So… unless you know about the SHOT RP on This is Not a Forum on fanfiction, you probably have no idea what is going on in this one-SHOT. :D But, this is a birthday fic for Stab, one of the main Rp-er's. (Since you weren't exactly clear about what you wanted for your birthday. :P) This story takes place in the two week time period where Andrea and Damon are searching for leads on Karl's whereabouts. Even if you haven't seen other stories or the RP, it's still pretty good!

Warnings: Legasp! Andrea/Damon (Mostly one-sided…ish)! I am creating blasphemy! XD Along with slight Andrea/Spike (OBVIOUSLY one-sided). Along with language, mentions of death, torture and rape. Rated T for a reason, kiddies.

Disclaimer: I do not own Damon. He belongs to Stabberz (AKA Stab). I apologize for any OOC-ness.



Red, wolfish eyes opened within a second of hearing the scream. Damon launched his body out of bed, grabbing one of his custom-made Uzi's before exiting his room and running down the hall towards a closed bedroom where the scream came from. The young man whisked the door open, the nozzle of his gun coming into the room first, before being quickly lowered.

In a spacious bed, the centerpiece of that room was a familiar woman his age, only in some kind of fetal position, yanking her blonde hair by the roots, screaming. Before he knew what was really going on, Damon took two huge steps towards the bed, face twisted in confusion, and (not that he would ever admit it) slight fear.

"What fuck is wrong, Princess?" Damon yelled, but it appeared that the woman wouldn't listen to him.

"Make it stop! Make it stop!" The woman kept screaming, starting to scratch at her face and wrists.

"Hey! Hey!" Damon moved forward, grabbing onto her wrists as she struggled, flailing her legs and kicking his stomach, hard.

"Weak, weak, weak, useless! Piece of shit, whore!" The woman continued to scream, trying to return to causing bodily harm to herself, but the man gripped her arms tight.

"Wake up!" Damon yelled more, having to lean his own body weight onto Andrea's body to stop her from kicking. After a few more minutes of screaming insults and trying to get free, the young woman's chest began to heave out breaths of air, blue eyes open and vacant.

"Let me die…" Andrea said as her body shook. "Please, just let me die…"

Damon felt his grip tighten at this. "Fuck, no." He snarled. Releasing one of Andrea's wrists and using it to move her face so her eyes would look straight into his. "After everything. Taking bullets for you, Letting my fuckign body become a shield to make sure you're not injured…"

The young man battled emotions under the surface within himself, emotions that he wanted to keep locked up. But that lock was always broken when it had to do with her. "Your not getting out of this that easily, and if you think so, than you better wise up."

Blue eyes widened at this, before seeming to lose that glassy haze and returned back to normal, shutting close. Moment's later Andrea's chest was moving calmly up and down with un-feigned sleep. Damon's body relaxed as well.

Christ sake that was messed up. The man thought, itching to have a cigarette in between his lips or the burn of alcohol down his throat, a distraction. Andrea's hair had been made into a mess, fanning out around her head like a lopsided halo. Her sleeping clothes were in disarray as well, pulled and yanked into forms where they just covered her body.

"It looks like she's been…" Damon shivered in disgust at the thought, and then in even more disgust when it echoed on arousal. I've changed. He thought. Spike is gone, let me go, you don't control me anymore.

Damon lifted his hand up, softly moving the stray hairs that blocked Andrea's face away, before almost violently moving it back. Now he wanted to punch a wall out. Let the emotion out the other way, not like…

Andrea continued to sleep peacefully.


…Like this.

Damon deftly straightened the young woman's clothes back into some sort of order, before lifting Andrea up and depositing her once more under the covers. Then he stood there, thinking. Just thinking…

Angel. That is what they called her. And she once was, before dirty hands yanked at her feet and brought her crashing down from grace. After the demon had its way they tried to sow the robes back and bleach them of blood, return the wings straighten the halo. But she could never be saved or restored. No matter how much they tried…

And he was the cause for it. A part, at the least, was the cause for her vengeance and fury the most righteous in its unrighteousness. The fucking bane of his existence and…

Andrea's face was beautiful when asleep. But Damon would shoot himself before he admitted that.

And yet…

Damon nearly snorted when he realized the truth. Maybe it was when they spent more time together, or when they re-met, under their actual names. Maybe it was why he stopped, and spared that pretty girl, that had been broken by Spike's hands.

He was in love with Andrea. The irrationality of it made him want to start laughing like a crazy person. Even their names included to the irony. A devil falling in love with an angel! It would never happen. Not only was she one of Spike's victims, she was in love with someone else. Someone that Damon could never be, even if he wanted to. That love was irrational to, but in Andrea's eyes it was true.

And what the hell could I offer Princess. He retorted in his mind. Why would she want him? What would she get out of it? Damon tried to suppress the thoughts, but it was too late, they had already been unlocked. Thoughts of Andrea not scowling or smirking, but actually smiling at him, and Damon smiling back at her. Not waking up before dawn to escape a slept in bed and one-night stand, but to stay and watch blue eyes open and look at him with an after-glow of the night before. And maybe someday, a ring he actually bought on her finger, carrying a baby with tufts of dark hair in her arms.

But those thoughts were not meant to be with Andrea and him; they belonged to someone else, someone that he could never hate, because he was too fucking good. Even if he was tortured into talking, disabled beyond help, or thrown into a gutter somewhere, dead, she would always have loved him first, and Damon second or never.

He remembered a saying once, how true love never ran smooth. He really wanted to bash that guy's brains out at the moment while yelling you fucking think?! Damon turned around and started to leave the room before he did something he'd probably enjoy but regret later. Until the young man heard something that he thought was impossible.

"Stay." Andrea's voice whispered. Damon stopped and turned around. The young woman appeared to be fast asleep. But he swore that he heard that voice, and always would.

Maybe it was only Andrea talking in her sleep again or his own mind playing tricks on him, but he walked back to the bed, lifted the comforter up and laid down, making sure not to jostle Andrea awake. He wrapped one of him arms around her waist, while out of instinct the young woman's body seemed to curl into his own, head lying on Damon's bare chest. Damon laid his chin on Andrea's head, looking over at the digital clock, showing with a red light 3:00 AM. He'd have to be back in his own room by six at the latest to make sure the woman didn't wake up with Damon in her bed, (ending with Damon probably being castrated or worse).

But until then… Damon thought as one of his hands played with strands of soft blonde hair and his eyes began to close. Just until then… let me be selfish.

And for once, he was allowed.


…I DO apologize for any OOC-ness! XD Hope you enjoyed!