Chapter 4

The Deal

September 9th, 2009

Blair walked into the kitchen to find Elena leaning against the counter, looking troubled. Aunt Jo was preparing dinner, chopping vegetables with practiced precision.

"He's on the rebound and has raging family issues," Elena sighed, clearly mid-conversation about Stefan.

Blair grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, listening with interest as she hopped onto the counter despite Jo's disapproving glance.

"Well, at least it's an ex-girlfriend," Jo replied, scraping the chopped carrots into a bowl. "Wait till you date a guy with mommy issues or cheating issues. Or amphetamine issues."

Blair couldn't resist jumping in. "Or, you know, other issues. Like certain... dietary restrictions." She bit into her apple with a deliberate crunch, eyes sparkling mischievously.

Elena frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Blair said, feigning innocence. "So…the Salvatore brothers seem... intense."

"Brothers?" Jo asked, looking up from her chopping. "I thought Elena was talking about one guy."

"Stefan has an older brother," Blair explained, twirling the apple stem between her fingers. "Damon. I met him today at the boarding house."

"He's trouble," Elena muttered, crossing her arms. "It's obvious he and Stefan don't get along."

"Don't get along is an euphemism," Blair said with a snort. "Those two have clear issues."

Jo paused her chopping, giving Blair a curious look. "What's he like, this brother?"

Blair ran her tongue over her lips, carefully choosing her words. "Charming. Confident. The kind who knows exactly how hot he is and uses it to its full advantage." She glanced at Elena. "The exact opposite of Stefan."

Elena rolled her eyes. "Exactly your type then?"

Blair gave a theatrical gasp, one hand over her heart. "Elena Gilbert, such accusations! But since you asked—yes. Damon is absolutely fuckable."

"Blair!" Elena blushed scarlet.

Jo snorted, pointing her knife playfully at Blair. "Language, please," she admonished, but her lips twitched with amusement.

"Oh please," Blair waved dismissively, "like you haven't thought about it with Stefan." She took another bite of her apple, juice running down her chin. She wiped it with the back of her hand. "Besides, if I'm busy with Damon, you can be sure I'm not going to steal Stefan from you. Not anymore."

Elena's expression shifted from embarrassment to suspicion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Blair replied with exaggerated innocence, examining her apple. "Just that Stefan clearly only has eyes for you." She shrugged. "He seems more your speed anyway. Safe. Predictable."

"He's not predictable," Elena defended, her voice rising slightly. "He's... complicated."

"And broody. Don't forget broody," Blair added with a smirk. "But I bet you can help him loosen up. God knows he needs it."

Jo set down her knife with a deliberate clack against the cutting board. "Okay, enough boy talk. Who's setting the table?"

As Elena moved to help, Blair remained perched on the counter, the half-eaten apple forgotten in her hand. She studied her sister's back, wondering once again whether she should tell Elena the truth about the Salvatore brothers or wait until she had more information. Life was certainly easier when you were oblivious to the supernatural, but was it safer?

Stefan paced the length of the parlor, his mind racing with the day's events. Bonnie's attack, Elena and Blair showing up at the boarding house, Damon's manipulative games—it was all becoming too much.

Zach entered the room, his face etched with concern. He closed the door behind him, although if Damon was in the house, a door wouldn't be enough to stop him from overhearing. Luckily, he was out.

"What is Damon doing here? Why did he come home?" Zach asked, his voice tight with barely controlled anxiety.

Stefan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because I came home. He wants to make my life miserable. That's how he enjoys his."

"Well, he's putting us all at risk," Zach said, crossing his arms. "The girl he attacked…she could talk."

"She won't," Stefan assured him. "I took care of her."

Zach's expression remained skeptical. "You're sure?"

The question hung in the air, forcing Stefan to confront his own doubts. He'd been living on animal blood for decades—it weakened him, especially compared to Damon, who had no qualms about feeding on humans.

"I'm not sure, Zach," he admitted. "I don't know how well it worked. I'm not as strong as Damon."

"So what happens if it doesn't work?" Zach pressed.

Stefan turned to look out the window, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. "I don't know. I'll deal with it."

"Is she worth it?" Zach asked after a moment of silence. "Uncle Stefan, this girl you came back for?"

Stefan turned back to face his nephew. "Elena? Yes. She's worth it."

Zach's brow furrowed. "I saw two girls leaving earlier. I heard voices in the parlor."

"Elena and her sister, Blair." Stefan explained, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. "They showed up unannounced."

"And why was Blair asking about family journals? I overheard something about a history project."

Stefan's jaw tightened. "She wants the Salvatore journals from the 1860s. She approached me about it at school first, but I told her they weren't available. Then she decided to come here directly. She's…persistent."

"Those journals contain information about you and Damon," Zach said, his concern evident. "About what happened back then."

"I know." Stefan's expression darkened. "I'll need to make sure she doesn't get her hands on them."

"And what about Damon?" Zach asked, concern evident in his voice. "I saw how he was interacting with them. He seemed...unusually interested. Which doesn't bode well for either girl."

Stefan clenched his fists at his sides. "Damon is just trying to get under my skin. Using both of them to do it. Especially Elena, because he knows she's important to me."

But it wasn't the image of Elena that crosses Stefan's mind. He was mentally brought back to two nights ago. Blair pressed against a tree trunk, her green eyes darkened with desire, her fingers tangled in his hair. Her warmth and smell. Her taste. The memory of her racing pulse beneath his touch so vivid he could almost taste it. Stefan swallowed hard, forcing the thought away.

"Is it working?" Zach asked quietly.

Stefan didn't answer. The truth was, it was working all too well. He didn't want to admit it, but he didn't like the idea of Damon seducing Blair. He told himself it was because he was worried for her, because she was Elena's sister, but even to his own ears, it sounded a lot like excuses.

September 10th, 2009

The early afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the outdoor seating area of the Mystic Grill. Bonnie, freshly discharged from the hospital, sat with Elena, Caroline, and Blair at one of the tables outside. Though still a bit pale, Bonnie seemed to be recovering well, despite the white bandage visible on her neck that she occasionally adjusted.

Elena sighed, glancing at her phone again before placing it face-down on the table.

Bonnie noticed and gave her a sympathetic look. "He didn't call, huh?"

"Or text," Elena admitted, shrugging. "But I realized we never even exchanged that stuff. We've never gotten to the texting part."

"That's an important milestone in any relationship," Bonnie replied.

"Isn't it?" Elena pushed her hair behind her ear nervously. "The timing is wrong, anyway."

"When is it ever right?" Bonnie countered.

Elena stared into her glass. "I'm not ready, Bonnie."

"Who is?"

"At least I put myself out there," Elena said defensively.

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"What do you mean?"

"All I'm hearing is reasons why you can't."

Caroline leaned forward, joining the conversation. "Bonnie's right. You're overthinking this. Just give him your number. If he likes you, he'll call."

"Or you could ask for his number and call him," Blair suggested, stirring her banana milkshake with a straw. "It's the twenty-first century. Girls can make the first move."

"Says the girl who has guys falling at her feet without even trying," Elena replied with a half-smile.

Blair smirked. "Not all of them." She thought of Stefan's rejection, but quickly pushed it aside.

"I'm just saying," Caroline insisted, stirring her iced tea with unnecessary vigor, "if he's interested, he'll call. That's how it works."

Elena sighed, absently picking at the label on her water bottle. "I know. But maybe I came on too strong. I mean, I showed up at his house unannounced."

"And found his mysterious, hot brother," Blair added with a smirk. "Don't forget that part."

Bonnie leaned forward, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "What is he like? Stefan's brother?"

"Damon?" Elena wrinkled her nose. "Charming, I guess, but in that way that makes you feel like you're being played."

"Speak for yourself," Blair countered. "I found him refreshingly straightforward. Unlike some people." She didn't need to clarify who she meant.

Caroline raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "Is he hotter than Stefan?"

"Different kind of hot," Blair replied. "Stefan is all brooding good looks and soulful eyes. Damon is... dangerous hot. Sharp edges and knowing smiles. And blue eyes to die for."

"Dangerous is right," Elena muttered. "You should have seen how tense Stefan got when he saw us with him."

"Because clearly Stefan is the better judge of character," Blair said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Bonnie, always the peacemaker, intervened. "Maybe Stefan's just protective of Elena. If his brother has a history of—"

"Of what?" Blair challenged. "Being the fun one? The one who doesn't overthink everything?"

Blair didn't even know why she was defending him. If she was right, Damon was a homicidal vampire and the one responsible for Bonnie's attack and the 'animal attacks' of the last few days. But she hated how Elena was so quick to judge without truly knowing either of the brothers yet. Her sister could be so judgmental.

Caroline laughed, defusing some of the tension. "Sounds like someone has a crush."

"Please, I don't do crushes." Blair rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips. "I'm just saying, Elena shouldn't judge Damon based on Stefan's obvious bias."

"And you shouldn't be so quick to trust someone you just met," Elena countered.

"Who said anything about trust?" Blair shot back. "Maybe I just want to—"

She froze mid-sentence, her eyes fixed on something—or someone—across the town square.

Damon Salvatore stood at the edge of the square, partially hidden in the shadow of a large oak tree. He was watching her, making no attempt to hide his interest. When their eyes met, his lips curved into that same knowing smirk he'd given her two nights before at the Grill.

Blair held his gaze, refusing to look away first. There was something in his eyes—a challenge, an invitation, she couldn't quite tell which. A moment later, a few passersby cut her view of him, and when they were gone, so was Damon—vanished as if he'd never been there at all.

"Blair? Earth to Blair?" Caroline's voice pulled her back to the conversation.

Blair blinked, turning her attention back to her friends. All three were staring at her expectantly.

"Sorry," she muttered. "Thought I saw someone I knew."

Elena glanced in the direction Blair had been looking. "Who?"

Blair shrugged, feigning indifference. "No one important."

Elena sat outside the Mystic Grill, at the same table she's been sitting for the last two hours, but now she was alone—Bonnie, Caroline and Blair had left for cheer practice—absently picking at her sandwich. The gentle autumn breeze rustled the pages of her open notebook, but she wasn't studying—her mind was elsewhere, still processing the strange encounter at the Salvatore boarding house.

She looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, her heart skipping when she saw Stefan walking toward her.

"Hi," he said, his expression cautious, almost hesitant.

"Hi," Elena replied, her voice softer than she intended.

Stefan gestured to the empty space across from her. "Mind if I join you?"

Elena nodded, watching as he slid onto the seat opposite hers. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence stretching between them like a physical thing.

"I wanted to apologize about yesterday," Stefan finally said. "I wasn't myself."

Elena couldn't help the small, humorless laugh that escaped her. "You seem to spend a lot of time apologizing."

"Well, I have a lot to apologize for." His hazel eyes met hers directly, earnest and intense. "Yesterday, that wasn't about you, okay?"

Elena pushed her plate aside, no longer interested in eating. "You didn't tell me that you had a brother."

"We're not close," Stefan replied, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. "It's, uh...it's complicated."

"Always," Elena murmured. She hesitated, then decided to just say it. "Damon told me about your ex. Katherine."

Stefan tensed, his shoulders stiffening. "What did he say?"

"That she broke your heart."

Stefan looked away, his gaze distant, as if seeing something—or someone—far beyond the town square. "That was a long time ago."

"When you lose someone," Elena said quietly, "it stays with you, always reminding you of how easy it is to get hurt."

"Elena..." Stefan reached across the table, his fingers stopping just short of touching her hand.

Elena began gathering her things, suddenly needing space. "It's OK, Stefan. I get it. You have no idea how much I get it. Complicated sibling? Check. Complicated ex? Check. Too complicated to even contemplate dating, double check." She stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "It's OK. We met, and we talked, and it was epic, but...then the sun came up and reality set in. So..."

"Elena, wait—" Stefan rose to his feet, but Elena was already stepping away from the table.

"I should go," she said, not meeting his eyes.

She turned and walked away, feeling his gaze on her back but refusing to look over her shoulder. Part of her wanted him to follow, to stop her, to explain everything—but he didn't. And maybe that was for the best.

Later that evening, Blair entered the Mystic Grill, scanning the room for an empty table. She was supposed to meet Caroline here to go over the cheerleading roster.

She slid into an empty booth and pulled out her phone, scrolling through messages while waiting for service. When she looked up, Vicki Donovan was approaching her table, order pad in hand.

"What can I get you?" Vicki asked, her tone professional but cool.

"Diet Coke," Blair replied. "And some sweet potato fries."

Vicki jotted down the order without making eye contact. "I'll be right back with your drink."

Before Vicki could walk away, Tyler appeared, his timing too perfect to be coincidental. His smile faltered when he noticed Blair, but he quickly recovered, shifting his attention entirely to Vicki.

"Hey, Vick," he said, his voice deliberately loud enough for Blair to hear. "You still on for later? I thought we could hang out at the falls after your shift."

"Wouldn't miss it," Vicki replied, her eyes darting to Blair as if gauging her reaction.

Blair kept her expression neutral, though her knuckles whitened around her phone.

Tyler slid his arm around Vicki's waist, pulling her closer. "Great. I've got some ideas for how we can...pass the time."

The suggestive tone in his voice was unmistakable, and Blair couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Subtle, Tyler. Really subtle."

Tyler turned to her, feigning surprise. "Oh, Blair. Didn't see you there."

"Right," Blair said dryly. "Because you definitely didn't spot me the moment you walked in and make a beeline for my table."

"Paranoid much?" Tyler smirked. "Not everything revolves around you."

"And yet here you are," Blair countered, "making sure I know all about your plans with Vicki. The falls? How original. I remember when you used to put more effort into your dates."

Vicki shifted uncomfortably. "I should get your drink."

"No, stay," Tyler said, tightening his grip on her waist. "Blair's just being her usual self."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Blair challenged.

"It means you can't stand seeing me with someone else," Tyler shot back. "You broke up with me, remember? You don't get to be jealous."

Blair laughed, the sound sharp and dismissive. "Jealous? Of what? Your sad attempt to make me think you've moved on? Or maybe you're referring to that ridiculous rumor you spread about cheating on me with Vicki?"

Vicki's head snapped toward Tyler. "What rumor?"

Tyler's smirk faltered. "She's exaggerating."

"No, I'm not," Blair said, her voice hardening. "You told everyone that I broke up with you because you cheated on me with Vicki. When in reality, I broke up with you because you said you loved me and I couldn't return those feelings." She looked directly at Vicki. "He's been using you to save face. I tried to be kind, not stringing him along, and he repaid me by spreading lies."

"Is that true?" Vicki demanded, pulling away from Tyler's grasp.

"It's not—I didn't—" Tyler stammered, his confident facade crumbling.

"So I'm not just the rebound," Vicki said, her voice rising. "I'm also your cover story? Your excuse for getting dumped?"

"Vicki, come on," Tyler reached for her arm, but she stepped back.

"Unbelievable," Vicki muttered. "I'll get your drink." She stalked off toward the bar.

Tyler rounded on Blair. "Happy now?"

Blair shrugged, examining her manicure with feigned interest. "I didn't say anything that wasn't true."

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" Tyler leaned down, his hands braced on the table as he lowered his voice. "You dump me and then sabotage any chance I have with someone else."

"Sabotage?" Blair's eyebrows shot up. "You did that all on your own when you decided to lie about why we broke up. You made me look like the pathetic, cheated-on girlfriend. Do you have any idea how humiliating that's been?"

"Oh, poor Blair," Tyler mocked. "Someone dared to make you look less than perfect."

"It's not about that," Blair snapped, her composure slipping. "It's about respect. I respected you enough to be honest with you. I didn't want to lead you on when I knew I couldn't give you what you wanted. And instead of accepting that like an adult, you had to make up some story to protect your ego."

Tyler's expression shifted, vulnerability breaking through his anger for just a moment. "What was I supposed to say? That I wasn't good enough for the great Blair Gilbert to love?"

Blair hesitated, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice. For a split second, her mask slipped.

"Tyler, it wasn't about you not being good enough," she said, her voice softer. "I just couldn't return your feelings. I thought it was better this way."

"And now?" he asked, searching her face. "Do you regret it?"

The moment stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Then Blair's walls were back up, her expression cooling.

"Now? Now I think we're both better off without each other." She glanced toward the bar. "And Vicki deserves better than being caught in the middle of our mess."

Tyler straightened up, his jaw tight. "Whatever. Tell Caroline I said hi."

As he walked away, Blair watched him go, her expression unreadable. When Vicki returned with the drink a moment later, her face was carefully blank.

"Your fries will be out in a few minutes," she said, not meeting Blair's eyes.

"Thanks, Vicki," Blair replied quietly.

When Caroline arrived fifteen minutes later, she found Blair staring at a half-empty glass of Diet Coke, lost in thought.

Blair landed a final series of rapid punches on the heavy bag, sweat glistening on her skin. The gym was empty at this late hour, just as she preferred it. After everything that had happened in the last few days, she needed this—the physical release, the momentary escape from her thoughts.

She grabbed her towel, wiping her face as she headed for the shower. The hot water was a blessing against her tired muscles, washing away the day's tension. Blair took her time, knowing nobody would disturb her here.

When she stepped out and reached for her towel, she froze. It wasn't where she'd left it.

"Looking for this?"

Damon Salvatore leaned against the wall of the women's locker room, her towel dangling from his fingertips, a smirk playing on his lips.

Blair didn't flinch. She stood completely still, allowing his eyes to travel over her naked body. His gaze was deliberate, predatory, lingering on her curves with blatant appreciation—and the clear intent to make her feel exposed and vulnerable.

Instead of covering herself or showing embarrassment, Blair placed a hand on her hip and leveled her gaze at him. "Are you going to hand it over, or do you need a few more seconds to finish staring?"

Damon's eyes widened slightly—clearly not the reaction he'd expected. He let his gaze travel down her body once more, even more deliberately this time, before meeting her eyes again. "Most girls would scream," he commented, his voice casual despite the intensity of his gaze.

"I only scream in bed," she simply said in answer.

Damon chuckled and shook his head. "Always with a quick comeback at the ready, are you?"

Blair shrugged her shoulders and took the towel from his hand, using it to quickly dry her body, making no attempt to cover herself. When finished, she simply tossed it onto the bench beside her and walked to her locker as if he weren't even there. "Stalking is illegal in all fifty states, you know."

Damon's smirk widened, though Blair didn't miss the brief flash of genuine surprise in his eyes. He'd expected embarrassment, modesty, perhaps even fear. Her boldness had thrown him off balance, if only for a moment.

"Is it stalking if you've been thinking about me all day?" He moved closer, leaning against the lockers as she pulled out her clothes. "Don't deny it. I saw you at the Grill."

"Watching someone from the shadows is literally the definition of stalking," Blair replied. She sat on a bench before pulling on her thong, then her bra, moving with unhurried confidence, as if changing in front of strange men—or vampires—was something she did every day. "What do you want, Damon?"

"Straight to the point. I like that." He sat on the bench across from hers—perfectly situated to see all of her—watching as she continued dressing. His eyes followed her movements with undisguised interest, but there was something new there—clear respect mingling with the desire. "I need your help."

"With what? Dating advice? Fashion tips?" She slipped into her stockings. "Because if it's dating advice, let me tell you, stalking girls in locker rooms isn't the way to go. And fashion-wise, the all-black look works for you, but that leather jacket is at least five years out of style."

"With magic," Damon said, his playful demeanor dropping for a moment. "You're a witch, aren't you?"

Blair's hands paused mid-motion as she was about to pull on her tank top. She narrowed her eyes at him. "How do you know that?"

"I make it my business to know things," Damon replied with a shrug. "Let's just speak plainly here. You know what I am, what my brother is. All those little quips at the Boarding House weren't exactly subtle."

"I thought it was funny."

Damon shook his head again, his grin returning—almost like he couldn't help himself but being amused. "It was funny."

"Does your brother know I'm a witch?"

"Stefan?" He laughed—a mocking laugh clearly aimed at his brother. "No, he doesn't. Or he wouldn't have tried to compel you. Good acting skills, by the way. If I didn't know any better, I would have fallen for your act too."

"You did see us that night, then. Your comments weren't subtle either."

"Have you noticed a crow around lately?"

"Oh, so that was you? You can…what, control crows?"

"It's similar to compulsion against humans. I can see through their eyes, take control of their minds."

"Well, that's a cool trick." Blair put on her short skirt next. "So, Damon, tell me…what exactly do you need my help with?" If he only knew she was a witch but not specifically a siphoner, that could work to her advantage.

Damon got up from the bench and began to pace, his movements reminding her of a caged panther. "There's a tomb under the old church ruins. Inside that tomb are twenty-seven vampires who've been trapped there since 1864. I need you to help me open it."

"Why would I do that? So you can release twenty-seven hungry vampires on Mystic Falls?" Blair scoffed while zipping up her ankle boots.

"I don't want to release all of them," Damon said, his voice dropping to something almost vulnerable. "Just one. Katherine Pierce."

Blair's eyes widened in recognition. "Katherine? The vampire that turned you and Stefan? I thought she had died in a fire."

Damon looked surprised for a moment before his eyes narrowed. "You know more than you let on."

"I've read the Gilbert journals. Jonathan Gilbert wrote about Katherine, about what happened in 1864." Blair studied him curiously. "You've been in love with her all this time? For over a century?"

"Love, obsession—what's the difference?" Damon replied with a bitter smile. "Yes, I've spent the last 145 years waiting for this moment."

Blair studied him with genuine curiosity. "Can't imagine being in love for that long. Impressive. I hope she appreciates all you're doing for her."

Something vulnerable flickered in Damon's eyes before his mask slipped back into place. "She will. Once I get her out."

Blair paused, her mind connecting the pieces. "The comet," she said suddenly. "That's why you're here now. The spell on the tomb is bound to the comet that's returning to Mystic Falls. The same one that passed over in 1864."

Surprise flickered across Damon's face before he masked it with his usual smirk. "Clever girl."

"Jonathan Gilbert's journals mentioned a celestial event the night of the church fire," Blair explained. "And a comet returns at predictable intervals. Not to mention the fact that spells are often bound to celestial events. Simple deduction."

"Simple for you, maybe. Not many people would make that connection," Damon replied. "This is my window of opportunity. But I need a witch from the Blackwell line to perform the spell when the time comes. Emily Blackwell, your ancestor, she's the one who created the spell to seal the tomb. That's why I need you."

"Why should I help you?"

Damon's expression darkened. "Because if you don't, I'll kill everyone you love. Starting with your pretty blonde friend, then your aunt Jo, and saving Elena for last."

Blair stepped forward, her face inches from his. The few inches the heels gave her were enough that she could look him straight in the eye. "Is that before or after the entire town discovers about you and your brother being vampires, including the Founders' Council?"

At his glare, she smirked. "See? I can play the threat game too."

"Are you aware that if I didn't need you, you'd already be dead? I'm not used to be talked to like that." He didn't really sound angry though, more like exasperated. It seemed like he didn't know what to make of her.

"You must not have many friends. Anyway, did no one ever tell you, you'll catch more flies with honey?"

To her surprise, Damon laughed—a genuine laugh that transformed his face. "You have fire, Blair Gilbert. I like that. Alright, how about this, you help me, and I'll stop killing people in your precious town."

"What about Stefan?"

"Stefan doesn't feed on human blood. At least not anymore. No, the 'animal attacks' of the last few days were all me," Damon admitted without a hint of remorse. "But I could be...persuaded to change my feeding habits. Catch and release instead of drain and drop."

"You'd have to be careful," Blair pointed out, gathering her gym bag. "Some of the Founding Families are on vervain."

"I'm aware," Damon replied dryly. "I could feed outside town."

Blair narrowed her eyes at him. "Was it you who attacked Bonnie in the woods?"

Damon didn't deny it. "I needed to send a message to Stefan. Your friend was... convenient."

"If we make this deal, no more hurting my friends. That includes Caroline, Bonnie, Tyler, Matt—and, obviously, Elena and my aunt Jo."

"I sense a list coming," Damon said with a smirk.

"I'm serious, Damon. You don't hurt people I care about."

"Fine," Damon sighed dramatically. "I'll play nice with your human pals. So, do we have a deal?"

Blair hesitated, weighing her options. Working with Damon was dangerous, but it would allow her to keep an eye on him. Plus, she couldn't deny her curiosity.

"One more condition," Blair said finally. "You teach me about vampires. Everything you know. And give me access to the Salvatore journals."

Damon raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Knowledge is power," Blair replied simply. "And in this town, I need all the power I can get."

Damon studied her, his expression unreadable. Then he extended his hand. "Deal."

Blair took his hand, once again surprised by the coolness of his skin. "Deal."

"Do you know the object Emily used to bind the spell?"

"Yes, an antique iron setting with an amber crystal."

Blair slung her bag over her shoulder. "I'll need both Emily's crystal and her grimoire to make this work," she said. "The crystal is the key to unlock the tomb, but the grimoire contains the exact spell. Without it, I'd be working blind."

A flicker of frustration crossed Damon's face. "I have the crystal. Or I will soon. But the grimoire...I don't know where it is."

"Then we need to find it," Blair said firmly. "No grimoire, no spell, no Katherine."

"Alright. I'll help you look for it," Damon promised. "There's one more thing. If I'm going to stay here until the tomb is open, I'll need an 'in' with the Council. A way to gain their trust."

"And how am I supposed to help with that?"

Damon's signature smirk returned. "Simple. You're going to date me."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Not real dating, obviously," Damon clarified, moving to block her path to the door. "We'll pretend. I get access to town events, Council information, and you get..." He gestured to himself, "...all this to parade in front of your ex-boyfriend. Tyler, right? The jock with the anger issues?"

Blair couldn't help but laugh. "You really do make it your business to know things."

"So? What do you say?" Damon leaned closer. "Friends with benefits? I've been told I'm very... beneficial."

Blair rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "You're ridiculous."

"I prefer 'charming' or 'irresistible,'" Damon countered. He took her gym bag from her shoulder and held it hostage.

She tilted her head, studying him. "Just to be clear, this arrangement extends to...what exactly? Public appearances, town events, making my ex jealous?"

"If you want to have sex with me, Blair, all you have to do is ask," Damon replied, his voice dropping to a silky purr. "No need to hide behind hypotheticals."

Blair let out a short laugh. "Please. You're the one who couldn't take your eyes off me earlier. If anyone's desperate to fuck, it's you."

"I wouldn't say desperate," Damon countered, moving closer until there was barely any space between them. "Eager, perhaps. Curious, definitely."

"Curious about what?" Blair asked, not backing away despite his proximity.

"About whether you're as fearless in bed as you were earlier, standing naked in front of a vampire." His eyes darkened as he spoke, and Blair felt a shiver run down her spine that had nothing to do with fear.

"Come to the boarding house tonight. We can seal our deal properly." His eyes darkened, and Blair knew exactly what he was suggesting.

"What about Stefan?" she asked.

"Sorry, I don't do threesomes with my brother. That's where I draw the line. Everyone else is fair game though."

Blair couldn't contain another grin. "I meant, wouldn't he get suspicious of our little…arrangement? I'm guessing he doesn't know about Katherine and the tomb."

"No, and I intend to keep it that way. But don't worry, Stefan's too busy stalking your sister to notice anything else," Damon replied dismissively. "Besides, you and I together? It'll drive him crazy. Win-win."

Blair considered the proposition. It was reckless, stupid even. But she couldn't deny the thrill that ran through her at the thought of it—the danger, the excitement, the forbidden nature of it all.

"Fine," she said finally.

Damon's smile was triumphant. He handed her gym bag back, his fingers brushing against hers deliberately. "One last thing. My blood can heal, but it can also turn you if you die with it in your system. Just so we're clear on the rules."

"Are you offering to feed me your blood?" Blair asked, adjusting the strap of her bag.

"I'm offering to feed from you," Damon clarified, his eyes dropping to her neck. "I can make it pleasurable, especially during sex. But only if you want me to."

The suggestion sent an unexpected jolt of heat through Blair's body. "We'll see," she managed to say, keeping her voice steady.

Damon's knowing smile told her he'd noticed her reaction. "I'll see you later, then. Don't keep me waiting too long though."

He stepped aside, allowing her to pass. As she reached the door, Blair glanced back at him. "Try not to kill anyone between now and then, okay?"

"For you? I'll try to be on my best behavior." Damon's eyes glittered with mischief. "But I make no promises about later tonight."

Blair shook her head, but she was smiling as she pushed through the door.

Caroline and Bonnie sat at a corner table in the Mystic Grill, their half-empty milkshakes pushed to the side. Bonnie absently traced patterns on the condensation of her glass while Caroline scrolled through her phone.

"Ugh, did you see Blair's new cheer routine proposal?" Caroline sighed, holding up her phone to show Bonnie. "I love her to death, but she's such a perfectionist. She wants to add that complicated flip sequence right before the pyramid. It's like she forgets not everyone has her level of athletic ability."

"Yeah," Bonnie replied distractedly, her gaze drifting toward the entrance. The bandage on her neck was a stark reminder of her recent hospital stay, and she still looked paler than usual.

"Don't get me wrong, it would look amazing if we could pull it off," Caroline continued, her tone shifting from exasperation to admiration. "Blair always pushes us to be better. I just wish she'd give us mere mortals a chance to catch up sometimes."

Caroline's eyes flickered toward the bar where Matt was wiping down the counter. She sighed softly before turning back to Bonnie. "Are you even listening to me? Hello? Earth to Bonnie?"

Before Bonnie could respond, Stefan appeared at their table, his expression hesitant.

"Excuse me. Hi," he said, his hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets.

"Hi," Bonnie replied, straightening in her seat. Caroline offered a polite smile, though her attention briefly drifted back to Matt.

"Um, have you guys seen Elena?" Stefan asked, his gaze darting between them.

"I think she went home," Bonnie said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a pen, grabbing a napkin from the dispenser. "I'm gonna give you Elena's cell number and her email. She is big on texting, and you can tell her..." Bonnie paused, scribbling on the napkin, "I said so."

"Thank you," Stefan said, genuine gratitude in his voice as he reached for the napkin.

When their fingers touched, Bonnie froze. Her eyes widened, her pupils dilating as if seeing something far beyond the confines of the Grill. A small gasp escaped her lips, her hand jerking away from Stefan's as if burned.

Stefan's brow furrowed with concern. "You ok?"

Bonnie stared at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and something that looked almost like fear. "What happened to you?" she blurted out. Then, realizing what she'd said, she shook her head. "That's so rude. I'm sorry. Excuse me."

She grabbed her purse and hurried away from the table, leaving Stefan and Caroline in awkward silence.

"Yeah, she kind of wigs out," Caroline explained with an apologetic smile. "It's like her thing." She glanced toward Matt again.

"I should probably go," Stefan said, noticing her distraction. "Thanks for the help."

As Stefan walked away, Caroline turned her attention fully back to Matt, wondering if she should take Blair's advice and be more direct about what she wanted.

Elena was in the kitchen, alone in the house, with aunt Jo at the hospital for her night shift, and Blair…who knew where Blair was or what she was up to.

The doorbell rang. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, wondering who it could be.

When she opened the front door, she found Stefan standing on the porch, looking a mix of hesitant and hopeful.

"Hi," he greeted softly.

"Hey," Elena replied, sending him a shy smile.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked, trying to hide her excitement and nerves.

Stefan hesitated, glancing at the threshold before shaking his head slightly. "Actually, can we talk out here for a moment?"

Elena stepped outside onto the porch, the cool evening breeze brushing against her bare arms.

"Sorry for barging in," Stefan began, his eyes searching hers. "Especially after earlier."

Elena bit her lip, feeling the weight of their previous encounter hanging in the air. "No, no. I'm glad you're here. The way we left things..."

Elena wrapped her arms around herself, gathering her thoughts. "See, the thing is, I got home tonight planning on doing what I always do—write in my diary, like I've been doing since my mom gave me one when I was ten. It's where I let everything out, all my thoughts and feelings. I hide it on the second shelf behind this really hideous ceramic mermaid. But then I realized I'd just be writing things I should probably be telling you instead."

"What would you write?"

Elena took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I would write… 'Dear diary, today I convinced myself it was okay to give up. Don't take risks. Stick with the status quo. No drama; now is just not the time.' But my reasons aren't really reasons—they're excuses. All I'm doing is hiding from the truth, and the truth is that…" Her voice wavered slightly as she met his eyes, vulnerability shining through. "I'm scared, Stefan. I'm scared that if I let myself be happy for even one moment, the world's just going to come crashing down, and I don't know if I can survive that."

Stefan stepped closer, his expression softening with understanding. "Do you want to know what I would write? 'I met a girl. We talked. It was epic. But then reality set in.'"

The weight of their shared moment hung in the air between them, pulling them closer. As their gazes locked, the world around them faded away into a blur.

"Well, this is reality," Stefan said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "Right here."

Before Elena could respond, Stefan leaned in, and their lips met in a kiss that felt both tender and electric. In that brief moment, all her fears and uncertainties melted away, leaving just the two of them, wrapped in their connection.

The gravel crunched beneath Blair's boots as she approached the Salvatore Boarding House. The imposing structure loomed against the darkening sky, its windows like eyes tracking her approach.

This was probably the most reckless thing she's ever done and anyone—from her parents who would never have approved, to aunt Jo and Elena…hell, even Caroline would think this was a terrible idea—would tell her she was making a huge mistake. But she didn't care. The danger and forbiddenness of it all was half the fun.

She smoothed her dress and fluffed her hair before pressing the doorbell.

The chime echoed through the house. Blair waited, expecting Damon's smirking face to greet her. Instead, the door swung open to reveal an older man with a weathered face and cautious eyes—Zach Salvatore.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his stance rigid in the doorway.

"I'm looking for Damon," Blair replied, offering her most charming smile. "Is he home?"

The man's expression shifted from polite to concerned. "Damon? You're here to see Damon?"

"That's what I said." Blair's smile tightened.

His eyes darted behind him nervously. "Look, I don't think—"

"Zach, Zach, Zach." Damon appeared behind him, clapping a hand on Zach's shoulder. "Is that any way to treat our guest?"

Zach stiffened under Damon's touch. "I was just—"

"You were just about to leave us alone." Damon's voice remained light, but his eyes hardened. "Blair and I don't need you around, being a cockblock."

Zach hesitated, looking from Damon to Blair with unmistakable worry. "Are you sure that's—"

"Completely sure." Damon's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Go."

With a final concerned glance at Blair, Zach retreated down the hallway, his footsteps fading into the depths of the house.

Damon leaned against the doorframe, his eyes trailing appreciatively over Blair. "Well, well. You actually came. No last-minute cold feet?"

"I said I would. And I don't get cold feet." Blair stepped forward, feet just behind the threshold, like a vampire wanting for an invite. "Are you going to invite me in?"

"By all means." Damon swept his arm in a grand gesture. "Enter freely and of your own will."

"A Dracula reference? Cute." Blair crossed the threshold. "Is uncle Zach worried you're going to eat me?"

Damon guided her to a parlor dominated by a massive fireplace, the same one she's seen the first time she visited here with Elena. "He should be worried. I have every intention of eating you." He sent her a salacious smirk, steeped in double meanings. "Among other things."

Blair grinned. She was really starting to appreciate his sense of humor.

He moved to a crystal decanter. "Drink? I have bourbon, scotch, wine."

"Bourbon is fine." Blair settled onto the leather sofa, crossing her legs and draping her arms along the back cushions—the picture of cool composure.

Damon handed her a glass, their fingers brushing.

Blair sipped her drink, savoring the strong taste. They stayed a few long moments in silence, just drinking from their respective glasses.

"So…are you going to show me your bedroom any time soon or do I have to assume you're all talk?" Blair asked, at last. If they continued stalling like this, she might really get cold feet.

Damon's eyebrows rose. "Impatient, are we?"

"You did say I would need to sleep in your bed if I wanted to be a guest here. Well, here I am. A guest."

Damon smirked, draining his bourbon in one swift motion before setting the glass aside. Without warning, he swept her up and tossed her over his shoulder in one fluid movement—her upper body dangling down his back while her legs kicked playfully in the air.

Blair squealed in surprise, then dissolved into laughter as she barely managed to abandon her glass on a side table. With supernatural speed, Damon carried her through the house and into his bedroom.

He deposited her unceremoniously onto his bed, her body bouncing slightly against the mattress.

In a bid to take back control, Blair rose on her elbows while spreading her legs in deliberate invitation, heels digging into the bed beneath her.

Damon's gaze lingered on her, pupils dilated in desire as he took in the sight of her splayed out on his bed. "Well, well, well…no underwear? Naughty girl."

Blair shrugged. "I came prepared. Now come here and fulfill your promise."

"With pleasure." He kneeled at the foot of the bed, his hands gripping her ankles, pulling her towards him until her skirt rode up her thighs and her legs were spread her legs wide. Then his fingers began tracing the hem of her dress, teasing the sensitive skin of her thighs but not touching her anywhere else. Blair's breath hitched, her eyes locked onto his in silent challenge.

"Hmm…you smell delicious." Damon's voice was a low rumble, his hands inching higher, pushing her dress up to reveal more of her. He brought his face closer to her center, smooth and bare, and inhaled, deeply. "I bet you taste even better."

"Why don't you find out?"

"Not yet." He took off her shoes with deliberate slowness, tossing them with carelessness behind him. Then he did the same with her stockings.

His lips started to trace a tantalizing path, starting at her left foot, brushing her ankle, and climbing slowly up her leg. Each kiss lingered on her skin, creating a trail of warmth that stopped just short of where she ached for his touch. Then, with deliberate patience, he began again on her other leg, leaving her breathless with anticipation.

Then, finally, he leaned in again—his eyes never leaving hers, his breath cool against the heated flesh of her inner thighs.

"Last chance to back out," Damon murmured, his lips brushing against her skin.

Blair scoffed, her voice breathy but determined. "No way."

Damon's mouth curved into a wicked smile. He leaned in, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path up her thigh. Blair shivered and tensed, anticipation coiling withing her as her fingers gripped the silk sheets beneath her. Then his mouth was on her, his tongue delving, exploring, devouring, with expert precision.

Blair gasped and arched off the bed, a cry escaping her lips. Damon's hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as he feasted on her. Pleasure coursed through her veins, each flick of his tongue against her clitsending her spiraling higher.

Blair's moans filled the room, her body writhing under his touch. Damon's tongue was relentless, driving her to the edge with each skilled stroke but then slowing down again—an unhurried, deliberate torture. She could feel the pressure building, her body tensing as she neared her climax.

He inserted one finger inside her, then two, then three. He kept fucking her with his fingers while he licked and sucked on her clit.

She fisted her hands in his hair, her body taut as a bowstring. "Damon..." His name escaped her lips in a desperate plea. She was so close, so close…

He looked up, his eyes gleaming with lust and something darker, more primal. "Let go, Blair," he commanded, his voice vibrating against her sensitive flesh. "Come for me."

Blair's body obeyed, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. She cried out, her hands grabbing Damon's hair as she rode out her pleasure. Damon continued his assault, his tongue gentling as she came down from her high.

Only when Blair's body stilled, her breath coming in ragged gasps, did Damon pull away. He licked his lips and his fingers clean, a satisfied smirk on his face. Blair lay on the bed, her body limp, her eyes glazed over with satisfaction.

"Welcome to the Salvatore Boarding House, Blair," Damon said, his voice laced with amusement and raw desire. "I hope you enjoy your stay."