"Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!" ― Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights

2009

Down the winding roads and the rolling hills of Virginia, there lied a small, insignificant little town, almost quaint in its nondescript simplicity. It was a tiny, two-diner, backwater town that's nearest McDonalds was nearly twenty miles over to the next city. It was unassuming and safe, the kind of place big-city parents out scavenging for the suburbs found their haven in.

He hated it. He always hated it.

Unfortunately for him though, extenuating circumstances demanded that he was there in a timely manner before the comet passed over. It was because of that stupid ice-rock that he was even there anyway, slave to it the same way he was slave to the sun.

The man glanced down at his ringed middle-finger, the middle-finger that was currently tapping on his steering wheel as some '80s pop ballad droned on in the background. He smirked. Well, he was as near as a slave to the sun as he could be.

Soon enough, the trees in his peripheral started clearing up as he drove past old shops and whole-in-the-wall restaurants, all of them with that same family-oriented, small-town feel that he simply loved. The man sighed deeply as irritation began to build in his chest. It truly was no wonder that his brother loved to return here every thirty years or so. It must have made him feel in touch with all the old roots and generations-old traditions, with the town celebrations and the Christmas carnivals. It was enough to make someone feel human, and not apart from it, as his brother undoubtedly did. As he did.

The man heaved a sigh and turned his eyes back to the road, annoyed with his brother's soft-hearted predictability. In the end, however, he wasn't here to confront his brother's pathetic need to hold onto his humanity, and surprisingly, he wasn't here to go on some hedonistic blood-high and/or orgy party in order to entertain himself for years on end either.

No, he had no need of that anymore, or at the very least, he wouldn't until she decided that she wanted to walk the path of life that he did. The man huffed a sardonic laugh. He could almost imagine it. They would run off into the sunset, hand-in-hand, tearing throats and drinking blood and abandoning their humanity the way all vampires eventually did once humanity became a distant-enough concept.

Soon enough, the winding road gave way to an impressive, circular drive-way that lied before a large, even more impressive, mansion. The sign located at its side designated it as the Salvatore Boarding House. The man smirked as he caught sight of the massive structure, tilting his head at the sheer opulence of it. It was always too kitschy for his tastes, but he had to admit that he had a particular fondness for the bathtub located in the master suite. He could only hope that his brother stayed away from it lest he find himself without hands to wash himself with.

Once he reached the driveway of the house, he made a sharp turn to the left, towards the heavily wooded area, and parked his car at a safe distance. It wasn't imperative for his brother to know that he was here just yet. That knowledge would only come when he decided it was necessary, and not because his car gave him away.

The man opened his car door and smoothly jumped out, brushing down the sleeves of his leather jacket as he swaggered away from his vehicle.

Up ahead, he could see the boarding house, and located a little ways behind it, was the small building that he truly came to see.

Unable to handle the anticipation, the man ran towards the small building in a flash, arriving there within mere seconds. He approached the gates and briefly placed his hand at the stone of the wall, rubbing his fingers against the rough limestone. For a moment, he almost imagined that he could feel the age of the structure pulse within his being, reminding him, as nearly all things did now, how old he truly was. He took a breath and slid his hand away, striding into the crypt.

The air inside was musty and dank, despite a lack of water inside, and when he looked around he could see the flowers he left at his mother's name just last year. Aside from that, there was nothing, and he almost wanted to scream at the sacrilege of it. It gave him nearly enough incentive to storm into the house and snap his brother's neck, but he had been playing smart for too long just to ruin his plans by acting impulsively.

He shook his head, physically shoving away his train of thought, and approached the grave that he was truly here to see. He stepped towards it slowly, reverently, the way a priest of old would approach an icon of their goddess, and raised his hand towards the name embedded on the wall. He ignored the way his fingers almost trembled as he touched the cold granite, the only grave built with that stone, and traced the letters that formed her name. He had always loved her name, even when he was a child of nearly eight years old and she was nothing but a bump on his mother's belly.

His thumb finished tracing the curve of the "A" in her name before he pressed his palm against it, wishing that the chill beneath his hand came from the satin of her skin and not from the lifeless stone.

Damon Salvatore stepped away from the grave, reluctantly pulling his hand with him. He crossed his arms to keep himself from touching it again, to keep his mind focused, and to keep reminding himself that in a few short weeks, it would not be the cold granite that he felt beneath his palms, but the warmth of her skin.

He appraised her grave for seconds more and then turned around, stepping away from his veritable altar. Damon strode out of the Salvatore Crypt and headed towards the direction of the boarding house, deciding that now, it was best for his brother to know that he was back in town.

Behind him, the crypt stood exactly as it did before he walked in. The only difference was the minute change of temperature that permeated through the chilled granite, the name Elena Salvatore only slightly warmer than it was before.

So I've been in love with the Vampire Diaries for years but I've never written fic for it before. I recently rewatched the show and I fell in love with delena all over again. Now, this story does have some taboo subject matter which I referenced very briefly in the story. I understand completely if it makes anyone uncomfortable and I do not resent anyone not clicking on this story because of that. What I do ask, however, is that any criticism towards this story be constructive criticism, as I have always appreciated that. I hope you all enjoy this story and leave reviews!