Tresure hunt

Hello, I'm back I haven't posted in a few days and I apologies for that but there was some person issues that I was dealing with I couldn't sleep well or eat the last few days and it kinda fucked with everything that I wanted to do. So I'm trying to do better.

Also, I have a proposition for all of you, if this ff gets about 50 power stones, I'll drop another chapter. And it will keep on going with an increment of 50. So let's see if we can do it.

Hope you like the chapter.

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There are many things to look forward to in a relationship, but one of the most comforting is waking up every morning to see the face of the person you love most. Isn't that something?

The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of early dawn. Stefan lay on his side, spooned against Elena, his arm draped protectively over her waist. Surprisingly, he was the little spoon. He stirred slightly, barely cracking open his eyes, only to see Damon sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at them.

Stefan bolted upright, nearly knocking Elena off the mattress. She woke with a start, her heart racing, and when her eyes landed on Damon's smirking face, she screamed.

"Good morning to you, too," Damon said dryly, casually flipping through their father's journal like it was yesterday's newspaper.

"Damon, what the hell are you doing?" Stefan snapped, running a hand down his face in frustration.

"I could ask the same thing," Damon replied, raising an eyebrow. "Oh wait, I know. You two were busy playing house while the rest of us are trying to stop a town full of vampires from turning the people of this town into an all you can eat buffet. Don't mind me, though—I'm just the guy trying to keep you alive."

Elena, trembling slightly, reached for the glass of water on the nightstand and took a sip before glaring at Damon. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet here I am," Damon quipped. "I was going to wake you for the complementary breakfast—since Elena seems to think our family home is a hotel—but then I saw how adorable you two looked. You know, blissfully unaware that we're surrounded by enemies."

Stefan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "If you've got a point, Damon, get to it."

"Gladly." Damon stood and tossed the journal onto the bed between them. "We need to find Emily's grimoire. Turns out, it might be hidden somewhere with the help of the Gilbert's journal. We can find it." He nodded toward the book.

Elena raised an eyebrow. "And why exactly am I supposed to help with this?"

Damon gave her a mock-confused look. "Because you're Stefan's girlfriend. That automatically puts you on team 'Save the Day.' And also cause you're the only Gilbert that I can semi-tolerate."

"Fine," Elena muttered. "I'll look for it tonight."

Stefan frowned. "How do we even know this journal will lead us to the grimoire? We're really going to trust the word of some dimwit vampire who ambushed us?"

"In lieu of any better options, yes," Damon replied with a shrug.

Elena hesitated. "Wait—what's a grimoire, exactly?"

"It's a witch's cookbook," Damon said breezily.

Stefan sighed and clarified. "It's a spellbook. Witches document their work—every spell they cast is unique. A grimoire is like a diary of magic."

"So, a cookbook," Damon repeated with a smirk.

Stefan ignored him. "What about the vampire we caught? He wasn't working alone. Whoever else is out there knows exactly who we are."

Damon straightened, his demeanor sharpening. "And I don't like being at a disadvantage. So, chop, chop." He turned toward the door but then paused, pivoting back with a sly grin. "By the way, I love this whole 'ménage à threesome team' thing. It's got a certain… kink to it. Don't screw it up."

Before either of them could respond, Damon stopped again and asked, "Where's Tom?"

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Out in the woods behind the Salvatore manor, the sharp crack of gunfire echoed through the trees. Tom stood with a Glock in hand, a faint trail of smoke curling from the muzzle. Across from him, Vicki stared, her arms crossed, her face a mixture of confusion and irritation.

"You got it?" Tom asked, unloading the clip and checking the chamber with practiced ease.

"Yeah, I got it," Vicki replied, pulling off her earmuffs. "But why am I here, exactly?"

Tom grinned, leaning the gun against a makeshift bench fashioned from a tree stump. "Because you need to learn how to protect yourself."

Vicki frowned. "I thought you were going to teach me to fight—with my hands, not guns."

Tom chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Vicki, you could probably take out a human in a fistfight. But vampires? Not yet. And why get up close when you can take someone down from a distance?"

She tilted her head. "Aren't we supposed to be faster than this?"

"Sure," Tom said with a shrug. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't know how to use this." He gestured to the gun. "Once you're good with this, we'll move on to hand-to-hand combat. Deal?"

Vicki sighed, picked up the Glock, and loaded a fresh clip. Without waiting for instructions, she fired three shots, each one hitting dead center on the iron target. She turned, raising an eyebrow at Tom's stunned expression.

"My dad taught me," she said with a smirk.

"Well, damn," Tom muttered, laughing softly. "Guess I'll skip the beginner's lesson."

They packed up the gear together, moving efficiently through the clearing. Once everything was stored, Tom squared his stance in front of her. "Alright, let's get to the basics. Show me what you've got—punch me."

Vicki didn't hesitate. She threw a wild right hook, aiming for his face. Tom caught her wrist easily, his grip firm but not harsh.

"Not bad," he said, guiding her arm into the correct position. "But you're stiff. Fighting's about flow, not brute force. Loosen up."

Vicki adjusted her stance, mirroring his movements as he demonstrated a jab. "Better," he said. "Now, again."

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When they returned to the house, it was eerily quiet. The sun hung high in the sky, but no one seemed to be home—not even Damon, who was usually skulking around like a bored predator.

"I'm heading upstairs," Vicki said, bounding toward her room.

Tom wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a blood bag from the fridge. He poured it into a glass and grimaced at the thick, crimson liquid as he drank. His phone buzzed on the counter, drawing his attention.

The screen was flooded with missed calls and messages from Stefan, Damon, and Bonnie. Frowning, he quickly skimmed through the texts.

"Vicki!" he called out, his voice echoing through the empty house.

"I'm in the shower!" she shouted back.

Tom climbed the stairs and stopped at her door. "Where are the books I gave you to hide?"

"In my dresser. Second drawer," she replied nonchalantly.

Tom hesitated before opening the drawer, carefully avoiding the pile of undergarments as he retrieved the books. "Why would you hide them here?" he asked, exasperated.

"Because only a pervert would go through my dresser," she said, stepping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her.

Tom rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a small laugh. "Fair enough."

Vicki smirked. "So, how was the date with the witch?"

Tom leaned against the doorframe, shrugging. "It was good. We talked, danced… it was nice."

Vicki snorted. "Nice? Sounds boring."

"It wasn't," he said defensively, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Did you get any action?" she teased, winking.

"Vicki!" he gasped, feigning offense. "I don't kiss and tell."

"Right." She folded her arms. "So, when are you seeing her again?"

"Tonight," Tom admitted. "But first, I need to make sure these books don't fall into the wrong hands."

Her teasing expression softened. "Damon?"

Tom nodded. "If he finds out I have these, he'll push me to ask Bonnie for help with the tomb. And I'm not coming to her with something this big. Not yet."

Vicki nodded in understanding. "Your secret's safe with me."

Tom headed back to his room and opened a small, lockless safe tucked into his closet. He placed the books inside, closing the door with a quiet click.

Later, Tom lay sprawled on his bed, phone in hand. He hesitated for a moment before dialing Bonnie's number. She answered after a few rings.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," Tom replied. "Sorry I missed your calls earlier. I was training Vicki."

"Training her for what?" Bonnie's curiosity was tinged with concern.

"Hand-to-hand combat. Self-defense. That kind of thing," Tom explained.

There was a pause before she said, "That's… thoughtful, I guess."

"Everyone should know how to defend themselves," Tom said simply.

Bonnie's voice lightened. "So, last night…"

"Yeah," Tom said with a chuckle. "I really liked dancing with you."

"Me too," Bonnie said, her laugh barely audible but warm.

"You free tonight?" Tom asked. "I was thinking we could meet at the Grill. Seven?"

"Sure," she said. "I'll be there."

"Should I pick you up?"

"No, it's fine. I'll meet you there."

Before he could say anything else, she added, "I've gotta go—Caroline's calling. Bye!"

She hung up, leaving Tom staring at the ceiling, a small smile tugging at his lips.