Author: fadingtales PM
History has a way of repeating itself and in the end she's not sure if she wants it rewritten. Damon Salvatore TVD /Blair Waldorf GG AU crossover fic. A/N: Takes place before GG s2x13 and acts as an alternate ending for TVD s2x1.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Drama - Blair & Damon S. - Chapters: 6 - Words: 25,139 - Reviews: 83 - Favs: 59 - Follows: 78 - Updated: 10-15-11 - Published: 03-09-11 - id: 6808999
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Pairing: Damon/Blair (Vampire Diaries/Gossip Girl crossover)
Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Diaries, Gossip Girl or any of their characters.
Summary: Thinking back she realizes that maybe things would've been different if she didn't go home that night. Maybe he would've grown tired of waiting and left. Maybe then everything would've gone according to plan. And maybe, just maybe she wouldn't have swayed like she did, like she would, like she does every single time he comes stumbling into her life. Then again history has a way of repeating itself and in the end she's not sure if she wants it rewritten.
A/N: Takes place before GG s2x13 and acts as an alternate continuation of TVD s2x1.
Chapter One: In the Beginning Again
She finds herself coming home once again to an empty house. Eleanor is in Milan, already working on her spring collection for Waldorf Designs even though it is only fall. She doesn't even recall the last time she heard from Harold anymore. He's too preoccupied with his French model to care about the high school dramatics of a teenage daughter.
She doesn't blame them too much for their absentee parenting. You can compel a lot of things, but parental affection is not an emotion you can easily replicate. So she fights the disappointment, pushes aside the insecurities and calls it "Blair Waldorf's" and not her own. She's done it this before and every time it's the same.
The human race just doesn't change. The earth goes on revolving about its orbit and people continue to go about their lives frantically searching for approval, success, love. They grasp at straws to make some sort of miniscule footprint on the world before they leave it, but the reality of it is that they are all ants just scurrying about.
She rationalizes it this way every single time and yet despite all the cynicism, she finds herself once again caring a little too much for her human companions for it to be kosher and it all ends up sounding hypocritical.
Maybe it's because she's played the part of being human for so long and so well that she even manages to sometime forget that she's not one of them only to rebuke herself for caring later on.
It's one of those times when she's gotten too caught up with petty high school politics and It Girl best friends and the simplicity of being just a girl that he shows up again. Reminding her that no matter how hard she tries to fit in, she's not human.
"Hey there, stranger."
Blair stops short in her tracks and waits till the lights turn on before she replies even though she would recognize that voice anywhere.
"You have got to be kidding me. What are you doing here?"
Damon Salvatore pushes himself out of his chair and walks towards her with a roguish smile on his lips. It's a look she has come to recognize as him being up to no good from the time they've spent together.
"A 'hi' might have been nice."
To say the least she was in no mood to be receiving guests. Especially if that guest was a cocky, attention whoring, hundred and seventy year old vampire who she hasn't seen in a good handful of years.
"Who let you in?"
"Your housekeeper," He answers flippantly. "Maybe you should look into training them better."
"I assure you I trained them very well to turn away ruffians like you."
"Training isn't really much use if I compel them."
"Well then your little snarky comment is moot isn't it?"
"Why are you always so mean to me?" he pouts.
"Because you deserve it," Blair answers simply.
"Now is that how you treat old friends?"
"I wasn't aware we've labeled ourselves as that."
Barbed banter is their usual form of communication and it's a little shocking to her that she can so easily pick up where they left off. She had expected it to be harder, given the circumstances of which they last seen each other, but since he's so keen on moving along like nothing happened she's only too happy to oblige.
Damon shoots a charming smile her way before making a beeline towards the bar to make himself a glass of scotch.
"Oh yes, please make yourself at home." Her voice drips sarcasm, but he only continues to smile aggravatingly.
"Thank you! I will," he replies smugly. "Care to join me?"
She's tempted to throw him out on his ass. It's been a long day and all she wanted to do was fill up a bubble bath with some scented candles, maybe a nice bottle of wine, and let the hot water work out the kinks she has in her shoulders. She's getting lost in the thought when a pair of strong masculine hands inserts themselves in her little daydream, kneading out those aforementioned kinks of hers. She lets herself enjoy it for just a second before she shuts it down with the mental acuity of a metal trap.
"But we were just getting to the good part," he whines, wincing from the backlash of her mental rebuff.
"Stay out of my head, Salvatore," she drawls.
"I was just trying to lend a help hand," he smirks.
She gives him a pointed stare to which he answers with a pout.
"I'm a little too tired right now to be playing your games," she sighs, rubbing her temples with her forefinger.
"Well, if you're still bent on taking that bubble, by all means go. Don't let me stop you from getting naked. Actually I insist on it."
She sneers at him, but soon finds herself sitting on the opposite side of the couch with a glass of red wine in her hands. For awhile they just sit there sipping at their respective drinks, him staying on his side and she staying on hers, trying to read each other without looking obvious.
"I've been hearing some disturbing rumors surrounding Mystic Falls…" she starts.
"Oh yeah things are happening alright," he affirms, taking a rather generous swallow of his drink. "Turns out that the bitch is alive and kicking."
They both know who he's talking about. If there's ever a woman to leave a bitter aftertaste it would be Katherine Pierce.
"Did it not go well? No epic swelling of music? No explosion of fireworks and electricity?"
"She tells me it's always been Stefan. It's always Stefan."
The topic is a sore one and it doesn't escape her notice that he's already on his fifth drink.
"I told you so. Hasn't Hollywood taught you anything? She's just not that into you."
The comment earns her a chuckle, temporary diffusing the tension between them that is always inevitable whenever Katherine is in concern.
"No kidding. Now she's trying to torture Elena, that's the doppelganger who's macking with Stefan by the way, and killing people left and right, wreaking all sorts of havoc. Oh yeah and there's like a werewolf thing on the loose." He gives up pour out his drinks and takes a swig straight from the bottle instead.
"Doppelgangers and werewolves huh?"
"Yep. Something to do with a Sun and Moon curse. Heard of it?"
"… Can't say that I have," she answers carefully.
"Well, it's an awful mess."
"Shouldn't you be back in Mystic Falls then?"
He shrugs nonchalantly. "Stefan will handle it."
She snorts derisively. "I don't know how he puts up with you."
"He's not supposed to. It's part of the whole 'torture you for all eternity' thing."
"You need to go see someone about that brother complex of yours."
"I'll get right on that. Maybe you can recommend me that psychiatrist of yours that got you over your 'eating disorder'," he comments snidely, air quotes and all. "Does he have you snacking on bunnies and cuddly woodland creatures like Stefan?"
She snorts and swirls her glass. "Don't be silly. I'm much too classy to dine on Thumper and Bambi."
"Must be nice that faux-daddy owns a blood bank," he comments offhandedly, revealing that he's been looking into her.
He's being sloppy with his comments, a sure fire sign that he's consuming alcohol at a faster rate than his liver's healing. He's obviously upset, but she knew that the moment she saw him.
"Don't you think you've had enough?"
"Nope." He takes a health swig out of the bottle to demonstrate his point. "I'm good."
"So with all the trouble you've been having with she-who-shall-not-be-named you decided to… what? Run away and come whining to me about your girl problems?"
He flinches and for a second she realizes she might be going too far, but soon enough he recovers with a quick smile on his lips.
"Enough about me. What's going on with… what's his name again? Chuck Bass is it? The tabloids have so much to say about young Bass. None of them too appealing."
"That's none of your business."
"Oh come on. I've shown you mine, now you show me yours. Dish."
"What are we? Twelve?"
He stops midway in his drink and peers over at her above his glass.
"You're just making me more curious and you know what happens when I get curious."
He's watching her carefully, trying to decipher whatever emotions lies underneath the cool mask of indifference. She realizes that if she doesn't tell him what he wants to hear, he'll just keep on persisting so she gives in.
"It's... complicated," she finishes lamely.
"The best ones always are," he answers waving her off. "There's a reason Romeo and Juliet has survived the ages."
"They died in the end," she points out.
Damon scoffs and waves off her comment.
"Yeah, well… death isn't that big of a deal. I mean we got over it didn't we?" he replies with a shrug.
"Spoken like a true romantic. I always knew you were a softie underneath that whole black leather exterior," she teases.
"Oh, there's a whole lot more underneath the black leather exterior. We can always bring this upstairs if you care to find out," he flirts lightheartedly.
"So why are you here? Tell me the truth, Damon."
"Do I need a reason? Can't you just be happy that I am?"
"We haven't spoken to each other in over five years and suddenly you're on my doorstep? I don't think so."
He's been ice skating around the answer long enough.
"I missed you," he says simply.
She gives him a pointed look.
"And maybe you missed me?" he prods.
She raises one perfectly manicured eyebrow in his direction before finishing her drink.
"You know I love it when you play hard to get."
"You should know by now that I'm not playing," she retorts snappily.
Despite everything, if she were to be perfectly honest, she's happy to see him. Even if that happiness is preceded by foreboding.
"It's not like you would ever step foot into Mystic Falls, so I thought I'd come to you instead."
"There's a reason I don't step foot into Mystic Falls."
"Why not? Are you afraid of realizing that you're just completely in love with me and if we left New York all of those perfect excuses you've formed in your head might just implode?"
He leans in closer so that his lips are mere inches from hers causing the temperature in the room to rise instantly. It's remarkable how undead creatures can cause such semblance of heat.
"I've miss you. You should've come to visit me. Stefan got Lexi to visit him," he whines. "I mean sure she ended up staked-"
"By you no less," she interjects.
He's smirking, but it doesn't match his tone of voice. "Just another excuse for not coming to see me… why is that?"
He leans in even closer if that was possible. From her vantage point, his rosy cheeks are a clear indication that he's beyond wasted for the evening.
"I don't step foot into Mystic Falls because it's a middle-of-nowhere shit hole," she replies sweetly, shoving him back into his proper place on the other side of the couch.
He laughs and she breathes a silent sigh of relief.
"Must you be so rough?"
"Only because you like to misbehave."
He straightens up and composes him and distracts himself with sorting the empty liquor bottles by descending order.
"Is it everything you wanted it to be?" he asks suddenly.
"What do you mean?
"This life that you created. Do you like it? Do you like playing 'her'? This 'Blair Waldorf'?"
He's changed the topic and gone all sober on her and she hates it when he does that.
"Why are you being such a buzzkill?"
He chuckles. "Yeah, you're right. I am." He leans back on the couch and tilts his head towards the ceiling, the grin on his face not matching his eyes.
He's a mess and she hurts for him.
"Do you have a place to stay?"
The words come out of her mouth before she even thinks it through.
He looks up from his drink to meet her eyes. "Are you offering?"
She'd just rather not let him loose on the city on the chance he runs into Chuck or Nate or, god forbid, Serena without her there to supervise the interaction.
"Scared I might hurt your little humans?" he says, reading her mind.
She scowls at him. "Stop mind reading, it's against the rules."
"I don't like rules."
"My place, my rules. So, do you want to stay or not?"
"Yes, please," he answers cheekily trying to give her his best wide eyed innocent look.
She gets up from her seat to go make up a bed for him in the guestroom and he watches her from his position on the couch. The image of her bustling about is much too nostalgic for him to break his gaze.
He had hoped that a change of setting would make him mourn Katherine less. The task had seemed within reach at the time considering all the young ladies batting their eyelashes (and lifting their skirts) in his direction. Not too surprisingly, he quickly acquired himself a reputation for making a sport of seducing debutantes and young widows alike. The distractions worked… until they didn't any longer. Once again his dreams were haunted by lips that would curl seductively in his direction revealing sharp white fangs. You don't simply get over someone like Katherine easily. She's the type to brand her image into your soul for all of eternity. He comes to the conclusion then that London has lost its appeal.
Six mere hours until his ship departs back to the good 'ole US of A. The waiter hands him a check that he doesn't even bother opening. One of the benefits of immortality is the wealth accumulated merely by letting it sit there gathering interest. That of course and an impressive collection of priceless artifacts and antiquities (Stefan's idea). Of course the condition of his fortune was of no consequence considering that he was handsome, charming, and possessed a unique ability for weaseling his way out of sticky situations.
He almost makes it out the door when the waiter comes running towards him. If he thought about it, everything would have been different had he just been a few seconds faster. A couple seconds more and he would've been out the door. Alas, fate is a funny thing.
"This is for you, sir."
Damon takes the calling card from the waiter with a puzzled look.
"From the lady in the corner booth," the man clarifies.
Damon smirks, convinced that yet another newlywed London socialite had spotted him seeking a good dalliance that her elderly husband cannot provide. He recalls thinking that as promising as that sounds, he's tired and still has things to pack before he boards his ship. Then he looks up and sees her and all thoughts falls to the wayside.
She has only been in London for barely a day and stories of his sordid affairs were already the talk of the Upper Ten. It was luck, or maybe something more, that brought them both at the same restaurant that day. He was on his way out and she on her way in. That was the way with them throughout future years to come. They were never really ever on the same page. The universe is funny that way.
She was quite pleased to see his puzzled face as the waiter dutifully handed him her calling card. Even more so when she realizes that she's caught him off guard. Damon Salvatore can be quite handsome even when his mouth is hanging ajar like a gaping fish. She is glad to see that the rumors weren't all tall-tales.
She lifts one eyebrow in amusement in his direction, a coy smile playing on her lips, before turning her attention back on her dining partner. She is sure that this won't be the last time she'll see him again.
He's seen his fair share of beautiful women, but the moment he laid eyes on her, there was something different, something electric. He's not a believer of love at first sight, but nevertheless he found his curiosity piqued. Perhaps it was the way her eyes didn't match her mouth. They had a devilish glint to them that didn't match the sweet red bow shape of her lips.
Damon turns the card over to reveal neat curling script which read:
Marble Hill 7 o'clock
He smirks and looks one more time in her direction before tipping the waiter generously and walking out the door.
He never makes it on board his ship.
She sneaks into his room when he's presumably sleeping. She's both happy and sad to see him there. Despite his bravado, she knows that Katherine's return has got him rattled. So much that he'd come all the way here to find her. She hasn't seen him in years and she frets about how much skinnier he looks even though he's probably the exactly the same as he was when they were together a century ago. His coming here won't bode well for her she knows, but she can't turn him away.
He could feel her presence watching over him as he feigns sleep. He knows that it was selfish of him to come to her now, but he couldn't help himself. She was the only one that would understand.
He's done an awful lot of things throughout his very long existence and he regrets a lot of them. He regrets meeting Katherine, he regrets thinking he was in love with her and he regrets all the lives that have been lost because of his foolhardy obsession. The only thing he doesn't regret is meeting Blair Waldorf. In the dark abyss that is trying to swallow him whole, she's the only anchor to the light. He had tried to replace her with Elena, but she's too much like Katherine for it to work. He can't fight the past if it's staring back at him straight in the face.
He realizes that he doesn't have the right to come in now and inject all his baggage, all that is messed up and wretched about his life, into hers. He knows this, but he's a selfish bastard.
"You never should've come find me," Blair sighs.
Whether the sentiment was meant only for his or her ears he's not quite sure.
"I'm going to regret this aren't I?" she whispers into the darkness.
He agrees with her, but doesn't move a muscle. He just goes on with the façade of sleep and waits till she turns away and closes the door softly behind her.
They've both done this before. They are both acting as the same characters in the same messed up story time and time again. The beginning always starts with him besides her and it always end with one of them alone and the other walking off in the opposite direction. They've both grown tired of expecting it to turn out differently and yet here they are back at the beginning.