Chapter Fourteen

Death Bed

Mystic Falls, Virginia

1864

Everything smelled like liquor; his hair, his breath, his skin. Elena preferred that over the stench of death looming beneath. Unable to cry, she prayed and poured whisky between Damon's lips. Even though he was drooling all over himself and speaking like a man in a brothel, she hoped he was distracted from his pain.

"Oh, Elena," he slurred. His words were riddled with little hiccups and pauses now and again. "Elena, Elena... E-lena."

"Yes?"

"Ya e-ever get that feeling where yer so happy that yer teeth gr… grit together and yer head s-starts to hurt and yer chest gets all tight and yer fists get all fight-"

"Fight?"

"Tight! I mean t-tight. So, yer fists are all tight and ya just feel like yuh'll go off like a cannon? Ya ever feel like that?"

The corners of her mouth turned down harder and her face got hot. For the thousandth time, she tried to remember the last time she was genuinely happy – when she wasn't worrying about Damon or vampires. Before Katherine stated playing with her memories and emotions like they were toys. She did not bother to answer.

Damon continued on, unbothered. "Why do'ya think that h-appens, hmm? Why does my body want to ex-explode when I'm happy? Does it think I won' get any happier?"

She brushed a tear from her cheek, hoping he did not see. "Is that how you feel now?"

"I'll tell ya when the liquor wears off," he smirked.

Just then, the nurse walked in, a worried look on her face. "No more of that," she said sternly, gesturing towards the bottle in Elena's hands. "Help me change his wrappings."

Elena nodded and stood quickly, setting the bottle on the table at Damon's side. They pulled back the bedclothes and the nurse adjusted his legs so they were straight. Elena wondered if being mortally wounded removed the suspicion of impropriety as she unbuttoned his trousers and slid his shirt up his chest, revealing more of him than she ever should have seen before they married.

She grabbed his hand as the nurse peeled back the white bandages covering his wounds. Damon groaned a little, but another sound caught Elena's attention. She heard the front door open and slam shut, followed by almost inaudible sounds of footsteps flying across the floor. A second later, Katherine appeared in the doorway, her hair tumbling from its pins atop her head and her eyes wild. "Leave," she said to the nurse.

"Wait!" Elena called, looking down at the bloody flesh that just sat exposed now. It was too late; the nurse was gone.

Stefan passed the nurse as he entered, politely nodding though she did not seem to be paying attention. His cheeks were red and he was breathing hard. Katherine shut the door behind him. "How is he?" he asked.

"Not now," Katherine chided.

"You have news?" Elena asked uneasily.

"They hung two men and one woman just now in the square," Stefan said. "Slaves."

Elena's cheeks grew red. "On what charges?"

"Conspiracy to commit murder," Katherine said, looking irritated. She gazed at Damon's partially visible lesion. It had been too long since she fed, and even with the smell of rot in her nose, her mouth watered. "The council knew they could not be vampires because they walk in the sun, so I am assuming they were executed in order to send a message."

"Did they have anything to do with the murders in the first place?"

"They were witches," Katherine said. "If anything, they would have been trying to keep vampires away."

"Does the council know about witches?"

"They were just looking for a scapegoat," Stefan said. "They needed something to keep the townsfolk calm. They do not know anything."

"Yet." Katherine said, her eyes looking between both of them shiftily. "I cannot stay here for much longer."

"What?" Stefan asked, and it was clear that he had never considered the possibility of her departure before.

"They have found witches, whether they know it or not, and possibly aroused the need for retaliation from a coven, if there is one. They will do whatever they have to protect their own, including revealing any vampire within a hundred miles. I am no longer safe here."

"You cannot leave," Stefan said.

"Not while the real criminal is still out there," Elena added.

"I have to leave because the real criminal is still out there. I have no other choice."

Elena bit her lip. Of course, she wanted the protection that Katherine provided, but when she really thought about it, Katherine was not all that protective of anyone but herself. If she left, things might return to normal and the Council could catch the mystery vampire. Or, it would grow tired of Mystic Falls and move on as well. "Where will you go?" Elena asked.

"So quick to get rid of me, aren't you?"

"If you must go, then I woud like to know where."

"That is of little importance."

"You cannot leave!" Stefan reasserted.

Katherine softened a little, moving to Stefan's side. "What else am I to do?"

"Stay."

"Stay!" Damon shouted from his bed, making Elena jump. "That's wha-t they all say. They say stay. 'Stay!' they say. But nay. I say 'nay' to stay."

Elena took his hand, "Please, Damon. I need you to be quiet. Can you be quiet for me?"

"Quiet?" His voice was weak, but grew louder with each word. "Elena, I'm a regular fuckin' poet! I-t would be cruel to be quiet!"

Her stomach dipped a little, but she was growing used to his drunken vocabulary. Katherine laughed.

"He is dying, you know." Elena felt anger leaking into her stomach once again. "You laugh while he dies."

"No," Stefan said. "He just needs time… to heal."

"Oh, he isn't?" Elena pulled back the covers a little more to give Stefan a better view of his wound. The hole was dark brown from a mixture of fresh and dried blood. White pus leaked in the center from the infection. The surrounding veins were dark under his skin. The smell was thick in Elena's nose, but she jutted her chin out against it. She wanted both of them to see it. To smell it.

She wished she could feel the hurt she saw in Stefan's eyes. She only felt ferocity towards the two people who would rather spend their time sneaking around in the candlelight than care for him at all. "Thank you, Doctor Salvatore, for your apt diagnosis. Would you like to change his bandages too? It is not like you have even seen them since he returned home." At that, she grabbed fresh ones from the bedside table and began to clean and bandage him herself.

Stefan ducked his head guiltily. "I was unaware..."

"I expected as much from your father, but you?"

He stiffened at that, "You do not know anything of our father."

"I know enough. I know that you know exactly what I mean."

Katherine shot him a questioning glance. He had never told her anything unpleasant about his father.

"Just leave," Elena said through her teeth.

"Katherine!" Stefan said. "You can help. You can heal him like you heal me. It's simple."

Elena's head snapped up. "You can do what?"

"Her blood," Stefan went on. "Her blood can help him."

"I told you before," Katherine sighed. "I cannot afford to do that. Not with the head of the Founder's Council living in the same house as I. A recovery that rapid is too suspicious."

"You could have healed him this entire time?"

Elena thought back to the time she asked Katherine to feed him her blood, but Katherine only shrugged. "I can only cure the bite of a vampire," she shrugged. "There's no hope, dear."

There's no hope, dear. That was all Elena heard.

"You knew he was dying, didn't you?" Elena stood again, approaching her 'aunt' with clenched fists and fire in her belly. "A dead thing must be able to sense other dead things. You could hear his heart struggling to pump that infected blood around his veins. You could smell the rot on his skin. You knew."

Katherine backed up a little.

"Do it!" Elena shouted. "Fix him! Now!"

Before Elena knew what was happening, Katherine's hand was around her throat and her back was against the wall. "You've stepped on dangerous ground," she growled.

"What will you do?" Elena challenged. "Suck me dry? Rip out my heart? You cannot afford to heal someone, let alone kill another."

For the first time, Elena saw the beast inside of Katherine. All of her fear had been so buried before, but now as she stared into Katherine's bloodshot eyes and watched the teeth slide from her gums, she felt real fear. It rose from the depths of her stomach up and into her throat. Whatever courage fueled by rage she felt before was gone.

"Katherine," Stefan said timidly. "He is my brother."

She turned back to Elena, who nodded against her grip. "Please," she choked.

Katherine let go and bit her hand with a growl. She squeezed her fist over Damon's mouth, the blood falling slowly at first and then quickly. Damon sputtered at first, but opened his mouth after a moment. Elena shuddered.

When Damon awoke, he felt as though he had spent the last hundred years in a coffin. There was a sudden rush of clarity and awareness when he opened his eyes. Early morning light poured in through the curtains, filling the room with dim light. The room smelled like sickness and the mattress below him was molded to his body, but he felt good. He felt strong and limber and for the first time, he noticed how good it felt to bring air into his lungs and stretch his muscles.

He felt something stir between his fingers and when he looked down he saw it was Elena's hand. Her head rested at his side and a mass of curls spilled out on his abdomen. Her face was dark, as if this was the first time she had slept in a long while, but her expression was peaceful. She was in her nightdress and he realized she had probably snuck in the night before. He tightened his grip. For so long, he felt as if he was looking at her from the bottom of a well. Her head would peek over the top and she would shout down to him, but he was too far down, drowning in the water at the bottom.

"Elena," he whispered. He was so awake. He needed to sit up, run in a field, take the woman he loved in his arms and spin her around because, God, he was so alive. "Elena, wake up."

She sat up with a start, taking in her surroundings with sleepy eyes. "Damon?" She fumbled on the side table for the bottle of whiskey. "Are you all right? Do you need more?"

He smiled. She was more perfect than he remembered. How long had it been? "No."

She sat up straight as if struck by sudden reality and all the sleep was swept from her brain. "Damon?" He smiled and she laughed like she was going to cry, but he grabbed her face before she could. "You're all right?" she breathed.

She stood and ripped the covers from his body, tearing the strings loose from his nightshirt and pulling it off. There was not a scratch, not a mark on him. She put her hands where his wound used to be, and it had disappeared. She understood now what he was talking about in his drunken stupor the previous night. She felt like she could go off like a cannon.

It was then that she kissed him. She kissed him once and then twice and then she was kissing every inch of his face and laughing like a maniac. This was the moment she had dreamed of from the moment he left her. This was the moment he dreamed of from the moment he met her.

"Your kisses have cured me," he smiled.