A/N I'm back! I know, I know, 3 months and no update. I suck. I blame mostly writer's block and a touch of being busy with work. Anyway, here's the latest instalment. I hope you guys like it and please, please review if you have anything to say about it (good or bad), I love hearing your comments!

CHAPTER 7

"Anyway, I hafta get ready for our contract meeting."

"Oh shit!" I replied. "I totally forgot about that! I'm so sorry!" I jumped off the couch and started towards the door.

"Relax, Gilbert!" Damon said, standing and grabbing my wrist. "There's plenty of time. I'm just gonna hop in the shower. Stay. Hang out. I could use the company, to be honest. Don't you dare tell anyone, but I'm a bit nervous." I failed miserably at stifling a chuckle. "Oh yeah, laugh it up..."

"What?" I exclaimed. "I said nothing!"

"Whatever," he mumbled, shaking his head and disappearing into the bathroom.

Once he was out of sight I flopped back down on the couch, finally taking the opportunity to observe my surroundings. His place was nicer than mine, but not by much. It was a concrete building, so at least you couldn't hear the neighbors, but it still lacked basic updates. The laminate flooring looked relatively new, but that was the only redeeming quality of the place. The windows were ancient, the appliances looked like they were passed down from the Flintstones and the white paint on the walls was chipped and dull. His sparse furniture looked like it came from craigslist and I wouldn't've been the least bit surprised to find paper plates and plastic cups in his kitchen cupboards, if I had had the inclination to snoop. In startling contrast, however, to the obvious lack of money or effort put into the general atmosphere of the place, there lay in front of me a collection of guitars that would be the envy of any musician. He even had one of those fancy digital pianos that I knew cost thousands. Damon clearly spent every penny he had on his craft and cared little about his environment.

I gingerly picked up the Gibson acoustic that I had seen propped against the couch beside him when I came in. I knew this guitar was not cheap, as I had seen similar ones in music stores with price-tags that equalled months of paychecks for me. I tentatively made an E-minor and gently strummed my thumb across the strings, instantly shivering as all the hairs on my arm stood on end at the beauty of that sound. Holy fuck, no wonder people pay so much for these. My temporary solitude giving me courage, I started plucking out the tune to 'Blackbird' by the Beatles, softly singing in my breathy rasp, harmonizing the best I could with the gentle reverberations of the Gibson in my lap.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

...

As I finished the last verse I closed my eyes and let the last note hang in the air, reveling in the smooth sound of the impeccable guitar mixed with my gravely voice. "Wow." I jumped almost a foot in the air when he spoke, just about dropping the guitar in the process, but protecting it with my life in the end, taking a knee to the coffee table instead.

"Ow, FUCK! How long were you watching me?" I demanded to know. When I spun around to glare at him for invading my private moment (It's his apartment, dipshit), I noticed there was a tear in his eye that he immediately wiped away when he saw my expression soften. "Sorry. I didn't mean to..."

He sighed. "My mom used to sing that song to Stefan when he was a baby." My eyes went wide and I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. "It always calmed him down when nothing else would."

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to try out your-"

"Elena. Don't worry about it. I've never heard it sung so beautifully since my mother died." He paused, looking past my shoulder, before continuing; "You didn't tell me you could sing. And play. What else are you hiding from me?"

"Well," I stood up slowly and faced him. I couldn't stand the way he was looking at me, like I might be the cause of, but mostly the solution to, all the worlds problems. It was a look of reverence and of wonder and one that had never been directed at me before and, frankly, I didn't have a fucking clue how to deal with it. So, I deflected. "I have the power to harness souls and use them to do my bidding. All it takes is just one... TOUCH!" I shouted as I launched myself at him. He was too quick, though, and continued dodging my attacks as I chased him around his living room until we were both doubled over laughing, gasping for air.

"You are completely insane," Damon said, shaking his head with a smile.

"Takes one to know one!" I teased, sticking my tongue out at him.

"And 12, apparently. And that doesn't even make sense. But I guess that proves my point."

"Hey, I'm just here trying to help my friend who pretends to be a total bad-ass but who's shitting his pants over a job interview!" I sang, giving him my most innocent look while flipping my ponytail.

"You're paying for that, Gilbert!" He announced with a sneer before attacking me with tickles and we were once again chasing each other around his apartment. Eventually he caught me and had me pinned to the kitchen counter from behind, both of us laughing and panting. He rested his chin on my shoulder and I couldn't help but notice the overwhelming feeling of comfort that washed over me. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

I turned around to look at Damon and saw the confusion on his face. He clearly wasn't expecting anyone. He smirked mischievously and ruffled my hair before heading over to answer the door while I stayed leaning against the counter. When I heard the voice of our surprise guest I froze.

"Damon."

"Stefan, what are you doing here?"


December, 2013

I wake up on the bathroom floor, every muscle in my body screaming at me. I have no idea what time it is because there are no windows in here. All I hear is silence so I slowly open one of the doors, trying to be as quiet as possible. The window in the hall tells me it's still nighttime. I creep down the hall like a frightened teenager in a horror movie until I reach the living room. The scene I find seizes the last fragile fragment of the girl who still knows what it means to be Elena Gilbert and crushes it into a shower of dust that scatters and falls in glistening drops like the tears that immediately spring to my eyes.

The tv is still on, just a blank blue screen, illuminating the room in an eery glow. That thing is sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep, still clutching a half-empty beer bottle that is spilling it's contents onto his chest, a few drops at a time, with every breath. The coffee table is tipped over, there are cigarette butts all over the floor, the curtains are barely hanging from the window, but none of that concerns me. What does is what is laying on the floor in the middle of the room. My guitar. My Seagull acoustic. The last gift my parents had given me before we stopped talking. The only gift they had ever given me with my happiness in mind.

I still remember the argument I had with my Dad. I told him I wanted to learn music and he told me I was wasting my time, that 'you can't make a career in music'. I had screamed at him to stop trying to make me into his little puppet and he screamed at me to grow up. Much to my surprise, for my sixteenth birthday I received a one of a kind, very expensive guitar and a warm hug from both my Father and my Mother, with whispered words that they don't think art is the right thing for me but if it would make me happy they would support it. "You're not an artist, Elena. You'll realize that one day. But we love you," my Dad had said. Bittersweet.

Before this night it was safely tucked away in it's case. Now it's laying in the middle of the living room. Well, half of it is, anyway. The other half is against the wall. In this moment I feel like the remnants of that instrument. I'm broken.


May, 2009

Well, this is less than ideal, I thought when I heard Stefan's voice. I decided to stay hidden in the kitchen for now, lest he pick up on my flushed cheeks and shortened breath. He was already paranoid enough, I didn't need to give him ideas.

"I came to talk to you about Elena." I rolled my eyes. Figures.

"What about Elena?"

"She's mine."

"She's not a piece of property, but I realize that she's your girlfriend. What's your point?"

"She's coming with me to Pennsylvania."

"Do you want a cookie?" I held back a snicker.

"NO, goddamnit Damon! I just want you to leave her alone! I know you hate me but just... Whatever plan you have to destroy me... Just please leave her out of it. She doesn't deserve to be sucked into your games."

I was touched. I was monumentally pissed off, but I was also touched. As misguided as he was, Stefan was standing up for me, trying to protect me from invisible evils. I felt so conflicted. I wanted to hug him and punch him with equal measures of ferocity.

"What plan to destroy you? Steffie, I think you're doing a fine job of that on your own. And as far as Elena goes-"

It was then that I realized that this would never be resolved without full disclosure and open communication. I interrupted; "Damon. Let him in."

"Elena?" Stefan asked in a gasp as he barged past his brother.

"Hey," I smiled sheepishly.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" His face was bright red and contorting into a look of pure disgust as he looked between myself and Damon.

"Oh, you know, the usual Sunday Special," Damon replied; "Drinking, sucking, fucking, you know the drill."

"Damon!" I reprimanded, "NOT helping."

"Sorry."

Stefan did a double take, like he was surprised to hear his brother apologize. I took a deep, calming breath before suggesting, "Why don't we all sit down and have a talk?"

"Oh, I see. So you've invited him into my apartment and now you're inviting him to sit on my furniture? Not cool, Gilbert!" Damon chastised, but I could tell by the gleam in his eye that he was mostly joking.

I see what you did there Salvatore, I thought as a glared at him with all the playful venom I could muster. He seemed to get the message loud and clear (not that I thought he wouldn't) because he threw his hands up in surrender and shot me a surreptitious wink before moving over to the chair opposite the couch and sitting down. Stefan huffed and sat down in the middle of the sofa, but not before shooting an icy stare in his brother's direction.

"So, I think we three need to hash some things out," I started, after sitting down right next to Stefan. He immediately snaked his arm around my waist in a move that I would normally find comforting but, in this context, was purely possessive. I let it slide. I had to pick my battles. "Stefan, you clearly have some reservations about my relationship with Damon." He nodded, glaring at his brother and tightening his hold on my waist.

"I wouldn't call them 'reservations' so much as I would call them certainties that you'll be hurt if you let yourself fall into his trap." He was looking at me with pleading eyes and his grip on me waned slightly as he spoke and started to rub soothing circles into my side.

"I haven't even fucking tou-"

"Damon, wait your turn," I snapped. It was important to me to get us all on the same page so we could operate normally. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I wanted both brothers in my life. "Stef, you need to know that Damon and I are friends. I've told you this before, but you need to believe it. Whether you like it or not, we've grown close and he means something to me." I glanced over at Damon, who was beaming at me.

"I don't trust him, Elena," Stefan confessed, grabbing both of my hands and staring pleadingly into my eyes.

"Well, trust me then," I whispered. "Damon? Anything to add?"

I saw a smirk spread across Damon's lips and he was just about to open his mouth to say something undoubtedly snarky (and possibly hilarious) before he noticed my stern expression and stopped himself. He paused. "Stefan..." He finally started with a sigh; "I never fucking touched Katherine."

OK, I wasn't expecting him to bring her up. "I know you think I did and that's what this is really all about. But I didn't. And I have no nefarious plans to steal Elena and turn her against you. Not that that would work anyway, if I had one. Have you noticed how stubborn this girl is?" He glanced over at me and I gave him an appreciative smile. "Elena and I have something..." Did Stefan just growl? "An understanding. I really like her. Like, like her. Like, don't just wanna sleep with her." I inwardly frowned, for some reason. "I think people call that friendship. And I think she feels the same. Right?" He asked me and I gave a sheepish yet encouraging smile. "Can we just move on from the bullshit that fucking bitch instigated and go back to how it used to be? Olive branch, brother."

I was floored. That was one hell of an unexpected speech, coming from Damon. I looked at Stefan. He seemed as surprised as I was. I reached out and grabbed his hand. He turned his head to look at me questioningly and I smiled slightly and gave his hand a little squeeze. He seemed to release some tension then and let out a deep sigh.

"I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to trust you." It was obviously directed at Damon, but his eyes were on the floor. "But I trust her. I won't pretend to like what you have but I won't fight it either. Elena," he turned to look me in the eye; "If you truly want to be friends with him, I won't stop you."

I was touched. Again. And monumentally pissed off. Again. The way he spat those words did not sit right with me at all. However, it was a slight concession and it was progress. It was clear that if I wanted to keep both of them in my life, it wasn't going to be easy. It was possible, though. And all I ever needed was a possibility.

I wondered, in the back of my mind, if that was the end of jealous-violent-Stefan.