"God damn it, Nox. We need the pictures to be freaking perfect!" My eyes shot up and I stared at the editor of the art and beauty magazine I was currently working with. He was old, ugly and a pain in the ass. But no where near as bad as his blonde assitant.

"Exactly, like, our cover has to look amazeballs!" Lindsey what's-her-name inspected her perfectly manicured fingernails. "We could hire, like, someone totes more professional than you!"

'But I'm cheap and you can't afford anyone better than me' I wanted to say. I didn't, of course.

"I'll try my best," I sighed and raised the camera in front of my face again.

I think I got a few pretty good shots from that chick dressed in a flamingo dress and I got paid, so hey, who am I to complain?

I was glad to be on my way home, though. It was around six p.m., telling from the traffic on the street next to me.

This is why I hadn't invested in a car yet. Why waste fuel, money and nerves? I prefered walking, anyway.

I felt like someone was watching me, but then I usually did. Yet, this time it was stronger and I turned around for a quick glance. No one there. Paranoid much?

My camera in my bag, I walked through the streets of New York. I wouldn't want to live anywhere else, I had an amazing job even though it was really getting on my nerves sometimes. I did what I loved, who would have thought I'd end up doing something related to art?

I certainly didn't.

Somehow I ended up taking photography, and it worked pretty well. There was times when I wished I'd gotten an office job but mostly I loved it.

I didn't love it, though, when I had to deal with arrogant editors and dumb models after a long sleepless night. The nightmares had gotten less frequent but they were still there.

Recently they seemed to occur more often. I knew Nia was getting worried. And even Talia seemed a bit suspicious, although she didn't know much about these creepy dreams of mine.

I had arrived at my apartment when I saw a familiar scrawny man with a thousand shopping bags struggling to open the door.

"Mr Davies!" I exclaimed and rushed to his side where I caught a tin of cat food just before it was going to hit the floor.

"Perse! God, you always come to my rescue, don't you?" He spoke in his british accent. I'm surprised he didn't have the ladies swooning (the ones who were into men above sixty, of course) but he had decided to live a single life after his last girlfriend had dumped him for an estate agent.

"I try," I grinned. "Let me help you with that."

I took three of the shopping bags, giving him a chance to unlock the door to our apartment building.

Nia and I's was the second highest, while Mr Davies' was the one on the second floor, making it the....fourth highest. Math is hard but at least I didn't have to study for it anymore.

"How's Rosie?" I asked.

"She's getting fat," He replied nonchalantly.

"Well, she is getting quite old. Let the lady have some fun," I grinned and placed the bags in front of his door. He was an ex Shakespearan actor from London who had an obsession with very loud hiphop music and owned a dog that only ate cat food.

Only in New York, I tell you.

"Thank you. You're the best. Would you like to come in? Have some coffee? I'm afraid all we got is dog biscuits..."

"I'm sorry to have to decline that offer, but it's my turn to set the table tonight. And Talia gets pretty..."

He nodded eagerly. "Another time, then. Have fun and say hi to the girls for me!"

"Will do!"

My breathing had accelerated by the time I reached our apartment, but I had gotten used to it by now.

"I'm home!" I yelled as I carefully dropped my bag on the couch. You basically walked in and to your left was the sofa with the tv and to your right was the small kitchen and the dining table. Then straight ahead was the narrow hallway that lead to the four bed rooms. We were currently using the fourth room as a kind of studio/wardrobe/ creative space.

"You sound happy." Talia stepped out of her room, her hair wet. "Was the editor hot?"

"Beer belly? Annoying assitant? That didn't make my day, not really. I helped Mr Davies carry up some groceries,"

"Was she blonde again?" She asked, refering to Lindsey-what's-her-name.

"Yep. I suffered through it, though." I grimaced at the memory.

"At least you got paid," She shrugged. She knew the struggle all too well, since she worked in the fashion industry as well. I'd met her at a shoot for some lifestyle magazine where she was working as a makeup artist/ hair designer.

She had been outspoken, beautiful and looking for a place to stay. Perfect for Nia and I, who weren't able to afford the rent of this little apartment on our own.

"True. I'm a rich woman now! At least for a few weeks," I exclaimed. "And you? Found a new job yet?"

"I got hired for this shoot. I think I could get recognised through it, or something,"

"Sounds amazing! By the way," I noticed my stomach growling. "What are we eating tonight?"

"Left overs? Don't know. Ask Nia. She's in her room,"

"Thanks,"

"Anytime, boo," She laughed and disappeared back into her room.

I dropped my bag in my room before barging into Nia's.

She was sitting on her huge bed while painting her nails. "You're home! How was it?"

"I'm alive." I dropped down next to her and picked up the latest issue of some art magazine.

"So dramatic," She chuckled.

"How was your day?"

"The gallery didn't want me. They said my works are too eighties,"

"Aw, no," I gave her an apologetic smile. "It will get better. I bet it will. In the mean time, Dally's can use your help,"

"True. That café would be nothing without me," She grinned.

I laughed. "Yeah, right."

It was quiet for a while and I focused solemly on the photo of the month. I scoffed silently. I could do so much better than that.

"You know, I had the strangest deja-vu today,"

"Really?" I didn't bother looking up. That picture of a mountain reflecting on a lake was basic and over used yet pretty amazing....

"I went to get a coffe when I saw this guy and I just had this super strong feeling that I knew him," She said and at the sound of her voice I lifted my gaze to look at her face.

"What'd he look like?"

"Lemme tell you; he was hot! He had longish black hair that kept falling into his face and these piercing cold eyes that were really light blue I think. And I could have sworn that he winked at me!"

I froze.

Could it be....?

After all these years, why now, though? No doubt that there was trouble waiting just around the corner.

But there was little doubt.

The icy blue eyes, the charcoal hair. The wink.

All these things perfectly fit the description of Damon Salvatore.