"Damn it Stefan," Damon mumbled to himself, swirling his go-to Bourbon in a glass tumbler. He looked longingly at the flames licking up the inside of the parlor fireplace and wondered what it would feel like to jump in them. How long would it take for everything to end? Would he be writhing in pain for minutes, hours, days? Whatever it was, it had to be better than the helplessness of not knowing. Not knowing where Stefan was, if he was even alive. Not knowing how many people Stefan had ripped apart, and if he would ever find his way home again. Not knowing is she would ever love him like she loved his brother.
And there it was, the only thing that kept him from crossing the miniscule distance over the hearth; Elena. As defeated as he was, he couldn't just leave her behind. Whether she liked it or not, he knew she needed him almost as much as he needed her.
"Fuck!" he yelled, throwing back the amber liquid before slamming the glass into the flames he desperately wanted to unite with. The burning in his throat would have to suffice for now.
"Trouble in paradise already?" a voice asked. While the tone was full of empathy, its effect provided no comfort to Damon, causing his dead heart to want to jump to life in fear and rage.
"Klaus…"
"He just sacrificed everything to save his brother, including you," her doppelganger had gloated. "It's a good thing you have Damon to keep you company. Good bye Elena," she had said with a twisted grin before stopping at the door. "Oh, it's okay to love them both. I did…"
Katherine had sped away without another glance, leaving Elena rooted in terror and confusion. Gave himself over to Klaus, what did that mean? She wondered.
Elena had wasted no time in sending an urgent text message to Stefan asking where he was, but she had never received a reply. In two months and numerous calls and texts, she had yet to receive a single response.
It had taken a week before she broke. Damon had been with her every day, watching her closely, waiting impatiently for the inevitable. She had outright refused to believe that this had become her reality.
Elena had desperately clung to the hope that any minute he would walk through the door and the nightmare would be over. He would come back to her. But every minute that came and went felt like a year, and by the time she caved to despair she felt like she had suffered an eternity of misery.
Her parents were dead. Jenna was dead. Her uncle/father had sacrificed himself for her. Stefan had sacrificed himself for Damon, and in all likelihood he was probably dead now too.
Damon had found her crumpled to the floor of Stefan's room, clinging to his clothes in a desperate attempt to have his scent cloud her senses one more time. Her body was heaving with uncontrollable sobs, thrashing against the pain that was ripping her apart.
He was relieved when she didn't fight him as he gathered her in his arms, lightly extracting Stefan's shirt from her death grip. Gently, he had carried her from the room, shutting the door so softly that he could barely hear it close over her hysterical cries. Every tear she shed pulled a piece of his heart with it as it crashed to the floor, and he worried that if he didn't calm her soon there would be nothing left of himself.
She let him lay her on his bed, sinking into the plush mattress and comforter. He held her against him, letting her pour all her hurt on to his shoulder as he lovingly caressed her hair. It was crazy to him to think that in a week everything had turned upside down and he was now the one trying to comfort her.
"I'm so sorry Elena."
"I love you Elena."
"I'll find him Elena, I promise."
"I'll bring him back to you."
His words poured from him in an endless circle, changing in order but never in conviction.
She sobbed for hours, finally succumbing to sleep just before dawn; and with her peace came his. He felt her body wake a few hours later, but feigned sleep to allow her to slink from his bed and save her from the embarrassment that was radiating from her. He waited to move until he heard the front door open and close, quickly stripping his bed to wash the smell of her out of his sheets. It was all too much for him to handle.
He had told himself he would give her a week to avoid him, but couldn't help keeping an eye on her from afar. At night he would sit outside her window to check that she was sleeping soundly, leaving only once satisfied with the vision of her at a temporary peace.
Damon couldn't find the words to convey his relief and surprise at seeing her in his living room only a few days after her breakdown, curled up on the couch with an old copy of Wuthering Heights. He had thought she would sooner admit her buried love for him then to come back willingly to the boarding house with Stefan gone, but his heart warmed at the knowledge that she had made it back to him on her own.
Walking straight to the drink cart he poured himself a glass of Bourbon even though it was morning, and after quick contemplation, poured one for her too. He placed it on the table next to her with his signature smirk and fell into the leather wingback picking up his copy of Call of the Wild.
They sat in silence, finding comfort in just each other's presence. He barely heard her when she whispered a few hours later, "Can I stay here tonight?"
"Of course," he said quietly, never looking up.
"Good night Damon," she told him that evening as she tiredly climbed the stairs to Stefan's bedroom; he faintly head the click of his brother's door as it latched shut moments later. He knew she must have been trying to hide her tears with her pillow from the muffled sounds drifting down to him; and only when he was sure she was finally asleep did he drag himself up to his own empty bed.
This simple routine became a dance they perfected over the next month and a half. They barely spoke, and never touched; he had even ceased his flirtatious glances that seemed to make her so uncomfortable.
He cooked all her meals, placing them before her without asking for, or receiving, acknowledgement. She would never look up as he took his place across from her at the table, content to only drink from his glass, be the contents Bourbon or blood.
And every night she would make her way up the long staircase to Stefan's room, Damon's favorite and most dreaded part of the day. He would wait hours to hear her voice bid him good night before she would cry herself to sleep.
They were living with, and for, a ghost they both were trying so hard to forget, but whose presence was as bright and inescapable as the daylight.
They were in hell.
"Klaus…"
"You know, I'm somewhat surprised to find you here what with Elena dead and your brother deserting you. I figured you would have left long ago," Klaus said, while pouring himself a drink.
Damon kept his face steady, desperate not to betray the fact that not only was Elena alive but that she was currently upstairs, asleep. He didn't know what Klaus was making of the heartbeat that for them seemed to echo through the house; he prayed that Klaus assumed it was just Damon's latest conquest/dinner.
"I was never one to be run out of town, Klaus. Help yourself by the way…"
Klaus smiled to himself. "Speaking of running, have you seen your brother?"
"Nope; what happened? You let him off his leash?" he sneered, turning back to face the fire.
"Now Damon, there's no need to be jealous," Klaus purred at him like he was a child. "Just tell me where Stefan is and I'll be on my way."
"Haven't seen him, sorry. Thanks for the visit though, it's been riveting."
"Damon?" He heard Elena call from the stairs, sleep still evident in her voice. Damon froze, absolutely horrified. He knew the presence of Elena was going to cause their shaky truce to implode in only moments, and he had no chance of killing Klaus on his own.
"Well, well; what do we have we here?" Klaus said, now standing in front of Elena, gingerly touching her face. "You're supposed to be dead," he growled, his façade beginning to slip.
"Leave her alone Klaus, you don't need her anymore. Just let her go," Damon said, calmly approaching the bottom of the stairs where Elena was visibly trembling.
"You know, you Salvatore's never cease to amaze me. The only thing stronger than your thirst for blood is your love for this one girl. Which makes you," he said to Elena, gripping the top of her arms tightly, "the perfect bait."
Damon knew with absolute certainty he would die for his next actions, but at that moment he didn't care; the sight of Klaus touching his Elena caused his rage to overpower any rational thought. He threw himself with all his strength at his enemy, catching Klaus off guard just enough for him to release his hold on her.
"Elena, run!" Damon yelled, throwing Klaus into a nearby wall with a thunderous crash. To her credit, she didn't hesitate as she tripped her way up the stairs and barricaded herself in Damon's bedroom.
His relief at her escape was all the distraction needed for Klaus to now return the blow, sending Damon flying into the mantle above his beloved fireplace. They both heard the sickening crunch as Damon's spine broke, a demented smile spreading across Klaus' face.
Flashing over to his prey, he did not hesitate to hoist Damon into the air by his throat, his legs dangling lifelessly beneath him. After a simple and slight shift of his hand, Klaus squeezed his fingers, shattering Damon's jaw.
His screams shook the house.
How had it come to this? He wondered. Not ten minutes prior he had been all but ready to commit suicide. I was ready to die, I deserve to die; I've been saved too many times already…he told himself.
But Elena…he had to protect Elena; he had promised her he would. And what lengths would Klaus go to, what level of hell would he drag her through, if Damon wasn't there to protect her? The thought made Damon want to vomit.
"Good bye Damon," Klaus grinned at him with his hand poised over Damon's chest. "It's been fun…"
Closing his eyes, Damon let Elena's face swim before him, choosing to spend his last seconds with her, always her. He relished the sound of her laughter ringing in his ears, and the softness of her lips as he replayed his death bed kiss in his mind.
He heard over his memories the sickening sound of a heart being torn from a chest. He could smell the blood now gushing freely from the open cavity, yet he felt no pain… Was this what it is like to die? The thought made him viciously angry; of all the hearts he had ripped out over the years he had counted on the pain of his victims. The idea that organ extraction was painless was so disappointing…
Finally opening his eyes to witness for himself his own death, he was having trouble comprehending the scene before him.
Chocolate brown eyes were boring into his own over Klaus' shoulder. As he watched, the veins driven by bloodlust and fury made their unabashed appearance on the face of the woman he had once loved so dearly.
Klaus' face held nothing but shock, and in looking down, Damon quickly discovered why. It was not Damon's heart that had been ripped from his chest, it had been Klaus'.
They hybrid's body collapsed in a heap, taking Damon with him as his back had not yet healed. The sight of Katherine standing over him, bloody heart in hand, was both beautiful and terrifying.
"Well, that was disgusting," she said far too casually, tossing the heart aside. "You need blood," she declared and sped from the room, returning a heartbeat later.
"You're welcome," she said full of sarcasm as she tossed him two blood bags which he quickly drained.
"What are you doing here Katherine?" Damon groaned as his body began to heal, painfully.
"Looking for Stefan."
"He's not here."
"I know, I heard," she said with avid disappointment. "At least now that Klaus is dead his compulsion will break and I'm sure he'll come home in no time…"
"Katherine?"
"What?"
"Thank you…"
"Whatever, you owe me," she said sauntering into the kitchen, presumably to wash the blood off her hands.
Feeling his spine reconnect with a jolt, he picked himself up from the floor as he heard the faucet begin to run. Another rug ruined, he thought as he surveyed the parlor.
"Damon?" he heard her whisper, overcome with alarm. The simple fact that she was afraid made his blood run cold. How much more could he take today?
Running to the kitchen he found her at the sink staring with a panicked expression at her wet hands. With horror he watched as the tips of her fingers faded from olive to ash, the change creeping quickly over her hands.
"Katherine, what's happening?"
"I don't know," she whimpered, obviously terrified that the death she had so many times escaped had finally now come to claim her.
Damon stared as the desiccation was now making its way up into her arms. He caught her just as she collapsed, settling them awkwardly on the floor.
"Promise me," she pleaded as death crept into her face, "promise me you will protect our family. Promise me!"
"I promise," he gasped, hoping that he wasn't too late for her to hear him.
"Katherine? Katherine?!" he yelled, shock and sudden grief choking his words.
"You are not dead, you are not dead," he repeated, rocking the corpse back and forth.
The woman whom he had loved and hated with equal measure, the woman who was responsible for not only his vampire life, but for the death of his human one, was gone.
Katherine Pierce was dead.
A/N Hey guys, first TVD Delena fanfic, hope you enjoy! Will try to update asap, long way to go yet to completion! Please r/r, love to hear your thoughts and many thanks for reading.
-Goldnox