The Last Weapon

11: When Life Hands You Lemonade, Throw It At Damon

Elena's POV

I don't remember much. I had just dumped Stefan officially, which hurt more than being indirectly staked by him and his brother. Damn Katherine and her witch, no matter how much she apologizes. I was walking along the drive way, skirting around dark, glossy cars, my feet scraping drearily on the shadowed black pavement, and then... the memory stops there.

I was in a car, the trunk. I could tell that. There was the low rumble of an engine vibrating the rough floor around me, and the high pitched whine of rubber speeding along the road below me. As far as I could tell, we were one of few or the only car on the road, a morbid thought. I had once seen a trick on a movie where you kick out on of the back lights and observe your surroundings, but I could barely open my eyes. A deep cloud of drowsiness hung around me, pulling my eyelids down strongly. At first, I thought that maybe Damon had kidnapped me again and we were on our way to Georgia, but I dispelled the idea quickly. He wouldn't have the gall to do that again, especially after killing Jeremy. Just thinking about it made my blood boil, and I'm sure my toes would curl had I been able to move.

All this pondering was making my head hurt. I know I had to be careful, wait to see where I was going, but it was just too much energy. We slowed gradually, the smooth, hum of the pavement fading into the crunch of wheels on a rocky off road, and we stopped. My eyes weren't open, but I saw the red glow of light over my eyelids. It was daytime. There was the scent of green trees and grass, a delightful, nature smell. I was dropped into what I believed was another trunk, and the small babble of voices ahead of me.

"Come closer," I heard, a deep, dangerous voice. There was silence for a moment, and then the familiar squishing, tearing sound of teeth ripping into flesh and the upsetting, metallic smell of blood. My stomach turned. The engine started up, and before we had even hit the pavement again, I was asleep, with only the terrible thought, I've been kidnapped by vampires.

Damon's POV 

We had the bitch-witch help us find Elena. Nobody had seen her since last night. Her car was still at the mansion. And everybody was flipping out.

Everybody except Briana, that is.

"I told you," she bragged, reclining lazily on the bar stool with a glass of vodka in hand, "fight as you will, I still told you." She poured some Diet Coke into the glass, a swirling concoction of deep, fizzy brown and searing clear liquid. She dropped a couple ice cubes in it.

"Yeah, yeah, you told us," I complained, my temper rising. "But aren't you worried at all?" She raised a brow, questioning the idea that she actually cared for Elena Gilbert, the reason she'd been originally deceived by, guess who, me. It still made my heart wrench painfully in my chest when I thought of how I endangered the connection to the only person who cared about me.

"Nope!" I rolled my eyes.

"But if you're so sure it's your family, shouldn't you be worried about, I don't know, dying, as you put it?" She flinched and turned away, her head tilting back to take a deep swig of alcohol.

"It's not 'as I put it', Damon. When every last one of my family members are dead, I die as well," she snapped, glaring at her empty glass. She walked to and dug through the fridge, huffing indignantly. "And I've had enough time to worry, figure things out, and deal with them. I'm not afraid to die. Are you?" Her gaze when she turned was piercing, as if she were trying to see right through me. I could've sworn it was working.

"At the hands of some unfair witches who wanted me to go down with my baby bro? Hell no!" I sipped my Bourbon and gave a slick smiled. She made an irritated sound in the back of her throat and picked up some lemonade off the top shelf, taking a sip, shrugging and deeming it drinkable.