Author's Note:

Happy Thanksgiving, loving readers! I've been working a lot the past couple of weeks and finals are coming up (I'll be done with school and finals by December 17- have I mentioned that my college is the best?), but I'm still working on this story, and I am grateful for every single one of your reviews ;] To my latino readers, you all know how it gets around the holiday season- parties EVERYWHERE. Christmas starts in November, ha ha... Anyways, here's the latest chapter, and as usual, once I get a review, I'll get to work on the next chapter, ok?

Again, thanks for all of your support!

"So, would you ever dance with the devil?"

The Mystic Grill was packed, but that was to be expected considering it was a Saturday night. Benji and Mikaela were lucky enough to have a pool table to themselves, and after flipping a coin, Benji was the one to break. When they'd first arrived they'd eaten and then spent the next several hours alternating between playing pool while talking and then simply talking at a booth. The restaurant/bar was filled with familiar faces, as always, and despite how much Mikaela told herself to ignore everybody, she could hear the whispers with an uncanny clarity. She was getting quite the reputation of a man-eater. Maybe it wouldn't have bothered her so much if it wasn't for the football team giving her dirty looks: Tyler was sure to get an update within the hour.

Focusing on the conversation, she shrugged and leaned back in the stool she was sitting in. "Chances are I already have," she said with a shrug. Benji looked up from aiming to give her a questioning look and she explained. "Last year, Elena, Caroline, Bonnie and I used to drive out to this club on teen night and dance for hours."

"Really?"

"Yep," she confirmed. "I used to dance with almost every single guy there, so it's possible that the devil was one of them."

Benji made a double shot and walked around the table. "Why don't you go anymore?"

Ah, the same question she was asked every time she ran into one of said guys that she danced with. "Death changes things," she answered with a shrug. "It didn't seem as important anymore." She waited for him to take his next shot, but he sighed and stood up, giving her a sheepish smile.

"It's no fun to play pool when I finish the whole game by myself," he said. He was right: he only had one more ball left. "You take a turn." Rather than argue about the pity turn, she took a deep breath and approached the table. "So tell me, Miss Greene: what is it like to die?" Benji asked, leaning over the pool table.

Mikaela was aiming at a yellow ball, but with Benji leaning over the side of the table the way he was, it wouldn't make it into the hole. She looked up at him and raised a brow expectantly, not allowing herself to smile at his mischievous grin. "Come on, I'm curious."

"It's all dark and then there's a light at the end of the tunnel," she answered in a flat tone. "I also saw my grandmother whom I've never met. Satisfied?" She pointedly pulled back the stick, ready to hit the ball. Taking the hint, he raised his arms in surrender. The yellow ball missed the hole by an inch and bounced back to the middle of the table.

He snorted. "Wow, that was terrible." She rolled her eyes and leaned back, resting her hands on the cue stick. "My grandmother has better aim than you, and she's almost blind."

"Shut up and take your turn," she ordered, rolling her eyes, but failing at suppressing a grin. He was right: it'd been a while since she last played, and she was out of her game. He held out the beer he'd been drinking, offering her a sip. She denied it with a shake of her head and he downed the rest.

Benji bent forward and turned his head so he was at eye level with the cue ball. "So, really," he said, returning to the previous topic, "what was it like?"

She sighed heavily and made a show of trying to remember. He raised a brow at her exactly as she had to him only seconds ago, and she sobered up. "In all honesty?" He nodded. "I don't remember too much. I remember feeling at peace and floating away, but then..." She stopped.

"Then?"

"... It was like something, or somebody, pulled me back." She met his gaze and he held it for a second before shooting the ball. Of course, it was a perfect shot. "Why are you so curious, anyway?"

He shrugged and moved a couple of feet to the left so he could make his next shot for the black 8-ball. "You could say I have something of an... undying interest in death," he said vaguely. "I see people die on the street all the time. I want to know what they felt."

"Trust me, the whole dying experience is overrated," she muttered. The car accident was a memory she didn't try to visit too often, but the agony of drowning entered her mind unbidden, and she shivered. "When your time comes, you'll understand that."

"I'm sure I will."

Clack! A perfect shot, game over. Mikaela groaned and moved to sit on a stool. "Does your girlfriend know you're this evil?" she asked. He'd only mentioned having a girlfriend that one night when he'd visited her at the hospital, and she was curious about the kind of woman she was. "I wonder if it'll cause problems if I tell her that you like to pick on innocent teenage girls."

He barked a laugh and stood up straight, stretching his arms and back. "Nah, I doubt she'd care," he admitted. "We broke up last week."

The guilt hit her like a freight train. "Insert foot in mouth," she muttered, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I had no idea."

He waved a hand nonchalantly. "No worries, it's not your fault," he said. "I blame religious differences."

"Why?" she asked cautiously.

"I'm a Catholic and she's an Edwardian." She cocked her head to the side, not understanding. "Twilight fanatics get on my nerves."

She couldn't hold back the laugh that burst out of her then. "No way! You broke up with her because she likes Twilight?" she exclaimed dubiously. He grinned.

"Hey, what can I say? I have high standards." He gave her a smug grin and walked over to join her. "But in all seriousness, it's really irritating to be constantly compared to some fictional sparkly emo kid."

She shrugged. "I wouldn't know, but I would guess it is." She pulled two quarters out of her pocket and held them up. "Double or nothing?" she suggested, nodding at the pool table.

"And what are we betting this round? Sexual favors?"

She rolled her eyes and snorted in a very unladylike fashion. "You're not my type," she deadpanned. He pretended to be wounded, but she knew better than to take the flirtatiousness seriously. She got more of a brotherly/friendly vibe from him.

"And just what would be your type?" he asked, hooking his thumbs in his pockets and leaning against the wall. He seemed to be expecting a specific kind of answer, but she couldn't imagine what.

"Besides not being in their early twenties?" She contemplated the question for a moment. "... I pretty much concluded a long time ago that I like assholes."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I should have known..."

"What?" she exclaimed.

"Come on, he's not even that good-looking," he continued. She was completely lost. "Not to mention he is definitely in his early twenties."

That was when it dawned on her. "Damon?" she questioned. He gave her a look that had "Duh!" written all over it, and she felt her stomach flop over. "Oh, come on! No! That's gross!"

"Hey, he did stay the night when you were hospitalized," he argued, "and he is an asshole."

"He's the biggest asshole I know, but-!"

"Don't deny it, he said you were his girl," he continued. "You guys actually looked like a couple." She groaned.

"That's just because he's an ass."

"Which you apparently have the hots for."

She stood up and gripped her cue stick threateningly. "I may not be so good at pool, but when it comes to causing injury, I'm a genius," she warned. He chuckled.

"Fine, fine, I'm just saying..." He paused to make sure she wasn't about to hit him with the stick. When she didn't, he continued. "Well, you guys seemed to have chemistry."

"Chemistry?" She scoffed. "As if. He's evil, and evil is a step down from asshole, which is about as low as I'll go."

"Come on Elizabeth, you of all people should know there's good in Damon," he reasoned.

"Benji, why are you-?"

The words stopped in her throat. Her ears started to ring and she felt her insides freeze as she turned to look at him. She couldn't breathe. He seemed to realize his mistake and his expression went blank, but he didn't say anything. The red flags that hadn't gone off in all of the hours they'd been spending at the Grill were waving urgently then, all saying one thing:

Get away.

"I've gotta go." Without waiting for a response, she grabbed her car keys off the table and walked briskly for the exit.

"Mikaela, wait!"

She ignored him and walked faster. Her car was parallel parked close to the entrance, so if she hurried, she could get to it before he got to her. He'd called her Elizabeth which meant there was something supernatural involved and she had to leave before she got possessed again or something worse. She pushed open the door with unnecessary force in her haste and almost hit somebody on their way in, but she didn't even apologize and ran for her car. Just as she'd unlocked the door and pulled it open, she saw a hand shoot out and slam it shut.

She whorled around with a scream in her throat, but Benji clamped a hand over her mouth to silence her. The contact sent a single word into her mind: vampire. That pretty much did it. She started screaming for help and punching at him, but he seemed completely unaffected and closed the distance between them so that the tip of his nose could touch hers if she stayed still for long enough.

"Stop yelling and don't fight me," he ordered, his voice deep with authority. She immediately stopped hitting him and shut her mouth. She knew he was compelling her, but as she tried to reach out and break the connection like she'd done with Damon, she couldn't. Unable to block him, she felt the urge to fight his command slip away. He pulled his hand away from her face, but leaned against her car with either of his arms framing her face so they were still very close. "Now, you're going to do exactly as I tell you to..." She felt a sleepy haze fall over her and nodded, accepting every command he said next.

"Get away from her, now!" Elena's voice rang through the night. Mikaela blinked and turned to see her friend running over, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

Benji pulled away from Mikaela as if she'd thrust a knife at him. "It isn't what it-"

"Just get away from her," she repeated urgently. Mikaela stared at Elena, slightly confused. Mikaela didn't know what Benji was, so why did she sound so frightened? Without another word Benji walked away. She shook her head, breaking out of her daze. What had just happened? She remembered being in the Grill, then running out because of something he'd said, but what had happened after that? Bits of Elena's aura distracted her: anxiety, anger, stress, worry, but most of all, fear. Elena, afraid of her? Before she could further contemplate the reason, Elena spoke. "What really happened the night you were attacked?" Her jaw was tight and she was trying to keep a strong facade, but it was obvious she didn't feel at all brave.

She knew.

"I was attacked," she answered evenly, looking straight into Elena's eyes.

"By who?" There was no concern in her voice: she just wanted confirmation.

"...You know the answer."

"By who?" Elena demanded through gritted teeth.

"A vampire," Mikaela answered quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. Elena's face blanched. "What gave it away?"

"People drained of blood," she replied, her voice shaking. "The rapid healing, the physical changes, and then there was this video from the 50s... The news says they caught a mountain lion, but all of this started after you got out of the hospital and Stefan came into town. You came back different."

Something clicked in her head then. "Elena, it's not what it sounds like," she said, moving forward. Elena immediately backed away, terrified. "I haven't changed, I'm still-"

"Stay away," she warned. Mikaela obeyed, certain the girl would have a heart attack if she was pushed too far. "I have to go." Before Mikaela could stop her, Elena turned tail and ran. She cursed under her breath and reached into her pocket for her cell phone as she jumped into the car. Stefan didn't answer his phone so she pulled onto the main road and drove to Elena's house.

Only Jenna's car was in the driveway, so Mikaela figured she must have gone to Stefan's house. If that was the case, Stefan could handle the rest, and it was time for her to go home. With a sense of purpose, she turned the car around and started towards the boarding house. Halfway there she saw Elena's car speed past her, but Mikaela didn't follow her back. All she wanted to do was go home.

The boarding house was silent when she arrived and all of the lights were on. She parked her car in its usual spot and walked in, relieved to finally be back. Stefan could handle the Elena situation, all she wanted was to take a hot shower and forget about the outside world...

Mikaela was having a very pleasant dream of picnicking as Elizabeth Knight on the Salvatore estate with the two brothers. A young girl, maybe only two years old, was running around the grass trying to catch butterflies. The trio chatted animatedly while two of their servants watched from a comfortable distance, the chaperones for the outing. It was a sunny yet breezy day, the perfect day for a picnic. She laughed at a story Damon was telling and allowed her hand to rest on his arm, a casual enough gesture to outside eyes, but actually a secret message between the two lovers.

The breeze suddenly became very warm, softly blowing the hair on her neck and making her skin prickle. She tried to move so that the wind hit her from a different direction, but no matter how she moved, the warm air brushed along her skin like a kiss. She was becoming flustered and there was no way to stop it, but then she felt an odd sensation of falling and realized she was waking up.

She expected to open her eyes to the sun flooding in from between the curtains, but curiously, the curtains were drawn shut. She yawned and stretched, settling onto the covers with a content sigh. She raised a hand to feel for the draft of air that may have woken her up but felt nothing. With joy she remembered that it was Sunday, which meant there was no reason for her to get up early.

"Hallelujah," she said quietly as she stretched again, arcing her back and stretching her arms above her head.

She felt her arm hit something and turned lazily to see what it was. Lying on his side with that characteristic smirk, Damon watched her expectantly, ice blue eyes looking straight into hers. "Good morning," he greeted in a song-song voice. She narrowed her eyes at him and reached out a hand, running the tips of her fingers along his cheek.

No, he wasn't a remnant of the dream.

With a strangled scream she scrambled out of bed and backed up to the far wall of the room. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she barely held back her primary instinct to run. He looked like he always did, only unlike the past several days, he actually looked healthy, and for some bizarre reason, he wasn't wearing a shirt. "Stefan didn't come home last night and I fed plenty, so there's no point in screaming," he warned, sitting up against the headboard. "You're defenseless."

"How the hell did you get out?" she demanded. Her eyes flew all over the apartment searching for any sort of weapon against him. Of course, because it was simply a bedroom and not an armory, there was nothing. He sighed and folded his hands behind his head.

"You can thank Caroline and that EMT guy who has a crush on you," he answered, waving a hand as if it didn't matter. "It's a really long story, and I'd much rather stay on topic..." Before she could even gasp, he was inches in front of her, hand held out. "My ring?"

"I don't have it," she stated, backing up. With every step she took back, he moved forward, eyes never leaving hers. "Why don't you call Stefan?"

"I did, but I asked you to get it, my dearest Caroline," he said, his voice sickly sweet. He was mocking her. She'd slowly been inching for the door, but once she wrapped her hand around the knob, he slammed it shut and trapped her against it. "So... Where is it?" he asked quietly, whispering the words in her ear. His breath blew against the hair on her neck, making her shiver. A slow, sneaky smile spreading across his lips, he pushed her hair back from her face with his other hand and allowed his fingers to trail down her arm. She jerked away from his touch and tried to move around him, but he grabbed her upper arms to keep her from moving.

"I don't have it!" she repeated, this time with more urgency. "Let me go!"

"Make me, you little liar," he challenged.

"I'm not lying!" she exclaimed.

"Spoken like a natural."

She growled and tried to pull out of his grip. It was pretty much useless considering how strong he was, and at that moment it was as if every spell she'd learned with Bonnie's grandmother disappeared from her mind. All she was left with was instinct. She pushed against him and he moved back a step, but he never loosened his hold so she ended up getting jerked forward and almost losing her footing. She yelled out in frustration and tried to regain some distance, but he held her to him in a strange embrace, leaving absolutely no space between them.

"Let go!" she hissed, grunting as she tried to pull away. He sighed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"Must we have this same conversation again?"

"I don't have your stupid ring!" she very nearly yelled, leaning up so that the words went straight into his ear. "How many times do I have to say it?"

"Until I actually believe you," he answered simply. "You already tricked me once."

"What?"

"Oh don't play dumb, it doesn't look cute on you," he said scoldingly. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Poisoning you?" she questioned. "Zack spiked my drink, I had no idea there was vervain in my system."

"Yeah, right."

"Fine, don't believe me!" she snapped. "Just let me go!"

"Why?" he questioned, looking down at her so their faces were a mere half-inch apart. "It's not like I have anything better to do. It's daylight, and may I say that you look simply delicious in these PJ's."

She couldn't hide the blood rushing to her cheeks as she remembered that she'd chosen last night, of all nights, to wear a black camisole that exposed her midriff and matching shorts to bed. She was pulled almost completely against him with her arms squished between her body and his bare chest, a skin-to-skin contact that was anything but casual. One of his hands lowered to the small of her back where her skin was exposed, but she set her jaw and refused to let it show on her face that he had any effect on her. Whether he was playing the role of predator or sexual molester, he was trying to make her nervous, and she wasn't going to let him succeed.

He leaned forward and she immediately stiffened. He smirked. "You want to kiss me again," he said, his pupils expanding and dilating strangely. When she didn't feel the need to close the space between their lips, she thanked the heavens her block against his compulsion was still strong and turned her head defiantly. He shrugged, completely unaffected. He ran his nose down her neck, allowing his breath to trail along her skin as he sighed contentedly. "Like I said, delicious..."

This time when she pushed him away, he allowed her to. "Come on, just a bite," he pleaded. Giving him a look of disgust, she threw open the door and marched to the bathroom, looking over her shoulder to make sure he didn't follow. He didn't, and she offered up a prayer of thanks that she'd bored him so quickly.

It took slightly longer than normal to go through her morning routine, even if she did skip taking a shower (there was no way in hell she'd risk Damon seeing her naked), mostly because she was jumping at every noise and constantly looking over her shoulder to make sure he wasn't sneaking up on her. Even if he'd said his escape had something to do with Caroline and Benji, she couldn't imagine what happened. She had a feeling that Benji was a vampire, but for some reason, she couldn't remember how she'd reached that conclusion. The questions only made her more wary of him and more desperate to leave the house.

She dressed quickly by pulling on a pair of low-rise jeans, boots and a jacket over her camisole, then rushed down the stairs, hoping to get out before Damon noticed. Music was playing loudly throughout the house (she hadn't known Zack installed a stereo system), but the vampire in question just happened to come out of the parlor at the exact moment she reached the last step, a glass of scotch in one hand and some girl dancing off the other.

She glared fiercely at him and held up a hand as if placing a shield. She was grateful he'd thrown on a shirt, even if it was unbuttoned, because she couldn't allow biology to give Damon more reason to torment her. "I'm leaving right now," she stated. "I had nothing to do with Stefan locking you up nor do I have your ring, so leave me alone."

"But why so soon?" he asked with a pout, letting go of the girl and walking— well, more like sashaying— towards her. The smell of alcohol was strong on him, which explained his strange behavior. "It's the weekend!"

"Yeah, there's no way I'm-" She choked on her words as the girl twirled around and their gazes met. It took a second or two for her to register exactly who was standing in front of her, but when she did, she didn't know what to do other than stare. Vicki stopped dancing long enough to look Mikaela up and down. Catching the look in the girl's eyes, she held up her hands and walked away.

"This one doesn't count, he told me he was single!" she yelled, walking back into the parlor. She was clad in nothing but a tank top and underwear, and if Mikaela concentrated, she could see a thin film over the girl's eyes: compulsion.

Snapping out of her shock, Mikaela turned back to Damon. "Vicki Donovan?" she hissed. "Seriously?"

"I thought you'd be happy I didn't kill her," he commented, downing the rest of his drink. "You two know each other?" She sighed exasperatedly and rubbed her forehead: just when she thought he couldn't get any worse...

"We're not friends, if that's what you mean. What's she doing here?" she asked tiredly.

He shrugged. "I brought her home after dinner last night," he said casually. An image of several young people lounging around a graveyard entered her mind. "Hopefully she'll keep me entertained until the sun goes down and I can find Stefan."

"Just let the slut go home," Mikaela said, shaking her head. "I'm sure you can find some other source of entertainment."

"Well, I did, but she's leaving now," he reasoned, moving to the foot of the stairs so she was at eye level with him. "Maybe if she stayed, I'd let the poor, innocent junkie go home..."

"Not a chance," she muttered.

"But Vicki's such a sad, sad girl," he whined. "I promise I'll let her go if you stay, and then we can have so much fun!"

For some reason, Mikaela knew it wasn't entirely a joke. If she stayed, he could compel Vicki to forget everything that happened and send her home. The catch, though, would be spending the next eight to nine hours at the mercy of a drunk, bored vampire that had already tried to kill her on several occasions. Looking past him, she watched the girl that had stolen her first love, the constant walking reminder that it didn't matter how much you loved someone: sex conquered all. She shook her head and walked around Damon. "I'm outta here," she called, and grabbed her car keys off the table. "Knock yourself out."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. If anything happens, it's on your head."

She wrapped her fingers around the handle and stopped. She tried to command her arm to contract the muscles needed to open the damned door, but it wouldn't. He was right. The guilt was opening a gaping hole in her chest and paralyzing her, making it impossible to leave. Yes, the girl had hurt her, and many days she thought that her dislike had grown into full-blown hatred; however, she knew better than to believe that she herself was completely heartless. With a growl of frustration, she chucked her bag to the floor and marched into the parlor.

"You!" she barked, nodding at Vicki. The girl had been twirling around Damon, but when she heard Mikaela, she froze. "Get out."

Vicki looked between her and Damon, unsure what to do. "Listen, I don't know what's going on between you two, but-" Damon gave Mikaela a knowing smile before whispering something in Vicki's ear, cutting her off. The girl nodded and walked over to a sofa. With the pair watching, she curled up and soundly went to sleep. Obviously he'd used compulsion, but even so, it was a strange thing to see.

When nothing else happened, Mikaela immediately became accusatory. "I thought you said-"

"She's my guarantee," Damon said simply, placing his glass on the wet bar for a refill. "She can leave once the sun goes down."

"Guarantee?" she repeated incredulously. "But-"

"Hey, you can still leave if you want to."

"But you said-!"

"Drink?"

Mikaela groaned: sometimes there was no negotiating with him. After a deep breath, she let out a sigh and accepted the offer. "Ah, not such a saint now, are we?" He walked over to where she was standing and handed her a glass of whiskey. She held the drink with a sense of apprehension, looking up at him with an unspoken question. He rolled his eyes. "Come on, it's not gonna kill you!"

"No, whiskey won't kill me," she said with a slow nod. "You might."

"I might," he agreed, prolonging the word "might". "But not yet."

"Yet." The word slipped out unbidden, but she didn't take it back. She knew it was the truth, even before he smiled and winked. He didn't say anything, and yet it was as if he said everything. She should have run out then and there, but she didn't. She couldn't knowingly leave the girl defenseless with Damon. Damned complications. He noticed her staring at Vicki and surrendered.

"Fine, she can leave." Looking like a little kid who'd just been ordered to clean his room, Damon shook Vicki awake. The girl began to stir and he lifted her up from the couch bridal-style, carrying her to the foyer. "Don't move," he ordered as he passed by. She obeyed and stayed put, but listened for the sound of the front door opening. It didn't come. Instead, she heard the sound of someone falling to the floor. In a couple of seconds, he was back.

"What did you do?" she asked cautiously, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

"Dropped her by the door," he answered, retrieving his glass and swirling the whiskey on ice around. Why did that make her smile? "She'll go visit Jeremy when she wakes up."

Knowing she'd reached the limit of Damon's graciousness, she nodded. "Thank you."

"Yeah yeah, now it's your turn to hold up your end of the bargain," he reminded her, taking her hand and leading her to the stereo. "I know just what you need." She reluctantly followed and watched as he picked out a CD and pushed it into the drive. A song she recognized started to play, and without fully realizing it, she started to sway. It was one of her favorite songs to dance to, and as the intro thrummed through the speakers, she recalled dancing to it a number of times with different strangers. Damon looked at her expectantly, but she didn't do more than sway.

"Come on!" he urged impatiently. "Dance, drink, live a little!"

"That's a mouthful, coming from you," she shot back, but even so, the song was working its spell. If she had to go through the day with him, it might as well be with good music and a little help from the alcohol. Closing her eyes, she lifted the glass to her lips and gulped down the whiskey. She almost choked at the explosion as it went down her throat. She coughed and shook her head, shocked by how strong it was. "Damn, what the hell is that?" she exclaimed, giving him back the empty glass. He smirked.

"It's a secret." He put down the glasses and moved closer. "Well, you've got the drinking part down..."

She had a bad feeling about this. Even as the aftershocks of the bourbon, whiskey, alcohol, whatever, wore off, she couldn't shake the feeling. He held out a hand to dance and she hesitated. Could she do this? Could she really follow through? She'd survived a broken heart, being abandoned by her mother and had even cheated death twice, but this? She felt her hands shake and she clenched them tightly: she was on stage, and there was no room for nerves on the stage.

Feeling like a witch having a noose slipped over her neck, she raised her hand and carefully placed it in his. A look of triumph crossed his face, and she knew that on some level, he had won. This dance was different from the other deals they'd made: this was proof that she could be beat. No matter what, Damon would get what he wanted, and nobody could stand in his way. His other hand went to her waist and she closed her eyes as the reality set in.

She was trapped.

There was no guardian angel watching over her.

The only one with a hero complex in the whole God-forsaken town was her.

The devil had won, and nothing and nobody would come to her rescue.