Growing up won't bring us down

A/N: Set after 5x15 Gone Girl. Alt: Elena does know what happened while Katherine was living in her body. Focus on D/E sorting out their relationship troubles.

It's just a little one-parter to practice my writing. Hope you enjoy! xx

Disclaimer: None of this is mine, the characters belong to its rightful owners. I'm just borrowing.

She had lost three weeks of her life.

In the grand scheme of things it was nothing, really. After all, she was a vampire, immortal and still young enough to not even have lived a full human life.

Three weeks could be the time span for a generous vacation, Mexico perhaps, or InterRail through Europe, backpacking through China.

Three weeks could be a short yoga course, introduction into calligraphy or photography, knitting or crocheting.

Hell, three weeks were not even a full menstrual cycle.

Yet, those last three weeks had turned her life upside down, inside out.

Katherine Pierce had managed to fuck up as much as she could in the short amount of time she had had in Elena Gilbert's body.

The worst thing was that it had been such a Katherine thing to do. Seize the day and jump into someone else, for selfish reasons- to get the man, to live a little longer- instead of dying with dignity. Apparently, 500+ years is really short for a sociopath with no regard for anyone other than herself, even her own daughter. However, Nadia didn't matter to Elena- she was dead, and hopefully not possessing a random person's body.

But for three weeks no one had noticed. Her friends had collectively bought into the charade brought on by the Petrova doppelgänger without as much as a shred of doubt. Was it so easy to pretend to be Elena, was there so little to her personality that imposing her was a walk in the park? Sure, it wasn't the first time Katherine had fooled people to believe she was the Gilbert girl, but for weeks at a time? Sleeping right next to Caroline, her best friend since kindergarten, even around Jeremy, her brother… the list went on, and grew more painful with any added name, any situation lived by Katherine.

Of course, Katherine had flung herself at Stefan, who was always too good, too trusting, too patient with Elena's fickle heart over the last few years. But when Katherine kissed Stefan in the motel, Elena had prayed, begged that Stefan could tell their kisses apart, recognize the difference in movement, passion, urgency. Consequently, realizing how similar Kat must be, how alike, had hurt so much more. After a while, slipping in and out of memories and current events, Elena couldn't really tell anymore where she ended and where Katherine began.

So, yes, Elena had been in there, witnessing it. Fought, fiercely, every second, but after the ritual there was no chance for her to regain control. Katherine knew she was in there, addressed her in the mirror to taunt her. Worse even, she would recall memories and force them on Elena, who couldn't do anything to make her presence known. Katherine made her see an array of things; none of them mattered now.

Through all this, Elena had just longed to see one face, one person: Damon. He was supposed to look right through Katherine's deception and fix it, because that's what he always does, fix the shitty situations Elena ended up in.

But he hadn't, and he'd lashed out instead.

While slipping in and out of consciousness after Katherine's final death, she could hear them talk. Everyone appeared so worried, wracked with guilt, so Elena decided it was best to not join them: She couldn't move, felt dazed and numb.

Damon had something he felt guilty about, and it was alluded to but not spelled out. Maybe that was the reason he didn't sit with Elena while her brain tried to rearrange itself. No one sat with her. She was alone in one of the guest rooms, curtains closed. Was it day, or was it night?

Thirst came, forcing her awake. Someone had left her a bottle of blood on the nightstand, and she couldn't be bothered to go warm it up. The house was silent, everyone seemed asleep when she slipped into the shower, trying to wash Katherine off of her. The water temperature was scalding, but it felt good. It was her choice, her action that had turned the water to hot, her decision to stay under the steaming spray until her skin started to peel.

A fresh set of clothes lay on one of the chairs. She put them on quickly, grateful to the person who had put them there. Damon.

It was no surprise to find him in the parlor, nursing bourbon while staring into the flames.

"Can I get one, too?" Her voice sounded strange to her, foreign almost.

He didn't turn to her, just motioned to a tumbler on the couch table.

"Thanks," she murmured, trepidation coming over her. Why would he not turn around, sit with her, or at least actually be present? All she wanted was to look into his face, feel home again. But he just took a generous swig; she followed his example.

"Are you going to talk to me or at least explain the silent treatment?"

He clutched the glass a little tighter, so tight she should hear the faint sound of a fissure forming.

"You have nothing to say to me? I mean, I get that I… that Katherine broke up with you. But it wasn't me! I was in there the entire time…"

The fissure turned into a crack.

"Why can't you look at me? I'm Elena. I'm here. I need you now."

The glass exploded in his hand, mixing shards with bourbon and blood.

Maybe he couldn't look at her because Katherine was all he saw. Maybe he realized that Elena was Katherine, just with a different birth date. Maybe he wanted it to be over, because he was finally sick of all the doppelgänger drama?

But Elena was willing to fight for him. Amber liquid for courage, she finished her drink and was by his side in a blur.

"Look at me," she demanded, turning him to her by his shoulders.

"Elena, I think you should go back to college."

"What?" She took a step back, as if being pushed by his words.

"It's over. We're over."

Elena's hands dropped to her sides, shaking.

"You don't just get to make that decision for me."

"I'm doing it to set you free. You should find someone who you don't have to make excuses for. You could start dating no one for a while, or go ahead and date Stefan, since he seems to be doing just fine on the bunny diet, not to mention he's still carrying a torch for you."

Damon's expression was stern, harsh, and he refused to look into her eyes. He knew that he couldn't look straight at her without crumbling- and all of this needed to be said.

"Stefan doesn't want me! He has this picture of me in his head, an idea of who I was. But you have that problem, too, don't you, Damon. Just your picture is that of Katherine, isn't it? You think that if we stay together you will corrupt me until I am just like her. Or maybe you think I already am?"

"This has nothing to do with Katherine!"

"Then it has nothing to do with Stefan either!"

"But it has everything to do with me being bad for you!"

They didn't care about keeping their voices down, their despair palpable. They'd always been good at fighting, as if it were a desirable trait. With every sentence they inched closer, fighting for dominance.

"We've all done bad things. It's about what we are doing now, and what we will do. We cannot change the past-"

"Save me the platitudes, Elena! I'll make it simple for you: I like to kill. I will kill again. And again. You won't want me to, but I'll do it, and you'll forgive me. And that is unhealthy, that is sick."

Tears welled up in Elena's eyes. She hated that her body betrayed her, showing him her weakness.

"Why are you being like this? We love each other! We'll make it work-"

"And we'll end up right here again! You're bending your morals for me. But I don't want you to, and I won't change either. Love has nothing to do with that."

"How does it not? How can you just send me away? You promised me you wouldn't leave me-"

He let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head.

"Don't make this about your monumental abandonment issues. You're stronger than you think; you don't need me. Not anymore. I'll just pull you down." He turned away, ignoring her tears and her pleading.

"Don't say that! I need you! In case you haven't noticed, the last few weeks weren't exactly a vacation for me! All I could think of the entire time was you. I was trapped inside, Damon, and you kept me sane. Our memories, our life together, our future! We have fought, so hard, for each other. And I can't just give up now."

Elena was reaching out for his arm, fingers curling around his forearm. She was desperate to get through to him, to show him that, despite it all, she was still here, still hoping.

"I killed Aaron Whitmore."

"You did what?" She gasped in shock, letting go of his arm.

"See! How can you love me when I go and kill your friends, huh? Tell me you're not upset by it; tell me that it doesn't matter," he challenged her.

"Of course it matters! But that doesn't mean that you, or my love for you, suddenly do not matter anymore!" She tried to regain composure, running fingers through her hair.

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

"Why do you have to be so stubborn!?"

Damon tried his best to stare her down, willing her to step away. If he could make her flinch, scare her, he would win this. With all the menace and resentment he could muster, he continued.

"I'm doing this because it's the right thing. I should have done that a long time ago, I should have left before I kissed you for the first time, should've never slept with you, should've never told you I loved you-"

The slap echoed through the parlor, stopping time. While he reeled from the blow, her breathing came out heaved, uneven, on the verge of sobbing. Not daring to move, certainly not daring to retaliate, Damon waited for her next move. He didn't dare looking at her, and he didn't need to- he could envision her pained expression of disbelief, heard her lungs contracting angrily corresponding to her emotions.

The silence had always been the worst part of their fights. Words hurt, but hurling words at each other meant they cared enough to try and explain their point. Silence meant defeat, meant that the pain they caused each other was too much to continue.

Elena didn't need to be physically slapped by Damon for her indiscretion- violence was never the answer and she hated having lost her temper. But his words cut deeper than any punch ever could. Hell, she would even take the physical pain right now. Instead, she calmed her breathing, trying her best to sound strong-willed and calm when she spoke up:

"No more. Don't speak. Because if you're telling me that you regret this, all of this, all of us… I can't hear it. Don't tell me that it never meant anything, that it was all a mistake, all lies. Don't ever speak to me again. You can take away what would be our future, but you don't get to destroy my memories."

He knew he'd gone to far. The intention had been to let her go, so she wouldn't have to keep on carrying guilt for his actions. But now he'd started to convince her that he didn't love her at all. If she thinks that he compares her to Katherine, he will deal with it. Understand that she'd think of him as selfish, heartless, a sociopath, no matter what term. It was OK. He deserved all of that.

Their love, however, had been real, was real.

Her hate in exchange for him leaving her, yes, that was hard enough, cruel enough. For some reason it was terribly important for him that she knew he did it for her, out of love.

Her gaze had settled on something over his shoulder. The tears had stopped, and her distraught expression was now blank and unreadable. He couldn't stop himself from stepping closer, cupping her cheek gently with one hand. Before he could speak her hand was on his wrist, and with a swift and firm motion she twisted his arm outwards, away from her, until it broke.

"Don't touch me," she warned, her voice indifferent.

After he snapped the bones back into position, she was gone. He cursed to himself, reaching for more bourbon, straight from the bottle this time. Only he could fuck things up so royally. To make things even worse, movements could be heard all over the house. They had very likely had an audience, which made this a perfect soap opera performance. The last thing he wanted and needed right now was the judgement of the group.

"You'll have to go and fix that, man." Jeremy rounded a corner, arms crossed. All he could do was glare at Damon, because only this dude would make a stupid move like that.

"I don't think it's any of your business, little Gilbert."

"Well, Elena is my sister, so I'm making it my business. And you're making a stupid mistake." Jeremy wouldn't back down, he had to speak for his sister.

"Let's not pretend that most of the people in this house aren't rejoicing in the fact that we broke up right now."

"Well your timing and your method suck," Jeremy admonished.

"Duly noted."

"You get what you just did there, right? Making it sounds like it all didn't matter. But she lives for you."

The eye-roll was an involuntary reaction, but Damon couldn't help himself.

"Dramatic much, kid?"

"She never wanted to be a vampire. You showed her how to be one, taught her and made sure she didn't lose herself. You got her through this, kept her alive during the hunter's curse. The list goes on. I'd like to say she's living for all of us, too, but you'd be an idiot not to know that you are her life."

Damon swallowed, surprised by Jeremy's words. It was easy to forget that the younger Gilbert was wise beyond his years.

"Elena needs you, and you need her. It might not be perfect, but I think the alternative is far worse for you both."

There was nothing Damon could say to negate that.

Jeremy let out an agitated sigh. "Go after her. She went out back."

Jeremy knew that he had told Damon the truth. It hadn't always been easy to recognize, but those two challenged each other to be the best they could be. It was never boring with them, but that was good because they didn't just resign. They were a work in progress, battling their own demons and each other. But in the end they made each other happy in ways nobody else could. They grounded each other when no one else could reach them, and lived in exhilarating happiness Jeremy could only imagine. So he couldn't help but have hope for them when he saw Damon go after his sister.

Elena hadn't made it far. She sat under the old oak tree she had declared hers. Many hours she'd spend here in the past summers, reading in the shadow of the generous branches when the boarding house became too dark, too gloomy. Vonnegut and Amis had been her companions, until Damon would come and ask her inside for dinner. Though it was never mentioned, she knew that he would watch her from the kitchen window while preparing meals with skill, patience, and love.

She had meant to go further, deep into the forest and away from the house that held so many memories. Her mind was still fuzzy, her heart ached and the tree would give her solace, safety, if only for the moment.

The bark scraped at her back when she slid down, reminding her that she was hungry still. More than hunger she obsessed over the fact that her life was falling apart, and contrary to past instances, she had not seen in coming. Usually there was someone making his agenda known, an enemy that could be defeated. You couldn't pick up a broom and brush the rubble away this time.

Incessant thoughts about Katherine entered her mind- this woman had taken everything from her. Weaseled her way into her life, threatened and killed people she loved, inserted herself into her romantic relationships... The problem being, Katherine couldn't be killed, she was dead. What to do with all that anger?

"I thought you might be thirsty. You look parched." Damon didn't need to search for her. He approached her with apprehension and a blood bag, he latter being a peace offering- somehow he didn't enjoy broken bones.

The way she looked at him broke his heart, but he deserved that ache.

She spoke softly, but emotionless. "And I thought I made myself clear. Don't speak to me."

He tossed her the bag, and she caught it instinctively. After a bit of hesitation, she drank, and couldn't help but feel her mind getting clearer.

"Just leave me alone," she requested.

"I just have to say something."

"Oh, did you find yet another way to break my heart tonight? By all means, carry on."

"What I said, it came out wrong. I don't regret kissing you or being with you. I regret all the pain I've caused you since we've been together. I caused you pain with the things I've done and you might have been better off, happier, without me. But I love you. I've always loved you. And I will always love you."

He crouched down in front of her, careful to not touch her again.

"I want you to have a chance to be happy without me. Live life to your full potential. It's selfish of me to keep you chained to me while I'm going under."

Up until now she had avoided his gaze, but now she had to look into his eyes.

"How can you not understand that you are the reason I am happy. That you help me reach my full potential. That I don't mind helping you back to the surface when you're going under? Nothing in our lives is easy, Damon. Why would a relationship be? It might not be easy to see eye to eye in every situation. But it is easy to love you."

"Elena…" His conviction was crumbling.

"I can't force you to be with me… but you can't force me to not love you either. You know we'd be miserable without each other, I mean, look at the last three weeks and tell me you were OK."

"Elena…," he repeated.

She grabbed his hands, gently caressing the wrist she snapped earlier, it was an unspoken apology. Her expression grew softer, kinder again.

"You know how I feel. You just have to come off your martyr horse and take me home."

"Where's home, Elena?"

She smiled wistfully. "Home is where you are. And no matter how messy that home, it's still mine, too." She paused. "Gosh, that's all so cheesy."

He chuckled. "Yea, and your comparison sucks, because my home is always impeccably clean."

They stood up, hands interlaced.

"Sometimes I feel we are melding together, and I'm scared of taking your goodness away from you," he admitted.

"You couldn't. Remember, even with my humanity switched off, my compassion was the thing that brought me back."

"I just don't want to break you, Elena." His expression was insecure, scared.

"You couldn't break me, you're holding me together. Now stop worrying, and kiss me. I love you."

Damon wanted to hesitate, but she stepped closer, their bodies touching. Her breath tickled his lips, and he captured them gently. Though he'd kissed her many times before, this time felt different. Better. They had matured, come to a better understanding of who they were and wanted to be. This wasn't just lust and puppy love, this was for the long haul- their own personal forever. They could feel each other smile into their kiss, drinking each other in. Their hands were gentle and demanding at the same time, never letting go.

And right now, they were committed more than ever before. Damon recalled what Jeremy had said, and when they pulled apart for air, he had to tell Elena. To him, it meant more than all the I-love-yous (which he would keep saying until his voice was gone).

"Elena, I love you, too. And you are my life."

Fin

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