The blonde turned and glared at Damon angrily. "You know her?" she said, pointing accusingly at Meredith.

Damon flashed a killer smile. "You could say that."

Meredith snorted in reply.

The blonde was stood with a hand on her hip, head inclined to the side. "Well? Who the hell is she?"

Damon shrugged nonchalantly. "An old acquaintance."

"She seems more than an old acquaintance to me!" The girl was practically shrieking now. People stood around the bar near them were turning around in surprise and interest.

Without letting a drop of the annoyance that simmered inside him show, Damon looked the blonde in the eyes. He took a chance on remembering her name.

"Listen, Jessica—"

"Jennifer," the blonde hissed.

Damon paused, and then continued through gritted teeth. "Jennifer," he managed to say pleasantly. "I don't really think you and I are going to work out, do you?" The girl started to speak, but he cut her off. "Our personalities are just too different. You'd like to travel, and I think I'd quite like to stay where I am for now." He said all this with an accompanying smile.

"But you said you liked to travel too, earlier on!" the girl whined.

"I changed my mind," Damon answered simply. Meredith, who was watching the scene with interest, had to hide a smile.

The girl stared at him for a few seconds, and then turned abruptly on her heel and walked away, casting a fierce look at Meredith as she passed.

Meredith turned to Damon with a raised eyebrow. He returned her look steadily.

"Is that piece of fluff seriously the best you could do?" Meredith sighed. "You know, you've really gone downhill since I last saw you."

Damon's lips curled into a smile. "Why are you here, Meredith?" he asked softly, with veiled curiosity.

"I could ask the same thing of you." The dark-haired girl smartly dodged his question. "When I come across the fabled Damon Salvatore in a sleazy bar picking up girls with an IQ lower than this barstool, something must be wrong." She beckoned a barman over to her and ordered a drink. Turning back to Damon, she asked, "So what is wrong, Damon?"

His smile didn't falter. "Nothing. I am perfectly fine, so you can go back to your friends and tell them that poor little Damon is doing pretty well on his own."

Meredith took her drink from the barman and paid, turning once more to face Damon and crossing her long legs as she settled into the stool. "Pretty well? From what I've seen so far, I couldn't even say you were doing okay." She narrowed her eyes. "You miss her, don't you?"

Damon's smile remained immovable. "And who might you be referring to? The, 'piece of fluff', as you called her?"

Meredith shook her head. "Elena," she said softly.
Damon's lip twitched slightly at the mention of Elena's name, but his smile didn't falter. "I hadn't given her a second thought. I'm sure she's blissfully happy with my little brother. Why should I miss her?"

"That's why you keep picking up the girls, isn't it? It's no coincidence that your last five conquests have all been blonde-haired and blue-eyed." Meredith was watching Damon intently. "You're pretending they're Elena. Just like you did before."

Damon frowned slightly. "Before?"

"When you thought she was dead. You went round picking up girls who looked like her, hoping that one day you'd find someone who had her same spirit. But you never did. And now you're trying again, because you can't have the real Elena. Because you love her still." Meredith finished softly.

Damon didn't reply for a second, his dark eyes flashing as they met hers in a steely gaze. Then he spoke, coolly. "Well, I must say, that's a very romantic interpretation you have, Meredith, but sadly all of it is wrong. What I choose to do, and with whom, is my own business. It has nothing to do with her; my little brother is welcome to her. They can live happily ever after and fly off into the sunset, for all I care."

Meredith looked down, a strange, saddened expression crossing over her face.

"That's why I'm here, Damon. They can't fly off into the sunset and live happily ever after." She raised her eyes to his again. "Not anymore."

Damon felt a wave of intuition wash over him, and he almost knew before she said anything what she would tell him next. But he asked her the question anyway.

"Why on earth not?"

The answer, when it came, still hit him with a force of a cannon ball, even though he knew it had been coming.

"Because Stefan is dead, Damon."

Oooo, sorry, I usually hate killing characters off in my stories, but this one just seemed to need it. I know I said last chapter that I didn't know where this was going, but now I think I do, and it needs Stefan to be dead for it all to work out. Sorry anyone out there who prefers Stefan to Damon (all 1 of you. Seriously, DAMON IS HOTTER!) Ahem. Anyway. Please read and review!