fic: Just Like You
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Language: English
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~1.300
Spoilers: 4x22
Relationships: Kol/Elena
Warnings: darkfic, angst, major character death
Disclaimers: I don't own TVD.
Summary: Kol has only one thing left: revenge. Written for Five Acts Challenge for wrong_song
Download link on AO3
Just Like You
When Kol died all he felt was the burning heat of the fire, the smoldering agony, and the stench of his own flesh. The funny thing is, at least he keeps saying that to himself, after he crossed the mystic line to the other side it didn’t change much. Sure, he isn’t burning up, he’s not some charred undead body walking around, but the fire is running deep inside his veins.
He presumes it’s something; he has at least the hate to give him motivation, to give him strength and not just give up and become a silent shadow of himself. But it’s hard being behind the veil: it’s suffocating him with the ever-present silence and cold, and everything seems so bleak, it’s like death itself washed away all the colors and muted all the noise. It feels like a heavy blanket is thrown on him and sometimes he almost gives in and looses himself in this mockery of a world.
But then he remembers his death and the flare of fury clears away all the fog and he can focus on something. Or more precisely on someone. He wishes with all his heart (or what’s left of it, anyway) that he might be a poltergeist of myths and urban legends. He wants to scare Elena, he wants to be unseen at times and seen at others, he wants to be in control (it was something he had at least when he was alive-undead). He yearns to touch her, to lace his fingers around her neck and squeeze until she’s gasping for air. He longs to feel her warmth (a thing he misses because he always had the warmth of blood to ease his craving), to bury his fingers into her chest and hold her heart and life in his hand.
He follows her everywhere like a shadow, whispering the most violent threats and promises of death in her ear. She is the core of his fire, his hatred, and in a twisted way the light in the darkness.
When the Bennett witch tugs at the veil, the anticipation overwhelms him and he looses sight of Elena, because he feels the need to check upon how the spell is working. As the veil is dropped, he feels himself breathe again, but the hatred which keeps him moving doesn’t fade away, he reasons it’s because he knows they will figure out a way to put the dead away, and anyway he can only be in the triangle, and that’s hardly enough to do anything else than indulging in vendetta.
What he doesn’t dare to think is how there is no one for him to haunt: Rebekah, the only sibling who cared about him long ago, is off with humans, desperately wanting to be a real girl, and the others are gone too. He’s all alone, like in most of his life, the one always being outside, the one who doesn’t fit.
He finds Elena beside Jeremy’s grave and the satisfaction is sweet on his tongue, she suffers, she’s all alone, miserable and most importantly: at his mercy. Though her knights in shining armor show up and his fun is over too soon, he doesn’t give up.
Something goes wrong; the veil is completely gone, and not just in a triangle, and he smells his victory. He finds Elena easily a second time, it’s like they have a bond, he could follow her anywhere, he almost feels a physical tug in her direction. He wants to kill her slowly, intimately, he needs to feel every drop of her fear, and he thinks that will ease his thirst for blood.
But he knows he doesn’t have enough time for theatrical dramatics, because The Salvatore Team will find a way to end this apocalyptic situation and save their damsel in distress. Everything is blood and bruises as he pours his anger onto Elena’s limp body, and it’s glorious, and he’s almost sad to finish it, because finally he feels some kind of connection to someone. Elena is like a lifeline, she is someone who defines him, a rock solid point he can orbit around.
But through the bloodlust he reaches out and rips into her chest, and he isn’t sure who is more surprised: him, holding Elena’s heart in his hands, her sweet blood dripping slowly or the wide-eyed Salvatore brothers, who are yet again too late to save her.
Kol doesn’t know what happens next exactly: One minute Damon Salvatore is lunging for him, and the next the all too familiar silence covers him. He’s back to being dead, and sure, the heroes put the veil back on, but something is amiss. Because when he looks down at Elena’s body, it’s still there and then after what feels like an eternity she gasps for air and sits up as the wound is closing up on her chest, her heart miraculously dissolving from his grasp.
For a moment they are staring at each other, Elena’s confusion slowly transforming into dawning horror, as finally the truth sets in. They are both dead, but somehow, due to some glitch in magic, they are together in Purgatory.
“Well, darling,” Kol says, voice dripping with malice, “we sure gonna have so much fun.”
~oOo~
Later they’ve learned that though the Salvatores managed to find a Bennett witch (they used the cure on Bonnie’s mother), she wasn’t strong enough to build up the veil perfectly. Kol and Elena don’t know if their special Hell overlaps with someone else’s but they haven’t met others yet.
Anyone else would think this is a coincidence, but Kol is sure it’s destiny: How else could you explain that two souls are connected this way? He thinks it’s maybe because their deaths are intertwined, they did kill each other after all, and what is possibly stronger than that? Because in the end of the day love may be powerful, but death always concurs everything else.
He doesn’t know how long they’ve been dead, but it doesn’t matter either. At first he broke her in every way, pulling and cutting her apart, thinking he would find the warmth he needs. He searched for the mysterious essence of Elena Gilbert, a girl who wanted to fix everyone. And after a time he admitted to himself he would have needed that, and it crossed his mind that maybe that’s why he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
But what he found was anything but a magical salve to his broken and scarred soul. Somehow along the way the girl who was light and sunshine and easy smiles slowly chipped away with each death of her loved ones. And here it is again, Kol thinks, death as the key element.
The long nights (because it feels like they’re always covered in endless darkness) are full of blood and screams and pain, and after a while Kol doesn’t know if it hers or his. The sting of claw marks and bites are mixed with moans and their kisses are always harsh and desperate and the familiar coppery taste is heavy on their tongues.
And Kol doesn’t mind he made Elena into this twisted and dark thing, crushed what was left of her and built her up in his own image. Though it seems narcissistic, but he’s never denied that. They make each other feel something, even if it’s only some warped charade, and definitely not love. In the end they are the same: hollow shells of once hopeful people, the embodiments of broken dreams, fighting their eternal struggle with fading away completely in a space between the worlds.
Language: English
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~1.300
Spoilers: 4x22
Relationships: Kol/Elena
Warnings: darkfic, angst, major character death
Disclaimers: I don't own TVD.
Summary: Kol has only one thing left: revenge. Written for Five Acts Challenge for wrong_song
Download link on AO3
Just Like You
When Kol died all he felt was the burning heat of the fire, the smoldering agony, and the stench of his own flesh. The funny thing is, at least he keeps saying that to himself, after he crossed the mystic line to the other side it didn’t change much. Sure, he isn’t burning up, he’s not some charred undead body walking around, but the fire is running deep inside his veins.
He presumes it’s something; he has at least the hate to give him motivation, to give him strength and not just give up and become a silent shadow of himself. But it’s hard being behind the veil: it’s suffocating him with the ever-present silence and cold, and everything seems so bleak, it’s like death itself washed away all the colors and muted all the noise. It feels like a heavy blanket is thrown on him and sometimes he almost gives in and looses himself in this mockery of a world.
But then he remembers his death and the flare of fury clears away all the fog and he can focus on something. Or more precisely on someone. He wishes with all his heart (or what’s left of it, anyway) that he might be a poltergeist of myths and urban legends. He wants to scare Elena, he wants to be unseen at times and seen at others, he wants to be in control (it was something he had at least when he was alive-undead). He yearns to touch her, to lace his fingers around her neck and squeeze until she’s gasping for air. He longs to feel her warmth (a thing he misses because he always had the warmth of blood to ease his craving), to bury his fingers into her chest and hold her heart and life in his hand.
He follows her everywhere like a shadow, whispering the most violent threats and promises of death in her ear. She is the core of his fire, his hatred, and in a twisted way the light in the darkness.
When the Bennett witch tugs at the veil, the anticipation overwhelms him and he looses sight of Elena, because he feels the need to check upon how the spell is working. As the veil is dropped, he feels himself breathe again, but the hatred which keeps him moving doesn’t fade away, he reasons it’s because he knows they will figure out a way to put the dead away, and anyway he can only be in the triangle, and that’s hardly enough to do anything else than indulging in vendetta.
What he doesn’t dare to think is how there is no one for him to haunt: Rebekah, the only sibling who cared about him long ago, is off with humans, desperately wanting to be a real girl, and the others are gone too. He’s all alone, like in most of his life, the one always being outside, the one who doesn’t fit.
He finds Elena beside Jeremy’s grave and the satisfaction is sweet on his tongue, she suffers, she’s all alone, miserable and most importantly: at his mercy. Though her knights in shining armor show up and his fun is over too soon, he doesn’t give up.
Something goes wrong; the veil is completely gone, and not just in a triangle, and he smells his victory. He finds Elena easily a second time, it’s like they have a bond, he could follow her anywhere, he almost feels a physical tug in her direction. He wants to kill her slowly, intimately, he needs to feel every drop of her fear, and he thinks that will ease his thirst for blood.
But he knows he doesn’t have enough time for theatrical dramatics, because The Salvatore Team will find a way to end this apocalyptic situation and save their damsel in distress. Everything is blood and bruises as he pours his anger onto Elena’s limp body, and it’s glorious, and he’s almost sad to finish it, because finally he feels some kind of connection to someone. Elena is like a lifeline, she is someone who defines him, a rock solid point he can orbit around.
But through the bloodlust he reaches out and rips into her chest, and he isn’t sure who is more surprised: him, holding Elena’s heart in his hands, her sweet blood dripping slowly or the wide-eyed Salvatore brothers, who are yet again too late to save her.
Kol doesn’t know what happens next exactly: One minute Damon Salvatore is lunging for him, and the next the all too familiar silence covers him. He’s back to being dead, and sure, the heroes put the veil back on, but something is amiss. Because when he looks down at Elena’s body, it’s still there and then after what feels like an eternity she gasps for air and sits up as the wound is closing up on her chest, her heart miraculously dissolving from his grasp.
For a moment they are staring at each other, Elena’s confusion slowly transforming into dawning horror, as finally the truth sets in. They are both dead, but somehow, due to some glitch in magic, they are together in Purgatory.
“Well, darling,” Kol says, voice dripping with malice, “we sure gonna have so much fun.”
~oOo~
Later they’ve learned that though the Salvatores managed to find a Bennett witch (they used the cure on Bonnie’s mother), she wasn’t strong enough to build up the veil perfectly. Kol and Elena don’t know if their special Hell overlaps with someone else’s but they haven’t met others yet.
Anyone else would think this is a coincidence, but Kol is sure it’s destiny: How else could you explain that two souls are connected this way? He thinks it’s maybe because their deaths are intertwined, they did kill each other after all, and what is possibly stronger than that? Because in the end of the day love may be powerful, but death always concurs everything else.
He doesn’t know how long they’ve been dead, but it doesn’t matter either. At first he broke her in every way, pulling and cutting her apart, thinking he would find the warmth he needs. He searched for the mysterious essence of Elena Gilbert, a girl who wanted to fix everyone. And after a time he admitted to himself he would have needed that, and it crossed his mind that maybe that’s why he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
But what he found was anything but a magical salve to his broken and scarred soul. Somehow along the way the girl who was light and sunshine and easy smiles slowly chipped away with each death of her loved ones. And here it is again, Kol thinks, death as the key element.
The long nights (because it feels like they’re always covered in endless darkness) are full of blood and screams and pain, and after a while Kol doesn’t know if it hers or his. The sting of claw marks and bites are mixed with moans and their kisses are always harsh and desperate and the familiar coppery taste is heavy on their tongues.
And Kol doesn’t mind he made Elena into this twisted and dark thing, crushed what was left of her and built her up in his own image. Though it seems narcissistic, but he’s never denied that. They make each other feel something, even if it’s only some warped charade, and definitely not love. In the end they are the same: hollow shells of once hopeful people, the embodiments of broken dreams, fighting their eternal struggle with fading away completely in a space between the worlds.