AN:
Pandemic binge watching has resulted in me picking up Vampire Diaries for the first time. Yikes. These people are driving me crazy. By the end of 5.16, I had to do something, even though it's been six years of fanfiction silence. I haven't read the books, and I haven't watched 5.17 yet—I'm dreading the morning after conversation from the show's writers—so this is my take on what comes next. Spoilers up through 5.16 in case there is anyone else on the planet besides me who hasn't watched the entire show yet, and I'm likely heading off into AU territory with this. I hope this makes you as happy to read it as it made me to write it.
It was not yet dawn, and as Elena opened her eyes she wondered if she would ever get used to being able to see as though it was daylight, when her brain still remembered its humanity—remembered it should be too dark to see what she was seeing.
Shifting a little, she curled more closely against Damon's side, splaying her hand softly across his solar plexus, her cheek nestled in the hollow between his heart and shoulder. Another change. The most primally reassuring sound for a human—the sound they could hear before they were even born, no longer comforted her. Instead, the human heartbeat just made her stomach clench with hunger.
The sound she heard now though, the one that brought peace and a sense of safety? The liquid rush of circulating blood, like a waterfall, the sound of a living vampire; a supernatural sound that humans couldn't hear with their limited capacity.
She knew precisely when his consciousness surfaced. The nearly imperceptible tensing of his muscles, the silent quick intake of a short breath, the brush of his mind against hers. Neither of them moved though, and she sighed, content that he was content enough to stay still too.
Finally, she spoke into the quiet. Words she'd fallen asleep thinking, and that were there as she woke as well.
"Maybe we just need practice."
Damon's fingertips danced across her hipbone and she could hear the sensual tease in his voice as he murmured, "I like the sound of practice."
She squirmed a little at the tickling sensation and he pulled her tight against him, chin resting on the top of her head. Relaxing again, she leaned back so she could see his face. His eyes were still closed in repose, and she reached a hand to brush along his jaw. Her breath hitched, as it often did to see him like this. The other-worldly beauty, the way he looked so young—it made her think of his stolen life and all the lost years, but also of the chances he still had to live. This painful tenderness had never been a part of her love for Stefan.
He opened one eye at her scrutiny, his brow furrowing. "Are we waking up?"
Elena nodded.
"For talking or for practice?" he asked with a little smirk.
She smiled and tapped his chin, "A little talking first, then…we'll see."
Both of his eyes were opened now, and that arctic blue gaze, which never ceased to amaze and thrill stared down at her intently.
"Are you sure we shouldn't see first, doing as little talking as possible?"
His hands slid up, tightening on her hips, his expression playfully predatory. With a slight shake of her head, Elena pulled back farther, moving so she could plant her elbows on his chest and look him squarely in the face.
"We talk, or there is no practicing—" she placed a finger against his lips, cutting off his protest, "ever."
Damon nipped at her finger, and then spoke "Ever? That sounds drastic."
She nodded solemnly.
"I suppose talking it is, then," he said with a martyred sigh.
Now, she could see the vulnerability settling into his expression, the fear behind the calm façade, and she paused, remembering why this mattered—why they needed to have this conversation. He needed to know, and she worried a little about the best way to tell him. She likely wouldn't get another shot if this went badly.
"We were happy this summer…I was happy," she started slowly.
"Best summer of your life," he quipped.
She nodded, her smile soft. "Best summer."
Elena bit her lip, hesitating, and Damon took the opening.
"Summer's over, though—"
"No."
"No?" he queried, an eyebrow quirked, and Elena could feel the change—could feel him getting ready to run, physically and emotionally.
"No. Just stop, Damon. Let me finish."
"So, this is really just talking for you, listening for me. How boring," he growled as his eyes widened dramatically. He sat up abruptly, barely giving her time to move before she was unceremoniously dumped to the side.
This was not going well. Grabbing his chin she met his gaze and then without breaking it, climbed onto his lap.
"Or maybe this is my kind of talking," he purred, leaning back against the headboard.
"Five minutes without innuendo, Damon, I dare you," she said, dangerously. He forgot frequently that she knew how to manage him. Or maybe he just liked being managed? That was something to file away for later…
Cupping his face between her palms, her soft touch was at odds with the fierceness in her expression.
"Things that are worth having are rarely easy. I realize that more than a century with superhuman strength, endless funds, and no responsibilities might have made you forget that, but it's true."
Her hands dropped to his chest, and Damon reached up to hold them in his own, his gaze concentrated on their interlocked fingers. Elena's mind searched for the right words as she watched the tension in Damon's body increase, his agitation subtle yet easy for her to read. Finally the memory she was looking for coalesced.
"When I was in fourth grade—I was maybe nine or ten—two girls in my class at school had parents that got divorced. They both talked about how their parents fought all the time, about how much yelling there was. I didn't really know what it meant, except that Jessica's mom took her brother and moved to California, and Caroline's dad, well…that was just all very awkward. They were both sad, and scared, and one night I woke up to my parents having a very loud argument. I don't know what it was about, but I remember laying in bed, crying so hard. I was sure that my parents were going to get divorced.
I couldn't stop thinking about which one was going to leave me. About whether they would take Jeremy away from me. If I would be the one to have to move away from Mystic Falls and leave everything behind. I literally felt like my heart was being torn out of my chest."
She paused and gave a short, humorless laugh. "And now, having actually experienced that, I can say it really does feel about the same."
Damon's hands tightened on hers, but he did not look up, so she continued.
"I didn't notice when the shouting stopped—I didn't notice anything until my parents were there, sitting on either side of me and holding me. I was terrified to tell them what was wrong, afraid it would make it real, and be the beginning of the end…but they coaxed it out of me, and I'll never forget what my mom said."
Taking a deep breath, Elena leaned forward, putting her forehead against Damon's.
"She told me that sometimes, even people who love each other don't agree about things. Even when you love someone enough to be with them forever, there will be times when you'll fight about what is right. Maybe about silly things or serious things, but you will fight. She said that loving someone doesn't mean you think the same way about everything—" Elena paused, smiling at the memory.
"Mom reminded me that everyone in our family had a different favorite flavor of ice cream, and that Jer's favorite—plain Chocolate Chip—was the only kind I hated, and that Dad had to eat the whole carton of Rainbow Sherbet by himself every time because none of the rest of us could stand it.
"Then Mom said that the most important thing about loving someone is that you keep coming back to the table. That even if you fight, you always come back to work it out. That Valentine's Day commercials make it seem like love is about candy and flowers and having fun all the time, but that true love means practicing your love for that person every day, even when it's hard, and even when you fight.
"Dad said that one day I would find someone to spend the rest of my life with, and that while falling in love would be easy, staying in love and building a life with them would take courage and compassion—things he said I had a lot of."
Elena found herself blinking back dampness, the memory of her gentle, kind, father now superimposed with the knowledge of his unofficial "medical research". It made the deep ache for the family she'd lost (the one she thought she'd had) bubble to the surface as it tried to do so often these days. She found herself held hard against Damon's chest, his lips on her forehead, and she gave herself over to the tears for a bit.
When she quieted, she listened to the whispering of Damon's blood for a few more moments before sitting back, searching his face for a sign that he understood what she was trying to tell him. The truth of she wanted from him—with him. He was giving no ground though, and his gaze slid from hers, staring unfocused at something far away. Taking a breath, she tried again.
"This summer, we were happy. It won't always be that way. I get that. I'm okay with it. A couple of lifetimes worth of vampirism, of watching your life drift with constant impermanence may have made it easier to choose meaninglessness over fighting for what you want, but I'm still new to this and I see something different for us.
I see that being vampires means we have forever to keep practicing. To keep showing up for each other, forgiving each other, and letting each other be better. It won't always be easy…but summer comes every year, and during the dark times? We're vampires, Damon. We can see in the dark."
The silence and stillness stayed, even as light filtered through the cracks in the curtains, and they were timeless as Elena waited for Damon to respond. When he finally spoke, it was with his eyes closed and pain etched across his features.
"I'm going to hurt you," he whispered, "I don't want to hurt you."
"We're going to hurt each other, Damon," she replied, her voice quiet. "We just will—it's in both of our natures. But we'll be okay if we keep practicing how to love each other."
He gasped for breath like he'd been underwater for days; and Elena realized that in a way he had. Underwater for a lifetime. Up on her knees in an instant, she wrapped her arms around his neck, tight, and held him, her fingers in his hair as he shook with the effort of maintaining control of an anguish he'd been carrying alone for far too long. Everything in her knew that she was exactly where she wanted—and needed—to be.
"I'm staying, Damon—"
He reared back like he'd been stung, scrambling out from under her, across the room in the blink of an eye and reaching for a bottle. Elena's anger rose to a bonfire just as quickly, and she was beside him, yanking the decanter out of his hand and tossing it to the floor. The crystal shattered, and in the aftermath they faced each other, equal, and equal parts fury and fear.
Damon's voice was low and filled with a particular venom; the kind intended to cause pain. "We're toxic—we can't do this. It doesn't matter how we feel—how I feel. You deserve more. I will not make you into someone like me. I refuse to keep you trapped in my world of…of…shadows."
He was breathing hard now, frustration and misery coming off him in waves Elena could almost see. His torment, as it always did, cleared the rage from her vision, and she felt utterly calm. This was the day she wasn't letting him off the emotional hook.
"No."
Damon huffed dismissively, his eyes wild and disbelieving, and Elena took a step closer to him.
"My world is filled with shadows whether you're with me or not; I'm a supernatural being. And honestly? Our feelings matter more than anything else—they are what make us matter. Who we love and how? What we sacrifice for them and how choose to live with them? That's what makes us more than monsters, Damon. We're both monsters—but we're not only monsters."
It was as though the fight left him, and once again, Elena saw the young man—barely more than a boy—who'd grown up motherless, and been betrayed and destroyed over and over again since he'd been turned. Before she could speak, she heard him speak—so softly that if she hadn't had a vampire's hearing, she would have missed the words completely.
"I'm not good, Elena. I haven't been good in so long. When you realize that, you'll leave. You shouldn't forgive me for what I can't make right. I can't make things right. And then you'll leave. And I won't survive."
She let her heart break for only a second, and then thought: now, we're getting somewhere. Another step closer and she could tell he was fighting the instinct to retreat. That was a positive sign, she figured, that he was still physically there.
"I told you, Damon. I'm staying. I love you. I'm sure at some point—maybe next week?—you'll eat someone I disapprove of again. I'll be furious and you'll hate feeling judged, and we'll fight," she rolled her eyes.
"Personally, I really liked the reconciliation part of last night's disagreement…and I didn't hear you complaining." She inched forward and they were now toe to toe. Reaching for his slack hand, she touched his fingertips with her own. He didn't physically flinch, but his eyes closed and his head dropped back.
"Someday you'll tell me more of your sordid history—someday you'll tell me all of it—and I won't love you less, but I won't absolve you either." Elena reached up and put her arms around his neck, pulling his forehead down to hers. He didn't respond, but he stayed in her embrace.
"Forgiveness is not the same as absolution, Damon. I don't have the power, or the desire, to absolve you of your choices. But me forgiving you lets us find equal footing and move forward. That's part of practicing.
"Whether you see it or not, you do have goodness in you," he made a sound of disgust and she decided she'd better lighten things up before he went back to full-on self-flagellation mode.
Pulling a hand back she patted his cheek and chuckled, "I like that goodness—this thing between us is actually not all physical." This got a response, and his eyes flew open at last, their unnatural brightness sending (not for the first time) a little lightening up her spine.
"I know you're afraid, Damon. I'm afraid. But the best thing anyone has ever said to me was that the universe didn't get to decide whether they loved me—whether they built a life with me. I want that life, Damon, and I want it with you. And I'm willing to work for it. There is no one else for me, but you."
Up on her tiptoes, she placed a light kiss on his lips, and then dropped her heels, laying her check on his chest and listening to the liquid murmuring through his veins. Again, time seemed to slow, and Elena let herself rest in the moment, waiting.
"Elena," Damon said, her name barely more than a breath; something she almost felt more than heard. His hand came up and tilted her chin so they were staring at one another.
"You really believe that we just need 'practice' and time? That this is worth risking what we might do to each other?"
She nodded. "Love is worth any risk, Damon—you are worth any risk."
Emotions shifted across his face; doubt, worry, revelation, and finally resolve. Elena's heart leapt when she saw that last one and a wave of relief barely had time to rise before Damon kissed her. Everything was in this kiss—the loss and agony they'd experienced, the exhilaration and hope for what could be. All they had been and all they would become.
They were wrapped in each other still, as the sun began to set (so early this time of year) and they watched its amber and rose fingers sliding across the sky through the curtains they had opened at some point in the afternoon. The color faded to darkest blue, and the stars came out, brightening as the backdrop turned to black.
Settled on her side facing the window, Elena continued to stare—her vision adapting as the light changed. Damon's arm draped over her, his hand in hers, his solid form enfolding her, gave her a sense of tranquility she'd rarely experienced. Finally, things were settled. There would be shadow and brilliance in the centuries to come—of that she was certain, but Damon was her match. He was her balance, and her opposite, and her soul.
She felt him waking, and his fingertips slowly walked themselves up her arm, ending in a caress along her collarbone. Shivering, she let a little moan escape, and turned her head to meet his lips. The kiss ended as he tugged her flush against him, and buried his face in her neck with a contented sigh.
They held each other quietly for a while, but Elena wasn't surprised when he rolled her onto her back, looking down at her with a serious expression on his face. He had something on his mind and she wondered what they possibly could have missed. She was all for talking, but they had literally talked their relationship to death and back in the hours they had spent together today.
He wrapped a long strand of her hair around his index finger, giving it a little tug, trying a little too hard to be casual.
"What is it, Damon?"
He pursed his lips and frowned, staying quiet for another minute before he spoke.
"You're sure… this is what you want? You're right that I've spent a lot of years avoiding hard work—physical or emotional," he said with a short, bitter, laugh. "It's unlikely I can give you sunshine and roses more often than I can give you drama and distress."
Sighing, Damon rolled onto his back, and Elena followed, propping herself on an elbow beside him to listen. "I know you weren't yourself when I told you, but I meant it when I said that you make me better. I need your light. I just can't seem to shake the feeling that eventually my darkness will overwhelm you. That it will either turn you into me—which I couldn't bear, or scare you away—which I also couldn't bear."
Elena pulled his hand into her own, and kissed his knuckles, thinking about all the scars that had faded from his skin and couldn't be seen, but remained a part of who he was.
"I know," she said, and then grinned at him. "Two things to remember, okay?"
He gave her a bemused and questioning look and waited for her to answer.
"The first thing, is that we find you a therapist. You've got issues, Salvatore—" her words were cut off as Damon gave a faux-angry growl and pinned her to the bed in less than a second. She laughed as they kissed and when they settled back down comfortably, she went on.
"I'm not kidding about that. Frankly, we probably need someone on retainer in this house…"
Damon rolled his eyes, "I've gone a century and a half without a shrink—"
"—and how is that working for you?" Elena asked, rolling her eyes in caricature.
"Point taken," he said, giving her a quick kiss. "And the second item on your list?"
Elena stared into his eyes and could see, even in what would have been pitch black to her mortal eyes, the clear blue of his irises. "When things get dark for us, between us…remember that we're not human. We're stronger than humans. We're vampires," she said softly.
She paused, waiting, and after a breath, Damon finished her sentence,
"we can see in the dark."