Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

Author's note: Hi, everyone! This is my first time attempting an AU story, so bear with me. It's quite a bit darker than my usual fare.

This story is partially inspired by Stefan's speech to Damon in "You're Undead to Me" (1x05) after he'd locked him up in the Salvatore dungeon: "During the Dark Ages, when a vampire's actions threatened to expose or bring harm upon the entire race, they would face judgment. They sought to reeducate them rather than to punish them."

What if the same were true in modern times? I've put my own spin on it, so it won't be handled the exact same way, but the underlying idea is there.

Here's the full summary: Dark!AU. When the powerful Salvatore family is torn apart by tragedy and disgrace, Damon vows to exact revenge on those responsible, even if it means losing himself in the process. Elena Gilbert is the huntress tasked with capturing him and turning him in to the select group in charge of policing vampire society—a group headed by the Salvatores' longtime acquaintance-turned-enemy, Elijah Mikaelson. As the truth behind Damon's family's misfortune is slowly revealed, will Elena find herself fighting against him or with him?

This will be a multi-chapter fic. A huge "thank you" goes to my beta Daroh! Her enthusiasm for "feral Damon" spurs me on and keeps me writing. :)

Feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!

Chapter One

A blur of movement passed to Elena's right, and she spun around to face her target. Her eyes never left the vampire who continued flitting about the room but didn't come within striking distance. The nonstop motion kept her own perpetually heightened senses on alert, but it was a little unrealistic. She huffed in annoyance.

"Stop messing around and attack me, dammit," she growled.

The blur abruptly changed direction and charged straight toward her. Message received. Finally, Elena thought. She braced herself for impact, but all that came her way was a flurry of half-assed attempts to pummel her, all of which were easily dodged.

Elena aimed a kick at the flighty vampire, catching the female just below the knee. She stumbled but quickly took off, darting to the opposite side of the room. Growing tired of the game, Elena reached down and palmed the knife strapped to her thigh. She pulled it free, deciding to make something of this pointless endeavor. Anticipating the vampire's next move, she drew her arm back and let the deadly blade fly. She heard a grunt followed by an angry yelp, indicating that she'd hit her mark.

"Ow! What the fuck, Elena!?" The blonde grimaced as she yanked the knife from where it was embedded in her upper arm.

"Don't be such a wuss, Care. It's not like I used the vervain blade." Elena rolled her eyes as she took the bloody weapon from Caroline's outstretched hand.

"Yeah, well, friends don't use friends for target practice. Plus, you wrecked my new shirt," she grumbled, picking at the tear on her sleeve.

"Sorry. It was a good exercise. Most vampires don't stand still and let you hurl sharp objects at them. Especially not the feral ones," she added.

"Ugh, fine. Just warn me next time, okay?"

"That's the idea. No warning, y'know?" Elena pointed out with a shrug.

"I would agree," interrupted a voice that made her cringe. "Most impressive, Elena."

She scowled at the intruder. The smug-looking Brit standing in the doorway was openly ogling Caroline as she tugged her ruined shirt over her head, revealing the pink sports bra underneath. "Don't you have someplace else to be? Like a brothel, maybe?" Elena snapped.

"Now, now, love. That wasn't very nice. As a matter of fact, I'm here to collect the lovely Caroline," answered the creep.

Elena stared at her friend in disbelief. "You're going out with him? Are you crazy? He goes through women like we go through blood bags."

"I can hear you," he sing-songed.

"Good for you," Elena shot back before pulling Caroline aside. "Listen to me. Klaus is trouble, and you know it." She might be a hard ass, but she wasn't going to let this dick take advantage of the only person who truly cared about her despite her rough edges.

"Don't worry. I can handle myself, 'Lena. You taught me well." Caroline gave her a quick smile and patted her on the shoulder before heading off to change.

Elena stalked over to Klaus, stopping a scant inch away from him. "She might be blinded by your charm, but I'm not. Hurt her, and I'll slice your balls off in your sleep and mail them back to you. Are we clear?"

The arrogant smirk stayed firmly in place, but he held his hands up in mock surrender. "Crystal. I'll have her home by eleven, Mrs. Gilbert."

"Prick," she muttered under her breath. Gathering her duffel bag and discarded sweatshirt, she pushed past him and headed straight for Elijah's office. One of the many things Klaus's older brother didn't tolerate was tardiness.

###

"Do you know this shit actually used to taste good to me?" Damon asked as he ran a hand over his face before briefly studying his sticky, gore-coated fingers. "Now it's just the stuff that keeps me from desiccating, which would ruin the fun. The downside of too much binge drinking, I suppose." He continued to address the limp, lifeless shell of a man lying at his feet. "Doesn't matter. Won't be long now."

Stepping over the corpse, he walked through the wreckage of the main living room, shards of glass crunching beneath his boots. The décor these days left a lot to be desired, he noted, eyeing the remains of two other unfortunate souls—more of his handiwork. One had an ornate spindle from the grand staircase embedded in his chest, and the other was missing a heart . . . and a head. Messy.

Stopping in front of a wall of pictures, he wiped his bloody hands on his jeans in an effort to clean them before reaching for the largest among them—a family portrait. He brushed the cobwebs and dust from the frame while glancing at the once-happy group of people in the photo. Mother, father . . . brothers. Damon traced the smiling face, the arm that was slung over his shoulder. "Ah, Stefan," he whispered.

Carefully returning the picture to its rightful place, he tried to remember how long it'd been since everything had gone to hell. After their parents' death, the days had blurred together into one long, unending shit storm. Had it already been two years since they'd been gone? And Stefan . . . six months? Seven?

As painful memories threatened to overwhelm him, he picked up an antique chair and hurled it at the fireplace. "Fucking Mikaelsons," he snarled amidst the clatter of broken bits of furniture raining to the floor. Nothing but a band of greedy, power-hungry bastards, the lot of them. The eldest hid behind a façade of sophistication and manners, but his younger brother didn't bother trying to disguise his motives.

Damon had been biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. When it hadn't come, he'd tried a different tactic, hoping to draw them out. He kicked aside the drained body of . . . what was his name? Haddock? Maalox? Oh, yeah. Maddox.

Piss poor excuse for a witch, if you asked him. Taking a seat in one of the few chairs that remained intact, he propped his legs up on an ottoman and made himself comfortable. Definitely wouldn't be long now.

###

"You're late."

"By what? A second?" Elena glanced at the grandfather clock behind Elijah's desk. 7:01. Oops. "Sorry. I was busy threatening the jackass you so lovingly call 'brother.' Don't get your cravat in a knot."

"Still not one to mince words, I see. And it's a tie, not a . . ." He indicated the length of burgundy silk tucked into his suit jacket, but the dubious look she shot him was enough to make him abandon the sentence. "Never mind." He gestured toward the chair in front of the desk. "Have a seat."

"Thanks, but I'm good." Even though she'd been in Elijah's office dozens of times, she strolled around the room, perusing the photographs on the walls as if she'd never seen them before.

Elijah cleared his throat in an obvious bid for her attention. "Perhaps you should sit down."

"I'm listening. I can walk and listen at the same time. Imagine that." She paused next to a portrait of a beautiful blonde and ran her finger over the gilt frame. "Hey, when is Bex coming back? She's supposed to be training with me."

"Elena!" Elijah's voice sliced through the space between them, and she finally turned to face him.

"What."

"Sit. Down." She narrowed her eyes at the order, and he hastily tacked on a "please" to appease her.

She stalked over and plunked down in the chair he'd indicated, yanking a foot up on her knee so she could examine the bottom of her boot. Finding a stone caught in the treads, she pulled a small blade from her back pocket and began working to pry it loose. At Elijah's soft sigh of exasperation, she looked up at him and quirked a brow. "I'm sitting, aren't I?"

"Very well." He pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. "I have a proposition for you."

"Yeah? Let's hear it." The pebble finally popped free and went skittering across the Persian rug. The knife, however, stayed visible, and Elena spun it between her fingers until it was nothing but a blur of metal. "I hope it's better than the last one. A newbie hunter could've taken out those vamps."

"I can assure you that this task will be difficult. Perhaps more so than any you've previously faced." The blade abruptly stopped spinning and Elijah smiled. "I see I have your attention." Without waiting for her to fire back with another snarky comment, he forged ahead. "You're familiar with the Salvatores, of course. Or rather, what's left of them. It's tragic, really, how a family once held in such high esteem could fall so low," he added. "I've received information that leads me to believe the eldest, Damon, may have succumbed to the same erratic behavior and rabid ways displayed by his younger brother before we were forced to step in and . . . dispatch that particular threat."

"What kind of behavior?" Elena asked.

"An unusual number of bodies—all drained of blood—have been discovered in the area where the family estate now lies in ruin in the town of Mystic Falls, Virginia. You've heard of it, yes?"

Elena nodded, remembering that Caroline had once dragged her to a posh party at the Salvatore mansion years ago.

"A few days back, I sent Trevor and Frederick to investigate the situation. I haven't heard from them since, and I fear they may have run into some trouble." He picked up a bone china teacup and took a sip of something that was definitely not blood.

She rolled her eyes at the ridiculous display and leaned forward in her chair. "So you want me to be the next bullet in your loaded gun that's potentially already misfired twice? Why not send Klaus? He had quite a hard on for the younger one. Stefan, was it?"

Elijah choked at her blunt words. "That's not exactly the way I would describe it," he sputtered, using his handkerchief to mop up the liquid he'd spilled. "My brother was in charge of capturing Stefan and bringing him here to face his punishment. He's since become a bit obsessed with the Salvatores, so I feel he wouldn't approach the current dilemma with a clear focus."

"Shouldn't it be 'Salvatore,' singular?" Elena pointed out.

"Indeed. I misspoke." He rested his elbows on the desk and regarded her intently. "So, will you do it?"

She studied a chipped fingernail while she thought about his request. Was she prepared to hunt down the only surviving member of a family that had once been considered vampire royalty? If he'd managed to take out two of Elijah's guys, then he was smarter than your average feral vamp. Dangerous.

The idea sent a thrill racing through her veins. She hadn't gone on a decent mission in too long. She welcomed the challenge.

Mind made up, she locked gazes with the man who had recruited her to join his cause—his family's cause—five years ago. "I'm in on one condition: I go alone. No backup, no partner, no buddy system."

Elijah gave her a wry grin. "Confidence has always been one of your strong suits. You're certain?"

She gaped at him. "Are you telling me you don't remember what happened the last time you insisted I take someone with me?"

He considered for a moment, frowning as realization struck. "Ah, yes. The Tyler Lockwood debacle."

"Yeeeah. You mean when Mr. Balls-for-Brains came down with a case of on-the-job performance anxiety and almost got both of us killed?"

"I do recall that turning out poorly," he conceded.

"Glad we agree. I'll gather supplies and be on my way in a couple hours." She'd always preferred solo missions anyway. Partners slowed her down, and more often than not, they were extra baggage she didn't need. Plus, she wasn't going to endanger another member of the team without first doing a little recon to discover exactly what the hell was happening in the small town the Salvatores had called home.

"As you wish, then." She stood to leave, the knife disappearing into her pocket. "Good luck," he called to her retreating back.

The sound of the door slamming shut in her wake was the only response.