Author's Note: This next chapter is "inspired" by Anberlin's "Enjoy the Silence," which, of course, is the same song Damon and Vicki danced to, during the "Lost Girls" episode in Season 1. In addition to Damon and Elena, we will also be checking in with Klaus and Stefan, along with some True Blood veterans. While I haven't shifted this over to the "Crossover" story section, I'm hoping that you will agree that this is, at its heart, mostly a TVD tale. The True Blood characters are mainly here for support, comic relief, and to give some much-needed advice to our friends.
3:33 p.m.
The Quiet was messing with Damon's head. He wasn't used to being left alone for this long with his "thoughts and feelings," and he didn't like it. Hours spent navel gazing, and contemplating the state of the universe, had always been more Stefan's cup of tea. It was probably the reason Damon drank so much. The monotonous hum that took over his brain, after a few glasses of bourbon, was, not only very relaxing, it also helped him to avoid his own company. It prevented him from dealing with things.
Things like the fact that Elena hadn't said so much as one word to him, ever since they got into his car, en route to the Richmond International Airport, which was two hours away. That wasn't true, actually. She said ten words to him, right when he was pulling out of the driveway. They were: "Please . . . turn . . . off . . . the . . . music . . . Damon . . . I . . . have . . . a . . . headache."
So desperate was Damon for conversation that he briefly considered chatting up the computerized OnStar lady, who was providing him with directions to the airport from his dashboard. (He even named her "Tess.") Unfortunately, Tess' conversation skills were more or less limited to making observations like "Turn left on Martin Street," and "Continue on Route 9 for 5 miles."
Having accepted that it was never going to work out between him and Tess, Damon turned his attention to Elena, who, at the moment, was morosely staring out the window, her head cradled against the leather seat. She looked miserable. And Damon hated seeing her so unhappy. Empathy . . . it was one of the nastier side effects of having "feelings." Oh . . . and he was head over heels in love with her . . . and couldn't stop thinking about how good her lips tasted. So, there was that too . . .
Remembering how much fun he and Elena had during their LAST road trip to Georgia (granted it was under circumstances that were quite different), Damon decided, once and for all, to break his travel companion out of her funk. In the elder Salvatore Brother's admittedly limited experience, whenever Elena got into moods like this, the best way to break her out of them was to annoy her. And if Damon was good at anything, it was getting under Elena's skin . . .
"So, you know those Hangover movies?" Damon began, seemingly out of nowhere. "You know how those guys are always waking up the next morning, forgetting everything that happened the night before; and they always chalk it up to them taking really intense drugs, or something? Well, see, I have this theory that the writer of those films is actually a vampire, and that the so-called forgetting that happens in those movies is a subliminal nod to compulsion."
Elena turned toward Damon and rolled her eyes. "Really . . . this is what you've been thinking about the whole time we've been driving to the airport to rescue your brother from some lunatic super freak werewolf-vampire combination . . . The Hangover movies?"
Damon grinned. Jackpot. "Well . . . I WOULD be using my eclectic music collection to help get me pumped up for our Big Rescue Mission, but SOMEONE has a huge headache, and won't let me listen," he quipped, removing his hands from the wheel briefly, to make air quotes around the phrase huge headache.
Elena wrinkled her nose. "Truthfully, I don't like your taste in music, Damon. All the songs you listen to are dark, angry and depressing," she admitted.
"What?" Damon made an exaggerated show of offense. "My music is not dark, angry and depressing. You aredark, angry and depressing."
Elena smiled ruefully, and nodded. "Touché," she replied.
OK. So, now he'd gotten her warmed up. That was a start. But if he truly wanted to make the next couple of days between him and Elena bearable, Damon knew that they were going to have to discuss the 800-pound elephant in the car. "So, are we ever going to talk about what happened last night?" Damon asked, suddenly intently focused on the road ahead.
Elena sighed deeply. She knew she was going to have to have this conversation eventually. Damon generally wasn't the type to let things fester. She turned toward him. "I'm glad you're OK, Damon. I mean if Katherine hadn't brought the cure when she did . . . I . . . I don't know what I would do, if . . . I lost you too."
Damon nodded solemnly. Elena genuinely cared about him. That aspect of their relationship had already been established many times before. And he was finally allowing himself to belief it. But THAT wasn't what was causing things to be awkward between them, and she knew it. "I know . . . and . . . what you did for me . . . the kindness you showed me . . . I didn't know humanity could be so GOOD, until I met you," he said softly.
"Trust me, I'm not that good," Elena replied.
"You are, Elena. I've never met someone with such a pure heart, which is why I . . ."
"You want to know why I kissed you, and what that meant," Elena interrupted.
Damon paused for a second, surprised. He had always assumed that, if anyone was going to bring up this particular conversation topic, it was going to have to be him. "You know, if you did it out of pity, it's OK. I get it . . . I mean, there I was, all sweaty and vulnerable, and making all these confessions. And you probably thought, 'I should just give him what he wants, he's going to die anyway, right?' And then, I didn't die. I just want you to be . . ."
Elena impulsively grabbed on to Damon's arm, just as he had done to her, earlier in the morning. The heat and intensity of her touch would have probably caused Damon to swerve off the road, if they weren't currently stuck in traffic. Damon looked wide-eyed at the positioning of Elena's hand, and then back to her eyes, which were now staring at him intently.
"I didn't kiss you out of pity, Damon. I don't do things out of pity. I don't want you to think that. Seeing you lying there . . . how you were . . . it stirred up a lot of emotions in me . . . feelings that I didn't know that I had . . . feelings that didn't all necessarily make sense to me at the time, and still don't. To be honest, I'm still trying to figure all that out. I just . . . I think I need some time."
The traffic started moving again. Realizing that her hand was still on Damon's arm, Elena self-consciously pulled it away, and put it in her pocket.
Damon smiled good-naturedly. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear, but it was certainly a start. He could almost feel the tension in the car dissipating. "Well, thanks to Klaus' blood, time is something we have in abundance," he offered jokingly. "So, NOW can I put some music on? Come on . . . I'll even let you pick the station."
Elena shook her head. "In about twenty minutes we will be at airport. And you will have plenty of noise to keep you out of your own head. But, for now, if you don't mind, I'd just really like some silence."
Damon laughed. Noise to keep you out of your own head . . . She really did understand him better than anyone else. It was infuriating, really. But he wasn't about to let her win this battle, not when he had been so well behaved the entire car ride. And so he began to sing, "Words like violence break the silence . . . They come crashing in . . . into my little world."
Elena groaned. "DAMON!" She whined.
"Painful to me . . . pierce right through me . . . Can't you understand, oh, my little girl?" Damon continued, now using his non-driving hand as a makeshift microphone.
Grudgingly, Elena had to admit that she liked this song. "Dark and angry," as it was, it had always been one of her parents' favorites. They used to blast it from the speakers outside the lake house on lazy summer Sundays, singing the song off-key at the top of their lungs. As soon as Elena and Jeremy were old enough to learn the lyrics, they would sing it too. And so, to Damon's pleasant surprise, Elena picked up the third stanza, herself. "All I ever wanted, all I ever needed, is here . . . in my arms."
"YEAH! GO, ELENA!" Damon exclaimed excitedly.
They finished the chorus together, singing loud, and more than a bit off-key, "Words are very unnecessary, they can only do harm."
Knowing victory was now his, Damon reached over to his iPod, which was connected to the car speakers, and selected the Anberlin version of "Enjoy the Silence." This time, Elena did not argue. The pair sang the song from beginning to end together, with Damon using the dashboard of the car as a makeshift drum, and Elena accompanying him on air guitar. They were having such a good time, that they almost missed the exit to the airport . . .
6:12 p.m.
It was Elena's first time flying First Class. Traveling with a vampire definitely had its perks. Under normal circumstances, she probably would have given Damon a hard time about compelling the airline attendant to offer them prime seats on an already overbooked flight. But the next flight to Louisiana wasn't for another two hours. And who knew where Klaus would have taken Stefan by then?
Snuggling up in her free fleece blanket, courtesy of Delta Airlines (When flying coach, she was lucky if she got a second bag of peanuts.), Elena glanced out the airplane window, and was captivated by how perfect the world looked from this altitude. Smog, pollution, death, decay, destruction . . . none of it was visible from up here. There was a part of her that wished she could just float in the sky like this, forever. "Hey Damon, what mountain range is that?" She inquired, pointing to a snow-topped mass of brown below.
"Damon?"
Damon's eyes were closed; and his mouth parted open, ever so slightly. At first, Elena wondered whether he might be faking it. However, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, told her that he was, in fact, asleep. Though, unfortunately, Elena had seen Damon unconscious quite a few times, this was the first time she'd ever seen him just sleeping. Before this, there were times when she wondered whether he ever slept.
Watching Damon doze, Elena was amazed by how innocent he looked . . . almost boyish. Gone were the furrowed brow, the smirking mouth, and the intense eyes that were perpetually filled with knowledge and sarcasm. It was as if the burden of hundreds of years of disappointment and heartache had disappeared from his face.
Awake, Damon may have been a dangerous vampire. But asleep, he was just a carefree 20-something, simply catching some Z's. Elena noted that Damon has never looked more beautiful to her than he did now. There was just something about the way the light from the window caressed the contours of his face . . . the way his eyes fluttered lightly behind their lids, as if engaged in a soothing dream. If she hadn't been so worried he would wake up, Elena probably would have taken a picture of Damon, in this quiet moment.
Overtaken with tenderness for her sleeping travel companion, Elena removed the fleece blanket from around her shoulders, and placed it across Damon's body, gently tucking in the edges behind his back. As she did this, a small sleepy smile turned up the corners of Damon's mouth. Feeling drowsy, herself, from the stresses of the past few days, Elena rested her head on Damon's shoulder, and allowed her own eyes to drift closed.
7:17 p.m.
Vampire Pam was bored. There was not one thing about working the front door at Fangtasia that she enjoyed. She DESPISED the corny S&M fantasy leather getup she was expected to wear. And she hated with a passion the dim-witted tourists who constantly wanted their picture taken with her, and, who would, inevitably, ask her to bite them, once they'd had a few too many. Here she was, a sophisticated, intelligent vampire, who spoke twelve languages, had mastered five musical instruments, and, in her heyday, used to dine with kings and queens. Now look at her? She was a glorified bouncer, performing a job that anyone with a third grade education, and a little muscle, could manage.
These were the thoughts that were running through Pam's head, when her first customer approached the entrance to the bar. He was a vampire, which was unusual, considering that most of her kind were just waking up from the crypts about now. In terms of physical appearance, he looked about 17 or 18. But by the way he walked and carried himself, she could tell he was much older . . . at least a century older . . . possibly even around her age. He was also not from around here, as evidenced by the Rental Car plates on his Honda Civic.
Pam decided to have a bit of fun with her new "client." "Can I see some ID, please?" she inquired, when the vampire reached the entrance.
"I left it at home," remarked Stefan Salvatore evenly, but Pam couldn't help but notice a certain menace behind his words.
We've got ourselves a live one! She thought to herself . . . a live one that eats humans, and LOTS of them. The unmistakable stench of human blood on Stefan's breath was both overpowering and intoxicating to Pam. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she's consumed a human to the point of death. She felt her fangs jut out reflexively, and found herself wishing she had fed before work.
"Oh, well, that's OK," Pam offered congenially.
Stefan smiled, but it is not a kind smile. "Thank you for being so understanding," he replied icily.
But Pam was not about to be so easily intimidated. In fact, as far as she was concerned, the fun was just getting started. "You can get in your car, drive back home, get your ID, and bring it back. I'll still be here," she answered with the most innocent smile she could muster
Stefan looked flustered for a moment, which pleased Pam immensely. However, he quickly recovered, allowing the Tough Guy façade to take over his features, once again. "It's in Mystic Falls," he offered, matter-of-factly.
"Where the f*&k is Mystic Falls?" Pam asked haughtily.
"Is there a problem, here?" A blonde vampire inquired, as he magically materialized behind Stefan.
Pam noted that this guy was, not only much older, and stronger, than his companion, he was also a way bigger douchebag. The second vampire's supercilious accent immediately set Pam on edge, and made her feel instinctively sorry for Stefan, who she assumed must be with him for his money . . . or something. But it was not just Klaus' accent, and his arrogance, that Pam didn't like. There was something else . . . something about his smell. If she didn't know better, she would think the blonde vampire was also a werewolf.
"Yes, there is a problem," Stefan replied coolly to Klaus, offering Pam a sly smile, to illustrate to her that the alliances have changed; he was on HER side now. "When we came here, you gave me the impression that you and the owner of this fine establishment were very well acquainted. You also informed me that he and his associates would be expecting our arrival. And yet, clearly, based on . . . what's your name?"
"Pam," the vampire vixen replied. She was enjoying Stefan more and more, by the minute.
"Thank you. . . based on Pam's treatment of me, when I first arrived here, you seem to have overestimated the strength of your business connections here," concluded Stefan smugly.
Though Klaus was obviously infuriated by the undermining of his authority by his new protégé, and some anonymous vampire wench, Klaus refused to appear rattled. "I'm sure there must be some misunderstanding," the Original Were-Vamp offered graciously. "You see, I'm Klaus."
"What the f*&k is a Klaus?" Pam asked.
This latest inquiry caused Stefan to stifle a laugh, as a low growl emitted from Klaus' throat. The latter briefly contemplated compelling Vampire Pam to lie naked in the middle of the road, so Klaus could drive over her with his rental car. But that would be too easy. After all, like he always said, "A real Ripper loves the hunt."
Klaus moved quickly, so that he was now behind Vampire Pam, with his arm wrapped around her chest. With his free hand, the Old Vampire began gently running his fingers across her throat, in a gesture that was undoubtedly sexual, yet threatening, at the same time, "Listen, you Little Bi+*h," he whispered in her ear. "If you don't . . ."
"Well, well, well . . . look what we have here," remarked a husky masculine voice from behind Klaus' head.
Vampire Pam breathed an instinctive sigh of relief, upon hearing the unmistakable sound of her Maker.
"Now, Klaus, I know you are hungry from your long journey. But I really would appreciate it, if you refrained from eating my child," explained the Viking Vamp calmly.
"Eric Northman . . . you haven't changed a bit," joked Klaus, as he relinquished Vampire Pam from his grasp.
Then Klaus did something that shocked BOTH Pam AND Stefan. He walked up to Vampire Eric, grinned, and pulled him in for a deep manly hug.