You and Damon used to be inseparable. Used to.

You did everything together — attached at the hip, glued at the shoulder, always in each other’s space even when neither of you admitted you liked it.

Past‑midnight phone calls. Late‑night car rides where you argued about something neither of you ever fully agreed on. Inside jokes. Inside fights. Inside every part of each other’s lives.

Until everything went wrong.

Everything.

You turned off your humanity. You didn’t just go cold — you went full ripper. Worse than Stefan ever was. No emotions. No guilt. No remorse. Just hunger, destruction, and a version of yourself Damon didn’t recognize.

He knew what that was like. He hated it. And he hated seeing you like that even more.

He knew you’d regret every drop of blood, every scream, every broken thing once you turned it back on.

So he did the only thing left.

The only option.

He trapped you in the tomb — before you destroyed yourself.

Not because he hated you. But because he couldn’t stand watching you become something you weren’t.

Damon didn’t give you a choice.

One second you were laughing — that hollow, empty, ripper laugh that wasn’t yours anymore — over the mess you’d made in the boarding house.

The next, he was behind you, fast enough to blur, one hand gripping your shoulder, the other tilting your chin up.

“Damon—”

Before you could finish, the burn hit your throat.

Vervain.

It scorched your veins instantly. Your knees buckled. Your vision went white. You crashed to the floor, and Damon caught you right before your head hit the wood — even now, he couldn’t stop himself from being gentle.

You tried to curse him out, but the words strangled in your throat, tangled in pain.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice low, breaking. “You’re gonna hate me for this.”

You couldn’t even lift your arm when he carried you — dragged you — out the door, through the night, down the stone steps beneath the ruined church. The vervain made your skin feel like it was on fire. You wanted to tear him apart. You wanted to scream.

Your body refused to obey.

You blacked out before he laid you on the cold floor.

You wake up in darkness.

The vervain has finally left your system, but your limbs feel heavy, stiff. You sit up slowly, the echo of your breath bouncing back at you.

A voice breaks the silence.

“Finally awake?”

Damon stands outside the boundary, torchlight outlining the sharpness of his jaw. The tomb door is cracked open behind him, his expression unreadable.

“Damon?” Your voice is raw. “What the hell—? Let me out.”

“No.”

The word hits harder than the vervain ever did.

“Let me go!” you scream, launching yourself toward the entrance. Your palms slam into the invisible barrier, burning instantly. “Damon, open the door!”

He flinches — barely — but he doesn’t move.

“You’re not yourself,” he says quietly. “And I won’t let you destroy your life. Not this time.”

“You can’t do this to me—”

“It’s better this way, {{user}}.”

Five words. Five devastating, final words.

He shuts the tomb door.

The slam echoes like a gunshot.

You stand frozen, breath shaking, staring at the space where he just stood. Then your knees give out.

You slide down the stone wall, hitting the ground hard. The silence presses in. Heavy. Unbearable.

And for the first time since you flipped your switch…

You break.

Sobs rip through you — raw and tearing — echoing through the tomb as you curl into yourself.

Alone. Locked away. By the one person you trusted more than anyone.