Author's Note:
Based entirely on the TV series. Read the books, respect the books, but this story is gonna stick to the television story line. Anyways, reviews make the chapters come faster, so please tell me what you think. Title is subject to change.
Thanks!
Prologue
It's the little choices that ultimately screw people over.
Say, for example, deciding to make a stop on the way home. It was around one o'clock in the morning and, having been raised on irregular schedules, she knew exactly the place to stop at that time. A small 24-hour café nestled between a gas station and a forest shone its cozy warm lighting. It seemed to promise the energy she needed to get back home, so after only a moment's hesitation, she gave in and pulled into the almost-empty parking lot.
Other than the 90's white Land Rover she was driving, there was only a large cargo truck and a silver Volvo in the parking lot. With the aid of a street lamp, she could see the trucker asleep in the driver's seat of the cabin, head hanging down at an uncomfortable angle. She smiled knowingly and, throwing her phone, wallet and keys into a small knapsack, exited the car. Her long black hair seemed to blend into the night as she made her way across the parking lot, a small smile touching her lips. The owner of the Volvo was nowhere to be seen, but she let this detail slide and opened the door of the café.
The sweet aroma of coffee and doughnuts hit her with an almost physical force. She stopped in the entrance for a moment and closed her eyes to relish the wonderful smell, then completely entered. As expected, the café was empty all but for an employee texting on his cell phone behind the counter. The acne-cursed twenty-something-year-old put down the phone after a minute and pulled out a pad of paper to take her order.
"A large espresso," she whispered. She held a hand to her throat as she spoke; even if she'd long-since recovered from the cold she'd gotten two weeks before, for some reason or another, her voice was still giving her trouble. The employee, Jeff, nodded and, without saying a word, got to preparing the coffee.
"Somebody likes 'em strong."
She jumped at the sudden voice and whorled around. A man stood behind her, seemingly waiting for his turn in line, a curious expression on his face. He had the beautiful combination of straight black hair and pale blue eyes and wore a leather jacket, garment she had always longed for but never gotten. Judging by the way he immediately undressed her with his eyes, though, he was more than aware of how appealing he was to the female species. In any other situation, she may have admired him from afar, but she wasn't one to respond to one so forward. After giving him a quick once-over and a curt nod in acknowledgment, she turned back around.
She hadn't missed the double meaning to his words and responded in a loud, but slightly rough voice, "Yeah, coffee. Coffee's better strong, but everything else can be whatever the hell it wants to be."
He chuckled and held a hand to his chest as if she had struck him. "Ouch, got the hint," he conceded. She smiled despite herself and shook her head. At that point the espresso machine made a very loud, very threatening noise and began to spew out steam and water. The two stared as Jeff cursed and brandished a rag at it, trying to tame the beast.
"Need some help?" she called, wincing at the sharp pain it caused. Jeff waved off her offer and ran to the storage room for supplies.
"It'll just be a minute!" he called. "I've got the situation completely under control!"
She looked after him worriedly, but forced herself to move away from the counter and sit at a table next to the window. Without any invitation, the stranger sat across from her. "Oh, well. Looks like we're stuck together," he said with a sigh. Looking up from beneath his lashes, he added, "Not that I mind."
"I thought you'd gotten the hint," she said pointedly. He smiled and looked her full in the face, no longer in such a flirtatious manner.
"Fine, even I can tell when to back off," he agreed with resignation. He held out a hand to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet a woman such as yourself, miss…?"
She eyed his hand for a moment, but eventually gave in and placed her hand in his. "Caroline," she answered smoothly. Even if it was difficult to speak, this conversation was strangely easy to keep up with, and almost made her forget about how low her voice sounded.
"Bull shit," he said immediately, grinning at the shocked look that crossed her face. "Come on, I've met Caroline's, and you're not a Caroline."
"You say that as if it's impossible for me to be named Caroline," she argued, but didn't deny the lie. He didn't release her hand, so she pulled it back herself.
"A name says a lot about a person," he commented matter-of-factly.
"Then what does yours say about you?" she shot back. She regretted saying anything the moment his grin turned into a smirk.
"Want to know my name now?" he teased. "If I wasn't mistaken, I'd say you have a little crush on me." She rolled her eyes and looked over at the kitchen to see how Jeff was doing. The espresso machine was still steaming and he hadn't returned from the storage room.
"Listen, stranger," she began, "I'm not losing any sleep tonight not knowing your name."
"You know, I truly feel that we could get along if you'd only stop pushing me away."
"And I truly agree, but you need to stop hitting on me so much or you're gonna knock me out cold."
He didn't seem at all affected by her response and looked out the window. It should have been awkward, but for some reason or another, it wasn't. As forward as he was, the guy was entertaining to talk to.
"It's Damon, which means loyal and constant," he said after a short silence. "Caroline means a beautiful woman, and even if that's what you are, it's not your name." She tilted her head to the side and looked at him curiously.
"You study name meanings?"
"It's a hobby, along with lurking in alleys and volunteering at the local shelter."
"It's a good thing that you're self-encouraging," she mused, not taking a word he said seriously. "It'll really help you later on in life. Maybe not in the love department, but at least in everything else."
"Who said we were talking about love?" he asked suggestively. "I'm just a guy you met in a café with an open invitation." She laughed outright at that comment, and despite how much stranger it should have made the situation, it actually broke the tension. She shook her head and rested her arms on the table in front of her, getting more comfortable.
"And what kind of invitation are we talking about here?" she asked, still laughing softly.
"How about I invite you for a coffee if that guy ever manages to fix the machine?"
"Sounds good, but I've got someplace to be soon."
"Have someone waiting for you?" There was a hidden message beneath his words, and her smile dimmed slightly. He was right: she did have somebody waiting for her. Several somebodies, for that matter: Elena and everyone would be expecting her to check in once she got back from dropping her mother off at the airport. What was she doing, talking to some stranger in a café? He sighed in disappointment. "And here I was celebrating that I'd gotten a smile."
She got out of her seat and picked up her bag, averting her gaze. "I'm sorry, but it's late, and I really should get going." A quick glance at the kitchen let her know that a coffee was out of the question for at least thirty minutes, thirty minutes she didn't have. "It was nice meeting you, Damon, but I'm gonna have to owe you that coffee." He stood up as well, much too close for comfort. She got a strange scent off of him, a mix of pennies and musk, but didn't bother investigating further and turned to the door.
She placed her hand on the handle and looked up. In the reflection of the glass, she was completely alone. She looked over her shoulder, certain Damon had been standing only a couple of feet away a second ago, but he was, in fact, gone. A gasp came from the kitchen, and a breath later, there was the sickening thud of somebody falling to the ground. She knew the sound well because of her mother's fainting spells, but as familiar as the sound was to her, something told her this wasn't the same thing.
As if in a dream, she turned around, pushed open the door and ran for the car, her movements feeling sluggish as if she were moving through water.
Get to the car, drive away, call the police.
Get to the car, drive away, call the police.
Get to the car, drive away, call the police.
Why had she parked so damn far away? She felt like no matter how hard she ran, she couldn't get there fast enough. The moon was so beautiful, and even if it was half-full, it seemed to illuminate everything like some sort of moonlit fantasy. It would have been romantic at any other moment, in any other place, but at that moment and in that place, it was anything but. The sound of her boots crunching against the gravel reminded her of bones crunching, and the very thought fueled her legs to run even faster to their objective. Her breath came in visible pants, small clouds that disappeared as she moved through them, removing them from existence.
She finally reached the car and pulled on the handle: locked. Cursing and trying not to panic, she felt in her pockets for the keys. When she didn't find them, she opened her bag and desperately searched for the tiny strip of metal that was keeping her away from freedom. Her fingers never touched anything like a key, so with a final curse under her breath, she emptied the contents onto the ground, wrapped the fabric bag around her fist, and pulled back her arm.
He got to her before she could even touch the glass.
His hand effortlessly closed around her wrist. As if she were a rag doll he spun her around and shoved her against the car. A smirk was still in place on his lips, but behind those lips, she saw a set of elongated, inhumanly sharp teeth, and the flirtatious smirk took on a whole new nature. His eyes were black and the veins surrounding them protruded unnaturally, meant to intimidate. Damon? No, demon… Holy shit. Her heart pounded against her chest as if begging to be released, and the worst part was that she suddenly knew he could hear it. In one last effort to save her own life, she sucked in a breath and opened her mouth to scream. He covered it with his other hand, smiled, and snapped her head back against the metal surface of the car. She couldn't even cry out before everything went black, but as unconsciousness consumed her, she had only one last thought.
He's going to kill me and not even know what my name is. How sad, Mikaela, how truly sad…
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