AR One-Shot

I do not own the Vampire diaries

The Imposter

Damon POV

Why is it that I find myself having to watch them? I want to stop this spying, I could amuse myself for hours just being me, but she keeps me still. I know who he touches, and it isn't Elena. He doesn't realise the difference in her smell, or the different ways she holds her self, how she stands, how she moves. He hasn't noticed because he is weak in her power.

If I could just go down there and ruin his evening I would, but her likeness to Elena stops me from approaching. Would I be able to kill her, when it came to the final blow, or would that god-forsaken image of Elena, scared and cowering before me, make it impossible to drive a stake through her heart?

Why, why, why is this so difficult? - does it really matter which girl I kill?

It does, I know this. I have spent the last 145 years mourning Katherine, the witch in the foyer below me, the imposter. I know that if I murdered Elena the pain would never go away – I would be mourning for the rest of my immortal existence. I would rather see her alive and with my brother than not see her at all.

The handgun filled with silver bullets feels heavy in my hand as I aim it at the damn woman's back. I knew it had it's risk, but a vampire can survive a bullet wound with ease.

Elena POV

When I look into his eyes, those twin pools of green, I see my whole life before me, and I see myself as a grey haired crone in no less than 45 years. I see him as the stunning man before me forever. I will get old and my skin will sag, but he will stay handsome forever.

Would he still love me, even then?

What is there to experience with him, what kind of future do we have? We would not be able to have children, no friends or family nearby after just a couple of years; I will age, have wrinkles, and eventually be mistaken for his mother, but he will remain an Adonis, perfect and young.

Stephen POV

I can smell him, and I know exactly where he's hiding. He's wearing a different scent today, a metallic perfume that stings my nostrils. Elena looks up at me with tears in her eyes, these have a different smell, a salty and bitter reminder of his own. I can see anguish in her eyes, those fathomless eyes that hold so many secrets.

"What is the matter, Elena?" I ask, moments after the tears begun to trickle down her face. If only I knew what she was thinking, and then at least I would know how to comfort her. She is all I think about, all that I feel aware of.

She does not answer, and instead collapses to the floor in a tangle of bootleg trousers and long sleeved top. Her eyes are open wide, but not as if she is seeing anything. No matter how much I repeat her name, she does not stir from her position on the floor. My hand splashes in ruby waters surrounding her. The tide of crimson brushes my designer jeans, and seeping into the fabric.

I turn her face towards me, and still she does not blink. She sees nothing and her irises grow cloudier by the second.

"Elena!" I shout.

Damon's POV

He'll thank me later. He'll realise he's once again fallen for her tricks. He'll thank me. Even as I think this, I search for any signs to confirm what I have just done.

I remember the exact tone of her skin, a pallor that made her hair fall like shadows on her face. I remember that flawless face, the perfect body. I remember how her lips were far fuller than any of the other women of my human life. I also remember the necklace, the blue pendent on a platinum thread, that I had given to Elena the previous day. She hadn't taken it off when she returned from school this afternoon.

"Elena!" I shout from my hiding place in the tall trees.

What have I done?