Brace For Impact

"Home is people. Not a place. If you go back there after the people are gone, then all you can see is what is not there any more."

-Robin Hobbs

The Fault is in Ourselves

Chapter Thirteen

Brief Recap:

Elena looked at him confusedly. The restraint was lining his posture again. But he had been so calm not a second ago. So whatever it was that was bothering him was not a change in feelings. It almost looked like he was fighting his feelings for her for whatever reason.

"Yeah, it's late," was all she said. That was a problem for the morning anyway.

They climbed up the stairs in silence. At his doorway, he stopped and indicated towards the room that was officially hers. "Well, sweet dreams and don't let the bed bugs bite. Or don't bite the bed bugs, whatever works for you."

He made to leave, so Elena quickly grabbed his arm and tugged him back. He fell back against chest-to-chest and looked at her in confusion. "Can I stay with you?"

She did not want to be alone with what was sure to be a night full of memories of her lost loved ones. And she did not want to leave him alone for a second. She was scared that if he left her sight, he would disappear without a trace.

Something in Damon's gaze finally softened, and without a word, he held the door open and gestured for her to enter. Damon threw her a shirt that probably cost more than her she had in her bank account and stripped off his own silently. She quickly removed her own clothes and donned his shirt. She noticed that strangely enough Damon was purposely not looking at her.

They climbed into bed together as the weight of the day finally took its toll. Within minutes, all that sounded in the room was steady breathing.

And if at some point in the night they somehow wound up in each other's embrace, neither complained.

Damon opened his eyes as sunlight filtered in through his window only to be faced with a different sight entirely.

He was entangled with all his dreams. One of his arms was thrown loosely over her hip, her hands had tightly clasped him to her, and their legs were so knotted they were indiscernible from each other.

Elena's face, relaxed with sleep, lay only inches away from his own. Her face had dried tear trails as if even peaceful sleep could not keep the pain away. He reached out to softy brush her cheeks, and she finally stirred. She blearily opened her eyes, her gaze at first glazed before she focused in on him.

"Hello there, Sleepyhead. I think it's time to rise and shine."

Elena smiled at him with all the warmth and emotion he had missed from her in the past weeks. Just that look made him want to melt in her arms and never leave again. But he could not, he knew better.

"I'm mad at you because I love you!"

"Well, maybe that's the problem"

"You didn't think I actually loved you, did you? I was over Stefan and you were hot and desperate. What did you think would happen? I mean I've never seen someone so pathetically throw themselves out there again and again even as I told you repeatedly just how irritated it made me. You were always in the way with your pitiful attempts to be in my life."

"If I had my way, he never would be here at all. And he definitely wouldn't have been at Katherine's with Rebekah and me. Trust me, I couldn't have made it clearer that he was unwanted!"

It was time Damon finally learned from his mistakes. He loved Elena, he would always love Elena, but that did not change the facts.

Elena always bent over backwards to please her loved ones, and she feared nothing more than losing one for whatever reason. And by some unexplainable happenstance, he was one of those loved ones. She did not want to lose him like she had lost so many other people which is why it was only in the heat of the moment at the Originals' ball or when she did not care to spare feelings with her humanity off that she told him how she really felt.

He just kept ignoring it, he kept hoping, but Elena was right: she could not have made it any clearer that he was unwanted in the way he wanted her.

He needed to accept that, and the best way to do that was to distance himself when they were having more than friendly moments. He would not leave her. Even if he could somehow pry himself away from her, he could not bring himself to leave her now. Maybe other people would find that pathetic, but Damon learned a long time ago that you did not have to live with other people's opinions of you; the most important thing was being able to live with yourself.

So Damon detangled himself and watched the sleepy happiness drain from Elena's eyes.

"Well, now that you're up, we can finally get to the fun plans for the day."

"Really?" Elena started wary, probably sensing what he was about to tell her, "What plans?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Go to the Grill, maybe shoot some pool, get wasted, and, of course, plot my death."

"I'm not sure about this," was all Stefan could come up with when Damon approached him in the living room. Elena was trailing behind him like a mad woman, and he had a sneaking suspicion that had he not been pathetically human and weak and on a mission to hurt himself, she would have already attacked him.

"I don't need you to be sure, I need you to give me your blood," Damon rolled his eyes. His brother was all contemplating the universe, morality, and the shape of his hair and no action. When Stefan still made no move to do what he demanded, Damon sighed, "What are you waiting for the blood to leave your body through osmosis or something? Chop chop!"

"Now hold on a second-" Stefan started before Damon ruthlessly cut him off.

"Why? For your amazing and informative research on the subject? Tell me, how did that go anyway?" Damon affected an interested pose ignoring Stefan's glare. "Come on, Stef! We know I'm coming back regardless, what can it really hurt?"

"Remind me to bring this conversation up when you're fighting with an alter ego from the cell in the basement."

"Wouldn't be the first time you put me in there. The last time was just a day ago actually."

"Damon, just think about this for a second. You've been given a second chance, are you really so quick to throw it away?"

Oh, god no. Make it stop, Damon groaned out loud at Stefan's words. As if being cured gives anyone a second chance, I'm still the same person as before just now I'm a hundred times more useless and less likely to live until next week.

Damon paused as if considering, "Okay, I thought about it. Now can we get to it?"

Stefan sighed put upon, but before he could make a move one way or the other, the front door opened revealing a hesitant looking Caroline Forbes.

"Hey, so I uh heard from Matt about… everything and wanted to stop by," she was purposely just looking at Stefan, not as if that was unusual but her posture was tense.

Elena had stood up from her spot on the couch at her entrance and now was frozen looking conflicted. "Hey Care," she finally managed.

Caroline looked at her, "Hey," she paused, "So how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Elena replied pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

Caroline smiled awkwardly, "Great, that's great."

An uncomfortable silence hit the room.

"So," Damon started, "Now that we know everyone's hunky doory, let's-"

"I'm sorry," Elena interrupted still staring at Caroline, "I didn't mean it, I just-"

"I know!" Caroline cried as she blurred across the room to engulf Elena in a hug, "I didn't mean any of it either, I'm so sorry and so glad you're back!"

Well that was just blatant lies. Damon knew both of them had meant pretty much all of it, but since almost all of the awkwardness had dissipated at their impromptu hug, he decided to hold his tongue. Elena could use more steady relationships right about now.

"It's okay," Elena said smiling tremendously, "It's all over now."

Judging from what he had seen and heard from the two of them in the last couple weeks, Damon would say that it was definitely not all over, but who was he to judge? It was not as if he could boast he had healthier relationships.

Still, Damon had enough of the girl talk.

"Enough gushy mushy purging, let's get this show on the road already."

"You really enjoyed dying so much that your eager to do it again so soon?" Elena turned to him. She was trying for anger, but Damon could see right through that facade. He squashed the urge to comfort her. He needed to do this.

"Well, it wasn't my favorite experience," Damon paused contemplatively, "Those usual involve less clothing and more alcohol," he wriggled his eyebrows at the still embracing girls.

Stefan sighed. "Fine, let's try it. But try not to get too excited, we don't know what will happen."

"Yeah, yeah, Oprah, I got it."

Stefan started to raise his wrist to his lips when Damon balked, "Eww no."

"What?" Stefan asked confused.

"I'm not doing this in a way that requires sucking on your arm. We have knives and glasses."

Stefan rolled his eyes but still went to the kitchen to retrieve the items. He made a deep cut into his hand, clenched it into a fist, and drained some of his blood into an awaiting cup.

"There, it's done," he said as he handed the cup of blood to Damon.

Damon looked at it skeptically for a moment, "Well, down the hatch." He threw back the glass and drained the contents only grimacing slightly. "Well, brother, I hate to break it to you, but you taste disgusting. Bugs Bunny does not do the blood good apparently."

Stefan looked upwards as if asking for the patience to deal with Damon's antics from some higher power and then deadpanned, "What a pity."

"Okay, so now for the fun part, who's going to kill me?"

Elena became rigid once more at Damon's words. She was not sure she could watch this, not again, not so soon. Logically, she knew he would come back regardless, but could she really watch his eyes dim with death and his body crumble once more?

She did not realize she was shaking her head violently until Damon turned to her.

"Relax," he said in a softer voice than he had been, "It's going to be fine. And you don't even have to play executioner. Luckily for you, there a remarkable number people chomping at the bit to kill me." Damon pretended to look around curiously, "In fact, two of them are in this room!"

Elena would beg to differ with that. Caroline may never be able to stomach the idea of Elena loving Damon, but she was definitely not eager to be his murderer either. As for Stefan, his grimace at Damon's statement said enough. Sometimes Elena worried that Damon actually believed his own show and could no longer tell himself from the "asshole hated by everyone" façade he donned so often. That thought scared Elena more than she would admit.

Mistaking her pained expression for something else, Damon spoke to her seriously, "You can go somewhere else for this, you know. You don't have to watch."

Wiping her face of any doubt, Elena stuck her chin up, "Not likely."

"Well, then let's get to it," Damon replied cheerily. "Brother, would you care to do the honors?"

Caroline cast a worried glance to Stefan. Stefan looked at the ground and sighed before completely gathering himself. "Yeah, let's get this over with."

Nothing happened for a couple seconds. Elena saw Damon open his mouth probably to sarcastically quip about his brother's incompetence before Stefan shot forward. It was over in a beat, Stefan grasped Damon's neck in his firm grip and yanked before Damon could even recognize what was going on. A sickening crack echoed through the otherwise silent room.

Elena could not help but wince, and she noticed Caroline flinched as well. Elena had been among this type of violence for over a year now, in fact, she had killed Connor the same way, but it never got any easier for her. The fact that Damon was the victim only made it worse.

Damon's form crumpled into Stefan's awaiting arms soundlessly.

"So I guess now we wait," Stefan said as he laid Damon's body onto the couch.

Elena sat herself down next to Damon and lifted his feet into her lap as he had once done in this same area so long ago and settled in to follow Stefan's advice.

Elena was fidgety. She could not help it; the more time passed, the more she worried something must have gone wrong. Damon was gone from this world, and she had been a fool to assume anything in her life could work out.

The clock on the wall said it had only been a couple hours. Caroline had gone home and returned. Stefan had disappeared for a while to go do some things. He had told her, but Elena could not focus on his words. They had come and gone, but Elena had remained, Damon's feet still perched safely in her lap.

And without them and Damon's quick wit to keep her company, her world had descended into silence. She did not like the silence. It reminded her of what she did have any longer. It opened the door to her unwelcome thoughts. It brought memories of times where her life was not silent. Not because the world was ending, but because laughter and chatter could not be contained.

Luckily, it was in that moment that a telling gasp broke the stillness. In a second, Caroline and Stefan were in the room to see the outcome.

Damon was coughing uncontrollably, and Elena had to reach out and steady him before he fell into a graceless heap on the floor.

He rasped out, "Well, that was a trip." He hoisted himself up against the armrest of the couch and drew his legs out of her grip. Elena tried not to let the feeling of rejection reach her face.

Stefan came forward with a glass. The appetizing smell wafted to Elena's nose and she realized how hungry she was. She needed to get some after this.

Elena saw Damon's eyes flicker uncertainly. He must be scared, she thought suddenly. Damon did not want to be human especially if everyone he knew was not. Damon grabbed the glass without hesitation though and took a quick sip.

Immediately Damon's face contorted in disgust. "You have got to be kidding me! I can't believe it didn't work!"

Elena felt her heart fall. Honestly, she wanted it to work as much as Damon did. Damon was right when he spoke earlier to her, vampire and human relationships really can never work out.

"Maybe not," Stefan admitted. They all turned to look at him questioninly, "Well, I just mean if the ring revives you, how are you supposed to really die and become a vampire? Has anyone ever been turned with it on and killed by someone supernatural? I figured it might interfere to be honest," he confessed guiltily.

Damon looked struck between hope and rage over Stefan's speculation. "Why the hell do these things have so many rules and asterisks attached to them? It's magic! Shouldn't it just abracadabra, hocus pocus, and work?"

In a fit of anger, Damon yanked off the ring and threw it across the room.

"Damon, no!" Elena cried as she quickly blurred to pick it up, "I know why you're upset, but you can't just stop wearing it."

"Why not? I'm only one more trip to the Grim Reaper before going all Jack Torrance on you anyway."

Elena realized with a start that he was right. Ric had already started killing people by his fourth death, maybe even earlier, and Damon had just died twice in a forty eight hour time span.

"I'm not wearing that thing ever again," and with that, Damon stormed out of the house before anyone could stop him.

Elena nervously tucked her hair behind her ear again. What were they going to do? She shook off those depressing thoughts and clutched the ring tightly in her hand as she made to follow him.

"Elena, wait." She turned to see Caroline there staring at her hesitantly, "Do you want company?"

Elena's lips curled into a smile. Things would probably never be the same between her and Caroline, but she appreciated the effort. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

Caroline beamed at her, "So where are we going?"

"Where Damon always goes," Elena rolled her eyes affectionately and her smile settled into something more natural, "The Grill."

"You're looking alive," Matt said by way of greeting as Damon sat himself down at the Grill's bar. Matt held a hand up to cover a yawn still clearly drained from last night's activities. Damon could relate.

"Yeah, too alive," Damon muttered.

"So um are you sure you should be here what with the Mayor still after you? I heard Sheriff Forbes say that he was refusing to give up."

"Sucks for him, doesn't it?" Damon could not believe that guy was still so hung up on him just for threatening him once. Mister Mayor has a wackjob for a daughter, a town infested with supernatural creepy crawlies, an apocalypse brewing on the horizon, and somehow he decided Damon was his biggest concern?

Matt placed one glass of bourbon in front of Damon and another in front of the seat to Damon's left wordlessly.

Maybe that's why, Damon mused over his bourbon, he can't control anything else, so he's focused on me.

The Grill was completely silent. It was not even ten am on a Tuesday yet, and people were clearly out and about living their dull, little lives. In fact, Busboy was his only company. That alone was enough to send chills down his spine, but there was something more. Damon had a bad feeling.

"Say, Quarterback," Damon began casually, "When was your little chit chat with Liz?"

Matt looked shocked that Damon bothered to talk to him and scratched his head in contemplation. "Just this morning actually. She came in here quickly for a visit and mentioned it. I wasn't really paying much attention honestly, I was so tired since I didn't sleep last night…"

Matt kept speaking, but Damon drowned him out. If Damon did not know any better, he would say that was a warning from Liz. And since Damon actually did not know any better, he rose out of his seat without a word and made for the exit.

"Hey, what's wrong? Where are you going?" Quarterback called out to him, but Damon kept walking steading towards the exit.

He was a solid ten feet away when he saw His Most Irritating Stalker step in followed closely by Liz and the same deputy as before.

Liz did not look happy as the Mayor and his useless sidekick pointed their guns at him. "I hardly think that is necessary," she stated calmly. At least someone realized how pointless this whole endeavor was.

The Mayor proved his own idiocy once more by ignoring her, "Damon Salvatore, we have tried to approach this civilly, but you have left us no choice."

Damon just looked at him incredulously. What was wrong with this guy? Between him and Abby, it was a wonder that Bonnie did not end up dumb as a doornail.

"These guns are filled with wooden bullets, so stand down immediately. We won't hesitate to use them," the Mayor continued firmly.

"It won't make any difference," Damon said. Wooden or metal bullets, it did not matter. Both would kill him easily as he was now.

Unfortunately, the Mayor thought he was insulting their remarkably questionable competence. "You like being a wise guy, huh? Well, how do you like this?"

Then Damon jolted back in pain as the wooden bullet pierced his stomach.

So there's the next chapter. Hope you guys like it! The title comes from a Shakespearean quote I love: "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings." Ponder that for the meaning of this chapter.

Please review! xoxo