A/N: I don't mean to start another story when I haven't touched Perfect Strangers in the last few months. I'm fighting an enormous case of writer's block when it comes to that story. I have every intention of finishing it, I give you my word. So I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing again, hence this story.
Summary: Not to give anything away but love can happen out of the direst of situations.
Pairings: Bonnie/Damon, Stefan/OC, and others when needed.
Rating: M for mature themes, violence, language, and sexual content.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, (apart from original characters). They belong to VD/LJ Smith/CW. Copyright infringement is not intended.
Piercing screams cut through the air and struck dead center in his eardrums causing him to wince. A loud clang followed and then a thump. Wails sounded next and slashed through his wilting peace and harmony.
He walked at a leisurely pace out of his bedroom to investigate the source of the disturbance, not for the first time contemplating running away from his life. Damon Salvatore entered the trashed living room where his three year old daughter had been throwing a rave with her stuffed animals and the sofa's decorative pillows.
Little olive legs with elfin feet stuck out from the far side of the sofa. Pursing his lips together, Damon gathered the necessary air needed and yelled, "Front and center, Daniella! Right now!"
The legs disappeared from sight and a few seconds later a tiny head with a crown of sable curls popped into view above the arm of the couch. Scared yet infuriated obsidian eyes greeted Damon followed by a delicate aquiline nose, and small rosebud lips that were beginning to quiver.
Damon crooked a finger at the small vandal who fully stood on her feet and moped her way to her warden. Head down, chin almost tucked on her chest that was covered up with a frilly princess nightgown, Daniella folded her hands demurely in front of her and marched around the debris she caused during one of her tantrums.
Trying to maintain his anger was hard because Daniella looked innocent of any crimes; however, the evidence was stacked against her in this case. Her nanny was set to arrive within the next thirty minutes much to Damon's relief. A nanny he had not been successful in convincing the wizened older woman to move under his roof.
Daniella was his charge, he knew, but he was far from equipped to raise a child, let alone a little girl. But with his relationship with his child's mother currently on rocky ground, Damon sucked up his own ineptitude and discomfort and did what he could for the life he had a hand in creating.
Daniella chanced a glance up at her father under her awning of dark lashes. She knew she was in a world of trouble having committed several offenses. The biggest one being—not the destruction of the living room, but the fact she hadn't touched her breakfast because she had not been in a Quaker Oatmeal state of mind this morning.
"Do you think I run a zoo?" Damon interrogated.
Daniella mutely shook her head.
"So how do you explain my trashed living room?"
The little girl pinched her lips refusing to make a sound which would further incriminate her.
Damon sighed. "Daniella, we've been through this I don't know how many times," he lowered to his haunches bringing him eye-level with his daughter. "When I tell you 'no' I'm not doing it to be mean, but to teach you limits. All right? Put the pillows back on the couch, pick up all your toys, and finish your breakfast."
Danielle held her father's gaze for one challenging minute warring with her own need to defy him. However, if she wanted to be left alone to watch her stories in peace, it would be best to do as he said. This time. She pivoted on her cotton candy painted toes, and began clearing away her mess.
Damon had to blink because typically Daniella rarely followed his instructions the first time he gave them. She's planning something, he surmised and watched her carefully. Maybe she'll start playing with the ashes in the fireplace and redecorate his walls. She had done it before.
Daniella Rose Salvatore had been born right in the middle of a historic heat wave in August of 2011, and Damon really believed she might have been a spawn of hell because her attitude could swing from demonic to angelic in the snap of the fingers. He attributed her fiery personality even at her young, tender age to the fact she was the product of two headstrong, obstinate individuals. Nevertheless, he loved his little girl with all his heart, she being the best thing he ever created.
Shaking his head, Damon left Daniella to finish what he told her to do and waltzed into the kitchen. There on the table sat her untouched bowl of harden oatmeal, but no surprise the milk in her cup was completely finished.
She must have inherited his drinking habits.
Swiping the cup, Damon rinsed it out and refilled it with water. That would teach her not to finish her food. Daniella despised water. It has no taste, was her constant argument.
Satisfied in throwing another monkey wrench in his daughter's undermining plans, Damon dumped out the oatmeal and fixed her another bowl and then one for himself.
Danielle joined him, climbed up on the chair with her booster seat, and sat sullenly at the table.
Her cheeks were rosy and though she wasn't sniffling, Damon knew she cried but had gotten herself together before facing him again. His little soldier.
He sat across from Daniella and prompted her to eat by scooping a hearty portion of oatmeal on his spoon and sliding it into his mouth.
Daniella eyed him, nose scrunched. Damon deliberately stared at her Doc McStuffins spoon enticing her to follow suit or face another tongue lashing.
Grumbling, Daniella picked up her spoon and only put a tip's worth of oatmeal on it before cramming it in her mouth.
Snorting, Damon shook his head.
"When is mommy coming to get me?"
Damon stared at his daughter and blinked. He was used to his daughter asking him that question and he always had a reply, but this time around the question irritated him.
"She'll be here tomorrow. This is our weekend together, Daniella."
She didn't say anything but ate another dollop of oatmeal. Then she posed another query. "Why aren't you and mommy married? Why don't we all live together?"
This time around it was a bit more difficult for Damon to swallow his food. He wouldn't launch into any lengthy explanation on why he and Emily West weren't a functional unit for the sake of their daughter. They had tried to make things work, but with clashing personalities that only seemed to work when they were naked, that was a shaky foundation to try to build something solid on.
They had their daughter and some good memories, but the acrimony between them both made solidarity a little impossible. Not to mention the fact Emily had kept her pregnancy a secret until she and Damon crossed paths seven months after they split. Yeah, trust was something else that was scarce between them.
Damon hunched a shoulder. "Not every mommy and daddy belongs together. Sometimes families are better off when mommy and daddy live separately. It's difficult for you to understand right now, but you will one day."
All Daniella heard was her dad didn't love her mom. She resumed eating in silence doing what she could to keep her tears at bay.
Damon's cell chose that moment to start ringing. He jolted from the table and rummaged around the countertop lifting drawings and newspapers trying to find it. How two people caused so much clutter in a short amount of time continued to confound Damon. Two days ago his house had been spotless. Now—a total warzone.
When he found it, he answered. "Dr. Bennett, how can I help you?"
Inside Damon's head he was cursing the fact the Dean of Applied Sciences was calling him on a Saturday morning. Not only was the man a hard ass, but he also happened to be Emily's step uncle.
"Sorry to contact you on the weekend, but some new spending regulations have been handed down. I'm calling a meeting so we can discuss what the Chancellor plans to do about management and whatnot. It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours. Meeting starts at eleven."
"I'll be there," Damon mumbled through clenched teeth, staring at his daughter who was indeed listening to his conversation.
"Great! See you soon."
Damon stabbed the end button and pocketed his cell. Dr. Rudolf Bennett knew this meeting could have waited until Monday. But because he didn't have a damn life that meant everyone under him couldn't have one as well.
Right before Damon made it back to the table the doorbell tolled. Sighing heavily, he pointed at Daniella, "Finish your food and then its bath time."
Walking through the house to the main foyer, Damon tossed the door open. He almost sagged in relief. The nanny finally showed up.
"Hey Mr. Salvatore."
"Ms. Joy please come on in. Daniella is in the kitchen eating her breakfast. She hasn't had a bath yet and her clothes, they're already picked out."
Miss Joy Palmer was a fifty-seven year old seasoned domestic and nanny who raised most of the pampered tots on Damon's street. Nothing slipped past her and Damon caught her frowning at the haphazard way Daniella had stacked the pillows like a tower on the center cushion of the sofa, and that most of her toys were piled up around the wicker basket where they were kept instead of being in it.
"Tough morning?" she guessed and took off her coat and hung it up.
"You could say that. I have to head down to the university for an emergency meeting. I should be back by," Damon studied his timepiece, "no later than three or four if I'm lucky."
"Do what you have to do, Mr. Salvatore. Daniella will be fine."
The week had been hectic. He and Emily had maintained a level of cordiality when she came to pick up Daniella on Sunday. Even smiled and said it was good to see her. Damon couldn't deny that Emily was beautiful with large, hazel eyes, rippling ebony hair, peach hued skin, and the body of a cheerleader. Those old emotions of anticipation, lust, and possession he used to get in his gut whenever she'd step into a room were no longer there.
Senses dulled over the passage of time. Feelings were the same. Part of Damon wanted to mourn the loss of feelings Emily inspired in him. But now he could only inwardly shrug his shoulders, and move on to the next item on his to-do list.
Damon had just dismissed his final class of the day and was gathering his papers to head to his office. With three of the five classes he taught having term papers due with exams looming around the corner, Damon wasn't sure who was feeling the pressure of the semester more. Faculty or students.
He was ready to begin his weekend. He had a date lined up with a research aide from the Mechanical Engineer department he had been working on for two weeks straight. Getting home, showering, and grooming himself to irresistible perfection was his main goal. Just so long as he didn't run into any of his students or a fellow instructor, Damon could make it home within the next hour.
Suddenly he noticed someone in his peripheral enter the room. Probably a student waiting for their class to begin since another professor would be taking over the classroom once he vacated.
For the moment Damon ignored the student, tucking away his materials. When he finally looked up he lost his jaw to the floor.
It was a student all right. But the jeans and Dalcrest t-shirt she was wearing they were stained with what suspiciously looked like blood. Tears coursed down her flushed caramel cheeks and her green eyes were widened in fright.
Damon's stomach dropped to his toes and all the saliva in his mouth suddenly disappeared. His heart began to slam against his ribcage.
"H-help me," she stuttered and tried to hobble over to a nearby desk and collapsed.
For a second Damon remained immobile but finally shook off his shock like a dirty old coat and rushed over to the girl.
She landed on her side, eyes still open, lips moving but her words were inaudible.
Damon kneeled down beside her and wormed his fingers through her thick mane of hair to search for her pulse. It was slowing down. He couldn't see where she had been injured, but the scent of her blood coated his airways.
He loomed over her, "Miss? What happened? Who did this to you?"
Two loud blasts sounded off and that stilled Damon. Sounded like gunshots. He whipped around staring at the wide open classroom door.
"WHERE ARE YOU!" an irate voice yelled, the sound magnified because of the cavernous halls of the Applied Sciences building. "WHEN I FIND YOU, YOU'RE DEAD!"
A hand clutched Damon's shirt sleeve drawing his gaze. He stared bright-eyed and open mouth at the bleeding young woman.
"Please," Bonnie Bennett whispered, "help me."
TBC
A/N: Just a tiny food for thought but Emily West is indeed supposed to be Emily Bennett. I just changed her last name. And that ending…what's going on? Something bigger or an isolated incident? And what do we think of Damon as a dad? Hope to be back soon with an update for this and Perfect Strangers. Thank you so much for giving this a chance.