For Damon and Katherine, because I might hate it, but they do have something, whatever it might be.

He was her creation and she loved him for it. Love for her is twisted, crooked, and nothing can ever surpass it. He looks deep inside, past his arrogance and pride, and sees in her, little pieces of himself, what she made him. She is who she is, and part of him will always love her for that and for what they could have been. Love for him is blurry, as it mixes with fury and rage and hatred and lust and a sparkling remnant of his former happiness. Their sprits kept them together, for Katherine and Damon both believed strongly in that. They were fated to be together, to destroy each other, and that was just the way it was. They knew this. Alone, they danced around each other, both having learned life's lessons over and over again, and tired of being taught. Knowing that if they got too close, they would both cancel each other out and all would be lost.

She craved something, and she was scouring the world looking for it, ending lives here and there as she went on, because maybe it was death that she was looking for after all those years, but she wouldn't know that yet, because she treats everything as a game, and that's what she thought that was. She was a manipulator, watching as someone's life unfolded, like a pale glass flower, and as soon as it was scarcely open all the way for a single second, it was crushed. Dead and gone, and she killed it, because no one was allowed to have what she wasn't. She ran around taking everything from anyone she could find, because she was Katherine and that was what she did. They suspended each other, Katherine and Damon, in a fruitless fight that would have no victor because it would surely kill them both (though it was fine with them, because it sustained them in their dark lives, rather existences, and their spirits rejoiced in the contact, the memories. Their spirits. They found it almost funny that vampires believed so strongly in spirits).

They were dark and spiteful and vindictive, traits they'd garnered from each other, and neither of them would ever, ever stop. There was no fire and ice, because they were both fire and they were burning each other alive. Katherine could strategize, and Damon learned from her and improved and moved on, going back to the place where it all began. After that, for once, it was Katherine who was set to chase after him, wreaking havoc in his life, and that upset the delicate and precariously perched thing they dared to call balance. She tugged on his heart strings, making it sing and then slapping its mouth shut. He picked at her mind, giving her ideas, and then forcing her to second guess herself. He made her unsure, something she was not used to, because she always held the power. She considered herself the queen. The ultimate. All must bow down. And Damon found it laughable, that her arrogance surpassed even his. Her smile was thoughtful to an untrained eye. In reality, it was harsh and calculating.

Her soul was long gone. She destroyed it, as she was slowly destroying what was left of herself. They started out soft, almost compassionate, as Damon did not wake anything in Katherine that had not been dead and dormant long before, but she cut open his heart fully. She taught him the value of a secret, and how to open a mouth to anything he wished to hear. Darkness and shadows and scant moonlight were their backdrop, and it was how Damon truly grew up. That was his messed up childhood. He lived in her shadow all his life, and he loved it and he hated it. He taught her how to show a small bit of something close to compassion, but she twisted it around, and only used it on him to anchor him to her fully. As she was anchored to him. There was once a time, long, long ago, that they were happy. For a second, a minute at most. When Katherine first set her sights on Damon and he didn't even yet know her name. That one moment, forever stuck in time, both of them were, to put it simply, content. They always came back for more, because in a horrible, sadistic masochistic way, no one could ever give them that strange peace of mind and soul other than the other one (and of course, they believed that their spirits drew them together, and perhaps they were right, because no matter what, it always led back to them being closer than they were before).

Looking at the sky from opposite ends of the earth, they contemplated what and where they are, and how they got there, and wondered where they would be on the last day of the world, the last day of their lives. Because a common trait of theirs was that they never really took the fall, or the blow. They always got someone else to do it for them, and tossed aside the guilt for the later that would never come. They would live, survive, thrive, forever. They would never die. Invincible and immortal, and they could only be broken by each other. They were going to break each other one day, straight apart.

There was no such thing as time anymore. There was no universe, no stars, no moon, it was all gone. There was eternal night and lies reined the conscious thought, and nothing but those lies spewed from people's mouths like water from a broken sink. That was the future they were facing, and now the future, rather present, that they were in. On that day, they met again, and each one was so riddled and eroded by hate and love and lust and grief and fury, that they both wielded a wooden stake. Their eyes locked, closer and closer they were draw to each other, and when they collided, they would implode. She was still the same as she ever was in his eyes, no change whatsoever.


She thought the same about him.


He saw her in his mind, smiling in the sunlight as she stepped out into it, remembering not even knowing her name and his mouth almost creased into a smile.


She saw him on that day, so many years ago, looking at her with those eyes that spoke volumes though they knew not what they spoke of. She remembered like it was yesterday seeing everything in her mind, up until this every moment, knowing what would come to be. That was why she could never let him go, or so she told herself. In her eyes, there was possibly something like relief.


"I hate you." And like every other word that came out of everyone's tainted mouth in that future present place, it was a blatant lie. And they both knew it.


"I hate you." There were no other words for him to say.


And using what he taught her, she brought their lips together in a triumphant kiss, yelling into his mouth as he yelled into hers, stabbing him straight through the heart with no hesitation, like he did to her. They crumbled to the floor unceremoniously, theatrical to the end, dramatic and perfect. Their eyes remained open and their mouths stayed locked on each others' as whatever was left in their bodies of themselves departed to go to another place.


They didn't have time to wonder where they would end up, but they didn't worry.

Their spirits would keep them together.