Disclaimer: Don't own it, people of the VD land.
Author's Note: So, this is just a short (very short) little one shot that I wrote at work today. It just came to mind, probably circa season 3, and I wanted to write it down. I've really been into the whole unrequited love of Caroline and Damon lately because I just can't see Damon and Elena. Anyway, take a look, review, and keep an eye out for the Vampire Diaries story (much longer than this) that I'm planning soon.
XOXO
"Damon, I," Caroline trailed off as Elena entered the store room, looking between where Caroline was standing in the middle of a pool of blood (not hers, not Damon's, some poor soul who thought they were donating to a good cause and not blood-thirsty vampires), her hand reaching out towards Damon, who stood stock-still across the room, fangs still receeding back into the confines of his gums. "It's not what it looks like."
Why did she have to say that? Of course it wasn't what it looked like. If Elena had taken five minutes to assess the situation properly she would see it was Damon with the blood on his hands, Damon with the veiny eyes and sharp teeth, Damon who had torn into the blood bags at her feet. It was Caroline who had pulled him away, Caroline who had swung him into the wall so he couldn't gorge himself on unneeded blood, couldn't drown his Stefan sorrows in blood and women.
But Elena wouldn't see that. And Damon wouldn't tell her. Because it was always precious Elena whose feelings mattered most. Always Elena who everyone had to throw their life on the line for. Always Elena who could get the blood-thirsty monsters to recant their evil ways and become a 'better man.' Always. Always. Always.
It was never the blonde, self-centered, manipulative, bubbly, neurotic, caring, self-less control-freak who mattered. Throw her under a bus if it saves Elena, but never choose her first. But to Caroline it was and always would be Damon who mattered most. Damon who she would try to prove that she was worth something. Damon who she would always choose first. And Damon who she would throw herself under the bus for.
So standing in the harsh light next to the stark contrast of the white cooler and crimson blood, Caroline let her face change. Let her fangs break through her skin so fast it hurt. Let her sparkly blue eyes bleed red with the blood lust that was always lurking beneath the surface. And she fell into the pool of another nameless person's blood as Elena plunged the syringe full of liquid vervain into her back.
Because for Damon it would always be Elena, and for Caroline it would always be Damon. And maybe someday he would see that.