Decay.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story, they belong to LJ Smith and the wonderful writers of the TV show.
A/N: This is an idea that has been bugging me for awhile. So naturally I had to get it out!
Be warned – There are spoilers for upcoming episodes/stills etc...
Enjoy! And I'd love to know what you thought of it – so hit the review button!
- Lisa.
He grips the stone tightly between his fingertips, nails digging into the course surface that separates him from the one person (or thing, he didn't really classify her as a person anymore) that he is so desperate to see at that moment. This has bad idea written all over it.
He's cold. Numb. The darkness of this gloomy place only adds to his misery. The only light being offered to him at the moment is from the moon and it casts long, evading shadows against the broken walls that have crumbled with age. What a fitting setting. His heart aches, bleeds with loss and regret and all the other endless emotions he tries so hard to bury deep down inside of him.
She doesn't appear straight away, of course. Her entrances always have to be dramatic. Irritating. Why had he been so obsessed with her, why? What was she, after all? Nothing but a snake – a slithering serpent that slides all over your life and your heart and consumes it whole without giving anything in return. Always taking but never giving, breaking but never fixing.
Her feet drag against the steady earth; he can tell the effort she makes moving just the slightest. Maybe he should have brought some blood to tease her with, held it beside the magical barrier and watched her scream is hunger and frustration. It would have provided some kind of entertainment at least.
'What do you want Damon?' She isn't playing tonight. She's done with the teasing and the sly asides. Her eyes are dead, the skin around them greyish and sunken. She looks like hell itself. He'd actually feel a tiny bit bad for her, if he was still feeling at all. Not tonight though, he'd never feel for her again.
"Come to gloat about the wonders of freedom? Do tell me of the developments I have missed out on". The last few words are barely made out by Damon, her voice is raw. As dry as the Sahara. Oh what he'd like to do to her in this very moment. Grab her and end her right there and then, turn her to ash. His dream is unrealistic of course, she'd have him still and unmoving before he'd moved an inch.
The developments?
How about the fact that he'd just driven a stake through the heart of someone he'd grown to care about? Had to stand there and look into her confused, hurt eyes and watch the life drain out of her body. Rose may have been just another vampire, another person who knew what it was like for your body to never change and your thoughts and feelings always exposed and constantly on your mind. She was also someone he could communicate with on another level – talk to about his oh-so obvious feelings for Elena.
Elena
She'd been there. He'd been just outside the door to his home when he'd heard her screams piercing his ears. He'd took off like a bat out of hell, realising what an insane idea it had been to leave her alone with a sick vampire. Rose had had his bedroom door ripped and off its hinges when he'd got there. Elena was standing on the other side, fear clearly displayed in her chocolate eyes, clasping a wooden stake in her palm.
It hurts him now that he didn't even hesitate. Rose was irrational and hungry but she was also weak and that made her slow, slow enough for him to grab the stake from Elena, push her out of the way and plunge it straight into the older vampire's chest.
The sickening sound of her face cracking, the sound Elena's breathe made as it left her mouth. He was sure he'd never forget it.
'Rose is dead'.
'And I am so very sorry about that'. She mocks lightly, but it's not up to her usual style. There's no heart in it. Her slight laughter barely echoes around the small place.
'Why did you turn me?' The question escapes from his lips with ease, but the burning curiosity isn't as easy to mask.
She cocks her head to the side slightly, observing him with great intensity, the unexpected question clearly confusing her. He takes a good look at her, bracing himself for the blow her words would ultimately deliver. He can handle more pain though; the truckload he was feeling was a testament to that.
Elena had seen the look on his face as he'd ripped the stake back out of the dead vampire's chest, the slumping of his body in defeat and had ran to him almost instinctively. The first time she had ever done this he had been unresponsive, unfeeling.
This time, as she wrapped her small frame around his and had buried her face in his neck – he'd felt warmth shoot straight through him that warmed his whole being. The heat from her breathe, so close to his face was overwhelming. Unreal.
His arms went straight around her waist, gripping hold of her tightly without being too forceful. And for a few blissful seconds everything was fine, anything could be fixed.
And then he was gone.
And then he was here.
A small smile begins to form on Katherine's lips, but she's looking down at the floor now, so he can't read the expression in her eyes. Her foot makes small circles on the dirty floor.
Perhaps she's thinking of a suitable way to phrase her answer, or maybe she just doesn't have one. Acting without thinking was Katherine's style back in the day.
'Katherine'. He tries to not make his voice pleading; the last thing he wants is to give her that satisfaction.
She finally slumps down against the dirty wall, drawing her knees to her face and leaning it on them, facing him. Observing again.
'You're sad...come in here and let me make you feel better'.
'I'd rather die'.
She licks her finger and makes an invisible mark in the air. Back when, he would have rejoiced at the thought that he had made her laugh, or felt any other strong emotion. Now it just makes him sick.
'I'd like an answer if you don't mind' he says roughly.
She licks her full lips; he can see that small cracks have begun to form in them.
'If I tell you,' she begins, and he perks up at the sound of her voice. 'Then what's that going to prove? What satisfaction in knowing will that bring you?'
He ponders this for a moment with a slight laugh; he kicks some debris across the floor with his boot.
'After all these years...after everything you've put me and my brother through – you owe me at least that'.
She could spare him that much compassion couldn't she? She could ease some of the past pain that he had felt over her and untangle it from the new, fresh pain he was currently being engulfed by.
'How is Stefan by the way?' She asks lightly, as if enquiring about the weather.
'Are he and Elena too busy to come and see me?'
She looks to see if her words have had the desired effect, but they have, of course they have. It's clear to him now that he would not get the answer he had come to collect.
Of course that hurts, Katherine sees everything after all. Never misses any detail.
Maybe he should just jump in there with her, rot in there for all eternity – at least then he would be free of it all. Free of his guilt, the torment of his unrequited feelings for Elena and the devastating pain he felt for the loss of his friend.
But he imagined that giving in that easily would hurt one hundred thousand times more.
He goes to leave, makes the decision to fight on, to change maybe. Or try harder to change.
'I turned you because I wanted to Damon, because you were mine. Both you and Stefan, there's no other explanation for it...maybe you should just accept that'.
The faintest hint of regret can be detected; there are no two ways about it.
He doesn't turn back to face her, doesn't turn back to the shadows. What would he see after all? Nothing but a cold and decaying memory of the woman he once loved beyond all measure.
He jumps back up to where the air is clear, where he can breathe steadily again. The night sky is clear and dark and fascinating, the tiny dotting of stars illuminating the wilderness – not that he needs them to see. The joys of immortality, his for the taking.
He doesn't think he wants it anymore.
