Ghost on this Road
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of The Vampire Diaries. This story is my own.
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We were driving up the highway. The windows were down, and there were no other cars around us. The music blared, a mix of some of the 90s' greatest hits, and I felt so free, uninhibited. It had been a long time since Damon and I were able to escape for a day and leave everything behind. It was a good feeling.
I recalled Damon's face from all those years as I so blithely gripped my steering wheel. Its image in my mind looked so much younger now, more carefree in its youth. He was mischievous, forever plotting to convert his brother into what he thought true vampires should be, absolutely distinct from humans. I remember hating the monster I thought he was, though I couldn't deny that from the beginning I felt drawn to him, intrigued by his fearlessness of life. He took every opportunity to enjoy it to full potential, because he fully knew his own potential.
That young, dangerous, hateful version of Damon was contradictory to the version sitting in the front seat next to me. I liked him better now - slightly rugged, his icy blue eyes standing out against his slightly tanned skin. The road of our lives had brought us so far. He seemed to hate the world and push people away, and yet he would lay his life down for those he deemed most important to him. I knew I loved him, even while I was sired to him. I had never been so sure of anything in my life.
I was now smiling; I couldn't help it. I turned to my right and looked over at him, and he returned my grin with a subtle one, his piercing blue eyes glittering through thick eyelashes. He reached over, removed my right hand from the wheel, and pulled it up against his lips in a kiss.
It felt good to have him sit next to me.
"So, have we decided where we're going yet?"I asked him over the electric guitar solo as it gradually subsided.
"Nope," he called back. "Just keep on this road and see where it goes."
I felt his fingers glide through my own. It brought me slight shivers, and I let out an open chuckle. The goosebumps quickly spread across my arms and shoulders, and I cast a quick glance over at him without turning my head. I threw back whatever glint of playful knowingness I saw in his eyes when he glanced back at me, and then veered the car to the far right of the road. I parked right there.
"Parking on the side of the road, Elena?" he teased.
I leaned over slowly. "No one has to know." It was more true than not. Nobody ever took this exit.
He followed suit, and lifted his hand to caress the side of my face. My skin chilled immediately at his touch, the touch I knew so well. He used one hand to slowly pull me closer to his face, the other pressing against the back of my head, and then kissed me with deep pressure at once, without hesitation. I kissed him back, our lips dancing furiously against one another in a familiar rhythm, neither one leading nor following.
The sunlight was the brightest I'd ever seen it, and shone through the inside of the car invasively. It was warm against my back, and its warmth chased away the last of my goosebumps as the cardigan on it leisurely peeled off underneath Damon's massive, strong hands. I slid my fingers beneath his jacket and let my hands trail down his broad, lean arms, slipping the jacket off and exposing the black shirt underneath it.
He came over to my side from the front seat, his lips never parting from mine. I reached down to the side of my seat and pushed against the automatic lever, which slowly lowered the seat all the way down until I was almost lying flat on my back against his forearms. Damon climbed on top of me, the music still blaring around us.
My lips were heating up, sending down a burning sensation that threatened to burst inside my entire body. They felt softened from the strength of our pressure, and a jolt of pleasure shot down through me as our lips opened and closed, kissed and parted. His rugged facial hair lightly grazed against my face, and our kiss lingered for a moment before he pulled back slightly and merely looked down at me, unmoving. We gazed fixedly, almost threateningly, at each other for a short while without blinking. I knew him well. Our thoughts, memories, and awe of one another, the core of our passions and beings, were drastically intertwined with one another. I've never known a similar connection between two people before. I stared up at him a moment longer before suddenly motioning to sit up with a swift movement, twisting his legs with mine and pushing his chest down against the seat in an aggressive motion so that our positions swapped. It happened so rapidly that he didn't know what was happening. He blinked, his guard let down for a brief moment, before slipping back into that relaxed, sly stance of his.
I positioned myself over him, on my forearms and knees, my right knee lightly sliding up and down against his middle while simultaneously kissing him. His lips moved down to the side of my neck, sucking gently against it, the warmth of his breath coating it. I groaned quietly at the sensation. There was a strong, mutual bond of protectiveness between each other, an unspoken urge we both had to protect each other, to only want each other to depend on and no one else. We were both jealous beings, and wanted no one else to have any part in this, in our mutual needs and well-being.
I gradually grazed my lips down the nape of his neck, and felt his hand glide up underneath my beige spaghetti strap to the hook of my bra. His other hand lingered against my chest, lightly gripping my necklace. He lifted it around my head and removed it, jerking it onto the other seat. I was unhooked at the same time my necklace landed, and I quickly removed the bra and threw it onto the other seat as well. He grinned up at me, and then slid his strong fingers under my top, along my stomach, up to my chest. He gently pushed my tank top up to my neckline and brought me down closer to him, wrapping his soft lips around my left nipple, lightly biting on it. One hand rested against the back of my neck as he moved me up and down to the rhythm of his moving mouth on my breast. I softly moaned with pleasure, my body suddenly throbbing.
As if in response to him, I unbuckled his belt and slipped my hand down his jeans.
"Damon," I said absentmindedly.
"Elena?" came the answer, sounding concerned. It was loud and out of character, and didn't sound like Damon. I flashed open my half-closed eyes, and looked down to examine Damon's face. What I saw shocked and horrified me.
He wasn't there. The seat beneath me was empty. I quickly jolted in an upright position, sitting back against my heels to look around the car in search of him.
Damon?
Then I noticed the shadow of another individual outside the car door of the driver's side. A man stood there, against the blinding sunlight. His face was half-hidden under a cap, and I had to squint a little to recognize him as a policeman, one of Liz's good friends and mentees.
"Sam," I breathed, suddenly frightened.
"Are you okay, Elena? What's the matter?" he asked. "Why are you parked on the side of the road?"
I looked down at my chest, and saw my necklace still dangling, the small stud on it glinting brilliantly in the sunlight. My shirt and cardigan were still on. I adjusted my position and sat normally on the seat, waiting for things to make sense, and gazed up at Sam's face intently as if it would somehow produce answers. What I saw spilled across his features was an expression of apology, perhaps even of pity. And that was enough to make me sink in realization once again, enough to make me cry out in the shock and pain that my mind had long been trying to repress. Denial, they say, is the first stage of grief. Denial and hallucinations. I was merely remembering.
"I'm sorry, Elena," Sam told me, understanding my situation. "You shouldn't be driving. Let me take you back home."
I remembered the recent events of my life once again - I often forgot that Damon was gone, and couldn't bear to think of it. Each time my memories came flooding back, it was like experiencing the initial pain over and over again, as if it were for the first time. It wasn't fair that I had to go through this repeatedly. It ached too much. But I bore it perpetually, and the exhausting ache I felt over Damon's death made me weaker instead of stronger.
"Come, let me drive you back home," the cop repeated.
After a moment, I glanced over absentmindedly at the passenger's seat. For a brief second I thought I saw Damon sitting there, looking at me with an expression of deep regret on his face. And then he disappeared again. If this was to continue happening to me, I was sure I would soon go insane - if I wasn't already.
I turned back to Sam and nodded in agreement.
"Alright," I said quietly.
He called for a driver to take my car back to town, and gestured for me to follow him back to his. I turned up the windows and got out of my car, locking it as I followed Sam to his police car. I looked down, still completely bewildered and depressed at what just happened and tried to shrug off the strong feeling that Damon was just behind me, the warmth of his presence still hovering over my back.
Just to make sure, though, I glanced over my shoulder just before getting into the front seat of the police car, but saw nobody there.