Rescue Me

Chapter 4

Humiliation coupled with a hangover was not the best way to wake up in the morning.

Caroline bit back a groan when she pried open her eyes, the offensive sunlight nearly burning off her corneas. Or at least, that's how it felt her hazy, throbbing brain. She rolled over onto her back, dragging a hand down her face as the other tangled in the knots of hair on top of her head. Her new dress—the one she'd bought in New York a few short hours before catching her flight to Virginia—was bunched around her hips, the smooth material now marred by hideous wrinkles she knew no amount of ironing would ever disperse. An empty bottle of champagne was tucked into the blankets at her side. Her stiletto heels were tossed in the armchair across the room.

"Morning."

This time, she let out a tortured groan, her hands quickly traveling to her ears at the sound of the chipper voice. "Lower the megaphone, Stef," she muttered out, squinting up at the distorted figure that stood at the foot of her bed. "Ugh, what time is it?"

"Almost ten," Stefan said, smirking down at the disheveled and clearly miserable form of his best friend. "I'm honestly amazed you are even coherent right now. Between the bottle you guzzled up here on your own and the other two I'm sure you downed during the party, you should be dead, at the very least."

Caroline moaned, turning over onto her side and curling in around herself. "Oh, God, death would be too sweet a mercy right now," she whined, cradling her aching head in her hands. She heard Stefan laugh above her, and then cried out when she felt him hurl himself onto the bed, curling up next to her. "Stefan! Seriously?"

"Lighten up, Carebear," he said, propping himself up on his elbow and grinning down at her. "Come on, we've had worse hangovers. And we were a lot younger than we are now."

Caroline shook her head, shifting so her cheek rested against Stefan's shoulder. "We were a lot stupider too."

"Can't deny that," Stefan replied, scooting a bit further back on the bed so Caroline could rest against him more comfortably. He stared down at her blonde head, watching her fingers massage her temples slowly. "So. Want to talk about what exactly led to the all night kegger?"

She groaned, offering a half-hearted shrug. "Hell if I know," she said. "First it was all the judgmental, two-faced looks from everyone who came up to me. Then it was Damon."

"Good ol' Damon," Stefan muttered, pushing Caroline's bangs out of her eyes as she settled more on her back. "I'm sorry if he upset you, Caroline. I made him promise to be on his best behavior, but, clearly, his word can't be trusted."

He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but he knew he was failing at it. Though Caroline had put her brief affair with his older brother behind her—or as behind her as she could—Stefan held a bit more resentment towards it. It was no secret to anyone that the Salvatore brothers had been anything but close during Stefan's teenage years. Damon had very much been the black sheep of the family, jealous of Stefan's golden boy image and various accomplishments. Their father had voiced his disappointment in his eldest son, and years of his words and harsh looks had started to take their toll on Damon. A bitter, harsh side to him started to rear its head, and he made it a point to come between his brother and anything that made him happy.

Enter Caroline.

Sweet, naïve, insecure Caroline.

She had been easy pickings for Damon. A smooth word here, a flattering comment there, and young Caroline Forbes—so desperate for approval and attention since she rarely received it at home—was putty in his hands.

"Damon's a first rate jackass, Stefan," Caroline said, breaking him from his train of thought. "It's not a secret to anyone."

Stefan chuckled, nodding. "True." They lied there in silence for a moment before he glanced down at her again. "And, uh, what was up with all the tension between you and Rebekah's brother?"