Set post 2X01.

Summary: Post 2X01. The guardians are the untold piece of the Petrova doppelganger history – and Alaric Saltzman's estranged daughter is about to find out just how big of a role they play. Who says history isn't everyone's favorite subject? Somewhat AU. Damon X OC. Stelena. Other pairings to come. Rating subject to change in later chapters!

It All Started With Those Damn Red Boots

Chapter Two: Family Reunion (Arielle's POV)

"It's like the easiest drive in the world, Macie. I think I'll be –" I stopped short, a mixture of shock and irritation temporarily distracting me from reassuring one of my oldest friends I wasn't walking into the middle of a Voorhees movie. I'd glanced down at my GPS – praying the turn for Mystic Falls, Virginia was somewhere in the immediate future – but instead of finding the sweet relief of a turn ahead, I found a stain. A big, rust colored disaster blooming across the bottom of my top. I cursed loudly, contemplating the possibility of going back to run his ass over. This is what I get for sparing a vampire. "That son of a bitch got blood on my favorite shirt!"

Okay, so I stabbed him with a stake….3 times…but it was self defense! That piece of shit had been dreaming about turning my throat into a big mac for hours. He'd actually hung around in the parking lot for over two hours. Just for me. I guess I could have felt flattered, it wasn't every day a man gave a girl that kind of attention.

It would have been super romantic if he hadn't been trying to murder me.

"WHAT?!" I winced, holding the phone away from my ear. Oops. So much for reassuring Macie. I could hear her accelerated breathing through the speaker. I could almost picture her comical look of both terror and disapproval. "What do you mean blood? Who? What happened?"

Now might be a good time to mention that while I'm no stranger to the supernatural world, everyone else in my life – with the exception of one person – was. If my friends knew I kept an array of wooden stakes, vervain grenades, and a 9 mm loaded with wood bullets under the seat of my truck, they'd think I was a closet serial killer. Keeping the secret was hard. Having almost no one in my life I could really talk to about it…not being able to explain that all those 'unsolvable murders' weren't often quite as much of a mystery as everyone thought. But it had to be that way. The closer people come to the supernatural, the more it consumes them. And once you're in, there's no going back.

Trust me, I've tried.

Thinking fast, I did my best to sound nonchalant – and not turn around to go turn Mr. Blue Eyes into a pavement pancake – "Chill. I was at the Hat Rack earlier and this guy was trashed and I was trying to help him get a cab but he was stumbling all over the place. Long story short, he cut his arm and I guess he bled all over me while I was trying to help him."

Not my best, but it seemed to work. The frantic footsteps and near-panting breathing stopped. I heard her keys hit the porcelain bowl by the front door of what had been our apartment. Bless her, the girl was going to come straighten me out. "Serves you right for setting foot in that place. It's a magnet for trouble…come to think of it, I guess that's why you were there."

Ouch. I laughed, breathing my own sigh of relief that she'd decided to let it go so easily. I didn't want her anywhere near the crime scene in case that blood sucking asshat was still peeling his pride off the cement. And she couldn't come here…if I saw her I'd abandon this dumbass idea in a heartbeat. Much as I wanted to, I needed to do this. No matter how much I was dreading it. "We can't all be saints."

"I guess not," she teased, though a troubled sigh quickly followed. Like Derek, she didn't understand my sudden need to do this when I'd spent the last few years stubbornly refusing to do more than pick up the phone once a month or send a Christmas card. The occasional visit was tolerated, but they'd been short lived and tense. This was the first big step either of us had taken since I'd been in high school. "Arielle…I know you're dead set on this and I'm not going to try and talk you out of it again. But just remember, if it's not working, just come home. I'm staying in the apartment, I'm not getting another roommate – don't argue. I just want you to know you've got somewhere to come back to."

It would have been so easy to just turn around. I'd made a life for myself away from him, and away from our fucked up past. I had a job and an apartment and friends and a life. I was happy. And while I wasn't exactly giving all of it up (more like half), I knew this could be opening the door to an even bigger change. The thought was both alarming and warming all at once.

I couldn't help but sigh. Why did this have to be so damn hard? "I love you for saying that, and I could very well end up on the doorstep at 2:00 a.m. But I have to do this. I've got to try. He's my dad…and he's the only family I have left. If I don't give working things out a shot I know I'll regret it." And I'm worried about him. But I couldn't tell her that. Lies of omission and the supernatural might as well have been orange juice and vodka.

The 'this' in this situation was moving in with my dad. He lived in a tiny little town in Virginia where he taught high school history (bless him). Sounds harmless, right? Wrong. For whatever reason that little town was like a vampire vacation destination. Ever since he'd gotten there he'd been running into one right after the next. Every time we spoke (more often in the last few months than we had in the previous two years as a result) he'd had yet another incident. He kept getting sucked in. Granted some of it was his own damn fault (we'll talk about that later), but even as angry I was with him I knew he was just trying to be a good person. He saw innocent people who needed help. I would have been more disappointed with him if he'd just walked away.

And yet…it all went right back to the supernatural debacle. It takes over. It infiltrates every aspect of your life and before you know it you're detached from the human world. You start seeing the horror and the pain and the danger as normal. Unavoidable. But it had to…to some extent anyway. Shit past or not, I wasn't going to let my dad end up collateral damage because of some hormonal teenagers and his new fanged friends.

I suppose it would have been easier if I could tell Macie all that, but what I was able to tell her seemed to be enough. That was one of her many admirable traits – she always knew when too back off.

"I know. And I know you guys will work it out. But just so you know, I might have snuck your key into the side pocket of your purse. Doesn't matter what time, the door's always open for you."

"Thanks, Mace."

I just got home. Brought home food from the Grill. Text me when you get here? I'll help you bring your stuff upstairs. No elevator!

I got your room ready. You still like green right?

It's okay if you don't, we can get you new stuff tomorrow. It's dark, you won't even notice.

I should have asked you what you wanted for dinner. The Grill is good. But I can go back out. Chinese? Mexican? There are a few good places in town.

I'm outside. It's just the one building. Impossible to miss. Drive safe.

Call me if you get lost.

DAD.

Chill. Green and burgers sound great. GPS is working fine. Be there soon.

Stop texting at the wheel, young lady.

I'm at a gas station, smart ass.

Don't sass your father. I still have your baby pictures. Remember the Play-Dough Butt Incident? I do. And so does my flash drive.

OMG

DELETE THEM NOW!

No

When you get old, I'm putting you in a home. I'll drop you off with a super-sized pack of depends with a sassy nurse who takes your red Jell-O for herself and eats it in front of you every night.

That's low. You know red's my favorite.

What a pity. Everyone knows green is disgusting.

Good thing that's the color I painted your walls.

WHAT?!

Just kidding. It's hot pink with orange polka dots and clown wallpaper. See you soon.

I could do this.

Right?

He was my dad, not Satan. All I had to do was get out of the damn truck. Pull handle, step out, done. Simple. Yet I couldn't quite will myself to move. Crazy as it was…I was nervous. A few good natured texts didn't take away from the fact that we hadn't been close in years. I hadn't lived under his roof since I was seventeen. And moving back in as a twenty year old didn't exactly seem normal. But he'd offered when I told him I wanted us to work things out, and I knew it was the best way to keep an eye on him.

It had been easier to convince myself it was a smart move when I'd been four hundred miles away.

I sucked in a deep breath as I braced my hands against the steering wheel. I could do this. I had to do this. If for no other reason than my idiot father was probably going to get himself killed if I didn't intervene.

What kind of daughter would I be if I didn't ensure he lived long enough to go into the nursing home?

About the time I pulled open the door my dad rounded the side of the apartment complex. It took me only a moment to realize he'd been looking out for me on the main road. We must have missed one another by seconds. The thought pulled at my heartstrings. I'd forgotten what it was like to come home and find my dad waiting up for me.

You know, on those occasions when I wasn't in deep shit for breaking curfew. Again.

As he started towards me, I couldn't help but notice he looked older. Not so much physically, it was in his eyes. A weariness that hadn't been there before. Like he'd seen too much. As much as I wanted to resent it (he'd played a big enough role in landing himself right in the middle of this vampire soap opera), seeing him now I realized it was unfair to judge when I still didn't know half the story. The day was coming soon when I would have to choose between holding on to my hurt or embracing forgiveness.

Was years-old pain really more valuable to me than a fresh start?

"About time, you must have been driving ten miles an hour!" He jogged the rest of the distance between us. I could still see the nervousness behind his smile, but his happiness at my arrival seemed to have won out. Once I shut the door he wrapped his arms around me. I was enveloped by the familiar scent of his cologne, a hint of the linen scented detergent he used.

It smelled like home.

"Hey Daddy," I murmured into his chest, sinking into the hug for several seconds before stepping back.

Big mistake.

"Why do you have blood on your shirt?"

Shit. Forgot to change. Well, so much for a smooth landing. I offered him a bland smile and walked around to the bed to grab my stuff. It was just two bags, it would only take one trip. I hauled the first one out and passed it over to him, buying myself a few more seconds. "The crowd at the Hat Rack isn't what it used to be?" It came out like a question. Despite my earlier pride in taking down a vampire, I suddenly felt a wave of sheepishness. He might have been the one to train me how to fight vampires, but that didn't mean he approved of the idea of me tangling with them.

"The Hat Rack?" he repeated as he started towards the complex, suspicion sharp in his tone. I could feel him watching me but I refused to meet his eyes. Take a lesson ladies, no matter how old you get, you'll never not care about a disapproving dad look. "That dive on the outskirts of town? What were you doing in a bar?"

"Not drinking," I assured quickly. Dad pulled open the door and led the way across the modestly decorated lobby to the stairs. Like he said, no elevator. Under ordinary circumstances I wouldn't have cared, but presently I didn't appreciate the extra interrogation time. I could still feel his eyes on me as we made our way up. Sighing, I decided it was better to just get it over with. "There was a vampire there. He was too interested inside, I figured he'd follow. I had a friend with me until I got to the truck, waited for him to get out of sight, and once Not Edward Cullen made his move I hit him with a few stakes. I probably should have killed him but I couldn't have gotten rid of the body by myself and…" I stopped short, realizing I hadn't analyzed my actions completely until now.

It wasn't like I couldn't have. I was sober as a judge with the upper hand to boot. All I had to do was shoot that last stake into his heart instead of his throat. But I didn't. I didn't even consider it, really. I'd known I was prepared to fight to the death, but once he was down, I knew it wouldn't come to that. And more than that…despite the fact that he was trying to eat me, the guy clearly wasn't some blood crazed maniac. He had control. My guess was that he was decently old.

I also guessed something pretty fucked up put that dead look in his eyes. I just…couldn't quite bring myself to kill him. Someone else had already hurt him pretty bad. I guess I just figured a good ass kicking was enough.

That, and it really would have been a bitch to get rid of the corpse.

"I don't think it'll be a problem. Pretty sure he was just a prick having a really bad night. 'Course if I knew he'd ruin my shirt I probably wouldn't have been so nice."

We reached the fourth floor and I finally took a quick peek. He was still looking at me, but his expression had shifted. It was a look confusingly made up of both fear and pride. After what seemed like a lifetime, he reached out and squeezed my shoulder with his free hand, a sad smile playing on his lips, "You've got a good heart, kid. Always have." Then he sighed, readjusting my bag on his shoulder. For a moment it looked like he was going to let it go, but at the last second he seemed to decide it was worth it.

"Next time someone tries to eat you, do your old man a favor and kill the son of a bitch."

His apartment was exactly what I would expect from him. Minimalist furniture, sparse personal items, and a boatload of dust coated books and artifacts. Once a history buff…

Our house growing up looked a lot like this. I loved it. It was like living in a museum. There was always something new to explore. I would sit with him for hours going through both historical and fictional texts, comparing facts and legends. It always made me feel special. Grown up. Like my father trusted me with the secrets of the past. It was a tradition we'd kept up all the way up until the night he told me he was marrying Isabel. That was the last time we'd had an effortless conversation.

Seeing all of it now…it made me ache for what could have been.

Shoving that thought away, I turned around to find my dad cautiously studying me again. The nerves were back and he looked like he half expected me to lay into him. But I couldn't get into it tonight. I was exhausted, coated in blood, and too happy to have had a few nice moments to ruin it.

"Nice place," I commented lightly, giving him a pointed look. Not tonight. We both knew some hard conversations were coming, but we needed to ease into it. Tonight had been a good start…and we had to start somewhere. "You ready to show that hot pink room?"

A laugh, tinged with relief, met my lame attempt at humor. Dad nodded his head towards the narrow hallway. He pointed out the half bath, his room, and at the very end of the hallway was my room. Despite his claims, it wasn't pink. Or green, for that matter. The walls were the same faded white as the rest of the apartment. The dresser, nightstand, and sleigh bed frame were a dark wood and looked brand new, as did the plush green patterned comforter and pillows adorning the bed. A few canvas paintings hung on the wall; two florals and an abstract ballerina. A framed picture of us – my tenth birthday, he'd taken me to DC for the week and we explored every landmark, monument, and museum we could – sat on the nightstand next to a white and silver pattered lamp.

It was perfect. And it was way too much. I felt my jaw drop slightly. "Dad this is…it's great, it's just you shouldn't have gone through so much trou-"

"It wasn't. I'm glad you're here. I want…" he seemed to struggle for words for a moment, maybe the nerves getting the better of him again. We were still finding our footing with one another and he seemed petrified of saying the wrong thing. "I want you to be happy here. Life without you sucks, Arielle. I know we have a lot to talk about…and I have a lot to make up for. I just need you to know that I love you, and I'm here for the long haul. No matter what."

He placed my bag on the bed, pausing there for a second to let the words sink in. Before I could find a response, he turned and leaned down to kiss my forehead, a bedtime tradition for as long as I could remember. He smiled gently, holding my gaze for a few long moments before walking out the door, closing it softly behind him.

"I love you, too."

Despite being absolutely exhausted, I was up hours after saying goodnight to my dad. A long, hot shower was desperately needed. But even after stepping out of the warm spray and throwing on my pajamas – tank top and shorts, the humidity outside seemed to be creeping in – I couldn't sleep. So instead I unpacked, read, unpacked some more, and finally settled for lying awake and obsessing over what I was going to do about my dad.

Last night had gone surprisingly well. Far better than I could have imagined. We were a long way from healed…there were so many issues we hadn't touched in years. And while many things had changed, I had to wonder if things between us had changed as a consequence, not because they needed to for us to rebuild. Did that matter? If it did, how much? If it didn't…why?

As you can imagine, there's no getting off that runaway train once you get on. I tossed and tuned until early in the morning before finally falling into an unrestful sleep. By the time I managed to pry my eyelids apart, the sun was fully up. I groaned as I stretched out my stiff muscles. Next time, I was hunting down the bourbon. As if to rub it in, a bird began singing loudly outside my window. The shrillness made me cringe. Eyes still half closed, I launched one of my pillows at the glass, grinning when it rebounded off the curtains and the singing abruptly stopped, "Beat it you little bastard."

"Don't take it out on the bird. Most normal people roll out of bed before 3 in the afternoon."

I bolted upright, eyes wide. Dad wouldn't be home, and that sure as hell wasn't his voice. I knew that voice. I'd only heard it a handful of time, but less than 24 hours had passed…and what can I say? A girl doesn't forget her would be murderer so easily.

I turned to find him leaning against my dresser, the same smirk from last night turning lips up. Despite his casual stance, I could feel the anger coming off him in waves. I'd made a fool of him and I seriously he doubted he went to all the trouble of tracking me down to shoot the breeze. How the hell did he get in here? And if he'd come to finish what he started, why draw it out?

Stupid question. I knew from experience he could be patient.

Slowly, I sat up and pushed the covers back, trying to act unphased by his presence. He wasn't the only who could play the bullshit game. I shrugged, giving him a smirk of my own. I needed to buy some time. My options were limited. The defenses I had would take some maneuvering to get to…and while I knew my dad had to have an arsenal around here, I hadn't thought to find it yet. "Yeah? What else do they do, since you're clearly such an expert?"

A grin. Not good, but he seemed to be playing along. He took a step closer to my bed, shamelessly eyeing my bare legs, "Well," his tone was too casual. Definitely pissed. Probably planning something worse than a quick neck twist. "For one thing, they don't stab total strangers with chopsticks," he held up a finger, counting my 'abnormal' sins as he took another step closer. He stopped at the edge of the bed, hesitating only a moment before sitting down. Our knees were touching. He moved his hand to my thigh (we're old friends now, huh?). Finger number two popped up, "Two, they don't leave injured men in parking lots after nearly running them down."

Chills ran up my spine. I eyed his hand, toying with the idea of breaking a few fingers. It would probably get me killed, but the rebellious side of me just wanted to see the look on his face. It almost seemed worth it. But I didn't plan on going out like this.

Just as nonchalantly, I raised my hand to trace fingers along his cheek…even I had to admit, he was gorgeous. Under better circumstances, I wouldn't have complained about his attention. I let my hand rest at the nape of his neck, letting my nails lightly trace across his skin. He tried to hide it, but I felt him shiver beneath my touch.

God this was fucked up.

"Don't tease a girl. Finish what you started." Yeah, I'm well aware I was pretty much telling him to kill me. But I was tired of the game. Do or die wasn't meant to be done in slow motion. I had a plan, pretty sure he did too. Now it was time to see who had the better one.

He laughed. A genuine one that made him seem so much more human than monster for just a moment. "It really is a shame I'm going to kill you. I think I might have liked you had you not kabobed me." The hand on my leg tensed. It was barely noticeable, but he was getting just as impatient as I was.

Luckily for me, he'd shown me something last night. He could be patient, much more patient than I'm sure he was given credit for. But when that patience snapped, he was all impulse. No control. As soon as he snapped, he stopped paying attention. It saved my life last night…hopefully it would save it again.

"That is a shame," I murmured in agreement, feigning disappointment. I glanced down, buying a few more seconds to iron out the little details before looking back up at him through my lashes. I scooted just a bit closer, moving my right leg into a better position, "I might have screwed your brains out if you hadn't gotten your ass kicked by a girl."

Predictably, the humor drained from his expression. Short fuse, plus wounded pride? Perfect recipe. I had only seconds. Dark veins began to blossom underneath his eyes. His lips pulled back in a vicious snarl, fangs poised and ready to rip into my flesh. He lunged, but I caught his hair with the hand on his neck, jerking back with all the strength I could muster. I was hardly a match for him, but the surprise knocked him off balance. Taking advantage, I threw my leg up, landing a semi-awkward blow to his chin. It was enough to knock him off me, if only for a moment.

I dove off the bed, hitting the ground with a loud thud. I just needed to get to my bag under the bed. My 9 mm was stored in one of the side pockets. I desperately groped around for the bag, but just as my fingers closed around the strap, I felt a searing pain on my scalp. He'd grabbed a fist full of my hair and proceeded to pull me up. I hissed in pain, feeling the first spark of real panic when I lost my grip on the bag. His arms wrapped around me like a vice, half-cutting off my air supply. He was breathing hard, his eyes blood red and furious.

He made to bite me again, but at the last second I reared my head back and smacked into his. Black stars danced across my vision. It probably hurt me a lot more than him, but it was enough. I shoved out of his grip, mercifully staying free long enough to snatch the lamp off the bedside table. I had a strong grip, my fingers twined through the intricate metal frame, but as I raised it to strike him, he caught my arm, pulling me to him and pulling my arm behind my back. His grip was like steel and I couldn't help the groan of pain that escaped my lips. With his free hand, he captured my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look up and meet his gaze. A smear of blood remained by his lip and left nostril.

Good.

I knew he wouldn't be stupid enough to try and compel me again…he just wanted the last word.

A twisted grin made its way across his lips as he lowered his head, our lips mere inches apart, "You didn't disappoint, beautiful. But play time's over. Gotta get out of here before Ric comes home to find his late night booty call dead."

Booty call?

EW.

I didn't have time to puzzle over his words. This was my last chance. With my free hand, I reached up, going straight for those pretty blue eyes. Such a waste, but it was him or me. I don't know how much damage I did before he smacked my hand away, but my fingers were coated in blood. I jerked away from him, clocking him straight across the temple with the lamp before bolting from the room. I heard his body hit the ground, but it wouldn't keep him down long. And I couldn't outrun him.

Desperate, I tore down the hallway and darted into the kitchen, jerking a jagged chef's knife from the knife block on the counter. It wouldn't be as good as a stake, but I'd make it work long enough to get a hold of one.

As soon as I had a grip on the knife, he slammed into me from behind, knocking us both to the ground. I held my hand out to avoid falling on the blade. He flipped me over so fast the world spun. I was on my back, him hovering me, looking absolutely murderous. His skin was stained crimson and he still seemed to be having some trouble seeing. Nonetheless, he reared back and dove towards me just as I raised the knife.

I felt the sharp pain in my neck the same time I felt the knife dig into his stomach. He groaned against my neck, willing himself to finish the job, but I imagined the vervain in my blood wasn't going to help. I struggled to get free of him as I felt his hands wrapping around my throat, "Just die already!" he hissed irritably, cutting off my air supply with one hand and trying to pin down the hand that had the knife with the other.

"Go fuck yourself, asshole." I choked back, using what little strength I had left to kick at him. I tried to aim another shot with the knife, but he'd caught my wrist. I couldn't catch my breath and black spots began to drift across my peripheral. If I was going to die, I'd at least go out my way.

His grip on my neck tightened, a wicked sneer twisting his lips into an ugly line, "Such a dirty mouth, I would've loved to have seen it wrapped around my-"

"What the fuck are you doing to my daughter!?"

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Uh oh….somebody's in trouble ;)

There you have it, chapter 2! Thank you guys so much for your support on the first chapter, it really does mean the world to me! Make a girl's day and keep it coming? Let me know what you thought, I'm always thrilled to have feedback!

What will Ric do to Damon? How will Damon and Arielle react to each other's identities? And what happened in Ric and Arielle's past that makes it so impossible to start over?

Find out next time…

XOXO,
Cilla