C'est La Mort (It's Death)

I do not own The Vampire Diaries, only this plot.

Please listen to The Civil Wars – C'est La Mort, for this.

It had been six hours, eight minutes and fifteen seconds since Alaric's heart had stopped beating. It had been six hours, eight minutes and sixteen seconds since Damon turned off his emotions. It had been six hours eight minutes and seventeen seconds since he had to fight the urge to throw Elena and Stefan down the stairs to get them to leave, to get them to shut up, to get them to just stop.

The house was dark, quiet and too lonely. The hollow ache that pulsed in Damon's dead chest, even with the lack of emotions wouldn't stop. The creaking of the old wooden house as it settled for the night wouldn't stop and this god-forsaken nightmare wouldn't stop. Although, there sat Damon, on the edge of the bed, his fingers hanging loosely around Alaric's slowly cooling hand as he stared at the motionless face of his best-friend, of his lover. Damon had attempted to get rid of his blood smeared around Alaric's mouth, tried to make him look as if he were sleeping and not as if sic hours, ten minutes and two seconds ago Damon had ripped open the veins in his wrist, whilst begging Alaric to not be dead, to drink, to stay, to just please you can't leave me, not now.

"Ric" Damon's voice croaked, he quickly cleared his throat "I know I suck at being a good boyfriend, I haven't had much practice at it. I never really wanted to be one, only for Katherine, then for a moment maybe Elena but then, then that night, where we got so drunk." Damon paused, swallowing thickly, blinking his eyes harshly "so drunk where I told you everything and you got up off your chair and you came over to me and – baby, please wake up for me -" voice breaking mid sentence before he attempted again "and you sat down, you said to me that you always knew I had something human in me." Damon brought their joint hands up and kissed Alaric's knuckles "and you, you leaned in and you kissed me, it wasn't much of a kiss, your lips just touched mine and it was so different, so fucking foreign but it felt good and it felt right 'cause being with you, Ric, it's always felt right because you look at me and I know through all my bullshit façade that you still get me, you stand by me and damn, I don't remember when anyone actually did that. Ric, you made me feel like you actually wanted me, for once I actually felt loved by someone and I know this is the worst time to say it, baby, but I think a long time ago, I fell in love with you and I just- I don't know what to do anymore because you're just lying there and you won't tell me you love me too, you won't won't fucking wake up. What am I supposed to do, Ric?"

Damon stood up, turning his back to Alaric as he ran his hands through his dark hair, then grabbing the bottle of whiskey of the dresser and taking a nice long pull from it. His mind screaming at him, his emotions still there, still firing through his body and why won't they fucking turn off. I don't want to feel this, I don't want- Placing the bottle back down on the dresser he returned to Alaric's side. Damon's hand hovered over Alaric's before he let it fall to the duvet. He couldn't bare to feel Alaric's cool skin, he remembers the feel of the temperature of Alaric's hands against his body, he didn't want those memories to be marred unless he woke up a vampire.

"If you were here, you'd probably laugh at me for being such a pansy." Damon scoffed, which sounded more like a broken sob "and I'd tell you, you've obviously been at the grill a little bit too long again and you'd smile at me and damn that smile, that one that goes I know what you're really like, remember?, sometimes I think getting drunk with you is a bad idea." Damon pulled from his memories of smiling Alaric, with life in his eyes, back to the dark room with the still and lifeless Ric lying on his bed and his smile left.

Reaching up, Damon's hand hovered over the few strands of hair that lay covering Alaric's forehead before his hand brushed them back softly, his finger tips avoiding contact with his lover's skin. As Damon sat there, unmoving and silent for hours until the sky started to turn red with the rising sun, his body exhausted and hungry, he slumped onto the mattress, lying next to Ric's body, his eyes never leaving the beautiful face of his lover's until they slowly drooped closed and his body quickly succumbed to exhaustion.

Damon woke with a shock, to someone tapping on his shoulder, his joy quickly diminished as Stefan stood there, eyes filled with sadness. The room already dark again and Damon turned quickly to look at Alaric. His chest squeezing painfully at the sight of Ric lying there, so much more pale before he fell asleep.

"What time is it?" Damon's voice croaked, roughly.

"Just going on to three in the morning." Stefan replied sadly, staring between his brother and Ric's lifeless body.

Damon's shoulder's slumped and his eyes slid closed, too long, please baby, I'm waiting for you.

"Damon..." Stefan started softly "I don't, I don't think he's going to wake up."

Damon's eyes flickered open to stare at Alaric, still, pale and lifeless, heart silent and chest still and if his heart could, it shattered more before he turned to his brother.

"I know." His voice hallow, empty and broken.

One day, twenty-three hours, fifteen minutes and eight seconds Alaric's body was in Mystic Falls Cemetery with a single red rose lying on top of his grave and Damon had disappeared.