"Damon, emotions are human, a weakness. You know joy, sadness, anger, jealously and pain. Most of all, you know love. You cherished her for more than a century, thought nothing more than to free her, to exist with her. You may call it an obsession, a desire, something that can be so easily cast away like a broken toy. But surely you know real monsters can't love?"

A/N: Mature theme at one point, nothing explicit? Revised, have it on my wattpad as well.

— — — — — —

"No amount of prayer can wash away dirty, filthy sins," she glanced at the vampire to her side, as warm and as real as she. Her eyes drifted back to the fire, a happy, sated feeling flooding her being as her fingers flutter and dance above the heat, the flames licking the tips in reverence. Blinking the tiredness away from her eyes, she opened her mouth to speak.

"You," her voice gaining an amused and fond tone, slurring slightly but still strong, as if speaking to a child rather than a creature, "beg for acceptance, for forgiveness. Yet cannot even fathom the thought of living as you are, being as you are. To find such in another, than to find it in yourself. An existence such as you..."

Her fingers reach out to pet his cheek, soft and almost human, "Can you not see, beasts such as you, monsters," His posture stiffened, but she didn't mind it. Her eyes were on his, icy blue and more beautiful than any jewel she'd seen, "are special? You act like you're only a burden, a blemish to humanity, something meant to be hidden away in the night."

"How?" His voice was rough. The very thought of her acknowledging that aspect of his life, of even knowing and learning the horrors of his carefully hidden past and now present, sent a chill down his spine. An emotion he seldom felt wormed its way in his heart, burrowing and churning in his gut. Fear.

"Damon," her eyes twinkled, brighter than the fire behind them, ignoring his question and continued, "Emotions are human, a weakness. You know joy, sadness, anger, jealousy and pain. Most of all, you know love," the amazement and delight showed on her face as she leaned in, arms drawn around him like he was fragile, "you cherished her for more than a century, thought nothing more than to free her, to exist with her. You may call it an obsession, a desire, something that can be so easily cast away like a broken toy. But surely you know real monsters can't love? Know monsters express hate and malice, sadness and despair, with violence, not crumpling down like their legs don't function in front of friends, because all else failed." her tone grew softer and looked at him with such hope and love that made Damon hate himself for not being able to give back. That he hadn't allowed himself to give back.

"Surely, a vampire like you knows that you must have some inkling of humanity for being able to give it up just to have a chance at eternal happiness with the woman you loved, to give yourself wholly to her and be of her kind. For a human, a mortal with a short, finicky lifespan and a life before her, eternity is scary. For you, it was just a means to be with her."

His hands clung onto her body, dimly reminding himself that too much pressure and she was as good as dead. One slid down to hold her hip and the other on her shoulders.

"I apologize for not saying anything sooner. I didn't know how you'd feel about me knowing. But you and Stefan gave so many hints and Elena can only hide so much. Just know that, whatever you say, I'll stand by you. You are my friend and I won't run scared or try to smite you."

She drew more of herself into his embrace, petting his hair and resting her face to his torso.

"Hestia," his chest rumbled.

She hummed, the smell of the smoldering wood and coals brushing against her skin so nicely and clinging onto her just as he did.

"You don't have to talk right now. Just bask in the glow of the fire and know one thing. Nothing will stop me from being with you." She lamented her own wants, the disgusting feeling of desire lighting her bones as his eyes darkened, but expression soft, akin to the joyous love she saw when facing a mirror, thinking of him. Hestia knew it was stupid, falling like this. For someone who just learned of betrayal and anguish. Someone like her was a true monster, to love like this, to try and squeeze herself in his already dead heart and replace a woman that discarded and disgraced him and his family.

—

At first, Damon didn't really care for her. How could he when there was a carbon copy of Katherine, mortal and everything Katherine was not, perfection and loveliness embodied in a human. He was transfixed. Nothing would stop him from getting her.

Then he saw it. During the dinner.

How everyone gravitated towards her orbit. How Elena made sure to be as close as possible. How Caroline grabbed her so forcefully that he was surprised her arm wasn't broken. How Bonnie, the little witch, made sure Hestia had a distance from both he and his brother. And how Stefan, Stefan who loved Katherine, thought of no one but her, his broken little brother that wanted nothing more than the woman that destroyed them both, look at Hestia like she hung the moon and the stars. Like everything and everyone revolved around her, like a star, the Sun. It interested him. Confused him, made him wary of a short little redhead by the name of Hestia Gilbert.

—

Damon watched her for a while. Slowly, tortuously, he descended into some sort of madness. Learning things about her, how she would talk to her pet cactus, draw by the large window in her room, light up candles and stare at the flames, and pick out flowers and visit her parents grave every other day to burn sage, leave food and say prayers. She liked to read, avidly returning to the bookstore in the city just to find anything on the weekends. He felt it. Something he didn't think he would ever feel the need to do, to want, to need to be in her presence. It was terrifying, an emotion that he seldom felt.

—

"What's a girl like you doing alone in a place like this?"

He was the forest, at night, watching a girl dance around in a body of water, slippers carelessly tossed by the lakeside. Watching her kick away the water, humming a tune he didn't know, eyes showing mirth as he stood there like a statue with his lips tilted to a smirk.

Hestia just smiled and pointed up, "Are you here to see the moon too?"

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on a log, chatting lightly with the girl as she spun and laughed like there were no troubles in the world.

"You should join me, the water is just fine."

He shook his head, leading her out the water to dry when Damon saw her shivering, from the cold or his ambiguous comments, of which he didn't really know, and lit the fire pit in front of them.

"Shouldn't you be home by now?" He was more amused than anything else. Hestia, from what he'd seen, had the heart of a child, frolicking around and making everyone scramble in a tizzy to match her speed. She was like fire, dancing and moving wildly with dark red, almost black embers tresses bouncing behind her like flames riding in the wind and firewood colored eyes that held fierceness and will. An amusing sense of comparison considering she enjoyed playing in water, took to it like a duck, and kicking up a storm.

"I should be." The girl nodded, just fingering the ends of her dress, a white summer dress that looked far too thin to be on her, the cold night air surrounding them and blowing winds to her as if to mock her for not bringing something like a jumper to cover up, "You should be too, since you said you're too old to come and muck around in the waters."

Her sass made him bark in laughter, "What a mouth on you, little girl."

They parted ways a few minutes later. Damon, being the southern gentleman he was, he lent Hestia his jacket, "Make sure you give it to me before you drown it in the lake."

—

Sometimes they meet, sometimes it was just him. He would lean against the trees for a moment or two, maybe even longer, before heading back to the boarding house.

The pit in his stomach was growing uncomfortable. He tried to stay away, pull before either of them got hurt. He knew it was stupid, but his brain, his mind and body didn't quell. It grew more curious, wanting to know more of the little spite fire called Hestia, what he had come to know as the embodiment of fire and youth.

He told himself he wasn't seeking her out. He saw her the very next day, finally bringing his jacket to him.

Damon, again, told himself that the meet ups were done, there was nothing else that tied them together other than Elena Gilbert.

But his feet bring him to the lakeside again the next night.

His eyes did not light up, nor did he feel the hole in his stomach punching him in the gut like a freight train at how relaxed she look around him.

—

They met up frequently now, secretly. By the lake or the forest, doing nothing but talking. Sometimes, Hestia would bring food with her, cookies, sweets and little baked goods. Sometimes she'd bring hot drinks to soothe for themselves so the cold didn't get to them. Mostly, she brought both, shoving brownies down his throat or handing him a flask of hot chocolate, saying she can't really sneak out alcohol for him with a shrug. He ignored the voice in his head, the voice of reason, he aptly named, that told him to stop.

"We're having a picnic."

"I guess we are princess."

She stared at him and pointed rudely, "Next time Damie, it's your turn."

He stopped himself from smiling at the nickname, giving her a half smile and asked, already having an inkling of what she's asking, "For what?"

"To bring food. Or else I won't share the cookies with you anymore."

Damon snorted, but nodded nonetheless, knowing exactly what she wanted. Hestia was rather keen on the pasta he brought over during the dinner and tried to hound him for the recipe ever since, telling him , 'I bet you put some weird magic in there. I never tasted something this good.' An ego booster, that's for sure. He tried to tell himself not to get too attached, that a friendship like this won't do him any good. But seeing her eyes shine, long lashes fluttering in her comical attempt at copying the girls in her school that saw him, made his undead heart flutter around uselessly.

"Please don't ever come there again, it was like they all had an eye problem. I do want to learn, you know."

"I would've never guessed by the drool on the table."

—

It was getting ridiculous.

He stared at her, mouth spewing out curses as they both fell into the water like stone, his clothes sopping wet and hers nearly identical in dampness. Hestia smiled mischievously, a hint of nervousness in her words, "At least your jacket is safe?"

Damon didn't even feel a want to kill her for what she's done. He wrapped his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into the water, watching her shriek and flail around.

"You don't know how to swim and you play in the lake alone?"

"I'm going to die—"

"It's only waist deep little girl."

"Your waist is like to my shoulders, so help—"

—

Damon wondered when the novelty of secretly meeting up with an older, handsome man wane and their little rendezvous would stop for Hestia. He figured that he'd simply just go with it. Something to do while he waits for the chance to open up Katherine's tomb.

He knew better, though, than to call it a pet project, a side along, once that girl decided to, just randomly, just suddenly, gift him with a stupid looking scarf that looked to be hand made and too long. He told her that it was ugly as he wrapped it around his neck. Damon told himself it was fraying, it wasn't well made and that he would throw it out as he walked back to his house.

It can be found in the cabinet, in his bedside table, top drawer. Along with that flask he never really returned to her and a weird stone that was warm to the touch, that she found and graciously, her words not his, gave to him as a pet.

—

He, of course, gave her a gift back just as spontaneously as she did. The warmth in her eyes made him want to hug her.

It was just a cute little trinket he bought on a whim, a little flame embedded on the necklace. Hestia thanked him with a hug.

Several days later, Stefan noticed that the jewelry that Damon bought for the woman they both loved was missing. He figured his brother finally had enough of seeing it and being reminded of what was and couldn't have been.

—

It was nice while it lasted, he supposed. Saint Stefan came barreling home and hissy fitting about Hestia.

"Stay away from her."

"We had a conversation similar to this before, I think you know the answer."

"Are you doing this because of Elena? Hestia's a nice girl, doing that—"

"If she dies, she is dead. It's not in your place to order me around."

It still didn't stop Stefan from attacking him about being thrown at his attempt. Damon sneered at how weak he was, "I do what I will little brother. If I wanted to drain her, to watch the blood run down her pretty breakable neck, then I'll do it. I'd sit there, watching as her face turns pale and eyes looking at you accusingly since you won't be able stop what I'd do to her. Your squirrel diet isn't going to help lover boy."

He stalked to his room, bottle and glass at hand and set them down by his bedside. The vampire tried to imagine himself doing as he said, killing the only human he considered as a friend. His stomach did flips, his mouth filled with bile at the thought. There was no desire to kill her. It was fear. Encompassing his very being at the gruesome picture he conjured in his mind, dead eyes, pale skin, blue mouth.

He hummed a familiar tune, trying to forget, trying to ignore how his mind wandered, to calm his still heart that ached so wrongly. That felt so unusually alive.

—

"You don't meet me by the lake anymore."

She stood there in front of his door, sun setting in the back and wind swirling around the dead leaves that fell on the floor. Hestia didn't sound accusing, nor did she look angry. She had a playful pout, hands to her hips like a mother would do when her child was being bad.

"If you're seen with me, bad rumors would pop up. That Lockwood kid saw us last time. I don't think it's a smart idea running around at the dead of night with a hot thing like me, missy."

"Puh-lease, Ty isn't going to talk, he's a friend," Damon ignored the jab he felt at the word friend, not letting himself feel jealous over a little teenage boy that Hestia had around her little fingers. Not thinking about the couple-like act they pulled in front of the town, the kisses on the cheek or the hand holding. He's not even going to think about why they were missing for the rest the party.

"Just friends?"

"If you're going to tease me about the dance, please don't. Tyler needed a date and well, you know—what happened to..." She shrugged helplessly, "I mean. If it fooled you, that means we're good at acting."

"Hestia," the name sounded heavy on his lips, her mouth pushed down into a frown at his way of saying it, "go home."

She scowled, pretty features tightening as she huffed out a goodbye.

The vampire stared at her back, her feet marching her away from him. He brought the thoughts of Katherine out of the recesses of his mind and ignored the familiar shudder and cold he suddenly felt.

—

She wasn't there.

More than a century wasting away, trying to open the tomb that didn't hold her. Almost a hundred and fifty years of mindlessly wandering around, trying to find anyway of prying her from that hell that she wasn't even in.

He shook violently, wanting so badly to lash out.

Damon gripped the scarf he brought along, telling him it would be good luck, that it wasn't because he missed her scent.

His knees failed on him. Misery. Discomfort and endless disgust.

He supposed that it was payback, for all the things he'd done, to counteract it, things he holds dear, held dear, was taken from his hands, torn like it was nothing. Karma is indeed a bitch.

—

"You are a vampire, a monster of the night. A creature of the dark. One that drinks blood and smells like metal copper because of it. You're darkness, a being that hides amongst the living, cringing at the light, for it can kill you. You sway at vervain, the strong stench blocking your demonic speed, healing and monstrosity. You cover your tracks, killing for blood or for leisure, for the fun of it." Her words didn't hurt, stung but didn't harm him.

The gentle hands massaged his hair, mussing it up, making her giggle at the sight, "but you are Damon Salvatore. You enjoy scotch, whiskey and any alcoholic drink you can get your hands on while chatting up a storm of sarcasm and bravado. You have a favorite jacket, leather and black that smell like you, like fine alcohol and cologne. You like cars, talk about them like it's your favorite child or toy. A vampire that, for some unfathomable reason, listens to a girl that's a fraction of their age and makes her delicious, pasta when asked. Most importantly, you are my friend. Vampire, human, a mixture of both or only of one. To me, that's all you need to be and that's all you have to be, a friend, just made for me."

Surely, he thought, his hands that gripped her so tightly, intimately, more than what he knows a friend would do, would bruise her pale body.

Damon pulled her away begrudgingly, eyes touching upon her person. Watched as her messy hair curl down from her bun, pretty eyes looking back at him sleepily and nimble fingers that caressed the sides of his forearms. He drew her closer again.

He stole Hestia from her house like a thief, dragging her to the dormitories and broke down. Then he proceeded to lead her to his room and opened his arms in silent question. The girl flopped down and mumbled, face relaxing and telling him all he needed to know.

—

They didn't mention the incident.

Both continued on like nothing was wrong.

Then, he started drifting. Then, she started getting angry.

He didn't draw her in his world of supernatural beings anymore, pushing her away. He doesn't speak about the times he found himself wandering towards the lake like some fool, thinking that by some chance, she'd be there.

She didn't shoo away the crow that followed her faithfully. She hadn't mentioned seeing him walking in the woods at night from her window, like he was looking for something, waiting for someone.

—

"I'm sorry for telling you to stay away."

"I'm sorry for avoiding you."

They didn't talk about their feelings, they just sat by the waterfront, like before, telling each other things they both missed these last few weeks of no contact.

—

Elena cursed him for bringing her little sister into the mix, shouting obscenities and tried to hide Hestia behind her.

"Lena, he's my friend."

She paused, eyes frantically looking between the two of them and face morphing into anger, "You aren't going to turn my little sister into a fucking blood bag you slimy shit—"

Damon shrugged, his gaze firmly on Hestia, who tried valiantly to defend his honor that was already tattered and in pieces. It must have shown on his face, whatever it was, since Elena suddenly stopped and shook her head in disbelief and genuine concern. For her or for him, both maybe, he didn't know.

—

Their first kiss was an accident. While waiting for Hestia's brother and Stefan to be done talking. Hestia was walking, talking to Elena and bumped into him, pressing him against his car as he tried to steady them. He could've moved, but really, did he even want to? Right when their lips touched, the buzzing sound of voices stopped and Elena, guns blazing, swore at him like he was the Devil. All of his attention was drawn to her little face, flushed red and eyes widened, not at all minding Stefan and Jeremy's evil looks or Elena's fervent yelling.

—

Odd enough, he didn't feel any need to fuck her, at least, not at this moment. In fact, he made it his mission to show her how much of a gentleman he was, only giving chaste kisses on the cheek, soft and fleeting like the bat of a butterfly's wings or innocent wooing with flowers and cheesy compliments that cause her to blush neck down.

As much as a gentleman as he was, he can't help but wonder how far that blush goes or how beautiful she'd look laid down.

Because of his work, she agreed for more, her soft untouched and unmarked skin caused fire to light up his body as she sunk down and spread herself like a sacrifice. He thanked whatever god that let's him hold Hestia on his bed, red staining her face as innocuous touches turned more daring.

Damon, of course, stopped himself from going too far. He wasn't all that happy with his hand, but it would do. A gentleman doesn't force or coerce, doesn't trick and certainly held their libido with an iron fist. They woo til the woman fell like her, until she offered herself and consummated readily and regularly.

—

"Have I said I love you yet?"

Her voice was questioning, but her words made him freeze.

"No."

"Well, I love you."

He didn't know if he could say it back, if this feeling, this emotion that choked him, drowned him. Was what love felt like?

"You don't have to say anything Damon, all you need to know is that I love you."

—

Being exclusive and Damon didn't go well together, but he thought that it's not that bad and definitely wasn't that hard to do. He waved away the woman, tall, blond hair and looked beautiful, telling her to move since she blocked a lovely view of Hestia and walked back to her, resting his arm around her middle. Hestia's eyes settled on him as she kissed his cheek and rested her head on his shoulder.

He can handle exclusive.

—

He was finally going to ask her. The thought of it always drifted in his head, confusion and amusement swimming in him as he said, "Why did you give me a rock?"

Hestia shrugged, "It looks like a dragon egg."

There was something more, he knew and but he didn't say. The pulsing fire that came from the little stone gave him comfort. Damon understood that it was more than what it seemed, that she was more than just a girl with fire-red hair and eyes as tired as he felt.

"I suppose so."

She never told him the origins of where she found it. Hestia only kissed his hands and hummed an old, but familiar tune.

—

He was never able to say it back, words catching on his throat and eyes shifting side to side.

"I love you."

"I know."

He wondered if that was enough for her, that commitment still scared him, even though he was so set on Katherine. Now, after some thought, he just liked the idea of forever rather than the girl that gave it to him. Perhaps he could say it one day, when Damon knew what he wanted. Then maybe he could look at her without feeling guilty.

—

"You like her."

"I do." That much he was willing to admit.

"You, a vampire that obsessed over my sister's doppelgänger for a hundred or more years, like my other sister, Hestia?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

Of course Jeremy had a hard time believing, the skepticism showed in his voice as he replied back in fervor, "I only want her to be happy. If you're dating her for some sick and twisted reason to get back at your ex—"

"Never."

Jeremy stood there, not at all afraid of the vampire that can so easily rip his body like paper. But he saw what he wanted, like Elena had, and nodded.

—

Sex was amazing.

Her body, a girl like her, virginal and pure to the core, was something he admired. Her hips were rounded and waist small, then flared to her dainty legs nearly caused him to rut into the sheets like some inexperienced boy. The way she deflowered, opened herself to him so well, made him take her more roughly, eyes roaming her body as she whimpered, moaned and gasped at his deft fingers and loving caresses. Hands gripped her sides as he pushed his way in her, kissing her mouth, her cheek, her neck until all he could feel was a tight, hot vice grip on him. Eventually he let go and shifted their bodies so that they can rest. But the bruising in her thighs, her throat and hips had rejuvenated him along with his vampiric abilities. All she could do was take and take until she passed out, sticky essence spread in her, coating her inside and out. It was like bitter honey. Only until he managed to stop, the third or fourth one in the two hours they had, now flaccid and satisfied at the intensity, did he realize she passed out. Her release, dripped down, more than double the amount he had. Her limbs limp and channel still hugged him. He was nearly animalistic, the groans he let out as he found that, awake or asleep, Hestia's willing self made him feel and desire more than anything he had felt.

A gentleman he was, until his libido sky rocketed and can't be contained until release.

—

He indulged her with whatever she wanted, trips to the city for an obscure bakery's Spanish bread, drive by the hills, walking in the forests, cuddling, anything she asked for, he would try his best to please. Damon knew he had it bad when Stefan asked him how would they stop Katherine, his answer being, "Who?"

A century and a half of pining, all gone because of a girl who was as warm and fierce as fire blazed through his immortal life.

Sometimes he scared himself, when he realized his thoughts drifted to how she can stay with him, indefinitely.

—

He was a bit of an idiot, impulsiveness and possessiveness rising as he realized that Hestia was being crowded around by a group of men.

"Excuse me, she's mine."

Some grumble off, scoffing at his face and dejectedly crawling back to the bar with their metaphorical tails between their legs. The more daring ones, ones that think they can challenge him, puffed their weak chests in a show of false bravery.

"Yup, that's mine too, I got to go."

She pushed them away, arms circling around his neck and pulling in to the door. In a moment of stupidity, he said it.

"I love you."

She smiled, "I know."

The words flew out of his mouth like it was meant to be said. He locked his hand to hers and whispered, "Gotta say it back missy."

Hestia gave him a short and sweet kiss, "I love you too."

—

It was too good to be true.

Damon always knew good endings weren't for him. Never for him. Only tragedies and heartbreak were his bread and butter. Dimly, he realized that the screams came from Elena, or Bonnie, he wasn't really paying much attention to them. He was too busy watching as he saw Hestia, his little Hestia faced down on the floor, tilted to face parallel with the cold and harsh ground, blood gushing from whatever wound she had, neck mangled like a snapped twig and hair matted with dirt, grime and ash. Her fingers, fingers that traced his face, that he kissed so reverently, a mess of what it once was. Her stomach that he loved to hold crushed by painful looking claws. Werewolves, he told himself as he stared at her dead body.

Happy endings weren't ever made for him, of course. How can he be so silly?

He laughed until his voice grew hoarse and turned into sobs. The pull he felt towards her broke and dead like she was.

He realized too late, that he'd fallen too hard and too fast for this little human. Damon thought back to what that old woman told him before her life was taken, a person waiting for you. Such things the barmy witch said, a soulmate, made just for you. He scoffed at it, but he knew now what she had meant.

"Made just for me, huh? How fucking stupid."

—

He threw the rock at the wall. Anger was something he was never able to deal with well. It broke apart into pieces, shaking him out of his hazy fogginess of blind rage.

Damon felt the anger in him dissipate, feeling despair and an underlying emotion of self hatred for not being able to do anything for her. Why did she have to die? What could he have done to help her? Even though he was stronger, been alive longer than she had been for almost over two centuries, but he didn't do a thing. He wasn't able to. He sat by on his bed, holding a bottle of alcohol and drinking from a glass. The little touches in his room that Hestia made was all the more saddening. He remembered the hugs, the promises they made with each other and the brief, but engulfing happiness he felt as he slept besides her. Watching her breathe and gently fingering her hair like she was a lost treasure.

The Sun will be up in a few hours.

Damon took off his light ring.

—

Hestia was like fire. She burned and burned until there was nothing left but dust and ashes. Like the sun that rained down on his blistering figure, the pain washing across his body. It felt worse than vervain. The obsession he felt for her gave him the ultimatum to destroy himself. All the while, a being brighter than a forest ablaze watched over him with sadness but reluctant acceptance. A goddess of hearth and of fire, Hestia, stood as he disappeared, as if the sun swept him away.

She knew that it was wrong, to hide herself away from her dysfunctional family and live a human life that she never knew she wanted. A virgin goddess she was in body, in mind she is not. She was tainted by love, by pure dedication and a man called Damon Salvatore. Hestia knew that this would be her first and last love, a vampire who had no heart took hers instead, molding it until it had only felt for him.

If you they didn't have such fickle lives, then maybe, just maybe...

She refused to entertain the thought any longer, turning away from the decrypted image of a man that just wanted to see his lover.

A god can't love a monster, after all.

— — — — — —

Did I manage to surprise anyone lmao? Thanks for reading!