Sunrise

They brought back Elena's body.

John gave Jeremy the letter, the letter that would explain everything, and was thankful that his nephew, with his wide eyes, hadn't been able to ask anything more. They were interrupted; Elena was back, her still body held in Damon's arms. The instant her saw her, the second he laid eyes on her cold, still face, he had to look away. Something inside him tore; something broke. She was dead. And there was a part of him that wanted to pull her from that vampires arms and never ever let her go.

But she would awaken, human and fragile, to see him drop down dead beside her. And he didn't want that. He didn't want her to see him die.

So he forced down his desire, his selfish, selfish desire, to have his last moments be watching the life flood back into her brown eyes. To see her breath again; to feel relief that she still lived. Because it would be her first moments and he wasn't about to taint them with death. And, secretly, maybe, he didn't want to feel the crushing fear and horror if he had failed, and his daughter stayed dead. Stayed still and cold.

But he rejected the fear; unable to except that she might be gone, forever.

They carried her into the front room, placing her down on the sofa, turned away from him, willing her to live…

Willing him to die.

And so he turned away from them, looking out the open door, and realised that it was time to play his part. It was time to complete the spell.

Some might have said that he had more to live for, needn't give up, that she still hadn't forgiven him yet. But John didn't want her forgiveness, needed it, oh how he needed it, but he didn't want it. This wasn't about making things up to her, this wasn't about guilt, this was about his daughter.

And only her.

He wasn't giving his life for her because it was the right thing to do, or because he felt guilty, or because he wanted to be noble. He was giving his life for her because she was the only thing left in this world that he truly loved, because she was his daughter, because he wanted her to live. And if that meant that he needed to die; then so be it.

And it just so happened that dying for her was one of the, perhaps, less dark things he had done for her protection. Because he'd killed for her, threatened, and he'd do it again in a heartbeat. He'd do worse.

Feet carrying him outside, John stood motionless in the soft, warm, sunlight. The air was cool, but hid the subtle hint of warmth, and the breeze was gentle. For a moment fear crept in, what if the spell hadn't worked? What if Elena came back a vampire? What if she didn't come back at all? But he hushed those fears up, took them and hid them deep inside his mind, unable to face the possibility. Unable to comprehend the possibility.

The sun was low in the sky, light pale and unsure, just peaking over the horizon, but still warm.

This was how Isobel died, he thought suddenly, standing in the path of the sun.

Thinking of her was painful, a mixture of love and hurt and longing and regret swirling together into a mass that no longer made sense. He had stopped trying to understand it long ago. It simply was. She was gone from this world, lost to the living, lost to him…

But not for long.

John smiled slightly, triumphant, he'd won. He'd beaten them; Klaus and the other vampires. They hadn't taken Elena, she was still human, she wasn't like them. He'd prevented her death. She would live. She would. And, as he gazed off at the sun, lost in thought, lost in memories of Isobel, lost in the hope that he could see her again, he heard Elena take her first breath.

Everyone was behind him, in the dark house, and he stood outside, bathed in fiery sunlight.

Relief flooded through him, sweet and empowering and suddenly everything was possible, Elena was alive. Triumph, stronger than before, flooded his mind. He'd won. And now it was time to play his part; they had willed Elena back to life, and so they'd willed him into his grave.

Everyone was in the dark house, there was no one there, no one to watch, no tears or pain, when John Gilbert took his last shuddering breath and fell to a cold, stone floor.

In fact, no one even turned around.

Because, when I watched that scene, I was more effected by it than any other scene in the whole show. And, when John was standing there, staring off into the sun, I really did think that he was seeing Isobel, standing in the distance, waiting for him to join her. And no one even cared or, as the fic says, turned around.

And, this coming from someone who used to hate John, I was so sad I couldn't even cry lmao.