My eyes were hard as I stared at Stefan. We were both covered in dirt, jeans ripped at the knees, hands scraped. I couldn't even imagine what my hair was doing, and my eyes I knew were rimmed in red from coughing. The fire…it had been destruction.
But there was something else going on besides almost dying in the fire Uncle John had set. There was something else hiding behind Stefan's green eyes, something else he wasn't telling me, again. But I needed to hear it. He was going to tell me.
"Stefan. What is it?" I took a step closer to him, my converse sneakers making no noise on the ground. Damon was some feet away, practically doubled over. He'd been in extreme pain, thanks to Jonathon Gilbert's invention and Uncle John's vervain injection. But he would be okay.
Stefan looked as if he were about to speak, but stopped himself, and began again.
"Elena. You've been through so much tonight, we just need to get you ho-"
"Do not say home, Stefan. I don't want to go home right now. I want to know what happened. Is someone hurt? Is everyone okay?" My voice was becoming increasingly more panicked. Stefan only stared at me. I turned to Damon in frustration, but he gave a look that said, I don't know what your boyfriend's not telling' ya. Damon seemed almost as curious as me.
"Who is it, Stefan? Tell me!"
I took another step forwards, and stopped dead when the name slipped from his lips. "Jeremy."
Just one word. One name. That was all it took for my world to completely shatter around me.
"What?" It was all I could think to say. Tears were already welling in my eyes. What?
"Jeremy didn't make it, Elena. He didn't make it out of the fire."
I heard the words Stefan was speaking, but I refused to believe them. The part of my mind that was weaker, that gave in to missing my parents, loving Jeremy to a fault, caring for Damon- it had already folded in on itself. It was already destroyed. But I had a stubborn side. Tenacity was not typically my middle name, but in this instance, it was all I had to hold onto. Or maybe it was more like denial. If I was drowning in a sea of loss, then denial was the lifejacket that could save me, if anything could. Stefan could always be wrong.
"No. No, I don't believe you," I replied, shaking my head childishly as the tears began sliding down my face uncontrollably. My voice was thick, with anger, with fear. I didn't believe him. I couldn't.
"Elena. I wouldn't lie to you. Not about this." Stefan closed the gap between us, stepping forward and cupping his hands around the tops of my arms, rubbing up and down in a comforting gesture. I was vaguely aware that Damon was staring at us from where he stood, but when I turned to look at him, I realized I was wrong. He wasn't staring at us; he was staring at me.
Where Stefan was insecure, Damon was steadfast. Where Stefan was jealous, Damon was worried. Where Stefan lied, Damon told the truth. But I didn't have time to really think about these things. I just thought, No. Over and over and over again.
"No." I finally said out loud, looking up into Stefan's eyes. "You're wrong. He's fine. Of course he's fine. I have to go see him."
I tried to wrench myself from Stefan's grip, but he held on.
"Stefan, let me go," I said, grabbing his wrists and throwing him off of me. His strength was superior, even if he wasn't as strong as other vampires, but still, he let me do it. And then I began to run, with Stefan and Damon staring after me. I tore through the night as fast as I could.
The smoke was still heavy in the air, choking down my throat, blackening my lungs, but I ran through it anyways. And then, I found him, on the pavement near my father's old office. There were firemen and ambulances all around, but they didn't stop me from approaching him.
Jeremy looked fine. He looked peaceful, even. Beyond the smudges of soot and ash and how pale he looked in the moonlight, his face held the same expression I'd seen on him the several occasions I'd opened his door during the night, checking to make sure he was home and safe.
"Jeremy," I gasped dropping to my knees, in front of him, I held his hands in my hands, squeezing them, shaking him. I took me a minute to realize that someone was screaming- and then it took me another before I realized it was me.
"Jeremy, wake up, wake up, wake up," I yelled, pushing the hair off his face. My blood was pounding in my ears. My head was throbbing, coherent thought processes completely absent. If people were staring at me, I didn't know it. And I didn't care. And that's when she spoke.
"He isn't going to wakeup, Elena. He's dead."
I turned to see Anna. She was a few feet away from me, her own makeup free face marred with tear tracks, her arms folded tightly against her small frame.
My eyebrows knitted together in confusion at her words; they were so different from Stefan's. So blunt. I guess bluntness was less of a vampire thing and more of an Anna-and-Damon-thing, but whatever it was, I believed it when she said it.
I didn't let go of his hands, though. Long after Anna had walked away, and Stefan and Damon had eventually come to find me, I didn't let go of his hands. Didn't let go until one of the lingering M.E.'s asked Stefan to pull me from the body, it was time for him to go.
But even after leaving his side, there was nothing else I could see besides the face of my dead brother.
I was truly alone in this world.