Another sad song comes along, as Damon shakes his head and frowns. What was it with empty bars? As if the lack of people affected their lack of interest in music- lively, pinna shattering music, or at least that's what he was looking for. He orders another whiskey, as the bartender raises his eyebrows, skeptically. Damon glares at him-causing him to walk away,stumbling. He smiles at the shiny drink, gulping it down, before he puts his head between his hands, and settles it down on the table.

A heavy set of footsteps echo around the bar. The man sits himself down at the counter and orders a whiskey, as well. His voice is deep and hoarse. There's almost a hint of resignation in it. The bartender seems to be intimidated by this particular man, as he takes his order followed by a "That'll be all then, sir?"

The man replies and hurries to answer his beeping phone. "Sam, I said I'm okay! Calling me again and again isn't helping me solve this thing any faster. Just shut up and take care of that broken leg of yours." He argues with a Sam, who doesn't seem to be backing down.

"Sam? I'm done." The man finally reaches his peak of anger, and hangs up. He huffs, gulps down his drink in one go, and orders another one immediately. The bartender brings him another one as he asks," What can you tell me about this hikers campsite up north in the Red Mountains?"

"The big boys in DC taking interest around local news here, huh?" The bartender asks, mockingly almost.

"Well, given the circumstances and the incompetence of your officers, it's about time, don't you think?" The Fed replies.

The bartender snorts, "I'll tell you one thing for sure, those teenagers and the parents that send them, are a bunch of idiots! I mean, complete idiots! Trusting the Mitchells year after year, knowing perfectly well that one of the kids is bound to be seriously hurt and die. DIE! Each year!"

Damon's head shoots up. Mitchells, he says to himself, and looks at the man. Dressed in a silver tuxedo- his well built body and sturdy expression scream intimidation. No wonder the bartender humbled down. But it's not the tux, shiny shoes and the man's build that make Damon assess this man, up and down. The first adjective that pops into his head is formidable. He scans his memory, out and about, trying to recall if he's ever seen this man before. He looks disturbingly familiar to someone- he couldn't quite put a finger on. He walks towards the counter, wanting to take a closer look at the man.

"Idiots, I tell you! In addition to that, there's the creepy base camp they set up near the creek. That damned dam is known for ita instability- the government said it themselves! These Mitchells, apparently paid big bucks to get the official licences and all. Imagine, all that for a summer camp! Who does that?!" The bartender continues.

"Yes, yes. I know all of that. My question is, that the Mitchells have quite a reputation-. and not the good kind- around here, yet every year they're acquitted by your people? Isn't that strange to the townsfolk-considering there's clearly something wrong here?" the man enquires.

"I'll tell you something stranger? They don't need to be acquitted because they aren't charged of any crime, in the first place! The parents of the deceased...they don't seem to be ..I don't know...in the state of mind, or even willing to sue the Camp. It's beyond weird! Everyone in this petty town talks about it...but not the police, not the parents...seem to look deeper into this matter!" The bartender replies.

"Sounds seriously messed up." Damon jumps in, ordering another whiskey.

The man turns around to address Damon. He looks him up and down, as well, and finally says, " Yeah, well, towns these small have the creepiest businesses going on. Not to mention, the liquor isn't that good either." He adds.

Damon chuckles and introduces himself, "I'm Tom..Salvatore."

"I'm James..Novak." The man shakes the proffered hand, and Damon is struck with a sudden realisation.

"Agent James Novak." Damon asserts, as the other man nods his head.

Damon excuses himself for a minute, as he hits the first number on his speed-dial.

" Hello? Oh my god, are you alright?" Bonnie asks frantically.

"Bonnie. It's him . Dean Winchester."

So, fair warning. I'm not a Vampire Diaries fan, per se.

But I can't shake off the fact that the two characters- Dean and Damon- are pretty badass.

So here's my attempt at a crossover.

Hugs and all.