Hey everyone! So this is an AU story I was playing around with. It's loosely based on a dream I had after rewatching Vampire Diaries with my friend. I don't really know where the story is going so far, or if I'll even continue it. I'd love to hear from you all about whether or not I should continue, so be sure to R&R!

The night was winding down. Stefan and Damon had put together an entire birthday dinner for me. We had eaten, played games, and Damon even let me have some of his Bourbon. I had plucked the candles proudly displaying 24 off of the cake they had made me and tucked them into my pocket. We had found our way into the living room after I had finished up the dishes and now we were spread around, just talking. Perhaps it had been the bourbon, or maybe just the sentimentality of them putting together something so special for me but I was in rare form. I had brought up my parents and was regaling the boys about the wonder of my story.

"It's kind of beautiful, in a dark way. My father loved my mother so much he couldn't bear the thought of having to lose her. But he knew it would only be a matter of time before they all came for her," I explained.

Damon scoffed but made no other indication that he was going to join the conversation. Stefan and I sat on the couch with the fire warming our skin. My legs were draped casually over Stefan's lap and his hand moved lazily up and down my shin. Damon was perched in the leather chair further away from the fire with a book cradled in his lap. After his intrusive noise he turned a page and proceeded to pretend to read. I doubted he was actually absorbing even a single word on the page. I rolled my eyes at him and looked back at Stefan. His brows were furrowed and he shook his head slightly.

"I just don't understand how that equates to having a child that you use as a pawn in the world's most dangerous game of chess," Stefan mused.

Another scoff from the peanut gallery had Stefan and I both glaring at Damon.

"Isn't that what we are?" Damon said, still looking at his book.

"Well sure," Stefan said, peering at his brother. "But we were created out of greed, not love. Father didn't want or need protection, we are simply a means of power to him." Stefan thought for a moment then turned his green eyes back to me.

"If Elena's parents created her and traded her away to preserve their love, how did it not also extend to you?" he asked.

I wrapped my arms around my torso. I listened to Stefan's words, heard him voice the same question I asked myself over and over again my whole life. It was agonizing. But worse still was the answer.

"That's just it Stef," I said. "It did. That's why I'm here."

When Stefan's face clouded with confusion I continued.

"Stubborn as he was, my father never allowed me to be close to him. He knew i'd eventually have to die, and in order to ensure my mother stayed alive, my father had to be okay with that. So he stayed away, and his mind stayed sure of his course. It was what was best for my mother, and that's what he cared about," I said. I watched Stefan's face closely as I told my sad story, and was careful to not glance in Damon's direction at all. I didn't want to see the expression play on his dark features as he tried to hide his emotions. I didn't want him to pity me.

"My mother on the other hand, she carried me for 9 months, she fed me, bathed me, watched me grow up. She was my mother after all. She couldn't help but to love me. And she did, love me, literally more than her own life. She tried to convince my father to let me live instead of her, but my father couldn't bear the thought. Afraid of losing her, he did the only thing he thought he could. He took me in the middle of the night and he brought me to your father. I assume he made up some elaborate story for my mother about how they stole me in the night and I'm sure she mourned me, but my father had only ever intended this fate for me. He had nothing to mourn." I shrugged my shoulders when I was finished and finally looked at Damon where his features were carefully unreadable, his eyes still skimming the pages of his prop.

"And now our father uses you like a guillotine positioned over the head of every supernatural creature, threatening to break the sun curse for all vampires if the witches and wolves won't do his bidding, until the day he decides your death will be more valuable than that," Damon said dryly. He snapped the book closed making both me and Stefan jump. He smirked when I glared at him. Damon rose from his chair and stiffly made his way over to the drink cart and poured himself a drink.

"We'll find another way Damon," Stefan said confidently. Damon downed the whole glass with one gulp. He dropped the glass back onto the cart roughly, making a loud banging noise.

"Sure Stef, and everything will be sunshine and kittens for the rest of eternity," Damon sneered. He turned on his heel then and left the room without another word. I sighed as I watched his figure retreat up the stairs. Stefan watched him too. His mood had grown dark lately. I wondered idly if there was something he was keeping from Stefan and I. He insisted on being the only one to have contact with his father, so Stefan said he never knew what his father was up to. Something told me that Damon's sourness had something to do with his father though. Once he was out of sight I turned my eyes back to Stefan and gave him a shy smile. I loved his optimism, it made me feel hopeful in a way. I wanted to believe that Stefan was right and that somehow the three of us would find a way to give everyone what they want so that I don't have to die, and they don't have to risk being killed by their father. It wasn't a real hope, because I, like Damon, didn't really believe there was another, but Stefan was so sure there was. It was hard not to hope when he looked at me like he was now.

"Don't mind him," Stefan said, referring to Damon, with an easy smile.

"I never do," I replied, smiling in spite of myself too, it was impossible to be unhappy around him.

Eight Years Ago

I was panicking. I knew I was panicking. I tried to get a handle on my breathing but I couldn't make it stop. It felt like fire was being shoved down my throat and it was exploding in my chest. I couldn't get enough air around all of the pain. The bag over my head wasn't helping either. I could hear voices, male voices. My father's strong arms had long ago deposited me on to what felt like a wood floor. The moist cool air outside had grown warm and stale after the sound of a large door opening and shutting. I was inside somewhere. My hands were shaking and years were cascading down my face. I tried to focus on the voices, to find my fathers voice, but none of them sounded familiar to me. It was a very far away sound and all of their words were mashed together. I couldn't focus on anything except for the pain in my chest. I was gulping air in with loud gasps but it still felt like it wasn't enough. Then suddenly the bag was pulled away from my face. My hair splayed across my face, sticking to the tears on my cheeks. I jumped but continued to cry with my eyes squeezed shut. Removing the bag had not made breathing any easier. I felt cool fingers push my hair out of my face. I pulled away from them and my eyes shot open. I whimpered when I saw unfamiliar bright blue eyes.

He was a lean, tall man with black hair and oceanic eyes. His black button down shirt matched his dark jeans and everything about the man looked ominous. Except he knelt down in front of me with a look of concern pulling his brow down. His mouth was set into a hard line as he moved the rest of my hair out of my face.

"Hey, try to relax," He murmured to me. I scooted farther away from him when his honey like voice reached my ears. He pursed his lips further and held up his hands in front of him in surrender.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "You're having a panic attack, let me help you." his voice was low and steady. It seemed like he was intentionally trying to be quiet, though I couldn't figure out why. The other voices had stopped. We appeared to be alone. When I didn't say anything and just continued to gasp for air and cry and leaned closer to me and wrapped his hands around my calves. He pulled them out from under me and placed me in a position where my feet were on the ground, knees bent toward the ceiling, and my elbows resting on my knees. I tried to focus on the feel of his hands, tried to grasp the reality of the concrete things around me. I noticed there was a rug close to us, he was half standing on it. A fire burned beyond that.

"Okay, put your head between your knees now, and breathe slowly and deeply. In through your nose, out through your mouth," he instructed, still in hushed tones. I did as he said, scared that I would suffocate if something didn't start to help. It took several minutes, I breathed deeply with my head hanging between my knees. I could feel his hands resting on my back which I thought should have scared me but it was comforting in a weird way. It was real and just moments before I was losing grip on reality so it wasn't unwelcome. When my breath stopped burning it got easier to pull the air into my nose. The man in front of me made a pleased noise when my shoulders finally relaxed.

"There," he said. "That's better." When I was sure that the fire would not return to my chest I lifted my head and looked at the man. My eyes were still wet, I was sure my face was red from the blood pooling to my head. He smiled tenderly at me and waited for me to say something.

"Thank you, uh" I started and then my brow furrowed. "Who are you?"

"Damon S-," he began, then seemed to think better of it. "I'm Damon." I attempted a smile and wiped the moisture off of my face. My hands were still trembling.

"Thank you, Damon," I said.

"No problem, uh…" he trailed off and gave me a suggestive look. This pulled a genuine sad smile out of me.

"Elena, my name's Elena," I told him. He smirked and his eyes grew smoldering. I blushed though he wouldn't have been able to tell with my face still red. He stood then and offered me his hand. I hesitated for a moment but I took it. He helped me to my feet and I got my first glance at the place I'd been taken. It was a large home, warm colors throughout the sitting room where I was, deep reds and polished woods. The fire I had seen was lit in a grand brick fireplace that seemed to reach up forever.

"Where am I?" I said looking around skeptically.

"This is the Salvatore Boarding House," Damon said. My eyes snapped to his then as I realized what he was about to say earlier. His name was Damon, Damon Salvatore. As in, his father was the man who was going to kill me. I ripped my hand away from his and took a step back. He scrutinized my actions with narrow eyes but didn't say anything.

"Damon," another voice called. We both jumped and looked towards the grand staircase to the left where a sandy haired man with green eyes stood. He was a bit shorter than Damon, but his jaw was every bit as sharp as Damon's. There was definitely a family resemblance there.

"Father said to leave her be for now. We are just supposed to watch her," the new man said barely looking at me. He regarded Damon only.

"I know that Stefan," Damon sneered. "I was just going to show her to her room,"

"My room?" I asked, looking between the boys. Was he being funny? Wasn't he going to take me to some cage now to hold me captive or torture me.

"I just finished it, come on up Elena," he said, finally meeting my eyes. Damon walked forward to stand with Stefan but I hung back, not sure if I should trust either one of them.

"C'mon," Stefan coaxed. Something in his quiet green eyes made me take a few steps and then I was letting them lead me up the stairs. I had no idea what waited for me at the top of them, or where my father had gone, or what was going to happen to me now, but there was something about these men that made her feel a little bit better about not knowing.