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She is not Katherine.
She is not Katherine.
She is not Katherine.
She is not Katherine.
She is not Katherine.
She is not Katherine.
Damon stared down at the page in front of him, at the neat sentences etched into the paper. Toward the bottom of the page, his hand writing had gotten so heavy that the nub of his pen had burrowed into the paper. Ink dripped through the page like blood. And for what?
Why was he writing this?
Of course the girl wasn't Katherine; Katherine had died dozens of years ago—he shouldn't have to remind himself of the fact. And yet…
Damon stood up abruptly, crumpling up the paper and tearing it into pieces. Suddenly, he was filled with the insatiable desire to feed. To find a pretty young girl with a willingness to blush and a waiting neck. As he strode out of the cheap motel, and into the car he had, erm, persuaded the car dealer to lend him, he couldn't help but think of the girl. Of Elena. No, she was not Katherine, but she looked like her. The same fair blonde hair, lapis lazuli eyes, and curving smile. The same pale white skin. The same long, slender neck.
Damon shook his head, as if he could shake the image out of his mind like water from his hair. Even thinking about that neck had made his fangs extend, until he could feel their sharpness with the tip of his tongue. Forget finding a girl to feed on. He wanted—and he was going to get—several of them.
The car purred like a content tiger as he drove through the streets, searching for what would be the first of many snacks. It wasn't hard to find one. There. The girl with the blowing blonde hair and the baby blue eyes, walking home. She would do, for a start. Damon stopped the car a few hundred feet in front of her, got out, and waited, slightly behind the corner. He waited until the girl was right in front of him, and then jogged to his car, knocking her down in his hurry. Luckily for her, his reflexes were above par, to say the least. He caught her with one arm, neatly righting her.
"I'm sorry," he smiled at her, making a blush rise to her cheeks with tone alone. He smiled internally as well—she would work nicely. "I have a habit of being rather reckless."
"No, no—I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."
"Ah, and where would that be?" Damon asked. The girl was so captured by his eyes, she didn't even hesitate before responding.
As it turned out, after a simple five minute conversation, the girl's name was Lily, and she was going home, and well, sure, she wouldn't mind a ride.
Five minutes after that, they were cruising back to his motel. Five minutes after that, Damon was soothing the girl's faint protests. He nuzzled his fangs where the smooth curve of her neck was, inhaling the scent of her blood. Was it a coincidence that her name was Lily, and her blood smelled especially floral? He didn't know, and he didn't care. He sunk his teeth into her neck, enjoying the warm splash of blood that immediately started at soothing his hunger.
While he drank, though, it was hard to repress his thoughts. Elena. Staring at her through the window, his form a crow. She was so beautiful, but that was to be expected, because she was so like Katherine. He wondered if her personality would be a match, as well. Sweet, shy, demure, with a faintly mischievous edge. He had no idea. A few hidden glances were all they he had gotten. Damon wondered if it was also a coincidence that Lily had blonde hair and blue eyes. He hadn't meant to pick up a girl that reminded him of Elena—or of Katherine. It had just happened. Besides, he thought derisively, she didn't hold a flame to either one.
Damon withdrew his teeth, and hauled the unconscious girl to the back of the building, where she would wake in an hour or two, dazed. She would have no memories of the encounter, but she would not be much worse off. A glass or orange juice would have her on her feet, again.
Damon wiped the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand, blood coloring his pale skin. Drinking from Lily had been nice, but it had also taught him something. He didn't want the imitation. He wanted the real thing.
He shrugged on his leather jacket, and licked his lips. He knew what he wanted. Elena. And what Damon wanted, he got. No question asked. No struggle given. Fingering his lapis lazuli ring, Damon walked back into the sun. He may have just drunk someone down, but his appetite was just beginning. He had a feeling that his existence was about to get a lot more interesting.
So…thank you for reading! I really do appreciate you coming by, but even more than that, I would appreciate it if you review this, as well. I would love to hear any thoughts, opinions, and etc. Tell me what you liked, tell me what you didn't like. Tell me that you hate Stefan. Tell me that you hate Damon. Tell me that Ian Somerhalder is the most gorgeous man on the planet—I welcome it all. :D