Holding On & Letting Go

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Summary: After crashing Caroline's memorial service, Damon finds himself talking to her about life, love, Elena and the two grow closer as a result. Can be read as either platonic Damon/Caroline or something more. One-shot.

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Some prayers find an answer, some prayers never know
We're holding on and letting go...

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He doesn't know how he finds himself out here, in the woods, in this specific spot.

After the dramas of the day, he's in dire need of a place where he can just relax, forget everything for one blissful moment, because right now his head is swarming with thoughts all centred on Klaus and Elena, with a few thoughts dedicated to Stefan thrown in to the balance.

Sometimes life feels like swimming against a strong current. He knows he can only hold his head up for so long before everything pulls him under again, and in pursuit of the goal of keeping Elena safe for as long as possible, some other issues pass him by, pushed aside because everything comes down to finding a way to defeat and kill Klaus.

He could've kissed her tonight.

The fact she told him he couldn't tells him that kiss they shared on her porch has been on her mind. It should thrill him, but in reality it feels like a hollow victory, because Stefan is melting down before him, ignoring every principle he'd ever valued before, and he feels like he's letting him down by not focusing his attention on him. He once believed he knew the limits to which Stefan could reach, but tonight has just thrown him a curve-ball he did not expect.

He could've lost her tonight, and the scariest part is he'd not been able to predict the lengths Stefan was prepared to go to to achieve his goals. He'd naively believed – or hoped, rather – Elena would always be enough of a reason for him – for both of them – to stop him from going over the edge, but tonight has just thrown all reasoning out of the window. He's going to have to think of a different tactic to try and rescue what's left of his brother.

There's something almost therapeutic about visiting this tomb. Its darkness is comforting, easy to fall into, and the solitude he needs to clear his head rests there, almost beckoning him like a siren luring sailors to sweet oblivion.

He knows he's made a mistake when he sees Caroline sitting there, nursing a bottle of whiskey between her hands, her face pale, haggard, her eyes bleary and worn, almost like she's given up the spark he'd (almost) admired about her. Her fingers twitch against the glass of the bottle, but she doesn't drink from it. Her knees knock together – he can sense the cold comes from somewhere else, because vampires don't particularly react to sudden drops in temperatures – so he's uncharacteristically gentle when he approaches her.

"Party for one huh? I've been there."

She looks up, barely registering him, although her squint suggest she's trying.

"Hey -" she waves half-heartedly. "Come. Join me. This is from your stash anyway."

He peers at the bottle, frowning as he confirms her statement.

"What's the occasion? What are we celebrating?" he asks, sitting next to her, deciding to ignore her crime (for now), deciding there are more important matters he could (and should) be worrying about.

"How about death?" she asks, thrusting the bottle against his chest.

"Death?" he repeats uncertainly, searching her face for signs of insanity.

"I almost died today, and instead of doing the sensible thing and going bed, I found myself here," she reels off, not particularly concerned whether he's paying attention or not.

"You almost died?"

She looks at him, twisting her crimson lips as she considers whether to tell him or not. He gives her his best smile (sarcasm free), but she must see it's forced, because something close to amusement dawns in her eyes.

"Tyler bit me. Klaus saved my life," she explains in clipped sentences.

His eyes widen with alarm.

"Tyler bit you? Why?"

"Why d'ya think? Because Klaus told him to."

"And then Klaus just...saved your life? Yeah, 'cause that makes sense," he snorts, twisting the cap off the bottle and downing the liquor.

"He was almost...nice. For a psychotic hybrid," she reminisces, staring at her hands. "The fact is, I thought being a vampire meant you were invincible, but the thing is, you're just as vulnerable as humans. You just...live longer."

He nods, following her train of thought.

"That's why I told you not be his friend," he told her. "Do you remember me saying that?"

"I remember ignoring you," she teases, laughing softly.

"I'm not the one paying for that little mistake though, am I?" he fires back, having the momentary satisfaction of seeing her smug laughter stifled.

He observes the glaze of sadness in her eyes, notices how tense every muscle is in her body, and wonders whether tonight is significant for another reason. He searches his memory for the answer, but all he can really find in his mind at the moment is a sobbing Elena on Wickery Bridge, that particular memory haunting enough on its own, even if he didn't know what had preceded that image.

"Tyler thought he'd beaten the sire bond, that when it came to me, there was nothing Klaus could make him do," she mumbles, pushing back her hair out of her eyes. "Guess he was wrong."

"Not entirely," he remarks evenly, though he knows full well the hybrid in training acted like a complete and utter dick. "His intentions were good. He probably genuinely believed his love for you was enough to conquer all. Klaus is just too strong."

He downs some more of the whiskey, scowling into the darkness.

"True," she whispers, sighing.

They sit side by side for one moment, their bodies barely touching, yet there's some sort of chemistry burning between them. He'd almost forgotten that when he wasn't manipulating Caroline into doing his every bidding, he was staring at her almost tenderly, trying to fight back real emotions because he just couldn't accept them just yet.

Something other than her obvious vulnerability and dire need to be accepted and loved had drawn her to him once upon a time. It's hard to put his finger on the reason now, because looking at her, she's stronger now than she was as a human. She's blossomed into something incredible, mirroring the struggle of the caterpillar turning into a butterfly almost perfectly. He's never told her this – mostly because it will chip away at least half of his masculinity to admit such a thing – but he's envious of the way she's quickly adapted to her vampire life.

Had he been such a quick adapter, maybe clinging onto Katherine would've been something he could've avoided, but he digresses.

"How did you end up here anyway?" he asks, glancing around the darkness.

"This was where my memorial service was," she says, smiling wryly at him. "Bonnie, Matt and Elena kinda threw an impromptu service for me after I blew off their plans for a birthday party."

"Uh-huh..." He does a double take. "Today's your birthday?"

"Yep." She seizes the bottle of whiskey from him, and takes a long gulp of the bitter liquid. "Overall, not been one of my better birthdays, but it was a hell of a memorial service. You should've been there."

"Seems only fair, since it was my blood which turned you," he says, not quite sure what emotion bubbles in the pit of his stomach like an angry concoction threatening to spill.

Guilt? Sadness? Some weird blend of the two?

It doesn't make any sense since he's had no reason to ever feel guilty about something he's been responsible for, at least not since he force fed Elena his blood to try and protect her. Usually, his justifications for the things he does suck, and there's always a selfish element to them, hence the lack of guilt, but he's torn right now between feeling guilty at robbing Caroline of the life she should've had, and feeling the tiniest bit of pride at what feeding her his blood as led to her becoming.

"I know you don't feel guilty about turning me, since it, you know, saved my life in a weird way, but I want to thank you for not gloating about it. I know that's kind of your thing," she says, a weird sort of warmth flooding her eyes.

"Me? Gloat? Never," he scoffs, grinning. "I took your life, you took my whiskey. We're almost even."

"Almost," she echoes, snorting derisively. "I know you saved my life for Elena anyway."

"Does every decision I make have to be about Elena?" he asks, sounding irritable.

"If anyone else had asked that question, I'd say no, but it's you, so..." She shrugs. "You love her. Can't fault you for that."

"You love that Tyler punk despite what he did to you. How? Why?"

"When it's love, it's hard to shake off," she explains wistfully. "I want to be angry with him. I am angry with him. But sometimes... Love just sort of justifies all the crazy things people do. I know he didn't mean to do what he did, but I can't be with him while he's tied to Klaus like that. It's not fair to either of us."

In a weird way, he's picking up a subliminal message from her. In Caroline's own sweet way, she's telling him there's hope for him and Elena, that despite the atrocities he's committed against her, having her love him back isn't such an impossibility.

It's weird how they can be connected like this, particularly with their own history. When they'd been together, she'd been the weak one, easy to manipulate into doing whatever the hell it was he'd wanted, but now the roles are reversed, except she's not using her strength against him. She's using it to connect with him on a level he's never connected with another human being before – barring Elena, of course.

Rose, of course, had been another kettle of fish altogether, and he misses that friendship. Her death had opened his eyes to what Lexi's loss had cost Stefan, and he'll never be able to make that up to his brother.

He bites his lip, staring into the darkness, wondering what it costs to have such a simple life. He would almost welcome to gentle fatigue that came with a dull and easygoing life, if only for a week or so.

"You know your own mind better than anyone else's," he supplies, when he suspects Caroline wants a response to her melancholic statement. "If a break is what you need, then take a break. You've done nothing wrong. That punk needs to learn about whose bitch he really ought to be, and it isn't Klaus'."

She chuckles, nudging him playfully.

"That werewolf bite thing wasn't pleasant though. I don't know how you lasted as long as you did," she confesses, tapping her nails against the glass anxiously. "It felt like...like my world was melting out of focus. I swear at one point I went back in time."

He smiles.

"It feels like that way. I saw Katherine as she was in 1864, which tells you how far my mind went back. At least you didn't have to bear the burden of being the reason why your brother left everything he loved behind to be Klaus' little bitch," he tells her, frowning as the liquor does something unexpected to his emotions.

He almost wants to break down, because he's sick of pretending he's okay. It works for a time, but there are days when he wants to rip apart the whole town just to release all these pent up emotions he can't show in front of Elena because he's supposed to be the good guy.

He wonders if it's even right to even hope Elena could love him back. She would be loving a monster, someone who is constantly prepared to embrace his dark side and not be remorseful for it. In a way, he admires her she's guarded herself from him as long as she has. It shows she isn't stupid.

"You would've done the same for Stefan," Caroline tells him, trying to reassure him.

"Would I? Doesn't sound like me," he says, somewhat glumly.

"When it comes to it, we're all capable of stepping up to the bat for the people we love," Caroline says confidently. "You've shown that with Elena time and time again. I have every faith you'll be able to bring Stefan back from that little ripper phase he's stuck in at the moment."

"You and Elena must share the same insane brain, because she said as much to me that I'd be the one to bring Stefan back," he grumbles. "Again, I have to re-iterate that it doesn't sound like me to put in that much effort for a stubborn, pain-in-the-ass brother, who seems to think he can go to whatever lengths he likes to kill an unkillable Original."

"Ah, but we both know you love Stefan. That'll be what saves you both."

"What makes you think I need saving?" he asks, giving her a questioning look.

"You're sitting in the dark with me, sharing a bottle of your whiskey," she says, giving him an isn't-it-obvious look. "If that's not desperation in a nutshell, I don't know what is."

"Desperation, my ass," he grumbles, but he smirks, taking the bottle from her to finish it off.

Whatever he'd expected to find at the bottom of the bottle, it doesn't seem to be there. Maybe he'd been searching for a shred of comfort but, as it turns out, he didn't need a bottle of alcohol for that.

The real comfort here lay with the veracious blonde sitting next to him, wearing a smile he knows she doesn't really mean, but wears for the sake of showing him that even the darkest of clouds bear silver linings, which is a good thing because right now, his life is nothing but a stormy sky, with the odds of there being sun any time soon remarkably slim.

"Sorry your birthday sucked, Blondie," he says, sounding – and feeling – sincere.

She gives him a crooked smile.

"The start of it sucked. And I guess the whole nearly dying thing could've made the whole day a disaster. But the ending was okay."

She squeezes his hand gently.

"Thanks for keeping me company, Damon."

"Actually, I came out here to keep me company. You were an accident," he admits, smiling cockily at her.

"Still, you stayed. And cheered me up, may I add?"

"Good." His smirk widens. "Everyone's day is brightened automatically when I enter the room..." He peers around him. "In this case, it would be tomb, only if anything it looks gloomier in here than I when first came."

"Cake?" she offers, producing a slice from nowhere.

"Don't mind if I do," he begins, before she smashes it against his mouth, giggling loudly.

"That's for making me be your puppet while we were going out," she declares, glaring at him, though it's completely negated by the huge smile on her face.

He wipes away some of the frosting, scooping into his mouth.

"As much as I admire your attempt at getting revenge, it's negated by the fact this is a delicious piece of cake," he informs her.

"Oh, well. Got an eternity to up my game," she says, still smiling.

"Happy birthday, Caroline," he offers.

"You're a minute too late according to my phone," she tells him. "It's just gone midnight. Birthday's over."

"Oh, can't you just be happy I'm being nice to you?" he demands, sighing with exasperation.

She giggles.

"Not really."

"Remind me next time there's an occasion revolving around you that I need to jeopardise it in some way. I might forget."

She rolls her eyes.

"Can't you accept the fact I'm just joking around with you despite the fact I feel like doing anything but joking?"

He smirks.

"Not really."

And with that, he wipes away the remaining cake from his mouth and rubs it into her hair without another word.