Hello everybody (:

I'm a huge Delena fan, and after the 4x04 episode I decided to write my own fiction about this ship. I've read many good stories here, so I hope that it won't be so bad and that you guys will enjoy it !

By the way, I'm a foreigner, I'm actually in Paris, France, and english is not my first language, so don't hesitate to correct me, if I make any mistakes! I'm here to have fun and to improve my fluency, so don't be ashamed of correcting me. :)

Anthony W. Summers was a macromolecular chemist. He used to work in NYC during the biggest part of his life, until he, all of a sudden, got fired for economic reasons. The United States, facing an unbearable crisis, had already begun to slowly degenerate until people like him, smart, kind, rich, began to lose their job. It was the climax of a superficial generation, and when he reached that point, he had already lost his wife and apartment, and developed a deep state of depression which couldn't let him breathe through his suffocating lifestyle. And rebuild a life at the age of 42 wasn't an easy thing to do. But life is a joke, isn't it? A big ironic joke, and he understood it quickly, when he arrived at the Mystic Grills, that day, on December 19th, 2012.

"Double whiskey please" he said to the tired barman.

He was used to the smell of alcohol, mixed with sweat and old leather. Mystic Falls wasn't the worst city in America, but it was slightly different from NY. And the first difference was the people who generally drink at night in suspicious bars, as him. Without being an elitist, he still considered himself as the smartest and noblest lonely guy of the room. After all, he was a New Yorker. Without a blink, he paid the bartender and took a sip of his cold and bitter glass, eyes hermetically closed.

"A new guy in town, what a surprise. Divorce? Or mid-life crisis?" Asked a loud voice behind his back. "I need some explanations."

He turned around, facing a handsome blue-eyed man. For a second, he couldn't move, mesmerized by his beauty. Without being gay, or anything, he had to admit that the stranger in front of him was one of the most beautiful men he's ever seen. Dark hair, regular jawline, perfect nose, he stared at him for a little while before looking away with an awkward blush. It was inappropriate, he thought.

"Nice to meet you too, buddy." He answered, pointing a seat next to him as an open invitation. "It's mid-life introspection time, let's say. Got fired. Used to work in a big city. Life's destroyed now. But moved on and turned the page. You?"

His new guest nodded, before taking place next to him.

"Pretty much the same, except for the job thing." He turned his head toward him. "Got dumped by two girls. Pretty much alike by the way. Now it's also time for me to think about it… And get drunk."

"You seem too young for one of these crises." Anthony noticed, curious about his new friend's age.

He smirked.

"Just in appearance, in fact."

While he ordered a drink, the ex-chemist thought about the real meaning of his last sentence, but couldn't reach any good explanation, so he decided to skip that part, feeling the alcohol's warmness growing inside of his throat.

"Women are bitches." He said, already dizzy.

The stranger laughed.

"And you seem to be pretty skeptic."

Anthony shook his head, with a smile.

"No, I'm not really in the half-full/half-empty glass thing. There's no glass."

They both laughed.

"I'm sure that you'll be better in a little while. Don't lose hope." The other answered, with a mysterious tone.

Confused, Anthony raised an eyebrow.

"Well, good to know that some random people appearing from nowhere have faith in me." He retorted, secretly flattered. "I'm Anthony Summers, I'm from New York. What's your name?"

"You don't need to know it yet."

He frowned.

"Are you one of these nebulous dudes from the TV shows?"

"Kind of."

He swallowed the last sip of his drink and looked around. Anthony, curious, couldn't remove his eyes from his face. He was apparently lost in his thoughts, as if he was waiting for someone or something. Even though he didn't seem nervous, his fingers were tapping on the bar.

"You have a date tonight, don't you?" He asked, pointing at him with his own unfinished whiskey.

"Why do you think that?" He asked, surprised, doesn't expecting this question to come.

"Nervous, thinking about your ex-girlfriends, sitting with a creepy forty years old guy to make the time pass faster. I'm not blind you know."

He muffled a laugh.

"No, I'm just… Seeking for something, in fact." He admitted.

"Seeking for what?"

He didn't answered at first, looking at him mysteriously, and smiled.

"Nevermind. I think I've found it." He said, with a wink, as he approached his hand toward his neck.

Anthony blushed, as alcohol made his sentence suddenly sound very pervert.

"Hey… Hmm… I'm not especially… Uh… Into that, you know…" He stammered.

Then he felt his cold fingers on his skin and shivered. The caress was irresistible. The blue-eyed man seemed lost for a second, an eyebrow raised, but then he regained the control of the situation again and took him by the hand.

"Come here. I know a place. Outside." He murmured.

Anthony, hesitating for a minute, looked at him, mesmerized. Something in the man made him totally compelling and seductive. A mix of darkness, romance and mystery. He wasn't gay. But he was also alone, and couldn't trust women anymore, and it was probably the same for him. He needed to try something new. As he kept thinking about him, deep inside his soul, panic grew, for a second. "Be careful. It might be a trap." His mind told him. But then he focused on his blue eyes again, and all his doubts disappeared. Without a blink, he followed him in the dark, through the exit door. Slightly drunk, he felt himself being pushed toward a cold wall. Under the moonlight's light, his new friend was even more seductive. He looked in his blue eyes.

"You seem… Your eyes… They're so old… But your skin is so new and young…" Anthony whispered, hypnotized.

"I have experience, let's say." He said, with a smirk.

As the New Yorker felt his body against him, his musculature and his perfect torso, he shivered and ran his hands under his shirt, feeling his abs under his fingers. He couldn't wait to undress him. He wished that his ex-wife could see him thus, finally free of her influence. His flawless partner approached his head, slowly, still smirking for an unknown reason, but before he could finally reach his mouth and kiss him, he had already turned away, and put his lips on the flesh of his white neck. Anthony felt his tongue on his skin and muffled a moan.

"Take me." He said, blushing.

"Yes, Kitten. I'm gonna take you to Hell."

Before he could even understand the meaning of this answer, he had already nailed his fangs in him, feeling his warm blood. With a gasp, Anthony wrapped his arms around him, trying desperately to escape, but second by second, his strength became less and less effective, while the other was slowly enjoying the taste of him. With a sigh, Anthony closed his eyes forever.

"Damon Salvatore, was pleased to meet you. Don't especially enjoy your sexual gender preference for me, but I appreciate your fearless attitude, idiot."

And he walked away, leaving his corpse on the ground without a backward glance.

She knew that her behavior was totally unbearable. Again she acted as a capricious child and destroyed everything. She knew how much Stefan wanted Damon to open his eyes and to understand that his lack of humanity was just an illusion. She knew that somehow, he loved him, because he was still his brother, who, in 1865, became a vampire as him. She also knew that she liked him… Somehow too. But she couldn't let these feelings grow and grow, until the point of no return. It was immoral. And she wished that Stefan could understand their tension, which was pretty hard to explain, but couldn't let her think about him just as her boyfriend's "brother". There weren't any explanations to that feeling, but it was here, deep inside her, and every time that he was around, it slapped her in the face. Hard. A powerful feeling of compassion, mutual understanding and implicit lust. How could Stefan understand? It was almost a betrayal in itself.

FLASHBACK:

Elena slowly pushed the door, and entered the large Salvatore mansion when, all of a sudden, Damon appeared from nowhere, scaring her. She moved back.

"Damon? What are you doing here?!" She asked, surprised.

"Actually I'm in my own house." He said, smiling. "Didn't mean to terrify you, Kitten."

… And he was right. With a sigh, she crossed her arms on her chest.

"I know. This is not what I meant. You know I'm here because Stefan invited me. You're not supposed to… To follow us everywhere." She answered, already regretting her words.

Damon frowned and bit his lip. He stayed still for a while, silent.

"I don't "follow you" everywhere."

His face couldn't hide his feelings and she could easily see his pain through his Damon Mask. She knew that he wished he was the one she was waiting for. The one she was coming for. But instead, he had to handle the curse of being the "sorry-but-I-prefer-Stefan" one. And she also knew that the temptation was too strong and being intimate with Damon wouldn't be a good idea. Stefan doesn't deserve to get hurt...

"You do. Can you just please leave for a while?"

She let out her sentence, surprised by her sudden roughness and coldness. On the next second, Damon was gone, in a blink.

END OF THE FLASHBACK.

Of course, when Stefan arrived, she had to explain what happened. Stefan reassured her, by saying that Damon was probably used to the feeling of being rejected all the time, and that somehow, he wanted it to happen by acting thus, but can we really get used to pain? To sadness? Damon was such an interesting man – vampire -, she knew a lot about Stefan, even the darkest sides of him, but his brother was still a mystery. She looked at her phone. Almost midnight.

As she buried her head in her pillow, resolved to sleep, she heard a suspicious noise which attracted her attention. She raised her head to look up through the darkness of her room, but couldn't see anything. She lighted the lamp on her nightstand, and one second later, somebody that she recognized as Damon by the shape of his fingers had already put his hand on her mouth to keep her quiet.

"Don't move." He ordered, with an authoritarian tone.

She wanted to speak, to ask him what the hell was he doing in her room, by NIGHT, to EVENTUALLY apologize for what happened earlier if the explanation was good enough, and especially to explain WHERE was he going, as he lifted her in his arms. She tried to scream but only a muffled sound crossed her lips.

"Schhh… I'm sorry Elena; this is going to hurt for a second."

She heard a cracking sound and everything went dark.

Well, I'm done here! I hope that you enjoyed the first chapter of my story, even though it wasn't that well-written... Don't hestitate to comment, click on the little button below :)!

xoxoxo