Damon & Elena Fanfiction: A Long Weekend

The Devil & His Minion in the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time

Here comes installment two of today, guys! I really hope you like it - it took me ages,  as it's my first time writing Klaus and Stefan into the story... but hopefully things should get a bit more exciting from now on! Lemme know what you think! Rate/Vote/Comment ... you know the deal by now! :D Beth :)xoxox

Klaus had deliberately chosen this car because of the tinted windows that enabled him to see out, but for no one else to see in. He had enough enemies, and there was no need to alert them to his presence by driving around in a flashy car. It was a sleek black car that had “style” written all over it, but in a non-attention attracting way.

            Stefan was in the back of the car, draining the life out of a single Mum they’d picked up from their last pit-stop. She was a pretty thing, Klaus mused, the kind he’d go for himself, but the crimson seeping from her neck and onto the leather upholstery wasn’t making him hungry. In fact, Stefan’s sloppy eating habits made him feel somewhat sick, so he turned his attention elsewhere. Scanning the area around him, his eyes fixed on the car that was pulling into the petrol station.

 A leather clad man with recognisable style and hair climbed out the driver’s side, before opening the passenger side and proffering his arm to the woman who climbed out. Damon Salvatore, thought Klaus, a sly grin splaying across his face, and what an interesting revelation... Elena Gilbert cosying up to the renowned womaniser, in a way that could only be described as love struck. His suspicions were confirmed when Damon leant down, and met Elena’s lips with passion, his hand snaking down to cradle her back protectively, as she wound a hand into his rakish black hair. A huge grin spread across of his face, as the cogs in his mind whirred, formulating a plan. He was so glad he’d made sure Stefan was distracted, because if Stefan had seen the embrace before him, he’d screw everything up.

Careful not to rouse Stefan’s attention to the situation, Klaus pulled onto the road and drove down a few streets, taking sharp turns, following his heightened sense of smell, until he found a relatively smart looking diner. Here he’d pick up a few more ‘toys’ as he liked to call them, for Stefan, and maybe a light snack for himself. Taking his keys out of the ignition, he turned to Stefan, whose face was still buried in the neck of the brunette, blood covering his face like an infant after eating Spaghetti Bolognese.

“Stefan. Out. Now.” Whenever Klaus spoke to Stefan, he used as few words as possible; much like an owner talking to a dog, and Stefan rarely spoke in return. Silence is golden, and “Don’t speak unless you’re spoken too” were phrases that Klaus agreed with and he made sure to enforce them with Stefan.

After Stefan had cleaned his face of the incriminating evidence, the two men entered the diner. As they did so, Stefan caught sight of his reflection in a mirror. Whilst before he may have chuckled at the myth that vampires have no reflection, now he was taken aback at the image he saw in front of him. What he saw shocked him; his eyes had taken on a cold, hard edge. The glint of a killer, he thought. For the rest of the time in the diner, picking at a burger, Stefan sad subdued, the ketchup on his plate painting his vision crimson with the sight of all the blood he’d shed in these last few weeks. He shuddered, hating himself for the monster he’d become, but at the same time, knowing that it was all his doing. After all, he’d opted for this lifestyle in order to save his brother, Damon.

His thoughts were interrupted as they left the diner, after Klaus had decided that there were no women to prey on, because across the street, heading into the entrance of one of the few motels in town, was the black haired leather-clad vampire who he could recognise from a mile away. And his hand was clasped with another distinctive figure; her brown hair down and draped over her shoulders, wearing a figure hugging college sweatshirt and Levis. Elena Gilbert. And his brother, Damon. His heart thumped, before he realised that the image he was seeing before him wasn’t just a friendly scene, as Elena leant up on her tiptoes to kiss Damon. He turned his full attention to her, and they stood in the doorway, embracing.

Time stood still.

Elena Gilbert, the love of his life, it appeared, had forgotten him.

And not only had Stefan appeared to escape her mind, but she’d occupied herself in his absence with the older, sarcastic and womanising, Damon Salvatore.

And Damon, it seemed, has pushed all thoughts of loyalty to his brother out of his mind, as he shrouded Elena in what could only be described as love.

Pure love.

His brother, and his girlfriend, Elena, had fallen in love.

Where did that leave Stefan?

Stefan felt his eyes prickling, and his canines lengthen, as anger coursed through his veins, burning his skin, making him feel like he was on fire.

Klaus followed Stefan’s line of sight, and cursed silently. “Later,” he ordered, his pupils shrinking and then expanding, and he compelled Stefan to calm down and get in the car. With no choice but to oblige, Stefan shrank into the back seat, shaking with anger. Klaus, preoccupied with hunger, forget to notice the warning signs of Stefan hatching a plan, as they drove away, leaving Elena and Damon oblivious and in love, in their wake.