Disclaimer: Oops! Am I using these characters? Well, my bad... they're not mine, but the property of LJSmith etcetc...

I think I said I'd update on Wednesday, but I retract that, I am posting today.

To those who are most awesome, (g1rlanachr0n1sm, pandora03), you do not know the light which your epic reviews bring to my evenings. You make me grin mahooosively.

Also - if you're into that sort of thing, "Surrender" by The Calling, was the song I wrote part of the Flashback to, find it, use it, do what you will...

Enjoy...

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2010

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Elena sat next to Stefan on his bed and watched him for a long moment, who was staring into nothingness as he waited for his girlfriend to speak. When the silence finally got to him, he turned to her and quirked an eyebrow as though he was daring her to make a sound.

"Why don't you like Damon?" The words bubbled from her lips as she watched him, and within half a second, she had slammed her hand across her mouth, embarrassed because she seemed to have lost her filter incredibly quickly.

"I-I'm sorry?" Stefan was genuinely stunned by the question, and, for a second he wondered whether Damon had pressured Elena into this. Then, as she repeated the question, slowly, and as though talking to a moron, Stefan's protective instincts kicked in.

"Why don't you like Damon?" Elena asked. "Is it because of-"

"Katherine." Stefan finished simply, and far too quickly to be believable. "Yep." He nodded twice and looked elsewhere, avoiding her gaze again. Then, as though he were programmed by a machine, he spoke once more. "Because we fought over Katherine and he doesn't know when to stop."

"He doesn't know when to stop?" Elena had found her way in, and she was not going to let the subject drop, Stefan realised. He cringed and nodded simply, before going through a mental cringe and attempting to find the button which rewound the past twenty minutes.

"No." Instead of the button, he found only empty answers, fuelled by a dirty desire to destroy all the faith Elena had in Damon, simply because nobody seemed to listen when he said that he was dangerous, and nobody seemed to get the idea, no matter how many people he killed. "He doesn't."

"Well, what do you mean, Stefan? I can't exactly-"

"Elena, learn when to butt out, will you?" There was a half-moment after the harsh words where Stefan felt a guilt that he had not felt in a long time, and Elena simply stared, stunned, before rising to her feet and folding her arms. "I don't like Damon because of the things he's done. They're not nice, Elena, and I'd rather you went about your business blissfully unaware..." He stopped, then looked up at her, "Because there would be a backlash, and I don't want you to get hurt."

Elena considered his words, but, had anyone else been in the room, or watching a record of their conversation, they would most definitely see the fury and schemes within her gaze.

"Of course, Stefan." She nodded, but he should have known he would not let it go.

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Italy, 1993 (June)

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Today was the day, one of the best days of either of their lives, and yet, as he stood in his bedroom and watched his brother carefully tie his tie so that it rested at its perfect length, Damon Salvatore was afraid.

He would never admit to feeling as such, but there was a definite weight in his stomach that was reaching up to twist in his throat and make him feel as though something were about to explode out of him. He assumed it was fear, because he had never felt this way before - aside from the time that Francesca had thrown him from her house because he had essentially attempted to eat her foot. Then, he had feared that he would never see her again, that she would be too angry at him to even glance in his direction. It had scared him because of the draw he had felt to her tiny frame, the rush of happiness that came with seeing her smile. Today, he was afraid of failing her, and afraid of failing himself.

Francesca, standing in her own bedroom, felt much the same way. Her chest was pounding, eyes a little bit blurred, and her cheeks were flushed to the point that Damon could smell her blood from the next room. She did not see the emotion as fear, however, more as an amalgamation of excitement, adrenaline and pure joy to make her feel so nauseous, so afraid, but unable to wipe the smile from her face.

It was a given that she would wear white, and, as Damon left his room in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her before the ceremony, he was sure he had seen the dress she would be wearing hanging from her wardrobe door somewhere before. It had stunned him into inertia momentarily because it was just like the first dress he had seen her wear - a damn-white-lacy-off-the-shoulder-thing, which, now that he knew what it looked like, was giving him ideas of how to tearing it from her body so he could ravage her, and ravage her well.

Francesca heard the movement in the hallway and called out to him in an attempt to keep the day traditional.

"Damon! I know you're there! Keep moving. I don't want to see you until later on!" Though she had wanted to sound stern, she could not help the giggle which came from her mouth as she spoke.

"Awh, Francesca!" As she had turned away from the door, Damon had appeared in front of her, grinning wildly as his vampire speed stunned her and made her jump about six inches into the air.

She landed neatly in his arms as she came down, sighing as he pressed his lips to hers and made her far too warm.

"Oh, what I could do with you," he mused, running a fingertip up and down her bare arm, then, with a sterner tone, "Why aren't you dressed yet? You know I get... dangerous when you're in lingerie..."

As if to prove his point, he pulled her closer and ran his fingertips under the band of her bra, almost tearing it, before pulling the lobe of her ear between his teeth and gently biting down. It took all of Francesca's strength not to leap into his arms and wrap her legs around his hips, but she resisted, pulling away with a soft moan as Damon sent her that devilish smirk and stepped back from her. She was hot now, stifled even though the windows were open.

"I wasn't dressed because I had a funny feeling you would do that."

"Ha-ha." Damon deadpanned, before pulling her closer and sliding his hand over her shoulders and to the curve of her backside. "You are so beautiful," he whispered before he pulled her in for another searing kiss.

"You're going to destroy me," Francesca replied, running her hands through his hair.

"Eh," Damon shrugged jovially, "just giving you something to smile about as you walk down the aisle."

He had to sprint out of the room at vampire speed as she attempted to throw her shoes at him.

"I love you!" He called as he pulled the door closed behind him, a satisfied smirk on his face as he turned to see Stefan shaking his head at him, even though he was grinning wildly and laughing with Damon – whose sense of fear had simply dissipated into one huge smile and a very wide grin.

"Congratulations, brother," Stefan smirked, running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, "It's your big day."

"Our big day, Stefan." He smiled and raised his hand to the door he had just stepped through, "Ours."

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They stood together at the altar, and Damon smirked as he raised his hand and looked down at the ring which sat upon it. He had had the Lapis Lazuli which had been set into the ring removed and broken into two, in order to make the ring which was seconds away from being slipped onto Francesca's finger.

"Io, Damon Salvatore, prendo te, Francesca Luch,
come mia sposa e prometto di esserti fedele sempre,
nella gioia e nel dolore, nella salute e nella malattia,
e di amarti e onorarti tutti i giorni della mia vita."

Francesca was in tears. It was nothing beyond that, simple joy spilling over and leaving her unable to speak. Damon slid his hands up her arms to her shoulders and rubbed his thumbs gently across her cheeks, wiping the tears away.

"Ti amo," He whispered, then, "Sempre," And her lips parted in a sob as she nearly fell to her knees and he caught her in his arms, holding her to him.

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"Bacio! Bacio!" Though the wedding was a small affair, there were enough people to yell for them to kiss, to have them on their feet and holding each other until Francesca could barely breathe, and Damon was seconds away from lifting his girl... his wife from the floor and carrying her away so that they could be alone.

The music was loud as they rose with the song to have their first dance. Damon held his hand out to her, and she quietly smiled, looking more beautiful than she ever had before. Slowly, he wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her against him, holding her tight and watching her smile as they locked eyes.

"Io non ti lascerò mai da solo," He whispered, "Not in a million years."

"Me neither." She whispered, "I couldn't..."

Her fingertips wrapped around his palm, gripping his fingers tight and holding him there, feeling the coolness of his skin, and the gentle grip of his fingers back against hers. Their rings clinked together and she bit her bottom lip, unable to stop smiling as she bowed her head and leaned against his chest as he led her around the dancefloor and kissed her intermittently.

"I love you so much," He whispered as the song ended and they were left staring at each other, neither of them sure whether they should sit, stand or what. Damon's lips pressed against hers as Stefan appeared at his shoulder and tapped it lightly, holding his jacket open to prove he was no threat.

"May I cut in?"

"Of course," Though Damon appeared reluctant to leave his bride.

The pair of them shifted to touch hands quickly, a small reminder of their immediate connection, before Damon pulled away and handed Francesca to Stefan.

"He thinks the world of you."

Neither was sure as to who had spoken first. Stefan wished to speak, but as the gentleman, he allowed Francesca to begin.

"He would never tell you to your face, of course," She gave him a small smirk which Stefan recognised as one of Damon's trademark expressions, before she continued, "But you can tell. When he speaks of the things you've done, the ideas you have – the things you want to do... he thinks you are incredible." There was a pause as Stefan span her away and back to him again, "Stupid as hell, but incredible."

"He has never been so happy." He whispered to his brother's bride, "I am so sure that he does not even see anybody else – women could throw themselves at him naked, but he would wade through them to get to you." She let out a light laugh, and Damon caught her eye from across the room, smiling lightly as she blew him a kiss. Stefan watched as his brother mimed catching it, a ridiculously large grin on his face, "I think his heart just stopped." He had never seen his brother acting so... goofy. There was no other word for it.

"No, no..." She smiled as she saw Damon wink at her and offer her an almost heartbreaking smile. Her breath hitched, though she looked almost unflappable to a human, "The heart that stopped? Mine."

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2010

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Matt Donovan was not usually so addicted to working late at school. He liked to get things done, and get them out of the way, that was true, but his teachers had noticed that for the past week or so, he had been in and out of football practise – understandable because his knee had been playing him around – and spending more and more time in the ridiculously small high school Metal Shop. When anybody asked why, his responses were vague, and sometimes, one of his teachers caught a glimpse of a black bracelet that looked half-finished but wasn't. No, it most definitely was nearing completion – and on the twelfth day, Matt looked upon it, and decided he was done.

It wasn't exactly the same, but it worked.

In the centre of town, more than three miles from the cemetery, and about a half-mile from the boarding house, Bonnie Bennett was sitting with her head in her hands, looking up at her Grams and whimpering about the darkness that was coming. She said she couldn't stand it, and that she wanted it to go.

"It won't go until it's come, Bonnie," Grams murmured, handing her granddaughter a bottle of something that didn't look suitable for such a small teenager. "Drink up, it'll help with the headache." Through her half-filled eyes, Bonnie eyed the bottle sceptically, then looked up at her grandmother. She had never steered her wrong, but this looked like a new level of disgusting.

"Are you sure?"

"It'll help, I promise." And, trusting in the kindly smile which was looking back at her, Bonnie uncorked the bottle and took a deep draw from it.

Blinking rapidly to disperse the sudden feeling of burning in her throat, but feeling the headache definitely receding, at least a little bit, Bonnie shut her eyes and waited for the darkness to clear.

It was replaced by sunlight. Lots and lots of searing, headache inducing, burning sunlight.

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A/N: Bahahahaha! I hope you liked that, and it was just unexpected enough...

Also, Goofy Damon ftw!

Review?

Xxxx

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Translations

"Io, Damon Salvatore, prendo te, Francesca Luch, come mia sposa e prometto di esserti fedele sempre, nella gioia e nel dolore, nella salute e nella malattia, e di amarti e onorarti tutti i giorni della mia vita." - - I, Damon Salvatore, take you, Francesca Luch, as my wife and promise to be faithful to you always, in joy and in pain, in health and in sickness, and to love you and every day honour you, for the rest of my life.

Bacio! Bacio! – Kiss! Kiss!

Io non ti lascerò mai da solo – I wouldn't leave you.