chapter 7
The Mystic Grill was a perfect change in scenery, Damon decided as he sat at the bar. Enough days had passed at the boarding house. And it became abundantly clear that Jeremy, in all his teenage angst glory, was becoming the absolute worstcompany in the world.
A change was long overdue.
Damon gripped the scotch glass tighter, teeth clenched and eyes clouded with anger. He and Alaric had decided it was best for Elena to be home with Jenna and keep up a ruse while Jeremy recovered in the cell. It occurred to him that Jeremy's recovery time was stretching from days to weeks, and as good as Elena kept secrets, he doubted it was a position she'd want to be in for much longer.
They needed a cover story, one that kept Jenna from asking too many questions. But, as days passed, concocting a story to thwart Jenna was becoming increasingly difficult.
How long could they really hide Jeremy? Damon wondered sourly.
The kid was a real thorn in his side—not wanting to eat or even speak. And the only time he spoke, it was to throw insults and make threats. Damon was sick of Jeremy and sick of being cooped up in the boardinghouse. Damon wasn't a mother hen or worse, Stefan. Of course, misery liked company, and Damon could imagine Stefan and Jeremy swapping stories and commiserating over happier times.
Not Damon.
Not ever.
Before he could get too worked up and plot ways to torment Jeremy when he got back, his thoughts were distracted by familiar footsteps creeping up behind him.
"Hello Ric," Damon sang, drawing out his words as the teacher slid into the leather stool beside him. "We have to stop meeting up like this," he whispered in faux paranoia. "People might start getting the wrongidea."
Alaric's lips stayed firm in a straight line. Not a flash of emotion. Not anything.
The guy clearly needed to work on his humor because his company was nearlyas awful as Jeremy's.
"Let's move beyond the banter, shall we?" Alaric suggested heavily, dropping a manila folder onto the bar top. A few papers slipped out and Damon grabbed them.
"You came prepared. Good, Ric. I'm glad you're beginning to understand that we have a very give-and-take relationship. Of course I do all the taking, teach, but that's beside the point."
"Just shut up and read, Salvatore. I'm going out tonight."
Damon's eyes scanned the pages. After Alaric spilled the beans about finding paw prints in the cemetery and after hearing Elena's story about wolves howling, he was beginning to think there was more to the story. And just like Damon demanded of Alaric, he delivered and provided a stack of papers with documented wolf attacks. Some of the articles were from neighboring towns and counties, and Damon, as much as he hated to admit it, was impressed and grateful that's Alaric's history expertise would come in handy.
"Hot date?" He teased, eyes shining with amusement. "Shouldn't you be grading papers or planning lectures?"
"I would be if it wasn't summer, Damon. If you weren't so drunk all the time or thinking about Katherine..."
"Don't," Damon snapped, his hand slamming down onto the stack of papers. "This has nothing to do with that good-for-nothing bitch."
Alaric laughed. "Wait, I got the wrong one. Maybe you've been thinking about Elena."
"Contrary to what you may believe, I didn't decide on this watering hole so we could chitchat, Ric. This isn't a social call."
"Right." The teacher stared at him suspiciously, not buying the story. Damon was still Damon. That wouldn't change, but Alaric would have to be a fool not to realize what Elena did for him. She was good for Damon.
"Time for business." Damon riffled through papers. A change in topic was what he wanted most. "Tell me, do you have any experiences with werewolves?"
Alaric gave him an incredulous look. "Oh yeah. I was a regular Buffy in my hometown."
"Ric, Ric," Damon teased. He was unable to hold back his laugh. "Maybe you should leave the pop culture references for the capable, okay?"
"Cocky bastard," Alaric muttered under his breath, grabbing the stack of old newspaper clippings from Damon. "Maybe you can cut down on the insults. How about that? I'd like to get this over with."
"Okay, okay," Damon replied. "Chill, teach. I swear you're such a killjoy sometimes."
Alaric shot him a dark look, but ignored the statement. "Since we've established I'm not familiar with werewolves, any idea who it could be?"
"I'm thinking they're new. Transitioning, maybe. Probably don't know what they are. Werewolves are neverstupid enough to leave tracks unless they want to be caught...or lure humans into traps."
"Humans?" Alaric echoed hollowly, his eyes widening in shock. "No. Damn it. You're not telling me that these wolves attack humans?"
"For sport. For amusement. Hate to burst your bubble of rainbows and sunshine, but they are predators. Carnivores."
Alaric knocked back a shot. "Damn it," he swore again. "Not only do I have to worry about your ass and Katherine's... but wolves now, too? This town is turning into a circus."
He smirked. "A regular Barnum and Bailey." Clearing his throat, he put on his "serious" face—his lips lowered into a thin line, both of his cheeks loosened, and his eyes lost their luster. "Now that we've realized that we have werewolves in Mystic Falls, let's talk defense strategy. I'm pretty sure that wooden stakes aren't going to help against them."
Alaric grabbed a pen from his back top, jotting notes on the back of a newspaper clipping. At Damon's intense stare, Alaric sighed and looked at the quiet vampire. "What?"
"Are you taking notes?"
"As a matter of fact, yes I am. I'll have you know I was a verydiligent note taker in high school."
Damon barked out a laugh. "Really, Ric. As much as I appreciate your need to jot down my every word, how about you just listen, okay? I've never killed a werewolf before, so I'm only speculating what will work."
"You've never?" Alaric gasped. "H-how are we going to kill them then?"
"Patience, padawan. We need to narrow down a list with their weaknesses, first."
"I need another drink," Alaric murmured, sweat trickling down his forehead. "Just give me a minute."
Wasting time wasn't something either of them could afford.
"Well, hurry it up, then. The last thing we need is the Founder's Council getting a hold of this information. It will be worse than their anti-vampire crusades."
Alaric signaled the bartender to bring him another gin-and-tonic. Seconds later, a new glass was set in front of him. He swirled the liquid in the glass for a few moments before bringing it to his lips. Taking a long sip, he set the glass back onto the bar top and looked at Damon.
"Proceed."
Damon folded his arms and rested them on the counter. He leaned towards Alaric.
"I've heard stories about werewolves in a few different places but I'm not sure how accurate the information is. Some legends, including Hollywood tales, state that werewolves are vulnerable to silver. Supposedly, if you cut them with an item containing silver, you poison their bloodstreams. I've also heard that if you remove one of the werewolf's limbs, it cures the lycanthropy. But, I'm sure that if you cut its head off, it would die, too."
"How do you suggest that we find out?"
Damon looked pensive for a moment. "I guess we'll have to capture one and see which method works the best."
"I hope that you're not going to nominate me for the job. I'm more of a Van Helsing."
"I'm quite aware of what you are, Ric. I'll have to set up a trap at the cemetery."
Grabbing at the neck of his shirt, Alaric fanned himself and swallowed hard. He was barely over Founder's Day and the events that unfolded. Having an artillery of vervain darts and crossbows locked up at school was so much more different. He was just coming to terms with vampires running amok in town; he was just coming to terms with his ex-wife being a part of the undead.
"This is a little premature, isn't it?" He suggested, eyeing Damon wearily. "How do we know if they're werewolves? Couldn't they be native wolves?"
"Excellent point, Ric. I'm glad to see you're still with me." Grinning, Damon took a swig of bourbon before resuming. "The problem is that we don't know for sure, but I can sense that we're not alone."
"I thought you said Katherine is in town," Alaric interrupted. "Isn't she the one who wrote that message on Elena's wall?"
"Probably."
"So maybe it's justher."
"Are you serious? There's no justhere, teach. We're talking about the mother of all vampires. She's more deadly than some pack of inexperienced wolves, and for all our sakes, you better hope that it's just Isobel or someone playing a joke."
"This seems above Isobel's league."
"Aww," Damon cooed. "Sticking up for her. How sweet." His expression darkened in a flash. "Vampires are capable of anything. The sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be. Isobel might not be as wonderful as you remember. She gave Elena an ultimatum, Ric. It's time you stop thinking of her as a human because that Isobel is long gone."
"You're such a dick," Alaric hissed, waving down the bartender and ordering another shot. He needed something potent, numbing preferably. "I'm a borderline alcoholic. I have you to thank."
It was impossible for Damon to suppress a laugh.
"You had drinking problems long before me..."
"And you amplified them," Alaric cut in roughly. "Thanks for that."
Finishing the last of his bourbon, Damon pushed the glass away from him. Five glasses had been more than plenty. He was never a very good drinker to begin with. All the alcohol did was suppress his strong cravings. It wasn't as if he could snack on an unsuspecting human downtown because the tomb vampires had successfully stirred things up.
He'd never gone so long without fresh human blood, and with Stefan's blood bank contraband dwindling more and more each day, he had to diet.
And Damon loathed dieting. If he was hungry, he was going to eat.
No exceptions.
Until now.
Shaking the thoughts of a midnight snack from his mind, Damon turned towards a quiet Alaric.
"Now that the alcohol has done its job and you're a bit more bearable, how about we talk Jeremy. You need to come up with a cover story for Jenna."
Alaric shook his head and narrowed his eyes.
"Why me?"
"Please keep up, Ric. You're closerto Jenna. It's only natural that you'd have a better idea. If it was left up to me, I'd compel her and be done with it. Problem solved. Voila."
"I'm not going to be put in a position where I need to lie. Sorry."
"Now isn't the time for a guilty conscious. Do you want Jenna to find out about vampires? What do you think she's going to do when she finds out about Jeremy?"
"You're a dick for putting me in this position," Alaric hissed.
"And your petty insults are getting on my last nerve. Keep it together, teach. You have five minutes to find a solution. Then I'm out. I'm cranky and hungry. And frankly, if I wanted to hear melodramas, I'd go back to the boardinghouse and keep Jeremy company."
He surrendered. "Fine."
Damon grinned in triumph. Easy. It was too damn easy pushing his buttons.
"Why don't we play the teenage angst card, then?"
Quirking a brow, Damon waited for him to continue.
"Elena can lock Jeremy's door and his connecting door from the bathroom. Then she can tell Jenna that Jeremy came home, locked himself in his room, and won't talk to anyone."
"Not too bad. Who knew you were capable of a worthy cover?"
"I work at a high school. I think I've heard and seen enough to come up with a few good ideas. Teenagers, when it all boils down, are the same."
"Real nice," Damon interjected, his tone slathered with indifference. "Fill in Elena on the details."
"Why don't you?"
"You're taking her aunt on a date, why can't you do it?"
Alaric growled lowly. "What's so important that you can't?"
"I have business to attend to. I need to rile up a certain Gilbert. You know, have fun and torment. Get in a little of what I do best before I waste this perfectly fine day."
"Unbelievable." He shook his head. "You're terrible, you know that. If that kid ends up permanently screwed up, that one's on you."
"Have faith, Ric," Damon chastised. "I have it under control."
And with a blinding smile, Damon grabbed the manila folder, tucked it under his arm, and left Ric at the bar.
Warm air rushed at him as he stepped outside the Mystic Grill, amusement alight in his eyes. He smirked to himself as he sashayed towards his favorite possession—his convertible Chevy Camaro. Just as he reached for the door handle, the sound of light footsteps echoed behind him. He whirled around in a nearly imperceptible blur and looked at the person standing before him.
Bonnie Bennett.
"Well, hello there, Bonnie. Did you miss me?" He said, his smirk widening.
"Don't try to be cute, Damon. I'm not here for you." She replied. Her dark eyes stared intensely at him.
"Oh, now you've gone and hurt my feelings."
"As if you have any feelings. You're a reckless monster that would have died in that fire if it hadn't been for Elena."
His jaw tightened. Bonnie had always been able to get under his skin and his patience was already worn down. He took a deep breath and stared back. Intimidation tactics were his go-to choice for trumping her.
"And, what do you want, witch?"
"I have a message for Elena," she stated coolly. "It shouldn't be too difficult for you to relay it, vampire."
Something about her request didn't settle well with him. During their last encounter, she made it abundantly clear that they weren't supposed to run into each other. If he didn't know better, he was beginning to wonder if the witch was stalking him, looking for anyreason to kill him.
"What's the message?"
"Tell her that Caroline has woken up from the coma."
"Anything else?" He asked dully, egging her on. "How about our favorite son of Mystic Falls, John Gilbert?"
"He's of no concern to you," was her cold, clipped reply.
"Oh, he is very much a concern. He tried to kill my brother and me. It's not exactly forgive and forget material, is it?"
Her eyes glazed over, the irises intensifying in color. Damon stilled for a moment. Something was off with Bonnie. He tried to turn away from her but a sudden surge of energy flashed, slamming into his body with the force of a speeding freight train. Her power picked him off the ground and catapulted him over his car.
Damon landed on his back, skidding to a halt twenty feet away from the Camaro. He looked up to see Bonnie walking towards him. His eyes darted back and forth in confusion.
"Bonnie, what the hell are you doing?"
"I'm only going to say this to you once." Her voice was flat, lacking any emotional tone. As the wind picked up around them, it blew her hair all over the place. She looked positively evil. "You will leave Jonathan Gilbert alone. You will not enact any plans of revenge on Mystic Falls. And, if you so much as kill one human being, I will end you. Do you understand?"
He shook his head slowly. "I understand."
"Good." She began to walk away but stopped and looked over at him. "Make sure you tell Elena about Caroline."
"I'll get right on that."
"Oh and Damon," she spoke in a lethal, cold tone, "I come from the lineage of Bennett witches. I don't answer to a Salvatore. You'd be wise to keep those snarky, little comments to yourself. If you ask me, it's going to kill you one of these days."
Damon watched as Bonnie pulled up the hood to her zip up jacket and walked away, her head down. It was so unlike her; it struck him that her personality was suddenly different. And there was something wrong with the way she spoke—as if she were devoid of compassion.
She must be transitioning into her full powers, he thought as he struggled to his feet. It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. In the presence of a witch, a vampire would alwayslose. And with no one to guide her, Bonnie would become a threat to everyone—Elena included.
Somehow, he'd find a way to tell Elena the truth, but first he needed to set Jeremy straight.
XOXO
It was merely bad luck. Damon was convinced of it as he thought back to the earlier events at the Mystic Grill. He knew better than to have a secret rendezvous there—especially with the evil little witch keeping tabs on him. Surely, she knew the places he favored and the humans he could stand, but threatening him twice at the same location wasn't a wise judgment on her part.
He filed it away to simply bad timing. Bonnie was a witch. He'd deal with her later, preferably when he didn't have a mountain of responsibilities on his shoulder. Damon gave his word that he'd keep a vigil watch over Jeremy to guide him down the right path, but even he was having his doubts. Elena was crazy to think that Jeremy would care about what he had to say.
Damon lifted his head, the boardinghouse illuminated by the setting sun. But it was far from a happy reunion. The mere thought of dealing with Jeremy was more of an inconvenience than the dull ache in his side. As a vampire, he alwayshealed. He hadn't. The witch had probably put a spell on him as a twisted way to prove a lesson.
He slipped through the front door.
"Hello Elena," he greeted cockily, walking into the living room where she was sitting on the couch. She was sprawled across the couch, reading Through The Looking Glass. And it was such a familiar situation, like it had happened before. "I thought you were babysitting your aunt. Tire easily, huh?"
Elena put a bookmark between her pages and set the book on the coffee table. She watched out of the corner of her peripheral vision as Damon shrugged out of his leather jacket, allowing it to fall onto the floor in a heap. The movement caused his fitted black tee to ride up, exposing his chiseled stomach.
Heat flooded to her cheeks as she tore her eyes away from him. "I would say something snarky in return, but I have a good feeling you'd enjoy it too much."
He cracked a slight grin. She knew him all too well.
"Hey, you're the one who was all gung-ho about this little arrangement, so don't give me that look."
She sighed, realizing he was right. How did he alwaysseem to be right?
"Okay. I'll bite. What are you doing here so early?"
"Minor complications...or not so minor. I suppose that would depend on your definition, wouldn't it?"
"And now you're avoiding the truth with cryptic responses." She rolled her eyes. "Which means that something probablyhappened."
"A few heart-to-heart chats and you think you know me? Shame on you, Elena."'
"Cut it out Damon." She frowned, frustration mounting. "You know I don't like being lied to..."
"Don't even try to lump me with that boyfriend of yours. I know where you're going long before you get there. Don't even try to lecture me." His words were spitting venom and so full of bite that Elena reeled as if she'd been slapped.
"Fine." Elena crossed her arms over her chest, ready to hold her ground and get the answers she wanted.
"You are such a pain in the ass," he exclaimed, releasing a slow, drawn out sigh. "Follow me. Walk and talk."
"Are we going to check on Jeremy?"
Damon snorted. "You already checked on him, I'm sure of it."
She put her hands in her pockets, unwilling to give him a direct answer. It was embarrassing when Damon seemed to know what she'd do more than Stefan. Was she that transparent? No, a voice sounded in her head. You have more in common than either of you are willing to admit.
"What makes you so sure?"
"You check on your brother a lot, especially in the past couple of days. You think no one is around when you slip in, but you're wrong..."
"B-but you feed at night," Elena interjected weakly. "Right?"
"Still enjoying Stefan's contraband. Not as fresh as I like, but tasty enough."
Damon led the way down the steps into the wet, musty-smelling basement. It was always pitch black and too quiet - the kind of place Elena had a hard time stomaching alone. She wasn't a machine; she was an overemotional, hormonal teenage girl, and she had seen more than her fair share of horror movies. Nothinggood ever came out of very dark, eerily quiet basements.
"You're reallynot snacking on humans?" She asked quietly as they reached Jeremy's cell. Her brother was hunched in the corner, knees pulled to his chest, and a hood shadowing his face from view.
"Good evening, little Gilbert," Damon sang.
"Fuck you," Jeremy snapped.
Damon didn't flinch; he stayed perfectly still as if he were a statue. Elena's little brother had a lot of deep-seeded issues, but he had to snap out of it. Mystic Falls was rapidly turning into the supernatural capital of the world. And frankly, Damon didn't have time to babysit him and deal with teenage theatrics.
"Your sister is here—"
"Like I told her earlier, she can go to hell."
Elena quivered, unable to retain the sob from deep in her throat.
And it angered Damon to proportions he didn't know he was capable. Where Elena was concerned, he would do anything for her. It wasn't natural—these crazy emotions bouncing around inside of him. Vampires didn't give humans a second thought.
"Don't be such a dick," Damon argued back. "Show your sister some respect."
Jeremy muttered a string of curses. This destructive Jeremy was leagues beyond the point of no return, and Damon didn't have the patience to help him.
"Get with the program, Gilbert. You're not the only one who lost someone. So, do me a favor? Cancel the pity party and get over yourself. You're not a vampire."
"I am whatever I want to be. You don't get to tell me who or what I am."
The thin veil of patience was gone. It occurred to Damon that Jeremy was close to blowing his cover. And while he enjoyed ruffling the youngest Gilbert's feathers, he couldn't deny that Jeremy's problems were deeper than he could handle. It was the first, and probably only time, that Damon wished Stefan could walk through the door and take over.
He could nevercount on Stefan, though. Not when he needed him most.
Damon placed a hand on the rusted, metal door and glared at Jeremy. "Listen, I'm only going to say this once. Now that I have both of you together, I think you should know that Bonnie and I had another confrontation."
"B-Bonnie?"
Elena choked on the name as she thought about how distant her best friend had been lately. Ever since Bonnie rescued Stefan and Damon from the fire, she didn't return any of Elena's calls or texts. She even tried showing up at her house, but she was never around. Bonnie's behavior gave her the prickling feel that something bad, no something terrible was on the verge of happening.
"What did she want?"
"You know, the usual. To intimidate me with her threats and to have me pass along a little message to you."
"Me?" She asked, her voice cracking. "She doesn't return my calls or texts, Damon. Why would she tell you anything she wouldn't tell me first?"
"Because Bonnie's sick of your vampire BS," Jeremy cut in sardonically. He was on his feet, walking towards the front of the cell. "And so am I. You put all of our lives in danger just to save and protect your precious Stefan. He's so lame and so willing to be your doormat."
"I, I was protecting you, too." But even as she spoke the words, she couldn't quite believe them. What once had started off as a black and white situation, had entered the gray area. She was questioning keeping the truth from them, which she had always justified because it was Stefan's secret she swore to protect.
"Not going to work, Elena. You were wrong not to tell me about this from the beginning. Was keeping the truth everything you hoped it would be? Was destroying our home the desired effects you wanted?"
"Shut up, Gilbert," Damon hissed, his palms slamming hard onto the cell door; it shook from his sheer strength. "I have some news to share and you can either keep your mouth closed or I'll shove a sock down your throat—preferably one of Stefan's socks," Damon threatened. "And you should know that vampires dosweat and Stefan's feet are just as foul as when he was human. Comprende?"
"Unbelievable." Jeremy swore. "Why are you protecting my sister? Isn't that Stefan's job?"
"In case you've failed to notice, Stefan's enjoying a nice, little vacation outside of this shit hole. By default, I look out for Elena."
"Like you looked out for Anna?" Jeremy spat, anger multiplied. "Like you watched her get staked? I'm soglad to have you on our side when you can't even protect the people that matter to us!" He exploded.
"Jer, that wasn't his fault." She reached between the bars, wanting to touch his hand, but he backed away from the door.
"Like hell it wasn't, Elena. Anna's death is on him. For the first time in who knows when, I was actually happy! I was in love. Reallove. I wanted to be with her forever, but now that can't happen. Do you fucking know what that feels like?"
"I know who killed her," Damon stated, his tone void of any emotion. "I didn't say anything because I thought it wasn't in my place, but since you keep blaming this on me, maybe you should realize that it was yourdamn uncle that staked her. He started the fire and left all of us to die."
"What?" Jeremy cried out, his body shaking. "You dick! Why would you say something like that?"
Elena spared a hesitant look at Damon. "He did try to kill them, Jer," she explained quietly. "There's a lot you don't know about John." Her voice quivered, and she really didn't want to do this now, but she had done enough damage to her relationship with Jeremy. Maybe it was time to repair whatever was left.
"Uncle John isn't..."
The words refused to form into one cohesive thought. What was she doing? Why was she trying to protect Jonathan Gilbert?
"He lied," she finally spoke. "I found out the night of the founder's parade that he's really my father."
"You're both liars." Jeremy clenched his fists together. "I don't believe a word you say. Leave. Me. Alone."
Damon crossed his arms across his chest and stepped back. He had said enough, and if he tried to get even more invested in protecting Elena, he was going to snap.
"I need a drink." His face turned pensive as he paused. "On second thought, I may need a few," he mused to himself, letting the Gilbert siblings battle their own demons.
"You should go with him, Elena," Jeremy spat at her. "I told you I don't want anything to do with you. Nothing's changed."
Defeat was etched all over her face. "What is it going to take for you to believe me?" she argued, the fight inside her dying. "Maybe we should take a trip to the hospital. Maybe you should see John in a coma. Will that bring you back to reality?"
"He's in a coma?" Jeremy whispered, eyes wide in disbelief. "Since when?"
"K...someone attacked him in ourkitchen with a butcher knife. He lost a lot of blood. And then you went missing and so did Stefan. And..." She could feel the tears brimming, but she forced herself to keep it together. Elena was the big sister, and it was her duty to protect Jeremy at all costs. "I thought something bad happened to you."
"It did."
"You lost someone you love. You'll get over it someday."
"I don't need your false reassurance, Elena," Jeremy said. "This started because you wouldn't be honest with me in the first place. You didn't know a thing about Vicki and you sure as hell don't know a thing about Anna."
"Why'd you do it, Jer?"
"Why wouldn't I? I thought at least you'd understand - since you're doing the nasty with Stefan."
"Enough," Damon finally interrupted. "Elena, we're going upstairs. I needto tell you something." He reached for her arm, tugging her forward lightly, but she resisted and stayed in place.
"I need to fix this," she whispered, enunciating each word slowly.
"It's going to take more than one conversation." Damon glared at the cell. "Trust me. Some time alone will be good for him."
"But, Damon, I can't leave it like this. There's too much that I need to make Jeremy understand. What if I don't get another chance?" Elena's eyes were becoming moist; small tears formed in the corners of her eyes.
He sighed. "Elena, I'm telling you—he needs to let his thoughts run for a while. Humans need to do that."
"Are you sure?" Her lower lip jutted a little outwards.
"Yes, Elena." He replied, exasperated. "Now, let's go upstairs."
He offered her his hand in a sincere gesture. Damon had a feeling she wouldn't reach out because that wasn't something Elena would do. He was right. When she didn't reach for his hand, he grabbed onto her wrist and pulled her up the stairs with him.
This time, she didn't resist him as he led her into the den. When they reached the chairs, he guided her to one and gently set her down in it. He took the chair across from her and sat on it backwards with his arms folded across the top of the chair.
Elena's dark eyes looked into his. A strange surge of emotion washed over his body. God, she has such a hold on me,he thought. Averting his eyes a little towards the ground, he spoke.
"Bonnie also told me to inform you of Caroline waking up from her coma. Well, it was more like she commanded me but that's quite beside the point."
"What?" Elena exclaimed. "Why wouldn't Bonnie tell me that herself?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "It's probably a witch thing. She's so overwhelmed with her new powers that she is exerting them in any fashion that she can. Frankly, I think she may be over her head. You should have been there."
Elena's eyes flashed with concern. "What do you mean?"
"After she told me about Caroline, I might have said something to set her off."
"And?" She moved forward in her seat, suddenly anticipating and craving what he had to say.
"And, she used her powers to vault me over my car. Do you know how embarrassing it was to have that happen to me by a midget witch?"
"Damon, I don't think now is the time for your sarcastic remarks. What if Bonnie starts hurting people?"
"I don't think that Bonnie classifies vampires as people, Elena. She seems to only have a problem with Stefan and I. Everyone else should be fine."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm hoping so. I'd hate for the townspeople to find out that the town's dark history really isn't history. Surely, you can imagine what chaos would ensue."
She bit down on her lower lip. "Maybe you're right. So, what can we do?"
"Right now, you should go see Caroline and leave your antagonistic brother to me. I promise not to kill him... yet."
"I'm trusting you to keep your word."
He raised his eyes to her. "Now, 'Lena, when have I never kept my word?" A smug look formed on his face as he got up, moving towards his stash of alcohol. "I'm not that terrible, am I?" He teased, bending forward to grab his favorite scotch glass.
Elena gasped. "Damon," she whispered, eyes trained to his back when the shirt had risen up. "Your back. It's bloody and scratched!"
"Just a little souvenir from your bestie. Don't worry," he reassured her, "I'm rather fond of battle scars."
"She did this? How?"
"Parking lot," was his short answer as he filled his favorite scotch to the brim of his glass. "Don't fret over the details, Elena. It'll heal. Sooner or later. Eventually. You know, something like that."
"But the blood is seeping through your shirt. Sit down," she ordered, jumping to her feet. "Let me see if you have a first aid kit and I'll be right back. And don't you dare take off, Damon. I mean it."
Such a determined little thing, he thought as he grabbed his glass and took a seat. His eyes met hers in complete amusement. "It'll heal. And you know it. Why bother?" It was a simple, harmless question.
"For my peace of mind. Please, Damon." She pleaded with her soft, watery brown eyes. "Let me help you. I promise I'll go afterwards. I promise I won't ask you about it again."
He waved her off. "Whatever. I'll be here, drinking. Don't take toolong."
Elena didn't need to be told twice. She ran upstairs and rummaged through the cabinets of Stefan's personal bathroom. It was a neat room, very immaculately kept; it reminded her too much of a sterile hospital, and she had seen enough of those white walls to last her a lifetime.
She preferred the small bathroom downstairs. It was a little too kitschy, or at least that's what Damon would say. But that bathroom was very empty—only having a toilet and a mirror. Of course the hideous 70's era wallpaper wasn't doing it any favors.
A smile of triumph hit her as she found the kit, neatly tucked in the drawer below the sink. It was pushed into the back, probably Stefan's doing. With Zach dead, she couldn't imagine why a vampire would need a first aid kit, but she was grateful that Stefan was a bit of a pack rat and willing to hang onto things.
The white box tucked under her arms, Elena raced down the stairs. Unsurprisingly, Damon was leaning back into the chair with his feet propped up on the coffee table. The scotch glass was clutched in his right hand, and it was just about empty.
No surprise.
"Found it," she spoke up.
Elena knew she didn't have to say anything. Damon heard her long before she came bounding down the steps, but sometimes she couldn't help herself. As crazy as it sounded, when she was around Damon, she wanted to be more human than she already was.
"Finally," Damon chimed in. "Thought you found the rabbit hole."
Ignoring his remark, Elena opened the kit, pulling out antiseptic and bandages. It would be difficult to cover so much of his back, but she'd just make do with what she had. If need be, she'd run to the local pharmacy and stock up on larger bandages.
"How would you like me?" Damon asked seductively as she walked towards him. He grinned. "Your choice."
"You really are something." She shook her head. "Move to the couch and lay on your stomach. I want to see how deep the wounds are."
"Really," he interjected. "I'm fine, 'Lena. I know you find me sexy and want an excuse for me to take off my shirt, but I don't need to be coddled like a baby. Okay?"
"Don't be so defensive."
Pointing towards the couch, she watched and waited for Damon to move. Reluctantly, he peeled off his shirt and dropped onto the couch on his stomach.
At least he's cooperating, she thought gratefully.
"Should I strike a pose? Flex my muscles maybe?"
She laughed. "I don't think that's necessary."
"I know you love the Church of Stefan, but the Church of Damon is one service you won't want to miss."
Elena touched his back. The cuts weren't very deep, but she knew they could get infected. "Why isn't your back healing?" She asked as she dabbed antiseptic onto the wounds.
"Your bestie probably cast a spell on me. I'd guess a little warning. I doubt she's good enough to do anything permanent, yet."
This shocked her. "So, you don't know when or if you'll heal?"
Sometimes Elena was a little too oblivious for her own good. She was blinded by the old Bonnie, the one that was one hundred percent human until she became of age and her powers began to manifest and mature.
"It's not like I have Witchcraft For Dummies lying around. So how should I know?"
She lightly traced the wounds on his back. Even Damon couldn't deny the little tingle that shot through his body simply from her touch. He was in a world of trouble if he didn't contain his emotions; he needed to back away before he got too deeply involved with her. But it was probably much too late to slip through the back door. His feelings were growing and taking center stage whether he wanted them or not.
"I'm sorry," she apologized.
"For what?"
"Bonnie. I didn't think she'd hurt you."
Damon laughed dryly. "Why do you think that?'
"Because, you mean a lot to me," she told him tenderly as she began to dress his wounds. "Because, the Bonnie I know wouldn't everhurt anyonethat matters to me."
"Her actions are her own. Don't worry about it. I don't blame you."
At her heavy sigh of relief, Damon knew he was right. Elena blamed herself for Rogue Bonnie, but thanks to Sheila's rather inconvenient death, controlling her was virtually impossible.
"All done," she announced, closing the kit. "You can move now."
"Good." Damon sat up and put his shirt back on. "So, what's your plan?"
"About?"
"Bonnie. I can tell you to stay away and that she's dangerous, but I have a feeling you won't listen."
"Actually, I was going to see Caroline. Maybe, I'll run into Bonnie there."
Damon jumped to his feet. "On second thought, maybe I shouldgo with. Don't worry. I know Caroline doesn't want to see me, 'Lena. I can't wait outside. And hit on those lovely nurses in short skirts..."
She slapped his arm playfully. "Don't be ridiculous, Damon. I can go by myself."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
Elena slowly stood up and walked towards the front door. Her footsteps grew fainter as she exited the boardinghouse.
Damon waited until she was outside before letting out a sigh.
Things were becoming very complicated.
.
.
.
.
.
Note: I am so, so sorry for the long wait. I haven't had as much time as I wanted to write lately, and I didn't want to post this until it was decent enough. Sorry that this chapter is so long but now many things will fall into places. Thanks for all the reviews and favorites. I appreciate it immensely and hope you'll still stick around.