I'm Never The One | Bamon

Chapter 32: 'A Few Good Men'

KATHERINE PIERCE WAS ONCE THE ONLY THING GETTING HIM THROUGH DECADE TO DECADE, BUT NONE OF THAT MATTERS NOW THAT DAMON KNOWS SHE WAS NEVER IN NEED OF SAVING, ALL ALONG, THIS WHOLE TIME- SO...FUCK THAT BITCH

It's been a long while since the night that his very reason to exist had been ripped away from him, it's almost like the very idea of Katherine Piece died with his dreams of being with her. So, let's just say that Damon Salvatore is grieving in his own way.

'I don't like it when you break me, honey'

Undoubtedly getting a blood high, he continues to guzzle from a sorority girl's neck as the study room speakers boom with Jet's most recent single 'black hearts' as a couple of the girl's half naked sorority sisters dance all around them, bites littered on their arms and thighs.

The room is dim, but the curtains are open and some natural light shines through- given that it's barely noon.

The girl, Heather or Harriet-something- he can't begin to remember, starts swaying in his arms to the beat.

'Your black hearts waited too long'

"How do I taste?" She asks with a cheeky grin.

His head tilts back as he finishes swallowing, moaning as his hunger satiates.

"So much better than your friends," He whispers slushily in her ear, "But...don't tell them," He places a finger to his blood stained lips, "They might get jealous."

'Your hearts on fire, so come on, burn brighter'

Suddenly the lights come on, him and the girls release a chorus of groans as they wince at the artificial brightness.

"No," He boos at his brother as his head dips in drunken annoyance, "Buzzkill Bob."

He doesn't even need to open his eyes to see the furrowed brows brooding at him from the room's entrance.

"Greetings."

"Can we talk?"

"Yeah." He sighs, swaying on unsteady feet.

"Without the Tri-Delts?" Stefan requests, referring to the much more inebriated early twenty-somethings.

"Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of them," He teases mischievously, "They're really good at keeping secrets."

He holds back a groan at the younger Salvatore as he looks down at his feet in disapproval.

Leaving the girls to the left over beer, seeing as the liquor cabinet is completely cleared out, he goes off to the side to have a 'heart-to-heart' with his little brother.

"You're worried about me. That's nice," He starts after taking a swig from the nearly finished bottle of tequila, "Don't be, there's no need. I'm fine, why wouldn't I be? I spent the last one hundred and forty-five years with one goal: get in that tomb," He points at Stefan, slightly wobbling, "I succeeded. Granted, Katherine wasn't in there to be rescued, but why dwell?" Ignoring another look of concern, he continues, "You know, it's so liberating not having a master plan...because I can do whatever the hell I want."

"That's kind of what I'm afraid of."

"Relax," He drawls, lifting his hands up as a claim of innocence, "I haven't killed anyone in...too long."

He sees him look back to the other inhabitants of the room, "Those girls?"

"Will end up in their dorm, with headaches. 'Think they blacked out, business as usual. Predictably, you didn't pull me over here for a pep talk," He offers the brooder the bottle, aiming at and hitting his chest, "So, drink up. Spill it, brother."