ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ⇴ ᴛᴠᴅ ² ✓

fifteen

The hardwood of the downtown bar dug softly into his leather clad back. Damon gave a careless sideward glance as Stefan drank not so subtly from the hot waitress. He rolled his eyes at the thirsty vampire, small doubts about his plan making themselves known in his crowded head every now and again.

Elena would never approve of this, he thought with a daring smirk. He could just picture Lexi staring at him from the Other Side with disappointment for not followed her patented method to the letter. Old habits died hard.

Stefan gasped out in euphoria as he ripped himself from the girl's awaiting arm, sighing in relief as his veins cleared of their sandpaper feeling. The dark haired Salvatore pushed off of the bar, patting his brother's shoulder casually as he looked to Callie, the compelled waitress. "By the bottle, sweetheart."

They made their way to an empty table where Callie shortly followed with two empty glasses and a bottle of the whiskey Damon ordered. Just as she was to turn and go back to her job, Damon caught her wrist lightly with an alluring smirk on his pouty lips. "Have a seat, Callie, the fun's just about to start." He tempted charmingly and the waitress smiled silently, taking an obedient seat on his open lap.

Stefan eyed the other with curiosity shining in his olive eyes. What was he doing? It was an odd approach to his predicament, but he had to admit, it was more fun than sitting in an old cell, rotting and starving.

The vampire turned to his younger brother, fishing for quarters in his pockets and laying them on the table. He flipped one between his fingers before dropping his hand to the wooden table, watching the coin clatter into the glass. "Drink up, brother." Damon lifted Callie's arm, offering him the sweet drink.

Stefan complied with a cute smile sent the waitress' way before morphing his expression. Wiping the corner of his lips tidily with a remiss thumb, he grabbed a coin from those Damon had procured, mirroring his action with ease and finesse. He grinned victoriously, gesturing to his brother's drink.

"Drink up, brother."

Damon lifted his glass, downing the ounce easily. The screeching siren of a passing ambulance sounded obnoxiously from outside and he cast a wayward eye onto the road as it passed, wondering for the briefest of moments where it was headed.

⇴

Billie shivered involuntarily, wrapping her arms securely around herself. They'd given her an itchy brown blanket, a kind EMT had approached her with a relaxing sort of smile, wrapping it around her like she was an infant. 

It hadn't made much of a difference. The chill she felt in her bones wasn't coming from the air. Her eyes had landed on the bouquet of flowers in the responding officer's hands as he gave them to her. "I think these belong to you miss." He'd said to her with a gentle smile.

They all seemed the same. They treated her like she was fragile, like she would break into tears if they spoke too loud or too harsh. 

Billie sat with her knees up and her back to the corridor outside the open apartment door, watching numbly as a few officials investigated the place, ensuring it was indeed what it looked like.

She'd watched them carry in the empty stretcher, and walk out carrying a body bag over it. 

Harper was so unsure of how to feel. This was Alex's father, the man who had raised the love of her life. A human. But he was far from innocent, he was cruel and abusive. A raging drunk who beat his only son because he was too much of a child to process his grief for his dead wife.

They were all dead now. Not only was Alex's death on her conscience, but so was his father's. Should she cry? Would her tears be for him, or would they be for herself and her own pity. Was that selfish of her?