The world was collapsing around him; the walls of the mausoleum where he'd said his final goodbye to Elena, the trees, the forest, it was all falling away. Even Bonnie, the anchor, was fading out of sight-and he couldn't stop it.

Darkness was beginning to encroach on his vision, blacking it all out: his sight, his hearing, his sense of feeling. He was losing it all, piece by piece.

This is dying

He'd been prepared for this; he'd known that this was a risk when he'd made the plan to save his brother and his two best friends from being destroyed along with the Other Side. He didn't want to die, of course, but, at this point, he didn't really have a choice. He couldn't pass back into the world of the living-he'd missed his chance, and he wasn't going to get another one.

He could only stand and watch as everything around him melted into nothing, and he lost the ability to sense anything at all.

He knew what was coming next: a bright, blinding white light consumed his vision while white noise pierced his ears-and then he knew no more.

Everything was gone.

Steel blue eyes opened to what looked oddly like a dimly lit church's congregation room.

Damon blinked. He hadn't been expecting to see anything when he woke up; but he definitely hadn't been expecting this, either.

He was upright, but he felt as if he had been sleeping standing up; he was completely disoriented, and he had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten there.

Or that he wasn't alone.

"Damon," a familiar deep, accented voice broke into his stupor, coming from somewhere to his right. He turned toward it, and found himself facing quite possibly the last person he'd expected.

"Enzo," the elder Salvatore replied in a smooth-yet strangely empty-tone he hadn't heard himself use in a long time. "You're definitely not who I thought I'd see." He paused, casting a swift, searching glance at his surroundings before adding. "Neither is any of this. Where are we? And what are we doing here?"

The other vampire wasn't immediately forthcoming with an answer, instead taking a moment to look Damon over carefully, as if making sure that he was really there.

After a long pause, he finally spoke again.

"It worked," he declared with unconcealed relief, exhaling heavily, sounding more as if he were speaking to himself. Then, appearing to actually hear Damon's question, he responded. "We're at the Old Ferrel's church at the edge of Mystic Falls, and we had to come here so that the resurrection ritual would work."

Damon's pale forehead creased slightly. The last time he and Enzo had seen each other, Enzo had been trying to kill him, and he'd burned down an entire building in order to do it; so why did he seem so happy to see Damon alive now?

"What are you talking about?" he queried, but he felt only a mild curiosity-and no concern as to why neither his brother or Elena were there.

He heard Enzo swallow hard, seeming to be steeling himself before answering in a tone of obviously forced calm.

"I brought you back, Damon," Enzo confessed, hands stuffed uncomfortably in the pockets of his gray jacket. "I found the way to get you out of oblivion; I found a witch who specialized in dark magic and she and I did a ritual to resurrect you."

Damon arched an eyebrow; that reply was even more of a shock than Enzo's presence. Yet he didn't feel as startled as he should have.

"Really?" he said slowly, sauntering up to the younger vampire and not stopping until they were nearly nose-to-nose. "And why would you do that?"

"Because I owed you," Enzo answered with feigned casualness. "You died to bring me back, so I figured I should return the favour."

Damon's other eyebrow arched as his gaze roamed over the other vampire's face. He could tell that Enzo wasn't being entirely truthful; but he could also tell that Enzo didn't want to go into any further depth because he moved away, venturing into the corner of the church and returning with a plastic pouch filled with an easily recognizable dark crimson fluid. (pretend for now that Enzo brought a bunch of blood bags with him to the church I'll add that into the previous chapter later)

"I brought you this; I imagine you've worked up quite the appetite after being dead for so long," he changed the subject, holding the pouch out in an offer.

The corners of the blacknette's mouth twitched, recognizing Enzo's attempt at a diversion, but he didn't feel the need to call him on it. Nor did he feel the desire to take the blood bag from him; that wasn't he wanted tonight.

"As a matter of fact, I am quite hungry-but I'm in the mood for something a little…warmer," Damon shot back, his upper lip curling in an expression that hadn't adorned his face since long before he died. He tilted his chin in the direction of the church's exit, beginning to head towards it. "Coming?"

He didn't wait to see if Enzo was following before striding out of the church's front doors and into the open night, keen on doing something he hadn't done in quite a while-something he hadn't planned on ever doing again.

Hunting.

Just like the night he and Enzo had gone after Aaron Whitmore together, the younger vampire was lying in the middle of the road-a couple of blocks from the church they'd just left-and waiting for the next car to come down the rise, while Damon watched attentively from the shadows.

It was the first time Damon had run this scheme since that night, and the first night he'd gone out with the intention of feeding on someone since he and Enzo had gone on their Augustine killing spree, and he found himself, unlike then, strangely void of any thoughts of Elena or Stefan, or anything besides who his victim tonight was going to be.

He didn't have to wait long for an answer; only moments after they'd taken their positions, a car appeared in the left lane, headlights on low and music audible through the slightly grimy windows. That was usually a sign that the driver wouldn't notice anything unless there was an actual impact-but Enzo was lucky: the driver pulled over about a foot before they would have hit him, and came running out with their music still blasting behind them.

From his spot by one of the street lamps, Damon was able to see that it was a woman, who appeared to be in her twenties, with blonde hair and dark brown eyes. Her stiletto heels made loud clacking noises on the asphalt as she ran toward Enzo's prone form, an expression of horror on her light-skinned features.

"Oh my god," Damon heard her exclaim, eyes wide as she knelt down next to Enzo, scanning him frantically, probably searching for any sign of injuries. "Sir, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She jumped nearly a foot in the air when Enzo suddenly sat up, turning towards her with a distinctly predatory look gleam in his hazel eyes.

"I feel just fine, love," Enzo responded silkily. Then, he blurred, reappearing behind her, lips ghosting over her ear as he added, "But you won't be in a moment."

Before the woman could ask what he was talking about-or say anything more at all-Damon appeared in front of her, fangs plunging into her neck without any further preamble.

Her mouth opened in a piercing scream, and she tried to fight him off, hitting his shoulders with her hands; but he held her fast, making her unable to get free.

That first mouthful was like electricity running through Damon's body. It had been far too long since the last time he'd had the taste of fresh human blood on his tongue; he'd almost forgotten that thick, rich flavour-he'd almost forgotten how good it felt to drain the life out of someone, to hold a victim in his arms and feel it as the energy went out of their bodies.

The woman screamed again, begging him to stop, asking him why he was doing this, but Damon didn't answer her-and her pleas didn't deter him at all. If anything, it just spurred him on more, prompting him to hold her tighter, to bite harder into her flesh.

As he took steadily more and more blood from the woman, he felt her struggles growing weaker and heard her pulse fading against his mouth.

When she went limp in his arms, he finally released her, tossing her onto the ground like a rag doll. Eyes closed, he tilted his head back, reveling in the familiar thrill of having just ended a human life. Blood ran down his chin and dripped from the tips of his fangs, but he made no move to clean himself up. He wanted to enjoy this; the complete lack of remorse or self-hatred, the familiar shivers of pleasure running through him-it was almost like being back in the old days before Elena, before anyone had been able to make him feel bad for being what he was.

He opened his eyes again after a moment, and saw Enzo watching him with an expression Damon couldn't identify on his olive-skinned features. He was strangely unbothered, though-even when Enzo's eyes seemed to follow his tongue as it flicked out to lick his lips clean, and that expression intensified.

Whatever it was, Enzo played it off with a crooked smile, clapping Damon on the shoulder in a-seemingly forced-friendly manner.

"It's good to have you back, mate," he said, a similar forcedness in his voice-as well as a note of uncertainty.

Damon's mouth quirked slightly as well. It was a little strange, having Enzo treat him this way after what had happened between them before he'd died; but he didn't feel the need to analyze it-at least, not at the moment-so he let it go.

"It's good to be back," he responded, letting out a soft exhilarated breath, returning the smile-but with an unfamiliar darker edge.

This is no longer the vampire you knew