AN: Thank you for some of your feedback. You are all lovely and it is really helpful for me to know my readers' thoughts/suggestions! I'm not really following the show that closely, so please realize there may be some things I'm ignoring (such as Klaus, or Elijah etc).
Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries (TV show or books), so no copyright infringement is intended.
Bloodstreaks
Chapter 2: First Kill
2037
Twenty-five years was a quarter of a century. Twenty-five years was a long ass time for a human being, maybe even for a witch. But twenty-five years for a vampire?
He glanced at his reflection from his hotel bathroom.
"Still looking fine," he muttered under his breath, a half-hearted smirk on his face as he shrugged on a black dress shirt to cover his bare and toned chest. He wasn't being cocky. It was just a simple fact that twenty-five years later, Damon Salvatore still looked every bit the lady's man that he was a quarter century ago.
He still looked every bit the man that had left Mystic Falls after realizing she wasn't coming back.
Turning off the tap, he padded into the adjoining bedroom and threw open the curtains. The sight of looming palm trees, a clear blue sky, and the distinct hum of constant traffic reassured him that he was here- the City of Angels.
"Hello LA," he murmured, loving the fact that he was definitely slowly going insane with all his self-directed conversations.
As if a certain blonde vampire was reading his mind, his phone started buzzing and he quickly snapped out of his mini daydream and sped to his phone, lying forgotten on his messy bed. He had company last night.
"Caroline," he greeted and immediately flinched when the hyperactive blond began to spew.
"Did you check out the club or not? I did not tell you about all this just so you could keep me out of the loop! Damon, if you're not serious-"
"Blondie, if I wasn't serious, who would be?" Damon cut in before he could stand any more nonsense scolding. He rolled his eyes and sighed, eyes already drifting to the bottle of bourbon by the hotel mini-bar. "I found her."
"You what?" Came another shriek and more rambling about how he should be more responsible with his information. Since when was he responsible?
He cleared his throat, ignoring her. "Well, not really yet. Just…your mom's friend was right. This was definitely her."
Caroline finally seemed to have calmed herself down on the other end and spoke softly now, "Oh."
"Yeah," was all Damon could really think of to say. He had nothing snarky or witty in response to his new revelations. Even though Sherriff Forbes had retired, she still had her friends at the station look out for suspicious kills. Suspicious, potential Elena kills.
As far as Caroline knew, this was the first time Damon had been close to even finding her. Little did she know that he had been following her trail for much longer.
He had actually lost her for a while, until Caroline texted him when he was in the middle of a 'woe-is-my-life' phase in Chicago about a kill in Los Angeles that resembled Elena's very first kill. That type of information was the only type of information that he didn't ignore.
And so here he was, at The Standard Hotel in downtown Los Angeles after visiting the crime scene last night and then finding himself some red-headed distraction on the corner of Spring and 4th street.
"Damon?" Caroline's voice broke his train of thought.
"I'm checking out the club tonight. Maybe she'll be there," he lied, as he knew better now than to have too much hope.
Caroline seemed convinced though, as her voice lightened, "Well, just call me when you find her!"
He tossed his phone back onto the bed before pouring himself a drink. Twenty-five years. He'd been chasing blood streaks on the mirrors for twenty-five years.
Present time - 2012
Before the two of them could even respond, she had sped out of the hospital in a blur of long dark hair. Stefan had rushed to Meredith's side, helping her up from her collapsed position in her office, hand at her neck, eyes wide.
Damon's own eyes looked slightly wild as he looked from the direction she had sped off to, to his brother who was now looking at him gravely.
"Damon," he started.
Damon's brow furrowed immensely as he held his hand up to stop his brother from talking. "I'll go after her."
Stefan looked as if he wanted to protest, but he knew that wild look in his brother's eyes. When Damon was set on doing something, he was set on doing it. It was one of those moments, where Stefan decided he had to let his brother wield the reigns.
"Call me," was all that he decided was appropriate to say at this point. Stefan also realized he had to do some compelling as he finally took note of all the shocked people standing near Meredith's office.
Damon just nodded, breaking into a light jog before breaking into full out vampire run when he was clear of onlookers. He stopped briefly at the parking lot, taking in the sounds, the smells, her smell.
His kind, compassionate Elena had just went after Meredith Fell with seemingly no remorse.
What on earth had happened in there? He just didn't understand. If Caroline of all people had managed to contain herself better post-transition, why was Elena suddenly the freaky, volatile baby vamp? It just didn't make sense.
His thoughts seemed so scattered but he knew he had to focus. Focus on finding her. Where would she go? Where did every newly turned vampire want to go?
Home.
Damon cursed lightly under his breath. Hopefully that brother of hers who was never at the right place at the right time wasn't at home.
But he highly doubted his luck.
Elena Gilbert stood tentatively in front of the walkway to her childhood home. So familiar, so many memories. Home.
She licked her lips automatically, rewetting her blood-dried lips and feeling the metallic aftertaste of Meredith Fell. She felt a small shudder go through her body as she remembered the doctor's frightened eyes and pale visage.
She had become a scary, awful creature of the night.
She had hurt someone.
And while all this guilt started to overcome her, she felt something within her burn. An anger, hatred, pain, she didn't know why she felt this way. Elena took a few steps back. She felt so hungry still.
"Elena?"
The front door had opened, and there stood Jeremy.
Innocent, young brother of hers.
"Jer?" She heard her own voice, so uncertain and so scared.
Jeremy was looking at her with hesitation. His eyes were wide; he seemed alert, almost in a protective stance. He seemed to want to take a step outside, but stopped himself, narrowing his gaze.
"I saw Ric…" he started, confusion written all over his face though Elena knew her brother was putting together the pieces right then and there.
"He's dead," Jeremy concluded bluntly.
Elena didn't bother hiding it. She sped up to her brother, right at the doorframe when she felt it- the invisible force that kept uninvited vampires out. She was uninvited to her own home. Something in her sank a little further into despair.
Jeremy didn't budge, comprehension dawning on his face as he took a small step back. His eyes searched his sister's face, every bit of her, until resting on her still stained mouth.
"Elena…"
"Jer, let me in," she pleaded automatically, not really knowing why the words even left her mouth.
"I wouldn't hurt you," she continued, feeling pricks of warmth in her eyes. Tears? She sucked in a shaky breath and felt it all come crashing down on her. Tears.
Jeremy, at the sight of his distraught sister, felt his walls crumble. He reached out to her figure, frail and fragile looking. She was shaking with her sudden wave of sobs and he felt an overwhelming urge to comfort the only family he had left.
"Shhh, it's okay Elena," he took her in his arms. "Get in here, shhh."
The two tumbled in awkwardly, Elena still a shaking mess in his arms as he stroked back her messy hair from her tear-strewn face. "What happened Elena?"
"Wickery Bridge," Elena managed to say, her face buried in the nook of her little brother's shoulder. "Matt. Car accident…I fed."
Jeremy could barely understand his sister, but he could sort of piece together the words she was mumbling. All of a sudden, she pulled back, looking wildly around her.
"I hung myself!" She blurted out, hands reaching to her neck, grasping at some invisible rope that wasn't there.
Jeremy frowned in concern. "Elena…"
Elena's brow was furrowing in confusion. She was so confused. What were these memories flooding her mind? Her very soul felt like it was being pulled at all angles, in all directions. She wanted to burst.
"Elena!" Jeremy was backing away now. She hadn't even realized he had let go of her shaking body. "Your eyes."
She could feel it, the horrid veins slowly but surely appearing around her doe-like eyes.
"Jeremy. Where is your ring?" She asked in a dangerously steady voice despite the fact that she felt like every nerve in her body was about to snap.
"I-"
Too late.
When he was a block away from the Gilbert house, he had already smelt it. The distinct and welcoming smell of fresh, human blood hit his nostrils like an open invitation to a five star buffet. But for once in his life, the smell worried him.
The open door to the usually welcoming house sent his senses further into overdrive. He paused at the doorway, where blood was streaked on the wooden floor towards the staircase. Damon started cursing.
That damn Gilbert kid better be alive…
He was at the top of the staircase in an instance and it was there that he knew where the blood was coming from. The bathroom.
As he stepped in, knowing already that he would not find something he wanted to find, he was met with a sight that made his still heart sink. What on fucking earth?
He was met with his reflection, but it nearly caught him off guard as it looked as if blood was streaked down from his eyes to his face. It only took him a second to realize the blood wasn't actually on him, but on the bathroom mirror, precisely where someone's eyes would be if they stood in front of it- precisely where Jeremy's eyes would be had he been standing…and not sprawled on the tiled floor.
Damon knelt down slowly, examining the body as calmly as he could. He noticed Jeremy's fingers had blood on them, probably his own and probably the hands that streaked the mirror. But he was very much dead.
"Damon…"
His head snapped up at the scared voice. There she was, his scared, broken Elena, eyes wild, hair a mess. He was about to speed over to her when she shook her head profusely.
"Don't," she said with sudden found strength as she held out one hand. Damon looked at her incredulously. What was wrong with her?
She opened her extended hand, revealing that ugly piece of a family heirloom that Damon had been hoping was on one of Jeremy's fingers. Apparently not…
"I slipped it off Damon," she said hurriedly, pitch rising. "I slipped it off, so quickly, when he was holding me…I-slipped-it-off." She pronounced the last few words with such emphasis.
Damon was very aware of his situation right now; dead little kid beneath him, crazy love of his life in front of him, all making absolutely no sense.
"Elena, you need to calm down," he started, wanting nothing more than to be at her side, holding her small body against his and telling her that all the worries in the world would go away.
"I wanted to killed him."
"So I did."
