Timeline: post 4x21
Rated: K+
Genre: sad fluff.
Written for: Mira. Happy birthday. ;) did you think I forgot? Nope. :p
Summary: On your way back to humanity, every step counts.
"There's no time,
Close your eyes -
Only love will guide you home.
Down, down the walls and free your soul."
Evanescence, "What You Want"
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Damon approached the dungeon as quietly as he could. If Elena was awake, she would hear him anyway, but he didn't want to wake her up if she had finally fallen asleep. The least he could do for her was let her get some rest.
He found her in the same position he had left her. Sitting in the corner, hugging her knees and staring ahead of herself.
Broken.
And it was his fault.
Damon winced. He desperately wanted to scoop her up into his arms, carry her to his room, tuck her in and tell her bedtime stories until she fell asleep. (Of course, he couldn't do that, because "there would be consequences." Lately, "consequences" had become Stefan's catch phrase.) Instead, she sat on the concrete floor, purposefully ignoring the blanket he had left earler and the blood bag on the floor.
Damon shook his head. If he were in the state she was in, he would tear into the blood bag, pride be damned.
He unlocked and opened the door, closing it behind him. Only then did Elena acknowledge his presence, raising her head and looking at him, her eyes holding nothing but defiance.
He kneeled next to her and raised his hand to stroke her cheek, not even surprised when she turned away, avoiding his touch. It had become their routine, and routine was the only thing giving him a sense of security these days.
Especially since what he was about to do was bound to surprise her. It surely surprised himself.
"I've got you something," he announced and held up the bag he'd brought. Elena eyed it indifferently.
"What, now you're trying to buy my humanity?" She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. "Not interested."
"Well, if you don't like the present, you can always throw it into the opposite corner. You know, to your blanket and the blood bag." He saw gray veins play around her eyes at the word blood, and managed to hold back a grin.
"Whatever," she said, looking away.
"Remember Mr. Snuggles?" asked Damon, amused, as Elena's eyes widened for a moment.
"Why do you even remember the name of my teddy bear?"
"Hey, I loved that bear!" he teased. Her lips trembled a little, but she didn't laugh. It was good enough. "But I guess you burned it. You know, when you burned down your whole house. Clothes. Books. Diaries. And - tragically - my favorite bear."
"If you think this is going to magically make me flip the switch, you're delusional," she said, still not looking at him.
"Can't blame the guy for trying." He smirked, pulling her present out of the bag. Elena took it warily - he didn't know whether she was just being a pain in the ass or if she thought he had parts of it sprinkled with vervain.
"What's this?"
"Now, Elena, being a girl, you should really be familiar with the concept of stuffed animals."
"Why do I need a stuffed squirrel?" Elena frowned, holding it by the tail with one hand. Well, at least she didn't seem to want to throw it at him. Yet.
"You don't need it, but I thought you may like its company. Saint Stefan told me squirrels are awesome. Not sure what he meant, though."
Her lips trembled again, but she regained her composure quickly.
"Whatever," she said again, putting the stuffed animal next to her and staring at the wall again.
"Have fun." Damon stood up, still grinning. "Oh, you should name it Mrs. Cuddles."
She rolled her eyes, but her lips still gave her away. Three semi-laughs in three minutes. Not bad. Every flicker of emotion, even if it was just for a moment, was a tiny step. Even if Elena didn't realize it.
"See you later."
Elena didn't say anything in response.
When Damon went to check on her an hour later, he found her fast asleep. Her arms were wrapped around the squirrel, pressing it tightly to her chest.
