Author's Note: Frat Party blood bath ;) I can't wait for next Thursday! Anywayz, huge thank you to all the new people following and reviewing my story! And my dearest best friend, I am sorry if you sometimes get bored with my story. Some of my chapters appeal more to those who are a part of the TVD family and fans of the show. P.S. I wrote this while I was really tired but couldn't sleep so sorry if some parts are kind of sucky or confusing. There is a link on my profile page to the kind of crimson tree that I'm talking about and if you've never seen ian in a muscle shirt, I recommend that you Google it.
When we came in the front door, I was, for the first time this week, kind of happy. It was a strange static feeling that flowed through me, and my fingertips were tingling for something to do. I was completely oblivious to the dim mood that had set over the house with Witchy flipping through pages, a hard expression on her face and Elena sitting by one of the windows, staring blankly out into the dark, a glass half filled with vodka, which couldn't be a good sign. Elena wasn't one that struck me as someone who drank often.
"I take it you haven't found anything," Damon broke my train of thought, addressing Bonny.
Both girls turn their gazes on us, apparently they hadn't noticed our return.
"Wow, Dessire. You look… Happy" Elena said. I can hear Damon's humorous laughter behind me. It's expected that she would point something out, I'm sure It must be a really big change from my normal appearance. I sure as Hell feel a whole lot different.
Damon explains for me "She compelled someone,"
"Hmm," is all that she says before turning back to staring out the window. God, she looks exhausted.
Damon grabs my upper arm and begins to pull me up the stairs.
"Wait Damon, I don't wanna just go and sleep or sit around. I wanna do something."
"Well you're just on a feel good high, aren't you?" he said. But he wasn't having it.
"Common," Damon said, nodding upstairs.
"Nooo," I say, pulling back and letting a pout pull at my lips. I give him my best lost puppy eyes and wait expectantly.
He crossed his arms and cocks his head at me. "Pity doesn't work on vampires."
I just tilt my head and stand there, "Please…"
"Fine," he rolls his eyes and turns swiftly, walking off towards the back of the mansion. I smile triumphantly at my achievement of breaking down the rock hard Mr. Salvatore.
We end up in a room filled with exercise equipment, a bench press next to a stack of weights, a punching bag, a treadmill, and various strength building devices. There's a yoga station in the corner which I only assume is used by Elena. I giggle, picturing Damon in an elegant yoga position, "surrounding himself with positive energy," and "becoming one with his body, mind and soul."
"What?" he turns around to face me.
"Nothing," I say, still grinning.
He dismisses it and walks over to a something that you wouldn't find in a normal gym. A table, covered in various wooden daggers, vervain tranquillizers, huge cross bows, and other such vampire torture devices.
"You are a 12 year old vampire, a likely target. Now, we can change that. There are people that want us dead, Dessire. Vampire hunters and other vampires. You were dragged into the supernatural world in the middle of a war. Being the weakest link, you need to be prepared to defend yourself."
I nod, and he continues.
"We'll train you to use a dagger later. They're small and can be conveniently concealed on your body for whenever you might need one. Right now I want to see how much weight you can, lift, get an idea of the scale of your strength."
Damon gestures to the bench press and I reluctantly lie down. There are already 25 lb. disks placed on either side.
"You should be able to lift 50 lbs. easy," He said.
I place my hands on the bar. He's right, I can hold the weight up with absolutely no struggle.
Damon doesn't say anything, just adds 10 lbs. to each side. I try to lift it. This time, my arms aren't as steady and tremble a little, but it isn't difficult.
Then Damon adds 20 lbs. to each side and looks at me expectantly. I take a deep breathe and place unsure hands on the metal bar once more. The muscles in my arms burn and I can barely lift it. I'm about to place it back down and give my arms a break when Damon says
"Hold it,"
"Seriously?" I grunt. My arms are trembling and beads of cool sweat line my fore head. I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration. I think the weights are going to fall on my chest and crush me. Of course, they couldn't kill me, just leave me struggling and breathless with a really, really bad bruise that disappears within seconds.
My fingers start to slip, and then, unbelievably someone forces the bar down against my efforts.
"Damon," I growl, the bar inches from my chest.
"When fighting a vampire, just having strength isn't enough. You have to be able to use it, you have to be stronger than them. Your force has to win over theirs."
I try to keep the bar from falling on me and listen to Damon, which is an extremely difficult task.
I can't hold it any longer, my arms drop to my sides and I let in an exasperated gasp, expecting the bar to hit me with a painful blow. But it doesn't. I look up to see Damon, placing the bar back to rest in it's metal crevice.
"110 pounds, I can work with that."
He walks around to help me up. I take his extended hand, but once I'm up, I place a punch in the center of his hard stomach.
"You douche, I thought I was gonna get crushed!" He ignores me and throws aside his jacket before taking my place on the bench press.
I go to turn on the stereo in the back of the room. The song that is on when I do is "S&M" Hmm, didn't expect this to be Damon's music choice, must be Elena again. I decide just to leave it on for my own amusement.
I walk over to the punching bag and hit it with a few blows, only giving it half of my effort. My attention is on Damon. He's wearing a white muscle shirt that hugs his abdomen tightly and perfectly outlines the flawless features of his flat muscled chest. I watch as the muscles in his arms flex, so sexy. Not too muscular to where he just takes up extra space and it's extremely awkward when you hug him, but the muscles are definitely there. And His hair is a glorious raven black mess.
God, please take off your shirt.
"Who the fuck writes the lyrics for these songs? They're trash. Your generation doesn't know the definition of good music. This is just cheap crap. I miss when the Beatles were popular."
"They still are," I say.
"Yeah, but do you ever hear them on the radio in place of this?"
"Just go change the station," I say, rolling my eyes despite the fact that I find this annoyed Damon adorable.
I'm about to begin actually punching, channeling the frustration that has been building up for the past few days when a fit of coughing hits, leaving me with a very raw throat, kneeling on the ground and leaning on the punching bag for support.
Damon gets up and walks over to me.
"I think it's time that you get to bed now," I nod.
It was like a scene out of a movie where I play the daughter, Daddy's little angel, and Damon plays the father. He walked me in to his room, pulled back the covers on his bed and tucked me in. He placed a kiss on my forehead and walked over to where a chair was placed by the door. He sat down and leaned back like he was going to tell me a bed time story. But of course he didn't. Because I am not his daughter and he is not my father. And none of this feels right at all. It feels wrong to be in this bed, it's too big for one person. There was too much room to move around in. It felt cold and lonely, empty.
Damon just watched me with a somber expression, and I watched him until the tiredness in my eyelids made them too heavy to keep open anymore.
Bonny POV:
Damon came down the stairs and looked at me expectantly.
"Where's Dessire?" I asked.
"In bed, asleep. We need to do it tonight. She's starting to feel sick, and the sooner we do it the better."
"I don't know if I can," I hiss back at him.
"What do you mean you don't know?" he spat at me.
"I mean, I haven't worked out all the kinks yet."
"It's written out for you in that book, You said you found a spell, now why can't you do it?"
"Look, I've never done a spell with someone so young, I'm scared that I'll mess up." I look down. Damon makes me nervous. Everything about this makes me nervous and sick. I thought that I couldn't despise Klaus anymore, but then he goes and proves me wrong by ruining another life full of potential. I just wish that I could know why, why someone so young, why at all?
Why can't Grams be here? She'd know what to do.
He takes a few steps closer and looks directly at me with a hard expression.
"We'll don't let your fear get in the way of saving her life."
Damon POV:
I looked at her small, still body frozen in sleep. I wish I could say it was a peaceful sleep, but I doubt images of puppies and bunnies are running through her head right now if she's even dreaming at all. I hear someone in the door way and I turn to see Elena.
"Hey, are you okay?" she asks in a frail voice.
I suck in a breath through pursed lips. What a fucking stupid question. Is she really that ignorant?
"There is a dyeing 12 year old in my bed right now, Elena. It's not exactly the ideal way to spend a Saturday night.
"And what exactly is, Damon? Spending all night at the bar with Alaric?" she said in a defensive tone.
A bitter laugh escapes my lips.
"Actually, yes Elena. That is it exactly. You want to know why? Because alcohol helps you forget. And right now, I would like to forget all of this. I'm partly responsible for this," I practically shout, pointing at Dessire in the bed.
"I feel responsible for Dessire being bitten, Elena." She shuts up and looks down.
"I'm sorry, please just leave." I say, my tone much softer.
Dessire POV
I shoot out of the bed and into the bathroom, and a split second later Damon is there, holding back my hair as I project vile, crimson liquid into the toilet. When I'm done, I wash my hands in the sink and wipe my lips so that they are free of the substance. Damon gets some rubbing alcohol and cotton to clean the bite. He brushes a wet swab against my neck then dries it with a paper towel. He grabs a bandage and smooths the adhesive against my skin with his thumbs.
"Wait," I say abrubtly, my brows furrowing in confusion. I press two fingers against Damon's cool, marble like neck and another two up against mine which feels like it's been heated on the stove.
"You're really, really cold," I say.
"No, you're just really, really hot." He said. Grabbing a thermometer off of the counter, he swipes it in my ear.
"110 degrees to be exact," he said, gazing at the tiny little screen.
"You okay?" he looks up at me, brows furrowed in concern.
"Umm, yeah. I just, I keep going back to that night. And It's like I'm trapped in this calm daze, I can't wake up. I can just watch it play over and over again like movie. This horrible, cruel movie. And I saw his icy blue eyes and it just gave me this horrible feeling like I was going to vomit. Well, I did vomit."
I looked up at his kind gaze and whispered, "I'd much rather look at your blue eyes."
What the fuck is the matter with me?
I can't think things like that much less say things like that because it's never going to happen.
But he doesn't say anything, he just takes me back to the bed. He tosses aside the pillow soaked in my damp sweat and climbs onto the mattress. Without warning, he pulls me up against his chest. It's nice and cool against my tee-shirt, and I instantly feel a little better.
"Damon, what are you doing?" I ask.
"Shh," He brushes my lips with his finger. "You'll see."
"Seriously Damon, What are you doing?" I ask.
"Just go to sleep." He says in a hushed tone, caressing my shoulders, trying to soothe me into rest. And why argue? I certainly didn't have any negative thoughts on the situation. So I closed my eyes, leaned into Damon's chest and let my head fall back on his shoulder.
I was sitting on the dark forest floor, leaning against the trunk of a tree. I looked up at the trees surrounding me. It was beautiful. Deep, crimson leaves decorated the branches. The color was flawless, and looked like it could be painted on, but it was all so real. Up through the leaves there was a clear blue sky with no clouds what so ever. A black raven perched in front of me and looked so amazing and defined with midnight ink feathers against the fallen red leaves on the ground. I turned my head for a moment and when I looked back, Damon was right where the raven had been. He looked as flawless as ever, flashed me an actual, genuine smile. Not a smirk, Damon Salvatore actually smiled at me.
"Now you can look at my blue eyes all you want,"
I gape at him.
"Did you- Did you do this?!"
He nodded.
"Got inside your head. It wasn't that hard to do. Ohh, that reminds me. That's another thing vampires can do."
He shot me a smug look.
I narrow my eyes at him and return his smile.
"Don't get too cocky."
We talked for hours. It started with small talk, some of Damon's usual smug remarks and my comebacks. But then he started to tell me about what has happened over the past few years, about Ripper Stefan and Elena and Katherine and Klaus and everything else. I was surprised that he was comfortable confiding in me like this. It was nice.
"God, I'm telling you more than I've ever told anyone else in all my 167 years. And you're listening. And the thing is, you're not judging. It's nice for once for someone to know everything besides just the mistakes so that they don't get stuck on those." He let out a laugh.
"I'm sorry, you have enough of your own problems to worry about. I shouldn't dump this all on you." He said looking up at me.
"No, it's fine. I like to listen to your problems. It kind of make me feel, well, significant." I let out one of my own small bitter laughs.
"What do you mean?" he looks worried all of a sudden.
I lower my gaze.
"You said it yourself. I don't have anyone."
He put his thumb gently on my chin and lifts my head up so that my gaze is level with his.
"You have me." He says in a deep, genuine tone. The words had a major impact and weighed down on me, over powering any other thought.
Damon POV:
I sighed and reached into my jean pocket. I pulled out the needle and watched as it sunk into the soft, delicate skin over her shoulder and slowly pushed the syringe down, injecting her with the clear liquid.
A/N: So, you must be wondering why the fuck Damon shot her up with vervain. I would love to hear about it in the reviews… :)
