Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries, Beauty and The Beast or any of its characters. The Plot, however, is mine.
Chapter 2
Damon's brows remained narrowed as he walked along the streets. He was on his way home, hands tucked into the depths of the pockets of his jeans. Somehow he wasn't able to get the woman her voice out of his head. A slightly irritated growl spilled from his lips as he muttered to himself. "Get your shit together, Salvatore." purposely blocking out the voice. He opened the door to his apartment and staggered inside, closing it behind himself. He hung his jacket over the armrest of the couch and trudged up the stairs and into his room, letting himself drop onto his bed, allowing lids to drop over azure hues.
After taking a few deep breaths, Damon got to his feet again. Quickly, he slipped out of his clothes, carelessly tossing them aside. He walked into the bathroom and stepped under the shower. He set it on the right temperature and turned it on. As the water cascaded down on him, he inhaled deeply, lifting his hands to rake his digits through his onyx tendrils. Showering always made him feel better. It made him able to think clearly. The murder he'd just committed had been harder than all the others. He couldn't deny it. It remembered him of the first time he had murdered someone. Though, that hadn't been planned.
It was a little over a year ago. He and his current girlfriend had just had an immense fight. He had truly loved her, and therefore trusted her. It turned out to be the biggest mistake he'd ever made. After months of 'I love you's and passionate sex, it turned out she'd been screwing some other guy all along. That's when everything inside of him snapped. The next thing he remembered was the sight of her lying on the floor, dead. She'd had a gaping wound in her skull, and he'd been the one holding the gun. He had hurried out of the house and gone into hiding, assuming no one would ever find him. Boy, he was wrong. Only several hours after he'd fled, one of his enemies (who once had been a close friend) stood on his porch, threatening to tell the world the truth. Though he wouldn't, if Damon could do something for him. There was someone he needed to get out of the way. Scared for his own life, Damon did what he was told. He'd even been paid after finishing the job. That's how it all started. He was better known as the 'Silent Killer'. He killed each of his victims the same way, simply with a bullet through the head. No torturing, no complications, just one single bullet. After he'd finished the job, Alaric (the one he got all his victims from) would give him the promised money and he'd disappear.
Over the years, he'd learned how to cover his tracks, so he never left any evidence. At least, he thought he didn't because so far they still hadn't tracked him down. He was quite proud of himself. Though, today's events had kind of gotten out of hand, which brought him back to the black-haired woman. She had looked like his ex. His dead ex, to be more precisely. Even though she'd cheated on him and he'd killed her in return, it hadn't changed his feelings for her. The only thing was that he had serious trust issues. But oh well. As long as he did his job, no one really cared.
Turning off the shower, Damon hopped out of the cabin and quickly towel-dried himself before putting on a fresh pair of boxers, his sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He felt rather tired. With a sigh, he clambered into his bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. Letting lids drop over oceanic hues, he drifted off into a deep sleep.
"And, did you find something yet?" Tess popped up from beside Catherine. Evan looked up with an annoyed expression on his face and raised an eyebrow. "I can't make miracles work, Tess. You brought this body in an hour ago. I'm fast, but not that fast." Catherine saw Tess pout and she shook her head grinning. "Come on, Tess, we need to strategize about what we're going to do next anyway. We need to stop him before he makes his next move." Both women walked out of Evan's lab, letting him do his work while they did theirs. "We need to predict what he is going to do. We can't have him killing another helpless victim. Otherwise we will never get a case like this anymore. The only problem is; who is our next victim?" ''Cat, that's practically impossible to predict. Trying to find his next victim is like trying to find a needle in a haystack.'' Catherine brought a hand up to rake her fingers through her hair, eyes closing momentarily. ''I know, but at least we're doing something. I can't just sit here knowing that someone could be murdered a-'' Cat was cut off in the middle of her sentence when the door of her office opened and Jackson walked in. ''Chandler, Vargas, aren't you supposed to be home already?''
''Well, yeah, but-'' Tess started, but Jackson held up his hand. ''Not a chance. Go home you two. You're done for the day.'' Catherine opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself when Jackson gave her a pointed look. ''Fine. We'll go home.'' She grumbled under her breath before gathering her belongings and heading out of the building. She walked over to her car, fumbling for her keys in her pocket to unlock the door. She slipped inside, fastened her seatbelt and quickly pulled up out of the parking lot, making her way to her apartment. As she drove, she couldn't help but notice her own nervousness. Eyes constantly squinting from the left to the right, fingers thrumming continuously against the steering wheel. She reached over to turn the radio on. A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as Wherever You Will Go by The Calling started playing. It happened to be one of her favorite songs. Catherine hummed quietly along with the music, reaching her apartment before she even realized it. She parked her car and turned the engine off, hopping out of the vehicle prior to closing the door and twisting on her heels, walking over to the entrance.
Catherine let out an exasperated sigh when she walked through the hall of the apartment building. She ascended the stairs to her apartment, once again letting out a shaky breath. After days like this she felt every step she took. Especially when she took the stairs. There was an elevator, but she always took the stairs because secretly, she was a little frightened of the metal machines. She opened the door to her apartment and was greeted by the meowing sound of her cat. "Marshmallow, is it time for dinner?" She said and smiled softly at the cat who was now bumping his grey and white head against her legs. "Come on, let's get you something to eat." She walked to the kitchen with the cat on her heels and took the bag of cat food out from under the sink. She filled Marshmallow's bowl and then she put the bag away again. A hot shower sounded good right now, so that was what she decided to take. She went to her bedroom to get some baggy clothes and then she went to the bathroom. After a minute or ten, she got out of the bathroom with her dark-brown hair still hanging damp over her shoulders. She tied her hair up in a messy bun and went to the kitchen to make some chai tea before sitting down on the couch, turning the TV on. The murder was on the news, and she reached for the remote to switch channels, but right before the channels changed she could swear she saw something move in the shadows.
Damon's brows narrowed as he stirred on the bed, an uncomfortable feeling overcoming him. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. The space next to him was empty. Letting himself slide out of bed, he slipped on a shirt before making his way through the dimly lit hall. The living room, where he heard some muffled sounds, was still dark. Letting his hands wander over the wall, he found the light switch and flipped it on. He heard a loud gasp and blinked a couple of times to let his eyes adjust to the light. There, right in front of him, lay Heather on the couch, another guy on top of her. "Heather? What the hell." Damon's eyes flashed with anger. The guy on top of her jerked upright and turned around. Damon's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. "Stefan? You have got to be kidding me.." He said, feeling his heart sink. "Damon, I.." Heather stammered, pulling the remains of her shirt together to cover her exposed chest. Stefan quickly scooted to the side. "What are you doing here?" She asked. Damon clenched his jaw and walked forward, ignoring her question. He stood still in front of his brother, seething with anger. "You. Out. Now." Stefan quickly gathered his things and made his way out, slamming the door shut behind himself.
Damon took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly, sitting down on the couch and resting his head in his hands. He felt.. Well, he didn't even know how to feel. "Damon.." Heather spoke quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Damon shrugged it off, lifting his gaze to look at her. Oceanic-blue spheres met whiskey-tinted scleras. "How long..?" Heather opened her mouth and instantly closed it again, averting her gaze. "How long, Heather." He repeated, his tone more demanding this time. "Ever since the first day he and I met." She said, pursing her lips. Damon balled his hands into tight fists, his body tensing. They'd met months ago. He couldn't think clear anymore. The pain was unbearable. His chest contracted. What did he want? He lifted his head again to look at her, his eyes shimmering. "Heather.." He muttered. She moved to cradle his face, leaning in to press her lips against his, only for him to pull back. He knew exactly how he felt. He was angry. God, he was furious. Before he knew it, he had a gun in his hand, the barrel pressed against Heather's temple. "Heather?" He said. She nodded weakly, her body trembling with fear. "We're done." He said. And with those words, he pulled the trigger.
Damon shot upright in his bed, gasping for air. Drawing in a rather shaky breath, he ran his hands through his hair. A dream. It was just a dream.
