Disclaimer: Julie Plec, Kevin Williamson, and L.J. Smith own the Vampire Diaries. Nicholas Sparks owns The Notebook. I don't own anything but a couple a daydreams and the occasional brilliant idea.

Prologue

He doesn't know what he expected would greet him when he appeared on that doorstep, his own doorstep, but a furious Elena Gilbert-Salvatore was not it. "You shouldn't have left," she whispers heatedly, and he wonders if she is worried that the others will hear her. "She's only gotten worse since you left. We had to lock her in her room so she won't hurt herself.

That cuts him deeper than anything else could have, and his eyes turn on the man standing beyond her, trying to avoid Elena's burning gaze. "I had to go," he answers quietly, more to himself than anyone else. He clutches the little ragged book and closes his eyes for a moment. "I had to go get it, Elena. You have to understand." The words sound empty and hopeless, even to his own ears, and Elena's eyes soften.

"I don't understand. My best friend is dying. I don't understand anything." She sighs, and she steps out of the doorway. He quickly walked inside, nodding to Damon as he passes him. He looks around the house, taking in the familiar rooms that seem so dark without her.

"Is she going to die?"

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, and he almost immediately regrets them. Damon looks away pointedly, and Elena glares at him. "Don't you think that she can hear you?" she hisses, and he can't miss the tears shining in her eyes. "We've tried everything. No one knows how to help her, not even the other witches. If I ever get my hands on that crazy bitch again, I'll rip her apart, I swear. I'm not going to let her get away with this."

He watches as the mild-mannered brunette loses her temper, and he can't help but agree. His lip curls in distaste as he thinks about the redheaded witch again, a bitter taste filling his mouth. He hates her. Not for trying to kill him. No, he can't blame her for that. But bringing his wife into this was unforgivable, and he wouldn't rest until she had paid for it.

Except for now. Now, he would rest and be with the one he loved when she needed him most. He wouldn't leave her again. "How far along has the disease progressed?" he asks, brisk tone painfully loud in the tension-filled air. He wonders if she can hear him, but he answers the question for himself. Of course she can. She's a vampire after all.

Damon shakes his head slowly, and he can see the pain in the dark-haired vampire's eyes. "She's thirsty all the time, but she throws up any blood we try to feed her. Her temperature's too high, but she says that she's freezing. She..." He sighs, trailing off..

"What?" he asks sharply, desperately. "She what, Damon?"

"She didn't recognize either of us this morning." Elena's voice is quiet, almost a murmur. "She doesn't know where she is, and she keeps asking us to take her home. There's a chance that she won't know you when you go in there."

He swallows back the lump in his throat. He had expected this, but not so soon. He isn't ready to lose her yet. It's all happening too quickly, and he can't take it. "I need to see her," he says, and he grits his teeth when he voice breaks. "It's urgent."

Elena nods. "She's in the blue room. Come on, I'll take you to her." She moves away from her husband and walks down the hall, motioning for him to follow.

Despite himself, he growls. It's his house, dammit. He won't let her treat him like some concerned stranger who decided to stop by. He glances over to Damon, who shakes his head slightly. Don't argue with it, his friend's expression said. Elena knows what she's doing. Just go. He can feel the fear gnawing at him, and his knuckles are white as he tightens his grip on the book and follows.

There's the window she broke when we got into a fight. She was throwing something at my head while I walked out. There's that ridiculous couch she bought back in the '60s. There's the gardenias she planted three years ago. I told her that they would never grow, and I think she tried that much harder just so it would prove me wrong. The memories leap unbidden to his mind as he catches glimpses of the other rooms. Vivid recollections resurface, all her odd little quirks, like the way she liked to watch the sun rise from that particular rocking chair. He remembers the fights over the decades, screaming and declarations of hatred that always led back to the bedroom. He remembers how she laughed, the way the sunlight looked in her hair, the way she would smile when she was trying so hard not to cry. He remembers, and it breaks his heart.

Elena leads him all the way to the back of the house. The room awaiting them is the last one on the left, and the door is closed. The brunette turns to him, looking him straight in the eye. "I know how you feel," she says. "I don't know what I would do if I lost Damon, and you two have been together for almost one hundred years now. Maybe...maybe it's just time to say goodbye."

It's all he can do to shake his head. "No," he says, voice rough, "not yet. I won't give up on her, Elena." He hesitates with his next question. "I really appreciate all that you and Damon have done, but...I'd like to be alone with her for a while. Do you think you two could leave for a few hours?"

She nods, understanding. "Of course. We'll head up to Richmond to see Kat and Stefan. Take as long as you need with her. We'll be back around nine." She opens the door and walks inside. He follows quickly, shutting the door behind them.

She had always wanted to be a princess when she was younger, and now she looks the part. Sleeping Beauty resting peacefully for all eternity, beautiful and pale. Snow White waiting for her prince to come and awaken her with true love's kiss. But he isn't Prince Charming, just a knight in silver armor so tarnished it no longer shines. Everyone lives happily ever after in fairy tales, but he knows this isn't a fairy tale because how could he be happy when she is gone. She may be a princess, but this isn't a story with a happy ending, because Caroline Forbes is dying.

"Hi, Caroline," Elena greets softly, and the blonde stirs, opening her dark, hungry eyes. She immediately tenses, but Elena presses on. "Do you remember me?" the brunette asks.

"Yes," Caroline replied, never once taking her eyes off of him. "Who's this?" She nods to him, and he considers dying right then and there when he sees the confusion and fear in her expression. The sunlight shines down on her like a halo, and he stares at her, ravenously devoting every bit of it to memory.

"This is a good friend of mine," Elena answers calmly. "He's going to sit with you while Damon and I go out. Is that okay?"

Caroline looks him over again and nods hesitantly. "I guess so." They both watch as Elena smiles, evidently relieved, and leaves. The door clicks shut, and her eyes snap back to him as she pulls closer one of the many blankets surrounding her.

"I thought I'd read to you for a little while, just to pass the time," he says, trying to keep his voice calm and level. He notices her eyes light up, and he smiles slightly.

"What are you going to read?" she asks curiously, moving a bit closer to see the book in his hand.

"A true story," he replies, walking over to the bed and taking a seat in the chair beside it. "A story about two people who fall in love and do a lot of stupid things that almost ruin them forever." He runs his hand over the cover of the notebook. It is ancient, close to falling to pieces. The cover was a plain dark brown, stained darker by age and the elements. He opens it to the first page. The carefully printed words have faded slightly, but it's still legible. He's read it at least a thousand times, knows every word by heart, but it's never enough.

Caroline is transfixed, her earlier suspicion gone. "What happens to them?" she asks, pushing herself up to a sitting position. He doesn't miss the soft whimper of pain or her hands' trembling. He decides not to comment on it. If she's anything like my Caroline, she'll deny it, he thinks with a slight smile.

"Well, you'll just have to see," he replies. "Are you comfortable? It's a long story, and I can't stop once I've started."

She nods, finally leaning back down into the pillows with a sigh of defeat. "Yes, I'm fine. Can we just start the story now?"

He chuckles slightly. "Of course." He clears his throat and looks down at the first page, thumb rubbing over the familiar handwriting.

"The first night they met was the carnival in Mystic Falls. It was June, 1940, and Caroline Forbes was 17."

I honestly have no idea what this is. The plot bunny hit me like a ton of bricks, and this was the result. The story will follow the basic storyline of The Notebook, with some added subplots and changes. I hope you enjoyed it, and I'd love to know what you thought. Review please!