Who - Damon Salvatore What - Caught by the Angels Where - Weeping Angel House, and then London When - After his last comms post Warnings - Character Death Status - Complete
Damon knew he shouldn't have gone off on his own. But, he was never one for following other people's rules and suggestions. Other people just got in the way. Well, people who weren't Elena or Stefan. And, most of the time, they got in the way too. But, mostly he didn't want anyone else to go off into danger. Well, not the girls. Lee could go and die in a fire for all he cared.
But, right now they'd needed candles. With the electricity playing up, they needed some way to see. But, even without his powers, he refused to be scared. Well, refused to show it. The man who'd stood up to older and stronger vampires, no matter what. Stood between Elena and danger at every turn. Threw himself in front of a werewolf to protect Caroline. He was still that man, powers or no powers. And he'd be damned if anyone else here got hurt. Not before him, anyway. Not while he was still here to protect them.
So, here he was backed into a corner, and surrounded by angel statues. Statues that moved closer every time he blinked. Moved too fast, far too fast. Not faster than he was normally, but faster than he was now. Faster than he liked. He hated this, the lack of powers. The fact that he was hungry, but not for blood for food. That every little scrape and bump he got while running in the dark, ached and stung. He missed his fast healing. The speed, the strength the all round awesomeness that came with being a vampire. If he'd had his powers, he'd have had this. Yeah, he wouldn't have been able to kill them. But, he'd have run circles around them.
The lights flickered again, and the angels were mere inches from him. His heart thumped with fear in his chest. Wondering where they'd send him this time. Running from the things that had sensed the time signature on him in the 90's had not been fun. Torchwood, or whatever they'd called themselves had been complete and utter dicks.
As the lights completely failed around him, he closed his eyes and waited for the cold touch of stone on his skin. Hoping against hope that the others would be alright. That the angel that was in Jesse's eye didn't hurt her. That Jemma was right about her needing to keep her eyes closed. He felt for his Rainbow Brite. The happy little thing never failed to make him smile. And, then the little princess had almost broken his heart with her being worried for him. He really hoped that they would all be okay, without him. He hoped that Becker, Lee and Romanoff had this.
Then, he felt it. The cold stone fingers brushing his chest, and then he blinked. Disorientated, he looked around. He had no idea where he was. Everything was dark, until a loud whistling noise sounded near by, followed by an explosion. He recognised that sound. From movies, even if not from memory. Because, this war was not one he'd been near. "Damnit! Fucking, angel dicks." He punched the wall, breaking his fingers. "Dick move angels", he declared as yet another whistling sound happened, and he ran. But, he already knew it was too late. He was going to die here, as a human. As a poor defenseless huma, because he couldn't run fast enough. And yet, all he could worry about was Elena. She'd already lost him once, and he'd seen how well she'd coped with that. He didn't think she could cope with it again. He just hoped that Jenna would be there to help her through it. "I'm sorry, Elena." He whispered, as the bomb landed.