Warning: Use of mild language in this chapter.


Everything Is Dark


Once upon a time, when life was cruel but not unforgiving, and Damon Salvatore hadn't known what love was, his baby brother had got lost in the woods. Often a wanderer, at first Damon hadn't worried, knowing he'd come out eventually; he always did. But as they hours had dragged on, and the elder Salvatore didn't see that familiar mop of brown hair emerge, he started to panic. A million possibilities ran through his head, each one increasingly dire than the last. What if he'd gotten lost? What if he was hurt? Was he scared? He'd told him not to wander off so many times, but Stefan never seemed to listen.

After losing their mother, Damon couldn't bear the thought of losing his little brother, too. So, even though it was near-dark and the servants would be calling them for dinner, even though Guiseppe would rage if they were even a second late, Damon plunged into the woods without a second thought, kicking away at fallen, skeletal limbs that looked like bones in the dying light, screaming for his brother at the top of his lungs.

He found him, of course, sound asleep, curled up at the base of an oak tree, completely unaware of the state his brother had been in for the past few hours. But when he'd opened his eyes, he'd looked up at him with all the gratefulness and admiration of a child gazing upon their hero, and suddenly he wasn't mad anymore. He'd ran up to him, flinging his arms around his brother's neck as he cried, "Damon, I'm so happy to see you. I got lost in the woods and everything was so dark and I was very scared, and then I was very tired, and I was only going to close my eyes for a moment, but you're here. You found me."

Damon had smiled, ruffling his brother's hair until the young boy giggled with mirth. "Of course I did, Stefan: it's what big brother's do. Whenever you're in trouble, I'll always be there to help you, no matter what."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Stefan had taken his hand, and Damon had lead them out of the woods, out of the dark, where the servants exclaimed over the soiled state of them both but we're quick to hide the evidence -Guiseppe was not known for his courteousness, especially to those in his employ. They'd never talked about it again, and while Damon had vowed eternal misery on the younger Salvatore, when it came down to it, he would move mountains for his little brother.

Which is what made all this so much worse.

Stefan was out there, lost in the proverbial woods, and what was he doing? Cleaning dishes, that's what, and sorting through the fridge so he could make a list of stuff Jeremy and Ric where running low on. It was becoming increasingly apparent to him that Elena had been the organiser of the family, always on top of things like that, even with all the crap going on in her life. It wasn't that he didn't want to do stuff like this -no one was holding a gun to his head, after all, or should that be a stake to his heart, since guns were useless when it came to shuffling vamps off their immortal coil?- but the restlessness ate at him, that need to be out there. Because as a kid, back then, he may have been scared out of his mind while Stefan was missing, but Damon knew that so long as he was looking, he'd find him, even if it took all night, or in this case forever.

Watching the last of the soapy water drip down the drain, Damon was starting to get why Elena had left. It still burned like a bitch, the fact that she'd felt the need to hide it from him, to go all Kim Possible sneaky on him, but it wasn't exactly a secret that he loved her and would do anything to protect her, especially from herself and her often dangerous plans that tended to blow up in her -and their- face. Like him, she wasn't known for sitting still, for waiting on the sidelines while others did all the heavy-lifting. But he wouldn't have stopped her. Because she would have looked up at him with those brown eyes of hers and said something like, "Damon, I have to do this. Not just for you or for me, but for him. He deserves to know he's worth fighting for, that we won't give up on him just because of Klaus. It's the right thing to do."

And he'd stare at her for several seconds, hard, and then wrap his arms around her -because Damon Salvatore was a secret hugger, especially when it came to Elena- and he'd murmur into the side of her head, "I know, Elena, I know. Just promise me you'll be careful," all the while that green-eyed monster inside would be screeching, wishing that it was him she cared so much about, yet knowing he was far from deserving of it, that he was lucky enough to be her friend, and knowing he wouldn't rest easy until his arms were around her once again.

So he'd just have to get used to this awful feeling roiling about in his gut, offer it a drink and pull up a chair for it; it wasn't going anywhere. And neither was he, not until he knew for certain that Jeremy was going to be okay and that he'd actually eat a proper meal and not leave dirty laundry all over his room again -did he not know how dangerous that was, especially when you didn't have vamp night vision?- and that he'd played enough video games with him to adequately make up for his assholeness the other day. Watching his face as he'd said there was no news...Jeremy had taken it better than he thought. Or he was polishing hus acting skills, much like his sister had been when she lied to his face and spent all that time hanging out with him...

Okay, okay, reign it in pal, Damon chided himself. Reign it in. You don't want to explode out onto all these dishes you just cleaned, do you?

"Hurry up, Elena," the vampire prayed as he hung his head over the kitchen sink. "I don't know how long I can do this without you."


At eighty two years old, one of the highlights of Marjorie's week was going to the supermarket. It may have seemed silly, especially when it was only a fifteen minutes walk from her house, but as you get older you learn to appreciate the little things in life more than you used to. A sense of routine was important, and comforting: she liked seeing the same faces doing the same things, taking note as the leaves changed colour, then fell, then re-grew all over again.

It was on one of her weekly expeditions that she saw them as she waited in line for the cashier to finish bagging her groceries. A young man and a young woman, bickering in the cereal isle.

"The box is cute," the lady insisted, one hand on her hip while the other gripped the handle of the shopping cart.

The man, his dark blue suit a sharp contrast to the informal attire of the young woman, sighed heavily at her. "Elena, I don't care if the box is 'cute.' Do you know how many additives and preservatives go into super-processed food such as this? It's by no means healthy."

"But it's got marshmallows in it!" the woman -Elena- protested. "Everybody loves marshmallows, even you love marshmallows, Mr Food Snob," she said, poking a finger at his chest.

"I am not a snob," the man huffed, crossing his arms indignantly. "I just happen to have a more cultured palate than most."

"Only because you're so old," the woman shot back with a mock-sweet smile.

"Are you really going to play that card with me, Elena?" the man questioned her. "Isn't that just a tad childish?"

"No," Elena disagreed, "I think it's very childish, but I'm desperate and willing to fight dirty, Elijah. No one stands in the way of a Gilbert and their cereal."

"There's really nothing I can say to alter your stance?"

The woman shook her head. "Not a thing."

"Fine, take it then. But don't blame me when all your teeth fall out from too much sugar."

"One can never have too much sugar, Elijah: it's a universal law."

It was impossible, even as far away as she was, not to see the man's smile, or hear the affection in his voice when he told the young lady, "Well, I think you're already sweet enough, sweetheart."

"Look at you, being all nice. But...I can see you trying to take the box out of the cart, sweetheart, so lay off the charm and retract your hand back from my Lucky Charms before you get hurt."

He chuckled, raising his palms in surrender. "Caught with my hand in the cookie jar, it seems."

"More like the cereal box, but yeah. If you want, I'll give you the prize after."

She didn't know what made her do it, but suddenly Marjorie found herself abandoning her intended destination of the automatic doors and making her way towards the couple, who both greeted her with kind smiles. Oh, weren't they just adorable?

"Hi, I'm Marjorie, and I'm terribly sorry to bother you -I don't usually do this sort of thing, going up to young strangers in the supermarket- but I just wanted to say what a sweet couple you are: you remind me of how I was with my late husband, Thomas. We bickered like an old married couple even before we were an old married couple," Marjorie reminisced, the pain still lingering fresh, as it would for every day she spent without him. "We were together for over sixty years, and it's nice for an old lady like me to see that true love like that is still out there in this modern age."

"Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss, ma'am, and that's so kind of you, but Elijah and I, um, weren't not, um, we're just friends," but she wasn't fooling anyone, and certainly not an old lady like her who had been around the block more than once.

"Trust me, dear, you will be. Friends don't look at friends like that, at least for long."

The woman was obviously at a loss for words, especially in front of her guy, but she recovered quickly enough before offering, "Do you want any help carrying those, Miss Marjorie."

"Oh, no, that's quite alright: these old legs like a good stretch, but thank you, dear." Leaning in, she patted her hand and smiled conspiratorially, "Don't wait too long to tell him how you feel, sweet girl. It's a new age, and girls shouldn't be scared to just grab a guy and plant one on him, you hear? Besides, he's awfully pretty; why wait?" Pulling away, Marjorie waved over her shoulder and called, "Have a lovely day, you two. Best wishes!" not knowing the trouble she'd just stirred up for the two.


On the whole drive back to their hotel, Elena couldn't stop thinking about what that lady had said as she scrolled through news sites on her laptop. Did she and Elijah act like a couple? They were just arguing about cereal, for Gods sake! They hadn't been making out or whispering sweet nothings or been caught in the food isle fondling more than mangoes. It was just cereal! But then her mind drew her back to everything that had happened these past two weeks, every small moment and gesture. Sure, she was beginning to realize she might see him as more than a friend, but Elijah? In her case, she could blame it on hormones or chemistry or the fact that she was a doppelgänger...but Elijah was an Original, with impeccable self-control in all aspects of his life, closed off with walls higher and longer than the Great Wall of China to guard how he felt. There was no way he'd have developed any kind of romantic feelings for her in such a short space of time, right?

But was it really that short? Hadn't she seen his face when she stabbed herself, the way he'd lunged for her like the world was about to fall apart if he didn't save her? And you could chalk all that you to him wanting her alive so Klaus could sacrifice her, but what about after? He'd agreed to her new deal after she'd pulled the dagger out, had laid out the story of him and his family without prompting, which she couldn't imagine him doing for just anyone.

On the other hand, though, he said he'd never care for another Petrova doppelgänger again. And there was care as in friendship, which was what they had at the moment, and then there was care. There was making sure she stayed safe, and then there was...

There was noticing which shirt was her favourite. There was taking her to the beach when she needed a break. There was watching movies with her and cooking her dinner and talking about their favourite books for hours and never getting bored of learning new things about each other. There was the way he said her name and the way he held her and the way he made her feel, all over, an intoxicating mix of comfort and familiarity, but also like there was a million fireworks embedded under her skin that only went off whenever they were close, close enough to touch. Or how, since the sink incident two days ago, every time Elijah looked at her, she felt like he was trying to say something, or to take something with his gaze that he couldn't take through something else.

So, they might like each other. There might even be a mutual attraction. But there was one, gigantic elephant in the room, and it had a pair of fangs, too: Stefan. Elena loved Stefan. Stefan was her boyfriend. She was crazy about him, always had been. He was the one who'd saved her life, in more ways than one. He was sweet and kind and gentle and fiercely protective and made her feel so many things...But he wasn't here. The same way he hadn't been there when struggling with his secret but didn't have anyone to talk to about it. The same way he hadn't been there for her Miss Mystic Pageant, and Damon had stepped in so that people wouldn't talk. He loved her, yes, but his lack of control was always going to hang between them -especially now, after this, when she'd seen the bodies herself, drained and discarded innocents who hadn't deserved what happened to them. And she didn't deserve it, either.

But running into Elijah's arms and mauling him with kisses wasn't exactly the answer, either. He was an Original, was Klaus' brother, and was going to live forever forever, rather than a normal forever -a paradoxical phrase if there ever was one- and he'd seen so much and been through so much, and she was a supernatural danger magnet...who he'd always protect, no matter what. He'd promised her as much, and she believed with all her heart that he would always keep that promise. But could she promise her heart to him? Could she go up to him and say, 'Hey, Elijah, I think I really, really like you, but I'm still technically with Stefan, so do you mind waiting a while so I can break up my Ripper boyfriend and then go out with you?'

And, another thing, could she really break up with Stefan? After everything they'd been through, everything he'd done for her, everything she'd sacrificed for him, could she really throw all that away after spending two week with a guy?

But Elijah isn't just some guy to you, a voice at the back of her head reminded her, he's Elijah. Your Elijah, the one you and only you get to see.

True. It just didn't seem fair to her. She'd never been the kind of girl to play around, to mess with people's feelings or lead them on. And once they got Stefan home, he'd be vulnerable and he'd need her...

But what about what you need? that same voice insisted once again. When do you get to be happy? When do you get to out yourself and what you want first? The heart wants what the heart wants, and wouldn't it be crueler to force things with Stefan if it's not how it used to be, if you're not who you used to be?

"Elena? Elena, are you alright?"

"Yeah, sure, I'm great," the brunette replied on autopilot. "Why?"

"You've been staring at that screen like it possesses all the secrets to the universe for the past ten minutes, that's all. Care to tell me what's plaguing you so?"

Nope, never. Never, ever, ever.

Instead, she just spun the laptop around so that Elijah could see the screen as she explained, "I've been trying to keep up to date on any suspicious activity going on lately, anything that fits the vampire M.O. Of course, there's so much out there and it's hard to sort out what's what, but I think I might have a new lead."

"A decapitated body discovered at the Starstream Seven Drive-In Theatre in Charleston, South Carolina," Elijah summarized deftly. "That seems remarkably close to New Orleans for my brother, given the fact that I know he never intended to go anywhere near the city ever again."

"It's also, if you think about it, not that far from Mystic Falls," Elena pointed out with no small sense of apprehension. "Which has me thinking...it could be some kind of test, for Stefan. Klaus has some paranoia and trust issues, I'd wager, given everything you've told me, and the fact that he daggered you and all. There's no way he wouldn't try and pull some sort of trick on Stefan, get him near home and see what he does, if he takes the bait or not."

Elijah nodded in agreement. "Which Mr Salvatore would never go for."

"Exactly. But Stefan has probably figured out that at least someone is trying to find him, and if Stefan's thought of that, then there's no way that Klaus hasn't, either: he's a brother, too. So, with that in mind as well, I think Stefan might have left something there, like a message or a clue or something, to get whoever he thinks is on their tail to stop looking."

"What makes you say that?" a frown marring his face as he took the turning that would lead them to their hotel, a compromise on her part from the lavish one Elijah had suggested twenty miles out.

"Because it's what I would do," Elena replied simply as she continued to scroll. "And because, no matter what, Stefan is always going to but his brother's safety above his own, same as I would do Jer or you would for your siblings: it's instinct. If he can't do that with a call, then he's going to find another way. But it would have to be somewhere he knew Damon would look, without a doubt. Somewhere that wasn't obvious, because Klaus might find it by accident, which rules out the actual crime scene. So, the winner goes to..."

Elena waited to see if Elijah caught on.

"The body." He did.

Shutting her laptop, she sighed with resignation. "Looks like it's another trip to the morgue for Team Elejah."

Elijah gave her a baffled expression.

"Elena and Elijah," she explained, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks like a rose trellis. "Your name mixed with my name."

"You make us sound like some buddy-cop duo."

"I do not!" she argued, before a thought struck her. "Who's gonna be bad cop then? Me? I've always wanted to try out my intimidating scowl."

"I don't think the world is quite ready for your intimidating scowl just yet, darling Elena," he quipped as he stopped the car, flashing to her side and opening the door for her.

"You know, if you keep spoiling me like this," Elena grumbled, perhaps being somewhat dramatic, "when I get home I'm gonna end up just sitting in my car, waiting until someone opens the door for me before I actually get out."

"Just think of all the constructive ways you could use that extra time, though," he said with a teasing smirk as he locked the car behind them.

"To do what?" Elena pouted. "Organize my Tic-Tac collection? This royal treatment of yours is only going to make me lazy and..."

"And what?" he pressed.

"It's not going to last, anyway. By the end of the summer, it won't be like this anymore."

Elijah stilled her with a hand on her arm, traversing down until it encircled her wrist. "No, Elena, by the end of the summer, it won't be like this: you'll have reunited with Stefan and I'll be tearing into my brother, either verbally or physically depending on how much he irks me. But we shall still be friends, no matter what. You have my word. Okay?"

"Okay." Loosing a long breath, Elena didn't move out of his hold, instead manipulating it so she could drag him to the front doors of the hotel. "Let's get going. I could die for a cold shower. God, I hate hot weather."

"This is nothing, sweetheart. Wait to you've been deposited in the Sahara with no water -or blood for that matter- because your brother thinks it would be 'funny.'"

"Klaus or Kol?" Elena grinned knowingly.

"Kol. Suffice to say, when I got out I was not amused. And may or may not have taken it out on his priceless grimoire collection, setting them alight, with Niklaus and Rebekah joined in out of solidarity."

"Grimoire burning: family fun for all."

"It's true," Elijah conceded ruefully, "us Mikaleson's have particularly non-traditional bonding rituals, except wish burning."

"Ooh, I'm intrigued. What's that?" Elena asked as she punched the button for their floor.

"Every Christmas, we built a bonfire and wrote down a wish for each of us, and by throwing it into the fire we believed it would come true."

"I like that. We need more stuff like that in our lives."

"Like what?"

"Hope."


Elena, as it turned out, had been to Charleston before. Once, she told Elijah on the way there, for a school trip about the civil war where they had to watch a reenactment and take notes. She also confessed that she hadn't done much watching but had instead snuck out of the group with Caroline and Bonnie to go exploring, and that they'd had to make a mad dash back to the school bus before it left without them, and she still had the keychain Bonnie and Caroline had gotten her from one of the historical gift shops of a pink plastic town house complete with iron lace and a painted window box.

This time around, however, was of course far from the world of childhood shenanigans, instead grim and cold, the heat of the south absent with the penetrating chill of death. Even he was cold as he compelled their entrance into the morgue, Elena looking far too pale for his liking as she shouldered open the massive metal door. While he knew this wouldn't be as hard as the last one for her, it was still not a pleasant experience. Especially for a young woman who's birthday was next week. But she uttered no complaint, only strode over to the cluttered desk as she began browsing the files for the correct case.

Elijah remained silent, guarding the door stoically, giving her the space she needed.

Finally locating the correct drawer, Elena pulled it open, wincing at the screeching noise, and began looking for the victim's bag of personal effects. She didn't dump out the contents like most people would have, but took each one out individually, carefully, examining it with the lightest touch. A wallet, a watch, a receipt, a stick of chewing gum and...a phone.

With the fingers of a girl raised around modern technology, she began scrolling, likely looking for any kind of message Stefan could have left. And she must have found it, for she took in a strangled breath and dropped the phone onto the coroner's desk with a clatter.

He was at her side in an instant, cupping her elbows as squeezed her eyes shut.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Elena rasped as she shook her head, as if trying to rid herself of what she'd just seen. "It's just...I wasn't expecting that, is all."

Warily, Elijah picked up the offending pile of plastic, his own eyes widening when they combed over the contents of the screen. It seemed Stefan hadn't taken anything to chance when leaving a message for his brother, and put it in the most obvious place: the victim's calendar, open automatically to the current month. And, on June 22nd, the birthday of the woman he was keeping upright and of the woman who had never been human enough to falter in front of him was a few lines of text.

Damon, stop looking for me. Klaus is on to you, I can feel it. It's not safe. I did this for a reason, and you need to respect that. Go home, protect Elena. She needs you more than I do.

Tell her I'm sorry.

Stefan.

"Can I see that?"

Elijah handed her the phone.

"Wanna know what I think of that Stefan?" she asked into the empty room. Loosening her grip, the phone fell to the floor, and within her heartbeat her boot was descending upon it, hard, breaking it into a million tiny pieces, shattering the screen as it went black.

"That's what I think." Turning to Elijah, she offered him an apologetic smile. "Don't worry, I made sure there wasn't anything important to him on there, photos or anything his family might want to keep."

Elijah drew her to him, her nose tickling the side of his neck. "Your compassion knows no bounds, does it?"

"And neither does my rage. He could have said anything, Elijah," she growled, and he could feel her veins thrumming with that Petrova fire he'd encountered so often before, but existed as a purer, better flame in her. "He could have said where he was going or what Klaus was planning, but no, he has to go in about how I need protecting, like I'm some toddler everyone needs to babysit, like I can't handle myself. I'm the one that's been following him, and he doesn't even know. He really thought that I would just, what? Sit on my hands while he's out there doing God knows what? Embroider napkins and stare out the window like some eighteenth century heroine waiting for her beau to come home from the war? Screw that. I am not that kinda girl, and if he thinks otherwise he is seriously underestimating me."

"It seems most people do," Elijah agreed with a hint of offense -on her part- and exasperation -for the idiocy of most people. But he wasn't entirely blameless, either, and had to aquiesce, "Even I was guilty of it."

"No, you weren't," Elena insisted, tossing her head like he'd just said the absurdist thing in the world. "Not when it comes to the people I love: you wouldn't have agreed to my terms otherwise if you had any doubts about my commitment. It's why I liked you so much, and still do."

And with that particular bombshell, Elena strode out of the room and didn't look back.


Author's Note: Chapter Seventeen crash-landing on your electronic devices in five...four...three...