Present.

When he came into the room, she was sitting on the window sill. Her head was bent back against the frame, her eyes staring out over the woods. She absently toyed with Stefan's ring at her neck. She sensed him long before he had come upstairs. She was slow to heal and only had human blood in her system for a few hours. She had been incapable of keeping it down before. Her lips were swollen, an open cut was prominent in the corner of her mouth where Klaus's fangs had been. The side of her face was bruised and his bite marks that looked more like stab wounds, although smaller, were still noticeable. She was dressed in a white, long sleeved night gown that reached passed her feet. Her knees were drawn to her chest but she was otherwise still.

Damon watched her, saying nothing. He moved into the room and sat in a chair that was far away from Elena. He wanted her to feel safe. She made no attempt to beckon him closer and only blinked every now and again. One leg slid off of the sill, her foot moved lazily across the floor, before resting the dorsal side on the ground.

"It's different," she said finally, breaking the silence.

Damon said nothing, watching her.

"I feel…different."

She turned to Damon, meeting his eyes while hers held no emotion. She seemed empty, as if there was nothing behind her gaze.

"I remember things. But I don't know what I'm remember because they aren't my memories. I feel like they're hers. Her memories. I feel like I fucking consumed her when she died."

She turned back and looked outside as a fog began to roll in. She brought her fingers to her mouth, nibbling on them absently.

"It's like remembering a dream," she continued. "Its pieces. Fragments. But there are more and more pieces that are starting to fit. And I don't know what in the hell I'm supposed to do with it."

"You don't have to do anything with it," Damon said calmly.

Elena turned back to him.

"Don't I?"

"Don't you what? You don't owe anything to her, Elena. She kidnapped you. She hurt you. She threw you in the lion's pit. What could you possibly think that you need to do? She's dead."

Elena stared at Damon for a long moment.

"You have no idea what happened in New Orleans, do you?"

Damon shifted, uncomfortable. He looked away, out of the window, for a moment.

"I have an idea," he said quietly.

"Did you know that man," she asked suddenly.

Damon's heart reeled at the mention of him. He wasn't sure of everything, but he saw that man covered in blood. And he knew that it was Elena's blood that painted his mouth. He saw how Elena looked when he found her. He had a fairly positive idea. He hadn't even noticed him lying there until after…

"No. All I knew was that if he was alive I would-"

"He would have killed you."

"I don't care."

"He was my maker."

"No, Elena. I am. I made you."

Elena sighed, "Her maker. He sired her. She was dying in bed and he made her a vampire... he told me. Do you remember what Stefan said before he died?"

Damon stared at her.

"Yes. He said…he said 'Close.'"

"Klaus," Elena said slowly. "He said Klaus. It was a warning. Klaus was free. And he was coming for me…for her. For us."

Elena pressed her hand to the window pane, the glass cool underneath her palm.

"And he did," she whispered.

"Why?"

"Why else would someone track her down centuries later? The same reason you did, Damon. Love. Revenge. Obsession."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Katherine was impetuous. Selfish. She betrayed him somehow. He called me…he called her disloyal. I don't have all the pieces but I have a lot of them. I can only imagine how someone would act, having that kind of anger inside them for hundreds of years."

"What are you saying? Don't fucking justify what that animal…" Damon trailed off.

"I'm not justifying anything. What I'm saying is that Katherine knew. She knew how it would end. That one day, he would get out. And when he did…"

She punched through the glass so suddenly, that Elena even surprised herself. She reared her hand back, blood pouring down her wrist.

Damon stood suddenly and Elena reached out her other hand in protest.

"Don't. I can't. Not yet." She looked back at her hand and she shut her eyes tightly.

Damon paced, running his hands through his hair. And suddenly, he moved in a flash and was at Elena's feet. She cried out as he took her clean hand and her bleeding hand in his. His grip was firm.

"I know, I know," he said quickly. "And I'm sorry. But feel me. Feel this."

Elena's hands shook violently and Damon increased his grip, stilling her.

"Feel this," he said softer. "You can't imagine what was going through my mind when I saw you. You have not even a modicum of an idea. Never in my life…never in my afterlife did I feel such absolute…"

His voice broke off but held his gaze intently towards Elena. Her eyes, that had earlier been shrouded with vacancy, were alive. He kissed her hands suddenly. Fiercely.

"I don't know what you did to me. But I've realized that I don't want you gone…" Damon trailed off.

He stared at her intensely, not sure if he was waiting for a reaction or not. And then suddenly he felt silly. Silly that he was kneeling at her feet like a fool. He shrugged and cleared his throat.

"Just…you can stay. Here. You can stay here as long as you want. I can protect you. That's all I wanted to say."

He stood quickly and left the room.

Elena stared down at her hands, no longer shaking. She turned back towards the door, wanting to run to him.

Instead she placed her head in her hands and for the first time since that night in New Orleans, she cried.

He left bags of blood at her door. It was a month later, and he had seen her only once after that night. He could hear her moving around in there. And sometimes he heard her crying. But she kept her door locked. And she'd fall silent when he called out to her. He'd find empty bags outside her room, but he never caught sight of her. And so he kept his distance. And honestly, maybe it was for the best.

He had nightmares of that night over and over again. And it angered him and frightened him how much he fucking cared. It started out as a game. She was a pawn. A toy. And here he was leaving blood bags at her door…! What had he become?

And then one morning, he smelled her. He smelled her burning. Maybe that was why he woke up. He was out of bed like lightning and ran out of the house, screaming her name. It was morning and the sun was just peeking over the horizon. He found her at the edge of a cliff, watching the sunrise. Stefan's ring was on loosely on her finger and she alternated from pulling it off and putting it back on. When he caught sight of her, she was a spectacular sight of fire and then suddenly it was extinguished. And then again. Her cries of pain were delicate, almost silent. Her clothes were charred and fused to her skin. Damon gathered her into his arms. Her eyes were dead. She looked dead. Her hair, what was left, was a long and tangled mess and she looked gaunt. Damon fisted her hand in his, keeping Stefan's ring in place while he rushed her back into the Boarding House. He brought her inside and laid her on a chaise lounge in the living room.

"Honey, what were you thinking," he breathed.

"Damon," she said softly, her skin repairing underneath his gaze.

Damon smoothed her hair desperately as it grew back and became un-singed.

"Elena, don't scare me like that."

"I just wanted to burn, even for just a little bit. I just wanted to burn. I just want to burn him off of me."

"Elena…"

"Stop calling me that!"

Elena had pushed him away then and ran back into the room. And Damon punched the walls, helpless.

He didn't know what to do.

She started down at him as he slept. She'd watched him sleep for so many nights. She watched his eyes stir under his lids many times before and wondered what he dreamt. Did he dream of her? Of Katherine?

She reached with her fingers, gilding them softly over his jaw.

Damon's hand shot out, grabbing Elena's wrist. Elena tensed immediately, gasping. Damon relaxed his grip and sat up in bed, watching Elena as she visibly relaxed. His back leaned against the headboard, his thin blanket covering his waist. He said nothing.

"Emily lied," Elena whispered finally. "She said that I wouldn't have a soul…but I did," she paused. "Why would she do that?"

Damon watched Elena intently.

"Because she was a Bennett, Elena. What other reason do you need? She wanted to help Katherine but she also didn't want that kind of creation of her conscience. She was giving you a chance...it was the best she could do for you."

"I should have never been born."

"Don't say that."

"I was made for Katherine, I understand that now. But somehow I'm the one left standing. I feel so…whole in a way I've never felt before. Almost like I'm looking at things with new eyes. I took it back, you know?"

"Took what back?"

"Whatever she had left. When she died…it flew inside of me. I felt it. And I feel like there are two parts of me fighting the other."

Damon wanted to touch her, to hold her, but he held back.

"Do you remember when I told you that I felt like I had her memories," she asked.

"Yes."

"I know now that that is what this is. How am I supposed to do this? I have my memories, but hers linger in the shadows. What in the hell am I supposed to do with that? I don't even know what the fuck I am now. Who I am now."

"You're Elena Gilbert. You always have been. Katherine is another life. Another person. Don't let her influence your future. Don't give her that power."

"Do you want to know her last memory?"

Damon said nothing, not even truly sure if he wanted to know anything at all. Katherine was like another life for him as well. And revisiting her was painful and troublesome.

Regardless, Elena continued.

Katherine sat stoically on her bed. She winced when she heard her scream. It was a strange thing to hear your voice, to hear your cries. Except that is wasn't you at all. She jumped again, listening to Klaus's booming voice. It was silk. It was sandpaper. She stood suddenly and turned towards the window. His appetite would finally be appeased. Elena had done as she had been created to do. Protect her. She was free. She smiled, unsure of herself for a moment. And then she nodded to herself. This was right. She quickly gathered her belongings and walked towards the window.

Just then, her mouth opened and she could taste blood on the breeze. Her blood. Elena's blood. She paused. She felt a sudden pain at the side of her face. It was minute, but it was there. She ran her hand over her face, the pain now gone.

"Fuck," she whispered as she walked away from the window. She squeezed her eyes tightly as she opened the door.

"You were always the most beautiful, my Princess, when in pain," she heard him say.

Katherine clasped her hand over her mouth in fear as she descended the stairs. She had to keep herself from screaming in sheer terror. His voice was one of the most frightening sounds she'd ever heard. For Christ's sake, this was madness. No. She had doubts but she couldn't risk her life for Elena's. Her life was too precious to jeopardize for anyone. She started to retreat back up the stairs. She could have no second thoughts. Elena's moan echoed along the walls and Katherine froze. The sound was truly awful, an animal on the verge of death.

"Didn't I protect you? Care for you? Why did you do it? I made you, Katherine. I plucked you from your deathbed. I made you a vampire. I gave you power that you never knew existed. And that was how you showed your gratitude? And how many have fallen under your spell since then? Hmm?"

Katherine was shaking her anger, her hands balled into fists. Gratitude?

'You filthy fucking animal, I slaved over you,' she cried inside.

Run. Run. Run. She backed away again, moving up the stairs and silently apologizing to Elena. She wasn't quite sure why she was so unhinged. This was what she wanted. What she'd been waiting for. Elena was a hollow shell. A vessel created to protect her. It was her destiny.

She walked up the stairs, shaking her head.

"You're dressed like a whore," he paused. "You knew I'd find you and still…and in blue, no less. Is this your burial gown, my sweet?"

"I can't express how much I loathe you. I loathe you so much that I love you, you bitch. You've ruined me. You've poisoned my mind for years and took whatever bit of sanity I had left with you."

'Have her, you animal,' she thought.

And then she heard his growl. Primitive. Dangerous. Familiar. She stopped dead in her tracks, her hands at her sides. She looked over her shoulder, the glow of candles creating figures on the wall. She could see his shadow moving. She heard the cry of satin and lace being ripped apart. She was suddenly standing in the foyer and couldn't recall climbing down the steps. In her hand was a fallen piece of the wooden balustrade she'd picked up. And there he was. Her fear personified. And he was over Elena like demon. His hands…his body…her body. Katherine's eyes dilated like a cat as she crossed the windows in the foyer. Rage. Anger. Disgust. She could see sweat glittering on his body as he moved over Elena. And Elena was staring at her with the strangest vacant smile on her face. Seeing her and alternately not seeing her.

"Niklaus," she whispered softly, like a snake.

Klaus whipped his face to Katherine. His gaze was murder, lust. She watched his eyes contract in their sockets and he turned back to Elena in confusion. And as he turned back to Katherine, she was already at him, plunging the stake past his broad chest, passed his ribs and into his heart. Dark blood sprayed onto her face and down his chest. Klaus's arm shot out and grabbed her throat angrily.

Katherine grabbed his chin, licking his blood of her lips, tasting him for the first time in centuries. Tasting him for the last time

"Look at me. Look at me," she said desperately. "Look at me, Niklaus."

She was crying as she kissed him roughly, feeling his mouth dry. She watched his skin turn a sickly pallor. His veins grew dark and began to create webs along his skin. And his eyes…oh his eyes! The shock! The hurt!

"Katerina," he rasped as his grip loosened, still not quite understanding.

And in his last moment, he knew he had been tricked with black magic, and then death took its unrelenting grip. He slid to the floor and Katherine pushed him away from her feet, sending his body crashing head first into the ground. She stood above him, above Elena. Klaus was dead. Dead. It was unfathomable to her. She was free. It took a long moment for it to sink in. She wanted to scream with joy. She wanted to go on joyous feeding frenzy on Bourbon Street. Free! The word took on a new meaning. She lifted her stake like a magical trident in victory. She paused, though, staring downward.

Elena's face looked like tenderized meat and her body…

Katherine looked back at Klaus and then to Elena.

"Elena," she called softly.

The pain was so sudden that Katherine barely had time to react. She looked down slowly, feeling her body tensing. Her fingers moved up slowly, touching the tip of the stake that was now jutting out of her chest. She felt someone grab her neck, holding her upright. She blinked as Damon came into her line of vision.

"I always hoped it'd be you," she smiled as Damon watched her. As his face began to blur and disintegrate she felt his hand clutch hers and she squeezed…

Damon's head was down, his expression tucked in his chin.

He stood out of bed, keeping his face away from Elena, running his hand over his face.

And without a word, he left Elena alone in his room and did not return.

Elena rocked herself in his bed. She looked absently into the darkness.

"Are you happy now," she asked aloud.

"He had to know," she answered herself, her voice slightly deeper.

She laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

(A/N: On a silly note, I have to say, that I had this chapter written before last nights ep. Us (me/the show) both calling Katherine "Katerina" is purely a coincidence. Doncha hate it when that happens? ;p)