Thank you guys so much for the wonderful support already! It means the world to me given that I'm terribly invested in this fic already and it's only the second chapter. I'll keep the author's note short for now, but let me know if you like longer author's notes where I go into more detail about the story. I did that with my now-completed fic Yellow Brick Road, but I don't want to bother you with information you don't care about. So in your review, which I know every single one of you will leave ;), tell me 1) how you feel about long author's notes and 2) how you feel about the fic (duh!)

September 2006

And I heard your voice

As clear as day

And you told me I should concentrate

It was all so strange

And so surreal

That a ghost should be so practical

Only if for a night

"Shit!"

Damon almost let out a growl as his head whipped up. The near constant swearing and groans coming from the study room next to him were driving him up the wall. Surprisingly enough, they weren't even the sexual ones, regardless of the fact that he was on one of the top floors of the library, an infamous item on the college's unofficial bucket list. The person on the other side of him was clearly not happy with her studies, but God forbid she stayed silent about it.

It didn't help that Damon didn't want to be there in the first place. It was a Saturday night, after all. Ever since he'd gotten his first "real lawyer" job at a local firm, one of the partners had been riding his ass and making him complete ridiculous tasks. It reminded Damon of the hazing he'd gone through to get into his fraternity. Nearly every day, Damon was required to do stuff that not even a secretary would deign to, but he did it regardless. He had to keep his job or else his whole life plan would go straight down the toilet. And that just wasn't allowed to happen.

One of these abhorrent tasks was plaguing him this particular evening. For some unknown reason, he'd been assigned the paperwork typically done by a paralegal, paperwork that made little to no sense to Damon's untrained eyes. Sure he knew his way around a law office and a courtroom, but there was a reason a paralegal went through a separate program. The documents in front of him looked like a foreign language. He'd received no further instructions other than that they needed to be completed and on this guy's desk by two on Sunday afternoon. Since Damon was a good Southern gentleman raised in a small town, Sunday mornings meant church and then brunch with the family. That meant Damon had to get all of his work done by the end of the night or else he was screwed.

Rose, his fiancée, hadn't been much of a help. Not that it was her fault necessarily. She'd been planning this end of summer party since June and Damon hadn't known about his assignment until the day before. She'd tried to convince him to stay and hang out with all of his friends, but he'd explained to her that this wasn't something he could blow off if he wanted to keep his job. Having a job meant having enough money to get married and have kids, so Rose finally conceded to his leaving, sending him off with a kiss on the cheek.

Of course, since the party was at his house, Damon had found refuge in the local university's library. Damon was only slightly familiar with the building, given that he'd spent the majority of the last three years in the law library rather than the main one. He'd attended an incredibly small school close to his hometown for his undergraduate degree, choosing the large state school with the incredible law program for his graduate. After passing the bar and securing a life in the same town as said college, Damon had become familiar enough and had even dutifully attached a flag with the school colors to his townhome. The dream had been secured and now all he had to do was get through the mountain of unreasonable tasks that lay ahead of him.

But it was a little bit difficult to do when the foul mouth next door was having a meltdown every five minutes.

"Goddamnit!" Damon jumped at her latest exclamation, hearing a loud thud echo through the rooms. Either she'd fallen out of her chair or thrown an incredibly loud textbook. The study rooms might have been soundproof to those in the main areas of the library, but the walls in between were paper-thin.

Damon had been subjected to this torture for over an hour now and, after looking down at his paperwork, he realized he'd barely made a dent. He let out a dramatic exhale as he saw that it was already almost midnight and the library supposedly closed at two. If the girl next to him kept this up, there was no way in hell he'd be able to finish in time.

Damon had never been a fan of confrontation. In high school and college, fights and drunken brawls had been for those who "hadn't been raised right." Guys with no future beyond what they planned to shoot that weekend. And, to be quite honest, Damon had never really had to fight for much in his life. Although he hadn't been an athlete like most of his friends, he'd been practically born into the popular group, securing both student body president and prom king his senior year. He'd won over Rose Abington at fifteen and they'd been together ever since. No random break for a few months mixed in. They'd been solid and steady since their very first kiss.

This was all fairly surprising, given that just decades earlier, the Salvatores had been the most hated family in the entirety of Wilson. Who would willingly associate with those dirty Italian immigrants who had infiltrated their tranquil town? But Damon's grandfather had forged alliances and friendships, building a furniture empire from the ground up. From him, Damon had learned that you could do anything you set your mind to, as long as you were willing to make the necessary sacrifices. For his grandfather, that meant forgetting their Catholic heritage ever existed and joining the Baptist church on the corner. And tonight, for Damon, it meant confronting the obnoxious student next to him.

Damon shoved the door open that led to the main stacks, noting the floor was almost empty. Made sense. It was the first weekend back after a long summer. He couldn't even imagine the amount of debauchery these kids were getting up to. Although he'd never been a big participant back in the day, he'd witnessed and heard enough to know what went down on a weekend night.

It was only about two steps before he was taking a deep breath and preparing himself for whatever was inside the small and stuffy room. He'd never been one for judgment, but clearly this girl was probably not the pretty blonde sorority type. The breath was much easier to take realizing that. It would make this conversation a lot easier if the person he was speaking to didn't intimidate him. Damon chastised himself at the thought. Was he really that pathetic that an attractive undergrad would make him nervous? Buck up, Salvatore.

Damon knocked twice before pushing open the door, not waiting for an invitation… which he quickly realized was a mistake only a second after he'd flung it open. Sitting at the small table was a slim brunette, who couldn't be more than twenty, her wide brown eyes red-rimmed and the lightest bit of mascara running down her cheeks. Although the amount of papers on the table was minimal, they were half torn from heavy erasing. He could also see a large amount of residual pencil marks on the girl's hands.

Damon instantly hated himself. For some unknown and unfair reason, he'd only heard her anger, not her tears. And as indicated by the shocked and shameful expression on her face, he'd just humiliated her. She was clearly having a crappier night than he was and seeing her vulnerability in this moment made him feel sympathetic.

So instead of the polite plea to stop her profanity, Damon began the gentleman's routine. "Are you alright?" He asked genuinely.

The girl, wearing a long-sleeved white shirt, wiped underneath her eyes with her sleeves, not realizing it was only smearing the small amount more and staining the cotton. "Yeah, I'm fine." Damon noticed the bitterness in her tone. He quirked his eyebrows, looking at her with a dubious expression. Was she really going to say that she was fine when she had been having an audible, and now visible, breakdown? She wouldn't put him off that easily.

He tried again. "You're fine?" Her frown deepened. She obviously hadn't been expecting him to question her once she'd rebuked him the first time.

"Well, no. I'm not. But it's nothing that you can help me with so, to you, I'm fine."

Damon recalled one particular night from high school in which three of his female friends had had emotional breakdowns, one right after the other. One had been cheated on, one had been dumped, and one was just overly wound up and in love with a guy who barely glanced her way. If he'd learned anything from that evening, it was that women tended to get defensive and angry when upset. You just have to break down that wall to be able to help.

"Well, I can get you some water or something…" He trailed off, hoping she'd take the bait.

Her anger suddenly shifted into something a little bit subtler: fear. "Why are you being so nice to me?" She inquired, her voice thick. "And why did you come in here?"

Damon grimaced, realizing his confrontation was going to have to come regardless. "Well, uh… I could, um, hear you." He hated that her face flushed even deeper at his words. "And I just wanted to see if I could help you out somehow."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze going from apprehensive to accusatory. "My mother told me that if a college guy's nice to me, he just wants to have sex with me."

Damon's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Okay, clearly this girl was blunt. The haphazard thought that his mother would have immediately hated her ran through his mind. "No, no, no, no, no." He waved his left hand in the air. "For one thing, I'm twenty five and engaged." He stupidly pointed at his ring finger as if he actually had something there to indicate his relationship status. "And secondly, I'm just trying to be a nice guy. I'll leave if I'm making you uncomfortable."

She seemed to believe him almost instantly, surprising since only seconds earlier she'd seemed so sure that he was just trying to get into her pants. She bit her lip, regarding him, before she finally spoke, once again messing up her eye makeup by rubbing her lids with the back of her hands. "Um, water would be great actually. Thank you."

Damon managed a half smile, briskly walking out of the study room and past his own, heading towards the closest water fountain. He pulled two of the cheap plastic cups out of the dispenser and filled them a reasonable amount. His brain, so focused on the menial task at hand, didn't even bother to contemplate how weird this situation had become. He couldn't even remember the amount of work he had left to do. Once he got back to the study room door, he pinched the tops of the two cups in one hand and gently eased it open, delicately placing the fragile containers on the table in front of her.

She'd tried to become a bit more presentable while he'd been gone. The scattered papers had been organized in somewhat neat stacks and the textbook he'd noticed on the floor was now next to her right arm. Her hair, longer than he'd realized, was now down, but without a mirror, she didn't realize that half of it was matted on one side. The black makeup still gave her raccoon-like eyes, but the sleeves of her shirt had been pushed up to her elbows after she'd noticed the stains.

He was almost amused by the way her brow furrowed at the two cups of water. "The cups here are pretty worthless. You'll get that first one down in about three sips, so I brought the second one in case you get thirsty later." Her face softened at his unexpected kindness and Damon felt a rush of pride. Going above and beyond the call of duty: lesson number two in always getting what you want.

"Well, thank you," she nodded curtly, as if to dismiss him. Her focus immediately went back to her work, but he could see her shoulders visibly deflate the second her eyes hit the paper. Damon grimaced. Whatever gentlemanly training he'd had over the past two decades told him that leaving a "damsel in distress" would be the worst possible thing he could do at this moment. He sighed, looking in the general direction of where his own stack of paperwork sat. He then gazed back at the girl, so caught up in her own stressful world that she'd barely noticed he was still standing there. She hadn't exactly been too open to any version of his help so maybe, once he offered, she'd shoot him down. His conscience eased a bit as he made his decision. He'd give her the option, but he'd take it as a sign that he should go do his own work if she said no.

"What are you working on?" He was right in his earlier assumption that she'd been incredibly distracted. She let out a slight gasp, eyes wide as she refocused her attention on him.

Her eyebrows furrowed again adorably. "Um, math." She regarded him carefully, probably hoping it was the end of the conversation. But as Damon stepped closer to her to glance at the work, she elaborated. "I, uh, hate it, but it's a general education requirement to take two classes so… here's number one. The most basic course I could find."

Damon nodded, the formulas and equations near instantly recognizable to him. He knew the stuff like the back of his hand. Because he'd always been smart, he'd been taking advanced math courses since the sixth grade.

"Would you like some help? I can just explain some concepts if you'd like."

"What?!" She balked. Her face grew a little paler. Crap, he was scaring her.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to freak you out." His words weren't comforting her. "You have every reason not to trust me, but I swear I'm just cursed with nice guy syndrome. I genuinely just want to help."

Her mouth was slightly agape as she stared at him. "This is way too weird," she muttered, but with the way her eyes lit up in alarm after her statement, he realized she'd clearly meant to keep that thought in her head. "I'm sorry," she corrected quickly. "It's just… you are kind of weird." The second she started, she couldn't stop. "Like you just walked in here and got me water and offered to help me with my math homework at eleven o'clock on a Saturday night but I need to learn how to do it by myself or else I'm going to fail and you keep smiling really creepily and I'm having a really crappy night already and on top of all of this, I don't even know who you are so I'm sorry but no!"

Damon stood in shock. Just seconds earlier, this girl had seemed so timid and meek. Shy girls were easy to deal with. He wasn't sure how deep down it was, but she had an exorbitant amount of passion under the surface. And it was just enough to bring out his.

Damon nodded, a small grin appearing on his face. "Alright. Let's fix that." Damon came closer to her, this time not scaring her but just surprising her. "Hi, I'm Damon." He reached out his hand, waiting for her to take the bait.

Her gaze flickered back and forth between his outstretched hand and his face. After what felt like an excruciatingly long period of time, she reached her own hand out. "I'm Elena." Damon smirked. It suited her.

"Okay, moving on. You can't judge me for being in the library at eleven o'clock on a Saturday night when you're here, too."

"Yes, I can. You're a grown man." She warily shot back. Dang, where had she been hiding this? But every time her spark showed, Damon's smile just grew wider.

"I beg your pardon! I'm only a couple of years older than you!" He replied cheekily.

She readjusted her position in the chair, priming herself for a war of words. "Yes, but I'm actually a student. You're not."

"Exactly," Damon leaned in closer, wanting to knock her down off her pedestal a bit. It worked. She noticeably tensed anytime he was within a foot or two of her. "Aren't you supposed to be 'girls gone wild-ing' it up at a frat somewhere?"

Elena flushed, her gaze going downwards. "That's, uh, not really my scene."

"Fair enough." Damon glanced around the room, an idea forming in his head. "How about this? I have work of my own. I'm going to bring it in here, sit down right next to you, and we can both do our work in peace. If, and emphasis on the if, you need me to look something over, offer a few hints to lead you in the right direction, I'll be right here. If not, we can just sit in comfortable silence until one of us leaves." He smirked. "Plus, I mean, who else is gonna help you ward off other guys with creepy smiles that offer to get you water?"

Elena's doubtful expression broke at his last words, a small giggle escaping her lips. She let out a sigh, looking around at the amount of work she had left. "Okay," she nodded.

Damon smiled, quickly going back into his own study room to grab his work and then reentered hers. She'd already gone back to the textbook in front of her, as per the agreement, but he could feel her gaze flicker onto him as he settled into the chair next to her own. The table was pretty small, so there was no room for pretending that there wasn't another person adjacent.

Thankfully, Damon's conversation with Elena had reenergized him a bit, and the tedious documents didn't seem nearly as terrible as they had been. He sailed through them, checking off boxes where needed and filling out information that was common knowledge. It was almost thirty minutes in before he felt a slight tap on his shoulder.

She looked mortified to be asking him in the first place so when she feebly placed a finger onto a problem she completed, he just had to guess what she was asking. Damon scanned through the formulas she'd written out, but grimaced as he noticed a glaring mistake.

"Alright, which would you rather me do?" He questioned. "Guide you to the right answer without giving anything away? Or just tell you what you did wrong? Typically I'd feel obligated to do the 'right thing' but I did scare you earlier so I'm willing to let this one slide."

Elena groaned. "Just tell me. I've been working on this problem for the past twenty minutes. I'm ready to rip my hair out." Damon tried to hide his shock. This was something that could be easily done in three minutes. Clearly, she was in a deeper mess than he'd first assumed. Damon simply reached his own pen over and, beneath her scratches, wrote out the correct method. After he'd finished it, he turned his head just slightly to see her reaction. And all he saw was frustration.

She stayed silent, muttering a half-hearted "thanks" before sliding the notebook back to her side. Damon watched her, her face flushed with what he could only determine to be a mixture of embarrassment and fury. Out of respect, Damon decided to not call her out on the small tear that escaped from the corner of her eye. When she shyly turned her head to see if he'd witnessed it, he'd already pivoted his own, fully concentrated on his own work again.

They continued in this blissfully ignorant state until the bored college student at the front desk spoke over the intercom, delivering the monotone news that the library would be closing in thirty minutes. By this point, Elena had finished both plastic cups of water, one crumpled up from her overly tense fist. Damon checked his phone and noticed that it was nearly two in the morning. He wasn't even that surprised that Rose had neglected to check on him. She'd never been one of those overly vigilant girlfriends, always needing to know where her man was and exactly what he was doing. If anything, she was a bit too negligent in that category.

Before Damon could begin packing away his (miraculously) finished work, Elena's clear voice rang out in the small study room. "So what were you? A math major or something?" Damon's stomach clenched when he turned and noticed that she was only about halfway done, and only god knew if it was even correct.

"Uh, Communications, actually. I'm a lawyer." He secretly liked the way her eyes widened at his occupation. Most of the time, when he shared that particular tidbit of information, people's eyes just glazed over. Women were simply far too intrigued with the amount of money he could potentially be making, and any person from his hometown couldn't care less. It was just expected. Cleary, Elena still had the impression that lawyers were the big wigs seen on courtroom-based TV shows. Not the Judge Judy kind, but the primetime dramas that always had reruns on TNT or USA.

Once Elena started putting her things into her bag, Damon felt like he could as well. "Well, I'm sorry you got stuck helping some freshman with her basic math homework. If you couldn't tell, it's not really my strength." Damon's eyes flickered to her unfinished work and back to her quickly, but she'd caught him regardless. "Don't worry. I still have all of tomorrow." She paused. "Well, today."

A small quirk of Damon's lips calmed Elena slightly. "I didn't get stuck in anything. I offered. Remember: 'nice guy syndrome?'" A rush of relief crossed Elena's features and Damon finally tucked the leather messenger bag across his body, waiting graciously for her to finish packing. He followed her out, an awkward silence filling the space between the unusual pairing, as he flicked off the lights and crossed to where the elevators were. Damon always hated uncomfortable silences. His long history of popularity and debate club taught him that there was always an appropriate subject to discuss, but at the moment, his brain could think of nothing beyond the clean, citrus smell of her perfume as the elevator doors closed on them and they began the steady descent to the main floor.

"Shit," she murmured. Damon smirked. Although he'd earlier been annoyed by her dirty mouth, he found it somewhat endearing now, given that she seemed very naïve and innocent. It was odd. His mother had always taught him that a lady should rarely swear, but Elena didn't seem like less of a lady for it. In fact, the words always sounded strangely wrong falling from her lips, like a small child or your grandmother.

"I pressed the wrong button," Elena reported apologetically. Just as she said it, the doors opened to the second floor. "Sorry, I'm overly tired." She made a move to press the button marked "L" but Damon instead crossed in front of her, making his way towards the stairs. Elena stuck her hand out to block the door from closing.

"What? Can't handle some exercise?" He whispered after turning back to her, given that they were now on a floor that was bit more crowded.

He saw a flicker of mischief in her eyes. Clearly, this girl enjoyed a challenge. She stepped out almost immediately and pushed forward, cutting him off in her attempt to get to the stairs first. Damon knew better than to push a girl, but once they got to the wide staircase, he cut around the side of her, each picking up speed in an attempt to get to the bottom first. Damon wasn't particularly quick, so they stayed at the same pace for almost the entire duration of their spontaneous race, but right at the end, Damon got just two steps ahead. Of course, he couldn't help getting cocky, turning his head at the last moment to shoot her a boastful grin. She was wearing a matching smile, but a faux expression of anger marred her face.

Damon didn't bet on the fact that he would miss the last step.

He hit the ground hard, the majority of his weight hitting his upper right arm. He let out a long groan. Damon knew it would probably be nothing worse than a dark bruise, but his pride was hurt far worse.

Elena was immediately crouched down next to him, panic-filled eyes staring him down. "Oh my god, Damon. Are you all right? Do you think you broke something?"

Damon knew he would attract far more attention if he stayed on the floor, so he quickly sat up, grabbing the pen that had fallen out of his bag. Elena reached her hand out warily, although he ended up using his own strength to pull himself up into a standing position.

"Just my dignity," he replied, slightly rubbing his hand on the sore spot. The undergrads sitting at the nearby tables were openly giggling and Damon felt a strong desire to leave as soon as possible. Since he'd rarely experienced it, Damon didn't deal with humiliation well.

Elena must have picked up on that unspoken wish and pushed forward on his upper back, guiding him out as though he needed a helping hand. Not that he didn't appreciate the feel of her warm palm on his tense back.

Elena pushed the door open for the both of them and the hot, humid air hit them hard. The Southern air didn't care that it was September. Thankfully, a slight breeze made the evening heat more bearable.

"At least you won," Elena murmured. Now that she knew he didn't have a concussion, her playful side was back.

Damon scoffed, staring up into the star-filled sky. "Yeah. I didn't exactly stick my landing so I think you win by default."

"You stuck your landing!" Elena countered, causing Damon to glance back down at her. "You just stuck it with your bicep."

Damon laughed. He liked this side of Elena. Underneath all of her stress and anxiety, she was clever, as though she'd been waiting to deliver all of her great comebacks for decades. She could keep up with him, even when that meant darting down a library's set of stairs for fun.

His phone cut him off from delivering a witty retort. Seeing Rose's name on the screen made the ringtone seem even more urgent than usual. He shot an apologetic glance at Elena, although it wasn't exactly like he'd interrupted anything. "Hey, sorry. I'm headed home now," he said into the receiver, almost immediately knowing what she was going to ask him.

"Oh, I assumed that, hun," she replied near cheerfully. Damon sighed, registering that her gathering had probably been fun enough to last into the wee hours of the morning. "I was just wondering if you could stop by the 24-hour market before you get back home and grab me some milk. We'll need it for Sunday brunch."

"Uh, yeah, sure. I'll see you in about half an hour."

"Thank you!" Rose cried, a click signaling she'd gotten her point across.

Damon shoved the phone in his back pocket after locking it. "I'm sorry I kept you out here so late," Elena murmured. "Your fiancée was probably worried about you."

Damon laughed. "Nah. Just the milk." Elena cocked her head in confusion, but he didn't bother to explain anything.

"Well, thank you for everything, Damon. Really. I probably would have had a full scale meltdown if it weren't for your calming influence."

"No problem. You clearly have some magical aura as well. I was able to get through my own work much more easily with you sitting next to me." Elena flushed a bit at his words. "Plus, out of that whole library, you were my first choice for the person I would tumble down a set of stairs with."

Elena let out a loud laugh. "Well, the only reason you fell was because I was letting you win. So I guess I owe you an apology there." Damon's eyes widened in faux anger, but he couldn't keep the large smile off of his face.

"Goodnight, Elena," he nodded, ready to turn around and walk back to his awaiting car. If he hated awkward silences, he abhorred not knowing what the proper protocol was. Neither a hug nor a handshake seemed appropriate. Damon determined it was probably just best to walk away before it got uncomfortable.

"Goodnight, Damon." But before he could even pivot on his heel, she called after him. "And I just want to apologize for earlier… my abrasiveness." Now it was Damon's turn to tilt his head. Elena steadied herself for her next words. "People here haven't been… they typically aren't very nice to me. I just… I'm not used to it."

Damon wasn't sure what to offer her, other than a reassuring smile and another nod. It seemed to be enough and she turned to head towards what he could only assume was her dorm. Damon was stunned by her words. How anyone could be cruel to her was beyond him. He could see himself being nice to her for a very long while.

Too bad he wouldn't ever see her again.

Quick sidebar: Yes, D&E might seem out of character right now, but note that this is only 2006. They still have a long way to go.

Like I said: if you're feeling wary of continuing, give it a chapter or two more. It will be in its rhythm by then :)

Oh and please leave your reviews: the good, the bad, but please not the ugly!