Hey everyone! Another update is here, though I know it's not the one you're expecting, like the follow-up on Bonnie's activities. But hey, progress is progress, right? Don't worry, I'm already writing and finishing up the next chapter.
If you've noticed, this chapter contains Enzo's and Damon's POVs. I tried to capture their personalities from TVD, with Enzo's being really descriptive, considering he's been trapped for decades and his mind is his only entertainment. Damon's POV, on the other hand, carries his sarcastic manner of speaking.
Let me know if I got them right or if they're a bit too out of character. Anyway, enjoy the read!
DISCLAIMER: Hey, quick heads up – there are supposed to be pictures here, but I couldn't include them. If you're curious, you can check out my Wattpad profile: bby178, where you'll find the full story with all the images. Just a reminder, the characters from TVD and TO aren't mine, but the plot's my own creation. Also, since I don't have a beta reader, I rely on an AI, ChatGPT, for grammar tweaks. Anyway, go ahead and give it a read – hope you enjoy!
Enzo's POV (Thoughts he had before he got freed by Bonnie)
How many fleeting years have slipped through my grasp? Yet, my ultimate goal remains as elusive as ever—freedom. I find myself still tethered, bound, and ensnared in this seemingly inescapable prison, courtesy of that godforsaken and sadistic Gilbert. A doctor, they call him—an unholy practitioner unworthy of such a title. He revels in torment and conducts twisted experiments upon me, offering no salvation. Oh, the frustration! From one doctor to another, the cycle persists. -sigh- Where am I now? How did I find myself in this predicament? The memories slip through my grasp like water. Their relentless use of vervain has left my mind shrouded in a fog, obscuring the events that led to my confinement. The wretched Augustine society, architects of my misery. Yes, even the passage of time eludes my fractured consciousness.
Within this forsaken prison of mine, time engages in its cheeky game of hide and seek, slipping away like a mischievous ghost. Days meld into weeks, and the concept of years? It's slowly fading into the dusty corners of my memory. The clock, once my trusty sidekick, now surrenders to a downright unsettling silence, prompting me to question whether even Father Time has lost track of my existence.
Days and nights within this realm seamlessly blend into a grand masquerade, set against the backdrop of a perpetual labyrinth of gloom. Time folds in on itself, forming an unsolvable knot that leaves me here, scratching my head in perpetual perplexity.
The pain in this place? It's no subtle tap on the shoulder; it's a full-blown symphony of suffering, an unrelenting ache that gleefully dances with every beat of my cursed heart. Torture, abuse, and violence have become the unwelcome partners in my twisted dance, chaining and shackling me until the very notion of freedom seems like a distant whisper in the recesses of my mind.
Every passing moment seamlessly merges into an endless tapestry of suffering. The relentless monotony of captivity blurs the boundaries between yesterday and today, casting me as a captive spectator to the unyielding agony unfolding on the stark stage of cold, unforgiving walls. Each day feels like a cruel encore of the last, with the only audience, aside from those inhumane doctors who delight in my torture, being the echoing silence that reverberates through the confines of my desolate prison.
Yes, I endure a lot. Even these chains tightly constricting my body, and the shackles pressing heavily on my fatigued limbs. These plain, lifeless walls have enclosed and confined me for countless years. However, let it be known — these physical constraints will never imprison or fetter the indomitable spirit residing within me. No matter the weight of the chains or the coldness of these walls, the flame of resilience burns brightly within, untamed and unyielding.
I vehemently resist succumbing to the encroaching darkness that seeks to engulf my very essence. Despite the ceaseless torment, a resilient glimmer of hope persists — a flame unwilling to be extinguished by the icy winds of despair. In the face of unrelenting adversity, this flicker of hope remains my steadfast companion, a beacon that guides me through the relentless shadows that threaten to consume me.
Freedom, as elusive as a whisper in the wind, remains a luxury I am unwilling to forsake. Amidst the relentless torment, I cling to the unwavering belief that one day, these chains will shatter, and the four-sided prison enveloping me will crumble. The unyielding grip of physical restraints attempts to snuff out every spark of vitality within me, their cold and unfeeling grasp relentless. Despite being a prisoner in body, the resilience of my spirit remains undefeated. My soul defiantly yearns for the tantalizing taste of freedom, just beyond my reach. From the shadows, I shall emerge into the radiant light of liberation.
In the symphony of suffering, the melody of hope plays on, and my resolve to break free from the confining shackles remains steadfast. Though the journey may be arduous, the flame of liberation burns bright within me, propelling me toward a destiny where the spirit knows no bounds. Enduring a multitude of tortures, from those wretched individuals probing my innards to experimenting on my body, breaking it repeatedly—yet, here I stand, unbroken. My spirit refuses to yield, and I'll be damned if I shatter in front of those fools. Each torment endured only adds fuel to the fire, intensifying the blaze that will ultimately consume the chains of my captivity.
Oh, Augustine, with their delusions of taming and molding me into some obedient specimen. How laughable. This captivity only serves to fuel the flames within me. I am Lorenzo St. John, not a mere lab rat subjected to their whims. Every ounce of pain inflicted, every scar etched into my flesh bears witness to their cruelty. But mark my words, with each wound, my thirst for vengeance intensifies. They may believe they've subdued me, but little do they know that revenge will be my sweetest escape. The day will inevitably come when these walls crumble, and Augustine will taste the fury of a vampire scorned. In the grand tapestry of torment, my defiance stands as an indomitable thread, weaving the narrative of my eventual liberation.
Now, if you were to ask me again how many years have passed, I'd have to admit, I really cannot say. Time, my friend, is a ghost haunting my fractured mind. All I know is this unending ache, erasing the notion of past and future. In this suspended reality, I grapple with the enigma of time, a prisoner to its intangible grasp.
In this forsaken realm, alliances prove fleeting, and loyalties hang delicately in the balance. Yet, amid the whispers of agony and the cries of those irreparably broken, a spark of camaraderie ignites. Fellow prisoners, if fortune allows for such companionship, become kindred spirits in our shared suffering. Together, we exchange tales of defiance, finding solace in the fragments of humanity that persist. I still vividly recall that traitor—the one I once called my comrade, my friend. Damon Fucking Salvatore, who callously abandoned me to my fiery demise, only to witness my fall into the clutches of this wretched society. The very individual I entrusted with my share of blood for our escape plan, and this was how he repaid me. The betrayal is so bitterly heart-wrenching, it's almost laughable. In this tapestry of treachery, the threads of deceit weave a narrative that fuels the fire of my determination for retribution.
Humor, my old friend, persists as my most potent weapon. I find amusement in the cruel twist of fate that condemned me to endure decades of pain and torture. I laugh defiantly in the face of despair, mocking Augustine's feeble attempts to crush my spirit. A clever remark here, a sardonic smile there – they grossly underestimate the power of a sharp tongue in a world intent on silencing me.
As the days meld into nights, I cling to memories of a life beyond these confining walls. Lily's betrayal and abandonment, Damon's friendship turned sour with yet another betrayal – these memories stoke the embers of my determination. I refuse to be forgotten, and I won't succumb to the obscurity of Augustine's twisted experiments.
The thirst for blood is not the sole hunger that gnaws at me. It's the hunger for freedom, for retribution, for a life unshackled from the horrors of this place. Augustine may have stolen my humanity once, but I will not allow them to strip me of my essence.
Oh. What's that sound? A heartbeat. I had assumed that sadistic Gilbert had vacated the premises, indicating it's somewhere around midnight on who-knows-what day. Hmmm... burglary?
-clink- clink- These infernal shackles and chains, suspending me on this wall, infuriate me to no end. I'm so weak and hungry that I can't do a damn thing. I swear, once I break free from this, I will wreak havoc on that accursed society, starting with the sadistic Gilbert. The metallic echoes of my restraints become a relentless drumbeat, fueling the fury building within me. My weakness is only a temporary setback; the promise of vengeance grows stronger with each passing moment, a storm waiting to be unleashed upon those who dared to imprison me.
-crash-shatter-bang-smash- Now, I hear things breaking. Burglary, it seems. I hope they got too curious and stumble upon me. -click- Oh, lucky me. They did get too curious. I hear their heartbeat getting closer, synchronized with their footsteps.
I finally look up when I notice eyes fixed on me. Hmmm... a child? A little girl. Why is she here? Don't tell me. She's the burglar? I speak in a rough, hoarse voice, it's been so long since I spoke without being tortured, "What does a little girl like you doing in a place like this this late?"
No conceivable way she's going to help me, right? Though she is a little girl, she might find my situation pitiful and release me. I don't want to be pitied, but this is my chance. Freedom awaits me now in the form of this little angel. In the game of desperation, even the most unlikely players may hold the key to unlocking the chains that bind me.
"I saw you in a vision. You've been held captive and tortured for experimentation purposes for so many years. I'm here to free you from it," she told me. This is too good to be true. " In the wake of her revelation, skepticism courses through me. A vision? A witch offering freedom? Even as little as she is, she is still a witch. Though I don't think she's finished yet. "I'm not asking for anything except that you don't harm me after I release you from your chains. I'll even throw in a daylight earring." It seems improbable, yet the allure of liberation eclipses my doubts. I weigh her words cautiously, pondering the potential pitfalls of trusting this unexpected savior.
Yup, this is too good to be true. A witch not only helps me but also doesn't ask for anything? Nah, uh. This might be one of my delusions of freedom. However, my delusion seems to be continuing our conversation of me attaining my freedom. "Do we have a deal?"
A deal? Hmm... what's the deal about again? Ah yeah, not hurting her after she releases me, and she'll even give me a daylight earring? Wait, is that even possible? Though I've seen a vampire using a bracelet, so maybe it is. The lingering disbelief in the air is palpable, my mind grappling with the surreal nature of the offer. I can't let go of this chance. Hallucination, delusion, or not? Nope, I'll take it. Despite the skepticism, the prospect of freedom beckons, and with a cautious nod, I respond, "We have a deal. Please release me, little girl. -clink-thud-
I'm free! Oh, and there are free blood bags too. This angelic savior, a true gift, has granted me both release and sustenance. Oh, sweet freedom. It's also accompanied by a fiery ending. Nice! I can't wait to see that bastard Gilbert's face when he sees this. It will be bloody glorious!
Damon's POV (Thoughts he had before his reunion with Enzo)
Well, look at me, the star of my own lackluster drama, posing on this balcony like I'm auditioning for the lead role in a discount soap opera. Flying solo? You bet. Rocking a smug smirk? Double trouble. Sarcasm pouring out like the low-budget cologne of someone convinced they're God's gift? Naturally. I've danced through ecstasy and agony, flirted with the edge of madness, and given chaos a bear hug big enough to make it uncomfortable. But let's cut the crap, shall we? Beyond the smoke and mirrors of this whirlwind façade is a mind-numbing routine desperately trying to break free from the prison of monotony. Life's little paradox – pretending it's a thrill ride while secretly yearning for a snooze-inducing snoozefest. Classic, isn't it?
Sipping my glass of bourbon, drowning in the vast abyss of my thoughts. Just a little trip down memory lane, shall we? The age-old question: how did I stumble into this supernatural circus of chaos? How did my life transform into this thrilling cocktail of mayhem and violence? Turning into a vampire flipped everything upside down. Suddenly, I had a whole new set of urges and powers. The constant struggle between my human self and this bloodsucking alter ego was like a never-ending tug of war. Though, since I flipped the switch and shut off my emotions, my human self is still in a state of hibernation. Now, where are we? Oh yeah! Being a vampire had its perks – endless nights, super strength, and the freedom to live life on the edge. But there was a darkness that no amount of glamour could erase.
Plopped down on the chair, soaking in the city lights while draining the bourbon bottle. Ah, reminiscing time. In my human days, violence and abuse were my trusty sidekicks, and guess what? They made it to my vampire life, though I made it a point that I'm the one inflicting them on others. Psychological trauma, perhaps? Don't know, don't care. Though I think it all started when I was born into my family.
Born into privilege, they say, but honestly, I'd trade it all for a fresh start. Daddy dearest, Giuseppe, with his special brand of mistreatment, etched into my psyche since boyhood. His favorite tune? "Lessons," he'd say, every time I fell short of his lofty standards – very abusive in my opinion. No matter how much blood—that's literally by the way—sweat, and tears I poured into impressing him, his eagle eyes always found flaws in my game. Labeled and judged by the whole town, the good-looking, charming Salvatore brother who supposedly tarnished the family name and isn't fit for the esteemed lineage I carry. Dear old dad slapping the ever-charming label of "failure as a son" generously on me. It's like starring in an ongoing series of disappointments every time he shoots me that look. Classic disappointment, right here.
Ugh... Bourbon restock required. Drained the other one dry. Now, where were we? Ah, dear ol' dad, Giuseppe. Wouldn't it be delightful if he had a care-and-pride combo pack in his heart? But nope, that's exclusively reserved for my baby bro, Stefan. According to good ol' dad, if I'm the disappointment and the useless son, Stefan's the one destined to bring greatness to the name "Salvatore." Baby bro practically has his very own cheerleader in the form of dear old father. Stefan's a living saint, incapable of doing any wrong or facing any failure. He's the pride and joy, not just for our pops but for the entire town. The golden boy, as they all love to say. And where do I fit into this picture? Well, I'm not even worth mentioning.
So, as the son who couldn't score any pride points with the old man, I thought, "Why not spice things up with a dash of thrill and rebellion?" I rebelled like there was no tomorrow, sticking it to him and his oh-so-charming "lessons." Chased my own version of excitement, hunted down my happiness with a vengeance. Boundaries? Ha! Trampled all over them, giving zero thought to the fallout. And oh, attention from him did roll in, but surprise, surprise—it came wrapped in a package of annoyance and anger. Not that I lose any sleep over it anymore. Just added to my bitter resentment of them, I guess.
Dear daddy had the brilliant plan to ship me off to war. The Confederate army? Couldn't care less about their values or whatever they stood for; truth be told, I had a secret disdain for them. Then, enter Katherine, making the prospect of dodging military life all the more tempting. In short, I packed my bags and bid farewell to the army. Coward, they'd yell? Well, toss it onto the heap of titles they've already hurled my way in their oh-so-judgmental minds. Not that I give a damn, just another addition to my bitter resentment of everything.
Back then, the one source of solace in my life was the special bond I shared with my baby brother, Stefan—my confidant, my cherished sidekick. Although happy that daddy's "lessons" are only focused on me, I'm a bit bitter about that fact. However, even that rock-solid brotherhood hit a serious bump in the road when Katherine Pierce rolled into town. Her vibe was enchanting, sparking a heated rivalry between Stefan and me to win her over. Yet, it turns out that even in matters of love, I end up on the losing side, playing second fiddle once again. Though my love for her still grows stronger even after uncovering her secret of being a vampire. I didn't fear her at all. Nah, I just watched her bloodsucking escapades with this detached curiosity while subtly telling Stefan to keep a lid on the truth with Giuseppe. Our old man, a hardcore town council member, had this intense hatred for vampires—a reality I was dead set on keeping away from my dear dad's radar.
I need another bottle. -siiiip- However, Stefan, in all his saintly glory, thought it'd be a brilliant idea to spill the beans about Katherine's vampire status to the entire town, and that's when everything hit the fan. Katherine, captured and tossed into the tomb. Father offed us while we were trying to save her, and thanks to Katherine's blood, we joined the ranks of the undead. Wake up to find out she's fried under Fell's Church, making me contemplate the sweet release of death. Life without Katherine seemed pointless, but oh no, Saint Stefan had other plans.
So, my dear brother paints this lovely picture of me – heartless monster, bloodsucker extraordinaire. The irony? He's the puppet master who tossed me into this vampire nightmare, the grand architect of my never-ending misery. Forces me to turn by slurping on dear old dad's blood, whom he accidentally offed. Made a deal with the devil, or in this case, yours truly, and now he's stuck with the fallout. Hah! What a saint he is! Promptly kills our father at the first chance he gets and has the nerve to call me the monster. A super hypocrite! Not exactly saintly, is he? But hey, Mr. Hypocrite now prefers sipping on animal blood to avoid transforming into the Ripper, his alter ego. Sweet irony, indeed. Newsflash, bro – you might be on the "animal-friendly" diet, but you're still the bigger sinner in this dysfunctional duo. The Ripper might be on a leash, but the sins? Those are eternally yours to own.
I rose from my seat, leaned on the railing, and surveyed the bustling city of Chicago. Forgot where exactly I was in this labyrinth. Oh well! Another sip of bourbon to ease the existential mystery. Now, back to my thoughts. Loneliness, my eternal plus-one, my ever-present companion. Ah, here I stand, basking in the glory of my self-imposed isolation, as if it's a gold-medal achievement in the grand sport of kicking people out of my life. Step aside, Olympics, because I've perfected the art of solitude like a seasoned pro. The silence around me practically screams reminders of the fallout from my brilliant decisions, all thanks to my not-so-secret love affair with chaos. Bravo, Damon, you've truly outdone yourself once again. Who needs a crowd when you can relish in the sweet symphony of regrets playing in the background?
Ah, Enzo, the partner I never had, the one who endured pain and torture alongside me back in Augustine, the best friend I could ever hope for. My greatest regret. The reason I flipped my switch for. Looking back, if only I remembered who had the key for that cell, then he'd be right here with me. Flying solo? If he were here, then nope, not anymore. But he's not. One I could never forgive myself for.
And here we are now. *Ugh, the sweet serenade of the girl's groans – a reminder that my attempts at supernatural hospitality weren't exactly lethal. Oh well, she lives to see another day. Mental note: compulsion on the horizon, gotta keep the drama to a minimum. *Sigh*. Back in the day, I played around with girls, but let's face it, that gets old. Now, it's all about the big leagues – women. Specifically, one woman named Katherine Pierce.
Oh, Katherine, the queen of my undead heart. These girls? Just flings, toys for passing the time. I remain true to you. I know it's wrong; I've been raised better. A gentleman, or I used to be. But, since becoming a vampire, my urges and wants are on a thin line. I try to be gentle, but gentleness and caring leads to attachments I don't need. Distractions I don't want. My focus should only be you, my only love. The one my heart yearns for. I'll do anything, anything, to get you back. In all these dark years, a silver lining I cling to. It keeps me clinging to sanity, even though I've already flipped the switch. She's alive.
Katherine's still kickin'. My undead damsel in distress is stuck in a tomb, playing the role of a vampiric damsel-in-eternal-distress. Kept it hush-hush from dear bro Stefan. No need for his saintly presence butting in and stealing my thunder.
Anyway, I struck a deal with Emily Bennett to save her before being sealed and burned in the tomb with a bunch of other vampires on the promise of safeguarding the Bennett family. She even threw in a daylight ring as a bonus. I did hold up my end of the deal, though. Now, I've got a plan that's been aging longer than a bottle of vampire wine. A couple of years, a celestial rock making a comeback, and boom, Katherine's back in the game. Piece of cake, really. Just a crystal and the meteor away from rekindling that immortal flame. Just have to twiddle my thumbs for a measly four years. Patience is a virtue, they say. Well, screw that! Aaahhh! Patience isn't exactly my strong suit but unfortunately for me, that's the name of the game here. However, as undead vampire, it's a breeze. Can't you just feel the excitement? I know I can. Tick-tock, my supernatural reunion awaits.
Emptying my glass, I had to pour another fill of bourbon into it. I only took a sip of it when I heard a very familiar voice. A voice in whom I never expected to hear from again. Enzo. "Hello Damon." -Sqwelp!- Then I felt pain in my back.
Normal POV- Back to the present
A car rolled along the road, making its way toward Mystic Falls. Dressed entirely in black leather and dark attire, a guy in the driver's seat queried, "Are we on the scenic route to Mystic Falls? I mean, does your mystical witch mate reside in that quaint little town?" As they approached, a sign loomed closer, finally becoming readable.
"Guess that answers my question," the guy in the black leather jacket and in all black clothing chuckled, responding to his own inquiry. The other passenger in the car, also donning a black leather jacket and sporting a dark blue v-necked shirt, was the one giving instructions on where to go.
"Oi, will you shut your trap for a couple of minutes, mate?" remarked the guy passenger's seat. "Damon, you've been hounding me with questions all throughout our trip. Please give me a break."
Damon, now recognized as the guy in all black, being his annoyingly snarky self, kept going, "Well, Enzo, I can't wait to meet your little witch mate."
"Sure thing, Damon," Enzo sighed, clearly running low on patience. "I get it, your humanity's back, but you better keep it together, mate. We're about to meet her family, too."
"Chill out, Enzo buddy," Damon smirked, his expression hinting at mischief. "I'm always on my best behavior—especially when it comes to the family of your little mate."
Enzo sighed again, this time exasperated. He knew Damon was bound to do something that might earn him a spot on the Bennett family's blacklist as payback for the stabbing incident. "You realize, staking you was just us settling the score for what you did before. No need to scheme for payback, or I'll find a way to even the score once more."
"Yup, knew that already, Enzo." Damon chuckled, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as he still contemplated a bit of payback.
"Damon, mate, I mean it," Enzo said firmly. "I have a feeling you're gonna regret it if you mess up your first impression with them, especially with the folks."
Damon still smirking, just kept silent and drove their way to town, while Enzo glanced at him suspiciously. "Well, mate, we're here." They passed the park of Mystic Falls and continued on, with Enzo still giving instructions on where to go.
"Well, here it is," Enzo declared theatrically, signaling Damon to Damon pulled up in front of a house that's supposedly familiar—though refurbished, much like a classic with a modern twist.
Damon shot him a sideways glance, taking in the refurbished yet oddly familiar surroundings. "Oh, joy. Another stroll down memory lane," he remarked dryly. "Lead the way, buddy."
"Come on, mate, let's go," Enzo beckoned, leading Damon towards the front door as if it were a grand entrance. He rang the doorbell and added, "And remember, keep the 'mate' banter on mute. Can't confirm it's really her until the big 17."
"So, when you said 'little,' you meant in every sense of the age-word?" Damon replied, raising an eyebrow and smirking. "This is why you've got me on my best behavior, isn't it?" he quipped. "Got it. I'll save the 'mate' commentary for her 17th birthday party, then."
The door swung open, much to Damon's surprise, revealing Sheila Bennett—the descendant of Emily Bennett, whom he had promised to safeguard. "Oh, welcome back, Enzo, and who's this?"
Chapter done! Apologies for the cliffhanger, but it's all part of the fun, right? I'm already knee-deep in writing the next chapter, so hang tight, and feel free to drop some comments. Your feedback gives me the inspiration and ideas for future twists and turns.
Speaking of which, what's your take on the POVs? Do Enzo and Damon feel true to their characters, or did I make them a bit too out of character? I did my best, but I'm open to your thoughts.
Now, here's a big question: Should Bonnie spill the supernatural beans to her circle of friends this early and let them in on the future events she's privy to?
Big thanks for the likes, follows, and votes on my story. Your support means the world to me. Until next time, folks!