I was utterly blown away by the reviews on the last chapter, thank you so much for all the love. Your thoughts and kind words are always very much appreciated.

This was a really enjoyable chapter to write, I hope you enjoy it.

How would you guys feel about a one-shot- when Damon met Bree?

x-x-x-x

She spotted Jeremy across the room, sat at a table sullenly watching the dancing. He couldn't ignore her in front of this many people, could he?

"So, Uncle John is back." She sighed, taking a seat across from him and depositing her clutch on the table. Elena figured that was a safe topic of conversation.

Jeremy nodded, his mouth set in a line.

Luckily for Elena, Damon provided her with a trick up her sleeve. Slipping the hip flask out of her purse she passes it to Jeremy. That loosened him into talking to her, finally.

"The dick dragged me here. Said it was a Gilbert family tradition and soon I'd know the true importance of the founders' events." He rolled his eyes at this.

"He's talking about the council." Elena clarified. "They meet at parties like this every time. Discuss how to tackle the vampire problem." She mouthed the word vampire just in case, even though there was nobody near the secluded corner table that Jeremy had picked. She wasn't sure quite how much detail Damon had gone into about the council when he'd had his sit down talk with Jeremy.

Jeremy nodded. "Why did you make me forget?" He looked at her directly, and she couldn't help but answer honestly.

"You were hysterical, you wanted to die to be with her, with Mum and Dad. I was petrified I'd lose you too. It's the only way I could think of to take away your pain and keep you." Jeremy nodded, then reached across and squeezed her hand.

"You'll always have me 'Lena."

x-x-x-x

What the fuck was he going to do now? Letting her bring her family in on the secret had given her the space she'd needed to process the events surrounding Isobel, but how was he supposed to now tell her he'd also killed her Uncle? It wasn't like he was going to transition as Isobel had or magically come back to life like Alaric.

This time, the person he'd killed was going to stay dead and Elena was going to hate him for it.

He needed a drink.

Arriving at the bar, he found Alaric and Bree stood there holding tumblers filled with his favourite amber liquid. A quick scan around told him that Elena was on the dancefloor with her aunt and school friends. The music had changed to big band sounds, and they were clearly enjoying the change in pace. Damon hoped to God they weren't going to cycle through every decade- he really did hate the 50s.

"I fucked up." He announced as his own drink arrived. The three were all standing, backs to the bar, elbows propping them up as they watched the dance floor.

"Expected." Alaric muttered, whilst Bree added, "Nothing new there."

"Who needs enemies with friends like you?" Damon raised a single brow at both of them.

"We're not friends." Alaric said, causing Bree to cough slightly on her drink as she tried to suppress a giggle.

Unfortunately for Damon, a clearly tipsy Caroline chose that exact moment to emerge from the dancefloor and grab Bree's free hand, dragging her to dance. Bree looked astonished but went with it anyway, joining Jenna and the teenagers in the group. She was too nice for her own good, Damon thought.

He took a side-step closer to Alaric. "John Gilbert knew about me." He let Alaric process that information, "I might have snapped his neck, just a little bit." He held up two fingers, emphasising the small amount.

"Jenna may actually thank you for that." Alaric said, deadpan, before taking a gulp from his drink. "But I think you might need to reassess your strength, big man. You might have given the guy a bad cramp but you certainly didn't kill him."

Damon frowned. He'd heard the snap, and splayed John's body across the patio for good measure. What on earth was the teacher talking about?

Then, he followed Alaric's gaze.

Goddammit, did nobody stay fucking dead here?

John Gilbert had just walked into the room, with Mayor Lockwood.

"Look at his right hand," He whispered to Alaric as he spotted the ornate jewellery that John was sporting, suspiciously similar to Alaric's own ring.

Alaric looked down at his hand, comparing the two. "Looks like you've got lucky, Salvatore. Once again, you've got away with murder."

Damon smirked. He had, hadn't he? "You don't need to look so pissed, Ric." A piece of the puzzle fell into place in his mind. "Isobel gave you that ring, right?" Alaric nodded. "Isobel, who gave birth under the medical care of the esteemed Dr. Grayson Gilbert, John's brother?"

Alaric raised a brow at him, "You think John knew Isobel?"

"I think John knows a lot of things."

x-x-x-x

The music changed suddenly, the disco giving way to rock. Elena recognised the song with the first bars, it was Alice Cooper's 'Poison'. It was one of the songs she associated with Damon.

She felt him behind her, his hands on her hips as she began to sway to the music. She couldn't believe Damon was on the dance floor. They'd joked about it in the car on the way here and he'd claimed he'd rather be seen dead than dancing at a founder's event.

But now he was behind her, so close she could feel his breath on her neck. She didn't need to turn around to know it was him, his touch was almost distinctive.

The eyes of the group were on her, Caroline frowning, either at the change of music or at Damon's presence. Bonnie and Bree were exchanging knowing looks, and Jeremy (who had also surprised her by joining the group) looked mildly disgusted. Jenna had disappeared to find Ric, luckily. She wasn't sure she wanted to deal with her aunt judging her. After all, she hadn't asked him to dance.

She wasn't pushing him away either though, maybe it was the alcohol she'd been sneaking into her coke for the entire event, but she was enjoying his presence. Closing her eyes to her judgemental friends, she sang along to the chorus, "I want to love you but I better not touch."

He had an apt taste in music.

x-x-x-x

If he was going to break the news to her today, he was going to have one dance first. One moment in which he could enjoy her presence before she hated him.

Afterall, he hadn't just killed her uncle. He suspected he'd killed her birth father. Granted, the bastard had come back to life, but there was no chance she'd see it that way. This was another fuck up he'd made, and he couldn't get forgiveness twice.

Selecting the song, he joined her on the dancefloor. The black dress she wore hugged her hips perfectly and he couldn't help but imagine it slipping off her and onto the floor. There was no point denying he wanted her anymore, though he was still loathed to agree with Bree. Attraction was one thing, love was another.

As she sang, he smelt her hair. Stupid move, now he had to fight his growing arousal. If it were any other human, he'd be leaving with them right now. Elena, though, Elena, he would have the one dance and then tell her who her Uncle really was, and how he'd figured it out. Then he'd lose her.

She spun unexpectedly, turning to face him, her arms coming up around his neck, her body painstakingly close to his. Her large chestnut eyes, framed so beautifully tonight by her dark eyeliner, looked up at him then down to his lips as she bit down on her own.

He could've kissed her. He probably should, the rest of the world be damned. She might regret it in the morning though, and that wasn't a conversation he thought he could survive.

Instead, he lent down to her ear, "Let's get out of here, I've got news." Taking one of her hands, he led her outside.

x-x-x-x

Caroline had not appreciated the DJ going off-piste with the music. He claimed it had been a technical error, a malfunction of sorts that he couldn't explain. She very much suspected a bribe had been involved, especially given the action of one Damon Salvatore- he certainly wouldn't be averse to the odd bribe here and there.

Ensuring a return to the scheduled playlist, Caroline returned to the dance group to see it had broken up in her absence. She looks around for its constituent parts.

Jenna had returned to the bar with Alaric and the conversation between them seemed too intense to interrupt.

Bonnie was sat with Bree, who Caroline urgently wanted to avoid. She'd brazenly pulled her to the dancefloor earlier in a moment of temporary insanity and then avoided her gaze for the duration of the night. Bree was older than Damon, maybe even Jenna. Why the hell had Caroline approached her? Because she, clearly, was an idiot with no limits. So much for impressing the panel, she should never have let Bonnie and Elena talk her into surreptitiously drinking.

Deciding that she might as well let loose completely now, she went in search of a drink. The bar wasn't an option, the staff knew she was underage. Elena had obviously managed to procure something, but that was likely Damon's influence and now neither of them were in sight. She was NOT going to ask Bree. Instead, she'd try Tyler. He'd looked miserable earlier and would almost certainly be in dire need of a drink, hopefully he'd raided a cabinet somewhere in his moment of need.

Finding him sitting on a loveseat in one of the side rooms she let herself collapse next to him.

"Please, for the love of all things holy, tell me you have something to drink that's stronger than soda."

He held out his glass to her. One big gulp later, she realised it wasn't a mixer. That was just vodka.

Spluttering, she handed the glass back with a feeble, "Thanks".

"Caroline Forbes, drinking neat spirits at a Founder's event. Something's wrong with the world." Tyler smirked at her.

"Yeah well, one of my best friends practically fucked my ex on the dancefloor; my other best friend is currently sat with the hottest person at this party, and I had nothing else to do." She shrugged. "Oh, and did I mention I completely embarrassed myself too?"

Tyler looked her head to toe with a sympathetic smile and offered her the glass back, "You need it more than I do."

x-x-x-x

They drove home in silence, Damon kicking himself for leaving the music on when that damned song came back on. He could hear her heartbeat and knew he wasn't the only one being affected by the music.

What a fucking situation.

Following her up to her room, the silence lingered. How did he break it? He felt like a teenager again, remembering the time he'd tried to court one of the Fell girls and had tripped over his tongue, stuttering like a lunatic.

Luckily for him, she broke the silence. "So, you said you have news."

"Yup." He gestured for her to sit down; he remained standing. Distance between them was good. "I was properly introduced to John Gilbert tonight. It didn't go well; I may have temporarily killed him."

"Temporarily?" He nodded.

"It turns out, Alaric and John Gilbert have the same protective rings. Cool, huh?" He laced his voice with sarcasm, but she saw straight through it.

"Damon, what did he do to you, to get you to kill him?" She asked softly.

Damon swallowed. How did he say this in a way that didn't make him sound like a maniac? "Nothing. He did nothing, Elena. He knew what I was, and he just baited me."

Then his phone rang. Alaric.

Stepping out into the hall to speak on his cell, Damon heard how Alaric's conversation with Jenna (about John's fashion accessory) had gone. Having the truth confirmed, he returned to Elena's bedroom.

"Elena, sweetie, there's something else you must know. The ring John wears, it was your father's."

Elena nodded, "He wore one every day. John took it, saying it would be Jeremy's when he turned 18."

"Well, Jenna said there's two Gilbert rings that have been passed down. John had one of his own when he was a teenager, but it was lost." Damon spoke softly, trying to be as clear as he could. "When John was a teenager, he either lost his ring or gave it away to somebody he cared about a lot." He paused to let her connect the dots herself before adding, "Years later, Isobel gave that same ring to Alaric."

Elena's doe eyes met his, brimmed with tears. "Are you saying John is my father?"

He stroked the side of her face gently. "I'm sorry, 'Lena, I don't know for sure. I'm sorry for everything."

x-x-x-x

The clean-up was always the worst part. Mrs Lockwood liked to use hired help, but Caroline was determined to demonstrate her commitment to the town and showed up to orchestrate. She'd ended up being handed a trash bag as well, and was now wandering around the grounds finding the errant litter that had escaped the party.

If she was going to be reduced to trash collecting, it better be worth it. She needed to be Miss Mystic Falls, it is who she was destined to be.

Rounding the corner of the building, she found she wasn't the only one handed a bag. Tyler probably hadn't volunteered for the pleasure though, but he seemed to be putting in a good effort.

"Hey, Tyler. Has your Mom put you on litter duty too?" She asked, in way of greeting.

He turned and smiled at her, "My Dad, I may not have been subtle about having a drink last night."

Caroline winced. Sometimes, there was an upside to having her mom always working- sneaking in after hours or coming home tipsy was rarely an issue. She'd even been able to have boys stay and her mother didn't notice.

"Wanna pair up?" He nodded in response and they continued their litter hunt together, discussing the latest high school gossip. Finally, someone who actually seemed interested in hearing about which cheerleader had just been dumped- even if it was because he was looking for easy pickings.

x-x-x-x

As he replaced the old wooden chest, carefully checking it was correctly lined up with the oak flooring- exactly where it was before- the pain flooded his head again. Damn Bree. Somehow, and he wasn't entirely sure how, she had persuaded him to let Bonnie practise her magic at the boarding house. This week's lessons had involved giving him aneurysms. At least they'd graduated to mastering control- that meant lower pain levels and he was allowed to move around.

Shouting downstairs, 'Bravo, Bonnie. You're officially the wicked witch of Mystic Falls, can I please get on now?', he paused to check they had heard him.

They obviously had, as Bonnie went on to ask Bree what he was doing upstairs that was so important. Apparently, she was shocked to hear he was merely cleaning.

"Huh, I'd assumed Damon was always the type to hire a maid. A young, hot maid that had to wear a maid's costume at all times." Bree had laughed out loud at Bonnie's comment, and he himself had to smile. Bree had once worn such a costume on a very memorable Halloween back when they were in college.

"Nope. Damon is a bit of a neat freak sometimes. Especially when he wants to avoid uncomfortable emotions." Bree said. Obviously she was wrong, he was cleaning because he had time to clean and because neither Zack nor Stefan noticed the little details.

Bonnie had made a peculiar 'guffaw' noise in response to that, "Are we sure Damon has emotions?" He wasn't sure whether to be offended or complimented.

"More than you can yet imagine, Bonnie." He heard the witch pause, and he hoped she would leave it at that. He didn't particularly relish being discussed. "I think that's enough for today anyway. Have a look through Emily's grimoire and the one Sheila left, see if you can find something you'd like to try next week."

At that point, he stopped eavesdropping and returned to his task of removing all the cobwebs from the last empty guest room to receive this treatment. It didn't take long before he was back in the kitchen, looking into the fridge and choosing between pesto pasta or some sort of chicken dish. Perhaps he could combine the two?

"If you've run out of rooms here, the back room at the grill needs a look over. I'm pretty sure Ric would appreciate the help at his place too, that is if you got him drunk enough first to willingly invite you in." Bree had entered the room, and was now positioning herself sitting on the table.

"I'm not cleaning to process, Bree, I'm cleaning to clean. You may need to update your misinformed apprentice." He noticed her rolling her eyes at him, but chose to ignore it. He's known Bree too long to try and pick a fight with her, the witch was convinced she knew him better than he knew himself and annoyingly she was usually correct.

"You should tell her how you feel."

This again. She'd already tried persuading him when he'd arrived home this morning. Apparently giving Elena a rose, dancing with her, and then spending the night at her house was a sign he was definitely in love with her. Actually, putting it that way she might have a tiny little bit of a point. He had even admitted to himself that he wanted her, but love? Did he even know what that was anymore?

"There's nothing to tell." He firmly stated, chopping the basil a bit more aggressively than required.

"Fine, play it that way. But you can't deny you're interested in her. Maybe it's because of her looks, maybe it's because she's the first person, other than me, you've willingly spent more so much time with in how many decades?"

He had to admit that was true. He's always been a bit of a traveller- even the times he had settled, to go to college for example, he'd not really spent extended time with any one person. There were some exceptions but they were few and far between.

"I won't be spending as much time with her after tomorrow. Her new car will be delivered and she won't have to rely on borrowing Jenna's or hitching a lift." Bree raised a brow at him.

"You'll just find another excuse to see her and you full well know it." Damon shrugged. There was no point denying that he'd already made plans to that effect. "Take her somewhere you have memories of, there must be tons around here."

"My memories of Mystic Falls are almost entirely negative. Dead mommy, angry daddy, vampiric two-timing whore of a girlfriend, you get the drift."

"Then let her see that."

This time he spun to face her, wielding the wooden spoon in his hand almost threateningly, which was preposterous of course because it could do more harm to him than it could to her, "How? How could I even start that conversation Bree? You know me too well to suggest I would open up and have a heart to heart pity party about my crappy childhood."

One corner of Bree's mouth rose at his reaction, but she smiled genuinely as she responded, "You won't have to. That girl reads you like a book. Damon Salvatore: Big Bad Softie."

x-x-x-x

They'd begun a tradition; over the few weeks they'd been waiting for her new car to be ready. Mondays had been ice-cream days and today was the last trip before she had her own transport and didn't need Damon to give her a lift.

She'd made a card the previous week, in the shape of a Camaro, to thank him for driving her each day. Inside it simply said, "Thank you for being my hero."

The weekend's events should have changed her mind. She should hate him, she thought. That was the logical response for someone trying to kill her family, but she just couldn't. John was playing them, trying to push the family apart from the inside. He'd spent every moment he was in the house speaking in double-meanings, trying to get one of them to slip and admit they knew about vampires.

She was holding strong, waiting to see what he really wanted. He may possibly be her biological father, but there was no love lost between them. She was just glad she was getting her new car delivered tomorrow, so she could leave the house more easily whenever he appeared.

The thought of giving Damon the card made her feel sick with nerves, she'd shown Caroline who had rolled her eyes and announced it was the cheesiest thing she had ever written. Then, in true Caroline fashion, she'd added it was a surefire way to get Damon into her pants.

Elena had just laughed awkwardly. She didn't think she wanted that; Damon was still Damon. They enjoyed hanging out, and she wanted to be there for him.

Besides, this was all a ridiculous fantasy because Damon had been in love with Katherine for literal centuries and probably had no interest in her- beyond the physical resemblance. Besides, she'd dated his brother.

Regardless, Bonnie thought the card was adorable. She'd been spending some time at the boarding house, learning from Bree, and she thought Damon would appreciate the gesture.

"He's going to miss driving you," she said, by their lockers, as Elena retrieved the card and her books for the weekend, "and Bree text me to say he's got a surprise for tonight."

Elena lifted an eyebrow, "Really?"

Bonnie nodded. "Yep, so go sort your hair out before you leave!" Elena begrudgingly treaded off to the bathroom. It was rare for Bonnie to come out with a Caroline level insult so she must look a mess. She had been barely sleeping over the weekend, ever since she danced with Damon her dreams had been invaded by visions of what could have been.

After a quick tidy up, she was out of the school and there he was.

In his usual black shirt and jeans, he was lent against his bonnet, and he looked like sex personified. As he saw her, his entire face lit up which caused her to lose her cool. Dammit, she was excited for her surprise. She almost ran at him, engulfing him in a hug.

"Come on, let's go." He said, opening the door for her before returning to his side.

x-x-x-x

He was taking her to the quarry for their ice cream. He'd packed a tub and a couple of spoons in the icebox, so they could still enjoy their tradition, but in a new place. Trusting Bree's advice was probably a stupid idea, but he'd decided to go along with it at the last moment.

Elena seemed to have forgiven him for killing John, much to his surprise. It turns out that guy was so much of a dick even his potential daughter thought he deserved to have his neck snapped every once in a while. They'd spent the rest of that night discussing the implications of John knowing and what he might want in exchange for his discretion. Then they'd fallen asleep, both fully dressed, laid out on her bed.

He patted the tickets in his pocket again, feeling their outline and calming knowing they were there. He'd ordered AC/DC tickets for later that year, though the concert was in New York. Perhaps it was pathetic, making plans in advance with a girl he hadn't even kissed, but he'd seen them advertised and couldn't resist- he wanted to share the experience of live music with her and he wanted to share New York with her even more.

Pulling up at the quarry he fought the desire to spin around. God, he had no idea what he was doing.

After cutting the engine, he laid out the blanket and retrieved the icebox before he allowed her to step out of the Camaro. Leading her by the hand to sit down, he noticed she looked anxious.

"Ice cream?" He offered her the tub and the spoon, hoping the ice cream would break the ice. One spoonful was enough to relax her, and he could see the tension in her shoulders dissolve. She reached for something in her bag.

It was a card, handmade in blue and black card- in the shape of his Camaro. She readjusted so that she was sitting between his legs, just as they had in her room that time, then handed it to him. He opened it, allowing them both to read the message inside, his eyes for the first time.

He forgot about the tickets, or the history he was planning on sharing with her.

He felt like time stood still.

She turned her body sideways, eyes locking with his, then moving down to his lips.

Control was lost, he didn't have a single thought in his brain as his lips met hers. He couldn't have told you who lent in first, where he was or what day it was. He just knew she was his.

Fiercely passionate didn't begin to describe it.

x-x-x-x