It took him a little over six hours.
Mystic Falls had long vanished in the rearview mirror when the first lights of Atlanta began to cut through the horizon. Damon drove without haste, letting his car glide along the roads, his hands resting on the wheel with the ease of someone who had never truly feared the road.
Atlanta had always been different.
Too vast to be monitored,
too loud to be truly observed, a city where the supernatural could hide without even needing to conceal itself.
He kept driving, leaving the heart of the city behind until he reached a quieter area, less frequented, where eyes lingered less and habits had long since settled into stagnation.
A bar stood not far from the road, away from the main thoroughfares, in a neighborhood investors had abandoned years ago. The façade was ordinary, almost forgettable.
Damon parked a little farther down, shut off the engine, and remained still for a moment, his gaze heavy with a nostalgia he would never admit out loud.
His eyes settled on the green-and-yellow sign, the slightly faded blue letters spelling out:
"Bree's Bar."
Until now, he had only seen it through a handful of photos posted on Bree's Facebook page.
Twenty years…
Twenty years since I last saw you, little witch.
He closed the car door and headed inside.
Bree had been one of his former flames. One of the few who had almost, almost, made him abandon his love for Katherine, the emphasis very much on almost. Despite the century and a half he had spent searching for a way to save her, Damon had never stopped loving Katherine.
That, of course, didn't mean he had taken a vow of chastity.
Damon had slept with his fair share of women, but as long as his heart still belonged to the woman he considered the love of his life, he never saw it as betrayal. Especially considering Katherine herself had never hesitated to share her attentions between him and Stefan.
The Damon he was now was different. Possessive. He would never accept sharing what he considered his, and in his mind, that was perfectly legitimate.
Back then, however… it had been another story.
After all, he had been a truly pathetic human.
All of this to say that Damon shared a particular bond with Bree. She was a beautiful, powerful thing he had met almost by chance, back when he was indulging in everything college life on an Atlanta campus had to offer. For Damon, that had mostly meant good alcohol and the blood of delicious sorority girls.
Time well spent, as far as he was concerned.
Now, Bree would be something else entirely.
A well of knowledge.
In twenty years, he hoped she had greatly deepened her mastery of magic.
She might help him understand what was happening to him… and, incidentally, help free Katherine.
One stone, two birds.
Damon felt the magic before he even stepped inside the bar.
Nothing aggressive. Nothing defensive. A gentle warmth, like an ember carefully tended over time. He wasn't fooled, his instincts whispered that this peaceful state was only a façade, that Bree's magic was ready to erupt the moment it was needed.
It seemed his abilities were far more diverse than he had initially believed.
Note to myself: I really need to learn what I'm capable of. Damon think.
He didn't overthink it and pushed the door open.
The inside of the bar was surprisingly lively for barely two in the afternoon. The music filled the space without overwhelming it, perfectly attuned to the atmosphere. Some patrons were already drinking, others eating, while a few groups competed at the pool table or darts.
With a single glance, Damon knew what Bree showed on her Facebook page hadn't been exaggerated.
Her bar was thriving.
He smiled as he walked calmly between the tables.
He was genuinely in a good mood seeing what his little witch had built.
Not so little anymore, he noted to himself.
Bree was stunning.
Her mocha-colored skin emphasized the quiet authority and mature charm she exuded. She was tall, nearly a head taller than him. Her dark brown curls fell freely around her face with effortless elegance. Her chocolate eyes curved into crescents as she laughed at something one of her customers had said.
She hadn't noticed him yet.
But Damon fully intended to change that.
"Should I feel offended?" he called out, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of the entire bar, hers included.
"There was a time when that enchanting laugh was reserved exclusively for my ears, babe."
"D-Damon? Is that really you?"
She vaulted over the counter without hesitation, crossed the room, and threw herself at him with a familiarity that had lost none of its intensity. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her mouth finding his without the slightest restraint.
The kiss was heavy with emotion.
Damon responded slowly, one hand pressed to her back, the other sliding shamelessly over her ass. The world around them seemed to dissolve for long seconds, amid whistles and laughter from the patrons.
When she finally pulled back, she turned to her audience, grinning brightly.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the man who broke my heart!"
A few drunken patrons booed Damon loudly
"Drinks on the house!", Bree yelled.
"YEAHHH!"
Damon pinched her ass with a predatory smile.
"I can't wait to see the nighttime atmosphere."
He took a seat on a barstool as she returned behind the counter, still laughing.
But when she looked at him again, her expression shifted.
She studied him openly. Thoroughly.
"You've changed…"
Damon Salvatore was still Damon Salvatore. And yet, in many ways, he wasn't.
His features were even more mesmerizing than before, if that was possible. His hair was darker, longer, slightly wavy, giving him an air that was both dangerous and elegant. His ocean-blue eyes were the same, but heavier, denser.
All in all, he was the most beautiful man she had ever met, and she had met plenty.
"What happened to you, Damon? I thought vampires were immutable."
"Am I your average vampire?"
The amused tone told her everything she needed to know.
She poured herself a shot, then handed one to him.
Bree leaned in, locking eyes with him, suddenly serious.
"Tell me everything, love…"
Damon tilted his head slightly.
"Short version or long version? Just so you know, I'm still too sober for the long one."
"Short version. You just got here, I'd rather save the details for later."
"If it involves you and me very naked in a bed, I'm all for it."
He winked.
"Long story short, I'm a lot more than I thought I was." Damon stopped, then smiled. "Which is saying something, since I already believed I was nothing less than divine. Turns out, I was still underestimating myself."
Bree burst out laughing.
"At least that hasn't changed. You're still the narcissistic bastard who made me fall way too hard."
She downed her drink. Damon placed a dramatic hand over his dead heart.
"I'm a little different, sweet Bree… but let's talk about you. How did you end up with this bar? And by the way, it's incredible."
She frowned slightly.
"You're calmer. And at the same time—"
"Short version," he interrupted gently. "You can dissect me later. Right now, I've got twenty years of your life to catch up on."
He gestured toward a bottle of bourbon. She brought it without argument.
And Bree talked.
About the pain. The rebuilding. The magic. The solitude.
Damon listened. Interjected sometimes. To make her laugh. To comment. To apologize, rarely, but sincerely.
They drank like it was 1989 again.
And just like that, time stretched on.