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This Love Left A Permanent Mark

Chapter Text

Berlin 1933

Damon watched Eric glide along the dance floor with ease, his hand steady on another man's hip. Younger than him. They always were- though they were always female. A broad. A dame. A flapper girl. Something young and pretty to keep the viking occupied for the night.

Yet everything changed. Suddenly they were in the capital of Germany, no trace of a coven of witches for a daylight ring. Just nightclubs that apparently catered to… He didn't even want to think about it.

Eric's simple explanation was he was bored with women. How can anyone ever be bored of a good dame? He insisted to the viking that he just needed to find a handsome woman but he just wasn't hearing it.

And now here they were.

When did jazz clubs cater to, to faggots?

He wasn't against, those who preferred the company of other men. It just wasn't right. Eric wasn't a poof. A nance. Eric was the pinnacle of a man. He knew there were other vampires who took the company of other men. He'd heard the whispers. The rumors of vampires fornicating with both sexes.

He just didn't realize Eric was that sort of vampire.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he sucked in his teeth watching the crude display in front of him. He knew the viking wasn't one to shy away from open intimacy but kissing the boy in the middle of a club was bold. There was an unfamiliar burning in his throat, which he cured with a swig of bourbon as his eyes darted away from his companion.

He didn't have to be here. He could go across the street to somewhere more his tastes. Something higher class, with beautiful, young German women.

His attention was drawn back again to Eric as he continued to lead his partner around the floor, his hands dangerously close to the man's bottom. At least, Eric could do better than this, man. He'd seen the viking take home actresses, singers even actual royalty without so much of a whisper of compulsion. There should be no difference with his men he chose. From the eyes around the room, he could have any one of these gentlemen.

And yet he chose this average joe.

"Are you his?"

Pale blue met emerald green as he averted his gaze upward to his unwanted guest standing in front of his table.

His usual snarky reply was caught in his throat as the man held his stare. They were small, narrow but the green hue shone through giving the man a naturally wicked gleam. His strong jawline matched his sharp cheekbones, that were accentuated with his dark, just past five o'clock shadow. And with his dark hair slicked back in elegant, fashionable style, matched with his equally stylish charcoal evening lounge suit, with a white pocket square- suggested he was of nobility.

It was then- and feeling like a complete idiot now- he realized his skin was an unhealthy white hue. A vampire. Of course.

"Of course. I let my fella dance with every man that catches his eye." He snorted, sneering as the stranger took the empty seat next to him.

"So single then." The man replied. The man, he observed, did everything with propriety to leaning against the wooden chair, to crossing his legs to extending his hand out to him. "Sebastian."

Damon stared at the offered appendage for a long moment, feeling oddly apprehensive but he took it. Just like Eric, the touch was frigid but smooth and an obvious amount of strength behind it but only enough to impress. "Damon."

"So Damon," he found himself following Sebastian's tongue as it moistened his sulky,

full lips, enjoying the way his deep raspy voice said his name. "What brings you to my country?"

He snorted, bringing his glass back to his lips. "I didn't realize I was speaking to the ruler of Germany."

"I prefer King." The man continued, making him roll his eyes at his ego. He went rigid as those lips found themselves next to his ear. "Or your majesty, but only when you're on your knees."

He attempted to chuckle but instead it came out as a small, amused puff of air as his hand shook while taking a sip of his bourbon.

"Are you flirting with me?" He asked.

His hand shot out as he forced the man to pause, almost feeling Sebastian's fingers at the edge of his cheek. He didn't seem to mind as he stared back at him. "What if I was?"

"Well King Sebastian," he waved his hand over his glass at the waiter as he passed by, before turning back, giving his guest a smirk. "I'm not interested. In you. In any man. I'm just here with my friend, so find someone else to buy your little King bit." He let the man's hand drop and moved back into his own space. "I'd try maybe saying you're a Count, I could believe that."

"Clever, a Dracula joke." Sebastian hummed, his fingers running up along his arm. "The attractive ones are always dumb, though."

"Excuse me!"

There was a pause as a waiter was now at his table, with a fresh glass of bourbon. He bowed slightly at Sebastian. "Will there be anything else for you your highness, or your guest?"

"No, that'll be all Charles." Damon watched as he waved away the waiter.

Did the waiter just call him, your highness?

"Wait-" he started, staring at the receding waiter and back at Sebastian.

"I wasn't lying Damon. I'd never do that to you." Those green eyes were holding his gaze as the older vampire brought himself closer to him. "So why are you lying to yourself?"

He furrowed his eyebrows.

"About what you want." The man continued, his fingers leaving Damon's clothed bicep and onto his jaw.

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

He sucked in his breath as he found himself a mere second away from the other man's lips. "Kiss me."


"Kiss," his eyes darted from Damon's lips to his eyes "Me."

For a fraction of a second, he froze, but found his bearings, pushing Sebastian away from him. "I'm not a faggot."

"Neither am I." His emerald greens found Damon's icy blues. "Being a faggot means we're human. We're vampires,"

"Yeah, but we both still have cocks."

Sebastian snorted, shaking his head at him. "Of course. Don't tell you've never been with a vampire before? I assumed by your jealous behaviour, and your friends obviously ploy to put you in that jealous state, you two were intimate."

Since meeting the so-called King of Germany, his eyes found themselves searching out for Eric. Where did that viking go anyway?

"He left a few minutes ago with Henrich. Cute boy. Nowhere near as exotic as you." Damon's eyes narrowed as Sebastian ran his fingers along his jaw again. "So have you been with a vampire?"


"A male vampire?"

He paused, seeing the wicked gleam sparkle in the other vampire's eyes. "I'll take that as a no."

"I don't like men."

"Have you ever considered it?"


The man sighed, giving him a sympathetic smile. "Still so young." His tongue ran along his lips again. "Why not?"

"Why not?" He snorted. "Because it's wrong. Because I like women. Because I don't like men. I'm not sure how more simply I can put this."

"First off, I do hope you aren't referring to some Christian notion of sodomy. That's a human religion, we're vampires. Second, how can you say you don't like men when you've never been with one." Damon's eyes shot open as he felt a hand run along his thigh.

"Your hand-" His voice broke as Sebastian's fingers massaged inches from his groin.

"Yes Damon, it's right by your cock. Do you feel it? The pleasure from a simple touch." He gasped as lips were against his ear. "I know exactly what you want. Let me give it to you."

"This is wrong," he whispered, his cheek touching the other man's cheek, feeling the tickle of his facial hair.

"No, it's sinful." Sebastian shifted ever so slightly so their noses were touching. "Kiss me Damon. Try it."

This close he noticed a slight speckle of hazel within Sebastian's green eyes. He knew the man in front of him was handsome, perhaps one of the most attractive vampires he'd ever paid enough attention to notice. But his eyes weren't blue. They didn't remind him of the ocean. His eyebrows were too thick, and his hair too dark. His cheekbones were too rigid, and his jawline too wide. His nose was upturned and thin, not slightly bulbous and large. His lips weren't thin enough. When he smirked, it didn't make him shiver. In fact, he wasn't pale enough. And too much facial hair. But most importantly, he smelled like the city. He didn't smell like the ocean in winter.

He wasn't Eric.


Never before in his life had he wanted to disappear as badly as he did now.

"You have one second to take your hand off Damon's leg," Damon followed Eric as he leaned forward, a hand on the back of Sebastian's chair, his fangs exposed as his lips went closer to the other vampire's ear. "Or I'll rip your heart out."

"Eric, don't! He's the King of Germany!" He exclaimed.

His words didn't seem to matter as both men stared each other down, before Sebastian exposed his own fangs. "You have no claim over the boy."

"Maybe not, but you're not the King of Germany," Eric smirked.


"Oh Damon," Eric shook his head at him as he ruffled his hair. "He's a progeny of the King of Germany. The King of Germany is almost two thousand years old, with white hair, and wears an eye patch."

"So you lied?" He snarled, pushing both Sebastian and Eric off of him.

"I suppose I could have said Prince, but I just liked the way King rolled off your lips," Sebastian winked.

"You're a disgusting, vile person!" He spat.

Eric took a step back so he could stand up, downing the entire glass of bourbon he'd left untouched.

"You ever lay another finger on Damon, it won't matter your maker is the King of Germany. I'll plunge a stake through your heart. " Eric hissed but Damon didn't wait for Eric or say goodbye to the Prince of Germany, he scurried out of the smoky bar and into the moonlight.

He fell against the brick of the club, squeezing his eyes shut.

How could he have almost fallen for that?

He should have left the moment Eric entered that bar. He didn't like men. He wasn't a faggot. He wasn't sexually attracted to men.

To Eric.

It was sodomy. And sodomy was wrong. Or was it? Sebastian did make one good argument- he was a vampire. Not a human. And vampires experimented with both sexes. He'd even seen his brother fornicate with another male.

It wasn't like he couldn't aesthetically appreciate male beauty. Sebastian was handsome. Eric was handsome.

"Are you alright?"

He shrugged his shoulders, giving Eric a small smile in hopes they'd never speak of what transpired in that bar. His eyes met the icy blues of the vikings who stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable before turning around and hailing down a taxi.

He felt numb as he followed behind Eric, as the vampire was successfully able to find a taxi and he took a seat next to him. He didn't even hear what address Eric gave the man, he just leaned into the leather seats letting the bourbon settle his mind.

There was just one inescapable question of the evening- what was it like to kiss a man? A vampire?

His eyes found themselves staring at Eric's mouth. Would he be gentle? Or rough? He imagined rough, he was a viking he took what he want. Would they be soft, and smooth like a woman's? Or cracked, and brittle like others? He imagined smooth like granite and cold like the stone. Would he cup his face? Or run his hand down his back? Would he run his fingers through his hair? Would there be a lot of tongue? Or none at all? Just enough?

Would Eric want to kiss him at all?

"We're here Damon."

He felt himself flush as he quickly escaped out of the taxi, never meeting Eric's gaze. The viking didn't say a word as they strolled together into The Kaiserhof nodding to some SS men in the lobby before they continued to his room. It was rumored the Adolf Hitler stayed here, but he'd never witnessed the man. He didn't keep up with German politics.

He took out his key, putting into the lock as they reached his room, letting himself, and Eric into the room. He'd afforded himself one of the luxurious suites, with a sitting area and a large bed.

The large chandelier in the middle of the room illuminated the area though it left much of the corners in almost darkness. He walked over to the sitting area, throwing his jacket onto the couch, before turning back toward Eric.

"Do you want to talk about what happened Damon? I'm sorry I left you alone in a club like that." Eric said, his body half in darkness as he leaned against the wall by the door.

"I can handle myself." He huffed.

'Yes, usually. But you insisted you weren't interested in men."

"I'm not." He insisted, finding himself drawn closer to Eric. "You just caught us at a bad time. He was just being persistent."

"Why didn't you shove him off yourself though? It looked like you were going to kiss him," Eric asked.

He just shook his head, and reached out to the viking, placing a hand on his forearm. His other hand ran up along Eric's clothed chest, to graze over his smooth jaw. He cursed their height disparity, as he stared up at the other vampire, appreciating his ocean blue eyes. His slightly bulbous nose. His thin lips.

There were no words, just Eric's raised eyebrow.

Just kiss him. Then you'll know.

His fingers danced along his jaw, down his neck, and to his tie. He felt faint as his entire body was electrified, taking a shaky breath he didn't need.

He closed his eyes, taking a moment before his fingers wrapped themselves around Eric's tie and tugged. In the last instant, his eyes shot open just for a second as their lips met. They were soft, frosty… and weren't moving.

He pulled back, his eyes falling to his shoes. "I…" he licked his lips, Eric tasted like blood. "I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his hair, looking back at the door. "I don't know what I was thinking, he said-"

"Is this what you want?"

He let his eyes scale up Eric until they met each other's again. He shivered and bit his bottom lip as he saw the flash of hunger. Then something darker. He wasn't sure what he was seeing, they were in the shadows. Lust? Passion? Obsession?

"Is this what you want?" Eric asked again.

He gulped, feeling the sudden dryness in his throat as he just nodded.

"Say it Damon."

"I want this,"

There was no warning as he found himself pressed against the wall where Eric previously stood, lips against his own again. He tasted blood, as it mixed with the bourbon that still prevaded his taste buds. He drew a sharp breath, Eric's delectable scent- an ocean in the winter- invaded his scenes.

It took a moment, but he kissed the viking back, dragging his fingers down the soft fabric of Eric's evening jacket. His lips were just as soft as before, but powerful as he completely dominated the kiss. It was frightening how perfect this felt to him. All his nerve endings were on fire.

One of Eric's hands came to cradle the back of his head, threading his fingers through his hair as the other slithered down his back until it settled on the small of his back. He gasped as those fingers found themselves under his shirt and Eric's tongue invaded his mouth.

As the kiss deepened, he flung his arm around Eric's shoulder pushing him closer. He wanted their bodies to be as close as possible. He wanted to feel all of the viking against him.

Eric gasped into his mouth as both their obvious excitement brushed against each others. He tugged on the back of Eric's hair, as he felt Eric's tongue do an exploratory map of his gums.

"Eric," he panted out, cursing his vampire species for needing to take a breath.

Of course, this didn't stop Eric, as he kissed along his jawline, feeling the nips of Eric's fangs on his skin.

"Älskling" Eric moaned into his neck as he continued the assault. It was Eric's native tongue, he knew that for sure from observing his conversations with Godric. Or Pam.

"Eric please I need-"

He didn't need to finish his thought as the viking just collided their lips back together again. It was harsh, domineering and he just submitted to the vampire. Eric's hand wove around his waist, and rolled their hips together.

He may be new to this, being with another man, but God did he want Eric to do everything, and anything to him.

It was then he found himself pushing hard onto Eric's chest, needing an escape.


He couldn't breathe as he leaned forward needing to gather himself.

"Damon, what is the matter?" Eric asked, reaching out to him but he found himself on the other side of the room, his back to Eric.

"I just wanted to know what it was like to kiss a man. Now I have." He said simply, staring out into the darkness of Berlin from the window.

"So it meant nothing to you? Just an experiment?"

He winced at Eric's words but kept his composure. "Yes."

"Then I'll leave. We depart for Paris tomorrow."

He nodded as he brought his arms into his chest, wanting nothing more than to be alone.

He flinched as an arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him in close as lips ghosted along his neck. "When you're ready to face this, know this. I will kiss you again. I will have you. I will fuck you. I will ruin you. I will destroy you until you're mine."

And like that he felt Eric disappear, as those words send shivers down his spine. He brought his fingers to his lips, still feeling Eric's arctic ones on his. It was just a kiss, but there was an indescribable amount of passion behind it. He hadn't been expecting that. It was just a kiss. It was just Eric. But those words were now coursing through his veins. They made him question everything that he was. He didn't like men, yet the idea of letting Eric defile him sent sparks to his groin. He supposed those words would frighten anyone but in that moment, he never felt more wanted. More loved. More alive.

He realized in that instant, the line in the sand he'd drawn in regards to his relationship with Eric, to his sexuality, was now completely washed away by the tide.

And the tide consisted of one thing.


And who was he to ignore it?


Chapter Text

Damon threw off his backpack the moment he stepped into the foyer of the boarding house, his shoes landing in the same general direction. His leather coat was tossed onto the haphazard pile as he continued on into the house, making his way into the living room- on a mission.

There were no thoughts as he robotically went about, knowing his destination since he'd known he was coming home.

The basement door was thrown open, and he kept himself from practically running down the stairs, instead choosing a slow, steady pace. A smile kept threatening to spread across his face like an infection and as that door came into view, he didn't bother to hide it anymore.

His hand grasped the door handle, and he twisted it slowly, wanting to make as little as noise as possible. Expecting complete darkness as he let himself inside, he was surprised to find the lamp on the nightside table turned on the lowest setting. He leaned against the door as he shut it, staring at the sole occupant of the bedroom.

Eric was illuminated by the soft hue of light, giving his skin a supernaturally pale appearance. He was lying on his right side, on the left side of the bed, leaving plenty of room for someone to snuggle up next to him. The comforter and sheets were pooled around his naked torso. For all intensive purposes, it appeared the viking was sleeping, but Damon doubted that he was.

Another smile stretched over his face as he threw off his black t-shirt, and kicked off his jeans. He kept his briefs on as he stepped toward the bed. He took a moment to just admire the vampire laying there, his blond hair somehow still so dignified, splayed over the black pillowcase- one arm open and inviting.

He pushed back the comforter and sheets, crawling into the king size bed. As he turned onto his side, his back facing Eric, a hand grabbed him, pulling him tight against frigid flesh. Instead of tensing, he found his joints loosened, his muscles relaxing.

"I missed you," Frigid lips came to brush over his hair, as legs came to intertwine with his own.

"I missed you too." He said, interlocking their hands together. "You're the only good in my life månsken."

"Månsken?" Eric repeated. "You haven't called me that in a long time Sol."

"Life has gone to shit, it feels appropriate to call you my moon since you're the only light amongst the darkness."

He felt the vibrations of Eric's laugh as the arms holding him squeezed him tighter. "The trip was really that bad huh?"

He let go of the viking's hand and twisted his body so they were facing each other. "I'm just tired of almost dying."

Eric's fingers brushed through his hair, as he gazed into his eyes, his expression tender and mournful. "I'm tired of almost losing you."

He sighed, smiling softly. "Let's go home then Eric."

Fingers trailed down his cheek to his mouth, outlining the shape of Damon's lips. Eric leaned forward, his lips against his cheek, brushing it softly. "Louisiana isn't home. West Virginia isn't home. Even Sweden isn't home to me anymore. This." A hand came to cup his cheek. "You. This is home to me. You're the only thing that matters in my life."

His heart flew into his throat as he just stared into those crystal blues. "What about Godric and Pamela?"

"I love them too. Our bond is something I can't begin to explain to you. It is something to be felt. I sometimes wish you were my childe so you were mine completely, and you could understand." Eric explained. "But it doesn't compare to my obsession I have with you. I want to possess you. To control you. To have you. To never let you go. I hate having to share you with the world. Something as beautiful as you should be for my eyes only."

The aching anticipation for his kiss was too much, and he pressed himself closer to the vampire, bringing their lips together. His kiss was soft, gentle.

"Exotic birds die in gilded cages." He teased, just a breath away from Eric.

Lips brushed against the hollow of his temple and then traced over his jawline. "Then I guess I'll have to settle for moments like these when I have you all to myself."

"You better use this moment to its fullest because my brother will be coming back anytime and the game officially begins."

Fingers fisted into the back of his hair, and he found Eric's lips pressed against his again. Damon groaned, low in his throat as arms circled his waist, gathering him further into the viking. All that existed in that moment was Eric. His viking. His Månsken.

He ran his hand along the fevered flesh of Eric's arm, feeling the smooth perfection that it was. He pulled his lips away to breathe, trailing his nose across his jaw, inhaling the clean scent of the ocean. The room was silent, except his breath, and heartbeat that quickened with each passing second. He ran a finger lazily along the defined curve of muscle in Eric's chest as he kissed every inch of that elongated neck. He heard a moan, unsure if it was from the viking or himself- everything was blurring together. It felt as if the universe disappeared and all that remained was just the two of them.

Perhaps Eric was right. This did feel like home.

Chapter Text

Paris, France- 2008

Dear Eric,

By the time you read this letter, I'll have already left.

There are things I haven't told you, things about my past and about my maker, Katherine. I wanted to tell you Eric but there never was a right time. I haven't told anyone, even my own brother but I owe you an explanation- though it might not be what you want to hear.

You know the version everyone else knows. My maker, Katherine was burned alive with the rest of the vampires in Mystic Falls by the founders. But see, the thing is- they're not dead. I made a deal with Emily, a witch who enclosed them in a tomb under the church. The thing though with magic, there's always a catch. That catch was that she had to use power from a comet, that only appears every 150 years. So Katherine has been desiccating over a century, but now it's coming back and I have an opportunity to rescue her.

You have to understand Eric, this was the hardest decision I ever made. I love you. But I love her too. I can't have you both. I thought, for a long time I could leave her but now that it's come around I just can't. I need to know what it could have been with her because I never got that chance.

Just know, that I did love you. And I was yours. A part of me will always belong to you. But a part of me always belonged to her too. I hope you understand.

Goodbye, Eric.

- Damon

Eric's fingers traced over the small black letters, as his other hand gripped the key to his penthouse that was left in the envelope, and the edge of the paper.

He blinked, unsteady as he fell back onto his bed, still staring at the white sheet of paper.

Everything slowed and stopped as he stared. And stared. The door opened, and closed again but he wasn't even sure if that was just part of his imagination.

He swallowed hard, his eyes lowered as his fingers traced over the five letters at the bottom. It was then something fell onto the paper, red and it covered the d and the a. It was then he realized he was crying.

Damon was gone.

He wasn't sure what day it was. Or what time it was. He was thirsty. But he couldn't be bothered. What was the point?

His fangs were throbbing. His cheeks were itchy from the dried blood. He could barely stand his own scent. And his throat felt like sandpaper.

But it didn't matter.


His eyes were filled with blood but he could make out the figure- Pam. He blinked, though it felt like there were glass shards scraping against them. He tried to sit up from his bed but his limbs were stiff from the slow desiccation. He was able to awaken them enough to cross over his heart, but it felt like all his bones were breaking in the process.

"Yes," He managed to croak out, not even recognizing his own voice.

"Finally. Have you not noticed me standing here for almost ten minutes." Pam threw a hand to her hip. "It's been a month Eric, and you haven't fed. You look like death. And you smell like it too. Grow a fucking pair and get out of this fucking bed. I have three girls here who are more than willing to die for your hunger. And then you can go plunge a fucking stake in Damon. It'll make you feel better."

It took a moment but his eyes drifted over to the three women standing next to his progeny. His fangs ached in want.

"I'm not hungry." He closed his weary eyes. "Just go away, Pam."

"Jesus Christ Eric, he's not fucking worth it..."

He couldn't even be bothered to listen anymore.


He opened his eyes to see Damon's head laying on top of his chest, his famous shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "You look like hell Eric."

"Älsking-" It took every ounce of strength, and the little blood left in his body to stroke his cheek. "I thought you left."

"I did," Damon shrugged. "But I couldn't just leave you." The man tilted his head to the side. "Though if this is what becomes of you, I don't know why I ever loved you in the first place."


The Italian barked out a laugh. "Look at yourself. Are you a teenage girl? I thought you were a viking. I thought you could handle anything. But I guess I was wrong. All you do is lay in bed and feel sorry for yourself. I left you, Eric, I left. I decided my maker was more important than the decades we spent together. Where's the Eric who'd chain me to a wall, and fuck me to show me exactly who I belonged to? Because this is not that vampire."

He wet his cracked lips as he was helpless to watch Damon just roll off him. "Why?"

Damon stared at him over his shoulder as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Why what Eric? Why did I leave?"

He nodded.

"I told you already." Damon stood up and started to make his way over to his dark, wooden dresser. "I love Katherine, not you." An ugly, strangled laugh came from the vampire. "Aw did you think I actually gave a shit about you Eric?" He turned back around, smirking down at him from the shadows. "Sure you were good in bed, but love you? Aw, that's cute. Aren't you supposed to be incapable of the feeling?"

He felt a sharp pain engulf his chest, as he just watched Damon parade around in front of him, his eyes cold, and dead. "You were mine Damon, I told you I didn't take that notion lightly."

Damon shrugged. "So what? Was I supposed to? I was bored and lonely, and you were fun. That's all this was supposed to be Eric. A little fun remember? I was that sexy, pathetic mess you thought you could fuck, and walk away from. But you couldn't. Because deep down Eric Northman, you're just like every other pathetic human. You want someone to love you. To love that black, soulless heart of yours. But here's the truth. No one will ever give a shit about you."

He shook his head though the action made him sick. "Fuck you, Damon. You loved me. I think you loved me too much. That's why you ran away. Because it was easier to go rescue your maker than face the fact that you could actually see yourself spending an eternity with me. Because this thing we have between us, you never expected it. Neither did I. But we're good together. In fact, I'm the best sex you ever had."

Damon huffed, laughing darkly. "I'd rather face the true death than spend an eternity with you. You mean nothing to me, Eric. In fact, I stayed as long as I did because I felt sorry for you. I mean, you've never loved anyone as much as you loved me." He flinched as Damon appeared over him, straddling his waist. "In fact, you're so lonely, in your desiccating psychosis, you think of me. I'm never coming back, Eric. Get over it."

Eric blinked, and he was gone.

Something was different as he awoke, hearing muffled voices. He threw off the covers, stretching his arms over his head to realize it didn't hurt. He paused, running his hands over his clothed body. His hunger was there, but it was a dull ache, just on the recesses of his mind and body. And he smelt like soap.

Someone bathed him.

"You're awake."

His head shot over to the door to see Godric closing it. Of course. "Did you force feed me? And bathed me?"

Godric didn't say anything at first as he placed a glass of blood next to him on the nightstand, before taking a seat beside him on the bed. "Pamela called and told me what happened, so I came immediately. I am your maker Eric, and I will always look after you."

He snorted. "I'm fine Godric. I don't need you, or Pam to babysit me."

"It seems you do. You haven't left this bed in over a month, besides me carrying you to the bathroom." Godric placed a hand on his. "Do you wish to speak about what happened with Damon."

Even hearing his name sent a sharp pain in his chest but he kept his face expressionless, except to laugh bitterly at Godric's comment. "I didn't realize we were women Godric."

Godric sighed more for effect than the need to breathe. "Eric I know what Damon meant to you. I've spent a thousand years travelling with you. Raising you as my progeny. You've never loved anyone as much as you loved Damon. You don't even let your own progeny see the heart that you hide behind these walls of cruelty and indifference." Godric ran a hand through his hair. "Perhaps it is my fault. For many centuries, I too was callous and I let it poison you and Nora. I taught you to despise humans and everything that they symbolize. But I was wrong. And I was proud to see you open yourself up to someone. And I am sorry that Damon left you, Eric. I am. But you can survive this."

"Damon left. So what?" He shrugged, though even saying his name out loud killed a small part inside of him. "I don't need him. So he left for his maker. I can find someone equally or more attractive to him. He was just a simple fuck." A growing smirk spread across his face as he leaned forward, running his own hand over his maker's cheek. "I can find that anywhere. Maybe even with you, if you'll indulge me like we used to."

His air was taken away from him as Godric straddled him, pinning him to the bed. "I can fuck you, Eric, if that'll make you feel better. But I don't think it will. Maybe for a few minutes, but that hole in your heart won't be healed. And you'll feel guilty, even if you won't admit it." Godric leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips. "I will be here for you Eric. But you need to figure a way to get through this. Pamela suggests killing Damon, though I'm against it. But you need to do something, besides ignoring it."

He just snorted, watching his maker move off of him, and out of his room. He did, however, take the cup of blood off the nightstand, taking slow sips.

Perhaps Godric was right. Desiccating in a bed was getting him nowhere.

Eric paused. He felt an unfamiliar feeling of coming back into himself and he took in his surroundings.

Blood. So much blood. He blinked, taking in the rest. There were two black couches, facing a flat screen tv that was muted, playing what appeared to be the news. There was a body on the coffee table with its head completely torn off. From the tits, he assumed women. There was another body hanging over the couch, a head hanging from strings of flesh. The carpet underneath them was what he suspected white, but it was drenched in blood. The walls were splattered with it too.

He glanced down at himself to see that he too was covered in it. He wiped the rest that was dribbling down his chin and licked his fingers as he surveyed the small area until his eyes fell upon a girl, maybe twenty who was clutching her cell phone. Their eyes met and she scrabbled away but he caught up to her easily, crushing the device with his hand.

"Where am I?" The girl gave him a horrified, yet confused look and he tried again. In french.

"In Paris." She mumbled inching herself away, but he followed her.

"Obviously. I knew that." Though really he actually wasn't sure. He'd blacked out apparently. He honestly couldn't even remember the last few days."I meant where in Paris."

"You don't know?" The girl asked, and he shook his head. "You're on Rue Navier in the 17th arrondissement."

He nodded along, knowing exactly where he was. He was definitely a few blocks away from his penthouse. How he got here was a bit of a mystery, and he hoped he hadn't killed anyone else. He particularly didn't want to clean up this mess, let alone any other ones he'd left in his trail of destruction.

"Excuse me," He stared down at the girl, noticing that she was visibly shaking but with no wounds herself. "Look I won't tell anyone. But please. Don't kill me. I'm sorry. Whatever we did, I'm sorry. I won't tell anyone. I swear."

He smiled sadly down at her, considering glamouring her or killing her. "Let's play a game shall we." Her eyes widened, almost as if they'd pop out of her skull. "You tell me how this happened and I'll decide your fate."

She nodded vigorously at him and he leaned down to face her. "I don't know. I really don't. One minute I was upstairs on my computer, and the next I heard screams. I came downstairs, and you were…." She couldn't even finish as she began to sob.

This just wouldn't do. He grabbed her head and forced her to stare into his eyes. "Stop crying and tell me what happened."

He watched, like always, her eyes went glassy though she continued shaking and he could smell the faint odour of piss. "You were drinking my mother's blood. When my dad charged at you, you ripped her head off, and then attacked him. After that," She gestured behind them, and he turned to see a boy lying behind the couch, dead too. "You attacked my brother. I guess you followed him home. You kept calling him Damon. Screaming at him. You weren't speaking French so I didn't understand. And then you killed him."

He turned back to her. "Stay here. Don't move."

He then got up and went over to the kid on the floor. As he moved closer, he realized he'd torn this boy, limb from limb. He couldn't have been more than sixteen, and besides short, curly black hair, and sharp cheekbones, they looked nothing alike. He sighed, shaking his head before going back to the girl.

"What's your name?"


He almost felt sorry for this girl. Almost. "See Maryse, I've recently lost someone. His name was Damon." He began as he circled her in the doorway of her living room. "Their species turns off what they call a humanity switch to stop feeling. My species. Well, we don't have any. Not usually. And for almost a thousand years I didn't either." He paused, as she just stared up at him. "But I loved him. I did. But he left me for his fucking maker. And now, I'm turning off my humanity. All I want to do is feed and kill. And maybe fuck." He pushed her so she was laying on the floor as he hovered over her. "You're pretty, but I don't want to fuck you. But you do smell, really, really good. And I'm hungry Maryse. And I don't care about you. Or your fucking family. So I'm going to drink your blood. And then I'm going to kill you." He stared into her eyes. "But I promise to make it quick. But first, run Maryse. Run fast. I like when my food gives me a challenge."

She pushed against him, and he let her, watching as she stumbled away.

At least he was having some fun.

He was angry. So bloodthirstily angry, he was seeing red. Everywhere he went. Every night. He fed. He killed. And sometimes he fucked. It didn't matter who. What gender. What skin colour. What species- human or vampire. All that mattered was there was an empty hole to put his cock in. And once he'd satisfied that need, he usually killed them.

No one mattered.

Nothing mattered.

He didn't need anyone.

"Jesus Christ Eric!"

He snarled, as he continued to snap his hips, driving his cock deeper and deeper into the woman below him. She was human. Pretty enough with pale skin. Green eyes. And bleach blonde hair. Not that he remembered exactly where he found her. Or where they went. Though from the girlish decorations around the room, it appeared to be her bedroom.

"I know you fucking heard me Eric." He could hear the distinct sounds of heels clicking on the hardwood as Pam appeared beside him. "She's fucking dead. That's how I got in here. You have to stop doing this. Godric agrees with me."

He snarled again, ripping himself out of her to turn around to see Godric standing in the doorway. "You two fucking followed me?"

"What else are we supposed to do?" Pam exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "You've been on a killing spree for almost two months now. You're sloppy and someone has to clean up your mess."

"We've been cleaning up your mess," Godric said, taking a step into the small bedroom. "You can't go on like this Eric. You've been lucky since we've been taking care of it. And that we're in such a big city like Paris. But your little murders are appearing in newspapers. People are whispering about a serial killer. And the authority will find out."

He snorted. "Fuck the authority."

Pam just laughed at him. "Oh yes. Fuck the authority. I'm Eric Northman and I do whatever the fuck I want." She crossed her arms over her chest. "They'll kill you, Eric. And then what are we supposed to do then? Damon fucking Salvatore is not worth your life. So get over it, and find someone else. Or just have a string of one night stands. But seriously, be smart about it. Feed. Glamour. Leave. Not feed, fuck, and kill."

Godric nodded. "Pamela is right Eric."

"Fuck both of you." He snarled, slipping his pants back on, and throwing on his shirt. "If you want to clean this up too. Go ahead, but I don't care. Let them find me."

And with that, he disappeared.

He was doing up the last button of his dress shirt to go out for the evening when Pam barreled into his room uninvited. He was about to snarl at her before he paused.

"Look, Eric, if you aren't going to stop with the killing sprees then I thought maybe you needed someone to vent out your anger. So here." She pushed a man toward him. It wasn't Damon, he would always know that scent but this man looked almost identical. The hair smelt freshly dyed- black, and he wondered if she put in blue contacts but overall this man was the spitting image of Damon. Except human. "Look I wasn't going all the way to Mystic Falls for Damon fucking Salvatore so I took a quick trip to Italy and found him. Height, cheekbones, overall figure was Damon's. Dyed his hair. Gave him blue contacts. Glamoured him to only answer to Damon. Do whatever you want with him. Fuck him. Kill him. Dress him up as a fucking doll and make him your pretend Damon boyfriend. I don't care. Just stop killing the entire population of Paris. Okay? I can't lose you, Eric."

That was the closest thing he'd ever heard of sentiment from Pam, and the women quickly disappeared, closing the door behind her.

He tilted his head from left to right, not sure what to do with his gift. Clearly Pam had glamoured him well, as he stood there calmly.

"What's your name?"

"Damon Salvatore." The man answered in English. He was impressed. At least it was more like Damon, but the Italian accent gave him away.

"Alright, I'll play this little game." He sighed, gesturing to the bed as he began to undo his shirt. "Get on the bed fake Damon. I might as well fuck you since you're here."

Eric knew what he was doing was technically insane. If Damon, the real Damon could see him now, he'd laugh. But a small part of him couldn't stop.

This Damon, though fake as he was, was the closest thing he could get to the real thing. He knew he should be fighting for the real one, but how could he? He'd chosen his maker. He'd left. He knew if he went to the US, to Mystic Falls, all his anger, all his sadness, would result in an ugly death for the younger vampire. And even though he was furious, he didn't want to live in a world without Damon Salvatore. Even if he couldn't be with him.

"Would you like me to suck your cock again?"

He stared down at the fake Damon, hating when he ever spoke. It just ruined the whole scene.

He leaned over, rummaging in his nightstand before he pulled out a mouth clamp. It consisted of two clamps, and he put them between the fake Damon's mouth, forcing it wide open. Once he was satisfied, he leaned back, patting his stretched out cheek.

With his arms tied behind his back, and mouth forced open, fake Damon was basically helpless. Just how he liked the original too. "Alright, you may continue. Just no more talking."

Fake Damon got to work. He wasn't as good as the real Damon, but he figured, he could train him. He could train him just as good as the other one. Maybe he'd even turn him once he was completely obedient and didn't need any glamouring. Of course, that meant destroying him completely, and rebuilding him in Damon Salvatore's image. But he could do it. He did it with the first one. Of course, that wasn't the same. But he could pretend.

At least he had a version of Damon.

He hadn't meant to. Or at least, not really. But, in that moment, he was just reminded of Damon. The real one. And he squeezed. And squeezed .Until he heard the snap. And then, he was dead.

He hadn't meant to. Not really.

But the anger he kept at the very surface just exploded for a moment, like a volcano, and then it disappeared into smoke.

But now fake Damon was dead.

He wasn't sure how long he was sitting on the floor leaning against the bed, with a dead body chained to his headboard. He wasn't even sure why it bothered him so much his toy was dead.

He didn't bother to look up when the door opened, then closed but he did stare up as they continued to stand over him. Godric.

"He's gone." He muttered, to no one in particular. It was obvious from the smell. Arms wrapped around his head, and he felt the tears begin to fall. "I'm sorry Godric."

"There's nothing to apologize for my childe." A small hand made soft circles in his hair. "We have centuries of love and faith between us. I trusted you'd deal with this, how you needed to. And I hope that you will come to me, eventually."

He stared up at his maker, feeling like a child again. "Why won't you just command me to behave. To let go. You are my maker."

Godric wiped away a tear from his cheek. "Because you need to grieve. You've lost a progeny. You've lost your other half."

"Damon wasn't一"

"Don't lie to yourself, Eric."

He just nodded, and Godric took a seat on the bed, letting him lean his head against his leg.

"Eric I've let you desiccate. I've let you kill dozens of humans. I've let you keep a human that looks disturbingly like Damon, even biting my tongue when you grew attached to him." Godric paused, staring down at him. "But I think it's time for you to talk about it. You don't have to right now. But sometime. It doesn't have to be with me. It can be with your progeny Pamela. Or even with a stranger. But you're letting it destroy you. I refuse to lose you, Eric. A maker shouldn't have to see their progeny meet the true death before them."

There was a long silence, and Godric stayed, stroking his hair softly. It was an odd experience. The comfort he'd sought with his maker was purely sexual. They weren't exactly the hug it out, talk it out sort of people. But he couldn't quite ask for their usual comfort anymore. Somehow, it felt like cheating. Even when he didn't have anyone anymore.

He reached over for his discarded pants, and passed over a grungy, well read piece of paper. The very note he'd found on his bed, months ago. He'd carried it with him every day since then. He could recite the words. If he tried hard enough, he could even hear them being spoken in Damon's voice.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye. I left France one night, going into Italy. There was this piece of property Damon and I stayed at during the late 50's after he'd been kidnapped. It overlooks the mediterranean sea. It was a beautiful spot. I was going to buy it for him as a birthday gift. I had to stay the day, but I came back that night. And he was gone. I didn't even get to say goodbye." With a shaky hand, he wiped away the blood from his cheeks. "Even the first night we met, I knew there was someone Damon cared for. But I always thought, he was just another person to grace my bed. That's all he was supposed to be. I didn't even want it to be anything more. Not at first. But God, there's just something about himー"

He paused, seeing versions of Damon flash in his mind like a movie, going through the decades. He'd give anything to go back to the night they met. Not to stop himself from meeting him. Just to be able to live it all over again.

"I know I should have fought for him. Maybe I should have tried harder when I did have him. I'm not stupid Godric. I knew I never had all of him. No matter how much I tried to convince myself. I thought just having some of him was enough. And it was. Because in those moments, I had most of him. But now I have none of him. And I don't know what I'm supposed to do." He sighed. "I don't know how to be myself anymore Godric because I don't know how to live without Damon."

Godric kissed the top of his head softly. "I don't think fighting for him would have done you any good, I'm afraid. I think a part of him would have always wanted to be with his maker."

"I know." He said, feeling the dull ache in his chest that never seemed to ever really leave. "He needs to be with her to know who he truly wants. That's why I never bothered to go to Mystic Falls. Besides, I don't know what I'd do if I saw him again. Kill him. Fuck him. Kidnap him."

"We don't have to go back to America at all unless you want to. Maybe we should leave Paris for a while before the Authority puts the pieces together. Maybe do a tour of Europe. Or perhaps somewhere more remote, with less reach of the Authority." Godric suggested. "But first, we need to get rid of this body before the stench permanently lingers in the penthouse."

He just nodded again.

For the first time in awhile, Eric didn't feel so unbelievably empty. He'd even packed a suitcase, preparing to leave to Africa. Godric was right. They needed to leave. He'd made an awful mess of things, and even the humans were beginning to see his patterns. At least they just thought he was a measly serial killer.

He was waiting for Pam to return, so they could leave. She'd disappeared two nights ago, and he hadn't seen her. Though it wasn't unusual, he assumed she'd just found a girl.

A knock sounded, and he turned to Godric who shrugged and he sped towards the door.

He opened it to find Pam, with a silver chain around her neck, and a stake poised behind her back.

"Eric Northman?" He snarled, extracting his fangs at his company. There were three men, one who appeared to be just security, holding a stake to his progeny. Another was taller than the other, but not by much. Perhaps a little shy of six feet with greying hair, and a faint grey beard. The other was short and much, much uglier than the other. With thinning, almost balding grey hair, and sunken features, he looked more like a walking corpse than the rest of them. The one in the middle, with the sharp blue eyes, and a full head of greying hair addressed him. "Retract your fangs boy."

"Boy," He snarled, taking a dangerous step toward them. "You may look older than me, but I doubt either of you are my age. So may I suggest, boy, to get those fucking chains off my progeny before I rip your heart out."

"Take another step Northman, and your progeny meets the true death," The shorter, much uglier one snarled.

He stared into the angry eyes of his progeny, but before he could answer them, Godric did for him. "Gentlemen, come in. I apologize for my progeny. I don't think he realizes exactly who you are."

He raised his eyebrow at Godric, as the bodyguard type pushed Pam into him, taking off the chains as he did so. The other two strolled into his penthouse like they fucking owned the place.

"And you must be Godric." The one with the full hair said. "I'm Marcus di Pietro, the Magister of Europe. And this," He gestured to the crypt keeper one. "This is Jorge Alonzo de San Diego. He's the Magister of North America."

He felt a shiver, but he kept his composure as he stood behind Godric, who took a seat on the chair that overlooked the couch to where the two Magister's had taken a seat.

"What can we do for you?" Godric asked.

"Don't play coy Godric, you know why we're here," Marcus answered, staring over at him. "Your progeny has gotten a little carried away. He's killed, what now, over fifty people"

"Fifty-eight." Jorge corrected.

"Fifty-eight." Marcus whistled. "Now we've all enjoyed our fun. But both of you should know by now to cover your tracks. But you've been sloppy Northman. Leaving a trail of bodies." The Magister shook his head. "And you Godric. You should know better to let your progeny behave in such a reckless manner. Now, what's to be done about this." It clearly was a rhetorical question as he continued. "Usually, we'd sentence you to the true death. All three of you. But the Authority thinks the three of you could be important allies in their quest for mainstreaming."

"Mainstreaming?" He asked.

"Yes, mainstreaming. They would like to, come out of the coffin as it were."


"They wish to expose our species to the humans so we can coexist with them. Roman Zimojic, the leader of the Authority has been waiting centuries for the creation of synthetic blood. He's found Japanese scientists who've been able to create the stuff. And the Yakamoto company to consider bottling it in vast quantities. In a few years, they're hoping for the Great Revolution, in which our species, exposes themselves to the humans."

"That's the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard." Pam huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Pamela, not now," Godric warned, staring up at both of them, before turning back to their guests. "And how do we fit into this equation."

"I'm glad you asked," Jorge said. "The Authority has decided instead, that two vampires, as old as yourselves are better suited to work under the Authority than meet the true death. Besides, the both of you have powerful allies around the world who'd rally against us in the event of your deaths."

"Yes, I imagine my progeny Nora would hate to hear of my demise and would most likely leave the Authority, and take with her all the secrets she knows already," Godric replied.

"Exactly," Jorge smiled at them, making him flinch. There was something awful about the man. "So instead, we've decided to make you Sheriffs in North America. So you're closer to the Authority headquarters, and we can have our eye on you." He then took out a file folder from his briefcase Eric hadn't noticed he'd had. "We've heard you know a nest of vampires in Texas Godric, and you've spent many years in the state when you aren't with your progeny. So we've made you Sheriff of Area 9. And Mr. Northman, you will be Sheriff of Area 5 in Louisiana."

"You want to make us, sheriffs? I'm over a thousand years old, and Godric is over two thousand, and the both of you are barely over three hundred years old. You're basically children." He snarled. "You can both shove your offer up your ass, and fuck yourself with it."

"Eric, as your maker I command you to stop talking," Godric said calmly, staring up at him. "I apologize for my progeny. We will accept your offer graciously."

"Good. And I expect your progeny to follow with you Mr. Northman. You both have a week to sort out your affairs, and I will personally show both of you to your new homes." Jorge replied, and the two Magisters got up, and headed for the door.

He watched silently as all three of them left his penthouse.

"Good job Eric. Now we're all fucked." Pam snarled and disappeared.

He couldn't agree with her sentiment more.

Eric stood in the shadows beside a tree, a far distance from the couple in front of him.

He knew the moment he landed in West Virginia, this was a bad idea. But he knew if he came to the US again, his first stop would be to see his ex-mate. There was no question.

And there he'd been. Laying on the side of the road coming into Mystic Falls. Just like he taught him. But then he'd been interrupted by a voice, and he watched as Damon rushed over to a girl. It took him a moment, but when that name spilled from his älsking's mouth, he knew. Katherine.

Except, she wasn't. Or at least, that's what she said to Damon- her name was Elena.

He felt the ugliness inside of him flair, as his hand twitched into a fist as he spied on them. How was he ever to compete with two of them? Not that he ever was going to. He should let Damon figure out who he loved. But with him so close, it took all his strength not to grab the Italian and drag him away, chain him up, and never let him go.

"So, Damon, tell me. What is it that I want?"

He watched as Damon took a step closer to her, waiting for his answer. They were talking about her boyfriend or something. Them getting into a fight. And how he had mapped out their life, but this Elena girl didn't want that. And now Damon was going to give her the answer to what she wanted. The whole thing was overtly romantic, and it set his teeth on edge.

"You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, an adventure, and even a little danger."

He wasn't sure if Damon was speaking about the love they shared or the love that he shared with his maker Katherine. But how could he not be talking about them? If there was a sentence to describe their love, everything that they had, it could be condensed into that little sentence.

As he focused back on the two of them, he watched as Damon compelled her, and then disappeared. He considered for a moment to follow him, but he stopped himself. Instead, he watched the girl get into a car.

Damon could free his maker, and be with Katherine. He knew his Sol needed to know what life could be like with her in order to choose. He could never compete with that.

But some fucking human named Elena who looked just like Katherine. No. He couldn't let her live. He couldn't let her be here, just in case.

He breezed through the trees until he found himself standing in the middle of a bridge that led into Mystic Falls. As that car came barrelling towards him, he let his fangs sink out of his gums.

He couldn't kill Damon. But he could kill a girl that looked just like his first love. And maybe, he'd kill Katherine too.

Because Damon was his. Even if he didn't know it.