The Supernatural Diaries {Book One}

Lost Girls: It's A Wonderful Life

"We're working on it, Mayor Lockwood," Sheriff Forbes said. As she spoke, the mayor dug an old wooden box with gold engravings on it out of one of the hollow floorboards in his home office. "Did the doc I.D. the bodies?" Lockwood asked. "A few townies. Notorious druggies," she replied. "I suppose that'll make it easier for people to buy the story," the mayor agreed, opening the box. "And Vicki Donovan?"

"She's not one of the deceased," the sheriff answered. "Then where the hell is she?" Mayor Lockwood snapped. "I don't know," Liz responded. "I'm still looking."

"Sorry I'm late," Logan Fell announced as he waltzed into the office. Mayor Lockwood took a smaller metallic box out of the larger wooden one and stretched out his hand towards Logan. "Do you have it?" Instead of answering, Logan simply took the Gilbert watch out of his pocket and handed it to his boss with a smirk. The Lockwood Patriarch carefully took the antique and dismantled it with ease. Then he replaced the watch pieces with a compass from inside the metal box and placed it into the hollow shell of the Gilbert watch.

"Finally, it's ready," Lockwood sighed.

"Is that it?" Logan asked.

The mayor smirked. "Yeah, that's it."

*                              *                              *

Meanwhile, at the Salvatore mansion, Damon and Vicki were partying like there was no tomorrow, drinking— both blood and alcohol—, dancing, and pondering the weirdest stuff ever. They drank and danced their way around the entire house until they made it upstairs to Stefan's room. Then in a debaucherous haze, they trashed to room, laughing and smiling as they went. However, Damon stopped when his eyes fell upon the old photo of Katherine, making his heart swell with rage.

Never in his entire life had he ever hated someone as much as he hated her. Had she not interfered in their lives, Damon and Stefan would have remained inseparable and Dean would have been his. But now because of her, Stefan hated him, the love of his life wants nothing to do with him, and all he could feel was the darkness consuming him.

He didn't want to be reminded of the pain, that was the whole point of him doing the things he did. He figured that if he did enough horrible things that maybe he would just stop feeling altogether. It was all a distraction to keep him dealing with his baggage. And he didn't want to confront all his past trauma yet, so... time to find another distraction.

*          *          *

After mostly coming down from their blood high, Damon and Vicki were slow dancing, as the vampire listened to the young girl tell her sob story. "My mom spends most of her time in Virginia Beach with Pete," she sniffled. "He drives trucks. I don't remember my dad, but from what I gather, he's not worth remembering."

"Your life is so pathetic," Damon sighed, as he rubbed her back.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm the screwed up one," she whimpered. "Matt's got it so easy. He's the golden boy. I mean, he's gonna get a football scholarship, and marry Elena, and have a lawn mower and some babies, and when I think of my future, I just come up blank."

Damon took a step back from Vicki so that he could look her in the eye, and said, "You are so damaged." Vicki nodded and cried some more, "Yep." "I mean, you don't have one hint of self-esteem," Damon pondered aloud. Vicki huffed and leaned into Damon's embrace. "Nope, none," Vicki sobbed softly.

Damon pulled his lips together sympathetically. "I think I know what can help you," he muttered.

"What's that?"

Damon huffed then said, "Death." Then he snapped her neck without so much as a second thought and walked over to the end table and picked up his glass of bourbon.

Out of morbid curiosity, Damon approached the semi-draped window and stretched his hand out to touch the rays of light, and immediately flinched away when they singed his hand. A few moments later, Vicki began to stir and she groggily got up from where she had collapsed on the hardwood floor, drawing the vampire's attention.

"What happened?" she groaned. "We were dancing and then..." "And then I killed you," Damon smirked. "What?" she scoffed, rubbing her neck.

"Yep. You're dead."

"I'm dead?"

Damon moved away from the window to lean up against Stefan's desk, and said, "Yeah, well, let's not make a big deal out of it. You drank my blood, I killed you, and now you have to feed in order to complete the process."

Vicki stumbled to her feet and exhaled. "You're wasted," she moaned. Then she began wandering around the room grabbing her jacket and pants before heading for the door.

"You don't wanna be out there alone," Damon sighed. "You're about to get really freaky." However, Vicki rolled her eyes at Damon's warning. "Okay, I had a really good time. I just wanna go home," she replied. "You're gonna start craving blood, and until you get it, you're gonna feel very out of it. You have to be careful," Damon elaborated. At this point, Vicki was growing irritated by Damon's antics and pushed him out of the way.

"You see? You're already starting to fall apart," Damon pointed out.

"And I'm going home now," she retorted.

"Okay, fine," Damon smirked. "Just warning you." That's when he got an idea. A terribly, maliciously, brilliant idea. "Actually, you know what?" he began. "You should go. In fact, if I were you, I would stop by your boyfriend Jeremy's house." Vicki shrugged half-heartedly. "Whatever."

"Tell, Elena I said "hi". Oh, and if you see Stefan, tell him to call me," Damon called after her, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

TO BE CONTINUED...