AN: Finally, a long hiatus nearly over… I know I've been AWOL for a while too. Frankly, I'm not altogether sure about this story, but I just figured I'd post it before the season premiere, with many thanks to my faithful proofreader Shadowfaxangel :)

Just FYI, I wrote this in June and it's just been sitting on my computer, so there shouldn't be any spoilers. It's still a one-shot for now, could become more if I find the inspiration and the motivation to keep going.

Enjoy!

I think I never drove as fast in my life. Un-life. Whatever. And it doesn't even matter, because when I get there, Elena will be just as dead. But I can't help it. I'm burning rubber all the way back to Mystic Falls - as if it will make any kind of difference.

She changed the fucking rules on me. This is definitely not how the story goes. I was supposed to be the one to leave her, all righteous indignation and wounded pride, with Elena staring teary-eyed at the swirling dust as I'm driving off towards the setting sun. Cut. End titles.

But now she's dead. She must be, because Ric died in my arms, just like that. There can only be one explanation that makes any sense. Not that it makes any sense at all.

She must be dead. The depressing mantra plays in my head, stuck on repeat like a broken record. It's no good. I need to see it with my own eyes, because I don't believe it right now. I'm not usually into premonitions and all that spiritual shit, but the fact is that I don't feel it. I don't feel the emptiness inside that should be there. Alaric's passing is already leaving a gaping hole that I'll need to fill with too many bottles of bourbon, but there isn't an Elena-shaped cavity in my heart yet. It must be the shock that makes me refuse to believe that she could actually be gone. That I'll never speak to her again, because I'm not mini-Gilbert and I can't talk to dead people.

Meredith Fell really should know better than to stand in my way. I'm about to walk right over her when she suddenly starts making a freaky kind of sense.

Elena died with vampire blood in her system.

The doctor was playing God without telling anyone. For once, I don't mind, because it means that Elena isn't really gone.

The instant feeling of relief is bone meltingly deep.

Oh, I realize that it's a relief born of selfishness. I know Elena didn't choose this. She didn't want to be a vampire, and she's going to be totally devastated. Cue a shitload of Oscar worthy sob fests and more deeply tormented dialogue than a French movie. And Stefan will be right there by her side, perpetually ready to lament about destroyed futures and lost humanity. Not like I haven't heard his spiel before.

But that's okay.

Because eventually she'll get over it and then she'll have the beauty of eternity. An eternity to chide me and prod me and slap me six ways till Sunday if that's what she wants. It's a given that I'll do a lot of slap worthy things in the future - hell, I'd do slap worthy things just to see fire flashing in her eyes again. But it will be Elena who's slapping me. And for that I'm truly grateful.

I know. I'm hopeless. Love's bitch.

There's also a tiny kernel of relief that at least this time, I can't be blamed for the fact that Elena had vampire blood in her system when she died. Come to think of it… whose blood did Merry Meredith use anyway? It could be mine… but I didn't force Elena to drink it. This time. Because had Jeremy done as he should and called Vampire Rescue instead of 911 last night, I would have force-fed her some of my blood anyway. I might have done it too if I had known she was planning another suicide mission, but I didn't (clairvoyance not being one of my manifold talents), so I guess that's one less mark against me in her black book. God knows my sins already fill way too many pages in there.

In the morgue (why did they put her in the morgue? This shit is morbid enough without adding the nauseating smell of strong disinfectant trying to overpower the stench of death), Stefan is sitting by a metal stretcher with Elena's lifeless body on it. Her hair is wet, as well as her clothes, but I don't stop to wonder why, because there she is. She looks pale and wan and still.

Too still.

I've watched her sleep enough times to know that she's never ever really still, not even when she's asleep. She makes a lot of noise for such a tiny thing, always twitching and tossing around, and moaning - believe me, she does, even when she's all alone in that teenybopper bed of hers underneath that ugly-ass horsey picture - and if not for the vervain, I would have been tempted to check out those 'sweet' dreams of hers, perhaps let myself guest star in them on occasion - hey, nobody ever accused me of being a saint!

It's eerily quiet in here. So quiet that my ears are ringing with the silence.

That's when it hits me. Silence. Not a single heartbeat. Never again. A wave of pain squeezes my chest and makes my knees buckle, and I have to lean against the door for support. We were supposed to always protect her. What did we do wrong? How did this happen?

Then I'm mentally slapping myself. I'm not going to break down. Heartbeat or not, Elena is still going to be Elena. Beautiful and way too compassionate. Headstrong and infuriating as hell. Less sense of self-preservation than a firefly, but equally enchanting. She'll still be all of those things, just amplified a thousand fold by vampirism and slightly colder to the touch. Heaven help the world. She'll be Mother Theresa with fangs, only in a much prettier package...

I somehow find my voice, even if it comes out a bit hoarse. "Stefan?"

He doesn't look up, just swiftly dashes his hand over his cheek. Oh, that's just great. Emo-Stefan is back in town. Irritation makes me sounds harsher than I intend. "What are you snivelling about? Didn't Doctor Frankenstein tell you she gave Elena vampire blood?"

Stefan keeps staring at Elena's face and his reply is sullen. "Yes, Damon. But you know what that means."

"It means she'll come back a vampire," I say, stating the obvious, because I'm just obnoxious like that. "What's to cry about? It's better than anything else!"

"Why?" Stefan turns to face me, scowl firmly in place. "She never wanted to be one. She's going to hate it!"

Typical Stefan. Jeez, he's more depressing than the daily news! "No shit, Sherlock. But at least she'll be around to hate it. I know being a vampire didn't make Elena's bucket list exactly, but it sure beats her name on a headstone!"

Stefan shakes his head.

He can't seriously mean that he'd prefer the alternative? See, now that royally pisses me off. "Well of course she'd rather be alive. Hell, I talked to her on the phone a few hours ago, and she was… maybe not happy, but very much alive. What the fuck happened?"

Stefan just looks at me. From the way his forehead wrinkles I can already tell that I'm not going to like his explanation. "Matt was driving Elena home. They drove off Wickery Bridge. I couldn't save both of them..."

Is he kidding me? They drove off Wickery Bridge? Elena drowned? Wickery fucking Bridge? How many times did Elena almost die there? Third time's the charm, apparently. I shake my head. Fate is a cruel bitch with a truly evil sense of humour...

Wait just a sec.

Is Stefan actually telling me he was there? And he saved Matt instead of Elena? Seriously?

"Shit, Stefan!" I explode. "Prioritize! You didn't have to save both of them! You just had to save Elena!"

"But Elena wanted me to save Matt first." Stefan replies stubbornly.

Man, I can't turn my back for a fucking minute, can I? Elena should know better than to pull those kinds of stunts when I'm not there to save her self-sacrificing ass! "And you listened to her?" Stefan's guilty look is answer enough, and I roll my eyes. Damn Stefan and his pussy-whipped ways! "Of course you did. You're an idiot, Stefan!"

"It was her choice..."

"Wheat or wholemeal is a choice. Regular coke or diet is a choice. Dying should not be a choice when you're all of eighteen!" I snarl back, only just refraining from punching my brother's face. Not that he can't take it. I tell myself I'll work out my frustration with him later, once I've found the perfect, conveniently blunt stake. See, I'm learning to curb my impulses, but that doesn't mean I can't still let him feel the sharp edge of my tongue. "When will you get it through that thick skull of yours that Elena makes the worst choices in the universe? Especially when she thinks she's saving the world!" I rake my hands through my hair in despair. "You know she's got a death wish bigger than Mount Everest!"

"I thought there'd be time to get her out too, but you're right..."

"What do you want me to say now, Stefan? Yes. I'm always right! You should have saved Elena first. I would have saved Elena first!" I'm ranting, but I don't care. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Stefan's head sinks down and he pinches the bridge of his nose, looking defeated. "She didn't want me to save her first..."

"Uh uh. And that right there's the fundamental difference between you and me, brother. I'll always choose to save Elena. Always." I pause a second to deliver my punch line, "Even if I know she'll hate me for it."

Stefan looks away, guilt written all over his face. A single tear slides down his cheek, leaving a dark wet stain when it drips onto his grey shirt. But his face when he looks back at me is strangely determined. "She'd be better off without us, Damon. I let her die. You killed her brother. Perhaps we should both leave Mystic Falls..."

"Speak for yourself! Jeremy's just fine. Him channelling the sixth sense is not my fault," I mutter. "Don't be stupid, Stefan. You can't leave her alone now, for fuck's sake! She's in transition! You don't want Barbie to be Elena's Yoda, do you?"

"Would that be so bad?" Stefan asks, and I can tell he's actually serious. "Look at how we messed up Elena's life. At least Caroline never hurt her the way we did!"

"Yeah, well, we're all she's got now, Stefan! What do you think she's going do to if we both leave for parts unknown? Dance a happy vampire dance?" Stefan's face falls. He's got to pull himself together before she wakes up. She's going to have enough trouble coping as it is, especially if she, as I suspect, didn't have a clue about Meredith's Miracle Cure. "Now get a grip! She'll be waking up soon, and your cry-face is quite frankly not your most attractive look!"

Stefan looks up, blinking furiously. "I just wanted to keep her safe. I never wanted this, Damon!"

"And you think I did?" I bark a laugh at Stefan's poignant look. "Oh, no. I've learned my lesson, brother. If Elena wanted to ride the human rollercoaster, she was welcome to it. But that train has left the station, and she's no longer on it." I shrug. "So she's going to be a vampire. It's not the end of the world. She'll learn to live with the condition, even if it sucks sometimes." God, that's a really lousy pun, and I grimace. "Huh. Poor choice of words..."

"This is no joking matter, Damon!"

"Oh, please! You're already crying us a river." I scoff, casting an annoyed glance at his tear streaked face. "Maybe you should look on the bright side. The sex is going to be so much better now that you can stop worrying about breaking her or draining her dry!"

"You bastard!" Stefan flies out of his chair, swinging around to face me.

I don't particularly care about the name-calling, so I just shrug, knowing it will infuriate him even more, and angry Stefan trumps weepy Stefan anytime. "I've been called worse. Come to think of it, that's one allegation our dear departed father never flung at my head. But I wouldn't blame mother if it were true... And he never did like me very much."

"The feeling was mutual, I'm sure..." Stefan snaps back.

"Oh, I'm sure. I was always the nail on his coffin..." I cross my arms and casually lean back against the wall. "Ironically, you were the one to shove him into that coffin in the end."

"Do you think I don't know that? It's my biggest regret..."

I just raise my eyebrows, glancing over at the prostrate form of Elena. Strange that he should still think that now…

Stefan growls, exposing slightly longer canines, "Don't say it, Damon. I know that I'm to blame for this. I will do everything in my power to make it up to her."

There's a gasp from the table, and both Stefan's head and mine whip around, almost simultaneously. Elena's lying on the metal stretcher, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

Stefan rushes to her side. Figures. Always the hero, except when she really needed him to be. "Elena? How are you feeling?"

She's struggling to sit up, looking around disoriented, her eyes flitting from Stefan to me and back like a yoyo. She coughs. "My head. I feel... strange. Like myself, only not. What's wrong with me?"

I think I'll let Stefan explain it. This might require the velvet glove approach, and he's good at lengthy diatribes. I usually just call it like I see it, without pussyfooting around the issue. Besides, I can't in all honestly tell her what happened, because I wasn't there. If I had been, I'm pretty sure things would have been vastly different, with her tucked safely in her own bed instead of waking up in the morgue…

Okay, I'm digressing. Stefan's watching her like she's been passed a death sentence, all mournful and broody and grave. Shouldn't he be just a little happier that she's alive? And I totally mean 'alive' in the broadest sense of the term.

Stefan grasps one of her hands and starts kneading it gently. He's clearly stalling. No surprise there. It's not every day that you tell your girlfriend that you left her to die. "You'll be fine, Elena. We'll help you. Everything is going to be okay..."

Well, that's not an answer, is it? So of course Elena looks over Stefan's head, homing in on me, a frown drawing her delicate brows together as she tries to remember. "The car was in the water. I thought I was going to die…"

Her eyes are stark, bereft of their usual velvety softness, and clearly questioning me. I grimace, shaking my head in exasperation. No pussyfooting it is. "There really is no pretty way of telling you this, Elena." My voice softens in spite of myself. "Apparently Doctor Fell took it upon herself to slip you some vampire blood while you were unconscious last night. And then you died..."

Elena closes her eyes, slowly. When she opens them again, they're huge and luminous with unshed tears, and her lips are trembling slightly. "You mean I'm going to be a..." Her voice is pure anguish. It rips through me, rubbing my already frayed emotions raw. As usual, it brings out my worst side.

I offer her an apologetic shrug. "You're going to sprout fangs and develop an acute allergy to the sun. I'm sorry, Elena. You're going to be a vampire."

Stefan gasps. "Damon! You're being deliberately heartless to tell her like that."

"How should I tell her then? She died with vampire blood in her system, and now she's in transition." Stefan is unbelievable. I'm the heartless one for telling her? Me? "Can I just point out that I wasn't the one who left her in a car at the bottom of a river? Because that made this sort of inevitable."

"I didn't know Meredith gave her vampire blood, did I?" Stefan snaps back, and I throw my arms in the air, disbelieving. Did he really just go there?

"So not the point! You left her to die. If she hadn't had vampire blood, she'd be pushing up daisies after this. You're damn lucky she had vampire blood. It means you'll get your happily ever after, together forever and all that jazz."

Stefan hangs his head, the fight gone for the moment. He whispers, "I know. I'm so sorry, Elena. This is all my fault…"

Elena wouldn't be Elena if she didn't immediately absolve Stefan of all guilt. She grabs hold of his hand, stroking it as she jumps to his defence. "Shut up, Damon. Stefan didn't do it on purpose!"

"No? You were drowning down there, and your boyfriend-" She did choose Stefan, in the end, so technically he's still her boyfriend. The memory of that fatal phone call still burns like half a bottle of whisky poured in an open wound. "- Your so-called epic love, he chose to save the other guy instead?"

"I never meant for her to die, Damon," Stefan growls angrily. He can really mood swing with the best of them. He breaks away from Elena and gives me a hard shove. I stumble back, allowing him to push me against the wall. The white tiles feel as cold against my back as I feel inside. Stefan continues haltingly, "I – thought – I was so sure – that there was still time to save Elena too… But I was too late." He falters and sags slightly, resting his forehead against the wall next to me.

I ignore him, because I'm watching her. Elena. She's sitting there on the stretcher and she looks…

"Why did you do it, Elena?" The words slip out before I can stop them. My voice is not even a whisper, but I know she can hear me. Stefan raises his head slowly, but I hardly notice. I only see her eyes. Dark. Guarded, but she doesn't look away from me. She's never been a coward, more's the pity sometimes. My vision shrinks until there's nothing but the bottomless dark pools of her eyes making up my entire universe.

"You knew he'd be too late." It's not a question, and she doesn't deny it. She hardly moves at all, but Elena's tells haven't changed in death. Her chin lifts a fraction of an inch. Defiantly, as if she's going to look down her nose at me. She was always good at that, even if I'm the taller one by a few inches. And then she tucks her hair behind her ear. Nervous, is she?

Stefan has fully turned around now. He's watching her too, but she doesn't even glance at him. She keeps her eyes trained on mine as if willing me to keep quiet. So of course I don't. "You really chose to die. Why, Elena?"

She bites her lip and abruptly looks away from me. I'm sure she's not going to answer, but she shrugs and says resignedly, "What does it even matter, Damon? There's no going back now."

Okay, so she didn't answer. I push myself away from the white tiles almost violently, bumping Stefan, who's standing there as if the ground has opened up before him. It probably has too. Where Elena is concerned, he's always been strangely blind.

I zap to where she's sliding off the stretcher, crowding her against it before her feet fully touch the ground. The metal is anchored to the floor but it creaks as I invade her personal space, our bodies aligned because we're of a height. She freezes for an instant, her hands on the metal behind her, then leans back, trying to get away from me. I move right along with her, hovering, our noses almost touching. "Why, Elena?"

She takes a deep (and might I add, completely unnecessary) breath. "I don't want to be the only one to survive all this, Damon. If Klaus had been your sire..." She hesitates, and we both know what she said on that damn phone. Stefan, Caroline, Tyler. Me. All gone.

I shake my head slowly. "Not good enough, Elena. You would never leave Jeremy. Then there's the witch. Ric..." I falter at the mention of my friend. He would have still been alive if Elena hadn't died. But if Ric had lived, we'd all have ended up dead anyway. It was just a matter of time before he staked the right Original Mommy or Daddy...

"That's it, isn't it? Ric was programmed to kill all the Originals. We were destined to turn grey if Ric didn't die first. But you decided to keep us alive, didn't you?"

Elena suddenly lifts her hands to my shoulders and tries to push me away, her eyes suspiciously moist. "Get off me, Damon! I was trying to save Matt!"

"Sure, but you knew your death would also kill Ric. So if Klaus wasn't our sire, we'd all survive. Only you wouldn't... Dammit, Elena," Her wrists feel very breakable in my hands, as if she's still a vulnerable human. I have to remind myself that she isn't, not anymore. I shake her (just a little, mind). "Our lives aren't worth yours. When are you going to stop sacrificing yourself to save our sorry asses?"

Her eyes flash as she bucks her hips against mine in an effort to dislodge me, and she says fiercely, "It's my life, Damon, my decision…"

I pin her down, my thighs anchoring her to the stretcher. "Correction. It was your life. See where your 'decisions' got you, Elena?" I nod my chin at the room, encompassing the whole morbid atmosphere.

The girl is too compassionate for this world, always wanting to save everything and everyone. Now she's paid for it with her life, and I'm quite sure none of us are worth the price. The only outlet for my irritation at the moment is sarcasm. "Well, congratulations on your lifelong membership to the club of the bloodsucking undead! I'm sure you'll love it here: no admission fee, full health insurance. That should be a perk in this death trap of a town. Just try to avoid any pointy wooden objects, and you'll be absolutely fine!"

"Don't listen to him, Elena. It's just been a shock to him, to all of us." Stefan pipes up, and I sigh, taking a step back and letting go of her. She narrows her eyes at me as Stefan takes my place, squeezing her hand and murmuring, "Don't worry, Elena. You'll get through this. You'll be alright."

I grit my teeth at the sweetness dripping from his words. Can he get any cornier? I can't help what comes out of my mouth next; I'm a realist, after all. "So you keep saying. But it all depends, brother. Elena's in transition. I don't need to spell it out to you that she has to feed or she'll still die. There are no other options..." Or there never used to be. "...Unless Sabrina has a magic ace up her sleeve."

Stefan's eyes are suddenly hopeful. "Bonnie! I didn't think of that! We have to tell her!"

"I hate to burst your rosy bubble, Stef, but don't you think she would have used that kind of power mojo on mommy dearest if she'd had it?"

"What about Jeremy?"

I lift my shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. "Yeah, I know. We can call her if you want. But it'll have to be quick, because there's not that much time... Elena? You want to alert the one-witch-coven?"

Elena nods slowly. She's leaning against the metal stretcher as if she's feeling weak, her wet hair drying out in clumps and starting to knit together. But she's still beautiful, and I have to avert my eyes before I do anything stupid. Well, even more stupid than calling in the witch.

I pat my pockets to locate my phone. I don't think it's a good sign that I have someone on speed dial who regularly messes with my head. And I mean that literally.

Bonnie picks up on the first ring. "Witchy, I've got four words for you. Elena is in transition. Anything you can do about it?"

There's a shriek from the other side of the phone, and I have to hold it away from my ear with a painful grimace.

"She died. Yes, she'd had vampire blood. And no, I didn't have anything to do with it." I glare at Stefan, making it abundantly clear that I left out his name on purpose. "I suggest you do the hysterics later. Or not, if you can pull off the witch-ex-machina. You did play at Waking up the Dead with mini Gilbert twice already."

The tinny sound of Bonnie's voice comes over the phone again, "But Jeremy was never in transition…" I can almost hear the wheels turning in her head. "I'll have to look through my books, see if the spell can be altered to fit this…" She's talking to herself now, "Perhaps if I can find a way to draw out the vampire blood…"

I don't like the sound of that, but she's already leafing through some ancient tome by the sound of it, her attention elsewhere, and I warn her, "You've got 24 hours, Bonbon. Then she has to feed or she dies. You good with that deadline? No pun intended..."

When she hums distractedly, I take that as an affirmative, tapping my phone to end the conversation, but putting it back in my pocket with a frown. "Not to be all negative here, but I don't like the sound of what she's planning..."

Stefan looks determined. "If she can make Elena human again, it's worth a try, Damon."

"Not if it means she'll be filling a vacancy in the family plot! Or turn into a zombie!"

"She is right here! Would you please not talk about me as if I'm not in the room?" Elena's looking at me, a stubborn look in her eyes. "Whatever Bonnie comes up with, I think I'll make my own decision, Damon."

I'm shaking my head in disgust. "I already told you that your decisions suck, Elena. But okay, I guess we'll see what bitchy witchie can come up with before I shoot that plan to kingdom come." There's a sound in the corridor and I flash over to the little window in the door, blocking the view inside by covering it with my back.

"We should get out of here," Stefan says quietly.

"Yeah. We don't need Scully and Mulder in here next," I retort, turning around to peer through the window. "Besides, we might want to get out of here before Doctor Death decides she needs to restock on V-juice to improve her patient statistics."

Stefan suddenly pauses and frowns at me, but the thought obviously doesn't complete itself, because Elena asks matter-of-factly, "Isn't it going to look weird if we just walk out of the morgue? Does anybody know that I… died?"

"It's past midnight," Stefan remarks, consulting his watch. "I think we're good."

"Okay, let's go." I open the door, checking that the corridor is still clear. "Ugh, I hate hospitals. The only good thing about them is the unending blood supply... Which reminds me that we need to stop by the blood bank, stock up on some fast food. We don't want our girl to go hungry..."

Stefan's frown deepens. "Do you have to be so crass about it? Elena's still getting over the shock and you're so ..."

"I'm what? Reality check, Stefan. Elena is going to be a vampire. The only permanent solution to stop her being a vampire, as far as I'm can see, is a stake through the heart. I know that. You know that. And I think she knows it too!" I move towards Elena, who takes a step forward and wobbles. Not thinking twice about it, I scoop her up in my arms. Not like this is the first time I got her out of the hospital like this.

As we head out into the silent corridor, I give her a searching look, and she nods in response to my unspoken question. "I'm good, Damon. For the moment. I think I'm not quite okay with the idea of becoming one of you yet, but for now, I just want to get out of here."

And so we do.

AN: This was my first foray into writing from Damon's perspective. It was kind of daunting. Please drop me a little word if you liked it?