Author's Note: This chapter was inspired by the Smashing Pumpkins' Song "The Fellowship," which was featured in the Vampire Diaries' episode, "Kill or Be Killed." Admittedly, this chapter ended up being a bit longer than I intended. Hopefully, you will still find it relatively enjoyable, and sufficiently Delena-y (particularly in the final segment), for your taste. Happy reading!
1:45 p.m. – Caroline Forbes' house
"Mom, stop WORRYING! It's just a cheerleading competition . . . school sanctioned, chaperoned, and TOTALLY boring. I'll be back in time for school on Monday, I promise" Caroline Forbes insisted, as she ran past her mother down the steps, moving toward the door.
When Elena first called Caroline, asking her to drop everything, and hop on a plane toward some random town in Louisiana, the blonde vampire had contemplated compelling her mother to allow her to go (and maybe even spot her a couple hundred dollars in shopping and souvenir money). And yet, considering all that had happened between Caroline and her mom this past year, and how the elder Forbes had just FINALLY begun to accept her daughter's newly undead status, Caroline felt that using compulsion on her now would be too big a violation of trust. So, instead, she decided to resort to the default human teenager method of getting what she wanted: lying through her teeth . . . well . . . her fangs.
"I want you to call me as soon as you land, and BE CAREFUL," Liz Forbes cautioned, kissing her daughter on the forehead.
Caroline smiled, put down her bags, and gave her mother a hug. "I love you, Mom," she said in her ear.
"I love you too, Sweetie, replied Liz, looking over her daughter's shoulder at the vehicle now parked in her driveway. "Ummm . . . honey, since when does the cheerleading squad use stretch limos to escort its members to the airport?"
Caroline shook her head, and tried to stifle a laugh. Elena hadn't given Caroline many details over the phone, as to how this little impromptu vacation came about. All she told her was that Damon Salvatore had pissed her off royally, and needed to be taught a lesson BIG TIME. That was really all Caroline needed to hear. Her bags were already packed, before Elena had hung up the phone.
Though the two vampires had managed to temporarily put aside their differences, and unite against a few common enemies (first Katherine, than the werewolves, and, most recently, Klaus) there was a small part of Caroline that still held a very sizeable grudge against Damon for that brief period of time when he had compelled her human self to, more or less, become his sex slave. And while, admittedly, the experience wasn't ENTIRELY unpleasant (This was Damon Salvatore, after all!), the staunch feminist in Caroline told her that she would be doing a deep disservice to her sex, if she didn't somehow ensure that Damon paid in full for his crimes against womanhood.
Maxing out Damon's credit cards, and hijacking his mission to save his brother, wasn't exactly the method of revenge Caroline had in mind. But it was certainly a start . . .
"This is your tax dollars at work, Mom! See you, Monday," Caroline responded gleefully, dashing toward the limo at vampire speed, before her mother could get in another word, edgewise.
A rather morose-looking chauffeur took the young vampire's bags, and held the door open for her. When Caroline climbed into the backseat, she found herself locking eyes with a very familiar face. "Tyler?" She inquired.
A not entirely unpleasant tingling sensation trickled through Caroline's body, as she allowed her eyes to drift across the tan skinned, substantially-muscled frame that she had gotten to know VERY well, over these past few weeks. Based on the look Tyler was giving her now, she was pretty sure the same thing was happening to him.
"Hey Caroline," Tyler offered shyly, a barely concealed grin instinctively forming at the corners of his mouth, as a result of the young vampire's close proximity to him.
Something told Caroline that this was going to be a very interesting vacation, indeed . . .
2:30 p.m. – Bon Temps Motor Lodge
The queen-sized bed in Elena Gilbert's hotel room was littered with uneaten breakfast items of every variety. The front desk attendant had let out an audible gasp, when Elena had instructed her that she wanted "two of everything" charged to Damon Salvatore's credit card. Then, when the food arrived, Elena gave the bellhop such an obscenely large tip, that he was gladly willing to overlook the shattered bits of television adorning the carpet. The fact that she was dressed in nothing but a skimpy little towel, when he arrived, certainly didn't hurt matters . . .
Elena was busy trying to arrange the plates of food into a pointed message for Damon, in anticipation of his return, when there was another knock at the door. Elena grinned, when she saw the tall, red-headed, teenage vampire through the peep hole. It was hard to believe she had just met Jessica less than 24-hours ago, as the pair had already become fast friends.
"Oh, Elena, honey! I appreciate your trying to be a good host and all, but . . . I don't actually eat," Jessica admitted apologetically, as she examined the buffet of food fanned out in front of Elena. "Wait a second . . . does that say what I think it says? You naughty girl, you! My maker would wash my fangs out with soap for even thinking those words. Of course, little does he know I say them all the time when he's not around," she added conspiratorially.
Elena grinned. "Let's just say the recipient of these words absolutely deserves them for the little trick he played on me. Did you get what I asked you for?"
Jessica held up four large shopping bags, and gestured toward them with a dramatic game show host flourish. "Let me tell you, it is NOT easy shopping here! Most of the women in Bon Temps consider muumuus and skirt suits the color of Easter eggs to be high fashion. Fortunately, there's a great little dress shop in Shreveport that more than makes up for this. I hear they actually get their clothing imported from New York. Can you believe it? Anyway, I wasn't sure what you were looking for. So, I took the liberty of getting you every dress they had in your size."
Oops. The Petrova Doppelganger thought to herself. Clearly, Jessica had misheard Elena's statement that she "needed to get dressed" and had somehow come to the conclusion that Elena "needed a dress." Elena was about to let her new friend down easy, when her eyes rested upon the sexiest little red dress she had ever seen. Before she even realized what she was doing, Elena found herself reaching for it, and running her fingers across its soft fabric. Damon would go absolutely WILD for this dress . . . not that this had ANYTHING to do with her interest in it, of course!
Jessica nodded with approval. "That was my favorite too. I just didn't want to say anything, because I didn't want you to think I was trying to pressure you. Here, try it on."
Elena eagerly slipped into the sultry red cocktail dress, with the flare skirt and plunging neckline. After Jessica zipped her up in back, she rushed to the mirror, and was captivated by the image that stared back at her. The dress fit perfectly, gently caressing each of her slender curves, as if it was made specifically for her body. Its deep red fabric did wonders for her olive-toned skin, somehow making it appear rosier, as if her entire face was flushed . . . with blood. Elena knew immediately that she couldn't say no to this dress. And there was a good chance that Damon wouldn't be able to say no to it either.
"Ohhh, Elena! You look stunning. But aren't you a little over dressed for an evening at Merlotte's?" Jessica inquired, a bit confused.
Elena's brow furrowed. "Merlotte's?"
"Yeah, that's where your boyfr . . . where that Damon guy is right now. He's been riling up the clientele all day . . . training them to be in some "army" or something. I figured it was one of those lame Civil War reenactment thingies. To each his own, I guess. When you called, I just assumed that you were going to meet him there."
Elena rubbed her hands with glee. So, Damon was at Merlotte's . . . and in front of an audience, no less. This was going better than she could have ever imagined. "Ummm . . . yes, I AM going to Merlotte's," answered Elena, in as natural of a voice as she could muster. "But, first, I have to stop by the airport and pick up some friends of mine. I was planning to call a car service."
"Oh, PLEASE can I come with you?" Jessica pleaded. "I've got my car right out back, so I can drive you! To be honest, I could really use some excitement in my life, Elena. This place can get so boring, sometimes."
Elena stifled a laugh. If only she knew. "Sure, the more the merrier I guess. But we'll have to leave now, if we want to beat traffic."
Jessica ruffled through her purse and pulled out her keys. "That's not going to be a problem at all. They don't call me Red Devil for nothing," the baby vampire offered with a wink, as the two headed for the door.
3:58 p.m. – King Klaus' Mansion
The growls coming from the basement were getting louder, and more insistent. Stefan knew it was only a matter of time before Klaus' army of hybrids stampeded upstairs, destroying everything and everyone in their wake, including Stefan and Katherine. Their time was running out, and fast.
"Katherine, you have to run," Stefan insisted, grabbing the female vampire's delicate face in his hands. "Klaus already got what he wanted from you: an en road to become king, a headquarters for his army, and a way to temporarily keep to me in line. Once those hybrids get a whiff of you, they will kill you, and Klaus won't do anything to stop it."
Katherine shook her head vigorously, a look of fierce determination in her face. "I'm not running, Stefan. I've done it for 500-years, and I'm not doing it again. What you said in the limo was right. I've been a coward . . . living my life on the lam, all this time. Me . . . a vampire . . . a predator . . . living like prey. PATHETIC. I've played the victim for way too long, Stefan. And that ends today."
Tears filled Stefan's eyes at the thought of losing Katherine again, so soon after he had finally come to terms with the strong feelings he'd been harboring for her all this time. For a moment, he contemplated giving in to the blood lust that was still boiling over inside of him. He could turn off his emotions, and let the raging monster inside of him free once again. It would be so much easier for him to do this . . . to no longer yearn to taste Katherine's sweet lips, and supple body . . . to shield himself from the guilt he felt over betraying Elena, by giving his heart to another . . . to simply forget all the innocent people he had drained of life, during his 160 plus years on Earth, as if none of it mattered. But he couldn't do that this time, not with this beautiful woman staring him in the face, vowing to be strong for him.
"Katherine, listen to me," Stefan insisted. "He wants to turn me into one of them . . . a hybrid. If I let him do this, I will become his equal. And I can defeat him. But I can't go through with it, if I don't know in my heart that you are safe. Let me do this, Katherine . . . for us, and for all the people whose lives he's ruined."
Katherine pulled Stefan's face toward hers, her lips and soft flesh pressing into his, with a hunger she didn't know was possible. She inhaled deeply, breathing in his intoxicatingly musky scent, as if it was a drug she needed to live. Every fiber of her being burned for him, and his for her . . . And it was that powerful feeling deep inside of Katherine that told her exactly what she needed to do.
"Did I ever tell you about my grandmother?" Katherine inquired in a voice so soft that Stefan almost couldn't hear her over the loud growls of the hybrid werewolves, as they pounded their way toward the top of the stairs.
"Katherine, this isn't the time for . . . YOU HAVE TO GO!" Stefan growled.
But Katherine continued to walk, almost as if in a trance, toward the bathroom, her face an emotionless mask of icy stoicism. "I was a real handful back when I was human . . . not nearly as wild and vindictive as I am now, of course, but definitely a parents' worst nightmare. I liked to dance all night at parties with inappropriate men of all ages. I had lots of amazing, euphoric, life-altering sex, in a time, when having multiple sexual partners was highly frowned upon. My family was also deeply religious. So, of course, I was a source of major embarrassment to them."
"One night I came home from a party, and my father was waiting up for me. It was obvious to him that I had been with another man. He could smell the stench of sex on me . . . ripe . . . pungent . . . feral . . . and, as far as he was concerned, evil. He slapped me in the face so hard that I had a handprint on my cheek for a week. Then, he spit at me, and told me that he wished I had never been born."
"I had never cried before. But tears came to me that night, in uncontrollable bursts, stifling my breathing, and making me wish I was dead."
"My grandmother came into my room that night. She hugged me, and kissed my forehead, rocking me back and forth, until I stopped sobbing. They used to call my grandmother a witch, because she could see things that other people couldn't. She knew the future before it happened. And that night, she whispered something in my ear that I never forgot. 'Katerina Petrova,' my grandmother said. 'One day, you are going to set the world on FIRE.'"
And with that, Katherine opened Sophie Anne's linen closet. Not surprisingly, the high maintenance former Queen's bathroom was filled with endless amounts of hair spray, body spray, nail polish remover, rubbing alcohol, and about 100 different types of perfume. The brunette vampire extracted two bottles of hair spray, and a lighter from the closet, holding them together to create a bluish flame about the size of a basketball. With a flourish, she tossed the heat-charged items into the cabinet, watching mesmerized as, one by one, the wooden shelves began to burn . . .
6:45 p.m. – Merlotte's Bar and Grill
"Team FOUR! GO!" Damon sat on top of the bar at Merlotte's his feet dangling over the edge, as Jason Stackhouse, Hoyt Fortenberry, and Terry Bellefleur raced forward with stakes in hand. In front of them was a cardboard cutout of Michael J. Fox from the 1985 film Teen Wolf. (The Bon Temps video store had always been a bit dated in its film selection.) As Damon shouted instructions over the cheering, only slightly inebriated, crowd, Jason tackled "Michael J. Fox," while Hoyt slashed his throat, and Terry ripped off his legs.
When they were finished, Jason held up the actor's severed wolf head with extreme pride, bowing to his adoring admirers. A panting Hoyt slapped Jason on the back, and offered Terry a triumphant fist bump.
"Now, I like a good piece of man meat, as much as the next person, but this is the strangest sh*t I have ever seen. And I've seen some strange sh*t in my day!" Lafayette Reynolds exclaimed, as he and Tara Thornton watched the scene in amazement.
"And we thought OUR vampires were effed up! This guy is INSANE," Tara replied, shaking her head.
"I'd still sleep with him though. It's always the lunatics that are the wildest beneath the sheets," Lafayette added with a wink.
"Don't I know it," responded Tara emphatically, trying in vain to vanish images of the psychotic, but decidedly erotic, vampire Franklin Mott from her brain.
Having not seen his bar this riled up, since the Maenad possession, a frustrated Sam Merlotte emerged from his office, and tapped Damon on the shoulder. "Anything that breaks goes on YOUR tab, buddy. Ditto, for hospital bills and personal injury lawsuits," he warned.
Damon sighed exasperatedly, and removed a wad of hundred dollar bills from his back pocket, "I've got things pretty much covered here. Why don't you head down to the local strip club, and go get yourself laid?" The Elder Salvatore brother instructed, laying a heaping dose of compulsion on Sam, as he spoke.
Sam extended his hand and allowed Damon to place the money inside of it. He then slowly ambled out of the bar, a dazed (but happy) expression in his eyes. "Where are you going, Sam?" Jessica inquired, as she entered the bar.
"I'm going to the strip club to get myself laid," Sam replied in a monotone voice that sent Caroline Forbes into a fit of giggles.
Damon's eyes widened, as he saw Elena enter Merlotte's, clad in her red dress, oozing sexuality, and looking more beautiful than he had ever seen her look, in the entire time he had known her. The dark-haired vampire instinctively licked his lips, and adjusted the waistband of his jeans. So entranced was Damon by Elena's stunning appearance, that he barely noticed Caroline, Tyler, Jeremy, Alaric and Bonnie entering the bar after her.
"You aren't the only one who can build an army, Damon Salvatore," Elena shouted over the noise of the crowd, causing the entire bar to turn and look at her.
Jason tossed Michael J. Fox on the floor haphazardly, and rushed toward Elena. "Hey . . . uh . . . Damon, I think I'm going to join HER army instead, if you don't mind. No hard feelings, of course," he called over his shoulder, before rushing to kiss Elena on her hand. "Jason Stackhouse, at your service."
Elena smiled. "We've met," she said, not unkindly.
Jason nodded. "I know . . . but not in the way I WANTED us to," he explained, giving Elena a sly sideways smile.
Damon hopped off the bar, and sauntered toward Elena. "I see you found my credit card," he said with a smile, deftly lifting the rectangular piece of plastic from where it was tucked carefully into her bra. (Unfortunately, Elena had lacked the foresight to buy a purse to go with the red dress, thereby forcing her to improvise.)
Elena shivered, as Damon's long thin fingers caressed the bodice of her silk, cream-colored bra, and rested for a few tantalizingly brief moments on the sensitive skin hiding underneath. When Elena opened her mouth to speak, she was surprised to find herself suddenly short of breath. She could sense the heat rising from her chest to the tips of her cheekbones, causing her to blush furiously, and begin to seriously reconsider the color of her dress. "Yes, I found your . . . wait a minute . . . you KNEW you had left it there?" Elena inquired incredulously.
"Of course, I did, Elena. How could I possibly build an army to defeat Klaus, without including all the members of my favorite Scooby Gang?" He replied glibly, offering a wave to the recently-arrived Mystic Falls crew, who was currently regarding him with expressions of amusement (Alaric and Jeremy), confusion (Caroline), annoyance (Bonnie), and distrust (Tyler), respectively. "I just didn't have the time to arrange for their trips myself, with all the training I had to do."
Elena was furious with Damon for manipulating her that way . . . for making her feel as though SHE had come up with the idea to invite her friends to meet them in Bon Temps, when, in fact HE had been pulling her puppet strings, all along. But, more than that, Elena was furious with herself for being so easily duped. She would have thought, that by now, she'd be used to Damon and his mind games. And yet, there was just something about Damon Salvatore that made Elena's brain cloudy, and her actions impulsive. She just wished that she knew what exactly it was, so that she could put an end to it, once and for all.
Damon regarded Elena out of the corner of his eye, noticing the intense fury, intermingled with lust, with which she was glaring at him. It gave him an excellent idea. "You are angry at me, aren't you, Elena? That's good. I want you to use it in this next exercise," he whispered in her ear.
"Ladies and gentleman, Elena and I would like to show you something," he announced to the watching crowd, as he motioned for the slim brunette to follow him toward the bar.
As Elena slowly walked behind Damon, she gave a pointed look at Bonnie, who smiled back at her knowingly. Elena had one last chance to exact revenge on Damon for what he had done to her. And she wasn't about to let this opportunity go to waste. Once they were in front of the bar, Damon stepped up on top of it, offering his hand to Elena, so that she could follow suit. Elena rejected his hand, stubbornly, pulling herself up on the wooden ledge of her own accord.
Damon then removed a stake from his jeans pocket, and placed it in her hands. "I want you to stake me, Elena," he said, his typically playful cobalt blue eyes suddenly regarding Elena with a look of extreme seriousness.
Elena's eyes widened with concern. Sure, she was angry at Damon . . . furious even . . . but she certainly didn't want to kill him. Damon noticed the trepidation in Elena's eyes, and gave her a triumphant smile. "You won't hurt me, I promise," he insisted.
"What makes you so sure?" Elena replied darkly, annoyed by Damon's obvious implication that she wasn't strong enough or quick enough to inflict any sort of damage on him.
Elena gritted her teeth, and thrust the stake at Damon's stomach, with her right hand, hoping to catch the cocky vampire by surprise. Unfortunately, for Elena, however, her human reflexes were no match for Damon's vampire ones. Within seconds, Damon had ripped the stake from Elena's tightly clenched fist.
Then, in one lightning fast move, he clasped both of her arms tightly behind her back with one hand. He then wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back up against his firm pelvis, with the other. The sensation of having their bodies pressed against one another in this extremely sexually suggestive way, hip-to-hip, waist-to-waist, flesh-to-flesh, was having a more powerful affect on both Damon and Elena, than either was willing to admit.
Elena felt her heart beat quicken, as a single bead of sweat, pearled on the base of her neck, and dropped into the delicate fold of her cleavage. She then made the mistake of looking upward into Damon's face. The desire in his eyes matched the raw sexual frustration that she knew was emanating in waves from her own. Suddenly, Elena was overtaken by an overwhelming desire to throw Damon against the back wall of the bar, press her chest up against his, and kiss him passionately, until both of their mouths were burned raw.
When Damon spoke again, his voice was husky, breathless, and faraway sounding, as though the overwhelming sensations overtaking his body were making it difficult for him to focus on the task at hand. "And that, my friends, is the best way to relieve an attacker of his weapon," managed Damon. "What's more, with the attacker's body positioned this way, it gives you full range of motion to further incapacitate, and dispose of the body, in any way, you see fit." Damon then began to move the flat edge of the stake in a lazy, zigzag trajectory, just barely tracing the delicate folds of Elena's dress with the pointed object, so as not to rip the fabric.
The feel of the wood pressing against Elena's body, in conjunction with the pressure of Damon's hands on her skin made Elena tremble all over. And she couldn't resist letting out a small moan of pleasure as Damon's hands accidentally crept up ever so slightly up her dress.
"Whew, I'm going to need a shower after watching this," muttered Jess under her breath.
"I know, right?" replied Caroline, as she guiltily took a peek in Tyler's direction. (He looked just as turned on as she felt.)
Elena somehow managed to locate Bonnie's face in the crowd. Frantically, she tried, once again to communicate with the witch, using only her eyes. Don't do it, Bonnie. She thought to herself, hoping her friend would received the message in time. Not now. Not like THIS. I've changed my mind.
But it was too late. Bonnie's eyes were already closed, and her lips were moving rapidly to complete the spell. This was going to happen, whether Elena wanted it to or not. Since Elena's back was to Damon, she couldn't tell, for certain, when the spell had taken affect. But then, the crowd erupted in laughter, and she knew, for certain, that it had.
In a flash, Damon's clothing disappeared into thin air, so that the only bits of him that were covered were the ones digging ever insistently into Elena's back. Elena could feel Damon's body stiffen, as he instinctively clutched her closer to him. "Match point, Elena," he whispered in her ear, his voice ragged with arousal and humiliation, but not nearly as angry, as she expected him to be. "I guess this makes us even."
Fortunately, for Damon, the front door of Merlotte's flung open with such extreme force and intensity, that it caused the entire crowd to turn toward it, and away from the naked vampire. In seconds, a group of extremely old, powerful, and ferocious looking, vampires lined the back of the bar. The tension in the room ratcheted up considerably, as vampires, humans, and were-creatures alike, reached for their respective weapons, just in case.
Once the elder vampires had congregated, a considerably taller, and blonder, vampire emerged from the fray. "Well, hello humans, and assorted supernatural types," he began in a calm, almost conversational voice, that belied the impact of what he was saying. "I wasn't aware that there would be a party here today. I suspect my invitation was lost in the mail. I see some unfamiliar faces here. So, for those of you who I haven't had the pleasure of meeting personally, my name is Eric Northman."