Chapter Text
Zoe pushed open the door to her attic bedroom and found Damon already there, leaning against the wall near the window. He wasn’t brooding—yet—but his arms were crossed, and his eyes were somewhere between tired and thoughtful.
He looked up when she entered. “The kid’s not half bad.”
Zoe blinked. “You held the life sucker?”
Damon shrugged, as if it meant nothing. “Charlie guilted me into it. Said I had to set an example.” He paused, then added, “She’s got your eyes. And your scowl.”
Zoe exhaled sharply through her nose. “Great.”
But instead of lingering on that thread, she crossed to her dresser, picking at a loose splinter on the edge.
“I want to try the sun tomorrow,” she said suddenly.
Damon straightened. “No.”
Zoe didn’t turn around. “You’re not in charge of me.”
“It could kill you, Zo.”
She faced him then, arms folded tight across her chest. “I can’t stay inside for the rest of eternity. You and Bonnie won’t stay in Forks forever. We need to know if she needs to make me a ring—or not.”
Damon didn’t answer at first. His expression shifted, thoughtful. “Do you want to stay in Forks?”
Zoe blinked. “What?”
“You said ‘you and Bonnie won’t stay.’” Damon took a step closer. “You could come back with us. To Mystic Falls. You and the kid.” He hesitated, then added, “Or just you, if you don’t want to bring the little life sucker.”
The way he said it made Zoe pause. There was no venom in his voice this time. No bitterness. Just a flicker of dry humor, softened at the edges. Somehow, life sucker didn’t sound like an insult anymore. It almost sounded… familiar. Like a nickname that had worn itself into something gentler. Something fonder.
Zoe flinched slightly, but covered it with a shrug. “I don’t know what I want to do yet. About anything.”
Damon studied her. “You don’t have to decide tonight.”
Zoe nodded faintly. “Good. Because I won’t.”
There was a beat of silence between them, filled only by the quiet hum of the ceiling fan.
Then Damon smirked softly, the edge of concern never quite leaving his eyes. “If you’re gonna walk into the sun tomorrow, I’m bringing marshmallows.”
Zoe rolled her eyes. “You’re the worst.”
“Yeah, but I’m still here.”
Zoe didn’t say anything.
But she didn’t have to.
Charlie shifted the baby in his arms, bouncing her gently out of habit, when he noticed Bella standing still near the hallway—watching the front door, eyes wide.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice low.
Bella didn’t look away. “Zoe wants to go outside.”
Charlie frowned. “Okay? And?”
Before she could answer, Damon turned sharply from where he stood just inside the doorway, Bonnie and Zoe at his side.
“She’s a vampire now,” he said. “Remember what I told you? Vampires burn in sunlight.” He gave Bella a look. “Or sparkle, apparently.”
Charlie blinked. “Wait—this is about that?”
Damon ignored him, his eyes on Zoe now, every muscle tight. “We don’t know what kind she is. So yeah, it’s kind of a big deal.”
The whole house held its breath as Zoe stepped forward. Her hand hovered above the doorknob, her expression unreadable.
Then—she opened the door.
Light spilled in.
Zoe took a single step into the doorway, then another. No smoke. No sizzle. No glitter.
Nothing but pale sunlight on pale skin.
She looked down at herself, then back up at Damon with a small, defiant shrug. “Guess I’m not flammable.”
Damon’s jaw dropped. “That’s… new.”
Even Bonnie blinked.
From the living room, Charlie rocked the baby slowly, brows furrowed. “So… we’re calling that a win?”
Zoe smiled faintly. “Feels like one.”
The call with Caroline and Stefan was already edging into chaos when Damon put it on speaker. He lounged across Zoe’s bed like he owned it, one arm behind his head, while Zoe sat at the desk, sipping her fourth cup of coffee and pretending she wasn’t listening intently. Bonnie was on the floor, grimoire forgotten beside her.
“So you really walked into the sun?” Caroline’s voice crackled through the speaker, incredulous. “No ring, no incantation, no spontaneous combustion?”
Zoe raised a brow. “I know. I’m disappointed too. I was hoping for at least a dramatic sizzle. It was kind of anticlimactic.”
“She didn’t even sparkle,” Damon muttered. “Wasted opportunity.”
“Disappointment for all of us,” Bonnie added dryly. “We had SPF 100 ready and everything.”
On the other end, Stefan’s voice was more cautious. “So you're telling me she’s… sunproof? You’re sure she’s not using a spell?”
“Nope,” Bonnie said. “Nothing magical keeping her safe from the sun. No ring. Full daylight. Not a freckle out of place.”
Caroline cut in. “Okay, but back up—Bonnie said Zoe doesn’t sleep? Like at all? That can’t be right.”
“It’s right,” Zoe replied flatly. “I blink. That’s about it.”
Damon rolled his eyes. “It’s a nightmare. She’s always around. I can’t even sneak bourbon anymore.”
Stefan was clearly reeling. “Vampires usually crash for days after we feed and complete the transition…”
“I’m not twitchy, either,” Zoe said, brushing her hair back with one hand. “No bloodlust freakouts. No broken furniture. Honestly, I feel more stable now than I did as a human.”
“I’m gonna pretend that doesn’t hurt a little,” Damon said, hand over his chest with mock offense. “She should to be rabid. But she drank from a guy in a bar and walked away without flinching.”
“You’re joking,” Stefan said.
“She even compelled him,” Damon added. “He’s probably out there with a concussion and a new lease on life.”
“Okay,” Caroline said, clearly trying to keep notes somewhere. “So: drinks blood, eats real food, can go out in the sun, doesn’t sleep, heals fast—wait, does vervain affect her?”
“Burns like hell,” Zoe replied. “We tested it. It left a mark… for like twenty seconds.”
“She’s stronger and faster than Damon,” Bonnie said. “He’ll never admit it, but he’s still sulking about it.”
“I’m not sulking,” Damon snapped. “I’m observing.”
“You’re pouting,” Zoe corrected. “Like a very fast, very old vampire toddler.”
Stefan gave a low whistle. “Faster than Damon?”
“She doesn’t blur,” Damon said. “She just moves. Like space folds for her. Like a damn ghost with rocket fuel. It’s almost rude.”
“That’s terrifying,” Stefan said. “I love it.”
“Thanks,” Zoe said, faintly amused.
“Guys, this isn’t normal. Not even hybrid level stuff.” Caroline said, sounding nervous.
Bonnie glanced at Zoe, sending her a reassuring look. “We know. We’re trying to figure it out. But right now, she’s stable, alert, and hasn’t murdered anyone.”
“Yet.” Zoe corrected.
“That’s comforting.” Stefan deadpanned.
“Relax, Saint Stefan.” Damon defended Zoe. “She’s safer than you were as a ripper.”
The call went silent until Caroline’s voice came again, gentler now. “And the baby?”
Zoe went silent. Her fingers gripped the edge of the desk just slightly tighter.
Bonnie answered instead. “She’s fine. Strong heartbeat. Eating. Quiet, mostly.”
Caroline sounded surprised. “Zoe hasn’t named her?”
“No,” Bonnie said softly, glancing at her friend. “She hasn’t even really… looked at her.”
There was a pause before Stefan’s teasing tone slid through. “Damon? I heard you held the baby. Is the world coming to an end?”
“I was guilted into it,” Damon grumbled. “Charlie laid the whole ‘set an example’ speech on me.”
Zoe muttered under her breath, “She is my mini-me.”
Damon rolled his eyes. “With that tiny scowl? I’m not arguing.”
Bonnie smirked. “He didn’t throw her, so I call that progress.”
Zoe didn’t say anything more, and her silence lingered just long enough for everyone to notice. Damon met Bonnie’s eyes briefly and then cleared his throat.
“We’re keeping things stable,” he said. “But it’s clear Zoe’s… something new. And we don’t know what the long-term implications are yet.”
On the other end of the line, neither Caroline nor Stefan had anything to say for a long moment.
Caroline scoffed. “Of course, it’s Zoe. Trust her to break every rule in the vampire handbook.”
Charlie sat in his usual chair, the baby bundled against his chest, gently snoring. The only light came from the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains—warm, dappled, quiet. Zoe lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere near the floor.
Charlie looked up and gave her a small nod. “She’s awake. Just drifted off again, but she’s been fussing less.”
Zoe didn’t move.
“You can sit, you know,” he said mildly. “Doesn’t bite.”
Zoe gave a weak smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Too soon, Uncle Charlie.”
Charlie grunted and looked back down at the tiny girl in his arms. “She looks like you, you know. The nose. That little frown she makes when she’s tired.” He paused. “She’s yours.”
Zoe flinched slightly, like the word had weight.
Charlie didn’t push. Just rocked gently. “You don’t have to ask to hold her,” he said after a moment. “She’s your kid.”
Zoe’s brows furrowed. “I don’t… I’m not ready—”
He stood, slow and steady, and without giving her time to back away, he gently pressed the baby into her arms.
Zoe froze as the small, warm weight settled against her. The baby stirred but didn’t cry.
Zoe stared down, breath caught. Her arms stiff at first, then easing. Carefully. She adjusted her grip until the baby’s tiny face was nestled into her collarbone.
“Hi, life sucker,” Zoe whispered, voice dry and choked at the same time. “Guess it’s just us now.”
Charlie watched her, his jaw tight with emotion he didn’t show. “You’re doing fine,” he said quietly. “Both of you.”
The baby made a soft noise—almost like a sigh—and Zoe swallowed hard.
For the first time since her death, she didn’t feel entirely lost.
Zoe didn’t notice the figure in the hallway—silent, still, leaned halfway into the shadows just beyond the doorframe. But Charlie did.
Damon stood there, arms crossed loosely over his chest, expression unreadable for a moment. Watching. Listening.
Zoe’s focus was solely on the small bundle in her arms. Her voice, still rasping from her transition, dropped even lower. “You’re warm,” she murmured to the baby, almost surprised. “And quiet. Are you always this quiet, or just lulling me into a false sense of security?”
The baby stirred again, blinking slowly, her little fingers curling against Zoe’s shirt.
Charlie didn’t say anything. He looked from his niece to Damon, then back again. For the first time in days, there wasn’t panic in the air—just something careful and fragile.
Zoe ran a thumb gently across the baby’s brow. “You really do have my nose,” she said softly. “Sorry about that, by the way. But you killed me, so fair's fair.”
She never saw Damon.
But Charlie did.
He met Damon’s gaze across the room, and something passed silently between them—an understanding, a truce, maybe even the start of something like hope. Damon gave a short, solemn nod, then turned without a word, disappearing back into the hallway.
Charlie looked back at Zoe, who was still murmuring to her daughter. Something about stolen nose genes and impossible odds.
He didn’t interrupt. Just settled quietly back into his chair nearby and let her keep holding the baby.
And for now, that was enough.