Summary: Damon comes to Fell's Church.
Author's Note: I've not read every fanfic, but I've read quite a few, and I don't think a Damon POV of his first look at Elena was written. (If there is, please point out to me) Anyway, this occurred to be near the end of my finished A New Leaf and so I'm finally getting it out of my system.
Hope you enjoy it! I appreciate feedback of any kind. :o)
The Porsche was hardly inconspicuous.
Sleek and black, it purred its way down the street, making the surroundings seem pale in comparison, as if the car was the only thing real and the rest a poor, faded dream.
It was a good thing night had fallen and the driver kept to less-traveled roads skirting the sleepy backwater town.
A sign had named the town: Fell's Church.
The name, almost oxy-moronic, piqued Damon's spiked humor. It seemed a fitting place for an undead, fallen saint to attempt his return to civilization. Or perhaps it was a fool's choice; sacred places were not meant for their kind, after all.
There was more to this town that met the eye. Long before passing within the town boundaries, Damon had sense the psychic energy that pooled in the untouched wooded lands on the outskirts of the settlement. He would have had to be blind - or human - to not notice.
In the wake of the 911 Turbo, a faint trendril of Power reached out to blur the memories of the few inhabitants of the town who noticed its passage.
Noting the fragile feeling of that tendril, Damon felt a surge of feral derision, much as an animal would have the urge to hurt a weaker member of its species.
Perhaps his little brother - who was weak and almost as blind, psychically, as a human - was being drawn to this town without even being aware that his choice was not altogether random, Damon mused.
These, and similarly cutting thoughts, ran through his mind as the sleek Italian car slid to a stop in front of an old three-storied building on the edge of the woods.
He perched in crow-shape on an inconspicuous branch and watched the slight young man spoke with the eccentric-looking old lady who came out of the house. He handed her some crisp bills and she motioned through the threshold.
The dark-haired youth stepped into the human dwelling.
The crow turned its head to stare piercingly at the building as if it could see through the walls through sheer will alone.
His weak brother's mind was ridiculously easy to read. So he tired of the shadows and thought to slip quietly into human society once again?
The crow's beak parted, the bird's equivalent of a chillingly bloodthirsty smile. Perhaps Damon would show him how their kind could never dwell with humans.
If that was the case, he had best acquaint himself with the area. He took wing, heading back towards the town.
First, he looked for a place to stay. He found an empty house that seemed suitable. He absently noted the name "Ramsey" on the mailbox as he waited in the shadows. It was child's play to influence a passing human into inviting him in. A cursory tour of the place confirmed that it would be more than adequate for his needs.
He exited via the attic window, flying high above the roofs and taking in the lay of the town, the placement of buildings. The high school, the town hall and library, the business district.
Damon did not think himself particularly macabre despite his dark nature, but he found himself drawn to woods and the cemetery not far from the boarding house where he could still sense Stefan.
Crossing the river posed a bit of a problem and the crow veered off without venturing any further in that direction.
Satisfied with the night's explorations, Damon turned his mind to finding a meal.
That was a problem with small settlements; people did not disappear or die without being it noticed. He would have to choose his victims with care, or perhaps - and he mentally sneered at this thought - find a strong enough human who would survive his feeding. He drew the line at finding multiple victims to feed off; why go through all that trouble, after all?
He settled for the second option and opened his mind to scan the sleeping minds below.
It was like looking into the night sky: minds impinged on his awareness like stars, some barely noticeable, some faint and glimmering, some bright and constant.
One in particular blazed bright and golden with the strength of the human's will - and also distress.
A strong, distressed... damsel? An ideal candidate.
He rode the night breeze, relishing the faint thrill of the hunt. After all these years, the excitement of finding and subduing his chosen prey could still quicken his pulse.
As the first hint of dawn touched the horizon, Damon found himself skimming through the air above what was obviously a good neighborhood. He wasn't surprised; it was not only the poor who knew despair. The rich had their own problems.
The bright beacon of that golden mind brought him to a house with a quince tree in front of it. Damon chose a branch at the right height to look into the only lighted window in the house, perching amid the yellow leaves of autumn that still clung to the tree.
Through the large bay window, he saw a girl with hair as bright as her mind had glowed. She was bent over something at the desk, and the tense set of her shoulders said that she was unhappy. He could tell by her posture that she was probably writing.
Could he have been drawn to a student upset about an assignment? If he had been in human form, his lip would have curled in distaste; a studious little bookworm was hardly an appetizing thought.
It was too much like his saintly, dutiful, perfect little brother.
The chain of association was abruptly broken when the girl whirled and threw a book and pen straight at the window.
Purely on reflex, Damon flared his wings, startled. Had the girl somehow known he was there? Was fighting him before he had even begun to influence her?
He stared at her and felt a second, greater shock.
Katherine sat inside the room, gazing sightlessly at the book she had just thrown with those bewitching eyes, delicate brows drawn in a faint scowl. She seemed oblivious to him just outside her window.
Thoughts raced through his mind, faster than lightning.
Katherine was dead - or was she? What if she had only pretended to kill herself and ran away instead? But why would she have done that? She had been smitten with him.
The crow's eyes narrowed to slits at the belated correction. Damon brushed it away.
Could this be why Stefan had come to Fell's Church? But no; his little brother's mind was as lucent as a pane of glass and nothing had hinted that he had a special reason for choosing this particular town.
And if he had known that Katherine was here, thoughts of being reunited with her would certainly have dominated his mind and Damon would have known.
So, no, he did not know that Katherine-
Damon's practiced eye caught a subtle difference in the features and a sharp look at the clenched fists showed the lack of a lapis lazuli amulet; this girl was human.
Was she a reincarnation of Katherine? Damon would have smirked sardonically, had he lips at that moment. Even if there was such a thing as reincarnation, could vampires, who purportedly had no soul, be reincarnated?
And then the girl moved-
And all thought of Katherine was banished.
Standing with more force than was warranted, anger in every action, the blonde girl picked up a red silk kimono and donned it. The motion held nothing of the demure German vampire in it.
This girl's confidence and obvious spirit infused her so strongly that it lent a new dimension to her appearance. It was like an inner glow that shone through in the way she stood and moved, in the faint defiant tilt of her chin and the challenge he glimpsed in her eyes as she turned to leave the room.
Her abrupt absence left him alone with suddenly awakened memories.
Damon had long ago realized that he had never been in love with Katherine.
At first, she had been nothing more than a way to spite his brother and father. Later, as his suave attempts at seduction had been resisted with such grace and poise and she seemed to still favor Stefan, she had presented a challenge, and his pursuit had turned earnest and determined.
And when he had discovered her secret, it was he who was the seduced, not with sweet words, but with promises of Power and immortality.
Those promises had been fulfilled, but the memory that Katherine had, in the end, not chosen him alone, but had bequeathed her gift to Stefan as well - that knowledge still stung.
The blonde human reappeared. She chose a delectable outfit from her closet and changed, giving Damon an eyeful.
Unexpectedly, the alabaster skin and graceful lines of her body made memories flash vividly in his mind, of the night Katherine had come to him. He had woken with a start at the sound of the door closing and watched as she drew close to his bed.
He had smiled, triumph and satisfaction and burgeoning desire as he took her hand and drew her onto his bed, fingers sliding against the thin material of her nightgown.
Things had not gone as he had imagined. Instead of a night of passion, she had exchanged blood with him, an act more intimate than mere lust for it had robbed him of his independence and bound him to her.
A woman's voice called out from somewhere inside the house. He blinked away the images, refocused on the present.
The girl had dressed and was examining herself in the mirror. Damon saw the coy smile in her reflection and wondered if she knew he was there after all.
She ran a brush through her bright hair, tied it with a ribbon and left.
Examining her in his mind's eye, Damon realized that this girl may present an opportunity for him to show his little brother once and for all who was superior. And, knowing how torn up Saint Stefan still was over Katherine's death, what a perfect instrument she would be to torment him with.
It was not long before she appeared in front of the house. She shut the door and paused.
Damon reached out with his mind, prying into her secret fears, invoking them, seeking a weak spot to exploit and bend her to his will.
It was almost too easy.
:Something awful is going to happen today,: he turned her own words against her, reinforcing it.
If Stefan was going to his assimilation into human society that day, if she was going to meet him - and Damon had no doubt that they would meet - let her be predisposed to negativity.
Let meeting Stefan be her awful event. It suited him fine.
She stood stark still, tension evident in her stance. Her eyes moved rapidly up and down the street.
While he kept up the influencing pressure, he probed delicately, drawing information out about her. Her name was Elena Gilbert. Her parents were dead. She had just returned from France.
She was spirited, and proud. And selfish. And afraid.
She was utterly delectable, the pale rose of her top accentuating the faint color in her cheeks, the shorts revealing long slim legs.
Damon was suddenly reminded that he had not yet fed.
Her gaze settled on him, sitting in the quince tree, and sharpened.
All her tension gathered and found focus in him as if she knew what he had been doing. The pent up emotions coalesced into rage.
His hold on her slipped as her fear-turned anger cleared her mind. He found himself having her full attention for the first time.
Dropping her backpack, she picked up a stone off the ground.
"Go on! Get away!" She punctuated the order by hurling the stone at him.
She had good aim. The rock shook the branch he was sitting on, but not before he had taken to the air, beating his wings hard to gain altitude. Annoyed at her attack, and more than a little put out that she had shaken off his mind control, he dove at her.
She ducked and he pulled up and circled her once, eyeing her coolly.
A strong-willed one indeed. It appeared that his plans for Stefan were going to require a bit more effort on his part.
So be it. It would only make triumph that much sweeter. And perhaps he would amuse himself with this human girl at the same time.
His laughter came out as a loud croak and he turned back towards the boarding house to see what his dear little brother was doing.
:Until next time... Elena.:
Thanks for reading:o)