Damon's heart shattered into a million pieces, his devastation palpable. The weight of their dwindling options and the merciless ticking of time-pressed down on him, suffocating him. Two months ago, a mysterious woman's call had plunged him into this never-ending nightmare. She had discovered an unconscious woman, a stranger, who held the key to Damon's torment - his phone number tucked away in her pocket.
Reluctantly, Damon had brushed off the first call, dismissing it as a prank. But when the woman persisted, calling again just thirty minutes later, irritation propelled him into action. He hastily climbed into his car and raced towards the unknown. Eventually, he arrived at the desolation of an abandoned factory site in South Carolina.
Stepping out of the car, regret gnawed at him. If only he had put an end to the party earlier, none of this would have happened. His mind spiraled back to that fateful decision when Mimi, driven by her determination to kill Nicodemus, had ventured into danger.
Damon couldn't help but blame himself for her current plight. Once again, the threat of losing Mimi loomed over him. She had endured months of solitude, and in his absence, he had sought solace in the arms of strangers, unable to comprehend the impulsive force that had driven him away from her.
The memories of the never-ending party swirled chaotically in his mind, fragmented and disjointed. The haze of intoxication and the blur of sexual encounters merged, leaving him unable to recall specifics if asked about a particular date. The party had stretched on for nearly five months of chaos for what felt like an eternity, while he had spent over a month cleaning up the messes left behind by the originals.
Adam blamed himself when he, too, had taken to drinking, but both of them knew it was Bran's fault. Bran knew and realized it himself and had been very shocked when Damon had carried the unconscious Mimi into the house, a coin in her hand. Adam had once again pulled them out from under Bran, but Bran hadn't put up a fight. When all he had wanted to do was party. From Magnum on, everyone yelled at Bran until he had had enough and ran off to the safety of Montana.
Damon had sworn that Bran would suffer if Mimi weren't rescued. He had promised Bran. But now Damon's rage was so intense that there was no way Bran could get Damien to surface, and Bran did not know what he had actually done; he remembered how Damien had surfaced from time to time, walked out of the house, and driven somewhere.
Damon vividly recalled the dusty scent that filled the air as he arrived at the dilapidated warehouse. The moon cast an ethereal glow on the woman who approached him, her almost white hair shimmering like a halo. The soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet accompanied their footsteps as they ventured into the abandoned factory. Damon clutched a flickering lamp, its feeble light casting eerie shadows on the cracked walls.
Without revealing her name, the woman inquired if he was Damon Salvatore. Damon affirmed with a nod, presenting his driver's license for confirmation. Her piercing green eyes scrutinized the license before nodding in acknowledgment.
"I'll show you where she is. Whoever she is," she uttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Intrigued, Damon followed the woman, his curiosity overpowering his suspicion of a potential trap. She guided him through the labyrinthine depths of the factory until they reached a room. Damon entered, his heart pounding in his chest. There, lying motionless on a table, was his wife. Mimi had been coined, a realization that struck Damon like a lightning bolt.
Desperate, Damon rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he assessed her condition. Mimi appeared lifeless and pale, her mind barely perceptible. The malevolent presence of a demon lingered, a constant reminder of the battle she faced. Damon knew that this would be Mimi's fight. He tried to help, but it was no use. Damon's emotions surged within him, threatening to overwhelm his composure. He knew Mimi's recovery would depend on her strength and willpower.
The woman said quietly, softly, "Your friend is in a terrible place. Maybe you should ask the pope to help her and take her to the Vatican to see if the Holy Father could offer some assistance in order to combat that evil."
Damon didn't respond. He was way too shocked and blamed himself. His fault was that Mimi had ended up alone, bitter about the party, about him going to fuck other women, and as brave as Mimi was, she was also brash and reckless with her own safety, and this was the result.
As the woman silently departed, she glanced back at Damon, a sigh escaping her lips. "I hope, my dear friend, your Damon will save you; I remember how you adored him. We will meet again one day when you remember me again. You will both remember," she whispered to herself, her words filled with a bittersweet longing. Bridgette continued on her way, knowing that she couldn't interfere, bound by the delicate balance of her role.
The weight of responsibility pressed upon Bridgette, reminding her she couldn't provide direct help. She cherished her connection with Mimi, even if Mimi didn't remember her. However, upholding the balance demanded her adherence to the rules. She treaded cautiously, refusing to offer any advantage to the malevolent forces at play.
She sensed Damien within Damon, a testament to the equilibrium she was sworn to protect. If she had done something, it might have given Damien too much power, so much so that Damien could have killed Damon for good. And that was not an option. The concept of free will loomed, integral to the intricate balance she upheld.
Damon's eyes widened in disbelief as he witnessed the impossible. A gleaming coin had vanished into the depths of Mimi's right palm. Frantically, he attempted to extract it, but his efforts were in vain. The unsettling thought of severing her hand crossed his mind when suddenly, as if reading his darkest intentions, the coin materialized around her delicate neck.
Without hesitation, Damon scooped up Mimi, her weight pressing against his chest, and sprinted towards the waiting car. The urgency of the situation called for reinforcements, and Bran, Samuel, Adam, and even Charles joined forces to brainstorm a solution. Even Dresden, the master of the arcane, could not free Mimi from the grip of the possessed coin.
His solemn voice broke the silence: "It falls upon Mimi to rid herself of that cursed coin, but be warned: She lives in a perfect world now. She resists leaving it willingly."
Dresden had witnessed this torment countless times before. His enchanted warehouse housed many victims ensnared by demonic coins. To prevent the awakening of the malevolent entity within, he had plunged the victims into a deep magical slumber. Dresden knew, deep down, that Mimi would likely meet the same fate. However, he could not bring himself to voice this heartbreaking truth just yet, relying instead on the pack's collective ingenuity.
Once, the demon had wielded absolute control over Mimi's mind, ensnaring her within an impenetrable abyss. Mimi would eventually awaken, but the process could be protracted, given her indomitable strength. The fact that the demon had already formed such a powerful bond with her spoke volumes about its strength.
In hushed tones, Constantine interjected, "But even that demon cannot succeed flawlessly. Demon makes mistakes and forgets things, but it is something that won't matter. It's a shame those mistakes hold no significance. We overlook them. It makes us overlook them. I know. I have been there. Mimi is about to face a formidable battle, and I fear her chances of victory are not so good. It may come to pass that Dresden must lull her into a magical slumber spanning centuries. He simply cannot bear to reveal this truth to you just yet. However, you deserve to know where our path leads."
Damon's face contorted with shock, his mind struggling to comprehend the gravity of the situation—a magical coma lasting for centuries. How did they always find themselves entangled in these harrowing predicaments? Mimi stood on the precipice of paying an exorbitant price, and it left Damon overwhelmed with a mix of fear and determination.
It had been two long months since Damon had found Mimi. The situation in Chicago was grim, and with each passing day, it only seemed to worsen. Mimi lay upstairs in the medbay, her frail body restrained by cold chains, while Damon wept in desperation. His tear-streaked face pleaded with her, "No baby, fight! Listen to me, fight!"
The sickly green hue momentarily vanished from Mimi's face, revealing a fleeting glimpse of her true self before the evil once again took hold. Damon's heart sank. He was running out of options. Then, like a beacon of hope, he remembered the words of a mysterious woman. This was his last-ditch effort, his real Hail Mary.
With a sense of urgency, Damon approached Adam. "Adam, I want to take Mimi to the Vatican to see the Pope. Maybe he can grant her some divine power or weaken the grip of this demon."
Adam, seeing no other way, agreed. Desperate to save Mimi's soul, they quickly arranged an audience with the Pope.
On the plane ride to the Vatican, Damon held Mimi's trembling hand, whispering words of love and encouragement. "Come on, baby. Fight back, and realize that this darkness isn't real. Find a flaw. Give me a glimmer of hope."
But Mimi remained silent, her once vibrant spirit fading away. The green tinge persisted, a chilling reminder of the demon's growing strength.
Samuel, the medical expert, made a shocking discovery in Mimi's blood. It was laced with a potent anesthetic, its presence unknown and impossible for Damon's teeth to combat. Someone had succeeded where Constantine had failed, and now Mimi had paid the price.
The sleeping drug slowly wore off, its effects lingering in the air. Damon, desperate to keep the demon weak, hoped it would help. As he stood by Mimi's side, he felt the chill in the room, a result of the drug lowering her body temperature. Despite his efforts, nothing seemed to work. But this time, Damon was determined not to give up and let the demon take control.
Upon their arrival at the Vatican, Mimi was taken to a spacious room where the scent of incense hung in the air. Cardinals and lesser priests gathered around her, their murmured prayers filling the room. They cleansed her and interceded on her behalf, their voices blending with the faint sound of chanting from afar.
From there, Mimi was gently moved to a room adorned with plush furnishings. Damon's eyes met those of the Pope, a figure of authority and strength. Damon remembered the Pope; he had been the strongest cardinal, the one who had bound Reyes farrow in the depths of hell. He was even stronger now. Maybe there would be some help. The Pope, frail and aged, approached Mimi's bedside. His hands, wrinkled but surprisingly firm, enveloped hers as he began to pray. Standing on the other side, Damon watched intently, his heart filled with hope.
Time passed slowly. Hours turned into eternity as the Pope continued his earnest prayer. The cardinals eventually arrived to escort the Holy Father to rest, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Damon dared to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, the coin was inching closer to the surface.
After a few hours of rest, the Pope requested Damon's presence. Nervously, Damon entered the Pope's chamber, taking a seat as instructed. The Pope gestured for him to relax, his voice filled with wisdom and kindness.
"You possess great strength, my son, more than you realize," the Pope affirmed.
Damon couldn't help but voice his doubts. "If I am truly strong, why can't I save Mimi?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration.
The room fell into a contemplative silence, broken only by the soft hum of the television.
Chuckling softly, the Pope apologized for his distraction. "Forgive me, I am old, and this series about you is one of my favorites," he confessed.
With a calm demeanor, he turned his attention to the screen, where an episode of The Vampire Diaries played out before them.
In the episode, Damon found himself in bed with a sick woman called Rose. In a moment of compassion, he entered her mind, easing her pain and granting her peaceful dreams before her inevitable demise. It was a gesture of mercy before he had to make the tough choice to end her suffering.
The realization dawned upon Damon. He could do the same for Mimi. He just needed to delve deep into her mind beyond the demon's notice. Telepathy had failed him before, but the vampire mind link might hold the key. It was like creating a dream within a dream.
The Pope's eyes met Damon's, a mysterious smile playing on his lips. At that moment, Damon understood he held the power within him to save Mimi and triumph over the darkness that threatened to consume her.
The Pope's voice echoed through the grand chamber, his words carrying the weight of centuries. "I can keep the demon in check," he said, his voice tinged with authority, "while you do what you do."
The scent of incense hung heavy in the air, intertwining with the faint aroma of age-old books.
Damon looked at the Pope, admiration shining in his eyes. "You tied Reyes Farrow to hell. You're strong," he acknowledged, his words filled with gratitude.
The Pope's smile was warm, and there was a glimmer of divinity in his eyes. "I'm just a tool for God to use," he humbly replied.
As Damon rose from his seat, a rush of emotions flooded his senses. He approached the Pope, his heart brimming with earnestness. "You gave me exactly what I needed—hope," he confessed, his voice filled with genuine appreciation.
He lowered himself to kiss the Pope's ring, the cool metal against his lips a reminder of the weight of the moment.
Dizziness momentarily overcame Damon as he straightened up, his head spinning from the magnitude of the encounter. He steadied himself, his hand brushing against the soft fabric of his clothing. With a deep breath, he turned and began to walk away, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the chamber.
Meanwhile, the Pope's fingers gently caressed the ring, and the touch of gold and jewels connected him to his faith. A sigh escaped his lips, a fleeting moment of contemplation. He knew the vampire would return one day, but uncertainty lingered about whether he would be there to receive him.
With a sigh, he removed the ring from his finger, now feeling the presence of yet another version of Damon inside it. It would be that in the future, if everything goes as it should, the vampire would return one day, releasing this version of himself from the ring, and then the power of ten would be whole. But uncertainty loomed ahead. The Pope, as wise and powerful as he was, could not see into the future; he could only hope and pray.