"I've had it a while," Damon said with a shrug and a wry smile. "There's a palazzo on the outskirts of town that is technically mine, but it's a pain to try and keep it staffed and there are..too many memories in some ways."

He'd died there. So had Stefan. It was their childhood home, and some rat of a cousin had inherited it, but Damon had acquired it a century or so later in a fit of ... something.

He'd never lived there since.