title: if a great wave shall fall
summery: She stands on the edge of the rail, her eyes looking out over the water. She hears the raven haired vampire come from a long way off, not even bothering to look at him as he offers her the bottle of bourbon that he has clenched in his hand.
pairing: damon/april
rating: T
disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, there'd be no such thing as Delena.
notes: I rewatched 'The Descent' last night and this idea came to me.
song suggestion-'i'll go wherever you will go' charlene soraia
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'if a great wave shall fall
it would fall upon us all
well i hope that there's someone who
can bring me back to you
if i could, then i would
i'll go wherever you will go
|if i could turn back time
i'll go wherever you will go'
-'wherever you will go', charlene soraia
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She heard him coming from thirty yards off.
She stands on the edge of the railing for a moment before vaulting over the side with ease. Her fingers grip the metal railing for a moment, allowing her body to slide forward. The wind picks up and the breeze runs through her hair, lifting up her soft tresses.
"Are you going to jump?"
She glances over her shoulder at the vampire who has just appeared. He holds a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a wrinkled and bloodstained shirt in the other.
"I've considered it," she replies softly. And then she turns, lifting her leg up and sliding back down onto the concrete ground. "But I'm not done with life yet."
"After last week, I would have thought this whole town would have been done," he says softly, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand. The golden liquor slips down his chin and falls off in one single drop, almost like a tear.
She sighs and reaches a hand out. He hands the bottle to her and she knocks back a slug, grimacing as the liquor burns her throat. "What can I say, Damon?" she says, arching a brow. "This is a weird place."
"And this is the bridge of death," Damon says, snatching the bottle back from her. "Can I ask why you wandered back here after the other night?"
"I might ask you the same question," she says. "I would think you wouldn't want to be anywhere near this place."
"Something always leads me back here."
She's tired, she's bored, but she's also wired. She's not about to let that slide away from her fingertips.
"Like what?"
"What business is it of yours, shorty?"
A scowl marks her pretty features and she manages to grab the bottle away from him. "Because I was the one who saved your sweet ass from getting staked two nights ago. I think you owe me that."
He makes a lunge for the bottle but she's too quick for his severely inebriated state. Even for a human, she was remarkably quick. He wondered what she would be like as a vampire...would she be as sassy. Would she have as much spunk?
And then the Viki incident comes to mind, along with the Caroline incident...all thoughts of that fade quite quickly.
She subsequently catches his eyes, his features softening ever so slightly.
Then she gets it.
"Elena, huh?"
His icy eyes widen for a moment before his face relaxes back to normal. "She's been dead for a year and I still think that when I wake up in the morning, she'll be there."
She almost misses his words, his voice is so quiet. And her heart breaks just a little bit for the vampire.
"But she left you..." her voice trails off in a whisper.
"Yeah," he murmurs. "But I never stopped loving her."
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She wonders if she will see the vampire again.
"So you never told me what you were doing out on Wickery bridge that night."
She looks up from the drink that she is currently mixing to find him perched precariously on a stool right in front of her. Their eyes meet, sapphire on ice, and she blinks.
"I felt like a walk."
"Who goes for a walk on Wickery Bridge in the middle of the night unless they are planning on taking their own lives?" he wonders aloud, not allowing her to break eye contact.
She blinks again, gently setting the drink down in front of the customer and carefully breaking the eye contact to smile at him. The customer returns his own smile before turning back to his date, oblivious to anything that has just come out of the vampire's mouth.
"The thought had come to my mind," April replies stiffly. "But I realized than I had too much to live for. Hell, I made it out of that battle without a mark on me while I watched my friends get slaughtered."
It had been two weeks since April had watched her best friend's head get ripped clean off of her shoulders. She had watched Damon lunge for the hybrid that had done the damage and nearly get his heart ripped out of his chest in the process.
She remembers the feeling of plunging the White Oak stake into the hybrid's back and yanking it out. She remembers the exhilaration and the satisfaction at seeing him go up in flames, watching the damage become irreversible.
And she doesn't regret it.
She also remembers holding Rebekah's body in her arms, scooping her ashy form up and getting her to the brink of the battle. She can hear Damon's voice shouting at her, telling her to just take Rebekah and go, get the hell out of there. But she can't. She can't leave him behind to die alone.
So she fights.
In the end, she, him, the witch, and the hybrid are the only ones left standing.
Klaus had taken off, fleeing Mystic Falls once he had buried Caroline, Rebekah, and Elijah. He had left her with his new and private cell number in case she ever needed anything, the two of them having grown into allies through her friendship with Rebekah.
She stays right there in Mystic Falls. She finds that she cannot leave the town behind, even if none of her loved ones are still alive.
She glimpses Damon here and there after the night on Wickery Bridge. She doesn't try to talk to him and he doesn't try to talk to her.
Until one night, she comes face to face with him.
Right on that damn bridge.
"You seem to have a thing with bridges," she sighs, accepting the bottle once again.
"I should say the same thing about you," he replies softly, scooting ever so close on the railing. "Why are you here?"
"I got some bad news a couple of days ago. I came to think."
"What could be worse than what we went through?" he asks. "You saw your best friend get her head ripped right off and my little brother died in my arms."
She pretends she doesn't see the tears on his cheeks.
"It's kind of essential," she murmurs. "Almost ironic."
"What is?"
"That I have leukemia."
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She finds him trying to talk her into turning. They both know that vampire blood cannot heal cancer so that's a never ending argument between the two of them.
And it doesn't matter.
It was something that Rebekah had told her way back when, right in the beginning of their friendship. She had told her young friend never to even think about turning because she would become lost along the way.
She never wanted to lose who she was.
She had seen it happen to Elena and to Matt. When Elena was turned by Rebekah (albeit accidentally), she became a different person than she was before. She became someone that she never wanted to be. And that was when she flipped the switch, losing whatever goodness she had left and taking it out on Matt.
April would never forget the night that she found Matt at the Grille, bleeding out from the neck and slowly transitioning.
And he would make the transition, not wanting to leave his love. Matt had stayed there to fight and in the end, he would be the first to die in the battle. Rebekah snapped when he was ripped from her arms and she died along with him.
April would not turn. She couldn't.
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Damon started tagging along with her when she would go for her chemotherapy treatments. She was surprised that he would be able to keep control in a hospital of all places, be able to sit by her side in the exam room, hold her hand, and watch as the doctors pumped all of these drugs into her body.
They would never talk about it.
He would just...be there.
It wasn't too long after that when he finally moved out of the boarding house, trying to flee the ghosts that still haunted him. She mentioned in a conversation that she had an empty bedroom at her loft and found herself inviting him in that night.
She brings in another freezer, leaving it on the other side of her kitchen, stocked full of blood bags. He never asks her to do it for him and he never thanks her for it when she does. It's not needed.
He cooks dinner at night, his favorite meal being lemon chicken with piles of mashed potatoes. She brings home red wine and drinks only a little bit, knowing that it doesn't mix well with the drugs that are currently running in and out of her blood stream.
It doesn't bother her that the wine reminds her of Rebekah's blood slipping through her fingers right after her throat had been cut.
No, it doesn't bother her.
And there would be nights where she would take some pain killers and try to get lost in a stupid primetime cop show, attempting to forget her sorrow.
And some nights, he would sit down on the couch beside her and gently shift her head into his lap, pulling a comforter over her thin form and run his fingers through her hair, whispering words of nonsense to ease her misery.
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His undead heart aches as he watches her dress.
It is the first good day in several. She feels somewhat well and wants to go out for a night on the town. He is more than happy to oblige, having found himself willing to do anything for her to keep her happy. To make her forget.
And so they do. They have dinner at a lovely restaurant and she kicks him under the table when he finds himself staring at the pulse point in the waiter's neck. She silently scolds him for having not fed in a couple of days and he promises he will when they get home.
They joke about stupid things, laugh about childhood dreams and ambitions, and they wonder what would have happened if vampires had never walked into their lives.
"I wanted to be an architect," he tells her with a tiny smile. "I loved our home so much and I wanted to create homes just like it."
She tells him how Elena had gotten her into writing and how she hopes that someday, she'll see something of hers published. When she mentions Elena's name, he finds that he feels nothing.
No pain, no sadness.
Just forgiveness.
And as he sits there, looking into this girl's light blue eyes, he realizes for the first time that maybe he has found a life worth living for.
Even if hers was going to end soon.
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That night ends with another glass of red wine and then a gentle brush of her lips against his jaw line. And then his fingers are dancing over her spine as he plucks the buttons open on her dress and delicately pulls it over her head.
Despite the months of pain filled agony that has been heaped onto her body, she is probably the most beautiful woman that he has ever seen in his too long of a life. And she feels absolutely no pain as he lifts her up in his arms, continuing to press kisses along her throat and collarbone. He wants to feel every bit of her, know every crevice of her.
He emit's a soft sigh as he slides inside of her, knowing that he has finally found his home.
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The chemo treatments become less frequent. He finds her canceling them more often and he can't help but be angry.
"Why won't you do them?! They can help you!" he rages at her, fighting the heat behind his eyes.
"Because they're not working anymore, Damon," April replies softly, tears glittering in her eyes. "And there is no point in putting myself through any more of that pain if it's going to be worthless in the end."
He opens his mouth to argue, to try to persuade her to let him turn her one final time. But one look in those beautiful eyes that he fell in love with a very long time ago silences all of his pleas.
Instead, he tenderly wraps her fingers in his, their eyes finding each other's.
"I don't want to lose you," he whispers, knowing his battle is lost.
She brushes her hand against his cheek, her fingertips resting underneath his chin.
"No matter what happens, Damon, I am always here," she breathes back.
He pulls her against his chest, ignoring the tears that slide off of his nose and into her thinning hair. Those beautiful, dark locks that would fall thickly around her shoulders had thinned down to almost one handful of hair, due to the chemo. But she wouldn't wear a scarf or a wig. She would take it in stride and just remain who she was.
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"Tell me about your mother."
His eyebrows rise up and he glances down at the beautiful woman in his arms.
"My mother?"
"Mother's Day is tomorrow and I just thought..." There's a quick intake of breath, a stab of pain. "...I miss my mom very much," she adds softly.
He swallows thickly. "My mother's name was Antonia Salvatore," he replies quietly. "She was twenty two when she had me. She told me once that she had wanted to name me Gabriel but my father had put his foot down, wanting to call me Damon."
A tiny chuckle escapes her. "Nice father you had."
"Oh, he was the best," he responds sarcastically. "But my mother...she was the one who got me into designing a bit."
"Really?"
"She was the one who chose our home when she and my father were first married. And she decorated it from top to bottom, making sure that it was open and airy and full of light."
April smiles into his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. "She sounds wonderful."
"And she would have loved you," he whispers into her hair. "She told me once that she wanted me to find someone who could kick my ass but also make me happier than I ever thought I could be." And it was true. April Young had never tried to change Damon, even from the moment that they had met. From the moment that she had learned that he was a vampire, she wasn't afraid. She accepted him for who he was and never tried to turn him into someone else.
Maybe it did help that she didn't love Stefan first. But Stefan's heart had always belonged to Caroline even if Caroline's heart had belonged to Klaus. And it was a wayward circle from there, never finding its perfect ending until death had struck them all.
Stefan was dead. Caroline was dead. Elena was dead, having finally been staked by her brother when she tried to rip his throat out.
Damon had grieved for them and moved on, finding his heart and his home in the arms of this young woman right here. He would sometimes chide himself for being so stupid, so wrapped around someone that was never going to be his, that was never going to know who she wanted because they were both in her life.
April wanted him and he wanted her.
At the end of the world, they were all they had.
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"I'm tired."
He fights the prickles of tears behind his eyes, gathering her closer into his embrace. "Just a little longer," he whispers.
It is mid afternoon, early autumn. The sun is dipping lower in the sky with its gentle rays shining down on the couple curled up in the lawn chair.
It's their favorite time of day. A perfect moment of tranquility, of love. Of total joy.
Their last day.
"I think it's time to go to sleep."
That did it.
The tears finally break free, slipping down his cheeks and finding their home in her hair.
"I don't-I don't think I can yet..."
"Yes, you can," she whispers, using what strength she had left to lift her chin and look at him. "You can continue on and you can live, Damon."
"Who says I want too?" he replies softly.
"Damon, you haven't even begun to live," April sighs. "You've spent almost two hundred years existing. You still have time before you can bring it to an end."
In the four years that he had spent with her, he had lived. Despite watching her fading away, he had found a home. He had found peace and he had found hope.
"And what do you suggest that I do?" he asks softly. "Do I go to college? Do I move out of town? What do I do? What can I-what can I do without you?"
She gives him the tiniest of smiles. "You can live," she says again. "You can live."
He gazes into her eyes, finding him anchor onto the great shore of the world. He breathes in and out for several seconds and then she isn't this sick creature anymore. He sees that young girl descending the stage at the Miss Mystic Falls ceremony once again, decked out in that alluring red dress. He sees that girl who had flashed him a smile and given him real hope for the first time in years.
"I love you, April Salvatore," he whispers.
She doesn't respond, her head resting against his chest. And he finds he can't hear her breathing anymore.
Tears take over once again, spilling from his eyes and down his cheeks. But he knows that she's right. He can live.
He had to find the want.
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It's springtime.
His favorite season.
The crab apple trees are heavy with blossoms, their tantalizing aroma filling the air. Dew falls onto his head, almost like a tear from heaven.
He finds a smile breaking across his mouth, pulling the corners of his lips up.
He's happy and he's not ashamed to admit it.
Peace was his friend once again.
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I have no idea why I decided to write this.
I wanted to develop April more because she's so adorable and I can definitely see her having fire and spunk but also be accepting and patient. I mean, if she can put up with Rebekah of all people, than she could definitely put up with Damon.
So hence, this was born. April and Damon are an interesting couple to go into and to develop on my own since Damon is now a whipped little vampire and April has been pushed to the back burner with all of this cure nonsense. But I do have a feeling that something like this is in store for her. I can see her being like Meredith and actually being a vampire slayer or something. I don't know.
And also, I can definitely see Damon calling April 'shorty'. :)