Welcome, random people who have decided that you'll give this a try. Thank you for clicking. Things I think you should know; this is set just after Rose dies, Damon is more than a little bit drunk, and I'm not really sure where this is going.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the cat this was inspired by.
Enjoy! And please do review. It always makes my day.
Damon was lying on the couch wallowing in his misery with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a shot glass in the other. His life sucked. It was so much easier when he was just a hunter living to torment his brother. Now he had all these emotions. Love – mainly for Elena, but for a lot of other people too, like Stefan or the recently deceased Rose. Jealousy – Stefan and Elena. Hate – for the whole world in general. There were a lot of others, but he really didn't want to poke around in his head and find out what they were.
And so he drank.
Until he heard this sound. Scratch-scratch. It made him raise his head off the couch and look around. Nothing. He heard it twice more before he got up to investigate.
Scratch-scratch.
Damon decided it was coming from the front door. He opened it, expecting to find anything from somebody's sick idea of a prank to that bitch the werewolf. Either one would probably be killed in the mood he was in.
Nothing. He looked to the right than the left. Still nothing. He was about to close the door when it spoke.
"Merrowww?"
He looked down. Sitting on the front steps was a cat. A filthy cat covered in scars, it looked ready to die of starvation. It had yellow eyes which were looking at him steadily, and Damon could have sworn that if it had eyebrows, they would have been raised questioningly.
Damon thought for a moment and then opened the door farther. The cat stood and slipped past him, walking down the hall like it knew where it was going. So he followed.
It lead him to the kitchen.
It jumped gracefully up onto the counter and sat, giving him the same look as before. Damon stared at it, thinking that he must be hallucinating, because cats did not act like this. Animals didn't like their kind, and had sense enough to run from predators. Or at least that's what Stefan always told him. Damon liked his blood human, so he'd never found out for himself.
This cat apparently didn't know that it wasn't supposed to be doing this, because it was still giving him that eyebrows raised look. "What?" he asked it.
"Merrowww."
"Oh, yes, of course. I don't speak cat."
Damon looked around, and got it. They were in a kitchen. Kitchens had food. The cat looked like it was half starved. He had a plate of cold turkey out of the fridge and on the counter for the cat before he realized what he was doing.
He watched the little creature eat and tried to think of a reason why he was doing all this. He couldn't think of any reasons he liked. But he did realize one thing; he had a pet, and he didn't mind.
Damon left the cat alone to its dinner to go to the local pet supply store, Tracey's Pets. It was a colourful little building located downtown.
It was the last place he had ever thought he'd be.
A squat middle-aged woman glanced up when he walked in. "Can I help you?"
Damon looked around feeling lost. "I'm looking for, ugh…."
"New pet owner?" He nodded.
"What kind of pet?" She looked at him kindly, and he had the sudden urge to rip out her throat and drink her blood. He stifled it. He, unfortunately, needed her. Besides, she didn't look like she tasted that good. He liked his blood young.
"Cat. A little stray." He said, deciding it would be in his best interests to be charming.
"Ahh, yes. Right this way." He followed her to the back of the store, past row upon row of dog food and toys. She started grabbing things willy-nilly off the shelves and piling them in his arms. "Two bowls; one for food, one for water. Litter box; you'll want to put that somewhere where you can't smell it. Litter. Scoop. Brush…." She paused and turned to look at him. "Are you going to let him out?"
What, did she think he was going to keep him trapped somewhere? "Of course." Then he realized that he didn't even know if he was a he.
She spun back around. "Here you'll want to feed him this. Just fill up the bowl whenever it's empty. That's all you'll need for now, so if you'll follow me we can ring this up and you can be on your way."
He smiled. "Of course."
Back at the cash register Tracey – her name tag had little sticker flower and paw prints all over it – leaned a little too close into him. "Are you drunk?" He just smiled politely. She huffed and continued with her job. "And just what exactly have you decided to name your cat?"
"Salem." He wasn't sure what made him say it.
She handed him the bag. "That's an interesting name."
He just smiled and left.