Title: The Way It Hurts

Author: Eena

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Don't own TVD.

Warnings: Sexual Content and Violence.

Spoilers: Season 2, 4-ish. I started this last week and finished it after watching "Memory Lane", so it's a grab-bag of slight spoilers-but nothing specific.

Summary: Response to the a href=. Ships Comment Ficathon/a. "I think, that one day, I'm going to kill you. For real."

lj-cut text="I hate you so much"


She comes to the boarding house, looking for Stefan and a shoulder to cry on. She finds Damon, drinking and feeling sorry for himself-but not feeling pathetic enough to forgo an opportunity to mock her.

She calls him an ass. He smirks and references things he used to do to her ass. She throws a lamp at his head, surprising him with her assault so that he can't move out of the way entirely. She's already out the front door when he starts cursing.

"That was an antique!"


The next day is her first day back at school and it's hard. She's licking her lips and wondering what her math teacher will taste like when Stefan grabs her hand and squeezes it. She starts and looks over at him. The smile on his face puzzles her and then his lips start to move, whispering so softly that human ears couldn't hear it.

"It really was an antique."

It's enough to get her through until lunch. The bell has barely rung before she's in the parking lot, waiting for Stefan. He takes her by the arm and they speed away as discreetly as possible. She's gone through two rabbits when she hears him coming. It's not enough of a warning for her to do anything about it when he grabs her by the back of her skinny jeans and tosses her bodily into a tree.

It hurts. Vampires heal fast and they're stronger than humans, but it doesn't mean they don't feel pain. They might not feel it as long as a human feels it, but they still feel it. And colliding with a tree at the speed Damon pitched her makes her vision swim. She hears shouts and recriminations filling the air around her. It takes her about twenty seconds, but then she's up and springing for his throat.

Stefan stops her, catches her by the waist like she's nothing and it bothers her. She's kicking her legs and flailing wildly, and he's got her tucked into his side like she's a toddler throwing a tantrum. It's only when she considers how much she might look like one that she stops.

She slides to her feet and Stefan's still got a good grip on her, and it's a good thing because the second she sees Damon, the anger comes roaring back. She feels her canines lengthen, knows that her face is now riddled with those black veins. Damon's smirking at her like the asshole he is and she opens her mouth and hisses at him.

"Look," he sneers maliciously. "Kitten thinks she has claws."

"Stop it, Damon," Stefan sounds entirely too calm for somebody caught in the middle of a fight. He jostles a bit when Caroline tries to lunge again, but his arm constricts around her middle so tight that it hurts, and the pain reminds her to calm down.

"I'm okay," she whispers after a minute, and shows it by breathing in deep and returning to her human visage. Stefan glances at her worriedly, but releases her slightly. The arm that had been around her middle now goes over her shoulders, but it's comforting instead of restraining.

"Aren't you two all touchy-feely," Damon makes a face. "Seriously, Caroline? He's taken-and not the hottest brother."

"Looks only go so far," Caroline retorts, leaning into Stefan's side now. "And unlike you, he's a good guy. So he can get as touchy-feely as he likes."

"Caroline," the warning is clear in Stefan's tone. He doesn't want her baiting Damon, but it's gone a little past that now.

"He likes Elena," Damon reminds her smugly.

She curves her lips in an imitation of his sneer. "And, again, unlike you, Elena likes him back."

Damon drops the smug look and his eyes blaze with rage. Stefan sighs and tugs her away. "We've got History in ten minutes," he tells his brother. "And you-well, you don't have anything to do. Go bug Mason or something."

The last sight she has of him is standing in the middle of the woods, the promise of future pain clearly on his face.


She's got a Biology test in the morning and she's more than a little annoyed that Stefan won't let her compel Mr. Hartley into giving her an A. He says she has to learn to control herself, to not make her entire existence about instant gratification. She knows what he's saying, knows that he means well, and knows that he's right. But it doesn't mean that she likes it, or the fact that she's spending the weekend reading and re-reading her Biology text (Stefan, smile wide and just shy of laughing at her, "We can read fast, but if your memory wasn't so great before, vampirism hasn't magicked that away").

Sunday night and she still doesn't get (or better yet, doesn't care) what makes a plant cell different from an animal cell. Sure, there are different parts and stuff, but as she's making the diagrams her mind wanders and there's suddenly hearts, flowers, and other doodles where the nucleus should be. Seriously, why did she take Biology again?

She gets up to go to the bathroom (A roll of green eyes, "Our bodies still function, Caroline"). When she comes back, her Biology text is not on her bed, but Damon is. She growls at the sight of him, doubly unhappy because not only is he in her immediate vicinity, but she didn't hear him coming.

She folds her arms under her chest, gathers her eyebrows together for a vicious frown. "What?"

"I'm pretty sure that animal cells don't have peonies," he replies, waving one of her diagrams at her. "Giving that dumb blonde stereotype a good workout?"

She speeds over to the bed and rips the paper out of his hand. He lets it go, because he's got other things in mind. He's faster than even Stefan is, and he grabs her by the throat and throws her down onto the bed before she can blink. The shock wears off and she's looking up at him while he's straddling her, and her blood boils.

"You can't compel me for sex anymore," she spits at him.

"Like you needed a lot of compulsion before," he shakes his head at her, not batting an eyelash when she starts pummelling him with her fists. "You know, Caroline, I liked you a lot better before. This vampire thing is not working for you at all."

She bucks her hips, anything to get him off of her. He just chuckles and rubs himself against her. "Slow down, bunny. We'll get to the good stuff in a bit."

She grunts in frustration, dropping her head against the mattress. "Really, what is your problem?"

"You," he says simply before releasing his hold on her throat and gripping her hair painfully. Her head is jerked to one side and he leans close to her ear. "It's time you learned what happens when you challenge your elders."

She starts hitting him again, but there's little she can do to stop him from sinking his teeth into her neck. It hurts as much as she remembers, but there's an added insult underneath it now that she's like him. But he's stronger than her and a diet of animal blood doesn't help her case any. But he's pressed against her front, his neck not far from her mouth. The rage from being fed on against her will surges. She feels her teeth sharpen, and before he can stop her, she uses one hand to rip his shirt collar out of her way before she wraps her arms around him and pulls.

He collapses on top of her, teeth still in her throat. She hisses softly and then lunges for his neck, teeth piercing his skin none-too-delicately. She rips and tears because she wants it to hurt. The blood in her mouth is just a bonus if she gets to hurt him. His grip on her hair tightens as she does this, but she just pushes on. If he wants her to stop, he has to pull out first.

Vampire blood is not as satisfying as human blood, or even animal blood. It's not exactly cold, but it's lukewarm at best and it does nothing for the hunger in her belly. But there's something strangely arousing about having Damon latched onto her throat while she's latched onto his. The blood leaves her, travels to him, leaves him, and re-enters her. It's like a bizarre figure eight, and she's not the only one finding it a bit hot, if the hardness pressing against her thigh is any indication.

Hands start sliding up underneath her tank top. Caroline, hating herself all the while, groans and wraps her legs around his waist. She's still sucking out blood, and so is he, but his hands are very busy. She's feeling a little hot, that buzzing energy pooling just underneath her stomach. His hands brush over her bra, fingers tweaking hardening nipples roughly. She moans and tries to pull him closer.

And suddenly, her arms are empty and she's alone on the bed. She sucks in a raggedy breath, hands flying to the healing skin on her neck. She flies up to a sitting position and looks for him, spotting him by her window.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your studying," he says breezily. "See you around, Blondie."

He's caught onto her by now. He's already out the window by the time her alarm clock is airborne. It smashes right through her window, glass shattering everywhere. She curses and buries her face into her pillow to muffle her screams.


Monday afternoon and Stefan's wearing his disappointed vampire face. He's sitting across the booth from her, Elena at his side, watching Caroline pick at her fries.

"You know you're not supposed to do stuff like that," he starts off.

Caroline stifles a growl, her mood not much improved from last night. "Look, I did the best that I could, but your damn brother interrupted my studying last night and I couldn't focus. And it was only the last five questions on the test, so it's not even completely cheating."

Disappointed vampire look changes to surprised vampire look, and Elena sighs. "Caroline, he's talking about what happened in the town square."

"You compelled Mr. Hartley too?" Stefan demands over top of his girlfriend's gentle admonishment.

Caroline rolls her eyes and takes a long pull from her drink. "Again, why is everyone sticking up for Aimee Bradley? Just because she got her hands on a Stepmaster over the break doesn't mean she's a big deal."

"You threw her into the fountain," Elena gives her a slightly bug-eyed look.

"She deserved it," Caroline insisted.

And here comes the frustrated vampire look. "Caroline, you let him go for his own good."

She munches viciously on a french fry. "I know," she grumbles. "So who the hell does he think he is, moving on like that?"


On Saturday, she's stalking around the first floor of the boarding house, calling Stefan's name.

"He's not here," is the reply she gets, and not from the Salvatore she was looking for. Caroline turns and sees Damon making his way down the stairs. She huffs and turns on her heel, stomping into the parlour room, still calling for Stefan.

"He's really not here," Damon's voice is tinged with annoyance. She glances at him, making sure her face is as surly as possible. He rolls his eyes at her, grumbling slightly as he makes his way over to the alcohol.

Out of options, she speaks to him. "Where is he?"

"I'm not his mother," Damon retorts. "Did you try phoning him?"

"No," Caroline replies sarcastically. "I just stood on top of my roof, yodelling his name for half an hour before coming here. Of course I called him. He's not answering."

"You're bitchier than usual," Damon changes moods almost as quickly as she changes clothes. Now he's smirking at her and there's a certain amount of mischief in his eyes as he fiddles with a glass of scotch. "You're not feeling frustrated about anything, are you?"

She's barely got a handle on her anger. She feels the urge to change into her vampire face, but forces it down with a few deep breaths. "Fuck off, Salvatore."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you Forbes?" Damon is entirely too smug for her continued peace of mind. "But seriously, what's the problem? You look all agitated. Did you hear about Mutt's date with the Bradley girl?"

A Matt reference definitely does nothing for her peace of mind. She scoffs in disgust and opens her purse. "Screw this, I don't have the patience. I'll just put it in his room."

"Put what in his room?" Damon asks, bringing his glass to his lips.

She ignores him, continuing to root around in her purse. "Where is it?"

A strangled cough is all the warning she needs. Caroline glances up at Damon, taking in the wide eyes and the frantic look. He drops his drink, claws at his throat, and then crashes heavily to the floor. Caroline watches as he wheezes, a smile curving her lips.

"Oh, there it is," she coos, stepping over to Damon so that she towers over him. The vampire blinks rapidly, body nearly paralyzed with pain. She pulls an empty vial out of her purse and waves it at him. "I forgot! I dumped all the vervain in that scotch of yours. Whoops!"

He's got enough sense to swipe at her legs, but he's severely weakened so it accomplishes nothing. She tosses the vial at him carelessly and then takes out her phone. She takes a picture of Damon laying on the floor and then grins at him cheekily. She's heading out the front door when she's put in the call to Stefan.

"Hey," she greets him when he answers. "You should come home right now. Damon's ingested a whole lot of vervain."

She waits for a second and then chuckles. "Of course I did it. Why wouldn't I?"

Another pause. "Well, I am a child. What's his excuse?"


The vengeance is long in coming, because Katherine shows up. There's some drama involving the brothers and the Lockwoods, and Caroline tries hard not to care, but apparently werewolves can kill vampires, so she has to. What this amounts to is that she's taking turns with Stefan to keep an eye on Tyler while Damon is supposedly taking care of Mason. It's stupid, because the next full moon is still weeks away, but she wants to help. Stefan's pleased with her dedication to the problem and he's even started trusting her to hunt on her own. And while hunting bunnies still kind of freaks her out, she's a little proud that she's getting so good at it.

She's supposed to be on alert because Katherine's still running around, and apparently she wants to be BFFs with Caroline. Caroline feels that she might be flattered by the idea, but she's still really pissed at Katherine for killing her in the first place. And certainly whenever Katherine shows her face, things get very complicated for everyone. But she blows out of town almost as quickly as she blows into it, and it's easy for Caroline to drop her guard while she's busy feeding.

He tackles her from behind, and really it's just bad form to keep attacking when her back is turned. She tells him as much, through gasping breaths as he drags her through the woods. He grunts and laughs, and then curses when she knocks his feet out from under him. Her offensive skills aren't the greatest, but she's getting a handle on the brute strength aspect of what she's become. She puts everything into each kick, punch, and shove. It's not graceful, it's not even that effective, but it's the best she's got.

She can't get away, but she hurts him the most she can manage. He's annoyed, but he's got a good grip and he's not letting go. He throws her at some point, and it takes longer to hit the ground than she expected. He's back on her before she can catch her breath, grabbing her roughly by the throat in order when he pulls her to her feet. He tosses her back and she hits something solid. She falls to the ground, gasping in air as her body raced to heal itself.

"You know, I have half a mind to stick you in there and brick it up or something," he snarls from somewhere to her left. "You're lucky I've got little patience and that Elena will probably pump me full of vervain when she finds out. Why the hell Stefan keeps telling everyone all our secrets, I'll never know. I'm seriously getting sick of being dosed with vervain. That shit hurts!"

She laughs, but it comes out interspersed with coughs. "Poor baby," she rasps. "Your life is so hard."

"Seriously? Now is not the time for your attitude!" Damon's back on her in an instant. He grabs her chin and forces her head up, giving her a glimpse of truly angry blue eyes. "I have killed for less-"

"I remember," she interjects with forced bravado.

His fist slams into the wall behind her, causing dirt and rocks to shower down. His rage is frightening her, but she's too stubborn to show it. She takes the opportunity to look around, noticing that they're in some sort of underground cave. Damon dislikes that her attention is not entirely on him and he slams her back against the wall once more. She gasps and her legs give out for a moment, so she's dangling from his fingertips like a marionette doll cut from its strings.

"Stop interrupting!" he growls dangerously. "Stop making sassy little comments, stop rolling those vapid little eyes, stop looking down your nose like you're something so terrific-we're exactly the same now, little vamp. Except that I am much stronger and way more volatile than you could ever imagine."

She needs to stop talking. "I don't need to imagine. I remember." But it's obvious she can't.

He laughs, and it's kind of maniacal. Fear starts to get the better of her and she starts trembling. Ice blue eyes are ablaze with something different as Damon starts trailing a finger down the side of her face. She looks back at him steadily, her breathing a little accelerated because as much as she hates him, she knows he's better. He's stronger, he's faster-he's meaner. He could rip her to tiny little shreds and not be even the slightest bit concerned about it. It doesn't help that he's still wildly attractive and even at this point she can't deny it.

"Where are we?" she asks, hoping to delay the inevitable.

"The tomb," he answers, his voice a lot calmer now. He seems fixated on the curves of her face, and though his fist is still tight around her throat, things are becoming strangely intimate.

"You brought me to the tomb?" she forces a nervous laugh. "Trying to make sure at least one of your ex-girlfriend's wind up here?"

It's the wrong thing to say, but she would hate for him to think that she's scared (even though it's totally obvious at this point). He squeezes her throat almost to the point where he's crushing her bones. She claws at him with frantic hands, a thousand unsaid pleas racing around her mind. But that pride, that stupid pride of hers, it won't let her open her mouth. It won't let one bleat escape her. He's already taken so much (by force at that); she can't afford to give him this.

And it's not like he would listen.

When he releases her, it's so unexpected that she can't fathom it at first. She just knows the pressure's gone and she's back on the ground because he's not holding her up anymore. She gasps in air that she doesn't technically need anymore, but soothes her nonetheless. She falls onto her back and turns her head to find him. He's crouching not far from her, hands pressed together while his eyes watch her every move.

"I think," he starts off amicably, "that one day, I'm going to kill you. For real."

He's back over to her in a blink of an eye and throwing her towards the middle of the tomb. She lands hard, a pained grunt leaving her lips. He's on top of her in the next second, one hand undoing her pants while the other snaked up under her shirt.

"Today's not that day."

She grabs him by the shirt collar and rolls her hips, flipping their positions. He lets her, there's no other explanation for why she's able to pull off that move so smoothly. His hands have moved to rubbing slow circles on her thighs and the expectant look in his eyes is enough to make her sick.

"I hate you," she sneers even as she's ripping his shirt to pieces. "I hate you so much!"

He rolls his eyes and flips them back to their original position, his hands taking up their former tasks.

"Show me how much."


Stefan's frowning so hard that she's afraid his eyebrows are going to be permanently melded together.

She tells him as much.

"Damon came home at three this morning," Stefan says in response, leaning in close to her ear and ignoring the glare Matt and Tyler are sending him from their lockers when he does so. The final bell has rung and it's almost too crowded in the hallway for this conversation. But Stefan really doesn't seem to care. "His shirt was gone, he was covered in dirt, and smelled like sex."

She shrugs one shoulder, slipping her Math book into her bag. She looks up the hall, desperately hoping Elena will come and drag her boyfriend away so Caroline could avoid having to do this. "Your brother's freakiness is still shocking you?"

Stefan sighs and gives her the patented serious vampire look. "He came home smelling like he's had sex with you."

She widens her eyes comically and gives him an awe-struck look. "You can smell that? Can all vampires do it, or is it like your secret vampire ability? You know, like Edward and his mind-reading?"

Stefan purses his lips and looks about ready to send her to her room. "I'm burning those books," he warns her.

She smirks and slams her locker shut. "I'll bring the matches."


It's another Saturday night, and Matt's still going out with that skank Aimee. She's laying in Damon Salvatore's cellar, naked as the day she was born. She's holding her arm out in front of her, watching as the scratches, bruises, and bite marks faded away into smooth, pale skin. She could have used this trick back in October, when Damon was still using her as his own personal blood bank.

"So," Damon starts off from his position right next to her on the cellar floor. "Elena seems to think that I'm taking advantage of your confused and fragile state of mind. She would like us to stop having sex."

"She's not jealous," Caroline replies absently, fingers skimming over newly-remade skin. "She's just being Elena-worrying her way into everyone's business."

"How have you two remained friends for so long?"

She shrugs dropping her arms back to floor. A shaft light in the corner of the room illuminates the rows of vervain Damon has growing down here. It's terribly self-destructive, and disturbingly attractive at the same time.

Maybe she should look into therapy.

"I mean, you're always so down on her," Damon continues his one-sided conversation. "And you're so damn jealous of her all the time-how did you stand smiling and pretending to be friends all this time?"

"I was never pretending," she confesses, folding her hands on top of her belly as her eyes followed dust particles floating through the air. "I kind of hate her sometimes, but I love her more. She's a good friend-and a bad one. But she's mine."

"You're so territorial," he chuckles darkly.

"Don't worry. You can have sex with whoever; I won't stop you."

He turns over, raising himself up on one arm while he uses his free hand to rub at the drying blood on her chest. "You're refusing to be territorial with me? Do you think it'll hurt my feelings?"

"I hate you," she mutters without looking at him. "I don't really care what you're feelings are."

He bites down on her shoulder suddenly and viciously. She can't help the gasp of pain, or the tears that spring to her eyes. It hurts too much.

He pulls out, tongue lapping at the blood that escapes her before the skin mends itself. "So, how long are you going to keep telling yourself that lie?"

She keeps quiet. It seems like the right thing to do.

Fingers grasp her chin roughly, nails digging into her skin. His mouth is hovering over hers and his eyes are like windows into Hell. "I happen to even more territorial than you; and you won't be sleeping with anyone else."

"You're obsessed with Elena," she reminds him lightly.

"Yeah, but I hate to share my toys."


Mason's not bad looking, for something that's hardwired to kill her kind. But he seems to want a little peace and quiet, so he's offering her a truce.

She's well aware that Damon's watching her every move. She hasn't challenged him on his claim yet, but they both know it's coming. She thinks it's appropriate if she uses Mason to test the waters, because Damon still hasn't figured out how to kill a werewolf yet. And she's also aware that the Mystic Grill is a very public place and that hitting on the uncle of one of her classmates is not something that can be dismissed in this town.

But she can't help the slight gestures (the touching and the smiling, as well as the numerous invasions of personal space). Mason's eyes are dark with a feeling she's used to, but his face tells her that it's not happening. Nevertheless, she shakes his hand, winks a bit saucily at him, and then spends the rest of the night eye-sexing him from the pool tables.

In the morning, her mother's screaming because there's a dead dog on their porch. Caroline looks at it in mild interest, noting that it's a Husky.

She read somewhere that Huskies are closely related to wolves. They certainly look enough alike.

She retreats to her room, telling her mom that the sight has made her sick. Once her bedroom door is shut, she whips out her phone and dials Stefan.

"Your brother's sick," she says in lieu of a greeting.

Stefan sighs and she can see the brow furrowing from across town. "You're the one sleeping with him."

She can't help but giggle. "You make it sound like a character flaw."

"Well, it's not a strength, Caroline."

Now it's her turn to sigh. "You promised you wouldn't get preachy."

"And you promised you could handle it on your own."

She rolls her eyes. "I lied, Stefan."

He laughs. "So did I, Caroline."


"So what happens if Elena happens?"

They've made it to his bedroom this time, and she's a little uncomfortable at how domestic this is starting to feel. She's under the covers, back to his chest, his arm around her waist while he rested his chin on her shoulder.

"I have no idea what that means," he mutters, lips skimming across her shoulder blades. She fidgets and wishes he would stop. It's starting to feel very good.

"What happens if, you know after Hell freezes over and the Earth starts orbiting the moon-what happens if you get Elena? If she comes running to you? Do you get all territorial over her and leave me alone?"

He laughs, nipping painfully at her earlobe. "Your words imply that's what you want, but the tone of your voice . . . you're not starting to care, are you Caroline?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not that blonde," she retorts. But she's afraid she's wrong.

"You're that young," Damon murmurs. "And you're that alone. It's okay to get attached, Caroline."

"I hate you," she reminds him, though her voice lacks its usual vehemence.

He turns her over and his hand finds its favourite spot around her throat. "You keep saying that like it means something."

It's complete and total déjà vu, but she can't help her next question. "Are you going to kill me, when you get bored?"

He smiles gently and kisses her lightly on the cheek. "Maybe, I haven't decided. I could kill you before I get bored."

She bites her lip and stifles a groan when he releases her throat and lets his hand wander downwards. "Couldn't you just let me live?"

He goes still and looks at her contemplatively. "You know, I've never thought of that."


Elena surprises her one morning with coffee and a bagel from her favourite café. She takes it with a weak smile, quietly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"He's not good for you, Caroline."

She laughs into her coffee. "He's not good for anyone."

Elena nods, but she's relentless today. "But he's particularly bad for you. Caroline, don't let this happen to you. You're better than that."

It touches her, that Elena still cares enough to lie.


"I think we should break up," she says one night while he's pulling down her jeans.

He pauses in his task and grins at her. "We're not dating."

She would argue further, but he bites into her thigh and it hurts good enough to make her forget.


"He's going to kill you."

It bothers her that Bonnie only talks to her to chastise her. And it bothers her even more that it's only a half-hearted chastisement to begin with. She wonders if it was Stefan or Elena that put her former friend up to this.

She walks away without saying a word. Bonnie doesn't try to follow. It's more painful than she thought it would be.

She walks right to the boarding house and into Damon's bed. He's not even there, but she strips down and crawls into bed. It worries her that clutching his pillow, breathing in his scent, and feeling his covers on her body make her feel a bit better.

It worries her more when he comes home and wordlessly climbs into bed with her. It worries her because it makes her forget why she was upset in the first place.

She's given him more power now than he ever stole from her then.

He's kissing his way up her body. "Still hate me?" he asks before taking her lips with his own.

He pulls back after a long kiss and she's undoing his belt with steady fingers. "More than ever."

He laughs like it's some great joke. She tilts her head up, eyes drinking in the features of the devil she loathes with more intensity than she ever loved another person with.

And then, she laughs too.