CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
NEVER LET THAT GO
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Damon Salvatore had seen a lot of bloodbaths in his day. A lot of them had been his own fault, too hungry to really bother being neat about it, too lazy to clean any of it up afterward. The last one he could really remember was when he had killed those druggies in the woods. He'd been smart enough to cover his tracks then. What he was seeing now, however, didn't even compare to what he had done. Blood was everywhere. He could smell it the second he and Alaric Saltzman stepped out of his car, and the scent only got stronger the closer he got to the house. He could see it through the screen door. It was splattered across the walls and floor, smeared like bodies had been dragged through puddles.
Grimacing, he stepped over a dried puddle of blood, knowing it was only a matter of time before police came to investigate. He'd been following leads all summer, connecting crime scenes to other crime scenes until he had found his way to Tennessee. This, however, hadn't been a tip from Sheriff Forbes. They had simply followed the road from the last house they'd visited, already taped off and the bodies carted away. It was a matter of luck that they had found a crime scene that wasn't messed with. He paused to study all the blood for a moment, then glanced over at Alaric, who had finally managed to actually enter the house.
You'd think a vampire hunter would be less squeamish, he thought, though he managed to bite the words back. More and more lately, Damon was becoming conscious of his own words, more aware of how they affected other people. He supposed he had Elena to thank for that.
"Uh-oh," Alaric said as soon as he saw all the blood. "Vampire, for sure." Damon nodded and continued through the house. In truth, he was hoping he wouldn't find what he was looking for. Vampires were everywhere. It wasn't entirely impossible to assume that this was someone else's handywork. Unfortunately, as soon as he saw the two dead girls sitting upright on the couch, that hope disappeared. His shoulders shagged briefly, but he got them back up before Alaric reached his side.
"Stefan, for sure," Damon revealed after a moment, walking carefully into the living room. The bodies must not have been sitting for long. They hadn't even started bloating yet, though when Damon checked the joints of one of the girls—still half-hoping it had been somebody else, deep down—he could feel that their skin had long since gone cold. He pulled his hand back and surveyed the rest of the room, but there was nothing else aside from blood. So much blood.
"How do you know it's Stefan?" Alaric asked. Damon sighed.
"It's his signature," he muttered, not really enjoying explaining any of it. Stefan hadn't been like this for a very long time, and in the end, it was his fault, wasn't it? He just had to get bitten by Tyler fucking Lockwood. And now, while Tyler was off galivanting with Caroline Forbes without a care in the world, Stefan and Rowan were off with Klaus, slaughtering people left and right. He hoped, prayed, that there was at least a reason behind all the carnage. That Klaus wasn't forcing Stefan and Rowan to kill innocent people just because he could.
Stefan would survive it. It would be a hard and long road, but his brother would make it to the end. He'd done it before. Damon just wasn't sure Rowan would survive it, too.
"There's a reason they call him the ripper," Damon continued, not bothering to mention that he was looking for another clue. Another sign that it wasn't just Stefan slaughtering people. It looked like Stefan's work, but Damon looked anyway. He had been telling Elena that it was Klaus killing everyone, but he knew the truth would come out eventually. He was dreading looking her in the eye and revealing that it was Stefan behind all of...this. More than that, though, he was dreading finding something that proved Rowan was part of it, too. Everyone had managed to convince themselves that Rowan had her hands clean. It was denial of the highest form, Damon knew that. That was why he was looking for a sign of Rowan's involvement while simultaneously praying he wouldn't find anything.
"Damon?" Alaric said. Damon shook his head.
"The term ripper existed before, but Stefan was the one who...immortalized it. He feeds so hard he blacks out, then he rips them apart—but then, when he's done, he feels remorse. It's the weirdest thing. He puts the bodies back together." Casually, Damon nudged the girl's shoulder. Her head tilted slightly, and then it was rolling off her shoulders and down her body, crashing onto the floor. Alaric winced, looking a little green, while Damon sighed and averted his eyes. It froze on something under the coffee table.
"Back together," Alaric muttered, sounding sick. Damon nodded even as he found a clean spot on the floor and knelt down. His hand disappeared beneath the coffee table. When he pulled it out, a tiny white stick was between his fingers, a half-finished red lollipop at the end. Around the stick was the imprint of bright red lipstick. Rising to his feet, he felt his stomach drop through the floor.
"Are lollipops Stefan's signature, too?" Alaric asked, sounding even sicker, and that was when Damon realized he'd been looking for signs of Rowan, too. Studying it, Damon shared a single glance with Alaric. They both knew what the lollipop meant.'1
Rowan always had loved the color red.
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Rowan finished compelling the last human in the bar, then slumped on a stool and ordered a tequila shot. She would need it for what was going to happen next. Her hair was piled up on her head, revealing her neck, and her lips were painted red. She was dressed like she was on a date, but she was drinking alone, both stools beside her completely empty. It was all intentional. Apparently, Ray Sutton was drawn to women drinking alone at the bar. He fell for it hook, line, and sinker. He slid onto the stool beside her quickly, and Rowan didn't waste a single moment. She placed her chin on her hand and sent him a pretty smile.
"You look a little young to be drinkin' tequila," were the first words to come out of his mouth, and Rowan tried very hard not to let her smile turn cold. A muscle jumped in her cheek, and her jaw clenched. Still, she smiled.
"I guess I just have one of those faces," she dismissed smoothly, straightening from her slouch and turning her body toward Ray properly. "I'm gonna get carded for the rest of my life." Still smiling, she offered him her hand. "I'm Rowan." He quickly took her hand, never wanting to seem rude.
"Ray Sutton," he introduced, smiling at her. Rowan stopped shaking his hand, but didn't let go of it. In fact, her grip tightened. She tilted her head.
"Ray Sutton," she mused, her smile now gone. "We've been looking everywhere for you." Veins erupted beneath her eyes, which quickly turned black and filled with blood. She offered one last smile, just to show off her fangs, and suddenly Ray was yanking his hand back—or, at least, trying to. Rowan's grip was hard. She heard the fragile bones in his hand crack. She kept him there, not even budging as he tried to yank himself away, until Klaus appeared behind him. The second his hand curled around Ray's shoulder, she dropped his hand and motioned for another drink.
"We started in Florida, Pensacola," Klaus said casually as Rowan moved one stool over. Ray was shoved onto the middle stool, and Klaus took the other one. "I met a young chap there who you used to work with before you moved to Memphis. Now, he directed me to two lovely young women, and they led me here. To you." Klaus grinned and squeezed his shoulder. Ray immediately tried to leave again, turning only to see Stefan in his way. He was officially cornered against the bar. He thought briefly about fighting all three of them, his muscles tensing, but Stefan shoved him back onto the stool again.
"I wouldn't do that," Stefan advised, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. Rowan twisted on the stool until her back was to the bar, then she leaned back against it and started playing with the pearls looped around her neck. They'd been a gift from Klaus two weeks ago. She hated that she liked them.
"You're all vampires," Ray gritted out. Rowan rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, no shit," she muttered.
"You're swifty swift, Ray," Klaus complimented, still acting as casual and friendly as ever. Rowan rolled her eyes even harder. "Yes, my friends here are vampires. They compelled everybody in the bar, so don't look to them for any help. I, however, I am something different. A different kind of monster. I've got some vampire, I've got some wolf..." Rowan groaned out loud, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling.
"Just tell him," she ordered, straightening to shoot Klaus an annoyed look. Klaus just grinned. He was in such a good mood lately. This was the first real lead they've had in months. Scouring the states one-by-one as they left Virginia for werewolves hadn't been a fun experience, and Rowan was relieved that they had finally found a real one. At least it meant no more human blood on her hands, at least for now. Seeing that Klaus didn't have any plans to do what she told him to do, Rowan sighed heavily and looked at Ray. She offered him a smile that was more acidic than sweet. "He's a hybrid, Ray. You know what a hybrid is, don't you?"
Considering how wide Ray's eyes got at her words, he had clearly connected the dots as to who was sitting beside him. It wasn't like Klaus was some mysterious figure in the supernatural world. He was infamous. When Damon had first told her that, Rowan had scoffed at it. Now, as she lived in a world outside of the Mystic Falls bubble, she knew it wasn't something to scoff at. Klaus had the reputation he did for a reason.
"You see, I want to create more of me," Klaus announced, slinging a friendly arm around Ray's shoulders. "Now, you being the first werewolf that I've come across in a many moon—pun intended, Ray—I need you to direct me to your pack." Rowan snorted at his pun despite her best efforts not to. She covered it up by signaling for another shot. Klaus, for once, didn't point out that she found him funny, as he usually loved to do. He was too busy talking to Ray. "Where can I find them?"
"You can't compel me," Ray said after a moment. "It won't work." Rowan sighed, though it was softer this time. Every single time Klaus interrogated someone, she hoped and prayed that they would just not fight him. It went so much easier when they just gave him what he wanted. Unfortunately, that was never the case. Everyone fought; everyone tried to deny him. And everyone suffered for it. A frown starting to pull at her lips, she opened her purse and pulled out the bag of herbs she'd been keeping inside, tossing it to Stefan. Rowan was, technically, supposed to be the one to do the torturing this time around—Klaus had handed her the wolfsbane, after all—but Klaus was more lenient now. Stefan and Rowan had stopped fighting him when it came to violence not long after their search for werewolves started. They hadn't really had a choice. Klaus knew he could use them against each other. It was either obey him or watch each other swallow vervain dry, or stand in the sun without a daylight ring, or any other number of things.
He didn't use those methods anymore, though. He didn't have to. Killing was easy now. If Klaus noticed that Stefan and Rowan were becoming more and more numb and ruthless as time wore on, he didn't care. He wanted them to stop caring, anyway, so Stefan and Rowan tried their best to act the way he wanted them to act. Cold. Ruthless. Numb.
The fact that Rowan genuinely acted like all three of those things were true sometimes scared her, and she tried her best not to think about it.
"You said this would be fun, Klaus," she found herself saying, playing her part while not actually playing at all. She found that she actually was bored. A werewolf was about to be tortured and she was bored. It was a hard pill to swallow. "This isn't fun. This is boring. They're all so predictable." It turned out to be the wrong thing to say, because if there was one thing Klaus didn't tolerate, it was them not having fun. He seemed to think they were a trio of very close friends. Rowan hoped he wasn't actually that out of touch with reality, but she doubted it the more she spent time with him. She didn't even wait for him to order her to help Stefan torture Ray. She just pushed off the stool and made her way over on her own, stopping at Stefan's side and watching him mix alcohol with wolfsbane, circling the herb and liquid with the tip of a dart. Across from them was Ray, who was currently being chained to the wall by two compelled security guards.
Werewolves were weak any other day that wasn't a full moon. Rowan had learned that the hard way. It was why they had decided to corner Ray the day before the full moon, instead of cornering him the day of. Rowan rested her hip against the pool table and picked up another dart, sinking it into the liquid, which was quickly turning green. She let the dart soak there for a moment and looked at Stefan, who was talking to Ray now.
"We're gonna play a little drinking game," Stefan told him, voice casual. He had mastered the art of pretending like he didn't care about any of it. As far as Klaus was concerned, Stefan had already been broken. It was Rowan who was a thorn in his side. She hadn't quite mastered the same thing Stefan had, not yet, but she was getting there. With each person Klaus made her kill, she improved at pretending. She just had to survive the next ten years. If she could survive that with her humanity still intact, then she could survive anything. "Something I like to call truth or wolfsbane."
Rowan plucked the dart out of the alcohol, aimed, then threw. She wanted this over as quickly as possible. Three months ago, the scream Ray let out when the dart sank into his forehead would have made her flinch, but this time, she didn't even blink. She just made a mocking noise, sucking a sympathetic breath through clenched teeth. It sounded like a hiss.
"Oh, that's gotta sting," she said sweetly, picking up another dart to let it soak in the wolfsbane and alcohol. She had actually learned a quite bit about werewolves the last three months, and the main thing was that their reaction to wolfsbane was much worse than a vampire's reaction to vervain. It burned longer, more harshly, and if ingested, it actually poisoned them slowly if they weren't treated. If they pumped enough into a single werewolf, it would actually kill them—as long as it wasn't close to the full moon, that is. They didn't have to worry about accidentally poisoning Ray. It took werewolves a week, at least, to die from wolfsbane poisoning, and Ray would turn tomorrow. Which meant the amount of wolfsbane they pumped into him tonight wouldn't matter. He would be good as new the second he turned into an actual wolf. Pushing the thoughts out of her brain, she glanced at Stefan and merely said, "Your turn, hero hair."
That was how it went the next half hour. Rowan and Stefan took turns throwing darts soaked in wolfsbane at Ray, and when they ran out of darts, they would take them out of Ray's body and start all over. By the time they were about to start their third round, Ray was a bloody and pained mess, and Stefan and Rowan were growing bored with it all. Rowan cast Klaus a curious look, wondering if he was growing bored as well, and noticed that his smug expression from earlier was gone. Now he just seemed annoyed.
"Ray, you can end this now," Stefan pointed out, sounding just as tired as Rowan felt. "Just tell me where your pack gathers for the full moon." Ray shook his head, through it drooped down past his shoulders the more he was forced to stay upright on the wall.
"I can't," he croaked. Klaus clicked his tongue from nearby, making it known he wasn't pleased at all with the turn. Stefan didn't even look at him.
"I know, I know," Stefan said sympathetically, putting a hand on Ray's shoulder. "You live by a code and all that, but see, he's not going to let us stop until you tell him what he wants to know. And we—" Stefan motioned back toward Rowan, and Rowan smiled sweetly when Ray dragged his gaze to her. "—do whatever he says. That's the way it goes around here." As Rowan watched, a vampire woman brushed past her, heading toward Klaus. She was one of his messengers, though whether she was compelled or not, Rowan didn't know. She watched with mild curiosity as the woman whispered something into Klaus's ear, then felt her stomach drop when a look of even more annoyance flashed across his face. That could only mean one thing, and as one, Stefan and Rowan both started heading his way.
"My brother still on our trail?" Stefan asked, frowning like he was displeased. Knowing him, he probably was. Having Damon one step behind them the past three months had been nerve-wracking, simply because it always irritated Klaus. An irritated Klaus was an impulsive Klaus, and it was only a matter of time before Damon got too close and Klaus decided it was time to go back to Mystic Falls. Where Elena was, alive and well, though Klaus certainly didn't know that. Stefan and Rowan both needed it to stay that way, and Damon following them wasn't helping.
"He's getting closer," Klaus muttered darkly, setting his now empty glass back on the bar. The bartender was quick to fill it back up, a dazed expression on her face. Rowan's eyes went to her neck, thought about the artery there, then quickly looked away. She had already fed. She didn't need anymore—but she wanted. She wanted so badly that it was hard to ignore. Klaus, unaware of her sudden thirst, merely said, "I'm going to have to deal with that."
"Well, you do that," Rowan said gruffly, rolling her eyes and turning away. "I'm gonna go continue the wolf torture. Not that it's doing anything. Order me some more tequila shots. I think I'm gonna need 'em." She turned and walked back to the pool table, and then proceeded to throw the darts until she ran out of them again. Some of them she didn't even bother soaking in wolfsbane, not that it really mattered at that point. Ray wasn't healing by himself anytime soon. Once she was done, she walked forward, a groan building up her throat. She yanked one of the darts out of his cheek and pointed the feather part of it at Ray's face. "Oh, come on, Ray. Is this really worth it? You're going to break eventually. I know it. They know it. You know it. Why don't you save yourself some unnecessary pain and just do it already?" Ray just let out a shaky sigh and stared at her. Rowan gritted her teeth and turned away. She stomped over to Klaus a second later, a scowl on her face. Klaus saw her coming and raised his eyebrows in amusement.
"Having some trouble, sweetheart?" he drawled, reaching for his drink. Rowan stopped in front of him and resisted the urge to slap his smirk off his face. The first and last time she had tried it, he'd nearly broken her wrist. She was honestly surprised he hadn't, but then, that had been at the beginning of their months together, right after she had killed the human man in that warehouse. Klaus had acted sympathetic then, even as he had held her wrist in the air, her hand only an inch away from his cheek. I understand this might be hard for you, he had said, but never raise your hand to me again. That was the first time Rowan had genuinely been afraid of him, because it was the first—and the only time, truth be told—that she and Stefan had seen real rage on his face. She had never tried it again.
"This isn't working," she growled at him, pushing the urge to hit him out of her mind. She used to think she wasn't a particularly violent person, but the last three months had changed her perspective. It turned out she was a very violent person. She just never had the opportunity to express it before. "You're the ancient cruel vampire hybrid thing. You do it." Klaus chuckled then, letting his drink dangle from the tips of his fingers as he slouched in his chair. Rowan scowled harder at him, planting her hands on her hips.
"You still lack so much patience," Klaus noticed, not making a single move toward Ray. Rowan took in a very deep, calming breath and held it in for a moment, casting her gaze toward the ceiling. "Don't worry. It'll get better as you get older." Rowan barked out a sharp laugh and pulled her gaze back toward Klaus.
"Save the condescending tone for Stefan, jackass," she snapped. Klaus, delighted, let out more laughter. He liked her as long as she didn't try to hit him. Hitting him seemed to hit a personal nerve, though Rowan wasn't sure why, but harsh words and insults were fair game. Rowan was surprised when Klaus rose up from his chair a second later, merely motioning toward a tray of tequila shots nearby before he went toward Ray. Relieved, Rowan took his seat and reached for a shot glass, watching out of the corner of her eye as Klaus unchained Ray from the wall and threw him onto the pool table instead. The werewolf was so weak by that point that the chains were no longer necessary. Rowan watched him torment Ray some more for a few minutes, then realized that Klaus was just playing with him. Scowling some more, she hopped off the stool and started forward.
"Did you get it out of him?" she asked in mild disbelief. Klaus shot her a smirk.
"Very quickly," Klaus said smugly, making Rowan scowl some more. "Now we're moving on to bigger and better things, just like you wanted. Okay, it's a three-step process, Ray. This is step one. I want you to drink from my wrist." Ray winced.
"I already told you where to find the pack," Ray said quietly, on the verge of begging. It was no wonder he had broken as soon as Klaus had decided to join in. If Rowan had kept up the torture perhaps a minute longer, she probably would have broken him herself. "What more do you want from me?"
"Have you not been listening to a word I've been saying?" Klaus asked, suddenly sounding very annoyed. Rowan leaned over the pool table to look at Ray directly.
"I don't blame you for zoning out," she said sympathetically. "His monologues can get a little boring." Klaus didn't dignify her words with a response, nor did he give Ray a chance to respond at all. He cut open his wrist a second later and pressed the cut between Ray's lips, forcing his blood down the werewolf's throat. Rowan saw a flash of Katherine doing the same thing to her—though helped with compulsion—and quickly looked away from the scene, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. Klaus noticed immediately and let out a low scoff of disbelief.
"You're good with torture but this makes you squeamish?" Klaus asked, raising his eyebrows. Rowan set her jaw and refused to look down at Ray, even as she looked back at Klaus. She couldn't block out the sound of Ray choking on Klaus's blood, though.
"Brings back bad memories," Rowan admitted in a flat voice, raising a single eyebrow when Klaus made a sound of realization. He was still feeding Ray his blood, more than necessary.
"Oh, that's right," Klaus said with mock sympathy, his brow furrowing. Rowan sighed through her nose. "Katerina really put you through the ringer, didn't she?" Rowan didn't bother responding to that, which was just as well. Klaus didn't want a response, anyway. Grinning at her happily, Klaus pulled his wrist away from Ray and then proceeded to twist his head sharply to the side. The sound of his neck breaking made Rowan's skin crawl, and she covered the feeling up by downing another tequila shot. Klaus started cleaning his wrist, and then he said, "You're back." Rowan set her glass down and looked over Klaus's shoulder. Stefan was standing there, his hands in his jacket pockets.
"Did you doubt me?" Stefan asked, frowning. Klaus turned toward him.
"When I have Rowan with me? Not particularly," Klaus admitted. "I knew you'd pass the test." Klaus paused then just to study Stefan's face. He tilted his head to the side, thoughtful. "You still care for your brother, for your old life."
"Leave him alone, Klaus," Rowan ordered, circling the pool table to get closer to both of the boys. She didn't know what Stefan had gone through—what he had done—during his time confronting Damon, but she could see the tired set of his shoulders, the dull look forming in his eyes. He was about to have another bad night. Rowan wasn't going to let Klaus make it worse. "He's ripped people apart for you. Give it a rest."
"And you ripped them apart even more," Klaus continued, sounding proud now. "That doesn't mean I don't see right through the two of you. You both put on such a good show that I actually started believing you. Didn't last long, though." Rowan grew very stiff, her jaw locking in irritation. Klaus turned his gaze back to Stefan, looking a little more serious. "Let's hope, for your brother's sake, he actually does believe you." It was a silent threat, but Stefan and Rowan both visibly reacted to it. Klaus sighed. "You never stop caring about your family, do you? But every time you feed, the blood makes it easier to let go."
"Why don't you give me tests?" Rowan asked, cutting into whatever monologue Klaus was planning before he could really get into it.
"Because I don't think you'd pass," Klaus told her honestly, and even though Rowan shouldn't have felt offended, she did. "And if you failed, I would have to do something particularly nasty, and I don't really feel like doing that yet."
"Yet," Rowan repeated flatly. Klaus nodded.
"Yet," he confirmed. Rowan supposed she should be grateful he was pacing himself when it came to her. They had ten years, after all. Maybe when they got three years in instead of three months, he would start being a little bit more brutal. Part of Rowan hoped she was completely heartless before then. As if reading her thoughts, Klaus added, "Give it a few years. You'll be just as cruel as me if you keep these antics up."
"You mean the antics you're forcing me to do?" Rowan spit out. Klaus raised his eyebrows.
"I gave you a choice whether to come with Stefan and I or not," Klaus reminded, and Rowan hated that he was right. Hated that she couldn't tell him the real reason why she had agreed. Hated that Damon was part of the choice she had made. Hated that he was now risking the life they had sacrificed themselves to save just to get them back. She let out a frustrated breath.
"Henrik made it very clear not to say no to you," she chose to say. She couldn't really read the expression that passed over Klaus's face. It was unfamiliar on him and gone too soon. She frowned at him, tone turning curious. "Where is he, anyway? I would have thought you'd keep a witch like him on stand-by. Or are you done with witches and moving onto werewolves?" It had been a thought that had plagued her ever since the morning after they had left Virginia, leaving that godforsaken warehouse behind. The night before, Henrik had been there, talking about where they should go. The next morning, he was gone, as if he had vanished in thin air. Rowan hadn't seen or heard from him since.
"He's where he needs to be," Klaus said vaguely, making Rowan's curiosity turn to frustration. She hated when he was being vague. "He'll come when I call. Don't worry your pretty little head about that." Rowan scowled.
"I wasn't worrying," she muttered, making the mistake of glancing at Ray's body. She swallowed and turned away. "I need some air." As she pushed open the bar door and sucked in a deep breath of fresh air, her hand subconsciously went to her daylight necklace. Klaus had pried it open the week he had taken them, shaking out the vervain inside. He had smelt the herb out eventually, and Rowan and Stefan hadn't wanted to risk drinking vervain and getting caught, so now their minds were unprotected. Klaus hadn't compelled them yet, but Rowan knew it was only a matter of time. Feeling anxious, Rowan pulled out her phone. She had a single photo of Elena downloaded from her old one, prone to looking at it when she needed to.
Only for her to see that it was June 11. Elena's birthday.
She didn't think her next actions through. She typed in the number she had memorized by heart at that point and put her phone to her ear, hearing it ring and ring. The longer it rang, the calmer Rowan felt. She wanted to hear Elena's voice so badly, but she knew it was a huge risk. She had no way of knowing if Klaus was listening in or not. She could only hope that he wasn't. She was about to hang up the phone, content simply knowing that Elena's phone was still in service, and then there was a click.
"Hello?" Elena asked, a rasp to her voice. Rowan's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in disbelief. Elena waited a few seconds, then repeated "Hello?" a little more strongly, sounding alarmed herself. Rowan opened her mouth to say something, but found that she couldn't. All she could get out was a small gasp. It was all the sound Elena really needed. Her voice was nothing but a whisper when she asked, "Rowan?"
Rowan pressed her lips together so tightly that it was impossibly for her to let out another sound. Her sudden silence was the only confirmation Elena needed.
"Rowan, you'll be okay," Elena continued, and Rowan bit back a harsh scoff, because she doubted that she would ever be okay again. The things she had done the last three months would never go away. The blood on her hands was going to stay with her forever. "We're going to bring you back home. You and Stefan. Hold onto that. Never let that go."
Rowan couldn't hear anymore. She ended the call, and then blocked Elena's number for good measure, just to make sure Elena wouldn't call her back. She would have to get a new phone the next time she had a chance. They couldn't risk Elena or Damon tracking the call. Taking a deep breath, Rowan turned around to go back inside, only to freeze when she noticed a man standing nearby. For a horrifying moment, she thought it was Klaus—and then she realized the sad slump of his shoulders and realized it was Stefan. He had followed her out. Now, he was between a tall truck and a van, hiding his expression from the bar. Rowan quickly walked toward him. She managed to reach him right before her knees gave out, right before the ball in her throat became too large to swallow.
"It's okay," Stefan murmured into her hair, holding her close as she sobbed through clenched teeth into his chest. His hand rubbed comforting circles into her back. "Let it out. Let it all out."
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Unedited. This chapter physically pained me, both in terms of writing in general, and in terms of Rowan's like...descent into the darker side of things. She's trying very hard not to get too comfortable, but like...she doesn't realize that she's already comfortable and it's sad. Also, a quick look into Damon's point of view. That scene was really fun to write. The dialogue is straight from the show, for the most part, but his mannerisms and feelings are different. Wanted to portray the difference between canon Damon and my Damon. Hope I succeeded a little bit.