NOTE: Rating is changing to "M" because I no longer trust my muse to keep the content tame.

Chapter 2

I don't flinch easily and so I barely recognize the reflexive cringe as it overpowers my system. I am staring directly into the barrel of a gun. It's a big dart gun; undoubtedly the culprit that drugged me and landed me in this rotten cell to begin with. However, it's not the gun in my face that has caused me to recoil; it's what I glimpse from the corner of my eye. Elena and Stefan fall into one another's arms, no doubt thinking that they are going to be shot dead, and neither one bothers to cast me a glance goodbye. Being pistol-whipped with the dart gun would feel like a massage in comparison.

I hope that this human pulls the goddam trigger and ends me . . .

But, then again, if I'm laid-out in a casket my brother and Elena will be left to their own devices to escape. Given my brothers record of successfully escaping anything and Elena's new vamp mood swings, their chances of survival without me are slim-to-zippo.

"Don't attempt any heroics," warns a masculine voice from the other end of the gun barrel. "We have four darts lethally loaded. You won't be fast enough to stop all four of us from pulling the trigger, and at least one of you will die. So just step back, relax and let's talk. Believe it or not we do not intend you any long-lasting damage. Consider the fact that you are still wearing your daylight rings as a token of my word."

Reflexively my fingers find and trace my ring - it's right where it should be. Interesting that these humans know about our daylight rings, especially Elena's since it is brand new. Bonnie just gave it to her before we left the hospital. I grind my teeth so hard that I actually taste enamel powder upon my tongue. I have to play nice with the human kids, so I follow the man's instructions and take a wide stride backward.

Our human abductors are clever; they know how fast we are. They know that we could break their necks before their fingers could itch upon the trigger. Therefore all four of the humans have taken up separate aim. One barrel focuses on my face, one in Stefan's and two upon Elena. The humans are doubling the chances of Elena being shot AKA doubling the chances that Stefan and I will behave. Like I said, our human abductors are clever. They get an A+ in Salvatore-brothers history.

Stefan tightens his death-grip on Elena and pulls her backward with him. Now we three stand in a line looking absolutely absurd in our matching checkered gowns. Apparently I am the only one embarrassed by our appearance: Stefan is preoccupied with gaping at Elena while Elena has become fixated on the human who has taken aim at me. She tilts her head like an inquisitive animal, studying my would-be executioner as though he were a curious insect wriggling in a spider's web. I have no idea why Elena has targeted this human over the other three (who smell far more delectable), but it would be foolish for anyone to interpret her expression as anything less than lethal. Elena is parched—new vampires dehydrate quickly— and a parched vampire functions vastly on impulse rather than rationale.

I casually slide in front of the lovebirds, ready to protect the humans from Elena or take a shot to protect her from them. I raise my hands as a sign of truce but Stefan can't afford to follow my lead; he does not dare unhand Elena. Atta boy Stefan, sometimes you are a really smart guy.

My hit man lowers his gun just enough to peek over and meet my gaze. His eyes are dark like fading embers, burning just enough to keep me wary. He is black haired, middle-aged and in great health – his blood-pressure sounds top-notch, but his moustache is disgusting. It's one of those old-school handlebar 'stashes that curl upward at either end with wax. It's icky. I don't understand how that was popular a hundred years ago, but it certainly isn't now. Even a 1970's porn-stash would be an upgrade.

I peel my sight from the abomination of 'stash and study the other three humans. All of them are dressed in blue jeans and military-style green jackets. The humans clash terribly beside our red and black checkered hospital gowns. I'm confident that Caroline Forbes would label this entire scene as a massive fashion faux pas.

Several silent moments slither by; the humans simply stare at us, umm . . . awkward. As a show of good faith, I maintain my hands in the air as I speak:

"Hi there, I'm Damon. I know that I'm handsome, but you can all quit gawking now and go-on explaining what's happening here." I flaunt my most sarcastic grin.

The moustache man leaks the drip of a smile upon his lips; I suppress a gag as his 'stash quirks upward, yuck, yuck, yuck. I get a whiff of earwax, that's just so wrong. He trades glances with his comrades and I follow his gaze, making a few mental notes about the other three. For one thing, they are much younger, in the twenty-five to thirty range. The younger male is a bit on the homely side, he is in desperate need of some Proactive and Rogaine, but I restrain myself from suggesting the products. On the contrary, the two women are quite attractive. Both are petite blonds. My impeccable sense of smell tells me that they are related - sisters or cousins - as the aroma of their blood-type is identical. The most striking difference between them is their hair style. One has twin long braids, the other wears hers in a short bob, kind of boyish, but she's rockin' it. The bob-haired chick dares to drop her gun; a cavalier grin spreads her juicy red lips. Oh, how I'd love to sink my teeth into those.

"He certainly is a handsome blood-sucker, eh?" her Canadian accent is obvious.

"Oh, stop, you're going to make me blush," I flash my eyes the way I know Elena likes it. I hope Miss Vampire noticed - I'm not reserving that visual treat just for her anymore.

The cute Canadian giggles, swapping glances with the other girl. "I wouldn't mind keeping this one around."

Moustache man shakes his head; finally ready to talk: "Let's cut to the chase, if you three vampires cooperate then you will soon be freed."

"How soon is soon?" Stefan asks.

"Does time really matter when you live forever?" counters moustache man.

"Humor us," Stefan banters back.

Moustache man is either hard of hearing or ignoring Stefan (which I don't blame him for) because he starts a new topic, introductions:

"My name is Stuart. This is Darlene," he motions to the cute Canadian, "Melanie and Daniel. We are not interested in causing you permanent harm, we simply want your blood and then you can go."

Oh goodie, they're blood- jackers, awesome. I wasn't exactly sure what to expect, but I didn't expect this. I am familiar with blood-jackers - our own Doctor Fell is one, although to a far lesser and more selfless extent. I'm willing to bet a fang that these four do it for the cash. Sell black-market vamp blood to the highest bidder.

"Damon, we need you to come with us," Darlene's tone implies that I don't have the option to decline.

Darlene approaches me, dart gun raised, and all hell breaks loose!

I hear a yelp and Stefan is on the ground! Elena has busted-out some crazy vamp moves and tossed him aside like a rough draft. I would laugh at him if I weren't terrified for her. Before the humans can shoot I seize Elena by her waist and yank her backward, facing me. She wants none of my restraint. I think I'd have an easier time forcing a hybrid into a strait-jacket.

I clench Elena's body against my own, trapping her arms, locking her in the most confining embrace that I can manage. Elena's sight avoids mine as she continues to thrash. Despite my squeezing her like a stress-ball, she succeeds in wriggling a hand free and claws my right shoulder. I don't give her the satisfaction of hearing me yelp, but I fail to suppress a groan . . . Elena dug her nails into my flesh. Hot, sticky blood oozes through my gown as a sinful tremor sizzles down my spine, igniting me square between the legs. Somehow I am able to redirect Elena's arms and I twist them behind her back. Elena arches, her chest heaving, and she lets loose a string of curse words that would make Rick go red.

My creep-o-meter is soaring again as I relish how this girl feels in my arms. Let these blood-jackers shoot me down right now and I'll die blissfully happy, my hands upon Elena's skin. Our gowns are about as thick as cellophane, as we move it's like we are both naked with only the bed sheet between us. I feel so much – too much - every-single-soft-deliciously-hot part of Elena is flush against me. Elena's chest heaves again, her breasts press firmly –agonizingly - into my chest, her nipples are fleshy pebbles grinding my willpower to dust. Breathe-Damon –you- creepy -son-of-a-god-dammed-horny-bitch- SHIT!

I fail miserably to suppress my arousal.

Although I am certain that the blood-jackers would enjoy aweing at my manhood, I'd rather Stefan were oblivious to my need to ravage his girlfriend right here on the moldy floor. Therefore, I do the only thing that I can and hide it! I press my arousal firmly against Elena's stomach, nesting myself between our bodies. My guy is smooshed and pointing north, but at least he's concealed!

Just like that Elena's thrashing halts. Her eyes magnetize to my own, hers are wide and wild – a whirlwind of nutmeg and shock and . . .

Stefan's timing blows. He chooses now to aide me and snatches Elena's legs right out from under her. I turn my hips toward the wall and, mercifully, Stefan's sheer presence had deflated my lust. Elena starts fighting again, but Stefan and I detain her with ease. Elena snarls as murderous veins embellish her eyes, and . . . for a split-second I think that it's Katherine in my arms, for how could this venomous creature be my Elena?

But then Elena belts words that Katherine never would: "It's not right!" she zeros-in on Stuart. "You shouldn't take vampire blood! I would gladly donate my blood to help someone who needed it, but playing with vampire blood is not something to take lightly! If a human dies with our blood in their system then they become a vampire, like me," emotion hitches in her throat and she goes limp in my arms, she is done fighting. It pains me, but I let Elena go, relinquishing her into Stefan's embrace. She is still the voice of morals, she is still my Elena.

Stuart and the other humans seem a tad dumbfounded by all that has just happened. Granted Elena, Stefan and I moved at vampire-speed throughout the entire squabble, so it really was only a few blurry seconds to their meager-human eyesight. However, they know that Elena tried to attack and I intercepted. Thankfully none of them decided to open fire.

Finally moustache man de Stuart offers a delayed reply to Elena's words: "We know what vampire blood can do. It is of no consequence to you what happens to the blood after we collect it. After you have served your purpose, and providing that you have behaved, you will be set free. Be warned that the next time you lash out, Elena, we will shoot you." Stuart pauses and starts again: "No, the next time you lash out we will shoot Stefan or Damon, consider that instead. In any event, we did not come down here to collect your blood specimens right now. As Darlene said a moment ago, we've come down here to borrow you, Damon."

Everyone's sight combines upon me like a ginormous spotlight. I generally like being the center of attention, but this is just uncomfortable and I wish that I had some real clothes on!

Stuart explains: "We've been observing you since you've woken up and, Damon, you have suffered a reaction to our darts. We need to thoroughly examine you before we can process you as a qualified specimen donor."

"Are you referring to that seizure that he just had? I thought that my brother was going to die! What the hell did you do to him?" shouts Stefan. My brother is angry, really angry. I wonder if these jackers realize that they've confined a retired ripper?

Elena joins-in the anger chorus: "Damon was convulsing! Why?"

Now, don't get me wrong, I appreciate Stefan's and Elena's concern. SERIOUSLY though, you'd think that this was the worst thing I'd ever experienced. Have they both developed amnesia? Do they remember any of the shit Katherine and Klaus have put me through lately? Or what about Bonnie hard-boiling my brain? A potential seizure is about as scary as a threat from Jeremy.

For whatever reason, Stuart actually humors the lovebirds and answers: "At least one out of every six vampires we dart has a reaction. Very seldom is it fatal. We are just going to borrow Damon for a physical examination and run some tests. We need to make certain that he is a candidate for specimen collection. We ran preliminary labs on all of you while you were unconscious and, all three of you – your blood—is immensely valuable to us! We want to keep you as healthy as possible. This is step one in maintaining Damon's health."

"Then bring us with you. Don't just take my brother away! Damon, Elena and I stick together." Stefan won't give up. He and Stuart continue to verbally volley over what is best for me like I'm a little helpless kid. I should be pissed. I want to participate . . . I need to . . .

. . . But, I . . . I can't.

My eyelashes must be coated in lead because I can't open them.

I'm too weak. I'm too tired.

I'm too tired to think. I shake my head attempting to fling away the drowsiness like raindrops.

I feel burning candle wax searing through the veins in my right forearm.

I'm not really sure what is going on. All I can think about is Stefan and how dammed stubborn he is, he can't just wave the white flag and let them take me. It's in his best interest, it's in Elena's best interest, but he just can't. He loves me . . . and suddenly . . .

The mere thought of spending the rest of my eternal existence without him in it is an-overwhelmingly-daunting- and-unbearable-thing-to-even-attempt-to-comprehend –and-trying –to- comprehend –it- is -crushing –my- skull- like- warewolf- jaws-BREATHE DAMON!

Why is it that his happiness and my happiness once again rely on the same player? We can't both be with this girl and we can't both be happy without her. If Elena was with me then Stefan would be unhappy and I'd be unhappy because he's unhappy- blahhhh.

I don't know where I am - if I am standing up or flat on my face, but I can hear Stuart's voice again: "That's sweet, Stefan, but no. You three are far too dangerous. We can't securely transport all of you at once. No, you and Elena stay here."

"But we promise not to fight with you, we'll cooperate!"

"After what Elena just pulled, we can't possibly take the risk. NO."

I must be on my feet because no one suspects that I have gone blind. I gather my voice and throw every word that I can muster: "It's fine, Stefan. I'll-I'll go with them . . . If they-they-they . . . wanted to hurt us they would have-already, um . . ."

Holy hell, I sound sloshed off my ass!

The room falls silent.

Then I just plain fall over.

I fall directly into a vat of black ink.

I hear Elena in the distance, muffled and screaming: "Back-off bitch!"

But now my ear-canal has filled with ink too. My lead-weighted eyelashes must be causing me to sink faster and faster down the well of darkness. Being a vampire I can't really drown, so I'm not frightened. I don't fight it.

I just sink . . .

. . . into the ink. . .

. . . until I can. . . no-longer. . . think.

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NOTE: If you are enjoying this story (or even if you hate it!), please take a moment to leave a review! I really appreciate it and my muse is inspired by feedback. Best wishes, Maia's Pen