Deleted Scenes from the Big_Fang
Title: Deleted Scenes from the Big_Fang
Author: badboy_fangirl
Pairing(s): Damon/Elena
Word Count: ~1000
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Four moments from canon from Damon's POV.
Author's notes: When I started this story so many months ago, I had this idea of doing all these "important" moments in Damon and Elena's relationship for the opening chapter-which is what the first chapter of the actual story is, but it's all from Elena's POV. I intended to have the final chapter be similarly done, only from Damon's POV, but of course, since it went completely out of my control as Damon and Elena tend to do in my hands, these pieces never got expanded or added to. So, in a weird not-preview of what will be posted on September 30, here are the deleted scenes. Each one has its canon episode reference so you know what I was going for.
His whole existence-nothing. His whole purpose-not there. His entire-everything-pointless. He can't see, he can't breathe. There is no light, not here, not where he should have had the happiest moment of his life.
He stumbles out into the cold night air, Bonnie and her grandmother in front of him, Stefan and Elena behind him. Stefan runs toward a motionless shape on the ground, and Elena follows him, but Damon doesn't get it until he hears his brother declare he's okay, he's alright. Jeremy moans softly, and Damon remembers. Oh, yeah.
But it's like it's happening to someone else, from a long way away. He can still hear it, because, you know, he has super-sonic hearing. Because he can't turn it off, because even though that's his claim to fame, right now it's not like he could do anything except feel totally numb.
He feels Elena wrap her arms around him, he hears her say I'm sorry, and yet he still can't do anything. It's like he ceased to exist, but he's still here. He's the most dead he's ever been, and like all the times before, he still lives.
And Katherine is not dead, or desiccating, or anywhere.
But Elena holds him until Stefan finally comes and pulls them both towards the car. "We should go," his brother says.
Damon's legs start working at some point; he thinks it's only because Elena's hand is in his.
He's been having twinges, for a while now. He doesn't like it, the last thing he needs is to have feelings about anything, but particularly about his brother's girlfriend, who just happens to look like the woman he has finally accepted completely hoodwinked him for a century and a half.
But having her underfoot, in his house every day, sitting with her in the evenings while she does homework, or watching her pensive tension after she returns from the basement, where Stefan has continued to fake being strung out on vervain-Damon knows the herb left his brother's system at least a day or two earlier, but he still lies on the floor and doesn't respond to anyone speaking to him. (He's not dead, and who knows what he thinks he's accomplishing by not speaking to Elena every day when she goes down there.)
The point is, he likes Elena. It's not just that she's beautiful, and he'd love to fuck her, obviously, even if for just a Katherine purge in the strangest sense of the process. It's the quiet moments when he's drinking his scotch and she's just there and he feels contentment. She brings something to the room, the whole house, his life that he never knew was missing.
He knows just how deeply he's involved when he tells her the whole story-how Stefan brought a girl back to the river bank, how he bit her so that the blood welled up on her white skin, how Damon's first taste of human blood had somehow brought them to this point-a suicidal Stefan lingering somewhere on the grounds of the Salvatore estate.
He's actually grateful that she turns away from him and runs out to find his brother.
He doesn't need her pity, and he doesn't deserve it. And he certainly doesn't want it.
He shouldn't be surprised that she's still at the Boarding House when he gets back, but he is. Maybe it's just that he doesn't have any reserves left to deal with her; she hands him a glass of whiskey and makes him feel reduced to a needy, damaged piece of shit in the process.
He knows she means well, he really does, but he can't deal with it; so he just keeps telling her to leave, in as many ways as he can. First, he uses a quiet voice; then, just silence and arm-waving to usher her towards the door; then loudly, when she strikes his last nerve. Finally, she agrees. She picks up her bag and starts to move away from him.
Later, he tells himself he would have hung on, and he wouldn't have ended up on that dark, wet road if she had just walked out like he told her too. But no, she has to stop and look up at him with those eyes, and then she has to reach out, wrapping her arms around his shoulders like he deserves some kind of absolution for Rose, for life, for eternity.
It's easier to blame her, to think that if she would just hate him for real and not be his friend the way she once promised, that somehow all of this would be bearable; that he wouldn't want to fall down a well of alcohol and blood and switch-flipped debauchery that now seems so distant and unreal and doesn't fucking work anyway.
His teeth sink into flesh and tendon and jugular, but he only sees Elena, hears Elena, feels Elena.
When he buries Jessica (his second body in less than two hours), he doesn't go get the shovel from the trunk of his car; he just uses his hands.
She vibrates with rage, sadness, and some special emotion she only ever directs at him.
(But then again, so does he. There is something about her when she's self-righteous and indignant that is glorious. He didn't do what he did tonight so he could see her like this, but he'd be lying if he didn't acknowledge what a bonus it is to be in her presence when she’s so raw.)
She slaps him hard, catches him by surprise, though why exactly, he's not sure. He should be used to her abuse by now; sometimes he thinks it's her favorite way to touch him.
He can't lie about this-she has to understand. Bonnie isn't dead, but he would have made the same call even if that had to be the result. He would stand there and let her hit him over and over again, relishing that she was still alive. But she doesn't hit him again, because the realization dawns in her expression just as he says, "Bonnie's okay."
He walks away then because it's much easier to handle her wrath than her gratitude.
Author: badboy_fangirl
Pairing(s): Damon/Elena
Word Count: ~1000
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: Four moments from canon from Damon's POV.
Author's notes: When I started this story so many months ago, I had this idea of doing all these "important" moments in Damon and Elena's relationship for the opening chapter-which is what the first chapter of the actual story is, but it's all from Elena's POV. I intended to have the final chapter be similarly done, only from Damon's POV, but of course, since it went completely out of my control as Damon and Elena tend to do in my hands, these pieces never got expanded or added to. So, in a weird not-preview of what will be posted on September 30, here are the deleted scenes. Each one has its canon episode reference so you know what I was going for.
His whole existence-nothing. His whole purpose-not there. His entire-everything-pointless. He can't see, he can't breathe. There is no light, not here, not where he should have had the happiest moment of his life.
He stumbles out into the cold night air, Bonnie and her grandmother in front of him, Stefan and Elena behind him. Stefan runs toward a motionless shape on the ground, and Elena follows him, but Damon doesn't get it until he hears his brother declare he's okay, he's alright. Jeremy moans softly, and Damon remembers. Oh, yeah.
But it's like it's happening to someone else, from a long way away. He can still hear it, because, you know, he has super-sonic hearing. Because he can't turn it off, because even though that's his claim to fame, right now it's not like he could do anything except feel totally numb.
He feels Elena wrap her arms around him, he hears her say I'm sorry, and yet he still can't do anything. It's like he ceased to exist, but he's still here. He's the most dead he's ever been, and like all the times before, he still lives.
And Katherine is not dead, or desiccating, or anywhere.
But Elena holds him until Stefan finally comes and pulls them both towards the car. "We should go," his brother says.
Damon's legs start working at some point; he thinks it's only because Elena's hand is in his.
He's been having twinges, for a while now. He doesn't like it, the last thing he needs is to have feelings about anything, but particularly about his brother's girlfriend, who just happens to look like the woman he has finally accepted completely hoodwinked him for a century and a half.
But having her underfoot, in his house every day, sitting with her in the evenings while she does homework, or watching her pensive tension after she returns from the basement, where Stefan has continued to fake being strung out on vervain-Damon knows the herb left his brother's system at least a day or two earlier, but he still lies on the floor and doesn't respond to anyone speaking to him. (He's not dead, and who knows what he thinks he's accomplishing by not speaking to Elena every day when she goes down there.)
The point is, he likes Elena. It's not just that she's beautiful, and he'd love to fuck her, obviously, even if for just a Katherine purge in the strangest sense of the process. It's the quiet moments when he's drinking his scotch and she's just there and he feels contentment. She brings something to the room, the whole house, his life that he never knew was missing.
He knows just how deeply he's involved when he tells her the whole story-how Stefan brought a girl back to the river bank, how he bit her so that the blood welled up on her white skin, how Damon's first taste of human blood had somehow brought them to this point-a suicidal Stefan lingering somewhere on the grounds of the Salvatore estate.
He's actually grateful that she turns away from him and runs out to find his brother.
He doesn't need her pity, and he doesn't deserve it. And he certainly doesn't want it.
He shouldn't be surprised that she's still at the Boarding House when he gets back, but he is. Maybe it's just that he doesn't have any reserves left to deal with her; she hands him a glass of whiskey and makes him feel reduced to a needy, damaged piece of shit in the process.
He knows she means well, he really does, but he can't deal with it; so he just keeps telling her to leave, in as many ways as he can. First, he uses a quiet voice; then, just silence and arm-waving to usher her towards the door; then loudly, when she strikes his last nerve. Finally, she agrees. She picks up her bag and starts to move away from him.
Later, he tells himself he would have hung on, and he wouldn't have ended up on that dark, wet road if she had just walked out like he told her too. But no, she has to stop and look up at him with those eyes, and then she has to reach out, wrapping her arms around his shoulders like he deserves some kind of absolution for Rose, for life, for eternity.
It's easier to blame her, to think that if she would just hate him for real and not be his friend the way she once promised, that somehow all of this would be bearable; that he wouldn't want to fall down a well of alcohol and blood and switch-flipped debauchery that now seems so distant and unreal and doesn't fucking work anyway.
His teeth sink into flesh and tendon and jugular, but he only sees Elena, hears Elena, feels Elena.
When he buries Jessica (his second body in less than two hours), he doesn't go get the shovel from the trunk of his car; he just uses his hands.
She vibrates with rage, sadness, and some special emotion she only ever directs at him.
(But then again, so does he. There is something about her when she's self-righteous and indignant that is glorious. He didn't do what he did tonight so he could see her like this, but he'd be lying if he didn't acknowledge what a bonus it is to be in her presence when she’s so raw.)
She slaps him hard, catches him by surprise, though why exactly, he's not sure. He should be used to her abuse by now; sometimes he thinks it's her favorite way to touch him.
He can't lie about this-she has to understand. Bonnie isn't dead, but he would have made the same call even if that had to be the result. He would stand there and let her hit him over and over again, relishing that she was still alive. But she doesn't hit him again, because the realization dawns in her expression just as he says, "Bonnie's okay."
He walks away then because it's much easier to handle her wrath than her gratitude.