Consciousness returns slowly. The ground is cold and hard, and jagged edges of the rock floor cut into his skin at odd angles. The silence is deafening. He can't hear his own heartbeat. Eyes blink open slowly as he tests the movement of stiff joints and hands grapple over his thighs, stomach, and settle on his chest; finding comfort in the rhythmical the rise and fall of his chest as lungs breathe breaths that his ears no longer hear. The glow from the candles simultaneously illuminates the hollow cavern and highlight a silence forgotten over the past 164 years.
A dull ache makes its presence known in the back of his right shoulder. He rubs it tenderly and finds a small lump in the muscle. The pieces of a puzzle fall slowly in to place. The barely noticeable pinch of a needle, the infusion of something warm yet lacking the burn of vervain. The familiar grip of his brother's hands as he was thrown from the tunnel into the cavern. The suckling sound of the bone knife being plunged into Katherine's chest ensuring her demise as hell's fire consumed the tunnel and everything within it.
The roaring of the flame was the last thing to trickle through active thought as the sleep of unconsciousness took over. Now that consciousness had returned one thought consumed all others.
"Where's my girl? WHERE IS SHE?" He calls to no one in particular as the sound echoes off the underground stone walls. The scramble to his feet took a lot more effort than it would have a mere hour ago.
"Where's the goddamn boiler room?" His feet begin to move, legs pushing as hard as they can. He offers his first curse to humanity at the pace he's forced to take to get to her.
The metal door to the boiler room clangs loudly as it's thrown open against the wall then everything goes quiet. She's there. Lying to the side of the door, her legs bent at an uncomfortable angle, half turned on her side.
"Baby," escapes his lips on a whisper as he falls to his knees on the floor beside her. Tenderly he brings his hands to her face, brushing back strands of hair that are even softer than he remembered. Her skin is warm and silky smooth. The back of his fingers trace down her cheek in a way so familiar it hurts. How many times have they been down this road?
Memories flood his mind of the last time he held her like this. His little warrior princess. Holding her own and battling battles she should never have had to fight. After carrying her to her dorm room, every step a prayer that she would wake and be okay, he'd bolted from the window the moment life began to take over her features. At the time he thought he'd been through enough pain for one day. As long as she was awake and taken care of and fine, he didn't see any reason to stay and rehash old fights.
At the present moment he cursed that decision. There is nothing he wouldn't give to have one more memory of the way her eyes lit up like they had finally found home when she opened them to find his gaze locked on hers, to see her face light up with a smile, however brief. There were never enough moments. He needed more. He needed a lifetime full of them.
Resuming his scan of her for injuries, a brief flash of anger passes through his chest as he realizes that Katherine changed her clothes. Stealing the dress that he'd chosen from their closet all those years ago. The pain of that day would never leave him. How does a person choose the dress the love of his life is supposed to wear for sixty years in a magical fucking sleeping spell? There is obviously no convincing him that Katherine was any form of gentle as she ripped it off and covered her in these new clothes. A tear of gratitude that Elena couldn't feel the pain slips down his cheek. At least, she'd better not have felt pain. If she tells him any different when she wakes that little fuck-face Kai is gonna have a whole hell-storm of shit to deal with in his little prison world. He'd help Bonnie make sure of it.
His fingertips continue his journey over her body, brushing every inch of her checking for the slightest sign of injury, a bruise, a scrape… even a goddamn paper cut. Finding none, he turns his attention to her right shoulder that his idiot brother repeatedly slammed against the seal of the room in his efforts to get her out. If Stefan was here right now he'd rip his… but wait. That train of thought was useless now. His brother was not here. The gravity of the realization was not lost on Damon. Stefan was dead and he wasn't coming back. Stefan was dead so that Damon could be here hovering over his girl like a mama bear. Only like a manly big daddy grizzly bear. Whatever. You get the point. The pain of loss stabs through Damon's chest and it's too much to bear. So he shuts it off. Not in the way he's used to, but he pushes it down and focuses on the woman in front of him. The still-perfect, not-a-hair-out-of-place absolute angel of a woman in front of him.
He settles against the wall, gathering her up in his lap, resting her head on his chest where it belongs. Memories dance across his mind of the first time he held her in his arms. She'd been so tiny and scared in her car that night. After a couple unsuccessful attempts at her remaining both conscious and upright, he gave up and scooped her into his arms. Her face settled just like it was now into his chest. Even in those early days she felt like redemption when he held her in his arms.
Another tear slipped down his cheek as he held her tightly against him.
"Wake up, baby." His hand runs over her hair as if the plea could make it so. What he wouldn't give to have her arms wrapped around him. She had this way of convincing him he could move actual mountains just by the strength she gave him in a single hug. The way she trusted him. The way she pulled him even closer after he hugged her tight. "I can't do this without you."
He'll sit there with her until his dying breath if he needs to, content to hold her and listen to her breathe until she wakes up and comes back to him. He promised her this was forever, and it's not a promise he'll be breaking. Ever.
A small sound at the open doorway pulls him from his train of thought. He looks up into the second greatest thing he could have seen. Bonnie Bennett looks at him with a face full of exhaustion and a bit of blood dried under her nose. It was strange to not have heard footsteps approaching, but he only lets thoughts of his adjustment to human senses linger for a fleeting moment.
"I did it, Damon. She's free." Bonnie smiles and blinks away the tears that fill her eyes. "The seal is broken, let's take her home." Half of the weight is lifted from his chest. Home. Let's get his girl home. He can do nothing but stare at Bonnie, gratitude beyond words apparent in his stare. "C'mon," she prompts, taking a step into the hallway.
Damon refuses to let her go, even for a second. He stands with her in his arms and cradles her even closer with one arm securely under her knees, the other around her mid-back. Five years asleep and she still smells like his Elena. How is that possible? Her weight in his arms is light as air, even to his renewed human strength. The warmth in his muscles is a welcome feeling for all that it represents. Her body still fits perfectly cradled against his chest. It's as though their bodies were invented for the sole purpose of being pressed together at all times.
Her breath against his chest was a comfort, tragic in it's familiarity. How many times had he carried her nearly-lifeless body to safety now? He's lost count.
Tears continue to flood his vision and the occasional drop escapes down his cheek. Slowly they come to the doors of the boarding house. Bonnie holds the door open to allow him to pass through, Elena safely nestled in his arms. Without a word he makes his way up the stairs to their room. Their room. She hadn't been inside it for years but not a single second of that time did he consider it anything but theirs.
He briefly considers laying her on his side of the bed before walking around to the side closest to the window. She had always loved the warmth of sunlight that bathed that side of the bed in the morning, and he always felt better being between her and the door, as though his physical presence between her and whatever threat might come through the door would be enough to keep her safe.
He rests her head on the pillow, ensuring her comfort before easing the rest of her body down into the pillowy softness that has been without her for too long. Her hair fans underneath her, her lips parted ever so slightly in her sleep. Again the backs of his fingers brush the side of her cheek. He settles on the bed next to her, his hand grasping hers, refusing to break contact. Bonnie quietly enters the room, illuminating candles as she walks. In her arms are several grimoires.
He looks at the witch cautiously, unwilling to take any chances. "Are you strong enough to do this? No offense BonBon, but it's been a long day and if you need a nap -"
"I've got this."
Boldly stated, not an ounce of doubt in her mind. As long as she's sure. Now that he has Elena back and in his arms he can wait until Bonnie is well rested. If he needs to. Not that he's complaining if she's ready now. As long as she accepts that Damon won't be moving an inch away from her side, not letting go of his grip on her hand.
Several minutes and a lot of Latin later Bonnie finishes speaking and opens her eyes. "It's done," she says quietly. "I don't know how long it will take for her to wake up, but the curse has been lifted."
Damon hears the words but can't bring himself to acknowledge them verbally. He lifts Elena's hand to his lips placing a gentle kiss to her knuckle that instantly brings his mind back to the first day she came to the boarding house looking for Stefan.
His other hand brushes through her hair a few more times. Not because it needs maintenance, she's still perfect; but because he can't not touch her. He needs to feel her like he needs to breathe. And his human lungs now need air in a whole new way.
Across the room the buzzing of his cell phone registers with his ears. Again though, he's not moving an inch away from her. Bonnie seems to silently understand and crosses the room to pick up the phone. She answers, glancing back at him with a look of hesitant apology on her face. She may have just said something, Damon's not sure, but suddenly Bonnie is next to him handing him the phone.
He and Bonnie have been through enough to know that she wouldn't hand him the phone if she didn't know that he needed to talk to whoever was on the other line. As the hand that's not gripping Elena's reaches for the phone, he understands why:
Caroline.
"Damon… I… He's here. I'm all alone." Each word is punctuated by a sob. He manages to ascertain that she's gotten Stefan's remains to the family crypt and he's safely tucked away. And now she's alone. She needs him. He owes this to her, he owes this to his brother. He also cannot bear to leave Elena. He looks at Bonnie in anguish, the war of wanting to what's right by all parties playing out clearly across his face.
"Go," she whispers. "It will be a while yet. She'll be fine, I promise. I'll be here. I won't leave her."
There is nothing else in the world that could pull him away from this moment. But he has this moment as a reality in his life because of his brother. Caroline is dealing with a loss Damon knows all too well on her own. Stefan wouldn't want that, and Damon doesn't want that for her either. Besides, Elena won't be alone, and there is not a soul in this world or any other that he would trust Elena to in his absence than Bonnie Bennett.
He slowly brushes her cheek one last time, presses a soft slow kiss to her forehead that lingers as he lets his eyes close. Every sensation is different and yet no less intense as a human. The smell of her, the softness of her skin and its warmth.
"I'm right here," he whispers against her forehead before framing her face in his hands and sealing the promise by pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes closed once again.
Every ounce of pain he's felt, starting with the moment he let her go after that dance on the road and every moment of the last five years since, will be erased if she will just open her beautiful brown eyes and look at him. Just open them and wake up. She remains peacefully still.
Never has leaving her been this difficult, but Bonnie's right.
Still, he feels the need to tell her, "There is nothing else in this world that could pull me away from her, but I have to do this." Bonnie nods in understanding. Damon continues, "Just… please. My phone… Call me. I'll be back as soon as I can. And Bon," he looks at her again. "Thank you." Two words have never meant more and yet still not enough, but Bonnie understands. Of course she does. She moves closer and takes Elena's hand from Damon's, keeping it safe and warm in her own.
Damon stands and leaves her with their best friend, who maintains her hold on Elena's hand as she looks at Damon with a smile full of promise.
It's the only way he can make his feet carry him down the stairs and out the door.
Contemplating a part two with Elena waking up... I miss them too much already. A very special thank you to Katie for being my hero editor and reading this through for me.
Also... all my time off has been consumed by the finale and thoughts like this story. I'll be getting back to my favorite coffee-loving Seattle lovers soon. Hugs and kisses.