So I know post-episode fanfictions for 3x19 have already been done to death and it has only been a day, but this incorporates the next episode as well. It includes the basic spoilers that you get from watching the 3x20 promo. I wrote this because I felt a serious need to vent. I loved 3x19. That kiss was all I wanted it to be and more, but Elena's reaction after was horrible. She really needs to redeem herself before she finds her way back to Damon. This is my attempt at writing that. I hope you enjoy.
After two life threatening experiences at the decade dance, you'd think I would have learned my lesson and stayed home, but tonight was all a bad case of déjà vu. Caroline convinced me, after much pleading, to ask Stefan to the dance. Her ulterior motives were all too transparent. Stefan is her friend and she hates Damon. I don't need to take a poll to tell her opinion on who I should be with. Caroline tried to reminisce with me about all the fun that I had with Stefan at the last two decade dances, you know in between the murder and mayhem. Her persistence isn't what swayed me though. Ultimately, I agreed to ask Stefan, because Damon was barely speaking to me at the moment. Our trip to Denver had put a rather difficult strain on our relationship. Kissing him without knowing my true feelings was bad enough. But once he heard that I was waiting for him to sabotage himself, he was beyond my abilities to reason with him. The look in his eyes when I admitted to it was indescribable. He wasn't just angry or hurt. Damon was disappointed in me. He thought more of me, and I let him down. In the end, I didn't need Damon to sabotage our potential relationship. I could do that just fine all alone.
I tried to tell myself that it was better this way. Going with Stefan to the dance would be easy. Being with Stefan was always easy. He did whatever I wanted, never questioned me, and treated me like a saintly angel incapable of flaws. Most girls would kill for that, but the entire night something felt off. It was as if something was missing. The night should have been perfect. Stefan picked me up in a fabulous suit. He said all the right things. We danced and we laughed. It was like traveling back in time when Stefan and I were happy. The entire night was like living in a memory, but it wasn't until Damon showed up announcing trouble that I realized what had been missing from the evening, him.
I never got the full version of events, but Damon said the Reader's Digest version was that evil Alaric was plotting with Esther who had possessed Rebekah to take down all the Originals. Luckily we averted her plan with little difficulty, but not before Kol was staked by Alaric's alter ego. I swear my heart stopped beating when I saw his body go grey. My eyes scanned the crowd for Damon, and it took nearly three hours of me constantly asking, "are you okay? Do you feel different," before I felt assured Damon, Stefan and Caroline were safe. It seemed every other day I was on the brink of losing him. Whether it was Klaus, Rebekah, or the ever present threat of another werewolf bite, I lived in constant fear that one day Damon would get himself killed.
This is one of the many reasons I find myself at the boardinghouse summoning the courage to face Damon. Our last real conversation didn't end well and the last thing I need is a repeat performance. I stand just outside his open door waiting for Damon to notice me. Of course he has just gotten out of the shower, so he isn't yet wearing a shirt. Why must he always be shirtless? It makes it a lot harder to form coherent thoughts. It doesn't take long for Damon to recognize my presence and form a sarcastic remark intent on making me leave.
"Creepy lurker girl, my brother's room is down in the hallway in case you've forgotten," Damon announces to me without looking me in the eyes. "He is off dealing with Psycho-Alaric at the moment, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind you waiting in his room," Damon offers, as graciously as he can muster considering how angry he still is at me.
"I wanted to talk to you," I admit carefully. Damon digests my words and glares at me with barely veiled contempt.
"If this is idle chit chat because you're bored and Stefan isn't here, I think I'll skip it," Damon dismisses me swiftly. He throws a novel in my direction that lands at my feet. "Here's a book, entertain yourself," Damon suggests indifferently.
"I'm not here for Stefan," I confess, staring down at my feet like a guilty child. Damon's capacity for civility is quickly stretched to its limit, and his thin veil of contempt is torn away. There is nothing veiled about this. Damon is hurt and his words tumble out of his mouth with a bitter trace of resentment and anger.
"So what, you want a replay of the other night, you and me pressed up against a wall clawing at each other for dear life," Damon asks crossly? "Maybe another couple minutes of dry humping and you can finally answer the infamous question of whether you like me or not. Or maybe you're here to finish what we started, try and fuck me out of your system so you can go back to your white knight. Sorry to disappoint princess, but I've played the role of boy toy before, and contrary to popular opinion, not that much fun," Damon finishes ranting, and he gives me a moment to wallow in self-loathing. I'm not a saint. I've lived and I've made too many mistakes, but judging by the heartbreaking betrayal on Damon's face, this might be the worst thing I've ever done to another person. I try to defend myself, find some words that will fix what I've obviously broken.
"Damon, I would never . . ."
"Save it," Damon interrupts coldly. "The nice and innocent act worked a lot better before you used me in your little failed experiment at finding answers," Damon concludes brusquely.
Tears run down my face as I try to convey deep and humble contrition. "I'm sorry," I whisper, gazing up at Damon's face for a reaction. There is only the tiniest flinch as I attempt to chip away at his wall of hatred. His voice still oozes sarcasm.
"Elena Gilbert apologizes, alert the media," Damon jokes bitterly. "Do you even know what you're sorry for," Damon questions curiously? His eyes are devoid of all sympathy for my tears. I answer, hoping the words will reach him.
"For hurting you," I respond back as if it is the most obvious answer in the world.
Damon breathes out an aggravated sigh at my answer, but his voice betrays his deeper vulnerability. I am breaking though, if only a tiny bit.
"You know what the saddest thing is Elena," Damon asks rhetorically? "I don't even know which time you're talking about."
My face scrunches up in confusion, so I ask, "Which time I what?"
"Which time you hurt me, because there seems to be an ever growing list," Damon reminds me, as he recites them off one by one. "There's the time you colluded with my brother to snap my neck, the time you called my love for you a problem, the time you practically jumped me and then told me you didn't know if you had feelings for me, or quite recently when you asked my brother on a date two days after you made out with me. So tell me, which offense are we apologizing for today?"
"All of it. I'm sorry for all of it," I confess behind a heavy stream of tears. Damon takes a beat before continuing to make me feel like the worst person who ever lived.
"I'm sorry are two awfully, tiny words to encompass all that. Is that really all you have to say to me," Damon questions expectantly?
My hands fly into the air in a defeated gesture. "I don't know what else to say. I don't know how to fix this," I admit regretfully.
"That's your problem Elena," Damon accuses. "You think you can do whatever you want and later apologize as if that makes everything okay. This isn't Church; you can't just confess your sins and be granted absolution. A few sincere words aren't enough," Damon claims indignantly.
"Why not," I question, losing patience with being at the receiving end of his righteous anger? "I've made some mistakes. I was wrong, but after everything, I don't understand why you can't just forgive me."
Damon wavers only slightly. His voice loses the edge of anger, but it still maintains a firm resolve that leaves no room for dissent. "Because you still don't get it," Damon accuses calmly. "You still don't understand why it was wrong. All that you know is I'm upset, and you don't want me to be mad at you. That's not enough. I don't accept blanket apologies, so until you figure it out, don't come back," Damon orders. Once again I try to reason with him. He almost always listens to me even if he doesn't agree, but tonight Damon seems free of patience.
"Damon . . ."
"No, I'm not changing my mind this time just because you ask me to," Damon interrupts. His voice is once more filled with anger. He is barely containing his temper, and his next words exit his mouth more loudly than he likely intended. "If you really give a damn about me, you will figure out your own life before you come in here trying to screw up mine."
This time I don't argue. What could I really say? Apologies aren't enough, and it seems I've let down the one person who never gave up on me. The least I can do for him is abide by his wishes. "I'll go," I agree quietly, hoping to leave while I still have some small shred of dignity left.
"Before you do, answer me one question," Damon requests distantly.
"What," I ask timidly, afraid of what he wants to know?
"Did you even tell Stefan about Denver before you asked him to the decade dance," Damon questions?
Shame fills my face, because I know I have to answer him honestly. "No," I reply remorsefully. That would have just opened up too many questions that I wasn't prepared to answer, but I knew it was wrong to ask Stefan to be my escort under false pretenses. I guess my hopes of maintaining some dignity are shot to Hell.
Damon doesn't appear surprised by my answer, but he does seem even more disappointed, if that is even possible. "I thought as much," Damon states. "You're far too much of a coward for that. Apparently when I kiss you, it is imperative you alert Stefan immediately, but when you kiss me, suddenly your lips are tighter than the CIA."
I remain silent standing in his room after he lobs another insult in my direction. I don't even have the strength to argue or rationalize anymore. Damon's next order is a small relief, because I am suddenly dying to be as far away as possible. "You can see yourself out," Damon instructs coldly. My feet move me closer towards my car as I operate on auto-pilot.
It occurs to me as I am driving further and further away, that the most terrible feeling in the world is guilt when you know you truly deserve it. I might not understand what Damon meant by why my actions were wrong, but he was hurt, near broken, and I am to blame. If he needs me to figure out why, then that is exactly what I will do, because the thought of Damon cutting me out of his life is unimaginable.
As Always Please Read and Review