The Last Weapon

1: Damon Meets His Ancient Stalker

Prologue

The air was cold, burning my skin, and the night was dark as a crow's feather. As if in response to what I was about to do, it was like my senses were dulling and even I could hardly see through the velvety black nighttime. No moonlight to reveal my path.

So many emotions, so many burdens, pressed down on me, tempting me to just lay down on this soft grass and let the wind and rain and sunlight of a million days wear me down to nothing. My guilt sat in my stomach like a stone. My feet were a thousand times heavier than they'd ever been. With every step, I felt at my back the beckon of my new life--my friends and loves and the possibilities of forever--and my resolve weakened into nothing. But I knew if I even glanced back, I wouldn't be able to do it. But I've spent too long shirking my responsibilities, so I kept my face forward, hands at my sides, feet trudging along.

Eventually, my bare feet and fingers numb from the unnatural chill in the air, I began to see the faint glimmer of light, far beyond the trees. And far behind me, too far now, I heard the call of my name. It was so distant, it was like the soft words whispered from my lover's lips. I had the sincere belief that it was that very person who called for me now.

The dread--the guilt, the fear, the pain, the nostalgia, the yearning, the dire and unbreakable wish that things could have been different--was killing me.

"That's not what'll kill me, though," I breathed, but I said it so quietly that I might have thought it and never said it all.

I know you're confused, and you don't really know what's going on. It pains me to acknowledge how I've always known this would happen. You will understand in time.

Let me begin.

BRIANA'S POV

I should probably get the introductions out of the way. Shit, I hate these.

I'm Briana, for now--tall, redheaded, super-strong vampire. I hate blue cheese and I can kill a vampire with the venom I possess by biting them. It doesn't work on humans and werewolves, but I think if I can get a couple good bites in, I won't need the venom.

Anyway, I'm the half-sister of the Mikaelson children, daughter of Esther and somebody who's dead now. Due to some things that take ages to explain, we're not all on the best terms right now. Maybe it's the fact that they think I'm dead, or they sense I'm hiding a huge secret. Like how my venom can kill them. Why? How? Well--okay, jeez, this is annoying. You'll figure it out. Just wait and watch.

Ahem.

My home was not really a home at all, but a rustic windmill on the edge of Farmer What's-his-name's glorious patch of land. I had compelled the farmer and moved in all my new stuff--a bed and a desk, a chair and books--and basically turned the old thing into a lovely new apartment. Kind of. I did my best. In Mystic Falls, such a drab old town, I thought it was rather refreshing.

As I stepped into the windmill, I noticed something curious. My perfectly violet bed hadn't been disturbed, my vase of flowers was upright on my oak bedstand, and my stack of flimsy romance novels was still in a slightly messy array. But there was something cool in the air. It slithered through the muggy summer breath like a snake through the water, and smelled metallic and rusty, a scent that lingered on my tongue. I inhaled hungrily.

Blood... I thought. Someone's been here. A sound like laughter rippled in the air. I bared my fangs and hissed faintly, crouching low to the shag carpet meant to spice up my little living area.

"Hello, darling." Suddenly, I was slammed up against the wall, an echoing groan splitting the air, fog spilling through the cracks in the walls. Playing innocent vamp, I whimpered and opened my eyes with any tears I could muster.

"What--what d'you want?" I sobbed.

The man in front of me was so dashing it was almost irritating. He had a wicked smirk and silvery eyes that glowered at me from under thick black lashes and glossy locks of hair darker than any shade I'd ever seen. His skin was an icy ivory and I couldn't stop glancing at his mouth. In an instant, I knew this handsome face.

"I want to rip your heart out for killing in town and not cleaning up your mess. Bad move, there are too many of us here to have those idiots on the Council on our trails. So, I guess this is the last time we'll meet, Sweetheart--"

"Wrong!" I threw my arms out with a mutinous growl and sent him flying into the opposite curved wall. "You got any idea who I am, Angelface? I could kill you with one bite! You have five seconds to--"

He rammed into me and all the air flew out of my mouth in a little huff. The flimsy wooden walls broke behind us and I flew out into a fresh bit of rain, washing the drops of blood I felt rolling down my cheeks. I punched him in the cheek as his hand raised up in claws, ready to tear the heart from my body. He tumbled off of me. When he looked back, his eyes were a sickly reddish color with musty gray veins trailing around his them. His lips curled back over thin, white fangs.

"You little bitch," he growled. My mouth curled up into that arrogant smirk I had on earlier.

"You broke my bedroom. Next time, maybe I'll break you, Damon Salvatore." The little demon recoiled, confusion splitting his beautiful features.

"How do you--"

"I know a lot of things." I looked up, squinting against the spontaneous downpour. "I'm gonna move my things into the farmer's house once this damn rain stops, and you're gonna get the hell out of here, or maybe I'll go snap that brunette's neck. Who was that bitch? Emily, Emma..?"

"Elena."

He scowled and reared back, looking as if he wanted to kill me, but then his expression shifted into this sultry pout, and danger flickered in his eyes. His irises seemed to turn almost blue when he turned that expression on. Was he going to try and flirt with me? I bit my lip. Let him try, I thought confidently.

"Right. But, if you ever feel like visiting," I leaned over and snatched his chin, placing my nose millimeters away from his, "without a death-wish, I'm willing to distract you."

While I was walking away, I heard him get up and stagger towards me. Just as he leapt at me, I stooped over and picked up a shard of my broken little house and whirled around. There was a disgusting squishing sound, and we were both looking down at the stake put squarely in the center of his chest, not even an inch from his heart, his gaze horrified, mine triumphant.

"Y--you missed," he gasped, falling backwards into slick grass.

"I know, Angelface. I just couldn't bear the thought of you dying, or at least maybe I thought there was a chance you still might be like you were back in 1864. You were so much.. sweeter," I breathed, and he sneered at me through wide eyes. At my close proximity, all I had to do was knock the stake a little and he'd be dead, but instead, I closed the space between us, curving my body over the shard so as not to touch it, and pressed my lips to his, actually thinking of him from back in the 1800's. His hair was curlier then, and he had an expression of adorable ignorance. His smile was more innocent back then.

His lips were warm and softer than any I could remember, and I've kissed many. He remained unmoving, shocked at my typical way of greeting those I liked. After a good long while, I pulled back and ripped the stake out, savoring the painful gasp that burst from him. My fingers curled around the scruff of his shirt. I heaved him off the ground and twirled him through the air, then let him fly. I appreciated the sight of him flying over the patch of land around the windmill, landing with a crunch in the rows of blossoming crops. I sighed and went back into my house, shoving everything to the side. Within moments, the rain stopped. I was not disturbed again.