Eight Months after leaving the town of Mystic Fall's, and his brothers girl behind him. Damon's kicking back in a Cleveland dance club; of all places, when his life takes an unexpected turn.

He's having a few drinks; while shopping for a potential meal, when he first notices her. She struts past him, all hair and attitude. Hips swaying, in a way that has most of the surrounding male eyes (and more than a few of the women's) following her appreciatively, she gestures for the bartenders attention, orders, then turns to study the crowded dance floor .

Interest aroused, Damon straightens. Abandoning his slouched position against the wall, he casually makes his way across the room.

Sidling up to the bar; both to get a refill of his bourbon and a closer look, he studies her surreptitiously from beneath lowered lashes.

He shivers, an inner chill sweeping through him; he watches as she leans against the bar, a symphony of seduction and fearlessness. The strange dichotomy he senses within her sparking his interest. On many levels.

He finds himself unsettled by his reaction; there is something different about her, it makes his skin tingle and his fangs ache, the rush of desire he feels, is intense, immediate and surprisingly (for him)shocking.

Instinctively, he knows that what he's feeling, is far more than the usual mix of attraction and hunger. Those two expectations (all that he allows himself these days) have become the summation of his existence, since Elena finished what Katherine started. The door to his heart is sealed; his memories of both women have become the nails that ensure it will stay that way.

But still, there's something about this girl. And it's lighting him up in a way he can't remember feeling for an eternity.

Watching her flirt with the bar tender, her eyes simultaneously sweeping the room with a feigned casualness that only sharpens his interest, he knows and excepts without question, that this girl is dangerous, a predator, different somehow, but kin to what he sees in his mirror every day.

There is something of Katherine in her knowing smile, her tilted head, and casual hair toss. But, there is also just enough of Elena, in guarded eyes that scream vulnerability, to make him think that even being in the same room as this girl, is far from his most stellar move.

And when she turns, her eyes doing a slow and careful inventory of every part of him, he knows he's right.

He also knows that this is the most he's felt, since a certain goodbye from a girl he's never going to have, and this alone, is enough to make him ask her name.

Her voice is husky, with a faint tinge of Boston still curling at the edges, her eyes like dark chocolate, with a mouth that he knows will taste like desire and whiskey. She tells him, her name is Faith.

The first time he touches her, electricity seems to spark beneath his hand. It takes all of his formidable experience of women, and his very long life, not to show it with an involuntary flinch, or the gasp that wants to leave his lips.

She's beautiful this woman, but Damon has known many beautiful women in the one hundred and forty five years, that he'd waited for Katherine.

When they take to the dance floor together, there is something of the vampire in the way she moves, and for a moment, he wonders if that's what he's been sensing.

Clouds of dark hair drift across her shoulders as she sways to the music's slow and seductive beat. Each movement she makes, an unspoken promise of pleasure. As her body brushes against him, he's more than aware that this woman has lessons to teach a man, ones that could just cost him his soul. Every motion of her body is an invitation, and Damon has seldom seen a woman, human or vampire, that moves quite the way that this one does.

With her back pressed against his chest; close enough to make him ache, his hands mould themselves to her curves. Running them down the length of her lithe torso, he seeks that familiar pulse of life. Relief and satisfaction settle within him as her heart beat throbs beneath his palms, strong and slightly fast, it confirms that this girl is very much alive.

And then her arm is twisting up to loop around his neck ,pulling him impossibly closer, and with it Damon forgets all the reasons it should matter. As her other hand runs down the length of his thigh, he loses himself in her scent. The thrum of her pulse, so dangerously close to his mouth; unfurling his hunger and his need to take what she's offering.

He decides then that for this one night, he's going to be reckless, reckless in a way he hasn't been since leaving Mystic Falls. Tonight, he wants to finally get lost in something other than memory and regret.

Still. Later when she suggests they go somewhere quieter, he knows he should say no, that it's likely that this won't end well. But he's so sick of running from life and from himself, that he decides he wants to see how it's going to end. And her eyes are so full of promise as she reaches for his hand, that he finds himself full of anticipation, despite his doubts.

It's a mutual decision to take it back to the motel that he's been holed up in for the last three weeks, and as they walk through the dark, speaking far less that he'd expected, he studies her openly this time.

He watches the way she moves, how she seems to somehow melt into the darkness between each street light, her grace an unconscious by product of the predatory danger, that seems to float around her like a perfume.

Oh yes, this girl is so much more than what you see on the surface, and he knows; with his own inherent predatory skill, that the fact that he can sense this, means that she most likely recognizes the same in him. He also understands; with a sudden feeling of freedom, that he doesn't care.

When they enter his room he plays the gentleman and asks her if she'd like a drink. For a moment, he thinks he sees her eyes narrow in something vaguely resembling suspicion, but before he can be sure, it's washed away by the slow smile that graces her lips.

As she moves into his arms, leaning forward and stretching up to take his mouth, there is a sudden rushing thrumming sound in his head, and as her teeth nip at his bottom lip, this time he finds himself helpless to stop his gasp from escaping,.

Again, there is a sense of electricity between them, her heart rate spikes and he knows she feels it too. As his hands slide over the smooth perfection of her leather encased ass, he finds himself needing and hungry in a way he hasn't been since another motel, with another dark haired girl, not quite a year ago.

She seems just as hungry as he is, her mouth greedy, and her hands impatient to get to the skin beneath his clothes.

He senses she is used to being in charge, so for the moment he defers to her needs.

When she has his shirt off; and she's down to her black lace bra, he drops to his knees reaching for the waistband of her leather pants.

Looking up, he's consciously aware of the affect his eyes have on a women, especially from this angle. He's not conceited in any way, but he's comfortable in the fact that he can get nearly any woman he wants, without the need for compulsion. Damon, is used to being wanted, and with more than a century and a half to practice his skills, he knows all the things to do that make a woman want, what he has to offer.

So, meeting her dark gaze he's understandably startled, when he glimpses something unexpected. Along with the expected lust, he recognises another emotion, one that has no business appearing now, not at this stage of their encounter. It's looks very like regret, and it's in that moment that he understands. It hits him with sudden certainty that there is much more going on behind those eyes, than what's shown on her face.

Up until this point, his only plans for the night had been to fuck her until she couldn't walk, then use his compulsion to feed. He had decided he liked her enough not to kill her, and that he would go so far to leave her with pleasant memories of their night together. But now, his self preservation instinct screams at him to 'get the fuck out'. Looking into her eyes it becomes apparent, even to someone as sure of his charms as he is, that there is more going on in her mind, than the possible repercussions, of a one night stand with a hot guy

Disconcerted by the sudden sense of danger now radiating off of her, he propels himself backwards. He streaks across the room, in a flash of the vampire speed that his kind are so good at. And it's just as well, because the stake is already descending before he moves; and where the fucking hell she'd been hiding that, was just one of the things that he'd like to know.

His fangs descend, and he can feel the veins beneath his eyes pulse as she lunges after him. And Jesus fucking Christ, she's fast; not vamp fast, but still too damn quick for a human.

It's almost comical when a moment later, the words that burst from both their mouths, are practically identical.

"What the fucking hell are you?"

"What the Fuck! What are you, you freak?"

They both freeze. And Damon, startled into sudden amusement finds his fangs melting away, his face returning to normal as he lets out a snort of irreverent laughter.

He tells her to watch who she's calling a freak, because he's got a pretty good idea that she's not exactly all normal herself.

She rolls her eyes, informs him she's a slayer, then asks him, 'what's his excuse?'

Damon makes it pretty clear he's doesn't have a clue what she's blathering about, and then asks for clarification.

So she gives him some spiel, about being a Slayer; emphasis on the capital S and that she apparently hunts vampires, and wait for it, demons?

When he only shrugs, returning her gaze with a look still devoid of recognition, the hand holding her stake drops to her side and her sensual kiss swollen mouth, tightens in patent disbelief.

He finds her "Dude where have you been. You new or something?" vaguely insulting, but he decides to let it go, because he really wants to know just what he's stumbled into.

She tells him that there used to be only one Slayer, until a big spell a few years back, and that now apparently there is; to quote a friend of hers, a shit load more of us. Her voice is all snark and continuing disbelief, as she asks him if what she's just told him is ringing any bells?

He has to admit that no it doesn't, and then, as her full explanation catches up to him, he asks her what she means by demons, and then tells her he doesn't believe there is any such thing, in very nearly the same breath.

He guesses she might have taken exception to his tone, or it could be him implying that she's a liar, because she informs him she doesn't really care either way, that she only wants to know what he is, so she can tell someone she calls her watcher, and that if he cooperates she will kill him quickly. She also mentions something about jonesing for Taco's, and the fact that his continued existence is getting in the way of her eating them.

Damon just raises one eyebrow and snorts again. He informs her, quite glibly, that it isn't going to happen.

He then goes on to say, that even though she is a slayer, whatever the hell that might or might not be, he'd faced down much scarier than her, in the form of original vampires, witches, werewolves and hybrids. All, on one occasion, at the same time, so he doesn't see one cocky little brunette killing him any time soon."

Then, to prove how little of a threat he finds her, he lounges nonchalantly against the wall, and does the eye thing that used to drive a certain other girl so crazy.

And doesn't it piss him off, that even miles and months away that his every thought and reaction, still finds a reference that leads back to her. Including his current situation.

With that acknowledgement, he's jolted back to his present situation, and the annoyed expression on Faith's face. Then, just to show there's no hard feelings, and because she's hot when she scowls, he offers to tell her what she wants to know. So he tells her he's a vampire and that he's been around for over a century and a half.

That's where the night gets, if possible, even more interesting and surreal.

She snorts before informing him snidely, that there is no fucking way he's a vampire, because she kills vampires, and she's never seen anything that looks remotely like him.

As annoyed as he is by her tone and her air of lecturing condensation, he can't help thinking that she looks gorgeous standing there arguing with him. Especially, since she has neglected to put a shirt back on, which only emphasises her breasts even more as she crosses her arms and gives him a stubborn look. He also can't help thinking there must be something encoded in his DNA, that causes him to become enamoured of bossy brunets that have more courage than brains, and a definite tendency to be bitchy when things don't go their way.

They argue for a good twenty minutes more, and he's starting to get a little irritated that his night is turning out so disappointingly when it had been so full of promise. But before he can work up a really good reason to either snap her neck, or possibly just leave, they are interrupted by the trilling of what can only be her phone.

The distinctive melody of It's Raining Men, pretty much guarantees it's not his.

She looks sheepish, and then sort of embarrassed, and mutters something about killing B, which Damon finds both confusing and more than a little amusing, as she fumbles to answer it.

Her sharply snapped, What? does not bode well for the callers intentions and Damon finds his interest peak, as he hears the voice on the other end of the phone snark back with equal annoyance. Moments later it peaks again, as he hears her tell the caller 'that she doesn't give a flying fuck what Spike thinks coz it's supposed to be her night off' and besides which, she's in the middle of something.

He concentrates a little harder at that, and he can make out the tones of a woman's voice, demanding that Faith get her ass back to HQ, because someone called Robin is drunk, and that it's not hers and Spike's responsibility to clean up Faith's shit.

Damon sees her flush with what could be anger, but he is guessing from her expression it's probably a whole combination of different emotions, anger not the least of them.

She mutters something, about how he should have thought about that before he stuck it to Carrie then, but after a furtive glance at Damon she cut's off whatever else she might have been going to say, in favour of a heavy sigh.

The woman then sais something again about Spike, and an anniversary, and for some reason that seems to set Faith off all over again. She makes a cutting remark about telling William the bloody, he can just go fuck himself, and that's when Damon decides that the night is officially beyond bizarre.

There's more, but Damon tunes out, preferring to get himself a drink and think over what he's just overheard.

When she gets off the phone moments later, he's stretched out on the bed drink in hand. As she turns to face him, he's not sure if he should feel insulted that she doesn't seem perturbed by his casual disregard of her presence.

He decides to let it go when her attention focuses back on him and she asks him where they were before they were so rudely interrupted.

Of course, he gets a good deal of satisfaction as he tells her that he'd much rather talk about why a bunch of Slayers are hanging around with one fourth of the scourge of Europe, than go over the yes I am, no you're not dance that they had been on earlier. And then he informs her, that if they aren't going to fuck then she might as well take him to Spike and have him clear the whole vampire thing up.

Pissed off and surprise are both things that look good on her, and for a minute he finds himself actually hoping by some miracle that she'll choose to call his bluff and finish what they started earlier. (The fucking not the fighting.) But no, once she gets over the whole shock of him actually claiming to know Spike, she decides that she's going to give him the benefit of the doubt and take him back to what she terms slayer central.

Damon pouts and tells her she doesn't know what she's missing, before tossing her shirt to her, while he slides into his own.

Five minutes later, they are walking out the door and she's full of questions about how he knows Spike, but before he can even give her the sanitized version of Spike's and his past she's interrupting herself to explain, with what Damon is now pretty sure is embarrassment, that when they get back he probably shouldn't mention them hooking up earlier, because it seems the Robin that was mentioned on the phone is her ex, and apparently he's not taking the breakup real well.

She goes on to inform him, that the other reason she doesn't want anyone knowing what they'd been up to, is that B ( apparently a person) is a bit of a (in Faith's words) vampire groupie and Faith doesn't want to lose her upper hand by letting B (apparently, short for Buffy, Poor Girl) know that she'd been willing to board that train, even if it was a bait and stake thing.

He raises an eyebrow at that and amazingly enough she flushes and looks away.

Then she starts babbling something about his soul and whether he actually has one and just generally working herself up into a state, where he's pretty sure said state, has a river called denial running through it.

He nods agreeably, after all, he's planning on getting in to her pant's sometime in the near future, so he's decided the better part of valour and all that Yada yada yada. Besides, she's smoking hot when she gets all worked up.

So, on they go down the dark and dirty streets of Cleveland, with her doing her best not to look at him and Damon doing his best not to just grab her and kiss her, if only to remind her why she smells of frustration and arousal.

After all He's got all the time in the world... and apparently all the Faith as well.