Title: Don't Want To Feel
Author: Eena
Rating: R-ish, let's say 15 to cover it.
Disclaimer: Don't own the Vampire Diaries.
Spoilers: 2.02-'Brave New World'
Summary: Response to the Doomed Ships Comment Ficathon. Damon and Bonnie work through their issues . . . sort of.
He comes at her, thinking blood and vengeance.
She welcomes it, knowing Elena can't interfere this time.
Fire flares in the forest, starting and extinguishing within seconds. The night is pierced with the sounds of grunts, screams, and accusations.
He's running at her, thinking blood, bitch-no witch, hurt? Can't hurt me-not going to hurt, debts, debts, debts. They owe each other a life.
She pushes and pulls at his brain cells, popping individual nerves between her magical fingers and liking it. She pulls and burns and tears, thinking blood, blood, Caroline, blood, Caroline, Caroline, Grams, Caroline, fault, his fault, HIS FAULT!
But he can't get through, is within reaching distance of her throat and is stopped by bleak, tear-filled green eyes that should be angry, that should be hateful, that should be disgusted-but they're not. They're watery, dull, and numb. He thinks, it's no fun if she wants it.
She's in control; she can end him. But it's not his end she's after. She pulls back little bit by little bit because she's enjoying his pain too much. Elena's face flashes before her eyes-we can't be this, Bonnie-and then she thinks of Caroline, dead to the touch. She thinks, I wish I was this-because everyone's going to die anyways.
The sun starts peaking through the trees. He looks and is stunned. How long have we been doing this?
She feels the sun on her shoulders and falls to the ground in a boneless heap. She's in disbelief. Didn't the world end last night?
He stares at her, gasping and crying on the ground, dirt smudges on her cheeks and leaves in her hair. Her eyes are still numb, still dull. He drops to join her, his face alarmingly close to a witch who keeps threatening to kill him. She's a better sport than this.
His face is so close to hers, his teeth not far behind. She remembers having those teeth in her neck, remembers the burn and pain as the blood was drawn from her body. She thinks maybe she was supposed to die that night. I can't make bad decisions if I'm dead.
He looks at her, glares at her. She's ruining this for him. "You're stronger than this," he reminds her, spite lacing each one of his words. You're the only distraction-it's just pain in the background.
She stares back, green eyes seeing something that's not there. "It's your fault. It has to be." Otherwise it's mine and I can't have killed my best friend.
He's angry, insulted, and in agreement. "It's Katherine's fault," he says to cover the blame. It was my choice.
"It can't be her fault," she shakes her head back and forth, twigs and pebbles scratching across her face. I can't hurt her like I can hurt you.
"You'll die doing this," he warns. I've got only so much sympathy and even less patience.
"One of us should die," she turns onto her back, turns her head away from him. Don't start speaking the truth.
"I'm already dead," he reminds her, crawling closer. His body's more injured than he thought. She's good, but unfocused. He looks down at her face, at those dull, dreary green eyes. "I can make it better." I can only make it worse.
She knows he's lying, it's better than the truth. She lays still, memories playing in her mind's eye -little blonde girl with sparkly pink sandals-older blonde girl with blood on her face-and her heart is shattering into jagged glass shards that are tearing up her insides. Elena said no.
He's contemplating suicide, or something close to it. Her lips fill his vision, he's done stupider things. She even tastes like heartache.
She barely feels his lips on her-should have said no-but she's aware. Her mind stutters and starts, and she remembers, Caroline, blood, blood, Grams, Caroline, yes, I said it, I said YES.
He feels the heat seconds before the burn assails his lips. He flies backwards, lips smarting, skin aching, and tongue charred-son of a bitch! It takes a moment to heal. He lays on the ground, gasping in unneeded air, and then looks at her. "Feel better?"
"No." Feel nothing.
He shakes his head and crawls back to her. I've got issues.
She lays still, watches as he nears. His lips touch hers again. His hands dare to glide across her body, gripping and holding and squeezing. She lays still, and this time she lets him. Maybe I deserve this.
He pulls back when it's done, wipes away a few of her tears. "Don't you hate me more than you hate yourself?" It was my fault.
She shakes her head and closes her eyes. "No, it was mine."