Holy moly! 62 reviews for just 2 chapters? Y'all are amazing! I am absolutely loving the reaction to this story. You all seem as excited as I am about writing this! Guess that's part of the reason why this chapter is 2x longer than the last one!

Moving forward, when there is a NASCAR "thing" mentioned that might not be common knowledge, I'll do a definition/explanation at the end. So, see the bottom AN for more on "knockout qualifying."

And now... Damon and Elena. In the same place.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Vampire Diaries.

Elena absentmindedly chewed on her lip as she folded chocolate chips into the cookie batter she had managed to pull together in an attempt to keep Molly daughter occupied. It had worked for a few minutes, but Molly was now playing happily with an assortment of kitchen utensils in the floor nearby, singing a made up song to herself. Elena chuckled a bit as she heard Molly sing "and then this spoon jumped into the pan with the fork and they danced with the blueberries."

For the countless time over, she found herself wondering if she was doing the right thing. They had a perfectly good life in California. The Marcos treated her well. She had a close-knit group of friends there. Molly was happy, enrolled in a good preschool, and thriving in the sunshine. Even though her parents had decided to move to South Carolina with plans to open a small family practice to round out their golden years, she had no real reason to leave.

Except Giuseppe Salvatore was a persistent man. She wasn't surprised to hear from him. He called a couple times a month to check on her and Molly, say hello. Still, he blindsided her with his job offer. She didn't hesitate to tell him absolutely not. He called again a few days later, made her another offer. She humored him and thought about it for a few days, but again, told him no. The third time he offered, she couldn't shake the feeling that she should say yes. She talked it over with her mother, her confidant, and her mother agreed – she should take it. And so, she accepted Giuseppe's offer.

She knew the consequences. She had spent enough time over the last three years thinking about them, weighing them. Wondering if she was doing the right thing. Sometimes, she was absolutely convinced keeping Molly from Damon was the right thing, especially when his own family agreed it was for the best. Other times, she was overwhelmed by guilt, devastated by the fact that she had kept her daughter away from her father. Some days it was even crippling and she had to force herself to put one foot in front of the other. But then a new story about Damon brawling in a bar or a drug allegation would surface and she would be reminded that Damon was in no way shape or form ready to be a father.

It hadn't been her intention for keep Molly from him. She had found out she was pregnant in the midst of complete chaos. She had tried to tell him, but he kept pushing her way. His parents and brother had tried. Even her own parents had tried to get through to Damon. She had tried again to tell him after Molly was born, but again, no one could break through his self-imposed exile.

Now, she had a daughter who was two months away from being three years old whose father had no idea she existed. Molly Eleanor Salvatore was the spitting image of her father, a genetic marvel according to her pediatrician in California who had wondered at her vivid blue eyes when Elena's own dark features were usually the dominant genes. She did have Elena's hair color, but other than that, she was her father's child.

Damon was going to find out. That was an absolute truth. Now that she was back in Mystic Falls, working for Salvatore Racing, there was no way to keep Molly's parentage a secret from him. The fact that they had gotten away with it for almost three years was a wonder. How he would react when he found out was anyone's guess. She was well-versed in the ways of the Damon portrayed in the press. She heard the stories from his family. But they didn't mesh with the Damon she knew once upon a time, even if Ginny Salvatore, the most honest person she knew, told her she no longer recognized her own son.

"Mama, what's dis?"

Elena looked up from the cookie batter she had been staring at for the last several minutes to find Molly had climbed back onto the chair she had been standing on to help with cookies earlier. She held out a wire whisk for her mother's inspection.

"That, Miss Molly, is a whisk," she explained. "You use it to mix things when you bake."

"Like cookies?"

"Sometimes," Elena agreed. "You can use it for cakes and brownies too."

"Can we make a cake?" Molly asked. Elena smiled as the line of questioning continued. She loved that her daughter was curious, wanted to know about the world around her.

"Not today," she said. "We're making cookies today. But we'll make a cake soon, okay? Once our things get here and we have our new house all set up."

"I miss my toys."

"I know you do, baby girl," Elena said. She placed a chaste kiss on Molly's temple. "I miss my things too. But they will be here in three more sleeps."

"Three more sleeps?"

"Three more sleeps," Elena confirmed as she started to scoop dough onto a cookie sheet. Ginny's 'few groceries' had turned out to be a fully stocked pantry and refrigerator. She had also placed a set of pots, pans and utensils that looked suspiciously brand new in the kitchen cabinets. It really shouldn't have surprised her that Ginny had gone overboard. It was just what she did.

"Can I has a cookie now?"

"They have to bake, silly goose," Elena said. She lifted her petite daughter off the chair and placed her on the floor before moving the cookie sheet to the oven. She then picked Molly up again and carried her into the living room. An old couch and an even older box TV had been left by their previous renters and Elena was grateful, even if they had to be moved out of the house once her furniture arrived. It gave her a place to sit and a means of entertainment. She didn't have her furniture or most of her personal effects yet, but she did have a cable connection and internet.

"Mama?"

"Hmm?"

"Why is it cold outside?" Elena laughed as she sat down on the couch, her daughter in her lap.

"Because we moved to a new place," she explained patiently. "We moved to the whole other side of the country where the weather is different. It gets cold here in the winter and sometimes, it even snows. Like on Christmas movies."

"Huh," Molly said as though she was pondering on the subject. "Can we build an Olaf?"

"The next time it snows, we will build an Olaf," Elena agreed. She hugged Molly to her. "What do you think of your new house so far?" she asked, letting go of the toddler after a moment. She straightened the bow in Molly's hair.

"It's boring," Molly answered. Elena nodded.

"It is," she agreed. "It will be much, much better when all of our things are here. It will feel more like home then."

"Can I have a pink room?" Molly asked.

"I promised you could," Elena confirmed. "We can go pick out paint later." She looked around her childhood home. The entire place could use a facelift, really, she mused. The walls were all white and lacked warmth. The hardwood floors could use a good buffing. She was slowly starting to accept the fact that she was going to wage renovation war on her childhood home. "Want to know something cool?" she asked Molly, turning her attention back to the child.

"What?" Molly asked, ever inquisitive.

"Your new room was my room when I was your age," she said. "And my new room? That was Nana and Grandpop's room."

"Cool," Molly replied although she sounded less than impressed. Elena rolled her eyes, daring to believe she was already that boring to a toddler. Without the TV on, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway was easily heard. Elena let out an excited gasp for Molly's benefit.

"Someone's here!" she said in a singsong voice.

"Who?" Molly asked, already excited.

"I don't know," Elena replied conspiratorially. "We'd better go see." Molly leapt off her lap and ran towards the front door, Elena following her. She unchained the door while Molly worked on the door's deadbolt. Elena made another mental note to install a better lock, one Molly couldn't operate so easily. Locks undone, she pulled open the door. Molly let out a squeal.

"Aunt Care-line!" she cried. She took off at a run, her bare feet slowing only to maneuver the front porch stairs.

"Molly Bo-Bolly!" Caroline replied gleefully. She squatted to Molly's level with her arms wide open. Molly launched herself into them, wrapping her small arms around Caroline's neck and squeezing tightly. Elena followed slower, beaming at her best friend and daughter's reunion.

"What, no love for me?" Molly lifted her head from its resting place on Caroline's shoulder.

"Uncle Stef!" She wiggled her way out of Caroline's arms and ran to Stefan. He easily swung her up into his arms and hugged her just as tightly as Caroline had.

"You have a kid, and suddenly you are all the way at the bottom of the totem pole," Elena stated with a smile on her face.

"Oh, shut up and come here," Caroline replied. She was already halfway to Elena. "And it's totally your fault for having a freaking adorable kid." The two women embraced.

"I missed you," Elena breathed, squeezing Caroline even tighter. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, Elena," Caroline whispered, hugging her back with all of her strength. "More than you know."

"What do you say, rugrat? Should we get in on this hugging thing too?" Stefan asked Molly.

"Hug!" Molly cheered. Stefan wrapped his free arm around Elena and Molly mimicked him, wrapping her tiny arm around Caroline. When the four way embrace finally broke, Elena and Caroline both wiped at their tears.

"Girls are so emotional," Stefan stated, making them all laugh, even Molly, who laughed because the grownups did, despite not understanding the joke. He gave Elena another one-armed squeeze.

"You have been just as excited to see them as I have," Caroline reminded him. She took Molly from him. "Come on, Miss Molly. Show me this new house of yours." Caroline started inside with Molly, leaving Stefan and Elena to follow, pretending it was the first time she had ever seen the home for Molly's benefit, even though she had spent more time at the Gilberts than at her own childhood home just down the street when they were growing up.

"You are really back in Mystic Falls," Stefan stated as they climbed the stairs.

"I'm really back in Mystic Falls," Elena repeated. "I can't believe it either."

"Thoughts on it so far?" Elena sighed and opened the door to let them in. She could hear Molly talking animatedly to Caroline upstairs, telling her about how her new room used to be her mom's old room.

"I've been here less than 24 hours," she said. "And I've already gone back and forth between being thrilled to be back and convinced I should load our bags back in the car and head west again at least a dozen times." Elena led the way towards the kitchen with the intentions of removing the cookies from the oven before they burned.

"Mom and Dad are glad you're back," Stefan commented. "Mom especially is over the moon to have you and Molly here. She will be plying you with food, bringing unwanted household items over at random times of the day and night and, in your case, since you have her only grandchild at present, she will also be stealing your kid every chance she gets and spoiling her rotten."

"I was half expecting her to be on the front porch when we woke up this morning," Elena admitted. She opened the oven and used a balled up t-shirt to take out the tray of cookies. She placed another tray in and shut the door.

"You've been here less than 24 hours and you're already baking cookies?" Stefan asked.

"Your mother stocked my kitchen," Elena replied. "Apparently, the only thing she forgot was a set of oven mitts, hence the t-shirt. I needed to find something to occupy Molly this morning and so, we made cookies."

"I'm not going to complain," Stefan said with a shrug. Upstairs, Molly let out squeal and giggled loudly at something Caroline was saying, or by the sounds of it, doing. "I arrived just in time to sample the spoils of your labor." Elena rolled her eyes. Some things never changed.

"You and Molly can keep each other occupied while you wait for them to cool," she stated. Stefan pursed his lips for a moment.

"Speaking of Molly," he ventured, because he had to, given the circumstances. "Damon…"

"Is going to find out," Elena finished his sentence. The apprehension in her voice was clear. "Probably sooner rather than later." She sighed and leaned on the counter, picking up her train of thought from earlier. "What in the hell am I doing?"

"We kept it from him this long," Stefan reasoned, sensing Elena's anxiety. "We can keep it from him a while longer, until you figure out the best way to tell him."

"She looks just like him," Elena pointed out.

"Trust me, Elena," Stefan replied with a shake of his head. "Damon won't notice. He's too wrapped up in himself to notice much else. You could put a flashing neon sign that says 'I'm your daughter' around Molly's neck and he still wouldn't put two and two together. Maybe if you put her picture on a bottle of good bourbon, he might do the math."

"Is he really that bad?" Elena asked. Upstairs, two sets of footsteps went running from one end of the house to the other, followed by more giggling. Elena and Stefan both glanced upwards.

"You've read the press coverage?" Stefan asked, already knowing the answer.

"Of course," Elena said. "I had to know what I was walking into." She left out the fact that she had been reading about Damon long before Giuseppe Salvatore called with a job offer.

"Well, he's worse than that," Stefan told her bluntly. "Frankly, Mom and Dad will probably bury him before we have to bury them." Elena sighed.

"Your mom said something similar," she admitted.

"She probably said something about burying him before she has to bury Dad," Stefan replied, having heard his mother's thoughts on Damon's behavior far too many times to count now. "She's certain he will go before her."

"Ginny Salvatore will outlive us all," Elena stated, making Stefan chuckle.

"Yeah, well, unless something changes, she's going to be right about Damon." Elena shook her head.

"You're not making me feel better about him finding out about Molly," she told him

"Trust me, Elena. He's not going to drop everything to vie for Father of the Year. He will probably make it all rather dramatic at first, but then he'll get over it and go right back to being the self-centered jackass he's become." Elena frowned at Stefan.

"He's your brother," she reminded him. "He used to be your best friend, too." Stefan shook his head sadly.

"He's not my brother," he said. "We share the same blood, but the guy Damon has become? That's not my brother. He's certainly not my best friend." Elena looked at Stefan for several long moments, trying to figure out a response. The two had been inseparable growing up, thicker than thieves. Now, Stefan could barely stand to be in the same room as him from the sound of things. She opened her mouth to say something – anything – when the sound of Caroline and Molly thundering down the stairs interrupted them. Moments later, they burst into the kitchen, both dripping with Molly's dress up clothes, one of the few toys Elena had allowed her to bring with her in the car from California. She had started to regret that concession six hours into the first day of their drive when Molly had a temper tantrum in her car seat because she wasn't allowed to undo her buckles and put on her Cinderella dress.

"I am so glad you two are back," Caroline stated, absolutely glowing with a crown of plastic jewels on her head.

"Aunt Care-line and Uncle Stef bought me presents!" Molly added gleefully. She jumped up and down in place, a boa flapping around her neck, her layers of costume jewelry jingling.

"We did!" Caroline replied excitedly. "Let's go get them out of the car!"

"Caroline," Elena warned.

"What?" Caroline asked innocently, already turning towards the front door.

"If she asks for a pony, you can't buy her the whole merry-go-round," Elena reminded her.

"Has she asked for a pony?" Caroline replied innocently. Elena narrowed her eyes, making Caroline laugh as she took Molly by the hand and skipped out of the house. Elena sighed and looked at Stefan.

"Get your wife – and by proxy, your credit card balance – under control," she said. Stefan looked guilty.

"She's our niece," he said by way of explanation. "We haven't seen her six month."

Elena shook her head and left the kitchen to follow Caroline and Molly and see what damage had been done. She pretended to be annoyed, but truthfully, the bags of toys and clothes Caroline was pulling out of the car helped her believe, just a little, that she was doing the right thing. Molly deserved to be with her family. And her family loved her more than anything.

Damon ran his hand along the lines of his Sprint Cup car. It was little more than a shell right now. The engine that would be dropped into it for testing in a couple of weeks was suspended from the ceiling nearby and tires, also for testing, lined a nearby wall. But even as a gray shell, he could feel the power behind it, envision how it would feel coming out of turn two of Daytona. He wrapped his hand around the window frame and felt the cold steel against his palm. This car was his last chance.

"She's gonna be a beast at Daytona," came a voice. He turned to see his car chief, Enzo, walking towards him, wiping at his grease smeared hands with a filthy shop towel. Enzo had been one of his closest friends once upon a time and they had managed to fall back into an easy companionship, if not quite a friendship, since Damon returned to Salvatore Racing.

"If I can qualify," Damon muttered under his breath. Enzo heard him.

"Don't talk like that," he ordered. "No negativity, remember?"

"I know," Damon sighed. "But you know how things go with me and restrictor plate racing. Then with the new knockout qualifying…" He shook his head.

"You keep talking like this and I'm going to back the old man's idea about sending you to a shrink," Enzo told him seriously. "You're a good driver, Damon. A damn good driver. You're just in your head too much."

"I don't need a shrink," he replied, ignoring the part about being a good driver. He knew he was better than average when it came to the actual driving. It was everything else that came along with it that put him through the ringer. "What I need is a spot on the grid at Daytona."

"Start thinking a little more positive, then," Enzo advised. "I know you think that visualization stuff is a bunch of hokey, but it works." Damon rolled his eyes and picked up a nearby wrench.

"Next thing I know, you're going to start playing spa music during our morning workouts."

"Which you've skipped the last three days," Enzo pointed out. "I'm not in the business of tattling to the boss, Damon, but…"

"I'll be here in the morning," Damon cut him off. "I've had – stuff to do." Enzo didn't say anything. He just shook his head. He had all the faith in the world that Damon could be a great driver, not just a good one. It was Damon who didn't seem to agree, let alone put forth the effort to be successful.

"We're down a guy today," he said instead. "Come help swap out tires on a few of the trucks for testing." Damon nodded and put the wrench back where he had found it. He liked working around the shop. It wasn't expected of him – the other drivers didn't spend much time with a wrench in their hands – but he found solace in turning lug nuts and re-assembling transmissions. His passion was behind the wheel, but mechanics were a puzzle, figuring out what worked, what didn't. He liked the way it made his mind work – and that he could lose himself in the nuts and bolts of it all.

He fell into step beside Enzo, half listening as he went on about the rookie driver Giuseppe had brought on for the Camping World Truck Series, bringing his total of full-time drivers up to eight. It was a young kid, his name Damon didn't catch, who was reserved in his driving style, but showed promise. He went straight to work when they entered the truck shop, grabbing a tire from the rack and wheeling it into place. He worked methodically around the truck, tuning out the shop talk around him, and was just removing the fourth tire when a group of people entered the shop.

"And this is our truck shop," his father's voice carried through the big metal building. Damon peeked around the fender of the truck. His lost his grip on the air gun in surprise and it hit the ground with a clatter. The sound of the running air compressor covered the curse words that fell from his lips as he snatched it backed up and peered around the truck again, checking to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

There, in the flesh and hanging on to his father's every word, was Elena Gilbert.

He was supposed to wait until the 'Meet Elena' meeting Giuseppe had planned for that afternoon to officially introduce Elena to the Salvatore Racing staff. Although it hadn't been said, it was his father's way of putting him and Elena in the same room together for the first time in three years with the least amount of risks possible. Surely, he would behave himself in a room full of people.

He had intended to stick to the plan he had been given. He wasn't exactly in a position not to. But ever since seeing her in the truck shop a couple hours earlier, he had been anxious to get their first encounter out of the way. It was going to be awkward, no matter what, but like a moth to a flame, he couldn't stay away. And so, he had waited until he knew his father was on a conference call, located Stefan's whereabouts, and when he was sure he could get to her office uninterrupted, he headed straight for it.

She wasn't hard to find. He knew Salvatore Racing headquarters like the back of his hand. There was one empty office in the marketing department, previously used to store extra chairs and broken printers. He had seen it being cleared out last week, but hadn't known why at the time, nor had he taken much of an interest in finding out the answer at the time. He took the stairs to the third floor and made his way to her office halfway down the hall.

He walked up quietly. Her door was open, her full attention on the big screen Mac set up on her desk. He took the opportunity to just look at her, glad to see his obstructed glimpse in the truck shop earlier, hidden behind the shell of a Chevy, had hardly done her justice.

She was far more beautiful than he remembered. Her dark hair was a shade or two lighter, likely from her time on the west coast, and a few inches shorter than she used to keep it. She still wore minimal makeup, just enough to accent her best features. And, he noticed, she still bit her lip in concentration. He painted on a smirk, raised his fist, and knocked sharply on her doorframe. She startled at the sound and looked in his direction. He watched as a look of surprise and then recognition danced across her features. It was a guarded expression that settled in place, however.

"Elena Gilbert," he stated. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "In the flesh. Very fine flesh, might I add."

"Damon," Elena greeted evenly. She swallowed hard and steeled herself. She knew this moment was going to happen, but she wasn't any more ready for it than she had been when she pulled her car into the parking lot of Salvatore Racing's headquarters that morning. It didn't help that Damon was still as handsome as ever, his hair intentionally messy, his eyes as vivid as she remembered. He still wore his old leather jacket.

"Welcome back," he replied.

"Thank you," she said carefully. "It's good to be home." Damon nodded.

"You look good," he continued. "More beautiful now than you were back when we were kids." He watched her take a deep breath and found satisfaction in the fact that he was making her uncomfortable, just like he used to do when he was chasing her around race tracks, trying to get her to agree to go on a date with him.

"And it appears you are even more trouble now than you were when I left," she volleyed back. Damon's smirk grew. She still had that spark he had loved too.

"Isn't that why they hired you?" he asked. Elena pierced him with a look that he couldn't quite define. It wasn't hatred, exactly, but it wasn't exactly full of love either. It was indifference, mingled with something he couldn't identify.

"I was hired to support and manage all eight drivers," she told him. "But I'm told you're the one that's going to give me the most trouble."

"Haven't I always?" he asked smoothly. Elena blew out another breath. It was taking an incredible amount of effort not to let him see just how rattled she was by his appearance.

"Can I help you, Damon?" she replied, her tone letting him know she had had enough of his small talk and implied innuendo.

"Can't I say hello to an old friend?" he asked. Elena shook her head.

"You can't," she said. Damon didn't quite understand it, but he knew somehow that those two words with loaded with meaning. He ignored that thought.

"Trust me," he said. "You won't be the first person around here that doesn't believe a word that comes out of my mouth." He tipped an imaginary hat at her. "I'll be going. I'll see you at your big debut to the rest of the Salvatore team." He smirked again. "It will be just like Miss Mystic Falls."

"So, I should expect to find you in a bathroom with your legs wrapped around a blonde?" Elena shot back before she could stop herself. Damon raised an eyebrow.

"I had forgotten about that," he admitted. "You were pissed. And we weren't even dating back then."

"You were my escort," Elena reminded him. "Against my will, at that." Damon opened his mouth to reply, to remind her that he had stepped up to the plate when her own date had bailed on her at the last minute.

"Damon!"

Damon groaned at the interruption.

"Little brother," he greeted, not bothering to look at Stefan when he appeared in Elena's doorway to him.

"Hey, Stefan," Elena greeted easily. Damon glanced at Stefan then, and then back to Elena.

"He gets a nice, polite greeting and I get accused of being a handful?" he asked.

"She call them like she sees them," Stefan informed Damon. "Don't you have somewhere you need to be right now?"

"Not really," Damon answered truthfully.

"Well, there's always something to do in the shop," Stefan continued. "Why don't you head down there, see if you can't make yourself useful until our meeting?" Damon glared daggers at his brother who glared right back. Elena observed the exchange, taking in every detail.

"Think of Stefan as the equivalent of the vice principal around these parts," Damon told Elena finally, breaking their stare down. "Which means I should go 'make myself useful' before he tattles on me to the principal – one Giuseppe Salvatore. I'll see you later. Welcome back." With that, he turned and walked away. Stefan watched him walk down the hall and disappear into the stairwell before turning back to Elena.

"You okay?" he asked. Elena sighed and sat back in her desk chair.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm fine. It's not like I didn't know that was going to happen."

"Still," Stefan said with a shake of his head. "He wasn't supposed to stop by your office like this. Dad told him to wait until the meeting this afternoon, probably wanted to be on hand to make sure Damon behaved himself. Although in hindsight, maybe Dad should have told him to stop in and say hello to you as soon as he could. Seeing as he does exactly the opposite of what's expected of him, he would have stayed as far away as possible."

"I don't need Giuseppe – or you – to run interference," Elena said gently, but firmly. "It's not like I didn't know I was going to see Damon again. I made the choice to come back here. Now, I have to deal with that choice."

"I know," Stefan agreed. "But, we're here if you need us."

"Thank you," Elena said with a nod.

"You settling in otherwise?" Stefan continued. Elena took a deep breath. She knew Stefan was trying to be helpful, but she felt like he was hovering, trying to protect her from Damon. She was determined to do this, to live in Mystic Falls with her daughter and work at Salvatore Racing, on her own terms. She didn't need Stefan to act as a bodyguard.

"So far, so good," she said. "I'm just getting my office organized and reading through some stuff the marketing director sent me about the upcoming season."

"That's the polite way of telling me to get out," Stefan said, catching on. "I'll see you at the meeting in a little bit." Elena nodded.

"Thanks, Stefan," she said. He nodded in understanding.

"I'll leave you to it," he said. When he was gone, Elena sighed and dropped her head to her hands.

Her heart was still racing from Damon's appearance. Despite her best efforts, she hadn't been remotely prepared to see him again. She had given herself a pep talk as she drove to Salvatore Racing that morning. She had ran through every scenario she could imagine in the last six weeks since accepting Giuseppe's offer. But no pep talk or role play in the world could have prepared her to see him standing before her, in the flesh. She thought she had done a good job of hiding it, but his appearance had shaken her apart at the seams.

It had been his eyes that had been her ungluing. She had just seconds to comprehend that he was in her doorway before her eyes had met his crystal blue ones, the very same eyes that looked up at her every night when she tucked Molly into bed. She hadn't expected it to be so overwhelming, the mixture of love, regret, anger, guilt and malice that had coursed through her veins. He had broken her heart and given her the single greatest gift he could have ever given her, all in one fell swoop.

Blowing out a long breath, she sat upright in her chair and tried to resume what she had been doing before Damon interrupted her. She glanced through a few emails that had already started to fill her inbox, but her attention was captured by the candid shot of Molly she had framed and placed on her desk that morning. She was here for Molly, she reminded herself. But, she would also do whatever she had to do to keep Molly safe and happy.

They have officially had their first meeting. Damon will meet Molly - sort of - next update. The next update will have a little bit of everything - Damon and Elena, Damon and Molly, Elena and Molly...

NASCAR stuff...

The Car Chief - in this case, Enzo - works closely with the crew chief to determine setups for the car (setups change from track to track, depending on a number of things). The car chief makes sure things get done to deliver the best car possible for race day, allowing the crew chief more time to work on overall strategy.

Knockout Qualifying - This form of qualifying went into effect for the 2014 season. It depends on track size - tracks bigger than 1.25 miles have slightly different rules than tracks smaller than that. Essentially, all cars go on the track at the same time for 25 minutes of the bigger tracks, 30 on the smaller ones. The fastest X amount of cars moves on to the next round and then the fastest 12 go out again. Starting position is determined from there, based on speeds. They actually don't do this type of qualifying for the Daytona 500 - they rely on two qualifying races - but for the purposes of my story, we're going to take creative liberties and pretend they do.

With qualifying, there are a handful of "provisional" spots that make up the tail-end of the pack. Those spots are given to drivers who didn't qualify based on speed, but their team owner has ownership points that will get them on the track. The final spot - 43rd - is reserved for a past champion who didn't qualify otherwise. Damon REALLY doesn't want a provisional spot, based purely on his own foolish pride.

And finally, in addition to Sprint Cup and Nationwide (the "JV" of Sprint), there is also the Camping World Truck Series - Damon was helping out with the Salvatore Racing trucks.

WHEW. I think that's all. We won't have long NASCAR explanations each chapter, promise!

Please continue to let me know what you think!