Here Comes The Sun
It took one psycho vampire for me to realize what I was feeling.
I knew I was falling in love with her. I just could not accept it. I think I'm going cry now.
Insert snort of derision here.
Damon Salvatore does not do cheesy. Damon Salvatore is the epitome of the perfect manly, dangerous vampire, whose entire existence is propelled by the need for blood, alcohol, and women.
Damon Salvatore does not do love and sappy romantic movies while cuddling together with "The One", with their hands entwined and with the occasional kiss on the girl's hair and the wistful smile like everything's right with the world while talking about how they'll get married and how their future's going to end up like. He especially did not like talking about feelings, coerced or not.
Damon Salvatore does not do those things. He had built a reputation of being the notorious brother, the indifferent and reckless vampire capable of snapping your neck without a moment's pity, the man's man ladies' man with a passion for bourbon and hard-core partying. To sum it up: Damon Salvatore was the exact opposite of his brother.
Stefan Salvatore had long known that any morsel of humanity lingering in Damon's undead body was non-existent. He had seen how ruthless he had turned, how he now cared for no one but himself, and how he viewed humans not as humans but as breakfast, lunch and dinner. Stefan Salvatore had long given up on him, despite his pleas to end their century-long enmity. Damon was not one to forget nor would he ever let Stefan forget that 1845 night, Stefan knew of that. Damon Salvatore was vengeful, oh yes, that was one defining characteristic he had built over the years.
So when the time came that Stefan Salvatore set a motion to move on from pining for a long lost 145-year old love, Damon never bothered to check the girl out. His sole mission was to destroy it before it even started, for it was his sibling who did not recognize the hidden humanity in his actions. Stefan could not recognize that it was a deep, dark love that was fueling his every move. It was an incapacitating sense of loss and maddening grief that led him to a century and a half of wrath upon the people who had killed off the one woman who had taken the time enough to love him. It was the death of the woman he loved so deeply and so passionately that his days and nights were a blur of everything bad and bad. In fact, he held no more respect for what they call days. There were no real days for him, for the brightness of the day metaphorically suggests hope and a zest for life. There were only endless nights, nights of meandering upon dark alleys, dingy bars and high-class nightclubs and luring women into his car or his room until he tires of them.
The sun would never come out anymore. He had given up hope on that a very long time ago. And for a vampire who had an eternity to live through, it was not exactly a cheery forecast.
So when the first few rays of the sun seemed to peek at him from behind a huge cloud one day in the town where it all ended, all he could do was snort at it. It would probably vanish quickly, terrified at the sight of his latest meal. He was not at all bothered.
What bothered him was that it did not seem to want to go away. And it shined on Stefan Salvatore's as well.
No matter how he tried to shield his eyes away from its blinding light, he knew that the impossible had come, slinking back stealthily in his existence.
The sun had shown once more in Damon Salvatore's life. The only problem was, Stefan Salvatore claimed it first.