Hey guys. I come to you again with another Bamon fantasy. I've always wondered what would Bamons relationship have become if she had been the one to save him from his deathbed after Tyler bit him. So...I wrote about it.

Now, just keep in mind that I have borrowed a few ideas from the show but this story is entirely my fantasy so all rules as you know them don't necessarily apply in this story.

This will be a slow burn but be patient with me and you will live in the glory of Bamon bliss by the time I'm done.

This story starts right after Damon rescued Tyler and Caroline from being used in Klaus' ritual.

Reviews are more than welcomed! Encouraged, even.

Disclamer: They don't belong to me!

When you live for 170 years, dying sort of becomes a myth. Mortality becomes this made up word created to scare little children into eating their vegetables and going to church, praying to some invisible deity so you don't end up in the fiery pits of damnation.

After a while, vampirism turns you into some spoiled little entitled brat who can't be tamed. The world becomes your little chess board where you're the Master Player, free to move the pieces any way you please and if anyone tries to take your spot, you end them.

You're at the top of the food chain, your throne placed atop the mangled corpses you've piled up and collected for over a century and a half. You smile as you breathe in the smell of copper, the metallic scent of your food source. Eternity is yours.

Or at least it was…like 10 minutes ago…

Damon's standing out in the middle of the forest, the pale glow of the full moon mocking him, providing him just enough light as he stares down at his left forearm where the sleeve of his black Henley is pushed up past his elbow. The skin north of his wrist is an ugly mixture of black and red. Two perfect puncture marks stare up at him like the sunken eyes of so many of his victims. Purple veins of death stretch out around the wound, pallid and thin and as crooked as a reapers long fingers.

Tyler Lockwood bit him.

He tried to be the hero. He tried to do the right thing and this is what he got in return. This is exactly the reason he leaves the lifesaving, broody little rescue planning to his baby brother.

Stefan should be the one to save the damsel in distress. Or, in this case, the neurotic little vampire control freak and her pet boy-wolf who can't control his baser urges to save his own life. Hasn't that little mutt ever heard the phrase: "Don't bite the hand that feeds you" ? Or more appropriately: "Don't bite the hand that saved you from being a sacrifice in a blood ritual being performed by a psychotic wannabe werewolf/vamp hybrid."

Apparently he's never heard of either of those things or else he wouldn't be standing here with two holes in his arm that fit the size of Tyler's fangs perfectly.

But he's ignoring the main point. The more obvious point. There's only one explanation as to how he ended up here. It's the same reason he's ended up in most of the fucked-up situations that have plagued him for the past year.

Elena.

Elena is the reason for his most recent feud with his brother.

At first, Elena was just another game to him. An opportunity to beat his brother this time and take the girl.

All his life he's known that Stefan was the favorite and at first he looked at Elena as a form of redemption.

Growing up, their mother had doted on Stefan. Constantly bragging on her little genius Steffy and how he'd grow up to be an investor like their father. And Stefan, being the good son, would follow their father around watching his every move and hanging on to every word eager to prove their mother right.

Their father had decided that Stefan would inherit the family business of banking instead of leaving it to Damon being that, in his fathers words, "Damon is a loose cannon and has shown no sense of discipline since the day he was born."

Subconsciously Damon thinks that in some small way he'd always sought his fathers approval.

He'd even let his father talk him into joining the army solely to prove his father wrong, show him that he had restraint, he could abide authority.

And then he skipped out after only a few months because fuck that. And yeah, discipline had never really been his thing, true enough.

Damon was never a go with the flow kinda guy. His instinct was to go against the grain and if that made him an outcast then he had to become accustomed to being written off and ignored and he just figured that would be his life.

Until he laid eyes on Katherine Pierce.

He'd just arrived home after abandoning his post and she'd been traipsing around the grounds with Stefan at the time, of course. But when she'd spotted him approaching them and they'd locked eyes, there was this spark of mischief there and the tiniest hint of a smirk at the corner of her lips.

She'd looked him in his eyes. She'd actually seen him. Her eyes raked over his body hungrily and it had done wicked things to him.

He was in love.

At first, in Damon's mind, this was a competition. Who would get the girl?

He'd been pretty confident at first. Greeting her with breakfast in bed before Stefan even had the chance to wake. Taking long walks with her through the garden. Showering her with gifts and flowers daily. He'd given her some if his best work, damn it.

But all of his efforts hadn't seemed to take her attention off of Stefan in the slightest. She'd still visit Stefan as much as she'd visit him even though Stefan hadn't done half of the things for her that he had done.

After a while, Damon started to lose confidence, doubt himself, so he'd backed off a bit. No longer pushing, but only taking what was offered to him.

Thus birthing the love triangle from Hell.

She'd often have them both at the same time. Damon at her throat biting bruises and pinching her nipples to stand hard and pebbled, her back arching off the bed. Stefan buried deep inside her, making her moan deep and throaty in Damon's ear, running her fingers through his hair and pulling and writhing until Damon was so rabid with want he could barely see straight. Then they'd switch, Stefan working her from the waist up while Damon buried himself in her heat.

It went on like that for months, maybe even years. He can't even keep the timeline straight in his own head anymore.

Long story short…the bitch chose Stefan in the end.

So yeah, maybe he just wanted to rile his brother up at first by flirting with Elena. Put another worry line on Stefan's already crowded forehead.

And then he fell in love with Elena, of course he did.

But he also knows he'll never have her, not completely anyway. It's Stefan. She's made it abundantly clear that it will always be Stefan. But that still doesn't keep him from noticing the way her eyes linger on him when she doesn't think he's paying attention. He's well aware of the fact that more and more she's letting him get away with being just a touch inside her personal space. And, of course, she still reacts with a scoff and an incredulous glare when he says something particularly Damon-like and adds the eyebrows in for good measure. She wouldn't be Elena if she didn't do those things, but he can also read the heat under her gaze all the same.

It was the same gaze Katherine would give him just before she'd leave his bed for Stefan's.

The only difference is that Elena actually, genuinely cares for him and has shown him that fact on countless occasions.

That's the reason he's in love again.

And now, Elena is the reason his immortality is now a memory.

His eternity has been snatched away from him and for what? A mortal human who doesn't even belong to him in the first place? He's probably gonna die alone on the floor of his root cellar while the girl he basically killed himself for is somewhere bouncing on his brothers dick. Nice job, Damon.

The wind rustles the dried leaves on the ground beneath him exposing a fallen tree branch to his left. Just do it…get it over with, is the thought that crosses his mind as he eyes the branch. End it.

He's already been through this once with Rose, he knows the drill. Different book but the story ends the same.

At least he was able to give Rose a nice little dream to send her off peacefully to her death. Maybe, if he's lucky, his brother will peel himself off of Elena's ass long enough to give him a death dream fantasy of his own. If he even decides to tell Stefan in the first place.

He thinks the poetry would be just right if he leaves a trail of his blood spatters for Stefan to follow right up to his rotting corpse, his final words scratched into the stone wall of their cellar.

Your wish is my command, brother. You're finally rid of me.

Yeah right. Who's he kidding? It wouldn't be nearly as satisfying being that he won't even be alive to witness Stefan's reaction.

He can honestly say that he couldn't begin to guess what that reaction might be.

Would Stefan's face crumple in pain at the sight of big brothers' lifeless corpse on the floor? Would he grin in triumph now that big brothers hat has been taken out of the running for Elena's affections forever? Or would Stefan just simply set his body ablaze in some generic attempt at a funeral and walk away, unfazed?

Now that he thinks about it, he's not sure he even wants to know the answer, either way. He kinda wants to go somewhere private where he could die alone and no one would ever find him. That way, if he ends up being some floating orb of smoke stuck to hover on Earth for eternity, he won't have to witness the mourning (or lack thereof) of his very limited collection of friends and family. They'd just all assume that he selfishly left them to fend for themselves in the supernatural beacon that is Mystic Falls. Yeah…he could live (or die) with that.

The moonlight hits the jagged end of the wooden branch just right, like a sign from the universe. If he tilts his head he can almost see the suicide note written in the moss at the base of the tree.

Jesus, the delirium is already setting in. He thinks bitterly as he shoves his sleeve back down to cover the carnage that used to be his arm, lip curled in disgust as he continues to make his way back toward home.

The feel of the wind whipping across his face as he runs home makes him feel almost normal again. Like his whole life isn't crumbling before his eyes and he's a little calmer when he finally reaches the Boarding House.

He strains his ears as he nears the house. No heartbeats which means no humans (no Elena). Good because he just can't deal with her self-righteous attitude right now.

Elena and baby bro are still pissy with him for feeding Elena his blood earlier this morning but what the fuck else was he supposed to do? It's like he's the only one around here with some goddamn sense.

Elena was willing to bet her 18 years of life on Elijah.

Elijah Mikaleson. Brother of Klaus Mikaelson. The same Klaus who possessed Alaric and tried to kill Bonnie. The same Klaus who is this fucking close to being unkillable and willing to do anything to get there, including draining Elena dry and splattering her blood all over some bullshit rock.

So damn right he fed her his blood. And he'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Making his way into the house he listens for his brother but all is quiet. He and Elena must still be at the cabin in the mountains enjoying their vomit inducing time together while all hell breaks loose here in the real world.

He heads straight for the drink cart.

If he's gonna die, there is no fucking way he's leaving all his good bourbon lying around for Stefan to piss away. Nope, not gonna happen.

Can a vampire get alcohol poisoning?

He doesn't even bother with a glass, just grabs as many bottles as he can cradle in his good arm, plucking the half full decanter off the lower rack with his free hand as an afterthought, and makes his way to the sofa in the center of the room.

He's already light headed and slightly dizzy thanks to the werewolf venom running through his body. And also…fuck…the pain in his arm is getting worse. Maybe its good he didn't die yet because killing Tyler is suddenly at the top of his bucket list. Fucking prick.

Grabbing up the first bottle, he pops the cork and chugs, leans back against the couch cushions, shuts his eyes and enjoys the burn…

He fights to keep his mind from wondering while also trying not to focus on any particular thing and somehow he still ends up haunted by his victims, faceless and bloody and ready to tear him apart upon his death…

The shrill ringing of his cellphone brings him back to the present and his whole body jerks like he's been electrocuted. He bangs his knee on the coffee table where his legs are stretched out underneath and when the fuck did he end up on the floor? A quick assessment reveals that he's finished 7 bottles of bourbon and he doesn't seem to be in hell so its safe to say that he didn't die of alcohol poisoning.

His cell phone rings again and he should probably answer that now.

He digs the phone from his pocket and answers without checking the caller ID. Whoever it is, is gonna get a piece of his mind for interrupting his night of self pity, loathing and despair.

"What?" He groans, brushing away the mop of sweaty hair plastered to his forehead.

"Damon?!"

Fucking Stefan. Of course. Forever the buzzkill.

"Why haven't you been answering your phone? I've been calling you all night."

Damon's eyebrows crumple, confused frown on his face.

All night? What? He thinks.

He looks over at the window next to the bookcase and, sure enough, there are tiny beams of sunlight cutting through the blackout curtains and slicing through the shadows on the far wall.

Well damn. Maybe he came closer to death than he thought. He doesn't even remember passing out.

"Damon?"

And where the hell is his shirt?

"Damon?!"

"Jesus, Stefan. Do you know any other words? Maybe I needed some me time. What do you want me to say?"

He hears Stefan's impatient huff on the other end and it makes him smirk. He begins to peel himself off the floor because his mouth tastes like ass and he could really use a blood bag and a shower right now.

"Where are you? We need to talk. It's about Elena."

Damon rolls his eyes because when isn't it about Elena?

"Yeah Stefan. What else is new?"

"Damon, will you quit screwing around? I can't…please…just. Where are you?"

Damon can hear the crack in his voice. His brothers desperate tone tugs at something in him and he pauses midway to the kitchen. Long buried emotions of family and bond and love being stirred and he's reminded of a time when Stefan used that same tone when they were boys to try to coerce him into sharing his bed because he was afraid of the dark and Father wouldn't let him keep the lanterns burning through the night.

He shuts his eyes, leaning against the wall in the main hallway.

"I'm at the Boarding House. What is it?"

Stefan exhales, heavy and loud in Damon's ear.

"Can't talk here. I'm on my way." The line goes quiet as Stefan disconnects the call.

He hears the screech of Stefan's tires in the driveway, the heavy thunk of his boots on the pavement as he makes his way up the porch steps and through the front door.

"Damon?!"

Damon rolls his eyes and stays silent where he's freshly showered and sipping bourbon laced blood at the kitchen table, feet propped up and crossed at the ankles in the empty seat next to him.

On the outside, he's the perfect picture of worry free.

Stefan, his hero hair, and his Levi's fill the archway near the kitchens entrance and Damon fights to keep the look of indifference on his face when he sees the puffy red skin under his brothers eyes, blood soaking the front of his t-shirt turning the once grey material an angry black. A layer of thick mud covering his $800 boots.

"Oh come on, Stefan. Don't tell me you're a Ripper again. Can you at least try to put your teeth away until after we kill Klaus?"

"Damon…he took her."

"Ok I'm gonna need a few more descriptive words in there, Brother. Maybe drop a name or two for the hell of it."

"Klaus! Damon…Klaus. He took Elena."

Stefan sags back against the door jamb like he has no energy left and drags his fingers through his hair.

"What?!" Damon stands from his chair and steps toward his brother. "How the Hell did that happen? Weren't you two supposed to be at the cabin writing love poems or some shit?"

"We were. I don't know how he found us but he did. Threatened to burn the whole cabin down around us unless Elena left with him."

"And let me guess. Judging by the look of you, you tried to fight him, got your ass kicked, and he snatched Elena and ran. Am I leaving anything out?"

Stefan's face crumples and Damon could tell he was seconds from losing it.

"Elena was the last missing piece, Damon! This is not a fucking joke! Elena is probably dead! Don't you get it?

Damon schools himself and tries to stay calm as he looks at his brother.

"Look Stef…I'm sorry, okay? Just calm down and listen to me for a second."

Putting both hands on his brothers shoulders he walks him toward the kitchen table and pushes him gently into a chair. Grabbing an empty glass from the bar, he fills it with bourbon and places the glass in front of his brother

"Drink."

Shaking his head, Stefan looks up at his brother. "We need to find her, Damon. I can't.."

Reclaiming his seat next to his brother he places a hand back on Stefans shoulder.

"Look at me, Stef."

He waits while Stefan gathers himself and when he finally turns to Damon he can see that he's still barely holding himself together.

"Elena is fine, Stefan. And we'll get her back.. Got me?"

Stefan looks at him, confusion and barely controlled anger behind his eyes.

"Are you drunk or am I missing something here? Last night was the full moon. Klaus got all the components to the spell last night. In what universe are you thinking Elena is okay and not lying de-"

"Do not finish that sentence Stefan." Damon grits through his teeth and fights the image of Elena lying lifeless and cold that's trying to creep up in his head.

"Please just shut up and trust me for once, alright?"

Damon bores his eyes into his brothers, willing him to trust him for once and when Stefan finally gives him a shaky nod, Damon has no choice but to accept that as a win for now.

Leaning back in his chair, he rubs his hands together.

"So. First things first. I already freed Vampire Barbie and Lassie last night so unless he had a couple of spares lying around, he couldn't have performed the ritual anyway, right?"

"You did it? You actually got them out?"

There's a new flare of hope in Stefan's eyes and it makes Damon smile.

"Dare you doubt me, Brother?" Damon says, standing once again.

"Now drink up." He says, pointing at Stefan's full glass still sitting in front of him. "We gotta go see about a witch."