Disclaimer: No, no, I don't own it.

I'm sorry. It's difficult to say that this is the last chapter, (bar the epilogue, which will be up on Monday), because this has been a fucking ride filled with highs, lows, goofy Damon and Dangerous D. You guys have been more awesome than an awesome thing, though, and you've blown my mind all over. So it wrecks me to post this. But I am. G1rlanachr0n1sm, Pandora03, Billimonroe, mouse555... you all massively own me. Like a lot.

There's another Author's note at the bottom for you to read, as well.

Hm. Enjoy? Maybe. Tissues? Probably.

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26th December, 2010

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So, it had come to this. Damon Salvatore, standing alone, once again, at just past midnight on Boxing Day, staring up at the ceiling and building up the courage to let go. It was happening all over again. His head was spinning, his undead heart pounding louder than he could ever have thought as static rushed around his head.

He could barely breathe.

There was no denying that things in Mystic Falls were darker now. Shades of black were everywhere in the middle of the night, people were suspicious; Damon was apart from them all, revelling in the feeling. Reviling the feeling.

Shadows felt more difficult to force away, and though he would never, ever admit it, Damon felt scared. It was probably, he reasoned, due to the almost painful amount of Power within him, throwing his senses haywire, making him gasp aloud as he tried to release some of the onslaught, and with every throb which exploded through him, through his fingertips and down to his toes, he felt a little weight fall from him. From the anchor which lay heavy in his chest.

It didn't hurt as much anymore, yet, as another throb surged through him, he let out a keening groan and launched to his feet. He was filled with absolute fury and sheer pain. A combination of the past decade boiling up, exploding into being. Suddenly, he was sprinting through the Boarding House at a speed even he had not anticipated, deadly volumes of Power building within him.

God be with whoever ran into Damon Salvatore in the middle of the night.

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He had supposed it was raining, that the heavens had opened as he ran through the empty cemetery, water falling upon his cheeks and into his eyes, forcing him to shake his head, throw it from side to side like a dog to clear his blurred, shattered vision.

For once in his second life, Damon felt human. He felt breakable, he felt as though he would do anything to begin again – as long as it took away the searing pain that was convulsing through him.

This, he mused, was truly a loss of control.

He was standing silent in the road beside the Old Wood when he realised that it was not the weather, but that he was sobbing aloud, tears dripping down his cheeks and pain ripping through his chest every time he tried to breathe.

"I'm sorry!" He shouted at the sky, not knowing who, or what, could hear him, but hoping against hope that someone would be there to hold his hand.

No. He did not deserve comfort. He did not deserve company. He deserved to die alone, cold and naked, kicking and screaming in the largest amount of pain he had ever thought he could experience.

Damon Salvatore would always be alone.

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"Damon?" It was her voice. At least, he thought so, but it was just a delusion, and however reluctantly, he knew it. For a second, he basked in the glow of the brightness she always brought with her, then, his fantasy exploded around him and he was left, once more, in the dark.

Wheeling around, Damon saw the tiny figure of Bonnie emerging slowly from the Old Wood. She was well dressed, as usual, and Damon felt another surge of sadness as she looked him up and down.

"What're you doing here?" His walls went up as he spoke, but it was the answer that he got which terrified him.

"Simply existing. Just like you." She stopped pacing when she stood about eight feet in front of him and held up her hands to prove she was no threat, "You're going to the High School, aren't you?" She asked the question simply – as though she knew the answer anyway, with no sense of worry, humour or concern, just simple resignation.

It was as though she just didn't care. Damon almost laughed at the thought, then returned to reality, to look into her eyes. He shrugged tiredly, feigning nonchalance, but still trying to catch his breath.

"Maybe," He shrugged and shook his head, "I... I don't know." He shrugged again, steadily beginning to centre himself, "If I were to head that way, how would I get onto the roof?"

Bonnie didn't seem fazed by the question; in fact, she seemed painfully aware that she was conversing with danger incarnate.

"There are steps from the history rooms to the roof garden," She stretched up and grinned lazily as Damon watched her, "And you can get from the roof garden to the other buildings if you've got a decent jump on you." She stopped again, "You're a vampire. You've got a good stride, no?" It was as though she was appraising him, as she took a couple of steps toward him and he stepped back, ready to start moving again.

"Thank you, Bonnie." He nodded and turned away. Her lips quirked into a half smile. For her, from him, it was enough. "Go home and get some sleep."

"Goodbye, Damon," She called softly as he turned away to disappear into the night, "And bless you."

She blinked, and he was gone, shimmering trails of darkness and gold the only remnants of a young man troubled in an irreparable way.

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It took Damon a considerably shorter time to break into the school than he had thought was possible. There were so few security measures placed upon the building that he wondered whether simply sneezing would blow the doors wide open. He didn't stop to try.

As a vampire, blessed with brilliant eyesight, amplified senses and god knows what other sensory advantages, it was easy for Damon to navigate his way through the expanse of corridors and find the slim, spiral staircase which led to the school's roof garden, but as a man, it took him a long time to find the courage to enter the hallway alone.

He stood on the threshold of the corridor, rocking back and forth on his heels and staring up into the blackness and darkness of the night. It was as though he was waiting for someone to appear. Anyone. Anything. He was desperate and alone.

"Hold my hand." Damon whispered, begged into thin air as he stepped through the doorway to the roof and found himself standing alone with an incredible vista across the rooftops of the entire town.

He could see everything, and he realised that there was nothing left for him.

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It took him three steps to abandon his leather jacket, placing it on the bench of the roof garden as he passed, a feeling of final elation spreading through him like wildfire.

They wouldn't have understood what he was thinking at that moment – how he felt. They definitely didn't understand the world around them as well as he did – love and loss went hand in hand, and it would take a lot of time to comprehend it all. If he had had a proper religion, Damon would have prayed for the town itself – for his brother, for Bonnie, and for dear, sweet Elena, who seemed to care when nobody else seemed to give a damn.

He felt the tears rising in his throat as he sat slowly on the dewy roof of the dark, empty High School and curled up, drawing his knees up to his chest as he held his hand up in front of him, letting out a soft laugh.

This felt so wrong, but so, so right.

Leaning back to look up at the sky, he undid the top two buttons of his shirt and let out a sigh as he watched the Lapis Lazuli stone twinkle in the darkness before dawn.

"I love you," He murmured, "And I'm sorry." It seemed that all he ever did was apologise.

In one swift movement, he pulled the ring from his finger and threw it as hard as he possibly could, out into the distance until it was gone – into the blackness and lost to him forever.

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When the sun rose, Damon was on his feet and he was set firm, trying, for all the world, to appear as though he did not fear a thing. Each ray exploded into being, and hit him, starting at his bare feet, rising up, and stripping him bare. His first thought was that it hurt. Everything hurt, every part of him, but he wondered whether that was from the Power which was exploding from within every inch of him as the sun rose over the horizon, opposed to the actual sunlight.

Beams of light struck him and he almost began to dance around like a puppy chasing shadows to avoid them, until his self control won out, and, clenching his fists in an incredible display of his will, he thought of the only thing which would get him through something like this.

He thought of her.

Of the hair which gleamed auburn in the sunlight, but when she stepped into the shade became black and yet still gleamed. Of the soft, pink lips which had kissed him more than once, twice, a million times, and told him that she loved him.

That she knew him.

That she would stay with him forever.

Forever.

The walls inside his chest exploded, pressure and burning in the most dreadful combination making him desperate to give in, to cry.

She was slim, in a damn-white-lacy-off-the-shoulder-thing.

It was his hands and face which surrendered first, pure sunlight disintegrating even the bracelet which he wore around his defenceless wrists.

She tasted like summer, as though all she would eat was strawberries.

As though he had a fever, fire, spread by circulation, a feeling of sheer anguish spread up his limbs, through his muscles as though it were lactic acid to a runner.

She was beautiful, no, incomparable, nothing in the world came close.

The last thing on Earth that Damon Salvatore saw was the sheer, raw beauty of a sunrise.

Francesca was his.

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26th December, 2010, 11AM

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Elena barrelled through the streets of Mystic Falls, not caring that more than once, she fell over, more than once, embarrassment shone through and she felt her face heating up in the explosion of cold which she experienced every so often, wind bracing her, forcing her to stiffen at every intersection and sprint across icy roads.

She had to get to him.

When she reached the Salvatore place, she pounded her tiny fists on the heavy oak door, and was almost disappointed to see Stefan holding the door open, staring back at her with a half-smile on his face.

"Elena, I didn't expec-"

In a half-second, she had sprinted past him, breezed past him and raced to the second floor, shoving open Damon's bedroom door and pulling violently at the bedclothes, almost tearing the spread apart in the hopes that he was lying there, sleeping. That she could wake him.

"He's not here, Elena." Stefan's voice echoed from the doorway, and her heart dropped straight through her stomach.

He wasn't there. She finally understood, she got it, and He. Wasn't. There.

"Why didn't you stop him?" She turned and shrieked at him, face reddened by the cold, and the sheer panic that was rising in her, "You knew, didn't you?" Stefan didn't understand at all, "You knew it would come to this!"

"Come to what? I don't understand-"

"He's gone! Stefan, Damon's..." She shook her head and clutched at her hair, "No! Damon! Come out, you bastard!" As Stefan wrapped his arms around her, hearing her screams and hoping that they would stop as she beat against his chest with her fists, he knew it was all too late. The tears, the emotion and the pleas for him to return were falling on ears that couldn't hear them.

Even if it was possible, he wouldn't have come.

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A/N: The following is properly long, and probably very annoying, and should have been left to the epilogue, but I want to get it in here:

1: There will be Five official outtakes for this story, which I will be publishing from the 18th of July, over a couple of weeks. They will be the same length as a chapter, but will be outtakes. Obviously.

2: To those who have reviewed; dear god, I love you. You're awesome. You've made me smile, laugh, cry, giggle, sob, and have left me speechless too.

3: I have three REAL DElena oneshots (and twoshots) that I am lining up. One is already half-typed, and will be coming later on this week... I'm really sorry if I faked you out on the DElena front in this story... but yaknow. I'll try to make it up to you.

4: to xxxbulletxxx, and anybody else who doesn't get or "see the point" in this story, let me break it down to the simple message: Damon was not in stasis for a century and a half, and he did not spend it alone. He did things in the 145 years between Katherine and Elena that he was not proud of, that hurt him, and other people, and that he cannot erase. He made mistakes, and he met the one person who he thought he could have for eternity. Karma's a bitch, and everything came rushing back to the point where he could not keep going. This is the story of that time, and the point in time where he realised that he really, really had nothing to live for. So yeah. Hm. That's all. *steps off of soap box and closes notebook*

5: fuck. Just, thankyou. If you've enjoyed this story, or hated it, or have five minutes and fancy a chat... please review. I'd love to see this hit 100 reviews. Which is arrogant, but it would be lovely.

Tha's all, and yeh, I've chatted utter BS, but thank you! And thank you ALL so much for sticking with me! Epilogue will be up on Monday. MONDAY, I say.