Chapter Text
The letter Zach received had been carefully worded. It was from his nephew, Stefan, asking permission to stay at his uncle’s boarding house in Mystic Falls—nothing unusual there. Except that Stefan wasn’t his nephew, and he didn’t really need to ask permission to stay there, since it was really his house. Zach had received a dozen or more similar letters over the years, starting in the mid-1990’s when he’d taken stewardship of the boarding house from his parents. In the first ones Stefan had referred to Zach as his ‘cousin,’ which was more plausible at the time; but since Stefan hadn’t aged a day since then, Zach was now more credibly his ‘uncle.’ In private, though, Zach preferred to call him uncle, a title he’d learned in childhood. Odd as the changing forms of address seemed, they were actually the least odd thing about Stefan.
He arrived one evening after dark, not bothering to knock but rather walking right into the unlocked house, as comfortably as if he did so every night. “Zach,” he greeted, when the other man came around the corner. “How have you been?”
“Uncle Stefan,” Zach replied, reaching out to shake the offered hand. It was mildly cool to the touch, like he’d been outside on a chilly night.
“You look tired,” Stefan observed, not tactlessly but rather with genuine concern. “Are you well? Is anything wrong?”
It wasn’t really that Zach disliked Stefan. Stefan was in fact difficult to dislike; he was a good person, kind, compassionate, thoughtful. But the wariness Zach had learned over the years rested heavily on his shoulders, and he saw Stefan’s visits more as something to be endured than enjoyed. “I had to cancel some reservations, when I heard you were coming,” Zach explained instead. This was after all a working boarding house. “People were coming to town to see the comet.”
“Ah. Well, I’m sure they’ll find someplace else to stay,” Stefan suggested easily. It was a given that there would be no strangers in his house when he stayed there; he considered it his sanctuary, his place of relaxation away from the world, and only wanted family around. “Did you ever get that roof leak fixed?” he inquired politely, glancing around the cavernous living room.
“Yes, I did,” Zach assured him. “Your letter said—“
There was a thump from the entryway and they both looked back around the corner to see a petite blond enter the house carrying two large suitcases. “Need any help, Isannah?” Stefan asked, expecting the answer to be ‘no.’
“No, I’ve got it, thanks!” she said cheerfully, closing the door behind her.
“Do you remember Isannah?” Stefan asked Zach curiously. “She’s my housekeeper. She’ll take care of the house while I’m here.”
“Hi, Zach!” Isannah greeted, giving him a hug that he felt he couldn’t decline. “My goodness, you’ve grown so much, I wouldn’t have recognized you! You were just a tiny thing the last time I saw you.” Isannah looked barely older than Stefan, maybe early 20’s, so her comment was even more disconcerting to Zach. “Well, I’ll just put these upstairs, then I’ll go check on the kitchen,” she announced, determination in her tone.
“Do you remember her?” Stefan repeated, once Isannah had gone upstairs.
“From when I was a child,” Zach admitted. Normally Stefan didn’t bring her along as his visits only last a week or so; but this time—“Your letter said you wanted to stay ‘for a while,’” he finally mentioned. “Go to school?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Stefan agreed. He headed for the elegant sideboard with its crystal decanter. “Would you like a drink?” he offered politely, polite if you ignored the fact that he was helping himself to Zach’s whiskey. Zach did ignore it; he had long ago ceased thinking of most of the house’s possessions as his own.
“No, thank you,” he replied, and Stefan poured one for himself. “But you can’t—go to school,” he tried to explain, thinking this should be obvious. “You can’t—interact with people.”
“That’s exactly what I intend to do, Zach,” Stefan informed him, sipping the whiskey. His gaze drifted off slightly, as though he were thinking of something else for a moment. “Do you know the Gilbert family?” he asked.
Zach’s mind raced—not as to whether he knew them, but about how they fit in with whatever Stefan had planned. “The husband and wife were killed in a car accident last May,” he finally answered. Stefan watched him patiently; he already knew that. “There’s a son and daughter—teenagers, I think. An aunt moved back to town to look after them. I don’t know them well.”
Stefan nodded as though this had been marginally helpful. “I’ve thought of a cover story,” he revealed easily, too easily for Zach’s liking. “Military family, deceased parents, born in Mystic Falls but left as a child. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of all the paperwork. I just need you to maintain the story if anyone asks.” He set his empty glass down on the tray and started for the stairs.
Zach cut him off. “Uncle Stefan—You can’t just pretend to be—a normal teenager. Someone’s going to find out. Someone’s going to get hurt.”
Stefan put his hand on the other man’s arm, and Zach tried not to flinch. “Zach, I promise, I’m not going to hurt anyone,” he said, and Zach could see he was being sincere; the vervain Zach poured in his coffee every day ensured that Stefan couldn’t just compel him to go along with him. “I only feed from animals now. You don’t have any pets, do you?” he asked with suddenly seriousness. “That was a joke,” he added, when Zach froze. “Relax, Zach, it will be fine. It’s not like you actually have to raise a teenager.” With that Stefan stepped away from him, carefully detaching himself so as not to hurt the fragile human, and headed upstairs to the room Zach kept preserved for him, a monument to all the memories Stefan had that went well beyond Zach’s lifetime.
This was not what Zach had in mind, no, not at all. A few days, maybe a week—that was the usual timeframe, and Stefan would walk around town after dark when he was less likely to be seen and remembered, just keeping up with the changes, not making any himself. Zach tried to picture him going to classes at the high school, doing homework, hanging out with the kids in the pavilion by the lake—it was comical, and yet horrifying at the same time, knowing that Stefan could walk among the unsuspecting humans so easily. They would be completely unaware of how easily he could turn and kill them—and how much he might enjoy doing so, no matter how kind and compassionate he seemed. And how did the Gilberts fit into all this? Zach made a mental note to visit the town archives—tomorrow, if possible—and look into their history.
“What can I—oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Isannah apologized, when Zach nearly leapt out of his skin. “I just wanted to know what you liked for breakfast, and when I should make it.”
“Um, I can make my own breakfast, thanks,” Zach assured her.
She looked slightly disappointed. “Oh, it’s no trouble. I like to cook, and I don’t usually have anyone to do it for.”
“No, really, it’s okay.” He wasn’t trying to be rude; he just didn’t want to get too comfortable around these… people.
“Oh. Well, Stefan likes to have coffee, especially in the morning,” Isannah went on. She began to straighten the couch pillows she deemed unacceptably crooked. “Do you mind if I use the coffee maker in the kitchen?”
“No, feel free,” Zach allowed, surprised she bothered to ask.
“Okay. Thanks. And don’t worry,” she added, turning back to the kitchen, “I’ll have this whole house clean before you know it!”
Suddenly Zach wasn’t sure which one of them was more threatening.
As promised, Isannah was making coffee the next morning when Zach got up. “Where’s Stefan?” he asked, unable to keep the suspicion from his tone.
Isannah didn’t seem to notice it. “He went out to the woods to find some breakfast,” she answered easily. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks,” Zach answered. He poured himself a cup of coffee, added some creamer, then pulled a small bottle from the nearest drawer and added two drops of pale, greenish liquid to his drink. He didn’t make a big deal about it, but he also didn’t try to hide it, and if Isannah saw anything she didn’t comment.
The small blond was vigorously scrubbing at the old wash-sink, a holdover from an earlier era that Zach hadn’t used in years. It looked good for the guests, though. “What are your plans for the day?” Isannah asked with interest, attacking the rust stains brutally.
“Well, I thought maybe I’d try to repair the grape arbor,” Zach decided. As long as there weren’t paying customers to attend to, he might as well catch up on maintenance. “The wooden slats have rotted through—“
“Oh, I can take care of that,” Isannah dismissed. “If you’d be available to drive me to the store to get some supplies, that is. I hate to impose, but Stefan doesn’t want me to use much magic, so I’m going to need some chemicals and hardware.”
“Uh, sure,” Zach agreed dubiously. “Sorry, what are you again? A fairy?” No stranger than a vampire, he supposed.
“No, I’m a house elf,” Isannah corrected without offense. She made a ridiculous little growl of frustration and threw down her scouring pad. Then she glanced back at the outside door. “Well, maybe a little magic would be—“
As if on cue Stefan breezed in from the backyard, his hair slightly windblown, and Isannah retreated guiltily from the sink. “Good morning,” he told Zach cheerfully.
“Good morning,” Zach replied, sipping his coffee determinedly.
Isannah rushed across the kitchen to pour Stefan his own cup, even though he was standing right by the machine. “Did you have a nice breakfast, Stefan? Did you—oh, you’ve torn your sweatshirt!” she fussed.
He took the coffee from her and looked down at the small rip without interest. “Oh. Yeah, I must’ve torn it while I was chasing the—are there badgers around here now?” he asked Zach. “I don’t remember them being here. Sorry,” he added to Isannah, sitting down at the table across from Zach.
“Well, I can sew it up,” she decided and left the room.
“She likes to fix things, around the house,” Stefan informed Zach, somewhat unnecessarily. “She can be a little…” He searched for the right word. “…zealous sometimes. I’ve told her not to use so much magic,” he added thoughtfully. “It’s better to move away from it sometimes. You don’t mind taking her to the store occasionally, while I’m at school?” Zach could hardly say no, with the look Stefan gave him.
Isannah hurried back into the room clutching a small sewing kit. “Good thing I found this last night when I was digging around!” she announced cheerfully, threading the needle on the first attempt. She reached for Stefan’s arm as though she were going to repair the damage while he was still wearing it.
“Isannah,” he told her mildly, though there was steel in the tone. “It doesn’t have to be right this second.”
She was not pleased to leave something so obviously wrong, but she backed off. “Well, at least it wasn’t a new one,” she decided. “I’ve got all your new school clothes washed and I’m going to iron them today,” she went on, sounding excited by this prospect. “What should I lay out for you tomorrow, for your first day of school? Do you want a suit?”
Stefan smiled fondly. “No, it’s very casual now,” he reminded her. “I’ll pick something out myself.” Her eyes narrowed. “And nothing really needs to be ironed.”
Isannah ignored that part and went back to scrubbing the old sink. “We went on a big shopping spree in New York for his back-to-school wardrobe!” she enthused to Zach.
“Yes, that was…” Long pause. “Fun,” Stefan finished, humoring her. “Did you get something to eat?” he asked her more seriously.
“Yes, I found some big, fat crickets in the basement,” Isannah assured him with satisfaction, and Zach froze, panic momentarily setting in at the thought of her rooting around in the basement. Stefan gave him a look he couldn’t interpret, but before either of them could speak Isannah chattered on. “Oh, I almost forgot, I have to buy your school supplies today!” Stefan barely refrained from sighing. “Maybe they’ll have a list at the store. Do you know what classes you’re taking? I’ll label all your folders and notebooks and binders for you.”
“No, I have to wait until I get to school tomorrow,” Stefan explained. “But once I have my schedule, I promise you can label everything.” This seemed to please her. “Could you go clean in my room for a while?” he requested. “It could use a good airing-out.”
“I bet it could!” Isannah agreed. “Okay, I’ll go take care of that right now!”
“She can be kind of exhausting,” Stefan noted, as soon as she’d gone. “She’ll settle down soon.”
Zach nodded mutely, chugging his coffee and trying to think of a plausible excuse to leave the table. “Well—“
“Isannah found the plants last night,” Stefan said, and escape evaporated. “How long have you been growing vervain?”
Zach looked up when he realized Stefan wasn’t scolding, merely curious. “Years,” he admitted. “It’s been passed down through the family—one of the precautions you take when you’re related to vampires.” Stefan’s eyebrows raised slightly. “You’ve always treated us well, Uncle Stefan,” Zach went on, feeling slightly bolder. “But there are others…”
They both knew who he meant and Stefan sighed. “Has he been around lately?”
“Not for about… seven years,” Zach replied. Those visits were usually much worse than Stefan’s, but also usually less frequent. “He’d kill me if he knew I was growing it.”
“Well I won’t tell him,” Stefan promised dryly. He drained the rest of his coffee and stood. “I’m going to take a shower, then I’m going to look around town, maybe go to the archives.” Fortunately Stefan’s back was to Zach as he said this, so he couldn’t see the other man’s disappointed expression as his own archive-digging plans were postponed. “If you have time,” Stefan added from the doorway, “Isannah would appreciate the ride to the store. But don’t worry about it if you’re busy.” Zach decided he wasn’t too busy at all.
*****
There was a thump from the house and Damon looked up from Stefan’s prone figure in the driveway. “Oh, looks like we woke Zach up,” he noted sarcastically, sauntering away. “Sorry, Zach!”
“Damon Molinari Salvatore!” a stern voice proclaimed, and Damon whipped around to see Isannah in the doorway, her hands on her hips.
For an instant a genuine smile lit up his face, though Stefan was not able to appreciate it much as he picked himself stiffly off the ground. Damon swooped over to the blond and scooped her up, spinning her around until she squealed. “Sunny!” he greeted, putting her back on her feet. “Did he drag you back to this drafty old castle? You’ll have plenty to clean, anyway.”
Isannah refused to be swayed by his charm, however. “Did you break that window?” she asked him severely.
“I did not,” Damon claimed, the picture of innocence. “It was entirely Stefan’s fault.”
She couldn’t really do much if the owners of the house insisted on breaking it. “Well, is anyone hurt?” she checked instead.
“Fine,” Stefan assured her, glaring at Damon.
“Right as rain,” Damon answered chipperly. He turned to Isannah with a mock-serious look. “Have you cleaned my room yet? I want my room cleaned.”
“Are you staying for a while?” she asked hopefully. She liked to see the family together.
“No,” Stefan answered for him.
“Yes,” Damon countered, pointedly ignoring his brother. “I might have some dry-cleaning for you, too.”
“Oh, that’s fine, just bring it over anytime,” Isannah encouraged, and Stefan barely refrained from rolling his eyes.
Damon smirked at him over her head. “I’ll do that,” he promised. Then he kissed her cheek. “TTFN. That’s ‘ta-ta for now,’ with ‘ta-ta’ being slang for ‘good-bye’ and not, well, you know.”
“No,” Isannah said blankly, shaking her head.
Damon decided this concept was too complex to explain further. “Mmm. Okay. Like the scruffy look,” he added to Zach as he walked away, letting the human know he hadn’t overlooked him lurking in the shadows by the door. A moment later Damon disappeared into the darkness.
Still shaking off a few healing injuries Stefan stared after him, mind racing at this new and thoroughly unpleasant development. Zach hurried out to the driveway to meet him. “What is he doing here?” he hissed, trying to keep his panic under control.
“The usual,” Stefan spat bitterly. “Trying to make my life miserable.”
“He’s killed two people already,” Zach reminded him.
“I know,” Stefan agreed with a sigh. It seemed arrogant to say that those people had died just to upset him; but since Damon was the one who had killed them—they kind of had. And that left Stefan feeling more helpless than ever.
Isannah intruded into their huddle. “Can I use magic to fix the window?” she asked in a hushed voice that mimicked their own.
“Yes, go ahead,” Stefan allowed and she scampered off.
“If he’s just following you, maybe you should go,” Zach suggested boldly. “Go to a big city, see if he follows, gets distracted…”
“It’s not that simple,” Stefan told him flatly. “Besides, there’s something else—“
“That Gilbert girl?” The way Stefan turned on him almost made Zach regret saying anything. But something had to be said. “What’s so special about her?”
“Could you move, please?” Isannah called down from the broken wall in Stefan’s room.
Stefan and Zach moved closer to the house and watched in silence as glass and wood shards flew up from the pavement, reforming Stefan’s window—it was like watching a film of it breaking in reverse. Zach was amazed; Stefan had seen it before. “Don’t worry about her,” Stefan told Zach, and it took him a moment to remember who they’d been talking about. “I’ll keep an eye on Damon. I’ll find out what he’s up to.” Somehow Zach didn’t find this very comforting.
*****
Stefan was idling with the grocery cart in an aisle when he detected a familiar and welcome presence nearby. Maybe he’d caught a fragment of her voice as she spoke to herself, or heard the click of her shoes on the tile floor, or smelled the scent of her shampoo and lotion and underlying warmth. Whatever it was, he knew she was about to walk around the corner and found himself tense with anticipation, ridiculous though that was at his age.
Then she did walk past, and he almost forgot to do anything about it. She was beautiful, delicate, almost like an old-fashioned china doll, but he could sense the underlying steel—she would not break under pressure, she had proven that already. It was not a cold steel, however, unlike the woman whose face she inexplicably shared—there was no constant hint of mockery in her smile, no glint of cunning in her eyes.
She’d almost crossed the end of the aisle, oblivious to his presence, when he remembered to call out. “Elena.”
She stopped suddenly and turned, a smile lighting her face as she recognized him. “Stefan. What are you doing here?” She caught herself immediately. “Well, I guess that’s obvious,” she laughed sheepishly. She rocked back on her heels, her body language wanting to be closer to him but her conscious mind no doubt cautioning her against coming on too strong.
“Yeah, I was just doing a little shopping for my uncle,” he replied with a smile. Honestly he would be content to merely stare at her for a while, but that tended to be frowned upon these days, at least among people who had only just met, so he scrambled to come up with something else to say. “Um, you like mustard.” Wow, insightful.
Elena stared at him blankly for a second, then remembered she was holding a very large bottle of mustard. “Oh, yeah, well, my brother and aunt are real mustard freaks,” she joked. “I’m more of a ketchup girl, personally.” She, too, seemed eager to come up with ways to prolong the conversation, inane though it might be. “How about you? What’s your favorite condiment?”
“Mayonnaise mixed with Tabasco sauce,” Stefan answered after a moment’s thought. He’d heard that once in a movie and thought it sounded like an interesting response. “I know, it sounds really gross,” he admitted as her eyebrows went up, “but it’s good.”
“I’ll have to try that sometime,” she promised. Reluctance shown on her face. “Well, I should get back to my aunt, she’s waiting for the—“
There was a sudden gasp from further down the aisle and Stefan looked up to see Isannah standing there, staring at them in alarm. Her arms were full of vinegar bottles and they began to slip—Stefan used only a little bit of unnatural speed to get to her side and catch them. “It’s only Elena, I explained this to you,” he reminded her in a soft voice. He could understand her reluctance, though; she and Katherine had not gotten along, to put it mildly. But that was why he’d prepared her, so she wouldn’t be awkward around Elena.
“Have you met my housekeeper?” Stefan asked quickly of Elena, who was watching them with concern. Isannah trailed him back to the cart, where they deposited the vinegar. “This is Isannah. Isannah, this is Elena.”
The blond stuck out her hand gamely. “Hello, Elena. Stefan’s told me so much about you.”
“Really?” Elena responded with pleased surprise, taking her hand. Stefan did not have to fake his slight embarrassment at these words.
“Oh yes, he’s been terribly excited—“
“Um, hmm, you know, the ice cream’s starting to melt, so—“ Stefan interrupted a bit obviously, giving Isannah a look.
Elena seemed to appreciate knowing he’d talked about her, though. “Yeah, I should go,” she agreed. “It was nice to see you again, Stefan,” she told him. “And nice to meet you, Isannah.” With that she turned and left.
As soon as she was out of view Stefan turned on Isannah. “What?” she asked innocently. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to play it cool.”
“I’m trying not to look like an obsessed stalker,” he pointed out. She made a face and started to push the cart to the next aisle, tactfully avoiding the phrase, ‘even if you are one.’
*****
“Here, let me hold that for you,” Elena offered, taking some of the notebooks from Stefan’s arms. It wasn’t really too much for him to carry, of course, but apparently he’d overestimated the amount that looked right.
“Thanks, I’ll just be a sec,” he assured her, quickly rearranging the books in his locker. They were almost comically narrow, a reminder of how many more students were squeezed into schools these days, and he couldn’t get both arms in at a time to shuffle his textbooks.
“Is this your handwriting?” Elena asked, a bit dubiously, staring at the feminine calligraphy labeling each of his notebooks.
Stefan smirked a little. “Uh, no. Inside is my handwriting.” Elena flipped open the cover to gaze at the equally neat but simpler handwriting covering the pages. He did kind of miss the beauty and elegance of the handwriting form he’d originally been taught, but these days it stood out as pretentious and unnecessary. “Isannah—the housekeeper—she labeled all my notebooks for me. She was really excited about my first day of school here.”
Elena smiled faintly. “She seems nice,” she noted. “She doesn’t seem very old, to have worked for your family that long.”
“She’s older than she looks,” Stefan claimed. “All that energy keeps her young.”
Fortunately Elena was distracted from this subject by something else. “Your notes—“ she began, frowning at them. “It’s like—are you transcribing every word the teacher says?” She flipped through a couple of pages, perhaps intrusively.
“Oh, well, it’s something I do when I start to get bored,” Stefan insisted, gently taking the notebooks back from her. “Helps me stay focused.” Actually it was fairly automatic and allowed him to answer Mr. Tanner’s combative questions without taking much time away from staring at Elena. Somehow he didn’t think that was an appropriate response to give, though.
*****
Damon stood in the doorway of the great room, staring at the young woman inside in surprise. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Isannah looked up from her labors with an annoyed expression. “I’m trying to keep this place clean,” she grunted, resuming her efforts to shove a large wooden table aside.
Damon crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorway, obviously with no intention of helping her. “Can’t you just twitch your nose and get it all done?”
Isannah rolled her eyes. “I wish they’d never made Bewitched,” she muttered under her breath.
“Seriously, what’s this whole ‘living as a human’ thing about?” he went on to ask, hopping easily down the stairs into the large room. “Humans are weak, fragile, shallow creatures.”
“Good thing you’re not shallow,” Isannah shot back. She gave the table a frustrated shove and her hand slipped, scraping her arm on the table’s edge. She hissed in pain and pulled her arm back to look at the scratch. Giving in with a smug smirk, Damon lifted the large table easily and set it aside. “I just wanted to see you flex your muscles,” she told him, and his grin widened.
“You’d better put something on that before it gets infected,” he suggested, indicating her injury.
“It’s nothing,” she dismissed, sweeping the wooden floor where the table had stood.
Damon wandered idly around the room, picking up knickknacks and setting them down in the wrong places. “Kind of a big house for just the three of you, isn’t it?” he commented.
“You aren’t staying here?” she realized, looking up.
He turned to her in surprise. “Is that disappointment I hear?” he asked, unable to keep the hint of amusement out of his tone.
Isannah shrugged and went back to her work. “I like everyone to be together, that’s all,” she said. “Although I could do without all the snide remarks and arguments,” she added.
“Better I have my own place, then,” Damon assured her. “You should come over sometime, I’m sure it could use a good cleaning.” Isannah gave him a look as she carefully picked up a dustpan of debris and dropped it into a garbage can. “Come on,” he said more seriously, “what good is a house elf without her powers?”
Isannah avoided looking at him. “Stefan’s trying to move away from magic—“
“Oh, G-d,” Damon groaned dramatically. “Save me from Stefan and his no-magic diets! Remember the last time he went through this phase? He had you climbing on ladders, scrubbing the windows.”
“Yes, well, at least we have electricity now,” Isannah commented, trying to be positive. She started to push a couch aside and Damon flopped down on it, rendering it immobile.
“His house, his rules, I guess,” he shrugged flippantly.
“That’s right.”
“My house has a lot fewer rules,” he tempted, kneeling on the couch as she went to a different part of the room to clean. “Hardly any at all, in fact. You can use all the magic you want to clean it.”
“Thanks,” Isannah replied dryly, beginning to dust the mantle.
“Only don’t tell Stefan where it is,” Damon warned. “I don’t want him popping in and rifling through my stuff.”
“I really wish I hadn’t been left to both of you,” Isannah sighed.
Damon appeared beside her almost instantly, but she wasn’t impressed with his parlor tricks. “You know, as the elder, you really should have gone to me,” he reminded her in a low voice. “What do you say, you come over to my place, and I’ll get you… a Roomba?”
“You tempt me strangely,” she admitted with a smirk. “After I finish here.”
Damon was clearly disappointed with this answer, but he knew he wasn’t going to get a different one. Obligingly he shoved the couch aside so Isannah could sweep under it and a small grey mouse froze in the sudden exposure. Isannah gasped, then scooped the mouse up with her hands and dropped it, wriggling, into her mouth. Damon’s looked was decidedly unenthusiastic.
“What?” she asked, slurping up the tail. “You eat people.”
He had to admit that was a good point. “You’ve got a little—“ He indicated the side of her mouth and she wiped off some stray mouse fur before going back to her duties.
“So what about this whole Elena thing?” Damon asked her as she worked. “Doesn’t seem like a good idea, does it?”
Isannah’s expression indicated she agreed. “No one asks for my opinion,” she shrugged, sweeping.
“I do,” Damon protested, and she laughed.
“Only when it agrees with yours,” she pointed out. “Anyway, good idea or not, how could we not come back here?” she asked sensibly. “No one ever sees the clone of their long-lost love and says, ‘Eh, I’m just gonna ignore that.’”
“Well maybe they should,” Damon replied darkly.
“Of course they should, but no one does,” she persisted. “You should just leave him alone, too, but you never do,” she went on, referring to his brother. “Some people just thrive on drama.”
“Some people talk too much,” he shot back irritably. “Make me a casserole tonight,” he added coolly. “Caroline’s coming over and I promised to feed her this time.”
Isannah quirked an eyebrow. “Speaking of drama.”
“Vegan,” he told her with a sneer.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine. I’ll go to the store,” she announced, setting down her broom. “I like vegan cooking. It’s challenging.”
“Whatever,” he replied, no longer finding the conversation amusing. “Bring it over to my place around 6:30.”
“Okay.”
*****
Elena opened her front door and froze in surprised alarm when she saw Damon standing there. She hadn’t had good experiences with the man and was suspicious of how he treated her good friend, Caroline, so his unexpected appearance didn’t bode well.
Then she noticed he was holding a tray of cupcakes. Pink-frosted cupcakes with little sparkly sprinkles on them. And that kind of killed any menace he might want to project. The long-suffering expression on his face said he knew it, too.
“Hello,” Elena said cautiously.
“I’ve brought cupcakes,” he pointed out unnecessarily, unable to keep the sheepishness out of his tone.
Stefan appeared at Elena’s side almost too quickly to be normal. “What are you—“ he began suspiciously, then he too saw what his brother was carrying. “Cupcakes?”
“Cupcakes,” Elena nodded.
“Cupcakes,” Damon agreed, trying to put a positive spin on the situation.
“Thanks for helping carry stuff,” Caroline said sarcastically, coming up behind Damon carrying a large crock pot.
“Yes, thanks for helping,” Isannah echoed, but much more sincerely, approaching with her arms laden with food containers. “Hello again, Elena! Stefan told me what happened to your big meal. I hope you don’t mind me bringing over a few things.”
“No, of course not,” Elena assured her. She quite liked the young woman who seemed to take care of both the Salvatore brothers and was grateful for her efforts. She stepped aside to let the food-bearing visitors in.
“You could have left some of it at home,” Stefan said pointedly, staring right at his brother. The other man smirked as he sailed past but couldn’t get too cocky while still carrying pink cupcakes.