Don't go Changing - Season 3

Chicago

Groggily I woke up and rolled over. Damon wasn’t there. That happened most nights recently. I sighed and got out of bed, walking down stairs. Ever since that night in the woods two weeks ago, we’ve barely spoken. It’s almost like he either is angry at me or thinks I’m crazy... probably both.

“baby, come back to bed” I breathed, wrapping my arms around him from behind. I rubbed my hands on his chest and nuzzled his neck.

“I’m not tired” he shrugged me off him and I sighed.

“its 2am Damon, at least hold me so I can go back to sleep” I asked.

“I have stuff to do” he shrugged then walked out of the house with a bottle of whisky in his hands.

“and then... then he just walks out of the door holding a bottle of whiskey. He didn’t even say bye” I paced back and forth in Elena’s room.

“Rosa, its 2.30 in the morning” she moaned.

“two weeks! I’m lucky if I get a hug... its my birthday if he kisses me and I think I might be dead if we...” I ranted.

“Rosa, I don’t want you to finish that sentence off” Elena groaned.

“why the sudden distance? Has he said anything to you?” I stopped pacing and sat on her bed.

“only that he is worried about losing you” she shrugged.

“well too late. I’m going to Chicago for a couple of days break, I have a witch friend there that I said I would meet up with.” I shrugged.

“is that a good idea?” Elena asked.

“who knows, right now... I’m going home to pack” I shrugged.

*

As I arrived in Chicago, I found I couldn’t relax, like I hoped I could. I shrugged off the feeling I had and arrived at my friends flat.

“Rosa Rossi... a sight I never thought I would see again” Tristan grinned.

“why wouldn’t I return to visit my favourite male witch?” I asked, stepping into his flat as he hadn’t moved since the last time I met him thirty years ago.

“you haven’t aged a decade old man” I laughed.

“you haven’t aged a day” he smirked. Tristan was nearly on hundred years old but only looked about thirty, his body aged at about a third of his mind. He was a dear friend of mine that I met him about eighty years ago, when he was actually twenty in age and appearance. I was the one that slowed his aging down with a spell that he wrote, but wasn’t strong enough to perform.

*Flashback*

Chicago 1920’s. This place wasn’t run by the law enforcers anymore, it was run mainly by one man; Al Capone. I put on my best smile as I walked into one of his speakeasies, the one I knew he was going to be in that night. Damon decided we needed this man to not continue to ask questions about the vampire activity that was flourishing at the moment.  

I made my way over to the bar, deliberately walking slowly past his table. I ordered a shot of Whiskey and a glass of champagne, then turning around to face the club as I brought the Whiskey shot to my mouth. Sure enough he was sitting there watching me. I smiled and raised my glass to him before putting away the shot and bringing the champagne to my lips.