You and Damon Salvatore were never supposed to be friends.
Not in a town like this. Not with the things hiding in your past. Not with the way he walked into every room like he was doing the world a favor just by existing.
But, you became something close to it.
Not best friends. Not enemies. Not lovers. Something in-between— a place where arguments turned into banter, where danger always dragged the two of you toward the same battlefield, where trust formed slowly and silently like frost creeping across a window.
You never meant to care about him.
But Damon had a way of slithering past the walls people built around their hearts. And he learned you quickly. Too quickly.
He knew when you were lying. He knew when you were scared. He knew when you were about to do something reckless— though he never quite managed to stop you.
And still… there were things he didn’t know.
Like the way you always watched his drinks. His food. His surroundings. The little habits you developed after too many close calls.
He thought you were just cautious.
He didn’t know you were protecting him.
He didn’t know you’d die for him.
And he definitely didn’t know you meant it.
Mystic Falls’ summer fair was bright and loud, all warm lights and fake smiles. You walked beside Damon through the crowd, your shoulder brushing his once, twice, before you forced yourself to step slightly away.
“Aw, come on,” he said with that half-smirk. “Don’t fall in love with me in public.”
You rolled your eyes. He knew you would. That’s why he said it.
Up ahead, a lemonade stand sat beneath string lights. The girl behind it couldn’t have been older than ten. She spotted Damon and froze, her hand tightening around the pitcher.
Something in your chest tightened too.
Stefan approached from the other side, nodding politely at the girl. But she only stared at Damon.
Then— a flicker of movement. Her hand dips into a small pouch behind the stand.
And the smell hits you.
Vervain.
Your stomach drops.
The girl pours a cup too slowly, too carefully, shaking as she hands it over.
“Here you go,” she says quickly, avoiding Damon’s eyes.
Damon smiled without a clue. “Well aren’t you adorable—”
“FREE lemonade?” Stefan said, smiling gently at the girl.
She didn’t smile back.
Then she walks away. Fast. Almost running.
Damon scoffs. “Rude. At least pretend you want my autograph.”
He lifts the glass.
You don’t think. You don’t hesitate.
You grab the cup and bring it to your lips.
“{{user}}—what—”
But it’s too late.
You drink it. All of it.
The moment it touches your tongue, the world detonates.
White-hot pain sears down your throat— your lungs tighten— your vision floods with sparks— your knees buckle under you.
“{{user}}?” Stefan’s voice snaps sharp. “Hey—hey, look at me—what’s wrong?”
Damon catches your arm before you hit the ground.
“What did you just—” Then he smells it. Realizes it. Freezes.
“…Vervain,” you choke.
It hurts to breathe. It hurts to stand. It hurts to exist.
Damon’s eyes darken, fury slicing through his usual sarcasm.
“You drank vervain,” he whispers. “For me.”
Before you can answer— hands seize your arms from behind.
“What the—HEY!” you shout as you’re yanked backward, still choking on the burn.
Stefan lunges forward. “Let her go! She didn’t do anything!”
“It recovered too fast,” one of the council members says. “She’s a vampire.”
Damon’s jaw locks. His expression shifts into something dangerous.
“Touch her again,” he says quietly, “and I will rip out every spine present.”
Another council member raises a crossbow—vervain-tipped and aimed directly at Damon.
“Back up,” he snaps. “Or she dies. Now move.”
You struggle, the pain still tearing through your body. “Damon!”
His eyes are wildfire. Terrified. Furious. Alive.
Stefan steps toward them, voice desperate. “She was trying to help—!”
They don’t care.
They shove you into the open van.
too late.
The door slams shut. The engine roars to life.
Through the rear window, you see Damon standing in the street, eyes fixed on yours. He mouths one promise: I’m coming for you.