A/N: I was skimming through The Call of the Wild the other day since I hadn't read it in a long time and came across this passage. All I could think was, holy crap, that's Damon Salvatore. So, of course, it got me writing (to you Twisted readers left out there, I swear the final chapter is coming, it's just being really really difficult. I'm kinda particular about endings). This probably isn't as polished as I normally would like it to be, but I just wanted to get it out there so it's not distracting me anymore. Hope you like!

Disclaimer: Still don't own The Vampire Diaries in any form.

Rated M for language and some violence, and mostly cause I'm paranoid.

The blood-longing became stronger than ever before. He was a killer, a thing that preyed, living on the things that lived, unaided, alone, by virtue of his own strength and prowess, surviving triumphantly in a hostile environment where only the strong survived. Because of all this he became possessed of a great pride in himself, which communicated itself like a contagion to his physical being. It advertised itself in all his movements, was apparent in the play of every muscle, spoke plainly as speech in the way he carried himself…

—Jack London, The Call of the Wild

The man was dead in seconds. He casually tossed the limp body aside as the woman continued to scream, too horrified by the sight before her to even have the common sense to run away. God, he hated screamers. There was a time and a place, he thought with a smirk, but here, now? What the hell was the point? She was in the middle of the woods, alone now. No one was going to hear her, but there she stood, slowly starting to stumble away, tripping over logs and branches before she turned and started running full out… still screaming.

Damon casually wiped the blood from his chin, letting out an annoyed sigh as he heard the woman cry out again. Stupid, stupid girl, he thought as he started after her, a grin spreading over his face.

He could have caught her immediately, but he let her think she was going to get away, the sweet song of her blood pounding harder and harder through her veins until he couldn't hold back any longer.

He flashed in front of her and as she looked over her shoulder for him, crashed headlong into his chest. A little shriek escaped her before he clamped a hand over her mouth, the other wrapping around her waist and pinning her against him. She struggled wildly to no avail, only working to excite him farther until he swooped down and ripped into her throat.

He wasn't pretty about it, tearing through flesh and muscle until her destroyed artery was pumping sporadic mouthfuls of steaming hot blood directly down his throat. He moaned in bliss as his mouth latched onto her harder, her struggles rapidly weakening until she completely stopped moving. He took one last swallow and dropped her to the leaf strewn forest floor.

His head fell back as he stared up at the night sky in perfect contentment, letting out a satisfied chuckle before he started back towards town, moving at a leisurely pace.

He hadn't planned on indulging that night, but after discovering that his baby bro was already back in town, he'd needed to let off some steam. Neither him nor Stefan had been back to Mystic Falls for almost fifty years, so of course they would both show up at the same time, when Damon desperately didn't need his brother poking around, just waiting to mess everything up.

After a good hour stroll through the trees, Damon made it back to the outskirts of town. He'd left his car out at the bed and breakfast he was staying at so as to not draw attention and he didn't mind the walk.

As he turned the corner, he heard laughing and stopped in the deeper shadow of a tree, watching as a blond slipped out of a car parked on the street, stumbling slightly with a giggle.

Damon grinned, taking a step towards her. His eyes slipped to the other girl getting out of the driver's side door and his confident saunter turned into a stumble, feeling as if a stake had just been driven through his heart. All the air rushed from his lungs as he stood motionless, staring at someone he hadn't seen in one hundred and forty five years.

Damon liked to think he had turned his emotions off a long, long time ago, but every now and again he would feel something sneak up on him unexpectedly, taking him utterly by surprised until he managed to push it back down and lock it away again.

As he looked at the face that he had committed to memory a century and a half ago, he felt that switch inside him slam to on. He felt his heart contract painfully and a surge of longing hit him so hard he was almost knocked to his knees. He quickly fumbled to get himself back under control, his hands clenching and unclenching sporadically.

He watched her come around the car with a sad smile on her face as she slipped an arm around her friend and started leading her towards the house. Damon gasped for air, taking another quick step towards the two before he managed to get a hold of himself and stop.

He tramped his emotions back, forcing himself to try and think straight. Something wasn't right. Katherine was in the tomb. How could she be wandering around Mystic Falls? What the fuck was going on?

The two girls paused before going up the porch steps and "Katherine" started rummaging in her purse for something. She muttered a few words to the blond who shrugged and continued into the house as the other turned back to the car, throwing her purse on the steps.

When she reached the sidewalk again, Damon couldn't hold himself any longer. He flashed over to stand behind her as she leaned into the car, looking for whatever she had left.

Instantly he was assaulted by the smell of her blood, the beating of her heart, and he froze. This wasn't Katherine. This was a human.

He stumbled back as unwanted anger and disappointment and curiousity swirled inside of him. She started to stand and he blurred back to his spot by the tree as she stood and looked around, a small frown on her face, unconsciously sensing how close danger had been and still was.

He was shocked and confused by this girl. Who was she? Was she related to Katherine? And if so, how? Did she know about vampires?

He slumped back against the trunk of the tree once she was inside the house and let his thoughts run with possibilities. The only way to get answers was to get to know her, talk to her. He had a week until the comet passed. He had time. What better way to spend it?

On his way back to the bed and breakfast, he drained another couple driving along the dark, empty country road. He ignored the small pang of guilt he felt after.

The next day he came back and followed her to school, observing everything, struck by how startlingly different she was from the vampire that had turned him, and oddly glad for that.

And then his brother showed up, all high school teenager like, and it all made sense. Damon rolled his eyes as he turned away to go find an open drinking establishment. Of course his brother was playing human to get close to her. The question was how had he found out about her. Damon decided then and there that he was going to have fun with this. Not only would he distract himself with his Katherine look alike, but he'd get to torture his brother in the process. Perfect.

Several hours and a bottle of bourbon later found him in the alley behind the town Grill with Trisha the Bartender pinned between him and the wall. She let out a pouty moan as he broke off their kiss, his lips trailing over her jaw and down her throat. She hooked a leg around his hip, grinding herself against him and he let out a little growl, veins crawling under his eyes as he fought to regain control, his breath heavy against her skin. He didn't want to make this messy. He licked a hot trail up the side of her neck and when her head fell back invitingly he settled his mouth over his favorite spot and let his razor sharp teeth sink into her flesh.

She gasped, her body tensing around him for an instant before he took a long draw of her blood. As the heady liquid left her, she moaned and melted into him, her other leg coming up and pulling him even closer. He indulged her, pressing himself against her, taking slow steady draws until she was panting and clutching at him like a wild thing.

He heard her frantic heartbeat stutter and start to slow, and he knew if he kept going, in a few moments she'd be well on her way to dead. He was about to say fuck it and keep going anyway when a familiar voice drifted down the alley, causing him to freeze. He pulled away, letting Trisha's head slump forward even as she let out a disappointed sigh, and concentrated on the girl's voice, listening to her friends telling her goodbye.

Almost as a reflex he compelled his meal and stepped away, letting her slump to the dirty street, unable to stay on her own feet. He left her there without another thought and made his way around the building, stopping when he saw the girl walk by, heading down the street towards the edge of downtown.

"Elena," he said experimentally, using the name he had heard her called earlier, letting it roll over his tongue. He smiled and stepped after her, the predator inside of him eager for the hunt, the chase, the kill.

They ended up in the cemetery on the outskirts of town, piquing his curiosity even more. He followed closely, slipping from headstone to headstone, occasionally brushing so close to her she'd start and turn, her heartbeat picking up.

When she slumped to the ground and pulled out a journal, he settled down to watch her, a small frown on his face. God, she looked like Katherine and at the same time, not at all. She looked so innocent sitting next to the cold granite, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she continued to scribble on the page. He was struck by the sudden urge to run his hand through that hair, see if it was as soft as he remembered. He wondered if she tasted as sweet as she looked.

The thought caught him unaware and he felt his jaw ache as blood rushed under the skin towards his eyes, darkening them to a menacing red/black. He drew in a quick breath to steady himself and immediately cursed his mistake as the scent of her filled his senses. He was so caught up in the desire that he actual took several steps forward before he caught himself, clenching his hands tight into fists.

He wanted her, badly. He hadn't had control issues like this in almost a hundred years, and he couldn't understand why this slip of a girl was pushing him to the edge. Sure she looked like the woman he had been pining after for his entire undead life, but she wasn't her. That was blatantly and painfully obvious. No, there was something about this girl, Elena, that was drawing him in like a moth to flame and he didn't like it one bit.

He bit down on his lip hard, drawing blood, and knew if she stayed here in this abandoned cemetery much longer, he was going to snap. He needed to get rid of her, now.

He'd been playing with crows recently, when he was bored, so he stretched out his mind and found one nearby, coaxing it closer to Elena. He grinned when she tensed and looked up.

"Ok. Hi, bird," she said hesitantly as it continued to caw at her, and he heard her heart start pounding a little faster, but she didn't leave. Obviously, he was going to have to pull out the big guns.

The fog was tougher to pull off, but not impossible and within seconds he had it rolling in, drifting across the ground to surround her. He had her good and truly freaked.

"Come on, run," he muttered under his breath, stepping out from behind the headstone, fog swirling around him like a lover's caress.

Elena turned and saw him. He felt her gaze in his bones and he turned away, his breath picking up as he finally heard her start to run. He let go of his hold on the crow and the fog and let his head fall back against the stone.

Elena Gilbert was so screwed. And so was he.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think!