Author's Note: Ok, so this is my first Vampire Diaries story, so needless to say, I'm pretty nervous about it :) I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Just playing in the sandbox!

He held the soft material gently in his fingers, trying to make the calloused skin remember.

Trying to make his eyes remember the plush carpets and the heavy cream coloured curtains…the beautifully upholstered chairs with solid wood legs…the lush apple trees and the green grass.

The large Victorian mansion was his home and had been his home for as long as he could remember. It was the house in which his life had started. The immaculately kept rooms had seen and heard it all over the years; the birth of Stefan, the death of their mother, and the collapse of his relationship with his father...political dinners and grand galas with music, dancing and expensive wine. There were memories embedded in those walls that he wished he could forget; he'd even gone as far as to leave with the Confederate Army in an attempt to get away from everything and start his own life, fresh and brand new, regardless of the fact that he didn't necessarily agree with what the Confederates were fighting for. But he was a son of Virginia, and fighting was expected of him.

It hadn't taken him long to realize that he wasn't cut out for a soldier's life, killing in cold blood and living in muddy ditches. He'd been raised to appreciate the beautiful things in life and living the war was not something that he considered beautiful.

After serving for nearly seven months he'd been granted one week's leave and the time he'd spent with Stefan, his little brother, had only reinforced the fact that he didn't want to return to Georgia. The Conscription Act had been passed two years before he'd first donned a Confederate uniform, in the spring of 1862. So, he'd done the only thing he could do-he'd made such a ruckus in Atlanta that his Captain had wanted nothing more than to get rid of him.

Damon Salvatore had packed his bags and with the loud blessing of the Confederates had returned to Mystic Falls, only twenty-four hours after having left.

A bright smile. They extended your leave?

A sly smirk. I was simply having too much fun to return to battle.

And a fierce hug between brothers, finally reunited for good.

That had been the best thing, the expression on Stefan's face when Damon had announced in not so many words that he was home.

Despite the fact that Stefan had been spending all of his free time romancing their house guest, Miss Katherine Pierce, he'd dropped everything and cheerfully volunteered to help carry Damon's torn and tattered bags up to his second floor bedroom.

And that's where Damon had been left to his own devices, given the opportunity to wash himself of the mud and dirt that had built up over those twenty-four hours at the train station in Atlanta. There was a porcelain wash basin sitting on the dresser with a thick wash cloth and Damon let out a slow breath, his skin tingling slightly from the warm water and lice soap.

The familiar shirt he held in his hands had been left out for him, draped over the end of his bed, along with long black pants, suspenders, and his favourite hat— which he knew would leave an indent in his curly black hair within minutes of putting it on.

A warm breeze blew in through the open window causing the billowy white curtains to swirl and with it came the beautiful sound of feminine giggling and joyful laughter.

Walking over to the window, Damon carefully swept the curtain aside and looked out over the lush gardens back behind the mansion. He could see them clearly—Stefan and Miss Pierce-running jovially around the waist-high green hedges, their course seeming to be leading them towards the tall trees and forest at the rear of the property.

He could see the smile on his younger brother's face even from the second floor window and the sight of it made Damon smile as well. For the first time Stefan had found a young woman that was close to capturing his heart, if she hadn't already, and Damon could certainly understand why Stefan was so taken with her.

He'd seen it almost immediately. There was a fire in Katherine, a pilot light that shone through her eyes...through her very skin. She was playful and mischievous, looking up at Damon through her eyelashes with an expression that had given him gooseflesh. There was something about her. What it was, the elder Salvatore brother had no idea, but his instinct told him that it was there. She was different. Different from all of the other young ladies that had spoken with him and smiled at him, sent him subtle hints with propriety and shyness.

Katherine Pierce wasn't shy. In fact, she'd never given any kind of indication that she even knew what shyness was.

Her smiles were enticing and somewhat voracious, and her hints weren't subtle at all.

It wasn't difficult to see why his modest and correct little Stefan would be so love-struck. She was something fresh, something they hadn't seen before...like giving a shiny new bauble to a young child. That bauble becomes that child's world, takes all of their time, because they simply can't bear being separated from it. Every time they play with it they discover something new; another sparkle or design that they hadn't before noticed...which leads to further hours of curious investigation and intrigue.

Katherine was the bauble...and both Salvatore brothers had become curiously intrigued by her.

There was a sudden knock at the door and Damon turned, feeling something within him plummet at the sight of his father.

Giuseppe Salvatore was one of the most well-known people in the small Virginia town. He was wealthy, ruthless and savvy...the kind of man that people couldn't help but automatically respect. He lived in one of the largest and well-kept mansions in the county, had shown strength while facing the death of his wife, and had two sons that were always modest and eye-catching.

It wasn't until Damon had turned twenty that the tension between him and his father had really escalated.

Damon knew what it meant to be a gentleman. A gentleman should always speak clearly and courteously...bow in the presence of ladies...represent his household, his family name, and his father with the utmost civility.

And Damon did all of those things quite well. But just like there was a fire in Katherine Pierce, there was also a fire in Damon Salvatore. A fire that burned so brightly and so hot that he couldn't push it down or keep it a secret. It was a part of who he was. And it was that fire that was responsible for the rift between him and his father; a rift so large that all they could do was stand and stare at each other from their respective sides.

Damon swallowed hard and nodded respectfully in his father's direction. "I trust you're settling in well." The older man said, taking a few measured steps into the room.

"I am, thank you."

"Have you had anything to eat yet? I imagine you must be hungry."

Damon carefully slipped the white shirt over his shoulders, wincing as muscles stretched in his back. "I'll be taking lunch with Stefan and Miss Katherine." He glanced over his shoulder. "I just wanted to make myself presentable."

"You have all that you need?"

"Yes, sir, thank you."

A silence descended over them but Damon was acutely aware of where his father was in the room as he continued getting dressed. He did up the buttons of his shirt before slipping his arms through his suspenders and settling them on his shoulders. His slightly scuffed but comfortable black leather shoes were sitting beside his bed and it wasn't until he bent to put them on that his father spoke again.

"I want you to know that, despite everything, I am very proud of you."

Damon's fingers froze while doing up his shoe laces and he looked up, locking eyes with his father.

He knew that the proper response for such a statement would be thank you, but he could practically feel the words sticking in his throat. His father continued quietly. "Although I don't quite understand your decision not to return to Georgia...I admire you making that decision." Giuseppe shifted his feet slightly. "Also, I know that Stefan has greatly missed having you home."

Damon swallowed. "I have missed him as well."

"The love between brothers." Giuseppe smiled somewhat knowingly, "I'm sure you'll fall into the routine of being back in Mystic Falls soon enough."

"I'm sure I will."

"Yes, well. Carry on. Stefan and Miss Pierce are waiting."

And Damon watched silently as his father took his leave, pulling the bedroom door closed gently behind him.

The scotch burned as it traveled down his throat and Damon relaxed further into the chair, revelling in the feeling of warmth coming from the crackling fire in the large fireplace. It felt like years since he'd last sat in front of that fireplace; thinking of the day's events, thinking of past conversations and words spoken. It was a place of comfort, and it was in front of that fire that he'd had some of his most profound thoughts, although he never told them to anyone else.

He raised the glass to his lips…

"Damon?"

…and nearly dropped it in his lap.

Turning in his chair to look over his shoulder, Damon let out a sigh of relief when his younger brother slowly made his way into the parlour. Even in the somewhat darkened room Damon could see that Stefan's face was sun kissed, a somewhat red tinge to the skin of his nose and cheeks.

"You weren't in your room."

Damon looked back towards the fire. "Yes, I've been wandering."

"You also weren't at dinner."

"I wasn't hungry."

Stefan pulled his hands from his trouser pockets and slowly lowered himself into the armchair beside his brother, letting out a relaxed breath. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, merely being content in each others company. It'd been way too long since the two of them had sat together with no worries, no concerns, no stress or impending departure date.

It was one of the things that was so solid, so sure about their relationship. They could sit together for hours and say nothing, enjoying the silence.

"I have to admit, brother, that I'm concerned."

"Hmm really?" Damon said, somewhat teasingly. "What about, pray tell?"

He was happy to see Stefan smile at the tone of his voice, after all, that's what the tone had been meant to do. He liked it when his little brother smiled...and he liked it even more when he had something to do with it.

"You don't seem yourself. Disappearing almost immediately after lunch, missing dinner entirely; you're being unusually anti-social. Very unlike you."

"Ahh, yes, well. I suppose you have taken on some of my traits and I have taken on yours." The corner of Damon's mouth lifted, "You and Miss Katherine seem to be getting on quite well. I daresay, I don't believe I've ever seen you quite so animated."

"Come now, that's not true—" Stefan trailed off at his brother's disbelieving expression and the hue of red that took over his face had absolutely nothing to do with sunburn. "Well, I can't help it. She's truly charming. So vivacious and fun! Even you have to admit, brother, that there are not many young ladies quite like her in Mystic Falls."

"Yes, I would definitely agree with you."

"And there is no coyness to her! I can't tell you how pleasing it is to engage in conversation with Miss Katherine and not have her blush and cower at every word I say."

"And here I was thinking that you were the one that blushes and cowers at the spoken word." Damon grinned, crossing his legs casually at the ankle. Stefan merely slumped in his chair. "Really now, Stefan, if you care about the girl, why be embarrassed? According to Father and his brandy-swilling comrades, you've reached the age where marriage is sensible."

"Yes, and you've long since past it."

Damon took a quick drink of scotch. "And live to hear about it every single day."

There was a loud crackle from the fire in the grate and Stefan sighed, rubbing his forearm unconsciously. "Haven't you ever considered it, Damon? Courting a girl, marrying and starting a family of your own?"

Damon looked into the flames silently and considered his answer.

Had he thought of it? Of course he had. He honestly believed that it was on every young man's mind at his age. It was certainly on his Father's mind. However, he'd always maintained that for himself, he wouldn't settle until he'd found a girl that he could love for the rest of eternity. Because otherwise, what would be the point?

Marriage was a commitment, not some kind of frivolous amusement.

However, Damon would be lying if he said that he was actively looking for a way into marriage. He was enjoying his bachelorhood; the freedom to be social and interact with different people whenever he wished to, the freedom to attend balls and galas in and around Mystic Falls. He was a lure at social events and everyone who mattered knew it.

Damon Salvatore was used to being the center of attention…while Stefan, polite and appropriate to a near fault, was far more satisfied watching goings-on from a distance. It was usually the older brother that pulled Stefan in and introduced him to the socialites of the town's inner circles; they were a slightly more spirited group than what young Stefan was used to.

"What would you do?"

Being pulled from his thoughts, Damon directed his eyes towards his brother, "What would I do if…?"

"If you had feelings for a girl. If…perhaps…you were thinking that you may want to marry her."

Looking into the face of his younger brother, Damon couldn't help but smile. There was nervousness in Stefan's eyes, a genuine request for his brother's, his best friend's, opinion and guidance. And they were best friends. In every sense of the phrase.

"I would think…" Damon began slowly, "…that if I cared for a young woman, I would want her to know. It is all right to give away a piece of your heart, brother, but always remember to keep a larger piece for yourself."

"You sound as if you're speaking from experience."

Damon shrugged a single shoulder. "Wisdom comes with old age, I suppose."

"Old age?" The younger boy laughed quietly, a large smile on his face. "Not at all." A pause, and then, "If you were considered old, Father wouldn't get upset if he were to catch you drinking."

"In my view, if I'm old enough to have done murder I am certainly old enough to have a drink."

"Being four and twenty doesn't entitle you to your very own liquor cabinet?"

Damon drained his glass and gave a chuckle, "No, not in this house."

The brothers once again fell into silence, the atmosphere in the room comfortable. It was strange for the mansion to be so quiet, especially so early in the evening, but Damon couldn't complain. After cleaning himself up that afternoon and socializing as much as his frayed patience would allow, he'd spent the remainder of the day wandering around the Salvatore grounds, taking in the sunshine and manoeuvring his way through the countless guests and visitors that his Father had been entertaining.

As much as he enjoyed conversation, sly looks and flirtatious bantering, he was also enjoying the calm.

"I must admit I hadn't thought of it before now."

Frowning slightly, Damon looked over. "Hadn't thought of what, brother?"

"Your time in Atlanta—"

Even from where he was sitting, Damon could see his younger brother swallow nervously and he sighed, setting his glass down on the solid wooden table in between their chairs. "As well as the fact that I have taken human life?" Stefan didn't say a word. "I am still your older brother, Stefan. That hasn't changed in the least."

"Yes, Damon, I know that."

"Then please tell me why you are so downhearted."

The emotion on Stefan's face broke suddenly and he was smiling, standing up from his chair and shoving his hands back in his trouser pockets. "My best friend is home and he's happy, I have no reason at all to be downhearted. I imagine I'm just fatigued. I think I'll retire upstairs."

Stefan nodded in his brother's direction and Damon watched as he turned to leave the room, calling out to him just before he reached the door. The younger man turned to look over his shoulder, and having absolutely no trouble keeping the serious expression on his face, Damon asked gently, "Are you sure you're alright?"

Stefan simply nodded. "Goodnight, brother. Sleep well."

"Yes. You as well."

And Stefan left him alone, sliding the door closed quietly behind him.

The hunger deep down in his chest was burning like nothing he'd ever felt before and he knew he had to leave, he had to get out. The mansion that had always seemed so large to him growing up all of a sudden felt impossibly small, as if the walls themselves were closing in on him and pushing the air from lungs that no longer needed it.

He knew that his suitcase should feel heavy in his hands but it felt as if it were empty. He felt no fatigue, no pain, no weariness…just power, muscle, and an undeniable strength flowing through his veins, his entire body.

Damon was strong. He always had been. But the way he felt at that moment, stepping off the last step of the staircase, was like nothing he'd felt before. It was different. Supernatural.

"Going somewhere?"

He looked to the left and saw a girl standing there. A beautiful young woman that he knew he'd never set eyes on before, vampire nor human eyes.

And a vampire she was, there was absolutely no doubt.

He forced all emotion to leave his face and said, "You must be the vampire I hear my brother complaining about."

She did a small curtsy. "That would be me." As she started to approach him, she said, "And you must be the brother who hates him."

Damon stood still for only a second before bending slightly and placing his suitcase down on the hardwood floor. He never took his eyes off of her as he did so. "We're at…irreparable odds."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You know the hate you're feeling? Towards Stefan. Towards everyone? You think you have it under control, but you don't."

He turned his eyes away.

"It will get the best of you."

Damon bent and once again took hold of his suitcase, standing up straight and forcing himself to meet her eyes. There was desperation in her eyes, he could see it. A desire to make him see and understand exactly what his leaving would do to Stefan…as well as to himself.

She had been a new vampire once before, possibly centuries before, and if there was any creature on the face of the wretched earth who knew what he was experiencing it was her. But Damon had made the decision. He was leaving. He would teach himself to survive, how to live, how to prepare for eternity.

He would never admit it out loud but a part of him was afraid. He was no longer himself, no longer the young man he knew so well. His father was dead, the woman he loved was dead, his brother was dead…he was dead. How did someone move on from having everything to having nothing left but time?

"Help him." Damon said the words quietly, almost silently, knowing that she would hear him. Despite all the problems that he and Stefan had had over those few days, they were still brothers. He was leaving, trusting his once best friend to this creature of the night that he didn't know. He swallowed hard. "He needs it."

The vampire gave a quick nod of her head, and said, "I'll help him."

He wanted to say thank you. He wanted to tell her how much it meant that she was there, that she would pick up where he left off as the one who safe-guarded Stefan's well-being.

Damon wasn't capable of doing it anymore. A very large part of him didn't want to.

And as quickly as the conversation had started, it was over, Damon taking his suitcase and letting himself out the front door…leaving behind everything he'd ever known, having lost it all in what felt like a heartbeat.

The large and ornate grandfather clock chimed and broke the silence in the Boarding House as it struck midnight and Damon took it as a sign, swallowing his mouthful of scotch. There was a tattered and familiar copy of Charles Dickens' David Copperfield sitting in his lap and he memorized the page number before snapping it shut and gently setting it on the coffee table.

He'd been sitting in that chair for hours, he'd lost count of exactly how many, but it was definitely saying something when a vampire, just having celebrated his one-hundred and seventy-first birthday, started suffering from numb ass.

The sound of the front door opening and closing caught his attention and he knew who it was before he even set foot in the room.

"Well, look who finally decided to wander in." He looked up, locking sparkling eyes with an amused looking Stefan. "Tell me, brother, did we get lost on the way home again?"

Stefan merely shrugged a shoulder, sitting himself down on the leather couch across from the fireplace.

The smell reached him before he could fight it and Damon very nearly growled—there was nothing more irritating, more infuriating, then when his younger brother came home smelling like her. Her coconut shampoo, the vanilla candles she kept burning constantly in her room…the very essence that was Elena.

It was a scent permanently stored away in his memory and he could only hope that it clung to his clothes, his leather jacket, the way it clung to Stefan's.

But he just wasn't that lucky.

"I was looking for you earlier."

"Oh. Were you?"

Stefan nodded, folding his hands in his lap. "Elena said you were acting…melancholy…when you were at the Grill earlier."

"Did she?"

"And now I find you here, drinking Father's brand of scotch and reading his favourite book?"

Damon narrowed his eyes. "Don't try to make this some trip down memory lane, brother."

"So you're not reminiscing?"

He scoffed. "Hardly."

"Then what is it? It's not like you to sit and sulk."

"Since when do you care?"

The younger vampire gave a small smile. "Well until someone successfully proves otherwise, you are my brother."

Damon drained his glass quickly and threw Stefan a half-smirk/half-glare. "Be careful when making jokes, Stef, you might blow your sainthood."

Stefan let out a chuckle as Damon stood from his chair, heading back over to the small collection of liquor tumblers on the table behind the couch. He desperately needed another drink.

"You're awfully defensive, aren't you?"

Damon refused to answer, settling instead for re-filling his glass.

"You should loosen up, Damon."

"I'm loose enough as it is, thank you." He threw back the glass of scotch in one gulp. "I'm not in the mood for brotherly bonding tonight, Stefan."

He poured yet another drink.

"Elena was simply concerned."

Damon felt his eyes slip closed for the shortest instant and he let out a breath, his fingers tightening almost convulsively around the crystal glass.

And there was the trump card. Elena was concerned.

"I told her I would check on you."

Forcing a smile on to his face, Damon turned to look over his shoulder. "You routinely forget who the older brother is and that I don't need someone checking on me. But—" he smirked, "thank our girlfriend just the same."

"I will and don't call her that."

Damon merely raised his glass in a 'cheers'.

He watched as Stefan stood from the couch and started out of the room. Damon swallowed and called out to him, "Stefan?", settling himself in a lean against the back of the couch. Stefan looked back expectantly.

"Do you remember…the day I came home from the war?"

Stefan's brow furrowed and he nodded, "Of course."

"I was thinking about that today," he cleared his throat. "Briefly."

He was horrified to see the gentle smile spread across his little brother's face. It was the sympathetic look that made Damon nauseous…the look that said 'I understand' and 'I sympathize' all at the same damn time. "I'm not surprised, seeing as how it's the anniversary today."

"Oh." Damon muttered, his ice blue eyes distant. "I didn't realize."

"And…I was thinking about it too."

Damon was pulled back to the present by Stefan's words, but by the time he had directed his eyes to where Stefan had been standing, he was gone, retreating to his upstairs bedroom and leaving Damon alone with his traitorous thoughts.

He didn't like thinking of the past. What good did it do to dwell on things that, even with all his strength, he couldn't do a thing to change?

Katherine was alive, out of the tomb, and couldn't care less where he was or what he was doing.

Stefan had met the girl of his, Damon's, dreams and was experiencing her every single day.

He'd somehow, along with Stefan, become responsible for the Mystic Falls version of the Scooby Gang; a rag-tag collection of humans, a judgy witch, and a new vampire that was as bubble-headed as she was blond. He wished he could get rid of them all. They were nothing but a hindrance in the grand scheme; friends led to attachment…attachment led to love…love led to weakness. If he hadn't learned that over the last hundred and seventy years, he hadn't learned a thing.

But the problem? He already had love for them.

Damon could feel the urge within himself, the desire to flip that magic little switch that would take everything away and leave nothing but cold indifference. He missed cold indifference. He missed being able to look at a situation, look at someone in pain or miserable, and simply walk away, continuing his existence in whatever way he wanted.

But his existence wasn't his own anymore, and he knew that if he were to pack up and leave them all behind he'd never be able to stay away.

They all annoyed him on a daily basis but a part of him—a part that had been growing steadily larger—didn't want to be alone anymore.

And so he would stay.

He would run interference for Mystic Falls and the small group of residents that he'd come to care about. After all, he knew the truth. It wasn't until he and Stefan had returned that the town's supernatural beacon had reactivated, bringing the true dregs of the mystical community back to Virginia—Isobel, Elijah, Klaus, Katherine, Pearl…and the list went on.

And knowing his luck, it would continue to go on.

The horse-drawn carriage rumbled down the dirt road and Damon moved aside the interior curtain, squinting in the late afternoon sunlight.

The small town was alive and well; gentlemen riding past on beautiful black and white stallions, tipping their top hats at everyone they passed. It was a familiar scene, one he'd set eyes on and been a part of a thousand and one times.

But as he settled back against his seat, letting the curtain fall back into place, he realized that he didn't belong in that scene anymore. He no longer fit into the mould he'd been raised in.

Although he'd only been away from the mansion for maybe ten minutes, he was already soul-wrenchingly lonely. He had sworn to treat Stefan to an eternity of misery, and while he had every intention of following through on that promise—the memories of Katherine were still smarting, even days later—he still hoped that his younger brother would be taken care of. The world had become a different and more terrifying place over those few days and he imagined it would get more terrifying still.

He winched as the monster inside of him reared its head in burning hunger and thirst.

Damon Salvatore didn't know what his future would bring or in which direction he would go.

He didn't know that he would spend the next century and a half with one goal, one ambition…to be reunited with the vampire that had turned his world upside down. Everyone else and everything else would merely be obstacles, things to stand in his way.

He didn't know that in the fall of 2009 he would meet a human girl that would make him want to change, want to feel…and that history would once again attempt to repeat itself.

As a new vampire sitting in a carriage in 1864 he didn't know any of those things.

All he knew was that life had become endless.

He had all the time in the world.

The End