Disclaimer and Warning: I do not own Vampire Diaries, however consider this story mine. Any dialogues not canon from the show as well as any descriptive sentences are the end result of over twenty years of writing. I have poured my heart and soul into every beautiful paragraph, every perfect sentence, every hot and/or romantic scene, and every funny one-liner. To copy this work or any other and claim as one's own, in whole or in part is a criminal offence punishable by ostracism, harassment by my loyal readers, and possibly even dismissal by the MODs. Repeat offenders will be reported IMMEDIATELY to Stop_Plagiarism on LiveJournal and your name will be placed on the watch list under all known aliases. It's not worth it; don't be a thief !
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"How can you see into my eyes like open doors
leading you down into my core
where I've become so numb without a soul my spirit sleeping somewhere cold
until you find it there and lead it back home"
Bring Me To Life- Evanescence
Chapter 3: Wake Me Up Inside
The first thing she's aware of is the light that stings her still-closed eyes; it's very faint, coming from a small lamp, but all the same it's too bright. She rolls over onto her side, using one of the large pillows to shield herself in the darkness again. She doesn't remember even leaving the damn thing on before she obviously passed out cold in her apartment; in fact, she doesn't even remember coming home at all. She knows that should sound off an alarm in her head, but she's too tired to care; right now she just wants to sleep…possibly for the next fifty years if her body will let her. But first, she needs that light to go away.
She stretches her hand out, expecting to touch her side table with the small reading lamp she undoubtedly left on last night.
Her hand comes into contact with the bed, and normally she'd assume she'd just slept on the wrong side; but this bed is softer, and the sheets feel as luxurious as if they were Egyptian cotton. Still, her head is pounding and it takes her a moment before it really hits her.
This is not her bed.
She winces in slight pain as she tries to sit up too fast and the wave of nausea hits her for a split second, reminding her once again why it was a stupid idea to mix drugs and alcohol in the first place; only this feels different from her usual hangovers. She feels sick, but the feeling passes too quickly, and the room isn't spinning. Actually, if she could just find that damn light and turn it off, she'd probably feel much better.
Slowly her lashes flutter open, though they feel so heavy, like she's slept for days. Hazy shapes and colors begin to take form in the relatively dim light coming from the far end of the room. She can only make out the large plasma TV across from the bed, and the leather sofa facing the screen; and there's the offending light coming from a floor lamp next to it. She recognizes that floor lamp just as she's able to recognize the scent on these luxurious sheets. She almost laughs at the irony of waking up in his bed, after having wanted it for so many years; it figures that she'd finally get that, but not him.
"Sleeping Beauty's finally awake."
There's a hint of sarcasm in the way he says it, because she knows this is hardly a fairy tale; when he kisses her, she wants to die.
He doesn't turn around, but still she feels like he's watching her every move as she slowly draws the sheets back and slips out of the bed. Cool air hits her bare legs, and she realizes that she's only wearing her underwear, and an oversized black tee shirt; it smells like him, but she resists the urge to breathe in that scent. Instead she stands there, looking around for her clothes in confusion, finally spotting them on the matching leather arm chair in the corner.
"I didn't get a good look, I swear," he says, as if reading her thoughts. "I'd prefer the first time I see you naked to be a little more romantic."
She ignores the implication of his statement.
"I thought Damon Salvatore didn't do Romantic," she quips back, falling easily into their pattern of sarcastic wit.
Damon reaches for the half-empty bottle of scotch on the dark wood coffee table, pouring himself another glass. He's still not looking at her, and his mouth forms a hard line, barely masking his bitter resentment.
"And I thought Elena Gilbert didn't do Cold and Indifferent, but I guess we both have our secrets."
She knows she deserves his anger; she practically used him the same way Katherine did. The problem is that she can't bring herself to care; no matter how badly she wishes she could.
It's not that she doesn't love him; she loves him so much that it hurts. But she knows she's not the girl he fell in love with; she's barely even a shadow of that girl, and she doesn't know if she'll ever be her again. There's literally nothing left for her to feel, and because of that, she doesn't deserve to love him.
"Sit down," he tells her, pouring a second glass for her. "You and I need to have a very serious talk."
She bites her lip nervously; something she hasn't done since she was a teenager. Her clothes aren't too far away, being that the arm chair is conveniently in the corner closest to her side of the bed. She could easily slip them on, maybe sneak out the second he lets down his guard; if she was able to revive Elijah without either Salvatore noticing, then anything is possible.
"I'll catch you before you even reach the door," he warns her.
God, she hates that he always seems to know what she's thinking.
Damon turns around to face her, motioning for her to join him with that look that tells her he doesn't do patient. She knows that it's useless to fight him; he'll just end up coming after her. Still, if he thinks she's going to just sit down on his couch and indulge in a session of "share my pain" with him, he's clearly forgotten just how stubborn she can be.
"Your drink's not going to taste very good once the ice melts," he arches his brow at her, once again trying to hold on to that shred of control that's keeping him from just dragging her over here and demanding to know why the hell she tried to kill herself. He wants answers; but he knows he'll never get them as long as she keeps that wall up.
Elena rolls her eyes and walks over to him, quickly snatching the drink off the table and impressively downing the contents in less than a minute. He'd almost forgotten how fast she could consume the stuff, and he's taken back to that moment in Georgia. She hadn't trusted him back then, either, but in the end they'd come to an understanding that would eventually lead to a deep love; and an even deeper heartache. Once again, he curses himself for walking away from her. He'd thought he was doing the selfless thing (the right thing) by letting her live her life, and not taking it away; Forever was a really long time, and she hadn't even lived yet. It wouldn't have been fair of him to turn her, no matter how badly he'd wanted to. Elena deserved to get married and have children, a family to call her own. She deserved to watch her children grow up, and to tell stories to her grandchildren; and all that cliché'd stuff. She deserved to have the life that he so desperately wanted, but would never have. Of course, he'd never admit that to anyone unless they were compelled—or he had the option of killing them afterward.
It was ironic that the very thing Elena had brought out of him, his humanity, was the reason he'd had to leave her.
Love always fucking complicates things.
She's still standing across from him, with the coffee table between them. She sets her glass down, then glances around the room; curiosity finally getting the better of her. The room is quite large, with a gas fireplace behind her creating a cozy atmosphere similar to that of the Boarding House. There's an en-suite bathroom connected to it, and if she looks carefully through the double-glass she could probably see right into Damon's seamless glass shower; predictably it's large enough to fit several sorority girls at a time. She'd almost be convinced that she was back in his room at the boarding house if it wasn't for the tall glass windows on the far side of the room, and the view of the city from the spacious balcony. She'd guess they were on the top floor in a high-rise condo; most likely a penthouse, considering Damon's extravagant tastes in both alcohol and real estate. There isn't a clock in the room (and why would there be when Damon has all the time in the world?) but the blackness of the night sky indicates that it's still the middle of the night; meaning she's only been sleeping for a few hours.
"Where are we?" she asks, wanting to know how far away she is from her apartment. Judging by how small some of those lights are, she imagines it's pretty far away.
"At my penthouse," he tells her. "One of many."
She accepts the answer easily enough and moves to pour herself another drink.
"You can sit down," he tells her. His lips turn up into that familiar smirk; the one that always turns her legs to jelly. "I won't bite; unless you ask me to."
At his words, she suddenly remembers with perfect clarity the events that led her here. Unconsciously, her hand touches the side of her neck; the skin is smooth, as if it was magically healed and she looks at him questioningly.
"You lost a lot of blood," he tells her. "I had to give you some of mine."
She sinks down on the couch next to him, but still far enough away that she isn't touching him. The implication of his words isn't lost on her, and she wonders if the headache she feels is something else entirely.
"Am I…"
"Dead?" he answers for her in a sardonic tone. "Sorry to disappoint you, but you're still human," he confirms.
She's not sure how she feels about that. On the one hand, she's relieved that she isn't transitioning, but at the same time she regrets that she's not; it's a very odd feeling, and she can't explain it. All that she knows is that she wishes he would stop trying to save her all the damn time.
"You shouldn't have saved me," she sighs. "I wanted to die."
"Why?"
Elena shrugs. "I don't want to feel like this anymore. At least if I was a vampire, or dead, I wouldn't have to feel anything."
She is completely serious, and that scares him. He has that urge to shake her again; she's not allowed to give up.
"There's no switch," he says, rolling his eyes at her naiveté. "So your little plan not to feel isn't going to work."
Elena blinks at him, her last hope crumbling to nothing. Could it truly be possible that Damon had been lying about being able to turn off his feelings for her, when he had said that he and Stefan were leaving? She frowns and pours herself another glass, downing it in one long sip. It burns her throat, but she hardly notices; she just wants to go numb.
Damon stares at her, concern in his eyes. "Why do you want to turn it off?" he asks.
She is surprised by his question; he of all people should know why she wouldn't want to feel anymore.
"I just…I can't do this anymore," she sighs. "I thought…if I could just turn off the pain, I would be able to get past everything."
Damon chuckles darkly. "And you thought getting turned by some stranger in an alley would have helped you get over whatever it is you're running from?"
"I wanted you to do it," she tells him. Her eyes sear into his, conveying so much meaning that he couldn't possibly mistake the hurt in them. She'd hoped that he would have turned her, and when he hadn't, she had assumed (wrongly) that he didn't want her anymore. But if he could go back to that moment, when he'd decided to let her go, he still wouldn't have done what she'd asked him to.
He shakes his head, echoing the same words he'd said to her that day in his bedroom, when she'd begged him not to leave her alone.
"I'm not going to end your life for you, Elena."
She raises her chin in defiance, crossing her arms and looking every bit the stubborn teenager he knew back in Mystic Falls.
"That's why I went with Plan B; which you ruined, by the way."
"Because it was such a terrible crime for me to save your life, again," he replies sarcastically.
She narrows her eyes at him. "I didn't ask to be saved."
"Well fortunately you're not the one who gets to make that call."
She turns her head away from him, glaring at the wall and refusing to say another word. Damon studies her profile, noticing for the first time just how thin she is; almost like she's starving herself. She has dark circles under her eyes, and her skin is so pale, as if she hasn't bothered to go out into the daylight in years.
"Tell me something," he says suddenly, breaking the silence between them. "Did you even try to move on or did you start throwing your life away the moment we left town?"
"Why do you even care?" she cries out in exasperation. "You're the one who left me, remember? You and Stefan both just walked out of my life and expected me to move on, even though I had nothing left! No family, no friends…how did you expect me to react?" She glares at him again, injecting venom into her words as she slams her glass down on the coffee table. "I don't need a lecture from you of all people."
Damon doesn't stop her when she stands up. He doesn't call after her as she storms her way to the bedroom door. He doesn't have to; she doesn't even get two steps into the hallway before he suddenly pins her to the wall.
"Let me go," she growls, struggling against the firm grip he has on her arms.
"You're not going anywhere," he tells her firmly.
She struggles even more, letting out frustrated little cries and whimpers. "Damn it, let go of me!" she screams at him.
He refuses to move; his grip tightens on her shoulders as he holds her almost perfectly in place. There's fire behind those ice-blue eyes, and she can tell that he's barely in control at the moment. Still, her eyes are narrowed into almost cat-like slits as she hisses and spits at him every single curse word she knows. It's all she can do, because trying to fight Damon when he is so much stronger than her is just an exercise in futility. Her fists beat against his chest, she even manages to slap him a few times, and he takes it all as calmly as if she wasn't trying to beat the shit out of him right now. He refuses to release her, and eventually she falls against his chest; defeated.
"Are you done?" he asks, using that calm, raspy tone that lets her know he forgives her for her outburst.
She nods her head, and he pulls her closer, almost in an embrace. She lets him hold her; she just doesn't have the energy to fight him anymore.
When he finally lets her go, she throws herself back down on his leather sofa, crossing her arms and glaring at him in annoyance. "You can't just keep me here forever," she says.
He has a smug expression on his face as he settles himself next to her, taking another sip of his drink. "Try me," he arches his brow, a challenging look in his eyes as if he dares her to get up again. "I'm stronger, faster, and far more stubborn than you are. You're not leaving here until I'm convinced you won't do something incredibly stupid like get yourself killed."
"Why?" she asks pointedly. "Why does it matter to you whether I live or die, when you weren't even willing to have me with you forever? Hell, you don't even want to fuck me." She refuses to cry; he doesn't deserve to know how badly his rejection has hurt her. But tears have a way of showing up when she doesn't want them to, and she has to turn her head away again so he can't see her face.
"You're right." Damon lets the words sink in for a moment, wanting her to feel them. "I don't care."
He knows it's incredibly cruel to say, and it's killing him right now to lie to her, but damn it, nothing else he's said has gotten through to her.
It gets her attention, and the pain in her expression is unmistakable. God, he hates what he's doing to her, but she needs to feel something; if he has to break her before he can fix her, then that's what he's going to do.
"Go ahead," he tells her, waving her away as if she's an annoyance to him and he wants her to leave now. "Go get yourself killed, waste your life away, become a vampire if that's what it takes. Go destroy the last shred of your humanity, and live an empty existence if that's what you really want."
She stares at him in shock, unable to believe that he's actually saying such cruel things to her. He can't really mean them, can he? After everything they were to each other, all the times he told her that he cared about her, and that he would always value her life above anyone else's (including his own), he's just going to give up on her?
Her mouth forms a hard line, and she can feel a spark of something deep inside her beginning to ignite. It warms her skin, sends fire into her bloodstream as she stares at him; determination burning in her eyes. He can't give up on her; she won't let him.
Damon remains perfect still, almost indifferent to her as she moves to straddle his lap. He turns his head away from her, mirroring her own actions of a few nights ago, and she has this sudden urge to slap him for it. She won't let him close himself off to her; he can lie to her all he wants, but she knows that he still cares about her. God, he's the only one left who does care, and she can't lose him; not now.
When he feels the soft brush of her hair against his cheek and the soft breaths on his neck as she nuzzles into him, he knows she's come back to him. He turns his head toward her and breathes in the scent of her, lightly pressing kisses into her hair. She responds immediately, almost as if it's a reflex for her. She turns her head toward him, her lips meeting his in the softest kiss, barely a breath against his own. When she draws away from him suddenly, he thinks he's losing her again; until he feels the cool drops of water on his neck and realizes that she's crying. Her head moves to rest against his shoulder, and she buries her face into his neck. Her arms wrap around him, pulling him closer and he pulls her even closer; he never wants to let her go. The fabric of his black button down shirt is soaked through with her tears, and it's probably ruined now, but none of that matters to him. She could stain a thousand silk shirts with her tears, and it wouldn't make any difference in this moment. His fingers tangle in her hair as he strokes her back soothingly, letting her fall apart in his arms.
It's the first time she's let herself cry in years, and the flood of emotions is overwhelming. Her heart is clenching so painfully in her chest that she's almost certain she's dying, and she can't seem to stop the tremors wracking her body. She cries for Bonnie, Jenna, Jeremy, Caroline, Alaric, and Tyler, and how she couldn't save any of them. She cries for her parents; and the guilt she still carries with her for having caused them to drive all the way out to that party she'd just had to go to. She cries for all the times she could have told Jenna the truth, and for all the times she lied to her instead. She cries for John and Isobel too, because she never had the chance to really know either of them, and because she'd spent most of the time she did have fighting with them. She still feels that she should have done something to stop Isobel from killing herself, instead of just watching in silent horror as her birth mother burned to death right in front of her. She cries for all the missed opportunities, the wasted moments, for not telling the people in her life how she felt about them (even Isobel; she was her mother, after all). She cries until she has no tears left, and her throat is dry and raw. When it's over, he lifts her into his arms, cradling her body against him as he carries her to his bed. She can barely keep her eyes open as he lays her down, her fingers still curled tightly into the fabric of his shirt; as if she's afraid he'll disappear again.
"Don't leave me," she whispers brokenly.
He soothes her, calming her fears as he lies on the bed next to her and brushing stray tendrils of hair away from her tear-stained cheeks. "Go to sleep, Elena," he murmurs, letting her nuzzle into him again. "I'm not going anywhere."
Author's Note: One more chapter left (I couldn't possibly end this without giving our couple a "happy ending")! I don't know when it will be finished, since I already have a smut chapter to write for All I Need, and then there's Living With Sin...soooo many stories to finish. See what you've created, S? ;)
Thank you to everyone who has encouraged me to continue this story. I love you all, and wouldn't be here without you!
