Wow, I really shouldn't be starting new stories right now but I seriously couldn't not write this right away. Since I'm lazy and don't want to research a specific illness, I'll just be making one up. "Degrader cerveau" means deteriorating brain in French and I'll be sticking to that for this made up disease. I think just that name should be a solid explanation as to what the disease is. It's basically supposed to destroy your brain—cause hallucinations, delusions, etc. until it just eats up your whole brain, killing you. Yes, I got this idea from Damon getting bitten by Tyler and this story might sound a little bit like the movie Love And Other Drugs as well. As the story progresses, you will learn more and more about the disease. But feel free to leave questions!

I also decided this fiction will be spanned out across two years—you'll see why when you read this chapter.

"There isn't any easy way to say this, Mister Salvatore." The Doctor said grimly.

I arched my brow at him expectantly. Great. More bad news. I had been looked at by at least seven doctors now. I knew that whatever was going on with me was rare and definitely not good. All the doctors had told me that they didn't want to jump to conclusions then passed me on to someone they thought was more capable of confirming whatever fears they had. I had finally found one that had the balls to tell me what the hell was going on.

It had been two weeks since it all started. It was strange and sudden. I was with my brother, Stefan, when it happened first. It had started off as a headache but it only got worse. My head was throbbing and I remember seeing flashes. I remember Stefan yelling my name and calling for my dad but I also remember that I was calling to someone too. Someone that was right beside Stefan with equal amount of worry and panic on her face. My mother.

Only she died ten years ago.

"Well?" I waited, crossing my arms across my chest.

"Maybe you should sit down." He suggested kindly.

"No thanks. Just tell me what the hell is wrong with me." I snapped.

The doctor pressed his lips together to form a thin line and sighed. "Very well. Mister Salvatore, you have a very rare disease. So rare that it is almost off the map. I have seen it once before in my career—which is why you were sent to me. You have Degrader Cerveau—it's French for deteriorating brain. You don't have an extreme case of schizophrenia like some other doctors suggested—I'm afraid degrader cerveau is far worse."

I blinked, absorbing what he was telling me. A rare disease huh? Just perfect. "Deteriorating brain… So it does share qualities with schizophrenia?" I asked.

"Yes. But this disease is like a tumor, it spreads and spreads. It grows at a much faster rate than schizophrenia and its symptoms are far greater." He explained.

"And? There was something else you wanted to tell me." I pressed.

"Well… Mister Salvatore, you see… The survival rate isn't very high—actually I don't believe there have been any cases where the patient has survived."

And then it was silent. He was giving me time to get used to the fact that I was going to die. He was giving me time to adjust to the fact that I was dying. "How long?" I said hoarsely.

"I can't say, exactly, Mister Salvatore—I—My last patient—" But I didn't let him finish.

"How long?" I repeated, my tone harsher.

"Two years at the most. I'm very sorry. We're going to do everything we can." He was obligated to say that last bit. Damon knew that he wasn't lying but he also knew that the doctor knew there wasn't too much to do really. "I suggest living your life as normally as possible—enjoy what you have. I can prescribe you medicine to reduce the symptoms but I can't make them go away."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'll keep in touch." My face and tone were void of emotions—they needed to be.

I was dying.

"Damon, where are you?" I finally made out after asking him to repeat it over and over again. To be fair, this had nothing to with my degrader cerveau. I couldn't hear a thing being in this nightclub with the pulsing music and the crowds. Ever since I told Stefan about my impending doom, he seemed to get so much more protective of me. Which was bull shit. I was the older brother therefore I was the caretaker. He wasn't supposed to worry about me. He wasn't supposed to be reminding me to take my medicine or driving me to the doctor's regularly. He wasn't the one that was supposed to be going to the ends of the earth to try and figure out a way to save me. There was no way to save me. I had come to terms with my death but it seemed like my little brother was having a little trouble with it. It had been three months since the doctor told me that I was going to die.

I had spent the first few weeks moping. The drinking had started right away—that very night, actually. But it was only drinking first. I was lost in the endless alcohol. I was numb. I suppose I still am. But it's better not to feel at all than to indulge myself in my emotions. Soon, I was getting sick of that numb feeling so went back to what I was good at. Sex. I drowned myself in sex, drugs, and alcohol. It was becoming a pattern that I was becoming quite comfortable with. I never felt regrets before and I certainly didn't feel them now.

But it was nice to know that I wouldn't be around long enough to deal with many consequences.

"I can't hear you!" I slurred into the phone. I needed to lie. I didn't want him to have to come pick me up. Not yet, at least. It wasn't like I had anyone else either. Even though I hated that he did so much for me, I had to admit that I did appreciate it.

"Damon! Are you at—"

"I gotta go, Stef! I see this blond eyeing me from across the bar." I smirked, shutting the phone and taking the last sips of my bourbon before walking over to that blond.

"Hey there." I winked, sliding into the stool next to hers.

"Hi." She giggled, glancing down at the bar top before looking back up at me. She was a cute thing—blue eyes, curly blond hair and her body wasn't that bad either.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Caroline." She answered, still smiling. "What's yours?"

But I didn't hear her question because I caught sight of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I really hope I wasn't seeing things—not that it would come as a surprise, really. She had long, straight dark brown hair and smooth ivory colored skin—delicious ivory colored skin. And oh, god her eyes. They were biggest, brownest, and warmest eyes I had ever seen. I wanted her. I had to have her if it was the last thing I did.

I shook my head, remembering Caroline in front of me who was looking at me oddly. "I'm sorry, what?"

"What's your name?" She repeated.

"Damon. Look, Caroline, it was great meeting you. I have to leave." But when I looked up, she was gone.

Fuck. Had I really imagined her? I couldn't have. No doubt she was too good to be true… But how could I tease myself like that? Really. I wasn't going to give up right away. She couldn't have gotten very far in only a few seconds, right? I walked away from Caroline and began to head towards the direction that I had seen her in. No luck. All I got was sweaty, drunk people grinding against each other.

I don't think I felt this panic before—even when I first found out I was dying. I was afraid that this was just the sickness acting up. I wanted her. She had to be real. She just had to be. I didn't know why this was becoming so important to me all of the sudden but she had me under a spell and she hadn't even looked at me. Damn it.

I began to push through the crowds as I searched and I could feel my head start to pound.

"Don't put yourself under too much pressure, Damon—it only makes the symptoms worse." I remembered the doctor telling me. This was considered under pressure? I guess it was a good thing I was drowning myself in doing absolute emptiness. If it made the symptoms worse, that meant I would probably start seeing things soon.

I had to find her before it got too bad. I usually didn't get too many hallucinations—the doctor said that it would progress and get worse as time went on because the disease would spread through out my brain. So it made perfect sense that my hallucinations weren't so reoccurring and I'd managed to keep myself out of pressure—that probably helped.

Then I spotted her. Those long legs in the sexy heels—her white dress that was so tempting yet still so modest. I didn't understand the effect she had on me. Then I spotted her again. She was on the other side of the club. There were two of them? Fuck, was she really a hallucination then? Another one appeared in front of me. She was silent. Just watching me. I didn't know what to do so I ran. I ran out of that club, ignoring the glares and the curses I got for rudely shoving people aside.

"Oh my god! Are you okay?" I heard someone say as I bolted through the doors, gasping in the fresh air.

I probably looked terrible. I knew I was sweaty—not sweaty like the people inside—I was drenched in my own sweat. I might have been crying too. What the hell was wrong with me? I turned my head to see her. Her voice was almost as sweet as her appearance.

"You're real." I wheezed. And the last thing I remember, she was rushing towards me as the world went dark.

I know this is short. All my first chapters are short. But I'd really love your input! Review!