Learning to Forgive
He couldn't forgive her. Damon had been sitting in the family crypt, staring at her coffin for the better part of the morning. The coffin that for 150 years he had believed to have Lily Salvatore in it. The crypt that should have held Elena's coffin until his dear mother and her heretics had come along and ruined all of it. He couldn't forgive her. That's what he had told himself watching her die. That's what he had tried to tell himself all goddamned morning. Yet, he was still here.
How could he forgive a mother that had lied to him for 150 years? That had abandoned him and his little brother to fend for themselves when Damon had only been 17? How could he forgive her for loving a man that had murdered both her sons? How could he forgive her for standing by while their father constantly tortured and beat them? And, then, after all that time, she had gone and made the same mistakes. She had fallen for yet another abusive man that forced her to choose between himself and her sons. And let's not forget she had all but murdered Elena; had made sure this his life would be a living hell without the love of his life while she got everything she wanted. Maybe she had even saved him to make sure that he kept living with the pain of not having Elena. After all, Lily had made the wrong decision by him at every single turn until now. How could he forgive her?
And, yet. Yet, in the end, she finally had trusted him. She had trusted him and Stefan to be telling the truth. In the end, she had chosen them, had chosen him, over the man she loved. She could have killed him. Hell, he had begged her to. It would have been easier for him. But, then she would have proven him right and left Stefan without a brother. She could have killed Valerie and given him an excuse to say he still hated her. Instead, she had pulled a Stefan and found a way to save them both, thinking additionally that it would kill the man she had loved, all while sacrificing herself to do so. She had been willing to lose everything to save him. All while he had given her absolutely no reason to believe he would ever be able to love her again.
Had she really been right about him? He was not Stefan. He didn't forgive easily. He couldn't just forgive 150 years in the blink of an eye with one good act. And she had a hell of a lot that he would have to be willing to forgive. But, for the one moment when it mattered at the end, she had finally made a selfless decision so he could be safe and have a chance. And he did respect the people that gave him a reason to believe he could be a better person every now and then. And instead he had thrown it back in her face. Even if it hadn't been forgiveness, he hadn't even been able to find a kind word to say. Could he forgive her?
"I hate you." He said to her coffin. "For Giuseppe. For abandoning us. For lying to us the next 150 years. For what you did to Elena…." He paused, almost giving into the rage. "And I don't think I can forgive you for that." He took a sip of the near empty bourbon bottle. "But… you choose your family, finally; you choose me. I didn't want you to. Of course, you didn't listen. Maybe it was guilt and not love or family, but you still gave yourself up for us. So, thank you. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't forgive you for it. I wish I had told you how much that meant to me. Yes, you made your bed. But, in the end, you tried to make it right and I won't forget that, mom."