Chapter Text
Leaves scrunching under her bare feet, the new moon hidden behind a curtain of dark clouds, Elena walked alone in the woods.
Her arms were covered in goosebumps, and the thin blue pyjamas she had on really did nothing against the chill breeze of the November night. Eyes open but unseeing, Elena walked like a ghost. It was as if all her being was focused toward one goal: the old witch house. She had to get there. The wind whispered through her hair, the darkness all-encompassing. Once upon a time she would have been afraid. Those were the woods where thousands of witches had been burnt to death. The same woods where Damon had been bitten, costing his brother’s freedom. And yet she was eerily serene. It seemed like all the anxiety, the fear, the sheer exhaustion had all but poured out of her, leaving only a strange sense of resolution.
The witches’ house was not very far. She was almost there, numb even to the pain of the bleeding soles of her feet. Elena stopped only when the dark silhouette came into view. Her pulse accelerated and an uneasy feeling almost broke her reverie. Something was wrong, she could feel it in her bones. And yet, the calling was unavoidable. It was speaking to her, chanting her name like a haunting prayer. The open dark door was terribly inviting, and Elena almost had the feeling that if she crossed the threshold all her problems would be solved. It was really strange, but she was sure of it. She resumed walking. Just a few meters and she would bring peace to everyone. Just a few more steps and…
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!”
Elena let out a scream of surprise. She stumbled a few steps near the door until her back hit the old wood of the house. Damon hovered over her, his fists shaking in what she assumed was a mix of anger, worry and anxiety. She too started to feel anxious. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
Elena looked around like a deer caught in headlights. The fear was cutting through the fog in her head.
“I-I—”
“Have you learnt nothing from the past year?! No, no, of course NOT! Because why the hell wouldn’t you want to take a midnight stroll in the woods to watch the moon?! Well, newsflash: the moon isn’t even here!”
Damon was actually shaking in anger. Normally, she would’ve screamed back. How dare he lecture her about being reckless, insulting her intelligence like she was a toddler? But her feet were hurting and she felt on the brink of hypothermia. Her heart was almost beating out of her chest in fear.
“D-Damon,” she whispered, her voice not louder than the wind.
His demeanour changed in a heartbeat. Worry replaced anger and he crouched down to eye level. “Hey, hey,” he whispered soothingly, running his hands down her frozen arms. “Elena, what happened?” Damon asked softly.
She shook her head in terror. “I don’t know… I don’t know,” she cried out in anguish. “One moment I was in bed… I was trying to-to forget Wickery Bridge and…” She blinked the tears away. She couldn’t go there. No. Absolutely not. Not now, not ever. “And the next I’m here and you’re screaming at me and…”
“Yeah, ehm, sorry about that,” Damon said sheepishly. He raised his hand to her hair, smoothing down the still damp messy locks. Her comforting shower felt like ages ago.
“Do you think I was compelled?” she asked, almost timidly. The idea of someone messing with her brain without her knowledge was enough to send waves of nausea through her body. He tightened his jaw and met her eyes. “It’s a possibility.”
The nausea hit her all over again. “BUT HOW?” she cried out. “I’m drinking vervain.”
Damon widened his eyes, a shadow of relief passing by. “You drank vervain?”
“Of course. With all the times that I’ve lost this goddamn necklace, better safe than sorry.”
Damon released a breath, his touch relaxing the tiniest bit. “Good… yeah, that’s good. Okay, so no compulsion.” His brows scrunched in concentration, his hands never stilling their gentle caress over her arms. Normally she would’ve shied away, but — again — normally she wouldn’t have wandered alone in the woods at night, so she said nothing.
“What do you remember?”
Elena rolled her shoulders. “Just this weird pull to come here. I don’t know… I sound crazy, but it seemed like it was calling my name.” She let out a hysterical laugh. “Or maybe that’s just me finally losing my mind.” She sagged against his arms, the exhaustion suddenly taking over. “I want to go home,” she murmured, teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown.
Damon pulled her chin up, his thumb gently stroking the underside of her bottom lip. “Hey, hey. Elena, stay with me.”
Tears glazed her eyes. “I’m cold,” she stuttered.
She knew she was being weak. Hell, she was supposed to be better with all the training with Alaric, but there she was: poor Elena the victim, once again caught like a fish in a bowl by the claws of yet another evil masterplan. But she had already had one hell of an evening with her ex-boyfriend threatening to drive her over the bridge where her parents died while forcing his blood down her throat. And then, just as she was desperately trying to forget her panicked screams, she was pulled to the forest with only a teeny tiny pyjama that she was sure did nothing to hide the fact that she didn’t even have a bra on.
Elena was just about to lose it completely when she felt the comforting weight of a leather jacket being thrown over her shoulders. It smelled like bourbon and masculine cologne. It smelled like Damon. She quickly slipped her arms into it and zipped it all the way to her chin. Only when she had buried her bluish knuckles in the pockets and hidden her nose in the high collar of the jacket did Elena meet his eyes.
“Thank you,” she muttered through the leather fabric.
For a moment, Damon stared back at her with a strange expression, but then he shrugged. “No problem. You know me: I live to serve the dying.” Elena rolled her eyes affectionately. “So… You heard voices, Joan of Arc?”
“Yeah, I think. It was this really strange sensation, like maybe if I went there, all our problems would be solved.” She paused for a beat, a sudden thought striking her like lightning. “What if it has something to do with the coffins? What if whatever’s inside has the power to defeat Klaus?”
Damon looked over her shoulder and into the house, his jaw clenching and unclenching repeatedly.
Elena pressed on. “Damon, don’t you understand?! If we actually kill Klaus, then we can get Stefan back!”
Damon exhaled abruptly. “Key word: if, Elena. Do you think that something that intentionally put you in danger tonight would help us?!”
“Oh, come on, Damon, the witches loathe Klaus. They’re not gonna stand by him.”
He continued shaking his head. “They might hate Klaus, but it’s not like they don’t have their own agendas.”
Elena let out an annoyed huff. “Well, so do we. That doesn’t mean we can’t work together.”
He said nothing, his brows scrunching together in a way that made them comically similar to Stefan’s eternal frown.
“Damon, please! They already helped us hide the coffins.”
“Yeah, and siding with my brother’s sick vengeance plan hasn’t caused us enough problems, now they’re stringing you along too!”
“Well, maybe it’s for a good reason!”
Damon let out an astounded cry. “I don’t believe it. You are ALREADY MAKING EXCUSES FOR THEM. Elena, you were alone in your pyjamas in the woods. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if I hadn’t found you?! Best-case scenario: you freeze to death.” His eyes were lit with passion and a hint of craziness, and all she wanted to do was shake away the undercurrent of anxiety that always seemed to linger there no matter what she did.
Elena breathed deeply and removed her hands from the pockets to hold his upper arms. She hoped it was reassurance enough that she was alright. “But you found me. And maybe they knew that too. Damon, we are already here… what could a little checking do?” He was about to open his mouth to reply when she silenced him again. “I promise you: if we see nothing, then you can bring me home again and I swear I’ll stay in my bed this time. Just… please, let me try this one, okay?”
For a moment, he looked intently at her face, like he was trying to find something. And maybe he found it, because slowly Damon started nodding. It was clear that he was not happy about it and was probably resisting the urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her away, but Elena appreciated that he tried to hear her out. “Okay… okay, I’m giving up. Victory again for you, Gilbert. Now you can totally take the blame if things go horribly wrong.”
Unfazed by the sarcasm, Elena was just about to step inside when she felt the solid weight of his hand on her shoulder.
“But first, where the hell do you think you’re going?” She looked at him, confused. “Inside? Like we just agreed?!”
Damon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no shit. I know that. I was thinking something more along the lines of ‘are you so much of a masochist that you wanna enter a wooden house barefoot?’ You are already hurting. Let’s not add splinters to that, because I’m not taking them out.”
An uncomfortable warmth spread across her stomach as she looked down at her damaged feet, suddenly feeling the pain more acutely. “Oh… ehm, right.”
Damon let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, oh.” He moved closer to her, gesturing with his hands. “Now hop on, warrior princess. You’re lucky that I’m feeling traditional.”
He nodded toward the threshold, and Elena had to restrain herself from going completely red. That would be simply stupid.
She nodded slightly and, without another word, Damon swept her off her feet and gathered her small body in his arms. Elena could feel her heartbeat skyrocketing as she faked an ease she was nowhere near feeling. She should’ve been used to it. Hell, she couldn’t even keep track of all the times Damon had carried her. And yet, this was the first time she was conscious enough to savour the way his hands held her so gently, like she was the most precious thing on earth, or how she was close enough to hear the faint thum-thum of his dead heart. Or get lost in the intoxicating smell that was uniquely his. She loathed how much she relaxed in his embrace.
Without the sunlight pouring inside and the witches rendering his ring useless, Damon slipped silently into the house, every sense alert as he inspected the deserted rooms. His uneasiness washed away whatever sense of relaxation Elena had previously felt. Taking the stairs to the second and third floors, the scenery wasn’t much different: a vast ocean of nothing. Despite the leather jacket, goosebumps suddenly rose on her arms. Something was wrong. Something was deeply wrong. Elena gripped the collar of Damon’s shirt and, as his eyes met hers, she silently tried to tell him to leave. The tightening grip on her waist told her he got the message.
He sped back down to the ground floor and made a move to step outside when he was suddenly kicked backwards into the house. Elena slipped out of his arms.
“Damon!”
She watched as he collided again against an invisible barrier and was thrown back inside the house. Scrambling to her feet, Elena ran to him. He let out a groan as he stood up.
“I can’t get out.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” She turned around, almost expecting a hidden threat to suddenly appear and say hi. God knew it had happened enough times. “Let me try.”
She marched toward the door, Damon hot on her heels. Hesitating, she slowed her steps and moved cautiously through the threshold. Elena felt more than saw the moment she touched the barrier and a tiny shockwave passed right through her hand. She screamed and jumped back, bumping right into Damon’s chest.
“Elena!”
She turned in his arms with a panicked look. “I can’t get out! Damon, I CAN’T GET OUT.”
His face had gone pale as he looked around with a tense expression. “I can’t hear anything, Elena. We are alone, I swear.”
“Then it must be the witches… they’re sending us a message.”
Damon huffed out a shaky breath as he adjusted his black button-down. “Believe me, I got the memo. No evil vampire and apparently no innocent doppelgänger. Man, they have strange policies.”
Elena inhaled slowly, trying to calm her nerves. She took a step back. “We are not a threat to you.”
“Yet,” Damon muttered under his breath.
Elena shoved him lightly in the shoulder. “He means no harm and neither do I. We want the same thing: Klaus gone. If… if you know something, please let us know. Or, I don’t know, try to contact Bonnie. She’ll let us know for sure.” She slowly exhaled, willing her heart to stop beating so loudly. “Just please… please help us. And if you don’t know anything, please let us go.”
The last plea ended up in a whisper, barely audible, as the tears finally spilled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, almost hoping the gesture itself would somehow make her stronger. Of course, Elena was never that lucky, and even more tears welled up in her eyes, replacing the ones she had just brushed aside. “Elena…” If possible, Damon’s soft plea hurt her even more. It was all her fault. She had been the one dragging him into her reckless plans. She really was that selfish and childish.
“I’m sorry…” she cried softly. “Damon… I’m so sorry, I’m—”
Gentle hands covered her burning cheeks, stroking the dark circles beneath her eyes and collecting the tears there with infinite tenderness.
“Shh,” he soothed, his fingers tracing calming patterns over her jawline. “You’re okay… you’re okay. We’re gonna be okay.”
She tried to nod. She really tried to put on a reassuring smile, but her shoulders felt unbearably heavy and her thighs were covered in goosebumps.
“The door,” she murmured, slightly tilting her head toward the exit.
Without a word, Damon guided them back toward the threshold and held out an arm. He would’ve ended up sprawled on the floor again if he hadn’t been expecting the impact this time and instead managed to keep both his footing and Elena upright.
She looked up at him wide-eyed, the sheer force of her fear almost marring her beautiful face. He cursed out loud and grabbed his phone. As he dialled Bonnie’s number, he swore again once he reached voicemail. Damon proceeded to do the same with Alaric, Caroline, Jeremy and even Stefan.
“Shit,” he groaned as he reached his brother’s voicemail too.
He tried sending messages, but it seemed like the witches were actively screwing with their internet connection. Elena was now chewing on her upper lip and using every ounce of strength she had not to break down completely or start screaming at the witches herself. She was beginning to understand why Damon hated witches so much.
“There’s no signal,” he snapped, throwing his phone across the room. “Those fucking witches!”
“Damon!”
“What?! It’s not like pleading and praying did anything. Maybe the insults will do the trick,” he snarled, his eyes now lit with that familiar mix of anger and desperation that always came before one of his impulsive and reckless decisions.
Without thinking, she grabbed his elbow. “Hey.” But he shrugged her off and continued pacing around the room.
“Damon!” she called again. “We have to stay calm.”
He snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, sure. Why not rejoice in the forced honeymoon, right? It’s not like we are actually trapped!”
Elena groaned in frustration. “Stop that! We have to think clearly…”
“Sure, let’s think clearly. Go on, Elena, think clearly.”
His eyes were widening with that crazed look that once upon a time would’ve made her uneasy. Now she knew it was just his way of coping with panic. Sure, why not? She cried like a fountain and he spiralled into chaos. What a perfect little pair they made.
“I’m trying, okay?! Ugh… I don’t know, try calling Stefan.”
He rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Uh, duh? I already did that.”
At that, Elena crossed her arms over her chest. “I meant calling in the most literal sense. Scream, yell, shout… whatever you want.”
He stared at her for a whole minute before bursting out laughing to her greatest irritation: “Oh, I’m sorry, you want me to yell for my brother? You know… Stefan the ripper who’s hiding from Klaus because he fucking stole his stupid family? That Stefan?”
Once again, Elena really had to count to ten to resist the urge to slap his perfect face. For God’s sake, he could be fucking insufferable when he wanted to be.
“You don’t want his help? Fine, I’ll do it.”
And before he could even answer, Elena let out the most gut-wrenching scream possible and started calling Stefan, Caroline — hell, even Tyler — hoping, praying to God, that one of them was out tonight. God, even Klaus would’ve been a welcome sight at that point.
Feeling her lungs completely deflated and her throat dry as a desert, she turned back to Damon, who had somehow gone even paler than before. She offered him a small smile and was about to step toward him when suddenly the wind picked up and started swirling around her.
All at once, the house came alive with power: doors slammed open and shut, old candles burst into flame, the dying wooden floorboards twitching and grinding. Elena felt her hair whipping wildly around her face, a chilling dread replacing the blood in her veins. Whispers danced in the wind around her like chanting ghosts.
Her eyes frantically searched for the comforting silhouette of Damon. He was kicking at the wooden walls, trying to force one of the windows open, when he bounced once again against the invisible barrier. She tried to reach for him, but as she forced her shaky legs toward his direction, a sudden gust of wind knocked her backwards and she found herself levitating above the ground.
It wasn’t much, only a few inches, but it was more than enough to terrify her.
“DAMON!” she screamed again, this time in a bone-chilling yell far more real than the ones before.
Their eyes locked and Damon’s face lost all colour. He sped toward her and, just as he jumped and gathered her in his arms with all his strength, the night turned white and, with a deafening thunderclap, they were blasted into oblivion.