TVD: Game Change
He was weak.
Sweat saturated his pale skin.
His head throbbed; his blood burned like fire.
He needed to feed.
The tension in his muscles pushed against the effects of the vervain; reducing his pace to a glacial speed as he trudged through the woods. His movements became dizzy and erratic; his arms hung limply at his side. His back contorted into an overly hunched position.
His balance wavered and fell crashing to the ground.
Smooth, real smooth.
Spasms of pain rippled through his body as he laid there defeated… betrayed by his own brother...again.
Stefan had pulled a fast one. He knew he shouldn't be surprised; Stefan stopped being his brother a long time ago when he had taken Katherine from him.
Katherine…instantly, his mind conjured the image of her olive skin and flowing chestnut hair. Her mischievous smile was forever etched upon his memory. She was his salvation, his everything.
"Let me chase you forever," he had promised her many years ago, and shockingly, he had meant it. Forever… it was one promise he couldn't break.
He had to set her free.
Shaking his head, he pushed the thoughts of Katherine away; he couldn't think of her now.
He struggled to pull the weight of his body upward but to avail. A heavy sigh escaped his parched lips. Exhaustion threatened to overtake him.
But, he refused to give in, refused to give Stefan the satisfaction. His brother thought he had won; once again Stefan underestimated his strength. He only wished that he could have seen the look of horror on his brother's face once he realized that he had escaped.
Who knew blonde Barbie would actually come in handy.
No matter, he would get his revenge.
Just, you wait brother.
With fierce resolve he arched his back to try and lift himself upward, fighting against the pain. His skin was already growing rigid and terse from starvation. His legs stiffened, refusing to bend. He almost managed sit upright before collapsing back on the ground.
His nails dug into the black earth in frustration; the moist dirt coated his fingers, reminding him of his missing ring.
The sun would be coming in a few hours.
He needed help, but there was no one… Well, that's not exactly true.
But was he really that desperate?
Yes, damn it. He was.
Closing his eyes, he swallowed the lump of pride in his throat. Hesitantly, he fished through his pockets for his phone, cursing under his breath when he found nothing.
Stefan must have taken that too.
Dick.
There was nothing else to do; he was paralyzed, defenseless.
Suddenly, there was a shift in the breeze. The faint scent of warm flesh attacked his senses, instilling in him a thirst most primal.
BEAT…BEAT… BEAT, the thundering rhythm of hearts pounding assailed upon his ears, enthralling him with its decadent melody.
The thrill of the hunt, the intoxicating wickedness of power ascended from the base of his spine.
He gasped for unnecessary breath. His fangs protruded like blades, slashing into the empty space of the darkness.
All emotions blurred within his mind, leaving him incapable of differentiating between which impulses belonged to him and which were merely a reaction of the creature residing from within.
It didn't matter.
He could feel nothing but the hunger; it called to him.
It was degrading; it was redemption. He was in total control- he had none.
With a velocity which defined human comprehension, he regained his footing. Rushing deeper into the forest, he halted at the sight of a small campfire in a nearby cemetery.
Local teenagers lounged around the flames, their breaths heavy with alcohol. He moved closer towards them, his sluggish walk caught the attention of one of the girls.
"Hey, you ok?" She asked with bloodshot eyes, her voice warped with concern as she approached him.
That's it's. Here kitty, kitty, kitty.
"I need …" His sentence trailed away as the girl moved within arms length. She placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.
"It's gonna be ok," she tried to reassure him, reeking of marijuana.
A sinister grin played upon his lurid lips, revealing the savagery of the beast inside his skin.
"Call 911" she turned toward her friends.
Her long hair moved against the breeze, revealing her neck. Black veins protruded through his skin as his eyes landed on her collar bone. In one swift movement, he pulled her back towards him and sunk his teeth deep within her veins.
She never even had a chance to scream.
The blood flowed through him like wine as he bit down harder. It cleansed his muddied mind and strengthened his muscles. He could feel the vervain drain from his system.
But his hunger did not subside; it only grew.
Dropping the girl's body to the ground, he lunged at the remaining crowd.
They never saw it coming.
He ripped their throats open with his fangs, sloppily gorging himself until blood soaked his silk shirt. Mere minutes passed before he had drained them all dry. Taking a moment to survey his damage, he smiled at the pile of corpses that littered the ground.
In Stefan's attempt to put a leash around his neck, his brother had indirectly caused the biggest body count since his return home.
He laughed at the irony.
Dragging one and then another, he pulled the bodies towards the fire and poured the remaining vodka on them- after taking a swing for good measure. Grabbing a branch from the fire, he watched as the remains were set ablaze.
Finally, he walked back toward the body of the first girl he attacked. Her chest heaved in uneven cycles. Her breath was strained, but she was still alive.
Looks like we got a fighter, here… oh well.
Reaching down, he griped her wrist to drag her towards her friends… he couldn't leave any survivors.
She whined in protest, but he didn't care. As her body was yanked across the ground, a cell phone fell out of her pocket.
He paused upon seeing it; stepping over the girl, he picked it up. Immediately, he dialed Stefan's number, but closed it before anyone could answer.
Though he needed Stefan to get his ring back, he also knew Stefan wouldn't give it up lightly.
He needed reinforcement; an ace in the hole.
With a deep groan, Damon wiped the blood from his mouth and dialed his last resort. It range three times; a wicked smirk graced his features at the sound of a very familiar voice.
"It's me, change of plans. How soon can you get here?"
Game. Set. Match.