Warning: Use of language in this chapter.
Hard To Believe
The sky was a bloody pink -his favourite kind- streaked with strands of sapphire and amber, the kind of colour combination that only dawn could successfully pull off as Klaus strolled the length of Blackfriars Bridge, the London breeze whipping his curls back from his face. Hands deep in the pockets of his black jacket, he considered all that had led him here. While he was by no means a coward -and anyone who found themselves saying so would soon find themselves unable to do so, since you can't spread heinous lies if you don't have a tongue, right?- Klaus was ready to admit that he'd needed a...break from Mystic Falls.
Too much drama. Too much yearning and pining and feelings. Too many Mikaelsons who hated his guts and would probably love to roast him on a spit, Elijah most of all, after he'd dared to lay a hand on his darling Elena. Honestly, it was pathetic. First Stefan, then his brother, and then his brother. What was it about this one girl? Poor Stef, he'd fought the compulsion so hard, loved that girl so truly and deeply that both mind and soul had rebelled at the thought of harming her. Rebekah would call it jealousy, since no one had ever loved Klaus like that in his thousand years -not even Aurora- but he simply diagnosed it as mere intrigue.
That little girl, that slip of a thing, wrapping vampires around her finger and tugging their strings, getting them to do whatever she wanted. She probably didn't even realize it herself, but it was the only explanation that made sense to him. Love was a weakness, he'd always believed that, and it would be the downfall of everyone in that stupid town.
Because hadn't he loved his mother, and his father -you can still love someone and yet loathe them with every fibre of your being, the two weren't mutually exclusive- and look where that had gotten him? Cursed, beaten, brutalized for years. Running, always running, running from memories and shadows and ghosts until he became something just as dark, just as merciless. Klaus hadn't meant to. Hadn't meant to hurt his family, hadn't meant to lose sight of that boy who carved figurines for his sister and held her when she was scared, the boy who stayed up all night to mix new colours of paint and show them off to his brother, beaming with pride. But the world was a vicious place and that boy would not have survived.
So Klaus had killed him before anyone else could. Better to let himself go rather than having someone else take all that away.
Even if the human he'd been was long gone...he could still appreciate human things. Humanity. Human values, human ingenuity. Like this bridge, built almost a century and a half ago -he'd been present at the grand opening of the first bridge, in 1769, and even as he'd walked along it he'd known the thing wouldn't last, shoddy workmanship, amd he'd been immensely pleased when it had been rebuilt with this one- and yet it had withstood so much, railroads and bombings and the monotonous crawl of progress. So much of the original city was now gone, but not this. Some things would always withstand the test of time.
Unfortunately, Klaus' patience was not one of them. Because as lovely as London was, with it's hustle and bustle and galleries and museums and rich history, he couldn't properly enjoy it, mind forever pulling him back to thoughts of his wretched father. Of if what Damon Salvatore had said was true. If really had found Mikael, when even Klaus himself could not. And he'd tried. Hard. He'd made it a habit to be well-versed in the whereabouts of his enemies, and none qualified more for that title than his monster of a father.
But now...he'd stand a chance. No, he'd beat him, without question. Klaus was a hybrid, the only of his kind -for now, he had people working on changing that at that very moment- and there was no might or weapon that could best his almighty power; his siblings had made sure to burn all the White Oak long ago. He couldn't be killed. But his memories...oh, they seemed hellbent on trying.
He'd thought that breaking the curse would solve all his problems, and yet all it had resulted in was his brother falling in love with the doppelgänger he'd drained dry and who's blood he needed, his sister deciding to stay in that miserable town and having to compel his best friend yet again, only this time not for his own good, but for Klaus'. So that he'd have an in, someone who could keep him abreast of the situation.
Supposedly, if the ringing of his phone was any indication, was such a time.
Grimacing slightly, Klaus stopped in his tracks, back to the river as he pulled the phone from his coat pocket.
"Hello, Stefan. What's wrong?"
Best to keep it simple. It was...one twelve in the morning, after all, and even humanity-free vampires could get cranky without any sleep.
"Klaus. First off, I want you to know that everyone is still alive, that's the important thing. Second of all, Elena almost got herself killed trying to pump me fulk of vervain so her and Damon can get me off my current diet. Which, of course, since it was their plan...meant it failed. Spectacularly. As in, someone on the Other Side -you know, the spirit realm place-"
Klaus refrained from breaking something -or speeding off to Mystic Falls and driving a sword through Stefan's gut for his insolence (he acted as if he wasn't scared of him, and he wasn't, even when he should be, and Klaus hated that it was his own damn fault). "I'm a thousand bloody years old, Stefan, I know what the Other Side is-"
Stefan continued on relentlessly, "-wants Elena dead for some reason. Got any guesses as to who?"
He did, actually. But he wouldn't share them with him, not now. Compulsion didn't grant the unsullied trust born by true friendship. So instead, he shook his head, eyeing a few passing tourists. "I must say, Stefan, if you wished to fill me with confidence regarding your bodyguard capabilities, this was not the way to go about it. Honestly, I'm surprised you managed to keep her alive as long as you did this past year, but I suspect that's down to her as much as it is you."
Petrovas were fighters, the lot of them. They were like weeds: you pulled one up, another soon took it's place. But, they were also incredibly hard to kill. Although it seemed his mother was determined to test that theory. After all, she had killed Tatia, had used her like so much chattel, probably thinking it was for their own good -his and Elijah's- that she no longer be an obstacle. It still smarted, a thousand years later, how his mother had delighted in taking so much from him. Too much.
Klaus wouldn't let her take his hybrids, too.
"How exactly did this happen? I thought you were just going to a bloody teen bonfire."
"*I was!" Stefan growled, bordering on angry. "Or at least Elena was, so I had no choice but to go too, following her like a fricking puppy dog. Like Damon. And then Rebekah came over to me, batting her eyelashes and being all sweet and coy and-"
God, he was so screwed. Bekah teaming up with a doppelgänger? The world really must be falling apart. She'd never like any of Elijah's paramours, even more so if they were of Petrova heritage. Curiouser and curiouser.
"Get to the point, mate."
"Fine. So, while Rebekah was clearly playing me...it gave Elena enough time to stab me in the back with a syringe full of vervain and knock me out. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in the back of Alaric Saltzman's car while the things on fire and your brother pulls me out."
Klaus' jaw twitched. "He saved you, and not Elena?"
He could clearly picture Stefan shaking his head, ridiculously coiffed hair swaying like a bamboo tree in a tropical storm. "No, Damon got to her first. Didn't even hesitate. Of course, I wasn't bothered or anything..."
Oh, you little liar. Emotions or not, a wound like that still cut deep. But, Klaus supposed if Stefan was operating at his full doom and gloom faculties, he'd probably be a bit proud, too, and grateful. Elena was a human, after all, such a fragile and breakable thing. It must be so unfair for her, to be the most prized, fought-over piece on the board and yet be the most vulnerable. The rest could stand to tumble, but her? She'd shatter like so much glass. And where would Klaus be? Unable to make hybrids and trying to piece Elijah back together after he lost yet another love.
"Look, Bonnie was able to stop the spell, break the link between Matt and Vicki or whatever, but if this ghost thing is going to continue to be an issue...well, it's not like Ghosbusting was in the job description. I'm a vampire, not a babysitter or bodyguard or whatever the hell you want to call it. I want out, Klaus. I hate this town, and everyone in it, all looking at me like I just killed their goldfish or something, trying to change me back into who I was. As if the old Stefan was anything to write home about. It's like saying you prefer VHS over DVDs."
Klaus chuckled dryly, breath pluming out in ghostly white tendrils. God, he'd forgotten how cold this country was, even though it was barely autumn. "What can I say? Nostalgia is a powerful tonic, my friend. Some people actually enjoyed going out and renting movies, having to rewind them before you returned them. To all those in Mystic Falls, it's like you're a psycho killer wearing the face of their dead friend, even though of course I'm the one responsible for your current state. Therefore, I say where you go, and where you don't go. So, I'll say it again: stay the fuck put. Elena loved you, therefore you're a weak spot for her: she won't try to kill you like she would anyone else I sent in your stead. You have an automatic in with these people, and right now that's what I need.
"Get your act together before I get nasty, Stef," he threatened and ended the call.
Bracing his hands on the railing, Klaus stared down into the murky depths of the Thames, watching the colours shift rhythmically, hypnotically. Blue, brown, green. Navy, hazel, turquoise with a splash of jade.
He'd been gone barely two days, and already the doppelgänger was getting threats from beyond the veil. It was ridiculous. Could he not go a week without having to go back to that purgatory of a town? He'd always been fond of the old addage, 'If you want something done right, do it yourself,' but in this case he really didn't want to. If Mikael became aware of the newest doppelgänger -if he didn't know already- it would be the first place he'd look for him. It would be so obvious, and Niklaus Mikaelson was anything but predictable.
But if she died...no, Elijah wouldn't let her. His brother may be an annoying, too-noble, somewhat-traitorous git, but he defended what was his, would lie or cheat or maim or kill as quickly and as easily as the rest of them. That was the Mikaelson way, after all. It was what had gotten them in this mess in the first place, that their mother couldn't beat to let them go, to give them up to either time or death. So she hadn't.
And they'd paid the price. Just as she had.
And if she needed a reminder of that...Klaus would be more than happy to give it to her.
Watching Elijah Mikaelson fuss over Elena like a Mother Hen had to be one of the weirdest things Damon had ever seen in his one hundred and seventy year existence. After taking a shower and throwing his ruined clothes in the trash -eau de barbeque wasn't something he was really into- he found the pair in one of the many guest bedrooms, the Original examining the cut on her cheek and the bruises patterning her neck from where Vicki had tried to strangle her with a laser-like intensity. They did look really bad, Damon had to admit, mentally berating himself for not getting there quicker, for making sure that Alaric was okay first when he began crying out in alarm from the parking lot.
For letting her be a part of this plan in the first place. Hadn't heard learnt by now, learnt that all their plans, no matter what, went to shit and what was even the point trying to come up with these things anymore? They were dealing with ghosts now, actual ghosts; what the hell could beat that?
All he knew was that faith, trust, and pixie dust weren't going to cut it anymore (if they ever had in the first place).
"You guys do remember that I've died once, right?" Elena said from where she was seated in an armchair, the standing light casting her face into a kaleidoscope of weary angles and dark soot stains. "It's gonna take more than a couple bruises and some smoke inhalation to get rid of me," she quipped jokingly, sighing heavily when the two vampires just glared at her. Yeah, now was so not the time for that.
"You should have left him," Elijah murmured, quiet enough that even Damon could barely hear him, but Elena flinched like he'd shouted the words at the top of his lungs.
"Like I'd ever do that," she returned with, arms crossed over her chest in challenge, a queen surveying an unruly subject. It was kind of adorable, but also alarming, because to some extent it was true: Elena held all the power on the room, she held them, could get them both to do anything she wanted if she only asked. Not because she was powerful, not because she was cruel or petty or spiteful or calculating, but because she could see past the monster in both of them, and yet still chose to care, time and time again. To see what everyone else overlooked, see past the bloody fangs and the bloodier history to something she seemed good enough, worthy enough, for her to stand up for them, believe in them like shd did everyone else.
Even if she shouldn't. Even if it hurt her. Even if it killed her.
"Elena, a ghost tried to kill you, who is apparently in league with another ghost, who is most likely a witch," Elijah protested, arm braced the length of the fireplace, the lit fire making it all very dramatic and intense. Damon didn't really want to be there...but this was still technically his house, and well...he was curious. And he also really wanted to see Elena tear into Elijah, since being in a relationship with his brother had never stopped her from giving Stefan a piece of her mind when she thought he was wrong about something. "If Miss Bennett had been unsuccessful, if Damon hadn't gotten there in time...Elskede, you could have died."
Anyone else would have backed away at the ire, the steel in the Original's tone, but not Elena. Still covered in soot as she was, she stood to her full height, and was somehow just as imposing and ferocious as he, a complete and perfect match. "And I might die tomorrow, or next week, or next year, and that's something that won't ever change. Yes, I'm human, and yes that comes with risks...but that's life, Elijah. That's what it means to be mortal. And even though I won't live forever, I'd still have to live with a lifetimes worth of guilt if I'd left Stefan to burn to death in that car."
She reached out and took his hand, her smile soft and sweet, and Damon hated the sight of it...but was also kinda glad to see that smile again; he'd missed it. A lot.
"I know you worry about me, just as I will always worry about you, too, but don't think that's gonna stop me from doing the right thing. All I can do is promise to come back to you at the end of it."
"You swear?" Elijah pleaded, sounding more human and vulnerable than Damon had ever heard before.
"Cross my heart and hope to not die. Now, will you go downstairs and pretend like you aren't listening to every word I say while I thank Damon for saving my life?" she asked with a slightly raised brow.
Elijah inclined his head, dropping a chaste kiss to her cheek. "Of course. Let me know if you need me."
The Original's footsteps sounded down the hall, ths slight groan of the staircase filling the ensuing silence between the two. Before Damon could utter a single syllable, before hd could muster ang kind of defense, Elena put her arms around him, holding on to him so tightly he knew that if he wasn't human his chest would no doubt have bruised. But he didn't let go, and neither did she. His own arms came up, more gentle, keeping her close to his chest as his eyes stung. God, she drove him crazy. Literally crazy. He could be pissed at her one minutes and then the next...he was putty in her hands -or her arms, as he was now.
Pulling back, she reached out a hand and ruffled her fingers through his hair, fingertips coming away a deep charcoal. "You missed a spot." He hadn't noticed, since his hair was dark anyway, but she had. A smirk unfurled across Damon's face. "You spend a lot of time looking at my hair?"
Elena laughed, swatting at his shoulder playfully. "Yeah, looking at what a mess it is. Seriously, do you even know what a comb is?"
"Ah, but then I wouldn't have my iconic 'artfully tousled' look, would I? The women of Mystic Falls would weep; it's my most attractive quality."
"No," Elena said with a decisive shake of her head, going from amused to serious in the blink of an eye. "I think your best quality is how much you care."
Everything in him stopped, and he became acutely aware of how close they were, every cell and atom and never ending attuned to how little distance there was between them. It still took him by surprise, the moments where they ended up so close: for so long, he'd tried to keep her at arms length, because she was his brother's girl and also out of some misguided attempt to protect himself. He should have known that no wall could ever keep Elena out. She'd smash her way through it in a minute...or make him want to take it down himself.
By now, it was so much dust laying at his feet, willingly and happily trampled over.
"The first time I hugged you, you were as stiff as a board," Elena recalled, voice tinged with a deep, melancholy sadness -a sadness for him, and who he'd been then, a monster, biting and clawing and raging at everyone and everything, broken and bleeding but not knowing how to heal. "You were freezing. Not just to the touch, but in here," she clarified, placing a gentle hand on his chest, over his heart.
"I used to have such complicated feelings for you. One minute, I'd think we were friends and the next I was cursing your name for something stupid or other that you'd just done. And then you killed Jeremy...and I wanted to hate you. I told you that you'd lost me forever, but you hadn't. You'll never lose me, Damon, and I hope I'll never lose you. And I'm sorry, for how I've shut you out lately, after everything with Alaric. I was mad, and everything was falling apart, and I was just so angry, and I took it out on you, like I have before. And I was hurt, when you weren't here when Klaus showed up. I got so used to you being there when I needed you, and then the one time you weren't...it wasn't a nice feeling. Plus, the fact you were with Katherine of all people, who had kidnapped my brother and hauled him off in the middle of the night..."
"You needed someone to blame," Damon finished for her. Not accusatorial, just stating the facts. She'd been through enough. Too much. It was bound to happen sometime and well...he was an easy person to hate, according to his brother.
And, like she had some magical insight into his thoughts, Elena said, "You're not Stefan, you'll never be Stefan: you're you. You're both vampires, but you're two different people, and you handle it very differently. Because yes, in the past you've been scary...but I've never been scared of you. Not like I was of Klaus, or Katherine. I know I'm safe with you. Tonight proved that; you saved me first."
"Well, I'm kinda used to rescuing you from cars before something or someone tries to do something evil. I thought I'd keep the trend alive." I thought I'd keep you alive.
Damon shrugged, slowly backing away from her, needing to put some distance between them, watching as her hand dropped slowly back down to her side. He made himself comfortable on the bed, shooting a smirk Elena's way when she rolled her eyes at his boots on the covers. Oh, she was so fun to rile. Lobbing a pillow behind his head, he pinned his blue-eyed stare up at the ceiling as he explained, "You know it's what Stefan would have wanted if he was himself right now; he'd always put your safety above his own. And so would I. Not just cause I care...but because you're human. You can act like a warrior princess all you want, but at the end of the day I'm much more unbreakable than you are. I can survive pretty much anything."
Except losing you.
He'd lost his mom, he'd lost Katherine. He'd lost Enzo and Rose and many others. And as hard as each one of those had been, Damon knew they would be nothing, nothing, compared to losing Elena, to that kind of pain. He'd felt but a fraction, a genteel sip of it the night of the sacrifice, and in those agonizing hours afterwards, waiting for her to wake up. Seeing her so still, and lifeless, without that beautiful smile and that glowing light in her brown eyes, and it had almost ruined him.
Because even though he was in pain now, seeing her with yet another guy that wasn't him...she was still here, and they were still friends, and it wasn't like he had a lot of those.
Elena perched on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked under her, quiet and contemplative. "You know, now that I've forgiven you and all-"
Damon turned his head, looking at her through half-lidded eyes. "Can I get that in writing? Guilded frame, maybe?"
She stuck her tongue out at him, continuing on, "I think that Ric would be open to doing so, too. I think he misses you. He hasn't got many friends either."
"Nice, Elena, real nice. Really feeling the love here."
"What! It's true," she protested, flicking a bit of charred car seat off her shirt at him. "And I don't count; I'm his sort-of daughter. He isn't going to be taking me to the Grill for a beer and to play a round of pool. No, with me it's grocery shopping and nagging him about fixing lightbulbs and making sure that Jeremy does his homework and making sure there's toothpaste on the bathroom and-"
"I get it, I get it," Damon held up a hand to interrupt her. "You've domesticated him. Kudos to you. There's no one you can't charm."
"Hey, not fair. I just...like being kind," Elena shrugged, an embarrassed flush colouring her cheeks. He didn't know why: being good was nothing to be ashamed or sorry about. It was harder than it looked, harder than she made it look. "The world's got enough bad in it: I don't see the need to add in my own supply."
"I know, which is why we all like you so much. And, after a little while, us bad guys just decided to give up and go along with your compassionate optimism, it saves a whole lot of energy."
"What a glowing endorsement."
Damon chuckled, leaning back, one arm thrown over his head. "From me? Absolutely."
"So, are we still gonna..."
He stilled, mouth puckering like he'd just bit into the world's sourest lemon. "Yep."
"And you'll call me after?"
Damon nodded. "As planned."
"And you'll be okay...?"
"Nothing I can't handle."
"Because I can..."
He finally looked at her. Really looked at her. At the grime on her face and the exhaustion in her eyes and the way her head was drooping sleepily on her neck, chin almost at her chest. Damon shook his head, black hair splaying across the pillowcase. "No, go. Let your boyfriend drive you home and kiss you on the cheek and be a gentleman. I'll see you tomorrow."
Elena nodded, finally seeing sense. Gathering up her bag, she slung it over her shoulder, her trainers respectfully soft against the carpet like she was trying to let him rest. But she paused at the threshold, curtain of hair swaying as she met his eyes.
"Damon?"
"Hmmm?"
"If it had been you in the car instead of me, I'd have saved you first, too. Goodnight," she said, and left him to curse the universe for finally giving him a set of morals now of all times.
Elijah could feel Stefan lurking about as he helped Elena into her jacket, Alaric standing just inside the doorway, no doubt wishing to avoid Damon -and the prospect of forgiving him. While he agreed with Elena on the subject and knew the vampire hunter would come around, they both knew that now was neither the time or the place for it.
Plus, there would definitely have to be some alcohol involved.
He was well aware that the youngest Salvatore had already informed Niklaus of the nights activities, and it didn't sit well with him. He could feel his brother's predicament as if it were his own: to stay where he was, or to return to Mystic Falls, to put himself within reach of Mikael. And while Elijah hated the idea of his brother being afraid of anything...he couldn't forget the look on Elena's face in the school gymnasium, how small and terrified she'd seemed under her brother's taunting scrutiny. How he'd hurt her. How he'd made Stefan hurt her, just because he could, even though he needed her blood. And then he'd tried to take her, to abscond with her in the night like some thief on a heist, robbing some poor soul of everything they held dear.
Elena. Elena was what Elijah held dear, and his brother knew that. And he didn't care.
No, his emotions were far too raw, everything bubbling away just under the surface of his calm and collected facade, and for his brother's sake, Elijah hoped Niklaus stayed away for the time being. He couldn't hold himself accountable for what he might do otherwise.
Exhaling heavily, Elijah turned on his heel and proclaimed to empty air, "Enough with the mind games, Stefan. It's late, I'm tired, and I much prefer my girlfriends company to yours."
"And here I thought you were supposed to be the polite one," Stefan mocked, appearing from around the corner, seemingly no worse for wear after being injected with vervain and then almost burnt to death.
No doubt the fresh blood Elijah could smell on him had something to do with it.
"A common mistake that many have made, one I always make sure to correct. What do you want?"
"Oh, just wanted to say thanks for saving my life. I know you did it for her," the vampire sneered, gaze sweeping over Elena with enough distain to make Elijah want to tear his eyes from his sockets so he could never do so again, "but still, I appreciate it."
"You're right, I didn't do it for you. I did it because Elena believes that there's still good in you."
Stefan splayed a hand over his chest, sickeningly insincere. There was being cruel, and then there was...this. God, how had Elena done it? How had she held strong in the face of such coldness, wearing the face of her former love? Elijah didn't think even he himself could manage such a thing. "You do? Really? Aww, that's sweet. Naive, but sweet. But you of all people, Elijah, should know that I can't be saved, or redeemed, or whatever else Elena and my brother want from me."
"We just want you to be free of Klaus' compulsion. Free to make your own decisions and have your own agency. Come on, Stefan, don't you hate all this?" Elena pleaded, taking a few tentative steps towards him, the complete opposite to him, all fiery passion and sincerity, every single emotion on prominent display. "Don't you want your life back?"
"You mean the one where I mope around and watch my brother chase after you like a dog with a stick? Where everything's pain and sorrow and anguish, always holding myself back out of fear of what I might do, who I might hurt?" Stefan scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I'm in a real hurry to get back to all of that."
Elena squared her shoulders, unruffled and unafraid. "You're right, Stefan, life isn't a picnic. Not mine, or yours, or anyone else in this town. Which is why we need each other. Why we have each other. Why we have sleepovers and dates at the Grill and shopping trips at the mall. It's why we come here on weekends to watch bad movies, eat popcorn and steal of Damon's fancy soaps. It's why we go to school dances and laugh when the football team spikes the punch because it's just so normal that it takes our breath away how they don't know, don't know that every day all our friends and families are fighting to survive, to stay together, to stay us. It's why you brought me to the carnival in the middle of the night and kissed me at the top of the Ferris Wheel. It's why you said that we had to make sure we lived our lives, that we took moments like that for ourselves," she urged him, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes, so close to falling. "Don't you remember, remember what that felt like?"
"Remember what what felt like?" was his sharp retort.
Elena smiled. "Hope, Stefan. You gave me hope. You gave me hope when I needed it most, when I felt like I wasn't in control and that my life wasn't my own, would always be dictated by other people who wanted to ruin it or take it. You gave me hope, Stefan, so I think it's only right that I return the favour," she said, reaching out to touch his cheek, almost no distance between them now.
"So here's your hope, Stefan," Elena said, and staked him in the chest.
Bonnie was the one to drive Matt home from the bonfire, deciding that he was in no fit state to do it, and he had to agree. He'd caught sight of himself in the rearview mirror, and he'd been shocked by how he'd looked: pale, shaky, withdrawn, hair matted and eyes wide, too wide in his face. Scared, like any noise would spook him. He already knew that sleep wouldn't be in the cards for him tonight, not after all he'd seen today.
Everything that had happened with Vicki.
He'd had her back. His sister had been back. He had held her, had felt her as more than just a passing breeze. She'd been real, solid, human, but not really. She'd still been dead. Matt had had her, and everything was fine, seemed like it might be okay again, for real, and then she'd gone and tried to kill Elena. She'd set her on fire, and then tried to stop her from getting out.
His sister, who he'd learnt how to make pancakes for, who had held his hand in the first day of kindergarten when he didn't have any friends, who had come to every football game to cheer him on even if she hated it, who he'd loved so much for so long, for all his life, had tried to kill his best friend. Again, apparently, since she'd tried to kill her as a vampire, too. It was why Stefan had-had-
"We're here," Bonnie called out to him softly, jerking him back to reality.
Empty house. Dead sister. No mom. No home. No one to come back to. Just bills and homework and shifts at the Grill and college brochures with unbroken spines, fresh and pristine as the future of all those happy, smiling college kids. But not him. He'd never get out of here, would stay and rot and calcify, would end up like Ben -but he'd been a vampire, and he'd been killed, but Matt was human, so what did that say about his life expectancy, being human in a town of vampires and werewolves and witches?
"Thanks for the ride," Matt said, brain on autopilot. "It's getting late, you should get home."
"I could," Bonnie agreed, reaching out to turn the ignition off, angling towards him slightly in her seat, "or you could tell me how you're feeling instead."
Matt sighed, breath fogging up the window. There, and then gone. Just like Vicki. Just like his hope that he wouldn't have to be alone anymore. "What's there to say, Bon? My sister was a ghost, she came back, she did something awful so she couldn't stay. We had to save Elena, and I don't regret that. End of story."
Bonnie shook her head, green eyes so very sad. He didn't want her pity. "No, that's what happened. That doesn't tell me anything about how you feel."
"Do you really wanna know?"
She nodded. "I really wanna know."
And then, like a dam finally breaking, it all came out of him. "I miss her. I miss her so much that sometimes I feel like I'm gonna die from it. And I wish that I could rewind this last year, go back to how everything was before. When I didn't know about vampires and all this crazy supernatural stuff, when my biggest problem was where my mom was off to and whether or not I'd done my History homework so I didn't get it in the ear from Tanner. I just wish that she was here, for real. Not as some ghost, but her. She had her faults, but she was still my sister, you know? I still loved her with all of my heart, ans I hate that she's gone, that she never got the chance to pull herself together. I hate how everyone said she'd never amount to anything, that she was just another angry, drug-using delinquent trying to get attention. Because yeah, she was angry, and yeah, she wanted attention, the attention she never got from our mom or our dad...but she just wanted to be loved, and I don't think there's anything wrong with that. I mean, at the end of the day, isn't that what we all want? Look at Elijah: a thousand years old, and he's only just now getting it right. Vicki should have had that same chance."
"I know," Bonnie said, putting her arm around his shoulders, letting his head fall against her chest. "I know, it's not fair. None of this is fair. We keep losing people, and with each one...we lose some of ourselves, too, pieces we won't ever get back. Even being immortal doesn't guarantee that you'll have time, that you'll get the happy ending you want."
"So, basically, life sucks?"
Bonnie chuckled wetly. "Yeah, basically. But you know what makes it better?"
Matt pulled away, curiosity piqued. "What?"
"Friends. And ice cream. So, here's my thinking. I can let you out and watch as you walk toan empty house and no doubt cry yourself to sleep...or you can come over to mine and we'll watch lame TV and eat way too much sugar for so late at night."
"Do you like Family Guy?"
"Some of it. I like the Star Wars ones the best though."
Matt reached out and turned the engine on. "Then let's go."
He watched. He waited. He waited until the history teacher and the other doppelgänger and the one he didn't know but got a bad feeling about were all gone. He waited until Damon had dragged his brother down to the basement/dungeon -seriously, dude, who did that to their own brother? He'd never done that to his, and he'd been a major dick sometimes. He waited until he was all alone, with no one to save him, before revealing himself to the man that had taken his life.
"Hiya, Damon," snarled none other than Mason Lockwood.
The next morning, Elena did her usual routine: woke up, checked on Jeremy, cleaned her teeth, got dressed, checked her phone. Only this time, it was completely blank. No missed calls, no unread texts. In a blink of an eye, she went from surprised to panicked.
With one shoe on and one falling off, Elena raced to Ric's room, knocking once for privacy's sake before flinging the door open. Ric was fast asleep, completely dead to the world. So she did what any loving daughter would do: opened the curtains wide and pulled the comforter right off him until it trailed onto the floor, blasting him with freezing cold air.
The vampire hunter awoke with a start, coughing and spluttering. He peered up at her through bleary eyes and a mess of bed head. "Huh?"
"I didn't get any calls last night."
Ric paused. Frowned. Yawned. "And I say again...huh?"
Elena sighed exasperatedly. "Damon didn't call me last night! He said he'd call once he took Stefan to the old Forbes cellar."
He sleepily put the pieces together. "So that means..."
"Stefan never made it to the cellar. Which means that's something's happened to Damon."
Author's Note: Hi, everyone! I'm sorry this update took so long, it's because originally -see what I did there?- I had a different idea, I was gonna do the whole bonfire/car exploding scene but then when I wrote it...it didn't feel like me, it felt like I was taking too much from canon. Then, since writing Klaus always seems to get me out of a slump, I decided to start with him. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and I promise not to take so long next time.
As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts so feel free to leave a review.
Happy Friday!
All my love, Temperance Cain.
