biggest anything that's ever happened to this little speck on the map. You can just put that right out of your mind, got it?"

He laughed slightly, glancing away from her and wrapping his hand around the back of his own neck as he leaned his head back. "Yeah. You're right. It's dumb, isn't it?"

"I didn't say that." She glanced toward the door for a second, then back to him. "But luckily," and here her grin widened slightly, "you have a friend that you spent all summer with. I have learned a lot about you, Mr. Gilbert. I think I can coach you on what's different."

"And on Damon?" He raised an eyebrow as he looked back over at her.

"Ooh, boy trouble already? And here I thought you two would be thick as thieves." Anna's grin widened sharply, and Jeremy held her gaze until it made him flush and look away again. She always managed to do that to him, and judging from her pleased little giggle, that much was the same between this world and his own.

No, wait. This one was his world now too, wasn't he? He'd shaped it. He'd... made it. His stomach churned a little at the idea, and he rubbed his palms against his pants to keep from shaking. Suddenly, the notion that anything could happen, that anyone could be president or whatever stupid sentimentality adults liked to feed kids seemed... less ridiculous. He'd changed an entire town of people, and from there, the world.

"Jeremy?" This time Anna's voice was very soft, and Jeremy snapped his gaze back to her. She was reaching out to him, her hand light on his arm, fingertips just barely brushing his skin. He forced a smile to give her.

"Bastard disappeared," he said, picking up the thread of their conversation as though nothing was wrong. As though he hadn't just been shaken to his core. Her eyes narrowed, but she wasn't Damon. She didn't push. Just hummed and tilted her head. "The other night. He... I don't know. It was weird."

"You calling anything weird has got to give that word some weight," she teased, and she slid down off the counter, her hand dropping away. "But what happened? Exactly. Damon is pretty crazy, you know. Especially when it comes to you."

"No reason for him to be," Jeremy argued, but the words fell flat. Neither he nor Anna believed that, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay, no, so he's got some reasons. But being justified doesn't change the fact that he's being an ass. He... He kisses me and then just... bolts. Who does that kind of shit?"

"Girls have been asking themselves these questions for years." Anna snorted faintly, and she reached up, brushing her hair back from her face. "I mean, at least you're getting good sex though, right? Damon is pretty damn smoking, and he's well known for being... well. You know."

Jeremy flushed dark red, and he jerked back from her, brushing the little clippings of hair from the bathroom counter. He couldn't help but think about Damon's room, the feel of the bed against him and the hard line of Damon's body against him. "Yeah. Smoking."

"... You're not having sex yet. Hot damn, Jeremy." Anna laughed, the sound sharp and pleased and somehow managing to mortify Jeremy even more. "You've managed to string him on for this long with just the promise of sex? I'm impressed!"

"Yeah, well, fuck off, okay? He was having his big gay freakout back in," he hesitated, remembering that they were in a public bathroom, for crying out loud, anyone could walk in on them. "Back then," he covered. "And then I was kind of out of the picture for a while." Dead. For a hundred and forty five years. It didn't stop Anna's giggles. "Shut up, Anna!"

"Sorry, just... Damn, Jeremy." Anna grinned widely, easily, and Jeremy wished the sight of it didn't twist his heart just a little in his chest.

(He'd missed her so much, and he could still taste her blood if he let himself think about it, could still remember the feel of her mouth on his palm, even if that feel was blurred with the memory of Damon's.)

"You know just about any teenager in this town would kill for the kind of power you've got over him right now." She pulled away then, still chuckling to herself. "Hell, a few of them— us, you know?— would kill for it too."

"... He still makes enemies then?"

"Well, he sure as hell doesn't make friends. I don't know if you noticed yet, but he's... very single-minded."

"Focused," Jeremy countered gently, and he grinned before he brushed his hand through his hair. He hadn't worn his hair this sort in a long time. Not since... well. Probably not since before his parents— his mother, he corrected himself— had died.

(Had Damon fixed him this time too? Come into his room in the dark and the night and knelt on the bed beside him and caught his gaze and whispered that everything was going to be okay? He still couldn't remember quite what Damon had promised him the first time— back in his own timeline— but he remembered the sound of his voice, the way all trouble had just fallen away. He remembered how light his heart had felt in that moment. He remembered the crushing pain after Anna's death, the way Damon had been genuinely upset by it, and the way his chest had hurt even more when he realized that he couldn't fix Damon, that Damon wasn't going to take away his pain this time. It had been that pain that had him turning up her blood and reaching for the pills—)

"More than you, apparently," Anna said, and Jeremy's attention snapped up to her. He gave her a little grin and shrugged.

"Hey, I have the most bad-ass art teacher in school apparently single-minded on me. I think I deserve to be a little spacey."

Her smile was too soft, her eyes not as warm as they had been, but she laughed all the same. Her hand was warm in the middle of his back when they headed out of the bathroom and back into class.

"Jeremy! It's Gilbert right? Jeremy Gilbert."

Jeremy blinked as he glanced over his shoulder, and it took him a second to process who the guy jogging over toward him was. Sweater and close cropped hair, and his features were familiar...

"Oh, Mr. Salvatore," Jeremy said, and he smiled as he held out his hand. A little blush touched his face, and he dropped his eyes as they shook hands. "Sorry about the other day... I didn't mean to... Well..."

"I think you did exactly what you meant," Zach replied, and his face was entirely too serious. No trace of laughter there as he studied Jeremy. "Did you... you're okay?"

"... Damon didn't hurt me, if that's what you're asking," Jeremy said finally, his eyes widening at the thought. "He wouldn't. He's Damon."

"Here, let me take you home?"

Jeremy hesitated, then he glanced back at the car where Elena was waiting, waving at him faintly. He held up his hand, shook his head, then turned back to Zach. If anyone knew where Damon had gone...

"Sure."

It was the Salvatore house they pulled up to a little while later, and honestly, Jeremy couldn't say he was surprised. He just shouldered his backpack and got out of the car, looking up at it and sighing. So many memories, and not a single one of them had happened yet, or would even happen this time. Because Jeremy hadn't been able to leave well enough alone—

Zach cleared his throat in the doorway, and he tilted his head, indicating that Jeremy could follow him, and Jeremy smiled wryly as he noticed that Zach never actually invited him in. For a moment, he played with the idea of making him, and then he just headed on in and into the living room. It was different with Zach still here. More... vital. Less alcohol everywhere for one.

Probably because he needed to not look like a lush when he did have company. Jeremy dropped his pack down on the floor by the couch, and he was staring up at the ceiling when Zach called him into the kitchen.

"Do you drink tea?" he asked, and Jeremy watched him put the kettle on to boil before he nodded.

"Yeah," he finally said, and he shifted, uncomfortable being in the kitchen with nothing to do— Aunt Jenna always insisted that he have something in his hands when he was in her kitchen. Zach must have noticed his discomfort, because after just a moment, he motioned toward one of the bar stools.

"Here. Sit. My guest, right? The tea will only take a moment." He smiled, and Jeremy was stuck for a second on how much like Damon's smile it really was. Well, human Damon. Before he'd turned, before his smiles had become as brittle as old metal and just as sharp, just as dangerous.

"Thanks, Mr. Salvatore," he said, and his voice seemed to be hung in his throat before he could get the words out. Zach raised an eyebrow at him.

"Mr. Salvatore?"

"... It's weird, calling you Zach," Jeremy admitted, and he grinned as he glanced down at the counter top.

"Well, fine, but I have a feeling you are more familiar with me than I am with you."

"I'm more familiar with most people than they are with me." It took Jeremy half a second before he realized that was a little too close to the truth, and he started laughing. "Teenager, you know? No one really gets me."

Zach chuckled. "I remember those days," he said, and he hesitated before he looked over at Jeremy again. His smile was gone this time, and Jeremy felt himself tensing automatically for it. He actually inched slightly off the stool, ready to run, before he caught himself and made himself hold steady.

"What is it?"

"... Jeremy. Damon is... dangerous."

Jeremy blinked, then he started laughing. Of all the conversations they could have been having, he had never expected this one. This was Elena's conversation to have with him, not Zach's. "Damon? He can't be that dangerous, Mr. Salvatore. They wouldn't let him at the school—"

"He's dangerous to you personally, Jeremy. He is... not a stable man."

Jeremy's eyes narrowed, and he leaned over the counter toward Zach, his smile fading sharply. "He isn't a man at all," he said lowly. "And you'd do well to remember that."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. In fact, not a word was breathed until the kettle started whistling, and Jeremy held Zach's gaze, his jaw locked. Stubborn, Damon would mutter at him, but Zach didn't. He just stared, and finally, when Jeremy said softly, "Your water's boiling, Mr. Salvatore," he moved to take the kettle off the stove.

"How much do you know?" Zach said, and Jeremy swallowed, dropping his eyes for a second as he tried to brace himself. It was Zach. It wasn't like the man could hurt him. Jeremy had survived entirely too much by now to be worried about Zach.

"Everything," he replied after a long moment. "The question is how much do you know, and how much do you just think you know?"

Because no one knew everything. Not Jeremy, not Damon, not Elena. None of them had all the pieces. They were all too busy holding those pieces close to their chest, trying to protect each other and trying to protect the town and not realizing that the only way any of them were going to be safe was if they would just drop those pieces in a pile and see what kind of picture they made together.

None of them were willing to risk it though, and Jeremy was fairly sure that none of them would be willing to risk it now either.

Zach's fingers were white-knuckled on the counter when Jeremy looked back up at him. "More than you should. Your father—"

Jeremy's heart slammed into his ribs. His father. A Gilbert, so of course he was on the Council, and Jeremy hadn't thought that far ahead yet, hadn't processed that this was going to be him and Damon possibly against his father—

"— shouldn't have told you so much."

"I didn't find out from my father," Jeremy countered, dragging his attention back to the man standing there. "It... it's a long story. But in any case, I know Damon better than you think I do. Probably better than you do—"

"Jeremy, you are fifteen. When your father finds out about this..."

"Because you'll tell him? What are you going to tell him, exactly? That I'm fraternizing with the enemy?" Jeremy snorted. "That would require you to admit that you've got vampires in the family, Mr. Salvatore. I don't think you've told the Council that."

Because if he had, they would have been a good deal more suspicious of Damon that they had been. He would not have infiltrated them nearly so easily.

Zach's eyes widened as he looked at Jeremy, and Jeremy lifted his chin a little.

"So don't think about threatening me until you've got something to threaten with."

"I am trying to protect you."

"Trying being the operative word there," Jeremy retorted, and he slid off the stool, squaring his shoulders as Zach watched him move. "I don't need your protection. I don't need anything from you."

"He's going to kill you," Zach said, and Jeremy stilled for the way Zach said it, so even, so flat. So absolutely sure. Jeremy might have already been dead for as much as Zach seemed to believe it.

Jeremy had never had anyone so absolutely certain of his death before.

"Won't be the first time," he breathed, and when Zach's eyes narrowed sharply at him, Jeremy realized that was not the thing he'd meant to say. It wasn't anything that would help serve his case in being able to take care of himself either.

"What?"

"No, it's... not like what you're thinking. It was a long time ago." Jeremy sighed, leaning against the counter, and for a moment, he tried to decide what he needed to say, how much he could say. "I was... there. When Damon and Stefan turned."

There was a very long moment where Zach didn't reply, and when Jeremy finally looked up, Zach slid a mug of tea over to him. Jeremy hadn't realized Zach had even been working on it past the water boiling. He brought it up to his nose to smell, and Zach smiled slightly before he pushed over the container of sugar.

"When they turned?" Zach raised an eyebrow, and Jeremy busied himself with spooning sugar into the mug. "That was a hundred and fifty years ago."

"One hundred fifty five," Jeremy agreed quietly. He stirred his tea, and he brought it up to sniff again before he sipped it. There was a pause, and then he smiled up at Zach and shrugged. "Something of a traveler."

Zach's eyes narrowed again, and he held perfectly still until Jeremy took another drink of tea.

"A traveler. As in... through time."

"Well, I'm a little young to go too far from Mystic Falls on my own," Jeremy retorted. When Zach tilted his head slightly, Jeremy added, "Without, you know, a proper chaperone at least."

"Somehow, I doubt a proper chaperone is something you've had during this," Zach said after a minute, and Jeremy looked up at him sharply.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Disbelief, maybe. Shock. Maybe he'd just expected Zach to outright throw him out. Then again, all things given, maybe Zach had stolen the journal too, or maybe Stefan had told him about it.

He hesitated for just a second before he shrugged, and he sipped his tea again. "Maybe," he murmured. But honestly, hadn't he been lacking a 'proper chaperone' ever since his parents— mother, he corrected himself again; he had to start remembering that he still had his father— had died. He swallowed thickly, trying to dislodge the lump there. "Then again, given how absolutely crazy everyone was back then, it was probably just as well."

"Jeremy, you cannot possibly be serious. Has Damon convinced you of this? That this happened?" Zach's voice was easy, low and coaxing, and Jeremy looked up at him sharply, his own gaze narrowing. "You haven't gone anywhere. We would have noticed. Your father—"

Was supposed to be dead. Jeremy's hand flexed, his fingers curling in just enough to feel the scar there.

"He doesn't know," Jeremy said, cutting in. "He doesn't know and so help me, Mr. Salvatore, but this doesn't involve you."

"Damon isn't human."

Jeremy's own words, and they still stung a little when Zach threw them back at him like this. It was an effort to keep from flinching away, and Jeremy set his mug back down on the counter. His free hand tightened into a fist, and then he made it loosen again.

"You don't think I know that? I was there when he turned. I *saw* it when that switch flipped in his head, when that spark went out—"

It was Zach's expression that cued Jeremy, that had him spinning on his heel to see Damon standing there in the doorway. Jeremy's heart stopped, and then it was full force, pounding too hard, too fast in his chest.

"Damon," he breathed, and for a moment, he wasn't certain Damon was going to come into the kitchen proper. Then Damon was moving, closing the distance, and his hand came up to curl loosely against the small of Jeremy's back. Jeremy shivered for it, and Damon reached over without a word to unlatch his bracelet.

Then he was gone, and Jeremy hadn't even seen him leave. Jeremy's throat ached nearly too much to swallow again, and he glared up at Zach before he headed into the rest of the house, up toward Damon's room.

He hadn't even pushed the door open when he was suddenly shoved face-first against it. "Damon," he managed, and the pressure increased, a hand hard against the middle of his back.

"Regretting this yet, Jeremy?" Damon asked, his voice low and rough, and Jeremy's eyes closed before he shook his head. Or tried to, at least. Pushed up against Damon's door like this, it wasn't actually like he could move too much.

"No, Damon, don't—"

"Don't what?" Damon's mouth was hot against Jeremy's ear, and a little whine escaped Jeremy at the brush of Damon's lips there. "Be precise."

It took Jeremy a minute before he could get the words out, but finally, he found them. "Don't believe me."

"Who are you lying to now, Jeremy?" Damon asked, and Jeremy's eyes closed against the heat that pricked in the backs of his eyes at those words. "Trying to spare feelings I don't have, or trying to convince yourself that this wasn't all some terrible mistake?"

"Wouldn't matter even if it was." Jeremy didn't move, didn't fight against the way Damon's arm shoved harder against his back— he could barely breathe under the pressure, but it was Damon and even if Damon killed him, Jeremy had his ring on. Damon could kill him as much as he wanted.

"What?"

"It wouldn't matter even if it was." He had to work to get enough air to get the rest of his words out, and his lungs, ribs, his whole chest ached. "Mean, it's what I got, isn't it? Can't change it now."

The pressure increased, and Jeremy thought for sure that his ribs were going to start cracking. They had to. He was human and his body just wasn't as tough as Damon's; it was going to yield and give way any moment—

Then the pressure was gone and the air rushed out of Jeremy's lungs when Damon flipped him over. His eyes stayed closed, even when he heard someone else coming up the stairs.

"Damon!" Zach's voice wasn't nearly so neutral now, not when Damon was pinning Jeremy against the wall, one arm a hard bar across Jeremy's throat, his other hand loosely shackled around one of Jeremy's wrists. "Damon, you have to let him go. He's just a kid—"

"He's a *liar*," Damon growled. "Open up your eyes, Jeremy. Look at me."

Jeremy swallowed and he reached up with his free hand, his nails digging into Damon's arm. Not enough to draw blood yet. "Last time I did, you freaked out," he countered, tilting his chin up, trying to find a position that he could breathe more easily in.

"Open them." Damon's voice was softer now, and Jeremy could just faintly feel him moving when Zach lunged. He didn't let go of Jeremy though, and no matter how much bigger Zach was, he just wasn't strong enough to actually pull Damon off Jeremy.

Jeremy licked his lip.

"Don't do it, Jeremy," Zach said hurriedly. "He's going to compel you—"

The light was dim in the hallway, but Jeremy blinked against it slightly anyway, looking at Damon, lips parted to try to breathe enough for use. "Trust you," he whispered, and Damon's arm shoved harder against his throat.

That was okay though. He had his ring on. Damon could do it. Jeremy didn't fight it, didn't even let his nails dig in any further on Damon's arm.

For a long moment, the three of them stayed there, Damon and Jeremy holding one another's gazes even as Zach attempted to pull Damon away. Then Damon shoved off the wall just as Jeremy's vision started to flicker black around the edges, spots of color beginning to obscure Damon's face. Jeremy coughed automatically, but he worked to keep his focus on Damon.

Zach staggered back when Damon slammed a fist into his gut He gasped, and Jeremy dropped his hand from his throat— he didn't actually remember reaching up to touch it— to Damon's arm. "Damon," he managed, and his voice was so rough the words left him in something like a croak.

"Where were you, Damon?" Zach coughed as he glared up at Damon. "You can't just vanish for days and then show back up and start choking fifteen year old boys—"

Jeremy's heart stopped, and he scowled at Zach for a second before Damon's arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him in close. Jeremy opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Damon had him pulled in close, and they were moving. Jeremy pressed his face in against Damon's shoulder, and it wasn't until Damon deposited him in the car and buckled him in and appeared in the driver's seat that Jeremy could manage to get a good breath. He shivered as he looked over at Damon, and they were out of the driveway before Zach managed to get down to the front door.

Jeremy watched him in the mirrors until he was gone, and then he looked over at Damon.

"Damon?" he breathed softly, and his heart pounded too damned loudly in his ears. Damon didn't make a sound, only shifted the car and sped up, his eyes on the road with a fierce intensity that Jeremy was pretty sure wasn't actually required. "Damon," he said again, and this time he reached over to brush his fingers against Damon's arm. "You okay?"

"Don't feel anything, Jeremy," Damon countered, and he didn't react at all to Jeremy's touch. Jeremy took just a second before he dropped his hand and looked out of the windshield. He didn't keep track of how many turns they made or where they made them, only that he had no idea where they were, that he was completely reliant on Damon to take him home eventually.

"Liar," he finally said when the car rolled to a stop, and Damon pulled up the parking brake before he looked over at Jeremy. Jeremy unsnapped his seat belt and flew out of the car, dragging in a breath. He barely got the door shut before Damon was there in front of him, crowding him, pushing him back up against the car. Jeremy met his eyes then, and he was trembling too hard to reach for Damon again.

"Regretting it yet?" Damon asked, and Jeremy didn't stop his hand from coming up and cracking across Damon's face. Damon moved with the blow, but Jeremy was certain that was more to make him feel better than because his blow had been that forceful. Somehow, it only served to make Jeremy angrier.

"Stop it," he growled, and he was still shaking. Damon caught his hand and pulled it up his mouth; at the first brush of Damon's tongue against his skin, Jeremy felt heat in the backs of his eyes.

Damn, he'd forgotten how out of control his emotions had been at fifteen, with his mother dead and that was before all of the time travel insanity had happened. He bared his teeth, but then Damon's hand was on the back of his neck and Damon's mouth was on his. Jeremy's hand wrapped tightly in Damon's shirt as he kissed him back, hungry and needy and trying not to let himself cry, not here, not like this.

It was a minute before Damon pulled back to murmur softly, "What the hell kind of tea was Zach feeding you?"

Jeremy shook his head. "Don't care, Damon, c'mon, you can't... I didn't mean—"

"Liar," Damon shot back, and this was great, what a pair they made, so certain that one another was lying all the time. Jeremy snorted at him and kissed him again, and then Damon pushed him harder up against the car, his lips on Jeremy's jaw and throat as Jeremy tilted his head back.

"Don't tease," he breathed, and Damon pulled back so that he could push Jeremy's shirt up. Jeremy's free hand tangled in Damon's hair as a low moan escaped him. A brush of Damon's teeth, a sting, and before he could even really feel it, Damon coughed and jerked back.

Jeremy wasn't prepared for the way Damon hit the ground, choking and twitching. Jeremy's heart stopped. He dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around Damon in an attempt to hold him still.

Suddenly the tea wasn't as innocuous as it had seemed at the time. Zach had watched him drink it, had drawn a deeper breath only after Jeremy's first drink.

"Vervain," he breathed, and he was all alone in the middle of no where, with Damon convulsing in his arms.