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"i've come to take you home" +
Dakota sat mindlessly at the counter of a bar, a glass of whiskey in one hand and her hair locked in on the other. She, like many others who grew up living amongst the supernatural, decided that keeping their mutilating, superhuman abilities a secret, would not only benefit themselves, but the others who wandered the busy streets of New Orleans looking for a good time instead of inevitable death.
The raven haired girl hated the fact that she needed blood in order to thrive, the coppery residue always leaving a bitter, heartbreaking taste in the back of her throat that stung with each agonizing gulp. There were times when she wished she were dead, buried six feet under along with her mother of whom she cared for deeply, and away from the world she considers a burden.
She never truly came to terms with her curse; a nuisance she'd call it. Vampirism wasn't something to be proud of, something that grasped her innocence and tugged it down into hell along with her soul. Her sins, those of them that were too gruesome to explain, were something that would never wash away; they'd stick with her forever, taunting her, preventing her from getting a full night's rest. This, the immortal life, was something she wish she could take back.
The blue eyed girl, trapped in thought, fails to realize a man take a seat beside her, his deep voice commanding the bartender to whip him up a concoction consisting of bourbon and sprite. She still continued to gaze upon the swarm of people (both human and nonhuman), admiring the way they were able to coincide with such ease. It took her years to master that skill without ripping into the neck of some poor bystander. It's what brought her to New Orleans in the first place, her blood lust that is. It was too risky to live in a place filled with humans, their blood too pure and delicious to resist. Dakota would often go on killing sprees, some so severe that police would come knocking on the door the next day and question the hell out of the girl and her siblings.
Understandably, it frustrated her brothers; having to clean up her mess, to sweep the twelve mutilated bodies under the rug as if nothing had happened. It then became too much. Too often she'd go into these deadly fits, ripping the heads off of poor humans and drinking their veins dry. And that's how she ended up here, in the city where the dead roam freely without trouble. She hadn't seen her brothers since.
Dakota swishes her liquor around with a sigh, the nostalgia forming a lump in the back of her throat as she thought of her twin and younger brother, images of a happy trio clouding her thoughts grimly. If someone asked her what she missed the most, she wouldn't say her human life; she'd, without a doubt, explain that her brothers are the only reason she hasn't stabbed herself in the heart with a piece of wood. Their faces kept her alive.
"Another round, Dakota?" The friendly bartender, a human who works late shifts to support her two kids, asks.
"No, thanks-" she tilts her head back, allowing the burning sensation to numb her nerves before placing the empty glass back down onto the counter, "I should get going anyways, it's getting late."
"Huh, weird-" the man butts in, his crystal blues darting towards the girl, "you were always the night owl of the family."
At the familiarity of the tone, one she'd never displace, her eyes grow wide. A nauseating pit forming in the depths of her stomach, the warm shots of alcohol threatening to come back up, her throat burning. The girl began to shake, her fingernails digging into her palms and surely drawing blood. She couldn't bring herself to turn, to make eye contact with the person she's been avoiding for years. Instead, she remains stiff, her gaze wandering anywhere but him.
"I've been looking for you, sister." Damon Salvatore states calmly, sipping his bourbon mixture with ease. "Word's gotten around that a Salvatore girl's been staying in the rough part of town." He glances around at the tattered walls and disheveled costumers who look like they could sell crack on the low, "and it seems I've come to the right place."
"What're you doing here, Damon?" She whispers, her voice wavering with each word spoken. "You shouldn't be here."
"I've come to take you home."
"I am home."
"I mean back to Mystic Falls. To the boarding house... where you belong." The Salvatore explains solemnly.
"Mystic Falls is no home to me anymore, Damon. You know this... I can't go back to that god awful place." Dakota replies, shaking her head.
"This time... it's important." The Salvatore brother starts, placing a hand on top of her ice cold one, "it's about Stefan."
At the mention of the youngest Salvatore, she snaps her eyes in his direction; meeting a look of seriousness, something so rare for Damon that Dakota knew something definitely must've happened. Taking in a breath, she narrows her baby blues, "What is it? Is he okay?"
"Define okay." Damon replies warily.
"Is he... dead?"
"He might as well be," murmurs her twin brother, taking a swig of his dark drink, "he's turned it off, Dakota.. full ripper mode. Poor thing's tearing apart the whole town and then some."
She curses, "have you tried to get him under control..? I mean... what's been done to get him to come back?"
"Nothing... yet, and that's why I need you to come home. I need you... he needs you; you're the only thing his twisted brain will still recognize. You're our only chance of bringing him back." He explains, his ocean blues pleading.
The girl, her eyes fleeting towards her anxiously tapping feet, sighs. She knew this wasn't a good idea, the lingering sting of human blood already starting to appear on her lips as she thought of all the fresh meat that would've surely been brought in in the past five years she's been gone. Her stature became rigid as she shook her head free of the horrible, intrusive thoughts. Dakota turns to her twin, her lip caught in between her teeth as she avoids his burning gaze, urging her to agree to this dumb idea that would surely cause way more problems than Stefan's ripper issues.
"Please, Dakota."
With one last sigh and a paralyzing nauseating feeling in her gut, she reluctantly agrees; her head subtly nodding as her lips turn down into a regretful grimace. "Okay, okay. For Stefan. But once he's normal again, I'm coming back here... permanently."
Raising his hands, slouching back in his chair with a satisfied smirk, Damon answers, "by all means, sister."
