I

Elena closed the door behind her and fumbling her phone into her pocket called up to Jeremy. There was no reply, but an answering clatter from the kitchen sent her towards it. She pushed the door open, carefully wiping away the tiredness and the effects of the terrible events of the day. She was ready to greet Jeremy as though nothing was wrong and they were the same brother and sister as before, where violence and death had no part in their lives, and they still lived in that delicate rainbow bubble of American small town life. It was hard to believe that even now Mystic Falls was celebrating, that the majority of its citizens had been going about their day, and now the night, enjoying the parade and partying into the small hours unaware of the death and destruction that so easily may have overwhelmed them. She had lived like that once. She shrugged away the thought; the past was a different country and besides, without the knowledge and the pain there would be no Stefan.

She steeled herself to try again with Jeremy. To make peace between herself and him, to make him see how much she loved him and how much their mutual happiness depended on each other. She was strong. She would do what it took to get him back and allow her to be his big sister again- the Gilberts united, whatever it took, she thought grimly.

As she pushed the kitchen door open a sudden wave of unease swept over her. She felt herself flinch, as the air from the kitchen reached her lungs, the gorge rose in her throat and her brain registered the unmistakable stench of blood and death. The warning voice rang urgently in her ears, Stop! Don't look! Don't look! Get out! - But Jer might be there, Jer, who wouldn't forgive her, whose last words were to tell her to go to hell. And what would she do if he was lying dead or dying, cold and alone on the kitchen floor? And whilst she was thinking all this, and her mind was running over what more she had to lose, her body acted with a will of its own and she watched herself push harder at the door and her legs move forward of their own accord, and then as she entered the kitchen the unease turned to fear and then terror as she saw the splashes of blood splattered Pollock-like across every surface. A malignant red web lay delicately over the kitchen and amongst it all, caught in its centre, John Gilbert's body, his sightless eyes staring back at her with the same expression of terror and shock. His throat had been ripped out, his body drained of blood and his left arm broken and useless, the fingerless stumps of his hand flung out in defeat.

It was like some horrible gothic silent movie. Elena stumbled backwards out through the door and as it slammed before her she felt herself go suddenly deaf. The house was tipping sideways. From far away she heard a terrible scream. It filled the house seizing every dark corner. And then, all of a sudden Jenna appeared before her, grabbing at Elena's upper arms and shouting. But Elena couldn't hear a word. The screaming blocked it all; Jenna dropped Elena's arms and slapped her hard across the face.

"Elena!... What?..." Jenna asked urgently.

"J-J-John-K-Kitchen," Elena stammered. Both of them looked towards the door.

"Are you sure?" Jenna looked at Elena and made a movement, her face hard and white as stone.

"No. Don't," Elena paused and swallowed. "I'm sure."

"I'll call the sheriff," Jenna began dialling, "You check on Jeremy."

"Oh God! Of course," She climbed the stairs and shivered, relieved that that thing in the kitchen hadn't been Jeremy. That would have been the worst of all. But no, it was bad anyway, no one deserved to die like that, she thought, No one.

"Jeremy?" She called urgently entering his room. The lights were dimmed, and glancing at the bed she saw that he had gone to sleep. But why hadn't the screaming woken him? Even a teenage boy couldn't sleep through noise like that, she was certain. She walked towards him and reaching out smoothed the hair away from his pale forehead. It felt cold and clammy. The skin felt odd. She bent down, puzzled, and placed her ear to his mouth. His breathing was shallow and uneven and he didn't stir. All feelings of relief left her in a rush. She felt urgently over the bed and around him. Nothing. Looking up she saw the bathroom light cutting through the darkness of his room.

There beside the basin she found what she had been searching for. The bottle of pain killers prescribed for her. Empty. There was no possible doubt. She began dialling 911. But more horror was to follow. Beside the empty plastic bottle was another. She knew immediately what it was. That empty phial streaked with red signalled her worst nightmare.

Damon was on his second line. Whisky shots. His ability to 'drown his sorrows' was the one constant in his ever changing world. Presidents may come and go, famine, war, man on the moon, cars, cell phones, internet porn but a man sitting at a bar, alone, drowning his sorrows- now that was truly timeless. He smiled wryly. He knew what he was. Nothing surprised him. However low he went, whatever evil action he pursued, what he knew himself to be capable of, none of that ever surprised him. He had the capacity for infinite evil. Or was that just a deep selfishness? A narcissistic impulse to consider himself and no other, no matter what the consequence to anyone or anything else? And if so what now? He knew why he was here. Why he hadn't gone back to the house to face Stefan. His mind shied away from it, from what had just happened, was that really only a couple of hours ago? It seemed so close, a matter of a few short heartbeats away, but he couldn't think of it because ...?. He made an effort. He looked around him and recognised the familiarity of bar life everywhere. A few couples, obviously together, their feelings barely contained, the drinking a prelude to those short hours where the slight touches now between them would become deeper and more passionate; some college boys playing pool, drinking, enjoying watching, being watched sizing up any half chance from the admiring glances of passing girls eager to join the group, single drinkers, small men, eyes roaming looking for any takers coveting any woman who looked halfway decent for a good time. A natural hunting ground for him, one from which all his needs had previously been met and had never disappointed.

He turned away. He needed another drink. Unbidden her face rose before him. There had been no clue to her thoughts that evening as she had climbed the steps hauling her bags. Usually she was easy to read. Every emotion written over her face and conveyed by her body, always a delight, a challenge and undoubtedly a trap, for him at least, unknown to her, he was so tuned into her. He had been surprised to see her so early, certain she would have spent the evening with Stefan and so to collect himself he had given in to his impulse to protect her and had taken the bags from her unresisting hands. Ever the white knight he had once said of Stefan, well it seemed he too had decided to carry her favor. He wondered again what she had been thinking. He remembered distinctly the feeling that had rushed within him as he had left the house and caught sight of her mounting the steps. A tidal wave of tenderness, he had wanted her to understand what he felt, was now feeling, the confusion, the disbelief, as he had given himself up and acknowledged the impulse to do the right thing, to look after Jeremy, to thank Bonnie and to mount his white steed to rescue the good folks of Mystic Falls from an enemy they had not known, indeed still did not know, existed. And finally to say aloud to her face and acknowledge to himself the truth that all this, the change in him had been inspired by her, just her and her capacity to identify, acknowledge and yes, surely, to love, the good in him before he had known himself that it was there.

And at that moment of ultimate redemption was the act of ultimate betrayal, his undoubtedly and yes, he had to admit, hers too. And was that because their feelings were too strong and simply because we felt them that was excuse enough and needed no further defence? But surely that had been his creed once and one he had previously lived by and one that had led to the acts he so desperately needed, no, wanted, to atone for. He shook his head in confusion and reached for the next shot. He couldn't get her out of his head. Compulsion was an odd thing he smiled to himself. No amount of herb, drug or potion could protect him from her. He was enthralled by her as ever he had been by Katherine. It was like that first love again, but not history repeating itself because this was deeper, stronger and more powerful than before. He was certain of that because he had fought against it so strongly and so uselessly, because she was so pure and so young and so strangely right for him.

He could leave. The thought was like a stake plunged into the heart. Absolutely and without mercy. No- more than that, he realised he must leave. His chest constricted. He felt as if someone had punched a hole through it reached in, and pulled out his heart. And then he knew. Knew without doubt, beyond all his confusion, stronger than everything, the only good thing of this existence was the feeling he had for Elena. He would be whatever she wanted him to be, friend, brother, father, lover- he caught his breath, anything. He would never leave her and all the rest, including himself, what was left of him, was not worth worrying about. He would wait. And even if the moment never happened, the wait itself would be more worthwhile than anything he could replace it with.

Sighing he drained his glass, tipped the bar and pulling his leather jacket closer tried to ignore the memory of her face inches from his and the thrill he had felt when at last her lips had answered the pressure of his own and her mouth had opened involuntarily against him. He had wanted to deepen that kiss to put his tongue into her mouth and seek out the answering pull of her desire, shocked into life by the electric current that had passed between them as he'd taken her face in his hands. He shook his head, oblivious to the admiring glances of the women around him, as he moved sinuously through them, consumed as he was with thoughts of Elena.

Stefan sat absolutely still. The lights in the room had been dimmed yet despite this nothing could disguise the clinical nature of it. He could hear the insistent beeps and whooshes of the machines monitoring Jeremy's clinical state in the foreground. Listening deeper his exceptional hearing picked up the layers of noise from the nurses close by and beyond that the footfalls of visitors in distant corridors, impatient to see loved ones. Alaric had come earlier for Jenna and managed to persuade her to leave with him; she couldn't return home except to grab some clothing for both herself and Elena. Both would stay with him till Sheriff Forbes had finished with the house. Stefan glanced down at the sleeping girl at his side, her mouth slightly open breathing with that unmistakeable rhythm of sleep. He shifted slightly to ease Elena into a more comfortable position; she had refused to leave Jeremy's bedside despite her exhaustion, mental and physical, but she was tougher than they realised and had insisted on staying and now lay in quite possibly, a deeper sleep than Jeremy's. They had pumped his stomach and he was now in a drug induced sleep allowing his body to recover from the trauma of the pills which the doctors had known about and the vampire blood which they hadn't.

He glanced across at the sleeping boy. Everything was a mess there. He had never understood what anyone saw in the lure of the vampire life and to choose it willingly, to make that leap into the unknown ignorant of the snares and pitfalls of the blood compulsion was crazy. He hadn't been free to make the choice-not really. The lure of his father's blood as he'd bent over him horrified, shocked at the new power in his own body which had inadvertently caused his father's fatal wound, had pushed aside all feelings of guilt, self- loathing and pain. He remembered, as if in a dream, the first taste. Everything else had suddenly shut out. He had fed greedily on the blood and when his hunger had been finally satiated he had felt powerful and for the first time completely unbound and free. He smiled to himself bitterly. That feeling hadn't lasted long. He was chained to that blood lust forever. His life had very quickly lost all meaning and only now, since his realisation that incredibly, despite whom he was, what he was, Elena loved him and could give him a shot at a 'normal' life, that he had achieved any measure of peace. He longed to be human again to be a proper companion to her, this girl sleeping in his arms. He squinted down at her face inches from his, her smooth skin, the arch of her dark brows, the line of her jaw, her moist lips full and slightly parted. A pulse throbbed in the side of her throat, like a trapped bird, pushing rhythmically against the skin. He wanted to place his mouth there and feel this small delicate movement against his lips. With a shock he realised he was already bending towards her, his body in thrall to the anticipation of the kiss. He stopped himself. Let her sleep. He would take her home later that night and they would have time enough for that; when her eyes would be open and reflect back the love and desire he felt for her. He wanted to see it and feel it in the way her body would respond to his every touch, his hands at her shoulders, moving across her stomach to her thighs, his mouth at her throat and hear it in her gasps of pleasure as he bent over her.

Damon flung his jacket onto the chair and walked over to the tray of glasses. He had barely finished pouring himself a drink when the noise of the car on the gravel and the door opening heralded the arrival of Stefan and, if he was not mistaken, Elena.

He flung himself restlessly into a chair. He would try and keep everything normal, even though every cell in his body wanted to take her into his arms, carry her upstairs to his room and shut the rest of the world out forever. But no. He must keep it normal, safe. For them both.

As Elena and Stefan entered he could see her tiredness and it took all his self control not to gather her up, take her to his room, lay her down on his bed and watch her sleep.. Instead he raised his eyebrows, 'Well, well, well, Elena what will the neighbours say?' he remarked, 'Really you must stop pursuing me like this, haven't you got a home to go to?' He looked up at her smiling slightly, his eyes twinkling invitingly at her.

Elena's tiredness seemed to fall away from her like a cloak. She felt anger rocket up through her at the sound of his mocking, flippant tone, an insult to the horror she had endured that day. Wasn't he human at all? As she turned to face Damon she felt the restraining pressure of Stefan's hand on her arm. She shook it off, too far gone in her sudden fury.

'How could you Damon?' She looked at him in disgust, eyes blazing. 'And then to sit there and laugh? Haven't you got any feelings at all-for anyone?'

He flinched away from her voice, taken aback by her anger. 'Whoa... hold on,' He shook his head in ironic disbelief drawing his eyebrows together in an elegant frown, 'I thought it all worked out rather well for us today.'

Stefan stepped forward. 'Even for you Damon, that's an incredible statement.' He spoke quietly. Damon whipped his head around to look at him.

'Well let me see little brother,' Damon spoke deliberately with mock seriousness, 'The tomb vampires were our enemies-they're dead. Check,' he ticked off a finger, rose, and began to pace dramatically in front of the fire, 'Pearl a dangerous and powerful vampire, far more powerful than us, I might add, and very, very scary is, what's the word? Yes wait... 'he spoke in mock horror, glancing up, 'she's dead too! Check. The pocket watch weapony thing used against us is missing but, well it was used and yet we're both safe. Check. The Founders Day council and everyone else in Mystic Falls safe from vampires and comfortable in the knowledge that no more vampires remain to be hunted. Check. And lastly Bonnie, who I thought was a little itty- bitty hostile towards us, well me,' he admitted,' willing to save both the Salvatore brothers... check!' He finished triumphantly, 'What's not to be pleased about? Or should we try and dig out something annoying and irrelevant so we can feel all moody and intense about it!'

Elena stood stunned; her arms crossed over her chest and then walked deliberately up to him her face furious, inches from his.

'And John? My biological father? What about him? Don't you think the Sheriff is right this minute far from 'comfortable in the knowledge that there are no more vampires in Mystic Falls?' Her voice dripped with sarcasm. She wanted to punch him, to wipe that smug self satisfaction from his face, as he stood there looking at her in silent... was it amusement? She stopped for breath and self control.

'Why couldn't you just stop and think what the consequences of what you were doing would be, on everyone else, rather than revenge, just for yourself?' Her brown eyes searched into the depths of his grey ones, reflecting disbelief and disappointment.

The languorous amusement left Damon in a flash. 'Revenge?' He stood looking down at Elena puzzled. 'Wait.' He paused, 'Stefan? What's going on? I think I'm missing something here,' Damon spoke slowly and deliberately all the while his eyes never leaving Elena's. Taking her arm and ignoring her attempts to yank it away, he guided her to a chair and then turned to Stefan who was standing at the fire staring at him, his face still and unreadable. A wordless conversation seemed to pass between them. Finally Stefan spoke without preamble,

'Elena found John Gilbert dead in her kitchen this evening. He'd been killed by a vampire.'

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