A/N: Hey all! Here is the first official chapter of "You Are My Salvation." Again, I'm definitely looking for feedback. I want to see what you, as readers, want to see develop. I'm hoping that I get my ideas across clearly! Thanks for sticking with me!

Damon.

I sat beside myself staring into the flames in my fireplace as they danced along to a rhythm of their own. My only company was my glass of bourbon in my right hand, and a journal in my left, and a semi-dead body of some anonymous woman at my bedside with blood trickling out of her neck. It was a sloppy feed that I won't deny, she was actually decent after she stopped all of her writhing and crying and moaning. A part of me felt remorse for my actions, but the other part of me, the demonic part of me NEEDED the blood for survival. We had just moved back to this godforsaken town recently, and I was still awaiting some form of entertainment. I've lasted over 100 years finding ways to entertain myself and this situation was no different.

Salem was home. And they always say that 'home is where the heart is,' I'd be more inclined to believe that if I was gifted with such a thing as a heart. The last time we were here was about four or so years ago, and needless to say, nothing much has changed for a town as small as this. The locals were still the same nosy little bastards. Here, they were accepting the existence of vampires… but with anything else, there was a division: Those who accepted vampires and walked alongside us, and those who were anti-vampire and ready to spike our liquid supply with gallons of Holy Water, and those who were so desperate to be like us- they were the idiots that didn't know what they were getting themselves into.

Though this town was considered home to myself and my family, coming back I could feel this slight shift in the air.

Power.

It sent chills through my otherwise dead veins. The last time I felt such a thrill was when we were here last. With one woman who shook me to the core. I was a man possessed when it came to the simple thought of her. My incisors itched, my blood coursed through my veins, so much so that other areas of my body were more… alert than usual. I could remember her scent alone- woody with a light vanilla undertone and pure sweetness.

My mouth watered.

I still thought about her whenever I was with other women. Case in point, the limp body of my first conquest in Salem. I couldn't kill her no-no, because that magical backlash would be surging through my family for 24 blood- filled hours and the feeling of being without control and the psychological impact that would all but leave us catatonic for a week, didn't sound like a good idea.

Thank you, Hecate. And I say that as the most sarcastic way possible.

I looked over at the body of… Tiffany? Harmony? Alicia? Yes, Alicia, pronounced: Uh-lee-cee-uh, as she was so intent on getting me to memorize something as trivial as a name. Her name had nothing on that of the one woman that turned my world upside down and inside out a few lifetimes over.

Bonnie.

I wondered if she'd still lived in that spacious apartment of hers paid for with daddy's money. That was one thing that she and I had in common, amongst other things… Daddy issues. From what I remember, her father's dickish ways rivaled Giuseppe's, and she was so determined to be nothing like him. I hope she had stuck to her guns, even if my opinion wasn't relevant to her. The whirlwind Grease, Summer Lovin' -like tryst that we had, was short lived- in terms of vampiric time, and probably wishing she could murder me in order to spit on my grave.

The night I bedded her was perfection. The aftermath soon to follow… I couldn't really imagine that it was good, seeing as I had to leave the next morning and chase a lead that would secure my salvation. Her figure is forever imprinted in my mind. I remember simply looking at her- her toffee skin shining in the moonlight, her chocolate hair was like a halo on her pillow top-albeit a messy halo, and her blood stained my mouth. As she laid there, I could see every curve of her body outlined through the thin sheet that adorned her body. Her mouth was slightly opened and I could hear the small sighs escape her mouth. It was a… strange feeling leaving her. A feeling that I have never experienced before with any other conquests. I almost felt ashamed.

I needed to get out of there. The next morning I was on the next flight to Rome. It felt as though there was an ice cold grip around my heart once I took off and found that she hadn't attempted to even contact me.

Radio silence.

This went on for a week or so, of me religiously checking my phone in order to see if I had missed a call or a text from her. I left HER, so why was the lack of contact bothering me so? I was a man who stood tall at 6'2 with a lean muscular frame. The humans compared my likeness to that of a God. If I were the type to be bashful, I would have blushed… had I a pulse. My skin was of an olive shade, almost as if the Gods themselves, created me from the very fruit. The hair on my head was wavy and as black as the night while the color of my eyes were a stark contrast from my skin and hair. Pools of blue that were almost a combination of every shade of blue ever imagined. The pureness was hypnotic. And above my left eye on the brow there was a scar- a remnant from an earlier point in my life.

I could have any woman that I so choose… so why was this situation different? Perhaps she was different…

Was she my obsession? Quite I curious? Definitely. All I knew was that I wanted her to be mine. I don't believe in love in the slightest, but I did believe in lust, and that was never bad. I lusted for violence, blood, and women; there was no such thing as 'love.' Hecate made sure of that. If there was so much pain in a 'relationship' why does one constantly have it on the line, no? Humanity was something that I never wanted to experience again. I didn't have to worry about anyone else except Me, Myself, and I. Selfish? I know, and I can't seem to bring myself to care.

And so our story begins…

I had just finished re-reading the same story for the millionth time since I've been alive. This book was my father's journal that explained why I am the way I am. A vampire. A demon who's left in the dark with no chance of ever indulging in the sunlight due to a curse that befell them centuries ago. My bastard of a father created me. I enjoyed my vampirism, there was no doubt about it, but each time I read the story, I began to hate my existence more and more. Part of me wanted to walk into the sunlight, or ram my heart through with a sharpened stake.

Throwing the book away from me, I huffed and pulled out a cigarette in order to ease my raging emotions. I've been sentenced to damnation. Not only was the journal infuriating me, it was the dreams or nightmares that I've been having.

My dreams had gotten worse since moving back to Salem.

I have been up every day at the same time dreaming of the same woman for years. I've seen portions of her reflected in windows, puddles of water or something as random as haunted every crevice of my mind. She was part of a mystery that I needed to solve. She wasn't someone that I would necessarily think of turning and spending eternity with, but there was something about her. Recently, my dreams have become clearer. Prior to now, she was different. The memory would fade away, and being back in Salem had me anxious… and I was not one to be nervous. Shaking my head, I brought myself out of my reverie and back to the present. I didn't even notice the door opening.

Stefan.

My brother. Not by blood, of course, he was my brother by the dynasty that bound us together. That's right, a dynasty. A vampiric version of a monarchy. A very low-key, exclusive clan known as Mortem, meaning death. I find the name ironic seeing as we're vampires, the living dead. Witch covens have referred to us by those names since 1800. The Salvatore were deadly. Both Witch Covens and Hunters have been our enemies since the beginning of the vampiric line. Believe me, they have split their fair share of blood over the years as well, but they were holier than thou hypocrites who thought their purposes outweighed ours. This war between the beings began long before any of us turned, my father had never gone into detail about what actually happened but it was obvious that it was really bad seeing as we're still in this war a hundred something years later. I, on the other hand, had a reason to hate them.

In 1880, we fled from England. We found out that the witch family, the Devereaux sent some of their most experienced shamans after us, and killed our family. That coven killed my mother. We wanted revenge, and we got it. My father had strolled into their manor with me in tow, and slaughtered half of their family. I, being the pig-headed ass that I was, wanted more than mere stand-ins. I wanted to send a message and it looked like the heavens were on my side that night.

Let's just infer that they no longer have a home or family any longer.

Yes, vampires do exist, only we don't have annoying vampire traits that teen girls find entertaining this day in age. Sparking, for instance. For us they'd have to create a sunblock with SPF 1500. We were humans that have gotten bitten by other vampires, then died while demons overtook our bodies and expelled our souls. We then woke up with a crazed bloodlust that was beyond our control. Contrary to popular belief, we do have 'demonic' faces. Thanks to the witches that cursed us. Whether it be when we feed, fuck, or fight. Unlike the very popularized vampires today, we have fangs and super everything.

My father, Giuseppe, the head of our clan and one of the scariest, high powered three original families, hates me. His only blood heir, and he despises me. He can't stand the sight of me. Not that I care, no. I hate him because he's the reason I'm like this. I would've happily died right alongside my mother, but he had to save me from those damned Malachi. They enlisted the help of witches and I was just as cursed as the lot of them. Whenever I consumed blood I would carry on like any other vampire, but because of the eleven founding witch families, I have an unfortunate backlash of all of the victims that I have drained by the end of the month. At the end of the month I feel every one of my victim's fear and my cravings grow to inane standards and I go crazy. Thanks to them and my father that pissed them off. I am damned for the rest of eternity.

Enter Stefan.

We found my 'brother,' a newborn vampire, on the streets of Old Virginia in 1900. The poor little twit had been living-or- "unliving" on sewer rats and pigeons. Not one of his most shining moments, I might add. We took him in and taught him to survive as a REAL vampire. Well, we tried. Over the years of teaching, the stubborn boy still wanted to resist his true nature. The only reason he's not living on the Bambis and Thumpers of the forest like some, is because he chose to live off of underground blood stores. When I say 'underground' I do mean underground. The blood stores are in the catacombs in every cemetery across the United States (and some in Europe).

See me, I have to get my blood fresh and straight from the tap of some willing or unwilling bystanders due to the fact that I didn't want my father thinking that I am a sad waste of space. I had to prove to him that I was just as calculating and sinister as he was. In doing so, that if he were to ever meet the pointy end of a stake, I would become his successor, so I would have to be more ruthless than the average vampire. Unlike my brother, I've embraced my true demonic nature and threw a party celebrating what I am. I am a vicious, animalistic, murdering bastard, and that should've been enough for equally mass murdering father.

But it wasn't. I wasn't. I still had bits and pieces of my soul still consuming me little by little. With my kills I've discovered that I have no hesitation before striking the final blow. I felt nothing when I killed people at my hands. Their deaths were nothing… just a means to an end. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much pain and suffering I caused, it was never enough for Giuseppe he still preferred Stefan. Stefan was the favorite and I could never compete despite being his bloodborne son, after a while I stopped vying for my father's approval.

We pulled up to our new home that we would be staying in before suspicions arise. We weren't those stupid vampires who openly exposed themselves to the world, we kept a low profile. Our business was our own and not that of humans, demons, or witches. It was ours and ours alone. The tinted windows of our stretch limousine blocked the rays of the sun, which protected us from being burnt to a crisp. Once parked, our compelled driver stepped out of his seat and walked to Giuseppe's door and opened it. James, the driver, held a black umbrella over his head and Ambrose got out of the car without saying a word to either Niko or me. He had business to take care of, and by business it meant that he had someone to kill. We were in search of the last daughter in order to serve her up to Hades on a silver platter.

Other servants and butlers walked to our side and held out umbrellas identical to the one Giuseppe had, and led us to the double front door and out of harm's way. Stefan and I looked around the foyer of our new English-styled homes in awe. I was enamored by the enormousness of the property, the drive seemed to last forever. As I came to, clear ahead of me stood the grand Manor.

It was massive, obviously, Giuseppe didn't want it to seem that he couldn't afford anything. Over the years, Giuseppee had special ways of obtaining money and riches, so in essence we were set for life. The manor had white tiled floors with a giant, gold chandelier hanging above us. The stairs in front of us were coated in velvet with a gold trim. Our manor had two massive levels and I couldn't wait to explore. It was old and didn't feel anything like home. Hell, I don't even remember how home felt anymore. It's been a hundred years too long.

After an hour of exploring, I was bored. I was trapped in this house for another forty-five minutes before the sun set completely. I was getting restless already and leaving this house was definitely my top priority, even if that meant exploring the most boring town in America. Salem, Virginia. Ugh, the name of this town almost made me want to vomit. But in all fairness, the Salem Massacre did send delightful chills up my spine. I needed to get out before I would do something that I would regret.

We've been in the house for a little over an hour and I've already claimed my room. It was the largest in the house, second only to my father's because he was the leader and therefore deserved the biggest room. Stefan got the short end of the stick, his room was across the hall from Giuseppe's, whereas mine was down the hall from the both of them.

We hadn't seen much of Giuseppe since we'd arrived and I wanted to keep it that way. If we were out of his way, then we wouldn't give him a reason to kill us on the spot. That's how evil Giuseppe was. He could kill us and not even blink.

Laying on my California King bed in my new room, I stretched and put one of my arms behind my head and the other stretched out to hold my glass of bourbon. For a moment, I let sleep consume me and I was brought back to my dream woman who I was harboring in each and every thought. My claim. My equal. My wife… who just so happened to reside in this very area. Gee, imagine my surprise when Giuseppe told us that we were to move back to this podunk little town.

My imaginary world was destroyed by a disruption in the real world. Sighing, I peeked one eye open and groaned when I saw Stefan's dark eyes glaring at me. I growled, what did he want now? He wasn't the brooding vampire that everyone thought. He was my height, a little more muscular than I, with pale skin and hair as golden as the sun and eyes as green as olives, and a caveman size forehead. Stefan was misleading- his angelic features making women easily drawn to him. We weren't related whatsoever but for the circumstances that we were under our looks came in handy. Humans saw what they wanted.

Shaking my head, I brought myself out of my fantasy world and back to the present. Stefan was giving me one of those concerned brotherly stares that I've learned to hate throughout the years.

"What thebloody Hell are you looking at?" I sneered with my venom lacing my words.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Just dandy," I retorted before I downed my alcoholic beverage that I managed to scrounge up. Luckily for us vampires, we have a high tolerance for alcohol, we can't get drunk unless we REALLY wanted to, which brings me here.

Stefan's bottomless eyes showed a flicker of anger then settled on something akin to sympathy. When is he going to realize that there is no sympathy for the devil? I looked back at him and saw something else shining in the depths. Pity? He was pitying me? I don't need anyone's pity.

I rolled my eyes, "What?"

"The sun's down." he said. The only thing that separated Stefan and myself apart was the fact that he was a prim and proper, where I was the sarcastic asshole. If anyone asked, we'd always say that we were raised separately. No big deal.

"Your point?"

"Sarcasm gets you nowhere, brother." Stefan said as he sat across from me in a plush leather chair.

"You're right, it gets me everywhere," I smirked as I looked at his attire. He adorned a long-sleeve light blue button up shirt and black jeans. "Where are you going?"

"Funny, you actually seem to care."

"Let's pretend I do."

"You want to leave this hellhole, I want to leave this hellhole. This is home, for lack of a better term, is lifeless. Let's see how things have changed. Plus, a guy can get bored sitting around his stately manor for hours on end." Stefan said with a double meaning under his words. This captured my attention.

"I asked, 'where are you going?' I didn't want a story."

"Funny." he scoffed as he took a swig of my bourbon, "I'm bored, and I know you're bored, so let's get a move on."

I paused.

Then I smirked.

"There's a girl, isn't there?" Stefan froze.

"What's it to you?" Ah… so there was a girl. This just got semi interesting.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's get a move on." I clapped my hands together. Stefan, simply rolled his eyes as I began removing my shirt in order to change into something a little more comfortable. I saw my brother standing in my doorway.

"You know, if you're just going to stand there, you might as well tip me, I don't do free shows."

"Dick."

"Give me 10 and you'll see that too." I said, teasingly, but somewhat seriously, because I was not ashamed of what the Gods blessed me with. It seemed to have done the trick, as my brother was no longer in sight.

While I was getting dressed, I felt something. A power. It was like a punch to my gut. I would say that it felt like I lost my breath, if I had any. I was hungry and nothing was going to stop me from feeding from a fresh body tonight. Giuseppe said that we had to keep our feedings low key, so we were going to have to get it from Stefan's place and I was sick of it. That was the loophole. We didn't need to kill anything, so by the end of the month, we'd be slightly weakened because of the lack of fresh blood, but we didn't have to worry about a whole night of pain trapped inside of our minds. Tonight, tonight I needed something fresh. So what if I'd pay for feeding off humans at the end of the month? I was hungry.

In a flash, I was dressed to impress and straddling my motorcycle with a cigarette in my mouth. Stefan came out seconds later with a smirk on his face and sipping my alcoholic beverage.

As we attempted to strut out of our English manor, we ran into some unwanted help. Some of Giuseppe's lackeys were hanging around like brain-dead chimps and it just made me scoff. They were just puppets with a blind loyalty to a man that can't stand them. That's a boss for you. Before heading out the door, I gave myself the once over and put everything into place. If we were going to live here, tonight would have to be a coming out party of sorts. I had to look even better than I usually did, if I wanted to keep a good reputation. Tonight I wore a jet black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows, a pair of dark blue jeans, and to complete my outfit, a pair of boots and my signature leather jacket. Why yes, I did look good. As I did so one of the lackeys came up to me and I rolled my eyes, they were about to read me the riot act like I was a teenager.

"Damon, where are you going?"

"Out." I replied vaguely.

"Try not to kill anyone." said the imp.

"Can't make promises that I don't intend to keep. I'm actually out. Remember what that means? It usually entails, music, booze and scantily clad women. That's right, you don't remember any of that, that's why there's dust on your pecker."

"Funny. Don't do takeout this time. Last time you did, you got blood all over the sofas."

I rolled my eyes for what seemed like the millionth time today. "Giuseppe put you up to this, didn't he?"

"Just don't do it."

"I'll do whatever the hell I want. Got me?" I pulled my cigarette from the pocket of my recently adorned leather jacket and placed it in my mouth. THC was addictive, if I were human, then I would've gotten lung cancer by now. Blowing the smoke into his face, smirked and walked out of the room and out to the garage. The garage held every kind of expensive car there was. Strutting over, I went to my classic Ducati.

The feel of a motorcycle made me feel more alive than what I was. The adrenaline rush, the sense of life ending danger, gave me a sense of freedom. The bike attracted women almost as much as me. I didn't exactly know the reason why I got it-lie- I got it because the woman of my dreams said that she found motorcycles invigorating. I knew she didn't exist but I was compelled to get it in order to make me feel closer to her. Every time I reached out to her in my dreams she would disappear as soon as my hands came in contact with her skin. I needed to get her out of my mind and feeding was the way to do it. Whatever would happen between us, would not be construed as an epic love story. If I ever met this woman there would be a life of bloodshed and pain and all the horrors you could ever imagine. Outside, I found Stefan leaning against his motorcycle with his arms crossed and my drink in hand.

"You really shouldn't be drinking and driving." I mocked.

"You know, it's a crime to be so arrogant."

"And it's also a crime to look this good, so slap the handcuffs on my wrists and take me to jail." I quipped back, holding my wrists out to him, dramatically.

"Don't tempt me." Stefan said as he stalked out.

"What do you have in mind?" I said with a smirk of my own. He just shook his head at me and straddled his own bike. Plucking the remnants of my cigarette, I tossed it on the ground and stepped on it, putting it out. We were going to have fun tonight. Look out Salem, Virginia, we were on the prowl.

Revving my engine, I made my way into the dark of the night with my cigarette firmly in place in my mouth.

Tonight we were going to go out. Tonight we were going to go out and party and feed. Welcome to our world, Salem.

xXxXx

A/N: So... what did you guys think? Again, this is nothing like TVD, except for the characters. Everything else is all from my noggin! Please continue to R&R (read and review)! Xoxo