Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for Charlie Sanders, her mother and best friend West Dylan. Everything else belong to L.J Smith and The CW.

Don't forget that I cannot see myself - that my role is limited to being the one who looks in the mirror -Jacques Rigaut

I hate cemeteries. They freak me out. Something about how all these lifeless bodies buried together under the very ground you're standing on, rotting away, gives me the creeps.

I hate cemeteries. And yes, I'd like to think of myself as a kick-ass individual, but truth of the matter is, I'm only thirty percent fearless. But I'm a pro when it comes to denial. Which is how I found myself at the town's grave yard, standing in front of the graves of the grandparents I've never known. Two freshly cut roses lay on the ground.

Collin and Charlotte Morrison.

According to the news articles I've dug out, their house when up in flames and burned down almost immediately. The sheriff back then suspected foul play but had zero evidence or suspects and the case was filed of as a freak accident. My mother had been out partying with friends. Nothing could have been salvaged, not even their bodies.

I wonder how much pain they had to go through before they were put out of their misery. Were they still alive as the fire devoured their skin and flesh? Or did they die of smoke inhalation and choked to death? Which was the less painful way to go?

A big, crow landed swiftly on the tombstone. It flapped it's black wings, cocking it's head from side to side. I was either getting very paranoid or that bird had it's eyes on me.

"Whatcha staring at, buddy?" I glared at it. "Shoo! Get outta here! Flap your wings and disappear. This place is creepy as it is without you staring at me."

When it still didn't move, I made fluttery motions with my hand. It wouldn't budge. I stepped back and hugged myself when a chilly wind blew. I titled my head back, staring at the starless night sky. I've lost all sense of time while I stood here contemplating about my life, my grandparents and my AWOL parents. And I just realized how morbid it was.

A distant noise made my heart lurch and I almost jumped out of my skin.

Calm down, chica. You're losing your mind.

When I turned back to the tombstone, the crow was gone. I let out a long breathe I didn't know I had been holding. I scooped up my curls and hang them over one shoulder, picked up my purse from the ground and extracted my taser to shove it in my jacket pocket.

Better safe than sorry.

My life motto.

My CAT boots made loud noises as it crunched the pebbles and twigs. The sound carried and got swallowed by the dark. It was eerily quite, a sense foreboding danger lurking around the corner. Every hair in the back of my neck stuck up. I took longer strides and quickened my pace. I needed to get out this place before I scared myself to death.

My heart rate slowed down when I neared the gate then ricocheted sky high when a fog blanketed the ground out of the blue. I almost tripped over my own feet in shock.

That was not there a moment ago, the small, scared voice supplied from the back of my mind.

A strangled laugh escaped my throat and I clamped a hand over my mouth before I got hysterical. A screeching noise cut through the air and instinctively reached for the taser. The fog kept floating forward, enveloping everything at it's wake.

Caw, caw,caw.

My eyes darted around, trying to find where the damn crow was screeching from.

Snap.

Freaking out, I spun on my heels, ready to bolt back to the direction I came from. Maybe there was a side gate or a low wall I could jump over.

Or maybe you're just projecting your fears and nothing is happening.

Before I even got anywhere, I collided with a something solid and I let out a yelp, whipping my taser out.

"Where's the fire?"

"Jesus," I breathed , when I recognized the person in front of me.

"Nope," Damon said with a cocky grin. "Even better, me."

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing?"

He regarded me as if I was mentally challenged. And who could blame him, I looked crazy with wide eyes and sweating in the cold.

I put my taser back in my pocket. He had a small, strange smile on his lips. "What?" I snapped defensively, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Oh nothing. It's just, you carry that stun gun around as if it's gonna save you from the real boogeyman. It's cute."

I narrowed my eyes. "I can tell when a person is being condescending, Salvatore."

He glanced around, as if he just realized were he was standing.

"I gotta say," he began as I started for the gate. The strange fog had cleared. "I didn't peg you for the melancholic-walking-through-the-graves type of gal."

He fell into step with me. "Did you notice how often we keep bumping into each other?"

"No. Not really," I lied. I wasn't in the mood, Damon or not.

"Quite the little fibber you are. Should I get worried, Shortie? 'Coz I'm certain that you're stalking me. What's next, gonna leave me silent voice mails?"

I faced him. "You're so hilarious, Damon. Really, I've got stitches from laughing so hard. You should take your show to the road, see how the public will like it."

His ever present grin broadened. "Touchy. Most be the atmosphere."

I gave him my back and opened the french gate and stepped out the world of the dead and hurriedly walked down the sidewalk. I took a deep breath, trying dispel any residual fear.

What the hell was that about?

Damon didn't have any problem keeping up.

"So who were you visiting?" he asked.

"Why do you care?"

He shrugged. "Simple curiosity."

I couldn't help but crack a smile, recalling the night he drove me home. "My grandparents," I told him, hoping it would shut him up.

"Your grandparents are from Mystic Falls."

I nodded. "Yep. Maternal grandparents. They were a Founding Family."

His eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yeah. The Morrisons."

It was quick, the flitting expression. If the street light wasn't illuminating his face, I'd have totally missed it. At the mention of their name, Damon's eyes hardened and his back went stiff. But he covered it up with one of his famous smirks.

"I've heard of them."

"You make it seem as if it's a bad thing," I stated, gauging his reaction.

He let out a small chuckle. "Oh, on the contrary, it's a great thing. Just when we thought the family went extinct, you spring up outta nowhere."

I frowned. I wasn't entirely comfortable with his tone, taunting, almost hostile.

"Something wrong, Damon?"

His blue eyes studied me. "No. Everything's peachy."

We walked in silence after that, our boots slapping against the concrete.

Different warnings from different people kept running through my mind.

Damon's a jerk.

Damon doesn't care.

Damon's dangerous.

Damon wouldn't think twice of hurting someone just coz he can.

I sneaked a glance at him, yet again mesmerized by his dazzling beauty. Could someone so good-looking be so...I didn't even have a word to describe it. Without brushing aside what the other's said, Damon hasn't done anything remotely threatening. Sure he was cocky and had a seemingly never ending arsenal of witty one-liners, but that's what personality means, isn't it? Damon Salvatore is a character...or has a character or whatever.

"You know," he said, bringing me out of my thoughts. "If you take a photo, it will last longer."

My cheeks burned in embarrassment. I cleared my throat. "So what were you doing back there?"

We were at the town square, my house two blocks away.

"Paying my respect," Damon replied, nonchalantly.

"To whom... if I may ask."

"My old man."

"When did he die?"

"A pre-tty long time ago."

"Ah."

"Not going to ask about my mother?"

"Dare I?"

He smiled, eyes twinkling. "Why don't you try? I promise not to bite."

"So what about your mother?"

"She's dead."

I was too stunned to say anything. Damon let out a short bark of laughter and slung an arm around my shoulder. The sudden movement made me lose my balance and I collided against him.

"Lighten up, Shortie." I've long ago resigned to the nickname. "I don't even remember her. She died a few days after Stefan was born."

I looked up at him. "Was it hard, growing up without parents?"

"You ask the most personal questions."

I bit my lower lip. "I'm just trying to figure you out, is all."

"And why would you wanna do that?" he wanted to know.

"Because so far, since I've met you, everyone keep talkin' about how bad and dangerous you are and that I should stay away from you." I watched him stare straight ahead. "But I honestly don't think you're that bad."

Wordlessly, he dropped his arm and put some space between our bodies. There was a sense of loss, so familiar that it tugged at my heartstrings. I had to stop myself from closing the gap. What did I say that was so wrong?

"I'm s-sorry," I mumbled, perplexed by the sudden change in attitude. "I shouldn't have said anything."

He stopped walking and I faced him. "Why don't you go inside?" he suggested, motioning to the house with his head. I wasn't even aware that we've arrived.

I opened my mouth to...I don't know, apologize lamely once again but shut it before I made a fool out of myself any further. I backed away from him and waved with one hand.

"See ya around?"

Damon nodded, uncharacteristically sullen, before spinning on his heels and walking away without a word.

Feeling low in spirits, I let myself inside, ready to sneak upstairs.

I yelped like a girly-girl the second time in one night, but this time for a whole different reason.

"Whoa! Whoa!"

"You're early!"

I stared at the scene in front of me. Jenna with her shirt unbottoned, was straddling a person on the couch. When I caught the sight of the man's face, I had to blink several times and pinch myself to make sure I wasn't asleep and dreaming.

" Mr. Saltzman," I croaked.

He was bug-eyed with shock. "Charlie, what are you doing here?"

"I live here," I mumbled, my eyes going between the two of them. Jenna was red with embarrassment. She pulled her shirt together. "What are you doing here?" I asked him back. He was shirtless, hair tousled and he closed his eyes, groaning. I cringed.

"On second thought, don't answer that."

"Charlie, I'm sorry. I should've told you about Ric."

I snapped myself out the absurdity of the situation. "It's fine. I uh...just weren't expecting...you know what, I could just leave and let you guys get back to -"

"Oh that won't be necessary," Mr. Saltzman cut me off, putting on his shirt and getting up. "I was on my -"

"No. Seriously. I can leave. Crash at Caroline's or something."

"No." He picked his bag, avoiding eye contact. "I shouldn't chase you out of your own house."

"Seriously, it's cool."

He walked around the couch and moved to the hallway, while he avoided catching my eye.

Jenna raised her hand. "Can I say something?"

We both shut up and turned to her.

"Charlie, go upstairs. There's no need for you to crash anywhere."

She turned to my history teacher who was eyeing the front door as if it was the gate to heaven. "And Ric, get your ass back here. You don't have to go."

"I agree, whole heartedly," I told him with a serious expression.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Just a little surprised but - "

"Upstairs. Now." Jenna shoved me towards the stairs and I raced them as if I had a flock of rabid geese at my tail. I wondered if putting on the stereo was too obvious. Probably. So I settled for my headphones and Ipod.

When I emerged from the bathroom after a long bath, I found a crow sitting on my window sill. The crow cocked it's head left and right, following me with eyes as I moved around the room.

"You the same one from the graveyard?" I asked the bird. "Why are you following me around? Got nothing better to do?"

I piled my hair to the top of my head and tied in a ponytail. The crow flapped it's wings. "Seriously buddy, I've got a big day ahead of me tomorrow. So why don't you go bother someone else." I fluttered my hands but it simply made a caw, caw sound.

I laughed at myself. I must be really losing my mind if I was talking to a bird. I shut the window and jumped into bed.

The crow was still watching me. Goosebumps erupted on every inch of my skin. I got down and pulled the curtains close.

I fell asleep an hour later when it's silhouette spread it's wings and flew away, only to have Damon Salvatore feature in my dreams.

A/N: I wanted Charlie and Damon to have at least one normal, civil conversation without sarcastic barbs or quips. And surprisingly, Damon came out as the more honest one. And I think it's high time that she learned that her godmother and history teacher are dating. This way it would be easier to blackmail Alaric. Poor guy. Quite a short chapter but I promise to make it up to you guys.

Read and review.

xoxoxoxoxo