Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries is the property of LJ Smith, who, personally, I think is absolutely awesome. I wish I owned it. Sadly, I got the plot... which, to be honest, I rather like anyway

Yeah, erm, I'm not Italian, so if any of the translations are wrong, please be constructive and let me know?

Enjoy this. If you cry, I'll send you virtual cupcakes.


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2010

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There was a dreadful pause, one filled with silence and then a furious scream as Damon dived forward for the skinny leather strap.

"Give it to me!" He roared, and Elena nearly fell from her bed. She would have laughed at his sudden enthusiasm, had his face not distorted into something that looked nothing like Damon. The Damon she knew was kind, and careful, and would not have done something like this.

She withdrew again and let out a whimper as his fingers shot out to grip her wrist. He was not letting go until she released the bracelet, and she was not letting go of the bracelet until he had freed her wrist. They were silent, caught at a standoff until she let out a sigh and let the black leather drop to the mattress.

"You broke it." He hissed, all traces of demon-Damon washed away by the hurt in his voice. He snatched the band up from the fabric and held it between his fingers as though it was a petrified flower, and the petals were about to fall away. "Elena, you... you broke it." His lips parted and his eyes began to water. "I... this was..."

"It was hers, wasn't it?" He nodded, choosing this time to remain silent and in pain as opposed to unleashing any kind of fight or violence upon her. "Damon, I'm sorry," There was no response. He had nothing to say to her, and she did not know how to go on.

"It's not enough." He said quietly, and she knew he was right. Whatever he was holding in his hands – for she did not quite understand the significance of the leather bracelet whose clasp had chosen to snap at such a significant time – was clearly a large part of his past, and she had broken it. She had destroyed it. As he held it between his fingers, the clasp, so neatly rusted, fell from the braided band and the pieces began to unravel. He swallowed and looked down and away. "T-this was..." He stopped, looked at Elena and threw the leather aside. "I don't want it anymore."

"What? Damon... you-" She could not understand the sudden change of heart until she looked into his eyes. "Oh."

It was then that she realised that Francesca meant more to Damon than she could ever have realised, and that Elena herself had just shattered what may have been Damon's last, tangible connection to the girl.

"I don't want it anymore." He repeated, slowly, as though he was talking to an idiot, and Elena simply nodded her acquiescence and let him rise and move away from her, to pick up the teddy bear again.

When he left, that night, Elena picked up the fraying band and slid it into her desk drawer. Matt would know how to fix it, and, she hoped, he would have a piece of something that they could fashion into a clasp. She didn't know how Damon would react to them fixing it, but she knew she had to try.

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Italy, 1990

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He stood in the centre of the marble dancefloor, lacking a partner and feeling all the more confused because of it. Stefan had picked up a girl at the bar, he had seen them dancing together and laughing, and did not yet know that he and Damon were standing in the same room.

"Scusi," The soft voice which disturbed him made him turn around. She was stood at the top of the stairs, frowning a little bit at the man who had just tried to push her down the stairs. "Oh! Hello, dottore." Her fingers touched the banister and for a second, Damon could see her fingers dancing across his forearm, a reluctant smile passing across his features as she touched her left wrist with her right hand, fiddling with a small braided leather band wrapped around it. Damon forced himself to look away, distracted by the change of song playing out across the dancefloor.

Her hands were wrapped around the banister again, as she stumbled down to the marble floor and took in her surroundings. This was the year she turned nineteen, and all of these people were here to celebrate it. Well, that, and her mother's promotion.

As she managed to make her way to the bar, she stumbled over the loafered feet of a young man she did not recognise, apologised and smiled at him. He offered her a 'happy birthday', but spoke in English, so she wasn't entirely sure what he was saying. Nobody had ever said it to her in a language aside from her own, and a part of her was elated, another part entirely upset.

"Scusi," She murmured again, picking her way around the guests to the barman and ordering something, anything alcoholic. She didn't even feel well – that had been why she was hiding upstairs – but she just needed something different. It was her nineteenth birthday, and she had never had a boyfriend, never been in love.

Damon's eyes had followed another girl through the crowd; he was drawn to her, unfortunately addicted to the colour of her skin and the way her purple dress seemed to shimmer as though she had coated it in glitter.

He rolled his eyes when he realised that she was watching him back, yawning obviously, as though he were terribly bored. He did not expect the girl standing beside her, smaller, and in a white, lacy, off-the-shoulder number – the girl he had seen standing at the top of the stairs, to fold her arms, then throw her hands to her hips and stomp over to him, no doubt making holes in the floor with her big, clumpy high-heels.

"Do you mind not making... a mockery, out of my party?" She gripped his wrist with strength he didn't know such a small person could hold, and he glanced down, noticing the black leather band on her wrist with a small smile. He liked that, a lot. "Were you even invited tonight?"

"Of course," He smirked slightly, tugging at his tie, "How else would I get in?" He nearly laughed aloud at his vampiric in-joke, and even she caught the little smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Very funny." She said, and though she was trying not to smile, to still be furious at this... gatecrasher, for want of a better word, he was clearly someone she could neither take lightly, nor too seriously. For a second, she was afraid. Then she realised that he was just a guy. Just. A. Guy.

"Would you like to dance, Francesca?" A voice disrupted their staring match, and both Damon and Francesca turned to look at their distraction.

"She wouldn't." He retorted, reaching a hand out to girl they were discussing. "You're just a moment too late," Damon smirked at Francesca's would-be-suitor, then down at Francesca, who smiled back up at him and took his hand. He leaned in against her and ran his nose lightly along her jaw, trying with all his might not to bite down there and then. "Good choice, pretty girl."

His words sent shivers down her spine.

"Do you dance?" She retorted as they stood, fixed with his lips pressed against the pulse tracing down her neck, "Or are we going to... stand here?"

"You shouldn't tease, Francesca. It gets you into all sorts of trouble." He retorted, before pulling her out into the throng of people. "You tango, I assume?" He raised an eyebrow in question, but she took it as a challenge.

"What do you take me for?" She grinned, "Of course I tango."

"Excellent." He smirked again, his fingers slowly running down her side as she curled her arm over his shoulder. "Follow my lead, birthday girl."

Faster than she could retort, or argue, his leg was between hers, and she was nearly toppled over backwards by the force of his step. It was strangely... enticing. She glanced up into his face and knew he knew exactly what he was doing. His lips were curved up in a smirk, and his eyes locked with hers almost immediately.

"What's your name?" She asked in a whisper, feeling her face flush darker as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed her to him, tightening his grip to dip her almost all the way to the floor.

"Salvatore," He whispered, "Damon Salvatore." She nodded, and he smirked, "Now, trust me."

Before she could react, the song reached a climax Francesca had not expected, and in half a breath, she was lifted from her feet, one leg wrapped around her beautiful stranger, the other being gripped tightly at the thigh by his strong, warm hands.

Seemingly as one, the entire room turned to watch the pair dancing together, as he span her around once more and slowly let her down to the floor, his fingers dragging up the outside of her thigh as he set her to the floor. She would have gasped, but she wondered whether she was beyond such a base reaction, as he released her and every sensation disappeared.

She went to argue with him, but his hands were at her waist within a second, pulling her straight back to him.

"Damon-" She breathed, an attempt to question what he was doing, then, as his lips crashed down upon hers, it was no longer a question.

It always did take two to tango.

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2010

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Damon had been sat on the roof of the Boarding House for nearly three hours now, and Stefan had been doing nothing but wonder what his brother could be doing for such a length of time. Elena had called, told him that Damon had paid her a... surprise visit, but she hadn't explained the details.

The elder Salvatore was toying with the idea of controlling his own death, wondering whether the Lapis Lazuli ring which was wrapped around his finger would do any good if he merely held it in his sweating palm. He resolved to try it one day, when he knew he had little left to live for.

Well, he surmised, he had very little to live for today, but he did not think he wanted to die just yet. His lips curved into a smile as he looked down at the broken stone, set into its silver home, split in half because at the time, he had no clue as to what else he could do.

"Francesca," He whispered into the wind, his knees drawn up to his chest and his fingertips playing with one of the broken terracotta tiles. "Mi vi auguriamo erano qui."

The tear tracks that were sliding down his face glistened in the face of the rising sun. There was so much more he had to explain to her, he thought, as he watched the parts of the town that he could see begin to rouse and go about their daily business. He wondered whether she would have liked it in Mystic Falls, then decided that he couldn't, as opposed to wouldn't, ponder such a thing.

Elena stepped out of Bonnie's car as she pulled over outside the Donovan household and knocked on the silent door. She waved to Bonnie as she drove away, and ran a hand through her hair as she held a black, braided leather bracelet out to Matthew James Donovan and asked him whether he knew how to fix it.

Matt nodded, Elena breathed again, Stefan slept, and Damon wished.

The bracelet was all he had.


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I'm really enjoying writing this, and would really appreciate it if those who have read this far would drop me a line, a review, or something, even if it's just to say that they're bored, or that they hate it, or my Italian's wrong. Which it probably is. Feel free to correct me, if you speak Italian?

Translations:

Mi vi auguriamo erano qui – I wish you were here