A/N: Hi hi! I'm baaaaaaack! So, I'm really sorry about this not being updated as soon as I possibly should have... Just to let you know, I wrote this (filler) chapter in about... oh, i don't know, 30 minutes in between checking emails and updating my profile and such, so please excuse me for any crappy grammar and such... so, enjoy! don't forget to review, i haven't had any for the longest time. *smiles*
This part of town seemed familiar, and the eeriness of that very same familiarity is what shook Damon the most. He, for the life of him, could not remember why it was so goddamned familiar, and believe it or not, it was scary.
A scene flashed before his eyes; it was dark, and hazy, and all of the details were blurred. He remembered a house, a door opening to reveal a very, very pissed of face, another showing lust-filled eyes, and one set of eyes so full of pity. There was something about those last pair of eyes… so familiar, yet so different. So very different to those who he saw every other day, whether he wanted to or not…
Shaking his head, he pulled up to the house where the solicitor directed him. Double-checking the address with the yellow note, he got out of the car, bracing himself for what might be behind that door.
Damon walked up the drive, manicured lawn to his left, garden-bed to his right, and he could see himself bent over, heaving, and completely out of it as the owner of the house was yelling at him to "get off of my fucking property." Damon thought that it was safe to say that whoever owned this house, he didn't exactly make the best first impression on them.
He was at the door now, and behind that door was the key to rest of his life. The only thing keeping him from taking the jump was his hesitation to knock and the goddamned door.
"Stop being such a baby, Damon, and knock on the fucking door already," snarled a voice. "Either that or you leave the kid here and do what you've wanted to do for since the news came to you: sit in the darkest, dustiest corner of the local bar and succumb to power of alcohol."
Dam shook his head. No. Never again am I going to listen to you. You've done nothing but screw up every goddamned relationship I've ever had, and because of that, I never got the chance to tell my brother that I actually a crap about him before he died. I never told my mother I loved her past the age of thirteen, and I threw all the possibilities my father gave me back in his face. He sighed aloud. I did so many bad things… and I ran away from them all by joining the war, and in doing that, I left my brother to deal with my messes. If raising his kid is the only chance that I'm ever going to be given to redeem myself, then I'm going to take it with both hands, and dive off the deep end, because they all deserve more from me…
"…She deserves more from me," he whispered, and with that, he knocked on the door.
Once, twice, three times, and each time it drove it home, deeper into head, like a long-assed mantra, but it was there. Firm and set, and he was going to live by it each day, willing himself to make a better life for himself, for his niece. And that's all that mattered.
The front door swinging open is what snaps him back to reality, and Damon is barraged with memories.
"Well, well, well. Damon Salvatore, they told me you'd be coming, and I'm still not convinced that you've changed all that much. I guess this is your chance to prove yourself."