AN: Shippuuden - The official Part Two begins.
Is this… Is this heaven?
He'd felt Klaus crush his heart. He'd felt that with such shocking clarity... The ball of fibrosed muscle tucked away in his chest had gone pop… much like the weasel around the mulberry bush.
He was dead.
No ifs, ands, maybes, howevers, perhapses or whys about it. Dead. As dead as a murder victim.
As dead as a poisoned kitten.
Dead, like an old dog put down in the pound.
Dead, like Elvis.
Dead.
And it had happened so fast, too! One minute he'd been stepping out on to the balcony for a bit of fresh air. He hadn't been able to keep his vampire-face in check and had gone outside because he hadn't wanted Bonnie to see him like that. He'd needed just to get away for a second…
The next minute Klaus had been killing him. He'd never expected death to come at him like that. He'd never expected death to come at him at all, not since turning vampire at least.
When he was human, he'd expected death to find him tagged on to a bullet from a yankee. Instead, the bullet had come from his father.
Surprise! My Bright Eyes! How his mother would say when she'd pick him up and spin him around until the whole world disappeared and only her face remained.
A century and change as a vampire had gotten him cocky.
Dead?
While he was wearing a grunge jersey and skinny jeans? No meaningful last words, or last minute revisions to his will? His car collection would go to Stefan, and every cent he owned would go to… Elena. Damn.
Death. Damn.
RIP, you Damon you…
Now what?
He'd always expected hellfire. Raging, scalding hellfire… but he was in a field… Under blue sky, with lush safari grass blowing around his feet, the scent of pinewood and daffodils in the air. He was still wearing Maddox's grungy clothes… Sketcher's sneakers… The sun was shining, but he didn't have his ring on… and he wasn't burning to smithereens…
He took a few steps… Took in a lungful of air… Well, this isn't too bad if it's supposed to be heaven.
Except there's no Bonnie. That kinda sucked. He kicked up some loose dirt, unearthing an ant nest coincidentally. Ants, but no Bonnie. The downside of sacrificing himself for the girl was that he was dead and the girl wasn't. Huh. Ironic? What had he been thinking, dying and moving on without Bonnie? Hadn't Shakespeare established that in order for the fairy tale to end happily ever after that both the guy and the girl had to die? The story sucks if Juliet doesn't kill herself. The audience is all 'poor Romeo', 'sucks to be you, dude', 'ha ha, jackass'.
"Juliet!" he shouted, and heard it echo off the far away tree line. Jungle.
And who the fuck is Juliet?
"Bonnie?" he shouted again, hoping against all hope that she'd send up a flare or something. He'd seen Lost. Dead people always hang out in the jungle and send off flares… Except maybe she wasn't dead… Technically, he'd sold his soul to the demon to keep her alive… Because that was so obviously a smart thing to do. Of course, Jaxxon the demon would follow through on his end of the bargain and whisk Bonnie off to safety because of course demons always keep their word. Soul selling always works out well in the long run, that's why it's so popular.
Of course Bonnie's dead too. The fact hit him like a happy sledgehammer. Of course he was really, really sad about it, but on the bright side, he'd have company. Heaven wouldn't be heaven without Bonnie.
Of course she's dead. Unless Klaus doesn't bother and adds her to his witch harem…
Witch harem… What religion would he have had to follow to earn a witch harem in the afterlife? A bunch of twenty-somethings waiting on him hand and foot, sucking his toes… Buddhism?
He stretched, yawned, pushed the hair back out of his eyes, and gazed. Heaven, huh? What does a vampire do on entering heaven, make for the pearly gates? Or take a back entrance? And why was there a jungle? And what would he eat? Whom would he eat?
I wonder if Stefan will get to come here…
Of course he will. He's a registered saint. Probably has a reservation.Unlike his older brother…
What had he done to enter himself into heaven? He couldn't think of any good deeds, not really. There was not a single person in the world he'd been good to… Even when he'd been human and alive, he'd been a son of a bitch. Although there was that time with that girl at the Grille who he'd allowed to go untapped because he knew she had an exam the day after.
Pretty considerate, right?
Enough to undo all the bad karma? Enough to earn him a heaven pass?
He didn't think so. Somewhere, an angel who was supposed to be on guard duty was slacking off.
Is this heaven?
Or some twisted form of hell? There were no other people around, he'd noticed… Was he in one of those Greek hells? One of those hells that seem pretty normal, except you're tormented by one single thing like thirst, or fatigue, or frustration… Was it loneliness? Honestly, he'd prefer hellfire…
Had he been damned to be alone for all eternity? He whirled around hoping to catch a glimpse of another sensible creature – man, animal or other – and came up empty.
I'll fucking kill myself if this is hell.
Been a while since he'd actually felt sunlight on his skin, though. Nice. Sunlight with the ring was like… Was like sex with a condom… Good, but…
La, la, la… I'm dead.
Damon laughed. He laughed until the tears came, until he had to bend over and hold his knees to keep from tumbling over. Upside to being dead, he'd see his mother again and she'd look just the way she did when she died. Okay, maybe not like that, all sweaty and bloody. She'd look just the way she did the day before she died.
And she'd not recognise him…
Because he'd grown up and gotten killed and turned into a vampire and turned evil and turned just the littlest bit psychotic. He'd lost complete control of himself. He couldn't even pull his fangs back in anymore… What kind of conversation do you have in heaven with your mother with your fangs hanging out?
Hey mom. How's the century and change been without me?
What big teeth you have!
All the better to feed on vulnerable young women with. I do that now.
You look evil, how'd you get into heaven?
I am evil, but here's the deal, I died sacrificing myself for a girl and she's like a saint or something.
And what about Stefan? My other better son?
Right. He stopped laughing.
He'd effectively gotten himself killed. Nothing funny about that. And if he was there, it couldn't be heaven. Probably purgatory. Or a south pacific island. Or a different planet.
What's going on in the living world, he wondered. Earth.
Jaxxon would have probably let time go back to normal. Hopefully, he'd have whisked Bonnie away to safety, back to Mystic Falls. Back to the remnants of her family… and her friends…and Stefan. Maybe, she'd shed a tear or two over his corpse…
What would Bonnie do to avenge him? What would Magwyr do? The memory of her in the bathtub, rushed back to him. Not the sex part. The part where she'd asked him to look out for her while she let Mags have control over her body.
So much for that.
He was dead in heaven (or wherever). It was all out of his hands now.
Honestly, he was dead and lost in heaven/purgatory/hell; Bonnie was trapped in the other side for the next hundred years ; and Magwyr was…
Free… Either free – if Jaxxon had held up on his end – or dead depending on how pissed off Klaus was.
Of all the plans he'd ever come up with, this last one he'd admit had turned into a real stink bomb.
Even if Jaxxon had rescued her, it still wouldn't be Bonnie. It'd be the Thing who'd be getting rescued.
He'd sold his soul for The Thing?
At least, she'd reign down some kind of vengeance. She'd see his dead carcass and tear her hair out, with a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth…
"Fucking hell!" he screamed, and then listened to the echo.
They were all pretty much dead, weren't they? The entire gang. Alaric. Even if Jaxxon had carried Bonnie away, even if Klaus had decided on not killing her, Mags wouldn't give a shit about them. She'd never hang around Mystic Falls and take up Bonnie's role as Mother Martyr. The gang was pretty much screwed. It was just a matter of time before some fresh hell found them. His role in the group was to be the guy who kept everyone alive. With him dead, who'd step up to the crease? Stefan – too broken and brooding to be the leading man. Elena? Just kidding. Caroline?
She had the brawn for it, if not the brains.
How the fuck had he ended up dead when those cretins were still alive? How did Caroline and Tyler and Alaric and Elena and Stefan and for fucks sake, Jeremy, outlive him? The Damon?
Hadn't they fleshed out a plan B? Wasn't Magwyr supposed to have something up her sleeve? Some trick?
Have I ever been so entirely disappointed in my existence?
Maybe when his mother had given birth to a bouncing baby boy instead of a girl. He'd have done so much better for himself if he'd had a little sister to be the protective role model for. He'd have been the best ever. And they wouldn't have gotten shot through the heart over Katherine.
Magwyr.
He pitied the day he set eyes on her and got suckered into her…allure. She was supposed to be the Big Bad. The Terror of the Night.
Bitch.
All of that, undone by one girl fresh out of middle school. Sixteen going on six. Some pissant, snot-nosed diaper-wearing child had foiled them. Anastasia...What he wouldn't give to go back in time and snap her pretty little neck.
Love really does make you weak.
If he hadn't been so thoroughly distracted by Bonnie and saving her life and being a good guy, he'd have spared a moment to chug down a mouthful of good ol' Baby Witch.
And if he'd just killed her, whatever mojo spell she'd been doing might have ended and Magwyr might have been able to finish summoning Geraldine or do her back up spell… and then Klaus might have been slain... And he'd be alive again, on planet earth where sunlight was real and blistering beautiful.
Anastasia… She'd been the one to get Klaus back in his original body…
Why for the love of… everything in the world, hadn't he checked the other floors?
Anastasia, from downstairs…
He'd been drifting aimlessly for about five hours, (give or take a couple more hours because time was hard to tell without his diamond studded, six hundred dollar Rolex that he'd left on Maddox's dresser after a failed attempt to get Bonnie's vomit off of it), when he came across a sign that read "VAMPIRES NOT WELCOMED." White paint on brown rotted wood.
Huh.
A funny thing for a sign to say… He'd sat down in the shade of a sturdy elm tree on a rich bed of moss and fungi to ponder what it could have possibly meant, and who in the world could have possibly put it up.
If he'd gone to hell, he'd figure vampires to be most welcomed in there.
If he'd gone to heaven… they wouldn't be so discriminatory. They were all about forgiveness in heaven…
Unless he was in purgatory, his fate yet to be decided by some vampire-hating power.
For the umpteenth time, he wished he was better dressed. He'd need to impress, most like. Charm, bedazzle and sling bullshit, same as usual. Your honour, I plead not guilty… on all possible and potential charges. I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy…
He hadn't even shot the sheriff. He'd tied her up, knocked her out, kept her in a cave and compelled the shit out of her… but he hadn't shot her. They were friends.
And he hadn't shot the deputy either. He'd ripped the deputy's throat out. He'd drained the deputy of every drop of blood. But he'd not shot anybody.
He was fast running out of things to think about. There was always talk about vampires going to ground, hibernating for a century or two to meditate. He'd gone half a day in isolation and was ready to bash his own head in with a rock. A century of solitary confinement? Yeah. Right. I'm a fucking socialite. He needed a cellphone. A bartender. Somebody. Anybody.
He'd not even mind Jeremy. They'd been almost friends early on in the game before all the neck-breaking had started.
He'd meditated, pondered, obsessed, analysed, scrutinized, regurgitated, and relived every significant memory in his cranium and was fresh out of juice. So he started singing Creed. It wouldn't hurt to sing some Creed, just in case he actually was in heaven. Creed, Enya, and Pavarotti should be safe. No Eminem.
Eternities or hours later, he came to another sign.
'SERIOUSLY VAMPIRE, GET TO FUCK OUT'.
So… not heaven then.
His vampire eyes had made out a trail of dust in the air, and he'd decided to hide in the bushes and surveil. Spy. Whatever.
Up ahead, quarter mile, half mile, was a fence. A real makeshift contraption of wood and barbwire.
And horses…
And a security officer, or shepherd or rancher or whatever the fuck. Two people were arguing with him, both tall, both men, both… A whiff of brimstone and the doggy after-flavour of werewolf… Could it be? Most definitely not heaven if those two are here…
He stepped out from the bushes, bristles catching on his shoelaces… shoelaces, ugh… "Klaus?" he hailed them, and tried to sound friendly. Tried to smile, tried to wave… As if they were two casual passers-by on a Sunday afternoon stroll on the Normandy promenade and not mortal enemies fresh off of trying to kill each other. "Jaxxon?"
"Yeah." The demon looked worse for the wear… His eyes were rheumy and red. His skin was blistering badly as if someone had assaulted him with a potful of boiling rice, and his ponytail kept dropping strands. The demon sniffled.
"Allergies?"
"I'm allergic to this…" and the demon made a vague fluttery gesture all around him. "All this purity, and magic and blue sky shit…" he sniffled again, and rubbed at his eyes. "So much fucking morality in the air, I can smell it. When the weather gets judgy like this, my demonitis flares up. "
Klaus stretched, looking a bit dazzled by the sunlight, but otherwise stout and hearty. In a good mood, almost. "Damon," the hybrid greeted him and chuckled. "They really do let anything in." He turned to the shepherd man and made a mock bow. "This is the ass-hat I was referring to. Reached in and crushed my heart. Completely unplanned. All I'm saying is while I'm here…"
Theshepherd man gave Damon the once over with his beady buggy eyes, shrugged and fixed Klaus with a dull, bored stare. "And? I'm still not letting you in, vampire." His voice was a gravelly drawl, as if he'd failed to clear his throat for decades gone and allowed crude sludge and sedimentation to take up in his voice box. He was bare chested and wore sheepskin…
Correction…The shepherd man was half sheep from the waist down.
He's half sheep. Which would make him more of a sheepman than a shepherd.
I died and went to Narnia…
The strange creature leaned on the post with lazy, half-lidded eyes. Grey, matted chest hair on top. Dirty brown, equally or more matted fur, or wool, below.
Damon felt his face crease as his body froze up mid handshake with the man-thing.
Unicorn!
There was a unicorn, running in circles behind the sheep-man-thing, rearing up on its hind legs every lap or two and whinnying like a Shetland pony. Curious and curiouser.
"And," Klaus continued, directing his words to the freak-sheep-man-thing, "It's his faultwe're here. I know I'm off schedule, but you can let me in."
"I know I can. I'm physically capable of letting you pass, but I won't."
"Don't you recognise me? I'm the hybrid."
"Yeah…" the freak drawled, "The hybrid! Right! You signed my yearbook, didn't you? Most likely to turn cannibal."
Whoa, sarcastic too? Damon felt the beginning of a headache start up at his temples. He was having the most severe WTF moment of his life. Domesticated unicorns, sarcastic sheep-men… We are not in Kansas. Or heaven. Or Wonderland… Let's go with Narnia.
Klaus sighed and turned away from the sheep-thing with a dismissive hand gesture. "So Damon, reckoned you'd have your witch break into my place, resurrect a demon slayer and kill me once and for all, did ya?" For some reason, he'd decided to use a hillbilly accent to say that.
Ass. Damon swallowed.
He could be the bigger man, take the high road. He could let things slide… He was dead after all, no better time to turn a leaf. "And I would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for your damned bitch downstairs."
"Ahh…" Klaus grinned. "Ninety-nine problems but a witch ain't one," the grin spread all over his face. "Little Annie. Cute kid. Prodigy. So…," Klaus sighed, "You know, it didn't have to get dirty between us. I wasn't bothering you, really. Greta wasn't bothering you. The only real person we've killed is Jenna, and come on, be honest, mate. Who misses Jenna? She seemed the lonely frowsy type to me… Sure the school teacher'd be out stag on Saturday night at the Grille but he'll bounce back I'm sure. He's a full head of hair… good teeth… a salary, meagre though it may be…"
Damon nodded. Alaric had done all right for himself following Jenny girl's untimely demise. A touch of depression, with a hint of schizophrenia, but okay, more or less.
"Leave it to Damon, though, to do something out of this fucking world," Klaus continued, cracking his knuckles. "Suicide, really? I mean, you grab my heart, I grab yours. I grow mine back, you simply die… Do you ever think these things through?"
Wait… Damonsquinted, trying to work it out in his head. "If I didn't kill you, how come you're here with me? Are you dead or not dead?" They were all dead? They really let just about anybody in… "What's happening here?"
Jaxxon spat, a thick glob of pink-tinged mucus landing on a bluebell. "Damon, which part of immortal don't you get?"
The core concept, apparently. Sunlight flashed in his eyes, dazzling him. He straightened his back, bracing himself for bad news. What's going on in the real world? Who's dead? Who else is dead, beside me?
"You crossed over," Jaxxon added.
"Crossed over to where? Where the fuck are we? Hell?" He could very easily imagine hell as being doomed to suffer Klaus and the demon for all eternity.
"Not hell," Jaxxon stuttered and coughed, as though the very air was toxic. "Worse. Witch Side. The Aventine, officially. All that magic in the air… unstable dimensional gates… ritual resurrection… channelling circle... It's a wonder the entire hotel didn't cross over."
Fucking what now?
Jaxxon sighed and wavered, exasperated by the effort. "Focus, Damon. The Other Side. Or more precisely, a side in the composite of other sides. …And you're lost. Let's take it from the beginning. Magwyr was channelling her magic into summoning Geraldine. A resurrection, check?"
"Check."
"Now, the witches own seven realms of the Other Side. Seven planes, named after the Seven Hills of Rome, discovered and founded by Cassandra the priestess. The Aventine, the Capitoline, the Palatine, the Caelian, the Quirinal, the Esquiline, and the Viminal, and they ascend in that order. This is the Aventine. The first stop. When a witch dies, she comes here by default and guides the witches she left behind. When she racks up enough power points she earns a key, figuratively speaking, and moves on to the Capitoline, and so on. When she reaches the end in the Viminal, she gets to choose between staying there and continuing the good guiding work, moving on to the Great Beyond, which I know nothing about so don't ask, or resurrection to the living world. Geraldine is holed up in the Viminal, no doubt settling for option number one. To resurrect her would have required Magwyr breaching seven planes. Geraldine's reward for genocide was to be put automatically in the furthest plane away from all human concerns. If she wanted resurrection, she'd have resurrected herself. No witch in the world would even attempt to summon out of the Viminal… except Magwyr. Maybe if she was at full power she'd have a shot," the demon shrugged, "but because of my presence, Anastasia doing her negating spell, and Geraldine's own recalcitrance, the resurrection went kablooey. Check?"
"Check."
"And this is where it gets tricky. You've got two first class witches together doing two first class spells – resurrection and negation. Then you've got Klaus just reeking murder–
"I don't reek murder," the hybrid cut in.
"You do, love," Jaxxon countered nodding profusely. "Then you've got yours truly. There's a reason they keep us locked up. I stopped time." He put his hand to his chest and gave Damon a look, "Guilty as charged. At that point, I thought you were going to do away with Anastasia, to be honest. I don't much like her – a bit too entitled for an orphan. I'd figured we'd have a win-win situation, at least. Geraldine stays dead. Bonnie stays alive. Nobody had to get hurt… except Anastasia. Instead–" he jabbed a finger at Damon chest. "You decide to go all Suicide Sam. You rip out Klaus' heart. He crushes yours… Murder all around, the dark energy gets pumping… See, normally you'd die and Klaus would dust it off like lint, but…"
"But?"
"But, when you've got so much witchy power in one place even dying gets complicated. You died. Your soul got kicked out of your body, but trick is, is didn't go anywhere, and your Bonnie felt sorry for you and instead of letting you pass on… to the Great Beyond, she sucked you into the Aventine. Klaus thought he'd tag along because, if you haven't noticed already, he's into this kind of occult spirit travel shit. And I," Jaxxon wiped a tear away, "came along for the ride and to see how you were doing."
Amazingly, he'd followed all of that. And he was kinda touched. I'm doing alright. Trying to keep my head up. You know how it is. "How do we cross back over?"
"We?" Klaus chuckled. Sunlight really does suit him. Fucking dirty blond hair… "Unlike you, Damon, witches don't hate me."
"Except Bonnie."
"Bonnie doesn't hate me. All of this is just one big misunderstanding. Witches love me. They greet me with open arms. Truth is, I'm usually quite welcomed over here." He shot the sheep-man a glare. "I've never in my life killed a witch. Except one who had it coming. I'm a big fan of the magic and the voodoo and all that. They're a very kinky band of people if you spend time getting to know them. Tight knit, too. Lots of twins and sisters… Honestly, I can't wrap my head around you Salvatores. Of all the things to do with a witch, murder? At any point in time, I have at least fifteen different witches willing to move mountains for me, because I've got this thing they call social skills. While you make your Bonnie live in an abandoned, decrepit witchhouse that's likely to fall in on her someday…" he snorted in disgust. "Case in point – Anastasia. She's not too expensive to take care of. A bucket of blood every now and then. Some school fees. Clothes. A pet… A new phone… A Sweet Sixteen Birthday at the Hilton where she can show off on her little prep school friends... Subtly compelling the Portuguese foreign exchange student to be her boyfriend… Simple things really, and voila. One witch ready to kill for me. She's doing her thing as we speak…"
"She'll get us out?"
"Us? Again with the plural pronouns, Damon…" Klaus began undoing the buttons of his shirt. Impromptu strip show…"There's no we. We're not friends. I just killed you. And I enjoyed it. I wish I could go back in time and do it again, but I'll settle for the surveillance video."
"Your first snuff film?"
The hybrid laughed "You can tell? I'm in a good mood, really. I love the Aventine. Old friends…" he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his jeans, "It's not every day a fellow gets free passage down here." Then he scowled, "Just some business to handle…"
"Like?"
"Like the private kind. And I've a message for Annie's sister. Marie… One of those old school, New Orleans occult priestess types, you know?"
Damonknew. He remembered Marie. Freckles. Curls. Big grey eyes. He nodded at thehybrid, who was coming out of his boxers… ugh…
"So," Klaus continued, stretching in the sun, "after having killed you, protocol says that I go on to kill and destroy everything you ever loved…and everyone who ever knew your name… and anyone who could recognise your mug shot… and your goldfish, but I'll let it slide this one time, how 'bout?" the hybrid negotiated with a beaming grin as he stood there naked. He folded his clothes and handed them to the demon.
Damon's eyebrows furrowed. His forehead creased.
"Who knows," Klaus continued. "This is the Aventine, anything is possible. Maybe you find your Bonnie lass, and maybe she convinces the gang to resurrect you. I don't see them bending over backwards to do you a favour but maybe. I daresay the world might be big enough for the two of us. You stick to Mystic Falls and I stick to everywhere else. How 'bout it? The next time any one of the gang tries to kill me or mine, though, I won't even ask questions. I'll just start the mayhem, yeah? Truce?"
He'd like to say no, but did he really have a choice? "You won't go after Elena anymore?"
"What's that to do with you? You're fucking dead, matey. Elena shouldn't even factor, but if it's a deal breaker, say so."
It's not.
"Good. Stefan's like a brother to me, and Bonnie… She's a bitch through and through, but I've a soft spot for bitches and witches, and witchy bitches in particular. I'll forgive her. She might have to get down on her knees and beg for it, but I daresay, we'll hammer something out."
I'll just ignore all of that.
"What about Elijah?"
"What about him?"
"Nothing."
"So, are we cool?" And Klaus' grin grew just a little wider.
No, I still hate you. I hate you even more than before. "Like refrigerated cucumbers."
The hybrid laughed and the sound spread through the grassy emptiness. One of the unicorns reared and whinnied. Another one spontaneously cleared a hurdle. And there were butterflies too, that he hadn't noticed before. Why don't butterflies blossom when I laugh?
"Try not to look so disappointed, will you, sweetheart?" Klaus smirked. An especially nasty expression on him. "You had to know I was bound to kill you someday, interfering with my business like that. Albeit too little a tad too late, but you're starting to get the gist, right? That I'm immortal, yeah?"
Damon twisted. Did he have to take this? Really?
Klaus continued, "If all of this teaches you a lesson, I'm glad. I can be all menacing and snarling, but that doesn't seem to work with you people… I'd tried not killing you and lot where that got me. You took advantage of my bleeding heart."
Damon's throat made a sucking, choking sound.
Klaus, still naked, went on. "Gallant gesture and all that, by the way – standing in front of her to take the bullet. Very Kevin Costner of you – but what did you think would happen?" the hybrid twisted his face into an even nastier, grimier smirk. "I'd give ten bucks to know what was going through your head at that point. Jaxxon had stopped time for fucks sake! You could have done anything! You could have bashed my skull in with a poker, had you thought of that? You could have ripped Annie's head clear off her body! Even if you wanted to rip my heart out, you could have done it from behind! There was loads of time before I reached Bonnie," he laughed. "Damon, Damon, Damon," he said as he went down on his hands and knees. "I've gone fishing with Atilla the Hun. I've feasted with Myrmidons. Trust me when I say that I've learnt the hard way to keep my fucking bases covered. You want to kill me? To kill me, you'd have to be me. As wicked as me, as savage as me… as totally badass as me. Otherwise," his lips curled, "Otherwise, you can't touch this."
Then he transformed into a wolf. No screaming and loud bone breaking – fluid. Peaceful.
Klaus, the wolf, howled. Once, twice… gave a toothy snarly grin…
"By the way love," Jaxxon said and sneezed. "I saved your girl's body, dropped her off at her papa's. Your soul is mine." Then he went poof.
"Jackass," the shepherd man thing muttered under his breath, breaking his black beady eyes away from the shrinking form of the wolf. Now, only Damon and the thing remained. And the awkwardness settled between them like a mist.
So yes, he was dead. His heart crushed by Klaus, according to Klaus. And Bonnie… her spirit was somewhere on this other side with him… with his spirit since his body was dead… And her body was back in to Mystic Falls. At least, that's where Jaxxon had dropped it. Knowing Magwyr, it wouldn't stay there for long. She'd recover, feed on the populace a bit, then move on to greener, lustier pastures.
Damon cleared his throat. "So this is witch country, I take it? The Aventine?"
"Be sure to check out our museums," Sheep-Man drawled lethargically.
"And what is this, a unicorn ranch?" It certainly looked like a unicorn ranch… which would make the sheepy centaur more of a cowboy than a shepherd… technically speaking.
"Taxi service, really," the thing shrugged. "Want a ride?"
Ride on what? Him or the unicorn? They both looked like beasts of burden. "How much?"
"Just a little bit of your Power. Give up your Crow Power and you get to ride one for the day."
Right.
How long had it taken him to get that Crow Power? How much had he sacrificed?
The ability to turn into an animal does not come cheap…
Does he know what I am?
He still hadn't been able to retract his fangs or get his eyes to go back to normal so it should be pretty obvious that he was not a twelve year old girl. Only a twelve year old girl would put out for a unicorn ride. He was a grown man. Unicorns could suck dick and die as far as he was concerned. Nothing special about them except a stupid horn…
There wasn't enough alcohol in the world to get him drunk enough to trade real power for a unicorn ride.
What's the average IQ of a sheep-man? Because he'd have to be retarded to think I'd go for this. It just a stupid fence… "Actually I'm looking for someone," he leant in closer to the sheep-thing over the fence, co-conspirator like, "maybe you can help me out, Mr…"
"Sheep-Man."
"That's your name?"
"That's what you've been thinking so you can as well as say it to me face, can't ya? Say it out loud…"
Right… telepathy. I don't care. "Anyway, Sheep-Man. I'm looking for a witch. She's somewhere around here and I need to find her."
"Ah," the freak perked up, "Shouldn't be too hard. Young or old?"
"Young."
"Black, white, or Chinese?"
"Chinese."
A moment passed where the two of them met each other's eyes. "Hot?"
"Yeah."
"Subjectively or objectively hot?"
Huh. On his idle days, he'd spent many an hour thinking about centaur mating habits. What turns them on, the animal or the human? The idea of a half sheep monstrosity of a man even remotely checking Bonnie out in a sexual way, made him want to scramble his brain with a fiery red poker.
How dare he ask if she was hot. There were days when she wasn't all that to the causal observer. Days when she wore those poncho things and fifteen layers of cloth. He'd seen her in shorts once in an entire year. But he'd seen her naked too… "Objectively hot."
"You sure?" Sheepman's eyes twinkled. "You had to think about it for a while. Sure she's not fugly and working some kinda enchantment on you? Witches do that, you know. Eyes?"
"Green."
"Nose?"
"Normal?"
"I think I know who you're looking for."
"Yeah?"
"I call her Pop-Tart. Came in a couple days ago, traded in for Magwyr, right?"
Came in with what, the tide? A cargo shipment? "Yeah. Bonnie."
"One o' them Bennetts, I reckon?"
"Bonnie Bennett."
"Right."
"Right. So can you call her for me, or whatever? I need to see her." They'd get together and make sense of this whole dead situation. She'd explain it out for him, and they'd come up with some way to cross back over, the two of them, to the real world. Klaus professed to have a love for the Aventine, but then Klaus was a botanical gardens kinda guy. Open wilderness was his kinda thing. Damon? Not so much. Forests? Rivers? Wildlife? Ugh. Green grass? Cool breezes caressing his skin? Ugh. He'd rather his Egyptian cotton bed sheets and Bonnie's skin… He was two seconds away from losing it. From screaming out loud and ripping his hair out.
And nobody was getting that.
"I really need to meet up with her." Everything would be a-okay when he set eyes on Bonnie again. Picked up where they left off…
"Oh," Sheepman turned and pointed randomly to a patch of trees in the open distance behind him some miles away. "She's way over there. And I'm way over here… I'd go call her, but my arthritis…"
Fucking hell! "I'll go…" Damon's voice pinched, and his right eye twitched. "I'll rent your unicorn or whatever. I'll give you my Crow Power."
"Yeah…" Sheepman cocked his head. "I just noticed… you're a vampire too."
You just now noticed? What are you, blind?
"Yeah. Cataracts. Both eyes."
"Just let me go through–"
"Ever heard of a lovely film – Rabbit Proof Fence? About the ordeals of the Australian aboriginal people?" The mutant sprawled his human-looking hands along the wire. "Consider this is a Vampire Proof Fence. Read the sign," he pointed to yet another one, "Only witches allowed. We've already got a demon and a hybrid, can't be letting you in too."
"I'm a vampire."
"Are you a vampire-witch?"
"No, but–"
"Then fuck off."
"You let Klaus through."
"Can you turn into a wolf? I need to correct the sign. It should read, 'Only witches and people who can turn into wolves allowed'."
Bastard. Are you shitting with me?
"No shit whatsoever. I don't make the rules. I just enforce them."
"Let's start this over from the top. I'm looking for Bonnie–"
The thing nodded. "That's nice…"
"It's important. I'm dead, and she's in danger and she needs me and–"
"Yeah, well…"
"You just let Klaus inside. Klaus wants to kill her. You need to let me in."
"I cannot care more," the sheep-man said and yawned. "Pop-Tart's a good kid. My heart weeps with concern…"
"I'll kill you." And he really would. In all his long life of murder, Damon had never wanted to kill anything half so much.
"See how I tremble in my cloven hooves… sigh."
"Klaus is going to kill her if you don't let me through."
"Eh… I don't think so. Klaus knows the rules – no biting, no killing, no feeding… You? I'm not so sure. You look like one of them evil vampires."
Eh? As opposed to what other kind? "I'll pay you. Cash."
"Gee, thanks so much. I've been meaning to buy a Kindle and catch up on some reading. Did you pass the local Best Buy on your way in? That's where I do most my shopping. Love their Christmas sales. Super discounts."
Damon swallowed. Was he being vague? Ambiguous? "Listen to me! I'm going to get across this fence one way or the other Sheepman. All that's up for you to decide is if I'm having mutton for dinner or not. You feel me?"
"Klaus hit me with that shot five minutes ago. Get something original."
"Sorry…" Damon tested the fence, laughing cagily. Sorry… No one flipped the electricity switch. Just wire? Plain old barb wire?
Alright… hold on, Bonnie.
He'd never fed on a sheep-man before, and he was a little bit hungry…
Always good to try something new… What could it hurt, to try something new? "I'm not going to eat you," he laughed easily, using a little bit of soothing charm to smooth it over. "I didn't mean that. Vampires don't eat mutton anyway. We're…" he jumped the wire frame, landed on the other side… One of the unicorns reared up.
The Sheep Man's face paled, as if he'd never seen a dude jump a fence before.
Yeah, you're dead. "We vampires are on this new liquid diet…"
AN: Too weird? None of the other chapters are this long, no fear.
Sorry for the massive delay, but life took a cricket bat to my cranium. Also, I'm internetless, so i had to recover from my agoraphobia to reach a cafe. Ta Da!