OBVIOUSLY: I do not own "the Vampire Diaries," or any of the characters. I am merely a satisfied customer : )
Hey guys. Thanks so much for the reviews--I was glad to get support for my first published chapter on the site! Again, I know the first chapter was short, but it really wasn't meant to do much more than set everything up. This one has a bit more to it, but don't get your hopes up for lemons QUITE yet... Though I will promise you that this is the last chapter without it. I also promise that the next chapter will be longer. Hope you guys continue to enjoy the story. I originally wrote this chapter, hell, this STORY, quite differently. This chapter (namely, the dialogue between Elena & Damon) got a major re-haul. I think my original draft was a little too OOC. I assure you that this is significantly better.
Enough of the blah-blah-blah. Here's Chapter 2!
She turned back toward Damon. He hadn't moved at all—he sat there like stone. She walked to him and sat down beside him on the couch. As she sat there, her head swam with the thoughts of his dark, ruffled hair and his strong, fierce embrace. When her eyes wandered to his perfectly red lips, she instinctively moistened her own. But when she saw his sad, pale blue eyes, she forced herself to snap out of it. She remembered; he needed her.
She felt guilty about her dwindling concern for Grams, but she knew that there wasn't anything she could do for her. She also knew she should be with her best friend. But she couldn't dwell on it. After all, she had tried to go with Stefan, and he had insisted that she remain here, with Damon. And though she was pleased to be there for him, the sight of him in such desolation had her in agony.
The two of them sat there in silence for a while. Elena kept glancing at him, wanting him to speak. He always had something to say, especially to her. At the same time, though, she reveled in the unfamiliar silence between them. She couldn't help but be proud that he could be like this with her. Still, she felt she should say something.
"You're going to be okay," she offered quietly.
His eyes shut and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly into some sort of pained smile as he exhaled a trace of a laugh. He shook his head. "No I'm not, Elena," he muttered.
She wanted him to understand that he didn't need Katherine. He wasn't perfect—lord, was he far from perfect—but he deserved better, Elena was convinced. "Damon…" He looked up at her. "She never came for you, through all those years. Is she really worth it?" she asked honestly.
The tiny trace of a grin melted away as he turned to look back toward the fire. "No."
She could hardly believe her ears. "What?" she reacted.
He leaned back. "She's not," he admitted, almost matter-of-factly. He turned to face her and found she was gawking at him with disbelief. "I know that, Elena," said Damon. "I've known that…" he trailed off a little, and glanced down at his hands in his lap. The absence of his usual cockiness was simultaneously a relief and a worry to Elena.
She sat thinking for a moment, and then shook her head, as if suddenly processing what he'd just said. "I don't understand," she frowned. "If she wasn't worth it then why have you been fighting so hard to get to her?" Her eyes widened and her tone grew in severity. "For God's sake, Damon—you were threatening to kill me at your father's grave! And now all you can do is shrug and say that she isn't worth it?" She was getting angry now.
Damon sighed. Though she wasn't aware, he was trying desperately to come up with the words to explain it to her. He tried looking up at her several times, but whenever his eyes caught her helpless, angry stare, he was overcome with a sort of heaviness. It might have been guilt, but he had spent so many years free of that feeling, he wouldn't have recognized it. "Elena," he began, staring at the fire, "I wasn't—" he stopped short. He had to choose his words carefully.
"What?" she demanded, growing impatient.
He turned his gaze toward her slightly. Not to her eyes—no, he couldn't face those just yet—but to her hand where it rested beside her thigh. It was so delicate. He remembered the feeling of her lean arms wrapped around him earlier that evening, just after they'd left the tomb. It was an unfamiliar feeling from Elena—the use of her hands and arms to embrace him, instead of to fight him away. He longed to reach for her slender, olive fingers—to feel the warmth of her touch again. But he fought the urge. "I wasn't going to kill you, Elena… Nothing is worth that," he finally admitted sincerely.
She didn't know what to say. The anger immediately abandoned her eyes. She was… touched. She leaned toward him and placed her hand lightly on his knee without realizing it. "Damon…" she cooed sympathetically.
The touch of Elena's hand sent a painful longing through him. He tried to pick up where he'd left off. "I realized a while ago that I didn't truly want Katherine anymore," he explained. "…And shortly after that, I realized that I couldn't have what I truly did want."
There was despair in Damon's voice. It seemed he had come to the realization that he would never be happy—that he would never be able to have what he wanted. But there was hopefulness in Elena's voice as she spoke—though she tried to hide it. "You still haven't told me why you kept looking for her."
He shook his head and smiled slightly. "Come on, Elena," said Damon. "I've spent my whole life—er—death looking for her." His joke relaxed them both.
"So what?" she asked.
"Elena," he said sternly, finally meeting her gaze. "Don't do this, okay? Don't make me go through all of it."
She feigned confusion. She wasn't trying to torture him—she really wasn't. But she needed to hear him say what she hoped he meant. "Damon. Just tell me."
Damon looked at her and sighed. He supposed it was time to level with her. "Elena," he began, turning his body fully toward her. She turned so that her body was facing him. They stared into each other's eyes in an unspoken understanding: all of his cards were going on the table now. He spoke slowly, choosing each word carefully.
"When I met you, I wanted you." She fought back a smile at this thought, though it sent a wonderful wave of warmth over her. She wanted to hear him out, uninterrupted. "I wanted you… because I thought that there was somehow… a part of Katherine in you. I guess I thought that I had somehow finally found her. Then I really got to know you," he continued, "and I saw just how different from Katherine you truly are. And it kind of… hurt. It was like she was being torn away from me again. I thought that all the differences between the two of you would push me further to Katherine… but, instead…" he trailed off for a moment. "…Instead, they pulled me closer to you."
Elena savored his words. She was breathless. His blue eyes were mesmerizing as they sparkled with reflections of the fire. She opened her mouth to say something, to echo his sentiments, but nothing came to her.
He spoke again. "From then on, I wanted you more and more every day—hell, every moment—but I knew I couldn't have you. So I decided there was only one choice… to keep searching for Katherine… hoping that, when I found her, there would be some trace of you in her." He saw a touch of doubt in her eyes. "Elena," he said, taking her chin in his hand. He paused a moment to appreciate how soft she was, how fragile… "I'm telling you the truth right now. I know it might not sound like it, but that's what it is."
Elena swallowed hard at the touch of his hand. "So…" she started softly, "you feel for me the way you felt for Katherine?" She said it as a means of processing the information for herself, rather than as a question to Damon, but he answered it anyway.
"No," Damon interjected. "I feel so much differently for you than I did for her. I feel more for you. Elena, with you… it's real. It almost—" he paused, unsure of whether he should divulge this last confession.
She begged him to with her eyes. "What, Damon?" she asked him, her breath growing shaky with anticipation.
"You make me feel something I haven't felt in over a century, Elena." His hand found hers and he held onto it gently, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "You make me feel… human."
***
Stefan followed the ambulance as best he could, but eventually the flashing lights sped off too quickly. As he continued to the hospital, his mind was surprisingly clear. He wasn't worried about Elena—she was fine with Damon. He trusted Damon. He smiled to himself a little at the absurdity of the thought, but nevertheless it was true. He wasn't worried about Damon. Damon wouldn't hurt her.
He couldn't even bring himself to be particularly worried about Sheila. He was saddened of course—he'd known her years ago, and he almost wanted to call her a friend. She certainly acted as a friend to him recently. She had trusted him after he helped Bonnie. But even through the sadness, he knew there was nothing to be done. Sheila was very old, and she had just used all that she had left to help him. He was grateful, and he was saddened. But he wasn't worried about Sheila. What was done was done.
One worry did, however, plague his mind; he was worried about Bonnie. She had been through so much, and Sheila had been the one to guide her. Now she was lost. When Stefan had arrived at her house earlier, she hastily invited him inside and threw herself into his arms. She was inconsolable. He had held her until the ambulance arrived, her head pressed against his chest. He listened to her heart-breaking, muffled sobs.
When he arrived at the hospital, he tracked her down and saw her sitting in a waiting room. He took a seat beside her. She had regained her composure slightly but her brown eyes were tired from crying, her lids swollen, mascara smeared on her flushed cheeks. He took advantage of the calm to talk to her for the first time since he'd arrived.
"Elena wanted to come, you know," he told her softly. "I told her to stay with Damon. I didn't want him alone, and I knew that he needed her more than me."
Bonnie sniffed. "It's alright. I'm just glad you're here." Stefan didn't know exactly what she meant, but he agreed. He was glad to be there for her. "I don't want to be alone tonight, Stefan," Bonnie said as she rested her head on his shoulder.
He opened his phone to send a text message to Elena. He put his phone back into his pocket. He stretched an arm around Bonnie's shoulder and held onto her arm. "Alright," he told her. "I'm not going anywhere."
Again, your reviews were LOVELY, so keep 'em coming! They make me, how you say, felicísimo.
