Author's Note:

Apologies are in order.

I've just started college and have been running around- this summer was nothing short of hectic. I went from being single to being in a military relationship to being single again; I started with a major in nursing and within two days switched to micrbiology; I've worked my a$$ off and got two full scholarships; now I'm still working, but I've finally got this chapter out. There's a little bit of Damon, some Tyler, some Stefan, and what I hope to be a bit of a surprise, but here y'all go- thanks to you guys who reviewed, you know who you are, it's cuz of you that this chapter got out at all!

Take care!


Once upon a time, Mikaela had looked forward to coming to Founder's Balls.

In a matter of hours, it had become one of the most disappointing nights of her life.

She stood by the punch bowl with a full champagne glass in her hands, watching with skeptical eyes as people passed by. Guests were semi-formally dressed and the Lockwood manor was beautifully decorated. Everything from the lights hanging over the dance floor and the perfectly uniformed servers screamed wealth, but if there was one thing the founding family knew how to do, it was how to throw a beautiful party with the worst possible music. It took great self-control for Mikaela not to fall asleep standing up with the tasteless classical music flowing in from the patio.

Her dad had always taken her as his date. Her mother didn't appreciate social events and they didn't have many female relatives, so they'd always turned the founder's event into a father-daughter outing. Last year had been the last time she'd come with him, but freshman year and the year before that, Tyler had taken her as his date. She preferred not to think back on those days, but in comparison to the night she was having, they seemed pretty great. This was the first time she could say she wasn't enjoying the ball, and it was all due to the simple fact that Damon was present.

She downed her glass at once and set it on the table for a refill. The Sheriff eyed her from across the hall, but Mikaela could care less about what she thought: the bartender was serving her cider, and to hell if it looked like anything else. Once she'd received her drink, she nodded her thanks and started walking around. Throughout the first floor, historic artifacts from the Founding Families were on display. She reached a model of Fell's church and was reading the description when a familiar voice came up next to her.

"Enjoying the festivities?"

With the slightest air of apprehension, she turned to meet his gaze. "I'm counting the hours until I can leave, Mr. Salvatore," she answered with a false smile. "Has Damon succeeded in ruining your evening as well?"

Stefan's pleasant smile melted into a grimace. He looked around casually and leaned closer. "He made you invite him, didn't he?" he asked. It came out as more of a statement than a question.

She nodded, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a sip. To her surprise, what she tasted on her tongue wasn't cider, but white wine. Thinking back on it, the server had seemed new to the job, but she had no doubt he'd be fired if the Sheriff decided to check her drink. Without feeling guilty at all, she forced herself to swallow the rest of the wine, wincing at the taste.

"Damon must have compelled the bartender to switch the bottles," Stefan mused, furrowing his eyebrows. She waved away his concern.

"Speaking of the devil, I haven't seen your brother for a while," she said, scanning the people for signs of said person. "That should only mean he'll show up any minute now." A waiter passed by with an empty tray and she placed her glass on it to get rid of the evidence. "Where's Elena?"

"She's with Caroline," he replied carefully. "I think you're going to get a lecture later on about stealing your friend's boyfriend." Mikaela rolled her eyes. "I'm supposed to be getting information from you right now about the whole situation."

"I made a mistake. Can I return him? Please? I've repented of my sins!" she whispered in fake desperation. "I swear I'll never allow a guy to forcefully invite himself as my date again!" Stefan didn't laugh at the joke, but rather lifted a hand and squeezed her shoulder.

"My brother has a tendency to… play with people," he said apologetically. She stiffened under his touch: as comfortable as she felt talking to him, he was still a predator, and she didn't feel all that comfortable with physical contact yet. He seemed to notice, because he promptly hooked his thumbs in his pockets and continued talking. "He isn't going to get away with it for much longer, though."

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him, but he was casually observing the model of the church to keep up appearances. When he didn't explain further, she moved a bit closer (far enough that they weren't touching) and pretended to be just as interested as he was. "Why not?"

"I've got a plan," he said quietly, taking a sip of his champagne. "I'll need your help, or Caroline's."

A spark of hope seemed to shine in the darkness, but before Mikaela could answer, an arm snaked around her waist and jerked her away from it. She didn't even have to see his face or smell him to know it was Damon: the simple inconvenience of the gesture was as representative of him as his baby blue eyes. She had to hold onto him to keep from losing her balance, but even so, she kept as much distance between their bodies as possible.

"Stefan," Damon greeted with a smirk. "Lovely evening to steal a date, isn't it?"

Mikaela growled and tried to jerk away, but he only pulled her back and clamped her against his body. "Let her go, Damon. We were just talking," Stefan said tiredly. Mikaela figured they'd been fighting for most of the day.

"Really?" Damon questioned doubtfully. "Mikaela, what was our dear Stefan here talking to you about?" She tried again to break free of his grip, but he tightened his arms around her waist to a painful degree. When she finally stilled, he leaned down next to her ear. "I'm waiting."

"We were talking about how you forced me to bring you," she snapped, "and your issue with pushing yourself onto girls who have no interest of being around you." Nobody was in the room to hear her, but even so, she kept her voice low. Stefan stared in bewilderment of how boldly she spoke out against him, but to his surprise, Damon just chuckled and let her go.

She immediately put several feet of distance between them and warily looked back. Damon watched her curiously, but didn't grab at her again. With an air of dignity, she straightened her dress, readjusted her purse on her shoulder and walked toward the hallway. The less evil of the brothers called after her as she left, but she didn't stop.

"Elena wants you to text her," Stefan said. "It's urgent."

"Do you even know what texting is, Stefan? You're so behind on these things…" Mikaela hurried to the bathroom before she could hear the rest of Damon's teasing.


Bonnie was starting to think she should have skipped out on the Founder's Ball this year.

Even if she got the same invitation as everybody else, she'd always attended this specific event with Elena or Caroline. This year Elena was taking Stefan, so Caroline had agreed she'd go with her to the ball. Overnight though, with no warning, she'd changed her mind and said she was taking Damon. After a short spat, Bonnie had figured she'd either go by herself or skip out on it altogether.

Then, not even a day before the ball itself, Caroline had called crying in the dead of the night, saying something about Damon going with Mikaela instead and how she needed Bonnie for emotional support. Bonnie hadn't been able to believe it at first: Mikaela dating Caroline's boyfriend? It just didn't sound right. As much as she'd tried to convince Caroline that it was a misunderstanding, the cheerleader had firmly insisted it was true, so she'd agreed to help her through the night.

Surely enough, as hard as Bonnie found it to wrap her mind around the fact, the more she saw of the two, the more she saw that there was no denying it.

Mikaela and Damon Salvatore were dating.

The pair in question had arrived together and even made their entrance linked arm in arm. Caroline had gone into drama-queen mode and retreated to the bathroom to cry for half an hour, after which she made the customary switch to super-bitch mode and started dancing with every guy present to make him jealous.

Damon being the player he was, however, he hadn't even noticed and continued following Mikaela around. Bonnie had watched Mikaela, and it was obvious that she wasn't comfortable with him. Then again, really, who was? He was a merciless flirt and could make any woman squirm with a single look. The two didn't mix- at least, not the new Mikaela. Maybe a year or two ago they'd have made an interesting couple, but she had changed ever since the car accident, and had closed herself off to romance.

Bonnie sighed and looked up from the napkin she'd been playing with. She sat alone at a table with unlit candles, but Mikaela hurried out of the bathroom, lips tight and eyes narrowed, which immediately piqued her interest. Mikaela had worn a dark blue dress for the occasion and looked beautiful as always, but her expression was much too stern. This was normally the sign to steer clear of the hard-headed teenager, but rather than follow her instincts and keep her distance, Bonnie took a deep breath and got to her feet.

She wanted an explanation for all of the drama Mikaela had caused. Even if Mikaela had been raised with the rest of them in Mystic Falls, she'd changed once they entered high school, and separated herself after the car accident that left her father in a coma. Bonnie had tried to rebuild the bridges that had collapsed between them, but no matter how much time they all spent together, she refused to speak of anything more important than the latest gossip or school activities. Getting her to tell her what was going on would be a bit tricky, but she decided to face the challenge.

She met her friend halfway in front of the dry bar. Why the self-proclaimed witch seemed intimidating all of a sudden was beyond her, but as she forced herself forward in her very uncomfortable high heels, she found that all she wanted to do was turn around and sit down again. Mikaela had her back to her and was looking over the crowd, seemingly unaware of her. Refusing to let fear win, she came up next to her and cleared her throat.

"Hey," Bonnie greeted casually, smiling as if nothing were wrong. Mikaela turned around and took her in. The serious look on her face didn't go away, but she forced a smile and nodded in acknowledgement. Bonnie felt some of her tension disappear and relaxed.

This was just Mikaela, not some super-powered sorceress of intimidation, right?

"Hey Bon, enjoying the party?" she asked stiffly. Bonnie may not have been involved in Mikaela's intimate life as of late, but she could tell when something was wrong. She raised an eyebrow, letting her know the act wasn't working.

"Come on, Kay," Bonnie said, snaking her arm with Mikaela's and leading her back in the direction she'd come. Maybe some one-on-one girl time was what they needed. "Give me an update. Caroline hates your guts right now and Damon Salvatore can't keep his hands off. Are you two back together?"

"So not together," Mikaela muttered darkly, allowing herself to be led into the privacy of the ladies' restroom. The door closing behind them provided the wall of silence necessary to gossip freely. Mikaela lifted herself onto the counter and leaned her back against the wall while Bonnie rested her hip against a sink.

"So?" Bonnie pressed, watching her expectantly. "What's going on?"

Mikaela sighed and dropped her head back, closing her eyes. "Damon forced me to bring him," she explained, the words coming out somewhat reluctantly. "He didn't want to come with Caroline, but he needed someone to invite him, so he blackmailed me."

"He blackmailed you?" she repeated. When Mikaela nodded, her jaw dropped. She'd expected many things: Mikaela having mixed feelings, possibly just going with the flow, maybe even getting talked into it because of some carnal attraction, but blackmail had been the last thing she'd thought of. "What did he say?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she stated, and then shrugged. "He's not gonna be able to harass me much longer, anyways."

"Kay, how do you know? If he has something that he can use against you-"

"Trust me."

With those last words, Mikaela jumped down to the floor and straightened her dress. She smiled at Bonnie, but left before she could ask any more questions. Bonnie stood in confusion for a couple of seconds after she heard the bathroom door close, but even in the silence, she couldn't find any mystical understanding of what was going on. She'd thought they were making a breakthrough, but she should have known better: Mikaela hardly opened up, and when she did, it was about all of the witch craft business, which was really just one big joke. Why Bonnie had even hoped they could have a normal conversation, she didn't know. Holding back the urge to groan in frustration, she turned around.

A pair of hands gripped her shoulders tightly and held her in place. Damon stood not even inches away, head cocked to the side and flirtatious smirk plastered on his lips. "Hello Bonnie," he greeted. She gasped and opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her.

"Don't make a sound," he ordered calmly, looking her straight in the eyes. She felt the breath leave her chest and nodded: he was right, she should be quiet… He looked incredibly handsome in his black dinner jacket and dress pants, but in his eyes you could see why they'd all dubbed him "Sexy Danger Guy". He looked her up and down, completely unaffected by her appearance. "Now Bonnie, you're going to answer my questions. Why were you talking to Mikaela?"

"I wanted to know why she was here with you," Bonnie answered obediently. She could trust him, right?

"What did she say?"

"She said you blackmailed her."

"What else?"

"That you aren't going to be able to bother her anymore."

His expression became very serious then, but after a moment he nodded. "Thank you Bonnie," he said with a smirk, any trace of seriousness gone. "Now, you're going to forget we had this conversation, and you're going to go home. If Mikaela even mentions me to you, you're going to convince her I'm the best thing that could happen to her. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

And with that, he was gone.


Cryptic messages were the worst.

She held her handbag at her side with all of her strength, refusing to loosen her grip even if just for a second. Her arms were shaking and her back was overly stiff, but she didn't care: she needed to get out of the Lockwood manor as fast as possible, and to hell with appearances. "Text Elena, it's urgent," Stefan had said. When she'd gone to the bathroom to check her cell phone, right next to the wooden stake she'd made the day before, she found a test tube. It had been filled with a floral-scented liquid and had a label with a single word etched onto it:

Drink.

There was only one way that her drinking the liquid could possibly affect Damon, and Mikaela was in no way, shape or form prepared to do the deed. Sure, it was easy to back-talk him in moments of anger, but to intentionally get herself bitten was borderline suicidal, and he'd already killed her once. Call her a coward, but she couldn't do it, not at that moment. Maybe after a night's rest she'd realize it was the most logical course of action, but until then-

"Kaela?"

She was a couple of yards from the exit when she heard his voice. As tended to happen when he was near, her focus shifted from her own problems to the boy who had been the center of her universe freshman year. Almost against her will she stopped and turned to see the familiar face paired with the familiar football player body and all-too familiar stance. She gulped: she didn't think she could handle him, either. Tyler moved forward, effectively closing the gap between them. Stuffing his hands into his pockets awkwardly, he took a deep breath and forced himself to speak.

"Are you enjoying the party?" he asked stiffly. She cocked her head to the side and furrowed her eyebrows: he wasn't being himself. She looked at Tyler questioningly, and an understanding passed between them. She nodded ever so slightly and forced a polite smile.

"I'm enjoying it very much," she answered, loud enough for Mrs. Lockwood to hear from wherever she was eavesdropping. "Everything looks beautiful, as always."

"Thank you," he said, just as stiffly as before. "Have you seen the garden yet?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Would you like to?"

He held out his arm for her to take. It was an open invitation: she'd played her part and could leave now, but she could tell he didn't want her to. Mrs. Lockwood walked away, satisfied. She had a choice, and she wasn't obligated to be nice to him. Hell, wasn't he the one who'd screwed up sophomore year? As much of an asshole as he'd been during their relationship, she'd been faithful to him despite it all. He was the one who'd cheated, right?

So why did she still feel the need to be close to him?

"I would love to see the garden."

The words came out as if by supernatural force, but the way she linked her arm with his was as natural as breathing. He didn't smile or even look at her, but led her to the patio. Even back in the day, he hadn't been one to express any sort of normal, human, non-sexual emotion more than he had to. No, she'd been the one forcing the communication and expressing herself enough for the both of them.

At some point she acknowledged that he wasn't leading her to the garden, but she didn't say anything and allowed herself to follow him to the dance floor. Many people were already dancing under the garden lights, but at the edge of the hardwood, she stopped.

He looked at her, a hint of annoyance on his face. "What?" he asked. She looked between him and the dance floor.

"You don't dance," she stated. He rolled his eyes.

"You're right, I don't dance," he agreed. For even the slightest moment, she saw a smile flit across his lips, but in a blink it was gone. She stared, wondering if he was remembering this same night back in freshman year, the first time he took her to the Founder's Ball…

The garden lights blinked out, and for a moment, all she saw was the clear night sky, stars winking down brightly. She blinked and the lights came back on. Everybody was still dancing as if nothing had happened, so she smiled and stepped forward. "I'm not forcing you to dance with me," she said carefully. "You know what that means, right?"

He rolled his eyes and shook his hand insistently. "Yeah yeah, I know what it means," he said impatiently. "It means I want to. Don't make a big deal about it." She smirked and accepted his hand, but just as a new song began to play, she made a horrible mistake.

It was like the optometrist had put a new lens over her eyes. She looked up at the sky and saw nothing but thick dark clouds, enough to hide all of the stars from sight. Why had she seen stars in a clear night sky? On cue, slide number two came over her eyes and the lights went out again. The clouds flickered out of existence and were replaced with innocent white stars. She jerked her hand out of Tyler's and stumbled backwards, but when she looked down, she saw nobody. There was an immaculate garden in front of her and a fountain, but no people, no dance floor.

"Kaela?"

Lens one. The music filled her ears full-force and the light almost blinded her, but there was Tyler, looking at her expectantly. She opened her mouth to voice an excuse, but words failed her. "I was just joking," he said defensively. She wanted to say something, she truly did, but she just couldn't. "Look, if you're gonna-"

Lens two. Tyler disappeared along with the rest of the partygoers, and once again, she found herself staring over a garden, completely by herself. She looked around wildly, but nothing was the same. Behind her was a large, nineteenth-century styled manor with wrought-iron lanterns hanging by the open back door. It was very well maintained with a crisp coat of white paint and groomed bushes lining the walls, and as she turned back to look at the garden, she noticed that they were equally as perfect. The sounds of soft music and distant chatter drifted to her from inside the building, a party, most likely.

A tingling sensation running along the back of her neck indicated that there was magic at work, but she didn't have a clue as to what could trigger such an extreme illusion. She looked down at herself and was surprised: rather than see the simple white dress she always appeared in during dreams, she saw that she wore a pale green Victorian-style dress. Even in the darkness, she could tell that the dress had been worn quite often and was aging, but it still looked elegant nonetheless.

What was going on?

"Miss!"

All questions disappeared. She turned around slowly at the sound of her name being called. A dark-skinned boy in his early twenties donning a tattered server's uniform hung out the door, his breath coming in short pants. She smiled warmly and walked up to him.

"Yes?" she prompted, the voice coming out of her throat not her own.

"Mr. Salvatore… requests your presence… in… the study," he forced out between gasps. She nodded in understanding and lightly squeezed his shoulder.

"Thank you kindly Samson, now go on and join your family for the night." He bowed quickly in respect and ran toward the road. She sighed softly and stepped into the house, making sure her back was straight and head held high: she was entering the fray, and there was no limit to the amount of gossip that would circulate were she caught on anything less than her best behavior.

Not that she cared enough to check if the coast was clear when she went up the main staircase. There wasn't anyone in the hallway to see, but she was certain people were paying attention. She and Mr. Stefan Salvatore had been found together on several occasions already, strolling in the marketplace, reading in the library, riding canoes in the lake… The signs were all there, and all anyone was waiting for was a proposal.

If they only knew.

As she'd expected, the study was empty and dark when she opened the door. She quietly closed it behind her and moved forward to the window to light a lantern. Shelves packed with books and figures lined the walls, and by the fireplace were several comfortable couches. Hanging on the wall by the window was a simple mirror, spotted with age. She looked at her reflection with curiosity, and as the lantern burst to life, she could see her face clearly.

Long chestnut hair framed her face, falling down to her shoulders in soft waves. Dramatic green eyes stared back at her framed with thick black lashes, contrasted by the curve of a delicate jaw line. Her skin was a light tone, but a handful of soft freckles dotted her nose, the result of playing in the sun with her many brothers as a child.

Many of the townspeople had gossiped about her from a young age, criticizing everything from her involvement with her mother's death to the large sums of money lost to her father's drinking problem to how she could never be a proper lady without a dowry. Only he knew what she was really like: only he knew just how much of a woman she was.

Oh, but if they only knew…

The door opened behind her, and in the reflection of the mirror, she could see his silhouette in the doorframe before he shut it. The sound of a lock clicking snapped across the room, and the anticipation lit up in her like a fire in the pit of her stomach. She bit back a smile and turned around, crossing her arms.

"You kept me waiting, lover," she informed him, jutting out her jaw defiantly. "If I weren't so kind, I wouldn't have waited as long as I have."

He looked at her uncertainly, but after a moment, stepped forward into the light. His light blue eyes ran over her slowly, taking in every detail as if he were seeing her for the first time. It felt like an eternity, but finally he spoke her name, like an angel calling her to heaven's gates.

"Elizabeth?"

She smiled slowly and stepped forward, placing a hand lovingly against his cheek.

"Damon."


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