Chapter 8

Damon wasn't in the mood to answer his phone—especially not when it flashed: Sheriff Forbes. It was a tempting idea to let it go straight to voice mail. But the Sheriff was persistent, and she'd probably call and harass him until he answered.

He sighed, eying his dwindling collection of liquor; he was running low on his favorites. The scotch and bourbon were what kept him in check when blood was insatiable. Just because it was what his body needed—it didn't mean his body wanted it. Of course, he thought that over a century had been enough time to find a favorite blood, but it hadn't. Over the years it all started to taste the same to him—even animal blood. But Damon would neveradmit to Stefan that he enjoyed feasting on Bambi and friends every once and a while.

Everyone needed a few secrets. Even Damon.

Like how he had intense, seductive dreams about Elena. Or how, when he was sitting alone, he'd think about her and worry about her safety. It was an unhealthy obsession, and the one thing Damon knew about vampires is that they sure knew how to obsess.

He thought about Elena even when he didn't want to think about her. The past two days, she kept going to the hospital, insisting that she had to spend time with her otherbest friend, Caroline Forbes. Damon couldn't deny Elena that—even when he could clearly do without Caroline and her whining. But he didn't want to leave Elena there unguarded and unsafe with Katherine and wolves running amok.

What the hell are you thinking, Salvatore?His mind asked.

Damon swore and erased his mind. Blank. A clean slate. Peace. This was what he enjoyed, but thanks to his crusade to fool Liz Forbes with his 'I'm-a-vampire-expert' act, she'd be his go-to guy when the shit hit the fan. If the Sheriff, the last time he spoke to her, insisted that vampires weren't a threat, obviously they were dealing with something much, much more complicated.

Flipping the phone opened, he answered with faux jubilation. "Sheriff!" He exclaimed. "To what do I owe this surprise phone call?"

"Damon." Liz's tone was cold and hard. "We have a little situation."

Situation? He rolled his eyes.

"What's going on?"

With his superb hearing, he was able to dial into the faint background noise. To just anyone, it was mindless chatter that didn't mean a thing, but to do Damon, location meant damn well everything.

"It appears I may need your favor sooner than later," she explained in a hushed voice.

"I'm on the edge of my seat, Sheriff. Don't leave me hanging like that."

"I, I think you were right about the vampires, Damon. I didn't want to believe it when you paid me your little visit."

"What did you find?"

"We got a call first thing yesterday morning. There were reports of graves being disturbed at the cemetery. I sent my best deputy out, but I haven't heard from him since he called in to say he arrived on scene."

He clucked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Great. Just what he needed...to be indebted to the Sheriff over something that was most likely not worth his time. He had a date to drain some liquor bottles—not go out looking for a junior boyscout that had zero intuition or common sense.

"Is this unusual behavior?" He asked, cracking his knuckles, but unable to fight off the grin plastered across his face.

"Deputy Adams recently transferred to our precinct. He just finished his training at academy and was itching for his first solo call."

"So basically you're telling me we have an unexperienced kid wandering around with a firearm?"

"Ultimately, yes," she conceded. "Don't forget he was trained at a very prestigious academy. I'm sure he's fine...maybe."

He sighed.

A quiet morning in was a luxury Damon could no longer afford.

"I'll take a look, Sheriff. Hang tight."

XOXO

Noble wasn't Damon. He didn't itch to be the knight showered in attention; he rather enjoyed the darkness. It was his escape...only he hadn't planned on having to keep up pretenses with a barely, hanging-together Sheriff.

Deputy Adams, as far as he was concerned, was nobodyat all. There were bigger fish to fry and in the grand scheme of things, he couldn't afford to make a little detour. But Liz had given him the resources to find Jeremy—even when it could have gotten her canned from the police department. Damon still didn't know whether to thank her or drain her dry for such accurate equipment in finding the youngest Gilbert.

But somehow, against his better judgment, he found himself back at the cemetery.

Parked just outside the main gate, was a police cruiser with the lights flashing, engine running, and door ajar.

Damon scowled.

Maybe Liz's fears weren't as off the mark as he hoped they were.

As he leaned into the car, inspecting it thoroughly, he noticed the CB was on and broadcasting messages about more grave disturbances spanning multiple counties. It was probably drunk teenagers wanting to get into trouble, but with the possibility of werewolves in town, the answers weren't always that black and white.

He reached across the passenger seat. A sleek, black cell phone was lying open. The screen was flashing over a dozen missed calls. Nothing about that was unusual, though. It jived with the Sheriff's story. But, since Damon had spent a lot of his years getting acquainted with technology, he noticed that Adams had a perfect signal.

Why had he left his phone behind? Why was the car running? Why was there no trace of him, anywhere?

The questions puzzled Damon. And he despisednot knowing what was going down. As he stressed to Alaric, werewolves folklore was often as inaccurate as vampire folklore.

A quick perimeter check was probably a good idea. Adams wasn't dead. Or bleeding. He'd know otherwise.

At that moment, his phone rang.

Perfect.

He knew he was irresistible, but everyone's constant nagging was starting to get on his nerves. How does Stefan do this?Damon mused to himself as he slid his phone open without looking at the screen.

"Salvatore, Damon speaking."

"...Damon?"

The words broke apart as if he had a bad connection. He stared at his screen, exasperated; he had a perfect signal. Maybe Mystic Fall's cell phone service wasn't up to snuff.

"Elena?"

There was more static and breaking words. Even his great sense of hearing proved useless as he struggled to make out the words. Damon didn't have the kind of patience to fill in the blanks so he ordered Elena to immediately text him and he hung up.

Edgy. Annoyed. Hungry.

The feelings were strong enough to blindside him. He shook them away and entered the cemetery; he wasn't a foul, mangy dog with a keen sense of smell. But the moment he stepped on the cemetery's land, he felt a strange surge of emotion. Something wasn't right. He was acutely aware of how quiet it was. His skin tingled and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Damon chided himself for showing a fraction of vulnerability. And compassion. Taking care of himself was easy enough. Anyone who got in his way was easy enough to eradicate. They were hardly a challenge unless they caught him off guard...like Lee had. As much as it pained him to admit it, Elena had saved his life; her humanity and love and need to protect was the reason he was still on planet Earth. It crossed his mind that maybe it would have been wise to bring back up, but he wasn't about to tip the scales in Alaric's favor by asking him to have Damon's back.

This is where his noble, human-loving brother would factor. If only Damon knew where the hell Stefan was.

His phone vibrated.

Caroline released. Taking her home.

Damon typed a response. Go directly to the boarding house afterwards. No questions.Satisfied, he sit send and jammed the phone back into his pocket. Elena would continue to text and ask questions because she always needed answers, but he'd ignore her objections. Besides, he clearly couldn't worry about her safety when he was doing dirty work for the Sheriff.

His head spun as his eyes darted across the graveyard, looking feverishly for signs out of place. He could feel the frustration and need for blood growing inside him as nothing caught his attention. And then, he turned to the left, and saw the crumbled ruins of decimated gravestones.

Lying nearby was a professional camera. Probably Adams',Damon thought as he blurred towards the crime scene. He smelled humans all over it. Nothing about the scene was supernatural. At least, not that he could tell.

Dropping to his knees, he pieced blocks together until he could make out a last name.

Lockwood.

Of course. Damon felt stupid for not remembering how the mayor died in the fire that night. It wasn't a mistake. He doubted John Gilbert would throw in humans when his agenda was all about the extinction of vampires...unless John Gilbert's plan to eradicate the supernatural wasn't limited to vampires.

He speed-dialed the Sheriff's number.

"I have some info, Liz," he explained cryptically before she even spoke into the receiver. "It appears either someone purposely targeted the Lockwood family...or we're dealing with teenagers. It's your call how you choose to deal with it..."

"What about my deputy?"

"No traces, Liz. I don't think bloodsucking fiends are the result of this."

She sighed heavily. "Are you sure?"

Damon detected the strain and tiredness in her voice. He was willing to bet that Sheriff Forbes wasn't telling him the whole story. Why would she stop the investigations on vampires? If anything, she was dedicated and headstrong. So, the real question was: what was she hiding from him?

"Positive. As for your deputy, I'll keep an eye out Liz, but this isn't my territory."

"No." She finally answered. "Don't worry about it, Damon. It was stupid for me to call. It's just, after everything that's happened, I was leaning, no hoping we were dealing with vampires."

"No worries, Sheriff. Oh and congrats on your lovely daughter being discharged today. It's a shame you couldn't take her home."

And just like that, she took his bait, and he knew something more was going on.

"I'm working a very important case. But thank you, Damon. And thank Elena for me."

He smirked. "Will do."

XOXO

Elena was punctual—a little out of breath, even. He grinned as she skittered into the living room with a heavy, lingering presence. Her shoulders were slumped, her hair was mused and perfectly unkempt, and the dark circles beneath her eyes proved that she hadn't slept properly in days. (And neither had he.)

"How's the outspoken blonde one?" He asked as Elena dropped onto the couch next to him.

She closed her eyes, head titled back and resting against the back cushion of the couch. Without looking of her, Damon realized that she reeked of exhaustion. He realized that her "tiredness" went beyond a little worry about Caroline or even Stefan. This was deeper, turning her into a walking, talking robot where she was just rolling with the punches.

Clearly this Elena was no fun. Damon's lips curved and he opened his mouth, ready to spew a biting, sarcastic response, but he couldn't force himself to speak the words.

She grimaced, finally opening her eyes. "Traumatized. I know you don't care about her because you fed from her..."

His eyes darkened and he whipped around to face her. "Caroline was a meal ticket. I won't lie about that. But if I wanted her dead, I would've drained her the first time. You know, I'm not one for delays."

"Not funny," she hissed. "Caroline is one of my best friend's, Damon. You could at least try to feel bad for her...for my sake."

He rolled his eyes and dramatically said, "Okay, Elena. I'm so sorry about Blondie. Do you think she'll be okay?"

"Unbelievable," she muttered, "ass."

"Hey, now, don't be like that. I said that I was sorry."

"Maybe apologizing without sarcasm would help your case."

"Sorry." He flashed Elena a flirtatious smile. "Not happening."

"Fine." She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Caroline is okay... kind of."

His brows furrowed. Suddenly, Damon wasn't feeling as playful or sarcastic. He, just like any other vampire, knew the power of compulsion, but the process wasn't that clear cut. It was impossible to gauge if compulsion stuck after severe head traumas; it was a thought he bounced around his head when he spent those few days at the hospital with Elena. If Caroline remembered anything, his cover was blown.

Damon clenched his hands into fists. It had been stupid and reckless to target Caroline Forbes in the first place. But he was hungry. And Caroline made herself an easy target. As he sat across from her the first day their eyes connected, he sensed her desperation. Besides, since when was Damon going to deny a pretty blonde of a good time, anyway?

It was what vampires did. There wasn't room to feel remorse with a lifestyle that required daily blood in place of food. And Damon hadn't been in Mystic Falls long. It was a perfect opportunity to have fun. At the time, much thinking hadn't been involved. Damon learned that the less he thought, the easier it was to survive as a living-dead creature.

"What does kind of mean exactly, Elena? Please, don't skimp on the details now."

"Honestly." She exhaled sharply. The day had clearly taken its toll on her. She wanted to crawl into her bed and sleep off the killer headache she had. "You're a bad liar, Damon. I know you don't care about Caroline. Why waste time talking about it?"

That first day in the Sheriff's office—when Damon had gone to Liz for a favor to find Jeremy—he remembered something she had said about Caroline. It was easy to forget with the erupting chaos surrounding him.

"Caroline is hysterical," Elena revealed carefully, her eyes traced to the burning logs in the fireplace. "The doctors had to sedate her not long after she woke up. She kept screaming that someone wanted to bite her and kill her and bleed her dry."

He felt the tension between him. It wasn't difficult to read between the lines where Elena was concerned.

"She...remembers. Doesn't she?"

"A little." Elena swallowed thickly. "Damon, they let me take her home, but the Sheriff has to monitor her closely. If the outbursts worsen, she'll be committed to the psychiatric unit at Mystic General."

"No one will believe her." He shrugged casually. Caroline was simply a casualty of his boredom. She was onlyalive and kicking because Damon didn't find her as a threat. His compulsion was flawless, but even he had to admit...he didn't consider a brain injury. And if she began to remember anythingabout him or vampires, he knew he'd have to step in. No questions asked.

"You can't risk this, Damon..."

"You mean Stefan can't risk his identity. I'm expendable. Collateral damage."

She frowned. "Don't talk that way."

"If it wasn't for Stefan, you wouldn't have anything to do with me, Elena. Stop trying so hard to say the things you think I want to hear."

Elena ground her teeth together. "I told you already, I care about you! What do I have to do to prove it, Damon?"

"Whatever." He shrugged. "What's your plan, 'Lena?"

"Compulsion."

The words—especially coming from her—made an involuntary shiver cross through him.

"Is that such a good idea? There's not a manual on compelling someone that's suffered brain damage. What guarantee is there that it will work?"

"There isn't. I just thought doing something is better than nothing at all."

Speaking his mind was the way Damon worked. To hell with consequence and disapproval. They were a few of many things he couldn't be bothered with.

"Need I remind you about Jeremy."

She winced. "That's different."

"Not really." He scoffed. "Listen, I'll deal with Caroline when it becomes an issue." At her all-knowing look he grinned. "If I wanted her dead, it would have happened months ago."

It was hard to trust Damon—even for Elena. There were days she struggled with how honest he was being. And there were days she wondered about Katherine. Was there more to the story than she knew? The slew of unanswered questions kept her up at night. But Elena had to remember: Damon neverhurt her. He could have, easily, during the span of time they spent together... and alone. Hurt was never an answer to the equation. Even if he didn't admit it, the stunningly beautiful and human brunette, was a part of him; she was a part of his life.

"And judging from your silence, I know you agree." Damon flashed a toothy grin. "Caroline is okay. Let it be."

"I want to but..." Elena hesitated. What were the right words? "It's what I do; it's who I am. I worry, Damon. I worry so much."

A deep sigh came from Damon. He bit his lower lip and just stared at Elena, part in wonder and part in amazement; he was learning so much about her-like how she put friends and family above all else. And he remembered a time when she'd neverdare to confide in him. He was a bloodthirsty monster, but still she stayed.

Night after night.

Day after day.

It baffled him to no end how someone so good, so selfless could exist. Because, if there was anything Damon knew, it was the power for all humans to put their own needs before anyone else.

"Stefan is alive. He'll probably show up when you least expect it. I can tell every time you're thinking about him. You have this look on your face like you've found home. And peace."

Elena felt the thickness in her throat as she struggled to swallow her saliva. Being here, so close to Damon, was beginning to do strange things to her. When she brushed against him in the slightest, she felt a shiver that rocketed through her body. It was a massive explosion of chemistry and lust and the need to touch his skin. And it was becoming more frequent. The touches and emotions she felt were growing harder to control and forget. She didn't want to be unfaithful to Stefan, though. She loved him, which was why Elena battled with her body for control.

But the fighting was futile.

The growing feelings she had for Damon, which were partly undefinable, were consuming her. It was hard to be in the same room with him when she had such impure thoughts.

And it scared her; it scared her to death because she had neverfelt like this with Stefan before.

"I..." She struggled for the right words. "I wasn't thinking about Stefan." As hard as she tried to disguise it, the sultriness won. The powerful look in her eyes gave her away.

Her pulse pounding was the only thing he could hear. It roared, overwhelming any sound. All he could concentrate on was her.

"You shouldn't say things like that." Composure wavering, Damon blurred to his feet. "We need to talk about werewolves and Jeremy. And that bitchy witchy friend of yours, 'Lena. Now's not the time to get sentimental."

There was no point in hiding the frown and disappoint. It covered her face like a Christmas tree all lit up.

"Stop trying to change the subject. You alwaysdo that."

Exasperation was winning. Damon let out a reluctant sigh and rolled his eyes. It seemed like they were always dancing around each other and giving lectures.

"I'm not a chick. Get over it, 'Lena. All I want to do is find Stefan, send Jeremy home, and let my nice, little life go back to normal."

"Normal?" Elena sputtered.

"Yes. Werewolves are in Mystic Falls. Vampires, unaccounted ones, are lurking around. Your brother is stillrefusing to grow up and get over himself. Maybe he should be the one visiting the hospital."

She exhaled sharply. "Do you think that's for the best? Is Jeremy..."

His eyes pierced into hers. "Out of control? In serious need of psychiatric help? Take your pick Elena; either way, he isn't the normal, angsty teenager anymore."

Her face fell. "I just wish that I could help him. It's my fault that he's like this. If I hadn't asked you to..."

Hesitantly, Damon reached out his arm and put his hand on her shoulder. He braced himself for the surge of heat that flooded his body whenever he touched her. This time, it was more intense than other times. A small muscle in his jaw tightened.

"Elena," his voice slightly strained, "None of this is your fault."

"How can you say that?" Twin sets of tears formed in the corner of her eyes. "Look at what happened because I wasn't honest with Jeremy. He doesn't trust anyone and won't even look at me. Even if he hadn't looked at my journal, he would have wound up finding out the truth. What type of sister does this to her little brother?"

"Technically, you're only first cousins." He emphasized his statement with doing his synchronized shoulder and eye movement.

She frowned. "I don't care that we're not biological siblings. He's still my brother. You should understand that."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Stefan told me that you are only half-brothers."

"Did he, now?" He dropped his hand from her shoulder. "I wonder why he told you that."

"It came up in conversation when Stefan and I were talking about your family."

Damon nodded his head. "I see."

"Stefan wasn't trying to lessen your fraternal bond. He just wanted to tell me about the Salvatore brothers, half-brothers whose friendship and love for one another was as much if not greater than full-blood siblings. You have to give him a little credit for acknowledging it."

"Maybe, just a little." He held his thumb and index finger a few centimeters apart.

Elena became silent; trapped in her thoughts. Damon despised silence. Almost as much as Stefan's rants about his woes.

"All right, Elena, Jeremy's your brother. But I'm still telling you that his downfall isn't your fault. You need to accept it."

Defeat heavy in his eyes, Damon knew he got through to her. She was stubborn - a lot like him in that department. She struggled to overcome obstacles, and it was almost as if he were staring himself down in the mirror.

"Good." He grinned. "If emo hour is over, I think now is as good a time as any to find out why werewolves are in Mystic Falls."

Hours holed up in the Salvatore Library had Damon angsty, hungry, and absolutely miserable. Doing favors for Liz Forbes had been his way of making sure that his and his brother's true identities weren't compromised. They had done each other countless favors, and it should have ended there. It didn't.

The Sheriff was the easiest avenue to locate Jeremy and to placate a very upset Elena. At the time, it was a favor worth granting, but dead bodies popping up in Mystic Falls would pose as a problem. He still had to find Saint Stefan, and he had to deal with Katherine. Even John Gilbert had to be dealt with at one time or another. And then there was Caroline and the compulsions wearing off.

Damon wasn't the do-gooder.

Helping with the missing deputy was simply returning a favor, but Damon knew that it wasn't a case of some native, Virginia wolf or getting lost in unfamiliar, thick woods. His mind kept flashing back to the Lockwood headstone and what it could mean.

Even Jeremy was helping. Reluctantly, Damon decided to let him out on good behavior, but one eye was alwaystrained on the unpredictable, youngest Gilbert. If there was any sign of trouble, Damon didn't object to throwing Jeremy back into the cell.

Elena had been staring at the vast collection of books for the past ten minutes. Damon waved his hands around, trying to get her attention. She didn't seem to notice his ridiculous gestures. He sighed then went back to reading dusty book spines. When she was ready, he knew that she'd talk.

It was early morning when Damon decided that they all had been searching for long enough. He wiped his dusty hands onto his pants and turned to face Elena and Jeremy. Both of them were engrossed in reading various passages of potential books. Clearing his throat, Damon waited to have their attention.

Jeremy was the first to tear his eyes away from the pages. Elena followed suit a few seconds later. They looked up at him and watched as Damon made an irritated face.

Damon crossed his arms leaned against a bookcase. "I think it's safe to say that we're getting absolutely nowhere."

Elena shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "We're trying the best that we can. It's not our fault that you practically have the Carnegie Library in here."

He let out a light laugh. "This library is nothing in size compared to the Carnegie Library, 'Lena. Hell, it's less organized, too."

"That's not my point, Damon. How do you expect us to find something with the multitude of books scattered amongst the bookshelves?"

"I don't."

Surprise was evident on her face. "If you didn't think that we would find anything, why did you have us look?"

"To cover our bases, of course. I couldn't in good conscience not try to find information in my own home. That would be quite reprehensible of me."

"Damon," she drew out, "we wasted a whole day on nothing."

"I wouldn't say that, Elena. We did find out something."

"And, what's that?"

"The information we seek obviously isn't here."

Jeremy leaned back in the recliner that he was sitting in. It was a nice change of scenery from the musty, damp basement and the four walls of the cell, but he was only helping because Damon made him.

If Jeremy had it his way, he'd rather be as far away from his lying, scheming sister as possible. He knew it'd be easier to just forgive and forget - bury the hatchet so to speak - but Jeremy was a long ways away from giving her the benefit of the doubt or evergiving her a sincere smile, again. After all, she had inadvertently caused Anna's death, and he just couldn't accept that.

"Nice, Damon," he snapped, venom seeping into his words. He slammed the ancient book closed and dropped it onto the table in childish defiance. "So, this was all just a stupid errand?"

Damon held up a finger. "Now, now, children. I didn't say that."

"What are you trying to say, then?"

"I'm merely suggesting that we look elsewhere. Like," he pauses, "the Town Records, for example. I'm sure that there will be something in there. Or, if I must, I can try to get a hold of the Council's archives."

Elena's eyes narrow. "How do you expect to get anything from there?"

"Let's just say that I have a charming personality for a reason."