Brace For Impact

"There are two basic motivating forces: fear and love. When we are afraid, we pull back from life. When we are in love, we open to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement, and acceptance."

-John Lennon

The Art of War

Chapter Sixteen

Brief Recap:

"Nope," Damon said carelessly, "The only one I've been talking to for the last hour is my good friend Mr. Jack Daniels and his friend Mr. Jim Beam." Damon grabbed the bottles in question and poured generous servings of each into two different glasses. He had a feeling he would need some liquid courage for this conversation. Or, more accurately, more liquid courage.

He heard Elena suck in a sharp breath over the phone which unfortunately sparked his interest. He reluctantly put the glasses down and sat up. "But the better question would be why would you wonder whether or not I was just talking to you."

"Damon," Elena spoke tightly, "I was just talking to you. You were acting strange, but since you'd be weird to me lately, I shrugged it off. But then you just vanished while I was talking to you, and I got a bad feeling that maybe…"

"It wasn't me at all," Damon finished for her sobering immediately. "I'm on my way home." He hung up the phone immediately and gathered his things. What the hell was going on? First Shane, then Bonnie, and now him? What were they dealing with? Invasion of the Body Snatchers? He felt like himself still, so maybe it was more that Mystique was going around impersonating people? Ugh it was like The Thing or something! It had to be Silas, but how? Why?

Damon grimaced, just what I needed. Without a word he downed both glasses of bourbon and left the Grill to reconvene at the boarding house.

He made it only a few steps out the Grill door before someone was upon him. As the blackness overtook his vision, his last thought was that he wished he had actually told Elena they had reconciled.

"Damon?" he heard the familiar voice call in the back of his mind. She was always calling him in his dreams and reality, so it was hard to tell.

Damon opened his eyes blearily. He was sprawled in an undignified manner on the floor of an unfurnished room somewhere. He had a splitting headache and his body groaned in protest when he attempted to sit up.

Elena was perched over him worriedly. She placed a dainty hand to his chest to halt his movement. "Don't try to get up just yet."

Damon thought she meant to still him to prevent himself from injuring himself further- How did I hurt myself again, he questioned himself- but then he noticed that the hand that had been placed carefully on his chest was now roaming it. She put some strength behind her caress and suddenly he was flat on his back again with Elena hovering over him. "Elena, wha-"

"Shush," she placed her index finger on his lips. She held his face between her palms as Damon struggled to regain his bearings. What was going on? Was this even real? It certainly seemed like the beginnings of one of his better dreams…

Damon looked into Elena's eyes distractedly as she continued to soothe him with gentle touches. Her eyes look wrong was all Damon could conjure in his thoughts. Katherine's eyes were seductive and hardened, Elena's eyes were alit with passion and fire, but these eyes glinted with malicious intent that outshone even the Queen Petrova Bitch herself. This was definitely not Elena, or even a dream conjured one, but Damon struggled to label the figure above him as Katherine.

The hands that were touching him turned forceful and painful, and Damon found himself pinned as two stakes were driven through each of his hands. A sadistic grin lit up his captor's face immediately. No, Damon did not believe this was Katherine.

The stroking and evil were definitely pages in her playbook, but Katherine resonated purpose and sensuality- the person's aura reeked of unrestrained sadism and savagery. Katherine would tear you apart if you let her get her greedy little claws in you but never without reason. She would burn the world and ensnare every man into her net easily but not because she just wanted people to suffer. Damon liked to pretend that he did not get her, but he knew Katherine functioned out of self-preservation- and sometimes even loneliness Damon could admit if he was feeling generous, but he never felt that way towards Katherine anyway.

Katherine was a magnificent bitch but even as she tore his heart out she never exuded the pure glee that the person above him was oozing as Damon's body was turned into a pin cushion.

But if it was not Elena and it was not her psychotic twin then who the hell was it? What the hell was going on?

His captor had resumed his/her creepy exploration of his thankfully clothed body, maneuvering around the three stakes implanted in him easily. His captor almost seemed detached which made Damon think this was a decidedly disturbing tactic to unnerve him rather than lust, which made him think that there was no chance this person could not be Katherine at all. But who else looked like Elena?

The memories hit him with such painful impact that they relieved him of his breath in ways the stakes protruding from his body had not.

Immediately, Damon realized what was going on. He tensed but then forced himself to relax cockily.

"Is this supposed to get to me?" Damon smirked, "I've spent more time than ever needed around Katherine Pierce who loves to pull that same trick, and I actually know that under her seductive façade she's not a creepy old man like you so-"

Suddenly he gasped in pain of the unexpected wooden intrusion upsetting his poor stomach. "That was a little harsh," Damon gasped, "I was letting you down easy after all."

Damon looked up to the amused face of the late Professor Shane. "I don't handle rejection well," was all he said. He smiled peacefully at Damon belying his hand's violent, twirling motion that caused a ripple of agony to shoot through Damon's body. Silas breathed a light laugh "You like to think you're brave, don't you? But not being afraid here just means you're stupid."

"Well, you could look like anyone and you're masquerading as Professor Creepy. The only that scares me about you is your awful taste." Damon coughed and spat out blood.

"Really?" Silas humored him. "Well, perhaps this form would be better." He slowly spun around in a circle as Damon watched his features rearrange himself. When Silas stopped, Damon could not hold back the sharp intake of breath at the sight of those pale blue eyes glistening dangerously at him. The maniacal grin that split his lips to show the snow white teeth beneath just looked wrong.

It was probably because Damon had never seen that expression on himself when he looked in the mirror.

"You know who else might appreciate this appearance more? Your brother! Or even better, the most recent Petrova doppelganger! I think the two of them will just love it."

"Are you threatening me?"

Instantly, all traces of amicability were wiped off the stolen face leaving a more terrifying, serious expression. Or at least it should have been frightening, but Damon was so accustomed to being threatened at this point that he felt he sometimes had to try to work up the appropriate survivalist response.

"I don't need to threaten you, Damon," Silas told him blankly, "I could destroy you and your loved ones without any effort. In fact, I could bring the doppelganger here easily and annihilate her in front of you using methods that despite all your assumed expertise on pain and torture, would have you gauging your eyes out just to escape the show. You're not on my level; you're not even close. You're just pawns in the greater game. The control, the freedom, the security you think you have is all in your mind."

Damon felt something akin to fear sliver up his spine. Seeing his reaction, Silas continued maliciously, "And what a dark, pathetic mind it is, isn't it, Damon? The truth is," Silas paused and leaned forward until Damon was staring into his own blue eyes from inches away, "Your fears are true. Everything you desperately run away from and deny even in your own head is inevitable. It doesn't matter what you do, whether you act the sinner or the saint, you're just unlovable. It's not your actions, it's just you. That's why you never measure up to Stefan in anyone's eyes: your father's, Katherine's, Elena's. They can't care for you because you're just as bad as you secretly know you are."

With a growl, Damon unthinkingly attempted to jump up from his place on the ground to get to Silas. Rage was coursing through him in waves, and there was pain there, too, but Damon chose not to focus on that. He could not. All his efforts were directed on hurting Silas as he hurt him,

His impulsive attack caused pain to ripple through him from the stake wounds, but what really angered him was the embarrassing ease with which Silas thwarted his attack.

Silas grinned down at him still utilizing Damon's own face, "Ah, the pain of heartbreak. I can relate."

"I doubt that," Damon grunted out. He prepared a quick sarcastic retort to remove the infuriating pleasure coloring Silas'- his – face but paused at the contemptuous look Silas was giving him.

"You have no idea just how closely related we are, Damon. We could almost be brothers." At this, Silas started laughing. Damon knew instinctually that it was at his expense, and he was somehow missing something important, but Silas' true meaning behind the nonsensical words escaped him. "And because of our closeness, I'm going to graciously give you a chance to fix your mistake. Bring me Qetsiyah's descendent and a new cure."

For a moment, Damon's pain-addled brain refused to connect the dots. Who the fuck is Qetsiyah? And how the hell am I supposed to make another cure for vampirism? It was just a fluke that there was one at all in the first place.

Maybe Damon would have asked those questions. Or more likely he would have told The Thing to go screw himself.

But Silas was gone before he could refocus.

Elena was pacing in the Salvatore boarding house parlor impatiently. She was torn between rage and worry. She was so infuriated that Damon was taking so long when he knew that there was a threat… which lead to the worry that Silas was the reason he was taking so long.

The funny thing about Damon was he was equally likely to be taking action against whatever most recent supernatural being was tormenting Mystic Falls as he was to be propped up on a bar seemingly without a care. But Elena knew that was not what was going on here. Damon may act careless in the face of danger, but he would never run off during a crisis and leave her to worry. Elena paused in her thoughts. Wait, that's a lie. He would and has before. Elena thought of how she had to find out through Stefan that Damon was dying of Tyler's werewolf bite or how he sped off to lure the hybrid away from her back in Tennessee. Damon worried her all the time, but that came from the fact that he did not account for himself as someone worth worrying over.

But this was different. She spoke to him, he knew she was worried, and he was on his way- or should be. Elena could not shake the faint doubt that pierced her mind.

Elena gave him thirty minutes before she ran out the door to the Mystic Grill.

When she arrived, the first thing she noticed was the blue Camaro she would recognize anywhere. The second was the disoriented vampire leaning against it smearing his blood on the paintjob.

"Damon, what the hell is going on?"

He looked up at her somewhat blearily and smirked, "Just a little R and R before the long drive home. You know what they say about driving after a billion year old psychopath stabs you repeatedly." Elena glared at him dumbfounded. She really should not be surprised after everything, but sometimes the things she witnessed still made her want to bang her head against a wall. "So can we take your car? I don't want the blood to stain the upholstery for the third time this month."

After listening to Damon briefly explain what happened, Elena wasted no time calling everyone. Caroline and Stefan were already at home waiting for Damon and Elena to return.

"Call Bonnie," Damon said from his place in the passenger side. He was tapping his fingers against the armrest distractively, "She needs to be there, too."

"I don't want to bother her what with everything that's happened to her recently," Elena admitted. Bonnie was one of the strongest people Elena knew, but she had gone through so much recently with Professor Shane and the whole brainwashing thing. Besides, Bonnie was still human and fragile. All it would take was a quick snap of Silas' wrist, and she would be gone for good like Elena's parents, Aunt Jenna, Uncle John, and Alaric. And Jeremy, Elena tried to remind herself, to face reality, but it was still too painful to think about, so she forced the thoughts aside.

"She needs to be there for the team pow wow," Damon responded looking out the window.

"I don't want her involved," Elena replied less patiently than she hoped. She still had not forgotten her fight with Damon even if other matters had taken precedence, and it chafed her self-control.

Damon laughed humorlessly, "She's already involved, trust me." At her questioning look, Damon added, "I left out some of the details of what Silas said, but believe me, there's no way Glinda is staying out of this."

"Oh, so now you don't tell me everything, is that it?" Elena snapped.

Damon did not even look at her. "I only want to explain it once to everyone."

Elena pursed her lips but said nothing as she dialed Bonnie's number putting more force into pushing the buttons than normal. Bonnie was worried and understanding; she agreed to come immediately without complaint.

Elena hesitated a moment after hanging up before starting to dial again. That got Damon's attention away from the boring Mystic Falls scenery he sees daily.

"Who are you calling? There's no one left from the Hero Squad."

"I'm calling Matt to invite him over."

"Matt Donovan? Why?" Damon asked incredulously.

"He deserves to be included. He needs to know what's going on, this affects him, too."

"This affects the whole world, but you don't see me calling every little John and Jane, do you? Hey, While you're at it, why don't you give the Hybrid Overlord and Barbie Klaus a ring since at least they could be useful- if they don't kill us first," Damon concluded thoughtfully.

"Don't be so hard on Matt. He's been very helpful to me through all this before. Some days I don't know what I'd do without him."

Damon pulled a face at that. "Yeah, he's great as moral support, but what could he possibly contribute to this meeting? Four immortal vampires, a witch, and- wait, who's that? The busboy! Oh, thank god he's here to contribute. And what's his greatest ability you say? Oh, well, he is one of the best quarterbacks to ever hit rural Virginia." Damon paused pretending to contemplate Matt's usefulness. "I suppose we could use him as a distraction for Silas. Matt Donovan's so obviously useless that it could confuse Silas enough to give him pause. All warfare is based on deception after all."

Elena ignored the commentary as she waited for Matt to pick up. Damon would never understand that it was not about whether or not Matt could lift a school bus or whether or not he could set things on fire with his mind, Matt was needed simply because he was Matt. Secretly, Elena thought that Damon liked Matt more than he let on but stubbornly chose to ignore any feelings beyond disdain. Damon acted that way about Bonnie, Caroline, and- Elena's mind stuttered momentarily over the name- Jeremy, so why would Matt be any different?

Matt was done with his shift at the Grill and was en route by the time the call disconnected. Elena heard Damon mutter "what a relief that the Quarterback is coming" from beside her, but her thoughts had drifted in a new direction.

Damon liked to ruin things for himself before he even gave them a chance; he was the most self-destrictive person Elena had ever met. Not too long ago, she had misunderstood that self-destruction and his capability of rising above it, but she knew that he still felt the need to draw away when he sensed he was caring too much. And she knew why. He did not believe he deserved such simple comforts like friendship and love. He pretended he did not care with everyone out of some misguided self-torturing plan. Was that what he was doing with her, why he kept fighting her at every turn since her humanity came back? Why would he do that now when the sire bond was gone, her humanity was back, and they could finally be together? It made no sense, but Elena found that "Damon logic" did not always appeal to her sense of reason.

As Elena pulled into the Salvatore boarding house driveway, she was left with two sureties. One, that Damon was driving her away out of some ridiculous sense of self-preservations. Two, she was not going to let him get away with it again.

So I'm so sorry about the lateness of this chapter (and that it's a little shorter than usual, I just wanted to get it out)! Next update should be way quicker. I'm in China, working an internship with limited and censored internet. That's why this is so late. I'm 100% not giving up on this and it will be finished.

Also, I once read this fic that was pre-Klaus' appearance on the show that had such an abysmal portrayal of his character that I was hesitant to post any Silas scenes until after the finale. But then China and work got in the way and here we are.

If anyone still cares, let me know!