First and foremost, I would like to say thank you to L.J. Smith for creating characters that I have come to love. I became addicted to these books, to the places and characters that felt so real, so much so that I sometimes had to remind myself that they were fictional. I went into writing this to fulfill my own selfish wants after getting to the end of Midnight and realizing that the next three books, the Hunter's series, were written by a ghostwriter, and after reading through Evensong, which only added to my impatience for the next in the series. I have the utmost respect for L.J. Smith and the work she has done and in no way claim to know these characters better than she. This is, simply put, wish fulfillment and I wanted to share it with anyone out there that may enjoy it. That being said, these characters and their back-stories are from the mind of L.J. Smith and the property of Alloy Entertainment. I do not own them in any way, shape, or form.
This is a just a small part of the story I would like to write and publish on Amazon as a fanfiction of this series. Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this. Please review if you have the chance. I'd very much like to hear your input on character interpretation, writing style, projected storyline, etc. Thank you guys!
Dear Diary,
Where should I begin?
This is my old journal, the original one that Caroline intended to read aloud in front of the entire town. So much has happened since I last wrote in it. I feel almost like I'm starting at the end of one story and the beginning of another… or maybe like I'm starting in the middle of a chapter that hasn't finished yet?
I don't know. That doesn't even make any sense, does it?
Maybe this can help you understand: My life in Fell's Church feels new and old all at once. The Guardians made good on their promise and our little town was restored. All the nasty work of Shinichi and Misao has been undone. Sue Carson and Vickie Bennett have been brought back, Isobel Saitou and Jim Bryce have been made whole again. Even Caroline is better off; undoing Sue Carson's death undid Tyler's trigger for the werewolf virus and so, now, though she's still enduring the pains of carrying twins in her teenage body, at least they're not werewolf twins and she will remain human.
I am home, again, finally, truly home with my family and everything is great… mostly.
Aunt Judith and Uncle Robert remember nothing of my death, though sometimes a glint in Margaret's eye makes me think she may know more than she lets on, her angel-face taking on a significant look that surely shouldn't be possible for a child of only five. Still, just as she did when she saw me months ago, after I was supposed to be dead, she's kept whatever she knows secret.
Things with Stefan have been better than ever. As humble as he was when we first met, I think he's even more so, now, after what he endured in the Dark Dimension. Sometimes his emerald eyes linger on my face a little longer than usual and he says he's simply appreciating every moment. Other times, when he thinks I'm not looking, I see a shadow of the loss he's suffered. But, mostly, since the danger that we've become accustomed to has kept its distance, our days together are spent enjoying the mundane life of the just-graduated high school kid and our nights are spent wrapped around each other, melding into one another, body, mind, and soul.
Bonnie, Meredith, and Matt are reveling in that same mundane lifestyle and eager for the next chapter of our lives: college. Even though Matt had to give up his scholarship at Kent State and Meredith gave up hers to Harvard in order to stay close to home—the lull in supernatural activity hasn't led us into a false sense of security—they are taking everything in stride and seem to be more motivated than ever. Even Stefan seems mildly excited for it, though I think it's partly because he and I will be there together and partly because he needs a distraction.
Is it strange to say that even after going through hell, literally, and experiencing death, not once, but twice, that I'm more than slightly nervous about leaving home and heading off to Dalcrest?
Part of me wants to say that's normal, that most people feel nervous going to a new place in a new town surrounded by new people. The other part of me knows it's so much more than that. I feel nervous to leave our town because we all fought so hard to save it. Dalcrest is near home, only 30 minutes away, but I still feel like we're leaving it partially unprotected. The ley lines that attracted Katherine and Klaus and who knows how many others still lie beneath Fell's Church, drawing in whatever monsters creep beyond its borders. The only person in town that remembers the trials we went through to save everyone is Mrs. Flowers. While she's definitely more than the old, slightly-crazy boardinghouse owner we used to think she was, she can't keep watch over the entire town alone.
So, yes. Maybe it is normal. Maybe it's okay to be nervous. It's okay to be afraid to leave our homes and families behind because the cost of protecting them was too great, the loss too profound, and so deep that it left a crater in my chest that refuses to mend.
How can I leave here, my home, and risk that it might be ravaged again by some new evil force? How can I risk letting Damon's sacrifice be for nothing?
Damon.
Even now, my heart clenches at the thought of him... at the thought of his body still lying on that ash-covered Moon what feels like a million worlds from this one. The black leather jacket he wore is now torn, skewed by the damned branch that took him from me, and probably no longer carries the scent of clean, expensive leather, and the slight woodsy scent that is similar to Stefan's, yet unmistakably Damon. His jet black hair that only added to the contrast of his smooth, white skin and the endlessly black eyes that seemed to swallow you whole, containing infinite universes and starlight in their depths… all of it, all of him, lies buried beneath what are probably mounds of ash, the remnants of my own doing.
Wings of Destruction.
After our desperate trudge through the Dark Dimension, after fighting for Stefan to be freed from the hole of a cell he was thrown in, after Damon's lost vampirism and his quest to regain it, after everything that Shinichi, Misao, and Inari took from us- infesting and controlling the citizens of Fell's Church, reducing our town to rubble and its inhabitants to crazed animals- it was a… a tree that pulled the Wings from my back and set forth a devastating ruin on the once beautiful moon, charring the Great Tree that used to shade the entire expanse of the planet.
I can almost hear Damon's voice and see his arrogant flash of a smile at the prospect that his death was what pushed me over the edge. "See, my princess," he'd say. "We both knew you'd loved me all along."
And I did. I still do.
Elena Gilbert yawned, shaking out her silky, golden hair until it fanned across her shoulders, and wiped away the tears that always seemed to appear when she thought of Damon.
Despite that this topic always reminded her of what she'd lost, it felt kind of good to write about it again, though part of her still wished that she could actually talk to someone instead.
But for Stefan, the subject was still too painful. It's hard enough to lose someone you've known for a normal lifespan and he and Damon had shared many lifetimes together. For over 500 years, they'd fought and hated each other, Damon often taking any chance possible to humiliate his younger brother. But fighting or not, their bond had begun to strengthen near the end and that's the loss Stefan felt the most, Elena thought, the loss of potential for true brotherhood.
For Bonnie, much like Elena, the mere mention of Damon's name was enough to make her brown eyes shine with tears and, for someone as fragile as Bonnie often was, these tears didn't usually subside for quite a while. Bonnie had cared for Damon deeply and he for her. "Little redbird", he'd called her, which is better than "Mutt", the not-so-loving nickname he chose for Matt. Still, it meant that bringing him up was definitely off-limits when it came to the little witch.
Meredith and Matt were never big fans of Damon and not without reason, but that meant they couldn't really understand the loss Elena felt. They couldn't understand why she felt as if she'd left a large part of herself behind when she returned to Fell's Church.
No one else really knew Damon, except Sage, the beautiful vampire with bronzed skin and sharp copper eyes, and he was tucked away guarding the doors to what remained of the now-Six Kitsune Treasures.
So, that left her diary, the one place she could be honest about anything and confront the things she tried to hide, even from herself. It had revealed a lot about who she was in the months before, the girl with lapis lazuli eyes and silken, golden hair that embodied that of the Guardians, the girl that fought ruthlessly to rescue her love from hell only to lose her other to a hell of a different kind, because she was the girl who loved not one brother, but two.
Elena stood, hiding the blue velvet book that housed her most secret thoughts in the most secret of places: under the loose floorboard in her closet that was its predecessor's home in the months after her death.
It was late, the clock reading just before midnight, but though she was tired, she didn't feel like she could sleep. She was on edge, nervous, like she'd always been as a kid on the night before Christmas, anticipating Santa and her presents.
But what was she anticipating, now?
She knew the answer to that before she asked it. She also knew how ridiculous it was to anticipate it. Even after all this time, part of her awaited the caw of a crow outside her window, the flash of a lazy and brilliant smile, the shine of black eyes that could only mean Damon was back.
But she'd seen his death, witnessed the hum in their private telepathic frequency grow dimmer and dimmer. She'd sobbed and begged, kissed his cold lips and pleaded for him to open his eyes, slashed her own throat carelessly to provide him with blood to heal.
She'd even traveled to the Celestial Court and pleaded with the Guardians. Nonchalantly, they'd told her that they'd searched for him already and he was gone, his soul, everything that made him the careless, sarcastic deviant he was, was simply absent, blinked from existence in the instant his death occurred.
So, why did she continue to torture herself with hope for his return? She didn't dwell on things. She made plans and overcame what stood in her way. It was the way she had broken down the defenses that Stefan surrounded himself with, how she'd gotten through the metaphorical iron surrounding Damon's heart and soul, it was how, even as a slave, she'd persevered and saved Stefan from the Dark Dimension. She made plans A, B, C, and however many letters of the alphabet it took to get everything done. It was how she did everything.
The problem was they'd used their one and only plan, their only hope at getting Damon back, and had failed. Now, not only did she have no Wings to help her, no Power at all apart from the unusable Power that all humans had, she also no telepathic connection to anyone but Stefan, and only then when they were connected in other ways.
How many times did things look bleak when you were trying to rescue Stefan? A voice in her mind declared. But you refused to give up.
Yes, but Stefan wasn't dead. There was still hope. The logical part of her mind retorted. I watched Damon die. I saw the hollow green light in his eyes as that abominable tree grew through his body.
The voice laughed.
You, of all people, should know that death is never as simple as it seems.
She sighed, shaking herself. Stefan would be there soon and she didn't want him to pick up on her glum thoughts. She had to focus on something else.
Still, she couldn't help the nagging thought it in the back of her mind: What if he's still out there?
Stefan laid the stately buck he'd nearly drained on the ground, knowing he would heal. His heart was racing wildly, attempting to compensate for the lack of blood now circulating through his body in combination with fear at encountering the swift predator that came in a lean human body with dark, wavy hair and leaf green eyes. But he was strong and his heart beat continued to strengthen as the minutes passed.
Yes, he would live and Stefan could leave the forest knowing that he'd fed without needlessly ending another life.
Unfortunately, though, his hunt had taken him deeper into the woods than usual and that meant his return to Elena would be later than planned. He could use the Power he'd gained from feeding to shorten that time, but then the contribution of the buck would be all but pointless.
No, Stefan needed to conserve his strength, now more than ever because he was the only one strong enough to protect Elena and all of Fell's Church.
It was still a shock to realize that after half a millennium, he no longer had a brother. To be honest, he felt the absence of Damon more than he believed he would, especially considering that for the better part of those years, he'd wished for his brother's removal from his life in one way or another.
Sometimes thinking about that prompted him to think about the future. Not often because it was more than slightly depressing to realize that if Elena decided to not use the… if she decided to live a normal human life, after 60 years or so, he'd be completely on his own again, more so than he'd ever been.
Stefan pushed those thoughts from his mind; they led nowhere good and dwelling wouldn't change anything. Instead, he looked into the night sky, trying to clear his head. The large round moon was like a beacon among the stars, painted against the darkened sky. It had to be getting close to midnight by now and Elena would be waiting on him. Automatically, his footsteps came faster, teetering on the edge of using the precious Power he had, but thoughts of her only made the ache in his chest grow stronger.
Since he'd been home from the Dark Dimension, he'd come to appreciate every second with Elena that he got. For weeks on end, that was the only thing that sustained him when he should have perished from thirst long before. But knowing she was out there searching for him, seeing her ethereal form appear in his cell just as he thought he'd lose himself to the unrelenting mental torture, her astral tears nourishing him from the brink of death, it all just made it much more clear to him that she was the sustaining factor in his life.
She'd saved his life physically, but she's also woken something in him he'd long thought dead: happiness, hope and, most of all, love.
When Stefan arrived at Elena's house, he was happy to see her light still on. It was getting late and she should sleep soon, but he smiled at knowing he could see her keen, expressive eyes before she drifted off in his arms.
He was so preoccupied with seeing her standing her room, her golden hair lit up like a halo in the soft glow of her bedroom light, that, at first, he didn't realize that she wasn't coming to open the window as she usually did. Instead, she was facing her door, just standing there.
He leaned forward on the branch of the large tree in her yard, steadying himself with one hand and tapping on the window again.
She didn't move.
He sent out a tendril of Power to test her thoughts.
Was she sleep walking?
With a jolt, he hit a steel block around her mind that he'd never felt before. He couldn't sense anything at all: no moods, no thoughts, nothing. It was just… empty.
In one fluid motion he opened the window and slipped inside, touching her shoulder in hopes that he could get her attention without scaring her, but, again, she didn't react.
Looking at her face, he realized with a shock that tears were streaming down her cheeks, but her expression was blank, her eyes fixed on the wall behind him.
"Elena." He said, shaking her shoulder.
Nothing.
He didn't dare shake her harder for fear of hurting her, but he didn't know what else to do. Her expression, though he was sure he'd never seen her wear it, seemed almost familiar. It was almost like she was…
Almost like she was in a trance.
Bonnie.
Her expression reminded him of Bonnie when she'd often slipped into a trance, warning them of some danger before regaining awareness with no memory of what she'd said. But if whatever was possessing Elena wanted to send a message, why do it when no one was around to hear it?
"Who are you?" Stefan prompted, grabbing Elena by the shoulders again. "What do you want?"
He forced his limited Power to the brink, attempting to penetrate the wall surrounding Elena's mind, but instead of weakening, the wall seemed to push back with such force that he had to take a literal step back.
This message is not for you, it seemed to say.
All at once, his connection to Elena returned and he could feel her overwhelming anguish filling the room, pushing against the walls with such force that it felt as if it may physically crack the drywall. The pain was so raw, so powerful, that it made Stefan's own chest ache, like the heaviness of the emotion somehow made the air too dense to breathe.
And then, with a sob that seemed to be torn from her body, Elena's legs gave out, her entire body going slack. Stefan caught her just before she hit the ground, pulling her into his arms and stroking her hair.
"Stefan?" She said, looking up at him, confused. "Oh, Stefan."
Her face crumpled and great tears fell from the ocean of her eyes. She gripped onto his shirt, burying her face in his chest to stifle her cries. She was shaking so hard that he could barely keep hold on her.
"Oh, lovely love. What is it? Please, talk to me."
She shook her head slightly as if to say, "I can't. The pain is too much."
And he could feel that it was. It was pain past the point of words, unnameable and unbearable. If he himself hadn't felt its weight, he wouldn't have believed a person could feel such torture and live.
He'd only seen her this inconsolable one other time and it had been just as hard to witness then. Anything that hurt Elena this way tore at Stefan's own soul, but much like now, he hadn't had a way to console her then, either.
At the memory, an emotion he was quickly becoming reacquainted with began to mingle with the tangle of feelings still screaming from within Elena. For a fleeting moment, he was glad that she could no longer sense his thoughts or moods outside their private connection, which only occurred when he sank his fangs into the porcelain skin of her throat and they became one. Very few times had he had thoughts that he was ashamed to share with her, but this was one of those times, because the last time she'd sobbed so violently, it was at the side of his brother.
It was then that he'd realized he'd gravely underestimated their connection. She'd all but killed herself to try and save his life, cutting her own throat, kissing his brother's lips with such a mix of desperation, agony, and love that it still sometimes jarred him.
In that moment, when she'd pulled from his arms and his attempts to comfort her, when she'd delved into Damon's mind to share in one last clandestine exchange, the shameful feeling of jealousy crept into his bones. Envy for his dying brother. Pathetic.
And, yet, he couldn't shake it, even now. Even though Damon was gone, he still felt that there was a part of Elena that his brother had understood and he never could. There was a piece of her that she shielded from everyone else, a piece that was intimate, secret, yet still very much a part of who she was. Which meant that as much as she was his, she was also Damon's.
Elena had just decided to go downstairs to get a glass of water before Stefan showed up, which she knew would be about any time. He'd sent her a text telling her that he was going out hunting and, on those nights that he ventured into the previously-infested Old Wood to feed, he was usually still back at her house before midnight.
She glanced at her clock. 11:53. She should have enough time to run down and back before Stefan got there.
But as she'd turned towards the door, her room fell away and she was no longer staring at the cream door that led to the hall. Instead, she stared out at plains of white and gray covering an otherwise barren earth.
This was completely different than astral projection, which she'd used several times to visit to Stefan when he had been held prisoner in the Shi no Shi; those out of body experiences came with the feeling of being catapulted through walls and dimensions. Really, though, it was her love for Stefan pulling her to him along the golden tether that bound her heart to his.
But, tonight, there was no time lapse, no whisking above towns and the sleeping souls beneath her. It was instantaneous; she was in her room and, then, she was here… on the burnt moon of the Nether World.
Stunned, she stood still, closing her eyes and reopening them. The sight didn't change and looking behind her only revealed more of the same eerie grayness.
Surely, she couldn't actually be here.
But the microscopic pieces of ash still suspended in the air clung to her skin. Every breath in coated her mouth with the smoky taste, filling her nose with its familiar scent. All of her senses were alive and screaming that this was real.
"Hello?" She said, but her voice was lost before the word left her lips, so instead she projected the question with her mind, hoping whoever brought her here would hear her telepathic call.
There was nothing but silence.
A thought crept into her mind.
Damon? She sent out and waited, her heart pounding in anticipation. Damon, please, are you out there?
Again, there was no response and the hope she'd had was crushed, hurting her more than she thought possible for the momentary feeling. It was a ridiculous hope, anyway. As powerful as Damon had been, even his Power had limits. He couldn't have transported her to another dimension, which meant that either this was someone else's doing, or she wasn't really here.
Another thought broke its way through her subconscious. If she really was here somehow, maybe…
Before she could talk herself out of it, she began searching the flat land for anything that might indicate where the once Great Tree had stood. The ash from its remains had been falling for who knows how long; time went by differently in different dimensions. It had been weeks in Fell's Church, but it could have been months or longer here.
Unable to see anything that might point her in the right direction, she settled for heading toward where the ash seemed to be the deepest. She trudged through shin-deep dust for what felt like hours, calling out mentally while dragging her feet along the earth to feel for any markers.
There was nothing, though. The ground was flat. The roots of the tree had been destroyed when she'd used Wings of Destruction and the only piece of the branches that remained was still pinning Damon to the ground.
When the ash had almost reached her knees, her toe caught on a rock and she fell forward, white smoke billowing up to encase her. A water droplet landed on her hand and she looked up. She was almost sure it didn't rain here; the Great Tree's life had been extended by the endless pools of water at its edge.
Then she realized the water had come from her. She hadn't even realized she was crying. Angrily, she wiped away the tears, feeling the white powder smear across her face. She was tired of crying and tired of hurting. Who would do this? Who would bring her here just to torture her?
What do you want from me? She screamed telepathically, but the silence stretched on, pressing in on her eardrums.
She sat back on her heels with a sigh, feeling frustrated but determined to resume her search. She didn't really know what she hoped to find. Even if Damon was still physically here, even if he was somehow preserved—forever beautiful with sculpted cheekbones, soft, sensual lips, and raven hair—his mind and soul were gone.
Still, she felt compelled to find him, as if seeing his face again would give her the strength to keep going once she got back to Fell's Church— however she was going to do that. There was a logical part of her mind that knew no matter how many times she saw him, she would always want more. She would always want to stay another second, minute, or hour and, even if she stayed forever, she would never get her fill because the part of Damon that she desperately craved was absent.
But she wasn't listening to that part of her mind. She had officially put it on mute, picked herself up, and was looking around for a new direction to walk in when something caught her eye.
In the distance, through the dust still raining down, she saw a curve. Not just any curve, but a significant curve, like the ground underneath the ash was much higher in one part than all the rest. Like something under the gray-white powder was pushing it up.
Her heart dropped at the thought of Damon lying underneath, but she couldn't focus on that.
She took off running, the lessened gravity of the Moon allowing each step to take her further than she could have ever managed on Earth. She tripped and fell to her knees, again, but pushed up and bolted forward, ignoring throbbing of her legs and the searing pain in her lungs.
When she finally reached the arched area, the powder was almost thigh high. She began scooping dust by the armfuls, digging and pushing until a small hole was formed. She reached blindly into the ash as low to the ground as she could get, feeling around for something, anything, that might give her hope that this was the right spot.
Her heart was beating wildly from anticipation, her chest rising and falling rapidly, lungs burning with every breath. Ash was caked on her limbs and mixed with the golden locks that stuck to her sweaty face. She was sure that she looked like something from a nightmare. If anyone in Fell's Church saw her, they'd scarcely recognize the girl she used to be, the girl that wouldn't be caught dead with a hair out of place.
But she didn't care. It would all be worth it. She just knew it.
And she was right.
Exhausted and overheated, she dug her hand into the frustrating ash and her fingers brushed against something solid. She stuck her arm down again and felt it just outside her grasp.
And, then, she had it… something that felt familiar, but foreign without her eyesight. Soft and smooth with a hard oval. Her heart clenched in realization just as she felt fingers clamp around her own.
This is my first fanfiction from the book series (I have several from the TV series, but, in my eyes, they are completely separate). What did you guys think? Please review and let me know! Thank you! -Krista