entrancelogs | + Your imagination can't hurt you! +

[They run into a stone door which has two sides to it. It fills up the cave, preventing them from going any further. Damon stares up at it, shoving his hands against it uselessly. The door says balance (as if they both need to push a half of the door with all that vampire strength). He looks back at her, shaking his head at the first question.]

That's one of the Wonderland mysteries that no one's solved yet. Something about our memories maybe, but your guess is as good as mine. [He doesn't think this whole Event is his though given the last two tests. His jaw locks, swallows through the pain threatening to gush through his chest.] Five years. It was in the 50s.

[Damon looks over at her.] No one knows.

[Her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise. Caroline knows what torture feels like, what it's like to be locked up like an animal. She knows how long even the shortest duration of time can feel in that kind of situation, having been through it more than once.

Five years sounds like an eternity.]

Oh.

[Her eyes fall away from him. She wants to ask him why he's even telling her, of all people. Why he's not just keeping it to himself for whatever selfish reason he might do so.

But she doesn't. She walks up to the door instead, swallowing back her discomfort and focusing on what they need to be doing; trying to get out of here.]

Here, I'll help you. [She puts her hands against the door.] We'll push on the count of three.

[Damon stares ahead at his own hands pressed against the door like he can't look at her as he says the words (and he can't). Ordinarily, he's full of quips, sarcasm, anything to keep from lingering on his own pain or the darkness of a moment, but- but this place does things to him, and he's stripped from it all as if he's back there. And all that matters is getting out. He nods and he'll count off to three which has them both pushing. It's the combination of both vampire strength that finally has the door opening. They step through to the other side, and the door closes behind them.

The song starts to play all over again, and his jaw locks tightly. He swallows through the wall of emotion as it hits him.]

It's not over yet.

[It's as if on time. Straps come out from the cracks in the cave walls like vines, wrapping around their limbs, forcing them both against a wall.] Of all the times to be right-

[He groans, trying to fight against the too strong straps. A long hand comes out from the wall too, because that's not creepy or anything. It has a scalpel in it.]

[Her head whips back and forth as the song begins, trying to find the source of the noise and who (or what) might have started it playing, but she doesn't have time to actually do anything more before she's pulled violently against the wall, Damon pressed against it just beside her.

She's pretty sure she screamed, but it's quickly quelled by the pain of colliding with the stone.]

Damon?

[Terror is starting to filter into her voice, and the limb that emerges soon afterward only causes it to worsen until she spills into flat out panic as she struggles against her binds.

Pain is something that comes with the territory of being a vampire, she's learned. You take hits, you heal them. But this.

This is something straight out of a horror movie worse than any vampire story she's been told. And no matter how much pain you endure, that doesn't make it any easier the next time.]

[Damon stares sideways at the sight of that scalpel. It seems too bright for a moment like someone's shining a too bright light in their eyes, but his gaze zeros in on that shining scalpel attached to an arm that looks like it used to wear a doctor's uniform before it became part of a wall.

He hears her panic, and then he breathes through his own, tries not to flinch, tries not to close his eyes as if he knows that's where the scalpel wants to go. Thankfully, the arm from the wall is just an arm. It is not accurate as it dives into the wall near them, crashing and chipping away at the stone wall before the arm moves on. it's right in line with their straps. he has to think.

He can hear her panic, and it's not like he can blame her for it. It's terrifying. If he hadn't already lived it--]

Listen, Caroline. [his voice is sharp. there's an edge to it even as he swallows, because the arm is taking another stab, but it's right beside Caroline's arm, possibly enough to cut her but just barely. There's enough slack they can move their bodies within the binds, but only for a limited time before those binds force them back the way they started. It gives him an idea.] You have to breathe. You need to focus.

When I say now, we both turn the opposite way from each other. You with me?

[She makes a quiet whimper at the sound of her name, forcing her eyes open despite knowing what she'll have to see when she does.

Caroline turns her head toward him, meeting his gaze, concentrating on his voice if only to give her something to listen to besides that horrible song and the beat of her own heart in her chest.

She takes a slow breath, then another, the way Stefan taught her in that bathroom. After Damon tried to kill her.

Finally, she nods.]

Y-yeah, I'm with you.

[The scalpel moves over top of the both of them. Damon keeps an eye on it because if it doesn't move far enough over- Well, one of them will still end up getting stabbed, which is honestly not terrible. They won't die from it, but maybe when it hits flesh it will decide to take out one of their bones or organs. Really dig in there until its torn out-

He can see it shake as it settles in the air.

He takes in calming breaths of his own. Counts it down, sees the scalpel start to move, and:]

Now. [He turns to the other side, fast and hard.]

[For a moment she thinks he's not actually going to say anything, that she's going to wait like an idiot only to get freaking dissected-

-but then he does and they both move in the same moment as the scalpel descends. She feels it make the shallowest of cuts through the flesh of her arm, only enough to sting and make her suck in a breath, but it pierces the strap as well, enough that when combined with the stress of both of them moving in opposite directions, rips the rest of the way through.]

[Damon drops down beside her. The scalpel hits at the spot where they just were, digging into the stone. He gets to his feet, staring after it. He swallows, and his gaze drifts down the cave. The light has faded, which means he can see. He can also smell the blood, but- but a quick look over her, and the blood's only at her arm.

There are stairs ahead.]

You alright? Think we're almost free. [It's not the first time he's thought that. He hoped Stefan would save him for the first year.

It didn't end up being true either.]

Yeah, I'm okay. [The slight tremble in her voice indicates she's not that okay, but she's not hurt.] It barely got me.

[It's even shallow enough that it's already healed, the blood just a leftover smear as she rubs at it.]

Let's just get out of here.

[As she starts for the stairs, assuming he'll do the same.]

[Damon follows after her as she heads up the stairs, because he still has this terrible, horrible dread. That it's still not over. He's tense, because the stairs lead up to a door. The door opens up into a house.

He knows this house.

His heart is beating too fast abruptly. The panic returns, because he turned off his emotions so he wouldn't and couldn't feel this moment. This is where it happened.

He doesn't realize that he's shaking. He doesn't realize that he's stopped moving.

There's a door on the other side. It's clearly the exit, but before Caroline can reach it. A cage appears around her. The bars are laced with vervain.]

[Caroline only gets to feel a moment of relief at the sight of the exit, only for it to immediately be squelched as another set of metal bars surrounds her. She doesn't think before she reaches out to try and break the bars, no matter what kind of luck she had in that dungeon down below, and she's rewarded with searing pain across her palms and fingers.

She cries out briefly before clamping her teeth down, pulling her hands back as they smoke slightly.]

Damn it!

[She kicks at the cage with a booted foot, releasing a bit of frustration before she looks at Damon, only to find him frozen and...shaking?]

Damon! Snap out of it!

[This is not the time for him to totally lose it.]

[Damon snaps out of it, but as soon as he does, he knows with this sickening slow sense of dread. It's not over. It can't be over. He has no idea why whatever is happening decided to subject Caroline to this too. He knows what this is. He knows he can't make the same choice again even if he doesn't think he'll be able to save her either. He blinks abruptly awake as his stomach twists, and then he moves forward toward the cage even though he already knows. He won't be able to open it.

There's the distinct smell of smoke (and blood).

The sound of fire crackling as it starts to engulf the house seemingly out of nowhere. The flames lick at the walls. The heat is sweltering.

He reaches up for the bars, pressing his hands against them, even though it burns. His jaw locks, and a noise escapes him before he drops his hands down and then tries again to pull at it, glancing over his shoulder.

The only spot free of flame-

It's toward the exit.

The rest is flame slowly taking over the house.]

[Okay, vervain cage was bad enough. But fire?

Fire is way worse.

Her eyes grow large with renewed fear before she reaches and grabs the bars again as well, trying to help Damon wrench them open. Her skin sizzles and smokes against the poisoned metal and eventually she lets go out of sheer pain.

She shakes her hands, trying to block out the pain before she grabs the bars again, putting one foot up against the one furthest from her body to try and get more leverage.]

I've been here before too.

[Damon's voice is strained. Every fiber of his being, every muscle wants to tear itself out of him and move him away from this place (this place he has known so well, this place that made him feel like nothing, like a puppet, like-) There's little that can bring him to a state like this but revisiting that one caged place in his head which he never returns to, which he never lets himself think about. He fights off the fear of it and clings hold of anger too (is it any wonder that was the first emotion that he got back? the moment he saw Lexi there instead of Stefan).

He feels that panic again, driving up from some pit in his soul, which deep down wonders if he'll ever escape from what happened here and what he turned himself into to escape it. What he chose to be willingly, happily, proudly. No matter who it hurt. No matter who died. He destroyed the Augustine and then became them. The heat from the fire intensifies.]

I turned off my emotions so I could leave.

[So he could save himself, but he can't- he can't do that again. He can't. Caroline means so much to Elena. Elena loves her, has been heartbroken at their absence from each other, and Damon has no idea if this is another Wonderland death or something else. It could be something even worse. It could mean that she'll be left here or maybe he will. He will wake up right back in that cage. He can't live with the guilt of making that same choice again after the mirror tore out his heart and reminded him, after the reminder of his father and how he's not that far off from the man, after his own script fell to pieces around him.

He can't remember a heat this sweltering, this painful except the last time. The last time, and now it's hotter because he's not moving even as his hand grips to the bars again fighting through the pain of it to get it to budge as it sears through his hands too down to the bone, but it's no use.]

I can't do that again. [The fire closes in on those words, close enough that it starts to catch on his sleeve. It'll be over soon.] I'm staying.

[Caroline lets out a frustrated half-scream as her foot slips off the bar, and it's clear that no matter how hard they pull, even if they do it together, she can't get out. She's going to die here, burn to death, and there's nothing she can do about it. She doesn't see any other option as the fire spreads, quickly blocking their only exit.

She's wanted to hurt him for the things he's done, the people he's hurt, including herself. She remembers her fear and carries the guilt for doing things to her friends that he forced her to do for his own benefit and for Katherine, the bitch who eventually smothered her with a pillow.

Sometimes, she hates him. Other times, she sees tiny pieces that might make him less than abhorrent. He cares about Elena, she knows that, but he also seems to wreck everything he touches, including her best friend, because he's just that selfish.

So yes, she's wanted to hurt him. But not this. Never like this.]

Don't do this, Damon. [Even though she says it, she knows he can't get out. Not now. Her cheeks are wet, and it's hard to tell if she's crying or it's just the smoke.] Elena can't lose both of us.

[She didn't want to admit it to herself, but Elena does love him.

But trying to get back to her doesn't seem like it's going to do a damn thing. If this was some sort of horrible Wonderland test, she's pretty sure they must have failed, if their punishment is to burn up in a puff of smoke.

The fire catches Damon's sleeve, and she puts her hands over his, clinging to his hands that burn against the metal bars when they tried to free her, before she shuts her eyes and waits for the searing pain.

It never comes. Instead, she goes from sweltering heat to cool air as she collapses onto the floor just inside the mansion's front doors. Her eyes pop open, watering painfully as she coughs violently for a few moments, only to realize her lungs aren't burning. She can't even smell smoke.]

What the hell? [Her head snaps back and forth, eyes searching wildly.] Damon!?

[Caroline disappears. That was the point of the choice, wasn't it? Some measured noise of relief strangles out from his throat in an empty house. It would echo if not for the fire. Then anguished noises tear from his center as the fire swallows him whole. Pain has not been new for centuries. Pain's an old friend.

His father once shoved a burning cigar into his arm. The pain seared into his flesh and into his memory. He screamed then as a child. It's like that feeling except this time it's all over, every part of his body. Flames chew through flesh. He screams until the pain morphs into numbness and then the world cuts to black.

He wakes to his back pressed hard against cold pavement. His heart beat thuds too loud and heavy in his chest. His fingertips curl in on themselves so tightly they leave crescent marks in his palms. Time passes. At some point, he yells again. It echoes in the hell he's created for himself. Why else would Caroline be the one to share it with him? She is a representation of his sins. He loses track of time.

A sigh escapes him. He smacks his head back against the cold floor. Expression twisted into disgust. Self-loathing reaches new limits always. Who is his own biggest enemy?]

I get it.

[The words snarl out of him and reverberate against the walls. He reappears then on the steps. Caroline has only started to leave the area when he sits up abruptly. Face pulled into a grimace still before he shoves himself to a stand.]

...and we're back.

[She's just about to do a frantic, adrenaline fueled search of the house when she hears his voice, causing her to stall in place for a brief moment before she spins around with wide, damp eyes.

Relief floods her in a rush, heightened emotions in total overdrive after barely surviving what might have been one of the worst things she's ever lived through.

But they lived, neither of them looking all that worse for the wear. Little does she know...]

Oh thank god.

[She sinks back to her knees on the floor, wiping at her face. She doesn't want him to see her cry, not even out of relief, but the redness around her eyes is telling. There's this nagging voice in the back of her head that presses down on her, telling her that he only did what he did for Elena's sake, causing her to try desperately to keep her shit together.]

[Caroline doesn't want him to see, and Damon cannot look. He stares at a distant spot, seeing nothing. He does not want her tears. If he learned that the Augustine society all had hell in their pasts, would it keep him from murdering every last one of them?

No. There are no excuses. He rejects absolution.]

You should still hate me.

[His voice creaks low from his throat.

His body sways. He's wearing different clothes than in the mindscape. They're all burned up.]

[Anger flares in her chest at his words, her expression darkening in an instant. Anger is easier than forgiveness and she latches onto it in her emotional desperation.]

You know what, shut up. You don't get to decide how I should feel about anything.

[She pushes off the ground, practically stalking towards him.]

No, I don't like you. And we'll probably never be friends because I have more dignity than that. But no matter what you've done, you matter to Elena. And you matter to Stefan. How they feel is important to me so don't you dare act like I'm not allowed to care about what just happened.

[The wind seems to blow out of her sails just as quickly as it came, her eyes dropping to the floor as she looks away. She can't escape the reality of the things she saw, of what he's told her. Things that he hasn't told anyone else, and sure as hell wouldn't have told her if she hadn't been standing right in the middle of it.]

Besides, no one deserves that. [As she gestures vaguely around her.] Not even you.

[Damon doesn't move as she stalks toward him beyond to sway a little further. He still doesn't look at her. His gaze pinned to the door of the mansion instead. He hears her words, the anger in them. Anger is easier. It's easier for him too. Elena and Stefan love him. They shouldn't but they do despite all he's done to them both. They love him too much (didn't Elena accuse him of that not long ago?)

His shoulders square back. He wouldn't have ever told anyone if he could have helped it. How were the 50s? Someone could have asked. He'd shrug. Oh, y'know, boring. Bad music. Unremarkable as far as decades go. He'd do it all without breaking a sweat, without blinking.

He shakes his head in disagreement.]

You can feel how ever you want to feel.

It's over. [at least the physical manifestation of it is over, and damon starts to move away because he stumbles, because he still feels flame, because he can still hear the song in his head like a jackhammer. and then he stops mid step.]

Don't tell Stefan.

No, it's not.

[That much was made very clear if all that happened in the 50's and he was still that shaken up about it. She wasn't an idiot, and she wasn't blind.]

Stuff like that never goes away, no matter how much you want it to.

[She would know. And maybe it might be a low blow, but it's also true.

Her lips press together as he tells her not to tell Stefan. She's the worst at secrets and lying, but things like this never stayed buried. Not forever.]

I won't. But you should.

[Damon flinches at her words. He attempts to swallow his reaction down but fails to. It does not go away. Trauma shapes and remakes.

He turned off his emotions. He killed every Augustine without mercy, without guilt.

They can still make him afraid.]

It'd only make him feel guilty. He has enough of that.

[And he used to- sometimes still does feel bitter that Stefan did not save him. He waited for him but he never came. It was unfair, but it twisted that need to give Stefan misery for the five years he experienced in that cell.

he leaves without another word.]

+ Your imagination can't hurt you! +

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