Disclaimer: I don't own The Vampire Diaries.

Summary: He found himself in front of her house with no knowledge as to how he got there, but with a sense of belonging in his chest that he had once craved, long ago. DamonCaroline, oneshot

Another Daroline from yours truly. And my first TVD fic in a long time. I don't know why I keep writing about these two, but they are just so fun to write about that I honestly don't care, haha. Anyway! I don't really have a specific timeline for this, but I do hope that y'all enjoy this little fic of mine. It's just a simple little scene I couldn't get out of my head. Thanks so much for reading!

In One's Subconscious

Just being around her was enough to set his teeth on edge, he realized.

This realization came with a sense of nonchalance, something that was completely contradictory to his previous statement, but it was there nonetheless. Maybe it was best that it was nonchalant. Had he not been, he probably would have done something drastic. Something from which there is no redemption.

Though he decided long ago that he didn't care if he was redeemed or not, he found that statement becoming truer and truer the more he thought about it.

Metaphorically, Damon Salvatore found himself perched on the precipice of something, looking down over the side of a massive cliff and trying to laugh in its face but finding nothing. Nothing but an empty chuckle that didn't seem like it belonged to him. Nothing but the slight howl of wind as it blew through his hair and chilled his skin.

Remembering how he got there was something else altogether. He had no recollection of what had happened to drive him to this particular spot. Just vague nudgings in the back of his mind that seemed to be of some importance, but he did not have the damnedest idea as to what they were about.

All he could think about was her.

It was ridiculous, he knew. This girl he had known since he had made it into Mystic Falls, the one that he had made his personal blood bag. The one that he treated like the vapid, useless airhead he thought she was.

But she wasn't.

At all.

Damon wasn't fond of having these kinds of feelings, he knew that much. They always seemed to consume him, making him feel no more than a slave to his own impulses. Sure, he'd gotten better as the years had gone by, but still, there was that prickling that always skipped along his spine every time that -

He clenched a fist, stopping that train of thought before it got started.

The dark-haired vampire tried to focus on different things - the sound of his breath as it entered and left him, the feel of the nighttime breeze against his bare skin, the crunching of leaves beneath his boots. All of these things, so mundane that they would be boring under any other circumstances, calm him even if for a moment.

Though, even those moments are fleeting.

Damon remembered just how it felt to see her with someone else, someone who didn't deserve her, and it set fire to his blood.

She had been dancing with Tyler Lockwood when it happened - such a blinding rage hit him upon glancing over at them that he couldn't even think straight. He had left the place, a whirl of hair the color of nighttime and eyes the color of noonday sky. He hadn't even looked back as Elena called his name, hadn't even paused when Stefan tried to grasp his arm.

They should be proud of him. He hadn't snapped anyone's neck, after all.

As he walked without purpose, he found his thoughts wandering, rambling.

He wasn't sure why it was so hard to see her with Tyler, when he could bear to see his brother with the woman he used to love. Damon supposed it had something to do with the fact that he actually respected and loved his brother, thought him a better man than he, one that deserved Elena. Whereas Tyler...

Well, let's just say he hadn't a fond word for him.

Damon continued to walk, and it wasn't until he saw the familiar overhang of streetlights that he finally knew where he was going. Though, it didn't actually sink in until he found himself staring at the house, lit up brightly. He could hear the vague stirrings of someone within, humming and making coffee, waiting up for her daughter.

A sardonic smirk adorned his lips. Though he shouldn't have been surprised at where he ended up, he couldn't help but feel the strange stirrings of such an emotion prick at his unbeating heart.

Out of all the places he could have gone, he had arrived at Caroline Forbes' home.

He almost started to laugh at how ridiculous it was. Leaving her at the party, only to come to her home, her home where she was not.

Damon slid his hands in his pockets, and the simplest of answers breached his mind - if he couldn't be near her in this moment, he just wanted to be somewhere that was as a part of her as her own skin.

Running a hand through his hair, he allowed his voice to break the air around him, "Idiot."

As if that word had been the catalyst, the front door opened, and Liz was staring at him, quizzical and yet friendly at the same time. She cocked her head to the side. "Damon?"

"Hey, Liz," he said softly.

The obvious question was on her lips, but it looked as if she knew the answer before she even attempted to ask about it. Her eyes were sympathetic, looking at him as only a mother would - with complete and utter understanding. She stepped to the side, saying, "Come on in, Damon."

With a nod of his head, he stepped through the threshold, trying not to think too much of why or who he was here for.

That was impossible, Damon found, because it seemed all his actions revolved around Vampire Barbie.

As he sat down and drank the coffee offered to him, he wondered just when that began, and found himself not caring in the slightest.

End.