Elena Gilbert is a nationally ranked champion volleyball player. She thinks her private trainer, a professional player, is an ass. He takes her on a scouting trip for college, just the two of them, and problems become apparent.

Chapter 1

"God damnit, Elena! Get the ball down sooner!" Damon practically shouts at me from the other side of the net. I grumble to myself before replacing myself. As he sets the ball over the net towards me, I make my approach, swing my arms back and jump, making contact with the ball and dropping it into the middle of the court. Damon nods, the only form of approval he ever gives. "Again." He says. I sigh and move back to my spot. We repeat this several more times until he allows me to have a break. I drag myself to the bench and chug half my water. "Don't drink so much." States his velvety voice behind me. I turn around to see his world famous look of disapproval.

"Maybe if you gave me breaks more often I wouldn't drink this much when I do get a break." I snap. He may be my trainer, but he's a complete ass to me for no apparent reason. Sure, he's extremely attractive, and every girl in the country, including me, has an unhealthy fan girl crush on him, but he tends to think he's the best thing ever, being arguably the best male volleyball player in the country. I turn back to my bag and grab a towel from the pocket, dabbing the sweat from my forehead and arms before I turn back to him.

"Get the technique and my suggestions right the first time, and you won't have to be out there so long." He says, stalking toward me until we're less than a foot apart. "Play like the superstar you supposedly are, not the 5 year old you act like." My jaw drops to the floor. Who does this guy think he is?

"I'm nationally ranked, and you know that! You've been to all my games for the last year. You just don't want to admit that I might be as good or better than you are." I square up to the larger man, standing on my toes in order to be eye to eye with him, and daring him to prove me wrong. He stares down at me, his ice blue eyes searching mine.

"Get back on the court. You're working on serves." He says before walking away.

Well fuck you too. I think to myself before walking to the line. He rolls me a ball under the net and I pick it up, taking my 5 steps from the line. I work through the motions of a jump serve, 2 small steps, throw the ball, couple more steps, jump, contact. I hit the spot Damon moves to every time, never missing the target. Serves have always been easy for me, but Damon forces me to work on them daily.

"Alright. Get to the center. We're rallying." While an exercise like this may be a time of relaxation and fun for players with a different trainer, it's always business with Damon. He drops the ball in awkward places, forcing me to dig and throw my body across the court in attempt to save the hit. When I manage to save a majority of them, he lets me stop. I make my way back to my bag and am packing up when he approaches me. "My team is scrimmaging another pro team tonight, and we're missing our right hitter."

"And...?" I ask, unsure of his intention.

"And, I want you to come play with us."

"What?! Are you insane, Damon?" He tilts his head to the side and scrunches his eye brows together in a questioning look. "Some of those guys are 15 or 20 years older than me! I'm going to get murdered!" He walks closer to me, grabbing my water bottle out of my hand and drinking some of the precious combination of hydrogen and oxygen.

"No," he begins, after finishing his portion. "You won't. I've been training you for over a year now. Of any of the girls on your team, you're the most capable of playing with us tonight. Look, I'll make sure I set the majority of the game, so you at least get service from someone you've played with before, ok?"

"What do you mean a 'majority?'"

"The coach usually takes me out for a few rotations to let the other setter play, but I'll talk to him before the game and make sure I play the whole game. What do you say?"

"I guess I can. I mean, it would be good for me, right?"

"You're right, it will. So, I'll pick you up at your house at about 5, alright?"

"Alright." I say softly. I gather the last of my things, letting Damon keep the remainder of my water, and follow him out of the building. He gets into his car without saying goodbye and drives off. I shake my head and walk to my ice blue Chevy Cruze, dumping my bag in the trunk and climbing into the driver's seat.

When I arrive home, I decide to not shower, as Damon would be here in less than 3 hours to pick me up. Rather, I wash my face, eat more food than I should, then fall asleep watching an old movie.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

I shoot straight up on the couch, the loud slamming on the door waking me up. I run a hand through my hair and look at the clock, seeing it's exactly 5. SHIT. I think. I unlock the door for Damon to come in and run to the kitchen to grab water and Gatorade from the fridge. I grab my bag off the island as I run out to the front. However, rather than making it all the way to the front door, I run into a wall. A wall that wraps it's arms around me... Crap.

I look up, seeing Damon looking down at me. He takes in my appearance and starts laughing. He laughs at me. What the hell?

"Going somewhere, speedy?" He asks, still laughing.

"I was going back to meet you. I fell asleep and didn't wake up until you knocked on the door."

"Were you that tired?"

"Not from training, I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night." I look down into the minimal space between our bodies, seeing his arms still wrapped around my body and my hands braced on his chest. I could feel his breath fan across my face in the few seconds I glanced down.

"Alright. Well, you ready to go?" I nod, and he unwraps his arms, walking out the door, leaving me in a somewhat dazed state in the kitchen doorway. I follow him out to the car, stopping where he is at the trunk. He hands me a black jersey. When I inspect it, I realize it's a men's medium, with the name Salvatore and the number 64 on the back. Confused, I look up at him, seeking explanation. "It's my extra home jersey. I know it's probably going to be too big for you, but we all have to wear the same jersey, and, believe it or not, I wear the smallest jersey, which leaves that one as yours." I nod slowly and walk to my side of the car. He's actually being civil to me, and kind of sweet. Once inside, I buckle my seatbelt. Damon starts the engine of his Camaro while I move the shoulder strap of my seat belt back, pull Damon's jersey over my T-shirt, maneuver the shirt out from under the jersey, then fold it and place it on my lap. Upon inspection, I notice that the shirt, when not tucked in, reaches far past my spandex. I situate myself in order to fix the shirt. He doesn't speak on the way over, choosing rather to fiddle with the radio and focus on the road. He pulls up to the building and gets out of the car quickly. I sigh as I get out as well. One step forward and a gazillion back. I think. One second he's being nice to me, the next he's ice cold again. And apparently, nice again. As I round towards the back of the car to grab my bag, I run into him again. He's standing at the end of the car, holding my bag. I smile at him, accepting the bag and he gives me a slight smile back. He actually smiles at me. He motions for me to start walking, and I step in front of him. As I begin to walk, he places his hand on the small of my back, leading me through the doors. When we enter the court, many men from the other team stare at me, their eyes portraying an unfriendly, creepy emotion. Damon grabs onto the back of his shirt on my back, leaning down to my ear and whispering, "Don't mind them. They're worthless pigs who can only get a girl for one night. You'll kill them out there. Just relax." I look up into his blue eyes, finding nothing but truth. I smile and continue to walk, his hand still wound into the shirt. When we finally reach his team, they prove to be the exact opposite of the other team. They welcome me warmly, some messing up my hair, others patting me on the back. I sit my bag next to Damon's, fixing the shirt yet again. As the players begin to warm up, the coach calls me over to speak to him.

"So, Elena. You're Damon's prodigy, huh?" I glance over at Damon, who's smirking in my direction. I roll my eyes and turn back to the coach.

"Not really, but whatever makes him happy, right?" We both laugh before he dismisses me to warm up with the team.

When we take our places on the court, the player on the opposite side of the net grabs my attention.

"Hey baby," he says in his attempt of a seductive tone. "You know, just because you're such a pretty little thing, I'll go easy on you."

"Hmmm," I say, as Damon moves next to me, taking a defensive stance on my left. I hold my hand up to him to keep him from speaking. "Do you use that on all the people you play against? Cause I've been to a few of this guy's," I say, pointing across my body at Damon. "Games against you, and from what I've seen, you say that to every hitter you face. Well, you may not say it, but you definitely put it into action." Damon and his team mates laugh loudly, the sound resonating off the walls. The man stands dumbfounded, but snaps out of his stupor when the ref blows his whistle. The libero on the other team serves the ball, beginning the rally. Straight off the serve, one of the back row players, and my childhood friend, Matt, pops the ball up, allowing Damon to set across the court in the perfect position for me to send it over. The pig from before the game misses the ball, along with the rest of his team, resulting in a point for Damon, me and the rest of our team. We gather in the middle of our court to quickly celebrate the point, and, as he arrives, Damon places his hand on my lower back, causing me to glance up. He simply looks forward at his team. A million steps back.

The entire game proceeds in a similar fashion, Damon setting perfect balls and me sending them into the perfect spot. When we finish and shake the other team's hands, we gather in the middle to recap and listen to the coach. As we walk out of the building, one of the other hitters speaks up.

"Hey, you guys wanna go get a bite to eat?" The rest of the team agrees, but Damon looks at me.

"You want to go, Elena?" Damon asks.

"Yeah, that's fine." I smile. He nods and leads me out of the building. We throw our bags into the boot of his car before we follow the rest of the team to the local grill.

"You did really well tonight." I turn and look at him wide-eyed. He gives me an odd look. "What?"

"Is the great Damon Salvatore, giver of no praise actually complimenting his 'prodigy?'" I ask sarcastically. He pulls the smirk from earlier, keeping his eyes on the road.

"I am. But don't tell any of the guys or I'll disown you and never train you again." I scoff before laughing and he joins along after a minute. He pulls into the grill and we both fall into silence again, and he turns cold again. Fantastic.

Dinner proves enjoyable, with all of Damon's teammates congratulating me on being such a large contribution to the win, as well as holding my own against the pig. Klaus, as they call him. However, when we're walking out of the grill, Damon walking on my right and Matt on my left, a lanky man with dark brown hair moves off his prior position on the wall to stand in front of us.

"Hello, Damon." He drawls. Damon's hand suddenly flies to my lower back, resting protectively on the slight curve.

"Hello." He nods at the man with a terrified expression on his face. "As nice as it is to see you, it's rather late and I need to be getting my friend here home. Let's go, Elena." He says as he guides me around the man and towards his car. He moves to open the door for me, I close the door, stand in his way of it and look up at him.

"Who was that man, Damon?"

"No one, now move, we're leaving."

"No." I shake my head

"I said we're leaving." He replies through gritted teeth.

"I'm not going with you until you tell me who that guy was and why you looked so afraid of him."

"You don't get to make decisions for me, especially when I'm your only ride home."

"When have I ever made a decision? Especially for you. You and my family do that for me."

"Who's gonna save your life when you get left here to walk home and fend off local criminals?"

"Listen, Damon, I don't want to be left here, just tell me who that man was!"

"Get your ass in the car before I throw you over my shoulder and throw you in the trunk." He grabs my arm and tries to move me out of the way, but I do my best my best to struggle. I close my hand and throw it upward towards his face, but he catches it with his own before it makes contact with his nose. His strength over powers mine and he leans close to my face, holding this position for several seconds before speaking softly.

"Don't ever do that again." He says, the intent of intimidation evident in his voice. He looks into my eyes for several seconds, ensuring the message got through to me, before lowering our hands, turning and making his way to the driver side of the car.

Damon drops me off at home, opting to walk me up to my house, despite the fact I'm still angry at him.

When my parents died almost 2 years ago, my aunt had lived here with my brother and I until I turned 18, when I took possession of the house. Jenna then moved back to her home with her husband Alaric. Jeremy had left soon after to go to some prestigious art school at age 17, leaving me alone in the house for almost a year. I survive on some of my parent's money, prize money from the countless tournaments and MVP honors I've won, as well as the occasional money from Jenna and Alaric, who also pay for a tutor to come to my house every other week day, leaving me plenty of time for team and private training. When I unlock the door, he pushes past me into the house. Ok, just barge into my house, uninvited, that's fantastic, thank you. That definitely makes me like you more right now. I think as he takes a seat on my couch.

"Do you have any manners at all?" I hiss, pissed off. He'd been more hormonal and bi-polar than a girl on her period today and it's starting to bother me. He simply smirks at me again as he raises his feet onto the antique coffee table. I stalk into the living room and slap his legs to get him to move. He grabs the back of my jersey and hauls me onto the couch next to him. "Um, ouch." I say. "That kind of hurt."

"How would you like to go on a recruiting and scouting trip?" He asks suddenly.

"Huh?" I ask, confused, and all former hatred fading slightly. Scouting trip?

"Yup." He replies, popping his lips on the 'p.' "The president of my club sponsors a few upcoming volleyball players every year to go out and get themselves scouted for colleges. You know, play in front of their coaches and see how they like you."

"And why does this pertain to me?" I ask, my hopes of being the recipient of the sponsorship rising.

"Well, he talked to me this morning before our training. That's one reason I asked you to play with us tonight. He wanted to see you play."

"And?"

"He was really, really impressed. He's deciding to sponsor you." I inhale a sharp breath and stand up, pacing in the small space in front of the coffee table.

"Really?!" I squeak.

"Really." He responds, standing up in front of me. "He's sponsoring you to go to whatever colleges you want to have a try out. You leave in a few weeks." Without thinking, I scream and jump at him, all rancor forgotten, wrapping my arms around his neck. He wraps his arms tightly around my waist, holding me in place. He tightens his arms further, alerting me of our position. Yes, I may be attracted to him, but he's never truly been nice to me for more than 5 minutes. I clear my throat and start to pull back. He quickly pulls back and scratches the back of his head awkwardly.

"Well, um," he starts. "I'll talk to you at training tomorrow and fill you in on the trip." He says and darts out of my house. No goodbye, nothing. He just leaves. I sigh and shake my head as I make my way up the stairs to my bathroom. After showering, I climb into bed, curling the covers around my body as the AC kicks on, sending chills down my body.

A/N: Well, here's a kind of long first chapter of a kind of long new story. At least I think it's gonna be long. I'm not sure yet.

Anyway, tomorrow marks the day that you all will not hear from me for a while. That's right. School. Junior year at that, too. Plus other conflicts. Work. Practice. Soccer season starting this weekend. All higher level classes. It's going to be hectic. So, you may not hear from me often, but you will hear from me sometimes. I don't promise I'll update this quickly, as I'm administering a rule for myself so I don't fall behind on this story, but you'll hear from me when I can get on here.

As for the story suggestions I had in the Epilogue of 'Serie A,' I've gotten a lot who want the Delena version of 'My Fair Lady,' which is also a play called 'Pygmalion.' I admit, I love the idea of this story, but it's going to take me a really long time to write that (the movie is over 3 hours, and the unabridged play is over 500 pages.), so I've been thinking of saving that for spring when I have some more time, or next summer when I have LOADS more time. So, I'll get back to you all on that one.

For those of you wondering, the moment at the car, which mirrors a favorite Delena moment from the series, is from 2x09, 'The Sacrifice.' I have a lot of moments like these so far, and I plan to use more of them in future chapters.

Reviews are love, and I really enjoy getting them from both old and new readers. Happy trails, friends! For those of you already in school, good luck in your upcoming year and I hope your year is going well so far. And, for those of you who are like me and haven't started yet, it's ok. You'll make it through. Enjoy you summer while you can. Unlike me. I'm spending the day watching an Awkward. marathon on MTV and going to the chiropractor for the 2 time in 2 weeks before going to work tonight. Enjoy it while you can! This hot weather (for those of you with me in Southern California) won't last long. Go tan and relish in it while it lasts.

Well, I bid you all farewell. I know this note was long, but it all just kind of flowed out of my mind. Sorry.

XOXO, AllIWantIsEverything

EPISODE FOR CAR 2X09 THE SACRIFICE