Introduction: This is the first fanfiction for me since a couple years. 'The Vampire Diaries`' Damon Salvatore captured me too much to ignore the need to write something in his Point of View - especially since I am not very happy with how his character is developing in the latest episodes. I want him bad - so where is he gone? The conscience took over and there are a lot of actions by him that tend to be embarrassing for an Immortal his age. So I am taking Damon for a trip down Memory Lane...
1. Smalltown Blues
Why I am still in Mystic Falls, is beyond me.
Why the hell do I feel obligated to stay in this damn boring Smalltown, where one always passes the same faces and the same mousy Teenagers with their parents who live their bleak everyday life that should mean nothing to me or my brother or anyone who lives a life aside from mortality?
It is like I am observing myself from a six feet distance, just wanting to kick my weirdly acting body in the butt and demand to simply turn on the heel momentarily.
But why hasn´t this happened yet?
Just because I shared some watery Vodka with the E-Girl at Bree´s and somehow now feel a bit responsible for the fragile kid?
Well, with the Weakling being so unstable around all these walking and pulsing bloodbags, I actually would feel a bit pissed if Stefan took more than a few mouthfuls from her blood. Before that happens, I would snap that brat`s neck myself to be over and done. By now, we haven´t reached this peak yet.
I should not have entered Stefan´s poor excuse of an existence to that extend. It should have been clear to me in the first place, that doing so would stop all the fun one can have in eternal life sans guilt or regret. Ah, thinking back, my last five decades have been a bliss, so to speak. No one, no human, and no simple underage breathing chick could warp me from my style of living, corrupting, killing things and generally just having a great time with my eternal youth.
Sure, I was the image of the clichèd Vampire: Grabbed whatever chick or bloke crossed my path, corrupted the Ladies and Gents a bit and later, robbed them of their last possession left, the precious red hot liquid that runs so sweetly down the throat.
"Play with your Food, and clean up afterwards" ever was my Motto.
Duty called with paying my Brother a visit every ten years, then throw his life down the toilet and contently leave again. A nice hobby that one can pick up and throw it into the corner whenever the need is there.
Good times. Stefan always played the outraged Brother, trying to burn, decapitate or cut my finger with Emily´s ring on it in the middle of the day. I found this amusing and sweet, that - after so many decades - I was still able to tease out these heavy emotions in Stefan with just a few simple acts.
However, the burning rage never did last long and after the first couple of weeks, my Brother stopped being entertaining.
My call to move on and find myself a new plaything...
