Three quarters of my sire line are dead. Those that remain alive owe their lives to Rebekah's mourning wail; it drew my attention from my frantic search to where my sister had already found her.

She's laying in my bed now – the bed that was ours a week ago – without a heartbeat. Rebekah assures me she will wake up soon, but how long she will stay awake remains to be seen; long enough that I can apologize, assuming I can get out the words.

I can hear Rebekah now; she is in the drawing room screaming over Niklaus. He's angry because Rebekah gave her blood and she died, and she is yelling about having no other choice; Elena was half dead when Rebekah found her.

No matter what choice she makes I know my next move is to hunt down Tristan and flay him alive, remove every internal organ, let him heal and do it all over again.

The bastard got away in the confusion.

I'm torn from my murderous plans when her body convulses once, twice, and then she bolts up and gasps for breath.

The only thing that keeps me from pulling her into my arms and lever letting go is the knowledge of what she's experienced.

"Elena."

Her eyes snap to me and the fear shifts to something else. I know that look, it's the one I put there a week before in my misguided attempt to protect her.

I see her lick the roof of her mouth and know the hunger she feels on an intimate level. She knows what is happening to her; my face gives it away, or maybe she remembers Rebekah.

It's habit that brings my hand up, I lower it when she pulls back.

There is nothing wrong with her memory.

There is so much I want to say, but the only words I can force out are: "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" She crosses her arms, glares. "You broke my heart and all you can say is you're sorry?"

Her voice rises in pitch, fire flashes in her eyes. it's the angriest I have ever seen her, and she obviously hates me now, but I can't let her die believing the things I said.

"I lied, Elena. I was trying to protect you, and you wouldn't have left if I asked. I wanted to keep you safe from the enemies…"

"That would torture me?" She cuts me off.

I can see the tension in every muscle of her body.

I don't think she realizes that she is doing it, but she has drawn her knees together and lifted them. She's a few seconds from wrapping her arms around her legs and rocking. I want to hold her and let her break down like I know she wants to.

I lift my hand towards her and she recoils, hissing.

"Don't touch me." She fixes her eyes on a spot on the wall.

I drop my hand in my lap and sigh. The shame prickles at the base of my spine. I did this. I'm responsible for the pain in her eyes and the harm that came to her body. She was targeted because of her relationship with me, because Tristan knew – despite my efforts – how important she is to me. She should have been with me; safe and protected.

"I'm sorry Elena." I reach into my pocket and take the bag of blood, placing it on the nightstand. "Rebekah tried to heal you, but sometimes – when the injuries are too severe – vampire blood doesn't work."

Her eyes narrow.

I'm certain she already knows that she is in transition, but I need to say. I set a ring next to the blood bag. I had it spelled a few months ago – just in case.

"You have a decision to make."

She must hear the question in my tone because she closes her eyes.

It wasn't meant to happen like this. Her hand was never supposed to be forced.

I see a tear catch on her eyelashes when I lean closer to hear her whisper.

"Get out."