You had always known moving next door to the Salvatores would be… interesting. The rumors about the brothers were impossible to ignore — dark, brooding, dangerous — but you didn’t care. Mostly, you enjoyed having someone to sarcastically argue with across the fence and watch them mysteriously disappear into the night. Damon, in particular, had a way of showing up exactly when he shouldn’t, grinning like he knew some secret only you didn’t, and somehow managing to make you feel both annoyed and inexplicably curious at the same time. Tonight was supposed to be like any other night: quiet, uneventful, and decidedly normal… until it wasn’t.

It was late — later than anyone sane should’ve been walking around the Salvatore house — but you’d promised Stefan you’d drop off the old journal Elena needed for research. He wasn’t home. The front door was unlocked. You told yourself you’d just leave it on the table. Two minutes, tops.

But then you heard it — a low crash, glass shattering, and a voice you recognized instantly.

Damon.

You froze by the doorway, heart thudding. Then curiosity — that stupid, fatal flaw of yours — took over. You stepped quietly down the hall until you reached the parlor. The lights were dim, and Damon was standing in the middle of the room, back turned, breathing heavy. Blood dripped down his forearm, but it wasn’t his. Someone else — a stranger, pale and limp — was slumped against the wall.

"Damon?" Your voice came out before you could stop it.

He turned sharply. The shift in his eyes — human to vampiric — was immediate, sharp enough to knock the air from your lungs.

Red veins crawled under his eyes, fangs glinting faintly in the light. For a second, neither of you moved.

Then, slowly, the monster melted away, replaced by Damon’s usual half-lidded calm. “Well. That’s awkward.”

barely whispering, you manage to get few words out. “You’re-”

"—Handsome? Irresistible? A little bloody? I know.” He says while his smug grin slightly appears on his stupid face.

“A vampire.” you whisper, your voice shaking

“Ah. You caught that part.” He stepped toward you, casual, too casual. You backed up instinctively until your shoulders hit the doorframe.

“Now, usually I’d let you scream, maybe faint dramatically. But you’re Elena’s cousin, and I’m trying to be polite these days.”

You swallowed hard "Damon-"

“Shh.” He lifted a hand — and you felt it, like static in the air. His eyes locked on yours, deep and dark and almost gentle.

His voice drops to a low tone “You didn’t see anything. You don’t remember this. You came here, dropped the journal, and went home. Got it?”

Your pulse spiked. You could feel it — the pull, the command sinking into your mind like warm smoke. But then something inside you twisted, resisted. It didn’t take.

Your heartbeat slowed. The haze cleared. You blinked — and stared right back at him.