Translator Note:
This one-shot was written in Russian by incredible writer zzxc, I'm just a translator. I can't paste a link to the original version (this site doesn't allow authors - or translators - to give any links in their posts), so check it out on my profile.
Thanks to my amazing beta Nina. You're the best, don't doubt that :)
Summary: What can a vampire wish for? What can someone who has everything – youth, beauty, money, absolute power over humans and enormous amount of time – really wish for? Set during Damon's suffering in the end of season 2.
What can a vampire wish for?
What could this strong, breathtaking creature ever wish for? What can someone who has everything – youth, beauty, money, absolute power over humans and enormous amount of time – really wish for?
The whole world is at their feet. No barriers, no limits, no rules… They are the hosts of their own eternity.
But what if some day life will lose its amazing paints, wine will lose its heady taste, entertainment will stop bringing enjoyment, and women will become a one grey, boring mass that doesn't have its own will, that isn't able to fill the gaping hole in the chest.
Emptiness… emptiness… emptiness…
Nothing more. Infinitely. Eternity of emptiness.
How long would you withstand this fight with enveloping cold emptiness? One year? Two? A Century? How long? You would lose all the same – it's inevitable. The result is known from the very beginning.
When the emptiness beats you, there is nothing but a dragging feeling of hopelessness and desolation left in your soul. Only then you understand how lonely you were all those years, and what frightens the most is the thought that it would be this way forever.
Do you still think a vampire can't wish for anything?
POV Damon
Silly. You're all just silly humans who spend your entire lives desperately searching for immortality. I despise you and I envy you. God, how I envy you. You so unadvisedly dispose of everything I would never have again. A Pneumonia, a car crash, a lead bullet in the forehead because of accidently witnessing a crime – you can die so easily. One little mistake and you're gone. This is scaring and exciting at the same time. Your life is so short and fast-moving, you always hurry, desperately try to catch the elusive time which leaks through your fingers like dry sand. You chase your dreams like crazy because you have so little time left. I, on the other hand, have plenty of time.
I hate you! Hate for what you have and I never can have again.
You're fragile and unprotected as a crystal. I can easily break you, take your lives away. It's as easy as crushing a tumbler in my grip and watch with a sadistic pleasure how it breaks into million tiny pieces - it can never be fixed.
I hear your heartbeats slow down as your heart completely exhausted makes one last beat. Blood simmers down. And I'm not sorry. Not at all…
I'm not soulless. No. Even if my heart doesn't beat anymore, I'm not deprived of human traits. Sounds like a jeer. An evil smirk of fate – human traits in the creature that could never be human again.
Loneliness and desperation aren't the bitterest feelings, neither is love, nor hatred – it is regret.
It's settled in the deepest parts of your heart like a sharp wooden splinter – it tears you apart, reminds you of what you've done and of all the 'what if's.
I decided to turn off all emotions all the feelings, knowingly closed them somewhere deep inside of me. It's not a display of cowardice; it just became too painful. I've walked through life without pain and suffering, without anger and remorse, without joy and happiness, without love and hope, utterly empty.
Inside of me there are darkness and ash of the burnt soul – soul of a man I used to be.
They say life flashes behind your eyes before you take your last breath. But now, when I'm lying on the cold floor of the basement, perishing because of the poison in my veins and am between life and death, between light and dark, I look back and there is nothing. Absolutely nothing. I don't remember my life. It's as if I didn't exist – it's frightening. There isn't even the slightest mark – just faceless empty spirit disheveled by the eternity.
Blurry silhouette emerges in my mind. Hazel, doe eyes, chestnut hair and angelic smile. I don't move - afraid to scare the delusion away. Maybe Mrs. Death had pity on me and gave me this last gift – the desired vision.
We are dancing. Warmth and tenderness are radiating from her, her eyes are emitting light. We are barely touching, but I crave her all the same. It's all about the near touch – the sensation of having someone so close yet so far. This is the dance of two souls – mine, shattered and corrupted, and hers, light but too old for her age.
So… What can a vampire wish for? Do you still not have an answer for that question? It's simple, really.
He wished to become human again. The desire to be vulnerable, pure and simple again was his biggest secret – a secret he would keep safe until the end of his eternal life…
Thank you for reading!