Corazon.

The walkways were beginning to fill with students, going to, and leaving previous classes. Sophia, in the swell of it all, darted between gaps of people, careful not to press too close to any of them.

‘I could kill them all, what do I care? She asked herself, though she doused that thought as quickly as it had surfaced. It was amongst these people, this sea of humanity, that she was hiding. And so far, it had worked. She owed it to them, the humans, that she atleast not poach any innocents. That meant hunting far away from town, and even meant trips out of state.

But she didn’t have time to drive out of state.

It was dangerous even considering feeding close to town, but she had no other choice. She would, at least, choose a victim who deserved a fit punishment. It seemed, everywhere she went, that there was always an abundance of abusers and molesters, all needing to be taught their lesson. Sophia smirked at the thought of her being a vigilante. But she was evil, and she could never escape the fact that, no matter how many she fed from, no matter how much they deserved it, it was all done in the name of vanity. So that she may live, and sustain herself. That, in itself, was ultimate selfishness.

In her haste to put a distance between the warm, blood filled bodies, she had forgotten all about Damon.

She was kicking herself for getting so careless, she couldn’t ignore that he had shifted from his crow form, and was now tapping on the window of her car. She could feel the slight length her fangs had grown, dangerously close from jutting out beneath her lips. She dared not open her mouth, or even look up at the young man standing on the other side of the car door. Instead, she pretended not to hear his insistent tapping, and kept her head down, her mind furiously sprinting towards a lie that she could feed him without having to expose herself for what she, and certainly what Damon was – a vampire.

Instantly, she thrust images into him. Of a boy, a teenage boy whose face was contorted, and purple with rage. His fist was sailing towards her, and struck. The cut on her lip swelled with blood... blood, not a good idea. She snatched away her intense bloodlust from the conjured scene, fighting to continue on. Sadness. She pulled a sadness from deep within her, the sadness of years and years spent alone, and let it pour into him, as well; hiding her hunger.

Then, she looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, crocodile tears lining the edges and threatening to spill. Of course, the scene was all a lie; the boy never laid a hand on her. She was projecting the memories of the boy’s girlfriend, a tiny girl living in a town Sophia had passed many years before settling down. The boy’s father was an abuser, one of many she had taken care of, and as she learned, his son was just as bad. When he had a bad day, he would make hers worse. When his grades were bad, her bruises were bad – and he was not a very bright boy, it seemed his grades were perpetually awful, and so were his beatings.

Sophia enjoyed taking his blood. She remembered worrying at his wound, shaking him around and tearing his flesh so easily, as if he were a thin sheet in the angry wind. Hearing him screaming, to stop, end it all quickly. Again, she had to struggle with keeping that memory from contaminating the one she had poured into Damon, and the struggle made her tremble with the effort. She breathed in deeply, and felt the air shakily escape her.

Damon was looking at her with an expression she hadn’t yet seen. There was a softness in his face that was almost unbelievable, too amazing to even believe. She expected it to be wiped away by one of his movie star grins, or a smirk, at least. She looked down at her knees, then allowed herself another look. It was still there. This was not good.

‘I have to get out of here’ She said, knowing he had picked it from her mind. It was the truth, she had to tell herself. But why would she even feel conscious about having to lie to him? She’d done it many times before – told little lies to protect the one big one. The Whopper: that she wasn’t human. She was just like him – a centuries old vampire.

“No!” He fumbled at the door, then lowered his voice. “Please, don’t go. Let me in...please.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. A tear had absently slipped down her cheek, and Damon had begun to fumble even more. Never had she seen him so clumsy, nor had she ever expected him to behave this way towards a weeping woman. She had to turn an incredulous laugh into a heaving sob, and hide behind her hair until she suppressed a fit of giggles – not an easy task.

Steadying herself, she asked, “What is it that you want, Damon?”

“To talk,” he said simply. “Just talk.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “You’re not hungry?”

He shook his head. ‘Because I sure am’ She thought, and had to suppress another smile. ‘Oh, hell, I’m delirious. Delirious with hunger.’

“So are you going to let me in?”

Sophia looked at him, and knew well enough that he could rip the car door from its hinges and let himself in. He didn’t even need an invitation; it wasn’t a place where humans lived. He was asking out of sheer politeness – all because he saw a girl cry. “I really must be going, Damon.”

She knew her eyes would meet a certain expression – the one his face acquired when he was determined about something. He wanted to talk to her, and he wasn’t going to leave any time soon. She needed a diversion, and knew just how to create one.

She only hoped it would work.

* * *

He didn’t know what took over him, what possessed him to shift back into his normal form and try to... to comfort her. He remembered being irritated by that boy, the one who studied history that Damon himself had lived through; then being completely incensed when he and Sophia kissed, and she had pulled herself from him and ran away.

He had hurt her.

It took all his strength not to bare his wrath down upon that boy and set him straight. Women, especially his Sophia, were not to be harmed. And any man, or even boy, who did so was a codardo bastardo; a cowardly bastard.

He wasn’t in the right mind. He had just walked up to her, as she sat in her car, and asked to be let in to talk...just talk. Since when did Damon Salvatore ever ‘just talk’? But that’s all he felt, then; the overwhelming need to wipe the tears from her cheeks and kiss away the drowning expression.

Kiss?

He had never wanted to kiss anyone else but Elena, and even then, that was going too far. Kisses were for humans. Kisses were bait for girls and women, no more part of his arsenal of weapons than his fangs. But... the kisses he wanted to plant on her would not lead to him feeding from her. He wanted just the opposite... to not hurt her any more than she was.

Laughing to himself, he scowled inwardly. ‘This is what you wanted...’ he told himself. ‘You wanted to know more about her... now you do.’ He couldn’t help but feel invisible walls inching around him; his doom, he thought. He was sinking too far deep, and he could only watch helplessly, the damage occur from the inside. The last time he allowed himself this weakness was with Katherine.

‘She’s a pretty little thing, Damon,’ A voice purred in his head.

His head shot up, and suddenly, he realised he was being watched. Just as he had watched Sophia, as he had spied on his brother and Elena, he himself was being made prey... No, not just himself.

Sophia was in danger.