Salvation (TVD Fan Fiction)

Chapter 3

Okay worked on this chapter all night last night and I have to say I'm pretty satisfied with it, you all will have to let me know what you think of it, what you like, don't like, etc. This is in Damon's POV, because I wanted to jump back to him and what's going on inside his head=) I also backed up a little, to capture his POV from the tail end of the first chapter.

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Damon's POV

After Ric's untimely interruption, Rhiannon had vanished. For the second time tonight, I fought the urge to snap his neck. Meddling bastard.

I inhaled deeply, noticing that Rhiannon's intoxicating scent was still every bit as powerful, almost as if she had never left. Weird.

I clued Ric in on Rhiannon, told him about her compulsion immunity, and her toothpick handiwork.

"Christ!" he shouted, wide-eyed and shaking his head. "Who the fuck is she?"

Well ain't THAT the question of the hour?

I remembered the vision I had of the two of us, dancing and laughing. She had seemed happier in the vision, not having that preoccupied look of concern in her eyes that she had now. Whatever troubled her, I wanted to end it. I had decided I had forgiven her for the toothpick incident. I always carried a soft spot for spunky women, and she had been right to assume I wasn't going to allow her to leave me in the bar. Hell, I'd still have her in my arms now if Ricky boy hadn't graced us with his presence. Oh yeah, Ric's still standing here.

"Rhiannon," I said, finally answering him. I realized at once that I liked saying her name.

Fuck! I groaned internally. I did not want to think of her this way. At least not until I had determined exactly what and who she is.

And what the hell was that vision about? I took another deep breath, still smelling her, and exhaled slowly. I perused my surroundings, but Rhiannon was no where in sight.

"I need another drink," I confessed to Ric.

"Didn't you just have one?" he smarted off, gesturing toward the last couple drops of blood that had accumulated on the corner of my mouth.

"I meant bourbon, you dick," I sneered back at him, quickly licking my mouth clean. Suddenly, I was overcome with guilt from feeding from her. I hadn't intended for it to happen. And it wasn't an I'm-gonna-fucking-kill-you-and-drain-you-dry sort of thing. It was more of an I'm-really-trying-to-figure-out-how-I-know-you-and-you're-turning-me-on thing. I found consolation when I remembered her moaning my name, smirking at the memory. Everything about her captivated me. I wanted to know her, to know what she knew about me, to know what she meant about protecting me, to know what the hell that vision was. And most of all I wanted to know why everything about her was so familiar to me. When she looked up at me with those wide green eyes full of concern, I almost felt…

Hell, no! Fuck that! No more pesky feelings. They were massively overrated in my book, always lighting the way to the closest bottle of bourbon, always returning to plague any sober thoughts I might have. Sometimes I didn't know why I didn't just take a cue from Stefan and flip my own switch and be done with it all. But I knew the reason. Though I'd rather be staked than to admit it, I liked my humanity. I'd rather feel something, even pain and rejection, than the emptiness of nothing at all.

"Are you so sure you need more alcohol tonight?" Ric quipped. Ignoring him, I stood silently and walked back to the Grill. I could hear Ric's footsteps trailing me. You would think a closet vampire hunter would have a quieter stride.

Once inside the bar, I ignored Ric's disapproving head shakes and ordered another drink. I'm not sure why he was on 'Damon Patrol' tonight anyway. Clearly, he was in need of a new hobby, for both of our sakes.

I downed the amber liquid, hardly noticing the burn. I decided to save myself from hearing any more of Ric's incessant bitching and call it a night.

(A LITTLE WHILE LATER AT THE BOARDING HOUSE)

I tried to distract myself from thinking of Rhiannon, but it proved to be useless. I wished I had her here with me now. I wanted to feel her in my arms and forget everything else. At least for a little while. The memory of having her pushed up against that brick wall, moaning my name, thrilled and excited me. Wherever she was, I would find her. If I couldn't compel the truth out of her, I would do my damnedest to kiss it out of her.

For a moment, I relished in the idea of having someone completely to myself.

Someone that wasn't equally infatuated with Stefan.

Someone that loved me for who I was.

Someone that I would never have to share.

I snorted at my ridiculousness, and shoved the bothersome, hopeful thoughts away. I could see I was desperately in need of a distraction, so I turned on the television.

To my extreme irritation, I discovered Stefan had left Twilight in the DVD player. I shook my head distastefully, turning the damned thing back off. My hair-shaping, Bambi-killing, baby brother was the only REAL vampire that found Edward Cullen entertaining.

And for God's sake! The least Stefan could do was remember to take the damned thing out of the player and put it back in its case! Stefan never did have time for things like cleaning and putting things back in order. Hell, just look at his bedroom! I guess brooding is just too time consuming.

I got up from the couch and walked over to make myself another drink. Reluctantly, I worried that Ric might be right. Maybe I should stop drinking so much. Maybe all the bourbon had finally begun to pickle my brain. That WOULD explain that vision. I brought the glass to my lips and deliberated for a moment. I decided that even if the bourbon WAS to blame for the vision, which I heavily doubted, I wouldn't mind risking it if it meant I could see Rhiannon again.

Damn it! Stop thinking about her already! I chided myself. I swallowed the drink in its entirety, refilled my glass and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. I closed the door behind me, and walked over to my neatly made bed. I was about to set my drink on the nightstand when a new vision flooded my mind.

My own sight faded, and all I saw was Rhiannon, lying naked in my arms, peacefully sleeping. I could not help but marvel at how beautiful she was, her auburn red hair cascaded all around her. I quickly noticed a difference between this new vision and the first one. I had only watched the scene of the two of us dancing and laughing play out in the first vision. Now, looking down at the gorgeous woman in my arms, I realized in addition to seeing in this vision, I could feel.

And looking down at Rhiannon sleeping, I felt very protective of her. I loved her.

I was only vaguely aware of the sound of shattering glass, as my drink slipped out of my hand. I was too stunned by this new revelation to care. I fought hard to keep the vision from fading away, but it shimmered away as quickly as it came.

The vision was real. It had to be. The love that emanated in my mind as that older version of me looked at Rhiannon was every bit as strong, if not stronger, than the unhealthy obsession I once held for Katherine or the pathetic unrequited puppy love I harbored for Elena. My sight returned, and I was very nearly crippled by an intense desire to see Rhiannon. I sat down unsteadily on my bed and buried my head in my hands.

It was obvious that I knew very little about her now, but I believed with every fiber of my damned soul that once upon a time, I had been very deeply in love with Rhiannon.

But if it is true, if we were SO in love, why is it that I have no memory of it?

I stepped over the broken glass shards and spilt bourbon, making my way to the front door in a trance-like state. For a brief moment I felt the urge to clean the mess, but I ignored it, even if it was the first time in my long (undead) life that I had left my room messy.

I needed answers, and she was the only one who could give them to me. I had no idea where to find her, where to even begin looking. I had a distinct feeling that Rhiannon could easily make herself scarce, if she desired.

Yes, I knew I had my work cut out for me. I bolted out the front door, nearly running into Rhiannon.