This used to be a One-Shot and is now is being continued. I have corrected a few mistakes in chapter 1, however chapter 2 is all new.

I hope you enjoy reading about two of my favorite characters.

Please do review and let me know what you think.

Also, just (another) reminder that I am on Twitter. Follow AT Silverfoxpunk.

Under the Influence

Chapter 1: A New Friend

If it was to be possible for Damon Salvatore to live a normal life, he was just going to have to do it.

He bit down the sense of revulsion and slapped a smile on his face.

"Hey, we're over here!" Caroline waved emphatically.

She was a neurotic girl, but today she seemed mostly bright and happy. Damon felt a twinge of envy, he couldn't remember the last time he had been happy. No, actually he could – and he pushed that memory deep down as far as it would go. But apart from Katherine, he had very little to draw on.

His group were hanging at the Lockwood's pool, basking in summer sunshine which was glinting off the water and amplifying the tans of the teenagers swimming there. Stefan, Elena, Caroline and Matt were gathered together, relaxed in the sunshine.

"Why hey you guys!", he used an especially sarcastic tone that was not lost on anyone. Caroline's smile became a frown.

"If you don't want to be here, why did you come?"

"Well, I couldn't miss the party of the season could I?" He mocked. She shrugged and took a sip of her soda.

It was left to Stefan, as normal, to break the tension.

"Why don't we get a beer?" He raised his eyebrow in that way that suggested no other option.

Damon wavered for a moment, then capitulated. He was here now, he may as well run with it. He shrugged his acceptance. Stefan dropped his arm from where it rested around Elena's shoulders and jumped to his feet.

Elena took a sip from her Bud and raised her eyebrows in greeting to Damon. Not exactly an emphatic welcome, but better than the cold-shoulder he had been getting.

At the beer cooler (a fancy name for the old bathtub appropriated for this use every year, and filled to the brim with ice), they found Tyler in deep discussion with a girl from Stefan's year. As Stefan stopped to chat, Damon took his opportunity to grab a cold one and move away.

He had no time for jocks like Tyler, they bored him much as they had when he was actually their age and they certainly bored him now.

He meandered around the party for a bit and was mostly ignored by the kids who hung out in groups and chatted and smiled, animated by the warmth of the day and lubricated by the beer in their bellies. He said hello to a couple of people here and there, but he felt underwhelmed. It didn't matter how many times Stacey Adams walked past him with her inflated double Ds batting her eyelashes, she still couldn't solicit his interest.

The beer aroused a wish for something stronger, and he found himself sniffing around the Lockwood property trying to find a 'man's room'; somewhere where the real booze would be kept under lock and key.

It didn't take him long to find the Mayor's study. The air was cooler in here, and the noise of the splashing, laughter and hip-hop beats seemed distant.

At last. Now this room was harboring a 25-year old Laphroiag in it, or you could call him a fool.

He grabbed a paperknife from the rather ostentatious five-foot long cherry-wood desk; a statement piece that said 'I'm important' loud and clear. Damon wrinkled his nose, his own house may be a manor, but there wasn't a thing in it which was quite as phony as this. He had always hated pretension in others, even if he was quite happy to adopt it himself.

He meandered around the room, handling the various object d'art and them dropping them again when they failed to get his interest. This whole room was a pretense. But here - now here was something promising. A little oak cabinet with a lock on it. He slid the paperknife in and broke it.

Tanqueray No.10. Gin. Well, that was close enough.

"What are you doing in here?" Sheriff Forbes had that look on her face which she only reserved for punks and bad tippers.

"Sheriff Forbes, what a pleasure. Care to join me?" Damon selected two crystal tumblers from a sideboard.

"That is not yours to enjoy," she said frostily, "I think you should put it back."

"What, and not enjoy this fine gin? That would be a crime. Anyway, it's too late, I have poured it now, so you have to join me. Ice? Lemon?"

As he worked, he sensed her thawing. He put both the ice and the lemon in her glass.

"Please, join me, Sheriff. I have been starved of decent conversation of late, and you look like a woman who knows Schubert from Snoop Dogg."

The Sheriff regarded the drink before her, and Damon, who was willing her with his eyes. He was a very persuasive young man. She began to reach out, but suddenly the glass was pulled back.

"Oh! You are not on duty are you? I wouldn't want to corrupt an officer of the law."

There it was again, that cheeky half-smile. She found herself finding it harder to resist than she should have done. What was it about Damon Salvatore? He seemed to have this effect on her.

"No, Carol Lockwood asked me to drop by on my way home this evening, just to check that the house still had all four walls. I said I didn't mind. And plus, I now have a whole day off."

"My goodness, then you will want a drink." This time he gave it to her and as she sipped it coyly, he regarded her face.

He came to the realization that he wasn't kidding when he said that he wanted her company. Something about this woman intrigued him. He liked her.

Damon moved over with cat-like-grace to one of the leather sofas in the room, sat down, crossed his legs and signaled for her to join him. She did so, sipping all the while on her G&T.

"So tell me Damon, why Mystic? Do you think you will settle here? Do you like our community?"

"So many questions, Sheriff Forbes."

"You can call me Elizabeth you know."

"Elizabeth, that's pretty. A lovely name, Eliza, Beth, Betty…"

She found herself frowning again, not because this line of discussion bordered on flirtation, but because Damon had clearly not meant it that way. He had said it like he was remembering someone or something and for a second he had quite drifted-off altogether.

She was trying to figure him out, a skill that normally came easy to her, but with Damon Salvatore it was quite different. The people in this town that usually boiled down to one of two categories; con-artists or delinquents, but on the surface he appeared to be neither.

Suddenly she felt tired of second-guessing him, even if she couldn't help herself. She supposed that came from a life of joining the dots, but maybe once in a while it was okay just to let things unravel over time.

But there were just so many things about him that intrigued her - like his age for one. How old he was she couldn't quite identify, (beyond that he was definitely too young for her, but also somehow not). An old-soul. Strangely knowing.

In short, she couldn't help herself. And she knew something else too, she was most definitely drawn to him.

Meanwhile, Damon appeared to have snapped back to the present. She spoke quickly to fill the silence.

"It was my Grandmother's name," she offered, "Elizabeth Taylor would you believe." He smiled. Everybody did.

"But you didn't answer any of my questions..." She noted. He smiled wryly.

"Oh, there's nothing much to say. I came back to Mystic to visit family. I have some business here that I wanted to attend to."

"Really? What do you do?"

He could see he had piqued her interest and he needed to kill it off.

"Oh, just some investments and private equity. You know, leveraged buyouts, venture capital. That kind of thing."

"Oh," she wasn't sure what to say to that, "don't you need to be based in the City to do that?"

He wrinkled his nose.

"Not so much these days – thank goodness modern business methods have freed us from the trading-room floor. I can work anywhere and for now, here will do."

She nodded. She had never been good with money, she couldn't even balance her own check-book. Her salary was barely enough to keep her and Caroline fed and watered with a roof over their head. It was always a bone of contention that there was never quite enough to stretch to the little luxuries her daughter often wanted. Just another thing for them to argue about she supposed.

"And your family?"

"Oh, not many of us left…" he jumped up and took her glass from her hand, "…let me get you a refill."

This was the bit where she was supposed to say 'oh no, I mustn't, I was just dropping by', but something made her sit back in her seat and relax.

"Sure, why not."

"That's the spirit, Elizabeth."

Outside she could see the sun was dipping in the sky. She wasn't sure how late it had gotten, she seemed to have lost all track of time.

She found herself with her feet up on the couch, with Damon Salvatore at the other end, resting one hand on her ankle while he sipped from his drink with the other. It was intimate, and she was worried when she realized she liked that.

She ran her hand through her hair and felt bad when she was unable to stifle a yawn.

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Don't worry, I have seem to have that effect on ladies." There it was again, that mischievous smile.

She pulled her feet down and his hand fell away. Somehow that yawn had broken the spell of what there was between them.

She panicked. What was she doing here? Getting drunk on stolen gin with a man/boy she barely knew. She had to clear her head. The atmosphere changed abruptly.

"I should be getting home."

He heard her tone, and judged it hostile. "Let me call you a cab."

She nodded.

"I'd offer to drive you, but I wouldn't want a DUI…" he smirked, raising himself from the sofa and walking to the study phone.

She looked at her glass as he made the call. How many had she drunk? She had lost count after five. Caroline would not approve.

"They're on their way. Fifteen minutes they said," She nodded. "Do you want another?"

She shook her head. "Coffee is what I need."

"I think it does everyone good to relax once in a while."

She considered that and supposed he was right. She hadn't relaxed in a long, long time. There was always something, or someone to occupy her. Someone to worry about, or some details to pick over again and again. But today, she had truly forgotten herself. He was good company and she liked being with him. Did it matter that she didn't know his life story? She supposed not. Time to turn the frost-factor down from eleven.

"I suppose I could have one for the road." She offered, taking him by surprise.

"Of course. A nightcap."

When the taxi turned up she was a little unsteady on her feet, and grateful when Damon offered her his arm.

She blushed a little when she thought of all those youngsters wondering what they had been up to in that study all afternoon – her own daughter was here for goodness sakes. But she supposed they were too busy acting out their own lives to worry about hers. That's what these parties were all about. To forget about adults for a while.

When he opened the car door for her, she was once again struck with the sense that there was something truly old-fashioned about Damon. His manners were real, not affected. They came to him without thinking. He had even seemed to dip his head as he shut the door – but maybe that was the liquor that made her see that.

She watched him as they began to drive away: hands behind his back, blue eyes sparkling, that familiar half-smile playing around his lips. He stayed that way until she could no longer make him out.

Eventually she turned away, allowing herself a deep breath she settled deep into the cab seat. For the first time in months she realized, her mind was a delightful, blissful blank.

Tomorrow, she thought - tomorrow was going to be a good day.