Just a little insight into Mystic Falls' "sexy reporter girl." All characters belong to their respective copyright holders.

Andie was just a sucker for those eyes. At first, she'd spent a lot of time trying to figure out exactly what color they were. Most people were inclined to say blue, but that wasn't quite right. It was as if all the color had been drained away, and all that was left was soul staring at you. Cocky, smart ass soul.

Jenna had been right, Damon was perfect for her. Even the vampire thing had been easy enough to get over when he looked at her and those eyes loomed so large in front of her, shutting everything else out but him and truth of his words.

"You'll never tell anyone what I am."

Of course she wouldn't. Why would she? Having a badass vampire boyfriend wasn't something that needed to make the six o'clock news. She liked having a secret.

"You won't be afraid of me."

Sure, the eye thing was a little weird and the biting hurt at first, but Damon made it so easy to forget. A momentary slashing, searing, aching pain that faded away and usually ended in sex? No, she wasn't afraid.

"You'll wear a scarf to cover the marks. Maybe they can be your new on air trademark."

She was pretty sure he was joking about that last part, his eyes flaring with mirth, but it wasn't a bad idea. News girls were so disposable, it was important to have a gimmick, something that made you stick in the minds of watchers. It wasn't going to be her stellar reporting, so why not her fabulous fashion sense, accented with scarves? It worked for her. Better to be known for scarves than for weird gaping neck wounds.

Some part of her knew what Damon was doing. Knew that not all of these great ideas were exactly according to her own free will. But blood and homicidal threats aside, she had a good time with him, and it's not like he'd made her into a mindless slave. So he loved Elena—who in Mystic Falls didn't these days? That was all right. She could listen. Just so long as she got to be the friend with benefits. Damon kept good champagne, had that great bathtub, and their bodies fit together like they'd been designed that way. That suited her needs just fine, since she didn't have time for a real relationship. This worked.

It had been her fault things had gone too far that one terrible night. He told her to leave; she should've left, not stayed to talk about feelings. Damon was a vampire, what had she expected? A long cathartic talk about feelings and true love and then he'd sweep her off her feet and live happily ever after? Not likely. It had been a stupid moment, and she wasn't surprised he'd tried to kill her. It's what vampires did.

And they'd gotten past all that. Andie couldn't help but smile as she gathered her things at the station. It had been a great newscast—big fire out on Route 4, always great for ratings—and she was even looking forward to this silly party of Elena's. A little dancing, a few drinks, a night with Damon. He was even playing the gentleman tonight, coming to pick her up and everything. Yes, it was going to be a very good night.

Then the light struck her eyes. Who would leave a spot on so late? What a waste of electricity. Probably some prankster intern.

"Hello? Look, this isn't funny." The spot didn't turn off. And there were shadows moving in the blinding light. No. This wasn't funny at all. She'd been cautious before she'd met Damon, but with a world of vampires suddenly on the loose, she was downright paranoid. Time to go.

She headed towards the door, heels click-clacking on the studio floor. Shit! A coil of wire sent her stumbling across the floor. Andie leapt back to her feet, determined to cross just the few more feet to the door when she drew up short with a tiny breathless scream.

"Stefan! Where have you been?" They'd been looking for him everywhere, and here he was playing games with spotlights? It didn't make any sense.

Until she saw his eyes.

They weren't the eyes of a vampire, not full of veins and blood. They were empty of everything, every feeling, every emotion, everything Andie had come to associate with Damon's Boy Scout little brother. And they were staring right at her.

"Andie. Why don't you give me the studio tour?" Those eyes, those awful empty eyes were all she could see, smothering her. She wanted to run and run and never stop. Instead, she flashed her best camera-ready smile.

"Sure! Normally we start the tour with the anchor desk—"She moved forward, but he caught her arm in a tight grip, and the eyes were back, consuming her.

"No. I want to see the light rigging. Why don't you go on up and show me?" The voice was as empty as his eyes.

There were 23 rungs on the ladder to the light rigging. She'd never been up there before, but she counted every one now, her heels catching and sliding on the slippery metal. But she reached the top, balancing carefully on the narrow plank, and gamely tried to continue the tour, as she'd been instructed.

"These are the spots that illuminate the anchors, and then the color gels for them are over here-"

"That's good, Andie. Come a little closer, I can't see you."

Step. Step. Soon there was nowhere else to go. She stood at the edge of the precipice. "Stefan, is this okay? I can't go any further."

"That's good, Andie. That's real good. Now stay there. You can't move until I tell you." Even from so far away, the eyes pressed on her. And the fear came.

Andie wasn't a stupid girl. She knew what was going to happen next. There wasn't going to be a happy ending for her. The story rang in her ears already: "Tragedy struck the WPKW news family late last night when Andie Starr, beloved local news icon, was found dead in the studio. Police are unsure as to the cause of death, but suicide is suspected. All of us at WPKW will be wearing red ribbons in her honor. Andie, you'll be missed. Now to Bob with the weather."

The tears came.

"Stefan, please let me move. Please let me get down, I just want to get down. I won't tell anyone you were here," she pleaded. He was silent, watching the doors expectantly. They were both soon rewarded as they banged open, and in strolled Damon. Relief flooded through her. It was over, Damon was here and he would protect her, everything was going to be okay now.

The brothers argued, but Andie was silent. It was going to be over soon, Damon was here. He wouldn't let Stefan do anything to her, it was going to be okay. He'd always said that if anyone was going to kill her, it'd be him.

"Hey. Andie. You still there?" Stefan called.

Andie tried to take deep breaths, to be strong, but she couldn't. Her voice was so frightened and young. "Damon. I can't move. He told me I can't move."

"Andie, it's going to be okay—just stay calm." Andie wanted to believe that voice, wanted to listen to it and stay calm. But it was the other voice that she heeded. The other voice she had to obey.

"Hey Andie. You can move now."