Title: Footsteps of a Traveler
Author: Traxits
Chapter Rating: Teen for canon typical violence.
Chapter Warnings: Violence.
Chapter Word Count: 4051 words.
Author's Notes: So I fell and broke my knee earlier in the year, and I only really just managed to pick up the pieces enough to work on this story again. So sorry about the delay here, guys, but fingers crossed, here's hoping I've used up all my amounts of crazy luck for the year and things will smooth out.

I already have half of the next chapter written, so my goal is to get it up next week. That being said, I could really use a beta reader. I have too many fics going on at the same time to proofread these chapters as thoroughly as I'd like, so if you are interested in betaing these chapters before they go up, shoot me a PM! I will probably use a google doc, but we can also work out a system for emailing or something if that appeals to you more. I'm pretty flexible about the whole thing. I mostly need a beta reader for, you know, really basic grammar and making sure I don't do something dumb like switch names around in a scene or something. Thanks for your time!

[[ … Chapter 5: Finding … ]]

He only knew crushing pain in his chest and the heavy iron of Jeremy's blood on his tongue; Damon couldn't do anything but gasp in air. His stomach churned and twisted and screamed, and Damon groaned as his hands flexed hard in dirt. He despised the sensation of vervain in his system, and he heaved over and over again, even though nothing ever came up. Nothing ever came up.

He had no idea how long they stayed there in the dirt. Jeremy alternated between holding onto him and trying to help him move, petting his back and stroking his hair back from his face.

(Who was he, Damon's mother? Giuseppe had never done this for him, that was for damn sure, and he couldn't remember Stefan ever doing this.)

Jeremy jerked away from him and turned back to the road, and Damon shuddered. With the vervain in his mouth, in his system, he could only hear the car after Jeremy did. He tried to focus on it with his blurring vision, and just as he gave up on the attempt, he heard the door open. Black motorcycle boots hit the dirt, and a woman with long black curls twining around her face dropped down to meet his gaze.

"Well, well, Damon Salvatore," she said with a sharp grin. "As I live and breathe, I never expected to see you this way."

"Bree," he managed, but the word was hoarse, low and rough and he felt Jeremy stiffen beside him. What caught him by surprise was the way Jeremy pulled him in closer. The motion practically pushed Damon halfway behind him.

"Who the hell are you?"

Bree raised an eyebrow at Jeremy, but her smile never wavered. "Me? Sweetie, I think the real question here is who the hell are you? You vervained him."

"I did not! I mean, okay, maybe, but it was an accident!"

Damon got his hand around Jeremy's wrist, and he bared his teeth just a little at them both. Jeremy went still at the first touch, but Bree burst out laughing at him.

"This? This is your precious art student?"

"You followed me," he said, not bothering to answer her. She'd seen the sketchbook, after all. She'd held it and flipped through the pages with him as he licked the blood dripping from his bites her shoulder blades. She'd been an angel herself, beautiful and terrible, fierce and more intense than most humans. He'd felt something for her. It had been only a pale shade of the emotions that burned through him every time he thought of Jeremy, but it was something all the same.

And now, even with her laughing at him, sun glinting off her dark hair and dark eyes and bright mouth; even with the vervain in his system, liquid fire coursing through his veins and burning him from the inside out; something still twisted in his chest at the sight of her, at the way she sounded. He tightened his hold on Jeremy's wrist, and he pulled Jeremy just a little bit closer to himself.

"Sure did," she replied. "Followed you from Georgia, honey. I have to admit, you had me curious, coming all that way for that little bit of vervain. Was it for your pretty boy here, Damon? Because I thought you knew better than to put it in him if you were planning on taking a little sip."

"It was his uncle," Jeremy muttered, and he hadn't looked away from her. If it hadn't been for the searing pain still burning Damon's senses, he might have found the protective nature charming. As it stood, it only reminded Damon of just how little he could protect Jeremy like this. Jeremy didn't notice as Damon shifted, trying to roll over onto his knees. He just stayed there, staring up at Bree. "Zach fed me vervain because he thought I was a vampire."

"Because he's an idiot," Damon growled, and he let go of Jeremy so that he could stay his hands in the dirt and brace himself. Jeremy turned then to look back at him, and his hand was heavy and warm against Damon's back. Damon's eyes closed for half a second, and then Bree moved, and Damon reached to pull Jeremy closer to him. Her smile faltered, and then her eyes softened as she held up her hands.

"You need clean blood," she said softly. "I won't touch your artist, Damon. I just want to feed you. Okay?"

Damon hesitated, trying to...there was a trap here. He knew it. He could feel his teeth lengthening though. He could feel his body shifting, craving the thought of enough clean blood to quench the flames that burned up all the oxygen in his body. Jeremy's hand tightened on his, and Damon pushed himself up a little more. The world shifted around him, and a sharp pain in his gut made him crash right back into the dirt. One of them made a low noise, and Jeremy's hand pulled away from him.

It took him a minute to process that Jeremy had put his ring on Bree, murmuring something about death and 'just in case'. Stupid, because Damon had long since learned to feed without killing. But if anyone had the right to doubt him...

He could smell the lake all over again, and his body heaved once more at the memory. Then Bree was close enough for him to wrap a hand around the back of her neck and drag her in to drink from.

Jeremy's fingers tangled in his hair, and Damon bit her, deeper than he ever had before. She gasped, and for the first time in years, there was genuine fear in he sound. As Jeremy's fingers stroked through his hair, Damon drank, gulping in the hot, fresh blood. The taste was familiar and easy, had belonged to him years ago, and judging from the way her hands grasped at his back, she'd never stopped being his.

"It's okay," Jeremy murmured, and his voice was so steady, that even when Bree whined a low protest, Damon knew he could ignore that. "Just drink, Damon, that's all you have to worry about, okay? We have to dilute the vervain."

"D-Damon," Bree whispered. Her hands pressed against his back, and as the blood flooded his system, he realized that her nails were clawing into his back. "Too much, Damon—"

But she had in Jeremy's ring, so it didn't matter, did it? Damon could drink all he wanted, could drain her dry over and over until he was at full strength, and then he could go to the Salvatore house and snap Zach's damned neck—

He jerked back from her, gasping himself, one hand coming up to wipe at the blood on his mouth. He met her eyes, glassier than he normally let himself get to with her, and he swore as he bit his wrist and put it up to her lips. It took some coaxing to get his blood in her, enough to start healing her, and he looked up at Jeremy.

Jeremy didn't meet his eyes, just focused on smoothing back Bree's hair with trembling fingertips, and Damon stood up with her in his arms. There was still vervain in his body, and it still burned in his veins, but her weight was easy enough to move. There just wasn't a single steady person among the three of them. Damon put her in the backseat of her own car, and he stayed quiet until he shut the door. He leaned heavily against it, fingers curving over where the door frame connected with the top of the car, and he glanced back over his shoulder at Jeremy.

"What was that, Jeremy?" he asked lowly.

"What was what? You didn't see how bad you looked," Jeremy said quickly, defensively, and Damon's brow furrowed as he pushed off the car to reach out and wrap his hand around Jeremy's wrist. It took more effort than normal to trap Jeremy between himself and the car, but Jeremy still went where Damon wanted him, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Jeremy couldn't seem to look at him, so Damon reached out and cupped his hand under Jeremy's chin to force him to look up again.

"You were willing to watch me kill Bree?"

"She had the ring on," Jeremy retorted, but the words were nearly broken. "It wasn't like she'd die for real. And you can't—"

"She would have been dead! Like you!" Damon shoved off Jeremy then, taking a few steps away just to try to breathe and ignore the way his skin still felt like he was burning from the inside out. "You can't tell me you weren't 'really' dead," he finally growled, and he kept his eyes off Jeremy as he spoke. He did stupid things when it came to Jeremy.

"Damon... I didn't mean..."

"You never do, but I still have one hundred and forty-five years of guilt for murdering you."

Jeremy swallowed— Damon could hear him do it, even if he wasn't looking at him, and that was good; that meant his senses were coming back— and he shifted before he reached out. He went for Damon's wrist, a loose hold, and he whispered, "There are things happening here. There are hunters everywhere in this damned town, Damon. I mean, hell, my own father—"

"Is on good terms with me," Damon countered sharply, and he finally looked at Jeremy again. "You don't think I did my homework here, Jeremy? I only came back here at all to find you. To find you and get you and—"

"And do what, exactly?" Jeremy's eyes were dark and bright, more intense than he normally let himself get. Or had Damon simply forgotten that intensity over the years? He shifted his hand, turning it in Jeremy's hold so that his fingers brushed against Jeremy's wrist. "You were going to take me away, Damon? Get me out of Mystic Falls?"

"... Like you said," Damon finally murmured, "there are a lot of things happening here. It isn't all that safe."

Jeremy hesitated for a second, still looking up at him, and then he finally looked down at the ground and shook his head. "Why did you go to Georgia? Really just to get vervain, like she said?"

"No. I needed a few other things."

"And you couldn't get them from somewhere closer than Georgia?"

"It wasn't the stuff. It was the person I needed to get it from." Damon frowned as he held Jeremy's gaze, and he tilted his head slightly, leaned back against the car again, and spread one hand. "Why are you pushing this?"

"Because going to Georgia for vervain is stupid," Jeremy said sharply, sighing. "Zach is growing a metric ton of the stuff in the basement. You know. In that dungeon down there." He shifted his weight, and he reached up to brush his hand through his hair again.

Damon's frown deepened. "He's what? He can't be."

"He supplies the Council." Jeremy shrugged as he kicked at the dirt under his foot, and then he moved over to lean against the car beside Damon. "That's what I meant by there's stuff going down here. A lot of weird, complicated stuff that I don't know that I have all the pieces for. I can't... this isn't like back then. I can't protect you here."

Damon's eyes widened, and he snorted, grinning just a little at the thought of someone— anyone, and Jeremy Gilbert of all people— wanting to protect him. "I don't need to be protected," he said sharply. "You might've seen me human, but—"

"I saw you like this first," Jeremy whispered. "And you're always smart, Damon. Always clever, always working some angle with some plan that you don't tell anybody about. You manipulate people and trust them to do exactly what they're going to do, and if they don't do what you need them to, you make them. That's always been your game." Jeremy laughed just a little, but it was brittle. Damon had never heard him so close to breaking, not even on the nights leading up to the church fire. "You would do anything if you think it got you closer to your goal."

Damon lifted his chin a little, and he couldn't stand Jeremy sounding that way anymore. He stepped in closer, one hand lifting to brush his fingers against Jeremy's cheek. "And you don't?" he murmured, and Jeremy rewarded him with another little laugh, but this one sounded better. It sounded more real. Jeremy raised a hand to wrap over Damon's, and he tilted his face into Damon's touch.

"Maybe I do. Maybe I learned that from you. And Elena. She's like that."

"Your mouse of a sister?" Damon chuckled as he leaned in and touched his forehead against Jeremy's. "She's always a little too busy with her journals and the cemetery to protect anyone, isn't she?"

"Not for long," Jeremy said quietly. "Maybe. I don't... I don't know. I changed so much, Damon, and there's no telling what you changed, what Stefan changed, and this... it isn't my time line. It isn't my world. My dad is supposed to be dead—"

"It's ours," Damon corrected, and he kissed Jeremy to cut off any other words he might have. They were hysterical words anyway, and breathing life into them was only serving to upset Jeremy more. Damon pushed him against the car, kissing him, and he could taste the vervain in Jeremy's mouth. It was a tingle at the edges of Damon's senses, one that he had noticed before he'd bitten Jeremy but hadn't placed. He'd place it from now on.

He kissed Jeremy hard, not giving him opportunity to pull back, to breathe, to do or feel anything that wasn't Damon against him, and as his free hand slid down Jeremy's back, something thumped inside the car. Damon tapped the glass of the window back, then grasped at a handful of Jeremy's ass, lifting him up just a little with the motion. Jeremy was already taller than him, and that motion only served to make how far back he had to bend almost uncomfortable. It was worth it for the snort he heard inside the car and the pressure he could feel of Jeremy's arousal between them.

He had plans to take care of that later. To give them both some kind of relief from the sheer amount of heat and anticipation building between them. First though, they had to take care of Bree, and Damon had to put her somewhere safe. Somewhere that wasn't the Salvatore Boarding House, because apparently his idiot nephew was sitting on a metric ton of vervain.

He pulled back from Jeremy's mouth, and he tapped on the glass again, letting Jeremy slide down to get his feet on the ground again. Then he tilted his head to look around him at Bree. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he smiled, ever so sweetly, before he moved to put Jeremy in the passenger seat.

"So, Bree," Damon said the moment he was in the driver's seat, and he held up his hand. She stared at him for only a moment before she sighed and slapped the keys into it. "Where you staying?"

"The car," she murmured, and her voice was still a little rough. A little broken. That was fair, Damon decided as he started the engine. She'd come close to death, and while he knew Jeremy believed that the ring would keep her alive, Damon still wasn't convinced that the damn thing worked. Jeremy's miraculous revival here in his own time had been because of Emily, not because of any old family heirloom.

He nodded, and he turned the car around, heading back into town. "Well then. I guess you get to stay in my little nook here in town, yeah? Unless you'd rather shack up with the local witches. I'm sure I could drop you off with the Bennetts..."

"Don't you dare," she muttered, and she looked out the window. He snorted. "Though if you're insisting on putting me up, why not with your 'uncle' there? I could teach him a thing or two in the use of power, you know."

Jeremy rolled his eyes, but he smiled, and Damon grinned at Bree in the mirror. "Yes, well, believe me. Zach won't need any lessons because he's likely to be dead shortly."

Damon pretended not to notice the way Jeremy's smile faded at that, and Bree cleared her throat before she looked back out the window. Her fingers tapped lightly on the door, just in front of the window. "That's how you're going to play this then?"

"He vervained Jeremy," Damon pointed out, not entirely sure why either of them had a problem with this idea. "He poisoned him. And more than that, he did it because he figured I would bite him—"

"He did it because he thought I was a vampire," Jeremy said quietly. Damon glanced over at him and sighed, raising an eyebrow. Jeremy shrugged. "What? I didn't say it was a smart thing to assume, but I can get why he was worried. I came bursting in your house demanding to see you a few days ago after you and Stefan had made sure I wasn't... you know. The same Jeremy, and then you're all different with me than you are around anyone else and Stefan is worried about you around me, and you have to admit, it isn't like the time travel is exactly plausible."

"Yeah, see, can we talk about that?" Bree leaned forward, her arms propped up on the seats on either side of her, and she looked over at Jeremy. Her curls were so long they brushed against the console in the middle of the car. "What sort of spell did she use on you there to do that? Do you remember? Because I would love—"

"Bree. Sit. Buckle up. There'll be time for that later," Damon said with a snort. She wrinkled her nose at him, pulled off Jeremy's ring, and handed it back to him before she leaned back in her seat. Damon even heard the tell-tale click of the buckle after just a minute.

He grinned.

"There we go. Fine, Bree. Have it your way. You have to share the house with Stefan though, and you'll need a reason to be there."

"Don't be ridiculous. You and I obviously went to college together. I'm visiting. What are you doing these days anyway out here? Not nearly a big enough city to keep up with your normal pursuits, I imagine."

Damon hesitated, and he glanced over at Jeremy for just a heartbeat before he finally admitted, "I teach art. After school."

Bree burst into laughter, and she tapped the side of Jeremy's seat. "Oh, honey, you've got him on a short leash, don't you? He started after school art for you?"

Jeremy flushed, and the rest of the mercifully short car ride was quiet, broken only by Jeremy softly pointing out local landmarks to Bree. Damon wondered if Jeremy was comparing this Mystic Falls to his own or to the one they'd both left behind. His time line, he'd called it. Somewhere that Damon couldn't follow him back to, and damn if that thought didn't make his skin crawl in ways that had nothing to do with the vervain. His teeth ground a little as he thought about it, as he imagined Jeremy fading away into nothing, this time with no promise of his return with some Godforsaken comet or some date in the far off future.

Damon could wait an eternity for him, if Jeremy demanded that of him, but lose him completely?

Definitely not.

The boarding house was quiet as they pulled up, and Damon killed the engine slowly, peering up toward the windows. There was no flutter of curtains, and maybe Zach had left for a while. Or maybe Grayson had come over, looking for the son Zach had stolen after school. Damon looked over at Jeremy, and he sighed as he murmured, "I probably need to take you home."

Jeremy blinked, then shook his head. "No. Dad's not expecting me. I told him I'd be home late."

"Living dangerously," Bree said cheerfully, and she leaned up between the seats again, looking between them. "Maybe it's time for a family dinner then. You, Jeremy, Zach, and Stefan. That would probably be good for you."

"What, you angling for an invitation?" Damon asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked back at her. When her grin widened, he shook his head and glanced toward the door again. "Yeah, right. I don't think so—"

"That might not be a bad idea. We could invite Elena, if you wanted. Give it some credibility and make sure no vampire stuff gets discussed. Then Zach will have to see that you're capable of interacting with humans without killing them."

"Or compelling them," Bree said in agreement. "You do have that bad habit, you know."

Damon snorted, looked over at Jeremy's bare wrist, and sighed before he threw his hands up and got out of the car. "Fine. Do whatever you two want. You will anyway, after all, and short of tying you both down and locking you up, I don't think I can stop you."

"Kinky," Bree replied with a grin. "You know, your artist here is a little young for me, but you, Damon..."

Jeremy flushed so dark that Damon thought his face might burst from the sheer amount of blood there. He looked pointedly up at the house instead of over at Bree and Damon, and Bree couldn't help but to laugh.

"Oh, honey, believe me, you don't have a thing to worry about. Damon's made sure that all his flames know they're only temporary. Besides, I think I've gotten a little old for him."

"You were the one who broke it off," Damon countered.

"Only because I realized you were sleeping with me purely to get me to spell your sketchbook. Can I just say, keeping a witch around just for that is creepy."

Jeremy blinked. "Wait, you got her to spell the book?"

Bree shrugged. "How else do you think it lasted so long? Books like that degrade, especially with how much Damon touches the damn thing. If it hadn't been for the countless spells on it, that sketchbook would be ash by now."

Jeremy hummed slightly as he thought that over, and Damon wondered just what, exactly, he was thinking. Was he flattered? Creeped out? Damon had to admit that it was some combination of the two that had kept him spelling the book. Being completely unable to let go of those sketches, of that letter, and knowing that he might need it to jog Jeremy's memory whenever he eventually found him.

Somehow, he'd never considered that the past would have been only a few days ago for Jeremy.

But Jeremy didn't say anything. He just headed on into the house, and Damon turned to go back and get the other car. He hesitated when Bree's hand caught his elbow, and he met her gaze with a raised eyebrow.

She let him go, splaying her hand out, palm up. "I just want to know if he's always been like that."

"Like what?" Damon glanced toward the house, toward the door Jeremy had disappeared into.

"He was willing to let me die," she said slowly. "I mean, he encouraged you to kill me. To drain me dry, Damon. How long has it been since you actually did something like that?"

Damon frowned, and he shook his head, reaching up to rub his forehead. "Doesn't matter. He only did it because you had his ring on. You can't really die with it on."

Bree stared at him for a long moment, and Damon met her eyes steadily. Finally, she nodded and looked away, opening the trunk of her car. "Right. Well. So long as you guys squared that away. I need you to drink from someone else for a while though, you understand."

A slight snort, but Damon nodded. Then he murmured, "Go on. Get your stuff inside. Dress for dinner. I'm sure it'll be exciting."