A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay, but alas, the next chapter is here! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the TVD characters/plotlines/dialogue. I only own the Suttons and their storylines.

Chapter 17

Unplanned

The shriek of metal sliding against metal didn't wake her, but the sudden intrusion of light did. A groan filtered through Rebecca's lips, and her eyelids squeezed as if she could shut them tighter. A shadow temporarily saved her.

"Wake up, honey," Damon sang with a sugary voice. Unwilling to open her eyes, she curled beneath the sheets. Her face buried into a pillow… distinctly smelled like Damon. Her eyebrows scrunched together. "Becky," Damon drawled.

"Bastard," a growl slipped through barely parted lips.

From her foggy memory, the two had finished off two more bottles of liquor—one wine, the other, the Salvatore favorite, bourbon—and Rebecca had dissolved into giggles. She remembered Damon's eyebrows rise with amusement as she rambled about her cute little Marble. He stayed uncharacteristically quiet, but she hadn't noticed at the time. She vaguely remembered his arm around her waist as he ushered her swaying body up the stairs… and her hand capturing his wrist. It wasn't a dream when she asked him to stay—though the adulterated thoughts roused by his warm body might have been…

"That's not what you were saying last night," he sang again, throwing himself onto the mattress. She flipped the comforter back and pried an eye open to glare. He was radiant, and his smile was wicked. "'No, Damon, please! Stay! I need you!'"

"Now, why the hell would I ever say that?" With another aggravated groan, Rebecca willed herself to roll into a sitting position. Her vision sharpened at the glaringly white room. "And in what universe is my voice even that high?"

Ignoring her, she felt his cursory glance.

"Cute hair."

"Oh, shut up." She combed her hair down with her fingers. With an aggravated glance, she grumbled, "Why the hell are you waking me at the crack of dawn? Need I remind you that we're—"

"—creatures of the night, yeah, you've used that one already." He met her scowl with a cocky grin. The kind that melted inhibition and seared minds on lonely nights. It would have an effect if she hadn't seen it time and time again, used on both herself and other young ladies. "And it's almost noon."

"Okay, it's almost noon—whatever."

"Well, usually, when I sleep with a girl, I whip up a little naked-breakfast." His eyebrows waggled despite her flat expression. "But, considering our 'sleeping together' was less fun and more conventional, I figured I'd, at least, buy you some breakfast."

Rebecca hummed absentmindedly and pulled the comforter from her legs. With a chill, she realized they were bare. "When did my pants come off? Jesus, that would explain so much…"

"What do you mean?"

Rebecca's eyes traveled sheepishly to Damon's, but the glitter in his eyes was too sparkly for his question to be innocent. She gasped and thudded his chest.

"You gave me those dirty dreams last night!" she accused through an escaped laugh. His brows fell into a mockingly pensive expression.

"Now why would I do that?"

"Because you're a dick," she hissed.

"If you're referring to—" His perverse train of thought was cut short by the pillow slammed into his face. He laughed, tossing it back to her retreating body.

"I'm pretty sure that's considered cheating." Damon's smile sagged, and she smirked, pleased with her accusation's effect. "I mean, I know the leash is pretty short, but—"

"Beck."

She rolled her eyes and pushed herself out of the plush bedding. She stretched with her linked hands over her head and then bent to touch her toes. She peered at Damon through her shins. She smirked at his knowing glare at the ceiling

"Okay, so breakfast," she announced as she righted herself. "Meaning Whitmore, right?"

Damon nodded. "I've been trying to invite Bonnie, but she's not returning any of my messages." Rebecca snorted as she lifted her suitcase onto the dresser across the room. "Do you know something I don't, Beck?"

"You didn't even say hi to her at the party last night, dude." Rebecca wiggled her fingers as she chose a hair tie. "Your loss. She looked hot as hell."

"Bon always looks…" Damon's automatic retort faltered as Rebecca tossed an expectant look over her shoulder. Damon pressed his lips together, and Rebecca's amusement crinkled the corners of her eyes. "Maybe you should text her."

"Just use my phone. It's on the nightstand."

The silence following her vague wave indicated he actually did as told. She lifted the sundress Caroline made her buy and scrutinized the tiny yellow birds on blue fabric. She had only agreed to buy it because Caroline spun a long hypothetical tale about being around for spring and something about Easter. Rebecca sighed, shaking her head with a little smile. She pulled off her tank top, rooted around for a bra, and slipped the dress over her head. Tightening her ponytail, she turned to meet Damon's unblinking gaze.

"I forgot how much of a tease you are." Her gaze brightened as his glossed over her briefly. "You have an unread message, by the way." He extended the phone, but she just shrugged.

"I'll check it later."

Her phone chirped, and Damon tilted it for a better view. His face immediately twisted as he read it.

"Who the hell is the 'handsome vampire'?" he exasperated as if he was the only handsome vampire to ever step into Bonnie's life. The mention of Enzo made Rebecca's blood run cold—she felt Damon's eyes track her tiny pause—but she replied with another snort.

"Enzo." Her throat seemed to close, hearing his name in her voice, like an allergic reaction. She cleared it. "If you don't want to get food, we should at least—"

"She's with Enzo?" Damon demanded. Rebecca's shoulders slumped as she rolled her eyes. "Why is she with him?"

"He probably liked what he saw last night." Rebecca flopped onto the bed and took her phone from Damon's grip. A few executive swipes later, she turned the screen toward the skeptical Damon. "See?"

The picture encapsulated the thick tension between the little witch and the suave vampire. Both had their chins tilted indignantly to the other though the sparkle was clear in both sets of eyes. Damon's ones darkened as they fixed on the picture. His jaw tightened. Rebecca had seen this look only a few times before, in passing—usually when she had mentioned her current flame was one of his friends.

"Hey, Bonnie is a big girl, and unless you are jealous," Damon's head snapped up to meet Rebecca's pointed stare, "we should really get a move on this breakfast thing 'cause I am starved."

"Breakfast is ready!" Stefan's announcement rose only slightly higher than normal volume.

"I thought you were treating me…" Rebecca's staged pout wasn't enough to drag Damon out of his funk. Her expression slackened, and her lip curled. "Are you going to do this," she gestured to his face with splayed fingers, "all day?"

Damon's glare kept Rebecca's disinterested gaze for a beat before he rolled his eyes. With a flourish, he was on his feet; he bowed and offered a hand. Rebecca dramatized a wide curtesy before taking his hand.

"You know, Goldilocks," Damon breathed near her ear as they came to the foot of the stairs, "it seems like you're the jealous one."

Rebecca's glare drilled into the back of his skull as he flounced around the corner.

Caroline wasn't foreign to the idea of a pregnancy test. Back in high school, desperate for attention, she wasn't exactly the most difficult girl to get on her back, if it meant "affection". Twice, she purchased a pregnancy test with shaky hands and a red face. In the back of her mind, she knew she was overreacting when her period didn't come the exact day it had the month before, but her jittery anxiety got the best of her.

She thought those days over.

The knot of nerves that usually accompanied the three-minute wait wasn't there because she was almost positive—no pun intended—that she wasn't pregnant. Positive that Valerie was playing some kind of mind game on her and Alaric, like a cruel twist of a knife into his heart. It was probably more for her because she was Stefan, and anyone with eyes could see Valerie was still head-over-heels for him. It was odd, to Caroline, that Valerie had harbored affections for Stefan, even after his presumed death, but Caroline chalked it up to heightened 'vampire longing'.

Whatever. To appease Alaric, she did the test.

Edging out of the dormitory bathroom, Caroline pursed her lips, displaying the pregnancy test. Alaric, distracted by the packaging, glanced up at the sound of the door unlocking. How awkward. Caroline vaguely wondered how many times he waited for a girl to pee on a stick and sat with her until the results showed. Alaric was attractive enough for the possibility of multiple sleeping partners, but he was kind enough for the possibility of sticking around to be a father too. She pressed her lips tighter.

"Well, it's simple enough. Two lines, you're pregnant—one line, you're not."

"And how many lines if you've been mystically knocked up by a coven of dead witches?" The sarcastic line—a jab at Alaric's light tone and, ultimately, his sanity—clearly missed its target. Alaric's amused smirk indicated he had none left. She sat on Bonnie's bed and sighed.

"Guess we'll find out in three minutes." He copied her action, sat on the edge of her bed, and set his cell phone down. Her eyes darted to the slow countdown on his screen.

"This is crazy," she declared for the hundredth time, glaring at the ceiling. "I mean, you're an Occult studies professor—have you ever come across anything about a pregnant vampire?"

"No," he admitted. A triumph smile almost parted Caroline's lips, but he continued, "But, until a few weeks ago, I'd never heard of a stone that was full of tormented vampire souls either."

His feeble smile, coupled with his lighthearted jokes was his attempt to ease her tension. Not that she was tense. Rather, not that she should be tense, considering she was not pregnant… The more she waited, though, the less turbulent her thoughts became and doubt began to settle.

"But how would it even be possible?" she persisted. She noticed the minuscule twitch of Alaric's face. Her voice was getting annoying like it did whenever she got exasperated trying to make a point. Stefan had pointed it out to her and mentioned he thought it was cute. She doubted Alaric had the same sentiments. "I'm technically dead."

"Well, your body basically functions normally," Alaric reasoned. She felt his eyes set on her downcast face. "Your heart beats, you breathe. I mean, is it that far outside the realm of possibility that your body could support a baby… or two?"

It was her turn to stare. He looked like a puppy sometimes, she supposed, when he wanted. Dopey eyes, crooked but affectionate smile. He was like those dogs that have extra empathetic sense. She toyed with the pregnancy test without really looking at it. Looking through it.

"Why would the coven want me to…?" came her nearly inaudible whisper.

"I don't think they had a choice," Alaric confessed. Caroline's gaze snapped up to connect with his. "The Geminis were all dying. They couldn't just let the future of their coven perish along with them… So, they put the babies someplace safe… inside a body that… that wouldn't die."

Caroline had always said Stefan was the champion of avoiding problems.

After last night's failed attempts to kill the object of his hatred, being brutally tossed around like driftwood in a storm, and his openhearted confessions to his brother and old friend, Stefan had woken up with a stiff neck and the company of three empty bourbon bottles. Maybe if he stayed in bed, forgot the plan, just laid there until hunger got the best of him or he started desiccating… he'd be okay.

He turned over, away from the curtain muted sunlight and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. No messages. A rock of guilt weighed on his chest as he tossed the device aside and stared at the ceiling.

Pushing himself out of the plush solace, he showered to clear his buzzing mind and decided to make a breakfast vast enough to feed a full Mystic Falls sounded like the best idea he'd had in years. He snuck downstairs as the sun twinkled past the treetops, and went to work. He made waffles from scratch; then, he worked on omelets full of mushrooms, tomatoes, bell peppers, onions, cheese, and sausage. He topped the meal with copious amounts of bacon, for Damon's liking, and various fruits, for Rebecca's old habits.

Damon had seemed slightly irritated by his impulse, but Rebecca's heart and mind seemed to be in the same place as Stefan's.

"Oh, bless your heart, Stefan Salvatore!"

Stefan chuckled as Rebecca finished her last wedge of waffle doused in syrup, with a childish sound effect. He shot a glance at Damon; his brother's eyes fell on Rebecca's theatrics with faint amusement. He raised a brow at the younger Salvatore; something about the reunion felt oddly… comfortable.

Rebecca reached for the bowl of evenly sliced fruits—Stefan spent extra time cutting them—and he watched her pour a tall heap onto her plate. Her eyes were wide and bright as she watched the slices tumble out of the bowl, but she recovered quickly when she caught both brothers watching her with smirks. She stuck out her tongue.

"You know, I was planning on taking Beck out for breakfast," Damon commented idly. He munched on his extra crispy bacon as he raised his eyebrows to Stefan.

"I'm sure no diner was going to lavish us like Steffy." Rebecca leaned over and pinched Stefan's cheek affectionately. "Ooh, you know what'd go perfectly with this meal?" she inquired with a halved cherry in her mouth.

Stefan watched the fruit juice drip a little down the center of lip carelessly. Damon already held a napkin out for her; when she took it, he disappeared from the table for less than a minute. He returned with two blood bags. Rebecca grinned.

"It's like you read my mind."

"Well, it's not like much is going on up there, Blondie," Damon retorted as he forced the blood into mugs. Rebecca scrunched her face in protest, causing Damon to imitate her, but Stefan stilled at the nickname.

Damon called Caroline that.

Stefan forced a low chuckle, sounding more like a cough to him, and continued working on his three-egg omelet. Something about cooking always made him less hungry. Must be something psychological. The stale smell of the blood made the food taste like ash in comparison anyway.

"Seriously, Stef, this is amazing," Rebecca gushed, putting a hand over his with a smile. "Who knew you'd learn to… well," she interrupted herself and pointed her fork at him. "Actually, Abby always said you'd be the perfect husband." She waved a dismissive hand as she stabbed another fruit. "Well-rounded and all that."

"I didn't realize Abby could actually talk with barking orders," Damon muttered as he leaned against the counter next to the microwave. Stefan caught the play look he cast the blonde vampire, but it faltered at her genuine yet faint agitation.

"Abigail talked about me?" Stefan interjected before Rebecca could snap a response. Damon snorted, setting a steaming mug in front of Rebecca. Stefan's gums itched at the aroma.

"I totally forgot about your crush on her." Stefan's gaze darkened as Damon nudged Rebecca with his elbow and whispered loudly behind a hand, "He used to write full pages in his diary about her hair alone."

"Journal," Stefan corrected automatically, "and I didn't—"

Rebecca's laughter cut off his flustered attempts. "That's adorable," she managed to say. Damon smirked proudly, shooting a devious look to his younger brother. Stefan's look was sharper. "And would certainly explain all the time you and Sammy spent doing chores for her."

"Well, it's not like we offered," Stefan protested. "Her chores were mandatory!"

"You liked it," Damon insisted, sipping the blood from his mug noisily. "You just wanted to impress her with your prepubescent charms."

"Speaking of charms," Stefan said over Rebecca's muffled laughter, "my innocent infatuation with Abby was nothing compared to your thing with Julia."

The smile on Rebecca's face sagged as her eyes darted between the brothers. Stefan's gaze didn't fall away from his brother's piercing one. Damon's smile curled a little tighter.

"And what thing did I have with Jules, huh, Stefan?" Damon challenged. Stefan noticed his fork bend in his fist. "Since you know so much, refresh my memory."

"All right, wait." Rebecca cleared her throat and held up a hand. Stefan noticed her averted eyes. "Damon has had many a thing with several girls… enough for a couple lifetimes, it seems now." Her smile was taut as she added, "Or did you forget who your brother was?"

"No, but really, Beck is right—you really outdid yourself," Damon shifted topics abruptly. His smile lacked warmth as he added, "Though I'm glad you didn't make pancakes."

"Why's that?" Rebecca inquired through a full mouth.

"Because my 'vamp-cakes' are to die for," Damon grinned at his own joke. Stefan caught Rebecca's inquiring look and rolled his eyes.

"He puts whipped-cream smiley faces on his pancakes," he explained offhandedly, "and adds fangs because he's trying to be cute."

"Sounds like someone's trying too hard," she retorted. Damon threw her a narrowed glance, but she continued with a sunny smile, "but I would've happily been the taste judge. Breakfast is my favorite."

"Glad that hasn't changed," Stefan smiled and remembered a young Rebecca eagerly waiting for one of their mothers to finish breakfast. She popped a blueberry into her mouth with a smile and a hum. "Though, I'd say voluntarily wearing a dress doesn't seem like the Becca I remember."

"Oh, it's not," she replied automatically, glancing down at the crumbs littering the neckline. She dusted them away as she explained, "Your girlfriend made me buy it."

Again, Stefan felt paralyzed at the mention of Caroline. He hadn't really thought about her since Valerie had revealed the death of their unborn baby. Despite the breakfast they shared yesterday, his mind was full to the brim with revenge.

"Speaking of which, why isn't she here?" Rebecca regarded Stefan with innocent eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be showing off your mad culinary skills or something?"

"She, um…" Stefan's eyes rose to meet Damon's blank stare, barely flitting over to Rebecca's expectant gaze. He chased a blueberry around with his fork. "She hasn't been answering my messages." One singular message, from last night, in a fleeting moment of wishing she was at the party with him.

Sure he wasn't supposed to, Stefan noted Rebecca's bright gaze slide between the brothers. Damon caught her eye and frowned. Stefan felt like he was out of the loop, another sentiment when Damon and Rebecca were in the same room.

"Interesting," she mused with a high-pitched drawl. She pulled her lips in, to keep herself from smiling. "Well, would you like to text her from my phone?" She produced her cell phone like it was a secret joke.

"You suck," Damon declared suddenly. Stefan's confusion snapped between his brother's scowl and Rebecca's girlish giggle.

"Maybe, but at least, I'm not having any girl trouble."

Girl trouble…? Damon was… seeing someone? It wasn't impossible, but Damon had a bad case of tunnel vision when he fell head over heels for a girl. Who could he possibly be involved with—that Rebecca knew about and not his own brother?

"You're… seeing someone?" Stefan ventured cautiously. Damon rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh, and Rebecca stood with a proud smile.

"And that is my cue to head out. Thanks for breakfast, Stef," she leaned to press a kiss on his forehead.

The brothers remained in silence until they heard the front door slam in true Rebecca fashion. Stefan turned to Damon with raised eyebrows, and Damon rolled his eyes again.

"She was talking about Bonnie," Damon finally admitted, adding a nonchalant shrug. "Bonnie's been avoiding my messages. Beck let me borrow her phone, and Bonnie answered."

"You're seeing... Bonnie?"

"What—no, Stefan." Damon shook his head, tipping the mug of blood all the back like it was a glass of bourbon. "No, … but Bonnie's a girl, and it seems like I'm in trouble with her." Damon eyed Stefan curiously before awkwardly offering, "Want to talk about your dilemma with Carebear?"

Despite appreciating his brother's attempt to be sensitive, the last thing Stefan wanted to talk to Damon about was his love life. Instead, Stefan produced a meager smile.

"She's probably busy. You know how Caroline gets."

"Yeah." Damon's perceptive gaze glossed over his brother with a pitying nod. "Yeah, I know how she gets."

The cheery chime of his cell phone sliced through the tension in the room—and Alaric's heart leaped shamelessly. Despite appearing calm and reasonable, he knew his body was telling another story. Caroline probably heard his erratic heartbeat, smelled his sweaty palms, and noticed his tense muscles. That full minute of silence between the two made Alaric's skin itch.

His eyes trained on Caroline's face as she studied the little screen on the pregnancy test. Her face pinched. What did that mean? It could've been a good-news expression (bad news for her, being wrong about Valerie, but he didn't care), or… it could have been a bad-news expression (for him, obviously, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings). Was she being elusive on purpose? Caroline was beautiful, and unfortunately, she was also smart and cunning. Was this a cruel practical joke? Didn't sound like something she'd do. Oh God, he needed to know! If she didn't say something in the next few seco—

Caroline pursed her lips, switched from Bonnie's bed to hers, and passed the plastic to Alaric. He had to force himself to look—so he did a mental countdown.

Three.

Two.

He snuck a look before he could think the final number. He stared for a long time, his own eyebrows coming together. How…?

"Negative." Alaric's eyes shifted away from the single line on the little screen, and he let his hand fall onto his lap. He looked straight into Caroline's soul as if he could see she was pregnant from his deep eye-search. "I don't understand." His voice cracked, but Caroline's gaze never wavered. "I-I mean, Valerie was so certain…"

"Well, I guess she was wrong… or playing some twisted game." Caroline shook her head, dissipating her anger. She glanced down at the pregnancy test in his hand. "Either way, I trust that," she pointed, "a lot more than I trust her."

Her words made sense. He could—theoretically-comprehend everything she was saying. They just didn't make an impact. Alaric still felt his hope being stripped away, layer by layer until his raw cynicism was left. Jo died, someone in her body came back—fooled him for a while—and then she died again. The hope of the babies rose in him, and this piece of plastic shot his final chance, peeling back the last protective layer.

"And I'm sorry," whispered Caroline. His eyes flickered up, seeing her creased brow and a little frown. "I know how much you wanted this."

No, he needed this, but he didn't correct her. Instinctively, he reached to soothe her, rubbing his hand against her back. He didn't know if he was projecting or if he was being empathetic… Or just pathetic. A twinkling sound came from behind them, and Caroline twisted to reach into her bag.

"Hey, Matt." She turned away from Alaric and muttered, "Now's not a really good ti…" Matt interrupted her attempt to deter him, and Alaric heard her sharp exhale.

Alaric looked down at the pregnancy test again, as if staring at it would make another little blue line appear next to the other. Pregnancy tests were wrong all the time. When he was in college, a girl he had slept with a few times declared she was pregnant, but a quick trip to the doctor's office proved the test was a false positive.

"I think she's with Enzo."

Maybe this was a false negative… He knew it would harass her, but if he could just convince Caroline—

"I don't know," Caroline exasperated. "Were you able to clear them out?" Alaric raised a brow without raising his gaze. Sounded suspicious. "Why would someone compel people to gather at the high school in an abandoned town?"

That caught Alaric's attention. He stared at Caroline's wavy hair as her shoulders tensed. The sound of Matt's low voice had stopped as she called, "Matt...!" A beat later, her cautious, "Matt…?" made the hairs on the back of Alaric's neck stand.

The young man's voice returned after a moment. Caroline sighed, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"I'll… I'll text you." She hung up and turned to face Alaric again, but her eyes sheepishly stayed away from his. "Something is going on in Mystic Falls."

"I caught that."

"Matt sounds really distressed… I think I should go help him—if that's all right with you."

Alaric looked down at the thin piece of plastic in his hand again. He knew he shouldn't be alone for a while—hell, he should go with Caroline and Matt, considering he was the veteran vampire hunter. Caroline may be the muscle they need, but Alaric knew how to protect strategically. Yet…

"He'll need backup," Alaric finally found his voice. He allowed a small smile though it felt more like a grimace. "Who'd be better for the job than Caroline Forbes?"

"Probably anyone else, but Matt doesn't really trust anyone else." She ducked her head, hiding her small smile. "Thanks, though." She put her hand over Alaric's, rubbing her thumb over the back. Alaric sighed. "I'm a phone call away if you need to talk."

Rebecca took a deep breath. She checked her dress for any more crumbs and smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles from it. The sun directly over the Salvatore boarding house was a spotlight. She walked up the pathway, taking deep breathes as she finally reached the large door. She wasn't afraid, she continued to remind herself as one lead foot followed the other.

She was Rebecca Sutton—the girl who cheated the death everyone thought she deserved.

She slammed the heavy knocker against the door at an annoying rate until it finally swung open. Expecting Lily's irritated scowl, her obnoxious smile refined into something more polite as the Heretic who had brought the party invitation stood in the doorway.

"Oh, hello there. Beau, right?" Knowing he couldn't reply, she continued. "Yeah, Stefan told me all about you, and how you tried to kill him, Damon, and Valerie. Kind of bummed you didn't succeed with her, though, she's always been a pain the ass—don't you agree?" She paused and allowed a light laugh. "Of course you agree—you've known her infinitely longer than I."

Beau raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes scrutinizing the blonde with a heavy scowl and a set jaw. Another elastic smile parted her lips.

"Oh right— you're probably wondering why I'm here." Her bright features crumpled into feigned concern. "Though, what I'm wondering is why they stuck the only black Heretic on door-duty. That's just plain racist, dude. But, I do suppose if they had put any of the girls to do it, that'd be sexist…" She tapped her chin, despite his danger glare. "Perhaps you should have a word with—" Her fake shock dropped into a snarky grin. "Oops, poor choice of wor—oh, shit."

Beau raised a hand, undoubtedly, to deliver a whole word of pain to Rebecca, but she clicked her tongue against her teeth with a patronizing wagging finger.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, honey," she sang. "I'm linked to Julian."

Her bright eyes drank in the facets of emotion crossing Beau's face. His eyes widened with disbelief, studying the younger vampire curiously, before falling into a narrowed gaze, darkened by suspicion. Rebecca laughed.

"Oh, you don't believe me? Try something," she goaded him with a playful smile. "Come on, Beau, I dare ya."

"Beau, who's…"

Rebecca's wicked smile nearly split her face as the Heretic couple came into the foyer, flanking Beau instinctually. Mary Louise's nostrils flared as her eyes pierced Rebecca's nonchalance, but Nora's gaze was more curious than vicious.

"Well, if it isn't 'Sue the Human'." Rebecca nearly felt Nora's glance take inventory of her silhouette. The visitor smiled politely.

"Actually, it's Rebecca the vampire," she amended.

"What is this trash doing on our doorstep?" Mary Louise interrupted, her eyes like daggers. Nora shot her a threatening glance, but her girlfriend didn't t retract her harsh demand.

"Well, Beau's a little tongue-tied right now, but I'm sure he'd tell you all about Julian's brilliant idea to link my life to his." She paused to revel in the girls' shock. "Now, where is your adoptive father? I need to have a word with him."

"If you are telling the truth," Nora started, studying Rebecca's flat expression, "Why would he even do so? Julian would have told us about something like that."

"Besides, he has a whole group of powerful witches at his disposal," Mary Louise scoffed. Her arms folded tightly across her chest as she pouted. "None of us would have allowed him to do something so incredibly stupid."

"Stupid," Rebecca echoed. She chuckled a little. "Yeah, I can't disagree with you on that one. But allow? Now, we all know no one allows Julian to do anything. But please, if you don't believe me, drive me straight to my knees." She quirked a suggestive eyebrow as her eyes traveling between the three easily.

Mary Louise's jaw tightened. Beau's glare remained fixed. Nora was the only one to return the provocative gaze.

"No takers? Shame." Rebecca's playful features drew sharper. "Now, I need to talk to Julian."

"Who linked the two of you?" Mary Louise pressed. "It wasn't one of us."

"Ah, maybe not, but if my math is correct, there are… one, two, three…" Rebecca looked up thoughtfully, drawing tallies in the air. "Plus the exiled Valerie—smart move, by the way—a heartless Malcolm, and a soulless Oscar." Rebecca's gaze fell back to switch between the three. "What makes you think Julian would have chosen any of you numb-skulls for his bidding?"

She felt the sting of Mary Louise's backhanded anger against her face, but she wasn't the only one to suck in a sharp inhale. The three Heretics stilled at the sound from within the boarding house, and Rebecca took their momentary shock to deliver a hard punch to Mary Louise's nose and saunter past her purposefully.

The sound of a turned page caught her attention. Her gaze tapered at the profile of Julian's lounging body in an armchair among the wall of books. A sharp smile tugged on his face as he rubbed his cheek. He finally met her gaze, and she sped over before he could get to his feet.

"Miss Becca," he greeted warmly. He leaned forward in his seat eagerly. She crossed her arms with a scoff. "Always a pleasure to be in your presence."

"Yeah, that 'Miss Becca' bit caught Enzo's attention," Rebecca spat. "He's got us all figured out and cornered me last night."

"Are you ashamed, my dear?" Julian inquired. Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Speaking of last night… I do admit I was rather surprised that you had shown up. The last time I saw you, you wanted nothing to do with me."

"Well, we both know it's a little more complicated than that," Rebecca seethed, "and I was here for Damon and Stefan—not you."

"Ah, Lily's boys." Julian's chuckle made the hairs on the back of her neck raise. "Of course you came for them."

"Well, you were supposed to be dead," she hissed.

"And like the phoenix…"

"We both know that's not why it's called that." Rebecca rolled her eyes again, taking Julian's glass of whiskey and tossed it back without a flinch. His eyes glittered as her brazen behavior. "So, what's the plan then, hmm? Take over the town? For what? I see your bitch already got the ball rolling."

"Don't you dare talk about Lily like that." His hardened voice felt like claws piercing Rebecca's throat, depriving her of oxygen. A wave of fear flushed her cheeks momentarily but Julian didn't miss it. "I-I'm sorry, darling."

He stood and closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around Rebecca's stone body. At one point in her life, the moment would have been endearing and soothing. Now, she felt like his body was a thick smoke, encasing her, suffocating her.

"I am sorry, for it all. Calling you a pet. Attacking you. Darling, you must know, I wasn't myself." Julian's grip embraced her close to his erratic heartbeat. "The Stone… it really does play tricks on the mind."

"All right." She pushed him away and inhaled a clear breath. Freedom. "So, what are you planning? A permanent snack shack called 'Mystic Falls'? The Salvatore boys will do anything to stop you from destroying their town. They haven't exactly given up, you know."

"They got their mother's stubborn gene," Julian mused with a thoughtful smile. "Do you know what they're planning?"

"I don't." Rebecca forced a shrug. Part of the reason she made this trip was to stay out of the loop; she didn't want to betray her old friends, and, in addition to their reasons, she had her own for wanting their success.

Suddenly, his predatory gaze fixed on her casual features. He probably heard the fear beginning to course through her veins. "And what about you, Miss Becca? This was your town also."

Rebecca's expression darkened, despite the dangerous smile parting her lips. "Well, Julian, you know exactly why I have no choice but to be on your side."

Julian smiled, a sick twist of pride, and cupped her face affectionately. Every muscle in her body was still, remembering the same hand crushing her trachea and delivering few blows to the stomach.

"You must hate me," he whispered, his gaze sweeping down her face curiously.

"Innately," she replied immediately. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "But you saved me from permanent death, and I am sired to you—and you linked your life to mine, so…"

"Stay for lunch," Julian urged, letting his hand fall from her face. "I'll explain everything."

The eighth cranial nerve, called the auditory nerve, the acoustic nerve, and/or the auditory vestibular nerve, is the main nerve for auditory sensory information input, Bonnie read. Her eyebrows came together. Well, of course it is—it's part of the name? She sighed, bouncing her eyebrows at the text, before continuing.

"What are you reading?"

Her green gaze snapped up from the text but drilled into the glove compartment—instead of into the air-filled skull of the driver. She could hear the playful curiosity in his tone, but she didn't want to indulge his boredom. She held up the textbook, displaying the cover, before slapping it back onto her bare thighs.

Bonnie's cell phone had more traffic that morning than any other Wednesday of her life. Even if her birthday had fallen on a Wednesday, she wouldn't have so many messages. It wasn't a surprise that most of them were from Damon, though. Hadn't given a second to notice her in her magical blue dress last night, but this morning, he was all about Bonnie.

Good morning!

Morning Little Bird, I wanted to treat you & Beck to breakfast. What do you say?

Bon-Bon, are you still sleeping?

Don't you have class today? Skip em anyways

Bonnieeeeee

On a scale from 1 to Bennett witch, how mad would you be if we just showed up at your door?

Wow, not even Barbie is answering her phone. R U guys having a pillow fight w/o me

Ok… what did I do?

Bonnie had sighed, dismissing the in-between messages of random emojis, rolled her shoulders, and started to reply when she noticed the other sender's name scroll across her screen. What had Enzo been doing, contacting her?

Morning luv. Fancy a trip to the boondocks?

Guess who found Oscar's car. Thought some backup would be nice

Bonnie had frowned at the message. Actually, she frowned at the sudden prickle of heat rising in her chest. Enzo requesting her attention—let alone her presence and company—was so bizarre and unexpected… and she had to toss the idea around for a moment, bumping between the pros and cons of spending a day with the British vampire.

"Neurophysiology," Enzo commented. "So you can do that little witch trick better."

His childish humor, parallel to Damon's own dark and traipsing on the border of inappropriate humor, was one of the various cons she grappled with.

With flared curls, Bonnie studied Enzo as he sat, ten and two, and dark eyes gracing the road. His jaw was something Michelangelo must have carved—maybe he was that old. Who knows? Not her. The stubble covering his stark jawline, dripping down to his neck…

Yeah, that was definitely one of the pros .

A sharp smile ticked up as he shot her an expectant glance. Bonnie always thought it was unfair how nature and magic made vampires fast, strong, and gorgeous. They were the perfect predator, and Bonnie could see why one could become a victim so easily.

"Precisely."

"Well, put a bookmark in it. We're here."

Enzo parked the car on the edge of the impound, compelled the man in the dingy little hut to allow them in, and marched through the gravelly lot. Bonnie treaded the pebbles lightly in her heels.

"Why would a centuries-old vampire with a bunch of witch groupies be so desperate to find anything collecting dust in the Midlothian Count impound? Seems a little beneath him." As she stole a glance at the vampire, her heel sunk into a hill of rocks, and she would have fallen had Enzo not caught her elbow. He allowed a terse smile; her gaze was sharp. "Thanks."

Ignoring her gratitude, he said, "Well, if Julian wants it, then so do I."

"We talking about Oscar's car or Lily?" Bonnie prodded. Enzo shot her a dark look, but her smile was bright and teasing. "You're not doing this to stop a psychopath. You just want the girl."

Enzo's face broke into a sarcastic smile. "Congratulations!" he announced with a flourished gesture. "You've just unlocked every man's true motivation in life."

"Let me give you some advice—stop treating Lily like some prize to be won."

"Spoken like somebody's who's never been fought over."

Bonnie had seen Stefan and Damon fight over Elena for years. She had already known her best friend enjoyed every second of it, soaking in the attention, without Elena's explicit confession—but Bonnie had always wondered how she would react if she was in her best friend's shoes. At first, she admitted to herself, she'd be flattered. After a while, though, she wouldn't want love to be dictated by fate or who won her over—her Grams taught her to be strong and levelheaded, and choosing between two men would need both of those attributes. Besides, being fought over was barbaric. Childish. Insulting. She wouldn't tolerate it.

Yet, Enzo's offhanded quip stung. It agitated her like she wanted to burn him or send him to his knees in withering pain. Did he not think she was worth fighting over? What a dick.

Bonnie threw the vampire a look, hiding her vulnerability behind an indignant glare. "It's not the turn-on you think it is." Not that she would know. What she did know, however… "Try flowers. A quiet dinner. Listening." Enzo chuckled like she was naïve. A bright car caught her eye, and she checked the strip of paper Enzo had scribbled on. "Found it."

"I'm assuring Julian doesn't want it for its blue book value," Enzo mumbled. "Charming."

The low timbre of his voice gave her goosebumps. What was her problem today? She was never so easily… persuaded by the physicality of a man before. How was Enzo any different than previous cases?

She focused on the trunk Enzo had pried open. He lifted the spare tire easily, tossing it aside, and rummaged through the trash. A few Playboys, a brochure for Hawaii, spare clothes, a pair of worn out sneakers, tons of maps, and even a box of candles. There was a piece of cloth beneath it all, in a hole carved out of the trunk, and Enzo uncovered a sword.

"I'll wager this is what Julian's looking for." He inspected the sword with a frown. It was too small for him, but it was the perfect size for Bonnie. "Wonder what makes it so special."

"I think I've seen that before," Bonnie murmured, her eyes doing a general sweep of the artifact. "When I was doing research on the Stone. Let me see what I can dig up." She gripped the weapon, ready to clear her mind of everything but magic, but Enzo fought her reach.

"No—I don't need research to tell me which side has the pointy end," Enzo sneered. Bonnie's gaze narrowed. How brutish. "What do we need to know?"

"If he wants to kill someone with it or he's worried about being killed by it," Bonnie countered easily, trying to take the sword back. Enzo wouldn't relent. Was she the only person who exercised common sense these days?

"Well, there's only one way to find out," Enzo retorted with a sharp smile. Predatory. Anger ignited in the witch, but also… something else. "Ram it through his chest and see what happens."

"Oh, I know what's not going to happen," Bonnie pressed with raised brows. "Lily falling hopelessly in love with the person who murdered her sweetheart." Enzo paused, letting go of the sword and studied the witch.

"Not if I make it look like self-defense."

"Good idea," Bonnie chirped sarcastically. "Go pick a fight with an extremely powerful, unhinged ancient vampire. Should work out great!"

Enzo paused his inspection of the small weapon and surveyed the small witch instead. She paused, her muscles frozen as his scrutiny glossed over her; she could practically feel his gaze peering straight through her. A smile crawled across his face.

"Is that a hint of… concern for me that I detect in your voice?"

Bonnie immediately scoffed. It was easy to do because of his tone, but had he had been sincere, she didn't know how she'd react.

"Now that I think about it, go ahead and kill each other." She shoved the sword onto his chest, holding her hands up, indicating she was done. "Win-win for me."

Today wasn't exactly a good day in Damon's book.

It started out in a hazy stumble downstairs, to more bourbon, only to find a pensive Rebecca and to learn about her marriage to his (very) late childhood friend and about her motherhood. Rebecca Sutton—or, rather, Rebecca Garner as a mother—now that was a scenario Damon never thought she'd be in. Rebecca spent years proclaiming her womb would never conceive a child, especially if it were to make a man happy… and yet, Damon knew that was the only reason Rebecca would even consider it. Aside from her brothers and the Salvatores, Michael Garner was the closest friend she had, despite the several teenaged hookups.

The night turned and bordered danger territory. Damon had laced his arm around her waist as he led her to her room, and he had set her onto the bed unceremoniously. With amusement, he waited for her to fight out of those bright sweatpants, and he tucked her under the blanket dutifully.

"Why are you leaving?" she had pouted.

"Because you're a big girl now," Damon had teased, knowing the humor would be lost on the drunk blonde. "And big girls sleep all by themselves."

Rebecca propped herself up on her elbows and stared Damon down with a wide-eyed look.

"But I don't want to be by myself." She shook her head, her hair falling away from her shoulder, and her gaze pierced his as if she was trying to compel him. "Stay."

Damon knew the look that glistened in her honey eyes was more an invitation than a request—he would know, having given and received the look thousands of times—but he convinced himself they both had one drink too many to be held responsible. He took off his clothes, left in his boxers, and slipped under the blanket with her.

Before he folded his hands behind his head, he had pointed at her, mocking a stern voice. "Now, no funny business, Beck. I'm only allowing one good grope, and that's it, okay?"

Her aberrant giggle, punctuated by a hiccup, made him smile a little. She curled close to him without touching him, with her hands tucked under her cheek, and she fell asleep immediately.

He knew he should have left, but it had felt like his body was just a heavy bag of bones. He hadn't been tired, but he also couldn't move. The deep stretch of her breath, the softness of it hitting his side, made him long for the days he had a girl in his bed. When Elena slept, her face was slack and unyielding. Rebecca's sleep was littered with all sorts of minuscule facial tics. It was amusing, for a while, but then, he did something he really shouldn't have—slipped into her dreams.

Though she thought he had given her naughty dreams, all he did was allow the advances she was already making. She'd hug him, and he'd hug her back. She'd lean in to kiss him, and he wouldn't stop when her mouth connected with his. The dreams never got very far, always morphing into another dream that started and ended in similar places—flirting progressing into making out with heavy touching. Damon realized that's all the two of them knew of one another anyways. It was like they were the same fumbling, experimental teenagers, just in their adult bodies.

When he had woken up—a pan clanged downstairs—Rebecca's arms were snaked around him, clinging to him like he was her salvation, and her bare leg draped over both of his, rubbing it against one subconsciously. He had to take a cold shower after that, scrubbing away the indecent thoughts and the prickly scent of peppermint.

And then, after that, it was downhill. Bonnie's avoidance, her playdate with Enzo—the bastard ex-best friend that not only had the hots for his mother and now Bonnie?—Stefan's intrusion on his own quality time with his best friend from the past and his best friend of the present and future, and now, this.

Stefan ushered Lily from the kitchen, where she set her roasted cranberries on the counter, and he offered her a seat in the Lockwood sitting room. When Stefan had said he wanted to recruit someone to help bring Julian down, Damon thought Stefan was going to reach out to one of the Mikaelsons, or someone Damon didn't know about during their time apart. What he didn't expect was Stefan's plan to involve their mother, hoping she'd plot against her lover. Damon sat in the shadowy part of the room with tightly crossed arms.

He had fabricated plans that bordered insanity, but Stefan's plan was a leap off the deep end.

"I invited you here because… we can't keep doing this." Stefan perched at the edge of his armchair, his elbows propped on his knees and his fingers bridged. Lily watched the younger Salvatore, the eagerness to bring him happiness brightening her widened eyes. Damon rolled his eyes. "I mean, I-I want us all to start over."

"Well, if the pilgrims and Indians could do it, I'm sure there's hope for us." Lily's voice was like an overripe banana. Too sweet and mushy. Damon wondered if she had always been like this, and he was just a young boy who ate it up so desperately.

"We call them Native Americans now," Damon interjected, with a hint of malice and a touch of amusement as her elastic smile slackened, "but we didn't bring you here to correct your outdated racial slurs—did we, Stefan?"

As her cool eyes flitted back to Stefan, the corners of her mouth returned to their peak. It made Damon a little nauseous, how many times she's openly fawn over her youngest son, but he was used to the favoritism.

"I want to convince you of all the reasons that you need to help us get rid of Julian."

It took a nudge, but Damon knew Stefan's preamble could have eaten away at the rest of the day if he didn't intervene. Damon's gaze switched from the back of his brother's head to his mother's waning optimism. Lily's nostrils flared, the vein in her temple swelled, but her face was stony. Her eyes flickered between her sons.

"I'm sorry, is this some sort of…" Her head shook a little, and Damon could see she was losing control on her emotions. "Setup?"

"Just hear me out a second," Stefan urged. Damon sat forward, wringing his hands instinctually, interested to hear what his little brother was going to pull out of his ass for this one to actually work. "In 1863, I got Valerie pregnant."

Ah, the good ol' pregnancy card. Hit her right in the warped sense of maternity.

"She kept it a secret from me, from you, from everyone… and Julian found out about it somehow and felt threatened by it. He…" Stefan glanced down at his hands; they were trembling. "He beat her until the baby was longer alive." Lily's purely perplexed expression pinched her face. "Her child—your grandson -was murdered by Julian. She swore me to secrecy, but the truth is too important. You need to know what kind of man he is."

As sincerely as possible, Damon added, "I think what Stefan's trying to say is… you have really crappy taste."

Stefan turned in his brother's direction with a set jaw, but he didn't protest against his brother's brazen conclusion. Lily's eye twitched, and Damon couldn't help cracking a smile at his comment's success.

"My son, Valerie lied to me for over a century about you. Then, she tried to kill a member of my family in cold blood and tried to incinerate the love of my life. Do yourself a favor—don't lose any more sleep over the words that come out of that poor girl's mouth."

Despite the validity in her argument, a small anger bundled in the pit of Damon's being. Their mother always believed Stefan, which was why Damon gave him the nickname Saint Stefan, and she would fight to defend him even if he was wrong. The only person she had ever put over him was Giuseppe—and now, Julian.

After a long pause, Damon noticed Stefan nodding. He gave a curt chuckle, and muttered, "Wow." Damon agreed—wow, Lily, way to put your son, your grandson on the backburner to your so-called love. Stefan poured three drinks, a shallow smile on his face. "I guess the joke's on me, then, right?"

Wait, what?

"I mean, I was the idiot who believed her."

Damon watched as Lily nearly sighed of relief. Stefan's words seemed to reanimate the bright and loving part of her again. "I did too, about many things, but I will not make that same mistake again."

"Here's to moving on then, right?" Stefan slid the glass to Lily, and they both got to their feet. Damon sighed, wondering what the hell his idiot little brother was doing, grabbed a glass, and rose with them.

"To moving on," Lily smiled, touching her glass to Stefan's. Damon eyed Stefan's glass falter at his lips, and both watched Lily tip hers all the back. Damon always thought his tendency to drink came from Giuseppe, but maybe it came from both sides of the family.

When she came up for air, Damon immediately heard the sound of burning flesh. Neither of her sons rushed to her aid as she groaned and hissed all the way down to the floor, landing in a heap of limbs. Damon glanced into the glass he nearly downed.

"Concentrated vervain," Stefan explained, staring down at her unconscious body.

"Wow." Damon set the drink down and stood next to Stefan as they studied their mother under the vervain's effect. "I ever mention like I your style?"

"I had a feeling we were going to have to do this the hard way."

A wide grin erupted on Damon's face. "Best Thanksgiving ever."

Again, I know things are slow, BUT I'm not going to dive into the Phoenix Stone stuff as much. So, no episode 7x10… and I'll be combining some stuff and writing more original scenes! It's the original scenes that are taking forever.

Hope you enjoyed! Review for inspiration and motivation, please!

xo,

glass27doll

Georgia-Virginia Princess: Ooo, you know, I considered Alaric for Rebecca's pairing, because I really wish the show didn't make him so broken... but for now, it's Damon and Rebecca. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

lost'n'whatnot: Yay! I'm glad you're enjoying it! Since the reveal of Rebecca's creator, we'll be seeing a lot more of her past. Enzo is just so fun to dabble with ;) Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you enjoyed the update!

RHatch89: Thank youuuu! Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading and reviewing!

luvudramione: I love Bamon through and through, which makes it even harder to write DamonxRebecca, but it'll definitely end up with these two. Weaving Rebecca into the new episodes is a little harder now, especially with Bamon being so close to becoming canon, but we'll see! Thanks for reading and reviewing!