A/N: This is a slow updating story about Bella and Damon if they had met. Damon is my own version with my own backstory I made for him. Bella eventually will be strong and independent. Expect a chapter a week. Maybe. This is just a hobby, and I have a full time job and a family on top of it. So enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 1: The Swan and the Raven

Damon Salvatore had left Mystic Falls before. He had disappeared into the night more times than he cared to count, always running, always searching for something—or someone—to numb the ache in his chest. But this time felt different. This time, he wasn't sure he was coming back.

The fight with Elena had been bad. Worse than usual. Maybe because it wasn't just with her—it was with Stefan too. His ever-self-righteous younger brother had stood by, looking at him with that same exhausted disappointment, as if he had finally given up on him. And Elena… she had said things that cut deeper than any stake ever could.

"You always do this, Damon. You push people away. Maybe that's all you're capable of."

He had laughed it off, pretended her words didn't bury themselves under his skin like poison, but they did. So, he did the only thing he was good at. He left.

Now, his car roared down a winding highway, the Virginia trees blurring into an endless, empty stretch. He didn't have a plan. He didn't want one. Maybe he'd head west, find a city where no one knew his name, where he could drown in bourbon and bad decisions. Or maybe he'd drive until there was nowhere left to go.

By the time he realized where he was, he was crossing into Washington. Forks.

The town was small, drenched in a constant drizzle that clung to the windshield in lazy streaks. It was the kind of place where nothing happened, where people went about their lives in blissful ignorance of the monsters lurking in the shadows.

He pulled into a bar just off the main road. It was dimly lit, half-empty, and smelled like cheap beer and even cheaper regret. Perfect.

He slid onto a stool and ordered a whiskey. As the burn settled in his throat, he let himself breathe for the first time in hours. That's when he saw her.

She sat alone in the farthest booth, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. She wasn't classically beautiful, not in the way Elena was, but there was something about her. Something raw.

She looked like someone who had lost everything.

Damon knew that look.

For a moment, he considered ignoring the pull he felt toward her. He wasn't here to get tangled up in someone else's mess. He had enough of his own. But then, as if sensing his gaze, she lifted her head.

Dark brown eyes met his.

And just like that, Damon Salvatore was hooked.

Damon had seen pain in people before. He had caused pain. But this girl—whoever she was—didn't just look hurt. She looked hollow, like she had been drained of something vital and never quite got it back.

She held his gaze for a second too long before looking away, staring back into her coffee like she could drown in it.

Damon smirked to himself. Interesting.

He grabbed his glass and slid off the stool, making his way to her booth without invitation. He didn't ask if the seat was taken—he simply sat down across from her, setting his whiskey down with a deliberate clink.

"Drinking coffee this late?" he asked, leaning back against the worn leather seat. "What, are you trying to stay awake for something exciting?"

The girl—pale, dark-haired, and striking in a quiet, melancholic way—blinked at him. "I don't sleep much," she said, her voice quiet but firm.

Damon raised an eyebrow. "Insomnia?"

"Something like that."

She didn't return the question, didn't ask who he was or why he was sitting there. That was unusual. Most people either found him charming or intimidating, but she just seemed… indifferent. Like she was too tired to care.

That made him curious.

"I'm Damon," he said after a moment, tilting his glass toward her.

She hesitated, then sighed. "Bella."

"Bella," he repeated, rolling the name over his tongue. "You look like someone who could use a stronger drink."

She let out something close to a laugh but shook her head. "I don't drink."

Damon smirked. "Let me guess—good girl, straight-A student, never gets into trouble?"

Bella's expression darkened just slightly, a flicker of something bitter crossing her face. "Not anymore," she murmured.

That caught his attention.

She wasn't some small-town, naive girl. She was broken. And Damon knew better than anyone—broken people were the most interesting kind.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Alright, Bella. What's your damage?"

She exhaled sharply, giving him a wary look. "Excuse me?"

He shrugged. "Come on. People don't just sit in crappy bars in the middle of nowhere, looking like their world just collapsed, unless they've got a story. So, what's yours?"

Bella hesitated. He could see it—the debate flickering behind her eyes, the fight between keeping her walls up or letting someone in. Damon was good at reading people, and right now, Bella Swan was an open book with torn-out pages.

Finally, she shook her head. "You first."

Damon laughed. He actually laughed. She was sharp, sharper than she looked, and she wasn't about to spill her guts to some stranger in a bar. He liked that.

"Fair enough," he said, taking another sip of his drink. "Let's just say I'm here because people have a way of disappointing me."

Bella's lips pressed into a thin line. "Yeah. I get that."

Something passed between them then—an understanding, a silent recognition of mutual destruction.

For the first time in a long time, Damon felt something other than anger or boredom. He wasn't sure what it was yet, but as he looked at Bella Swan, he had a feeling he wasn't going to be leaving Forks anytime soon.

Damon swirled the last of his whiskey in the glass, watching the amber liquid catch the dim light of the bar. He didn't usually spill his story to strangers. Hell, he barely admitted the truth to himself. But something about Bella made him reckless.

Maybe it was the way she carried her pain—quiet, steady, like a weight she had accepted a long time ago. Maybe it was the way she didn't flinch under his gaze, didn't try to pry or pretend she could fix him. Or maybe it was just that, for the first time in a long time, he wanted to see if someone would believe him.

He exhaled sharply, setting his glass down. "Alright, Bella. You wanted my story? Here it is."

She lifted a brow, intrigued but not eager. No interruptions. Just waiting.

"I was born in 1840. I had a wife. A son." He didn't know why he started there. Maybe because it was where it all began. Maybe because it was the part no one ever asked about. "She died in childbirth. They both did."

Bella didn't react—not in pity, not in shock. She just listened. He hadn't realized how rare that was.

Damon let out a bitter chuckle. "I was nineteen, newly married, thinking I had my whole life ahead of me. And then I didn't." He swirled the whiskey again, watching the liquid move. "I went to war because I had nothing left. Figured maybe I'd die, too. But fate's a real bitch."

Bella's eyes darkened slightly. She understood loss.

Damon continued, "After the war, I met her. Katherine." He sneered the name. "She was beautiful, dangerous—everything I thought I wanted. She made me feel alive again. Or at least, that's what she wanted me to believe."

Bella's brows furrowed slightly.

"I was a fool," he admitted, voice colder now. "I thought she loved me. I thought I mattered to her. But the truth? She was using me. Manipulating me. Twisting me into something I didn't even recognize. And when she finally showed me what she really was, it was too late."

Bella leaned forward slightly. "What was she?"

Damon's smirk was humorless. "A vampire."

She didn't react. Not even a flicker of disbelief.

He raised an eyebrow. "That's quite the confession. You're not calling me crazy."

Bella's lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't think you are."

Now that was interesting.

Damon studied her carefully, but she just waited, expectant. Fine. Let's see how far she'd let him go.

"My brother and I were turned against our will. And after that? Nothing mattered anymore." He let out a breath, shaking his head. "I spent the next century proving to myself that if I couldn't be happy, I sure as hell wouldn't let anyone else be either."

Bella's fingers traced the rim of her coffee mug. "And now?"

Damon met her gaze, something unreadable in his expression. "Now? I'm sitting in a bar, telling my life story to a girl who doesn't seem surprised."

Bella exhaled. There was something weighing on her, something she wanted to say but hadn't decided if she should.

Finally, she shook her head. "You think being a vampire makes you a monster. But it doesn't. It's not what you are—it's what you do."

Damon narrowed his eyes. That wasn't something people just said. That was something someone knew.

"You say that like you've met a vampire before."

Bella hesitated. Not much—just a flicker of something behind her eyes. But Damon caught it.

He leaned forward, smirk returning. "Have you?"

Bella swallowed, gripping her coffee a little tighter. "Not exactly."

Ah. There it was. The crack in the armor.

Damon tilted his head, intrigued. "You know more than you're letting on."

Bella exhaled slowly. "Let's just say… I've had my own experiences with the supernatural."

Damon watched her carefully. She wasn't lying. He had lived long enough to know when someone was bluffing, and Bella Swan wasn't.

"Now that," he said, "is interesting."

Bella finally allowed a small smile. "You have no idea."

For the first time in years, Damon felt like he had met someone who might actually surprise him.

And he liked it.

Bella had spent months trapped in silence. No one in Forks truly understood what had happened to her, and the few who thought they did only saw what they wanted to see—a heartbroken girl abandoned by the love of her life.

But what did they know about monsters? About devotion so consuming it burned? About staring into the abyss and wanting it to swallow you whole?

Damon Salvatore was different.

Maybe it was the way he spoke about pain like an old friend, the way he didn't try to dress up his grief with poetry and promises. Or maybe it was because, for the first time, she was sitting across from someone who might actually understand.

She didn't make the decision to speak. The words just spilled out before she could stop them.

"There was someone," she started, her fingers tightening around her coffee mug. "His name was Edward."

Damon leaned back in his seat, swirling his drink as he listened. His eyes, sharp and knowing, never left her face.

"He was… different," she continued, choosing her words carefully. "I knew from the start. He wasn't human."

Damon smirked. "Let me guess—he fed you some tragic story about how he's a monster, how he's dangerous, but oh-so-in love with you anyway?"

Bella blinked, caught off guard. "That's… exactly what he said."

Damon let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, sweetheart. I've heard that one before."

Bella frowned. "You don't even know him."

"I don't need to," Damon countered, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Let me guess—he left you 'for your own good,' thinking he was being noble?"

Bella's breath hitched, her heart clenching at the memory of Edward's cold, final words in the forest.

"It will be as if I never existed."

She nodded slowly.

Damon sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "That's the classic move of self-loathing immortals. Believe me, I've met enough of them."

Bella hesitated before asking, "So, you believe me?"

Damon arched an eyebrow. "You believe me, don't you?"

That was fair.

Bella exhaled. "He was a vampire," she said. "At least… I thought he was."

Damon's amusement faded slightly. "Thought?"

Bella hesitated again, but this time, it wasn't because she doubted herself. It was because something wasn't adding up.

"All my life, I thought vampires had certain rules," she said carefully. "They burn in the sun. They drink human blood. They can't go without it for long, and they're not exactly known for their self-control."

Damon watched her with interest. "And your ex-boyfriend?"

Bella swallowed. "He… didn't drink human blood. Neither did his family. They called themselves 'vegetarians.'" The words felt ridiculous now. "They lived off animals."

Damon's expression darkened. "That's not normal."

Bella's stomach twisted. "And they could go out in the sun."

Damon's fingers stopped moving against his glass. "Come again?"

"They didn't burn," Bella continued, suddenly feeling like the ground beneath her was shifting. "They sparkled in the sunlight."

Damon stared at her. And then, to her absolute shock, he laughed.

Not a small chuckle—a full-bodied, unapologetic laugh.

Bella's cheeks flushed in irritation. "It's not funny."

Damon wiped at the corner of his eye. "No, sweetheart, it's hilarious." He let out another chuckle, shaking his head. "Let me get this straight—you thought your boyfriend was some dangerous, bloodthirsty creature of the night, and he was bedazzled in daylight?"

Bella scowled. "It wasn't like that."

Damon smirked. "No? 'Cause it sounds a hell of a lot like you were dating a faerie, not a vampire."

Bella opened her mouth to argue but… stopped.

Because for the first time, she really thought about it.

Edward had never been like the vampires she had read about. No fangs. No aversion to religious symbols. No bloodlust—not really. His strength, his speed, his abilities had been supernatural, but had they really been… vampiric?

"What are you saying?" she asked slowly.

Damon's smirk faded slightly, replaced by something more thoughtful. "I don't know what your little Twilight cult was, but they weren't like me."

Bella frowned. "But they drank blood."

"From animals," Damon countered. "Vampires don't live off squirrels, Bella. At least, not for long."

Bella's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "So what were they?"

Damon shrugged. "No clue. But if they weren't real vampires, then that means you were lied to."

Bella's breath hitched. She wanted to deny it, to say that Edward wouldn't lie to her—but hadn't he done just that? Hadn't he left her in the woods, told her to forget him, made her question everything?

Had she ever really known him?

Her fingers trembled slightly as she gripped her coffee mug tighter. Damon must have noticed because his voice softened just a fraction.

"Look," he said, "I'm not telling you this to mess with your head. But if you spent all this time thinking you loved a vampire, and it turns out he wasn't one…" He met her gaze, something unreadable in his blue eyes. "Then what does that mean?"

Bella didn't have an answer.

But suddenly, the world felt a whole lot darker.

Bella hadn't felt truly awake in months. Not since the woods. Not since him.

But sitting across from Damon Salvatore, hearing him unravel everything she thought she knew, she finally felt something again. Maybe it was anger, maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something she couldn't name.

Damon watched her, his piercing blue eyes sharp with amusement and something else—something calculating. He drummed his fingers against the table, as if debating something.

Then he smirked. "Alright, Swan. Here's an idea."

Bella arched a brow. "Oh, this should be good."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. "Come with me."

She blinked. "What?"

"Road trip," Damon said easily, swirling the last of his whiskey before downing it in one smooth motion. "You and me. No maps, no plans. Just the open road."

Bella frowned. "Why?"

Damon shrugged. "Because you've spent the last few months moping around, and I've spent the last century trying to outrun my own crap. Seems like we could both use a distraction."

Bella crossed her arms. "And you expect me to just… leave with a vampire I met tonight?"

Damon smirked. "It's a hell of a lot safer than staying here, waiting for Glitter Boy to come back and shatter your heart all over again."

Bella sucked in a sharp breath, the words hitting deeper than she wanted to admit.

Damon tilted his head, watching her carefully. "Look, I'm not saying forever. Just… take a break from all this. Come see what a real vampire is like." His smirk softened into something almost genuine. "I'll even promise not to eat you."

Bella rolled her eyes. "That's very reassuring."

He held up a hand in mock sincerity. "Scout's honor."

Despite herself, Bella let out a short, breathy laugh. It was the first time in a long time that something felt light.

But could she really do this? Just leave?

She thought about Forks. About the dull, endless days. About Charlie's worried glances. About the way people whispered behind her back, like she was some fragile thing that might break at any moment.

She thought about Edward.

And suddenly, it didn't seem so crazy.

Damon watched the conflict in her eyes and leaned forward again. His voice was quieter this time, less teasing. "I'll keep you safe," he said, and for some reason, she believed him.

Bella inhaled deeply. "No maps?"

"No plans," he confirmed.

She exhaled, heart pounding. "Okay."

Damon grinned. "Now that's more like it."

And just like that, Bella Swan decided to finally live.

Bella wasn't sure what she expected when she stepped out of the bar and into the cool, damp air of Forks. Maybe that Damon would change his mind, that he'd decide she was too much trouble. Or maybe that she'd change her mind, that reality would set in, and she'd remember that leaving with a stranger—a vampire—was insane.

But as soon as she saw the car parked beneath the dim glow of a streetlamp, all rational thoughts scattered.

It was a sleek, baby blue 1969 Chevy Camaro, its polished surface catching what little light there was. The muscle car was gorgeous—dark, powerful, and completely out of place in a town like Forks.

Bella raised an eyebrow. "Compensating for something?"

Damon smirked, casually spinning his keys around his finger. "Sweetheart, if I was compensating, I'd have gotten something flashier. A Ferrari, maybe." He winked. "But I like classics. They don't make 'em like this anymore."

Bella stepped closer, trailing her fingers along the cool metal. "It suits you."

Damon's smirk deepened. "Oh? And what exactly suits me?"

Bella glanced at him. "Loud. A little dangerous. Built for speed."

Damon let out a low chuckle. "You flatter me."

She shook her head, amused, but then the first rays of early morning sunlight peeked through the clouds, casting a soft, golden glow over the parking lot.

Bella tensed.

Damon was still standing beside her, hands in his pockets, looking entirely unaffected.

Her heart skipped a beat. "You're… in the sun."

Damon followed her gaze, then rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Shocking, right?"

Bella's mind raced. Edward had said vampires couldn't step into the sun—at least, not without exposing what they were. But Damon stood there, completely at ease, no sparkling, no dramatic reveal.

She stared at him, suspicious. "How?"

Damon lifted his hand, tapping the silver ring on his finger. "Magic," he said simply.

Bella blinked. "Magic?"

"Yep." He held up his hand, letting her get a better look. The ring was elegant but simple, set with a deep blue lapis lazuli stone. "Witch-made. Keeps me from bursting into flames."

Bella frowned, stepping closer. "So if you take it off…?"

Damon smirked, intrigued by her curiosity. Without a word, he pulled open the car door, slid into the driver's seat, and gestured for her to join him.

Bella hesitated only for a second before climbing in.

The interior of the car smelled like leather and something distinctly him—a mix of whiskey, spice, and something darker.

As soon as she was settled, Damon held out his hand, tugging the ring from his finger. "Alright, Swan," he said, "watch and learn."

He extended his bare hand toward the sliver of sunlight streaming through the windshield.

Bella watched, eyes wide, as his skin barely grazed the light—

And immediately began to sizzle.

A faint curl of smoke rose from his fingers, the scent of burning flesh filling the air. Bella gasped, instinctively reaching out, but Damon pulled his hand back before any real damage was done. His smirk was still there, but his jaw was tight.

"See?" he said, sliding the ring back on. Instantly, the damage stopped, his skin healing within seconds. "No sparkles here, sweetheart. Real vampires burn."

Bella stared at him, fascinated. "Does it hurt?"

Damon gave her a look. "What do you think?"

She bit her lip, still staring at his hand as if expecting it to still be injured. "So the ring… it really protects you?"

"Like SPF infinity," he said with a grin. "No ring, no me."

Bella leaned back in her seat, processing everything. This was real. Damon wasn't like Edward. He wasn't whatever strange, glittering creature the Cullens were.

Damon was something else entirely.

And instead of fear, all Bella felt was intrigue.

Damon watched her, noting the way her expression shifted from uncertainty to curiosity. Most people would have screamed by now, or at least started questioning their life choices.

But Bella Swan?

She was just getting started.

Damon smirked, turning the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life beneath them. "Alright, Swan. You ready to see the world?"

Bella glanced at him, then out at the empty road ahead.

She exhaled slowly.

"Yeah," she said. "I think I am."

And with that, they sped out of Forks, leaving the past behind.

For now.

A/N: This is the first chapter. Eventually the second will post.