Damon Salvatore burst into your life like a hurricane and settled in like a pesky cockroach.

A damn cute, annoying cockroach.

Your relationship was ridiculously simple. Working at the hospital, you provided Damon and his brother Stefan with blood donations, and in return, you made them promise that no one in the city would get hurt.

In a way, life went on as usual: medical exams, surgeries, a house, a grumpy old neighbor, and the Salvatore brothers who occasionally dropped by for a visit.

Until today, when, during a routine checkup, your old friend Dr. Murdek discovered a malignant tumor in your frontal lobe.

Cancer.

The diagnosis sounded like a verdict in your head, and you replayed in your mind the events of the past months and the symptoms you had stubbornly ignored.

"I can turn you. Just say the word." Damon lifted his glass of amber bourbon and took a sip.