Two Turtle Doves

Caroline is crying. If I weren't a vampire and an incredibly light sleeper, I wouldn't be able to hear her. Her "guest room" is more accurately described as an over-flow closet that happens to have a bed wedged in between racks of clothes and stacks of shoe boxes. It's annoyingly cramped, but all that shit insulates against outside noise. She's obviously muffling the sound in her pillow, but I can still hear her, even through the closed doors and thick brick walls and her ostentatious wardrobe.

She's crying.

I slip out of bed and pull on a pair of pajama pants before moving silently across the hall. Her door creaks when I open it, giving me away. "Caroline?" I quietly ask.

"Sorry," she says, snuffling. "I didn't mean to wake you up. I was trying to be quiet."

"You were. You okay?" It's a stupid question because she's obviously not okay, but I ask it anyway, just so I have something to say.

She nods. Even though it's dark, I can see her head moving up and down. "Yeah, I'm good." She's frantically swallowing more tears, trying to sound like she means it. "You can go back to sleep."

I move slowly, even for a human, giving her plenty of time to tell me to fuck off if that's what she wants. Christ knows I don't appreciate an audience when I'm... well... not crying exactly. I don't cry. Not for a long, long time. But I sure as shit don't want company when I'm throwing a pity-party for one. But Caroline doesn't stop me. She doesn't object. And when I get to her bed, she shifts over to one side, leaving me room to slide in next to her.

I lean against the pillows and open my arms without speaking, and she immediately throws her arms around my neck and curls into my side. Once there, her battle is lost and she sobs. The intensity of her crying shakes the bed as she gasps and shudders and leaves trails of tears and snot on my bare chest.

I don't shush her. I don't tell her it'll be okay. I don't tell her to stop crying or ask what's wrong. I don't even complain about getting snotty even though it's seriously disgusting. I just hold her tightly and tuck her head under my chin and let her cry. I hold her because sometimes there aren't words. Sometimes holding on is all anyone can do.

And I get it. We laugh and banter and occasionally throw things at each other, but despite our tumultuous beginning, Caroline and I understand each other. We've planned an epic and dramatic end to a life well-lived. But it's still her life that's ending, and no amount of glittery lights or perfectly timed puns will change that.

It was different when I "died." In the confusion of the vampire round-up, everyone just assumed that someone else put our bodies into the church before the fires were lit. I watched the fire with transitioning eyes, the details too sharp and crisp, the flames alive with colors I didn't have names for and roaring too loudly in my ears. It was too bright, too vivid, the smell of the smoke choking and noxious, when I didn't want to see or hear or smell any of it. I believed I was watching Katherine burn to death. I thought I'd died for nothing because I couldn't save her, and I sure as shit wasn't going to live forever, not without her. I was so weak, so close to death, when Stefan showed up with that girl. Other than cleaning up after his first Ripper party, burning down my mother's house to hide the evidence, there was no one to say goodbye to. No one I would miss when I fled Mystic Falls with Emily's children in tow. And for a long time, there weren't records or identification or documents to forge. Compulsion or killing was enough, and I never stuck around one place or made a life anywhere where someone might notice that I wasn't aging. It wasn't until that last time in Mystic Falls I found somewhere I thought of as home.

"I don't want to die," she finally whispers between sobs.

I rub her back. Any other woman would've been naked and distracted long before now. Part of me wishes I could do that for Caroline. Strip off that tiny silk gown and make her forget everything, including her own name, if only for a few hours. It's one of the things I'm good at. But it's not like that between us. In this moment, I would appreciate it because it would be a simple solution, and I'm good with simple. But Caroline is my friend, my only friend really, and sex would cause long-term complications I don't even want to think about.

"I know," I whisper instead. I don't remind her it's long past due, that she's conspicuous, that it's getting too fucking dangerous. I don't tell her we aren't really killing her because, in all the ways that matter, we are. This incarnation of Caroline Forbes has to die.

"I love my life. I don't want it to end."

"It's not ending, Caroline," I soothe. "It's a beginning. You're starting a new chapter. And you'll love your next life too. It'll be different, but wonderful in its own ways. And so will the one after that. And the one after that."

"I don't want to keep starting over," she cries. "I can't. I can't do this."

I kiss her hair and continue rubbing her back and wait for her to stop crying.

"It's a good thing," I finally say when she's cried herself out. "It means you're not drifting through the world, unattached and unknown. I did that for a long time. Too fucking long. No one would've known if I lived or died, and no one would've cared. Yes, this hurts. It fucking sucks. But it means you're doing it right. You're making it count. You're affecting people's lives, and they care about you. You're really living."

"My death means I'm really living?" she snuffles. "That's retarded."

I smile. "Well, life is ironic."

"Damon Salvatore is half naked and cuddling with me in my bed? Irony doesn't begin to describe life."

"Want me to leave?" I quietly ask.

"No!" She tightens her grip and nuzzles her wet face against my chest. "Please don't go."

"Okay," I say.

"Promise?"

"I have your snot drying on my chest," I say, hoping to lighten the mood. "What more proof do you need of my loyalty?"

I feel it when she smiles. She kisses both my cheeks, and then, so quickly that I can't escape, she blows her nose into the hollow beneath my chin.

Author's Post-Script: One of the things I love about fanfic (so many things to love, really, that's it's hard to narrow it down) is the ability to experiment and try new things. I'm sure, my astute readers, you've noticed there's a lot more plot and (what I hope is) witty dialog than in my other fics, something that's been really fun to write. And answering questions, yes, Elena and Stefan will make their presence known, although, since in my AU, Damon never directly speaks to Elena, they don't actually have a moment or anything. But they will turn up. Patience, if you please. Also, there will be smuttiness, just not between Caroline and Damon. Thanks again for reading, and if you've not already, think about checking out my on-going canon-story, Bourbon Before Breakfast.