Chapter 1

"According to police, the break-in must have happened around midnight last night. The suspects are thought to be a band of five or six men and women heavily armed. This would make it the first incident this month. If you have any details on this-"

Caroline inserted her aerobics DVD into the player barely registering the report on TV. The menu came on and she took a step back. An odd sensation came over her, the hairs prickling on the back of her neck, and she turned to see Damon behind her.

She hated when he did that.

"Would it kill you to make some noise when you come down the stairs?"

"There's a leak in the basement," he informed her without preamble. "Take care of it, will you?"

"The basement? I'm not going down there."

He looked at her as he always did, with that half-amused expression. "The sooner the better—it's only going to get worse."

She narrowed her eyes. "How am I going to take care of a leak in the basement?"

Damon shrugged. "Call someone. I have to go."

She let out an exasperated sigh and followed him out. "I don't even see why we're here, Damon. This house is old and—"

"Didn't you just say yesterday that you thought it was charming?"

"I did not."

"Don't you tend to…forget things?" He looked at her over his shoulder. "Why don't you let me be the judge of what you remember and what you don't?"

Caroline scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine."

"That's my girl." He opened the car door. "Don't look at me that way. "I'll take you out somewhere nice later."

"You better," she grumbled.

"You know the drill. No wandering—"

"—after dark without you. I get it. Go." She walked back in the house, hearing him start the car and drive off.

She frowned, still annoyed that he'd felt the need to remind her. There were things she never forgot. She still had instincts. Caroline looked for the remote, finding it on the sofa, and began her warm-up.

Had she really said the house was charming? She pulled her leg back to stretch it trying to think back and…nothing. As usual. She sighed and repeated the motion with her other leg.

Damon had told her not to worry and she tried, but it was always unnerving to wake up every so often not knowing where you were or why you were there. She bent from the waist, holding the position for a few seconds before straightening up. All she could count on was him. She rolled her shoulders, then her neck. That was okay. Stopping the warm-up suddenly, Caroline brought a hand to her neck; she could feel the rough scabs of two puncture wounds.

She hadn't asked about that. She didn't ask about a lot of things. Caroline moved into a lunge position to stretch one hamstring, then the other. Not about the bodies in the streets, the screams she heard sometimes at night. Things were different now, she understood, even though she couldn't quite remember from what.

Caroline extended her right arm, bending it back. But Damon took care of her. She repeated the motion with her other arm. It wasn't a big deal to do what he asked. No one else could touch her. Damon kept her safe.

Satisfied with her warm-up, she started her workout.

Since there was no computer, much less Internet, in the house, she'd been forced to try 411 to get the number for the stupid plumber. She jotted down several, one never knew who was still around, and watched a rerun of a cop show. She made it through most of a talk show that came on after, before mopping the kitchen and vacuuming the living room. She hadn't even set out to do it, but she literally hadn't been able to sit still anymore.

It was in one of the bouts of pacing after she'd tidied up the first floor that Caroline's eyes landed on the empty driveway outside the window. She took a peek at the clock in the kitchen. Six o'clock. Definitely too late to get anyone to drop by, she'd lost track of time while cleaning, but still about an hour and a half from nightfall. A walk might be just what she needed. The town couldn't be too far away, Caroline found herself thinking, unable to bear the restlessness.

She always had her cell.

Caroline took the path out of the boarding house, walking on by instinct. There were no signs, but the route seemed familiar enough. She wasn't surprised when she made it to the town's main street.

Sometimes instincts were just as good as memories. Caroline smiled at the "Welcome to Mystic Falls" sign, just before the main square. There were several shops along the square, but on the whole the town felt empty. She chose the closest convenience store and quickly went inside.

"We're closing—" Caroline turned her head to meet the eyes of the girl at the cashier. "Caroline?"

Caroline looked at her oddly. "Do I know you?" She felt the girl's eyes drift down to her neck.

The girl stayed quiet for a moment. Her own marks were just above the collar of her shirt, her short hair granting easy view. "Sorry, you just looked like someone," she shook her head. "But she...wasn't a redhead. What can I do for you?"

Caroline's hand went to her hair self-consciously and she tried not to be offended. Damon had liked this shade better than the last red she'd tried. "I'm just looking, actually."

"Well, we're closing in, like, ten minutes."

"I'll be quick."

Caroline walked around while the girl tidied up and grabbed a Twix from the shelf. The girl took several boxes out to a back room.

The door dinged and Caroline looked up to see a guy her age walk in, medium build, sort of average-looking. She slid the candy bar back.

"Hey," he greeted her with an appreciative look. "Where's Tiki?"

"In the back," Caroline said warily, looking out the door to the darkening sky.

"I haven't seen you around before."

"We just moved in," she offered distractedly, venturing to the magazine section. She scanned him quickly from the corner of her eye. Looking for the glint of the lapis lazuli on his finger. None.

"Oh, yeah? You and who else?"

Relieved, she swept her hair back, displaying her puncture wounds, then reached for a Vogue, a Mademoiselle, and a Cosmo. She felt the weight of his eyes on her and refused to look at him. "Me and my boyfriend."

Tiki's voice rang out. "Stop bothering her, Donnie."

"Just making conversation. We don't see a lot of people moving in much. So your boyfriend—is he sleeping now?"

"I gotta close up," Tiki interrupted. "Donnie—"

"Yeah, I should get going." Caroline approached the cash register. She gave Tiki the money for the magazines and turned to leave. The door dinged behind her as she dug around her purse for the keys.

"So wait," the guy – Donnie? – called from the sidewalk. "You still haven't told me about your boyfriend."

"Didn't you drop by to see your friend?" Caroline responded airily, even as he walked towards her. She didn't stop walking. "You might be about to miss her."

"Tiki?" The guy followed. "Nah. Tiki's always around."

"Well, I have to run."

The guy's hand closed around her wrist. She turned her head towards him. "You better be careful."

"What? Sleeping beauty might come get me?" He inched closer.

She smiled. "He's not sleeping."

"Relax. He won't know. Probably won't care either. As long as he gets to give you those." He reached to sweep the hair away from her neck.

Caroline jerked away –as far as she could, given his grip- but met his eyes squarely, tilting her head. "Where are yours?"

He snorted. "I don't got any."

"Really."

"My boss says there are two types of people: ones to feed on and ones that work for you."

"So you work? For a vampire?" Caroline chuckled at the thought. "You're his muscle?"

"Someone's gotta watch them." He gestured to the convenience store. "Keep 'em in line while the boss is asleep."

She pursed her lips and pulled against his hold, yanking her hand free. "Maybe the boss shouldn't have eaten all the cops." Caroline continued walking.

He shrugged, still annoyingly beside her. "They were almost all gone by the time we got here anyway."

"Are you actually going to follow me home?"

"Dangerous for a girl all by herself."

"I'll be fine—don't you have work now or something?" She gesturing to the sky.

"Let me get you a drink," he cajoled. "Nothing bad will happen to you while I'm here."

"Thanks, but no."

"Your marks aren't even fresh." She ignored him, trying to walk faster, but he grabbed her arm again, harder this time, and pulling her back. "You might have a boyfriend…or you might have had a boyfriend."

"Or that some vampires enjoy variety." Caroline closed her eyes, relieved at the sound of Damon's voice. "Doesn't your boss?"

Donnie let go of Caroline's wrist and skittered back.

He'd gone utterly quiet and still as if he were afraid Damon would snap his neck at the least provocation. With reason, she thought, comforted.

"Give him my regards, by the way," Damon said. He turned to Caroline. "Coming? Car's this way."

As they pulled out of the parking spot, and she stared at Donnie's figure through the rearview mirror until he was just a small dark shadow in the dusk.

Her hand went to her neck unconsciously. The scabs on her skin felt dry and rough under her fingertips.

Her carelessness dawned on her on the short ride back. It was always like that, one minute she was doing something, not worried about a thing and the next there was this heaviness. Usually she couldn't name it, but this time it was clear enough. She should have never gone out. What if Damon hadn't been there? But she'd been so restless…Caroline looked at his profile trying to read if he was angry. She gave up soon enough.

"I'm sorry," she said once they were back at the house. "I left the house too late." Caroline walked towards the kitchen, not waiting for Damon to respond. "I should have gone in the morning. I ended up wasting too much time. But I felt so…antsy. Like if I stayed here any longer…I just couldn't." She dug around the freezer for her meal. What if she'd just made Damon upset? "I'll get someone to come over tomorrow."

Damon's words had started replaying in her head variety…some vampires like variety. She didn't want to think he'd meant it, but of course he did. What did that mean? If he didn't need her anymore, what would he do with her?

"Avoiding town might be a good idea for the moment," Damon was saying. It was the first thing he'd said since he'd picked her up.

Caroline nodded dully, pushing the tray into the microwave. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her jeans and leaned against the counter, eyes fixed on him.

"You're not…angry, right?"

Damon looked surprised at the question. "No." He turned away from her to grab a bottle of wine on the kitchenette behind him. "Although – you're right. Going at the time you did was not the smartest thing to do. Get me the bottle opener."

She opened the cabinet nearest to her and handed it to him.

There was blood everywhere. A sodden, blood-drenched shirt.

The microwave beeped and Caroline blinked the image away.

She pulled out the food, briefly considered transferring it onto a plate, then dismissed the idea. She grabbed a fork and knife, careful not to burn herself with the tray. The cork popped behind her, and she set the tray down on the counter to reach for a wine glass. She offered it to Damon.

"You're not having any?" He looked up at her.

Thinking better of it, she grabbed a glass for herself and handed it to him as well.

"Was it like this where we were last?" She tore away the plastic wrapping from the TV tray.

Damon brought the wineglass to his lips. "Charleston? Like what?"

Charleston, the name didn't bring up any image, but she made a mental note. "Full of creeps."

He took another drink before answering. "Thugs," he made a face, "are more common now." Wine glass in hand he exited the room.

Caroline didn't follow him.

Ones to feed on and ones that work for you.

Your marks aren't even fresh.

It was hard to eat when her hands were shaking this much. She dropped the knife and fork in favor of getting her glass of wine and took an ungraceful swig of it hoping it would calm her nerves.

Variety.

She was still here. That meant something. He wouldn't get rid of her just like that- part of her felt grateful for that leak in the basement all of a sudden.

Another drink of wine and she picked up her knife and fork again.

Damon's door was half open, but she still knocked timidly.

"Yes?" He lifted his face from whatever book he was reading.

"You said that I shouldn't worry about…the gaps, I know," she began quickly. "It just gets really annoying. Like right now, I was trying to remember when we got here or about Charleston and I can't. And I'm wondering if that's why I feel so nervous all the time like I don't know-"

"A week," he said flatly, returning to his book.

"Something happened there."

Damon put down the book, cocking his head. "How do you know?"

"I don't." She approached the bed. "Not really." She sat down on the edge.

He reached for the book, but she leaned across him to push it away from his grasp.

"Did you save my life?" Caroline shifted a bit, scooting forward, and pushed her hair over her shoulder, baring her neck, the unmarked side.

She saw the color, the splotchiness in his face for a second. He grasped her arm and she was flung forward onto the bed. Bloodlust was still written on his face, as he looked down at her. She didn't expect it when he shifted away and ordered: "Out."

"I thought—"

"Do yourself a favor and don't."

The remark caught her by surprise, and she bristled. "Oh, I'm sorry," she blurted out, voice laced with sarcasm. "I forgot, you like variety. Stupid me."

She managed to get maybe two steps from the bed before he was behind her, an arm wrapped around her waist.

"I thought I told you not to think." His breath was warm against her temple.

"I'm not."

Caroline felt the brush of his lips over her neck and closed her eyes, focusing on the huff of his breath against her skin. The feeling was pleasant, but she felt herself tense, expecting the pain. There should be pain. That was normal.

Caroline closed her eyes, wanting him to just go ahead and bite already, but he didn't. Suddenly, she wanted to go into her room and lock the door. She tried to think back, it must have happened before, many times, and yet all she could think of was blood pooling on the floor and screams.

He released her suddenly.

"I think I had too much wine," she murmured, half-confused, half-relieved and afraid she'd made him angry, but he was on the bed again, nose back in the book.

"I think you're right." He didn't look up. "Close the door on your way out."

Caroline woke up with a headache the next day, the sunlight that sneaked through her blinds pounding its way through her skull. Served her right, she thought, catching sight of the empty wine bottle on her nightstand. She'd gone downstairs after leaving Damon's room and brought up the remains of the bottle with her, realizing belatedly just how shaken she'd been.

Because he would have fed on you.

She pushed the thought away and sat up sluggishly, reaching for the bottle and wineglass. Trying her best to ignore her headache, she went through her morning routine, making her way down the stairs to the kitchen. There, she disposed of the bottle, rinsed the glass and set the coffee.

Caroline darted a quick look up the stairs. Damon would probably sleep in until the afternoon if he didn't have somewhere to be.

Because he didn't feed and doesn't need you.

She walked towards the bag with her magazines was on the dining room table, beside the notebook where she'd jotted down the numbers yesterday. She'd said she'd take care of it. Sighing, she sat down at the table and pulled out the list of numbers she got yesterday, wishing that they'd decided to stay in a hotel instead.

The smell of coffee wafted to the room and she left the notebook open on the table, going back to the kitchen. She wasn't about to start all those calls without any caffeine in her system.

"I'm not sure what the nature of the leak is." Caroline tapped her pen on the phone book. "I just learned about it yesterday."

Caroline stood up and began pacing, while the assistant on the phone prattled on about the types of leaks, and she almost collided with Damon.

"Don't do that," she hissed at him. The assistant sounded surprised, and Caroline turned away adding: "Oh nothing. I think it might be the first or second? It's an old house. When would you be able to come take a look? The sooner the better."

She waited while the man checked the appointment book. "Next week? You don't have anything else open?"

"Tell them it's the Salvatore boardinghouse," Damon suggested helpfully. "That might help."

She waved a hand for him to be quiet. "Yeah, it might be an emergency. The house is very old. I mean really old. It's the Salvatore boardinghouse—maybe you know it? Oh, today at four? No, that would be perfect. See you then." Caroline hung up. She gave him a sardonic look. "It's like they know you."

He shrugged. "This house has always been in the family."

"You think it's good to name drop?" He continued to the kitchen and she followed, frowning reminded of the encounter with Donnie. "I mean there are other vampires here. And this makes it easy to know where you are."

"I think there's currently one vampire here," he called out, rummaging through the fridge. "And he's relatively new, which means -"

"No ring. Can't go out at night. I know."

"Anyway," he continued, his voice muffled. "It's not exactly a secret we're here either."

"Still," she added uncomfortably.

He emerged with an apple in his hand. "Usual rules. Don't go out at night. If he comes over, don't invite him in." He bit into the apple with a decisive crunch.

"It happened in Charleston, didn't it?" she blurted out.

He lifted his index finger. "Not exactly. Shouldn't you be working out?"

Her eyes drifted towards the clock. "Yes."

"Then go do that."

Caroline stared at him for a second, not wanting to let the matter drop. But, she didn't want to make him angry and it was already past one and it felt…wrong not to keep her schedule. Wordlessly, she turned to leave. She'd just have to ask him later.

Damon was gone by the time she was finished with the DVD. She was just done showering and getting dressed when the doorbell rang.

"I'm Mark Leonard from Leonard and Sons. You called about a leak?" the man said when she half-opened the door. She felt a little silly, being that careful. She'd never actually met another vampire that could walk around during the day – then again, she couldn't remember meeting any vampire other than Damon, and she must have, she was certain. She stopped herself. Damon had said not to worry about the gaps.

"I'm Caroline." She caught a glimpse of the top of a bandage around the man's neck through his shirt collar and gestured him in.

"You must be the one who my son talked to earlier."

"I am."

The man scrutinized her. "You look familiar."

She chuckled. "You're not the only person I've heard that from. Someone just told me that yesterday. I guess I just have that kind of face."

"Maybe," he said grudgingly.

Caroline smiled. "Or is it like a Mystic Falls thing. Something you tell people who've just moved in?"

"Been a while since we've seen new people in town. There's not that many of us anymore. Don't even have a local TV station anymore."

"Really?" Caroline said, without knowing how else to reply. "The basement is this way."

"How long have you had the problem?"

"Oh, I don't know, actually. Damon told me about it yesterday and–" She forced a laugh. "I don't come down here at all so..."

The man was silent at that, and they went down the narrow stairs. Something about the basement gave her a bad feeling. At least she wasn't alone.

"We were in Charleston before," she added to fill the quiet.

"How is it over there?"

She wracked her mind, but all that came to her were fragments, bloodied clothes, … "Hectic. It was a little hectic. It's good to be here," she found herself saying. "Nice and quiet."

"Lots of vampires?" he surprised her by asking. "I hear the cities are full of 'em."

They'd reached the bottom of the stairs and she clicked on the light. Cardboard boxes were spread throughout the room. What were all those boxes? "I'm not sure. How about here?"

"One vamp. It's not so bad most of the time."

"Oh, right." Hadn't Damon told her as well? "I, uh, ran into one of his…employees yesterday."

Mark grunted. "The whole town works for him. One way or another." He pointed to the boxes along the walls as Caroline tried to make a path towards the far end of the room. "Looks like you're getting ready for a garage sale."

She chuckled. "I was thinking more that someone's moving. I have no idea what all this junk is. Sorry. We just moved in."

"I've seen worse."

"So about the leak…" Caroline changed the subject. "The first floor bathroom's not too far from here—could that have something to do with it?"

"Could be. Ah," he said, coming up to a cleared space. "This is it?"

There was a bucket in the center, almost full of cloudy water. As they watched a thick drop dripped down. Then another.

"I guess so. Damon must have put that there."

"And you said there's a bathroom directly above here?"

Caroline nodded.

"Hm. Mind if I take a look?"

She nodded. "Go right ahead," she followed him back upstairs.

After, the plumber had left, Caroline found herself returning to the basement.

The boxes appeared in her line of vision and the annoyance changed to unease. She was sure it was all paranoia, but something about the room made her nervous. She tried not to give it too much thought.

There were almost no personal effects anywhere in the main rooms of the house. Caroline figured they'd all gone here. She approached the box nearest to her. It was closed, but there was no tape, so she knelt and reached to open it, passing her fingers over the surface. Dust floated up. Judging by the layer of powder on her fingers, the box had been there for a while.

Curiosity no longer hampered by dread, she reached to open it. Another cloud of dust formed as she pulled the flaps. She coughed, pulling back slightly, letting the air clear. When it did, she wasn't too surprised to find several binders. She pulled one out carefully and opened it, scrutinizing the yellowed sheets with flowery writing. She couldn't make out too much between the faded ink and odd cursive. Caroline put the binder back with a sigh.

She stood up and surveyed the room again. Would all the boxes be full of old documents? Why would anyone, let alone Damon, keep them? She doubted they'd be of much use now anyway.

Still, she didn't have anything else to do at the moment, so she walked past several of them, stopping by the box closest to the left wall. This one had binders too, which almost made her give up in bored disgust.

Caroline grasped one at random, realizing with a thrill that it wasn't a binder at all. It was a photo album. She opened it, eyes focusing on the page.

That wasn't Damon. Or at least she didn't think it was him in the photograph. She could see a resemblance, but this boy's face was much more serious, features harsher somehow, even at that age. A relative, probably. Brother? She'd never thought of Damon as having a family, although, of course, he would have. Before.

Her memory flickered at the thought, like a name at the tip of her tongue, but when she shut her eyes trying to summon an image, a name, anything, nothing came.

She heard the door open upstairs, followed by Damon's ironic "Honey I'm home!" and instinctively shut the album and stuffed it back in the box, which she closed haphazardly. She heard his footsteps approaching the basement stairs and stood up.

"Did you take care of it?" He came into view gradually as he went down a couple of steps.

"The pipes are damaged. All over the house," she told him. "Not too badly now. It'll get worse later. The plumber gave me some more numbers."

"Seems you have your work cut out for you."

She made a face as she went back up the stairs.

Hours later, Caroline looked up from her magazine to where Damon was lazily channel surfing. He wouldn't leave a program on for more than a few minutes before changing it.

The opening bars of the theme song to a sitcom she didn't know blared before being traded for the voice of an anchor recounting some robbery, then a halftime bell of a basketball game.

But it wasn't the sounds that had her throwing surreptitious glances his way. The dark-haired boy she'd seen in the album…he couldn't have been older than ten.

"Out with it," Damon called from the couch.

"Out with what?"

"You know what I'm talking about." He muted the TV and stretched, before turning to look at her. "You've been staring at me all night–are you still sulking about the work?"

"What next?" she blurted out mildly. "Plastering the ceiling?"

"That's a thought," he grinned.

Caroline sighed. "It's not funny."

"Think of it as a lesson—"

"Why the boxes?"

He shrugged, unfazed by the change in topic. "Legal stuff. Deeds to the property, that sort of thing."

"That's a lot of legal stuff."

"Well considering some of them date back a hundred and forty years…"

"The plumber thought you might be having a garage sale."

Damon snorted. "And you're scared I'll make you have one? Tempting."

"No. But I did wonder if you thought about going anywhere." She fought not to sound as worried as she felt and felt herself failing. "Like, by yourself."

"I go to plenty of places by myself."

"I don't mean when you're busy—"

"People do keep boxes in their basements, you know," he interrupted. "It's perfectly normal. Doesn't mean they're going anywhere. Those boxes have been there for years."

"I know." Caroline closed her magazine. Not knowing what else to say, she grabbed it and headed to the stairs. The TV sound came back on.