Sing the Sorrow

They might have spent most of their time together before bickering but Claire hadn’t pushed him away then. She’d stuck, taking everything he could dish out. When the choice had come down to it – Violet or him – she hadn’t let him die just for the sake of a sister who wasn’t the person she’d known her entire life. She hadn’t even hated him for making her choose when the dust had settled and they were separating. Promises had been made to reunite, even if Claire had backed out in the end. There hadn’t been any animosity, just forgiveness for whatever part he had in it all. Damon knew that most wouldn’t have given him that. Hatred and hurt ran deep in most and he’d given a lot of people in this town a reason to have wanted to see Klaus’ little love bite succeed in killing him slowly and painfully today. They wouldn’t have called Stefan, wouldn’t have worked to relieve his suffering. Claire had though. She’d seen, she’d known and she’d stuck by him all the same.

Damon continued to trace his thumb over her cheek, his fingertips resting on her jaw, her neck, skin still a few degrees cooler than his own fever baked body. They’d look at her like she was crazy for it, but she wouldn’t care, she never had when she was sticking by something. He made a low sound in his throat, shaking his head. ”I didn’t forget,” he promised. ”You saw what was in my head.” In his memories. Her up on that stage, her voice a lure through the crowded music hall. He hadn’t shown her what had been on her face later, when she’d been forced to do what she had done to Violet, the grief he’d seen there. That thin thread of guilt that he’d bound up in a knot with all the others, shoving it deep down below his own burning ball of pain and grief and anger. She hadn’t needed to see any of that.

It had always been there though, everything from his behaviour after their mom had died, up to working Grams to death, knotted and snarled, tugging at something inside of him every now and then but never erased by flipping off the switch they all thought he’d thumbed off and depth charged to avoid ever turning back on years ago. Just kept at bay, that was all.

He shoved it back down inside now, letting his hatred for Niklaus Mikaelson slip over the top like a burning sheet of flame. Klaus had used the bite to leverage Stefan into reforming their little bromance, he wasn’t gonna let it last. Damon swallowed, the burning in his throat easing now, although some of that hunger remained. ”Soon as I’ve got my strength back, we’ll start looking for him. Klaus won’t slither too far.” Not with the rest of his family here trying to put down roots. Amusement emerged on the huffed breath as he leaned in to Claire. ”You’re the exception to them all.” And that had saved his life today. Her stubbornness, Stefan’s self-sacrifice making sure he hadn’t succumbed to the poison burning in his veins.

As Claire offered to get him something to eat and slipped out Damon laboriously scooted himself back up the bed, sheets damp with his sweat clinging to his skin. She was back then, an arm around him as she helped him back up. ”I never thought I’d be doing this again,” he admitted wryly. He wrapped his lips around the nozzle of the bag, drawing hard on it until it was mostly drained and the hunger that had been searing only a half hour before was mostly sated. Damon reached past Claire to set it on the nightstand. ”Can you stay?” She might have had another shift to get to, plans etched in stone, but as he sank back down, he was drawing her with him. Even if she couldn’t he’d hold on at least until he was slipping under that exhaustion still nagging at him.

Tagged: CLAIRE DEVEREUX * Word Count: 677