A/N: Well, I have to say I'm very gratified by the rapid number of faves and follows. Thank you so much! Please also review! That really does encourage me and helps the ideas flow if I know people are liking what I'm writing. I cannot promise remaining chapters will post so quickly, but this is a weekend, so you get a fast update.

One answer: Elena isn't freaking out about Damon being a vampire because he compelled her not to be afraid of him at lunch. Think of the scene with Andie in the bathtub. No hardship there, huh? All right, now that's out of the way, it's going a little slow right this minute because I'm not sure exactly where I'm taking it yet. As I always say, I'm open to suggestions! Feel free to PM me if you have one. I love to hear from readers.

I also love reviews, so if you like the story, please let me know. I would greatly appreciate it! Thanks! 3

Disclaimer: I do not own or operate The Vampire Diaries.

Chapter 2: Questions, Answers

Riding in a convertible with the top down on the Interstate was not conducive to a lot of conversation. So Damon and Elena were nearly to Rome before they could even talk much. As they drove by the stadium where the town's minor league baseball team played, Elena asked, "So how did you get to Rome, anyway?"

"I was actually in Atlanta and met a girl from here. I came up here and found I really liked the place. Since there are two colleges here, there's actually a fair bit to do, and it's close to the mountains, which I prefer. How did Caroline convince you to leave Virginia? You did say she offered you part of the business. Is she from Virginia, too?"

"No, she's from Marietta. She got a dance team scholarship to the University of Virginia, and that's where we met. The business actually started in Sandy Springs, but we moved closer to downtown a couple of years ago. Caroline's mother used to be a homicide detective in Atlanta."

"That's interesting. And your parents?"

"They died when I was 16 in a car wreck. Kind of how I ended up at the University of Virginia, too. There were scholarships available for kids who had lost both parents, and also from the company where my dad worked. He was a doctor for one of the big insurance companies."

"I see. Siblings?" Elena noticed he didn't express any condolences, which was kind of unusual.

"A brother, Jeremy. He's three years younger than I am. He's a chopper mechanic in the Air Force, stationed at Keesler in Biloxi. What about you? Do you have any family?"

"Everyone has a family, Elena," he answered. "I didn't hatch."

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

He gave her a sidelong glance. "I have a brother - Stefan. He's in Virginia, which is pretty much why I'm not."

"Is he, um, like you?" How did you ask someone if being vampires ran in the family?

"You mean, male? Yes. He's my brother, so obviously. Good-looking? Reasonably. Intelligent? Depends on your point of view." His tone was as snarky as it was possible for one person's voice to be.

Elena looked away for a minute. If he was determined to be difficult, she wasn't playing along. "Football or basketball?" she asked.

"Football. Basketball's boring."

"College or NFL?"

"College. The guys in the NFL are too good. I like the college games. They still make mistakes, occasionally," he answered.

"So did you root for Oregon in the National Championship?"

"Oh, hell no. Their uniforms hurt my eyes. Since Alabama was out, I wanted Ohio State to win."

"You're an Alabama fan?" she exclaimed.

"You say that like it's a bad thing. They were the Southeastern Conference team in the playoffs. I pull for the SEC. I just like watching football in general. It's not predictable. Do you like sports, or are you just asking to make conversation?"

She grinned. "A little of both. Most guys do like sports, so I thought I'd ask."

He turned onto a tree-lined street, dotted with houses that were not lavish, but were comfortable. When he pulled into a driveway, Elena looked at the house. Like the other houses on the street, it looked comfortable. It was set a little farther off the street and the yard was very shady.

"Nice neighborhood," Elena said, as Damon came to open the car door for her. At least right now, he was being a perfect gentleman.

"I like it. It's quiet. Not much commotion, ever."

"That's good. There's a bunch of teens in my neighborhood and they drive by with their bass thumping at 3 a.m. Drives me nuts," she answered.

"I don't think I'd put up with that," Damon said, but didn't elaborate on what he meant. It gave Elena a little chill, though. He unlocked the front door and motioned her inside. "I've got iced tea if you'd like a glass."

"That would be nice. Thank you."

He gestured into the den. "Make yourself at home. I'll get your tea."

"All right. Thanks." She sat on one of the large leather sofas in the room. The decor was tasteful, but very, very masculine. The floors were hardwood, and he had Persian rugs down, all in shades of dark red, cream and black. Bookshelves lined one wall, and they were full of books, many of which looked well read, which suggested Damon liked to read, too. The room also boasted a fireplace, and Elena could tell it was used regularly.

Damon came back into the room and handed Elena a glass. She thanked him with a smile and watched as he sat in a big leather chair near the sofa. He had a glass too, with a dark liquid in it. Elena's eyes widened as it dawned on her what must be in the glass. She looked at him, but didn't say anything. She should be terrified. Why wasn't she afraid? But she wasn't. She drank her tea in silence.

"It's what you think it is," he said.

"What?" she said.

"In my glass. I saw the expression on your face, and yes, it's exactly what you think it is. It's blood."

"I didn't ask."

He grinned at her. "You wanted to. So I just saved you the trouble. You know what I am. You had to know how I feed, too."

"I guess so, but knowing it intellectually and seeing it are two different things," she replied.

He nodded. "I can see that." He sipped it, then licked his lips clean of the blood. "Grossed out yet?"

"It's not exactly wonderful, but I can stand it. Besides, you're my ride home. I can't really run out of here puking, can I?"

He chuckled deeply, and that sound once again made Elena's insides turn to jelly. "I have to give you points for honesty, if nothing else. So let's talk about 'Blood Brothers.' That was your first vampire book, wasn't it? And then the sequel was 'Blood Choice.' Good titles, by the way."

"Thanks."

"So, here's the thing. I really suspect you were telling my story – and Stefan's – in those books. You probably didn't know you were, though, and that's fine, and it's highly fictionalized, which is the way it's supposed to be, but you went to Mystic Falls and did some research, didn't you?"

How in the world did he know that? "Only because I heard the town had a history of supernatural activity, and good archives. That's it."

He nodded. "I figured. And the Founder's Council has gone to great lengths to make sure the Salvatore name stays out of their storied history. I don't know why in the world Stefan insists on staying there. Masochist. So you read the tragic story of two brothers, in love with the same girl, and how the Council got convinced there was vampirism and evil and all kinds of crap going on, and they trapped all the vampires in the church and then burned the church, right?"

"So far, yeah," Elena answered.

"Now the story reads, if I recall rightly, that the two brothers became vampires and were chased out of town, never to return, with the woman they both loved trapped in the church fire. Is that the gist of the story you heard?"

"That's what the archivist told me."

He grinned. "I'm not surprised. I wish it were that romantic. Oh – the only Salvatore name that popped up was Giuseppe, who shot the brothers, correct?"

"I'd forgotten, but now that you mention it, yes."

"Ah yes. Dear old Dad. Stefan tore his throat out in bloodlust and finished his transition that way. Stefan the Good, Stefan the Perfect, Stefan the Magnificent was the one who drained Pops. And so the man who shot his two sons because of what he thought they were – which they weren't when they were shot, by the way – became the creator of what he hated most. There's some poetic justice in that. I only wish Stefan had left him alive long enough for him to appreciate the irony. It would have almost made the following 150 years worth it."

Elena's eyes were wide with astonishment. Once again, she wondered why she just couldn't fear this man. It was like her good sense had gone absent without leave. "Wow. I wish your story could have had a happy ending."

He raised his eyebrows as he stood and went to a cart with bottles on it. "Well, unfortunately, life doesn't generally work like romance novels. It's not usually that obliging. And I, Damon the Screw Up, didn't want to transition when I found out Katherine was in the tomb under the church. I was going to die rather than become a vampire. Stefan took care of that, too. And I'm going to need something else if I keep talking about him," Damon said, and poured a shot of bourbon in a glass.

"So what happened?"

Damon sat down and laughed, but there was no mirth in it. "Well, let's see. Baby brother, who was all of seventeen when he turned, started ripping girls apart – literally. This old vampire named Lexi found him and helped rehab him and now he drinks animal blood, but that's because he won't accept what he is and learn to control himself. But he's fallen off the wagon a few times, and when he has, there have generally been newspaper articles about it. Lots of them."

"And y-you?" This was all much more than Elena had bargained on. She felt like Alice when she went down the rabbit hole.

"Me? I was almost twenty-five. I learned some control fairly early on."

"So you don't kill people?" Elena asked.

She got the smirk again. "I didn't say that. I don't indulge in wholesale ripping. I cover my tracks better than that. As a rule, these days, it's so much easier to get blood from other sources, that killing for it doesn't make a lot of sense. But I still do it anyway, once in a while, just to stay in practice. I enjoy it." His tone was matter of fact, and he knocked back his bourbon.

This was getting way too heavy for Elena's brain to handle. "So what happened to the woman you and Stefan both loved?"

"Katherine? She bribed a guard and got away. I went back to Virginia for a little while, and found out that little tidbit of information. She never was in the tomb, and even though she told us both that she loved us and would find us, she never did. She knew where we were, but never came back for either one of us."

Elena could feel tears start in her eyes. Vampire killer or not, that was incredibly sad. She sniffed. "How terrible. That Katherine must have been a turbo-bitch."

"Is. She's still around, and yes, turbo-bitch is a fantastically accurate description of her." He smiled. "Now that I've finished my bourbon, I feel better about the world. And I know you must have a million questions, still, so ask away." His tone was pleasant, as if he had just been telling her about what he did on his summer vacation.

"Well, um, now I don't know where to start," she answered.

"Come on, now. I know I didn't answer everything. Think of something." He was teasing her, now. She wasn't sure she liked it, but what could she do about it?

"O.K. Uh- you still eat – uh, human food."

"Sure. Now, some vampires don't. But that's a pleasure I never wanted to forgo. I enjoy cooking and good food. And good company. And it makes it much easier to appear human when you eat, believe me."

"So, you still breathe and your heart still beats and..."

"Of course. As far as that sort of thing goes, if we keep a healthy diet of blood, then our bodies operate pretty normally, at least on the surface."

"What do you mean?"

"I heal quickly," he explained. "I'll bruise for thirty seconds. I could cut an inch-deep slice in my hand and it would be healed in less than a minute."

"What about your fangs? I don't see them." God, but that sounded like a personal question! Damon, however, wasn't fazed.

"I can drop them whenever. Intense emotion also will bring them out," he replied.

"Oh, like hunger or anger?" Elena asked.

"Yeah. Or lust." His grin was wicked.

Moving right along. "Do you have any children?"

"Not before I was turned, and as you so rightly mentioned in your books, vampires can't procreate. Doesn't mean we don't love to try, though." Now his eyes were as wicked as his smile.

Elena swallowed. Somehow, the air had become charged with sexual tension. "So there are werewolves. Why don't you like them?"

"Because their favorite lunch is vampire fricassee. And I'm not interested in being on the menu. Fortunately, they're even more uncommon than vampires, and they tend to live in packs in the middle of nowhere. When they're in human form, they're as vulnerable to us as any other human. Just that one night of the month when they turn. Then, all bets are off. I got caught in the woods one time. Thought I never was going to get away. And werewolf saliva is the only substance that can kill a vampire. A wolf bite kills and kills ugly."

"Can the wolves climb trees?" Elena asked.

He looked puzzled. "I wouldn't think so. Why do you ask."

"Can you?"

"Of course."

"So when that werewolf was chasing you, why didn't you climb a tree? Don't they turn back human at sunrise?" Elena asked.

Damon just stared at Elena for a moment. "Well, I'll be damned. It never crossed my mind. Sitting in a tree until sunrise would have been more comfortable than wading up to my neck in the lake. They don't like water."

"Next time, climb a tree," she said.

Damon chuckled. "I will, believe me."

"Do you have any kind of job or employment?" What did a vampire do for a living?

"You mean, how do I afford a classic car and silk shirts, but you're too polite to ask. Well, my half-brother, who was fortunate enough to remain human, made his pile in the lumber business. Over the years, the money has continued to increase, and Joseph's last descendant died in World War I. So, Stefan and I have lived on it. But I've done a few jobs over the years."

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "Oh, I played piano in a speakeasy in Chicago in the 20s. It was one of Capone's places. I'd rather have dealt with Moran, but with a last name like Salvatore, I worked in Cicero. Moran was a thug, but he was decent to the help. With Capone, you just never knew. Fortunately, I'm smarter than Alphonse was. And I could take care of myself."

"That's unreal. You play the piano?" Elena was impressed.

"I do. I love music. In fact, I'm feeling pretty good. I'll play for you, if you'd like to hear me."

"Sure."

He stood. "Great." He extended his hand to her and she took it. It was surprisingly warm and she swallowed again as electricity seemed to spark between them. He looked at her, and his eyes were twinkling with desire. He led her to another room in the house. It was pleasant, with large windows, allowing light in. A beautiful mid-sized grand piano stood in the room. It had a rich chestnut finish and Elena could see the "Steinway & Sons" logo above the keyboard.

"It's a beautiful piano," she said.

"If I'm going to play, I'm playing the best." He sat down on the padded bench and said, "Sit by me."

"No, I might get in your way. I'll just pull up this chair," she said.

He smiled. "O.K. What would you like to hear?"

"I don't know. Play something you like."

His smile widened. "All right." He placed his hands on the keys, thought a moment and started a rollicking tune that sounded familiar to Elena, but she couldn't think of the name. He glanced at her. "Like it?"

"I do. What is it?"

"'Maple Leaf Rag' by Scott Joplin. It was always one of my favorites."

"It's great," she said as he finished. She clapped and he nodded at her with a grin.

"Now what?"

"Um, 'Yesterday'?"

He nodded. "A beautiful tune." He played and Elena watched his hands on the piano. They hardly seemed to touch the keys. His hands were gorgeous, with long, tapered fingers, perfect for the piano. His palms were broad enough that he had no problems with the octave stretches. They found the notes by instinct, it seemed. Damon had the soul of a musician, but who ever saw it, Elena wondered.

He completed the song with a flourish and Elena clapped again. "You're a very gifted musician, Damon," she said.

"You give me way too much credit," he said, although he looked pleased by her words.

"I don't think so. But tell me. Are vampires really able to be in the daylight?"

"Not normally. It burns us. The only good thing Katherine ever did for us was have her witch maid make these daylight rings for me and Stefan. He held out his hand so she could see it.

"Oh. O.K."

"Excellent question, though. Want to hear anything else, or are you tired of listening to me?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm not tired of it. I enjoy hearing you play. Please play something else. Just whatever you like. Can you sing, too?"

"Not well. I won't offend your ears by singing," he joked. He thought again and played what was probably her favorite classical piano piece: "Arabesque No. 1" by Debussy. How did he know?

When he finished, she said, "Damon, that was so beautiful! It's probably my favorite piano piece. How did you know?"

"I didn't. I like it too, that's all." He still looked happy, though, and for some reason, that made Elena happy, too. "Do you play?"

"Not hardly. I never had the talent for it. I love music – just can't play it."

He nodded. "But you write, and I've never been able to do that very well. Why don't we go downtown and walk around a while? There are some interesting places to see. Then we can have dinner."

"That sounds nice," Elena said. As they walked to the door, she said, "Maybe this is rude, but you don't want to like, kill me, do you?"

She thought she saw something like hurt flicker across his face, but then it was gone. But he seemed to understand why she would ask. "No, not at all. First, it would make me a terrible host," and here he grinned, "and second, it would be an atrocity of the first order for anyone to kill you for food – or any other reason. God made beautiful women like you to be appreciated, not drained." His smile was a little unsettling, but seemed genuine. The air got charged again in a hurry.

"Oh. O.K. Well, that makes me feel better," she said, and made the enormous mistake of looking into his entrancing blue eyes. She felt her knees go weak.

Damon apparently figured that out because he put one hand behind her neck and returned her gaze. He badly wanted to compel her to kiss him, but just as much, he wanted her to accept his kiss freely. So, he lowered his head and barely brushed her lips with his. She didn't pull away, and he touched his lips to hers again, then placed tiny kisses across her lips, as he massaged her neck. Taking a chance, he touched her upper lip with just the tip of his tongue and incredibly, she opened her mouth for him, and he slipped his tongue in to touch hers.

Elena felt like someone had doused her in gasoline and set her on fire. Every nerve ending was sizzling, and her bones felt like they were turning to caramel. She had been kissed before – many times – but never by a man who kissed like this. His mouth was delicious, sensual, his cologne was fresh and clean in her nostrils. She could even smell his hair as he moved the kiss to her earlobe and she shivered. She raised a tentative hand to his hair and felt its inky softness in her fingers. In this moment, it didn't matter what Damon Salvatore said he was. His mouth was hot on her skin and she moved his head to bring his lips back to hers, and felt the wall of the foyer against her back. She kissed him this time, finding his tongue with hers and felt his hands move on her body, one still at her neck, and the other cupping her bottom, pushing her hips against his. Even though he wasn't that much taller, he still completely physically dominated her, and to her total surprise, she didn't mind.

Finally, he pulled back and she could see these dark veins under his eyes. "Intense emotion" he had said, including lust. He looked into her wide brown eyes and stroked his hand through her ponytail, wishing he could wrap it around his hand and kiss her into unconsciousness. Elena's lips were parted and her breathing was heavy.

He waited another moment. "As I said, beautiful women like you are meant to be appreciated," he murmured and stepped back.

Elena didn't know how she didn't collapse into a lust puddle, but she managed to stay upright and just walked outside without a word. The crisp October air brought her back to herself a little and she went to Damon's car.

The rest of the evening was very pleasant. Rome's downtown had a used book store and she prowled the shelves for a while, pausing to pet the store's cat. Even Damon greeted the feline and scratched his ears. When they were outside, Elena said, "I wasn't sure you liked animals."

"I like cats. They don't give a damn whether you like them or not. I sort of like something that makes you work for it. With cats, you kind of have to work for them to like you. If they do, then you've accomplished something." Again, the walking mass of contradictions that made up Damon Salvatore.

They ate dinner and went to the bakery next door for coffee and pastries. A band was playing in the center gazebo and they sat on a bench and listened. Damon had his arm around Elena's shoulders and she felt his mouth graze her temple and cheek. Then he pulled away. When she glanced up at him, he whispered, "Let's keep it family friendly" in her ear, but something in his voice made her toes curl.

They were back in Kennesaw by 9:30, and Elena texted Caroline that she was just fine and on her way home in a couple of minutes, and would call when she got there.

"I don't know when I've had a better day," Damon said. "Thank you for making time for me."

"I had a good time, too. Thank you, Damon."

"You're welcome, Elena." He dropped a whisper of a kiss on her lips and trailed his mouth to her ear. "Don't forget to dream about me tonight, O.K.?"

"O.K.," she giggled.

He waited until she had her car unlocked, then took her hand and kissed the back and palm. He looked into her eyes as he did, and his seemed to widen and his pupils dilated fractionally. "Don't forget. Dream about me," he said with a grin. "Drive safely. Text me when you get home so I know you got there, all right?"

"Oh, sure. I will. Good night, Damon."

"Good night, Elena."

She drove home, texted Caroline and Damon that she was safely there, and could hardly get to bed fast enough. She had a feeling, as soon as she closed her eyes to sleep, she would see Damon again.

P.S. Show of hands if you'd like Damon to compel you to dream about him. Yeah. That's what I thought. Me, too.