Stefan paused in the doorway, the scent of aged paper and leather heavy in the air. The scene before him was far from tranquil. Books lay scattered like fallen leaves across the floor, their spines cracked, pages splayed open and unread. At the epicenter of the chaos stood Damon.
He was a whirlwind of restless energy even indoors. Damon stalked along the towering shelves, his long fingers flicking through titles, discarding volumes with a careless disregard that made Stefan's jaw tighten.
"What are you looking for, Damon?" Stefan asked, his voice a low rumble that echoed slightly in the vast room.
Damon didn't bother to turn. "Not your concern." The reply was clipped, laced with a familiar layer of disdain.
Stefan took a step further into the room, his gaze hardening. "No, but putting Elena in harm's way, that is my concern."
Damon flipped through a particularly ancient-looking tome, the brittle pages rustling like dry leaves. He didn't look up. "Hm hm. What are you talking about?"
Stefan's patience wore thin. "I'm talking about New York."
For the first time, Damon's movements stilled. He finally deigned to glance over his shoulder, his dark eyes glinting with a predatory amusement. "Oh, yeah. We had a blast."
Stefan closed the distance between them, the tension in the air thickening. "I get it. You're just bitter because one of us gets to be with the person that we love, and poor Katherine is just out of reach. Unless there's another way for you to get into that tomb. Is that what you and Ashley were looking for?"
A muscle ticked in Damon's jaw. "You're pathetic when you're fishing."
"And you're transparent when you're deflecting." Stefan countered, his voice tight with suspicion.
Damon grabbed another book, this one bound in worn leather, its clasp broken. "Don't you have school?"
He tossed the book onto the growing pile with seeming indifference, but Stefan noticed the subtle tightness around his eyes. He knew pushing further was pointless, at least for now. With a sigh, Stefan turned and walked out of the library, leaving Damon alone amidst the wreckage.
~~~~~
Out in the front courtyard of the school, Elena and Caroline are walking across the lawn together. Caroline is observing the necklace around her neck which Elena just gave her
"It's so pretty," she murmured, her voice softer than usual. "Thank you, Elena. God, it'll go with, like, everything. What's the occasion?"
Elena smiled, a hint of sadness tugging at the corners of her lips. "No occasion. Just a little friend gift."
They settled at the table, the cool metal a welcome contrast to the humid air. Caroline fidgeted, tracing the smooth surface of the amber with her finger. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.
"Lesbian friend necklace?" Caroline finally blurted out, winking with an attempt at levity that didn't quite land. "Cause we're freaky like that?"
Elena's smile faded, replaced by a genuine concern etched on her face. She reached across the table, her hand covering Caroline's.
"Your friendship is important to me, Caroline."
Caroline recoiled slightly, her eyes widening. "Why are you being so mushy? You never get mushy."
Elena sighed, withdrawing her hand. The truth felt heavy on her tongue. "Because you've been avoiding me. And I wanted you to know that whatever is going on with you and Ashley… it's okay."
The unspoken hung in the air, a fragile truth waiting to be acknowledged. Caroline's usual bravado seemed to crumble, replaced by a vulnerability Elena rarely saw.
"I was gonna talk to you about that," Caroline admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I was, but I just didn't know how… how to come out as Bi to you. I was afraid of how you would react." Her gaze dropped to the amber pendant. "Stupid, right? Knowing you."
Elena's heart softened. She understood. Fear, even amongst the closest of friends, could build walls. "I'm fine with it, Caroline. Honest. As long as you're happy." She leaned forward, her voice gentle. "So, tell me about Ashley."
The tension in Caroline's shoulders eased. A small, hesitant smile touched her lips.
"Well," she began, a genuine warmth creeping into her voice, "she's… she's sweet. Really sweet. And kind. You know how I always complain about guys being so… oblivious?" She chuckled softly. "Ashley is the opposite. She's so considerate. She remembers all the little things. Like, I mentioned once that I loved chamomile tea, and the next day she brought me a whole box of it. And she actually listens when I talk, like really listens, not just waiting for her turn to speak."
Caroline's eyes shone as she spoke, her words tumbling over each other in her eagerness to convey the essence of Ashley. She described their shared love of old movies, their late-night talks under the stars, the way Ashley made her laugh until her sides ached. Elena listened intently, absorbing every detail, every nuance in Caroline's voice.
~~~~~~~
Jeremy chalked his cue, eyes fixed on the striped eight-ball.
"Hey. How'd it go?" Anna's voice cut through the smoky air.
Jeremy glanced up. "What?"
"The paper."
"Oh." He straightened, suddenly self-conscious. "I got an 'A.' Thanks for the articles. They really helped." He avoided her intense gaze.
"Cool. So what'd he say about the vampires? Did he believe it?"
"I don't even believe it. It's just a paper, Anna. Anyways, I, uh—I gotta get goin'." He started to walk around the table.
Anna followed. "Uh, hey, um...D-do you wanna do something later, maybe?"
He mumbled, "Uh, sorry. I'm stuck on punch duty at the school dance." A punishment for his abysmal English grade.
"Oh. How'd you get stuck with that?"
"Well, I'm failin' English, so I copped a plea."
Anna persisted, "Maybe, you know, tomorrow or something."
Jeremy smiled weakly, then looked down at the worn floorboards. He couldn't meet her eyes.
Understanding dawned on Anna's face. A flush crept up her neck. "I'm being pushy again, aren't I? Heh."
"Well, thanks for the help," Jeremy said quietly. "I'll—I'll see you around." He grabbed his backpack and heads towards the exit, leaving Anna standing alone, her displeasure radiating in the dim light.
~~~~~~
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the schoolyard, bathing the cracked asphalt in a honeyed glow. Ashley, perched precariously on a wobbly crate, carefully edged a flourish onto the banner that stretched between them. Caroline, kneeling on the ground, dipped her brush into a bucket of crimson paint, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Look at you getting your hands dirty," Ashley commented, her voice laced with amusement. A splatter of paint marred Caroline's cheek, another clung stubbornly to her denim overalls.
Caroline scoffed, smiling up at Ashley. "Don't talk smack." With a swift, deliberate motion, she swiped the paintbrush across Ashley's arm, leaving a giant smear of crimson on the sleeve of her worn leather jacket.
Ashley gasped, feigning offense. She brandished her own brush threateningly. "I meant," she said, holding it aloft like a weapon, "I just thought you told everyone else what to do, orchestrating from a safe distance." Caroline backed away, laughing, her eyes sparkling with delight.
They resumed painting, the air filled with the rhythmic swish of brushes and the scent of acrylic.
"Well, I do that, too," Caroline conceded, her tone thoughtful. "But if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself. Besides," she added with a sly grin, "this is more fun."
"Well, I can agree with you on that," Ashley admitted, a genuine smile tugging at the corner of her lips. There was a comfortable silence as they worked, the only sound the chirping of crickets in the nearby overgrown field.
Then, Caroline broke the silence. "So what are you wearing to this dumb dance, anyway? Should we color-coordinate?" She imagined the sea of poodle skirts and slicked-back hair, a nostalgic echo of an era she only knew from movies and history books.
Ashley paused, considering. The idea of dressing up for a '50s themed dance initially repelled her, but the thought of coordinating with Caroline… that was different. "Probably my dark wash jeans, black boots, and that button-down with the subtle pinstripes," she said, picturing the outfit in her mind. It was a classic cut, tailored with a hint of rebellion, a nod to the era without sacrificing her own style.
Caroline hummed, tapping her chin with the end of her paintbrush. "Okay, okay. So, kind of a vintage greaser vibe? I was thinking of wearing a full skirt, maybe teal or turquoise. With a fitted black top." She envisioned the fabric swirling as she danced, the embodiment of '50s femininity with a bold, modern twist.
Ashley considered the image. "Turquoise would be good," she said. "Maybe I could find a pocket square to match? Or even a tie clip with a turquoise stone?"
~~~~~
Elena meticulously smoothed the last strand of her victory rolls, a satisfied hum escaping her lips. The '50s were calling, and she was ready to answer. She strolled into the bathroom, the cool tile a sharp contrast to the warmth of her bedroom. As she reached for the blow dryer, she caught her reflection – the picture of vintage charm. With a flick of the switch, the dryer roared to life, its hot breath shaping her hair, coaxing it into a perfect cascade. Unbeknownst to her, lying innocently on the bed in her bedroom, the vampire compass stirred. The needle, usually still, began to whirl, a frantic dance of warning lost in the dryer's drone.
Finally, satisfied, Elena switched off the dryer, the sudden silence amplifying the pounding of her heart. She returned to her bedroom, instinctively heading towards the closet. The compass on the bed whirred again, a desperate plea for attention. She reached for the closet door, her fingers curling around the cool metal knob. As she swung the door open, the compass spun even faster, its frantic energy palpable. But the closet was empty, just a row of clothes hanging limply. She plucked a pink scarf from a hanger, its soft silk a comforting weight in her hands.
Closing the closet, she moved towards the doorway, her head cocked, listening. A strange unease settled in her stomach.
"Hey, Jenna. Jenna? Jeremy?" she called out, her voice echoing in the otherwise silent house.
No response. The compass, still spinning wildly on the bed, finally caught her attention. Walking quickly, she picked it up, her brows furrowed in confusion as she watched the needle's chaotic dance. Something was terribly wrong. She grabbed her phone, her fingers fumbling with the buttons as she dialed Stefan's number, already halfway out of the room.
~~~~~~
In the echoing halls of the Salvatore house, Damon sat at his desk, lost in thought. The sudden shrill ring of Stefan's phone startled him. He rose, a languid grace in his movements, and walked over to the device. Elena's name flashed across the screen.
"Stefan's phone. How may I help you?" he answered, his voice laced with his signature sardonic charm.
~~~~~~~~
Elena hurried down the stairs, her heart hammering against her ribs. Panic clawed at her throat, making it hard to breathe.
"Where is he?" she demanded, her voice tight with anxiety.
"He's on his way to you. Forgot his phone," Damon replied, his tone surprisingly even.
Elena stopped abruptly in the living room, a relieved sigh escaping her lips. "Oh, thank God. This compass was spinning... Stefan must be here. Thank you."
Unseen, unheard, just above her, clinging to the ceiling like a grotesque spider, Noah was braced against the ceiling, his eyes locked on Elena, a predator patiently waiting to strike.
"You're welcome," Damon's voice crackled through the phone.
Elena hung up, her gaze sweeping the room, a shiver running down her spine. Suddenly, a blur of motion broke the stillness. Noah dropped from the ceiling, a silent, terrifying descent. Elena spun around, a strangled gasp escaping her lips. He was upon her in an instant, his cold hands gripping her shoulders, his fangs extending, ready to pierce her skin. She screamed, a high-pitched sound of pure terror.
Before Noah could sink his teeth into her neck, a blur of silver flashed past.
"Elena!" Stefan's voice roared from the kitchen, followed by the thunderous sound of him rushing into the room.
He yanked Noah off Elena, throwing him across the room with supernatural force. Elena, caught off balance, crumpled to the floor. Stefan, his face etched with worry, looked down at her, ensuring she was alright. Noah, grunting in pain, scrambled to his feet and, with inhuman speed, vanished out the front door.
Certain that Noah was gone, Stefan knelt beside Elena, pulling her into a tight embrace. She clung to him, her body trembling, her eyes darting towards the open doorway, fear still gripping her.
"Are you okay? Are you okay?" he repeated, his voice thick with concern.
Later, joined by Damon and Ashley, the group gathered in the living room. Damon paced restlessly, his dark eyes narrowed in thought. Stefan sat beside Elena on the couch, his arm securely around her, a silent promise of protection.
"How did he get in?" Damon demanded, breaking the tense silence.
"He was invited in," Elena replied, her voice barely a whisper.
"He posed as a pizza delivery guy last night," Stefan added, his jaw tight.
"Well, he gets points for creativity," Ashley said dryly. "Did he say what he wanted?"
"No. He was too busy trying to kill me," Elena said, her voice still trembling.
"And you two have no idea who this is?" Stefan asked, his eyes fixed on Damon and Ashley.
"No," Damon said, meeting Stefan's gaze. But Stefan looked unconvinced. "Don't look at me like that. I told you we had company."
"You think there's more than one?" Elena asked, her eyes wide with fear.
"We don't know," Damon said grimly.
"Probably," Ashley added, shrugging. Stefan shot her a look. "We have to look at all angles."
Damon perched on the arm of the couch, his gaze intense. "Stefan, he was invited in."
Damon nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. He knew what Stefan was implying.
"Then we go get him tonight," Damon said, turning to Elena. "You up for it?"
"What do I have to do?" Elena asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Let your boyfriend take you to the dance. We'll see who shows up," Damon said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
"That's a bad idea," Stefan protested, his grip tightening on Elena's hand.
"Until we get him, this house isn't safe. For anyone who lives in it. It's worth a shot," Damon said, his voice brooking no argument.
"I agree, plus I would like to avoid another Logan Fell situation," Ashley said firmly.
"I'll do it," Elena said, her gaze unwavering.
Stefan looked anxious, his eyes pleading with her to reconsider. Damon nodded, a silent agreement passing between them. Elena took Stefan's hand in her own, her touch a reassuring warmth.
"I'll be with the three of you," she said, looking directly at Stefan. "I'll be safe."
Stefan nodded slowly, his gaze shifting to Damon, who simply shrugged in response. The plan was set. The game had begun.
~~~~~
The gymnasium of Mystic Falls High pulsed with the saccharine nostalgia of a '50s dance. Balloons shaped like musical notes bobbed against the crepe paper streamers hanging from the ceiling, and the air hummed with the sweet, syrupy melody of "This Magic Moment." Students, decked out in poodle skirts and slicked-back hair, filled the dance floor, their laughter echoing against the walls.
Caroline Forbes, a vision in a pink dress cinched at the waist, spun gracefully with Bonnie Bennett, who sported a stylishly retro, teal swing dress. Caroline's meticulously crafted blonde curls bounced with each step, while Bonnie's dark hair remained perfectly coiffed. Even amidst the lighthearted revelry, an undercurrent of tension thrummed.
Elena Gilbert, her expression a carefully constructed mask of normalcy, entered the gymnasium, Stefan Salvatore at her side, his presence a comforting, familiar shield. But flanking Elena on her other side, a dark shadow in a perfectly tailored suit, stood Damon Salvatore. His eyes, sharp and assessing, scanned the room, searching for any flicker of threat, any sign that tonight's fragile peace might shatter.
Across the room, Alaric Saltzman's face tightened as his gaze locked onto Damon. The easy smile he'd been wearing vanished, replaced by a hard, knowing look. He recognized Damon instantly, the danger he represented a palpable weight in the air.
"Alaric."
Jenna Sommers, radiant in a simple, yet elegant, vintage dress, approached him, breaking his focus. Her voice, a welcome distraction, pulled him back from the precipice of dread.
"Hey, look at you," Alaric said, his voice regaining its warmth as he took in her appearance.
"I figured I'd stand out less if I dressed up," Jenna replied, a playful glint in her eyes.
Alaric chuckled, the sound genuine. "Liar."
"Okay, I'm a sucker for the decade dance," Jenna confessed, her smile widening. "I went to school here, you know. They do the sixties and seventies, too, FYI."
"Oh. Can't wait," Alaric said, his amusement evident. "Can I get you a drink? I hear the punch is real boss."
He smiled, and Jenna's laughter, light and carefree, filled the space between them. With a shared look of contentment, they turned and walked towards the refreshment table, a brief respite from the looming darkness that clung to Mystic Falls.
Elena stood by the punch bowl, the sugary scent doing little to calm her frayed nerves. Her fingers toyed with a delicate, pearl earring, a nervous habit she couldn't seem to shake.
"Having fun?" Caroline asked, her voice laced with playful sarcasm as she and Bonnie approached.
"No, but this took about two hours, so I'm at least staying half of that," Elena replied, forcing a smile.
Caroline and Elena shared a light laugh, but Bonnie's attention was elsewhere. Her dark eyes were fixed on Damon, his presence a constant, unsettling reminder of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface.
"What's Damon doing here?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Elena and Caroline followed Bonnie's gaze to Damon, who was engaged in a seemingly innocuous conversation with Stefan. Elena turned back to her friends, her expression a mixture of apprehension and determination.
"He wanted to come. I promise, he'll behave."
"So, what is this, like, a threesome now, you and the Salvatore brothers?" Caroline quipped, her tone sharp.
"No, but if I'm going to be with Stefan, then I have to learn to tolerate Damon," Elena explained, her voice laced with weariness. "It's not like I can kill him."
Bonnie, her eyes still locked on Damon, spoke softly, a chilling edge to her voice. "There's a thought."
"Mmm. I'll help," Caroline chimed in, a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes.
Suddenly, a new voice joined the conversation, cutting through the tension with surprising lightness. "And I'll bring the shovels."
Ashley turned to Caroline, a wide, smile gracing her face. "Hi."
"Hi," Caroline replied.
"May I have this dance, Milady?" Ashley asked, executing a playful, mock bow.
Caroline's lips curved into a genuine smile. "You may."
Ashley took Caroline's hand, her touch surprisingly warm and reassuring. As they walked onto the dance floor, Ashley leaned in, her voice low and seductive. "That dress is stunning, Caroline. It really brings out the color in your eyes."
Caroline blushed. "Thank you, Ashley. You look... dashing yourself."
As the music shifted to a slow, dreamy melody, they fell into a comfortable rhythm, their bodies swaying in unison. "I've been wanting to ask you to dance all night," Ashley says playing it like this is their first meeting.
"Really?" Caroline murmured, her gaze flitting away, then back to meet Ashley's.
"Absolutely. You're the most beautiful girl in the room," Ashley said, her voice playfull. "And I've always admired your... energy."
Caroline laughed, playing along. "My energy? Is that a nice way of saying I'm a control freak?"
Ashley chuckled. "No, not at all. It's... captivating. You're passionate, driven, and you always know what you want. I find that incredibly attractive."
That resulted a blush from Caroline. She decides to bury her face into Ashley's neck who coo'ed at how adorable Caroline was.
~~~~~~
Across the room, Jeremy is manning the punch bowl. Anna comes out of nowhere and walks up to him.
"You neglected to mention this was a theme party."
"What are you doing here?" Jeremy asks.
"Well, seeing as you also neglected to invite me, I took matters into my own hands." Anna explains.
"You're doin' that thing again." Jeremy tells her.
"What thing would that be?" She asks.
"That thing where you pretend we're dating, even though we're not."
"Oh, you mean stalking. Yeah." Anna says sarcastically before she laughs. "Get over yourself. Come on. I've never been to a school dance before. Humor me."
Jeremy smiles at Anna.