Lest We Forget

Damon, still irritated at the sudden appearance of Katherine in his house, sat beside Astra's bed after he had successfully located her through a quick call to Alaric, the History teacher telling him that he had moved her from Damon's room out of courtesy for the woman. "She doesn't need to wake up and find herself locked in your room, Damon. She hates you right now, remember?" he'd said, as gently as he could without completely lying about why he had moved the Roman to a different, unoccupied room.

Reaching out, he hesitated for a moment at the thought of such an intimate gesture, before he placed his hand on her chest and revelled in the beating of her heart beneath his palm. Her skin was warm once more, no longer chilled with death, and it brought a sense of relief to him that he would more than likely deny if he was confronted by anyone on the matter. Even if she woke hating him, threatening to kill him so that she could have Elijah back, he still wished that her eyes would open and allow him to look into the bright amethyst, clear of her hate, for just one second.

And he did.

Astra's eyes snapped open so quickly he missed the transition of closed to seeing, drawing a jump from his has his hand snapped back toward his body and off of her chest—not before he caught the feel of her heart slowly gaining momentum. At first, she only looked up at the ceiling, looking up at the dark wood rafters that styled the room. After a moment, however, her eyes flicked to him and he couldn't find it in himself to even breathe.

She took a moment to look him over, her brows drawing down in a frown. Damon tensed, waiting for the screaming and fighting to begin.

"Who are you?"

What?

His eyes widened as he looked down at her, his lips parted in shock and his azure eyes wide. She looked absolutely lost, far more than he expected. Her frown was still in place and her lips were tensed into a thin line after she had spoken, looking up at him silently as she awaited his answer. He couldn't bring himself to speak, though, and was left to try and choke out some words that would allow him to overcome his shock.

Who are you?

"You don't remember?" he finally managed to wrestled past his tensed up vocal cords. His voice was slightly higher than usual and he supressed a cringe because of it, but didn't allow her to see the effect that her words had on him. She really didn't remember? Was this a part of Elijah's plan? Was Astra really that good of an actress?

"Remember what? You?" she asked in return, her voice surprisingly clear for someone that had been dead only short hours before. "No, I don't remember you. Where am I and who exactly are you?" Damon opened his mouth to answer, but he truly didn't know what to say. It was pretty obvious that the truth was not only out of the question, but banished from the scenario entirely.

"I'm Damon Salvatore, and you're in my home. What…" he hesitated a moment, unsure of whether or not to ask. "What do you last remember?"

"Elijah," she answered immediately. "I was running away from Elijah and Nicklaus's estate, before they noticed I had left." There was a single heartbeat of time after she had finished speaking before her eyes widened and she bolted up from the bed, so fast that even Damon had trouble tracking her movements. She slammed into the wall on the opposite side of the bed and glared at him.

"You work for them, don't you? They're on their way here!" she hissed out, the look of hate once more upon her person but no longer for the same reason. Damon stood up slowly, holding up his hands in a show that he meant no harm. When he tried to take a step forward she growled threateningly at him and he could see that she was tensing, ready to run. "Don't you dare."

"Astra, please, that's not what is going on-"

"Astra?" she asked, confused. That made two of them. Damon frowned and straightened slightly, unsure of why her own name was unfamiliar to her. How could she remember Elijah and Klaus but not her own person. What had that bastard done to her mind that fucked it up so completely she didn't even recognize her birth name? Damon opened his mouth to explain to her, before he remembered something that she had told him in the past and changed his mind.

"Astraea?" he tried again. "Is that what you're familiar with?" he asked gently, moving to round the bed a second time. She didn't growl at him this time around and instead watched him ever carefully. He was the one stalking toward her, but he strangely felt more like the prey than the hunter. "I don't work for them, I swear. You do know me—or, at least, you knew me—and I knew you as Astra. Elijah did something to you to make you forget."

The blonde looked pained as her eyes fell to the floor, her brain beginning to hurt as she fought with her own consciousness to try and remember who the man before her was. He wasn't familiar; she didn't recognize those blue eyes, the strong jaw or dark hair. She could have known him, if he was telling the truth.

"What year is it?" she choked out, returning to glare at him and stopping him only a couple of feet away from her.

"Twenty-Twelve," he answered carefully. Her jaw went slack at the same time that her knees gave away beneath her, crashing her body down to the floor with a hard slam of her knees on the hardwood floor. He rushed forward out of pure reaction, forgetting the warning growls and dark looks he had been giving him, and gently took hold of one of her shoulders. She jumped away from him again, slamming her shoulder into the adjacent wall. Damon stared as she gasped when her shoulder went clean through the plaster and drywall, leaving a large rip in the nearly ancient wallpaper.

Damon listened carefully for if Katherine was approaching and was relieved to hear that she was moving about on the bottom floor, more than likely thinking that he was throwing a fit about her presence upstairs. Looking to Astra, he lifted a finger to his lips and silently told her to be quiet. She frowned slightly before listening carefully, catching on to the sound of someone else in the house.

"She probably won't be very happy to have you here," Damon explained without going into detail. So long as he didn't talk too loudly Katherine would more than likely remain ignorant to Astra's presence in the house. Astra may not remember Katherine, but he didn't want to take the chance of Katherine letting something slip and having Astra hate him again.

Sure to keep his movements slow, Damon offered her a hand to help her back onto her feet, seeing the fear in her eyes. The lack of remembrance was frightening, he knew that, and he wished that he could help her.

"I promise, you're safe with me," he assured gently. She looked at his hands for a moment before placing her smaller fingers over his and allowed him to pull her up one more, plaster and dust falling from her shoulder. "You just stay here and I'll go get you something to change into, alright?" Damon asked as he made sure he was holding eye contact with her.

Astra hesitated a moment before nodding her head and pulling her hands back to herself to wrap her arms around her torso as though she was cold.

Damon left her in the room, sitting on the bed as she curled her legs up against herself, and made his way down to his room to find something that she could wear. Andy didn't leave any clothes behind, but he was sure that Astra wouldn't mind wearing his clothing if it meant that she would be in something clean. He would imagine the smell of one's own blood would get irritating to breathe after a while, especially if it was old and dried.

Snatching a single black shirt and deep blue sweat pants that he slept in, he raced back to the guest room before Katherine had a chance to find him and ambush him. Astra's eyes snapped up to the door as soon as it opened, her posture tensed and on guard. As soon as she saw that it was him, though, her body relaxed and her eyes calmed. Damon offered a smile and held up the clothes, moving over and placing them on the bed.

"There's a washroom through there so you can have a bath or a shower," he explained, motioning to the closed dark wood door beside a wardrobe that he had seen Astra glancing at earlier. "Do you need anything else?" he asked after a brief hesitation. Astra shook her head and quickly slipped off the bed, snatching the clothes and disappearing into the washroom.

Standing in the room, there was a conflict of guilt and joy inside of Damon. He had her back, but he was lying to her just to keep her at his side. And she didn't exactly have much say, considering he was the only thing that she knew that could tell her what she had forgotten. She had placed her trust in the wrong person, he knew, but he was selfishly happy that he had her back. Looking away from the door, Damon was turning to leave when it opened again, revealing Astra still dressed in her bloody shirt and looking timid.

"What's wrong?"

She paused a moment, looking from him before her eyes fell to the floor again.

"I don't understand," she finally admitted. "I…everything is very different."

The bath, Damon realized, was what she was having so much trouble with. She didn't understand the plumbing and all that had changed. After her reacting to him telling her the year, he supposed that he shouldn't have been surprised at her confusion over something as trivial as running a bath. Smiling in assurance, he stepped forward and motioned for her to re-enter the room so that he could go and show her. Astra bowed her head in discrete shame, stepping back into the spacious bathroom.

"It's really easy," he assured as he moved over to the bathtub, where he could see that she had been looking through the different soap bottles. "Look, all you have to do is remember that these two handles each control a different water temperature; hot and cold. Just turn them to the left until you find a temperature that you like. When the bath's full, turn them to the right again to turn off the water." Astra was watching his hands as Damon took a hold of the metal handles and turned them about 180 degrees to the left, drawing forth a rush of lukewarm water and causing Astra to jump slightly. "See? Easy."

"Thank you," she mumbled softly.

"Here, is this warm enough?" he asked, reaching out and taking her hand, feeling her tense slightly as he drew her palm under the heavy rush of water and allowing the warmth to caress her skin.

"Not warm enough," she answered, seeming far shyer than he had ever seen her before. Damon turned the left handle and the heat increased, a pleasant hum coming from Astra that signalled she was pleased with the new temperature. Damon could see that she was already beginning to drift off into her thoughts so he silently rose to his feet and left the bathroom, closing the door and ensuring her privacy.

He had been incredibly reluctant to release her hand.

Astra perched herself on the edge of the bathtub, looking down at the water that was rushing from the tap and falling into the porcelain tub, the water that was already inside of if rippling and emitting a light steam. Inhaling deeply, the clean smell from the water gave her a peace and distracted her from the stink of blood that was on her. Reaching down, she began to smooth her fingers along the surface as her mind shuffled through what she did remember.

A very angry Klaus and a desperate Elijah.

Sighing softly, she moved back a pace and began to strip off her foreign, ruined clothes and was soon slipping into the partially filled tub, feeling the water pour down on her feet as she reclined. She tensed momentarily as her back pressed to the cold porcelain, shivering involuntarily. The heat was comfortable and familiar, reminding her of the scalding baths she had taken to having. Leaning back, she let the levels of the water caress her skin as it slowly rose higher.

Damon Salvatore. She brought his image back into her mind and closed her eyes, trying to force herself to remember where she could possibly have seen him in the past. There was nothing about him that clicked any kind of memory in her mind, and it was frustrating her beyond belief. She had never taken pride in her ability to remember names, but she hardly ever forgot a face. She was sure, as well, that it would take a lot for her to forget Damon's.

Huffing in irritation, her hands gripped at her head as it began to ache from concentration. For whatever reason that her memories had abandoned her, she had no control over it.

Nothing, not even a word from a time after she had left Elijah was coming back to her. There was nothing more irritating to her, and she could only hope that the memories came back on their own, or she would have to find other means; perhaps even go as far as magic. She had never liked witches very much, but she would do what she could to return her past to her.

However, she would first have to find out where she was and what had been happening. Clearly, things had changed drastically, and she wasn't surprised with the changes that she had seen through the eras already. Glancing around the room, the foreign and unfamiliar objects that caught her attention left her unsettled, but she had no choice but to act as though it wasn't frightening. She was a vampire, one of the oldest of her kind, and she could show no weakness to the younger ones of her species.

Looking down at the water, there were slight wisps of pink and red that was slowly rolling off her skin because of the blood that had dried there, the water slowly pulling it off. Reaching down, she ducked under the water and began to run her hands along her skin to wash the blood off sooner. She would need to empty and refill the bath because of the grime that was coming off of her flesh, even though there was no sign of injury.

Who had hurt her?

Sighing once more, she leaned back and draped her arms dramatically over the sides as the irritation set in once again. What she would give to remember…

Her heart seemed to ache with the absence of what made her herself, taking away the things that she had possibly once treasured. Her fingers lifted to trace the edges of the tub, the tips of her nails barely skimming the smooth surface. Closing her eyes again, she instead tried to push away all the thoughts of people instead of calling them forward, praying that the swelling of a headache in her skull would fade away instead of getting worse.

"Astra," she whispered ever so softly, thinking back to when Damon had first called her the abbreviated version of her birth name. Was that what she went by in the present times? No longer Astraea, the name her parents had given to her? Why would she wish to change her name, one of the last things that connected her to the life she had lost so suddenly?