Sooo since I have a few chapters written in advance, I've decided to post a new one after receiving a certain amount of reviews for the last posted chapter.

So far, you guys have been awesome about reviewing, which means more chapterss!

Hope you like this one!

Oh, and trigger warning for this chapter, kinda. It gets a little dark.

Present Day

He watched her, from the shadows, as she and the blonde stretched with some other females on the lawn.

His Elena, a cheerleader.

Somehow perk and team spirit didn't exactly fit the image he carried of her.

But then, he'd seen her drive a dagger through the heart of a man twice her size, and it was a little hard to buy this innocent schoolgirl look, after that.

But God, she was mouthwatering in her little shorts and camisole.

Women in their true time never wore less than ten pounds of fabric, covering three quarters of their body, at least, and Elena had been no different.

At least not around the others.

In his private bed chambers she often wore sheer translucent marital gowns that revealed the curves of her body and the skin of her cleavage.

She loved it when he cut them away with the blade of his knives, slowly, agonizingly, occasionally nicking the softness of her flesh with the tip, just enough for blood to spawn and turn the white to red.

She lived for it

Lived for him.

He had become convinced of that the night she killed her Bennett slave, at his request.

An unfortunate necessity, as young Emily had been a witch, a born witch, and they'd needed her power.

She wasn't the first witch to die for him, though, not by a long shot.

Unknown to his dearest father and beloved brother, his mother herself had been what he was, a Shadowcaster.

A person who could absorb the powers of others, and control it, use it for their will.

His mother absorbing the power of a witch was the only way he'd survived through childhood.

Her harnessed magic had cured him of the sickness he'd always had, but unfortunately, she hadn't been able to save herself.

She'd died just as he'd healed, and when this became known to his father, he'd been locked away, forgotten.

The family curse that no one was to know existed behind the castle walls.

It's all he'd been left with.

Until her.

His beautiful, fierce, Elena with her thriving Petrova blood, had brought him to life.

It's rumored that the witches of old used her family's blood to bind their spells, for its strength was so great.

A strength he'd experienced first hand, when she'd opened her wrist and let him drink from her.

His powers, being tied to that of blood sacrifice, had soared to new heights, his abilities limitless.

It was enchanting, addictive.

She was addictive.

And she was almost within his reach again.

He just need a little more time.

It had become clear that the memories of their lives together didn't transfer to Elena's new life, as it had with him, and his spoiled, backstabbing brother.

His backstabbing brother who had joined the football team and and was living out the all American dream.

It would be adorable if it wasn't so damn annoying that he'd gotten to her first.

Again.

But sure enough, in the past week he'd been watching her, he'd also found his brother, glued to her side, playing the innocent boyfriend.

It was too big of a coincidence that he just happened to be here in Aurelia, with her, for him not to remember.

The question pulling at him was "How?"

How had Stefan survived?

Unless baby brother delved into the power himself...

He'd find out soon enough.

It was only a matter of time before the three of them had their epic reunion.

And Damon planned on making sure it was spectacular.

Unable to do much else, he backed away from the field, throwing a final glance at his love before making his way toward the building.

He drew on the magic inside of himself, and used it to teleport across town.

With a blink, he was in the cabin he'd been inhabiting for the past week.

Small and discreet, miles from the town, yet close enough not to be inconvenient, he'd been lucky to find this place out in the woods.

The owner, however, not so lucky.

But getting to this point took sacrifices, and Damon had to make sure everything was in place before he dared impose on Elena's life.

So he'd focused himself.

It had taken him days to find a witch with enough magic to feed his hunger.

And after a five hundred year fast, it was great.

But alas, he had.

The girl was was young, no older than her mid twenties, and she was strong.

But not very smart.

He'd merely charmed her at a local bar, supplying her with drinks until she told him her name, Amelia Johnson, and that she was a student, working on her bachelor's degree.

She also had very little family, none that she talked too, which made her the perfect selection. It didn't take long before she was too far gone to use her magic against him.

The only down side had been waiting for the alcohol to leave her system.

Damon sighed, moving to the back room of his new home.

Upon the floor was the entrance to the basement, and his current destination.

Lifting the door, a set of stairs were revealed to him, and he descended them.

The room was dark, but he knew the muffled cries meant that his guest was awake.

He felt for the switch, and the light came on.

Bare of everything except a few boxes and a table, the room had become his perfect holding cell.

The young woman he'd captured laid upon said table, her arms and feet bound.

Scars littered her neck where Damon had taken her blood, then used her own magic to heal the wounds, refusing to let her bleed out.

But he had plans, and would need his strength.

The girl had tear stains running across her cheek, and the gag he'd placed around her mouth barely muffled the words she was trying to say to him.

He walked over, observing her.

Her eyes were dark, almost black, matching her unruly hair, that was now a mess of matted permed curls.

He brushed his hand against her forehead, pushing the hair away from her face.

She struggled against her restraints.

Damon lifted her head, untying the cloth there and pulled it from her mouth.

She took a gasp of air, shaken by a sob, before staring at him frantically.

"P-please, let me go..." She swallowed, "I'll give you anything! Money, my car, anything. I won't go to the police, just please!"

Damon sighed, "I have no use of your material objects."

Tears filled her eyes, "Please."

He ignored her, walking over to the shelf against the far wall.

It held on it, an impressive knife set.

Nothing like his daggers back in his true time, but passable, for the job at hand.

"What do you want?" She called out, begging, "I'll give you anything. Just please let me go."

Damon looked over his shoulder at the girl.

"I'm sorry Amelia. But there's only one thing I need from you. Lay still, and I promise, it'll be painless."

He walked over, holding the knife, and she began struggling again.

"No, please! God, please, no!"

He used the last of the magic in him to steady her.

"Shh," he insisted, "It'll only last a moment."

With a flick of his mind, he summoned a bucket to his side.

Then he slit her wrist.

Blood began to pour, dripping into the bucket, and she cried out.

He did the same to her other wrist, conjuring a second bucket.

He ran a hand across her chest as she bled, feeling the beat of her heart.

It only took minutes for the girl to pale, and her eyes began to flutter.

"Please," she whispered, her throat thick, as unconsciousness began pulling her under.

Damon leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Thank you for your sacrifice, Amelia. Know that I am eternally grateful."

Her eyes closed, and he rose, using the knife to cut her top open.

The cloth was tore to the side with little effort, her bare chest exposed.

Damon rose the knife above his head, and plunged.

It was difficult, cutting through bone, but he managed, carving into her chest until there was a hole wide enough to slip his hand inside.

His fingers felt the last few beats of her heart as he closed them around it, and pulled.

Her blood ran dark down his arm, and he smiled.

Power would soon be within his grasp.

With a breath, he brought the muscle to his lips.

He chanted the words of old, their lyrical flow filling him with strength.

Then he bit into the heart, the life source of the witch that now lay dead beneath him.

The taste was the same irony choke, but the sheer power that overcame him as it touched his tongue made him more than willing to swallow it down.

After all, if his brother was guarding Elena, he'd need to be as strong as possible.

An hour later, the girl's body burned behind him, her heart long devoured, and her blood stored away.

He held in his hand, a picture of Elena Gilbert, that he'd stolen from the house she shared with her aunt while they were out.

His fingers traced the frame, as he made up his mind.

He'd go to her today.

He'd introduce himself, and charm his way into her life.

He'd figure out a way to deal with Stefan, but for the moment, he needed to see her.

The real her.

He needed to feel her skin, look into those brown eyes, and know that she was truly alive and well.

So today. He'd find her today, and speak with her.

But how?

He didn't wish to frighten her, and randomly showing up in her bedroom might do just that.

He thought on it.

Perhaps he'd go to her aunt.

With his new power, it shouldn't be hard to compel her into a public outing.

The town's square had been abuzz with people earlier, for some sort of market.

That would be a good place to casually run into his love, on "accident".

Yes.

That's what he'd do.

Right after he showered and removed the stains of blood from his body, of course.

After all, he wasn't a monster.

So this chapter was pretty Damon centered, but it was needed.

His character is different than how I usually write, so any feed back is appreciated!

Let me know whatcha think, and what you think might happen ;)