Sorry for the wait guys!

This story is drawing to its close, and nothing is coming out the way I want it to when I try to write on it.

But I haven't forgotten it, and I AM going to finish it.

But I'd rather it take a while to get right, then to give ya'll crappy chapters.

So again sorry.

But I am happy with how this one turned out, and I hope ya'll like it! :)

Damon stood by the balcony, a glass in his hand, and not nearly enough of the amber colored liquid down his throat.

He could still feel the rushed excitement in the air of the mansion, but he was apart from it.

His only concern being the woman in his bed.

Elena hadn't woken from the sleep he'd induced her into some time ago, and perhaps that was a good thing.

Her body, her mind, couldn't be a stable place right now, and the pain of the internal struggle had the capability of ripping her apart.

He didn't want to see that happen.

He took another drink, wondering what it was that he did want.

No so long ago, he had known, but things were changing.

Shifts in the spaces around him, tearing into his essence, making him question the decisions he'd made.

He knew what he'd signed on for.

But he'd never wanted her so destroyed over this.

What had he expected, though.

This is how the Darkness worked.

It twisted, turned, and molded you until you could never be as you were.

But damn, if it wasn't the better fate, compared to the Light's manipulation.

Damon sighed.

He was a warrior sent to die, they all were.

The Light would show no pity, no sorrow for their deaths.

They meant nothing, and with no meaning, had no purpose.

The Darkness was the out, but it was as hellish as it was a salvation.

And now he'd pulled Elena to the space between the two.

Fighting for a love that would kill her.

He threw the glass, and the shattering sound it made against the wall rebounded in his ear.

Elena didn't stir.

Stefan sat over Bonnie's body, his face in his hands.

She was so weak that he knew she wouldn't live, and Lexi wouldn't either.

And Tyler wouldn't.

Damn it, he'd lost too many warriors already!

"Stefan?" Caroline's tentative voice called to him from the doorway.

He glanced up, and wondered if she could see the emotions on his face.

His anger, his exhaustion, his worry, his determination…

She entered the room, closing the door quietly behind her, offering a look to their comrade, who was still unconscious on the bed.

"How is she?" The blonde asked, concern leaking onto her face.

"Stable for now," Stefan answered, and couldn't hide the weariness in his voice, "But there is nothing for her to draw strength from...and her injuries are fatal. I'm not sure she will live until the morning hour."

Caroline nodded sadly, as if she had expected this.

"You've been in here a while," she noted, when the silence between them had stretched thin.

He nodded, "I know."

"The others are awaiting command," she lowered her voice, "They want retribution for this."

Stefan nodded again, "They shall have it."

Caroline's brows pulled together as he stood, making up his mind.

"I will not let this go unanswered," he said, "Bonnie's attack, Tyler's death, Lexi's capture...this is the last straw. This war has pressed on for too long. We've only been surviving, not progressing. It's time to eradicate the Darklings, and anyone who stands in our way."

"Are you sure we can survive a direct att-"

"I'm not sure of anything," he cut her off, "But I am through watching us die off. Gather the others. We leave in an hour."

When Elena finally pulled free of the heavy exhaustion that had coated her mind, she had to blink a few times.

The grogginess of her mortal body weighed her down like an anchor, trying to pull her under again.

She shook her head, and sat up.

It didn't take long for her to realize that she was alone in Damon's room, but there was a shattered glass that smelled of liquor laying in pieces on the floor, so she knew he hadn't departed too long ago.

Next to the glass shards, was the nightstand, and on it, his dagger.

The one that she had used to...

She should go find Damon.

Except, she could still feel the Darkness churning in her veins, and she didn't want to be around the other warriors if it collapsed in on her again.

God.

She'd killed an Arc.

Even worse, she'd taken the Darkness into her body, knowing that it would give her the courage to do so.

Or maybe courage was the wrong word.

Strength?

She had definitely felt strong.

Hell, with the Dark pulsing through her, she'd felt invincible.

But her true nature was trying to shine through, and reclaim her now.

Numbness wasn't strength if it only blocked you from feeling the pain.

Her eyes closed.

She couldn't handle this, god, she really couldn't.

Tears slipped from her lowered lids, and ran down her cheek.

This had to be what dying was like; this torn feeling, being ripped apart by who she was and what she wanted.

There was no way out, no good to come of this.

She'd killed.

The blood of her own was on her hands, and the Light would never accept her back.

But she could not accept the Darkness.

The taste of it she'd been given had shown her as much.

Damon…

All she wanted was him.

Forgetting the Light, forgetting home, forgetting everything they'd both done in the name of either.

She just wanted to love him.

To hold him, and to take him into her body, and to protect him with everything that she was.

She wanted an eternity to be with him.

And all she saw on the horizon was death.

Cold, endless bloodshed.

There was nowhere they could go to escape it, no place that the Darkness could not reach her lover, and no place they would be safe from the wrath of the Arcs.

She thought of death, wondered what it would be like, not to exist in either world.

She thought of the bloodied dagger resting on the nightstand, next to the remnants of Damon's alcohol.

Would she find peace if she plunged the thing through her heart?

Die in a mortal body, and the soul dies too.

She did not know if there was any sort of place for a dead soul.

She'd never heard so.

But her mind couldn't fathom not being, in some way, so she could hope.

Actually, a voice in her head told her, you know there is another way.

And there it was.

The answer she needed to get out of this war.

Light, Dark.

It wouldn't make a difference if neither could claim her.

There was a way to end it, without dying, without sacrificing Arcs, without corroding her own blood.

She reached for the dagger and got up off the bed.

With a deep breath, she weighed her choice, and knew that at the very least, it would end the pain of the struggle tearing into her.

She would do this.

With her mind made up, she went into the bathroom, and closed the door behind her.

"What do you mean, they're coming?" Damon growled.

The two Darklings in front of him shrank back in his fury.

"We...we saw them," the one on the left replied, "All of them. They head in our direction."

Fuck.

His brother couldn't have chosen a better time to inconvenience him.

Seriously.

"I'll prepare the others," Enzo stated from his side, "If the Arcs truly are coming here, it's for war."

Damon nodded slowly, "It seems that the time has indeed come...very well."

He looked over at his Second, "Tell the Darklings to be ready. We spare none. We eradicate this threat once and for all. This is our realm, and it's time the Light learned that."

Enzo smirked, "You sound as if you believe your words."

Damon narrowed his eyes at the man, "What I believe isn't of issue. It's what is fact that matters. And the fact is, the Light wants a war. We'll oblige."

Enzo nodded, then turned to do as he'd instructed, as Damon dismissed the messengers to go prepare as well.

So this was it.

The war of the world was finally upon them.

He allowed himself only a moment to flash through his memories.

The brilliance of his home, Elena in fields of color, his friends, happiness…

It was a fleeting dream.

This was real.

The fight was coming, and death was inevitable for both sides.

And all he wanted was out.

Enzo had been correct in his assumption.

He'd become nothing but empty words, no beliefs, and nothing to tether his faith to.

Except for Elena.

The one and only constant in his life that loved him unconditionally.

He wanted to be with her now, before everything Changed.

He dematerialized into his room, wondering if she'd yet awoken.

When he found the empty bed, it was obvious that she had.

And from the sound of a running faucet, he knew exactly where to find her.

Despite the hell that awaited them, he smiled at the thought of her.

This was his happiness.

Moving toward the bathroom, he thought of what he'd say to her.

How he'd explain what was about to happen.

Would she fight with them?

He wanted her at his side, but feared that seeing the Arcs would break her.

Maybe that was the chance he'd have to take.

Besides, tomorrow, this would all be over.

"Elena?" He pushed open the door, and froze at the sight before him.

What the-

No. No, she didn't-

"What have you done?" he choked, feeling as if all of his blood had left him.

Elena was sitting naked on the floor, a pool of red running from her body, surrounding her.

There were two open gashes on her back, the source of the blood trail.

And all around the room were feathers, blooded and dead grey.

Her hands held her wings; cartilage and bone, and the last bit of Light she had.

His dagger was on the floor next to her, clearly the instrument she had used to rip the Arc from her body.

"I had to," she choked.

Damon fell to his knees beside her, reaching out, until she felt his touch.

"It's quiet," she said, her eyes closing, "For the first time in so long...it's quiet."

Of course it was.

She'd given up her wings, and in result, both the Light and the Dark.

Nothing was fighting for her allegiance anymore.

She was freed.

She was mortal.

She was defenseless.

And an army was on its way to destroy them all.

Soo there's that. Lol.

Let me know what you think! :)