Set post 2X01.

Summary: Post 2X01. The guardians are the untold piece of the Petrova doppelganger history – and Alaric Saltzman's estranged daughter is about to find out just how big of a role they play. Who says history isn't everyone's favorite subject? Somewhat AU. Damon X OC. Stelena. Somewhat AU. Damon X OC. Stelena. Rated M for future chapters. Other pairings in later chapters.

It All Started With Those Damn Red Boots

Chapter One: The One That Got Away (Damon's POV)

The Hat Rack

See that? That's what rock bottom looks like my friends, and it's almost as gut wrenchingly ugly as it sounds. Almost. At least rock bottom sounds bland. A desolate wasteland of broken dreams and unmet expectations. A depressing view, but uneventful. But this? Oh this was worse.

The Hat Rack was a backwoods bar off the highway in the middle of nowhere. The only standing building in miles, and the only one with booze in over fifty. Don't believe me? Mapquest Hicktown, USA. Okay so that's not what it's called. I didn't really give a damn. All I knew was that it wasn't Mystic Falls, and that had to count for something. Didn't hurt that pickings were slim. Like I said, fifty miles. When I saw the place I almost took my chances, the sheer amount of neon glinting off the ramshackle exterior was enough of eyesore to make me gag. But in the need my intense need for bourbon won out. Call this my punishment for being weak.

And punished I was. If I thought the outside was bad, it was nothing compared to the inside. It was a nauseating combination of bar and barn, complete with a bar made out of barn wood and a semi-fenced dance floor dominating the center of the room. Picnic tables lined the walls, covered in cheap plastic plaid tablecloths. A makeshift stage (composed of crates and palettes) sat next to the dancefloor. Some painfully cliché band complete with (count them) three banjo players. Two of which wore overalls. Overalls. Who the fuck wore overalls?

Don't answer that question. My nerves can't handle it.

I was tempted yet again to take my chances on the road, but the smell of liquor quickly won the war. I resigned myself to my fate, stalking across the outskirts of the dance floor towards the bar. I tried not to pay too much attention to the redneck gyrating going on out there…in most cases it wasn't a pretty sight. And where it might have been was hardly a better option. The only thing I wanted more than a bottle of bourbon was a nice throat to rip in to. And call me picky, but I hate to eat junk food.

I slumped down on one of the vacant stools, signaling the bartender without even looking his way. The thrum of the music was giving me a migraine, and I'd run out of patience long before I decided to make the dumbass move of walking in here.

I eventually looked up to find the guy on the other end of the bar. He was talking to a blonde two shots from busting out of her top. Clearly unfocused and delusional, I suppose the guy thought he had a chance. That would be the only way to find a beer gut and an unhealthy amount of plaid attractive. I waved again and he glanced my way, but he just as quickly returned to hitting on blondie. She continued to slur her words and sway on her heels, and bar boy was perfectly content to soak it up.

Fighting the urge to snap a neck, I made to get up when another girl approached the bar. Unlike the blonde, she was obviously sober…and a hell of a lot nicer to look at. She marched right up and quickly captured the bar tender's attention, flashing him a smile that I'm sure had gotten her her way more than once before. He blinked stupidly a few times before grinning, looking all chagrined before nodding and returning to work. He began serving a few other people and my personal savior swiveled her gaze towards mine. Damn. I'd never seen eyes that blue before.

And believe me when I say it was a miracle to even notice her eyes.

She had on skin tight jeans that hugged every curve, a fitted tank top that left a few inches of her tanned stomach exposed. Her golden brown hair hung loose around her shoulders, slightly damp with sweat. The ugly ass red boots her jeans were tucked into were all that brought me back to reality. Smart girl, it may have just saved her life. For now anyway.

"Don't take it personally, he prefers blondes." she remarked casually when she noticed my continued lack of a drink. She was still several stools away, but I could catch her scent from here. A mixture of honeysuckle and her own natural scent…different from the one I'd been thinking about before but somehow much more appetizing.

"Yeah?" I questioned, nodding to the bourbon when 'Hank' raised a fuzzy brow at me. Jesus. Find some damn tweezers. I leaned against the bar, studying her curves far longer than curtesy would allow, "How'd you swing it then?" Many things she was, but blonde wasn't one of them. Of course, looking at her it wasn't hard to tell that hair wasn't exactly a concern.

She grinned, turning to rest her elbows against the bar and watch the dancefloor, "I reminded him it's rude to make a lady wait," she turned her head slightly, meeting my gaze for a few moments before she grinned and shrugged, "doesn't hurt if you're missing a Y chromosome."

As if on cue what could only be called a super-sized tumbler of bourbon appeared next to me. Perhaps I underestimated Hank. I downed half the glass greedily, savoring the burn in my throat, said a few prayers it might chase away the memories stabbing at my all too sober mind. I doubted it would come to much. I knew before I took a sip it wasn't going to do a damn thing to salvage what little had remained of my soul.

But hey, even a dead man walking has to take one last shot before giving up, right?

When I finally came out of my bourbon infused reverie I noticed the girl was studying me. Not staring, not ogling the way most girls do…studying. Her eyes were narrowed, a pinch between her brows. Her posture had shifted slightly. It was subtle, but the relaxed set of her shoulders was gone. Yet the most puzzling thing (to me, anyway) was that Hank had slid her a drink too. A bottle of water.

I knew my confusion showed in my expression as I nodded towards her drink choice, "That's it?" How was anyone content with water outside the Sahara?

"Not old enough." She was still studying me, though now she seemed to be making an effort to conceal it a little better. But it was hard not to notice that now she held her head a way that gave her the same view of the dance floor, but kept me in her line of sight. Geez, what did I do? Compared to some of my evenings, this one had been pretty harmless so far. That look was so reminiscent of Ric in judgey mode it was scary.

I rolled my eyes and took another sip of my drink. I didn't believe for a second that's why she'd gone legal. "Right. Don't tell me your good pal Hank wouldn't have hooked you up if you asked real nicely?" The guy would probably give up plaid for a chance with her. And looking around the bar it was easy to tell she wouldn't be the only minor sporting a drink. Or ten.

While still clearly on guard, she smirked, raising her hands to clap for the end of a song I'd tuned out. As the dance floor cleared and filled up again, she shoved away from the bar, water in hand, and gave me a long, searching look before she shrugged again, "Guess we'll never know." With that, she turned on the heel of those ugly boots and made her way towards the dance floor.

Now it was my turn to study. What the hell was with this chick? She went from seductress to cop in two seconds flat without so much as a word of explanation. I guess she didn't really owe a stranger one, but that was a pretty quick turn around. I knew the effect I had on women, it was few and far between that they decided I wasn't worth it less than ten words in (unless their name is Bonnie Bennett, but witches don't count as girls). Maybe she was just opposed to drinking…but somehow I doubted that was the cause of the mood shift.

Namely because she was in a bar.

Narrowing my eyes and forcing myself to focus, I caught sight of her just as she reached what I assumed were her friends. Another girl and two guys. The girl was at least six inches taller than her with fiery red hair and looked like she could kick a grown man's ass without breaking a sweat. The guys were the Ken dolls of the south. Generically 'good' looking with tacky belt buckles, dusty boots, and plaid shirts. One blonde and one brunette, almost as if Mother Nature knew the world would need help telling them apart. At least they didn't have Hank's gut.

I didn't have any difficulty. Example;

Blonde = Sucks

Brunette = Dick

See? Easy.

Grinning at my own joke I watched as the four of them found a place in one of the lines. Everyone out there moved as if they'd been rehearsing for weeks. With a startling sense of revulsion and pity, I realized this must have been a regular form of entertainment.

"How y'all doin' tonight?"

I winced as the microphone screeched to life. The bands had changed. At least the new one didn't have banjos. The guy with the microphone (another plaid supporter) had a guitar slung across his chest, and he beamed like he'd just found out he was the next Johnny Cash as the crowd cheered in response. "Alright now, y'all take your places in line. Gentlemen, find yourself a cowgirl and let's dance!"

"Oh my God."

That one was me. Swear to…well, him. My jaw dropped. I couldn't help it. How was this real? I know I have enough redneck jokes to get through the apocalypse, but I was so sure stuff like this only happened in movies. I did a quick survey…no cameras. This was real. Wow.

The band started in another country song, the tempo considerably faster than the last group. The crowd on the dance floor started moving in unison, smiling and laughing and cheering. I couldn't decide if I should laugh or offer condolences.

But then I caught sight of her.

If line dancing had ever looked good on anyone, it was her. The way she moved her hips and threw her head back with laughter…the way that long, tangled hair flew around her…her ass in those jeans. I could have died a happy man.

Ha.

But it was a nice view. A decent distraction for the time being. But this night was only jut beginning. The bourbon wasn't enough. It had taken the edge off my thoughts, but it had only amplified my thirst. My need to tear into something and lose myself completely. And fortunately (for me) I'd found the perfect neck to help me do just that.

I continued to watch her as I drained my glass, growing irritated with her 'friend'. Dick. The guy found every excuse he could to touch her. To brush against her or put his hands on her hips. It was irrational and completely stupid, but I almost felt jealous. But only a few seconds of indulging that thought and I chalked it up to being territorial.

I hate sharing my food.

But I wasn't doing myself any favors by hanging around and watching. I could feel that red haze descending over me. If I didn't watch it, I'd snatch her off the dance floor and sink my teeth into that lovely neck while the whole damn bar watched.

I shoved a fifty dollar bill on the bar with my empty glass and quickly headed for the door. Maybe the fresh air would help me keep it together until she decided to leave.

Luck was on my side. The parking lot was mostly unlit. The only light came from the glow of the neon signs plastered around the building and a single street lamp that only shone over about a third of the lot. I couldn't be certain, but I thought I caught her scent right outside the door and followed it to a red F150 near the back of the lot. It was faint, but I was willing to bet it was either hers or her ride. It hardly mattered to me. If Dick was the date, I'd deal with him first. Cheap never tastes all that good, anyway.

While I waited for my meal(s) to make their way outside, I ditched my jacket in my chair. It was balmy out and I'd hate to get blood on it. Cleaning leather was a pain in the ass, and the last thing I needed was another lecture from St. Stefan.

Stefan.

And just like that, what little progress I'd made in forgetting my night was gone. It all came rushing back. Katherine was back. The kiss I shared with 'Elena' turned out to be a mind game. Oh, and the other mind game? Katherine had never given a shit about me. Never. It was always Stefan. The girl I'd spent my entire immortal life obsessed with had watched my desperation from afar without a hint of interest. Then the girl I thought was different…the girl I needed to actually give a damn, just wanted Stefan.

It'll always be Stefan.

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. My brother has always been the better man. The better brother. Could I really have blamed them (Elena, at least) for loving him over me? I'd known the truth when I kissed her tonight that she didn't feel the way I felt…but I held on to that one shred of hope that just maybe this time I would be enough.

Joke's on me.

And of course I couldn't stop there. I couldn't walk away and drown my sorrows. No, I had to prove something. I had to show her how badly she'd hurt me. Jeremy gave me the perfect in. I was hurt…I was pissed, and there he was desperate for it. Everything inside me screamed to get out, to just swallow the fury and take it out on the first neighbor I ran into. But I didn't. I snapped his neck and left his lifeless body on her floor. She would hate me forever.

She should hate me forever.

Problem was, she was my reason to be good. To try. To drink from blood bags. To treat humans with some modicum of respect. I wasn't selfless enough to do it on my own. I wasn't strong enough to do it without her. Without her…without either of them, I was a shell. A broken, empty shell with nowhere to go and nothing left to give.

And I was too goddamn tired of working for nothing to keep it up. I was every bit of the monster she accused me of being…so why fight it?

"You sure you wanna go down there, darlin'? You've never exactly had good things to say and we sure as hell haven't seen him around here."

Ah, the commentary of Dick. They'd only been in the parking lot for forty five seconds and I was ready to tear his throat out just to spare us all. He'd evidently been trying to convince my little midnight snack that she shouldn't take some trip to visit her dad because the guy was an absentee father.

And he couldn't screw her from a few hundred miles away. Not that he included that, but it was pretty clear his reasons for wanting her to reconsider were selfish. The other two had already bid them goodnight and driven off in the tall girl's beaten up Honda. A few hugs and well wishes and that was that. Why couldn't Dick follow their lead?

Not that he had anything to worry about. I seriously doubted she'd be making it to Daddy's house.

But for what it was worth, she seemed nearly as irritated as I was. She kept up the smile, but I could hear the impatience in her response, "I appreciate the concern Derek, but I'll be fine. It's been months since we've had an actual conversation…years since I've seen him. I know he hasn't been the greatest father in a while, but I haven't exactly been daughter of the year, either. He's my dad…I have to try."

Dick didn't look convinced. But, he did at least shove away from her truck. His bottom lip turned out a bit. Pouting. Real attractive on a grown man. He finally seemed to suck it up and nodded, his expression still sullen, "If you're sure. But…we'll be here if it doesn't work out."

Somehow I was pretty sure he meant he would be there, but wisely chose to chicken out. Whatever he was feeling, the girl (according to her friends her name was Arielle) clearly didn't return the sentiment.

Tough break, Dick.

Sighing, he pulled her in for a hug before she had the chance to respond. In typical, southern gentleman fashion, he kissed the top of her head before he took a respectful step back. "Take care, Arielle."

"You too, Derek." There was a fondness in her expression, but I was strangely elated to know she felt nothing for him. Not that it mattered, her romantic interludes would hardly interfere with my plans, but there was something deeply satisfying about knowing she wasn't buying the act.

Pity she wasn't going to live to see the sunrise.

Once Dick was safely in his car and out of sight, I started towards her. My footsteps were silent as I closed the gap between us, I could feel my fangs extending, eager for her blood. She looked even more delicious now than she had inside.

She had just opened the driver's door when I stopped a mere few feet from her, "You know if you'd taken that drink from Hank, Derek might have looked a little better."

She jumped ever so slightly…but there was something about the rigidness in her posture that told me my appearance wasn't a total surprise. She turned around, leaning against the driver's seat like she'd expected me to come by for a chat. "I think you had enough for both of us. How'd he look to you?"

Mmm, I loved a good smart mouth. I smirked, taking her in once more. It would be a shame to waste…but my resolve to behave was long gone. I knew I wouldn't stop.

"Desperate. Boring. Maybe a bit smelly? Axe is such a poor choice. But seeing as how you couldn't get away fast enough, I'm sure I'm not telling you anything new," I was tired of the games. Banter was only good for so long. And this girl…beautiful as she was, there was something deliberate in her words, in her posture. It piqued my curiosity in some ways, but in others it was miserably annoying. I didn't want to think about her. About them. About Jeremy. About anything. I just needed to do. Meeting her gaze again, I decided it was best to take the easy way out and just compel her.

"Stop talking. You're not going to scream, or try to run. You're just going to be a good girl and stand right there." I almost breathed a sigh of relief when her eyes glazed over. She nodded wordlessly, staring blankly at me as I moved closer. I glanced around, ensuring we were alone. I settled my hands on her hips, drawing her closer to me. I could see the vein in her neck, practically taste the sweetness of her blood. I let my fangs show as I bent to sink my teeth in, eyes already closed in anticipation.

What I got was not sweet. Not by a long shot.

Before my teeth touched her skin, I heard a quiet whoosh before I felt an intense pain in my abdomen. I looked down in disbelief to find two slim stakes protruding from my stomach…and a mini crossbow that would have made Ric jealous in her hands. She stared blankly back at me…but this time it wasn't the docile look of the compelled.

She just didn't give a shit that she'd stabbed someone.

"Under any other circumstances, this would be a major turn out." I choked out angrily, trying to ignore the pain long enough to grab hold of her. But before I could, another stake launched into my side, sending me to my knees in agony. I suppressed a groan of pain as I began trying to pull the stakes out. Who the hell was this chick?

Slowly, deliberately, she bent down and met my gaze (rubbing it in that my compulsion hadn't worked, no doubt) "You know," she murmured, glancing at my wounds impassively before turning an angry glare to me, "you could at least buy a girl a drink before you try to turn her into a juice box."

Another flare of pain. She launched one last stake, this one nearly piercing my lungs. I wheezed at the blow, toppling to the ground as I attempted to pry the stakes out. The damn things burned too. As if they'd been soaked in…vervain? Fury consumed me and I snarled as I began to pry the second one out. Her truck roared to life as I growled out, "I'm going to rip your throat out little girl."

The sound of her window rolling down caught my attention. I was half way through removing stake number two. She gave me that same cheeky little smirk she had inside and I felt a new wave of fury, "Gonna have to get those out first, slick." She gave me a mocking salute before throwing the truck in reverse. I'd only barely rolled out of the way when she sped past me. I'd almost become a goddamn speed bump. She stopped for just a moment as she shifted into drive, sparing me only one more glance before she called out, "Next time, steal a blood bag."

Tires squealing she peeled out of the parking lot like she was auditioning for the next Vin Diesel disaster. I watched her go with a mixture of pure hatred and begrudging admiration.

There was definitely something about that girl that was different.

Maybe I'd find out what when I ripped her insides out.

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Ah Damon, such a romantic ;)

Hi all….so this has been a long time coming. I wrote several chapters of this story a few years back and ended up kind of losing muse for it. Happens to the best of us, right? Well, my original plan had been to take a break and come back fresh and ready to write again. Obviously, that didn't exactly happen. I ended up unexpectedly losing my hard drive, and consequently all the chapters I'd written, drafts, ideas, summaries, outlines/plot boards. The whole enchilada. I was heartbroken over it, but in the end I decided to take it as a sign that back then just wasn't the right time to tell or finish this story.

Fast forward a few years and here I am. Still completely unsure of how this story will be received (those Damon/OC stories aren't exactly always well loved), or if there's anyone out there who was on this journey with me the first time, but now feels right. I hope you guys enjoyed this, and I really hope you want to read more. If you read the original, I'm sure you've noticed there are already some differences. This is a complete re-write. In some ways I'll be following the same storyline, but there are plenty of things I decided to change…and admittedly a good deal of things I don't remember! :)

Alright, I promise to stop ranting now! I hope you enjoyed – leave me a comment and let me know? Do you want to see more? What do you think Damon will do when he sees Arielle again? And how does she fit into the madness of the doppelgangers?

Find out next time….

XOXO,
Cilla