Summary: There was a price to pay for Elena coming back. To win a life with Stefan and her own humanity back, she must fulfill her promise to destroy the Old Ones.
Disclaimers: Elena Gilbert, Stefan Salvatore and any other names you recognize from the books, along with the Vampire Diaries I - IV belong to L.J. Smith. Everything else is mine. No harm intended or money made from this fic.
Date posted: 13 June 2004
Dear readers, I'd apologize for the long delay, but the truth is, I'm surprised/ecstatic that I'm posting a chapter now. I had expected the next update to be sometime in September, due to demands of work and such. So anyway, I do hope you enjoy the chapter. There's just one more part to go. That WILL take a while, since it's wholly unwritten as yet.
As always, feedback of any kind if muchly welcomed! To those who took time to drop me a comment, many many thanks! You guys brighten my day!
Senia Naku: To you, since you've been watching for this update every day, I owe an apology, perhaps. grins Well, I hope you deem the chapter worth the wait. Don't worry, one more chapter and the tale is done and your misery ceases. Tell me what you think! As for Damon -- see the comments I'm going to put after the final chapter.
winry16: Thanks for the encouragement! Yep, there's quite a bit packed into the last few chapters, I suppose. And one more to go! Phew! It's going to be a toughie! I don't have very many more fics published. At present on FFN, the only other thing is a short Elfquest ficlet. After Leaf, we'll see...
L. Elaine Thompson: LJS rocks! I hope you like Leaf nearly as much as The VD!
Kichiko: Very simply, thanks for staying with me!
Fifty Seven
(13 October 1993)
Elena opened her eyes. She blinked once, feeling odd and trying to figure out why. She rolled over and sat up, drew a deep breath-
The world spun.
Blood rush, she thought. I must have moved too fast. It's just blood-
Hunger.
It hit her like something tangible, the smell of blood, making her veins burn in a way that was familiar, a way she had not felt in years.
Not since she'd been a vampire.
Stiffening, she looked around wildly. Her surroundings triggered memory and it all came back to her in a flash like lightning.
Eiran. The Old One.
Then she saw the body on the floor and it stole her breath. No. "No!"
It was Eiran, lying in a pool of his own blood, just as he had, two days ago. Disbelief hit her, numbing her mind.
It couldn't be happening again! Where was Maddy? She had to get Maddy to heal him, to save him before it was too late!
Fighting panic, ignoring the calm little voice that told her it was already too late, she scrambled off the bed and towards the door, stepping carefully to avoid the blood.
She hadn't taken a step or two before the hot, coppery smell hit her again and she was reminded of the earlier sensation that had woken her.
Bloodlust. The urge to bend and drink from the pool of cooling scarlet liquid was almost irresistible. Elena gagged, choked, pressing fingers to her lips. What was happening? How could she be feeling bloodlust? She wasn't a vampire-
Something - someone - on the other side of the room shifted slightly, calling attention to himself.
The man was lounging against the chest of drawers set against the wall, and Elena could have sworn that he had not been there a moment ago. He had golden skin, a lithe, graceful body, and fine, exotically slanted features that gave his face a faintly fox-ish cast.
But more than that, she knew him. She knew that his appearance meant nothing - he could change it at will. And his Name was as clear to her as her own.
It was the sixth Old One.
The shock of seeing him there collided with sudden understanding, shooting adrenaline through her.
"You did this," she accused, fury anesthetizing her from the faintly suffocating sensation of blood-hunger. All thought of getting Maddy had fled. She was going to make this creature pay.
"What? That?" The black-haired head tilted towards the gory sight on the floor. "Why, yes," he admitted blithely. "And you, as well."
"What do you mean?" she snapped, fists balling at her sides and defensive against the implication that she had somehow been responsible for what had happened to Eiran. She could not have... but she had been unconscious; she didn't know what had happened.
"You," he explained patiently. "I did that, too."
"What did you do to me?" Defensive no longer, suspicion and dread reared up, chilling her. The vulnerability was enough to let the bloodlust intrude again. And to her horror, Elena felt the half-remembered sensation of her canines lengthening. But... that was not possible. She wasn't a vampire!
Her hands flew to her mouth. She wasn't imagining things; her finger came away red, pricked by a needle-fine point of an elongated fang. With preternatural sensitivity, she could feel the smooth, hard length indenting her lower lip.
"That," the Old One clarified, his tone still maddeningly pleasant.
"What...did you..." she began faintly, still staring at the bead of red on the tip of her finger. The question died half uttered. 'What' was obvious enough. But... how? And why?
"Elena?" It was Stefan, and he was tapping on the closed door of the room, trying the knob, which appeared to be locked. Elena reflexively backpedaled and sat down abruptly when the backs of her knees came into contact with the bed.
"Elena! Eiran! Is everything all right?" This time, Stefan knocked a little harder.
Her hands were covering her lips as she stared at the door and she shook her head slowly, silently. Oh no... Stefan. If he saw her...
She blindly slid further away, moving to press defensively against the headboard, hugging her knees. She had carelessly stepped into the puddle of blood and her heels left dark smears on the covers.
The Old One suddenly pushed away from the wall, his manner shifting from languid to alert. He took two steps forward, facing the door. Elena spared him a quick look and saw that he was gazing at it as if he could see right through it to the corridor beyond.
The wood... shimmered and disappeared. Elena recoiled and turned away before Stefan could see her. Shutting her eyes, she rested her forehead against her up-drawn knees, hair falling around forward, shielding her from sight.
She heard Stefan coming closer, then he stopped. Half afraid of why he had stopped, she threw a quick glance up through her hair and saw that he was pressed against an invisible barrier. He hammered at it, his hand seeming to strike solid air, and called to her. He became frantic as she tried not to hear and did not acknowledge him.
She had to think, had to clear her head. It was difficult, with the enticing metallic tang of copper in her mouth and the burning in her veins, with the panic threatening to overwhelm her. She forced her mind away, fingers tightening over her knees until her knuckles trembled from the strain of the grip.
Jerrick arrived then but Elena was focused inwards and barely noticed. She fought to establish priorities, banishing emotion.
The most obvious was that she had to unmake the Old One. Once she had done so, she could Turn the vampires gathered little more than a mile away. Then she would Turn herself and everything would be fine.
Except where before, from some unknown part of her, rose a rush of Power that directed her to utterly eradicate the immortals, there was only aching, echoing emptiness.
That realization shattered her concentration and calm. Fear and bloodlust roared back in to fill the void and she was lost again. Amid the numb whirl of need and despair, she felt her chin grasped and forced upwards and for a moment, she could only stare into the flat green eyes of the Old One.
She was brought sharply back to her surroundings, her eyes darted towards Stefan. Too late; he had seen her fangs, and his shell-shocked expression and white face almost made her dissolve to tears then and there. She jerked her head aside, not wanting to see the proof of his rejection.
The malicious laughter of the sixth immortal rang in her ears and she felt a blazing surge of hatred. The emotion superceded her helplessness, sharpened her resolve to destroy him.
"Nature decreed that her tool would not die until the task has been completed," he was saying and Elena stared at him out of the corner of her eye. "But does the immortality geas still hold, if she dies as a vampire?"
Hope, which had begun to flutter delicate wings in her heart, died as Elena found the answer within herself. She could not unmake him as she was. She could not Turn herself - or anyone else - without the Power she released when he was unmade.
It was an impasse.
"So where does that leave us?" the sixth one asked with a distinctly careless air. "The fair Elena can either live out the rest of her life as a vampire and there will be two more Old Ones left in the world. Or, she could drive a stake through her own heart, take the chance that she will come back human and unmake me. Of course, if she doesn't, she'll just be dead."
Elena's new vampiric hearing caught the small sound of protest that came from Stefan's throat and she almost, almost looked at him. She caught herself just in time; if she looked into his eyes again, she would lose her fragile control.
She drew a long, shuddering breath - and caught the scent of blood again. Gulping convulsively, she shut her eyes. The realization of just whose blood it was made tears prickled behind her lids.
Oh Eiran. How did it get this way?
Grief welled up, trying to force a sob past her lips. She drew another breath, choking. And then another, until she steadied herself.
When she opened her eyes again, the old one was coming back towards her, and she lifted her head in defiance, meeting his opaque jade eyes squarely. She watched at him, unblinking, as he offered her the stake with a little bow.
"What do you say?"
She kept silent for a long moment, staring daggers at him. He was unaffected, holding perfectly still, as if he could remain in that inclined position indefinitely. His expression was viciousness and cheer, but beneath that, there was something dead and uncaring.
Elena realized with a start that she still knew his Name. If she was completely deprived of her Powers, would she still be able to know that? She experimentally thought of something in the language of the immortals. It came as easily as English.
Her mind began to race.
::If I can still read his Name... then I still have a measure of Power. But I can't unmake him, the vampirism is in the way. But... If - if - I can't come back, dying as a vampire...
::I can still come back, dying as a human. Can I Turn...myself? If I can Turn myself, I can come back. I can unmake him.::
She didn't know what showed on her face but he was watching her like a hawk, although he still hadn't moved a muscle.
Elena looked past him, at Jerrick. The pale blue eyes were burning and not wholly sane. Elena felt a chill and broke eye contact. No help there.
Elena turned the situation over in her mind, struggling for clear thought through the intense scrutiny, the burning in her veins, the anguish eating at her will.
She could not unmake him as a vampire. But, if not all her abilities were gone, perhaps she could still Turn vampires? She had changed vampires by force of will and what Power was granted her by Nature, before she had drawn on the wild Power released by an Old One's unmaking.
If she could Turn herself now, she reasoned, feeling as if she were wading through a quagmire. If she could make herself human again, she could unmake him.
She lowered her eyes to the stake he held. Slowly, with a hand trembling from bloodlust as much as uncertainty, she took it.
"Elena, no!" Stefan's reaction was pure violence. In the periphery of her vision, she saw him surge up and throw himself against the invisible barrier. She thought she saw his face twist to a mask of fierce negation. Still, she kept her gaze carefully averted from him, looking blindly at the length of sharpened wood she held.
The sixth seemed to hesitate, then stepped back.
Elena forced herself to forget everyone and everything else and concentrated on only one thought: I can do this. I'm going to Turn myself. I want to be human.
The last, she repeated, like a mantra, letting the sentence build in her mind, loom in her resolve. It grew, solidified, calmed her.
And, slowly, she felt the first stirring of a half-familiar energy, like a slumbering dragon uncoiling within her. A restlessness that filled her, answering the desire she had raised, to renounce her vampirism.
She nearly lost her concentration as excitement reared up. Gripping the stake, she once again looked up and met Jerrick's eyes. She only nodded, but he understood the summons in the gesture and came towards her.
When he came up against the barrier, he looked expressionlessly at the golden-skinned man, whose heavy-lidded gaze showed his contempt as he allowed the unprepossessing redhead to pass.
Jerrick stopped before her, standing beside the bed.
She handed him the stake, ignoring Stefan's fierce, half-whispered protest. Once again, she had to stop herself from looking at him; if she did, her resolve would crumble and she would succumb to fear and despair again.
No, she needed to be strong right then, and Jerrick would help. It was what he was good for.
"Are you sure?" he asked quietly, so that only she heard.
She gave him a look that was both blazing and frigid. "You and I both know this is the only answer," she snapped. She did not need him to undermine her certainty with false concern, now of all times. Besides, they both knew he would never let her go so long as there was a chance their task could be completed. "Just do it, Jerrick. Right through the heart when I tell you to."
She shut her eyes and reached once again, inward, letting her need and desire build, feeding that loathing for the burning in her veins until the Power she had been given stirred in answer.
Yes. I want to be human...
Her fingers clasped around each other and she felt the bite of her engagement ring, the symbol of everything that mattered most to her.
I want to be human...
She clung to that statement, putting pure emotion behind it until it blotted out all other thought and desire. She felt the Power surge to answer, eager now, building, roaring up and out-
"Now," she breathed.
The pain was indescribable. She might have screamed; she wasn't sure. Wood poisoning, right through the heart. Elena almost lost hold of her resolve, drowning in pain. She groped for it and hung on to the threads with desperate strength.
I want to be human...
There was pain, and her strength was ebbing. As if from far away, she felt a hot wave of Power surged out of her, like a wild animal released from its cage.
I want to be Turned.
Distantly, a burst of warmth spread through her, numbing the pain, softening the bloodlust.
Elena knew relief. She didn't know if it was working. Her mind was blanking, so it was difficult to hold a coherent thought and it was difficult to care.
She remembered dying. She'd had some practice at it.
Elena exhaled one last time, and then went still.
The barrier collapsed suddenly, spilling Stefan forward.
His hands, which had been pressed to the invisible wall, took most of the impact but he barely noticed, completely intent on Elena. He crawled towards her, unsteady, trembling. She lay, half-propped against the headboard, head tipped to one side, eyes wide and staring.
The stake protruding from her chest was almost painful to look at and as he reached her, Jerrick yanked it out ruthlessly. Her body jerked, but it was sheer reflex, not voluntary movement; she was dead. That fact crashed down on him, stealing his breath. After everything that had happened, it was inconceivable that it should end like this. His mind could not accept that. No. She would live. She could not be dead. She could not have left him again...
"Elena," he whispered and his voice wobbled uncontrollably.
Rising to his knees, he reached up and laid a hand against her cheek; still warm. But not for long.
With a tug, he pulled her limp body into his lap on the floor and cradled her. It was too déjà vu, too much like the previous time he had held her while her life essence slipped away. Then, they had been sitting in the shadows of the old crypt and Katherine had been reduced to dust. Elena had talked to him and Damon...
His hand trembled as he gently shut her eyes. His own squeezed close. Three times he had lost her and each time redoubled the pain. He felt his mind go blank, overloaded by the sheer force of his emotions. A small, odd part of him whispered that he would go mad soon.
A hand fell on his shoulder and he snapped around to see Jerrick leaning heavily on his cane. "Believe in her. She will be back."
The bland words, said while her body cooled in his arms, ravaged, lifeless, with blood soaking the powder blue sweater and that ugly, gaping wound laying bare her ribcage, made something snap in Stefan. He was suddenly murderous.
"You!" he snarled. "This is all your doing!"
The blue eyes, a pale, poor imitation of Elena's vibrant jewel-tone, regarded him without emotion. In a different time and place, Stefan might have said Jerrick looked tired. Now, he rose to his feet, lethal rage taking over his mind and body, coloring his vision. It was like the loss of control that had seized him when he had pulled Elena's cold, lifeless body out of river, the one that had made him nearly kill Tyler Smallwood and his friends, draining them dry.
He was not as dangerous this time, perhaps, as he had been as a vampire, but then, as now, he knew his nemesis, and he advanced on the limping redhead who had driven the stake through Elena's heart.
"Stefan, don't be an idiot," Jerrick said flatly, not retreating an inch.
Stefan felt his arm grabbed. For a blind moment, he thought it was Damon who held him and past and present merged dizzyingly.
Then the adamant coolness of the other's manner penetrated his rage-drunk senses. It was Makoe. The vampire was as inscrutable as ever, but there was tension in his grip and wariness in the cool, dark eyes.
"You can't kill him, Salvatore," the dark vampire said.
Stefan stared, betrayal stinging even amid the towering fury he used to hold back the grief that threatened to drive him mad. "And why not, Makoe? He deserves it!"
"I'm sure, but there is nothing you can do to him." The vampire was looking at Jerrick now and the set of his jaw was tight. "I mean that literally, Stefan. He's-"
A burst of laughter interrupted him and all heads turned to the Old One. He still appeared as a jade-eyed, gold skinned man with long black hair, but his robes were now scarlet... like blood. His eyes were gleaming, fixed on Jerrick. "You mean to tell me that all along, they did now know-" he broke off with another bark of laughter and his eyes swung to Makoe.
"And you. You wanted to know if I was an Old One, when all along..." The look sharpened, then another razor-edged smile formed on the vixen-like face. "You took him for one of your teachers and priests of old. Oh, the irony of it all," he finished, mockingly.
Stefan's gaze darted from one man to another. There was something significant going on and he was the only one blind to it, but he wasn't sure how much he cared.
If Elena did not return, he would only care for revenge, and then...
Makoe had released his arm but he did not respond to the Old One's barb. Instead, he was looking at Jerrick again. The redhead, in turn, was watching the sixth, who was still appearing sardonically amused.
There was a tensed, silent interval and then the lame man spoke. "When she returns, you won't resist further?"
"By all means," the bronze-skinned Old One said, extravagantly magnanimous. "If she returns, the game will be over. She can do with me as she wishes." The Old One crossed his arms and continued to smile faintly, looking confident of the outcome.
A game? Stefan felt the breath go out of him. All this - Eiran's death, Elena's sacrifice - was all a game to him? A small part of Stefan's mind recognized that it was precisely how insignificant this seemed to a being who had lived millennia, who was utterly inhuman, but that remote little voice went largely unnoticed.
Stefan was torn; he did not know how to feel, which was almost worse than knowing for certain that Elena was dead. At least then, he knew what to do. Now, he had to wait, and wait with no expectations, for as painful as it was to give up hope, it was more dangerous to harbor hope.
How long? he wondered. How long before we know for certain?
"Then savor your last minutes," Jerrick said suddenly with a certain grim satisfaction. Stefan glanced at him sharply and saw the wild light in his eyes.
The redhead glanced meaningfully at where Elena lay.
Elena, whose form was now taking on a luminosity.
Stefan stared, not quite daring to believe his eyes. But it was no trick; the longer he looked, the more apparent the glow became, a white sheen covering her, just like the time she had faced Jerrick after the vampires had been released from their underground prison.
Stefan felt hope well up and clog his throat. His breath came with difficulty for all that his heart pounded like a wild thing and his vision blurred with tears of sheer joy and relief.
As they watched, she levitated, still limp and unconscious. Her feet touched the floor and she stood motionless, like a sleeper, with her eyes shut and head slightly thrown back. The light reflected off her pale hair, turning it to bright silver-gold, and illuminating clearly the smooth but bloodstained skin beneath the rent in the sweater where there had been torn flesh before. The force that whipped her hair around was no wind, but the flow of pure Power.
The white glow grew, and grew, but Stefan never took his eyes off the darker silhouette within the cocoon of light. Even as a human, Stefan could feel the pulse of Power it emitted. There was a pulse, like a marshalling of force, and then Power exploded rippled outwards. The windows burst open and the room was flooded with light. In the aftermath, the light all but disappeared, making sight bearable again.
Stefan gulped, gasped, remembered to start breathing again. He felt a touch of fear at the show of raw, wild Power. Elena...
He wanted to hold her, to reassure himself that she was indeed alive and healed, but something held him back. It was that display of inhuman Powers, and the sense of feyness about her that kept him in place; this was not his Elena, the American teenager he was betrothed to. This was Nature's tool.
The sound of slow, burlesque clapping broke the spell. "Bravo. Well,... Jerrick. It would seem that your 'bane' is more than I can hold." The immortal was watching the blonde girl with an expression of bemusement ... and resignation. And Jerrick ...
Jerrick was staring at the shining sight as if he saw his salvation. His eyes were bright and fierce with joy. Yes, joy. Stefan was surprised that he used that word for the normally blasé redhead, but it was the only word that fit.
The Old One's thin, sculpted lips twisted wryly. "I concede defeat, well and truly bested." He flashed a feral grin all around and there was little humor in the expression. "But you must admit, it was a grand game."
"Yes, it was," Jerrick said blandly. A snap in the inflection made the simple phrase a scathing reprimand, although his voice was hushed and his eyes were still fixed on Elena.
Elena opened her eyes. Her expression was remote, dispassionate and Stefan watched as she fixed the raven-haired Old One in an implacable look.
"Shiva."
A single word, but the flat finality in it hit like a slap. The word, the Name, echoed and reechoed with pent up force, commanding, compelling.
"Eth'ey thah'rn." [[Death summons you]]
"Naii menir." [[I answer.]] The Old One inclined forward in a half bow. His voice deepened as he uttered the lyric words. The tone of formality and finality gave Stefan an idea of what might have been said.
She didn't move forward to touch him, as she had Klaus. She merely stretched out her hand. Light arched from her fingers and enveloped him where he stood, gazing at her, fearless and ironic.
Shiva, the sixth Old One. stood there, looking so proud, so composed, with a faint smirk on his face, as the light spilled over him in an almost opaque wave. Just before he was completely obscured from view, he lifted a hand and touched fingers to forehead in a salute to Jerrick. The glare grew, throwing shadows across the room. Abruptly, it contracted into a thin line and disappeared.
And he was gone.
Stefan could only stand there, blinking, for a split second when peace roared back in to fill the void left by the chaos and tumult of the last few minutes. A slight movement made his eyes dart to one side and he moved without thought, catching Elena just before she hit the floor.
She struggled weakly to rise and he held her up. As soon as she found her balance on her own feet, she pushed away from him. The stumbling steps she took towards the door were alarming to watch. She reached the threshold and caught the lintel with one hand and went to her knees. Only the other hand, braced against the floor, saved her from falling facedown.
Stefan was bewildered, until Jerrick hissed, "Get her to the vampires!"
The vampires. Of course.
In all the excitement, he had forgotten that Elena would have to release the Power of the Old One into Turning. Reminded, he needed no further urging to scoop Elena up in his arms and carry her down the stairs and out of the building, across the training area and through the woods to where the hunters were guarding the vampires.
Elena barely had the presence of mind to cling to his shoulders and her eyes had that frightening faraway look in them.
His legs, arms and chest were burning. One of the hunters on guard yelled as he ran past them. Stefan did not spare the breath to reply and nearly tripped to a halt when he felt Elena's nails dig into his flesh.
He set her on her feet, keeping steadying hands on her shoulders. She stood, facing the cabins where vampires were emerging at various speeds, with expressions ranging from suspicious to confusion to jubilance.
"Taura, get them all out here!" Stefan got out, spotting the diminutive huntress. He gulped a deep breath and raised his voice. "Vampires, now is the time you've been waiting for. If you wish to be human again, come forth."
His words kicked up the pitch of activity among them. Some ran forward while the buzz of rapid conversation among others filled the air.
Elena struck the first at eight feet. The young girl stopped dead, then fell on the ground without warning. That caused all the other vampires to pause and stare. They had been briefed as to what to expect, but seeing one of their number go down suddenly must have been unnerving, nonetheless.
"She will wake human. Who else wishes the same?" The voice was Elena's but there was little humanity in the inflection.
Another brief moment of hesitation, then a bearded man took a step forward. Elena swung her head towards him and waited until he came closer. Others joined him in advancing. When they reached the fallen girl, one by one, they fell.
A commotion broke out just beyond the cabins ring of cabins. Stefan saw the hunters restraining a couple of enraged vampires. He watched long enough to see the pair deposited among the rest of their kind, looking sullen, then his attention went back to Elena.
He expected to feel his hands tingle where they held her shoulders, but all he felt was flesh beneath the sweater, faintly warm, human.
There were a handful of vampires who did not come forward, hanging back near the cabins, watching narrow-eyed.
Elena lifted her head slightly to address them over the unconscious forms of the newly Turned spread on the ground between them. "This is your last chance. After this, there will be no more Turning," she told them.
Stefan looked at her sharply at this announcement. No more Turning? What about the last Old One?
One or two of the vampires moved hesitantly forward and soon joined the pool of senseless bodies. It was only then that Stefan felt the fine hair stir on the back of his hand, as if from static electricity, and felt tension leave Elena.
She slumped against him, boneless in exhaustion. "Call... call Miriam to take it from here," she murmured. Gone was the strong, dispassionate voice; her words were barely audible now. "The vampires - no harming them. Let them go. It's over." And then she fell silent and just leaned on him, borrowing his strength.
He gathered her up again and noticed the ugly, bloodstained hole in her middle this time. Pausing long enough to relay Elena's instructions to Karen, he carried his fiancée out of the enclosure and struck out across the woods instead of looking for the path to their cabin.
They were perhaps halfway there when Elena roused and looked at him. Stefan's steps had been slowing in the last few minutes, as adrenaline left him and fatigue set in.
"Put me down."
"You can't walk," Stefan said, stubborn but gentle. He doggedly continuous placing one foot before the other, not meeting her eyes, ignoring the burn in his arms and legs.
"Stefan..."
He only shook his head.
"All right, then, at least let's rest here a while," she countered with a bit more of her customary force of will.
He plodded along another two steps, then stopped beside the nearest tree. He eased her onto a bough of more or less the right height so that she was sitting with arms looped around his shoulders, head nestled below his chin.
They stood in silence for a while.
"I thought I'd lost you again." The bleak words spilled out without any conscious thought. He tipped his chin down to rest his lips on the crown of her head, and shut his eyes, savoring the feel of her, alive and warm in his arms. He uttered a silent, fervent prayer of thanks.
Her arms tightened. "No." A faint shudder ran through her and he soothed it away, hands gliding down her back. "Never again. It's over."
That phrase again. "But... isn't there another-" he began, confused.
"Elena!" Stefan looked up. He could barely able to recognize the voice, fraught with sheer need as to raise gooseflesh on his skin.
Jerrick limped into view, something fierce burning in his eyes.
The blonde girl did not move, did not look up, continuing to press her forehead to Stefan's chest. "No, Jerrick," she murmured, sounding drained. "Not today."
The redhead looked ready to object, opened his mouth to deliver a scathing comment, born of thwarted desire, but it died unuttered. His lips sealed, pressed together and his pale blue eyes bore into the blonde in Stefan's arms.
The ex-vampire felt the first stirs of understanding as Jerrick spoke. "Very well, Elena. But tomorrow, we shall finish this, you and I."
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!