"This is Hell's Kitchen."

Maribel smacked Damon with a rag. "This is like, the simplest recipe I could possibly be teaching you. Sopa de fideo. We need a nice soup before we go run some errands today. It won't take that long. I don't want pancakes again, I want soup."

Bonnie held two thumbs up, already wearing an apron. "I'm ready."

Damon rolled his eyes, refusing to put on the chef's hat that Maribel found in one of the upstairs closets. "I am not making soup."

"Okay, then starve. Let's prep first. I'm teaching you the way my grandma taught me. There are other methods. Some involve using fresh tomatoes. As my grandma put it, the point is for it to take the least amount of time. So, we used small cans of tomato sauce and she usually got pre-chopped onions from taco stands. I took the liberty of cutting the onion already and I've had our water boiling so... without further ado, let's start. Open your packet of fideo pasta. I like using La Moderna brand."

She showed Bonnie how to pour a little canola oil on the bottom of the pot, coating it before dumping the pasta in. "You use a wooden spoon to not scratch the bottom of the pot, and you let the pasta get coated in the oil. Wait til it browns a bit... then you add the onion and let that cook a bit. Now..." she turned to the side. "I like using this chicken broth powder and a tiny bit of garlic salt. Sprinkle the garlic salt over it, then add a spoonful of the chicken broth powder. Stir that in, coat everything nicely... now the tomato sauce. Pour it all in, mix. And finally, the boiling water. Mix a few times ever so often, taste test as needed. My mom usually leaves it for a good half hour. I sometimes take it out a bit early, sometimes I like the chewier texture. It's up to you."

Damon tapped his foot impatiently. "So we have to wait half an hour to eat? The pancakes would have been ready in two minutes."

"You'll like the soup a whole lot more," she said in a sing-song voice. "Too bad there won't be any left for you."

She spared two bowls for him when she saw the hungry gaze he was sending to the pot when the smell made its way to his nose. He ate them happily, not at all bothered by how hot it was.

"Now that we're fed, here's my plan for the day," said Maribel once they were on the road. "I want some new clothes, and I think Bonnie wants some too so we can go to the mall. I want to decorate my room and get toiletries and Damon reminded me we probably still have periods to worry about so we should get some stuff for that. The last thing I want to do is get some seeds to start a garden and some groceries for the week."

"What about your lab?" piped up Bonnie.

"I'll go later."

"Not by yourself," said Damon. "We're going with you."

"I really don't need you to. I'll bring all my stuff here."

"And what exactly do we do if you drop a microscope on your foot and break a toe? We don't exactly have phones."

"Then I guess I make my way back with a broken toe and you heal me when I'm back. My lab is my safe space, I like being alone in there."

"Mm... cute. You're not going alone."

"This is ridiculous, there's nobody else here."

"And what if there is? What if there's someone else here and they find you and they kill you and we never find out? You don't even know what kind of supernatural you are, and you still don't know how to fight. We're going with you, end of story."

"I don't want you to come with me, please, I like going there alone."

"Damon," said Bonnie. "Maybe we could follow in a different car and wait in the parking lot. She'd have her private time to do what she needs to do but we'd be close by if anything happens."

Maribel wasn't all that pleased, but relented.

Damon was complaining the entire time they were gathering clothes for themselves. The two women had to remind him they were building their closets from scratch; this wasn't a regular shopping trip.

With their carts full and the trunk of the car they chose overflowing with bags upon bags of supplies, they drove back to the Boarding House and got to organizing. Maribel was pleased when, after two hours, she'd organized her new clothes and decorated the room to her liking with some paintings, fake vines, and some fairly lights on her new curtains.

Damon had come in when he heard her moving the armchair away from the window, demanding she put it back. It didn't fit the theme, and that peeved her, but there was a strange satisfaction and happiness in her when he let her know he was planning on staying there until her sleep schedule was better.

"Ah, ah, ah," he said when she tried to argue. "You weren't even nice this morning and you got a good amount of sleep. Few more days ought to fix you."

"You don't have to do that, you know. You don't sleep when you do and it probably hurts your back."

"I don't care, Beli. Stop complaining. Come on. We're going to your lab."

"But I said I don't—"

"I don't care."

"But Bonnie said—"

"Bonnie doesn't know what she's talking about. You've gotten attacked in labs, you've been drunk in labs, I don't trust you won't blow yourself up if we leave you alone in there. You died two days ago. Bonnie and I have died before, we're used to it. You aren't used to it. Until you get your sleep schedule under control, I'm not going to believe you're safe by yourself."

She huffed. "Damon, this is so stupid."

"Hey, I just sat on a mall couch for three hours while you two roamed around an entire store looking at every single piece of fucking clothing that exists in Virginia. I think you can indulge me in letting me drive you to Whitmore to get your little lab tools so you can do your science stuff here where we can supervise you."

"But I don't want to be supervised! I am almost twenty-four years old! If there's someone you should be supervising, it's Bonnie, she's like, nineteen!"

"Yeah, and I'm twenty-five in human terms and one hundred seventy-two in vampire terms. I outrank you."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means I want to be able to check in on you. I'm not saying I'm going to sit there the whole time but I want to know where you are, Beli. We don't know shit about this place. We don't know what could happen. What if it's five days of eclipse then five days of natural disasters and you're alone somewhere and we can't reach you?"

"Damon," she said, much more softly. "I know you think you hurt me and I know you think it's your fault I was almost lost but please do not hold that against yourself. You think you have to be keeping an eye on me so I don't end up in danger again but what could possibly happen to me here? I'm safe, I'm fine. And I appreciate that you care but you are stressing us both out more than we need to be. You can drive me but I'm going in alone and getting my stuff. You can bring me back to where I want to set my lab up but you won't come in unless you let me know in advance and I approve it. Okay? Deal?"

He rolled his eyes. "Okay. Fine. Deal. How far in advance do you want this notice?"

"At least a good five minutes, knowing you. My lab space is my happy space. I try to keep it with good memories of success and things that please me. I keep my work separate from my personal life because personal life is messy and can make me have bad memories in the middle of a procedure. I get in a certain headspace and things just work out for me. I am... I am brilliant, Damon, and it's because I get in the zone that I can do what I do so well. I have stuff I want to accomplish. I want to help Bonnie, I want to help Stefan and other Rippers, and most of all I want to know what I am and why I'm here."

"Are we even going to see you around? Or will you be there all day?"

"You scheduled a 'fight club' event every day, so you'll see me a few times. And it seems you'll be sleeping here for the foreseeable future. At this point you should bring another bed into the room. We can pretend we're dorming."

"I'm good in my armchair."

"Well, at least take the other side of the bed, this thing is huge."

"I'm good in my armchair."

"You are so stubborn sometimes. Fine. Let's go."

Bonnie fell asleep in the back seat, having grown tired from all the effort she made trying to perform magic again after organizing her purchases. Maribel and Damon were silent in the front, keeping the radio playing to keep it from being too awkward.

Maribel loaded her equipment carefully into the car, making several trips for the sake of doing it alone and without Damon's help. He kept rolling his eyes at her through the rearview mirror. She pretended not to notice.

She had her lab set up in the garage of the Boarding House upon Damon's insistence. If she needed a better setting for more precise experiments, she could go to the Mystic Falls High Chemistry lab or to the hospital.

"Someone's pleased," he said when he came in, already in his pajamas, and found her reading on her bed. "What—?" He made a face when he saw she was reading a textbook, and not a novel. "I have actually fun books downstairs and you read that?"

"I'll read those eventually," she said, looking up from the page. "I need to keep myself sharp. I'll do lab work, do some fighting, cook, clean, and read before bed each night. And on weekends I'll take time off and do something fun. Learn a new game. I don't know how to play pool."

"You don't know how to play pool? Don't you constantly go bar hopping?"

"Well that doesn't mean I know how to play pool. I just watch."

"I am teaching you and Bon Bon to play pool. And I'm teaching you about alcohol. You can't get away with drinking sweet stuff and pretending you're cultured."

"I don't want you turning me into an alcoholic! What if we can still die here and my liver just explodes? What'll you do then?"

"Heal you, obviously. I have magical blood." He settled into the armchair, tucking his feet together. "Go to sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow. First day of fight club."

She sighed and set the book down after marking her page. "Are you sure you don't want to just sleep next to me? It doesn't have to be weird unless you make it weird."

"I'm fine here. The point is for you to get some sleep. You won't get any sleep if I'm next to you." He winked teasingly.

"Ah, yes," she teased back, "all I'll be able to think about are those luscious Salvatore lips as you snore and drool on my pillow."

"Hey, you little shit, you're the drooler here, not me."

"Me? Never. Goodnight."

"Avoiding the truth. Classic Beli. Goodnight."

He tried to get some sleep this time, especially once he noticed she was knocked out. He found himself unable to do so when he sensed her twitching as if she was having a nightmare.

"Beli," he called out from across the room. "Beli, wake up, you're having a nightmare."

She didn't respond. He got to his feet, kneeling down beside her when he saw her covering her face. She had definitely woken up, but seemed embarrassed that he'd heard her whimpering.

"What did you see?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"What happens with the drinking buddies stays with the drinking buddies."

"That's the thing. Nothing. I dreamt I was dead and it was just darkness and I was trapped. I wanted to find my dad and I couldn't."

"Your dad," he recalled, never having heard her speak much about him. "The one the ghost vampires strung up from a tree."

"I still see him sometimes, covered in blood and strung up. All because he was a Founder. All because of some ancestors he never met and never knew. My dad never hurt anybody. He never did anything wrong and they hurt him. They hurt my dad and I've always wondered what happened when he died. What if that's it? What if there's just darkness and solitude? What if there's nothing awaiting us when we disappear forever? We escaped death when we were brought here but what does it mean? Why are we here? What did we do to deserve a second chance? Why do we get to live while others die? Why did this have to happen to us?"

"Beli, listen to me," he said, prying her hands away from her face. "I think humans that never hurt anyone and even supernaturals that never hurt anyone will go to peace. Esther, the Mikaelsons' mom, told Elena that Jenna didn't go to the Other Side when she died because she was good. I bet your dad went to peace, too. I don't know much about it but my understanding is that it's kinda like heaven. I bet you'll go there, someday, a long time from now, and you'll see your dad again. You're not dead, Beli, you're alive. And I promise you... I promise you I'm going to get you out of here. I'm going to get you back into your real lab so you can get that PhD you probably already earned— your professors just don't know it yet."

She tensed when she felt him smoothing a hand through her hair. "Just go back to sleep," he urged. "You're safe. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you."

It took a few minutes of stroking her hair before she was able to get comfortable again to try and sleep. Damon sat on the armchair for a good while staring at his own hand, wondering why he'd thought to caress her that way, why it felt so right to comfort her when she was feeling afraid and overwhelmed. Why did it matter to him? Why did he care to find the right words to say to alleviate her worries?

He worried what the answers to those questions would be.

It's just 'cause we're stuck here. She and Bonnie are probably the only girls I'm going to talk to ever again. They automatically seem more appealing to me.

But was that really the case? He disliked Bonnie as much as he usually did. She was pretty, undeniably, but he had no desires directed toward her (except maybe the desire to glue her mouth shut whenever she started bickering with him).

Maribel was his friend. That wasn't how he saw Bonnie. No, Bonnie was Elena's friend. Stefan's friend. A friend of friends, not his friend. Maribel was a friend he chose, a friend he kept around. And someone who cared about him. Who kept his secrets and had comforted him in the past. Who'd taken risks to help him of her own volition (not that he left her much choice, though, he did consider someone like Maribel could have easily made a bomb filled with vervain and killed him if he really bothered her that much).

He worried about his friends, even if he didn't like to admit it. He cared about his friends. It made sense he cared about Maribel, right?

She's just a friend.

I see her as a friend, nothing more.

When she got up to shower the following morning, he left the house, figuring that maybe what she needed to feel better was something that would remind her of home and her family.

Knowing her, he expected she'd be cooped up in the lab all day until their scheduled 'Fight Club.' He went on his own through town, recalling which one the Fell household had been. He went inside, locating her parents' room and taking a few of her dad's jackets over his arm. Before she emerged from the shower, he set the jackets down on her bed, hoping she would enjoy wearing them.

"Hey," she said, arriving to Fight Club much earlier than he expected her to. She was wearing one of the jackets. "Thank you for these."

"Sure," he said awkwardly. "Ready for Fight Club?"

"Yeah, I am. Is it like, lecture then hands-on experimentation?"

"Why would I lecture you about anything?"

"I don't know, I usually am taught things a certain way. In science we discuss the theory and background for each procedure before we start doing experiments. I like knowing the thought process behind what I'm doing, why I do it and what I need to focus on."

"Uh, theory, if you suck at fighting, you die." He noticed her deadpan expression. "Jeez, relax. Fine, let's do some tests to see how fit you are. We should probably build up your strength before we try turning you into a killer. Give me ten push ups."

He was disappointed to learn that she couldn't accomplish a full push up. The disappointment lessened when he realized she was quick on her feet, both physically and mentally. This, he could work with.

"We'll get you lifting weights first," he said. "Your arms are too weak, you won't be able to pack a good punch at all. We'll get you learning techniques and all that good shit once you're strong enough to execute them."

She nodded, still trying to catch her breath after how many sprint repetitions he made her do in the backyard. "'Kay. Can I go in and get water? I think I'm about to pass out."

"Get water then you're doing a workout."

"Fuck."

"I think I'll make you do five push-ups for each time you swear."

"I hate you."

"You'll learn to love it."

Her arms were too sore at the end of their training session for her to return to her lab to work. She laid on the couch complaining as Damon blasted his music. Bonnie was trying to meditate by the fireplace, apparently enjoying the music but not Maribel's moans of discomfort.

"Suck it up, you still have several more days before the soreness goes away," said Damon when he found her with her legs elevated on her bed. "Do your lab stuff tomorrow."

It ached to tilt her head to look at him. "I'll try. Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Why did you get the jackets for me?"

He shrugged dismissively. "You didn't get any at the store."

"I did."

"You were sad about your dad."

She smiled. "It means a lot to me. Thank you... truly. It was very thoughtful."

"Get some sleep, Beli," he said dismissively. "Long day tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Damon," she replied quietly.

She sensed him leaving during the night, probably to use the bathroom or maybe to get a snack. She awoke when she heard movement, worried at first when she didn't see him in the armchair. Suddenly the room didn't feel so safe. It didn't seem as peaceful as it had when he'd been there earlier.

She wondered how he was really coping with all this. She hadn't asked him, and it made her feel guilty. He seemed more concerned with her sanity, and though it comforted her, it worried her that he might be neglecting himself.

"Go back to sleep," he urged when he walked back in and saw her eyes were open, pupils dilated and waiting to see him again. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"Everything okay?" she asked gently.

"Just fine," he said. "Go to sleep."

"How are you feeling about this, seriously? I'm sorry I haven't checked up on you."

"I'm fine. Just want out of here. Go to sleep."

"Drinking buddy code of secrecy, remember? What's said in this room doesn't leave this room. It's okay to admit you're pissed or sad or whatever else you may be feeling. Pretending those feelings don't exist does you no good."

"I don't like it here," he said. "I don't like this version of the house, I don't like this day. My car isn't even here so I can't enjoy that. And in the real world, I blew it up, so I'll never see it again."

"What is it about this day that bothers you? You seem to think this hellish place was chosen for you, specifically, and we just got pulled into it. Why would this be hell for you? It sucks but it's not what I pictured a person would experience if they went to hell. I figured it would be like being made to perform lap dances on the devil and if he doesn't like them, you get burned repeatedly."

Damon snorted. "That's the dumbest rendition of hell I've ever heard. On May 10, 1994, I did something terrible. The worst thing I've ever done."

She sat up in the bed, patting the spot beside her. Damon hesitated, wondering if she'd recoil as soon as she heard the contents of the story. At last, at her insistence, he went and sat down, laying back with his hands tucked behind his head while she hugged her knees, resting her head down on them and waiting for him to begin.

"Stefan and I hadn't seen each other since 1942," he began. "I'd almost made him snap back into Ripper mode. Prior to that, in 1912, I made him drink human blood and caused him to realize he was a Ripper. And in 1977, when I had my humanity off because of Augustine, he sent his best friend Lexi to try and help me. I pretended my humanity was back on because of her efforts, acted like I wanted to look at the stars and celebrate life. Spouted all sorts of bullshit and she didn't suspect anything. I knew she was a nightwalker. And when she fell asleep, thinking her job was done, I made sure she was trapped on that rooftop, left to burn in the sun for having butted into my life.

"I came back to Mystic Falls wanting to see my brother again. My humanity had come back on and I missed him. I missed home. And Kurt Cobain had just killed himself so I wasn't in the best mood to be left alone. At the time, our distant nephew Zach was living there. You probably remember him. I was allowed to live with them and the other people in the Boarding House as long as I drank animal blood. I hated it. I hated that Stefan made me drink it. I was restless, I didn't want to be on a bunny diet, I wanted human blood.

"So I made it happen. I got Zach and his partner, a woman named Gail who was pregnant with their child, off the vervain so I could feed on them. Stefan found out and he was not happy. Snapped my neck, tossed me in the shed and took my daylight ring. I wanted us to leave, I wanted Stefan to abandon his stupid vegan diet and just give in. I would teach him how to feed without losing control. I mean, if you look at him now, he's fine. I thought I could help him learn that. But he had no interest in it.

"I told him I wasn't trying to screw up his life and he said I didn't have to try, all I had to do was exist. He told me I would be with him forever, trying to destroy what he builds. I got mad. I got into the house, demanded my daylight ring back, threatening Gail. He returned it, but I still promised him an eternity of misery. I killed Gail and the baby. I left Mystic Falls and didn't come back until two years ago, looking for Katherine. You know bits and pieces of that and I don't want to get into it. Point is, this day is a constant reminder of the worst thing I ever did. It was a relief when I got to kill Zach and I didn't have to keep remembering the face he made when he saw Gail die. Stefan had to compel him to forget it ever happened."

He faced away from her, expecting she'd tell him to leave the room or ask him to leave the house all together and never come back. He was used to being told to leave, used to being reminded that he ruined everything he touched.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted. "It's not like my opinion on anything will change what already happened or undo Gail's and the fetus's death. It's not like my opinion will bring Zach back to life, either. Obviously it was wrong but you knew it then and you know it now. And I can see you feel remorse. In which case... I don't think this is a hell for you, Damon."

"How can't it be? I'm stuck here to relive the day where I did a godawful thing and we could be here forever to experience the same bullshit over and over."

"Maybe it's supposed to be a lesson or something. 'Cause we are alive, we're not dead. If we were dead, we'd be stuck in a place of torment with you. But we're not. This is more like limbo, or whatever. So maybe the point is for you to really show you're sorry for what you did, to show you've grown. To reflect and remind yourself not to do something like that again. I don't know. Maybe it's a sign that— and I'm not saying this because I want to change you, I'm just saying it because I'm trying to make sense of why we'd be here now that I know that— you need to do something different in certain areas of your life. I don't think it reasonable to tell you that this lesson would be to stop killing permanently because that probably won't last long and it doesn't actually teach you to hold human life sacred, it just limits you and it will frustrate you.

"And maybe it's just a lesson about who to kill. Which sounds awful but... I don't feel bad that I helped kill the Travelers. I really don't. Even in movies and TV shows growing up, if the villain is the one that dies at the end... it ends up being okay. Not that killing is ever truly okay but my parents always taught me that there was a difference between killing for fun and killing in self defense. Those Traveler stuck themselves inside innocent people. I heard many died performing that spell and that their bodies were just around the park, with blood leaking out of their noses and mouths. They took over our hometown for no fucking reason. They displaced my mom, who, luckily enough, wasn't made to be a host because I got her out in time, and they wanted to kill all supernaturals in the world, basically, or leave them powerless. And now it turns out I am a supernatural. Before I knew that, I was aware they were hurting my friends. So... in a way... it's more justified.

"It's not right, but we did what we had to do to survive. You can still feed on humans, I guess, if you heal them afterward and compensate them for their troubles... it's your nature to do so and you can control how much you hurt them, so I'd just say don't go overboard and remember they are all people with families who worry about them. You can also drink from blood bags, that's nothing new. And in general, I guess, if you can't sate the urge to kill... I don't know, kill someone who deserves it. Not innocent people that you see on the side of the road. Go kill a child rapist or something. Again, killing is still wrong and this is gonna sound fucked up but I've always been of the opinion that people who abuse children can automatically die and everything would be great. I don't respect people like that and I don't want them around. Just... I don't know, think about all that and make your choice. Your vampire nature has to be considered. Morals are different, everything is different. This day was chosen for a reason. If it really does apply to you, then just make sure that you don't do something like that again. Don't let your anger control you. Direct it, if you can, to those who deserve your ire. I, for one, think it's a good sign that you feel bad. If you didn't, I'd be really worried."

He finally made himself look at her, having been listening to her steady heartbeat. She wasn't scared of him despite what he'd just admitted to. Perhaps it was only because it'd been so long ago and as she'd acknowledged, it wasn't like her feelings would change the events that transpired on that day.

Still, it made him feel very strange when she kept looking at him with a sleepy gaze, attentive but tired, serious without being judgmental. She was doing her best to approach it neutrally, to be honest without being harsh. Everything she'd said was truthful. Genuine.

He almost flinched when she reached out to stroke his hair, mistaking his confused stare for him being exhausted. "Go to sleep," she said. "Now it's your turn to rest."

He closed his eyes to avoid answering. She stroked his hair for only a few minutes longer (he assumed her arms were still very sore and unable to handle the demand of caressing anyone for an extended period of time), then curled up on her side facing away from him, presumably because she didn't want him catching her drooling in her sleep.

For her to be able to turn her back to him after a story like that was shocking, to say the least. She trusted him. She felt safe around him. He hadn't really considered that before.

She's just a friend.

I see her as a friend, nothing more.

He was starting to feel doubt.