Chapter 10: Come One, Come All
He's just…gone.
He's right in front of me, but he's not here. Not anymore.
I don't…
I can't breathe.
Jeremy.
There's a sound to my left but I don't raise my head to look. Nothing else matters except the body I'm draped over that isn't moving.
Somewhere, a door opens.
But my brother is dead and I don't care.
The words are thick and fuzzy, far away when Damon's last name is being said questioningly. Silence only follows it, and when I look up, Ellie is in front of me, checking for Jeremy's pulse. I want to push her hands away. I know she's his daughter, but he's my brother, and I don't want anyone touching him.
There's a tug and I know what's happening, and I scream, scrambling for purchase. But I can't hold on and I'm ripped away, suddenly next to Damon outside the house.
He takes a step toward the street and I'm pulled along, as though there's an invisible rope dragging me behind him.
I glance back at the house as my feet shuffle me forward, away from the place where my brother's body lies.
I didn't get to say goodbye.
I don't know where we're going.
I don't watch the streets or the cars or even look at the town. I don't know why I ever cared.
I just follow Damon, letting him blindly lead me because I can't not be with him.
It's only the second time I've wished to disappear, for him to let me go. I'd rather not feel than feel this.
He stops and so do I, tightening my arms that are hugged around my body. I sniffle. But I don't hear it. Damon's cough covers it.
Something about that is wrong. Why is he coughing?
I raise my head and find him next to a tree, his hand pressed against it as he bends over, his body lurching as he heaves and sputters.
"Damon?"
I walk around to his side and he's sick, choking on his gags. I lay my hand on his back and rub a soothing circle, and he catches his breath, spitting with revulsion before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Fucking disgusting," he mutters and I pull my hand back.
God, what I wouldn't give for him, anyone, to just hug me right now. Is that too much to ask? My dad's arm never left my shoulder at my grandmother's funeral when I was eight, and it was an anchor that I clung to, even though I realize now how much he probably needed someone to hold him.
And I need that sanctuary but I can't touch Damon and he can't hold me. He calls the Other Side purgatory, but it's not. It's the tenth level of Dante's hell.
He keeps walking and I realize that we're by the cemetery. I hope we're just passing it by on his way to a bar.
But he turns in at the gate that opens with a groaning, bitter squeak, as though no one has been to visit the dead in too long. And why would they? There's nothing comforting here. Just rotting bodies in holes. Names and dates that don't talk back. I don't know what I ever found peaceful about coming here. No wonder Damon always hated it.
I fleetingly wonder if they will bury Jeremy beside me and I wish I could throw up.
Damon stops in front of my grave just like I somehow knew he would, but this time, he doesn't stand glaring at it like he did at my funeral. I don't even think he's been back since that day.
He sits down in front of my headstone, one foot planted with his knee up, his hand brushing leaves and dirt off the rock that blares the date of my death. I sink to my knees behind him, laying my head on his back and praying that I could feel his pulse, smell his cologne, feel the fabric of his shirt, anything.
His body shifts and pulls as he hangs his head, clearing his throat followed by a small sniffle.
It kills me when he cries.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he mumbles. "You were supposed to be okay. I needed you to be okay."
I wrap my arms around him as he grabs a stone and hurls it with all the strength in his body, the crash from it striking a tree like a crack of thunder.
"God, Elena," he grits out around a strangled breath, thick with tears he's swallowing. "Why didn't you let me save you?"
A few hours later I follow Damon in through the front door to find Stefan pacing in the parlor. Damon stops as soon as he sees his brother, Stefan not even trying to hide his worry.
"What?" Damon snaps and Stefan swallows.
"Is he…?"
I squeeze my eyes shut, doing my best to steady myself with a deep breath before I re-open them and uselessly wipe my tears away.
"Yep," Damon tells him and continues into the living room.
Stefan's brow furrows as he watches Damon stroll over to the drink cart. "Are you…?"
Damon looks at Stefan over his shoulder, eyebrow cocked and decanter in his hand, paused while he waits for Stefan to finish.
"You just…"
Damon rolls his eyes when Stefan trails off again, turning back to his glass and filling it with more bourbon than he usually does. "You getting billed by the word over there?"
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
Damon scoffs cruelly. "Interesting choice of phrase," he tells him, putting the stopper back in the decanter with a light clink of crystal. "And in case you've forgotten, I wasn't the one that saw them." He takes a drink and tilts his head. "Well, except for that one time when Judgy decided to play Charles Dickens and cast me as Scrooge."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Stefan asks and Damon turns to face him.
"You don't remember when the Bennett witch opened up the door to the Other Side?" Damon asks and takes a deep drink. "Oh, that's right. You were all 'rawr' at the time, locked up on the Mystic Green Mile. Didn't Lexi come back to do a Forty-Eight Hour Cleanse on you?" Damon says and takes another long pull from his glass, draining it.
Stefan crosses his arms and Damon looks at him for a long moment before he turns back to the drink cart, refilling the tumbler.
"We've got a girlfriend stuck in purgatory," Damon says baldly and I wince.
All the color drains from Stefan's face. "But Jeremy said—"
"He lied," Damon says and throws back his drink, slamming his glass back down. "Apparently my fine print stipulates a ghosty babysitter."
"She's…?"
Damon shrugs. "Best way to watch the show without getting busted for doing it? Die first."
"Damon!" I admonish.
Stefan shakes his head. "Damon, that can't be right. How do you know he was—"
"Because I fucking know," he growls and I flinch, but Stefan doesn't. Instead, he sinks down on the couch and scrubs a hand over his face.
Damon pours a second glass of bourbon and goes to sit in the wingback beside the couch.
"How long do you think she's…?" Stefan asks as Damon passes him the drink.
"The whole…fucking…time," Damon says slowly.
They both take a long pull and I move in front of Damon, kneeling down so I can see his eyes because he's staring into his bourbon.
"Hell, for all I know she could be here right now," Damon mumbles and I lay my hand on his knee.
"I am here," I promise.
They are both quiet for a few minutes, just listening to the fire crackle and pop in the grate.
I wish Damon would go upstairs and get some rest. He's so upset about everything, and I don't want to be down here anymore either. My heart is broken over Jeremy and the only thing I want is to snuggle with Damon in our bed. To just be silent and still for hours, listen to him breathe, pretending that I can still dream like he can.
But any hope for that is gone when Stefan speaks.
"She loves you."
There's no question in his voice, no hint of jealousy or anything other than just calmly stating a fact that I've never been sure he was aware of.
Damon scoffs again and pain lashes through me.
"Sure she did," he mutters and takes a drink, Stefan's eyes flaring.
"Don't do that," he snaps at his brother and Damon looks up, the surprise clear in his eyes.
They narrow as he warns, "You better watch your tone there, Pup. You don't want to pull my tail today."
"You're always telling me to man up and face the shit I don't want to. Well, it's your turn now," Stefan tells him and Damon cocks an incredulous eyebrow while I glance back and forth, waiting for them to start swinging at each other. "What is your problem with facing the fact that she obviously cared about you when you're still in love with her? I don't get it, Damon. Because if it was me…" Stefan shakes his head. "I wouldn't disrespect the sacrifice she's made."
Damon hurls his glass at Stefan, his brother throwing his hand up to block it and sending it crashing to the floor, crystal shattering everywhere. "I'm not disrespecting her."
Stefan leans forward, pointing a finger perilously close to Damon's face. "She's been watching over you for how long and you can't even admit that she loves you because...what? She didn't do everything exactly like you wanted?" Damon narrows his eyes. "Stop acting like a spoiled brat."
"Who the fuck are you?" Damon says, looking completely confused.
"Can you please stop fighting with each other?" I plead helplessly.
"I'm your brother, and I'm telling you to stop being a dick."
Damon glares at Stefan who is scowling right back, until Damon jerks toward his brother in a threat and Stefan balks.
"That's enough, time out!" I yell because I can't take their five-year-old bullshit anymore.
I just lost my brother and Damon is spiraling and Stefan is provoking him and Caroline isn't here to keep them from killing each other and no one can hear a damn word I say about any of it.
God, I can only take so much in one day.
Stefan finally sighs and leans back in his seat, scrubbing his hand over his face.
"That's what I thought," Damon mutters.
"What is the real problem, Damon? Is it because Elena and I were together?" Damon rumbles a growl and black veins flutter around his eyes, disappearing again before they fully form. Stefan's voice becomes very careful when he says, "Because I'll always love her, but it's obvious who she chose in the end. And I made peace with that a long time ago."
"Well, goody for you. Too bad you couldn't have made that announcement when it actually mattered."
"Why doesn't it matter now?" Stefan asks.
"Um, I'm sorry, but do you fucking see her?" Damon nearly yells, and I hang my head. "No. Because she's dead."
"And why is she dead, Damon?"
I look up at Stefan, terrified of what he's going to say next because even though his voice is soothingly gentle, this is dangerous territory.
"You're seriously going to pull the blame shit on me again?" Damon asks harshly, his face stunned with betrayal.
"No," Stefan says, shaking his head. "I'm saying she died to save you. To save all of us. And she's watching over you because she still cares. Damon…" Stefan starts and pauses, "those were Elena's choices. None of this is your fault."
I scamper out of the way as Damon storms to his feet, and I expect him to go after Stefan but he marches to the wet bar and pours a full glass, his hands shaking as he tosses it back and drinks another just as fast. He fills a third and takes a heavy step toward the fireplace as he sips, his whole body quivering with an overabundance of too-powerful emotions while he paces back and forth.
He stops in front of the fireplace and I watch the silhouette of his shoulders, hoping to see them rise and fall, praying that he's breathing.
But he's not.
"Damon…" I whisper, but I don't finish when he suddenly throws his glass into the fire, the flames jumping like they want to burst free from the hearth.
His head hangs as he leans forward, his hands braced on the mantle.
"It is," he mumbles. "This is my fault."
Stefan doesn't say anything, just watching silently as Damon pushes off and makes his way back to the chair, collapsing into it and looking completely exhausted, unbearably defeated.
I crawl over to him and lay my head on Damon's knee, my tears crashing into the floor but not a single one showing.
None of us move for hours, the only sound in the house is the crackling fire Damon is staring at and Stefan's soft steps as he occasionally gets up to refill his glass. He stopped offering drinks to Damon when he declined for the third time, not doing anything but just leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. He's barely breathing.
A single tear slides down his cheek and I try to wipe it away, but my hands don't make any difference.
"I can't abandon her to this, Stefan," Damon says, the first words he's spoken since he threw his glass into the fire.
"I know," his brother replies. "So what are we going to do?"
Damon looks at his brother, and when Stefan releases a deep breath, it strangles my chest in pure panic.
"You sure?" Stefan asks and when Damon nods, I launch to my feet.
"No," I growl at them, but it's no use.
"What about the rest of them?"
"Jeremy's dead," Damon says and clears his throat. "Ellie's taken care of and Caroline's strong, she'll be fine."
Stefan leans forward, his posture matching Damon's. "If it's what you want."
"What the hell is wrong with both of you? Stefan, you can't let him do this!" I screech.
"It is," Damon nods again, and then pain etches across his face. "Stefan…"
But his brother smiles warmly. "It's okay."
"I'm sorry," Damon tells him sincerely and my heart squeezes even as fear blasts through me.
"Brother, don't you worry," Stefan says lightly, "our bond is unbreakable."
Damon huffs a laugh and covers his mouth with his hand, giving Stefan a single nod as his brother gets up to refill his glass once more, not noticing as Damon brushes away the tear from his face. Stefan comes back with a second glass, this time, Damon accepting it and drinking it all in one gulp.
"How do you want to do this?" Stefan asks and I want to scream, to slap him, to do anything but allow this to happen.
Damon fingers his daylight ring and glances at the curtains. I can't think to breathe, let alone move.
No. Anything but that.
God, the pain…
"Not sure if I'm that much of a masochist."
"So, tried and true?" Stefan says casually and I gape.
Who the hell is this person that is calmly discussing this like it's all some big fucking joke?
"Like riding a bike." Damon rises, going over to the drink cart. "Just with better aim."
Stefan gets up to join him and Damon refills his brother's glass, and then his own before he sets down the decanter.
"To broken promises?" Damon smirks and touches his glass to Stefan's, taking a sip of the liquid and holding it in his mouth for a moment before he swallows. "God, I'm gonna miss that," he mutters and throws back the rest of the glass the same time as Stefan.
I pace back and forth, hugging my arms to my chest with tears streaming down my face.
There's nothing I can do to stop this insanity.
Damon takes his phone out of his pocket, his fingers tapping out a quick text and I move to peek over his shoulder.
The AmEx is all yours, Blondie. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
"How could you do this to her?" I yell as he shuts off his phone and sets it down, Stefan's phone beginning to ring a moment later.
"Barbie quick on the draw?" Damon asks, and Stefan laughs, sending her to voicemail before he turns his off too. "She's going to rip you apart for that one," Damon chuckles at seeing Stefan ignore her, but Stefan just shrugs.
"Wouldn't be the first time."
Damon walks calmly over to the coffee table and eyes it, throwing a quick glance at Stefan before his foot slams down on the corner, shattering the wood with an explosive snap that feels like the end of everything in my world.
He bends and sorts through the pieces, picking up a sharp, stake sized chunk before he tosses it into the air and catches it as if it were just an ordinary baseball and not the merchant of death that we all know it to be.
"Heads up, brother," he says and tosses it to Stefan, who catches it easily.
"Stefan, if you do this…" I warn, my voice quivering over my threat.
Stefan looks at the stake, running his fingertips over the jagged end.
"Pick up the pace, Steffie," Damon says. "I don't have all day."
We both look at him, Stefan's face unreadable while mine is horrified.
Stefan doesn't respond other than to clear his throat, walking over to where Damon's standing with precise and measured movements, his brother standing straighter the closer he gets.
"Please don't do this," I whisper as Stefan stops in front of Damon.
Damon rolls his shoulders back, looking braver than I've ever seen him and I hate it, I hate it all and there's nothing I can do but cry.
But Stefan suddenly leans over and grabs a second chunk of wood before he straightens.
"I appreciate the attention to detail," Damon smirks. "But I'm really not that picky. Now do it."
Stefan takes the second stake and holding it parallel to the floor, presses it against his brother's chest.
"Selfish to the end," Stefan tells him and Damon narrows his eyes.
"What?" I screech.
No, no, no…
"This one-way ticket is not buy one get one free," Damon snaps.
"Maybe you should have read my fine print," Stefan grins and Damon shoves him back.
Stefan growls back into Damon's face, staring him down and straightening so he's a fraction of an inch taller, a stake in each hand.
"We started this together, we finish this together. That's it."
"Or what? You'll kill me?" Damon taunts.
"You should be glad, you've been wanting to kill me for almost two centuries. This should make your whole week."
"Stop fucking around, Stefan."
Stefan pushes the stake against Damon's chest once more, and this time, Damon takes it.
"You are not killing your brother!" I shout, but I'm not sure to which one.
"No more jokes, Damon," Stefan says severely. "This is what I want."
They don't speak for a minute, just staring at each other before Damon shakes his head, gritting out a resigned, "Fine. Should've known your martyr side would come a runnin' soon as it smelled wood."
Stefan smiles and I want to be sick.
Damon poises the stake over Stefan's heart and Stefan does the same, a mirror image of my absolute worst nightmare in screaming, vivid color.
"Any last words?" Damon smirks and I cover my mouth with my hands, fresh tears blurring my vision.
"You?" Stefan asks and Damon shrugs.
"It's not the first time I've died."
"And on that note," Stefan mutters. "On three?"
Damon nods.
"You can't do this…" I whisper.
Damon's voice is clear and solid when he says, "Three."
Everything happens in slow motion.
My mouth curves around a scream, my hand reaching out toward them as Damon's lips slide into a smile.
Stefan's hand rears back just as Damon's grip opens, the stake he was holding slipping away from his brother's chest and starting its protracted descent toward the floor.
Stefan doesn't hesitate, plunging the wood through Damon's chest and perfectly into his heart.
Damon's gasp is the loudest sound I've ever heard, barely audible over the raw bellow wrenched out of me.
Gray death is spreading over Damon's skin as he collapses against his brother, tears running down Stefan's cheeks as he awkwardly lowers them to their knees.
He grabs the stake that Damon dropped and positions it over his own chest, Damon's last words a sputtered plea of his brother's name before his eyes close, sealing away brilliant blue forever. My universe shreds apart when the rest of his body sags, his head drooping onto Stefan.
"I'll see you soon, brother," Stefan whispers, and with a violent hug, he pulls Damon's body against him, his brother's weight forcing the weapon to pierce his own heart.
I hit my knees alongside them, flickering through my shrieking as Stefan slumps forward. Ashen twists cover his skin as he clings to Damon, his head finding rest on his brother's shoulder.
His eyes close, and I disappear.
