One Shot ▸ Late Night Bite

One-Shot for -voidallison's contest on her episode talk :) 

This is a mashup between Teen Wolf and The Vampire Diaries. Takes place before season four (Teen Wolf) and in Season Five (The Vampire Diaries).

Word Count: 1451

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Stiles' brown orbs stared blankly at the white ceiling above him. The only sound was the crickets outside his window and the soft hums coming from the werecoyote next to him. He couldn't sleep but it wasn't that shocking at this point. At first he was almost excited about going to sleep, knowing that tonight would be the night that he would dream peacefully with no nightmares plaguing his mind. But of course, insomnia clouded his mind, preventing his dream state.

It's been three weeks since the Nogitsune was destroyed and things in Beacon Hills were gradually getting better. But things were changing, that was evident. Isaac left with Chris Argent, the two flying to France for who knows how long. Ethan left to deal with his brother's death and Derek mysteriously disappeared. Malia had been accepted into the pack, now being taught by Scott and Stiles when it came to Werewolf/Human 101. 

The werecoyote had recently been sneaking into Stiles' room at night to sleep next to him. Not that Stiles minded. Over the course that Malia has been here, he's grown to like her. Although she was rather aggressive and blunt, there was something about her that Stiles found himself attracted too. But Malia wasn't on his mind at this very moment.

Actually, it was Allison.

The young hunter was mercifully killed by one of the Nogitsune's Oni. She was held in the arms of her first love while everyone watched as she spoke her last words, breathed her last breath. It was a horrible nightmare for everyone because each person lost someone; whether it was a friend, a lover, or a pack member. 

Tears brimmed in the tiny corners of Stiles' eyes as he remembered the experience of having a Japanese demon inside of him. The memories, well nightmares, of him hurting people, killing people with no remorse. The worse part was that he liked it. He felt powerful, strong; two things that Stiles has never felt. 

Your probably wondering, how could someone feel guilty about doing things that they had no control over? Well, it was possible and Stiles was doing it right now. He felt guilty because he twisted a knife into his best friend, for killing innocent people at the police station and hospital. He felt guilty because he caused so much pain for the people he loved.

He felt guilty for everything.

With his mind beginning to wander into dark corners, he turned his head to see Malia snuggling into a plump pillow while in a deep sleep. Stiles needed a break. He felt suffocated in his own home, in his own world. So he picked up his car keys and walked out of the house. Lucky enough for him, his father and Malia didn't wake one wink. 

Yes, Stiles was well aware it was the middle of night and yes, he was aware that he was in his sheep pajamas. But he tried not to dwell on that while driving down a endless road. Stiles being Stiles meant that he didn't even fully think this through, hence having no idea where he was going. But his thoughts abruptly came to a halt when something violently crashed the front of his blue jeep. His hands clenched onto the steering wheel as he swerved his car, able to slide down to the side of the road.

Harsh breaths left his chapped lips as his chest heaved, panic settling inside of him. He closed his eyes like a screw, quietly praying that he didn't hit an animal or a person. Without hesitation, Stiles hopped out of his jeep and walked a few feet away, glancing around with confusion surfacing on his face. No animal or person were near his car or the road. He was just by himself.

Letting out an air of relief, Stiles slumped his shoulders and turned to walk back to his jeep. But his entire body froze like ice once he spotted a person. The person had jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes, a wide smirk playing on his lips. The random stranger was leaning against his door, his arms crossed.

Stiles gulped, already feeling intimidated by the person's stare. "Cut it out!" Stiles cursed to himself. "Don't be scared."

"W-Who the hell are you?" Stiles nervously stuttered, his body stiff.

"The real question is why I'm here." The stranger said, his smirk somehow widening once noticing the young teenager's fear. "I've been asking myself that as well. Why I'm here? Why I'm not good enough?"

"Who are you." Stiles demanded more sternly, blinking away any lingering gleam of distress. 

"Salvatore, Damon Salvatore."

"Well, Damon, it's a little weird that you're out here in the middle of nowhere." He dryly chuckled. "Some may think your a serial killer."

Damon scoffed, cocking an eyebrow before gazing back at the night sky that had thousands of tiny diamonds twinkling. "Have you ever been in love?"

This time, Stiles rose a brow. "Excuse me?"

"Love. I use to wonder why people craved it so much. Then I fell in love with a girl who purely loved me. Of course, she looked like the former love of my life but that doesn't matter." The odd man continued. "Elena, that was her name. You see, at first she was in love with my brother but then sparks flew between us. But now, she sees me nothing more as a monster."

Damon looked back at Stiles, noticing the confusion. "The entire time I've been fighting for her, I've tried to make a line between good and bad. I had to reinvent myself in order to love her while she had to bend her morals to love me. But here's the thing." He stepped closer to the teenager. "I'm not good. I'm not the good guy. I'm selfish, impulsive, cold-blooded. How could someone like me be good?"

Stiles' face twisted in uncertainty, not knowing whether to stay in place or run for help. "Maybe you could change, for her?" He suggested, trying out the humble method. Maybe being nice to Damon would make him rethink hurting the pale and fragile hundred-forty seven pound boy. 

But Damon laughed at his proposal. "Change? I've tried to but I can't. No matter what I do, no matter how much I try, I'm always going to be the bad guy." He seemed almost angry, not at Stiles but at himself. "But then I thought to myself; why bother? Why try to be the good guy when everyone is always going to think otherwise. So tell me, what's the point of being good?"

Stiles was now completely paralyzed in fear. He got himself into a situation where he didn't have werewolves to save him. No Scott, no Derek. Just defenseless Stiles. "Elena thinks I'm a monster." Damon stated, a sickening smile on his pink lips as he stood in front of the teenagers. "And you know what, she's right."

Veins slithered beneath the surface from under his eye sockets, his blue eyes now turning a crimson red. Sharp fangs bared from his row of teeth, his top lip curling as he hissed venomously. Before Stiles could run or scream, Damon grabbed his shoulders roughly and pulled him, piercing his fangs into the teenager's neck. Yelps and shouts of terror came from Stiles as he felt pain spread through out his entire body and his blood quickly leaving his body, the life being sucked out of him.

Finally, Damon pushed Stiles to the ground, his mouth and face covered in the fresh blood of his latest victim. Stiles lied on the concert road, holding his neck as it still bled. Agonizing pain was consuming his body, all coming from the blood loss, but he was too exhausted to get up or yell for help.

Damon licked his lips and teeth, smearing the red like ink. His hands adjusted his wrinkled leather jacket and using his vampire hearing, listened in on the unknown teenager's heartbeat. It had just now occurred to him that he never got the name of the teenager he just fed on. While Stiles' heartbeat was still there, it wasn't the normal speed.

A vicious chuckle came from under Damon's breath as he turned away, looking at the town that lied miles in front of him. A smirk, that belonged to a killer, set upon his lips. "Beacon Hills." Damon greeted his new home. "Hope you're ready to welcome a new monster."