damonpsychopathsalvatore:

iamthefirechild:

walk-right-through-me:

“Anybody like me? Oh, you mean psychopathic vampire who doesn’t give a damn about human life?” he asked, smirking. “Well the good news is that you don’t have to love me.”

She stared at him for a long moment before starting to laugh. “All of this. All of this,” she lifted her fingers and splayed them before his eyes, and the fire went out, leaving pristine skin, “and you still don’t believe I can protect myself. You think I’m /fragile/,” spitting the word out, “helpless. It that because of my mortality? Because I can die, I must be protected?” The hand clenched into a fist. “You utter, chauvinistic, brainless, pig of a man!”

Then she hit him.

Damon stumbled back, adjusting his jaw before clearing his throat. “Alright, I deserved that. But it still stands. You’re in danger and it’s because of me, and I won’t have that.” He ran a hand through his hair before looking at her. “I can’t have this conversation right now. I need blood,” he said, looking away and huffing.

The fact that he’d let her hit him reduced the anger to a simmer instead of a hot roil under her skin. “I’m in danger every moment, in a myriad of ways. Simply being a woman would be enough to endanger me, far less what I truly am.” Her mouth compressed. “Go. Hunt. Find some thief, some murderer, some Wall street asshole with a soul smaller than a pinprick — or some innocent human on their way home. And when your hunger is sated, find me, and give me the details I will need to protect myself.” It wasn’t a request.

damonpsychopathsalvatore:

iamthefirechild:

walk-right-through-me:

“Anybody like me? Oh, you mean psychopathic vampire who doesn’t give a damn about human life?” he asked, smirking. “Well the good news is that you don’t have to love me.”

“Ah, but I promised I wouldn’t, remember?” Summer touched his face, and the fire didn’t leap from her fingers. It burned there, flaring and flickering, on her fingertips, sheathing her whole hand, and didn’t devour the new fuel. “Answer the question, Damon. You sought me out, and now you shove me away. Why?”

Damon sighed, flinching at the touch and grimacing. “Then I’ll bite you and you’ll have all the permission you need to kill me,” he said, smirking before rolling his eyes. “Things have changed. I made enemies with the wrong werewolf. A very vengeful one at that. I killed one of theirs, and now I’m afraid he may come after you,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “So take it from me and stay safe. Forget everything you ever had to do with me, and you should be fine. I’ve kept you a pretty decent secret, so you should be fine.”

She stared at him for a long moment before starting to laugh. “All of this. All of this,” she lifted her fingers and splayed them before his eyes, and the fire went out, leaving pristine skin, “and you still don’t believe I can protect myself. You think I’m /fragile/,” spitting the word out, “helpless. It that because of my mortality? Because I can die, I must be protected?” The hand clenched into a fist. “You utter, chauvinistic, brainless, pig of a man!”

Then she hit him.

damonpsychopathsalvatore:

iamthefirechild:

walk-right-through-me:

“Anybody like me? Oh, you mean psychopathic vampire who doesn’t give a damn about human life?” he asked, smirking. “Well the good news is that you don’t have to love me.”

“And how often do you kill people who are not a threat and who are not prey? How often do you simply kill for the pleasure of killing, and not to protect yourself, to feed yourself?” she asked softly. Her hand flared into flame with a dull whump, and her eyes flicked to it, then back to his face, marked with shifting shadows.

“Why are you so desperate to convince me that you aren’t good?” Slowly, she reached out toward him with the flaming fingers.

Damon watched her hand, watched it come closer, and honestly he didn’t care at this point. One hundred and seventy years was a long enough life. “I do it from time to time. More in the past than recently,” he said, slipping his hands in his pockets. He didn’t want to answer the last question, so he didn’t. “Go ahead. Burn me. Kill me,” he said, almost taunting. “I’ll stand here and take it.”

“Ah, but I promised I wouldn’t, remember?” Summer touched his face, and the fire didn’t leap from her fingers. It burned there, flaring and flickering, on her fingertips, sheathing her whole hand, and didn’t devour the new fuel. “Answer the question, Damon. You sought me out, and now you shove me away. Why?”

damonpsychopathsalvatore:

iamthefirechild:

walk-right-through-me:

“Anybody like me? Oh, you mean psychopathic vampire who doesn’t give a damn about human life?” he asked, smirking. “Well the good news is that you don’t have to love me.”

She let him see her flinch at his abrupt appearance in front of her. “Are you angry because you remember the pain, or because I empathize? I would not have been shocked if you attacked me, either.” She drew in a deep breath, holding his gaze, and said, “If there is nothing good about you, why is your brother still alive?”

Damon kept his eyes narrowed, staring at her and shaking his head slowly. “Three reasons. One, I owe him an eternity of pain for making me like this in the first place. Two, the Salvatores ended with us. He’s the only family I have and he’s much more useful if he’s not dead. And three… They love him. And I love them. And I may be second choice, but neither would ever forgive me if I killed Stefan,” he said, searching her eyes. “Vampires have an increased capacity for emotions. There is no anger. There’s rage. There’s no sadness. There’s utter despair. You may think you know how I feel, but you don’t. Your body will never be able to hold that much emotion, because it would kill you, and last time I heard, you’re incredibly mortal.”

Anger, finally, burned behind her green eyes. “Don’t tell me what I can do. You don’t know what I can do. Shall I take it in? Your rage, your despair, your grief … your love? Shall I show you why I survive it, every day, surrounded by people who, if not individually, then collectively feel as strongly as you?” She unfolded her arms, lifting a hand between them, fingers spread wide and cupped around the palm. “Shall I suck it out of you the way you draw blood from your prey and show you the difference between lack of humanity and lack of feeling?”

Sparks, controlled but brilliant, lifted from each fingertip. “Don’t tell me what I can do. What I can sense. You think someone who survived 9/11 can’t survive /you/?”

damonpsychopathsalvatore:

iamthefirechild:

walk-right-through-me:

“Anybody like me? Oh, you mean psychopathic vampire who doesn’t give a damn about human life?” he asked, smirking. “Well the good news is that you don’t have to love me.”

The blur of speed startled her. The anger, the hunger, did not. Hadn’t she observed that from the beginning, that dark bad-boy aura? Pushing herself out of her seat, Summer walked with deliberate grace and conscious speed to the edge of the road, where she folded her arms and watched. Knowing, now, that he could hear her, she said, “Do you think that will shock me, Damon?” A beat, then, “Moth. Flame.”

Damon heard Summer’s voice and narrowed his eyes, looking over at her from where he stood. He paused, digging his fingers into the girl and growling a little. He looked her in the eye. “Get back in the car and drive. Forget this,” he hissed, speeding away in a blur and going straight up to Summer. He looked down at her, staring at her and narrowing his eyes. “What would shock you, hm? Biting you? Drinking your blood? Killing you?” he asked, glaring. “I’m not a person to associate with. There’s nothing good about me, do you understand that?”

She let him see her flinch at his abrupt appearance in front of her. “Are you angry because you remember the pain, or because I empathize? I would not have been shocked if you attacked me, either.” She drew in a deep breath, holding his gaze, and said, “If there is nothing good about you, why is your brother still alive?”

damonpsychopathsalvatore:

iamthefirechild:

walk-right-through-me:

“Anybody like me? Oh, you mean psychopathic vampire who doesn’t give a damn about human life?” he asked, smirking. “Well the good news is that you don’t have to love me.”

Dryly, she said, “That’s not a vampire thing. I’ve seen humans do it too. Maybe becoming a vampire, who is forced to feed on life as it dies under his hands, just makes it more accessible.” She didn’t mention the times she’d wished she was capable of flipping that switch herself. “Like a moth,” Summer went on, “you know the flame will destroy you but you can’t resist the call.” She gave a harsh chuckle. “And of all the people in this city, all the people in the world, you lit on me. The empath. The one who can feel your pain as you feel it, who can make it go away without costing you the rest of your humanity — the one person who will remind you constantly of what you want to ignore.”

Damon eyed her before sighing a little. “Yeah. For some reason,” he said, staring at her. He stood and walked away from her. He was… getting upset. It never ended well when he got upset. “I have to go,” he said, grabbing his jacket and slipping it on before zipping outside and down the street. He stood in the middle of the road, waiting for the car coming at him to stop. When it finally did, Damon ran to the door, yanked the door open, and pulled the girl out of the driver’s side. His eyes were dark, but first he compelled her not to scream no matter what.

The blur of speed startled her. The anger, the hunger, did not. Hadn’t she observed that from the beginning, that dark bad-boy aura? Pushing herself out of her seat, Summer walked with deliberate grace and conscious speed to the edge of the road, where she folded her arms and watched. Knowing, now, that he could hear her, she said, “Do you think that will shock me, Damon?” A beat, then, “Moth. Flame.”

damonpsychopathsalvatore:

iamthefirechild:

walk-right-through-me:

“Anybody like me? Oh, you mean psychopathic vampire who doesn’t give a damn about human life?” he asked, smirking. “Well the good news is that you don’t have to love me.”

“All that effort, in pursuit of a lie,” Summer murmured. “And you still actually want anything to do with the human race. Impressive.” She let her fingers rest lightly on his hand. “Your brother isn’t here now. So what will you do?”

Damon sighed, running his fingers through his hair, staring at her hand on his other. “I don’t know,” he said, sighing and looking away. “Vampires have this great little switch. We can turn off our humanity. It’s like a button. You push it, and all the pain is gone. All the pain and guilt and suffering and betrayal — gone. It doesn’t even matter. And for some goddamn reason, I can’t make myself hit the switch again.”

Dryly, she said, “That’s not a vampire thing. I’ve seen humans do it too. Maybe becoming a vampire, who is forced to feed on life as it dies under his hands, just makes it more accessible.” She didn’t mention the times she’d wished she was capable of flipping that switch herself. “Like a moth,” Summer went on, “you know the flame will destroy you but you can’t resist the call.” She gave a harsh chuckle. “And of all the people in this city, all the people in the world, you lit on me. The empath. The one who can feel your pain as you feel it, who can make it go away without costing you the rest of your humanity — the one person who will remind you constantly of what you want to ignore.”

damonpsychopathsalvatore:

iamthefirechild:

walk-right-through-me:

“Anybody like me? Oh, you mean psychopathic vampire who doesn’t give a damn about human life?” he asked, smirking. “Well the good news is that you don’t have to love me.”

“Someone you loved,” she said softly. “Someone … like you? Can you say what happened?”

Damon took in a deep breath before looking over at her. “I was in love with her. I knew she was a vampire, and I wanted her to change me… And then she died in a fire and I was killed. But I had her blood in my system, so I came back. And… I fed. So I turned.” He nodded a little and looked at her.

Summer’s gaze flickered over his face, absorbing that information. “That was a hundred and fifty years ago. It’s not what hurts you now. So. Can you say what happened when you tried to bring her back?”