Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Characters/Pairing: Jeremy/Bonnie, Caroline/Elena, mentions of Stefan.
Summary: Jeremy Gilbert is the last man on earth.
A/N: Written for blackmamba_esq who wanted a TVD/Y: The Last Man fic. I hope you like it!
They’re six miles away from Mystic Falls when Bonnie’s steps falter, a split-second display of uncertainty that reminds Jeremy that she can be just as afraid of what they’ll find there as he is. It’s kind of comforting, considering the steely decisiveness that’s been her default for over two months now.
“You sure you wanna do this?” he says, not for the first time. She’d been pushing for them to come here. Jeremy’s pretty much given up on finding anything from his old life worth saving.
“Yeah,” Bonnie says, distracted, like an afterthought. He’s surprised she heard him at all. There were times when she left him; her mind drifted so far away that he had to shake her to bring it back again. Not lately though. But the memory of her stiff shoulders isn’t one he can let go of.
Her eyes shift back and forth along the street, always alert. They both have to be because of him. Everything’s become about him now.
Sometimes he thinks he could become a vampire. Then he’ll never get old, be the last guy on earth forever trapped inside this lanky teenage body. He could be with Elena and Caroline. Getting used to their new “relationship” would be tricky, but at least he’d be with family again.
Only he’d have to leave Bonnie.
Her eyes shine when she talks about them, her best friends, who begged and pleaded for her to join them, be like them, eternal friends forever like they’d always promised. Jeremy knew Bonnie was tempted, despite everything she believed in. They were her sisters. She loved them too much not to be tempted.
“Why did you stay?” he asks her, only once. Bonnie doesn’t answer, just gives him that look, a blink or you’ll miss it glance that nevertheless speaks volumes. There are only so many compromises she can make, and he feels ashamed, weak for even considering them himself.
It was loud, the men dying; millions of bodies slumping in cars, tumbling from ladders, that kind of thing. Jeremy hears that noise in his sleep, breaking glass, muted thumps of falling limbs, crushed heads. He dreams about them too, hundreds of men littered across his yard, all with the face of his father beneath crimson smears of blood. He doesn’t tell her about the dreams. She’d try a spell or something to stop them and she’s already done enough. Sometimes it feels like too much.
She’ll never leave him.
“I’m not a kid you know,” he says, not for the first time. Bonnie nods and smiles with sad green eyes. She touches his face.
“I won’t let them hurt you.”
The streets are charred and broken. Floating ash burns his eyes and he’s already blinking away tears by the time they reach The Grill, which is amazingly still standing for the most part, or at least in better shape than anything else they’ve come across. He can’t see her face that well, he’s too busy blinking and crying (not crying crying, but—you know) but he can guess she’s just as surprised to see the place still standing as he is.
“Wanna go in?”
She starts to shake her head, then says, “Do you?”
Jeremy can think of a hundred different things he’d rather do. “Sure.” He shrugs awkwardly. Bonnie nods slowly, but doesn’t move until he takes her hand.
He presses his tongue against the pulse at her neck and loves the way it shudders, races inside his mouth. His skin is tingling, like he’s come inside from a cold day and electric warmth is violently invading his entire body. This is her inside him, entering him before he returns the favor, and it’s good—it feels so fucking good—like the best high he’s ever had. She’s his drug, she makes his eyelids heavy, his ears ring, though he can still hear her voice, a broken whispered “please,” because it’s just the two of them, alone, him and her against the world, which should scare him more than it does, but sometimes, like now, while her nails dig in his back and he’s drunk with her scent, he thinks it’s kinda perfect, that they’re perfect this way. No more fighting for her attention. No more sharing her with family and friends. Jeremy covers her mouth with his and loves her sweaty tremors; he loves her, more than he’s ever loved anything.
She’ll never leave him.
The vampires are trouble enough. They view him as a kind of trophy, a shiny Y chromosome filled trophy among a sea of boring X’s for them to drink and drain dry. Vials of his blood are being sold on street stands like contraband, labeled Gilbert despite not technically never coming from him. Vampires are vain creatures, constantly attempting to one up each other, while werewolves—well, that’s another problem all together.
“They’ll die out without you.” Bonnie says what’s obvious; she’s prone to do that now and again, like something’s not actually true until she says it aloud. Unlike the humans, who responded as though they’ve been preparing for a crisis like this for years (as if they knew) and started cloning babies just weeks after it happened. No one wants to clone baby wolves though.
Jeremy shrugs it off, grins, makes a joke of it as he’s prone to do, “Idunno, a bunch she-wolves in heat chasin’ after me? Definitely not the worst situation I’ve been in.”
Bonnie smirks and gives his cheek a light, playful slap that lingers, “And if they rip your throat out in the process?”
“I got the magic ring.” He wriggles his fingers, then leans in for a kiss. First her cheek. Then her lips.
“I got you.”
Caroline squeals when they walk through the mansion’s doors and gallops towards Bonnie like a perky racehorse. Jeremy catches Bonnie’s startled smile, which flashes, then dies, like a spark from a lighter refusing to catch. There are tears in her eyes when Caroline reaches her, she inhales against blond hair, wisps catching on her lips. A moving shadow makes Jeremy look away from the scene, toward the other occupant of the Salvatore house. Elena’s sad eyes have grown even sadder; something he never thought was possible.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” Caroline squeals, eyes blue and bright, nothing like the rest of them. Bonnie said once that the only good thing to come out of all this was the effect it had on Caroline’s self-esteem. No boys around not to call her, to make her feel stupid or slutty, or whatever. “Elena said you wouldn’t come, but I just knew—ELENA!” She spins, the only one in the room who hasn’t noticed Elena’s presence. “Oh, you’re here. And THEY’RE here, look, we’re all back together!”
Elena looks away, then back again, at him. “Hey.”
His throat feels dry and tight, Bonnie’s fingers cool against his too warm fingers.
They can’t stay long, one of those obvious things Bonnie says aloud eventually. Jeremy understands, he’s grateful actually. Being home makes her sad which makes him feel useless and maybe a little to blame.
They curl into each other that night, her face against his neck, his chin in her hair. He says, “Where to next?” She shrugs. It doesn’t matter.
A small giggle, “No more strippers there, you know that right?”
He pouts for her, which makes her smile a little bigger, “Florida then?” She’s right; it doesn’t matter, just as long as it’s safe for him. Everything’s become about him now. Almost everything.
“I’ve never been to Florida,” she says.
“Then that’s where we’ll go.”