Their Raven

Chapter 6

The drive back to the Salvatore house was thick with silence, the tension stretching across the small space between Damon and Stefan. Damon reached for the radio, clicking it on to fill the quiet with a steady rock beat. The music helped; it was easier to focus on the rhythm than on the look Stefan had given him earlier, which was equal parts worry and accusation.

As if reading his thoughts, Stefan sighed. "Do you have to listen to that?"

"What's wrong with a little ambience?" Damon retorted, tapping his fingers to the beat on the steering wheel. "Adds a little style to our late-night 'adventure,' don't you think?" Stefan's frown deepened. "It's not an adventure, Damon. You're getting too close to them. Too close to get hurt."

Damon threw his brother a sidelong glance, hiding his amusement with an exaggerated look of innocence. "Hurt? You're underestimating my charm, brother."

But as he said it, he felt a flicker of unease. The Mikaelsons weren't the typical adversaries, and he knew it. But there was something about them, about their old-world allure and how they carried their darkness so unapologetically. Part of him was drawn to it, to the challenge they represented. He always had. And the Mikaelsons weren't just dangerous–they were the embodiment of every myth, every vampire legend, come to life.

"Charm won't help you here, Damon," Stefan muttered, crossing his arms tightly. "They're the Mikaelsons. They don't care about anyone but themselves. They're not our friends."

Damon laughed, hoping it sounded as casual as he wanted it to. "Elena put you up to this, didn't she? Always got you on some mission to keep me on a leash."

His brother's jaw clenched, his gaze fixed firmly ahead not sparing Damon a glance. "This has nothing to do with her, and you know it. I'm worried because I've seen what happens when you think you're in control–only to realize you're not."

Damon felt a pang of irritation, both at Stefan's nagging and at the uncomfortable truth behind it. He wanted to believe he was having a bit of fun, that he was only flirting with danger the way he always had. But it was more than that. Something about Klaus's magnetism, Elijah's smooth sophistication and even Kol's wicked grin had sparked a curiosity in him–a sense that he was playing with something ancient, something that could shatter his world if he got too close.

"Relax," Damon said, trying to push the thoughts aside. "This isn't like last time. I'm not out for revenge or getting caught in some overdramatic love triangle. I'm just... enjoying myself."

"Are you?" Stefan shot back, his voice edged with frustration. "Because all I see is you getting pulled deeper into their world, acting like they're not the same people who've torn apart countless lives–ours included."

Damon's jaw tightened as he considered Stefan's words. His brother had a point; Klaus alone had wreaked havoc on their lives time and again. And yet, there was something different this time. Damon wanted to believe it wasn't just about Klaus or the trouble the Mikaelsons had caused in the past. He felt something darker, something intriguing and dangerous calling to him as if the Mikaelsons were a mirror held up to his own worst tendencies.

"Look," Damon said, softening his tone. "If I thought I was in real trouble, I'd tell you. But I'm just... I'm curious. They're not like anyone else we've met. They're... complicated."

Stefan gave him a hard, searching look. "You're always so sure you can control things, Damon. But you're not invincible, and I know how quickly you get in over your head." Damon forced a grin, letting out a laugh that sounded more hollow than he'd intended. "If you keep frowning like that, you'll get wrinkles."

They fell silent again, the weight of unspoken fears lingering between them. Damon glanced out the window taking his focus off the road, watching the trees whip by as the miles rolled on. He hated this feeling–the tug-of-war between his brother's unrelenting concern and his craving for something... more. A thrill. A taste of the unknown.

Because deep down, he knew that was what this was really about. He'd lived centuries and seen more than most, but the Mikaelsons were something entirely new. They were old, powerful and ruthless in ways he could only imagine. And despite the danger, he was drawn to it. Maybe it was self-destructive, maybe it was foolish, but he couldn't help himself. Something was intoxicating about being around them, something that made him feel alive in a way he hadn't in years.

When they finally reached the Salvatore Boarding House, Damon pushed open the car door and took a deep breath of the night air. He could feel Stefan's eyes on him as he made his way up the steps, tension still simmering between them. He didn't stop until he reached the liquor cabinet, grabbing the bourbon and pouring himself a generous glass.

Stefan followed him inside, his expression etched with concern. Damon could feel his brother's presence hovering, a reminder of the weight he was expected to carry, the responsibility to keep their lives from spiralling out of control. But he couldn't help feeling stifled by it, by Stefan's constant need to keep him in check.

"What's the plan, then?" Damon asked finally breaking the silence. "You going to watch my every move?" Stefan sank into an armchair, eyes fixed on him with an intensity that was hard to ignore. "No. I just... I don't want to lose you, Damon. Not to them."

Damon's hand paused on his glass, his smirk fading into something softer. He didn't like the sincerity in Stefan's voice, didn't like the way it made him feel–vulnerable, caught between his brother's expectations and his own reckless desires.

But he couldn't deny the truth behind it. He'd been playing with fire his whole life, and the Mikaelsons were a bonfire, a blaze so bright it threatened to consume everything in its path. And yet, he was drawn to it, to the thrill of being part of their world, of understanding what lay beneath their polished fangs. It was foolish, but that was who he was–foolish, reckless, and forever craving the edge.

"You don't need to worry, Stefan," he said finally, his voice softer than before. "I'm not going anywhere."

Stefan's gaze softened, but the doubt lingered in his eyes. Damon lifted his glass, feeling the bourbon's heat course through him, anchoring him in the moment. He was tempted to brush it all off, to laugh and make another joke. But a part of him felt heavier, weighed down by the knowledge that the Mikaelsons weren't like anything they'd faced before. And he was in deeper than he cared to admit.

With a final, reluctant nod, Stefan reached for his own glass, clinking it against Damon's in a silent truce. Damon leaned back, watching his brother's face, the worry lines that never seemed to fade. For now, they could share this moment, this fragile peace. But Damon knew it wouldn't last. The Mikaelson brothers were still out there, still waiting, and the pull he felt toward them hadn't lessened.

Whatever came next, Damon wasn't sure he could stop himself from diving deeper. He told himself it was just curiosity, a harmless fascination. But in his heart, he knew better. The Mikaelsons were fire, and he was more than willing to burn.

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I don't know how to feel about this chapter, I've been sitting on it for a while. I don't know if I should love or hate it. Anyways I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think I always love readying your comments it's brightens up my day x