1977 — Manhattan, New York

   He had been at the hospital for most of the day, in the waiting room with his hands clasped together And worry filling every inch of his system. Whenever a doctor came out, he would stand. When the doctor passed him, he would sit back down and continue to anxiously wait for the next doctor to come out. It was a constant cycle of worrying about each doctor that came out and came towards him, until they either continued past him or went to a other person that sat in the waiting room.

   "I brought you coffee," said a voice, their hand pushing a cup of coffee in his direction.

   Damon looked down at the hand; the nails painted a shiny black colour, a ring on their fourth finger from their thumb. He grabbed the cup of coffee, but then grabbed the hand with his other hand and laid a gentle kiss on their knuckles. The owner of the hand took a seat besides him and pressed themselves to their side, their chin on his shoulder.

   "It's going to be all right," she softly said.

   "Four hours have passed," Damon sighed, looking down at the cup of coffee in his hand. "No doctor has come out to tell me that he's fine."

   "Did they call Betty?"

   "She's stuck at the Brooklyn Bridge," he said. "Accident and construction."

   "Damon, he'll be fine," she softly said, reassuring him as much as she could. "Nothing will happen to me."

   The vampire left out a small laugh, almost sounding like a scoff. "You're so sure of it," he hummed. "How can you be so sure of it?"

   Freya pursed her lips lightly and shrugged her shoulders. "I have a feeling."

   "You always have a feeling," he mused, shaking his head. He looked at her. At that moment, just like every other time, his breath caught in his throat when his eyes met hers. Green. A beautiful green that was so unique to him. It became his favourite colour. Yes, green had become Damon Salvatore's favourite colour. 

   "What can I say?" she grinned. "I believe Robert will be okay." She leaned in and laid a gentle kiss on his lips, just long enough for her to take his mind off things. When she pulled away, they came back.

   While working on a car, Robert Belcher suffered a heart attack. It was sudden, out of nowhere, and it happened all while he was under a car. Damon had luckily heard it, the whimpers and the soft gasping for breath. At first, he thought something was attacking him, but when he arrived he saw the man struggling underneath the car. He pulled him back, tried to ask what was wrong, and when he got no answer, he yelled for someone to call 911. Someone did, but he didn't know who it was, just that everyone was trying to keep the old man from dying. Damon was almost tempted to feed him his blood, but then he thought about what would Robert thing. Would he want to be a vampire? Would he want to live forever as an old man? The vampire thought best that he'd give Robert Belcher his own choice, to die a human or to become someone like him.

   A doctor walked out, her surgery scrubs lightly dressed in blood and a tired look in her eyes. She stopped in front of him, then slowly smiled. "He's fine," she said. "There wasn't any complications during the surgery."

   Damon let out a breath of relief. "So, he's okay?"

   The doctor nodded. "He's fine," she repeated. "Although it was an emergency surgery, he's fine."

   "Do you know what happened?" Freya asked, taking a stand next to Damon. "What made him have the heart attack?"

   "They can occur out of nowhere," the doctor said, glancing from Freya to Damon. "Normally it's because a section of the heart muscle suddenly becomes blocked and the heart can't get oxygen. Most happen out of as a result of coronary heart disease; it's when plaque builds up inside of the coronary artery. The condition is called atherosclerosis, and the buildup of the plaque occurs over the years." She looked at Damon. "Do you know if he has had his heart checked before?"

   Damon shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure," he said. "He hasn't said anything."

   The doctor nodded. "I thought he would have told you, since you're his son."

   The vampire stared at him in surprise, eyes wide and breath stuck to his throat. "I-I'm not his son..." he said, slowly, trying to let her words sink in. "Who, uh, told you that?"

   "You're not?" The doctor was surprised, almost unsure. "You're not Eric Belcher?"

   "I'm Damon," the vampire corrected, straightening his posture. "Eric's, uh, dead." He remembered the story Robert told him about his son, how he died during an armed robbery. He remembered how Robert took in "every foul-mouthed kid and turn them into proper adults, so they don't end up like my son."

   The doctor nodded, making a face that she just made a mistake. "I-I'm sorry... I didn't know..."

   "I'm Damon," the vampire said, forcing a small smile in her direction. "Damon Belcher; I'm the oldest. Robert's my dad. So, you were telling me he was okay?"

   "Yes," the woman nodded, the smile returning to her lips. "He's in the ICU at the moment, you can visit him in the next hour. Only two people at a time."

   "Thanks, Doctor..."

   "Oh, my name is Isis Woods," she said with a smile. 

   "Isis?" Freya asked, almost surprised. "You're Oliver's sister, right?"

   The doctor, Isis Woods, turned to her with eyes wide and surprise written in every feature. "Freya?" She let out a laugh and clapped her hands. "Freya Beauchene? Wow, it's been a long time since I last saw you!"

   Freya nodded. "The last time I saw you, you were making out with Derek Freeman under the bleachers during graduation."

   The doctor laughed. "Well, you can't really blame me. Derek was quite the hottie." She glanced from her to the vampire, her smile widening. "Are you married, now?"

   "Engaged," Freya corrected.

   "Congratulations," she smiled. "So, have you seen Oliver around?"

   "Oh, we've seen him," Damon scoffed, making a face. "Not sure if he wants to see us."

   Freya scratched the back of her head, uncomfortably standing there. "Unwanted visit, unwanted words, a punch was thrown and a nose was broken."

   "Sometimes, my brother deserves more than a punch," Isis sighed, shaking her head. "Anyway, give Robert an hour and you can go visit him." She walked away, her hands inside her scrubs and a gentle smile on her lips. 

   "That wasn't weird at all," Damon commented when she turned to the right. "Isn't it strange how we're seeing the Wood's family a lot? Don't get me wrong, I would love to punch Oliver again, but it's tiring just seeing his face. I've seen him twice and I already feel like I've had enough."

   Freya chuckled and patted him in the shoulder, giving him a gentle peck on the lips. "Me too," she breathed, nodding. "Hey, I'll, uh, be back soon, okay? Frederick said he needed help with something at The Ground." She smiled up at him. "I'll bring you some food, okay? Maybe you can sneak some to Robert."

   Damon chucked. "He just had a heart surgery and you're trying to get him to eat food? Freya, are you trying to kill him?"

   "I just want him to feel okay," she said, making a face. "He does have to stay here for a few weeks, and hospital food is not so good."

   "He probably won't be able to eat for a few days," he told her, smiling down at her. "Don't worry about him, or me. Go home, take a shower, eat something, and then go to Frederick. I'll be fine. I'll just wait till Betty arrives to go home."

   "Fine," she sighed, nodding. "I'll see you in a couple of hours, then." She leaned in and kissed him again, just a small peck as she grabbed his cheeks. She turned and left, but not before giving him a smile as she turned the corner.

   Damon waited for a couple of minutes. When she didn't come back, he made his way to the ICU. He pushed his hands in his pockets and entered casually, as if he knew where he was going. He stopped by a desk and looked at the nurse that sat behind the desk, giving her a charming smile.

   "Hi, would you mind telling me in which room Robert Belcher's in?" he asked, widening his smile.

   The nurse searched for a piece of paper, then pursed her lips. "Sorry, he can't be seen yet."

   "I don't think you understood me," Damon said, his smile shortening to a sneer. "I didn't ask if he could be seen, I asked in which room is he in." He looked into his eyes and compelled her. "Which room is Robert Belcher in?"

   "Room 251," the woman said.

   The vampire gave her a sarcastic grin and made his way towards the room. He counted down the numbers, beginning from 324. It came to the point where he got tired, and used his speed to go to room 251. It was a small room, right in the corner, with a single bed where Robert Belcher laid. He had an IV in his arm, a ventilator in his nose, and he appeared to be dead. The only thing that told the vampire that he was still alive was the beeping of the heart monitor.

   "Jesus, Old Man," Damon said quietly, a small smile on his lips. "You couldn't have waited till I left the city to die?"

   "I'm not dead yet," coughed Robert from the bed, slowly turning his head to the vampire. With harsh breaths escaping his mouth, he smiled. "You don't have to worry about me, son, I ain't gonna die yet."

   The vampire let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. "I'm not worried about you," he said, stepping closer to the bed. "You're alive, right? I think you have a few more fifty years left."

   The human laughed, then stopped to hiss. "I feel like I only have ten."

   "If you don't take care of yourself," Damon shrugged. "But, you can have many more. You can live forever."

   With hooded eyes, Robert looked at him. "Forever?" he quietly asked, as if he were thinking it over. He let out a scoff and turned his head, looking up at the ceiling with mouth slightly open. "That doesn't sound fun."

   "It can be," Damon muttered, taking a seat besides him. "I can take you to Germany. You said you wanted to see Germany when there was no war, and I can take you there. I can show you how they're at peace now, how everyone gets along with each other."

   "What are you talking about?" breathed Robert, turning to look down at him with furrowed brows. 

   Damon looked down at his hands, at the ring that rested so carefully around his finger. "Have you noticed the ring that I always wear?" he quietly asked the old man. "The one that I refused to take off and you told me that if I lost it you wouldn't search for it?"

   "What does that damn ring have to do with anything, son?"

   Damon slowly lifted the hand the ring rested on. "It protects me," he quietly said, unsure on how to proceed. He took several seconds to continue. "From the sun." Another several seconds passed. "Robert, I'm... I'm a vampire."

   For a moment, Damon thought that the reaction to him telling someone that he was a vampire was for them to scream and demand for him to get out, not laugh. Robert Belcher laughed, hissed, then laughed again as if he wasn't hurting. It came to the point where he had to suck in a breath to calm himself down and clutch tightly to where they had cut his body open. He turned to look at the vampire with a small smile. 

   "Son, you're fucking with me."

   Damon sighed and shook his head. "I'm not..." He trailed off as he realised what he had to do to make the old man believe him. With hesitation, he glanced down for a few seconds, then he looked up. The white of his eyes turned a dark scarlet, the blood rushed into the veins surrounding his eyes and darkened them tremendously, and his teeth lengthened into fangs. For that moment the boy Robert Belcher thought to be just a hood-rat that needed help looked like a predator, as if he would kill him.

   "I'm sorry," Damon said, glancing down as he calmed himself. "It's what I am, what I was turned to."

   "I'm afraid," Robert hoarsely admitted, "but I ain't running away from you, son."

   The vampire looked down at the old man with wide eyes, surprised. "You should," he said. "You should run away, fire me, tell me to never come back."

   Robert smiled, and slowly laid his hand on top of the vampire's head. Gently, with whatever force the old man had left in his body, he tapped the vampire as if he were trying to calm him down. "Son, I have seen worse things in my life than that ugly face you just showed me," he said with a smile. "It's scary, but not to the paint where I want to run away from you."

   "I'm a monster," Damon hissed, standing. 

   "So am I," Robert calmly said. "Damon, us humans are far more worse than your species. Tell me, you've killed quite a lot, haven't you? Well, son, we as a human race have killed more. What does that say about us, huh? We're no better than vampires, or whatever else that exists." The old man pursed his lips. "Tell me, do werewolves exist, too?"

   Even though he couldn't believe the words the old man told him, or that he in no way acted as if he just had open heart surgery, Damon let out a chuckle and shook his head. "I'm not aware of werewolves," he said, "but witches do exist."

   "Witches, huh?" Robert nodded. "And here I thought I've seen everything, but then you come here and tell me that vampires and witches exist." He sighed and looked back up at the ceiling. "What's next, ghosts?"

   The vampire shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe, not sure." He smiled and took a seat next to the bed. "If there's vampires and witches, why not werewolves or ghosts?"

   "Faeries?"

   "I don't know."

   "Demons?"

   "Ever heard of Roland Doe's exorcism?"

   "Angels?"

   "I don't know."

   "The Grim Reaper?"

   "I didn't fully die, so I didn't have the chance to say hi."

   Robert let out a chuckle and nodded. "So, tell me, how long have you been alive?"

   Damon sucked in a breath. "I'm 136 years-old," he said.

   "A hundred and thirteen," hummed Robert. "Dermatologist must hate you."

   The vampire let out a soft laugh and nodded. "I mean, I do look absolutely perfect, don't I?" he joked and ran a hand through his chin. "But, yeah, I'm old."

   "Do you live forever?" the old man asked, each question filled with even more curiosity. 

   "As long as no one stakes me in the heart with a stake," the vampire revealed. He felt close to the old man to tell him what could kill him, like a father figure. "Or, you know, pulls it out of my chest. Or, if you want the more harsh way, cut off the head."

   "What about crucifixes?"

   "I wouldn't be here if it were for them," he told the old man. "They're everywhere in this hospital. Too many people praying."

   Robert waved a hand. "Let them pray," he said. "It's the only thing truly giving them comfort in this place." He took a deep breath. "So, what's this about forever?"

   Damon scratched the back of the head. "I can feed you my blood," he began, "and you can heal faster. Or, I can feed you my blood and kill you, turning you into something like me."

   Robert Belcher seemed to have taken the vampire's words deep into his mind, for he stayed silent for a few minutes. Then, he let out a soft laugh. "Forever is boring, son," he said. "It sounds painful, lonely. Tell me, son, how many loved ones have you seen pass? How much pain have you seen in the world? How many pictures have you kept in a box with your past?" He smiled at the vampire, softly, through his greying beard. "I'm an old geezer, son, I don't want to be like this forever. You should have come to me when I was younger."

   "Mr. Belcher, you should stay quiet and rest," a nurse said as she came in. "I understand that you're excited that your son is here and that you're better, but you need your strength." She let out a soft chuckle and lowly muttered, "I can't believe he's awake three hours after coming out of open heart surgery."

   "My son?" Robert questioned, raising a brow and glancing at the vampire.

   Damon widened his eyes and gave the old man a smile. "Your son," he said with tight lips. "Dad, I can't believe you forgot about me!"

   "Oh, oh!" Robert nodded and let out a low chuckle. "Yes, my son! You'll have to forgive me, son, but I just got out of open heart surgery."

   "Visiting hours are done," the nurse said as she turned to Damon, a small smile on her lips. "But, since you're his son, I'm gonna let you be here for a few minutes."

   "Thank you," the vampire smiled as she walked away.

    On the bed, Robert let out a small scoff. "Son my ass," he mumbled. "She should know that you're older than me."

   After a few minutes of talking to Robert Belcher, which was the old man telling him that he should take care of the salvage yard while he was gone and asking more questions, Damon left the hospital. He went home with regret running through his mind. For one, he couldn't believe that he told the old man what he was, but he felt like the old man should know. He felt like the old man deserved to know what he was, because maybe that would help in any way. And then, he felt that he should just compel the old man to forget the whole conversation and replace it with a lie, one that wouldn't be as shocking. 

   Damon's house was eerily empty, big and empty with silence accumulating at every corner. He thought that it was stupid that he agreed to have that house, because it was uselessly big. What use did he and Freya have for seven floors, of eight rooms? None. If he was human, maybe he could have been greedy and say that it could be a nice home for many children, for family to come over every weekend and be one of those New York socialites that held many parties. 

   He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard movement, the soft clinking of something against metal. Slowly, he moved towards where the sound came from, the kitchen. Once again, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what stood in front of him. Freya and Frederick stood over the stove, herbs all around them, an old open book on the counter, and a small cauldron in front of them. For a moment, he thought he was watching Bewitched live.

   "Um, what's going on?" he asked, moving the car keys from hand to hand. 

   Freya turned to him with wide eyes, whatever she had on her hands falling to the floor. She stared at him with an open mouth, scared, and then she looked at her brother. "I should... I should tell him."

   Frederick nodded. "You should," he said, glancing at the vampire. "He needs to know, since he already found us like this."

   Freya nodded and moved to the other corner of the kitchen, where a vase of dying flowers laid. She picked up a few of the fallen petals that were scattered around the vase and moved towards Damon, staring into his eyes with anxiousness and fright. With a deep breath, she crushed the petals between her hands with closed eyes and mouthing something. She opened her hands and blew the petals upwards.

   Damon expected to see the petals to fall directly to the floor. What he didn't expect was for those dried petals to turn into little lightning bugs that illuminated a gentle red and flew all around the kitchen. Even in the brightness of the kitchen lights, those little bugs shinned brighter. Damon stared at them in awe as they flew all around him, some sticking to his leather jacket then flying off somewhere else. 

   "I'm a witch," he heard Freya softly say. "Damon, I'm a witch."

   "I can see," he said, still staring at the bugs. He looked down at her with furrowed brows. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

   "How could I?" she asked, giving him a small smile. "I'm afraid of what I am, Damon, afraid of what you'd think of me."

   Me too, he thought as he stared down at her. I'm terrified of what you'd think of me if I told you that I was a monster.

   "I'd think that I'm even more lucky," he joked, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "I could care less of what you are, Freya. Human, witch, you're still the same to me."

   Would you think the same of me?

   Freya smiled up at him. "Do you feel any different for me?" she quietly asked. "Because, I still love you and–"

   He kissed her just to shut her up. "I still love you," he said against her lips. "I still love you, Freya Beauchene, and nothing will change that."

   She was still human, while he was still a monster that desired to be nothing but human. There wasn't anything different about her to Damon Salvatore, just that she was a little more special. He loved her, but at the same time he felt terrified of her, of what could happen if she learned that he was a terrible monster that killed people. He recalled the time she saw blood, the horrified look in her face and how scared she was the next few weeks; would she react the same way when he told her?

   Once again, Damon Salvatore decided to be greedy and selfish. Just for a while longer, he would keep his secret, and he would love Freya Beauchene with all he had and act as human as possible. It was then where Damon realised that he would do anything just to be with that Freya—anything, and maybe that would be his downfall.