I'm not sure if anyone still cares about this story anymore because it's been forever and a day since I updated, but I figured I'm not a quitter. A terrible procrastinator, maybe, but I'm not a quitter. To be honest I don't even read fanfiction anymore, and I haven't watched TVD for several episodes, so I let a lot of things slide, like this story. I hope it fulfills the hopes of people who kept reviewing even after it had been months and even more than a year since I updated. You are all wonderful and I hope this doesn't disappoint. My next updates will be far closer together, promise.

In the dirt, cursing the world, and hyperventilating pretty well sums up the scene that Ric walks in on following Damon's rather dramatic declaration; not that I'm even coherent enough to pay his presence much attention. All I can think of is how typical this all is. Just as everything is about to fall into place, another roadblock swoops in to blow it all to Hell. While I never expected easy when I promised myself to Damon, I was hoping for a bit less drama and flair when I shoved that cure down his throat. No one could have prepared me for this. The man I love is waxing nostalgic for the woman I hate. Despite my protestations to the contrary, Katherine still casts a wider shadow than I care to admit. I'm sure there's a complex or two tucked away that I should have psychoanalyzed one day.

But all that pales in comparison to the realization that Damon, my Damon, has transformed back to a pining, innocent, mortal. It feels wrong somehow, like the world as I knew it has shifted and my surroundings become unfamiliar and cold to the touch. All these reasons I feel entitle me to a full scale tantrum, not just for the loss of Damon, but for the loss of everything else, my brother, my humanity, and myself.

So when Ric drags me off the ground tossing around accusations, I thrash about like a troublesome toddler in need of a nap. "What did you do?" Ric charges at Damon as he cradles me in his arms, always my great protector. "Five minutes I leave her alone with you, and now she's all weepy. I'm fairly certain my status as her ghostly unofficial legal guardian still entitles me to thoroughly kick your ass." He tilts up my chins and asks, "Do you want me to play whack a mole with Damon's head? Because that might be fun for both of us."

In all the chaos, I almost forget about Damon's condition and laugh despite myself. It's nice to take even a moment's respite from this Greek tragedy, but when Damon starts spouting off what I assume once represented gentlemanly outrage, I'm brought back to reality. "I beg your pardon," Damon responds indignantly. "While I only understood half of your drunken ramblings, I feel it necessary to inform you of the grave underestimation you have made. Trust that you do not wish to have intimate knowledge of what I do to men that challenge me. I warn you it's rather bloody," Damon boasts haughtily and with a bit of spirited mirth.

Ric scoffs, thoroughly unimpressed, also baffled, because what else is there to do when Damon is a second away from proposing pistols at dawn to fight for his honor. And since my old guardian is particularly thick, he doesn't put two and two together quite as quickly as I'd hope. Instead he grabs Damon by the neck, and dangles him off the cliff. This quickly changes Damon's bravado to pragmatic self-preservation as he realizes his close proximity to death.

While Damon remains unable to speak due to Ric's chokehold, I start frantically tugging on my guardian's arm. "Stop," I demand forcefully. "If you have one slip of your fingers, you'll kill him. He's human and fragile," I remind, none too gently.

Ric rolls his eyes and throws Damon back on solid ground. "I was only going to strangle him a little," Ric offers in his defense. "Just until he learned some manners," he adds with a warning glare.

Nursing his wounded neck, Damon tries to avoid Ric's protective wrath and refocuses on me instead. His brief touch on my cheek nearly does me in. He's so loving, so tender, and none of it is meant for me. But Ric's new goal of separating me from his best buddy, helps keep me in check.

However, the boys don't leave me much time for thinking with their alpha male standoff. I expect them to begin measuring penises or trading blows any second. Damon is the first to strike, because he must reassert his foolish bravado over a far superior opponent. Luckily for Damon, Ric's response is fairly mild, only a simple chokehold under his armpit. If the situation wasn't quite so dire, I might find Damon's useless flailing sort of funny. Even now, I still sort of do.

"Unhand me, you oafish, alcohol stenched vagrant," Damon curses. Ric loosens his hold, as he stares at Damon with bewildered curiosity.

"Have you lost too much oxygen to your geriatric brain old timer?" Ric posits in puzzlement, and he drops Damon to the ground. "Usually I have to get a few drinks in you before you start speaking like the fossil that you are."

Damon dusts off the dirt from his soiled clothing and retorts, "And usually the friends Katherine introduces me to have far superior manners. We both appear to be in for a disappointment."

With one little word it all clicks into place. I see the realization hit him before he even mutters a word. His head shakes violently back and forth, going rapidly through the stages of denial that I recall all too well. Once I see the acceptance etch on his face, it's the last straw. I stumble towards the nearest pile of rocks and start smashing away. My knuckles break, bleed, and heal again, but I don't care. Nothing matters, not anymore. It's different than switching my humanity off. It hurts a lot worse, because feeling sucks a whole lot more than nothingness. I haven't switched my feelings off. I've simply given myself over to them, and now there's no end to my rage.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," I scream bloody murder to no one in particular. The rocks serve as a rather rough punching bag, and the pain makes it better, somehow. But I'm robbed quickly of my relief as Damon attempts to soothe my relentless anger.

"Katherine," he whispers delicately, as if handling a porcelain doll. "For once let me help you," he pleads ardently. "I'm not sure what's wrong, but whatever it is I can take it. I'm stronger than you think." His hands wrap around my shoulders as he lulls me from my hysterical state. Damon's sweet, gentle gaze is both unexpected and welcome.

I lock eyes with him and hiccup, choking on a silent sob. "You always were," I admit regretfully. "So much stronger than I give you credit for, and I want to give in because this feels right and safe," I confess tiredly, wanting to lose myself in this dream, "but it's not real," I remind myself. "And I won't hide in a fantasy," I declare. His hurt expression almost makes me reconsider. "No matter how beautiful and tempting it may be," I add softly.

Damon is at a loss and hopeless, with no more pretty words to comfort me. "You're speaking nonsense," he concludes decisively, just as lost as Ric was a moment ago. His eyes pleading for forgiveness for some unspoken sin or betrayal.

But in the midst of our tense standoff, Ric is tapped back into the conversation as he attempts to dissolve the palpable tension. "Elena, listen," he begs in a familiar fatherly tone. "It might not seem like it right now, but it really will be okay." And right there are the words I've heard far too many times to count.

His reassurance sounds so certain, so sure, but it feels emptier than my vampiric body, hollowed and dead. My voice shakes as my whole body rejects all types of platitudes. "None of this is okay," I shout, releasing all my pent up energy. "Don't you get that?" I question harshly. My bitterness cuts harder than diamonds on glass. "Jeremy is dead," I remind him. "You are dead, so no, none of this is okay. And no amount of ghostly reunions will make up for the fact that by tomorrow you'll be gone, and I'll be all alone."

And in the silence I'm presented with my greatest fear. I'm the poor sad orphan with no one left. Not accepting the quiet, Ric closes the distance between us and cradles me against his chest as if I was a frightened child. "You will never be alone. Do you hear me? You still have so many people who love you."

Disgust mars my already troubled face. "Who," I ask earnestly? "Do you mean the friends who are pretending they don't hate me, my ex-boyfriend with one foot out the door, or better yet the amnesiac who doesn't even know my name? Give me one person who's left," I plead desperately. I'd almost take anyone at this point. I get so desperate that I consider pulling a Katherine and compelling myself a friend. At least it would keep me from being alone with my thoughts, which are rapidly turning against me.

Realistically I should have known Ric wouldn't take my defiance standing down. He did used to teach a bunch of ungrateful teenagers for a living. He has nearly God like patience. So after listening to my outburst, he simply answers my pleas with one word. "All," Ric replies succinctly. "You still have all of them," he claims confidently. "Take me for instance," Ric responds lightheartedly. "I'm dead, and looking after you is still the best thing I've got going on. As for your friends, they might be more forgiving than you think, and even this doofus has an irresistible gravitational pull towards your direction. No matter how many spells have to be cast or how many monsters we have to slay, none of us will ever leave you all alone, and that's a promise," he swears with a smile.

For just a second, I almost believe him, almost. Then reality reemerges again with that same wretched word. "Katherine," Damon states in a hesitant whisper. "I must preface this by saying that I have no idea what is going on. I'm amazed at the strangeness of your dress. I can't fathom what you have against those rocks you were beating a moment ago, and I'm fairly certain that doofus is just a word that this strange man invented. The only thing I am sure of is you," Damon proclaims sweetly.

His declarations of love and devotion ground me as much as they sadden me, so after wiping away my fallen tears, I finally admit the truth. "I'm not her," I confess with great sorrow. "But for you at least, I wish that I could be."

"Then where is she," he asks pitifully, after having the ground swiped out from under him?

"Safe," I promise quickly, trying to alleviate his fears. "But . . . "I stutter nervously, "she left you a long time ago."

Damon's heartbreak is expected, but painful all the same. His movement away from me stings with every step. I'm prepared for the hurt. It's been my close companion for quite some time, but wallowing isn't his style for long. "I truly should have seen it," Damon concludes, after taking a few minutes to process. "The crying should've alerted me that something was amiss. The woman whose face you share, isn't one for signs of vulnerability," he reflects objectively.

I try to conceal my distaste for his blatant comparison, which is all too transparent even to an amnesiac. "It wasn't meant as an insult," Damon recovers smoothly. For once I can see his southern manners shining through. "In all the confusion, I realize I haven't even asked your name."

"It's Elena," I answer quickly, like an awkward school girl. "And the man who tried to pummel you is named Alaric, but everyone just calls him Ric. We're friends," I declare carefully, unsure what I am to him anymore. Damon appears to digest the word as if he's swirling it around on his tongue like expensive wine.

"Alright," he utters in acceptance. "Let's say I believe what you're telling me. I still have a million questions." He looks on me like a frightened child, and I swallow the bile that's been creeping up my throat ever since he first spoke her name. Damon needs me, even if he doesn't remember me. I can't leave him all alone either.

"We'll take you to your brother," I offer, and his eyes light up instantly.

"He's alive," Damon exclaims in jubilant excitement. His expression reminding me how human he really is now, just a lost little boy who needs his baby brother, but the pieces slowly fall into place. "I thought we were goners after . . ." The words die on his lips as the memory comes back to him. "I was shot. I remember being shot. I remember dying," he proclaims loudly. "How am I still here?"

Pity, kind eyes, and soft words, those are all the things I remember from people who have had to break earth shattering news to me. I saw it in the doctor's eyes as he confirmed that my parents didn't survive the accident. I remember it in Damon's eyes when he told me Uncle John was dead. And now I'm certain Damon sees them in mine as I tell him the horrible truth. "You and your brother died over a century before I was even born. Katherine's blood turned you and Stefan into vampires, and you've been immortal ever since, until now." He absorbs this new bit of news, until his head shoots up in confusion.

"Immortality is forever, or until death at least. Katherine taught me that." Damon corrects me with such certainty as if he's the resident expert on the matter.

"It should have been," I admit. "If it wasn't for me, it would have been your end, but you were dying, no hope of a cure, no last minute reprieve, so I gave you something, which saved your life but consequently turned you mortal." Damon heaves an unexpected sigh of relief.

"Thank you," he compliments sincerely with a broad smile on his face. I do a double take to make sure I'm not hallucinating. I expected accusations, hurt feelings, even for him to wish me a lifetime of misery, but heartfelt gratitude that's new.

"We should take bizarro Damon home before he starts acting nice again. It's creeping me out," Ric jokes awkwardly. My lips perk up in an almost smile as I lead Damon towards the car.

There isn't much in this world that Damon will find familiar. Hopefully a family connection might spark something, but I'm pretty much grasping at straws as I try to navigate amnesia 101. I just hope Stefan can fill in some of the more uncomfortable blanks. I don't think I can take another confession. Clueless to my inner turmoil, Damon follows me like a lost puppy trying to find his way to a home, any home. When we reach the car, Damon looks a step away from blowing an aneurysm. In hindsight, modern technology should have been discussion point number one. "My bad," I apologize quickly. "I should have mentioned that transportation has changed a bit since your day, but don't be afraid. Just imagine it as a carriage minus the horses."

His nostrils flare in either horror or disbelief. "I rather liked the horses, are we sure there are no horses around. I'm a skilled rider," Damon replies, his expression revolving between uneasiness and awe.

Damon's obstinacy and smart-alecky nature are a welcome return, because it's the first part of him that feels familiar. So in keeping with preserving normalcy, I shove him into the car. "Come on scaredy cat. You can't hide from the new millennium forever." And that's how it starts, the road to something, to somewhere. The only thing I know for sure is that nothing will ever be the same.