Disclaimer: I do not own the vampire diaries or any of there characters. Unfortunatly all I have is Isobel (she is my own character, not from the show or the books-which I wasn't even aware she was a character in the books until recently-all she has is the same name.) I apologize for the added confusion to my readers if you at anytime were misunderstood. I just loved the name.

Damon POV

The past, it can never be completely forgotten. Memories can be faded and blurry with age, but they're still there. Haunting you. Haunting me. Her memory constantly plagues me, the guilt, the sorrow, the happiness I abandoned…. and for what…this?

It's a memory I want to forget, but can't…no matter how hard I try. So instead I lock it up in a vault that's stored way back into the distant corners of my mind, where it slowly rots away into a less painful smudge on my conscience. It still hurts, but I pretend it doesn't. That its not there.

The lighting was dim, the fake leather cushions lining the barstool, tearing. The stale smell of peanuts and cheap beer clung to the humid air. Figures were clumped in groups, mindlessly chatting about the nonsense that filled their dreary lives. A few lonely drunks were scattered throughout the increasingly cramped bar.

Elena…what a bitch, I thought vehemently. "You don't deserve me" her exact, condescending words, reverberating off the walls of my skull. Really…I don't deserve her? Hell she doesn't deserve me! I was way out of her league in the first place. Why I even paid her the slightest attention is beyond me. I must have been piss drunk, seemed to be the only explanation I could find to justify my love stricken behavior.

I mean she wasn't even that hot….damn that bitch, she made me so godamn angry! Constantly screwing with my mind. One moment flirting with me, the next, shoving me away.

I took another swig of my beer in an attempt to calm my boiling fury and aggravation.

Elena, Elena, Elena that's all I could ever think about. Jesus, if I didn't know any better, I would think I was starting to be as pathetic as my little brother.

I desperately rifled through my brain, trying to find any excuse not to love her, to find some fault in her that would make me hate her. But no matter how hard I searched…I found nothing.

That's it! I needed to stop acting like such a pussy, and find myself a distraction. That's what I needed…. a gorgeous distraction…

My eyes scanned the bar, looking for a beautiful girl to really have some fun with.

I felt my mouth curl into a sinister grin when I caught the sights of a busty blonde woman in a tight purple dress, sitting alone across the bar. She seemed like the type of girl who had a low self-esteem and lived to please jerks like me.

Perfect just the way I like them….

I slid off of the bar stool, and began to saunter towards this mouthwatering stranger, when I unconsciously stopped dead in my tracks.

My gaze fell onto a woman who made her way through the bar doors, she strutted in with such confidence that she surely caught every mans attention. All eyes hitched on her…this stunning outsider that caused all of the men to gape at her hungrily.

She had dark brown hair, that under the bar lights appeared to be almost a glossy black. Her luscious locks cascaded down to the middle of her back in wild waves. She was of slim build, while still maintaining her perfect hourglass curves. She was wearing tight dark wash Armani jeans and a sheer black lace blouse, carrying herself gracefully in six-inch burgundy stilettos.

My feet were planted where they stood, unable to move as I eyed her curiously.

She glided past me, and for a brief moment, she glanced in my direction. That's when I saw her eyes.

They were the most unusual color I have ever seen. Her irises were a dark violet that could easily be mistaken for black or even a rich brown. The violet seemed to blend into her pupils, however not in an unflattering way. No there was definitely nothing unattractive about this girl.

Memories trapped in my vault seeped out; an uncanny feeling of familiarity burrowed into my pores as I continued to soak in her image.

Her makeup was done flawlessly. She had thick long lashes, black eyeliner that traced along the rims of her eyes. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her lips were like two plump rose buds, tinted a pale red. She had shapely legs, with hips that swayed slightly with each fluent step.

She proceeded to take a seat in the most deserted area of the bar. Thoughts of the previous woman completely escaped my mind; she was no longer comparable to her.

I reflexively strode over to her…..I needed to meet this girl. Something in me was dragging me towards her. Not that I was complaining.

"One dry martini." She ordered the bartender in a seductive voice.

"Is this seat taken?" I mused coolly.

She twisted her torso towards me. "That depends…are you gonna buy me a drink?" She smiled mischievously.

"Sure." I replied, settling down next to her. "But you know I usually like to know a girls name before getting them drunk." I smirked.

"Who says I'm going to get drunk?" She replied smoothly, bringing the glass to her lips, and taking a sip of her martini in a failed attempt to suppress a smile.

I watched her as she daintily removed the toothpick from the clear liquid, placing it halfway in her mouth, sliding off a single green olive.

"Is there anything I can get for you sir?" the bartender said, snapping me out of my trance.

I cleared my throat, swiveling my head to the man. "You can give me a scotch." I barked coldly.

"Right away sir." He complied.

Her elbow rested on the gray granite, as she placed her chin into the edge of her palm, staring at me oddly, before extending her hand towards me. "I'm Isobel".

I made sure to catch her deep violet eyes. "Damon Salvatore." I said charmingly, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her hand. A faint blush crept onto her flesh at the unexpected gesture.

Electric waves surged through my body the instant we touched. My momentary shock was unnoticed, as I quickly regained my composure, intricately putting back in place my mysterious veneer.

"Why don't I buy you another drink?" I queried, noticing that she already finished her previous one.

"If you must." she drawled cattily.

Hours went by of heavy drinking, at least on Isobel's part, and constant small talk. Isobel had become very drunk in her decision to switch from martinis to tequila shots. She surprisingly was very pleasant to talk to. Even when she was completely wasted she still managed to say enlightening comments, and keep up the facade of her spellbinding charm. As each minute ticked by, my fascination towards this woman grew.

"Damon." She groaned, lifting her face from off the sticky bar.

"Yes?" I answered, feeling a little buzzed myself.

She muttered something that was completely incoherent, even with my heightened hearing I couldn't make out a single word.

"What did you say?"

She looked up at me utterly confused. "I can't seem to remember where I live." She slurred.

I began to get up, gently tugging at her arm. "Well I guess you have no choice then, but to come home with me."

She giggled melodically, pointing an accusing finger at me. "I will not sleep with you Damon Salvatore! But I will allow you to take me back to your place."

She stumbled off the stool, only to lose her balance further, her feet tripping over air. I enveloped her into my arms before she had the chance to collide with the ground.

Allowing her to use my body as support, we staggered out of the bar and towards my black Ferrari.

"Holy shit this is your car?" She bellowed in awe, sliding her hands along the top of the Ferrari.

I opened the passenger side for her. "Yup" I chirped, popping the 'p'.

She ducked her head down into the doorway, smashing her forehead against the metal, the sound emitting a muffled thud.

"Ow" She pouted, rubbing her temples.

I gave her a gentle shove into the car, chuckling.

When we finally reached the house I helped her out of the car, ensuring that there would be no further mishaps. Slinging my arm around her shoulder, I towed her up to my room.

I assumed Stefan was spending the night at Elena's since the house was completely deserted.

Envy rippled through me at that thought.

I swung open my bedroom door, and she collapsed onto the carpet, shutting her eyes.

"Here, how 'bout you sleep in the bed. It's much more comfortable then the floor." I coaxed, sweeping her up into my arms, and laying her down onto the mattress.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she peered up at me like a helpless child.

As I fell into her violet eyes, I saw the look of loneliness and sorrow, swimming within their depths. They were emotions I have known all too well.

But there was something else…. there was some dark secret lurking within her. I could tell.

"Thank you." She mewled sleepily, closing her eyes and pushing her head into the soft pillow. I reached my hand out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, allowing my fingers to linger on her milky skin.

I realized she was still wearing her shoes. Only half aware of my actions, I carefully pulled them off, making sure not to wake her, and placed them on the floor.

I knew I could easily kill her without anyone knowing, or even sleep with her and take her blood compelling her later to forget. That was my original plan after all. But for some reason I couldn't explain, those plans suddenly changed. I didn't want to hurt her.

There was a voice inside my head that was silently pleading me not to harm her. It was telling me that she was just like me, no one accepts her, she's broken, and all alone.

I slumped down into one of the brown leather armchairs of my room, observing her curiously.

Something in my gut was telling me that this mystifying woman, sprawled out on my bed, was my excuse not to love Elena. She was my distraction.

My eyes grew heavy, and for the first time as I closed them, I wasn't thinking about Elena. My thoughts were solely swirling around Isobel.