a/n: This story has been adopted from abbyli, this chapter and the next are hers. Chapter 3 onwards are my own.

Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Diaries or any of it's characters.

It was so early in the morning when he got that phone call. That one awful phone call.

"Damon, it's your father. Stefan and Elena were in a car accident. They're dead."

And then the line went dead.

Damon had sat there for what seemed like ages, just staring at nothing. Then his phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Damon? It's your mom."

Antonia Salvatore was the exact opposite of her ex-husband. She was kind, compassionate, and loving. Many people often noticed the similarities between looks between himself and his mother, both having the raven black hair, the pale skin, and the brilliant blue eyes. But Stefan was more like her in personality, so filled with compassion and love that it hurt.

"Hey, Mom."

"Damon, we need to talk about something."

Stefan and Elena had a daughter. A beautiful seven month old daughter named Celia Alexandra after Stefan's friend Lexi who had died a few years ago from cancer. Celia was the apple of their eye and had had her daddy wrapped around her little finger.

And apparently, Stefan and Elena had named a guardian for Celia if case anything had ever happened to them.

Damon slowly walked into the house, barely touching anything around him.

"Hey, baby."

His head shot up at the sound of his mother's voice. "Mom-" His voice suddenly broke and he inwardly cursed himself.

Suddenly, Antonia's arms were around him, pulling him close. "It's okay, darling. Let it out."

And let it out he did.

After nearly ten minutes of heavy weeping, Damon managed to pull himself together. He gently detangled himself from his mother's arms, scrubbing his hands across his face, trying to rid away any sign of tears.

"Damn it, I'm sorry."

Antonia shook her head, her still straight raven hair rippling around her. "Don't ever apologize to me, okay? Just don't."

"Thanks, Mom," he whispered, pressing a palm into his eyes. "How's Celia?"

"She's perfect," Antonia murmured. "She's upstairs."

There was a soft pang at his heart. Celia was never going to remember her parents. In ten years, twenty years, whenever anyone asked of her parents, she was just going to shrug and say 'they're dead'. She was never going to realize how much she looked like her mother or how she was just like her father.

Damon took a deep breath and slowly started up the stairs, heading to the nursery. He arrived at the yellow door that bore the sign 'Celia's Room' in bright gold bubble letters, his hand rested on the doorjamb.

"Damon, you don't have to. Not yet," came his mother's soft voice.

He glanced off to the side where his tiny mother had appeared. He shook his head, sighing quietly. "No, I have too."

And with that, he pushed in the door.

Celia had awoken. She was sitting up in her crib, her wide emerald eyes alert and filled with wonder and anticipation for the new day. Her soft downy dark brown hair stuck up in a disarray all over her head, giving her the appearance of a tousle haired puppy for a minute. He was almost expecting her to give a little bark.

She was the spitting image of Elena, right down to the cute little nose that stuck up at just the right angle. Everything about her screamed Elena. But when he looked into her eyes, he found himself seeing his brother once again. Even though she looked like her mother, she would always favor her father in more ways than one.

Without being able to help it, more tears blurred his vision. Damon leaned over the crib, allowing them to fall freely down his face and into her soft hair. He gently ran the palm of his hand over the top of her head, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Hey, baby girl. Hey, honey," he murmured into her cheek.

Celia then reached out two chubby arms, wanting and needing to be picked up. She recognized the familiarity in him and knew that she was safe and warm and loved. He immediately obliged, gently scooping the baby up into his arms and holding her against his chest. She cuddled down, pressing her cheek against his chest, right up to the sound of his beating heart.

Damon turned carefully, his eyes finding his mother's. Antonia stood in the doorway of the nursery, her arms crossed against her front and tears in her eyes.

"I just don't know how I am going to do this."

The flight back to New York City seemed endless. Celia spent most of it asleep against her uncle's chest. Antonia didn't offer to fly back with them, but Damon asked her. Despite being twenty seven, Damon still needed his mother in times like this. Especially now.

They landed at JFK and managed to get a cab back to the townhouse where Damon lived. His apartment was pretty spacious and could handle having a baby living there. Of course, the nursery consisted of a crib and a changing table, barely anything else had been moved in because time was moving so damn quickly. He had a dresser and a rocking chair coming in the morning and lots of other things for little Celia.

The baby had gotten fussy on the cab ride, only calming down when Damon held her against his beating heart. She started to snuffle and sigh, breathing in his scent that could only remind her of one person. She missed her mommy and daddy.

Finally, she was sleeping peacefully in her new crib, tuckered out from the long day. Damon fell into a chair in the living room, the baby monitor resting on the table beside him.

"Are you going to be all right?" Antonia gently asked, her purse slung over her shoulder and her jacket resting on her arm.

Damon looked up at his mother and nodded. "Yeah, I think so. It's going to take some time."

"Are you sure you're okay for tonight?"

"Yeah, I am. Gotta get started now or I am never going to be able to do it."

Antonia chuckled sadly. "Ain't it the truth."

Damon sat up and embraced his mother, holding her tightly in his arms. He hadn't realized how quickly it was going by but now he had to say goodbye to her once again.

"I love you, Mom."

"Love you too, baby."

"Call me as soon as you get back home, all right?"

"You bet."

And then she was gone.

It was near midnight when Damon finally headed to bed, baby monitor clenched tightly in his hand. But when he went by the nursery, he froze at the doorway, unable to walk away.

Celia was on her back, her tiny little lips pursed and her chubby arms strewn up around her head. Even at the tender age of seven months, she had known what was going on. He could see those worried little looks she occasionally sent his way. He kept popping up and she wasn't seeing her mommy and daddy. What the hell else was she supposed to think?

Damon let out a weary sigh, feeling very young himself as he rubbed a palm into his eye, trying to push away any signs of tears.

He missed Stefan so much right now. Yeah, the two of them would snarl at each other constantly, but there was still so much love there.

Love.

It would have taken something like this for Damon Salvatore to admit that he loved his baby brother.

Damon let out another sigh before he moved into the nursery, lowering himself down onto the armchair that his mother had pulled in there earlier.

"Well, munchkin. I guess we're bunkmates tonight," he murmured in the baby's direction.

He just couldn't leave her. Not yet.

- One more chapter by abbyli and then I continue with the story.