Disclaimer: I don't own the show, characters or book series.
Hello and welcome, readers!
So, I delved into fanfic to deal with the impossible cliffhanger left by the season 2 finale (remember that?).
My story bears almost no relation to the TVD trajectory past season 2, and is basically old-school vampire Damon and human Elena working out their shit in the midst of battling the big bad. I loved those characters - messy adorable Damon and big-hearted in-denial Elena - and I think they deserved their proper love story, dammit!
Hope you enjoy (and if you do, I'd love you to leave me a review :) ).
On with the story!
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Damon stands alone in the parlor of the Salvatore boarding house, his face bathed in the sunlight that streams through the patchwork windows. He reflects on how he was standing on this same faded rug, under a similar patch of sun, just the day before.
Everything had been different then.
And, sure, suicide by suntan had not, as a rule, been high on his list of aspirations for the century, but it had seemed clear it was the right thing to do at the time. He had been accepting of his death, if not exactly welcoming - found a peace of sorts.
But now the peace is gone. And he couldn't be less clear on what the right thing to do is now.
He looks down at his unblemished arm, reassuring himself he didn't dream up Katherine's visit or the cure she fed him. The dark, violent web of poisoned flesh has receded without a trace. All that remains are some lingering aches and a bone-deep weariness. Truth be told, he's not sure how much of the latter relates to the after-effects of the werewolf poison, and how much to the despair he feels at the absurd circumstances of his physical salvation.
Elena is curled up in Stefan's bed upstairs, a crumpled lonely form that hasn't stirred since she cried herself into an exhausted oblivion last night. Damon is here, alive, and Stefan... Stefan is gone. Gone, by now, far from Mystic falls. The Stefan that Elena knows (the Stefan that Elena loves) is surely far more gone than that.
Guilt roils in his chest, clutching at his insides as it threatens to suck him down. This time there is no fantasy of a fiery escape. After all that has been sacrificed for him to live (why? He isn't worth it) he can't consider the possibility, even if he felt so inclined.
Besides, Elena has never needed him more.
Or resented him more.
It's his fault, after all, that his brother is lost. Elena may not have wanted Damon to die, but he knows full well that this cost was too high; she would never consider her noble Stefan's sacrifice an acceptable price to keep his demon brother's undead heart beating. Still, if he is honest, it's nothing new to find that the blame for the problem of the day lies at his feet.
But, really, he had been trying so hard this time.
Typical. He'd finally manned up, ready to take responsibility for his rash stupidity, to accept the consequences of this life and death game they've been playing on the chin; for the first time, he'd seen a glimmer of hope for redemption through the sacrifice of his own miserable existence... and Stefan had to jump in and ruin it. Upstage him even, now that he really thinks about it (and why should that even surprise him?).
He knows full well that he's being a selfish prick, but since the alternative is to be a weak, maudlin (useless) prick, he is philosophical about it.
He is distracted from his thoughts as his keen hearing picks up movement from upstairs.
By the time Elena makes it, straight-lipped and bleary eyed, down the staircase, he's made eggs, poured juice, and the yeasty smell of toasting bread is wafting through the kitchen.
Before Elena has a chance to voice what he knows is coming, Damon heads it off with a gruff, "You need to keep your strength up".
Elena nods, slumping dejectedly in front of the plate set on the table, but makes no move to eat. The silence is heavy, burdened with thoughts unspoken, and there's only one way Damon can think of to break it.
"We'll find him. We'll bring him back."
Elena pushes a square of scrambled eggs around her plate but makes no response. Damon moves closer, hesitating. He is far from sure of his welcome right now.
He eventually settles for taking in Elena's fragile lines from a respectful distance. He finds her unrecognizable as the girl he's watched over the last few weeks; the girl who lost so many loved ones, but kept going anyway; the girl who kept fighting. Even after the shock of Jenna's loss, that Elena had retained a quiet strength. This Elena looks… broken.
She places the fork back down on the table. A tear slips down her cheek. Damon feels something constrict inside him.
He tries again, stronger this time. "Elena, we will find him. I will find him."
He moves until he is bent beside her, finally breaching the distance between them to turn her chin towards him with one finger. Her flinch at the contact is not entirely unexpected, still he masks the hurt he can't help but feel. Damon looks intently into her eyes, his gaze fierce in its sincerity, his voice low and certain. "I will bring him back to you, I promise."
Elena nods dumbly.
Tries a smile.
Almost succeeds.
Damon sighs, dropping his hand back to his side. The space between them, so close for a moment last night, has, with subsequent events, expanded so suddenly it now yawns, a vast, lonely distance between them. Though they're in the same kitchen, Damon feels like they may as well be on different continents at this point.
Which is why, when he finally turns to stride purposefully from the room, he is surprised to hear her first words of the day.
"Where are you going?"
Her voice has the roughness of the recently woken, but the words are strong.
Damon takes a moment to silently compose himself. He schools his features into a carefully jaunty grin before he turns back to face those wide brown eyes in that beautiful too-pale face.
"Haven't you been listening Elena? I'm a man with purpose. I'm going to feed the hungry, save the world and rescue baby bro from the big bad bogey-vamp."
Elena is still nursing a frown, but it has lost some of its edge of miserable desperation (for Stefan) to make room for a new edge of belligerent distrust (for Damon).
Damon is unfazed.
"So why don't you go finish breakfast so we can tick off feeding the hungry, and I'll take care of the rest. Don't wait up, honey, I might be late for dinner." He spins on his heel and continues on his path to his room, determined to slough off his melancholy. He may have screwed up, again, but he is going to fix this, dammit.
Even in his compromised state, his focused burst of vampire speed means that he is halfway through packing by the time Elena bursts into his bedroom. He is cheered to note her cheeks are flushed and some of the spark is back in her eyes as she rounds on him.
"Damon, where are you going? What exactly are you planning on doing?"
She spies the vampire compass sitting amongst the jumble of items on the bed. "You aren't seriously planning on tracking Klaus with that, are you?"
Damon hesitates. He had become accustomed, over his century and a half of death, to not having to answer to anyone.
It had been so much easier.
"No, Elena, as a matter of fact I'm not."
He sighs at her questioning look. Since Elena entered his life, it seems she's made a mission of questioning everything he does. He sometimes wonders if she is some kind of agent of the fates, sent to single-handedly even the score on his metaphysical balance sheet.
"Judging by what Katherine had to say before she took off, it seems Klaus is set to go on a murderous rampage across the country, and possibly the planet. If I wanted to chase him across the countryside, no doubt I could follow the trail of blood easily enough."
"But… You're not going to?" Elena frowns in confusion. Damon can see the concentration evident in her furrowed brow as she tries to follow him. He admits he enjoys the game. The longer he can draw it out, the longer he is the center of her undivided attention. Elena, when determined to get to the bottom of something, can be like a dog with a bone. And sometimes, he is more than willing to be her bone.
He's willing to be her a-lot-of-things, really, but that's beside the point.
"If I'm to have any advantage at all, I need to be ahead of him; somewhere I can make a plan and lie in wait, not be chasing him from two steps behind." Damon continues to collect the items from his bed, tossing them carelessly into a lightweight bag.
He sees her glance at his toiletry pack, where a vial of vervain nestles in careless proximity to a bottle of aftershave. With a small toss of her head she refocuses. "Still don't get it. How are you supposed to use this," she picks up the spelled pocket watch, "to find where Klaus is going?"
Damon pauses and turns to directly face her with a mirthless smile. She might not get it yet, but she's about to.
"Because I'm not using it to find Klaus. I'm using it to find Katherine."
"No!"
The outburst seems to surprise Elena almost as much as it surprises Damon. But she recovers quickly and unapologetically, and watching her shake her head, legs planted, with that stubborn tilt to her chin, Damon can't help the pang of love that stabs through him. He impatiently tries to shake it off – as if he isn't in enough pain already.
"Elena, this is our best option. Klaus is going to want to recover Katherine again. She's personal for him. We can be there waiting, make our move while he is distracted with her."
He walks around the bed, patiently taking her hands in his own. "I know this is the best way to get to Stefan".
This time she does not recoil or resist, but instead glares at him, fire in her eyes.
"No. I know we need to get Stefan back, but I'm not letting you go running into this half-cocked and getting yourself killed. I can't… I won't… lose you too." At those words, the sun comes out for a moment in Damon's world; he can almost feel the the warmth of it penetrating the depths of his cold undead bones. "You can't…" her voice cracks before she composes herself and continues firmly, "Don't be an idiot, Damon."
Damon has never been more pleased to be called an idiot in his life, but he masks it with an air of cocky arrogance as he swaggers back to finish packing and secure the bag's clasp. "Oh, really, Elena? I assume you have a better option ready, then?"
Damon has a genuine smile for the fuming expression he sees framed by her dark tumble of hair. Yes, this Elena is much better. He will goad her for the rest of eternity if it means he never has to see the light go out of those eyes again.
Then she surprises him again.
"Yes. As a matter of fact, I do."
Damon waits, raising his eyebrows in skeptical challenge.
"Come on Damon. First of all, it is going to be extremely difficult to use this compass without affecting it with your own vampire presence, or Caroline's, or any other vampires who are likely to be closer to us than Katherine is right now."
Okay, so maybe the girl has a point, but still… "So what's your brilliant brainwave then?"
"Well…" Elena frowns, and Damon tries not to be distracted by the adorable way her nose crunches up when she is deep in thought. "Maybe Bonnie can do a tracking spell. Katherine's been living here, right? She must have left some hair, or something Bonnie can use to locate her. And Jeremy and Alaric might have some ideas. Not to mention Caroline." Brown eyes plead with his. "I know you, Damon. I know you want to go out right now and do something about this on your own, but we need to be smart about this. Klaus is no pushover. You can't do this alone." Her lips set into a familiar stubborn line. "I won't let you".
"Won't let me, huh?" Damon rasps in a suggestive tone he knows will infuriate her. He is actually having much more fun now that he's discarded the mantle of sympathy and brotherly respect that seemed so ineffectual earlier. Giving Elena something other than her sorrow to focus seems to be proving far more effective.
He saunters into her personal space and lingers there long enough to see the expression in her eyes fade from angry determination to something approaching awkward discomfort, before laughing and moving past her to make his way downstairs.
Yes, and since last night's confession (Okay, it wasn't love, but it was like, and a chaste kiss was better than no kiss at all) Damon reflects that this new approach could prove to be very fun indeed. Besides, the truth is, they both need distracting from this messy train-wreck of a situation, and Damon is more than willing to sacrifice himself to the cause.
"Well, what are you waiting for, Elena? Are you calling Bonnie, or are you leaving this to me after all? I thought you just told me this was about teamwork". Though the pain in his joints is yet to diminish, there is now a lift in Damon's step that had not been there earlier this morning.