I haven't been able to update my stories for some time because my laptop conked out. So welcome to my brand new laptop. While I try to catch up and refresh on my ongoing fics, here's a different pairing – I've wanted to do this pairing for some time now.

Never Forever

Gossip Girl/The Vampire Diaries


Summary: Damon and Blair begin recalling a past that neither of them knew. While Blair struggles with the mystery, Damon needs to find out how it was that he remembered nothing.

Part 1

"Damon, Damon!" the voice of the girl was strange—he could not quite place it so easily in the haze—yet familiar at the same time. It was the lilt in her voice, charming and raising at the end. Her voice echoed as if she were calling through corridors and the notes bounced from high ceilings. There was some laughter in her voice, laughter it seemed and some happiness as his name fell from her tongue. "Damon, where are you?"

It was dark, and he found himself racing through lush corridors he did not remember. He turned a corner and spotted a green skirt turning the corridor.

"Damon," came the cheerful call, "stop chasing me."

And still she called his name. And from his own throat the unfamiliar chuckle burst. He was—he stopped in his tracks and grabbed the wall for a second. Damon placed a hand right there on his chest, to the left side, where his heart used to pump. It constricted now, as if he was alive yet and blood rushed to it.

Strange dreams, he thought to himself. There was a reason he had not slept much of these almost century and a half since he turned. Strange dreams haunted him and when he woke he could not remember, and he always grasped at tenuous strands of a life that was not real.

And then he was running again, running after that blasted green skirt. There was a hint of dark hair as he closed the gap and she turned quickly like some nimble little rabbit. She giggled, and he shook his head. It was the most wonderful, titillating sound he had heard in two centuries.

In the dream he knew he was a vampire, and he wondered if the chase was just that. A predator and his prey. Damon sped fast and his dried up husk of a heart skipped and tightened when he caught up to her and his arms wrapped around her waist, the fragrance from her hair assailed his senses.

He would devour her, like the vampire he was, like the beast he had become since Stefan forced his turning. His head lowered and he found his eyes shut close. Damon waited in the dream to feel the intense satisfaction of fresh hot blood pulse into his mouth, coat his tongue and his teeth and the inner walls of his mouth.

Instead he felt the cool tip of his nose tease the hot pulse behind her ear, that one spot where blood rushed and where one nick would send life spilling into his throat. And then, without malice, his lips puckered slightly as he dropped kisses on kisses over her skin.

"Damon," she sighed, and she sounded nothing like Katherine, felt nothing like her, and she turned around and looked up at him with brown eyes and red lips and she appeared nothing like Katherine.

And in all his life, he never loved anyone but Katherine. But here she was, this girl in his dream, and he suffocated in emotion so much that he would expire if only he was someone who needed to breathe.

"You caught me," she said, with a smile, and a tone that told him she truly cared not that she had lost the chase.

"Of course I did. You know you wanted to be caught," he said, and he imagined his eyes twinkled at the taunt in his voice.

She raised her arms and hooked her wrists at his nape. Any other woman he would have quickly turned and pierced the thin skin to expose the veins there and he would drink until he was sated. Instead he turned his head and kissed the smooth skin of her arm. She tugged and pulled and he lowered his head even though his strength was enough to resist.

Damon looked down at the parted lips and thought for sure that it did not matter that vampires never went to heaven, because when his lips closed over her and her tongue playfully teased his, he knew heaven would pale compared to her kiss.

"I love you, Damon."

He swore he would find her, if only to taste heaven for just a second more. "I love you more," he professed, the words sliding easily from his lips.

"It's all right, Damon. Didn't you say," she whispered softly, and with his gaze focused on her mouth he saw the tiny bit of smile she forced to curve on her lips, "you don't know how to love."

He said it again, firmly, in a tone that brooked no argument. "I love you."

And the thin smile warmed, and he was a pathetic lovesick fool to be so relieved to see its change. "I do adore your blue eyes," she told him, and so he moved his gaze from her lips to the deep dark eyes that looked up at him with adoration. "It is like looking at the sky without hurting my eyes."

At that, he smirked, because that was easy. She was easy to please. It was easy to please someone who loved you, he realized. Katherine had always been such a bitch to satisfy. And suddenly, in her eyes, Damon felt like he were the most powerful man, the most desirable, the most important. To her she was not a mere obstacle to accept because he was part and parcel of Stefan.

He tightened his arms around her waist and with a burst of speed took her out into the night in the deserted farm. "Look up," he told her.

And in the darkness, by the sliver of moonlight, he watched as she looked up at the sky, baring her neck to him, fully trusting. She gasped, then swallowed, and he observed in fascination how the muscles moved under her skin. He thought her blood would be sweet, sweeter than anyone else he had ever tasted. Certainly sweeter than Katherine's spiteful blood. And Damon pressed a kiss on the long, bare neck.

"It's night out," she reminded him. "Not the blue of your eyes."

And when she met his eyes he grinned and declared with vanity, "Nothing is like the blue of my eyes."

"Sometimes they're like fire. I swear, I'll remember your eyes until the day I die," she said.

"I'm already dead," he reminded her, and despite the comfort with which she leaned towards him he could hear still the skip of her heart and the way her pulse raced at the thought, "and your scent will be in my head every night for eternity, just like this."

"Eternity is a long time, Damon," she told him. "You should not make promises you cannot keep."

And he pulled her towards him, then kissed her forehead. "I swear. Believe me." He closed his eyes and breathed unnecessarily. He burned the scent into his brain. "That's you," he whispered.


The flight in from Paris seemed longer than usual, and her muscles ached from sitting too long. Blair Waldorf removed her earrings as she walked into the room. She placed the accessories on the table and then, while holding on to the back of a chair, kicked off her shoes. The high heeled sandals clattered on the floor and she massaged one aching foot.

Her mother advised her to wear travel suitable clothing and she just did not listen. After all, what was a certain amount of pain in exchange of looking entirely fabulous during the trip? One never knew who might be sitting next to you in a crowded plane. In her case it was Serena sleeping off a late night clubbing. Still, the prince of her dreams could be sitting right across the aisle. You never knew.

She pulled off her coat and started unbuttoning her dress. Blair let the dress pool to the floor.

She walked towards the vanity and opened her jewelry drawer. Her eyes landed on the diamond necklace that had been so special to her these past years. She touched the metal, cold and unyielding, then shook her head. There was a time for everything, and this was not the time to reminisce about failure.

She felt the cool air stream into the room. She glanced at the window and was surprised to find it open. Perhaps Dorota had already been by and prepared the room for her. The curtains danced in the breeze. Her skin prickled. She turned again to the mirror and jumped. There was a silhouette reflected in the mirror. Before she could scream or grab the phone, the man stepped forward and Blair bit back a sob when she saw his face.

"Who are you?" she choked out the demand.

His lips curved. "I think you know who I am."

She shook her head furiously. "Stay right there or I'm going to call the police."

His eyebrows shot up, and she realized that there was no way for her to do much anything than scream. Her heart sank. He held up the phone and raised his other hand. He stepped forward and offered it to her. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Then what are you doing here? You're trespassing."

"Maybe I just wanted to see you and know that you're real," he answered. He was standing so close to her. She looked up and saw the light humor in his eyes and he held up the phone, that slight smirk on his lips. He must not plan to kill her. She doubted anyone could look so happy when plotting a kill. She relaxed a little and found it odd that he seemed to know exactly when her heart slowed. She held her breath when he ran his hand down her bare arm. She froze when he moved his face closer until his nose teased her hair. And he breathed deep and long. "That's you," he whispered.

"You're scaring me," she said.

"There's no reason to be scared," he said softly, his voice soft, his lips near enough that they touched her ear. "I'm never going to hurt you." And this time, so gently, whisper-like, the sensation of his lips on her cheek was something like a dream. "Never again." Again, he held up the phone.

Blair snatched it from his hand and stumbled backwards. She turned around and with trembling fingers punched the emergency number. The line rang once and she heard the answer, "911. What's your emergency?"

"There's an intruder in my room," she gasped. When she turned around, the room was empty, the door shut and the window half-open still. "He's gone now," she breathed in relief. Blair gave her details to the person on the line for the police.

Not thirty minutes later two officers stood in her living room. She detailed the moment she arrived up to the moment she called for assistance. They wanted to see her room, and when she was reluctant the older officer was courteous enough to allow her to stay. The elevator bell rang and she jumped. Blair looked towards the opening doors that revealed her best friend. Serena clutched her bag to her chest and ran towards her. She felt herself enveloped by the relative security of her Serena's embrace.

"B, we were so worried when we heard."


Blair looked up and noticed the two new arrivals who had been standing behind Serena. She wondered if she should feel relieved that despite all the differences among them Chuck and Nate still made their way to her when they learned the news.

"Where's the police?" came Chuck's quiet question.

"Upstairs," she answered, her chin thrust up. His eyes moved up and down her body and she felt bare. She pulled her robe tighter around her body.

Then Nate asked the more appropriate question. She always trusted him to be level headed. "Are you okay?"


"Did he hurt you?"

I'm never going to hurt you. Never again.

"No," she answered. "He didn't hurt me."

"What did he do?" Chuck demanded.

"Nothing," she replied, and even to her own ears the answer seemed improbable. "He said he wanted to see me."

The officers climbed down the steps, and Nate looked towards them and asked, "Did you find anything?"

"No. Miss Waldorf, the entire apartment is secure. We have guards posted at the lobby now. We're going to run through the security tapes to figure out how he got in."

She wondered how loud of a laugh she would get if she claimed that the man entered and exited through her bedroom window, the bedroom window of a penthouse apartment.

"You do that," Nate replied.

The officer looked down at his notes. "You said he looked like he was in his early twenties, about six feet tall, dark hair and eyes."

Blair shook her head. "Blue eyes. Light. Like the sky." She felt their eyes on her as she said the words.

"Well, meanwhile, we're going to look at the tapes to see if there's anyone by that description that entered the building." The officer cleared his throat. "Would you like us to post a guard in the apartment, Miss Waldorf?"

"The guard at the lobby is enough," she said. She did not know why, but she was certain that she was going to be safe. "I just want to get some sleep."

"We're staying with you," Serena declared.

Blair would have protested, but this was how they operated. No matter the issues, no matter the problem, not even when they were fit to kill each other with their anger, the four of them stayed together in a crisis. Although of course the crisis was most often Serena's.

"I'm staying in my mom's room. You can stay with me," Blair told her best friend.

Chuck nodded, then said, "I'll stay in yours. I'm familiar with it anyway. When your friendly visitor comes to check up on you again, he can talk to Nate and me."

Blair and Serena made their way to her mother's room. Blair crawled into bed in her exhaustion. Oddly enough, for the night's trauma, she slipped easily into sleep. From the periphery of her consciousness she noticed Serena moving around the room.

And then he was all over her. He was all she could breathe, all she could feel. She opened her eyes and found herself looking straight into light blue eyes. He smiled down at her, and in the dream it seemed that she recognized him. He was beautiful, so beautiful she could cry, more beautiful because it felt like a hundred years since she touched him.

She cupped his face in her hands and felt the slight wetness of his cheeks. Her eyes narrowed and she said in her firm voice, "You are not supposed to do this."

"Why not?" he replied.

"We agreed, Damon," she said, his name spilling smoothly from her tongue. Her thumbs traced under his eyes. "You are the loveliest man."

He grunted, then leaned close to her. "I'm not a man," he reminded her. He whispered into her ear, "I love you, more than I thought I was capable of loving anyone. I love you."

And she felt it, hard between her ribs. She turned her head and looked around. The party around her was at its peak, loud and busy. She turned to look at him as his hold around her tightened. "Will you be fine?"

"You don't worry about me," he said. His smile was grim and he continued, "If we had the chance I can take care of you forever."

But they did not so she stared deep into those beautiful eyes. Eyes she would never forget. "I love you so much, Damon." She closed her hands around his fist.

"Close your eyes," he said.

"No. I want to see you."

He swallowed, then nodded. And then, he gritted his teeth. Blair cried out at the indescribable pain. She kept her gaze on him and again his eyes filled. She gasped and choked. She looked down at where blood blossomed on her gown, right where his fist thrust the sharp wood. Her vision darkened and she looked back up at his blank face.

She shot up on the bed, gasping and choking and sobbing out loud. The room was pitch black and she thought there was a shadow in the corner, cast by the sliver of light from the bathroom. She looked up at him and said in accusation, "You killed me."

"How are you alive?" he asked. When he stepped forward, she moved back, away from him. She thought she saw a flash of hurt on his face.

The door of the bathroom opened and Serena rushed out in a towel. "Blair, are you okay? I heard you."

Blair looked over Serena's shoulder and just like that he was gone once more, soundlessly, quickly. Damon. That was what she had called him. "It was a nightmare, just a nightmare." She turned towards the window and watched the fluttering curtains.