Hi, everyone! This is my first fanfiction, and I'm so excited to finally be writing after years of being a lurker lol. I have so many ideas for DE fanfiction, but this is one of the major ones I've been thinking of:

SUMMARY:

Elena Gilbert, despite all the curve balls life's thrown at her, has prided herself on being able to come out and succeed through it all; yet, there's still a part inside of her that yearns for more, for passion and danger and excitement. Damon Salvatore is a mafia boss from the Salvatore Family, a deeply rooted mafia syndicate with branches across the US and Europe. A clumsy first encounter begins to unravel a slew of mysteries, as both Damon and Elena lower their defenses to the idea of love.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything about TVD! I only love it!

*btw, I only watched up to season 6, so sorry if a few characters in the story will be a little OOC.*

In the world, there were two types of people: the predator and the prey.

"Goddamn, are you still here Elena?"

Elena woke up startled from her impromptu nap on the library desk, some sticky notes sticking to her face as she groggily tried to regain consciousness. Bonnie stared at the open textbooks and notes strewn across the hardwood surface, wondering how the hell her friend could survive such intense studying day-in and day-out.

"S-sorry, Bon . . . " she sputtered, trying to slap herself awake, "what, uh, what time is it. . .?"

"It's midnight, 'Lena, and you're literally the last person here," Bonnie started cleaning up her friend's things, shoving them into her backpack beside her. "Me and Care have literally been blowing up your phone for the past hour."

Elena pulled her silenced phone from her back pocket, seeing the mass "missed calls" list on her lock screen. She sighed heavily, dropping her head in her hands. "Sorry, Bon, I just lost track of time . . . "

"No, what you need is a friggin' break!" Bonnie huffed, "I swear, you're top of the class! You don't need to push yourself so hard 24/7 . . .``The girl continued to mutter her annoyance as she helped Elena gather the rest of her things and leave the campus library. Elena smiled, but admittedly spaced out as her friend continued to gently scold her about her habits. They got into Bonnie's car, Elena having walked to the library, and drove Elena to her own apartment. She, Bonnie, and Caroline had all managed to find places near each other; they had been inseparable since childhood and adulthood was certainly not going to stand in their way.

Elena stared out the car window, watching the full moon high in the sky; it had been raining the past week but had seemed to let up for the night, so the pavement glittered under the gentle light. She watched the world pass by silently, a familiar feeling of something eating away at her in the pit of her stomach.

"So are you going Elena?" Bonnie's sudden shift in tone pulled the other girl from her daydreams.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said," Bonnie chuckled, "are you going to go to Tyler's party next Friday?"

Ah, right; another infamous Lockwood rager. "Probably not . . . " Elena sighed.

"Oh come on Elena! Even I'm going and you know I'm not that much of a party girl either!" Bonnie chided, playfully slapping Elena's arm next to her. "You need a break!"

Elena smiled softly and shook her head, laughing at her friend's insistence. She told her that she'd only think about it; Bonnie sighed, but seemed to accept the answer for now. The rest of her ride continued in silence as Bonnie pulled up to her apartment complex; it was on the edge of town, in a not-so-great neighborhood. A dog howled in the distance.

"I still don't know why you live here and not with one of us Lena," Bonnie mumbled as Elena exited the passenger seat. She glanced back with a soft glare, silencing Bonnie in another huff.

"G'night, Bon," she blew a kiss toward her friend as she waved goodbye, watching the car drive down the road and disappearing. Elena quickly made her way up the stairs to her apartment door and unlocked it; she was greeted with an untouched dark silence. She closed the door behind her, locking it, and slid down it until she was leaning against it with her back, legs crossed, still enveloped in darkness.

Some slivers of moonlight peaked through the curtain through the window across the small living room. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, her eyes continued to wander across the simple single bedroom and bathroom apartment. She looked to the right at the kitchen; her half finished cup of coffee was sitting cold from her hasty breakfast that morning. Multiple framed pictures hung framed and perched throughout the apartment.

Among her friends, she wasn't ashamed of the fact that she had the smallest apartment, the oldest, least glamorous things, or even the fact that she couldn't always afford to hang out whenever Care wanted to eat out on a whim. This was her life; she refused to accept hand-outs. But still; she couldn't help but envy Bonnie's car or Caroline's new clothes every week or the express meal cards the students used in the campus cafeteria at lunch. . .

No, stop pitying yourself Gilbert!

She slipped into a thoughtless silence as her eyes closed, only hearing her breathing fill the room as she sat by her door. Lately she had been becoming more tired, more easily stressed. Maybe it was Professor Smith continuing to breathe down her neck as she TA'd for him that semester in the English department. Maybe it was her cranky land-lady downstairs mercilessly continuing to increase the rent. Maybe it was how the drunks down at the Grill became more and more grabby each night she worked there. Maybe it was a certain older brother that continued to be MIA. . . .

Finally, her eyes slowly slid open; she gathered her things resting next to her and set them on the kitchen counter. She made her way to her simple bedroom, flopping down on her creaky bed face-first. She didn't bother to brush her teeth or change; sleep was the most important thing right now.

She was so tired . . .

As her mind began to wander into dreamland, the voice of her mother began that familiar tender lullaby she grew up with.

"Oh my god . . . Holy . . . HOly Shit! Bring the stretcher. . . she's still alive!"

Mom. . . ? Dad . . .? Where . . . Why aren't you guys moving . . .? Why is there blood . . .

". . . Patient is critical. . . "

Why does it hurt so bad . . .? Where's . . .

" . . . Clear . . .!"

Ugh . . . my head hurts. Everything hurts so bad. . . why is it so cold?

" . . . Water . . . lungs . . . broken . . . lacerations and internal bleeding . . . "

It's so cold . . .

" . . .shrapnel . . . glass shards . . . lodged . . . "

Beep. Beep. Beep.

". . . Miranda . . . Grayson Gilbert . . . deceased on . . . "

I can't breathe . . .

". . . only survivor. . . "

Beep . Beep . Beep.

"I'm so sorry . . . Elena . . . !"

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Elena awoke with a start, slowly reaching up to wipe the tiredness from her eyes and turning her alarm off. She looked for a time at the warm portrait of her family smiling on the beach; Elena stroked it's frame tenderly.

She groggily rose, walking half-dead to her bathroom; the shadows under her eyes and messy mascara made her look ghoulish. She quickly brushed her teeth and dressed, fixing the minimal make-up on her face. Thank God it was Friday; one more day before she could finally sleep in and catch up on some sleep. She hummed as she thought of the "easy" day ahead of her; she had to sit through some lectures, TA English 101 that afternoon, then a simple five-hour shift at the Grill that night.

She passed out of her room and into the kitchen, throwing out the stale coffee on her counter from the day before, and quickly boiling some water to make an instant cup of joe. She popped a piece of white bread in her mouth and took a glance at the calendar on her fridge. She froze in place, her coffee mug almost falling from her hand.

Oh no.

In big red letters and circled in fat red ink around that day's date, "Caroline B-Day Grill!"

I've been so preoccupied. . . oh my GOD!

Elena quickly grabbed her things and whizzed out the door, hell-bent on getting together Caroline's birthday gift within the span of the next few hours.

Damon Salvatore pounded into the girl one more time before she finally fell apart in his hands, her moaning echoing throughout the motel room. The nameless red-head he had picked up at some random bar in who-the-fuck-knows-where sluggishly slumped to his side, her chest heaving and her skin slick with sweat. Damon lay next to her, blankly staring at the ceiling, catching his own breath. She giggled saccharinely, stroking a lazy finger down the man's naked chest.

"Wow," she sighed, still giggling. Damon practically winced at her attempts at cuddling, quickly getting up to pick up his clothes on the floor. She sat up, looking at him incredulously. "You can't seriously be leaving?!"

Damon smirked, but didn't even bother to look at her as he pulled on his final piece of clothing, his beloved leather jacket, and pocketed his keys. Damon left wordlessly as the woman left in the motel room hurled profanities at him. He straightened out his jacket and heaved a deep sigh.

Well . . . that shit sucked. Although the woman was definitely hot with a sizable ass and breasts, Damon knew from much experience that it didn't always mean they were great in bed. She definitely wasn't. He ran a hand through his raven locks as he got into the driver's seat of his 69' midnight blue camaro convertible parked outside the room. He quickly started the engine, enjoying the purr of his pride and joy.

He quickly drove down the road, enjoying the full moon illuminating the empty highway still slick from the rain. Damon silently flew through the road, relishing in the mindless speeding through the Virginia highways.

Another night of drinking and bedding some random hot chick; well, it's not like they could resist him. Damon knew he was hot, and he used his charms with devilish expertise. The man's head was filled with nothing as a familiar feeling of nothing played around his insides. He stared blankly at the road. Damon flexed his wrist and knuckles around the steering wheel.

He enjoyed the mind-numbing silence of the road. The peacefulness of it all.

A sudden shrill ring interrupted his ride. KM was on the screen.

"I need a quick favor."

"Don't you always," Damon humorlessly quipped, scoffing. The voice on the other line chuckled.

"I'm guessing from the sound of your engine that there was no girl tonight?" a gasp sounded on the other line, "Shocking!"

"Or maybe already finished," he dryly retorted. Damon winced at the thought of the red-head he'd left; she was already finished after only one round. "Just tell me what you need."

"Some guys in Mystic Falls, Virginia, haven't delivered on a payment to me," a ding resounded on Damon's phone, accompanied by a series of pictures and an address. "I need you to collect," another chuckle. "And send them a message to not be late again."

"How much?"

"40/60 of two grand. Small, I know, but I'm in a bit of a rush, you see. I'll be in Mystic Falls tomorrow, at a restaurant called The Grill."

"Then why the fuck don't you get it yourself, dick?" Damon bit out, annoyed. He hated being a middle man like this, especially when he didn't have to. The man on the other end chortled at his old friend.

"I'll be busy. Got to get ready for a birthday party!"

Elena had somehow powered her way through her lectures, a thirty-minute lecture/scolding from Professor Smith about how flawed her teaching skills were, and now she was almost done with her shift at the Grill as Caroline's party was winding down. Yeah, it was awkward to be a waitress at your own friend's party; but Caroline still buttered up her manager enough to convince him to at least let Elena converse here and there. Elena just enjoyed watching her friend play pool, drink, and laugh; she felt full just watching her have fun. It was an unusually low-key birthday for the blonde, but whatever made Caroline happy!

Caroline was beautiful, funny, and not to mention a little bit spoiled rotten; but Elena could only look contentedly on at her friend as she enjoyed her night. Bonnie, always the observant one, caught Elena staring; she offered a little smile, obviously feeling a little guilty at the circumstances. Elena shrugged in response, showing a conciliatory it's okay, don't worry! Kind of smile.

She returned to the work floor, bumping into Matt when making her way to the bar, both of them laughing at their clumsiness. He was another childhood friend and amiable ex; he had already given Caroline a massive bear hug after singing happy birthday and giving her a simple charm bracelet as a gift. Matt was just like Elena in that respect; both humble with their meager wages. Elena hadn't found a chance yet to give Caroline her gift yet; she was just waiting for the last thirty minutes of her shift to be over so she could finally give it.

"Kinda awkward, huh," Matt started, motioning a shoulder toward Caroline as his hands had trays and menus in them.

"For sure," Elena laughed softly, glancing at Caroline who was now laughing her head off at something Tyler said. "But what's important is that she's having fun, right?" She smiled at Matt and lightly hit his side with her hip, as her hands were also occupied with a tray of dishes. Matt reddened, his smile widening, although entirely unnoticed by the brunette. She slipped past him and into the kitchen, the blonde man turning his head slightly to catch the sway of her hips as she walked away.

The party goers and customers were starting to thin out as it neared midnight; definitely unusual for a Friday night to be so lacking in the handful of local drunks, but Elena wasn't complaining. Just a little longer and she would finally be off the clock! As she was sorting the dirty dishes into the sink, a harsh yell from Caroline made her heart jump.

"Get the fuck out of here! I didn't invite you!" the blonde's voice resounded throughout the restaurant as Elena rushed out of the kitchen. There was a man standing in front of a fuming Caroline, arms crossed and chin raised against him. The whole room was at a standstill. The man turned, his Cheshire like grin plastered across his face as he raised his hands in surrender. His dark sea-green eyes surveyed the room.

"I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, love," his British accent was sultry and he snickered, lowering his hands to her waist. She flinched but didn't step back, only continuing to glare at him. Bonnie and Elena peeked at each other; they both made motions to stand closer to Caroline, directly behind her side by side.

"Everything okay, Care?" Elena spoke, breaking the man's concentration on the blonde, looking over Caroline's shoulder to shoot a look at the brunette.

"It's fine Lena," Caroline turned to give her a meager smile; when she turned back to face the man, her scowl returned. "He was just leaving." The usually carefree voice dripped with malice.

Klaus made no moves, just staring at Caroline with a more hardened expression. Tyler emerged from the silence, placing a firm grip on the mystery man's shoulder. The man quickly shoved his grip off roughly, turning to glower at the young Lockwood. Both men squared their shoulders, jaws tensing.

"You heard her," Tyler continued to stand-off with the man, his voice deep and gruff with the same malice. Klaus then broke out into a smile, then into a quiet laugh, and then into big-bellied laughter. He clapped his hands and clapped Tyler on the shoulder before wiping his eyes and looking at Caroline. He raised his hands in defeat again, but this time reaching into his jacket to pull out a small white envelope.

The man whispered into Caroline's ear leaving a blank, surprised look on her face. Her malice seemed to disappear. Klaus left a chaste kiss on her cheek, turning to leave the still motionless room. As Klaus reached the door, Caroline's little voice called out to him.

"Thank you, Klaus," she spoke softly, almost dreamily. Another smile passed his face as he silently nodded and left.

"So, you gonna spill who that guy was?" Bonnie lightly slapped Caroline's arm as she and Elena walked arm-in-arm with the blonde birthday girl, sandwiching her; the restaurant had just closed and they were now walking outside, making their way to their cars. It was a bit past midnight, the full moon glittering with the stars in the sky.

"He was . . . " Caroline started, "An old . . .friend?" She laughed at herself, causing some amused and confused glances from her two other friends.

"Ah wait!" Elena stopped, pulling her arm away from the blonde. She opened up her one-arm satchel bag, digging through its contents. She pulled out a thin leather-bound notebook as well as an envelope. "Happy birthday Caroline," she sighed as she pulled her friends for a tight hug before handing her the gifts.

"Elena, this . . ." Caroline murmured softly as she opened up the book. In it were a collection of hand-written poems and simple drawings, all about how amazing and wonderful the blonde was. Caroline was tearing up, hand over her mouth. "You, my dear friend, are the summer sun that warms our hearts," she read aloud. She pulled Elena into another deep hug. "Thank you, Lena! Oh my god, I love it!"

Elena beamed at her friend's happiness. Even though Caroline had all she could ever want, she still appreciated Elena's humble gifts to her. Caroline then opened the envelope, pulling out three spa vouchers.

"That one was a little selfish of me," Elena giggled. "I just wanted to treat my BFF's for a day at the spa!" Caroline laughed, pulling her and Bonnie into an embrace. They all laughed, their giggling filling up the empty streets.

Bonnie's phone pulled them out of their warm little world. The girl pulled out the device, groaning after reading the screen. "Sorry guys, gotta go," she sighed, pushing the phone back into her pocket, and brushing her bangs from her forehead. "Grams kinda wants me home now." Bonnie waved goodbye, as Caroline and Elena waved back. The older Bennet was definitely paranoid, but definitely one of the most loving women they knew; Bonnie still lived with her to take care of the woman after her parent's separation.

As they watched the girl get into her car and drive off, Elena turned to face Caroline. "This doesn't mean you're off the hook about your mystery man, Care," she joked. Caroline giggled, nodding. They walked to Caroline's car; before she stepped in, the blonde looked at her.

"You sure you don't want a ride? It's so late Lena and . . . "

"Care," she held up a hand. "I live like five minutes away. You know I'll be fine. Now go home, birthday girl!" Elena laughed, pushing the blonde into her car. She waved goodbye watching Caroline driving off.

Elena adjusted the bag on her shoulder before walking back to her little old apartment, her chuck-taylors stepping silently on the glittery pavement under the moonlight. Her walk home from The Grill always took her past the entrance of the Mystic Falls graveyard. She had visited only last week, but somehow . . .

Something was pulling her into the graveyard. Despite any protest from her aching feet and tired eyes, she looked past the gate and into the dark, grassy expanse of tombstones and wilting flowers. Like in a trance, her jeaned legs made their way into the cemetery, going on auto-pilot as she quietly strode toward the two tombstones she'd visited a million times.

She set her bag down beside her as she snuggled between the two stones, resting her back on them. Elena didn't need to turn around to know what they said; the photographic image of the two had already been branded in her mind. The girl hugged her knees to her chest, laying her chin down on her legs. Her legs ached, her eyes ached, her insides ached.

I miss you.

A small tear dropped down her cheek before she could stop it, and her eyes shut gently as her tiredness finally caught up to her.

". . . Elena you were always stronger than me; I need you to be strong. I need you to understand that this is for the best and I need you, most of all, to just trust me. I don't know when . . . or if I will ever be back. But know that I love you always."

Elena clutched the letter to her chest, sobbing immobilizing her body as she limply curled up on their apartment's floor. She wailed like she did in the hospital room a year ago, after learning what had happened to their parents.

This was supposed to be a good day. He was supposed to be here! It was her first day of college dammit! It was her birthday!

It's only been a year since. . . Jeremy . . . why did you leave? How could you leave. . . ? Why am I alone? You promised . . . You promised . . . !

Suddenly her chest started heaving uncontrollably; hiccups racked her body, Elena struggling to gulp down any sort of breath. She started shaking, eyes wide with fear.

It's cold. It's cold. It's cold.

It hurts!

Her hands impulsively clutched her stomach. She curled into a pained fetal position. Elena could hear the door open and someone yelling her name, but it was all muffled and jumbled together.

Through her tears, she strained to read the final line of the letter.

"Promise me you'll stay in Mystic Falls."

"What do you mean 'change of location,' Klaus?" Damon spit out into the phone, huffing. His other hand clutched the greasy hair of his target, the other man's face bloody, bruised, almost beyond recognition. Damon's own knuckles were bloody, but that didn't seem to slow him down as he landed another punch and then finally a kick into the man's stomach before finally letting him go. The other man slumped to the ground lifelessly, along with the three other bodies on the pavement with him.

The group Klaus had sent him hunting for had been nothing but some snot-nosed teens trying to be cheeky and look for a fight. Damon stared at the bodies and scoffed. This was so not worth his goddamn fucking time.

The raven-haired man quickly made his way of the random dark alley, envelope of money safely in his jacket pocket.

"Let's just say I was a bit of a party crasher," the British man laughed, but Damon wasn't in the mood for his jokes. He quickly got back into his camaro parked on the side street nearby.

"Just tell me where the fuck you are," Damon bit out, slamming his car door shut.

"Edge of Mystic Falls cemetery, west entrance."

Damon hung up without another word, speeding through the empty town streets. He glanced at his dashboard, noticing how it had just turned midnight. Damon quickly found the western entrance to the small cemetery; his pace was rushed as he got out of the car to look for the British bastard, not wanting to waste any more of his time. Finally he spotted the man looming in the darkness, looking over a tombstone.

"I just want you to know that I'm not an errand boy," Damon gruffly said, pulling the envelope from his pocket. Klaus turned to look at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Meh, maybe it's just the darkness. He handed the envelope over; Klaus pulled the money out, portioning it, giving a share back to Damon before the raven-haired man pocketed it back in his jacket.

"There's a reason I called you here, Damon," Klaus spoke, his serious expression unnerving Damon. They had been friends almost their whole lives; the British man never looked that serious. Damon nodded, his own expression hardening. He crossed his arms, leaning on a nearby granite pillar; it seemed like forever before Klaus finally spoke.

"Kai made a move."

Damon's eyes widened, his arms dropping. His brows furrowed.

"I spoke to the Forbes, both Bill and Liz. Even little Caroline," Klaus smiled, but it quickly hardened back into a thin line. "They know the situation, , , but something isn't right, Damon."

The other man scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Nothing is right about that goddamn sociopath."

"There's something he wants," Klaus then pulled out his phone, searching for an image in his gallery. "Years of silence. . . but then a couple nights ago, this happened in Boston." Klaus gave the phone to Damon.

Ugh. . .Damon was no stranger to blood and gore, but Malachai Parker was always on some Ted Bundy shit. The photo features two mangled bodies, their insides split open, guts seemingly tied together as they spilled out. Bones here, cut off fingers there; on each victims cheek, a huge branded KP was scorched onto their cheeks. So the gross fuck still likes to do that.

"Our guys on the inside have somehow managed to get this off the FBI's radar for now," Klaus took back his phone, sliding it into his overcoat's pocket. "This was a message, Damon." He paused, expecting a reply.

Damon raised an eyebrow, still processing the British man's words. "This could just be another random whim," Damon asserted.

"You know Kai, Damon, we both do. Trust me, I hope to god you're right," Klaus paused again, his eyes saddened and torn. "But you and I both know that can't be true." They both looked at each other in silence for a few moments, letting the unspoken words of understanding travel between them.

"So," Damon broke the silence, flexing his hands and straightening his leather jacket.. "When do we get back to New York?"

Klaus smiled. There's the man he's been looking for.

"There's a flight set up in Norfolk for Sunday at five in the evening." Damon nodded, watching his friend's back as he left the graveyard. They never bothered to say goodbye in their meetings like this; it was too final, too conclusive. Before he left the view, Klaus stopped at the entrance of the cemetery. Turning around, Damon caught the man's smile.

They shared a paused moment of silent understanding.

"Bello riaverti indietro, Capo."

Klaus' voice was nervous but trying; the man then quickly disappeared onto the streets. Damon cracked a smile at his friend's poor pronunciation and heavy accent.

Then he was alone in the darkness of the cemetery. He straightened his jacket, making a move toward the street, but then something metal hit the back of his knees and his vision was enveloped by darkness and the taste of his own blood filled his mouth.

"Damon, corri e non guardare mai indietro!"

Gunshots rained over his head, as his little 10-year-old body struggled to carry the his little 3 year old baby brother in his arms. He refused to look back. He couldn't. He couldn't watch the life leave his mother's eyes.

His chest heaved and his legs ached with the pain of running so hard. He had to keep his brother safe; he had to protect his family no matter the cost.

The little raven-haired boy tripped, but forced himself to fall on his back to keep little baby Stefan safe.

He couldn't take it anymore.

I'm scared . . . !

Damon could only curl up with his little brother in his arms, praying the bullet-shells would stop raining soon.

I promise to protect you Stefan, no matter what.

Oh fuck this hurts. . . Those were the first thoughts that ran through Damon's head as he struggled to open his eyes. Light was pouring in through the windows, with framed pictures of strangers littering the walls. He was wrapped up under some thick comforter and laying on a couch in some living room. . .

Last night. . . those punks from earlier came back with some more brats and metal bats. Fuckers. Damon winced at his pain. Pulling back the covers, he noticed his shirt was off; he was wrapped with bandages, some ointment for his wounds looking fresh. Looking around, he saw his black shirt neatly folded on the coffee table beside him, his leather jacket and shoes laying on and beside the small couch respectively.

Regaining more of his senses, he slowly sat up, wincing; taking in a more clear picture of the room, he saw it was simple. A small, outdated cube TV, some potted plants here and there . . .but nothing extravagant. Suddenly, the smell of something good wafted under his nose.

GrowWWL

Oh right, he hadn't eaten at all last night.

He sluggishly pulled himself under the covers and off the couch, easily finding his way through the small apartment to stand in the doorway of the kitchen.

Damon's breath hitched.

Oh mio dio.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossing, drinking the image of her in.

Perfect olive skinned legs gently swayed as a sweet humming filled the kitchen. A messy bun of mahogany hair lay simply above the nape of her neck. With her back to him, he could see the skin of the nape of her neck poking through. A tight long-sleeved purple shirt fit perfectly around her curves, her pajama shorts cupping her ass beautifully.

As she hummed and swayed with her back toward him, he wondered the last time he had ever been this turned on just with someone's back. Someone's clothed back.

Holy shit, Salvatore, get a grip.

On the kitchen counter, a plate with toast and bacon was prepared. Coffee was brewing in a pot in the corner. As she continued to hum, Damon started to recognize the song. Then, a soft, small voice began to sing the words.

"The autumn leaves . . . fall by my window," the girl continued to stir the pan. "The autumn leaves . . . of red and gold."

The voice of the girl was so gentle, it made him want to cry. It was like the most gentle caress against his ears.

"Autumn leaves. . ." the words unconsciously spilled out of his mouth. The startled girl whirled around to face him, and he was left breathless at the sight of her.

Strands of mahogany hair framed her perfect oval face, soft pink lips parted slightly in surprise; but those eyes. Big, deep chocolate brown doe eyes lined with long black lashes. Her cheeks were flushed, obviously embarrassed, but Damon didn't give her the courtesy of averting his gaze. The usually quick-tongued man was silent, entirely transfixed by the stunning woman before him.

"U-uh," the girl quickly turned off the stove and began to shove the eggs onto the pan onto his plate. "I, uh,I made breakfast . . . if you're hungry." She didn't wait for a reply as she took his plate and set it on the small coffee table by the couch. Damon went back to sit down there, as he watched as the girl went back and forth to get him utensils and a cup of coffee. When she finally settled on the simple armchair across the table, he began to eat; it was simple but delicious.

She watched him eat, making no effort to at least pretend to read a magazine or something; Damon smirked.

"You're staring you know," Damon chuckled, shoveling another bite of eggs into his mouth. The girl flushed again. Damn, she's cute.

"S-sorry, I, um. . ." she sputtered, but quickly composed herself. "I'm Elena." She offered her hand to him, and he silently laughed at the formal introduction.

"Damon," he shook her small hand, noticing how warm she was and how perfect their hands felt against each other. Elena must've felt something too; she quickly retracted her hand, another flush across her face. The man wasn't usually into the fumbling, innocent type . . . but something about her was so inexplicably attractive.

"Last night at the graveyard, I saw you getting pummeled and . . . when they finally got off you, you were so," she winced at the memory of Damon's beaten state. ". . .Hurt. I tried taking you to the hospital, but you kept mumbling that you 'couldn't' go there, so I just brought you here. . ." she motioned with her hand, ". . . my apartment. I just fixed you up with some first aid I had on hand."

"Thanks for that, by the way," Damon replied, eating the last bit of toast and bacon. "Thanks for fixing me up." He raised an eyebrow, wearing a downright dirty look in his eyes.

Maybe I could get something good out of this little town after all.

Elena obviously felt it; her breath caught in her throat and the room's air seemed to thicken with tension. Damon polished the last bit of his coffee before reaching over and grabbing Elena's hand raising it to almost touch his lips; with a husky voice, he whispered over her skin, eyes raised to look at her "How could I ever repay you, Elena?"

Damon wore a gratified grin as the girl blushed another deep shade of crimson, but was immediately irked when she pulled her hand away and stood up. The girl fumbled with straightening out her clothes and hair, avoiding to look at the man at all costs; she then walked briskly back into the kitchen.

"Please, get dressed!" she called out from the kitchen. Damon could still hear her nervousness.

A very confused and unsatisfied dark-haired man was left on her couch, but he resigned to follow instructions from the gorgeous woman. He quickly wore his clothes and shoes; he checked his jacket for his money, happy that all of it seemed to be entirely untouched. Damon was pleasantly surprised.

The woman reappeared in the living room, a satchel over her shoulder. She held a brown paper lunch bag, holding it out for Damon to take it. He took it quizzically, opening it to find his phone, a PBJ sandwich, as well as thirty dollars. He stood from the couch, glancing down at Elena with even more confusion.

Wait, she didn't think he was a-

"I know it must be really hard out there," she started, patting his shoulder sympathetically, "That's all the cash on me right now, and I don't know I know it's nothing spectacular but sandwiches are always good for the road, you know?" She smiled, but Damon was almost about to cry and laugh at the same time from the spectacularly stupid situation he found himself in.

Wow, Salvatore. She thinks you're some hobo. So sexy!

Before he could protest, she was already shoving him gently through her door.

"I hate to kick you out like this, but I have to get to work soon," she said from the doorway as he stepped outside. "I put my number on the sandwich bag; don't hesitate to call if you ever need anything, okay?" And with that, she closed the door in his face.

Damon was dumbfounded to say the least. With that paper lunch bag still in his hands, he felt like some little kid forced to get out and go to school or something. He pulled out his phone, checking the date and time; Saturday 12:43 pm.

I can't exactly leave with her with that image of me, right?

Translation(s):

"Bello riaverti indietro, Capo" - "Nice to get you back, Boss."

"Oh mio Dio." - Oh my god.

"Damon, corri e non guardare mai indietro!" - "Damon, run and never look back!"

And that's the first chapter! I know it's not very exciting, but I tried my best to do some exposition with some little hints of excitement here and there; trust me, things WILL eventually heat up!

Please: REVIEW! I really want to know what y'all think, and I would appreciate any sort of feedback/criticism to help me get better!