A/N: Back with a long one!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.
After school Rory, having visited her locker, strode to the AP American Lit classroom for a preliminary newspaper meeting. When she arrived only half the writers had appeared—and she stopped uncertainly a foot in from the door. Is this entire week a nightmare? Rory thought somewhat desperately, because for some reason Matt Donovan had claimed one of the desks, and Tucker James and Caitlin Ward were there with him. She didn't have a chance to find someone else to sit with before Matt had spotted her and waved. "Rory!"
It seemed she had no choice. Rory steeled herself and took the few steps over to stop at the row Matt had selected. "Hi."
Caitlin, one row over, glanced up at Rory, surveying her outfit and lingering on her scuffed high-tops, and said nothing. She had always been put-together, pale with high cheekbones and currently crimped chestnut hair, and her eyeliner was perfect. Behind her Tucker leaned back in his chosen seat and gave Rory a too-appreciative look she managed not to roll her eyes at. "Hello, Gilbert."
"Here," said Matt, and he tapped the desk behind him. "Sit with us."
Rory, because she could see no polite way to decline and she did have to be at the first newspaper meeting of the year, took the indicated desk. Rather than face Caitlin or Tucker, she turned to dig through her backpack beside her desk.
She waited until she heard Caitlin and Tucker talking before straightening up and setting her designated pink electives notebook on her desk. When Matt glanced back at her Rory asked, trying to sound as normal as possible, "Don't you have practice?"
"Yep," confirmed Matt. "But I also suck at everything other than football, and Tanner's letting us show up fifteen minutes late."
Rory gave him a flat glance. "You don't suck at everything other than football."
That made Matt snort. "Tell that to my GPA." He swatted at Rory's arm and she tried to shift backward a little without being noticeable about it. "So what's been going on with you? How's Student Council this year?"
He seemed so intent and sincere, those blue eyes focused on her, that Rory felt an automatic flush start to burn up her neck. She did her best to ignore it. "It's—fine. Tana's going to be a taskmaster though."
"I believe it," remarked Matt. He gave the rest of the classroom, now almost filled with more students than the year before and a couple of freshmen, a surreptitious glance. "What's Ava gonna be like?"
Ava Dawson was the senior newspaper editor—she'd been voted in at the end of the previous year. "Um, direct."
Matt's eyebrows crinkled and he turned more as if to ask for clarification, but it was then that Ava marched into the room, an open laptop in one hand and a sophomore with her recognizable neon green backpack behind her. "Everyone, quiet," Ava called, her voice loud and authoritative. "Settle down."
"I think I already know what you mean," Matt whispered to Rory before facing forward.
The remainder of the meeting revealed that Ava would be just as difficult as Tana, if not worse. Although there were separate editors of each section, ranging from Arts to Sports, Ava kept leaning in to order different writers to take specific articles. She had at least four articles of her own she added to the Local News column and Rory spent most of the meeting trying not to look at the clock over the whiteboard for too long.
When they reached Arts, Rory raised her hand to take an article about the fundraiser that would be held for the program in November. "Good," said Diego Torres, the senior in charge of the section. "And you'll be able to work with whoever takes the article on the Art Honor Society. Anyone—?"
Oh my God please don't, Rory thought as Matt's broad shoulders shifted in front of her—as if in direct opposition to the thought, he lifted his hand. Is this karma? What did I do?! "Great!" said Diego. "Going out of your comfort zone. We like that here."
"We sure do," put in Ava, flashing a smile at Matt.
At least something did go well at the end of the meeting. Matt and Tucker had to rush out to ensure they remained within Mr. Tanner's fifteen-minute allowance, which meant Matt wasn't able to hang around and talk to Rory about their articles. Caitlin refused to look at Rory—the best option at this point—and glided over to start a conversation with a tennis player.
Left to her own devices, Rory released a breath of relief. She took her time returning her notebook and pencil to her backpack and on her way out paused to talk with a couple of soccer players, and when she reached the parking lot she opted to join a couple of senior softball players, hanging out around one of their Jeeps.
It wasn't until the sun had started to set, the late afternoon light suffused with a warm glow, that Rory pulled out of the Mystic Falls High lot. As she took the usual residential route back to her house, fiddling with the cassette player, she wondered what might happen if Elena did start dating Stefan. It still seemed—Rory couldn't move past the enormous and surely unsurpassable age gap, the centuries that stood between the two, but at the same time she kind of wanted Elena in a new relationship. Maybe that could push Matt toward getting over her faster.
Ugh, thought Rory as she settled on a Billy Joel cassette. Why couldn't Elena have decided to be interested in anyone other than Stefan?
As it was almost dinnertime and Rory wasn't interested in sitting down for a full, awkward attempt at a family dinner at home, she detoured to visit Chick-Fil-A, one of the few drive-throughs in Mystic Falls. With Chick-Fil-A in the passenger's seat and a Coke Zero in the cupholder she drove back home as the sun lowered past the horizon and the sky darkened.
When the house came into sight, past the neighbors' azaleas, Rory saw the roof at first, silhouetted against the deepening indigo sky, before she noticed the white Prius at the curb. Bonnie must have been over—and Jenna's Mini-Cooper was missing. Sorry, Damon, Rory thought as she parked the Bronco in the drive beside Elena's SUV. No asking about journals tonight.
Rory gathered her belongings and Chick-Fil-A and locked the Bronco before crossing the grassy lawn to trot up the steps to the wide front porch. With some juggling she managed to swing the door open enough to slide in.
She heard voices from the kitchen at once, as well as an alternative radio station playing, and the house smelled generally of cleaner. After an instant of hesitation Rory followed the hall to emerge into the kitchen, where she found both her sister and Bonnie chatting around the marble-topped island. "Hi," Rory said bracingly.
Both glanced up from unpacking pasta and salad. Elena waved and Bonnie gave Rory a polite smile. She was short and pretty, with deep brown skin, long black curls, and fine facial features. "How've you been, Rory?" Before Rory could do more than open her mouth to respond Bonnie straightened and added, "Wait, oh my God. Are you busy?"
"Bon," protested Elena.
"Not—really," said Rory at the same time, even as she wondered if she should lie.
"Please eat with us," Bonnie almost begged. It was a testament to how desperate she was that she was even asking—she and Rory hadn't spoken in months. Bonnie was the only visitor they'd had over the summer that Elena had volunteered to talk to. "Stefan's coming over."
Rory, surprised, glanced from Bonnie to Elena, searching for an explanation and maybe permission. The twins studied each other. Although they were the same height with identical faces, Elena was a little paler and skinnier, no muscle on her at all. Their dark brown hair was different, too, Elena's straight and Rory's curly. They hadn't spoken since that call about Vicki aside from the requisite "Have you seen my lipstick?" or "Do you have my jeans?" in passing.
After too long a moment, Elena shrugged. "I don't mind."
Rory knew a non-invitation when she heard one. "I already have this," she said, and she lifted the Chick-Fil-A bag to show the other two. Bonnie sighed, shoulders lowering, and at her expression Rory almost automatically offered, "I guess I can come back down after I'm done with some of my homework. If you want."
"We want," said Bonnie at once.
Elena pushed her hand back through her hair and gave Rory some attempt at a polite smile. "Sure."
"Hang on—do you know him?" Bonnie asked Rory as the latter took a step back. "Stefan?"
"Yeah," said Rory. At Elena's startled glance Rory explained, "He's sat with me, Mackenzie, and Lauren at lunch a couple times."
Elena and Bonnie looked at each other, unreadable. "I wondered where he went earlier," mused Elena, and she studied Rory again, this time with apparent calculation and a hint of what might have been awkward insecurity. It was so backwards considering the entire Matt situation that Rory was almost more amused than annoyed. "Are you guys…friends, or something?"
"I guess," said Rory. She couldn't exactly explain that she was being forced to work with Stefan's maniac older brother or that she felt sorrier for the two-hundred-year-old teenager than anything. "But I'm gonna head upstairs. I'll be back down later."
"Sounds good," said Bonnie, brighter already. And although Rory looked back at Elena for more explicit permission, her sister said nothing. I'll have to interpret that as acceptance, thought Rory, and she turned on her heel to walk back down the hall, swing around the banister, and ascend the stairs. In passing she noticed that Jeremy didn't seem to be home—she wondered how he and Jenna had managed to miss whatever weird Friday night dinner this was.
In her bedroom, she set her Chick-Fil-A on her desk and flung her other belongings into the antique armchair a foot from her bed. She cracked her window to let more fresh evening air in and stopped by the hall bathroom to use it. At last she retreated into her bedroom and clicked the door shut behind her.
Her phone vibrated as she sat down at her desk. Rory plucked it up to check it and rolled her eyes.
DAMON: update?
RORY: Nothing yet
From there Rory oscillated between texting Lauren and Mackenzie about Matt and watching suggested cute animal videos on YouTube while she ate. When a little over an hour had passed and Rory had heard the distinct sound of the front door opening and closing, she set her phone aside and exhaled. She glanced back at her door and drummed her neatly painted pale green nails on her desk.
Should she go downstairs? It was clear Elena would have preferred not to spend more time with her—or any at all, since they already never spent any time together—but even if Bonnie's allegiances had changed since ninth grade, when she'd swapped softball for cheerleading, Rory remembered how close they used to be. And Rory was sure none of the three introverts downstairs would be having fun initiating and maintaining conversation.
Rory pushed back her chair and snagged her phone. She shot off one more text to her friends, asking them to wish her luck, before she left her bedroom to stop by the hall bathroom. When she'd used it and washed her hands she leaned in to double-check her reflection. Her eyeliner was a little smudged, but otherwise she looked okay. And her curls were messy enough to definitely differentiate her from Elena. Here we go, she thought, and she headed downstairs.
As Rory approached the first floor she realized all she could hear was that alternative station playing from the kitchen. Yikes, thought Rory when she reached the banister. She hesitated. She'd already helped Stefan with her friends earlier. Well, what's a little more awkwardness, Rory decided, and she rolled her shoulders back and strode down to the dining table.
She found—of course—the conclusion of what must have been an excruciating conversation. "Yeah, I heard," Bonnie was saying with both impatience and a hint of resignation.
Great timing, Ror, thought Rory, and she flashed a well-practiced smile at the entire table as she stepped into the dining room. "Hey, you three."
Bonnie and Stefan glanced over at Rory with similar expressions of relief, and Elena didn't turn around at all. "Sit with us," said Bonnie, and she pointed to the wooden chair beside hers.
"In two seconds," said Rory—she padded into the kitchen in her bluebird-patterned socks to rummage a Baby Ruth out of the unofficial candy cabinet between the refrigerator and the microwave. When she'd then refilled her mint-colored water bottle she wandered back to the table and around it to take the proffered chair.
Rory started to tear the wrapper on the Baby Ruth and cleared her throat. "So," she said. "What do we all have in common?" She glanced around at the other three, who had gone from picking at their pasta to watching her in curiosity, Elena with vague apprehension. "I know we all used to be into—" Oh my God, I can't say Twilight! "—Lord of the Rings."
Bonnie half-grinned at Rory. "You had a huge crush on Aragorn."
"You're the one who dressed up as Arwen for Halloween three years in a row," returned Rory with a laugh. She nodded toward Stefan. "What about you? Are you into any of that?"
Stefan shrugged good-naturedly. "I was always more interested in sci-fi."
"Do you like, um, superhero movies?" Bonnie, ever the DC fan, guessed.
The conversation proceeded with more verve and even Elena involved herself. Within roughly ten minutes Rory leaned back in her chair as she fiddled with her Baby Ruth wrapper, satisfied with her work. She wondered if it would be socially unacceptable to take out her phone to mess around on it. Between rounds of Trivia Crack she could force the other three into more conversation by asking questions.
Before it came to that, however, the doorbell rang. The table quieted as each of them glanced around at each other, bewildered. "I wonder who that could be," said Elena, and she cast a quick look at Rory, set her napkin on the table, and rose to answer the door.
For a second the other three considered. "Maybe it's Caroline?" said Bonnie. "She'd invite herself over."
It was then that Rory heard a familiar voice from down the hall.
Without even an instant of thought Rory flailed out of her chair, almost tripped over it, and strode around the table toward the entryway. Damon Salvatore was outside, standing beneath the porchlight in such a manner that he looked as though he'd been born of the dark. "Ah, and here she is," said Damon when Rory arrived, giving her an unnerving smile. He almost resembled an animal of prey somehow.
Rory folded her arms and tried not to sound too short. "What?"
Elena glanced over. "You invited him?"
The twins studied each other for another second—Elena's makeup was perfect, her eyelashes thick and long, and they were so close Rory could smell her sister's signature rosemary perfume. But it had been so long since they'd been around the same people that their silent conversation game was more than rusty. "I mean," Elena ventured aloud, "Stefan's already here, so…?"
"No thank you," said Rory, and she faced Damon. He offered a pout he probably thought was cute and held out the packaged lemon pound cake he'd brought. "I'll take that"—Rory managed to take the pound cake without touching those long fingers—"and I'll text you later."
"Uh, Rory," started Elena with a disbelieving laugh.
Stefan joined them then. He took the doorknob with one hand while Rory, between him and Elena, held the pound cake. She glanced at the latter brother. From his tense shoulders and furrowed brow he seemed to be watching Damon the way a hiker might keep an eye on a mountain lion. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for Elena or Rory to invite me in," supplied Damon.
Elena managed to give both Rory and Stefan a strange look. "Uh, sure," she seemed to decide aloud. "You can—"
"No," said Stefan and Rory at the same time. Stefan continued, "He can't stay."
Elena fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, eyes flicking from face to face, unsure how to read the situation. She raised her eyebrows at Stefan, maybe looking for further explanation, and he persisted, "We're just finishing up."
For some reason that was it—Elena waved one hand dismissively. "Oh, it's fine. Just come on in."
Damon offered Rory and Stefan a smug, condescending smirk as he stepped over the threshold and into the house. Rory shifted aside to stand as close to Elena as possible without obviously blocking her as Damon, his boots thudding on the hardwood floor, wandered past the three and into the hall, where he gave the house a deliberate once-over. "You have a beautiful home," Damon said to the twins over his shoulder.
"Thanks," said Elena, and she closed the front door. It clicked shut with a distinct finality that made the little hairs on the back of Rory's neck rise. "You can head over there, I guess." She pointed to the sitting room. "Rory?"
She wrested the pound cake from Rory's grasp and gave her another weird look before she walked back down the hall toward the kitchen. Stefan, with no comments, followed her.
Of course this left Rory with the maniac. She folded her arms again and prayed he couldn't see how nervous she was—but she knew he could hear her heart, beating at triple its normal rate. "I don't have any information yet," she told him in a low voice, doing her utmost not to outright seethe. "I have to talk to my aunt."
Damon rolled his eyes. "Oh, Rory. It's not all about you."
Yeah, it's all about your fucking issues, thought Rory, but she didn't dare voice it aloud. Instead she cut Damon with a sharp glance and walked him into the sitting room to the right of the entryway and the stairs. There, as Damon dropped onto one of the brown leather couches and crossed his legs, looking the absolute picture of ease, Rory flicked on all the floor lamps.
When she couldn't find anything more to busy herself with Rory, so none of the other three would be forced to, perched on the couch beside Damon. She remained as close to the arm as possible without looking strange. "You're nervous," Damon observed with infuriating amusement as he shrugged out of his black leather jacket.
"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Rory snapped back. Calm down, calm down— "Of course I'm nervous."
Damon threw his jacket over the back of the couch beside him. "You can relax," he said breezily. "I'm not here for any of you Gilberts. I'm just here for my brother."
"Comforting."
"You know, I do wonder," observed Damon, examining Rory, "why did my brother go for Elena and not you?"
A multitude of possibilities swept through Rory's mind, ranging from I'm still into my sister's ex to I have never once coherently articulated emotions, but she didn't say any of them. Instead she tugged her phone out of her back pocket to check it. "I'm not interested."
"Ah, so you are taken."
"By sanity," Rory muttered without thinking.
To her surprise Damon gave a startled bark of a laugh. "Ah—I can't fault you there," he said with the sincerest amusement Rory had ever seen from him.
Bonnie shuffled into the sitting room from the entryway, and she offered the two on the couch a wave. "Hey," she said as she wandered in. "I'm, um, Bonnie Bennett."
"Damon Salvatore," said Damon as Bonnie sank into an armchair opposite them. "You must be one of Elena's friends." At Bonnie's nod he asked, "Are you a cheerleader, too?"
"Um, yeah."
Damon glanced at Rory, who was trying not to click her phone screen back on—even though she knew she had a slew of notifications from her group chat with Mackenzie and Lauren—and who was instead playing with the corner of her cloud-patterned silicon case. "I know you're not."
Stefan and Elena came in. They claimed the remaining couch behind the coffee table, between Bonnie's armchair and Rory and Damon's couch. "What are we talking about?" asked Elena with forced cheer as Stefan drummed his fingers on his arm of the couch, muscles visibly tense.
"Cheerleading," provided Bonnie.
"I have to say, Elena," said Damon, his voice much smoother than Rory had ever heard it and without even an ounce of sarcasm, "you don't seem like the cheerleader type."
Elena shrugged uncomfortably. "This year's been a little different."
As Rory had become accustomed to fielding questions from concerned friends and neighbors all summer she automatically gave the explanation. "Our parents died in May."
"Oh," said Damon, blinking at Rory and then Elena, too innocent. "I'm sorry. I know what it's like to lose both your parents. In fact," he continued, "Stefan and I have watched almost every single person we've ever cared about die."
"We don't need to get into that right now, Damon," interrupted Stefan.
"Ah, you know what," said Damon, "you're right, Stef. I'm sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was bring her up."
Oh my God, thought Rory—she couldn't take this. She didn't know what the hell was going on here, who the mysterious "she" was or what power move Damon was trying to make, but the unreadable subtext permeated the entire sitting room in an agonizing tension. It was worse than what Rory had walked into earlier, when Bonnie had been kind of snapping at Stefan or Elena.
No matter the consequences, Rory had to do something. With the determination and resignation of an older sister she stood and pushed her phone into her back pocket. "I have an idea. Let's do something fun instead of staring at each other and sharing tragic backstories."
Elena laughed, embarrassed. "Rory—"
"Yes please," blurted Bonnie at the same time.
"Anything," said Rory. She looked around at all the guests, Bonnie already cheered up, Damon mildly amused, Stefan bordering on relieved, and Elena flushed. "Charades? Jenga? Mario Kart?"
Elena tucked some of her long, straight dark brown hair behind her ear and seemed to accept the situation. "What about, um, Uno?"
"Sure," said Bonnie and Rory in unison.
Elena half-grinned at everyone and stood, too, smoothing down her flared jeans. "I'll go get the deck." She jogged out of the room to find the cards.
When she was gone Rory said to the guests, "I'm going to grab my water bottle. Does anyone want anything to drink? We have water, Dr. Pepper, Coke Zero, and regular Coke."
Damon requested Coke and Bonnie water, and with an additional prod Stefan asked for Dr. Pepper. Rory followed her sister to go back to the kitchen and rifle through the refrigerator for each drink. When she'd filled a water glass—and shouted back through the house to ask Bonnie if she wanted ice—she snagged her own water bottle and returned to the sitting room to find Elena had returned and was starting to spread out the cards on the coffee table.
With the card game to focus on and drinks to fiddle with, the gathering improved immensely. After two rounds of the game Rory realized she'd almost started to forget that Damon and Stefan were two hundred years old, or that Damon was psychotic. She had to remind herself not to be too comfortable around either of them, just in case.
When maybe an hour had passed, Elena excused herself to clean up the dishes from the table, and both Bonnie and Damon volunteered their assistance. Rory, seated on the floor with her legs crossed beneath one end of the coffee table and her half-empty water bottle at her elbow, started to collect the scattered cards. Stefan leaned over from his couch to help.
"Thanks," said Rory as he passed her the cards he'd found. An instant later she winced and cast a quick glance back toward the entryway. Stefan probably wanted to use that vampire hearing of his to listen in on whatever was happening with Damon, Elena, and Bonnie.
Still—when it struck her Rory fumbled to finish shoving the deck back into the box and pulled out her phone to offer it to Stefan. "Can I have your number?"
Stefan nodded and fished his Android out to hand it to Rory. The pair exchanged numbers, and when they had handed each other's phones back—Rory noticing Stefan had added himself as just Stefan rather than anything obnoxious—she texted him:
RORY: Is there a way to protect the house from a vampire after theyve been invited in? Vervain on the threshold or smth?
She heard a vibration a few seconds later and glanced up to watch Stefan check his phone. To her disappointment, he looked back over at her and shook his head, and he offered a helpless shrug. Rory sighed as she set the box down on the coffee table and Stefan gave her a look of spiritual understanding.
Damon's voice and his footsteps approached from the entryway. "What are you two crazy kids up to?" he asked as he sauntered into the sitting room. He flung himself onto the couch behind Rory and flashed his eyes at her. "Why don't you go back and help with the dishes?"
Rory raised her eyebrows at Stefan. His response was the slightest hint of a resigned smile and a nod. With the silent question answered, Rory stood, grabbed her water bottle, and glanced around at the two brothers again—one tense, prepared to defend himself and anyone else, the other lounging and languid. She gave the pair a peace sign and took the opportunity to escape.
Standing around with Bonnie and Elena, who were probably gossiping about the Salvatores, had to be less uncomfortable than listening to the brothers in question argue, Rory thought. She exhaled as she left the sitting room and started back for the kitchen.
There were no break-ins that night.
And the following morning, to ensure no break-ins occurred at all, the instant Rory had dried her curls she ran downstairs to find her aunt. She had to slow down in the hall and remind herself not to seem too overeager for an answer before she walked into the kitchen as casually as she could.
Jenna was rummaging through the pantry, still sporting sweatpants and a cotton T-shirt. She was short and had a peaches-and-cream complexion with long strawberry-blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail. "Jenna?" Rory asked.
Her aunt jumped and glanced back. "Oh, hey!" she said when she saw Rory. She grinned at her, easygoing. "Have anywhere to be this morning?"
"No, I just have work later," said Rory. She strode in to lean against the marble-topped island. "I had a question. Do you know anything about any Civil War journals some Gilbert ancestor might have written? Maybe Johnathan Gilbert?"
"Oh, sure!" said Jenna—and although relief flooded Rory, apprehension followed close after. She wasn't sure she wanted to give Damon anything he was trying to find. "I think there was a Christopher, too."
"Really?" said Rory, intrigued. "Where are they?"
"Everywhere," said Jenna. "I think there are some buried under the stairs here, and there are probably a few collecting dust in the attic. There might be more out at the lake house or in the basement of your dad's office."
That was—a lot of places to search, Rory thought. She needed to ask Mackenzie and Lauren to help. "I guess our ancestors wrote a lot, then?"
"Oh yeah," confirmed Jenna. "They were prolific writers. Kinda nuts, too."
Yikes? "Thanks," Rory chirped, and Jenna waved this away before resuming her search through the pantry. Rory, on the other hand, turned around to wander back down to the closet beneath the stairs. There was no better time to start than now.
Her first foray into digging through old boxes and trying not to break apart yellowed parchment was not very successful. Rory found a couple of journals with Johnathan Gilbert's name on them as well as one by Christopher Gilbert. Christopher's, just from flicking through it, had much more readable handwriting; but as Damon had given her no specific information on what to look for, she had no idea if she'd found it.
When Rory arrived at work that afternoon, before she left her belongings in the back, she decided to text Damon about her sort-of triumph. She didn't wait for an answer but instead headed out to the floor to get started.
But on her short break—as Rory strolled over to lean against the wall outside the women's restroom, where no tables could call for her attention and no coworkers could ask her for favors—she withdrew her phone to check it and found a multitude of texts. She had to scroll upward for a few long seconds in the softball team's group chat to try and see what had happened—then she checked Student Council's group chat and her own group chat with her friends, because from what she could glean, an ambulance had been spotted at the first football game of the year.
When she reached the most recent text from Lauren, who had been at the pep rally that afternoon and the game that evening with a few of the volleyball players, a chill trickled down her spine.
LAUREN: YALL I THINK DAMON TOOK OUT TANNER?
Rory started to type a response, her hands shaking, but realized she didn't know what the fuck to say—and Mackenzie wasn't responding anymore, she was working, too—which meant Rory navigated to her other texts to find someone to ask about it. She wasn't going to ask Matt, not when she already had to see him more than necessary and remind herself every single time that he was still in love with her sister—
Instead she gritted her teeth and texted He Who Must Not Be Named.
RORY: Wth is going on?
She received an answer within a minute—and the instant she read it, her blood ran cold.
TYLER: i think tanner is dead
All Rory could think to answer with was
RORY: Fuck
And she returned to her texts with the row of angry red emojis. She started to type and stopped, and started again and stopped, and then she exited entirely. What could she possibly say to a psychotic vampire? Nothing, she thought, and she drew in a breath, trying to keep her completely fraying emotions under some semblance of control. She'd never even liked Mr. Tanner, but that was a whole goddamn human being, gone. Another one, just—gone.
Rory pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to focus, tried to listen to the fourth replay of Sweet Dreams she'd heard that night. This was beyond horrible and she still couldn't even grasp what was happening, not really, but it did decide one thing—she was going to go all in and help Damon as much as possible. Because the sooner he was out of Mystic Falls, the better.
