Author's note: This story keeps growing. :D I can't believe I ever thought it would be 11 chapters long. Oh well!
I'm so sorry that it's been a while since the last update, everyone. I've suddenly gotten a lot busier, but I still plan to finish this story by the end of the summer. :D
"Tyler, mate, we put this entire production together in a matter of days. We're a company composed almost entirely of vampires and hybrids, remember? Well, one vampire," he grinned, "but a dashingly talented one. Best speed-readers in the world, and we can stay up all night rehearsing without breaking a sweat" Enzo reassured, though inwardly, he was having doubts. He remembered quite vividly that the turned siphon witches he spent time with at the turn of the century had some handy memorization spells, which he would undoubtedly love to use to get his cast up to speed now. Where was a Heretic when you needed one? "We'll figure it out. If all else fails, I'll add Esther to one of mine."
"I think you might have too many roles already," Tyler demurred. "How exactly are you planning to play both Elijah and Esther in the same scene during Henrik's death in act one?"
Enzo just waved him off, far more concerned with a particularly disturbing recent discovery. "So, this Damon from your story – the one that helped you protect Elena from Klaus – did he happen to also date a woman named Katherine at some point?" Enzo asked.
"Yeah! How'd you know?"
"Lucky guess," Enzo deadpanned. "I'll make another one – the Katherine that Damon dated is also Katherine the doppelgänger," Enzo groaned. How had he not put it together previously? Probably because of the heroic treatment that Tyler gave Damon in his stories – gallantly taking the werewolf bite to save Caroline. Enzo now suspected that this story was at least somewhat exaggerated in light of Tyler's guilt.
"She is," Tyler replied slowly, "though I don't see what this has to do with the play. We're not exactly following Katherine's life story – or Damon's for that matter. Katherine's only role is to steal the moonstone, get herself turned, and run away, right?"
"Right," Enzo said flatly. "Did she happen to be locked in a tomb for well over a century, too?" he asked with narrowed eyes.
"Oh, no," Tyler laughed. "She only pretended to be. Damon was devastated, from what I hear."
"Well, at least there's a silver lining," Enzo shrugged. "I want to add a scene to the play. It might seem a bit," he pretended to search for the right word, "avant garde, but rest assured – it'll make sense within the context of the play."
"Will it?" Tyler asked dubiously, by now very familiar with Enzo's 'scheming' face.
No, Enzo wanted to say, because it's the truth. "Absolutely," he said instead, because he knew it would be sure to make a blast either way.
"I just – I need to wrap my mind around everything that happened since we got here – everything I've done, with my humanity off," Elena said quietly, wrapping her arms around her knees as she drew them to her chest.
The first time she lost her humanity – when Freya suggested it as a way to break the sire bond – had been so brief, and she'd hardly gotten a chance to fully explore the switch before both Bonnie and Freya joined forces to create the ultimate hallucination to bring her back. They had her believe – truly believe – that that she had killed everyone she loved in a feral, empathy-devoid rage.
She remembered numbly walking through the Boarding House, staring at their bloody, lifeless faces – too shocked and rapidly-filling with despair to question her own ability to take on opponents so much stronger than she was. Perhaps it was because they didn't really want to hurt her, she reasoned at the time.
She remembered cradling Jeremy's head while the first tears struggled to break free.
She remembered them unleashing when she caught sight of Damon's greying form, with mournful veins protruding over his once-clear flesh. She would never tell him that it was really, truly her – not the influence of the sire bond – that loved him.
She would never be whole again.
And as she sank to the floor with trembling hands, waiting for the chasm in her heart to inevitably widen, the illusion was suddenly lifted, and everyone was mercifully alive.
With a rush of profound relief, her humanity had come back that day to joyful tears, happy reunions, and hushed confessions. She thought it was one of the most intense feelings of her life – but it had nothing on this – even though it was an illusion, she still experienced what actually felt like lifetimes without her humanity.
And so she sat again, this time inside a Chambre de Chasse and thus aware of the illusion, letting the full weight of what happened during her elseworlds escapades hit her now that the shocked bliss from her happy reunion with Damon allowed other, more hidden emotions to come through.
"You took a nap. That's all," Damon said flippantly. "In fact, you're still taking it – but if we find our totems," he trailed off meaningfully and almost sang with an upward inflection, placing a hand over one of hers.
Elena swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking. "I know it isn't real – but I was so horrible to everyone in those worlds without my humanity. You should have seen the way I treated Stefan – and oh, God, Anna! We were as close as sisters, and I was so awful to her," she lamented, pulling away to wrap her arms around herself.
"None of it was real," he said gently, placing a hand on her cheek to bring her to face him. "You didn't do or say any of those things to Stef – and you and Anna barely interacted in the real world," he soothed, though he could hardly keep his own eyes from flooding with shame. Maybe Elena never spoke those cruelties to Stefan – save for the brief period when her humanity was off the first time, after which they quickly banded together to turn Elena's humanity back on – but he certainly did.
And he not only spoke cruelties but committed them. Countless atrocities by his hand and in his name.
He was infamous in New York City in the seventies. He still couldn't think of his visit to Mystic Falls in the nineties without revulsion.
"I wish I'd taken the time to get to know her," Elena whispered, before she caught the haunted look on his face, which he quickly struggled to brush away, and was only partially successful to anyone who really knew him. "What's wrong?" she asked, her own sorrows forgotten.
He shook his head with a poor attempt at a smile, desperate to hide his sudden change in mood. "Just thinking about all the trauma you've unleashed on poor Gummi over the years. Who even are you?" he grinned.
Elena rolled her eyes but smiled, straddling him. If he was going to deflect, then she felt justified doing so, as well – and she had a feeling he would appreciate this method a lot more than talking through her stuffed bear. They kissed for a few minutes, excitement building within her, when she realized that something was missing for him. The motions were there, but the passion wasn't.
Suddenly, she froze. What if he just wanted to go home – and none of this had anything to do with her? He'd seen her at her worst – heard the horrific things she did, the things she said. All of this was just an act – a plea to get her to agree to return home, since he couldn't do it without her. The Chambre de Chasse either let both of them out or none at all.
What if he couldn't love her anymore – not after he saw her like that – like the monster she truly became?
No, that couldn't be it, the rational part of her told herself. He was the first to accept her as a vampire – for a long time, the only one. He would be the last to judge her for her humanity-free behavior. So, it must be something to do with him, she concluded.
The return of humanity rendered vampires vulnerable to emotional mood swings almost as sharp as turning.
As soon as the epiphany dawned, she studied him with clearer eyes, a more determined gaze. Although he tried to hide it, she couldn't miss the way he would occasionally turn away in shame. With the rawness of their newly returned empathy and love must have come something else. She placed a hand on his cheek, urging him to face her. He looked at her with a smirk, casually draped to frame his face. She only smiled and shook her head, refusing to be deterred. "Damon," she accentuated, trying to pierce through his eyes to his very soul. "No matter what you did, I still love you. I always will."
He laughed, turning away from her, though the sound didn't sound quite as jovial is it did moments ago when their reunion with their humanities evolved into a round of play. "You have no idea what I did."
"I definitely have some," she teased, almost smiling and arching her eyebrows meaningfully. "I was there during my junior year, remember? Physically present? Definitely around."
"No, you don't," he told her quietly, all trace of humor gone from his voice – the sudden absence of warmth making her feel cold to her bones. She placed her other hand on his other cheek as well, drawing him closer as her heart ached for what she was certain he felt.
"Do you mean the first time you turned it off?" she asked quietly, putting together what must have happened to him in the fifties, based on her experiences with illusionary Enzo. When he nodded, glancing away from her, she scooted closer. "I'm guessing, based on my alternate world, that you were the lucky, double-blood-dose winner?"
He looked at her defiantly then, clearly challenging her. She'd seen that look on his face before, right before an attempt at self-sabotage. She wasn't going to let him. "Yes, and do you know what I did?"
"You turned off your humanity because it was the only way to survive – you'd have died in the flames trying to save him otherwise. Illusion-Enzo told me his story," she said softly. "And I'm glad – and maybe that's selfish – but if you died in that fire, I never would have met you."
"Maybe you would have been better off."
"No, I would have been dead – actually dead," she said. "You've saved me more times than I can count."
"Wow, Elena. I knew Virginia's public education system went downhill, but I thought you at least knew basic arithmetic," he mock-chided, then narrowed his eyes to playfully study her. "Is this how baby bro got you so ensnared? Did his mental rolodex of recycled cliches sound 'deep' and 'intriguing' to you?" he asked, sardonically emphasizing with gestures not quite close to jazz hands. "I heard he tried to channel his best Carl Sagan, but instead stumbled onto YouTube University and gave you what I'm sure he thought was a profound and poignant metaphor for the comet. I can't wait to hear all about it," he grinned, obviously trying very hard to draw away from the subject of his somewhat volatile emotions to one of his favorites ever – making fun of his brother. "Poor Stef. Someone should warn him to stay away from Flat Earthers."
Elena rolled her eyes, mostly successful in fighting her smile. "I'll tell you about it if you're good, but you have to earn it," she said with playful sternness, wagging her finger at him, then softened, wrapping her arms around his neck. Damon, I planned to kill my parents with my humanity off," she said. "If we're going to compare notes, I'd say you're fine," she added with some softness, satisfied that she correctly guessed the source of his consternation.
"Key words 'going to.' You didn't. You didn't actually do anything aside from making some disturbing suggestions. I've actually killed," he growled. While reassuring Elena that her borderline psychopathic escapades in the imaginary worlds carried absolutely no consequences, he was suddenly reminded of his own very real brush with an extended humanity-free reality.
"So did I!" she cried.
"Real people a lot of them, Elena! Not imaginary Chambre de Chasse people. I was notorious in New York in the seventies."
"I know! You told me –"
"Not everything," he argued, growing increasingly anguished.
"You can tell me what you did – in your own time – I won't force it from you now," she said, pressing her own cheek against his as she held him. "When you tell me, I want it to be because it helps you, not because you think I need to know for my sake. I'm here to help you heal, not to judge you." When he didn't say anything for several long moments, she felt compelled to continue. "I get it now – I didn't before, but it's different after having experienced a humanity-free lifestyle myself for so long. I can't judge you for anything you did. My actions weren't any less real just because they happened in an imaginary world. They were real to me – I made the decision to hurt and kill and do all those awful things. I never had an inkling that this was an illusion. I know firsthand what it means not to have your humanity, Damon, so I won't judge you," she said, pulling back to look into his eyes. When his were downcast, she gently cupped his face, finally prompting him to look at her. It both wounded and moved her to see him look so scared, so very vulnerable. "And no part of me will ever stop loving you."
"Remember that Boarding House slaughter in the nineties?"
"That was you?" she asked, clearly puzzled.
"It was," he said tightly, turning away from her.
"Why?" she asked quietly, settling next to him again.
"I came home, wanting to reconnect with Stef. I felt the tugging of my humanity, aching to break free –"
"Like so many times tonight," she gently interrupted with a smile.
"Yeah," he smiled, despite himself, then sobered. "I came back – I think I actually wanted my humanity to return then. I started feeding on the boarders –"
"Snatch-eat-erase, or …?" she trailed off meaningfully, not quite willing to say the word when he was clearly in such a raw state.
"The former," he confirmed. "Stef noticed, got angry – vervained me and locked me in a shed."
"A shed?" she asked with a trace of amusement and a raised eyebrow. "Why not the basement cell?"
Damon smirked wryly. "He learned his lesson; don't worry." He glanced around awkwardly, before continuing. "The shed was outside, and he took my daylight ring, so I'm sure he thought it was a good idea at the time," he explained with a half-hearted eye-roll. He couldn't even muster the will to mock Stefan in his turmoil, he lamented. Usually, that made for a fairly reliable litmus test of his moods. "Words were exchanged," he said lightly, "then the annularity of the eclipse that day let me mosey on over into the house, where I gave the 'animal attacks' committee a migraine of paperwork, and you know the rest."
"What words?" Elena asked, evidently troubled.
"What?" Damon queried, clearly puzzled by her response and lack of complete admonition, abandonment, abhorrence.
"What words were exchanged?" she pressed, agitated.
"You're focusing on the wrong part."
"I don't think I am," she said thickly. "I'm focusing on the part that I don't know about. What happened that made you shut it back down when it sounds like your humanity was close to coming back. What did he say?"
"Oh, you know, the usual brother drama," Damon replied with a flippant wave of his hand. "My misbehavior might get him in trouble with his hair gel supplier, and that forehead could only handle so many stress wrinkles."
"What words, Damon?" she repeated, growing visibly upset. When he didn't say anything, she pulled him closer, to hide her face in the crook of his neck. "You can tell me," she whispered against it. "Like this if it's easier."
"I wanted to go on a road trip, just us - catch up - get our bro groove back. Grab some bad truck stop snacks," he said, then smirked. "Drain some truck stop snacks."
"And he didn't," she supplied, refusing to be deterred.
"Nope. "
"What else?" she pressed.
"He thought I came back to mess up his stupid life, and i told him I didn't," he explained, growing increasingly uncomfortable.
"What else?" she insisted.
Damon stayed quiet for long moments, debating whether or not to release the information. Once it was out, it could never go back - whether illusionary or not, everything they said to each other in the Chambre de Chasse was real. Would it affect how she felt? Could he let her see him in this much pain? Could he allow himself to be that bare, that open, with anyone? The idea terrified him. What if he laid this at her feet, and she agreed with those words? What if hearing them was all it took to make her believe them? How could anyone find them not true? If she didn't feel this way yet, what if they were what sent her over the edge?
Would he survive it? He barely made it through when Stefan said them all those years ago - if he hears their cruel confirmation from Elena now, what would be left of him?
Gathering every once of resolve he had, he decided to push through. Might as well go all the way. He was never a guy for half-measures, anyway, and he already came this far.
"He said I ruined it just by existing."
He heard her shark intake of breath, felt her trembling, her squeezing him - not quite sure what to make of it - terrified to analyze it. "He'd better be glad that he has vampire healing, because I'm going to rip him apart," she growled, reacting instictively, her voice shaky with emotion, thick with tears. He focused on her trembling form, her uneven breaths, the way her hands dug into his shirt, while his shoulder seemed to become wet with what he could only assume were her tears. "I'm so sorry - for what he said - and for all the things I said - before ..." she trailed off, the tumult of feeling preventing further speech for being possible. "He doesn't think so anymore. I'm sure of it."
They stayed quiet for several moments, until she finally pulled back, her eyes ablaze with determination, more serious than he'd ever seen her in his life. "You saved my life immeasurably by existing - in every way possible. I love you. With everything inside me. Tell me you understand."
He stared at her numbly for a while, a rare moment when he was at a loss for words - a handy quip just beyond his reach. "I love you, too," he finally said, swallowing his awkwardness, the words tumbling forth from his mouth with all the grace of a newborn baby deer, stumbling and barely holding upright. An earlier version of him would have scoffed at the complete lack of finesse, while secretly envious for the reasons behind it. A later version of him would recall this moment with equal parts extreme embarrassment and fondness.
"And you understand?" she urged in a voice that bordered desperation.
"I'm trying to," he answered honestly.
"Good," she said, palpable relief clear in her voice, as she relaxed her grip only slightly.
"Why aren't you more horrified by what I did?" he asked, genuinely confused.
"Because I know what it's like to not have your switch on now - when there's no humanity to stop you from acting on your worst feelings," she said quietly, pensively. "Instead, I think, our focus has to be on never putting ourselves in that position anymore - never turning it off again," she said somberly.
"I'm actually not sure we even can anymore," he said honestly. "I think we reached that point where vampires can't anymore - the Chambre sped it up."
"Good," she said again, taking a deep breath, letting the tension out of her body. "I'm glad. I never want to be that person again. Having these feelings - it hurts - but it least everything feels real, and at least I can control myself enough to face tomorrow."
"So, is that the only reason that you're afraid to return? Because you're afraid to face everyone after what you did to them in the imaginary worlds?" he asked.
Elena looked around uncomfortably, squeezing and un-squeezing her hands a few times before speaking. Damon waited patiently, through grew more concerned with each passing second, until she finally took a breath to begin. "I'm afraid to go back because –"
"Because you're still planning to get back together with Stefan?" Damon asked bitterly.
"No!" Elena cried, alarmed, then placed her forehead on his, closing her eyes. They let the peace of that interlude settle for a few seconds, allowing their breaths to mingle, their heartbeats drumming a companionable rhythm. "I won't."
"Then why?" he asked softly.
"Because I'm afraid of what I'll do the next time – I know myself – or, at the very least, I see myself more clearly. I'll admit, it took me a while to recognize it, but being without this instinct in all those worlds made me see just how dangerous it is – like when I tried to run into the tomb with Stefan and Katherine."
"And I stopped you, Elena. I stopped you then, and I'll do it again. I promise."
"But what if you can't – if you're not there. I have to learn to stop myself. And, logically – objectively – if I were to remove myself from the situation, I would understand that my entering the tomb would not help anyone. Katherine would have either killed me immediately or used me as leverage to control you both. I wouldn't have been doing anyone any favors. But in that moment, I wasn't controlled by logic or reason – I just knew that I couldn't survive while anyone was in danger, because …because …"
"Because you still think it's your fault?" he asked sadly, referring to the accident on Wickery Bridge.
"I guess on some level. I don't know anymore. Maybe I'm always trying to make up for it – "
"You've nothing to make up for!" he exclaimed passionately. "You deserve to be alive, Elena. You deserve to be happy."
"And you deserve to be loved," she finally said, looking up at him. "Even if you have trouble believing it," she added, biting her lip nervously. "Caroline told me Klaus has a therapist, and he really likes –"
"Klaus!?" Damon interrupted in near-uproarious laughter. "Histrionic poster child, can't emote under a hundred decibels, dagger-happy Klaus? He goes to therapy?"
Elena just shrugged. "I don't think he intended to tell her honestly. He has a habit of getting loose-lipped around her."
"I wonder why?" he asked wryly.
"Klaus-mechanics aside," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck anew to draw her lips to his, nearly touching as she whispered against them. "It might not be the worst idea in the world. Didn't you once tell me that you 'therapist' said you were acting out?" she asked with a wink, and a playful peck.
"So, let me get this straight - you think the answer is Klaus' therapist -"
"Cami. Care says her name is Cami, and that she's really kind and sweet and empathetic -"
"Anyone who's had to listen to Klaus Mikaelson wax dramatic about his life has to be full-on crazy-pants at this point. It's like a one-act play on repeat, except the twist is always that he gets a little testy, throws a tantrum, and slaughters an entire family, or village or town - but on repeat," he said lightly. "Zero stars. Predictable and dull. Would not recommend."
"Poor Cami. Sounds like she needs some stories to diversify her catalogue so she gets to keep her sanity. We'd be doing her a favor, really," Elena smiled, kissing him again.
"I don't think you've done enough to convince me," he said, grinning into the kiss.
She bit her lip, taking a chance as her own smile grew, visibly brightening her whole face. "I'll have to do that when we wake up, because I think I know what my totem is."
"What is it?" he asked curiously.
She got up suddenly, taking his hand, to blur them back downstairs. "Humor me," she whispered, before opening a door, leading them to step through. As they entered the room, letting the door close behind them, they found themselves in the hallway yet again. Each door leading them back from whence they came.
"An infinite loop," Damon murmured. "I guess the Chambre has nothing left to show us."
"Nope," she said. "I guess it doesn't," then took off her daylight ring, cupping it affectionately in her hands. "This is my totem. My ring."
"Why your ring?"
"The very last time I wanted to die, I threw it into the river, and you saved me, then fished it out for me," she said, squeezing it in the palms of her hand before finally turning to face him. "I woke up finally feeling free, because I didn't feel like there was any part of me that owed Stefan for saving me that day. Everything changed. I threw the ring out because I wanted to die, but when you gave it back to me, I knew at that moment, that I finally wanted to live again."
"I hope that feeling continues to grow," he said gently, taking her hands in hers to kiss each.
"What about you? What do you think your totem is?"
Damon furrowed his brow in thought, taking a walk into the kitchen, and returned with a tumbler. Elena looked at him quizzically, her expression bordering on amusement. "Bourbon? Really?"
"I dropped this glass in your kitchen and then caught it again with supernatural dashing sexiness-"
"I remember! I knew you were cheating."
"I never said I play fair," he shrugged, a smug grin sneaking onto his handsome face. "You told me that you were sorry I lost her, too. It was the first time in decades that anyone showed any real concern for me, and," he trailed off, swallowing thickly. "Even then, it meant a lot - granted, it was for knockoff stock femme fatale Spirit Halloween costume - but it still chipped away at my walls."
Elena smiled, taking the glass from him, her eyes widening in wonder as it visibly changed in front of her.
"Then on a night much later," he said softly, taking the glass from her to set it down, pulling her into his arms for a dance. "I gave you some whiskey, which led to a dance, and the best night of my life."
"What do you think it means?" she asked, hoping that her intuition was correct, that he formed the same conclusion as she.
"For the first time in over a century, I felt loved - and like I was worthy of it," he breathed. "And it came from you."
"Of course you're worthy of it," she said, stopping their dance to gaze at him - to emphasize the important of the moment, her words, the truth. "But it didn't just come from me - it came from you - like it always had. You just had those parts of you hidden away for too long, but they were always there. And you let them out because you wanted to let them out," she breathed, standing on her tip-toes to kiss him, them smiled. "I only helped you along the way."
Wordlessly, she took his hand and led him back to the painting. "It's time to wake up. I'm ready to face a new day, with you," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him. "Best birthday."
"Best birthday so far."
They placed their totems into the back of its frame, as the world around them dematerialized again, and they each found themselves awakening in the Mikaelson ceremonial chamber.
As the witch who spread the Twin Flame spell throughout the town, Kol instantly felt the returning humanities of the remaining two vampires, with a visible sigh of relief. "They're back!" he grinned cheerfully at an expectant Davina.
"Wasn't it your doing that made them turn their humanities off in the first place?" Davina teased.
"Nah, they were the ones to cast the spell - so they would have been affected regardless. I just made sure to share all the chaotic love," he grinned, taking a wide look about the vastly overpopulated town. It hadn't even been a whole day since the spell was cast, and already it seemed like hundreds of people have arrived - and those were just within close range.
If any of Mystic Falls' inhabitants had Twin Flames that were farther away, they were sure to arrive at their earliest opportunity, as well.
"Why did you spread the spell, anyway?"
"Freya wanted me to spy on Bonnie Bennett, who she thinks is hiding something," he explained.
"Your sister thinks everyone is hiding something," she rolled her eyes. "She could take paranoia lessons from Klaus."
"She might be right this time," he reluctantly agreed, not entirely fond of giving Freya any credit for what he was convinced was very annoying behavior. "Bonnie's been sneaking away to the ceremonial chamber to light the scrying fires - twice - maybe thrice already."
"Who do you think she's trying to contact?" Davina asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Only one way to find out!" he announced cheerfully, as the two made their way back home.
No sooner had they entered the parlor that they noticed an unusual assembly of persons. Everyone seemed quite at odds with each other.
Freya was staring Bonnie down in a decidedly unfriendly fashion, while the newcomer by her side looked quite emotionally out of place. Rebekah was desperately trying to smooth things over, while Marcel quietly observed. In that instant, they watched Damon and Elena walk into the room from the ceremonial chamber, their eyes still bleary from sleep, while Caroline barged into the door directly behind them, demanding to know what happened to her friends, who she was puzzled to learn were quite fine, right on front of her.
"All right!" Freya positively roared. "I demand to know what's going on. Someone had better start explaining!"
I wrote and re-wrote parts of this chapter a few times until they felt more authentic and truer to character, and I hope they're up to snuff. :D
The play is in the next chapter, yay! (Finally!)
Damon needed an emotional arc, too, and since vampires have been consistently shown to be a lot more emotional than normal when their humanities return (probably because they're flooded with all the emotions that come along with love and empathy), I thought it would make sense that after their initial happy reunion, the less pleasant side-effects would come tumbling through, as well.
Just a little reminder that this is an AU in which they meet Freya early, and she helps them with all the sire bond and Silas stuff - so no dead Jeremy, Elena's humanity was off for a very brief while only, and Kol got the Cure to become a witch again.
Thank you all for being utterly delightful. :)