Mystic Falls, VA Late January 2010

Damon left and collected his car from the house. He went to find the only person he could think of for advice for what he needed, who also wouldn't ask unnecessary questions. Pearl's daughter, Anna. She was skulking around Elena's brother and the two of them were too adorable for words.

Luckily he caught her outside the school, about to embark on a new life of her own. Calling her over, he told her what he needed, noticing for the first time she was close to the same size as Abigail. Still slightly taller, she would do for a shopping partner.

While Anna looked curious, she shrugged it off and took him to the mall. Passing by the offerings of stores with names that caused him to cringe, as she was leading him from store to store, a dress finally caught his eye. It was shorter than she'd ever worn, and it showed more of her back and shoulders than he'd ever really seen her show, but it was THE dress.

"Who's this for?" She asked, as he asked her to choose it in a size closest to hers. "I'm not the same size as Katherine and Elena, so who's the mystery woman?"

As he moved to another store, contemplating heavily on the finer points of Victoria's Secret, and getting sidetracked by need for Abigail for a moment he pushed past. Shoes, he thought, I'll focus on shoes and send Anna for her lingerie.

"Never you mind," he answered finally, gesturing to the vivid pink and black storefront that would be his undoing. "Could you, please, pick out a few pairs of panties. Same size as the dress." He was walking away, but heard her rebuttal.

"Even you know that's not how they're sized, Damon." He chuckled until she left him speechless with the next question. "Do you have mystery woman's bra size, or do I skip those?"

His mouth went dry. The dress, carefully wrapped in the bag he held was strapless and had a defined bodice. Her breasts had always been under so many layers, but would be on perfect display. Close and tempting. He shook his head and answered, knowing she could hear him, "No, but pick up a jacket, that size you can guess."

She laughed behind his back. Whomever the mystery woman was and she had a fair idea, she had Damon Salvatore tied in knots.

The shoe store was overflowing with options. Would Abigail want the comfort of a canvas sneaker or the familiarity of low cut booties? He smiled wistfully at a pair of heels he'd kill to see her wear, but put those on hold for now. He wasn't worried about sizing her shoes, he'd held her feet in his hands enough to know the exact size and shape. Hazard of dancing at too many parties, and the dresses that made reaching down so difficult.

Unable to choose, Damon picked both and then tossed in a pair of dress flats for good measure. Better to allow her some choice, he thought, remembering her irritation with Emily's choices.

Doubling back to meet Anna, he found her holding three bags. Quirking an eyebrow, at her abundance of bags, she shook her head. Men.

"One bag," she said, holding up the smallest, "has the articles you requested. This one, she held up a slightly larger bag, has things that a woman would like to have access to on her vanity." She gave it a shake and he could hear liquid sloshing inside. "I grabbed some socks, hose, brush, comb, perfume." She showed the larger bag and he already knew it held the jackets. Nodding his understanding, they walked back to his car.

Anna really was curious if she was correct about the identity of the mystery woman. As he drove her back to the school, she contemplated his temperament.

"It's Abigail Morgan, isn't it?" She blurted, watching his profile and noticing the clench of his jaw. "I won't tell anyone, Damon, I just thought it might be her."

A curt nod was all the confirmation she received. Abigail Morgan had been an enigma to her when they'd arrived in Mystic Falls in the 1860s. Her bearing, looking so regal, but she was filled with warmth and acceptance. She recalled seeing her walk through town, shopping, yet stopping to speak to not only those of her own station, but to slaves and servants running errands. Anna watched in awe when this young woman spoke to field hands and the mayor in the same warm and open matter. She had been so different from the others.

"I hope she likes what we chose," Anna offered as he stopped to let her out.

"Thank you," he offered, and she knew it covered everything.

Nodding she joined her fellow classmates. She'd need to compel her skipping, but it was worth it. Seeing Damon Salvatore go breathless at the mere mention of bras would carry her though days of ill humor.

MORGAN HOUSE

"Are you quiet certain this constitutes as a dress in the present?" Abigail's voice, coming from behind a set of changing screens made him smile. "There seems to be quite a bit missing."

"It's all there, Abi." He assured her, fighting the urge to duck behind and see the finished vision for himself.

He heard a loud sigh, and then felt his mouth go dry again when she asked, "And the, did you call them panties? Are you sure I'm meant to wear just one at a time?"

The thought of her in whatever panties Anna had chosen was making him distracted. Groaning with the same longing, he begged her to come out, assuring her one pair was more than enough.

"Fine," she said with petulance. "But if I'm run out of town for being shameless, it's on your head."

She moved and was in full view. The breath knocked from his lungs. The dress was perfect. Strapless, her breasts were pushed up with the tightness of the bodice. Torturing him with the view it presented. A pinched waist, the knee length skirt flared. Her legs, always a mystery because even her nightgowns had been floor length, were surprisingly toned. Bare feet and hair swinging loose to her hips, Abigail Morgan was heartstopping. Thank God he was already dead.

"Well?" She asked, looking completely unsure. "It's disgraceful, isn't it?"

He shook his head to clear it and answer her. "The ONLY disgrace is having to wait this long to see you in it." His voice sounded choked, which he was. Choked with need. Every slice of skin left uncovered beckoned to be tasted. And he was aching to accept. "If you'd prefer, in the larger bag are some jackets. They'll offer more cover." Part of him wished against her taking the offer, another thought his sanity required it.

She nodded taking the larger bag off the chest sitting at the foot of her bed. She pulled out the two jackets. One was fitted leather, the other looser denim. Turning to him with furrowed brow, she held them up for his inspection. "It would appear that I am at the mercy of your superior knowledge of the styles of this time." She looked adorable in her confusion and he wanted to help.

"The leather," he replied, it was more fitted, but it would set the dress off perfectly. Anna had chosen a light grey color and when Abi set the denim down to pull on her preference, he stopped her. "Allow me?" Moving the heavy length of her hair to lay over her left shoulder, he removed the tag from the back of her dress first. "Let's make sure you look perfect, shall we?" He saw the goosebumps on her skin and heard her pulse speed up. Running the fingertips of his right hand slowly up her arm and across her shoulder, he felt her skin flush with warmth. "I love this dress on you, Abigail." His voice was husky with need. "I love it because it shows this," his fingertips traced up her neck, then down the part of her spine left uncovered. He heard her swallow. "Because if it shows it, then I can taste it." Leaning forward he let his lips follow the path from where her shoulder met her neck, flicking his tongue gently as he passed her pulse point and smiling at her gasp. "I love the taste of you, Abigail Morgan." His lips ran down the back of her neck and he felt more gooseflesh, more heat. Kissing lightly, he ran his tongue down the bumps of her spine and felt her knees shake, so he moved his left arm around to hold her up. "Should I stop, Abi?" He needed her to stop him, with words, because he wanted her so badly his body felt like fire.

Abigail swallowed again. Did she want him to stop? NEVER! But should they stop? Yes, unfortunately. She needed to fulfill a promise she made to her papa and while the image of Damon taking everything he promised to take was distracting and more than welcome-she needed to focus.

"We should probably pause this," she said, need heavy in her tone. "Not forever, but I do need to leave the house. I have an errand to run."

It worked, breaking the spell enough for him to remove the jacket's tags and help her into it. She turned and pulled his head down for a kiss that held the promise of more. Just not right now.

Choosing her shoes, the canvas sneakers that he stepped back to allow her to put on herself. He didn't trust himself to touch her bare legs. Stopping may prove impossible. He smiled as she stood before him in her new outfit asking his opinion.

"Perfect, of course." He said. "Your hair-"

Her eyes widened in fear of what he might suggest for her hair. She fought the urge to clutch it to her.

"Do you need help putting it up?" He asked, seeing her fear. "I wouldn't dare suggest any changes, Abi. I just wanted to know if you had ever put it up or styled it yourself before?"

Ah yes, that would be an issue. She'd always had Sallie to brush and arrange it for her. Seeing him pick up another bag, she watched him pull out a brush, comb, and some types of pins and clips. She took the brush from him and ran it through her curls, happy to find no tangles. He handed her something stretchy and circular. Quirking her eyebrow, he smiled and took the brush from her.

"I'm no lady's maid, but I think I can manage a ponytail." Damon said, using the brush to pull her hair into a smooth clutch high on the crown of her head. Making sure her hair was out of her face, he stretched the band and used it to wrap around the clutch. Even pulled high, her hair was still midway down her back.

"There," he said, and pulled her to the full length mirror in the corner. He stood behind her as she studied herself. "You look like a modern young woman, Abi."

Abigail had to admit, once she got over the scandalous length and the exposure of her new dress, with the jacket and the comfortable shoes, she did look nice. Her hair, did he call this style a ponytail? Was nice too. Feeling better about the complete picture, she returned his smile.

"Ready to venture outside?" He asked, almost wishing she'd say no, so he could keep her to himself longer.

She nodded and turned to him. Stepping closer, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face against his chest. His arms returned her embrace automatically. Kissing the top of her head, he waited her to be fully ready. She said she had an errance, and he had a goal as her guide to Mystic Falls 2010- help her in any way she needed.

She pulled back and smiled up at him. "Let's go."

And Damon, taking her hand in his, was determined to keep his goal's aim on track.