The nightmares fill her mind the next night. Her whole feels consumed by fire as she tosses and turns beneath the blankets. The horrid images invade her head, making her unsure of what to believe.

It's unbearable.

The thoughts interrupt her usual sleep pattern, making it nearly impossible to think straight. She knows she's sleeping, and she knows the images aren't the truth.

So why do they feel so real?

She, Elena Gilbert, has watched dozens upon dozens of people die. Some at the hands of her enemies, some even, at the hands of herself. But this… this was horrid.

The pictures reel through her head on a loop, leaving a gaping hole in her chest where her heart is supposed to be.

For a few moments, it's like traveling back in time, but everything moves in a slow pace. After a minute or two, she can feel hands shaking her shoulders. But the person is blurry, the voice muffled as if they have their head in a pillow.

She's screaming now, her mouth so dry as if it's filled with cotton. She has never wanted anything more than a drink of water in her life.

The voice is far away. "Elena,"

Her head snaps up, searching for the owner. Nothing.

"Elena," The person is shaking her harder now. The voice is becoming clearer.

She can still hear herself screaming, whacking her arms in attempt to keep the person away. No. No. She can't let them (him) get to her.

"Elena," She's struggling. "Elena calm down."

There's another voice. "Should we vervain her?"

The first voice. "No." It's firm and it means business.

"Stay away from me," She's hisses (like a cat almost) "Stay away from him." Truthfully, she has no idea who she is trying to protect.

"Open your eyes," She can feel a hand on her cheek. "Look at me." She's trying to open her eyes. She's trying.

"Please," Elena can hear her own voice pleading, lips trembling. "Please."

It's one of those moments where there is nothing there. When you can't figure out the truth and a lie. You are in a state of mind where everything feels fake. There's a fear behind the smallest things (the smallest moments) and anything can frighten you.

The voice is back, trying to soothe her. "Please what Elena?"

It's black where she's at, (wherever that is) pitch black. She can't even see her hand in front of her. Even so, her words ring out softly. "Please don't hurt him."

"She's disoriented." It's a girls voice this time, panicked.

"She's not," A thumb touches her cheek. "She's remembering."

Elena can feel the tears cascading down her cheeks. She's not sure why she's crying. There is really no reason besides fear. What is she even afraid of?

She can feel the insides of her own stomach tossing and turning like waves. Old blood wanting to spill over the banks. She can feel the bile rising in her throat. She swallows it anyways.

What's wrong with her?'

God, she needs help.

Moments pass (which end up feeling like weeks) and soon the feeling of a gentle kiss is pressed against her sweaty forehead. "It's okay," A voice whispers. "It's okay." It's not.

She is starting to panic again, the sweat is beading down her forehead, and she is doing everything in her power not to fidget. This has happened before. It's happened when Stefan nearly drove her over Wickery Bridge. The night after her parents died. God, it even happened the night she became a vampire.

Elena can't remember the last few moments before this black feeling. But, it is never ending, wanting to swallow her up whole, and take her away. It's working.

The voice is back. "Elena can you focus?" Focus? Focus on what?

She nods. "Good," There's those lips again. "Good."

Her words come out slow (soft) "Help me," She is saying.

"I will sweetheart," The voice is obviously trying to soothe her again.

She can't feel it working.

"Now," There is a sigh in the background. "Focus on the sound of my voice."

Who is this? She thinks, her head trying to figure out why it sounds so familiar.

"Okay," She's scared, no terrified.

"Open your eyes Elena,"

"I can't," Her lip trembles.

"You can,"

"No. No," She is begging.

"Why not?" The voice (the man, she can tell now) is merely asking her a question.

"Because I'm scared," She admits.

"What are you scared of?"

"The man," She hisses, her own voice is now turning slightly bitter. "The man told me he is going to hurt them. He is going to hurt him. I can't let that happen."

"I'm not going to let that happen. I promise you. Now," He takes a breath. "open your eyes for me."

Elena is gripping onto this voice so hard that she can feel her head start to hurt. There is something about this voice that brings her comfort. This voice makes her want to listen.

So she tries.

Her brown eyes feel as if something has glued them shut. It hurts, but she's doing it. Slowly, peeling back her eyelids, she finally looks the man in the face.

God, his eyes, (his everything) are filled with worry. She can tell that it's taking everything he has for him not to tremble (much like she already is). He's scared, but it's not like she is. She is scared of a much greater power that her brain can't wrap itself around. But him, he is scared for her.

"There," His blue eyes are dancing over her body, checking every part of her. Finally, a satisfied looks sweeps over his face, and he turns his head to look at a sandy haired man behind him. "Do you think she'll be okay?'

The man nods, and Elena knows she knows him. But, her head is spinning and her words arent forming on her tongue. She is not good with names at the moment.

"She should be fine. This is just another side effect." A side effect of what?

"Why is she so scared?" It isn't until now that she notices the other bodies in the room. The person speaking is a wavy, blonde headed girl. "It's us. She has no reason to be scared of us."

Again, the sandy haired man speaks, "She doesn't know what she's doing. She could be hallucinating," He turns to the blue eyed man. "Kind of like the whole werewolf bite sanario."

The what? Nevertheless, she pushes his words away. She's confused, feeling like she has PTSD at the moment. It is not a good feeling.

Her eyes trace back to the man directly in front of her. He's the concerned one. "I'm cold," She whispers, gently moving her hands to rub her arms. He touches her hand, and she suddenly wants to jerk away from him. It only lasts a moment before she sinks into his touch. He's warm.

"You're freezing," He corrects, reaching across her bed to grasp a fuzzy blanket. Shaking it out, he places it on her lap. Then he looks at her. "Do you know who I am?"

Should she?

A few moments pass, and she bites her lip. "Not exactly,"

From the corner of her eye, she can see the blonde haired girl. Her eyes are saucer wide.

Elena speaks again, watching the man this time. "Should I?"

He closes his orbs for a second of two. "You should." He confirms.

Her life is a mess.

"Elena?" She raises her head. It's the blonde girl. "Do you know who any of us are?"

She scans the room. Three faces. Three unfamiliar faces. "No,"

Elena suddenly feels frustrated, a feeling of nausea sweeps over her as well. It's all coming at once.

Pushing the feeling down, she tries to focus on something else so she doesn't throw up all over the blanket on her lap. It's yellow, and soft. It's a good blanket.

What is her life coming to? She is trying to think about a stupid blanket and not about the strangers in her room. Then again. they're not exactly total strangers. They seem familiar enough.

A rumble of her stomach brings her out of her thoughts, and she suddenly feels queasy again. Her eyes dart around the room. "I'm going to be sick," She announces to no one in particular.

She just hopes someone will listen. They do, or he does. Within a matter of seconds, he's handing her a pink polka dotted trash can.

It's empty. It won't be for long.

The blue eyed man is holding her hand out her eyes and face. His eyes are slightly clouding over as she leans over the empty can.

Her stomach rolls and she heaves.

She doesn't know what she's expecting to happen and she throws the contents of her stomach away, literally. But, the smell is even worse than the actual throwing up part. It's old, and bitter.

The metalic taste of blood is far less satisfying coming out as it was going in. The blood gets tangled with her taste buds, and it just makes it ten times more miserable.

She heaves again.

In the middle of all that the taste triggers something else. A memory maybe?

She's coughing and breathing hard. There is blood everywhere all over the white bathroom.

She's looking at herself in a mirror now as old blood drips down her chin. Gross.

"I"m here. I'm here," Elena can hear the urgency over the phone. When did she have time to take a phone call? "Where are you?"

"I'm in the basement bathroom," She's cleaning (well, trying to) when the door handle rattles. "Is that you at the door?'

"Not yet,"

"Sorry there's someone in here!" She's tries to keep her anxiety level down. "Damon hurry." She whispers into the phone, her voice breaking.

"Damon, thank god," She takes the dress bag from him.

It's the concerned blue eyed man.

"Sorry," She turns to the man sitting on the couch. "I spilled coffee all over my dress." Before she shuts the door, she gives Damon a grateful little smile (she's still worried).

The scene cuts away and they're (she and Damon) are walking outside the church.

"Did you bring the blood bag?"

"You wanna say that a little louder?' He shoots her a look.

She ignores it.

Damon hands her a bag, she immediately tears the top off.

It only takes a number of seconds, and she is spitting the blood out.

He's gripping her chin with his hand. "No I can't," She says. "It tastes like-" She cuts herself off as Damon rubs the blood off her chin.

"What's wrong with me?'

"I don't know. Maybe it's your doppelganger blood, you're rejecting the transition," His eyes move over her face with concern.

"I'm dying aren't I?'

"No you're not dying," He's serious. "You just need to drink from the vein."

"No. No. I can't risk killing anyone Damon," She looks away from him. "Maybe I'm better off dead."

He grips her bare shoulders, staring into her eyes. "Don't you think like that. Elena," His voice softens. "You'll be fine."

His gaze is so intense that she has no other choice but to believe him.

His eyes are so blue.

"Okay," His voice is so quiet that she barely hears him. But she does.

For a few moments it's like a staring contest. She's not sure who's winning.

Elena is pulled from the memory, but it still feels like she's attached somehow. Damon's eyes are still staring her down.

He's still concerned and it's the very same look. "You okay?"

"I think so," She lets go of the stinking trash can as he pulls it from her grip.

He brushes a lock of hair from her face that has fallen from his hand. He isn't afraid to wipe the blood from her lips with his bare fingers.

It's just like the memory.

Watching him as he sets the trash can aside, his eyes soften. "Are you still cold?"

"Not as much," It's true. She isn't.

It's mainly background noise now, but people are beginning to file from the room.

She's alone with him.

"Will you stay?" Elena questions before Damon has a chance to move.

He's nodding, climbing behind her in bed, and wrapping his arms around her.

She can feel his chin on top of her head.

He's suddenly not so much of a stranger to her. Good.

"I'll stay as long as you need me to Elena," His voice is barely above a whisper, but it's the thing that lolls her off to sleep.

It's been forever, but I'M ALIVE! :)

Inspiration struck me yesterday, and BAM! This just sort of happened.

I can't tell you how much I've seriously missed you all, but the past few weeks have been crazy! School is slowly winding down (I'm on countdown) and it's a really nice feeling because I have felt super stressed.

How are you all doing? Are you all watching TVD like me (sad and depressed every week)? I'm still trying to focus on the good delena moments, and let me tell you this weeks episode was filled with tons the them! (Damon's speech had me jumping up and down).

Am I the only person that feels like if Elena wouldn't have chosen to forget Damon in the first place then the cure thing wouldn't be such a problem right now? Before, she knew their story and she knew how she felt.

I mean, I know she still does now too, but it doesn't feel as powerful or something now that she's forgotten (IDK maybe that's just me).

I love you all SO much! Thank you for all your support with this story!

XOXO,

Megan.

PS: Forgive any grammar mistakes