𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚: Abeyance || D.S & S.S (TVD) **REWRITING**

[*Chapter Twenty-Two*]

Damon dashed outside as Bree halted her misgivings feeling stumped when she touched those chains every time her veins felt like they were cooking on the inside.

He halted in surprise, seeing Darcy grip onto her head, screaming in pain, blood flowed from her nose, smearing around her chin. "What the hell happened?" He demanded while rushing over to Darcy's side and stabilising her with his arm wrapped around her waist. He glowered at Elena as if she were responsible.

Elena released her hold on her sister, backing away raising her trembling hands at the glare on his face. "I don't know. It happened out of nowhere."

"Come on, let's get you inside, yeah?" Damon murmured, brushing past Elena. "Bad idea, telling you it's safe outside, huh?"

Darcy snorts, resulting in coughing as blood tickled her throat. "Karma, Salvatore. Karma." She said as Damon ushered her to the restroom.

Once inside, he led over to the sink ripped out a few paper towels out of the dispenser on the white tiled wall and handed them over to her, figuring she'll kick his ass if he started cleaning her face: Darcy eludes independence. "What happened?"

Switching the taps on, Darcy scrubs off the congregated blood off of her face. "Fuck knows. All I know my head felt like it was being split apart. Killed like a bitch."

Damon hummed leaning on the tiled wall, observing as she cleans herself. "Odd, no?"

Turning off the taps, Darcy dried her face with the blue paper towels. "No, I get them often."

The Protectress did not want to tell him about her dreams when she doesn't know much herself. Would Damon think she's strange having dreams about an old fashioned family? Darcy has no clue about them; only they are mysterious, magnificent outdated folks. Ever since the first dream, visions of herself appeared with this particular clan, flashes of them together. Some contain joy and laughter, others Darcy would wake up with tears streaming down her face witnessing the father abusing one of the children. Then they would flip to her running off giggling, holding hands with a brunette boy a year or two younger than herself and an older blonde young man. However, they would always end in blood, teeth and claws: Darcy and the young boy lying on the ground with the older boy crying over their lifeless forms.

"And what? You drip blood like a tap?" Damon asked sarcastically.

"Yep, except I'd be asleep." Darcy shrugs carelessly.

When you've experienced what she has practically all of her existence, it becomes the norm. Yes, she knows she should be taking it more seriously. None of it was normal. But what can she do?

"This one was worse. It felt like something was trying to invade my head." She left out the part that felt like another force was ramming, bubbling and searing against the influence.

Damon straightened his posture upon hearing the last words 'Invade my head.' What the hell?

"What, do you know something?" Darcy questioned, noticing his erect stance.

"And it stopped when I got to you?" He probed. Darcy was screaming when he came out of the bar and then abruptly cut off as he got closer. Damon rubbed his chin, then walked over and sniffed her.

"Are you a dog now?" She asked, looking at him as if he's gone mad.

"You're not wearing vervain, and I can't smell if you've ingested any."

Darcy stepped away in realisation, slapping her face out of frustration. "Shit, I forgot. I rushed after Elena. I've not stocked up in days."

Damon tsked, shaking his head. "I thought you were smarter than this? Especially now, more vampires are roaming around."