Disclaimer: Pfft, me? Own this? Naaah.

Pandora03, BilliMonroe and G1rlanachr0n1sm make me smile beyond belief. You all deserve temporary Goofy Damon rental. I'll figure out a way to send him to you virtually... I promise.

Enjoy!


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2010

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Matt met Elena on the sidewalk that led the high school parking lot. Both of them were silent, both of them awkward as they stood together, watching the cars move around and everybody go about their daily business.

Elena was tired. She wanted to tell Matt she worried about Stefan, because the things he was hiding were definitely stronger and more frightening than she had first thought, and Damon – Oh, Damon! He was in more trouble than she had ever assumed he could be in. There was far more to his past than either brother had dared to let on. As she stood beside Matt, faithful, human Matt, her fingertips locked with his as she folded her arms and let out a quiet sniff of sadness.

He sighed and looked at her. She was not the Elena who had come through the beginning of this year with a smile on her face. Well, it was not a... smile... but some kind of semblance of it. It was gone now, however, replaced by the slim press of her lips in a tight line and the small, furious crease in her forehead which made her look so... tired.

It was not a good look on Elena, Matt decided. She had too many things which laid upon her, and her slow movements were some which Matt worried about – he was not sure whether it was late nights, school work or something more sinister. As ever, however, Matt didn't say a word. He simply observed.

He didn't like getting on the bad side of anyone, and, as he held out the skinny bracelet to Elena, hoping she would take it, and with it, some of her sadness would melt away, he felt a certain kind of heaviness in the air. It was not humidity, per-se, but it was something akin to it – thick and sultry in the air and tiring him as he watched Elena smile at him, mouth a 'thank you' and press her lips to his cheek.

"Matty, you're a saviour among men," She smiled and for a moment, Matt saw a level of happiness cross her face that he had not seen in a while.

As he climbed back into his car to search for his jacket – it was December, it was cold – he risked a glance back at his ex-girlfriend and sighed. She was smiling, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

It told him one thing – Elena was scared.

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Italy, 1993 (February)

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Francesca had a filthy habit of leaving her bedroom window open. Damon had a filthy habit of ducking into said bedroom window in the middle of the night.

Their actions balanced out rather well.

As he considered announcing his presence - after finding it slightly more difficult to get through the window this time because his fingers had slipped on a dewy slickness which had appeared due to it being rather close to dawn, he noticed that her bathroom door was open, and the soft, damp mist which was curling out of it left him sure that she was in the shower. It decided him. He would surprise her.

Damon was always, always sure and silent, shrugging his leather jacket from his shoulders and laying it across her bed as he stepped carefully toward her bathroom door. Francesca's lips curved into a small smile as the chink of light which lifted to her eyes from her bedroom widened in the soft light of the bathroom, and there was a near-silent creak as the door opened, almost drowned out by the patter of the shower spray.

She knew he would come, and she could not help but tease him for it, trusting that his natural curiosity and his serious desire to see her naked - which was proven because every time he saw her, he tried to get her in bed - would bring him to the door across the room.

He moved like a cat, pausing only to lean against the wall and fold his arms nonchalantly, the smile spreading across his face one of the larger ones of recent times as he stared through the misted glass divider. He watched as she stretched up under the spray of water, and found whatever it was that she was looking for – ah, shampoo – as he toed his shoes and socks off and smirked.

He thought she had no idea.

Francesca knew. She always knew when he was close to her- he sent shivers up her spine and made the room a little warmer with whatever power he seemed to have.

So, she did what she had to do, and it took no longer than usual, her fingers moving slowly with the flannel and the soap, and Damon's breathing shallowing as he watched her shadow through the glass. Until everything went wrong, simply because she leaned forward to pick up the conditioner, with shampoo still in her hair.

It ran into her eyes and she felt the immediate sting of tears and the embarrassed burn of a failed, miserable attempt at seduction.

"Shit!" She gasped, rubbing frantically at her eyes to dispel the shampoo and making her even more wound up.

Damon lifted his hands from their position behind his back, and he straightened up, suddenly worried that something was ridiculously wrong. Francesca was frustrated, he could feel it, but he wondered whether she would like a surprise to go with that irritation, or whether she would attempt to throw something at him. He didn't like her mad at him.

As time went on, and she continued to curse, the words sounding painfully good to his ears, he realised that it probably couldn't get any worse than the aftermath of her finding out he had been spying on her. So, heartened by the fact he was facing having beauty products thrown at him whichever direction he chose, he smiled to himself and stepped towards the glass door to the shower, slowly pulling it back in order to see her with his own eyes.

She was gorgeous.

"Damon! Uscite, per favore," She whispered as she turned to him, entirely ashamed of the mess of hair and foam and everything about her at that moment.

"No, no." He said, stepping into the shower proper. "Pretty girl, calm down," He slowly ran a hand down her bare back, feeling water following the path of his fingers. It was only at that point that he realised that he was still fully dressed, his trousers darkening as the water spray hit him, and the dark grey of his shirt simply darkened. "Here," He crouched to pick up the flannel, then took her hand and pulled her against him.

She soaked him through almost immediately, but her fresh scent and small smile made it all worthwhile as he ran his hand under the spray and slowly ran the cloth over her face, dispersing the remnants of the soap from her hair and eyes and making it... everything better.

She blinked up at him and grinned again as she slid her fingers around his wrist to hold his hand. He couldn't help but smile as he reached behind her and turned the water off, pressing her back into the tiles as he grinned.

"You," He murmured as he reached around for a towel, "Are positively sinful."

He thrust the towel at her and then, as her fingertips touched it, thought better of it, throwing it around her shoulders and wrapping it around her, before pulling her to him, and lifting her from her feet.

"Hey! Hey! Mettimi giù!" She yelped, before he shook his head and wrapped his arms around her waist. She had no other option but to grip on with her ankles and he groaned as she tightened her grip on him. He only lifted her higher, then, as she laughed and he pressed his lips to hers, he slowly let her slide down his hips until her feet were on the floor.

"Hello, pretty girl," He whispered as she pulled away from him and twisted her fingers into his. He pulled her close to him again and pressed another, this time feather light kiss against her lips.

They felt whole again as soon as they tumbled into each other. His fingers tightened in her damp, tangled hair, and they fused their lips together into something that burned, twisted and exploded within them.

It was dawn when Damon found a brush and slowly sat Francesca up so that she was resting between his legs, shreds of lingerie adorning her body.

"Do you know how much this stuff costs?" She gestured at the tatters of her bra and the pathetic volume of lace that was now flapping from the elastic on her hips, "I should not let you near me when I'm in lingerie."

"You seemed to enjoy it," He laughed, and she did the same as he gently put the brush to a section of her hair and started running it down the length.

She sighed happily as his fingers combed through it, following the comb, and, with every movement he made, Damon considered the future.

"Francesca..." He said eventually, looking down at her and slowly running his hands up and down her shoulders, "I need to talk to you." She heard 'we need to talk', and it scared her.

She immediately feared for their relationship. In fact, those words had terrified her. Everything within her tightened and she wrapped her hands around herself, staring back at him, scared and shaking as Damon slowly wrapped his arms around her. For once, his touch did not calm her, and she remained trembling for the seconds it took for Damon to kiss her, once, twice, until she was breathless.

"Pretty girl..." He murmured, still running his fingers through her hair, "Don't be sad." A small movement as she twitched, instinctively leaning her head back so Damon had access to her neck, so he could bite down as many times as he wished, but... he leaned back and pulled away. "This is a good thing, I think." Even he was shaking now, as the words he desperately wanted to say left him, evaporated before they could leave his lips.

"W-what do you want to say then... if it's good?" She was afraid to even ask, but she had to speak her thoughts aloud.

"I was thinking," He mused, running a fingertip up and down her bare wrist, tracing a vein slowly and carefully, "I was thinking way into the future... what's going to happen with... us." Then, just as slowly, he dropped his lips to her neck and pressed a gentle kiss there.

It was then she realised what he had meant, and he smiled straight back at her as her fingertips slid over his ring and she looked back up at him. She had said forever.

Forever it would most definitely be.

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2010

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Darkness. Bonnie hated it, now, because it was taking over everything in Mystic Falls. It was everywhere and it was all encompassing, and it was still giving her a headache.

It was deepest black over the Boarding House, where Elena spent most of her time with Stefan, and where the other Salvatore – Damon, resided, and it was even darker over the high school – to the point where Bonnie was now spending her time on her own, ditching class to sit in the cemetery with her textbooks and her essays, doing work there, instead of even daring to work in the halls of Mystic Falls High.

The darkness was growing, in a definitely palpable way, as well, with shadows forming everywhere, heavy and dishonourable, thick and filled with innumerable, horrible feelings. Bonnie was, however, sure that the searing light which always followed would be one which would destroy everything that was dark in the town and make the area a brighter place.

On the third Thursday before the New Year, early in the morning, two strange things took place. First, Bonnie's place in the cemetery was usurped by the dark spectre of Damon Salvatore, who was slowly making his way around the graves and stooping to look at them every-so-often.

"What're you doing here?" Bonnie felt the darkness shift closer to them and she recoiled from Damon's outstretched words. "I'm not gonna hurt you... Bonnie? Or is it Connie?" He quirked his eyebrow and felt the shudder as she realised exactly what he was. She let out a soft whimper and he frowned a little bit. "I give you my word."

There was silence as he watched her and she nodded simply, believing him.

The second strange occurrence was the small, golden aura which Bonnie could see around Damon. This was weird simply because it was there one moment, as he laid back and looked up at the sky, but as he blinked twice and looked back at her, Damon was coloured with grey. It had been like a shot of tequila bursting through a night of vodka cocktails – short and... curious.

"What?" He asked as she dared to lift her eyes from the light emanating from him and lock their gazes.

"You're glowing." She returned, then, realising how that would sound, "I mean, your aura-"

"I know what you mean," He retorted, "I'm not stupid." Another pause, "But seriously, I can't glow. I'm just a little bit dark right now."

"It'll get better." Bonnie murmured without thinking, and then she stared at him. "What you're going to do... it's right. When you know it's going to happen, know it's right."

"O-kay," Damon nodded slightly, retreating into sarcasm because like it or not, Bonnie's psychic abilities threatened him, "Whatever you say, crazy lady."

For the rest of the time they both spent in the cemetery, neither of them said a word.

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A/N: Yes, er, review?

Translation:

Mettimi giù! – Put me down!

Uscite, Per favore – get out, please!