'Hey! Damon, hey! Hey listen to me. We'll survive this. We always survive. Trust me." "We're never getting Stefan back. You know that, don't you?" "Then we'll let him go. Okay? We'll have to let him go."
She was standing so close to him. Too damn close. Palms pressed against his face. Anger radiated in waves off him and she was terrified it would turn into rage and he would do something irrevocably stupid. Like always.
When did this turn into "we" for her?
That thought struck her hard in the gut as his phone went off.
Katherine.
At least she had the decency to call if not the courage to stand with them as this fight with Klaus now escalated into a full war.
After attempts at reading, writing, drinking, TV, and even a good crying jag, Elena had given up any chance in hell at distracting herself and gave in to her anxiety, pacing the gloomy halls of the boarding house. Waiting. Always waiting. As the night dragged on, her fears and doubts only grew; she started seeing imaginary things out of the corner of her eye, and every creak and bump startled her.
It was what she imagined the first stages of complete insanity to be like.
She probably really should have gone insane by now.
When Damon had finally come home, she had run to him full of something that despite everything else felt very much like hope. And then that hope had been dashed to hell. He didn't even need to say anything, she had seen their failure in his eyes. But Damon was alive. Stefan was lost. Stefan might be lost for good, and the ache in her heart had grown and threatened to overwhelm her.
But Damon was alive.
And as he told her how they had failed, and why, she saw he would blame himself – did blame himself - for what had happened and whatever would come next, and it would tear him apart inside. And so she had forced some semblance of calm from that seemingly endless reservoir of strength she possessed and she had taken his face in her hands. And oh god, as her heart threatened to splinter apart, knew they would survive.
She had him by her side still and he had promised never to leave her. It was "we" and had been for a while. Who knows how such things start, or when? She didn't. But maybe, just maybe, as long as he stayed with her, she wouldn't have to completely and wholly shatter.
"Take care of yourself Katherine." He hung up the phone. She saw a flicker of that ancient pain cross his face that still haunted him from time to time where that other one was concerned. It was gone in an instant.
And then they both stood there, staring at each other, each at a loss for words.
She watched as he struggled with the anger that threatened to consume him.
"Damon don't…"
"Don't what Elena?"
"Blame yourself!"
He laughed. It was mirthless. "I have preyed and hunted and killed things for well over a century…"
His eyes grew cold as he slowly took a step towards her.
"For food. For sport. For revenge. I've been so fucking good at killing things, Elena, you wouldn't believe."
He closed the distance between them, gripped her by the shoulders too firmly.
"And tonight when it mattered. The only fucking time in my entire life when it ACTUALLY mattered for something I fucked it up. I FAILED!" He was shouting now. His grip tightened on her.
"I failed you. And I don't know what to do next."
There was a time when she would have been terrified. Hell, if she was being completely honest with herself, some tiny part of her still was afraid of that familiar psychotic rage that Damon now was slipping into – but right now, tonight, after everything – she felt only her own anger swelling up inside, long suppressed, and desperate for its own outlet.
"Fuck off Damon." She said it coolly, calmly, her wild eyes and trembling hands the only give away.
"What was that Elena?"
"FUCK OFF!" And then the dam burst and she was screaming.
"YOU failed? YOU fucked up? It's all on you is it? I've been pacing these damned halls for hours, waiting, like some sacrificial lamb, just endlessly waiting, doing nothing because I CAN'T help you or Stefan or my family or friends." She was panting and crying now and knew she was rambling and god help her, she couldn't stop.
"And all the while I'm wondering which one of you are gonna die tonight – die for ME. Because of ME. And you just wanna take it all on yourself huh? Who's the martyr now, Damon?"
She had been backing away from him frantically the whole time, and now she connected against a wall and slid down to the floor, all strength drained, drawing her knees up tight to her chest.
"I was so scared. I've never been more scared in my entire life. I could have lost every single one of you tonight, not just him. I just wish that for one single day I didn't have to feel this terror. Just one day. Hell I'll settle for a good night's sleep or a single hour even of peace…I can't…"
Her voice broke and she couldn't say anymore. Face in hands, rocking back and forth like some mental patient, the tears wouldn't stop. He hadn't said anything yet, but now he moved closer to her trembling, tiny form, and like so many times before, scooped her up into his arms. He stayed down there with her, holding her, stroking her hair and face. He let her cry because she needed too. Because she had spent months pretending to be so strong and so capable, but at the end of the day, she was still just a young girl. It was easy to forget that sometimes when you saw just how much she really could take. And keep taking.
His lips in her hair, he murmured all those nonsense things you're supposed too to comfort someone. And it hurt him so much, like it always did, to see her in pain. He rocked her back and forth, comforting her with his touch as her mere presence always comforted him. They stayed like that in near silence until her wracking sobs gave way to exhaustion and she eventually fell into a sleep he knew would be restless and fraught with nightmares.
Picking her up gently he walked upstairs and lay her quietly in his bed. She stirred but didn't wake and he stroked her face which even in sleep looked pained. He wanted so much to stay there with her tonight, hold her, warm and beautiful and alive, and wait for whatever doom and destruction was coming. But this intimacy that had been revealed between them tonight made him wary of shattering it's newness. He didn't want to push her. Didn't want to take anymore from her then he already had. She was vulnerable and in pain and he loved her, and because of that he would never betray her trust.
Do you trust me?
Was it just hours ago he'd asked her that? Felt like a lifetime.
Yes. Without hesitation.
Yes. Like a balm on his soul.
Yes.
He turned off the lights and left the room, walking down the hall to the guest bedroom she used since his brother had gone off the wall. The bed was unmade. The sheets still held her scent. He knew he would not sleep tonight, but that familiar smell would help carry him through.
How was he going to protect her now?
