What would happen if Caroline knew about vampires way before the Salvatore brothers come to Mystic Falls?
ᴅᴀᴍᴏɴ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛɪᴇ, ɪ'ᴍ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ꜰᴇᴡ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ʙʀᴀɪɴ ᴄᴇʟʟꜱ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴏᴋᴀʏ?
The Vampire Diaries 🧛♂️ 🧛♀️...
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"Great," she mumbled under her breath, her gaze stubbornly fixed on the worn knots in the hardwood floor, feeling the weight of the situation press down on her. The sarcasm dripped from her tone, yet there was nowhere to direct it but at herself. "Just what I needed."
'I seriously need to brush up my ninja skills and how the hell did he even get here so fast? Must be one of his weird vampire superpowers', she thought with her gaze lowered to the floor (she knew they were fast, but she didn't think that they were this fast). She had absolutely no courage to lift her gaze and look at him as she would either freak out Or get completely lost in those piercing blue eyes. Neither of those alternatives sounded good
At the edge of her vision, she could see Damon looking at her, an almost imperceptible hint of amusement dancing on his face. His scrutiny didn't waver even as she determinedly avoided eye contact, studying the grain of the floorboards as if they held the secret to her current predicament.
Without warning, his presence was suddenly too close, the whisper of his voice caressing her ear as he greeted her with a soft, "Good morning." The warmth of his breath brushed her skin, snatching her away from her trance-like state of panic. Caroline's heart slammed against her ribcage, shock flooding her features at the realization of just how dire her situation was.
Instinctively, she scrambled backwards, almost tripping in her haste to put some distance between them. As she clutched the table lamp next to her bed—woefully inadequate for defense against anything more threatening than a moth—she couldn't help the flicker of absurdity that flickered in her mind. 'Might as well be armed with a feather,' she thought, a bitter mental laugh at the grim odds.
Gripping the lamp as if it were a sacred talisman, Caroline finally mustered the bravery to face him. Their eyes clashed, his with the spark of a challenge, hers with barely contained terror. Damon was a picture of unruffled composure, his eyebrow arching leisurely in response to her trembling stance. A ghost of a smile painted his lips, a subtle acknowledgment of her futile effort to appear formidable.
Then, with the speed that left human perception trailing behind, Damon materialized before her, effectively cutting off her escape. "Ah, Ah, Ah," he admonished, the words a velvety barb that pricked at her already frayed nerves.
Without premeditation, driven by a primal urge to survive, Caroline swung. The lamp, a poor substitute for a weapon, sliced through the air with a whoosh and connected hard against Damon's face. For a fraction of a second, she allowed herself the fantasy that it might be enough, that he might stumble, recoil... but frankly it didn't do anything other than bruise his ego.
Damon staggered a step backward—not from pain, but seemingly out of sheer shock at her audacity. He raised a hand to his cheek where the lamp had struck, the place still unmarked, his skin unbroken. For a long moment, the two stood in the electric aftermath of her blow, the silence a taut string ready to snap.
