Warning: Mentions of blood and death in this chapter.

Rely On

Elena was the first to admit that she had never held much interest in cars growing up, could never be considered a 'Car Girl' or anything of the like. Her dad had tried to teach her some things, about different makes and models and such; she knew where everything was, and what coloured smoke coming out of the hood meant what and all that, but she'd never wanted to just get in a car and drive and drive with nothing but open road and endless possibilities surrounding her on all sides, and certainly not with anyone else accompanying her, especially not after her parents' accident. It had taken months just to get in one, let alone drive it. And yet she found she was almost excited as she got in behind the wheel after having signed out, catching a fleeting glance at Elijah in the rearview mirror as he dutifully deposited their luggage in the trunk. She hadn't even noticed he'd bought bags with him after he'd returned to the motel. Her 'Taking Note Of Your Surroundings' skills needed some serious work.

Elegantly folding himself into the front seat beside her, Elijah pierced her with a bemused look as she carefully pulled out of the parking lot, not taking her concentration away from the road for a second.

"What?" she demanded without looking at him.

Elijah shrugged, unruffled by her bluntness. "Your dedication to road safety is admirable," he merely said.

"Yeah, well, just because you can't die in a wreck doesn't mean that I can't. Besides, this car is a rental, and even though Caroline likely got it through compulsion, I'd still feel bad if it got dented. Or if I hurt someone else just because I couldn't take an extra ten seconds to not act like an idiot."

"Quite right." He knew. She knew that he knew. He had spent a lot of time with Jenna; it was bound to come up. But unlike so many others, he didn't comment on it, which was a blessed relief. She'd had automatic almost robotic responses of pity and sympathy from too many people in her life: Elena didn't need it from him, too.

At the first red light she came to, she stretched her arm and reached into the glove compartment, pulling out a map and flapping it in his face, a bird of blurred lines and intersections. "Do you want to be our designated Map Guy?"

His lips quirked up, just the tiniest bit. "Do you see anyone else willing to take up the position?"

"No," Elena drawled, "and your eyesight is, after all, better than mine. And your geographical knowledge. Heck, you could probably walk across America blindfolded and still get where you want to go."

Elijah pinned her with a wry look from under his lashes. "I wouldn't go that far...but yes, I am indeed more knowledgeable than most. Turn left," he ordered abruptly.

Wordlessly, Elena complied, avoiding a kid on a bike, headphones blaring, in the nick of time.

"How did you...right, vamp hearing," she finished her own sentence. "Do you really hear everything that loudly?"

He nodded stoically. "You learn to tune certain sounds out, but being on the run for hundreds of years instills in you a necessity to be alert," Elijah explained, as if it were perfectly normal to have developed that particular skill for that particular reason. Elena could hardly imagine it, being hunted for nearly a thousand years by one of the people in the world who was supposed to love and protect you, no matter what, simply because the spell he had forced their mother to enact had not gone how he wanted. If Elena ever saw him, she was seriously inclined to punch him in the face, if only on behalf of her moral compass.

"And being an older sibling," she supplied in order to quell the sadness bubbling from her and the hidden pain emanating from him. She'd never had anyone she could connect to when it came to brothers and sisters, except for maybe Matt. With Caroline and Bonnie being only children, they hadn't always understood why Elena couldn't go out and play with them, why she sometimes favoured his company over theirs. As they'd gotten older, that had changed, of course, with Jeremy pulling away and trying to grow into himself as a teenager while she and Bonnie and Caroline became closer than ever. But Elijah...he knew how to put family first, above all else, above self or love or dreams of the future. It was tragic, yet also a relief, to know that she wasn't there thee only person in her life who held such high and unwavering loyalties.

"I was always keeping an ear -or an eye- out for Jeremy when we were little," Elena informed him as she tress flashed by in her peripheral vision, "and after our parents died, just in case he needed me. Not that he'd ever admit to it, of course, but sometimes you can just-"

"Tell," Elijah beat her to it. "I understand. While I might not have been the eldest, you learn to be around for your younger siblings, to be in tune with them. It was hard but also-"

"Rewarding." It was her turn now. "Having such a special relationship, different from the one with your parents, being able to talk to them in a way you can't always talk to grown-ups."

"Indeed. In the times of my youth, our parents were not always about the 'Sharing and Caring.'" Elijah using air quotes was easily one of the funniest sights she'd ever had the pleasure to behold. She wished she'd snapped a picture for prosperity. And to prove to Caroline and Bonnie that not all Originals apparently sucked.

"Was that a Sesame Street reference?" Elena gaped incredulously.

Elijah seemed put out by her dramatic reaction. "Dear Elena," he drawled dryly, "just because I'm a vampire doesn't mean I don't know what Sesame Street is; I'm not an uncultured barbarian."

Quietly, she sing-songed in her best imitation of Count Von Count's accent, "One Original Vampire, Two Original Vampires, Three Original Vampires."

Elijah laughed. A real, proper laugh, the unexpected, welcome kind, the kind you make when you let your guard down in front of someone you never expected to find yourself vulnerable with. "That was terrible."

"I know. I'm more of an Elmo girl, myself. Caroline was all about Cookie Monster -we used to call her Cookie Care Monster- and Bonnie is a Big Bird girl for life."

"Caroline seemed...interesting," the man began diplomatically, "from what I heard of your conversation. It is a rare thing, to find a vampire who seems so unchanged by the transition."

Elena was quick to abuse him of that notion. "She's changed; she's changed a lot. But actually, I think most of it has been for the better. Don't get me wrong, I loved human Caroline," she said passionately, "but now I think she's not only more in touch with how she feels, but how others feel, too. She isn't afraid to stand up for herself, or against anyone else. And she's got remarkable self control when it comes to craving blood, which after seeing what Stefan went through I'm incredibly grateful for. Damon was wrong about her."

Elijah appeared honestly intrigued. "Why, what did he say?"

"That Caroline would never make it as a vampire, that after what happened with Vicki Donovan -Matt's sister, Jeremy's ex girlfriend who got turned and unfortunately couldn't control herself- we should have killed her and been done with it. Which is awful, considering both times it was his blood that turned them, yet I will admit he couldn't have known Katherine was going to pretend to be me so she could sneak into Caroline's hospital room and suffocate her."

Elena would never know if she imagined it or not, but she would swear on her life that Elijah thundered darkly under his breath, "The bastard," and he seemed genuinely angry on Caroline's behalf, even though he hardly knew her. The moment soon passed though, Elijah tilting his head to watch the whirling landscape. "Your life is very eventful, isn't it?" the Original mused sardonically with a raised brow.

The laugh that bubbled up was raw and self-deprecating. "Oh, you don't know the half of it. But having people like Caroline, like Bonnie and Jeremy and Matt and Ric -and Damon when he's not being an idiot- who I rely on and who rely on me in turn...it makes it easier. It's why I'd do anything to protect them." Elena glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, adding, "Including making deals with Original vampires, even if they don't ever end how I'd like them to."

He indulged her. "What would you have preferred?"

"I would have been good with a handshake, or a coffee," Elena supplied. "Nothing says 'Thank you for sacrificing your life so my brother can break his crazy curse' more than a chai latte with extra whipped cream."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time."

"You do that."

Hunger. There was hunger in him. Gnawing, biting, clawing. Shredding, ripping, tearing. He felt it on the inside so he recreated it on the outside, in the victims who fell at his sharp fangs, a never-ending trail of blood and remorse in equal measure.

With every minute, every breath, it ate at him, the same way every word out of Klaus' mouth was slowly eradicating every inch of Stefan's conscious, all the pain and the guilt the surface of a lake he was falling ever farther away from.

And he liked it.

That had always been his problem, from the very first moment human blood touched his lips, the intoxicating, heady rush as his body's newest source of life flowed through him. He could never make it stop. Stefan had spent over a hundred and forty five years fighting it, but he could never rid himself of the beast for good, or for long. It always came back, growing another head for him to chop down, a Cerberus born of his own weakness. He was tired of fighting it.

Damon was the fighter of the two. Always had been, always would be. He'd fought in the Civil War, after all, when they were both human. He'd fought him over Katherine, and over Elena, and over a hundred, a thousand other things all their lives, living and undead.

Elena.

Hunger, and Elena. Those were the only two things Stefan had felt since he'd left Mystic Falls. Yes, he could still feel her, as if her love for him and his love for her had left some indelible, invisible mark on him, searing him all the way to his very soul. He missed her, but he did not wish she were there with him. Never in a million years would Stefan ever want her to see this, see him like this. Even if he'd give anything in the world to hear her voice right now, see her smile, see that beautiful blend of fire and compassion in her eyes that was unique only to her. She was all that was getting him through this, the one shred of humanity he could rely on not to desert him.

Stefan knew she was better of without him; he wasn't an idiot. Maybe, just maybe, this was the way it was always meant to play out, right from the very beginning. Maybe he was always going to have those months with her, not even a full year, before inevitably having to leave her, to give her up, a dying man wishing for rain in the desert, being granted the tiniest sip and then being given no more, the vaguest taste of salvation meant to propel him forward in the times to come. And they were going to be bad times, of that Stefan was sure. Klaus' obsession with werewolves wasn't going to end in hugs and puppies -pun intended. Once he'd exceeded his usefulness, Stefan had no delusions about the Original Hybrid and what he'd do with him -he saw a shallow grave in his not-so- distant future, dead either from a werewolf bite or a stake to the heart when Klaus got bored of him, as he was so quick to do with his many toys.

Like right now, as he watched from a corner booth in an all-night diner, the bodies beside him not even cold as Klaus drained the rest of them. This 'Pit Stop' as the elder vampire had so graciously termed it, was a common occurrence since the beginning of this little...road trip/hostage situation thing. But Klaus keeping one of his victims alive and interrogating them mercilessly was new.

His hair appeared bleached in the glaring overheard light, painting the shadows on his face in stark lines, his smile a contorted rictus of a grin as he dragged a kitchen knife down the waitress's cheek in what could have passed as an intimate caress.

Stefan could do nothing but watch. And wait. And finish drinking the innocent man slumped beside him, his blood a siren song he could and would not ignore.

"I'll only ask you once, sweetheart," Klaus purred, blue eyes as cold as the stainless steel countertop he leaned against. "And be warned, I'll know if you're lying. You see, I happen to know that a one Ray Sutton is a frequent visitor to this," he surveyed the faded vinyl seats, the oppressive smell of grease and sweat that no cleaner could ever banish entirely, all with that predatory intent of his, "fine establishment, almost once month. So, tell me, dear: Has Ray Sutton been here recently?"

"Please," the woman cried, the force of her sobs pitching her into her captor's chest. "Please, just let me go."

Klaus tutted ruefully, tilting her chin up with the knife. "It doesn't work like that, I'm afraid. I am the one making demands here, I am the one who will decided how the next few minutes of your life pan out. I am the one that can end your life if I see fit. So...has he stopped by recently, or not?"

"He came in here last week. Mentioned something about Pensacola, that place in Florida. I swear, that's all I know. I hardly ever saw him come in, it's only my second month here," she wailed, hysterical tears rolling down her red cheeks, sticking her dark hair to her face. "Please, I've told you everything, now let me go."

"You're right," Klaus agreed gently, "you have told me everything, you gave in to my request quite readily. And for that, I shall offer you a mercy."

The waitress sobbed, relieved. "You will."

"Yes." His hands curled around her neck, swift as an adder. "I promise I'll make it quick." Bones shifted under his palms, rending and snapping. Her body fell to the floor, unseeing gaze trained on the ceiling with it's paint peeling away like the skin of a rotted fruit.

Klaus hadn't even looked at her name tag. But Stefan had. Her name was Emma. He tried to remember them all, tried to keep them alive in his mind, since he still believed no one should be forgotten, not even in death. But there were so, so many. And he was so, so tired.

And so, so hungry as the Original Hybrid gestured to the woman at his feet and drawled, "Care to clean up, Stefan?"

He let the hunger swallow him whole as he drained her body dry.

"You're swerving."

"I am not swerving."

"Elena, you are," Elijah insisted, never one for putting up with nonsense. "You've been driving for hours, you've made three stops all day, two of which I had to almost physically remove you from the vehicle. I know you're impatient, but there is no point whatsoever in needlessly tiring yourself so."

His words had no effect, in fact she only seemed more determined in a resolve to defy his good sense.

So he resorted to unsavoury measures: "Stop the car or I'll make you stop."

Unconsciously, her hand flew to her neck where her vervain necklace had once resided. It was an empty threat, but he wondered if she knew that. Nevertheless, it didn't matter, for she soon stopped the car and begrudgingly relinquished control to him. The steering wheel was warm from her grip, the seat saturated with the scent of her hair, something sweet and floral that wrapped him in a warm embrace as Elijah restarted the engine.

"I'm sorry," Elena mumbled over the clicks of her seatbelt. "I'm stubborn by nature."

"Stubbornness can be beneficial, in small quantities," Elijah remarked, his tone as clipped as a freshly-cut hedgerow, "when the situation arises. Which is not now."

Elena huffed, an adorable pout finding it's way onto her features. "Okay, okay, I get it, I know I'm being an idiot. It's just...I feel better driving, feeling like I'm actually doing something, that I'm making progress, even if it's only metres on the mileage. You probably have no idea what I'm talking about; you can do anything, with nothing to stop you."

Sometimes, Elena could act as wise as he, and yet at others act as clueless as a toddler to why they shouldn't stick their finger in the plug sockets. It might have been sweet if it wasn't so untrue. "If you think, darling Elena," Elijah said carefully, clearly, stressing every word with reverent care, "that I am unfamiliar with feeling helpless, then you are sorely mistaken. While I may be one of the worlds first vampires, while I may have powers most beings could only dream of possessing and unlimited resources at my disposal, that means nothing when it comes to reuniting my family or reasoning with my brother. None of those things can help me regain what I've lost, not a single one; I'd trade them in a heartbeat if my family could be whole and happy again." He shook his head despondently. "No, I am more familiar with the feeling than you realize."

Inwardly, Elijah thoroughly chastised himself for being so blunt; she did not deserve his burdens weighing on top of her own. He opened his mouth to offer an apology but she beat him to it by, surprisingly, commiserating, "It sucks, doesn't it?"

He chuckled, daring to face her. "Yes, Elena, it does suck."

Distractedly, Elena began turning the dials of the radio, switching them on and off. Suddenly, he heard a clicking noise, the whirring of a disc, and then...

"Is this thing even on? Bonnie, I thought you knew how to work this?"

...the voice of Caroline Forbes filled the car.

Instantly, Elena sat bolt-upright, incredulous and a little bit in awe.

"I said that Jeremy knew how to work this thing and that he'd let me borrow it; totally not the same, Care."

"Okay, I think I've got it." Caroline cleared her throat dramatically. "Hello, listener," she intoned like a ringmaster introducing a circus, "welcome to the 'Saving Private Stefan' playlist, hosted by, yours truly, DJ Miss Mystic-"

"And Miss Mystical," Bonnie chimed in.

"Yes, your lovely musical hosts who have put together a brilliant collection of songs for your listening pleasure as you cruise the highways on the hunt for your lost bloodsucking boyfriend."

Elijah could picture Miss Bennet rolling her eyes at that.

Elena turned up the volume.

"What she means to say is that we love you very much and didn't want you to feel alone, so we made this for you. We hope you like it."

Caroline scoffed. "You better fricking love it, Gilbert, and no skipping. Oh, and when the playlist is done, look under your seat."

Elena looked under her seat.

"You're looking under your seat, aren't you? Damn it, Elena, it was supposed to be a surprise!" Caroline whined.

The brunette held up the CD, scrawled across the front in pink marker, 'Saving Private Stefan Playlist Part Two: Bringing Home Private Stefan.'

She laughed. "Wow, those two really thought of everything."

The recording of Caroline clapped her hands. "Let us begin with our first track...'Part of Your World' from The Little Mermaid, the karaoke favourite of Elena Gilbert. I can remember it like it was yesterday," Caroline reminisced fondly, "a rainy day in 2000. Eight year old Elena belting her heart out at the Talent Show, accompanied by Tyler on the piano, before he turned his back on the instrument for rockier pastures. Did you get it? Rockier? Because he likes rock music and guitars and all that? Ooh, should we put something from Rocky Horror on here? That might be good..."

Elena paused the CD, serious and sincere. "We don't have to listen to this."

"Why?" Elijah challenged. "Afraid I'll find out something embarrassing?"

"Yes. And, I don't know, it seems kinda," she searched for the right word, eventually settling on, "mundane for you. I doubt you're much of a fan of modern music."

"Elena, we are going to be spending the foreseeable future with each other, likely long nights and hard days with little respite. Enjoy the quiet moments, the normal moments. Your friends obviously went to a lot of effort for you, don't let it go to waste. Besides, I'm always willing to learn something new, especially of it's about you."

"Really? Why?"

"Because you're more than just a Petrova doppelgänger, Elena, more than just the sacrifice who had to die so that my brother might find peace with his two halves finally united. And I think that woman is someone worth knowing, someone I'd like to know, and what better way than acquainting myself with your musical tastes?"

Elena pressed play. "Alright, but you're gonna wish we'd played 'I, Spy,' instead," she warned.

Elijah smirked. "Try me."

The music wasn't that bad. It was...bearable, and while it was nothing like the sounds he'd witnessed at the world's greatest symphonies and operas, the masters he'd witnessed first hand as they conducted their masterpieces with heart-shattering precision...the thing he enjoyed most about it was the impact it had on the woman beside him. She seemed to come alive, to loosen up and let go in a way Elijah was sure nothing he could have said or done would have resulted in such a drastic change of her countenance. Watching her as she sang along, pointing out her favourites and each memory they invoked, he understood her a little better, caught himself warming to her in a way he hadn't done with anyone else in decades.

With her head tipped back, the swoop of passing headlights casting her features in starbursts of light, illuminating her infectious grin and the relaxed set of her shoulders, it was not hard to see why the two Salvatores had become so enamoured with her in such a short time. Indeed, it reminded of his own long-ago infatuation with Tatia, her easy laughter and her easier smiles. But nothing between him and her and ever been easy, certainly not when she'd had designs for his brother as well as him. Yes, Elijah had loved her, he'd loved her as he'd loved nothing else, and no one else, since, but with every mile that drew them closer to their destination, the Original wondered if he'd ever really known Tatia.

He could list more eighties songs from Elena's playlist than he could count the times the first Petrova doppelgänger had been honest and true with him and shared something about herself. Then again, it seemed Elena had a penchant for music from that particular decade, so perhaps that was an ill-suited yardstick, unfair to the memory of his first love.

Elena poked him in the arm, simultaneously cranking up the volume dial. "This was my ringtone for like, two years back in highschool. Jeremy got so annoyed of hearing it that he snuck into my room in the middle of the night and changed it."

'It's a quarter after one

I'm a little drunk and I need you now

Said I wouldn't call, but I lost all control

And I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without.

I just need you now.'

Elijah, subconsciously, found his fingers tapping along on the steering wheel. Before he could conceal the motion, Elena zeroed in on it like a bloodhound.

"Aha!" she crowed victoriously, as if she'd made some miraculous, history-shaking discovery rather than catching him enjoying a country/pop song. "I knew I could find one you liked."

The Original rolled his eyes. "You seem far too pleased with yourself over something so trivial."

Reaching up, her fingers flitted through her hair, pulling the pink elastic band free and snapping it around her wrist as she gave him a single-shouldered shrug. "Maybe, maybe not. You said you wanted to get to know me, and maybe that goes the same for me, too. When we first met," Elijah internally flinched at his brutal behaviour in front of her but listened to her raptly nonetheless, "Rose said that you were my worst nightmare when I asked who you were." She lowered her hands to her lap, tracing nonexistent patterns on her denim-clad knees. "I didn't know what to think, really. I don't usually let other's opinions influence my first impressions; I like to give people a chance to prove who they are to me themselves. And while the circumstances that resulted in that first meeting weren't exactly ideal, at least I knew your motives, why you were doing what you were doing. I respected it, Elijah. I respected you, and despite actions on both sides of the fence, that fact has yet to change."

Her eyes, when their gazes collided, were filled with a certainty and a compassion he had not encountered, not in a very long time, if ever. It was like she saw him, rather than the cruel history of his atrocities in the name of family, and her next words on further illustrated the fact, "But you're more than the Original vampire who took off Trevor's head with a single blow, more than the brother who, rightly or wrongly, puts his family above all else. You've seen so much, done so much, been through so much and I think it's only fair to treat you as such. Let's face it, Elijah: in all fairness, you don't need to be in this car with me. You don't need me to help find Klaus. Heck, I'm actually slowing you down, being human and all that. Yet you never acted as if my being with you was anything but a given, never even entertained the possibilty of not helping me. There's more to you than I think most people realize, or appreciate, but I see it all the same."

In a hundred years to come, five hundred, a thousand, Elijah knew this moment would be forever etched into his memory, something he could take out like a beloved photograph and examine with care and reverence, a treasured artifact preserving the brightness of humanity and the endurance of kindness and above all, the goodness inherent in all people, but in no other being was it quite so apparent, nor so plentiful, than it was in Elena Gilbert.

It would also be the moment where he truly broke his promise to never care for another doppelgänger, though in all honesty he hadn't even meant those words even as he'd prepared to say them.

What could he say in response to that? Not much, so he went with, "I'll try to live up to that."

"Elijah, you already are."

He discarded her words fervently, "No, I'm far from the man you make me out to be: I'm not a man. I'm a vampire, and an Original at that. My reputation for violence and destruction is well-founded, and most would consider me the mildest of my siblings, but that is far from being true. I would do anything for my family, wreck myself and others to unconscionable degrees without a second thought or a glimmer of hesitation. My involvement, my brothers involvement in your life resulted in the death of your only remaining family. And I am sorry for that, Elena, more than I could ever say with simple words. I betrayed you even though I had chastised you so thoroughly for doing the same to me; I'm a hypocrite at best, at worst a spineless coward hiding behind a worthless shield of honour and civility. Do not search for any redeeming qualities in me, for you efforts will only be in vain."

She was bold enough to demand, "Is that really what you believe?"

And he was honest enough to insist, "It is what I know, Elena, and what I have always known, ever since I first took an innocent life all in the name of feeding my insatiable hunger."

"I'll prove you wrong." She sounded so sure of herself, so confident that there would be something worth salvaging inside of him.

"I will not hold my breath."

Or would he?

Not long after their heated conversation, Elijah felt an unfamiliar jolt spear through his right shoulder, spasming all the way to his fingertips. Craning his neck, he peered down at the sleeping form of Elena Gilbert, her head now resting on his shoulder like it was her own personal pillow. The glow from the dashboard -helpfully proclaiming that it was 12:31 in the morning- gilded the delicate curve of her features in faint scarlet. He could keep going, or he could make sure Elena spent the night in a proper bed, preferably without him being a fluffy substitute. It wasn't that he minded, per say -the port woman had been through enough, and one could only fight the siren call of slumber for so long- it was just that he didn't think she'd be very comfortable, and he suspected she would prefer to be well-rested when they inspected the campsite, the site of his brother's latest hunt.

By now, Elijah had become somewhat desensitized to such scenes -it was not that he didn't care, because he did, but he and simply witnessed so many such scenes in his thousand years with his brother- but a part of him wished more than anything to shield Elena from such horrors; not because he didn't think she could handle it, but only because he did not want her light around such darkness. None of this was her fault, a fact he suspected he'd be reminding her of greatly in the weeks to come. Elijah didn't mind, though, for he would do all he could to ensure she didn't lose herself as well as her beloved Stefan.

Elena would never allow herself to be kept back from the search, would face her greatest fears and deepest hurts all in the name of finding the man she loved. The Salavtore -both of them, really- was luckier than he'd ever know.

Pulling the car to a stop, Elijah scanned the driveway in front of him, hearing nothing but the chirping of night-time crickets and the occasional rustle of a birds' wing. He'd diverted somewhat from the course they'd set out, so instead of staring up at the blank facade of a motel he was currently gazing up at the cream brickwork and bay windows that made up his safehouse in Tennessee because a) the place had actually running water, and heat, and food, b) he could defend Elena more easily in familiar territory and c) despite being a thousand years old, sleeping on the floor had really done a number on his back.

Now came the hard part: how did he get Elena from the car without waking her? In principle, it sounded easy, but if she awoke and found herself in unexpected surroundings he suspected her curiosity would get the best of her and she needed sleep more than she needed answers.

Making nary a sound, Elijah gently grasped the base of her neck, lifting her head from his shoulder and setting it on the headrest of her seat. Opening the car door, he turned off the engine with a flick and walked around to the passenger side, and within a moment she was in his arms, one arm slung across his shoulders, the other unconsciously gripping the lapel of his jacket in a sleepy hold. She looked so young, so vulnerable like this, but he knew how strong she was underneath. Elena was a survivor, like Katherine, but she was also a protector and a defender and a believer and a dreamer, and if Elijah Mikaelson had ever wished for anything, it would be for her to remain so, always and forever.

Author's Note: Hello, darling readers! So... I had so much fun writing this chapter; it flowed so well, and I think I'm really starting to get the hang of writing Elijah. But what do you think? Please, as always, feel free to let me know. Of course, I don't own TVD, nor any of the other fandoms mentioned. Also, just wanted yo point out quickly, the Rocky Horror reference I put in because of the incredible TVD fic, 'Bourbon In Your Eyes,' by JazzyWriter22, my very first foray into TVD fanfiction as well as the first Delena story I ever read. Go check it out if you get the chance!

Thank you so much for reading!

Until next time!

All my love, Temperance Cain.