TVD Bigbang: Nobody has to Stay (2/2)
Now it's not that hard to connect all the dots and understand the whispers she's been overhearing for days. Elena is stuck in the house at least for a few more hours, but she's wired, determined to do something about what she just heard. She tries to call Caroline and Bonnie, but neither picks up the phone, and Elena can't think of anything else to do. In the end she just paces around the house, randomly rearranging things on shelves and tables, her anger stewing slowly (now is not a good time to be angry).
She runs to the Boarding House right after sunset and takes a few deep breaths before she knocks.
“You can't keep things like that from me,” she tells Stefan right away; she wants to have a serious conversation and she can hear they're alone, so she lets herself be blunt.
He looks sufficiently ashamed, quiet and troubled, so Elena makes an effort to not be so harsh. An argument is the last thing they need, she reminds herself.
“You had your transition to deal with,” says Stefan quietly. “I didn't think...”
That's when Elena changes her mind. She doesn't want to have a conversation anymore. Above all she wants to not be having a conversation, so she kisses Stefan before he can finish the sentence, grabs his hair to pull him closer. The kiss doesn't last very long (they haven't kissed ever since she came back to life), but it's okay, really. Elena feels a little strange and embarrassed, but she isn't angry anymore, and that's what counts. Funny how, once upon a time, she used to be able to talk about stuff.
They go hunting, but Elena doesn't last very long. She's distracted and anxious, not really in a shape to pick up trail or focus on sounds.
“I'm not that hungry today,” she says with a smile. “Don't worry about me. I'm gonna go back to the Boarding House.”
She heads straight to the basement. She's pretty sure that's not what she planned for tonight, but it doesn't really matter, not when she opens the fridge and stares at bloodbags arranged neatly in piles, fresh stuff to the left, older a bit to the right, every expiration date clearly visible to avoid confusion.
Not that she really has time to think about expiration dates.
Elena sinks her teeth into a bloodbag, and it feels so good she almost screams. The bag is empty in a blink, and Elena reaches for another one, too hungry to care about anything.
“Oh, this is just pitiful.”
Damon is standing at the doorway, his arms folded, watching her with a smirk. Elena was so busy stuffing herself she hadn't even heard him coming. She drops a half-empty bag on the floor and erratically tries to wipe her mouth, but only ends up smearing more blood on her cheeks and chin.
There's a moment of awkward silence, and then Damon shrugs, moves past Elena and takes a bloodbag out of the fridge.
“Don't even bother sweeping the floor,” he says as if nothing happened. “Stefan spilled so much blood here over the years the tiles are ruined anyway. I should just put some linoleum here.”
“Damon, I...”
“I mean it, don't worry about it,” he says in a cold voice, avoiding eye contact, and Elena reacts automatically.
She reaches and cups his face, one hand, then the other. Damon tries to sneak away, but she forces him to look at her, not really sure what she wants to accomplish, wishing she'd stop feeling so terribly stupid.
Elena can feel Damon's muscles shift under her touch. He shakes his head, gives up, lets himself look at her.
“Come on, let's clean you up,” he says simply, and Elena finds herself following him out of the cellar.
They end up in Damon's bathroom. Elena tries very hard not to look at the mirror as she washes her face, but she still catches a few glimpses of red. It should disgust her, she knows it should, and at first it does, but then her glances get longer and longer. Finally, she can't stop looking, mesmerized by her own bloody mouth and bloody cheeks.
Damon brings a towel and stands quietly behind her. Elena's first instinct is to look down and pretend she was just washing up, but suddenly it seems stupid to hide things from him when he already knows so much. She holds his gaze in the mirror and slowly touches her own jaw, following blood stains with her fingers.
“Say it,” she commands when she feels ready to face him.
“Say what?”
“I don't know. A lecture, a few friendly tips from an older vampire, whatever. Go on, the stage is yours.”
“You want me to say something so you can ignore it?”
Elena can't help it, she lets out a mirthless laugh and turns around to look at Damon.
“Something like that,” she replies honestly, because his usual hostility is not here right now, and she misses the ease they used to have before things went straight to hell. “I guess I just fail at that vampire thing.”
“Nah, you're doing alright. I ate a Sunday school when I was your age. And a pastor. Wasn't pretty.”
“The pastor?”
“Not what I meant, but now that you mention it? Definitely not my type.”
Elena shakes her head and smiles before she turns back to the sink to finish cleaning herself up. This shouldn't be funny, she knows it, but, frankly, she can't bring herself to care. She has enough on her plate already.
“So no lecture?” she asks, taking the towel from Damon's hands.
“Oh, stop with the melodrama. So you had a bad day and massacred a few bloodbags. It happens.”
She doesn't answer for a while, puzzled by his strange attitude, not sure if she can trust him with more. There are things she never planned on telling anyone, but she's so tired of her struggle to keep herself together. It would be wonderful if she could get some stuff off her chest.
“I'm still hungry,” she confesses. “I'm hungry all the time.”
“Sure,” says Damon simply. “Grab a glass, will you?”
This isn't what she meant, and he must know it, but before Elena can say a word, he's out of the room. She can hear him opening the fridge downstairs, and then running back up, just like that, as if she asked for a sandwich. She's angry all of a sudden, ready to tell him off as soon as he shows his face, remind him that she doesn't drink human blood and yell at him for ignoring her, but when he appears, four bags in his hands, she can't really find any words.
Elena bites her lip, opens Damon's cabinet and takes out two tall glasses.
***
When Bonnie hears someone knocking on her door at five in the morning, she is a bit surprised Elena lasted that long. That's how it usually works, Elena either rushes out and tries to fix things immediately, or ignores them and hopes they'll fix themselves. It's kind of comforting that at least some things are still quite predictable.
“I'm sorry,” says Elena as soon as she hears the lock being opened. “I'm sorry, it all came out wrong.”
For a minute Bonnie wants to slam the door in her face, the way she sometimes does to Damon, but then she looks at Elena's empty hands. There's nothing this time, no notes, no textbooks and no excuses. Elena is being as honest as she gets these days, and that's what makes Bonnie step aside.
“Come on in,” she says, trying to make it sound like not a big deal.
Elena holds her gaze as she crosses the threshold.
They spend the whole day together, because dawn surprises Elena as she's waiting for coffee in Bonnie's bright, sunny kitchen. They retreat upstairs, carefully cover all the windows and end up not really talking about anything important, completely ignoring grimoires stuck in every corner. Soon they start dozing off in a slumber, just like during their numerous yet futile attempts to stay up all night when they were thirteen.
Bonnie hasn't been sleeping that well lately (a new problem to add to her list); most of the time, she's painfully, exhaustingly awake, her eyes dry and wide open, her mind racing restlessly. Now she closes her eyes just for a second, and next thing she knows it's five hours later. Elena is snoring softly by her side, and okay, maybe they aren't ready to talk about what's really wrong between them, but the no-talking they're sharing right now isn't actually half bad.
***
Elena never tells Stefan she spent the day at Bonnie's, even though she is pretty sure he was looking for her. He doesn't ask, so she doesn't tell, it's not like she's lying to him. She's being petty, of course, but, she tells herself, all the secrets he's been keeping earned a little bit of pettiness.
Next night, Elena invites Damon to go hunting with them, the most bizarre idea she's ever had, but the look on Stefan's face is totally worth it. To her surprise, Damon actually starts putting on his shoes.
“What?” he asks when he sees her shocked expression. “Maybe I decided to get myself a squirrel.”
Elena ignores his remark and heads out. She doesn't even look back to see if the Salvatores are keeping up with her. By now, they're probably having a conversation she wouldn't participate in anyway, so she sees no point in sticking to them.
She wanders off quite far, not really thinking about food, but then she smells sweat and hears a ragged, tired breath. The guy is wearing ridiculously orange sweats, she registers before she runs towards him and gets a hold on his arms. Damon and Stefan are close, so very close; she can hear them yell something at her, and she knows she could stop. She should back off and silence the rush of blood in her head like she's done so many times before.
She sinks her teeth in the stranger's neck anyway.
The body falls on the ground, and Elena feels nothing, nothing at all, no fear, no joy, no guilt. For a few seconds everything is quiet, just like before. The closest you get to humanity is when you rip it apart and feed on it, Elena understands now. She wants more, needs more, reaches for more, but her hand finds Stefan's hand instead, and reality kicks in: Elena can hear drops of blood falling on the grass, and it makes her feel sick.
“Breathe,” says Stefan in a soothing voice. “Elena! Elena, look at me! Breathe!”
She jumps away without thinking, her back hitting a nearby tree. She can't breathe now, there's no time for breathing, she needs to fix this, she needs to fix this now...
“Elena, grab him,” commands Damon impatiently. “Another jogging idiot might show up any second now, we need to drag this one further into the forest.”
Elena vaguely registers that Stefan is trying to say something, but she ignores him, grabs her victim's legs and follows Damon towards the old Lockwood property.
“There're some nice hiding places by the wolf cellar,” says Damon casually, like they were discussing grocery shopping (in a sense, they are). “Careful, Elena, you don't want to dump the dead guy in a blueberry bush!”
“Come on, like anyone ever picks blueberries here.”
“Knowing our luck, this year someone will.”
They move the body a bit further from the cellar, but only when Damon gives her a pack of tissues to wipe the drying blood off her face does Elena realize that getting rid of one body is hardly a two men job. It would've been much easier for Damon to just take care of this on his own.
“What is this, Damon? Vampirism 101?”
“Nah. Cleaning up alone is boring.”
“You would know,” says Elena before she can bite her tongue. Joking around a dead body she's just buried probably makes her a terrible person, but she's already murdered this guy in cold blood, so it's not like her attitude is gonna make anything even worse.
“We'll talk when you're a century old, and washing all the windows out of pure boredom.”
“Sure. Damon?”
“Yeah?”
Elena takes a deep breath. She shouldn't be saying this, she knows she shouldn't, but, damn it, she missed him, and lately it's been harder and harder to worry about “should.”
“I'm not sorry I killed him,” she says quietly. “And I should feel horrible about it, right? But I don't. I should...”
“You didn't know him.”
“It's not that simple.”
“Good enough for me.”
“Pretty much anything is good enough for you.”
“Well, yeah. You got me there. But I'm still right.”
They stand in silence for a moment, and Elena takes her time to watch Damon closely. It's been a while since she had a chance to do it. Now that the strange distance between them is gone, Elena knows she's allowed to stare at him openly, take in his calm face and relaxed frame. Maybe this is the way to be, she thinks, no hopes and no expectations, just floating through life and taking whatever comes. It must be wonderful to just do whatever you want.
Of course, she only entertains this idea for a second.
“Damon... You won't tell anyone about what I said, will you?” she asks, coming back to reality.
“I'll tell Stefan I gave you a pep talk about the value of human life.”
When they get back to the Boarding House and Damon tell Stefan exactly what he's promised, with a perfectly straight face, Elena feels a tiny bit better.
***
Of course she still talks to Stefan about what happened.
He gives her a few days before he asks, waits for her to digest everything and cool down a bit. Elena is really grateful for that. She looks him straight in the eye and lies loud and clear, tells him that she's sorry and she'll never kill anyone again. It's a bit uncanny, how easy it is to lie to Stefan now, but it's for the best, it really is.
The truth, Elena thinks, never really solves anything.
“I killed a guy a few nights ago,” she almost tells Bonnie the next day, but she bites her tongue in time. They're working together and Elena doesn't want any distractions. It's the first time in a month she's actually being productive, and she really doesn't want to ruin it by talking.
Instead, she picks up yet another grimoire and continues looking for anything that could give Bonnie more control over her powers. The spirits are probably furious that a vampire is laying her undead hands on their precious knowledge, but they don't establish the rules here, not anymore.
Bonnie is sitting on the bed with her legs crossed. She's eating an apple and perusing one of the newer grimoires, sticking colorful post-it notes to passages that catch her attention. She looks deceptively young and schoolgirly, they both do, but Elena can almost smell power and determination from Bonnie, can feel the air vibrating around her. Bonnie looks like she knows exactly what she's doing, strong despite nosebleeds, headaches, and lack of sleep.
Elena envies her a little.
***
Damon can't stand to not be near Elena.
He doesn't want to see her and he knows it doesn't do anyone any good when he does, but he still can't resist. He owes her, or maybe she owes him, it's hard to tell at this point. Either way it's bad news. He wishes she'd sleep with him already, because then everything would be clear, he'd know his place and he'd know when exactly she'll leave him.
But Elena doesn't even try to touch him. Instead, she wants to talk, asks him endless questions and imagines he actually has some answers. He's the only one she can tell all about what she did, that guy killed in the woods and human blood they drink together almost every time they're alone. He really should start ignoring her again.
“I know you compelled me,” she says completely out of the blue as she puts her glass back on the table.
Damon freezes, but tries to not let it show, makes an effort to breathe normally. He's still getting used to how Elena can hear everything; sometimes he hates her enhanced senses even more than she does.
“Twice,” he says with a blank expression. There will be no apology and no important life lesson. Maybe if he can't make himself leave, he can at least chase Elena away.
“Why?”
He shrugs and turns his back to her to pour himself some more blood, but he can hear her ragged breath and clenching jaw. He's so ridiculously focused on her he can hear her clench her jaw. What a mess.
“You want to talk about this now?” he asks finally.
“I want to know why.”
“Oh, come on. You've known this for weeks, and you're asking me now?”
Elena is in front of him in a blink. Before he can say a word, his glass flies out of his hands and crashes against the wall. Elena has a short fuse now, and she won't be ignored.
“Tell me why you compelled me,” she demands, and Damon smirks.
“Because I could,” he spits out exactly like she wants.
“I hate you,” yells Elena, her eyes bloodshot. “You're wrong, everything about you is so wrong!”
Damon has half a mind to ask her if it's really him who she means, but she slaps him in the face so hard she breaks his jaw. This fight might've been about compulsion just a minute ago, but now it's about something else entirely. Damon looks Elena right in the eye and takes another blow. Apparently this is what they've become.
(This is what they've always been, a girl who vents by smashing things, and a guy who vents by provoking people to beat the crap out of him, what a perfect match.)
He lets her beat him bloody, head, stomach, knees, kidneys, and it hurts like fuck, but it's good. He's had it coming, he owns this, Elena's tears and screams, and her shaking fists.
She comes back after half an hour, just when he's trying to clean up the mess she's made. He's alright, really, bones mended and bruises healed, but he still doesn't protest when Elena grabs a towel, wets it and wipes the blood off his face.
***
“Why didn't you ever ask me for a daylight ring?”
Elena doesn't answer at first, her eyes focused solely on a candle she just lit.
“Damon and Stefan were always asking for you,” pushes Bonnie. Elena clearly doesn't want to talk, but she does; there's only so long they can sit together in silence.
“I knew you wouldn't do it.”
Bonnie's first instinct is to defend herself, remind Elena about Tyler, Klaus, and powers she had to regain. It takes her a moment to realize she isn't being attacked. Elena is walking around the circle of candles, lighting them one after another as if nothing happened, calm and composed, not even aware of Bonnie's anxiety.
“You didn't even know I didn't have my full powers.”
“I didn't.”
Bonnie isn't ready to ask why (she isn't ready to tell Elena why, not even when she already knows). She starts searching for another subject, but she can only think of things she shouldn't be talking about. “I'm just so tired,” she almost says. “I have no idea what to do.”
The circle is ready now. Bonnie should step inside and start channeling, another exhausting exercise to make her grow stronger, but her feet feel so heavy she can't possible move them, she can't make any more effort. She's been getting better and better at magic, but she hates that she isn't nearly in the shape she was before she helped Klaus. It's Nature's way of punishing her for breaking the rules yet again, and Bonnie needs to stop wondering if this is really a fair punishment, or she'll go crazy.
“You should ask another witch for help with Tyler,” says Elena suddenly. “Is there anyone you can call?”
Bonnie remembers the masquerade ball from months ago, a smile and a wink, “Take care, coz. You'll see me again.” She shakes off the memory immediately. She's alone in this and she has to remember it. No need to get her hopes up.
She wants to say “No,” but before she can open her mouth, Elena gently squeezes her hand. Bonnie reacts automatically, she wraps her arms around Elena's neck and gives her a hug.
“I don't know,” she manages after she lets go.
“You should try,” says Elena. She looks at her as if she was trying to read Bonnie's face, just like the old Elena would. “None of us can do this alone.”
***
Stefan suspects something.
Elena knows he does, she can read it in his eyes, his voice and his steps. She has no idea which of her sins he's about to discover, and it makes her want to confess everything. She imagines how she'd sit with him by the fireplace and look straight at him. “I want to kill someone,” she'd say, for starts. “I want to catch someone and drain him dry.”
She'll never tell him, and she'll never actually kill anyone again, but it's a good thing to think about. It gets her through chores and tedious hours of hunting. She imagines Stefan's shocked expression and his concerned voice. “I've been drinking human blood,” she'd tell him.
It's not fair, of course. Ever since she turned, Stefan's been nothing but good to her, and she's really grateful for his help. He isn't ready to come back to her, and maybe he's right when he says she isn't ready either. Elena doesn't mind when he pushes her away, sex really wouldn't do them any good now, but she can't help having those thoughts. “I'm friends with Damon again,” she'd tell him. “He'll never leave me, you know?”
Maybe she should try to control herself better, but they're just thoughts. It's not like they hurt anyone.
She won't actually do any of this stuff.
***
It happens in no time: Elena looks around, and when she's sure they're alone, she starts crying quietly. No one but Damon is allowed to see her cry these days; tears may lead to anger, to vulnerability or guilt.
“I'm a terrible person, you know? I have... how can you even look at me?”
“Well, it would be a bit ironic if I judged you,” says Damon off-handedly, he needs to be casual about this, or he'll go crazy. He doesn't even ask what set her off, it's better that she assumes he knows what she's talking about. Knowing wouldn't do him any good.
“I can't be like that, Damon.”
“Sure you can. You already are.”
She is about to tell him more, to put her entire pain on him, and suddenly Damon can't take it anymore. It's ridiculous to think that he could take care of anyone, let alone vampire Elena Gilbert. He does the first stupid thing that comes to his mind, invades her personal space and kisses her, hoping that she would do the job for him, push him away herself and be done with it, maybe even slap him for being a dick. He can take another beating from her, no problem, but he can't handle Elena looking at him like he knows how to deal with her fear and her loss.
To his surprise she kisses him back immediately, claws his shirt and bites his lip, breaks the skin. Her fangs are out now, and Damon acts on instinct (he really should reconsider his instincts), bares his neck and lets her bite. She's still fumbling with his belt as she's drinking, and he can't even be bothered to help her, he just focuses on the sensation. In no time he is on the floor half-naked and she guides him into her, never letting go of his neck. She's straddling him and drinking from him, and when she's done, she just stays there, buries her face in the crook of his neck.
Damon rolls them over and starts kissing his way down her body, because going down on her seems like the easiest way to avoid holding her.
***
Damon is quiet tonight, all brief questions and curt nods, nothing of his usual showing off. Bonnie is sure something happened, and she's about to ask, but then she remembers that Damon is none of her concern, so she just sits next to him on the porch and focuses on drinking coffee.
“I'm taking Elena on a trip after sunset,” he says finally. “We might not be back for a couple of days. Katherine tipped me off that Klaus was seen somewhere around D.C., we want to check it out. Keep track.”
“What does Stefan say about it?” asks Bonnie automatically, but Damon laughs, of course he laughs. They're all worried about what Stefan thinks, but no one really pays attention to what he says, because he always says exactly what he should.
“He asked me to reconsider,” says Damon, and it's Bonnie's turn to laugh, because it's so obvious that it's been Elena's idea this time. Maybe most of the things the two of them do are Elena's ideas, she thinks as she looks at Damon. It would actually explain a lot.
There are many questions Bonnie could ask, and she's pretty sure Damon would answer, tell her why they're really going and what they plan to do, but the truth is she doesn't want to know. Damon is going to remind her about a daylight ring any second now, and it will be easier if she doesn't know. She hasn't made up her mind yet, even though she's out of excuses. They all know that now she's strong enough to make a ring for Elena, but no one except Elena seems to understand why she hasn't done it yet.
“Is she going to be okay?” she asks warily before Damon leaves. He shrugs.
“She'll live,” he says, and that's all Bonnie needs for now.
Funny how, a lifetime ago, she actually wanted to know if Caroline killed people.
***
They leave right after dark, the trunk of the car full of weapons they inherited from Alaric. They promise to keep Stefan posted. Elena even gives him a hug right before they go, very sweet and appropriate. Damon is sure they'll be back together in no time.
Elena is restless in the car, keeps looking around or fiddling with a map, anything to avoid being idle. She's been cooped up for the whole day, so Damon doesn't really protest that much when she kicks him out of the driver's seat before they even reach Charlottesville. As soon as she gets a hold on the wheel, she stubbornly turns right instead of left, goes for Fredericksburg instead of Ruckersville. Damon rolls his eyes.
“Last time I was near Fredericksburg, I was twenty years old and on foot. We're so going to get lost there.”
“We're not going to get lost.”
Of course, they do get lost.
“How do I not kill people? When I feed, I mean. How do I not kill them?” asks Elena after a few miles of going in circles. Damon shrugs, by now used to her random statements and questions. He's pretty sure she's not asking just in case.
“You figure it out as you go. I just let them go when they start having trouble standing.”
“I thought it would be more complicated.”
“I don't like to make my life complicated. You might want to turn right here.”
“Thank you,” she says after a minute of awkward silence, and Damon has a feeling that she doesn't mean either his precious lifestyle advice or incredible geographical insight, but it's cool, he can always pretend she does.
“Any time.”
“No, not for the hint. Thanks that you didn't want to talk about what happened.”
“Well, you can always count on me to avoid important conversations. Why bring it up now?”
“I don't know. Elephant in the room?”
Damon laughs, and, to his relief, Elena follows. This is who they are, she drank his blood and fucked him senseless on his own library floor, but it's not a big deal, and it'll never be.
“You know, I was impressed. I always thought you'd be more of a missionary kind of girl.”
“No, Damon. It's you who's a missionary kind of girl.”
***
Elena pulls over without warning, and at first Damon has an absurd thought that she must've seen Klaus behind a tree, but then he smells a characteristic mixture of fire, plastic, leather and sausages. It's really hard to mistake campers for anything else.
There are bloodbags in the trunk, but that's not why Elena stopped, so Damon doesn't ask stupid questions when she kills the engine. He follows her into the woods, plain and simple. It's not like he'd say no to some fresh blood himself. They're far enough from home, so this should be safe even if they kill someone. They don't have to be very careful.
Elena walks alone right into the campsite, completely not how he'd do it, but then she's a cute teenage girl, not a mysterious dude who looks like he's up to no good, different world and different rules. It's amazing how she knows exactly what she's doing, almost as if she's planned this before (in a way, she probably has). There's only one tent, three guys in their twenties. They tell her all about their epic hike before she compels them to be still and quiet; apparently, Elena likes to play with food.
One body is already on the ground when Damon decides to join the party. He's more curious than hungry, and when he steps from behind the trees, he forgets about food entirely. All he can do is stare, because Elena Gilbert is looking right at him, her mouth covered with blood, blood on her hands, her neck, her clothes.
“I can't believe you let yourself drown,” says Damon before he can bite his tongue. Elena shakes her head.
“It wasn't about you,” she tells him simply.
***
Of course, they never find Klaus, even though they wander around DC for a few nights. Elena suspects that Katherine's tip was just a hoax, first of the many they'll have to follow before they find the right track. She should talk to Bonnie as soon as possible. She's tired, tired of idleness and helplessness, they should take matters into their own hands, hunt Klaus down before he hunts them down. Yes, she definitely should talk to Bonnie first thing in the morning.
But it's not morning yet.
Right now, Damon is standing in the middle of her living room, her suitcase still at his feet, and he's kissing her hungrily, not even bothering to check if Jeremy is home. His hands are on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh so hard her bones are almost cracking, but he doesn't even stop to take a breath, angry, starved and tense. He's been like that ever since they left for DC, but she doesn't mind. It's not like she doesn't give as good as she gets.
Elena has half a mind to stop him, take a break just for a few minutes and tell him about her plan, but before she can decide, Damon changes the tone of the kiss. He loosens his grip on Elena's hips and slows down, lets her kiss him down his throat. For the first time it occurs to her that he might be just as tired as she is, equally worn down by the supernatural mess around them and by the insane push-and-pull they got themselves into. He's mad at her, and probably even more mad at himself, but maybe, just maybe, she doesn't have to be on top of her game with him.
Before she can change the pace, Damon snaps out of his strange mood. As if angry that she caught him off guard, he pushes until she has her back against the wall. When he pulls at her belt erratically, Elena catches his wrist.
“Hey,” she whispers. “Hey, slow down.”
For a second he looks like he doesn't understand, so Elena lets go of his hand and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
“Time out,” she says, touching his face briefly. “Please, let's step away from all this for five minutes.”
She can practically see his muscles relax.
Hands fumbling with each other's clothes, they start walking towards the couch. It feels really, really awkward, all slowness and deep breaths. She's not even sure how long it's going to last, how long before either of them lashes out again. They've never done it like this, never managed to let go of fear and anger, but today is different. Today, Elena needs her friend.
When they reach the couch, Damon's shirt is nowhere to be seen. Elena swiftly gets rid of her shoes, but when she looks up again, she can't suppress laughter, because Damon is busy taking off his socks. Funny how she never noticed him do anything so absurdly normal, shave or take off his socks. Damon is blood in her mouth and trembling legs, not bed head or morning coffee.
“What is it?” he asks, a sock still in his hand.
Elena can't think of a remotely sensible thing to say, so she straddles Damon's legs instead. He buries his face in her breasts and she lets him. Together they pull off her shirt and bra. She has a moment of self-consciousness when Damon's arms wrap around her loosely and with no urgency, because suddenly everything feels too comfortable. He's not supposed to be kissing her like that, taking his time to circle her nipples with his tongue and press his lips against her breastbone. She's not allowed to enjoy him like this, without anger and bloodlust to hide behind. Elena remembers all that when she leans over Damon's head to kiss his shoulder.
She's done with “supposed to” and “allowed to.”
“Bite down,” she says, and he does before she has time to be embarrassed about her request. Blunt, human teeth slide down her nipple right to the tip, slightly scratching her skin.
“Again,” she demands, grabs his hair to keep his head in place, not letting him move to her other breast. He obliges and she moans loudly, because suddenly it's important to not be quiet, important that Damon's breath catches in his throat, important that Elena can ask him for whatever the hell she wants.
She's on her back in a blink, pushing his head between her legs. There are no more lines to cross, no more ways for her to betray the old Elena Gilbert. Damon Salvatore places a cushion under her ass, and she stretches comfortably on the couch, puts her leg on his shoulder to give him better access. She doesn't normally ask him to give her head, not explicitly at least, but if she's to break her last rule and allow herself want him, she might as well do it with a bang.
Damon starts off quickly, his tongue pressing against her flesh a bit too hard, the way he always does. She can't take it, not yet, so she moves her hips to accommodate, but Damon doesn't slow down. Instead, he pulls away completely and gives her a pensive look.
“Show me how you like it,” he says.
He kneels up between her legs, his hand resting leisurely on her knee. For a second Elena isn't sure what he's talking about.
“Excuse me?” she asks. Damon lets out a laugh.
“Show me how you like it,” he repeats.
She feels strange when she puts her hand between her legs; not because Damon's eyes are fixed on her fingers, but because she hasn't done this for ages, not since she became a vampire. It just didn't seem right to relieve the pressure, to make herself feel even more than she was already feeling. There was a difference between getting herself off and having sex with Damon, because sex with Damon never was about pleasure.
Up until now.
She's more sensitive and less sensitive at the same time. She can feel even the slightest change of angle, but she needs more stimulation to actually get anywhere. Her leg still rests against Damon's shoulder, giving him a perfect view, but he moved his hand from her knee and now he's absently stroking her ankle.
“It's different from before,” she says, not bothering to censor herself any more. Damon nods.
“It wasn't for me,” he offers.
He slides his fingers next to hers and tries to repeat one of her movements. He's a bit too much to the right, but the second time he gets it just right, and Elena gives him a smile between gasps.
“Inside,” she says, and Damon immediately pushes two fingers into her.
“You like it when I do what you say,” he teases.
“You like it when I tell you what to do.”
He doesn't reply, just curls his fingers inside her, then again and again, matching the rhythm of her hips. For a second Elena wants to stop, put her hand on his head and have him finish the job, but she doesn't. Somehow it's important that he stays right where he is, his eyes fixed on her. It's important that she does this on her own.
She starts moving her fingers in circles, for the first time in her life not imagining that they belong to someone else. Her eyes are closed, but she can hear Damon whisper something in awe. He lets go of her ankle, so Elena reaches with her free hand and grasps his hand to have something to hold on to. She's close, very, very close, but she drags it out a bit. She doesn't want to finish just yet, not when she can ride Damon's hand and feel his stare on her skin, not when what she wants is suddenly so important.
Damon holds her hand when she comes.
***
Bonnie visits Elena first thing in the morning.
She probably should've waited till after school, because it turns out she pulls Elena out of bed, yawning and messy, but there is no way she could've waited, not after the dreams she's been having those few nights when Elena was away.
“I was about to call you as soon as I woke up,” says Elena as she opens the door. “There's something I need to tell...”
“Esther wants me to kill Klaus,” interrupts Bonnie. “But I'm not going to do it.”
She can see Elena's surprised expression. Neither of them has been so blunt in ages, but Bonnie is tired of beating about the bush. She is still shaking a bit after last night's dream, and she needs her friend, secrets be damned.
“The spirits are giving me a chance. We still have Alaric's stake, and I could kill the Originals one by one, Esther is willing to help from the other side. But I don't want to.”
Elena nods slowly, as if not sure of the right thing to say.
“You can't just leave them be,” she tries carefully. “That's exactly what I wanted to talk about.”
Bonnie takes a deep breath and pulls a blue ring out of her pocket. Elena follows her into the kitchen, stunned, and Bonnie bravely puts the ring on the table between them.
“We're not going to leave them be,” she says, trying to sound calm. This is what she wants to do, she reminds herself, she made her choice. She will find a different way to take down Klaus and she'll do it with Elena. This is what she wants.
(This is what it always comes down to. Vampires and witches, abomination and nature, chaos and balance.)
“I'm not sure what to do,” she admits quietly, so not ready to fight another fight.
To her surprise, Elena doesn't say a word, she just holds her gaze and nods.
Vampires and witches. Witches and vampires.
Witches always protect their own.
When Bonnie takes Elena's hand, she doesn't remember Esther's threats, Stefan's calm voice or Damon's demands. She feels powerful, as powerful as she felt when she was pushing Klaus' essence into Tyler's body. Her mind is clearer than it's been for days, and Bonnie takes a deep breath. It's so wonderful to be making choices.
“You don't have to do this,” says Elena, her eyes focused on the ring they're about to spell.
Bonnie gives her a bright smile.
“I know I don't.”