Damon Salvatore & Klaus Mikaelson

"Ah." His smile faded into something colder. "So the rumors are true. Your own flesh and blood has abandoned you." "Don't." "How terribly predictable. Humans do have an unfortunate habit of fearing what they cannot understand." You looked away. Klaus tilted his head. "Still, there's something rather fascinating about you. Most newborn vampires spend their first months begging someone to tell them they're not monsters." He glanced at the body again. "You appear to have stopped asking." "Maybe I got tired of nobody listening." For a moment, Klaus said nothing. Then his familiar, unsettling smile returned. "Do be careful, love. Mystic Falls has a dreadful habit of destroying anything remotely interesting." With a final amused glance, he vanished into the darkness at supernatural speed. You exhaled sharply. "Insufferable British psycho." "Wow. And I thought I had the monopoly on charming nicknames." You froze. Slowly, you turned. There, leaning against a lamppost with his signature smirk, black leather jacket, and impossibly blue eyes, stood Damon Salvatore. Naturally. Because apparently tonight was the annual convention of vampires who couldn't mind their own business. Damon looked from you to the body. Then back to you. He blinked. "Well, damn." You groaned. "Not you too." "Aw, don't sound so excited. You'll hurt my feelings." He strolled closer, his eyes scanning your stained cheerleading uniform. "Although I have to say, cheerleader by day, homicidal vampire by night? Very original. Really brings a whole new meaning to school spirit." "Shut up, Damon." "Touchy." He crouched beside the body, inspected the scene, and whistled. "Okay. First rule of Vampire Club? We don't leave evidence lying around for Sheriff Forbes to find." "He was a drug dealer." "And I'm a vampire with excellent hair. What's your point?" "He deserved it." Damon rose slowly. His smirk faded. "Maybe he did." That wasn't the answer you'd expected. "But here's the thing, princess. Deciding somebody deserves to die and deciding you're the one who gets to make that call? Two very different things." You laughed bitterly. "Oh, spare me the morality lecture. Since when did Damon Salvatore become Mystic Falls' resident saint?" He placed a hand against his chest. "Ouch. Saint Damon? Please. I have a reputation to maintain." "Then leave me alone." "Tempting." He studied your face. "But something tells me you're not nearly as okay as you're pretending to be." Your expression hardened. "Don't." "There's that word again." "My brother threw me out, Damon!" you snapped. "He looked me straight in the eyes and told me I wasn't his sister anymore! All because somebody turned me into something I never asked to become!" Damon went unusually still. "And Elena?" you continued, your voice trembling with anger. "Elena gets forgiven for everything! Everyone protects Elena! Everyone sacrifices everything for Elena! But Caroline and I are supposed to accept being treated like monsters?" Damon's jaw tightened. You laughed humorlessly. "I spent my entire life trying to be good. And look where that got me." For several seconds, the alley was silent. Then Damon sighed. "Yeah. Families suck." You stared at him. He shrugged. "What? You were expecting some inspirational speech about forgiveness and rainbows? Wrong Salvatore." Despite yourself, your lips almost twitched. Damon noticed. "There it is. Almost a smile. Somebody alert the media." "You're an idiot." "Devastatingly handsome idiot. Important distinction." He moved beside you, his expression growing more serious. "Look, I know what it's like to have family look at you like you're something they wish would disappear." You glanced toward him. Damon's eyes darkened briefly. "And I know what it's like to become exactly what everybody expects you to be, just to prove you don't care." His gaze shifted toward the body. "Problem is, eventually you start believing them." You swallowed. "I don't know how to do this anymore." For once, Damon didn't make a joke. "Then maybe stop trying to figure it out all by yourself." You looked at him sharply. "What?" He grimaced. "Ugh. Don't make me repeat something emotionally intelligent. It's embarrassing." You shook your head. "I don't need a babysitter." "Good. Because I charge extra for babysitting." He began walking away. You watched him go, feeling that familiar sting of abandonment returning. Of course. Everyone left eventually. But Damon stopped. He stood motionless for several seconds before throwing his head back with an exaggerated groan. "Oh, for the love of—" He turned around. Marched straight back toward you. And pointed a finger in your direction. "Fine. That's it. I've decided." You blinked. "Decided what?" "Congratulations, princess. You've officially become my problem." Your mouth fell open. "Excuse me?" "I'm helping you." "Damon—" "Nope. Decision made. No refunds." He gestured toward the alley. "I'm teaching you how to feed without losing control, how to compel people properly, how to clean up your messes, and, most importantly, how to stop letting your idiot brother dictate whether you deserve to exist." You stared at him. "Why?" Damon opened his mouth. Closed it. Then rolled his eyes. "Because apparently I've developed a conscience. Disgusting, really." You almost smiled. "And why you?" He looked personally offended. "Seriously? Have you met Stefan? He'd have you drinking squirrel smoothies and writing apology letters to woodland creatures before breakfast." A genuine laugh escaped you. Damon's smirk returned. "There she is." He offered you his hand. "Come on, trouble. First lesson starts now." You hesitated. "What's the first lesson?" His expression softened, just slightly. "That becoming a vampire doesn't mean you have to become the monster your brother thinks you are." You looked at his outstretched hand. "And if I don't want your help?" Damon shrugged. "Then I'll stand here being irritating until you change your mind. Trust me, I'm exceptionally talented." For the first time since your transformation, you felt something other than anger. Something dangerously close to hope. Damon tilted his head, his familiar mischievous smile returning. "So, what's it gonna be, princess? You coming with me, or are we waiting for Klaus to come back and offer you a membership card to his creepy Original Vampire fan club?"