Author's note: Hi, everyone! I apologize wholeheartedly for the delay. Everything's been busier than usual. This story's already complete on AO3 (at 11 chapters), so I'll endeavor to post them here, too, ASAP! :D
Let's continue to earn our M rating! :D
1864
Damon could practically hear them.
Every sigh, every moan, every gasp was so vivid in his imagination that he could have sworn they were real.
Even though consciously, logically, he understood that his very human ears wouldn't allow him the auditory capacity to hear his brother and Katherine wrapped in the heat of passion several doors away, his at times overactive imagination completed every enraptured reaction from his vampiric beloved without the need for reality's intervention, down to her perfectly-executed coy giggle.
Only three doors down the hall, in Stefan's bedroom, Katherine was almost certainly riding his brother, writhing on top of him – no. Damon actively tried to push the intrusive images from his mind, but their assault was unrelenting.
The harder Damon fought to will away the visions, the stronger they persisted – as though cackling at him in their tenacity to break him.
Katherine and Stefan wrapped around one another, in the throes of ecstasy.
His vampiric love moaning his brother's name as she met her release, while Damon's own heart shattered into nothing but withered fragments, completely alone.
Katherine.
He recalled the day he met her so vividly.
The moment he looked upon her for the first time – with the golden rays of the Sun shining beatifically on her chestnut hair as their eyes met and he'd realized, in some deeply hidden part of himself, that he'd seen those eyes before and they were his home. The expression was different than he expected, though he couldn't quite put together why, since it was his first time seeing her. The cruelty in her smile felt ill fit. Her cunning gaze was … off. But when he closed his eyes and imagined her face, the visage that blazed forth was all-consuming. It was that very same face – Katherine's face – filled with kindness, affection, empathy.
And her dark, beautifully expressive eyes …
They were love itself.
And his heart was hers, forever.
On the day they met, he'd come home from the military on leave – growing increasingly disgusted with himself for kowtowing to his abuser and joining a cause that every fiber of his being railed against – a lonely child desperate for a father's approval, who only ever sought to ridicule and beat and burn him.
And yet, all children crave their parents' love and understanding – and in a moment of weakness, Damon caved, signing up for an unjust war to 'defend the South' – from abolitionism, from being forced to acknowledge the inherent humanity of those with darker skin, from having their ability to sell human beings like cattle on auction blocks taken away.
The notion made him physically sick, but there wasn't even anyone in whom he could confide. The entirety of Mystic Falls was swept up in sanctimony – the 'noble' Founding Families simply aghast at losing their unpaid and abused labor force, lamenting the potential loss of their intricately-sewn dresses and balls, their sacred 'way of life.'
Even his brother – his once best friend and closest confidant – was awash in the hysteria of 'national' pride and duty. After all, they aimed to create a 'new nation,' Damon scoffed – built on the dehumanization of their fellow man.
Even Stefan had been proud of him when he joined the Confederacy. Would he look upon him with shame when he deserted, as every quark in his being longed to?
Would he spurn and hate him like everyone else?
Would it be worth it, because at least then – if he no longer actively fought for the 'right' to enslave – Damon wouldn't hate himself? At least not to this painful degree.
Would Katherine also think less of him? Would she no longer lo – no, he scoffed. Katherine never loved him at all, despite what she coquettishly claimed. If she had, she never would have relegated him to a mere afterthought while lavishing her praise and affection on Stefan.
Like everyone else, she chose his brother.
Why was he fool enough to ever believe that things would be different with her? Just because he felt something immediately – a sense of poignant recognition, of ardent, all-consuming love – the moment he laid eyes on her? She was beautiful and wildly charismatic. He doubted he was the only one who ever felt this way.
Damon was so caught up in his own morose spiral that he nearly missed the figure in front of him – except he couldn't miss her – not ever.
She was here, wearing the oddest choice of what he assumed was an undergarment, though something about it was achingly familiar.
And the expression she wore on her lovely face, the open affection in her expressive, dark eyes – the love shining in them – it was exactly the one burned into his heart.
The one he'd yearned for, yet hadn't seen, until then.
And yet, it looked so familiar. He studied the strange girl for a breath of a moment. She wore his beloved's face, but seemed quite clearly different.
It felt like coming home.
Perhaps this was the real her – the Katherine inside – the kind and compassionate soul that finally felt safe to break free? The one he somehow knew she really was in the depths of his heart.
"Kath –"
"Nope! Not letting you call me that again," the decidedly oddly-dressed Katherine-looking figure interrupted, and instantly dove in to kiss him.
Damon was immediately overcome with confusion. Why would Miss Katherine not want to be called by her given name? She had never had a problem with it before. Perhaps this was a new game?
As the kiss deepened, however, he found himself suddenly overcome with entirely new sensations – memories flooding his mind.
His own memories, from a peculiar afternoon in his teenage years, and many more from a time yet to come.
Oh. Oh.
Elena.
Damon's eyes snapped open, and in that moment, the world around him seemed to come alive with color. She was real. She was real.
She was real.
The girl who captured his soul all those years ago – who he now realized had haunted his dreams ever since, beckoning to him to look for her in Katherine – was real.
"Elena," he gasped, when the need to breathe forced him to pull away. His vivid eyes searched the expanse of her face, reveling in the joy of being with her; the validation of his most secret hopes being proved right; the soothing, energizing, ecstasy-inducing balm of her presence.
"Much better," she sassed in return, the teasing tone in her voice honeyed with open affection.
His hand lingered in her hair, fingers weaving through the silken tresses. His gaze jumped from her eyes to her lips and back again. He wanted to take all of her in.
"It has always been you," he murmured into her hair as he pulled her into a fierce embrace, all thoughts of Katherine and Stefan falling by the wayside.
She giggled into his neck. "Hearing you come to that conclusion never gets old, no matter how many times it happens."
After several seconds of basking in Elena's physical presence, Damon pulled away to take her in again. "I needed you so much, and here you are," he breathed in wonder.
Elena looked at him quizzically, a wry smile pulling at her lips. "It's how the spell works."
She studied him for a few moments, marveling at just how much more open he was as a human – not quite brimming with brash naivete like he was as a teenager – but still missing much of the darkness that seemed to permeate so much of his countenance as a vampire. She could already see traces of it, though, no doubt a relic from his father. Everything within her seethed, blood boiling down to the cellular level every time her mind wandered back to that day, and the burns she saw on his flesh. A particularly reckless, vindictive part of Elena almost considered bolting out of the room and finding that sorry excuse of a parent to delve out some violent justice, though she knew all it would accomplish would be her disappearance. The spell would never allow her to harm the person that ensured that Damon would turn into a vampire with a carefully aimed bullet.
His own smile was soft in response, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Where did you go just now?"
"I hate your father," she blurted out before she could stop herself.
"Elena…" He sighed, taking a seat on his bed, and pulling her into his lap. "Let us not speak about that miserable goat's derriere now. He is not worth it."
"Is he treating you any better than before, now that you're older?" she asked, unable to resist. Her hand found his cheek, letting the soft pads of her digits tease the expanse of his jawline.
He leaned into her touch, unconsciously closing his eyes to savor it. "He cannot hurt me anymore. I am stronger than him now. I can protect both myself and Stefan – in fact, even Stefan may be stronger than he is. We are fine, Elena. No need to fret."
"Good," she bit out in a tone quite harsher than intended.
He smirked despite himself at her protectiveness, amused by the torrent in this slip of a woman. Distantly, he recalled a future memory of himself sardonically referring to her as a 'warrior princess.'
Elena moved her legs to either side of his, effectively straddling him. She locked her arms behind his neck, drawing close enough to share breath, delighting in the intimacy of the moment. "When am I?"
He wiggled his eyebrows in a manner she immediately realized, charmed to discover that his 'eye thing' wasn't the result of vampirism. "Does it matter?"
"It does if you're deflecting," she murmured, kissing down his neck, satisfied when she heard him hiss in response. "You know how this works – if you called me, there must have been a reason."
"Could the reason not simply be that I wish to bestow my lady love the pleasure of my company?" he purred, grinding his already bulging erection into the core of her increasingly wet panties.
"Damon…" she growled in frustration, though it was impossible to tell if it was from his teasing or deflection.
"I just came home on leave from the war," he breathed, mesmerized by finally seeing love reflected in the dark eyes that haunted his dreams for years.
She frowned, tilting her head to the side to study him – a gesture of his that had smoothly entered her repertoire through repeated exposure. "Are you okay? For how long are you staying?"
"I …" he paused, gathering his nerve. Elena would be the first person to whom he'd disclose his plan to desert. An irrational panic seized him, terrified that she would reject him the second he revealed his intentions to her – the idea of losing her more painful than he could bear. But he pressed forward regardless. "I have no plans to return."
"This is the day you made the decision to desert." It was a statement, soft on her lips.
He nodded, though he admittedly made the decision earlier – when a fellow soldier named Oscar had a drink with him and finally got him to open up about his true feelings on the Confederacy – how much he loathed all that it represented. "Perhaps you see me as a coward or a traitor," he spat before he could stop himself, though every logical impulse told him the jump was both irrational and unfair, but it wasn't reason that drove him at that moment. "But I can no longer actively fight to put human beings in bondage."
"Hey," she soothed, keeping her tone dulcet and gentle. "Why would I ever think that? "
He hung his head, ashamed of being unable to control his temper. "Forgive me, miss –" then, a smile as he caught himself, a familiar roguish expression tugging at his lips as he looked up at her. "Just Elena. I am not surrounded by those who would share your views."
"On the contrary, I think what you're doing is very brave," she reassured, the tips of her thumbs caressing his sculpted cheekbones. "It's not easy to stand up for your beliefs, especially when it could turn everyone against you. I'm proud of you."
Her eyes widened in genuine shock and amusement when she caught the rosy pallor of his cheeks. So, human Damon used to blush.
"I love you so much, Elena," he breathed, cupping her face in his hands. "I wish you could stay. We could –"
Her entire being was overcome with panic as she pressed a finger to his lips, urgently shushing him. "Shh – shh. Just … just be with me," she said shakily. "Please."
He seemed initially perplexed at her extreme reaction but nevertheless nodded, pulling her in for another kiss. The moment their lips met, it was as though a wild torrent met a raging inferno, creating a dazzling chemical reaction, swept with steam.
Damon was lost in her – every part of her.
She was here. She was real. The woman that would hold his heart forever.
2017
Bonnie blazed through the front doors of the Armory with all the subtlety of a hurricane, with a decidedly more calculated Enzo walking in step beside her – which was curious, she thought, given that she was usually the more rational and collected of the two.
But she'd been too filled to the brim with excitement.
"Valerie said that it's a spell that brings back hidden things?" She pulled a face at her phone, reading the admittedly cryptic text message for what must have been the tenth time. "What does that even mean?"
"Got me, love," Enzo replied with an outwardly careless shrug, though Bonnie caught the tension in his jaw. "You're the one versed in all things magic, witchy, and riddle-licious."
She was about to enter the vault when a hand clasping hers stopped her in her tracks. She turned to face her interlocutor, somewhat unnerved by the suddenly serious expression on his face.
"Together," Enzo insisted, squeezing her hand as they took a step inside. The last time he'd been here, he'd become ensnared by the Siren – his mind still vividly recalling the acidic seizure of control, the helplessness. He's rushed in to save his friend and was instead caught in the seemingly inescapable web of an ancient bondage.
"Hey!" Bonnie snapped her fingers in front of his face, looking particularly worried. "Earth to vampy knock-off Odysseus. You okay there?"
Enzo pasted on his most charming smile, greeting his very dubious girlfriend with a smoldering gaze. "Doing just peachy, gorgeous." He eyed the haphazardly arranged room, with dangerous magical objects seemingly randomly thrown about. "I like a chaotic mess," he intoned with a wink.
"Explains your choice of best friend," Bonnie muttered, as she peered about the place.
"And yours," Enzo replied pointedly, reminding her of his supernatural hearing. Never failing to elicit a smile from his favorite witch, Enzo gently tilted her chin up to meet her gaze. "You don't have to do this. We can find another way to get Damon's humanity back – one that won't put you, put everyone, at risk."
She shook her head resolutely. "No, I have to do this. I can feel it. That strange energy that's always surrounded Damon – 'spectral magic,' Valerie called it. That's the key."
Enzo sighed, letting his displeasure be known, but supported her, nevertheless. "So how do we find this spell?" He wrinkled his nose as his gaze landed on an altar in one of the cavern's corners. Were those fossilized spider eggs? And rotting apple cores, seemingly stuck in perpetual animation? Gross.
"I'm not sure." Bonnie frowned, taking Damon's beloved tumbler out of her purse. She closed her eyes, wrapping it in both her hands, letting herself be consumed by its energy. She saw Elena again, and Damon – and something else. It was curious and decidedly ancient.
Otherworldly.
She suddenly felt a pull to a far corner of the room, as though the tumbler was connected to it by invisible string. Her eyes snapped open, and she followed the energy, to find what appeared to be a large, weathered grimoire underneath several other ancient books. With shaky hands, she grabbed the tome and opened it, the raw energy a cosmic blast.
"What is it?" Enzo asked, concern written on his features.
"I don't know," Bonnie breathed, clearly bewildered. "But it feels like Damon."
1864
As the kiss grew increasingly heated, Damon's hands slid from Elena's face, down her neck, taking a few moments to explore her breasts, squeezing them sensually, before pushing her dress up to settle on her bare thighs. Slowly, one slithered up – up – up – until it found the apex, cupping her center through her panties. Elena moaned into the kiss, giving Damon encouragement to push the fabric to the side, sliding his fingers inside to get her ready. He suppressed a hiss at the wet tightness he encountered, imagining the squeeze on his cock.
His other hand, meanwhile, worked to lower the zipper at the back of her dress, delighting when his future memories gave him such detailed instructions on how to undress his beloved.
Elena pulled away with a gasp when a second finger entered her, scissoring her.
He chuckled against her lips. "I have to say – I am definitely enjoying the direction of women's attire in the future. Much easier access." He emphasized his point by curling his fingers inside her, eliciting a whimper.
Not to be outdone by a 19th century man, thank you very much, Elena responded by once again reducing Damon's shirt to a buttonless mess, sending the offending objects flying in various directions in the room, as had become tradition. Once he was sufficiently disrobed, she pushed him to lie flat on the bed, while attacking the buttons on his trousers.
Her eyes scanned him quickly, taking him in. He was still her Damon, but there were these notable differences that wouldn't escape her. His hair was longer, with a wayward curl teasing his forehead. She wondered absently if Damon's hair was naturally curly when longer, or if that was just the style at the time. If it was the latter, he certainly had a lot of nerve teasing Stefan about his 'hero hair,' she thought with a smile. Beyond that, there almost seemed to be a lingering innocence in his eyes – not nearly as much as the teenage Damon she'd met – but certainly enough for her to deduce that he'd yet to encounter the ordeals that would harden him the most.
And yet, she could already see traces of the vampire within the human. The signature roguish smirk was already ever-present, of course. There was a calculating intelligence in his eyes, showing that beneath the flirty 'bad boy' façade that every version of him tried to put forth, lay concealed a volcano of depth and passion.
Damon, meanwhile, sat up to finish inching the dress down Elena's body, following the exposed path of her flesh with soft kisses. He slid it down her legs and she pivoted to wiggle out of it.
"You're so beautiful, Elena," he murmured as he kissed his way up her stomach, into the valley between her breasts – her name on his lips like magic wrapped in sweetest honey. Her bra was off and thrown across the room in the next second when his heady mouth claimed one of her breasts, tongue swirling over the nipple.
"Damon!" she gasped, rolling her hips into his, desperate for the friction to ease her growing need.
His other hand slipped back into her panties, teasing her wet core.
She could almost feel him grin against her breast. Cocky bastard. "Fuck! Stop teasing me, baby," she begged when she felt his digit lightly skirt her clit. "Need you."
"Baby!?" He pulled away, scandalized, before ferociously flipping her on her back with a devious grin. "Oh, Elena, Elena – I'll show you 'baby'."
Initially puzzled by his reaction, she recalled that the colloquialism hadn't come into popular use until many years later. "No!" She unleashed a giggle. "I don't mean –"
But whatever Elena meant to say was interrupted, because within seconds, Damon had her panties off and his tongue inside her, and instead the only sound she was able to produce was a helpless moan.
She responded with a death grip on his sheets, writhing beneath him as his tongue left her center to lavish attention on her yearning clit, while his fingers re-entered her. In less than a minute, the aching need within her rushed to the surface, exploding in orgasm. The sight that greeted Elena after the stars in her eyes finally dissipated was Damon's smirking face.
2017
They'd been back in Bonnie's house for nearly half an hour, the bulk of which was spent in silence while the resident witch studied the spell, unable to take her eyes off the strange parchment. "What's Tyler's ETA with Elena?" she asked distractedly.
"About thirty."
The unease on Enzo's face would have been obvious to Bonnie if she could dislodge herself from studying the spell for even a moment, but she had been utterly fascinated – not only because it was the key to getting her friends back, but it seemed almost a gateway to new magical knowledge, and the witch within her buzzed with excitement.
Bonnie thumbed through the grimoire, absolutely perplexed. "This is so weird –" she whispered.
"What is, gorgeous?" asked her supernaturally-gifted boyfriend who was only able to hear her mumbling thanks to his enhanced senses.
"All of the pages are blank," she replied, this time addressed to him. "Except for this one spell in the middle of the book."
"The one that Valerie mentioned?"
"The spell to bring back hidden things," she absently mumbled and straightened her back, preparing herself to become a vessel for magic. Closing her eyes, she began to chant the words with which she'd become intimately familiar. "Phasmatos reditus," Bonnie repeated, over and over. As her eyes snapped open, the color in her irises and pupils vanished, to be replaced by a stark white.
A soft breeze permeated the room, growing stronger into a mighty gale with each passing second – its power a direct contradiction of the listless sunny day outside.
"Bonnie!" Enzo called, unable to hide his concern. Before he could take another step toward her, however, the room was suddenly flooded with all kinds of objects, sweeping in on the wind.
Elena's textbooks that mysteriously disappeared during their sophomore year in college joined the raucousness on a whirlwind, followed by odd papers with reminders to rescue Enzo, a whole wardrobe of ripped men's designer button downs materializing from Damon's room, notebooks with previously blank pages, now falling open on inked instructions.
The pages in the grimoire were suddenly filled with text, spanning generations, no longer blank.
Finally, an envelope settled on Bonnie's lap.
The witch in question finally regained awareness, breathing wildly at her anxious boyfriend, though the smile that claimed her entire expression was unconquerable. "Enzo! This must be everything – everything – that the spell willed away! Oh my God, this is amazing! And … this entire room feels like Damon. It's the energy that I always associated with him," she explained with a frown, wrought with confusion.
"I thought Elena was the Specter?" The trace amusement, to which Enzo had already been quite prone, did little to mask his worry. Even though Bonnie tried to downplay the significance of what she aimed to accomplish that day, he knew precisely what was at stake if anything went wrong. He desperately wanted his friend back, but the risk of losing both him and the love of his life made Enzo decidedly uneasy.
"She is," Bonnie breathed. "So, what does this mean? That Damon's been engulfed in Spectral magic for as long as I've known him, to the point that I genuinely confused it with his magical signature?"
"So how does one get 'engulfed with Spectral magic,' gorgeous?" Enzo raised both eyebrows suggestively, a familiar grin that Bonnie found irresistible tugging at his lips. "Because my guess is that they did that – a lot."
1864
Seeing Elena like this – writhing in pleasure at his mercy – had been a dream of his for years, even if he hadn't fully realized until he saw her again earlier that day. The fact that it had always been her, not the woman several doors down, continued to spin him in all kinds of dizzying ways.
He'd seen a future with her unfold the second he laid eyes on her.
And now, with the knowledge that she would someday be his – forever – the emotion blazing within him was almost overwhelming.
He hid it with a well-trained smirk and expression of outward arrogance, however, the explosive epiphany that he would finally be with her – even for a brief period before the Specter disappeared and with her, his memories of their time together – actively battling with the defense against displays of vulnerability that he'd spent his life cultivating.
It did nothing to fool Elena, however, as evidenced by the soft smile that rose on her lips. She sat up, threading her fingers in his hair. "I need you inside me, Damon," she murmured against his lips before he kissed her and positioned her on his lap.
He slid inside her, filling her completely, and for the first time in perhaps his entire human life – Damon was home.
2017
Bonnie blushed, immediately understanding his implication. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Any physical touch – exchange of fluids, especially. I can't even imagine how potent blood-sharing would be."
"Sounds sexy. Maybe we should add Specter Games to our repertoire," Enzo purred, eyeing her lasciviously.
"Oh?" She smirked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "Which one of us is going to play the Specter, visiting the other in their moment of need –"
"And making them feel all better with kinky sex? Definitely me."
"What? Why you?" Bonnie asked.
"Well, you're the witch. Who's supposed to cast the spell in this fantasy?" Enzo queried pragmatically.
Bonnie waved him off. "It doesn't matter. Some New Orleans witch," she offered as a suggestion. "Apparently, Klaus' long-lost sister is one. Your life has more to choose from."
"Trust me, you don't want to visit most of those scenes." Enzo winced before sensing that he was bringing the mood down. His clever eyes found the letter on Bonnie's lap. "What's that?"
She bit her lip, unsure whether this was the right moment to pursue the opening he gave her. She knew his life had been difficult before they met. Over 70 years of torture at the hands of the Augustines aside, Nora made a few allusions to Enzo being abandoned as a child and left to the mercies of the workhouses. He reminded her so much of Damon sometimes – with his sardonic, jovial wall fully in place to hide what she could only guess was severe trauma. But getting through to him was even harder than her nigh-impenetrable best friend.
She would do it, though. If there was anything the last few tumultuous years had taught Bonnie Bennett it was that she was capable of incredible magic. And Enzo's wall would crumble to dust in the face of her perseverance.
"What's what?" she asked numbly, lost in thought.
"There's a letter on your lap, love."
"Oh!" Bonnie was startled by the sudden appearance of the lightweight object, with her name embossed across its surface in Elena's occasionally delicate – depending on her mood – scrawl on its surface. She produced a letter from within and began to read.
Dear Bonnie,
I don't even know what I hope to accomplish by writing this to you. Every other attempt to leave imprints after I disappear has been wiped away by the spell – and if we're successful tonight, then it won't be necessary.
So, I guess you could call this a farfetched precaution.
I'm guessing if you're reading this, then you already know about the Specter spell, and that I've been visiting Damon. I don't know if you remember, but we've met – on the night of the wedding. We tried to escape – the three of us. We hoped it would prevent the catastrophe that followed.
But I assume we failed.
I also assume that you're doing everything in your power to break the spell, but I'm here to implore you to leave it alone. Damon and I ran into Luke and Liv during one of my visits, and they told us just how fragile – just how volatile – the sleeping spell is. They compared it to performing open heart surgery. It's an arduous task, and if the smallest thing goes wrong, you can die. We all will.
So, I'm begging you, Bonnie: leave it alone. It's not worth it. Live your life. Enjoy it. Please make sure Damon's happy. I can't imagine how much he's suffering right now. Please just make sure that he's okay – whatever it takes. All I want is for him to be happy. He's more than earned it.
Seeing you that night – one last time – brought me more joy than you could ever imagine. I'll hold on to that memory for the rest of my life, content that you lived yours in full, and in utter bliss.
Know that I'll always love you,
Elena
The ink began to darken and blur with Bonnie's falling tears, which she wiped away with fierce determination, crumbling the paper in her hand. "No," she adamantly seethed.
"Love?" Enzo soothed, wrapping his arms around her. "What is it?"
"We've met," Bonnie said flatly. "Specter Elena and I. I just don't remember it. She wants me to let the spell go."
"Maybe that's a good idea."
"No!" Bonnie growled. "I am sick of being pushed around by every two-bit asshole who wants to call themselves 'villain of the week.' I've had it! I am a Bennett witch. I died – twice! They don't know who the fuck they're dealing with," she all but roared, the magic within crackling in the very atmosphere. "The grimoire says that the longer someone stays under the sleeping spell, the harder they are to wake up. I can't wait anymore."
Enzo watched her, entranced by the display of power – of fortitude.
"I'm doing this – with or without you, Enzo. So, you can either help me, or get out of my way."
"What do you need?"
"For this to work?" Bonnie shrugged, all pretense of stifling her laugh immediately abandoned.
"I have an idea."
"What's that?"
"I hope our ace in the hole. Wish me luck!"
1864
Damon's hands and lips were everywhere, overwhelming Elena's senses, as he thrust inside her.
"Oh God," she whimpered, squeezing her wrapped legs tighter around his torso to push him closer, meeting him thrust-for-thrust, her heart beating a flurry of beats, increasing in tempo.
"Still Damon," he purred, nibbling at the same spot on her neck that is future vampiric self would claim when blood-sharing with her Spectral form. "I love you."
"I love you, too," she gasped when he angled her to hit her g-spot, while the friction from her rolling her hips send her into overdrive.
Damon joined her only seconds later as her muscles milked his release, collapsing on the bed with her on top of him.
As Damon's human seed soared into the Specter's waiting womb, the magic whirled and danced and coalesced about the space, merging inside her, and filling her with the breath of life.
2017
"Special delivery!" Tyler called, carrying Elena into the room before taking in the utter chaos. "What the hell happened in here? It looks like a bookstore exploded."
"Hazards of the job," Bonnie replied, waving him away. She gestured to the center of the room, where a circle of candles around a few throw pillows lined up vertically had been set up. "Place her there."
Tyler complied and immediately stepped away, never having quite gotten comfortable with magic. "You really think you can wake her up?"
"I know I can," Bonnie insisted, taking Elena's hand in hers. When she closed her eyes, all she could see and hear and feel was the rush of the energy within Elena – like light cascading at varying velocities, all coming toward her.
Delving deeper still, she found that the energy changed – it was so peculiar. It was almost as if …
"It's merged," she breathed. "Their magical signatures merged – inside her."
"How fortunate it is then that I have the bloke in question, here to assist!" Enzo announced, followed by an almost nervous Damon, though he managed to hide most of this behind a veneer of curiosity and defiance.
Bonnie shivered when her eyes met those of her friend – once so full of fire and mischief – they were now empty, glacial.
The smirk that rose on Damon's face was downright terrifying. "Sweet of you to bring me right to her, Enzo," he crooned, never taking his eyes off Bonnie as he unleashed his inner vampire, crimson flooding his sclera while his fangs elongated. "Sybil's going to be very happy."
Bonnie fought to keep her expression neutral, shooting Enzo a warning glance when she noticed he was about to intervene. "If you bring me to Sybil, she might never wake up," she said meaningfully, directing his attention to the sleeping Elena at the center of the room.
Instantly, something in Damon's features softened – a hint of vulnerability fighting to the surface – a great blazing fire roaring in his cerulean eyes. Just as quickly, it disappeared, but his human face returned. "Fine," he conceded nonchalantly. "Call me curious and in dire need of entertainment. Might be fun to watch you fail – ooh, and die!" He grinned, looking every bit the delighted Cheshire Cat. "But you'll kill Elena then, too, right?" He winced theatrically. "Oh no! If Elena dies, my poor humanity! Gone forever?" He clutched his heart and then unable to sustain a straight face, erupted in laughter. "Go for it, honey. You'll only be doing me a favor."
"You're right," Bonnie concurred, suspecting that Damon's speech hid a lot more sincerity and vulnerability than he'd like. She took his hand and placing it on Elena's right, while she gripped her left. "I am."
1864
In the minutes after Damon and Elena fought to catch their breaths as they recovered for another round, they lay curled into one another, while he traced idle patterns on her bare back.
"My fog powers came from blood-sharing with you," he finally spoke, his voice kissed with the wonder of epiphany, breaking the silence while she continued snuggling into him. "I always thought it was because Whitmore did something to me, but it was you all this time."
"Hm?" she queried, reluctantly lifting her head to look at him. "What happened to them?"
"I lost them when Stef desiccated me," he explained, never ceasing his ministrations.
"So, you burned yourself out?"
"I was able to stay conscious much longer than I should have," he pondered. "I could even project my image to Care – back when I used her as a portable blood supply and personal spy," he groaned. "No wonder she hated me so much."
"You also took a werewolf bite for her," Elena countered with a frown. "And we've all done that with our humanities off."
"Mm," he replied noncommittally, not entirely convinced, though clearly unwilling to continue the discussion. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, while his hand continued to stroke her back, his mind adrift in contemplation.
"What do you think happened to them – your fog powers?" Elena queried, sensing that a pivot to the original subject was in order.
"I always felt them – just out of reach," he explained. "I don't know why, but they never actually left. It's like – it's almost like they were asleep, and I had no idea how to wake them back up."
2017
In the instant their hands connected, Damon felt a jolt of electricity – no, that wasn't it. It was definitely a jolt of something, though – something achingly familiar. It reminded him of something … something elusive.
He closed his eyes. He heard a voice. Her voice.
"Drink from me."
He blinked, utterly bewildered. While he deduced that he and this Elena probably blood-shared if they'd been romantically involved in the past, as Enzo and apparently Bonnie and Stefan claimed, something about this instance seemed different. If he concentrated, he could almost see it. The Augustine cells? That made no sense, whatsoever. She wasn't even alive back then.
"I trust you. You'll never hurt me. You're not capable of it, and you know it. If you couldn't hurt me with your humanity off, you'll stop yourself now. I know you will."
He scoffed. What a naïve idiot, believing that a vampire without his humanity wouldn't hurt her. Just for that, she deserved to get her throat ripped open.
And yet, he knew the voice was telling the truth. Somehow, he knew.
Even the thought of hurting her was making him viscerally ill.
The energy continued to surround him, growing stronger in force. He saw several images flash before his eyes – the night of Miss Mystic Falls, the parlor of the Boarding House, the lake house, his bedroom, The Grill, his apartment near Whitmore when Mystic Falls was magically sealed; the quarry, the hospital, New York, Chicago, London, his Augustine cell, 1864…
The flashes were coming and coming – and she was there in all of them.
1864
"Maybe we'll wake up together," Elena teased, a whimsical curve gracing her lips.
"I care not about the fog powers," Damon replied earnestly. "I would give up all manner power and privilege, if only for you to awaken."
"Hey," she said softly, her fingers threading in his hair while her palms rested on the apples of his cheeks. "I will. I'll wake up, and we'll be together before you know it."
He nodded, visibly unconvinced, but nevertheless reached forward to kiss her again, when he passed right through her no-longer corporeal form. "What! No!"
Elena's instinctive reaction, at this point, was resigned disappointment. And yet, something felt unusual – different from the other times she was pulled away from the Earthly plane. And yet, the tug on her lacked the subtle hint of the despair of Hypnagogia.
It was almost as if… It almost felt like …
Elena quickly sat up, close enough to Damon to feel his breath on her lips. "I'll see you soon, Damon," she whispered urgently. "I love you."
Before he could properly form a reply, Elena promptly disappeared, and with her, Damon's memory of the Specter.
2017
Elena's eyes shot open. She was curious to find herself on soft throw pillows, surrounded candles.
Blinking owlishly, she quickly recognized the décor – the custom-carved candles lining the tabletops; the collection of herbs in the far corner; the batches of incense for every occasion; the towers of grimoires that no longer fit on the bookshelves.
They were at Bonnie's.
Instinctively, she began to look for Damon, but she couldn't see him anywhere. And yet, she could almost feel him.
She sat up slowly, feeling a slight ache in her muscles for the first time in what felt like ages. It disappeared quickly, however, especially in light of the smiling face and tearful eyes greeting her.
"There she is!" Bonnie whispered, pulling her into a fierce embrace, which she returned unabashedly.
Pulling away, her eyes continued to dart about the room. A worried-looking Enzo. A litany of books and scattered papers. Her textbooks and old journals that she left herself. Just what did Bonnie do?
Still, no sign of Damon. And yet …
"I finally figured this whole witch thing out!" Bonnie gushed, dazzled with delight.
Elena's own his filled with tears, so overjoyed to be reunited with her friends and family again. She squeezed Bonnie's form to her anew, only letting go after a few moments, when the witch pulled away. "Where is he?"
"Right here," announced his voice with an unhurriedly sultry air. In the next moment, Elena saw Damon walk into the room, all sex and swagger. But something in his eyes was different. Lacking their usual warmth when looking at her – their fire – they appeared almost glacial.
She'd seen that look before – when he'd first come to town, and in many visitations as the Specter after.
His humanity was off, Elena realized with a pang.
Damon tilted his head to the side, scrutinizing her, as though analyzing and preparing to dissect a particularly interesting specimen. But something beyond that – hiding in his eyes. She could feel it. His humanity fighting to break free.
All she had to do was give him a little push.
With a jolt, she pushed herself off the throw pillows, mindful of her still-lethargic state. Heedless of the anxiety written on both Bonnie and Enzo's faces, she took strong, measured steps toward Damon.
He didn't appear to move, except for the corners of his lips, which curved into an arrogant smirk.
Whatever he was thinking, he had no idea what was coming, Elena determined, feeling a smile of her own emerge.
It worked when she visited him. Maybe it would work again now.
In the next instant, Elena grabbed Damon behind his neck. Slid her fingers onto his cheeks. Stood on her tiptoes. The expression on his face nearly broke her concentration into a fit of giggles – his mien, alarmed, intrigued, utterly bewildered.
Damon's expression had only begun to shift to curiosity when Elena's lips were on his.
His eyes shot open as scores of memories began to fly into the fore of consciousness with dizzying speed. And in that bombardment, a battle was lost, and a battle was won.
A wall was breached.
A switch was flipped.
And Damon's humanity roared back to life.
And she's awake!
Just one chapter of Random Walk left! With that said, there's definitely going to be a sequel. Most likely coming in June.
Remember, RW is about waking Elena up (which just happened). The sequel, on the other hand – well, you'll see next chapter. The hints have already been laid out, though. :D
The soldier named Oscar Damon's POV casually mentions is the heretic Oscar from S7, to whom Damon confessed in 7X3 that he actually "hated everything the Confederacy believed in" and planned to desert, finally putting an end to the silly discourse that Katherine had anything to do with it. It was all idealism.
Enormous thanks to beta-reading heroes Oiselet and JonesSwan for their amazing feedback on this chapter! Speaking of which, go check out Oiselet's Bob's - it's an enticingly deep roller-coaster of a story.
Thank you all for being such delightful souls. Your lovely feedback is wholeheartedly appreciated. Much love, all! :D