Prologue
Written for the Secret Santa over at the Damon_Elena LJ Comm.
Author's Note: This is NOT an angst-ridden story. It's a short story I wrote as a Christmas present, so it needed to wrap up "fast." Damon and Elena go out of character a bit in this one-they needed to in order to make the story work. I tried to keep them as close to character as possible, but you've been warned: not my most angsty fic. And I guess you could call it AU, since Stefan isn't in the picture. Just wanted to give you a heads up! Hope you enjoy!
Elena watched numbly as she stared at the tail lights of Stefan's car. His words repeated endlessly in her mind as the red brake lights flashed at her before the curve, as if they were blinking their goodbye.
"I'm sorry, Elena. I have to get Katherine out of that tomb. I can't just leave her in there. I'm sorry."
He was sorry. He was sorry, and then he was gone.
She had tried to tell herself for months that it was all in her imagination: that Stefan wasn't really disappearing in the middle of the night; that he didn't really smell strangely like old crypt dust; that he wasn't really avoiding her eyes when she looked at him.
But it wasn't just her imagination. Stefan had been sneaking off to see Katherine since Elijah had let him out of the tomb. And now he was gone, off to find Elijah, to save fair Katherine.
She fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself in a tight embrace. Stefan was gone. Stefan was gone. He had left her. Abandoned her. Chosen Katherine, that vindictive, malicious, murderous, evil, spiteful creature… over her.
Stefan was gone.
"Anything interesting down there?"
She lifted her head at the casual, conversational tone. Damon crouched beside her, looking down at the ground in front of her. As if he felt her unappreciative, hostile stare, he lifted his eyes and met her gaze.
He made a face of mock-sympathy. "No arrow heads this time, huh? Maybe next time. What's important is that you just keep looking, Elena." He patted her strongly on her back, emphasizing the last words of his sentence encouragingly.
"Damon, not now," she objected, pushing herself to her feet and turning away from him. She started back to the house, to go bury herself in her bed until she was old and gray.
"Would tonight work better for you?" he asked suggestively, sliding in front of her and blocking her path. He raised his eyebrows mischievously.
How could he be so cavalier? His brother was on what was likely a suicide mission to save the woman—vampire, Elena corrected herself—who Damon had loved for 145 years. How could he stand there and flirt with her as if nothing were wrong? As if their lives hadn't just been turned upside down?
"How can you not care?" she demanded accusingly, watching as his handsome features quickly slid into neutral. "How can you not care that your brother just ran off to go save the woman you loved most of your life?"
"Well, first of all, Elena," he began, in a lecturing tone. He stepped to her side and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I'm dead. And secondly, I knew Katherine for less than a year of my life, so it wasn't really like I loved her for most of it."
Elena scowled, yanking away from him. "You know what I mean, Damon," she snapped. "Doesn't it bother you at all?"
His face became serious, edged in hostility. "Of course it bothers me. I think we should leave Katherine to rot in that tomb until she's shriveled up like a corpse and mad with blood lust. But Saint Stefan came to the rescue again, and he can't let that happen to her. So he's going to get her out. And there's nothing either," he deliberately stared at her, "of us can do about it."
She stared at him until his words sank in, then turned away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Wordlessly, she turned and headed up the stairs to her front door.
"Where are you going?" Damon called after her, protesting her departure.
"Inside," she returned evenly.
"Does that mean we're not on for tonight?"