Disclaimer: I don't own TVD. Only my OC

Time never stands stills. It marches on regardless of joy or tragedy. Even when it feels as if your whole world has stopped spinning, that it cracked and somehow you are caught between the said cracks and its suffocating, so suffocating that you might as well be buried alive.

Time ticks away.

Life carries on.

People live on.

The only thing that truly stops are the corpses of the people who used to be. The dead who are buried six feet under. They are the ones who stop blinking, stop talking, stop living.

Some smart-ass came up with the five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. It's a load of crap. Denial doesn't even factor in his stupid equation. Because when the police come to your hospital room with solemn expressions and you find your godmother red-nosed and her face tear-streaked, you know, instinctively, that something ugly had gone down.

And that pain you feel, like a cold metal fist has been clenched around your heart and been ripped out from your chest, it's real and it's true and it's accepting the horrible truth. She's dead. You can't feel like dying if you are denying it. No. The first stage is full acceptance of the reality. Second is depression and there's no final stage. You just move on.

I'm new at this whole writing down your feelings as a therapy thing but Jenna's adamant. She said it helped Elena through her worst time. I really don't get how a pen and paper can make your life all rainbows and unicorns but I'll humor her and write and ...should I name you or should I just call you Dear Diary?

I'll try not to get myself killed today.

Peace out.

I slammed the journal shut and threw it on the desk. Footsteps and hushed voice floated through the open space of my door. Jenna was making casserole for Mayor Lockwood's wake today and the Gilbert siblings have been walking on eggshells around me since I woke up in the hospital and found my mother had died.

Even I marvel at how calmly I handled it. I only cried twice, once in the morgue and last night in bed after her funeral. It was small, just The Gilberts, The Salvatore brothers, Bonnie, Matt, Alaric, Tyler and his mother and Sheriff. Uncle Jon couldn't make it. He was recovering from the injuries Katherine gave him. I think it's just delayed reaction and that sooner or later, I'll have a major breakdown and probably fling myself from the Wickery Bridge and into the river.

Glancing at the clock, I groaned inwardly and got to my feet. I opened my closet and dispassionately sifted through clothes. I finally settled on black denim and a grey shirt. I pulled my hair into a messy bun, slapped on some eyeliner and tried my hardest to cover the shadows beneath my eyes. I stood in front of the mirror and assessed my condition. I looked well. Put together. Functional.

I know people would be expecting a broken girl with tearful eyes but I wasn't that girl, and I refuse to be one for them. Grabbing my cellphone from the vanity, I walked out of my room and down the hallway. I made it to the stairs without interruptions with well-meant smiles and reassurances that simply made me want to rip my hair out.

But I ran out of luck when I tried to sprint for the front door.

"Charlie!" Jenna called from the kitchen. "Get in here this instant!"

Letting go of the handle, I dragged myself to the kitchen and plopped down on one of the bar stools. Jenna was dressed in a black dress, an apron around her waist and hair tied up. She was watching me intently.

"What?" I said defensively.

"You haven't had breakfast."

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't had dinner last night either."

I shrugged one shoulder and looked away.

"Nor did you have lunch," she carried on, her voice stern. "Are you trying to starve yourself to death?"

I faced her. "Look, I appreciate your concern, Jenna. But I'm fine and I'll eat at the -"

"Sit," she commanded me when I tried to slip away. "Sit down. Sit down or so help me God..." She let the threat hang in the air between us. We glared at each other for a while, both of us not moving. I could have kept it going but the only way I could get out of here fast enough is if I forfeited. So I sighed and sat back and crossed my arms. Jenna's eyes softened. "Sweetie, we need to talk."

I resisted the urge roll my eyes. "I'm not ready to have a heart to heart. Not now. When I feel like it, I'll ring you up."

"Look, can you stop being a smart ass for just a couple of minutes? A couple of minutes is all I'm asking for."

I clenched my jaw and gave her a curt nod. Jenna let out a shaky breath and pulled a chair to sit on. "You need to stop caring what other people might think of you, Charlie. And don't -" She held out her palm to stop me from arguing. "Don't tell me you don't because I know you do. You don't want to be seen as a weak girl who fell apart and is in grieving. You don't want to depend on people. You don't want to be seen as someone who needs people." She shook her head sadly, eyes moist. "But Charlie, you are. You are a girl who fell apart and is in grieving. You lost your mother. Your mother. And you've earned the right to become moody, to cry, to skip school and get bad grades and get into fist fights and mouth off at me. And you're not doing that. Which means you're not grieving. Which means you're not feeling."

I glared at the kitchen island hard, not wanting to cry but the pressure behind my eyes kept building and I could feel the familiar burn at the back of my throat. Jenna clasped my hand with her own and rubbed her thumb over my knuckles soothingly. "And if you're not feeling, Charlie, then you're not living. And you've to live. You owe it to your mother. You owe it to her and to your father and to everyone who's worrying about you. I know it's gets overwhelming but you should know, they mean well. They want to help but they don't know how."

I raised my head when I got the tears under control and saw her crying. "I loved your mother. I loved her so much and I love you and your father and I just wanna take the pain away but I don't know how. At least if you were showing me some sort of emotions, then I know I'm doing something right." Her lower lip quivered and she bit it. "I promised your parents I would take care of you but when I see you being...robotic...I feel as if I have failed them and I can't have that."

She was silent after that, wiping away the tears and waiting for me to open up. And I wanted to, God knows how much I wanted to but I couldn't. The sole thought running in my head was that my mother, Jessica Sanders, was dead. She was never coming back. I would never see her again. And the worst part, she died saving my ass.

Jenna was staring at me expectantly, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement when she bared her soul to me. Taking a deep breath, I gave her a smile. It was stiff and rather forced. It fell flat. So instead I squeezed her hand.

"You're right, Jenna. Everything you said so far is true. I worry about what people think about me. I try not to but I still care. And I know it doesn't look like it, but I'm grieving." I looked her in the eye. "I just think the magnitude of the situation hasn't caught up with me. Sort of like a delayed reaction. And one of these days, hopefully sooner than later, I'm gonna be walking down the street, watching the birds and it will feel like a freaking anvil has falling from the sky and on my head and break me real bad. I will probably consider suicide, I will probably turn to booze and drugs, I'll probably sleep with men older than me but it will happen." I smiled for real this time and she returned it, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "So when I'm at my lowest of lows, I'll be expecting you to be there, gluing me back together. Because, lets face it, it's your job. I'll be expecting you to kick me in the ass and pull me off the wrong tracks and show me the light. And ignore all my nasty remarks and dipshit attitude. I'm just a girl in mourning. I'm weak, I'm in pain and I know that my godmother is there, waiting silently in my corner."

I blinked the tears away furiously and patted her hand, once, twice, three times and then got to my feet.

"Wanna hug it out?" she asked jokingly. I walked into her open arms and gave her a quick hug. It seemed as if I was the one comforting her but I didn't mind. Because everything I told her was true. The only reason I wasn't worried about my grief, or lack thereof, is that, for the first time in my life, I knew there were other people out there who cared about me and should I feel the urge to fall apart, they would be there for me.

So I held on tightly, closed my eyes and took in a whiff of the lavender shampoo, a hint of spice and Jenna's natural fragrance. The smell of my new family, my home and my heart.

I accepted a lot of pitying glances and sympathetic pats on the back, though well-intentioned, only sent my spirits plummeting. I indulged Carol Lockwood in a little tear-fest. Then I felt guilty for feeling annoyed because the woman lost a husband and a friend on the same night. Even Sheriff Forbes was there, shoulders slumped, the lines on her forehead and the corners of her mouth drooping in exhaustion and worry. So many deaths and tragedies. One night. A single night.

It seemed almost impossible for time not to stop for a few seconds.

At least Caroline was healed. With Damon's blood. The same blood that had apparently saved my life but not my mother's. Tyler had offered me a nod of camaraderie, one that told me he knew exactly what I was going through, from his post at the porch where he greeted people and accepted their condolences. I had fled the house immediately, not in the mood to see Elena or Jeremy. Actually I wasn't in the mood to be reminded of anything supernatural.

Jeremy was stupid enough to try turn himself into a vampire. Katherine now had a full access to our house and I blamed Richard Lockwood and Uncle Jon for my mother's death. If they haven't gone with their stupid plan, none of this would have happened. Caroline would have been fine, my mom would have been alive and so would Tyler's father.

Damon was standing between a distraught Sheriff and grief-stricken Carol, trying to keep them from tearing at each other. I watched the scene, silently laughing at how easily he could manipulate them, make them believe him without compulsion. I wandered around aimlessly for a while, munching on whatever I thought was edible, nicking champagne whenever the waiters couldn't tell me not to. I enjoyed the bubbly light-headed way it made me feel. Like I was drowning in luke-warm water. I had another and another. After three glasses, I couldn't stand straight without the support of the wall so I stumbled into a room in the far corner that was mostly empty and sunk into a deep comfortable armchair.

My head was swimming, numerous thoughts trying to break free but I squeezed my eyes shut and blocked them out. I was not feeling contemplative and I was not feeling sentimental. I was tipsy, I like being tipsy and I was going to savor every minute of it until Jenna found me here and gave me an earful. I must have dozed off because when I blinked open my eyes, Bonnie had a hand on my shoulder and was smiling down at me.

I sat up straighter. "How long was I out?"

She shrugged. "I just got in and found you curled up her." She eyed me critically. "You doing good? I don't mean to intrude but I worry and I kinda know what you're going through because I went through the same thing with Grams and I didn't like it -"

"Bonnie, you're rambling," I interrupted her monologue. "And to answer your question with honesty, I feel like crap but it will only get worse before it gets better so...thank you."

Bonnie blinked a few times, surprised at my heartfelt gratitude. We both know exactly what I meant by it. She held my mother's hand, she reassured her, she stuck by her until her last breath. I've never met someone so compassionate as her. She was the only one who stayed with me at the hospital the entire night, while the rest of them ran around ,figuring out how to solve the latest kink in the town's supernatural dilemma.

Bonnie was easily overlooked in the presence of Elena and Caroline. She was always the third one. The quiet one. The one that nurtured her friends back with silent smiles and just being there. I wanted to punch myself for not noticing all these things about her sooner, when she needed a friend the most.

I scooted over and patted the space. Bonnie squeezed herself in and pulled her knees up and rested her head.

"Where's Elena?" she asked me.

I shrugged. "I left before her. She's probably on her way here."

We stayed silent for a while.

"How's Caroline?" I said, breaking the comfortable silence.

She smiled happily, the first one in months. "She's great. Watching Jersey Shore and complaining about hospital food and just being...Caroline."

"Who suggested the ...vampire blood?"

"Damon offered in his usual off-hand way. Probably only did it to impress Elena as always." My chest felt tight at her words but I moved past it. "Then I pressed the matter. Elena was against it." She fell quiet, eyes staring at her jeans but seeing nothing. Her head snapped up and she looked me in the eye. "Do you think I should have removed the spell from the device?"

Her voice was soft, full of regret. I was aware she was feeling responsible for everything so I shook my head and said, "It was either that or a bloodbath. According to Damon, tomb vampires were ready to strike the town. You averted mass murder. You deserve a frickin' medal or something."

She sniffed and scratched her nose. "Sure as hell doesn't feel like it."

"Well, give it sometime. And when Caroline checks out of the hospital, you can bet your ass she'll throw a party and we'll all commemorate your heroic work."

Bonnie let out a small, happy laugh and bumped her shoulder with mine. "Why are you the one comforting me? It should be the other way around."

"You're on speed-dial number three," I told her with a rueful smile. "Don't kill me when I wake you up two in the morning, crying my heart out."

"I'll be waiting."

We sat in silence.

Bonnie broke it this time. "Should we...I don't know, hug it out or something?"

I shook my head. "Not really."

"Good. Because I'm not ready to...you know...get too emotional."

"Me neither," I reassured her.

"Great. We're on the same page."

Same page. Same paragraph. Even the same friggin word.

I must have been holed up on the couch for almost an hour before I decided to leave my social foxhole and venture out. I scanned the crowd, not seeing any familiar faces. Bonnie had gone to the rest room and never made it back. No sign of Elena or Stefan or Damon. Even Tyler had abandoned his post, probably to knock himself out cold. I was still a little unsteady on my feet, brain too cloudy and almost sticky.

Water.

I'm in serious need of water. I panicked a little when I couldn't recall the last time I had a sip of water. Not good. Not good at all. If I should die of grief, I wanted it to be memorable. Dying from dehydration was not as cool as slitting your jugular.

"You look drunk," a deep voice rumbled behind me, making me jump a little. A ruggedly handsome man, probably in mid to late twenties, with dark unruly hair, was eyeing me studiously. I gave him the same treatment, raising my eyebrows at his all white, outdoorsy beach attire.

"So?" I retorted. He crossed his arms over a well-toned chest and cocked his to the side.

"You shouldn't look drunk. You shouldn't be drinking, period."

My temples were throbbing dully, escalating the irritation I had for this stranger. "Again, so?"

"Nice comeback. Very original."

"Look, no offense, dude, but is there a point to your existence in my life? Because I don't know you, and you don't look like a frickin' cop so turn a blind eye and carry on with your life."

He chuckled and stuck out his hand. I stared at it as if it was an alien tentacle. "Mason Lockwood."

I looked from his hand to his face, searching for any identifying Lockwood feature. I wasn't even sure they had any identifying feature. But I was tipsy and my brain function has stalled. So instead, I took his hand which was big and warm and calloused and shook it.

"How are you related to Tyler?"

"I'm his uncle." He shoved his hands back in his pocket after I let go. "Richard was my brother."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Yeah. Thanks." A beat. "So you're drunk."

"Tipsy," I corrected him. "And I was just going to get water and sober up." I started moving towards the table with shaky legs. He was following me. "So they serve minors now."

Lines of bottled water lay on the table. I took one, unscrewed the cap and took a long sip, relishing at the cold, refreshing liquid as it made its way down.

"Not really," I told him. "I stole it when no one was looking."

"I know I'm just some old guy you met at a wake who just so happens to be the uncle of Tyler who might or might not be your friend but," He gave me a leveled look. "Drinking is not good for you. Its not good for anyone, period. You do some pretty stupid shit that you can't remember in the morning, some of them you pretty much better off not knowing but when you do recall make you cringe and swear off booze for the rest of your life."

I let him lecture me. I guess I just needed to think about anything, anything trivial and unimportant so that the actual problems I should be experience took a backseat. So I let him talk.

"Sounds like you're talking from experience," I told him. You could tell he was surprised with the way his eyes widened a fraction and his eyebrow quirked up. He smiled at me. "Yeah, you could say that. I was the black sheep of the family. Drinking, gambling, partying, you name it."

Kinda like Tyler, I wanted to say but I swallowed them back the last second.

"I don't drink for fun," I admitted. "And I certainly don't drink to fit in. In fact, I don't drink at all. My mom died two nights ago so..."

Mason's eyes softened, sympathy rolling off of him in waves. And through all the layers of skin that I've built around me, I realized that this tall, dark and handsome stranger was actually a decent guy. It also helped that he was easy on the eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something but a young lady cut between us, babbling about how it's been a long time and what not. Tuning them out and noticing a perfect exit I ducked into the crowd and out the front door. Suddenly, I felt claustrophobic. Edgy. I needed to get the hell out and breathe in some fresh air. I passed Jenna on the way out. She was busy talking to some man. I gave her a nod and she smiled.

I strolled down the Lockwood estate, the breeze clearing my mind a little. When I reached the edge, I stood gazing at West's house, feeling like crap. I missed him. Two days and I missed him like hell. I missed his easy smile, his puppy eyes. The way he knew exactly the right words to say at the right moment.

I took the side gate out of the Lockwood's enormous house and walked down the street, wrapping my arms around me tightly. My chest hurt real bad. It was tight and unyielding. Even breathing hurt.

Don't break down now. Not now. Not here.

But I was aware of my own symptoms. The accelerated heart rate, the burning behind my eyes and feeling suffocated. I gripped my throat tightly, trying to keep the whimper at bay. I rounded the corner, booted feet hitting the concrete hard. I needed somewhere quiet, somewhere empty. Some place where the earth holds still.

That's when I spotted Elena coming the opposite direction. I stopped in my tracks, trying to get myself under control. She smiled at me and a lamely raised a hand. As she got closer, my heart rate went back to normal and the tears stopped.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked.

"You know, that'd be the hundredth person today to ask me that."

A smile. "Well, forgive me for being a worrying friend. But really, you seem," She titled her to the left, curls cascading down one shoulder. "You seem to be hanging in there."

I shrugged. "I guess so." Then "What are you doing here, Elena?"

The smile dimmed a bit. "I was just strollin' around, you know. It's crazy, all the shit that went down."

I nodded, not satisfied with her answer. Strolling this far off the Lockwood property, highly unlikely. I took in a shuddering breath and any residual emotions evaporated. It was as if my body wasn't willing me to cry in front of others. I was thankful for that.

The way Elena was staring at me was unnerving. "What?"

She crossed her leather clad arms and shook her head, a small smile playing on her features. "Ah, and they say you're the sharpest one among all of them."

I crinkled my brow. "What? What are you talking about?"

Suddenly I was knocked back against the low wall of a house. Elena was standing over me, en eyebrow cocked. It was the way she carried herself, the sultry and confident way about her that connected the dots together in my addled-mind.

"Katherine," I breathed out.

She gave me a full blown smile. "Give the girl a price!" She shoved me back against the wall when I tried to make a move. I stopped struggling. "I gotta say, you're a lot quicker than Damon, even when drunk. It took the guy hours before he realized that it wasn't his beloved Elena that he kissed."

Thoughts swirled in my head. The revelation that Damon kissed Katherine, thinking it was Elena. The eerie way Katherine was a fucking clone of Elena. The fact that the psycho bitch had me cornered, and that if she wanted to, could kill me.

"Relax Charlie, if I wanted you dead, you would be breathing right now."

"How do you know my name?" Because that was creepier than creepy.

"I have my sources," she answered vaguely. She leaned in closer. "Also, you're quite the famous mortal among the vampires. They couldn't shut up about the Morrison bitch. I knew the original Charlotte Morrison, by the way. She was just as popular. Beautiful, tall and with dimpled cheeks. Had suitors lining up for her every other Tuesday."

I glared at her, wondering what the hell this had to do with me. Or anything at all. I was busy trying to figure her out, but she carried on her one-sided conversation. "You know, some of them even traveled through the country for her. Of course, all that changed when I arrived."

My voice was dripping sarcasm, "Oh, of course it did."

Her grin matched my sarcasm. "You might be pretty like her, but you're a lot bitchier. I like that."
I decided to take a chance. I mean, what do I have to lose, except maybe my life. "Why are you here Katherine?"

"Revealing my plans to you so early in the game would ruin all the fun."
"How do you look so much like her?"

She cocked her head to the side, gripped my chin and looked deep into my eyes. "You're asking all the wrong question, Charlie."

I slapped her hand away. "Compulsion won't work on me. And how about some personal space or is that a wholly foreign concept to you?"

She grinned, the same grin Elena had. It made shivers run up and down my spine. She had the face of my friend but she wasn't her.

"I can see why he'd enjoy your company," she muttered, more to herself than me. "You're feisty." Her eyes hardened with a menacing gleam. "But you better learn to keep your temper in check around me. I don't look kindly on bitchy humans. I can snap that pretty little neck of yours." Her hand shot up and squeezed my throat, effectively cutting off my oxygen supply. I scratched at her hand with stubby nails but she only tightened it. My chest began to burn, my head pounding and dark spots danced around the corners of my visions.

This is it. I'm going to die today. Killed by Katherine.

"But that wouldn't serve my purpose," she whispered into my ear and let go off me. I wheezed, long and painful. I dropped to the cold ground, body trembling with fear.

"So I guess, we'll see each other soon, Charlie."

I watched her strut away, curls bouncing with every step. Closing my eyes, I cradled my head and sat there, bitterly wondering why she didn't just put me out of my misery.

It was dark and raining when Stefan found me in the same position Katherine had left me in. Without a word, he sat next to me on the wet ground, leaning his back against the wall. I was staring into the air, not seeing anything.

"Elena told Jenna you were at West's place," Stefan informed me. I nodded and turned my head away. "And I'm here to escort you home."

"I'll go when I'm ready," I told him, my voice cracking from being silent for hours on end.

"Don't mind me then."

I glanced at him and he gave me a soft smile. "I know you don't want me to but...I'll feel a lot better. Especially with Katherine out on the loose."

I snorted. "I had the honor of meeting her, just so you know."

They way his shoulder's bunched up and eyes widened was comical.

"Did she hurt you?"

I shook my head. "No, not at all. Just bragged about Damon kissing her." I gave him a side-long glance. "Must be very frustrating, knowing that Damon had those intentions all along."

Stefan was silent, glancing up at the sky and opening his palm to catch raindrops. I copied him, focusing on each individual droplet as they gathered in my cupped hand.

"But it wasn't Elena," he replied softly.

"And that doesn't make it any less frustrating," I pressed on, wanting him to spill the beans. Focusing on treating other people's trouble somehow became my coping mechanism.

Stefan shrugged his shoulders and faced me, resting his cheek on his upper arm. "Katherine knows how to push his buttons. She will destroy all that's good about him with a few well-chosen words."

I raised my cupped hand and watched the rain water trail down my arm. "But it still doesn't make it any less frustrating, right?"

He gave a short bark of laughter, more like a half-chuckle. "No, it doesn't make it less frustrating." He tapped me on the shoulder and looked at him questioningly. "Nice try at deflection, by the way. I've to give you pointers for that. But I have a lifetime of experience with the man who wrote the book on deflection. This is supposed to be about you, not me or Elena or Damon or Katherine. We should be comforting you."

"I think you did your part," I spoke softly, fearing my voice might break. "You know, when you ran into the burning building to save me."

"And I would do it over and over again." He squeezed my shoulder. "Your my friend and not trying simply wasn't an option."

I tried to swallow the fist-sized lump that seemed permenantly lodged in my throat. "Well, thank you. You're entitled to a lifetime of servitude from me."

He smiled, revealing all of his shocking white teeth but then his spine stiffened slightly. He glanced around before settling back on me.

"Everything good?"

He nodded in reassurance. "How about I take you home?"

Home. To Jenna. To Elena and Jeremy. My permanent home from here on out. Not Long Island. Not with mom and dad. But the Gilberts. I ducked my head, covering my eyes. "Uh, you could go. I promise not to run away."

Stefan hesitated, forehead rumpled in worry. "Are you sure?"

I forced a smile. "Yes. Give me an hour to get my wits about me and I'll be there."

"Don't stay out too long in the rain. You might catch a cold."

I mock saluted him and kept the smile on as he got up and walked away. I dropped as soon as he was out sight and let out a sigh.

My butt was wet and numb and my clothes drenched with rain water. Getting a cold will only make me hate myself more. Just as I made a move to get up, Damon rounded the corner, swaggering down with his usual cockiness, a bottle of Bourbon in one hand.

"Ah, there she is. You know, I think the whole purpose of running away from home is to actually skip town and not to sit in the rain a few blocks away from your house."

I slumped back, resigning myself to some Damon time. He peered down at me and whistled. "Wow, you look like crap." He took the spot Stefan had just vacated and offered me the bottle. I pushed it away. "More for me then," and with that took a long swig of it.

When I didn't speak out, Damon nudged me with his shoulder. "All this broody silence doesn't work for you. Doesn't work for anyone other than my brother. Now Saint Stefan, he knows how to rock that look."

I gave him the flat eyes. "Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself speak?"

He shot one hand in the air in mock surprise. "And it speaks!? Finally, that was the most normal thing you've said to me all day."

"It was the only thing I've said to you all day."

"Would asking you what the hell you're doing here ruin our.." He winked. "You know, moment."

"We did not have a moment, Damon."

He took another swig. "Really. Because when you gave me that sarcastic quip, it made me feel warm and fuzzy in my tender places."

I stared at him, incredulously. "Seriously dude!"

He copied my outrage. "Seriously dudette!"

"I don't wanna hear anything about your tender places."

"Mind outta the gutter, Shortie. I wasn't speaking of my little man."

Fighting off the smile forming on my lips, I brought my hand to my face and wiped away the water, probably even smearing more of the eyeliner. My heart did a little flip at the mention of Shortie. Stupid, stupid heart!

"Why are you here, Damon?" I asked wearily. "Not to comfort me because to do that you've to actually look and care about the world outside your own." The light-heartedness fled his face. "So what is it? Are you bored now that there's no mystery to solve? Oh and what are you planning to do with Katherine?"

Damon's nostrils flared. "Stay out of it."
I flared my own nostrils. "I can't. Not when she made it a point to introduce herself to me. Oh yeah, she really did. Also told me how you kissed her, thinking it was Elena. What the fuck, Damon. Seriously, what's wrong with you? Elena is Stefan's girlfriend. Your brother."

Damon closed his eyes, rage rolling off of him in waves. He gulped down the rest of the Bourbon then flung the bottle against the opposite, shattering it to million unfixable pieces. The sound mirrored my heart and I began to panic. Why now? Why here?

"So you're defending Stefan as well, huh?" he said, voice laced with unveiled bitterness and anger.

"What? I'm not defending anyone. I'm telling you what you did was wrong in five -"

"I'm always wrong," he carried on, voice rising. "I'm always acting without thinking. I'm always the second to Saint Stefan!"

He was on his feet, raving like a mad man. I've never seen him like this, distraught and on the verge of nervous breakdown. I followed him with my eyes which were burning, and the simple act of breathing was getting difficult.

"It's Katherine, isn't it. She's doing this to you!"

He spun in his heels and shook his head. "You all are tryin' to change me. Tryin' to make and mold me into this perfect side-kick to Stefan but I'm not Stefan!" he roared. "I'll never be like Stefan! I'm my own person."

I stood up and pressed the back of my hand against my mouth, trying to muffle the sobs that threatened to spill out. I took a breath, too short, too quick and it wasn't helping when Damon was pacing like a wild caged animal.

He's hurting. He's drunk.

He stopped to look at me and I turned my back to him, refusing to let him of all people to witness me fall apart.

"Why do you people just assume I'll change when you ask me to?"

I pressed my hands against the grey and cold wall and bent my head, watching the tears cascade down my face and mingle with the rain, unable to stop no matter how much self-control I exercised.

"I'm sorry," I croaked, not sure why or whom I was apologizing to. Damon. Or my mother. It all blurred together but I couldn't stop babbling. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Damon spun me around, grabbing my shoulders and stared into my eyes. I was bawling freely, letting it all go.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I really didn't mean it! Oh God -"

"Hush." He cupped my neck and pulled me into his chest. "Hush. It's okay. It's okay. I'm here."

I fisted the front of his shirt, clinging the material as if it was my lifeline. Damon swayed us, rubbing my back and whispering sweet nothings. He smelled of wood, aftershave and booze. He smelt of despair. Of pain.

"I'm here," he promised me.

Closing my eyes, I worked on my breathing and wondered why it was that I found comfort in the arms of a vampire.

In Damon Salvatore.

A/N: PHEW! What a long and angst-y chapter. My B'day present to you guys.

Made sure to portray Charlie in mourning. I don't usually write emotionally deep moments but I really like to hear your thoughts on the chapter. Was it sappy? Over dramatic? Stiff? Let me know.

Also Damon being OCC. Perfectly good reason. The scene with him and Charlie happens right after Katherine drops the bombshell about her always loving Stefan. So this takes place between Katherine walking out on him and him dropping in unannounced in Elena's room where he breaks Jeremy's neck.

Did anyone notice how everyone stopped writing in their journals mid-way through season 1 even though it's called Vampire Diaries. I think Charlie should keep a journal, cataloging her emotions. That way we'll be able to see the real and emotional side of her, because, let's face it, she doesn't like showing vulnerability at all!

Big hearts go out to everyone who read and reviewed and follows this story. You're the reason I write.

So type away at the small box at the bottom of the page. You know you want to.

xoxoxoxoxoxo