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She sits on her bathroom floor — tears silently streaming their way down her cheeks. The blade is on her wrist before she has time to think about it any longer, pressing it into the skin and pulling it towards her elbow. Warm, red blood runs rivulets down her arm and she uses the last of her willpower to drag the knife across her opposite wrist. This is the only way. She quietly reminds herself. The only way to keep everyone safe.
The knife clatters to the floor, handle slick with blood and her fingers too weak to grip it any further. With lidded eyes, she watches the pools grow steadily beneath her arms.
Honestly, the movies make it seem so much more dramatic than this. But all she really feels at this moment is…peace.
Peace, knowing that her family will be safe. That Damon and Stefan will be safe. That with her singular death — many lives of those whom she loves will be saved. Alaric couldn’t be stopped by normal means, no matter how confident Damon’s smirk was. This was the only way to assure he would be gone — for good. Even if it meant that she had to go too.
Better her than them.
Her vision begins to dim and she can’t help but smile as soft, comforting darkness envelops her.
Awareness comes back with a gasp, her eyes flying open to the darkness of her bathroom.
She is on her floor, alone, arms still slick with her own blood. But somehow…alive.
Suddenly there is a telltale ache in her gums that gives way the reason as to why she’s not currently on the Other Side. Somehow, despite everything, she had died with vampire blood in her veins. Somehow, she’d messed this up again. She thinks back to earlier, when she’d passed out and woken up in the hospital. The doctor, Meredith, had said it was just a concussion but what if…what if it had been worse than that?
Something in her stirs, a darkness that she’d been able to brush aside since meeting Stefan. Since meeting Damon. Once again here she was, escaping a death that she shouldn’t have survived. By some miracle catastrophe, she’d cheated the afterlife out of obtaining her soul once more. Part of her wondered briefly if there would be consequences – another part of her wondered if she tried again, would she actually die this time?
Footsteps pound up the stairs and she somehow recognizes them immediately as Damon and Stefan.
She wonders how long she’s been out – how long it took her to come back. The last thing she remembered was smelling the drug that Matt put into her drink and then flipping out about it. She hoped that if she hurt him enough, he would leave. He would forget any remaining feelings he had for her. Because if she succeeded in her plan, it would be better for him in the long run. She’d gotten him to leave eventually, but not without consequence. Their friendship would probably never recover.
She’d self-destructed so well that she was sure Damon would’ve been proud.
As they enter her room, she can’t bring herself to get up, to move away from the evidence of her attempt.
“Elena?!” Stefan’s worried voice is so, so loud in her ears and she winces. He registers the blood and freezes in the doorway.
Damon pushes past him to kneel in front of her, uncaring of the now cool liquid seeping into his jeans, “What did you do?” His voice is softer than Stefan’s, he must have seen her flinch because of course he did, “What did you do?” The words are whispered again, something in them causing an ache in her chest. He sounded heartbroken. Genuinely upset. She’d honestly expected him to be mad at her.
“Saving your life.” She murmurs in response, still feeling very much out of it.
The sadness in his eyes brings forth a flash of unfamiliar memories – a dark street, ice blue eyes that glinted with something mysterious that called to her. You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, and adventure, and even a little danger. And his eyes had promised that – she would have gone with him then, had he asked. The part of her that lay just beneath the surface that wanted to run, that yearned to get away from Mystic Falls where nothing interesting ever happened.
And he was definitely interesting.
“It was you.” She says, dragging her gaze away from her blood stained wrists to look directly at him for the first time since he’d entered the room, “You were there the night that Matt and I fought.”
Damon’s piercing blue eyes meet hers and she feels like she’s floating, eyes becoming unfocused and glazed over as her consciousness dips in and out. He takes this moment to scoop her into his arms, “She’s in transition.” He meets Stefan’s eyes with a look that says they will have this conversation later, because Elena is priority. She always would be, even if he ended up not being the one she picked. She had burrowed into his heart, and he didn’t think he could cut her out unless it was with a stake.
Stefan nods in return, “You should get her to the boarding house.” He gestures toward the bathroom, “I’ll clean up here.”
Damon narrows his eyes in response, suspicion clear in his gaze, “Are you sure?”
At his brother's nod, he is out the door and loading her into his car in seconds.
He would take care of her. He would make sure she makes it through this.
The next time she wakes, it’s to soft, white cotton sheets, and the comfiest pillows she thinks she’s ever laid on. Everything smells so much like Damon that it’s almost overwhelming, but at the same time it’s so comforting. She wants nothing more than to nuzzle back into the blankets and sleep more but her throat is so dry and she is so thirsty.
“Hungry?” A voice calls.
Elena sits up slowly, meeting Damon’s icy gaze with a hesitant nod, “I-I think so?”
The vampire moves forward, sitting on the bed and cupping one of her cheeks gently, “Are you sure this is what you want, Elena?”
That drags a wry chuckle out of her, dry and crackling, “What happened to keeping me alive even if it makes me hate you for eternity?”
“Listen I’ll happily shove this entire bag of blood down your throat if you really want me to.” He’s giving her that wry, cheerless grin he wears when he’s trying to hide how he’s really feeling, “I just thought that since Stefan isn’t here I might as well pretend to play his role for a minute.” The hand that isn’t cupping her cheeks raises the aforementioned blood bag, “Now, are you sure?”
There are tears in her eyes as she raises a hand to cover the one on her face — and she catches the sight of her blood stained wrists. She’s wearing one of Damon’s shirts, but there are small smudges of blood on the skin of her arm. The wounds were healed, not even a scar left behind to remind her of what she’d done. A pang of something akin to anguish runs through her and she forces herself to pull her gaze away from her arms and back to him.
Damon must have seen the blood too because there’s a slight wince in his expression before he hides it again behind a mask of indifference, “Sorry, guess I missed a spot.”
Taking a deep breath and letting the tears fall, she plasters a smile on her face and speaks, “I know what it looked like. I don’t actually want to die Damon, I'm just. I’m so tired of everyone trying to save me when there was one thing that I could do to protect you all. To make sure that Alaric was…gone for good.” She meets his gaze steadily, “I thought my life was a worthy price to pay to save the lives of those I love.”
The look on his face when he realizes that he is included in that grouping sends a pang of anguish to her heart.
She knew that he didn’t believe he was worth it. Didn’t believe he deserved her. She remembered it now —the night he’d crept into her bedroom and held her so gently as he poured his heart out to her. She remembers the single tear that had carved a path down his face. She remembers the pain in her heart as he forced her to forget.
“I want this, Damon. I don’t want to die. Not yet.” She removes her hand from his and cups his cheek, “Not before I’ve had a chance to explore this.” The fact that she is referring to the two of them goes unsaid.
Damon is frozen, tears in the corner of his eyes before he seems to shake himself off and drag another cheerless smirk onto his face, “Well then, would you like me to do the honors?” He tears the top off the plastic before passing it over to her, “Small sips to start, take it slow. When your fangs come in it’s going to hurt like a bitch, trust me.” And his expression is soft now, caring. Gentle.
She follows his instructions, grabbing the bag and sucking on it much like a capri sun.
It hits her almost as soon as the first gulp runs down her throat. Pain flares through her mouth and she almost drops the bag as one hand reaches up to cover her lips as she cries out. Damon is there, a gentle hand rubbing circles on her back. She feels her face change, fangs pushing their way out of her gums. Resolutely, she steels herself through the pain and brings the bag back to her lips.
The second time is much more pleasant, the taste like nothing she’d ever had before. She can’t help but moan in delight and grip the blood bag with both hands as she bites into it, spewing its contents down her throat. Once it’s drained, she feels a deep ache of loss settle into her gut. She feels so incredibly empty in this moment. It makes her want to cry.
She wants more.
Sensing her distress, Damon pulls her into his arms, shushing her gently and laying them down against the pillows.
“It’s alright. Let it settle. We’ll get you some more in a moment.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss into her temple.
“I’m so sorry.” She finds herself crying, turning to sob into his chest, “I didn’t mean to…to — I just had to make sure you were safe.”
Damon runs a soothing hand through her hair, “I understand why you did it.” He leans back, dropping a hand to lift her chin so he can look her in the eyes, “How about we just agree to no more self harming solutions for now, huh? At least not without discussing it first.” That brings a small smile to her face, and she shakes her head in agreement, “Good. Now that that’s settled — how are you feeling?”
“Alright, I guess, for someone who’s just been turned into a vampire.” She buries her face back into his chest, “A bit tired, honestly.”
At that, Damon shifts so he can pull the blankets over them both, “Well in that case get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” She snuggles into his chest and he can’t help the warmth that runs through him at the action, “I’ll teach you how to catch and release later. I’ll make sure that you make it through this okay.”
She smiles into his shirt, feeling safe and warm, “I know you will, Damon. Thank you. For everything.” She’s almost drifting off, eyes closed, but she whispers three more words that would’ve stopped Damon’s heart had he been human, “I love you.” And then she is out, snoring softly. He can’t even complain about the shirt being expensive because the feeling of having her in his arms – it's priceless.
Pressing another kiss into her temple, he murmurs softly, “I love you too.”
There was going to be an awkward conversation they would definitely need to have with Stefan in the morning —
But he decided that was a problem for tomorrow.
END