A/N Thank you for all your favourites and reviews. I really appreciate it! As I said before, this story is much darker than any of my others, and that comes to the forefront already in this chapter. I can't stress enough - it's rated M for a reason. Strong language and adult content including but not limited to drug use, sex and violence. Having said that, for those that are reading, I truly hope you enjoy my story and will continue to follow it through as it proceeds. Please leave me a review if you're able - I read them all and respond to as many as I can. Your thoughts on my writing mean the world to me. Thank you!


Chapter 2 – Something I Can Never Have

"I still recall the taste of your tears
Echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears.
My favorite dreams of you still wash ashore
Scraping through my head 'til I don't want to sleep anymore.

You make this all go away.
You make this all go away.
I'm down to just one thing
And I'm starting to scare myself.
You make this all go away.
You make this all go away.
I just want something.
I just want something I can never have.

You always were the one to show me how.
Back then I couldn't do the things that I can do now.
This thing is slowly taking me apart.
Grey would be the color if I had a heart.

In this place it seems like such a shame.
Though it all looks different now,
I know it's still the same
Everywhere I look you're all I see.
Just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be.

I just want something I can never have."

- music & lyrics by Trent Reznor, Nine Inch Nails


Damon's POV

I'm pathetic. But I'm sure you've already figured that much out. It's entirely possible everyone in town knows it by now. She certainly does.

Ever since that night in her room when I overheard Elena say my name in her sleep, things have been different. To be honest, I kinda wish I'd never heard it. Because hearing that one little word leave her sleeping lips gave me something I absolutely should not have. It gave me a tiny sliver of hope.

I tried to stifle it before it could bloom, but it was too late. Apparently I'm such an absolute sucker for punishment that I grasped it like a fucking life preserver in the middle of the ocean. And held on for dear life.

I now find myself examining our interactions even more closely than I did before. Looking for clues to how she really feels to add fuel to this pointless fire I have burning within me. And the most fucked up thing of all? I'm actually seeing some. It's gotta be wishful thinking at its finest. There's no other explanation.

Like the way she sometimes looks at me when she thinks no one else is watching. I see a flicker of something behind those big, brown eyes of hers. Something that my warped mind obviously misinterprets. Because it looks almost like…no. I'm not even gonna say it.

There are also little touches here and there. Her hand on my bicep or my elbow as she speaks to me. The soft brush of her knuckles against mine as she takes a glass from my hands. Her fingers gently pressing on the side of my face when she thinks I'm distracted and she's trying to get me to pay more attention to whatever it is she's telling me. As if there's ever a time I'm not paying close attention to anything she does. Each time we make contact her touch feels like hot coals burning into my skin.

I'm over-analyzing everything and reading way too fucking much into it all. What if she does have some hidden feelings for me? So what? She's much too moral to ever act on them. And even if it is true - which I'm certainly not saying it is – it still doesn't change anything. She loves him. He loves her. He's my baby brother. End of story.

I made a decision a few days ago. This "thing" that seems to be growing between us – and yes, innuendo most definitely intended there – it isn't healthy. For me, and also, by extension, for anyone else around me. I needed to get some space. Space away from her, yes, but also space away from the two of them together. Because I didn't think I could take another second of having to hear her with him. Having enhanced hearing and living in the same house as Stefan has not been a real fucking joy, I can tell you. Sometimes overhearing the two of them makes me grit my teeth so hard I'm afraid I'm gonna wear them down. I've been turning up my music very loud. And you wonder why I drink so damn much?

I couldn't bring myself to go very far, however. So here I am now, staying on the outskirts of town at the Bates Motel. I shit you not, that's what it's called. The proprietress, Florence Bates, who's gotta be 80 if she's a day, is obviously not a Hitchcock fan. Her loss.

The room is small and a bit shabby, but it's clean and that's the most important thing. I "talked her into" renting me one with a newer mattress and a television that was actually made in the last decade. I've brought my stash of liquor, a cooler full of blood bags on ice and a stack of books to read. I'm good to go for a week or so if I need to. There's a scummy looking neon cowboy-type roadhouse across the way. I've decided I'm gonna go over later and find myself some fresh blood for once. Damn right I am. I need a distraction in the worst possible way right now.

She's called or texted me countless times since I left the boarding house. I've ignored every one, although I detest the guilty pang I get each time I press that button. I haven't listened to a single message. I keep telling myself it's for the best for both of us right now, but I'm not sure I've convinced myself yet.

I pour myself a fresh glass of bourbon and lie back down on the bed to wait until evening. Tonight I'm going to find myself a short, curvy, wavy-haired blonde with green or maybe blue eyes - any colour but brown. She doesn't know it yet, but I'm gonna totally rock her world. I need to re-find the old Damon pronto, before he disappears completely. He would loathe who I've become.

This hope thing – it fucking sucks even more than when I had none.


Elena's POV

He left.

Stefan tells me he thinks it's only temporary. God, I hope so. He won't pick up his phone or return my messages. I don't know what I've done to send him running, but I know it's my fault, somehow.

Something's changed over the past few weeks between Damon and I, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is. His eyes seem to linger on me longer and more frequently. Often I catch his brows narrowing slightly like he's trying to figure me out. I haven't gotten up the courage to ask what's going on. I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

I can feel myself pulling away from Stefan a bit lately, too, which adds yet another layer to the guilt I'm bearing. I just haven't been able to bring myself to be cuddly and couple-y with him. It's become difficult to focus my attention on Stefan right now, when all I can think about anymore is his brother. I am officially the worst girlfriend ever.

I hate how all this makes me feel. I hate how it's surely making Stefan feel. And there are times lately when I hate Damon for it most of all. Sometimes I get so angry at him for causing this one thing that was so good in my life to go all pear-shaped. Once in awhile I think it would have been far better if he'd never returned to Mystic Falls that day.

I know I'm not being fair, but sometimes it's easier to shove the blame onto him than to take any more onto myself.

I just did something I'm not too proud of. But I really need to get out of my head for a while. This sadness and rage feels like it's taking me over tonight. Promise not to judge? I went through my Aunt Jenna's old stash of pain medication and sedatives. After she died, I hid away the bottles in a bottom drawer in my room behind my old sweats to keep them away from my brother Jeremy's sight. He can be so easily tempted with narcotics, and I didn't want him to even be aware of them. But I never threw them out and kind of forget they were there after all the chaos that's been our lives since she passed.

I remembered that stash this evening, just when I was about ready to start ripping my hair out in frustration. When I looked through it, I discovered most of a bottle of Valium. I know Valium can help turn your brain off. It can calm you down. It can put you to sleep. I didn't even think about it, I just did it. I took two of the small pills.

So now I'm curled up in my bed with my phone clutched in my fingers, still waiting for a message from him that I know I'm not going to receive. I'm no longer angry. I'm no longer feeling guilty. I can sense the first vestiges of hazy sleep starting to take me over. My breathing is slowing and deepening. I try to hold onto his face as sleep overtakes me.

How is it possible that I already miss him so much?


Damon's POV

This place is fucking disgusting. I actually have to make effort to suppress my shudders of revulsion. I'm pretty sure I fail. The floor is so sticky with the residue of spilled beer, spit and God knows what else that my boots resist coming back up with my feet at every step. The shitty country music blares loudly, but it can't drown out the whine of the pathetic drunken voices that fill my ears. The air of sheer desperation is etched onto almost every face I glance at. This place is cheap and the clientele are even cheaper.

It's exactly what I need right now.

I head straight for the bar and cringe at the low-end swill that's poured into a glass in front of me. I was drunk before I left my room, so luckily my ability to give a shit has decreased substantially. Instead of downing it with a grimace, I hold it in my hand and turn around to survey the scene before me.

The neon sign across the way proclaims this place as "Zeke's". Nothing more, nothing less. A low brow name for a low brow establishment. I don't care anyway. I'm only allowing myself to care about two things tonight - pussy and blood. That's it. Time to find myself a likely donor.

The dance floor is crowded with gyrating bodies. Most of the women are scantily clad and clearly looking to get fucked. Someone's going to get very lucky tonight indeed. I scan the crowd, notice a few possibilities and am just about to make my way over to a group of cowboy-booted gals celebrating a bachelorette party, when I spot someone that freezes my gaze.

I'm facing her profile. She's several inches shorter than me, with long, straight, dark hair and graceful fluttering lashes. It's not her of course, but by God this girl could be her sister. She's talking animatedly with her friend and hasn't noticed my stare. I sigh. She's the exact opposite of what I want tonight, and yet I know already that she is precisely who I will have.

I approach her and fix her with my most charming smile. She turns toward me as she notices me and I falter in my tracks for a brief second. Shit. She even has brown eyes. I firmly tell myself to keep smiling and keep right on walking. But do I listen? Not a fucking chance.

Within five minutes I've bought her something nasty and pink with a cherry floating in it, and we're speaking tête-à-tête in a darkened corner. Her name is Lola. Seriously. I tell her my real name. It doesn't matter anyway, I'll compel her to forget later and she'll go home feeling incredibly satisfied and a bit low on iron.

Compulsion won't be needed any sooner though – this girl is obviously into me. She's already got her hand on my arm as she's talking and her pulse rate and aroused scent are screaming at me how easy this is gonna be.

I'm bored as hell, to be honest, so I decide not to waste any more time in this God-forsaken dive. Within five more minutes I have her pinned to the back of my hotel room door, my fingers are tangled in her hair and my tongue is halfway down her eager throat.

Now don't get me wrong here. I'm definitely not pretending that she's Elena. This is not some fantasy role-play thing going on for me right now. I'm fully aware that this girl is no-one special. For one thing, she doesn't smell right. For another, her touch doesn't make my skin burn. And her voice…well, let's just say that I intend to keep her mouth occupied so that I have to hear it as little as possible.

And keep her mouth occupied I do – except I don't even have to try. She's ready and willing to do that for me. She's down on her knees and unzipping my jeans before I even have time to pull her tiny top off. This girl is a minx. No complaints here. I close my eyes, lean my head back and let her do her thing with that hot, wet, enthusiastic little mouth of hers.

I try to concentrate solely on the delectable sensations she's creating all over my throbbing cock. The girl's got talent, I have to admit. So why do my drunken thoughts keep straying back to a certain other dark-haired girl? I mentally smack myself upside the head. Salvatore, you are in the midst of a fucking amazing blow-job – why in God's name would you distract yourself from that with visions of a girl who will never give you any blow-jobs, amazing or otherwise? Focus!

I decide to interrupt her ministrations and lift her up and spin her around so she's facing the bed, back against my chest. Within a few seconds her skimpy clothes are off in the corner somewhere behind me and she's bent over the bed, curvy ass raised invitingly.

Wasting no further time, I swiftly drive into her. My hands glide up her belly to cup her breasts and lift her up against me as I begin to thrust. It's better for me to not be able to see the face that isn't right, not be able to look into those brown eyes that aren't hers. As my hips move, my lust grows as does my hunger. I start to pound into her petite body harder as my desire builds. She's making such loud cries of pleasure right now that I swear I'm going to have to compel Mrs. Bates to forget any complaints about the disturbance in the morning.

When I begin to feel my climax approaching, I sweep her long hair to one side and let my vampire face come forward. I hold her securely against my chest with one hand and lean down to sink my now elongated canines into the back-side of her neck. She yells out, but it's a scream of passion. As you may already have guessed, I'm exceptionally good at this. I suck deeply on the twin wounds as we both violently shudder and come together.

It's been many months since I've had fresh, hot human blood pumped directly down my throat by a still-beating heart. Holy hell, I've missed this. There's no comparison to the satisfaction it brings. I let myself get lost in the blood – its coppery, slightly alcoholic tang and the thickness as it coats the inside of my mouth and throat. I can feel each throb of her heart vibrate through her blood and through me. It's like my dead heart is beating in sync with hers. Getting slower and slower. And slower.

Suddenly I pull back, but I'm too late. She falls limp in my arms.

Motherfucker. I did not mean to go that far. I absolutely did not mean to kill this girl. Shit. But…the old Damon within me is laughing his ass off with glee. I feel more alive in this single moment than I have in almost a year. That's what fresh human blood does to a vampire. Sure, we can exist without it. But we absolutely thrive with it.

I pick her up in my arms and then tuck her into the right side of the bed, facing toward the wall. I fan her long, straight brown hair over the pillow and pull the floral sheet up to her shoulders, so she looks like she's sleeping. If I don't think about it too much, it would be so easy right now to pretend she was Elena there asleep in my bed.

I sigh in frustration. I'll deal with all this in the morning. I crawl in beside her and try to find sleep.