There you were in your black dress. Moving slow to the sadness.
I could watch you dance for hours. I could take you by my side.
Fire, burning me up;desire, taking me so much higher, and leaving me…
Elena shakily placed a rose on her parents' grave. Though the sun was peeking through the gray skies, the day was unbearably cold. Life seemed to be a cruel joke being played on her. Everything was dead; nothing was intact after the blackness of last night. Losing her parents had been enough pain for anyone to have to endure. Losing Isobel had been enough to tempt her further towards the edge. But now, losing Jenna, John, and her whole life too, was enough to send her flying into the depths of dark depression. She stood up slowly from the grave, tears and mascara streaming down her face, and stood there numbly. Not able to move, not able to think, just able to feel the crippling pain of knowing the family buried under her feet would never be in her life again. Elena bit her lip, to keep from screaming. Why her? What had she done to deserve all this pain? She closed her eyes tightly, and felt fresh tears scurry down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she whispered weakly to the graves in front of her. It was because of her they were all dead. Guilt hemmed itself to her heart, its needles piercing it, and leaving her unable to stop the bleeding. Elena then felt a hand curl around her waist while the other gently held her forearm, and steered her away from the grave. She was too weak to protest or bother to care who it was holding her. Lifting her drenched eyes, she saw that it was Damon. No smirk clouded his genuine lips, and no taunt hung in his empathetic eyes.
"Damon," Elena said meagerly. She had no words to say to him; no sentences to explain her turbulent emotions. When they stopped moving, and Damon released her, Elena looked at Damon miserably. He looked so welcoming in his black suit and dreary features; he was the darkness that always seemed lighter than everyone else's dimming shine. Petty inhibitions were gone, and she embraced Damon. Holding his powerful body in her arms, she leaned her head against his chest. His hand came up slowly and began to stroke her back. Damon felt himself weakening as he held her. Elena deserved more than this. More than the death, more than this town, more than Stefan, and more than him. Elena deserved the best life had to offer, yet here she was, completely shattered and the only thing holding her together was her small black dress.
"It's okay, Elena," Damon whispered into her ear, and he felt her cuddle deeper into him. Though his body begged him to let go out of exhaustion, Damon hushed the plea. Elena was in his arms, and that was better than any moment of strength.
"Everything's falling apart," Elena replied, breaking into a new set of tears. Damon held her closer, and Elena let her whole weight hang in his arms. The bite throbbed in a striking pain reminding Damon that he was no longer invincible, and he clenched his eyes shut in agonizing response. Too soon, Damon would be another dead body Elena would have to endure.
"It only falls apart when you allow it to," Damon choked out, trying desperately to support Elena's weight. His vision was beginning to blur, his head spinning madly, and his sanity slipping away. Clenching his eyes once more, and then opening them desperately, he found himself back to normal; but he knew it would only last a little while.
"I- I don't know what to do," Elena's shaky voice said, filling Damon's frantic head. He looked down at the feeble girl in his arms, and couldn't help but feel some of the ice that surrounded his body begin to melt away.
"You do what you always do: move forward." Damon's fingers absent mindedly twirled a strand of Elena's hair, and she made no move to protest. Lifting her head from his chest, she looked into Damon's eyes.
"It's not that easy, though. They're all gone because of me. Because of me, I've left Jeremy with no one to be his guardian, and I've robbed the ones I loved of their lives. How do I move forward when I have that on my conscience?" Elena shook her head, as if in attempt to hide her trickling tears. Damon sighed, taking hold of her hand gently.
"Even though you think the world has left you, I haven't." Damon looked intently at Elena and hoped she knew how sincere he was. "Elena, they all died because they loved you. It's normal to think it's your fault someone you love is gone, but you have to reach a point where you accept that you can't control everything that happens. It doesn't have to be today, it doesn't have to be five years from now. But if there is one thing I've learned, it's that you have to get there at some point."
"Damon," Elena whispered, "can you promise me something?" keeping her hand in his, Elena looked up again into Damon's glistening eyes.
"Anything," he said in return. No more prejudice was in Elena's stare, and no more hate dripped from her mouth. She was finally to a point where she cared about Damon; a point where she had great potential to even love him.
"Promise me you'll never leave me. If I ever lost you, I don't know how I'd be able to move on from it. You've become a major part of my life; my own savior knight. I'd die before I lost that." Elena was stunned at the words spilling from her lips. There were no hidden feelings, no more paranoia of exposing too much of her love for Damon; all that remained was the raw and true emotion Elena had for her glorious crusader. Damon stared at her. This was one promise he knew he couldn't keep. He wouldn't be able to save her (much less himself) for much longer. It killed him more than any werewolf bite ever could, that he no longer could keep his eternal promise of dedication.
"I promise, Elena," Damon finally returned. He knew it was a lie, but it was worth the moment of relief it provided to Elena.
"Good," she replied, a hint of contentment trying to crawl its way into her voice, and she kissed him on the cheek. It was dangerously close to his lips, and it took all of Damon's weakening strength not to let their lips touch. Elena's soft, warm lips on Damon's cold and inwardly tattered skin was enough to make him melt. Broken innocence collided with aged hate, until they reached the equilibrium of perfection. Elena slowly and reluctantly took her lips from his cheek, and stood stunned.
"Oh my god," she muttered minutely horrified, and touched her lips. She had kissed Damon; at a funeral, with everyone (including Stefan) at a convenient distance to see. But that was not what shocked her, or unnerved her. The surprise lied in the fact that she had actually enjoyed it. Her frantic, over stimulated emotions though, wouldn't allow for her to ponder the thought. Instead, they made her run away. Giving one last glace at Damon, she turned and walked hastily away. Past the graves of her lost family, past the huddled black group of her friends, and into the condensed forest behind all of the pain. Damon sighed, debating if he should follow the delirious girl.
"Elena," Damon said with a sigh as he approached her. He kicked at the leaves on the ground, and for the first time in centuries, actually appreciated the world's beauty.
"I-" she replied to him, unable to form any logical sentence. "I'm sorry."
Damon chuckled humorlessly. "You don't have to be sorry for anything. You didn't do anything wrong." He walked the few more paces to where Elena was seated, and sat down next to her on the rock.
"But I do! I'm sorry for failing Jeremy, I'm sorry for allowing my family to die, I'm sorry for not being strong enough- I'm sorry for all I've done to you." Elena hugged her waist, and began to subtly shake.
"Elena, don't apologize to me. There's no reason for it. You chose Stefan; there's no foul in that."
"But I didn't choose Stefan!" Elena blurted out grittily. Skipping the step of freezing up, she went right to rubbing her face in tired agony. There was no point in taking it back now. And as she thought about it, she knew it was true; she hadn't fully decided on Stefan.
"What?" Damon asked in a small voice. His body seemed to freeze in a numbing shock, yet he felt everything even more vividly than he ever had. Did she really just admit that she doesn't want Stefan? Damon's age old cynicism crept into action, and he settled that it was just her emotional shock causing this confession.
"I didn't choose Stefan," Elena told both to Damon and herself. "I- I don't want him. I've realized that trying to keep this relationship with Stefan alive really isn't worth it. That's the funny thing about death; it forces you to reconsider everything. And while I've been sitting here, I've done that. What's important is ending this thing with Klaus. And keeping Caroline, and Bonnie, and Jeremy, and Alaric alive. What's important is not allowing John and Jenna's deaths to be worthless. That's what I need; redemption. And I need- I need you, Damon."
"I'll always be your- your friend," Damon replied. The words came out of his mouth distastefully, but his own feelings didn't matter anymore. What mattered was fixing Elena and the rest of the group's broken spirits.
"But- as I've sat here, I've realized I want you as more than just a friend. You understand me; you know when to push and when to back away. Like right now. Damon, you know that I'm broken, so you just go along with my distorted emotional rants. I'm making my choice; the choice Katherine never did. And it's you, Damon." As Elena spoke, Damon's heart fell. Out of shock, out of excitement, out of pain. She wanted him forever; yet he couldn't give her that. The one goddamn thing a vampire is able to give, he can't. His face glazed over into his perfected emotionless barrier.
"Elena," he replied hoarsely, "I can't."
"Can't? Can't what? Love me back?" Elena became frantic. No, she couldn't lose him. Not like this; not today; not ever. Her heart sped up, and Damon could sense it. He sighed deeply. The sigh carried the weight of all of Damon's pain, and all of his dreams dying right before his eyes. He knew he shouldn't do this to Elena; especially not today. But, against all his better judgment, he got up from his seat, and began to walk away; not daring to look back.
"Damon!" Elena called frantically scrambling from her seat to follow him. Damon turned around.
"It's better if you hate me," he replied dryly, his cynical coldness returning, and his humanity perishing right before Elena's eyes. No, this couldn't be happening. Damon turned once more, and began to walk again. With each step he took, Elena felt her heart crack into even more pieces, feeling their jagged edges scrape their way down her chest.
"Damon! No! You can't do this!" The tears sprang to her eyes and blurred her vision. She began to run blindly after him, wanting to touch him if just once more. She tore into a sprint when Damon began to quicken his pace. Elena was not about to let Damon go. Picking up her speed even more, she soon tripped over a ditch in the ground that had been speciously covered by leaves. She hit the ground with a thud, her hair falling from her ponytail, and her elbows dirtied with mud.
"Damon!" she yelled, "you promised me!" It was a shriek of utter pain that jabbed at Damon like a ton of wooden steaks. He should turn around, help her up; tell her he's sorry, and that he loves her too. But he couldn't. It was better that she hates him, than have her mourn his death. The back of his mind screamed at him, telling him he was wrong. But Damon's dominant spur of the moment logic said otherwise. Elena watched Damon's retreating form, powerless to stop him. Her body lay limply and despaired on the bed of leaves, too weak and crazed to even get up. Tears clouded her eyes once more, as she forced her depressed form up from the ground. Wiping off the dirt and leaves, Elena found her black dress torn all the way up to the thigh. Everything was falling apart; nothing was right in Elena Gilbert's life. She was tired of the pain, tired of people wanting to save her, tired of life. Holding the tear in her dress together, she began to wander blindly around the forest too angsty to stop. She walked back into the clearing where the rest of the group was. Still holding her dress together, she muttered as she passed them,
"I'm going home." Elena made no eye contact, and just kept walking. No one could blame her for it, so they just supplied grave nods.
"Do you want me to come?" Jeremy asked his voice distant. He began to step towards Elena, but she shook her head furiously, silently telling him no. Jeremy nodded, and stepped back. Elena began to walk home, hunched slightly, to hold her dress together.
Stepping into the house, she closed the door, and leaned her head on it. She let go of her tattered dress, and stared at the oak door. Elena needed out. She could no longer deal with life. She bit her lip, contemplating her next move, but allowed instinctual logic to overpower her. She walked hastily into the kitchen, feeling her dress tear even more. She pulled open a drawer, and lifted a large knife from it. A furtive look flashed into her eyes, but vanished just as quickly.
"I'm going home," she whispered. It was a weak escape, but she had to. She couldn't be strong for Jeremy; couldn't pretend to love Stefan; couldn't protect Caroline and Bonnie; couldn't save herself. She knew she was going to die; it was only a matter of time, but it would be on her terms. She fingered the knife, aware that it was the key to her escape, but also the lock that would keep her from ever breathing again. If she did this, she would be leaving Jeremy, Caroline, Bonnie, Alaric, Stefan- Damon. She breathed in sharply. She had to do this. Closing her eyes, she allowed her arms to thrust the knife into her chest. Her eyes widened, but closed only a moment later. Elena's dead body collapsed to the floor. The pain was over. Elena had put herself into an endless sleep of peace. Her skin became like marble, and the sun that trickled into the room formed a glow on Elena's hair. Her face showed no signs of strife, but rather the blithe haze of a tortured soul put to rest. Her black dress seemed to hug her flaccid body, keeping it from slumping into a horrid ruin. But the large rip that ran on the side, allowed for her leg to fall to the ground with a plop, standing out as a flaw against the perfection held together by the simple black dress.
So I don't know why, but I was in the mood to write a piece like this. Episode 2x21 depressed me more than I had ever expected it to. The season finale is going to be spectacular, and hopefully filled with juicy Delena moments. Anyways, I'm sorry this is such a dark (and possibly OOC?) story, but it was my way of venting. To all of you readers who also read "Caught In a Fading Daydream", I will be updating soon! Just please be patient with me! haha. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.
Remember, reviews are love, people ;)