Disclaimer: I do not own the Vampire Diaries. I am not LJ Smith, Julie Plec (though we share a first name), Kevin Williamson, or any of the other phenomenal writers of the CW show.
Author's Notes: Spoilers through 3x17 – "Break on Through" then AU…my intent is to stay as true as possible to the characters. Feedback is, as always, welcome.
Summary: Too many had died because of her, because of who she was and who she loved. With her life spiraling out of control, Elena does the unthinkable in an attempt to take it back. He was always there to catch her when she fell, but will he be able to put her back together once she's broken? Will he even want to?
Soundtrack: "Lost in Paradise" - Evanescence
Everything is fine. Her fingers wrapped around the coarse dish towel and gently shook it out over the pristine, white sink before she dried her hands. The open plan dining area once felt warm and cozy bathed in the soft, white light of the morning sun but as her eyes scanned the room her body shivered involuntarily. Empty. The sheer stillness of the house unnerved her. In the quiet she could hear every beat of her heart, the puffs of breath escaping from between her lips, and her rampant thoughts as she relived every, single moment of the last three years in a macabre her thoughts as company. Three years ago, we all sat at this table laughing. Talking about going to Disneyland.
Her heart clenched painfully as she swallowed the lump in her throat, her thoughts reminding her that Mystic Falls was most assuredly not the "Happiest Place on Earth." She was eighteen years old and all alone in this massive home with responsibilities that no eighteen year old should have to shoulder alone. Alone. Wadding the cloth in her right hand, she reached out with the other to gently run her fingers along the gentle curve of the chair her father once claimed. Biting back the sob that threatened to rip from her throat, she moved swiftly out of the dining area noting the only sounds were those of her sneakers hitting the hardwood floors and the creaks that accompanied each step. It hurts just to breathe.
Alone with his thoughts, Stefan peered vacantly over the top of his glass of bourbon and tried to assuage his guilt. His choices brought him to this place and he wondered how he would ever find his way back to the man he once was. Is it even possible to go back? The moment he'd entered Elena's home the blood called to him like a siren's song. The fog slowly rolled in as his nostrils flared and the white, hot need seeped into every fiber of his being. The predator scented its prey and he wanted nothing more than to lay claim to the body. To feel the warm, liquid pass his lips and slide down his throat as he devoured it in a fit of uncontrollable thirst. She grounded him in a way that only one other person ever had.
"A little early in the day for you, isn't it?" came the biting wit of the darker Salvatore brother as he walked into the library holding a large, awkward parcel wrapped in plain, brown paper.
Stefan waved the glass slightly, the amber liquid sloshing around the heavy crystal, "Just havin' a little toast."
Damon regarded him with a mixture of weariness and intrigue as he made his way around the brown, leather couch to stand in front of his younger brother, "To what?"
His face was a mask of pure indifference; even now he seemed unable to allow his humanity to surface in front of his brother. In spite of everything, Stefan could not fully let go of his "ripper" persona and there were times when in Damon's presence that he simply didn't want to. One hundred forty-eight years, brother, and I am still waiting for you to end me. His haunting green eyes seemed to peruse his brother's form, ever the confident swagger, despite his mind's desire not to and it reminded him that their sibling rivalry turned from friendly to deadly a long time ago. Still, this détente between them seemed to at least rebuild some of the camaraderie that was lost the day their father killed them in cold blood all those years ago.
"Control," Stefan responded, his face smug as he looked into his brother's face.
Damon knew that his brother was reaching; hoping that one defining moment of control would somehow be his golden ticket back on the sanity train. The control needed to keep the "ripper" at bay was more than the youngest Salvatore could muster because Damon once found himself in a place darker. Stefan's naïveté was precious, but not the conversation that needed to be had so Damon opted for plan B. Play along.
"If you're happy, I'm happy," Damon responded with a quirk of his lips as he tapped the large object in his hand on the wooden floor.
Stefan regarded his brother with cold calculation, his hands clasped in front of him as though the father-figure intent on scolding a wayward son, "Why are you in such a good mood? Sage double crossed you. Tree's a pile of ash. Alaric's got a psychopathic alter ego."
Damon squirmed under his brother's indifference, his patience running thin, "You know Stefan. I'm a philanthropist. I make the world a better place. Restoring bridges. Landmarks. And…"
He reached for the brown paper and ripped it to reveal the newly restored sign commemorating the rededication of Wickery Bridge. Stefan raised an eyebrow lazily, uncertain where his brother was going with this show of bravado.
"Historical signs made of the same white oak as the Wickery Bridge," Damon finished; his tone smug and Stefan could not help but be impressed by his brother's ability to deceive.
Stefan rose from his chair; this was the news he needed to hear, "They think all the wood burned."
Damon's eyes sparked as he gave his brother a sidelong glance, "I sold my rage. You should have seen me."
"We have a weapon," Stefan replied evenly as every fiber in his being itched to tear into the wood an put a stop to the Original family that had ruined his life once and for all.
"Game's back on, brother," Damon's eyes bore into Stefan's as his entire body stiffened with a renewed purpose, "Let's go kill some Originals."
After years of trying to keep Elena Gilbert out of harm's way, it seemed as though they had finally gotten the upper hand. As Damon watched his brother walk slowly from the library he realized that he would soon once again be able to leave Mystic Falls behind. There's nothing left for me here. Stefan was on the slow track to sobriety; Alaric would forever be taking witchy herbs to keep his Mr. Hyde from making an appearance; and Elena would have the normal life she so desperately craved. His fingers tapped against the white oak sign in a cadence similar to Stefan's earlier attempts to curb his craving, but for him it was not about bloodlust. Damon Salvatore was cursed to walk the Earth alone for eternity. His ice blue eyes looked down at his fingers in disgust and pulled his mind away from thoughts of humanity. He needed a drink.
The window seat in her bedroom once gave her great comfort as she spent hours looking out the large windows while she sat for hours writing in her diary. Feels like a lifetime ago. The soft white linens with reds and golden hues accenting her room seemed far too innocent against the backdrop of her complicated life. She didn't deserve to be forgiven for her part in this supernatural mess. Her life was not worth more than those of her friends or her family. Her foot began to tap against the padding of the seat as she leaned against the wall, cell phone to her ear, desperate for someone to answer. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.
"Hello?"
She rubbed her hand against her leg, swallowing the panic as she heard his voice, "Hey stranger."
"Hey, you checkin' up on me?" she could hear the smile in his voice and the peace that came with it.
"Do you need checking up on?" it was so easy to fall into the familiar banter with him that she felt her heart once again ache with loneliness.
"Well, I'm not flunking any of my classes. Yet. I got a dog."
He was safe. It was the life she'd hoped he would live the moment he left Mystic Falls. She would go to the ends of the Earth to protect him and finally it seemed as though she had done something right. When she'd uncovered the envelope addressed to Jeremy in that locked drawer at the Loft, it was like a bucket of ice water was dumped over her head. Her brother had died wearing that ring. He was at risk. She needed to hear his voice. She needed to know if he needed her.
"Hey, have you talked to Alaric lately?" her voice was tentative as she held back the sea of emotions swirling in her mind.
"Ah, no why? Is everything ok?" he always has a knack for knowing when she wasn't telling the entire story.
"Yeah, everything is fine. Um, I just wanted to hear your voice," her eyes began to well up with tears; the realization that he was ok lifted a weight from her shoulders.
He chuckled into the phone, "Ok. Hey can I call you later? I'm actually on my way out with some of my friends."
She flinched imperceptibly, shrugging her shoulders as though he could see her through the phone, "Yeah. Uh, of course Jer. Go out. Have fun. Um, I-I just miss you."
"Yeah. Yeah, I miss you too."
She fought back the tears as the connection was lost and suddenly it was clear to her that everyone in her life was safe, they had moved on, and all was as it should be. This is what I wanted. She had tried to escape reality the night she'd come face-to-face with her mirror image and only managed to complicate things. That crash should have killed me. John. Isobel. Jenna. Luka. Jonas. Greta. Caroline. Abby. Leaping to her feet she crossed the room in three strides and leaned forward against her vanity, her eyes dancing dangerously as she peered at her reflection. Her eyes were red, blood shot, and her hair hung in a curtain around her face. Her lip quivered in anger as she suddenly felt as though she could no longer breathe, her body shaking with the rage, guilt, and sorrow that she'd kept hidden behind the walls of her mind. Elena Gilbert had to be strong. Otherwise, their sacrifice meant nothing. It has to end.
Her frantic thoughts polarized for a single moment as she pulled back the palm of her hand and slammed it into the glass, shattering her image and sending shards of glass sailing outward and along the vanity itself. A guttural scream tore from her throat, not because several shards of glass embedded themselves in palm causing blood to well and drip to the hard surface below, but because she was furious. Her eyes darted to the crimson liquid pooling around the wound and with viscous intent wrenched the offending objects piece by piece from her body. No one else dies for me!
In a fit of rage she swung out, connecting with the perfume bottles and picture frames that sat pristinely before her, mocking her existence, crashed to the floor in a symphony of breaking glass that paralleled the breaking of her heart and mind. Her fingers curled around a large shard of glass that hung loosely from the mirror, the bite of the sharp edges causing her to clench her teeth but her mind would not allow her to register the pain, and wrenched it from its housing. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears as her teeth began to chatter, the certainty that this was the only way. No one else would die for her. No one. As the glass tore into the tender flesh of her right wrist, gouging a deep wound that would allow her blood to flow freely, a strange sense of peace came over her. A ghost of a smile graced her lips as the hot, sticky liquid dripped to the floor into a pool around her feet. The human body has ten pints of blood. It was the last coherent thought she had as she collapsed to the ground amidst a sea of broken glass.
There was no way on Earth that he had enough patience to deal with Elena right now, but here he was parked outside her home. When he'd left the Boarding House, he fully intended on swinging by Ric's place to keep the teacher company. It's not every day you find out you're a serial killer. His attempt to lighten the mood fell flat in his own mind and he found himself looking at his reflection in the rear view mirror. He knew what was happening because it had happened so many times since he'd returned to Mystic Falls. Fuck.
His judgment was severely impaired when it came to Elena Gilbert and had he been thinking clearly he would have recognized that by feeding her his blood twice these annoying feelings would grow to unbearable proportions. He blamed his sudden humanity on the bond they'd inadvertently formed. He'd never fed a human his blood before returning to Mystic Falls. Love is a vampire's greatest weakness. He loved her. He loved her enough to let her go. He'd allowed her to believe he was the bad guy in all of this and to forget that he would always choose her. He could feel her. Truth be told he'd been operating on instinct when he turned down Maple Avenue, an inexplicable force seemed to draw him to her despite his numerous attempts to avoid her over the last few days. Double fuck.
The faint sound of glass breaking roused him from his internal musings and he froze behind the wheel of his Camaro. The tightness in his chest grew oppressive and he found himself rubbing the plate of bone as though he had a fit of heartburn. Fucking teenage angst. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he roughly opened the door, stepping out into the sunlight as his agitation only increased. Steeling himself for the tongue lashing he would certainly receive for imposing his presence upon her royal highness, Damon crossed the road slowly and deliberately. He really wasn't in the mood for a round of kick Damon, but some invisible force seemed to be pulling him toward her front door. Damon's internal whining slowly shifted into panic as his feet began to move faster and faster until his fist pounded on the front door. Something is very wrong.
"Elena!" he bellowed as he pounded on the front door, his fist nearly breaking through the wood.
Fuck this! She can yell at me for invading her privacy if she wants to! A feeling of dread washed over him as he broke the front door and the overwhelming scent of blood wafted towards him. His eyes darted to the top of the staircase and he knew in that moment that had his heart been beating it surely would have stopped. Elena, what have you done?