So, how about that episode, ya'all? Did I pick an awkward time for Elena to be stuck in the house or what? ;) Ahh, the joys of writing along with the show. Luckily (well, unluckily-boo hiatus!), we've got three weeks to figure this all out. This chapter has to get through a lot of plot, but stick with me-major twists (and more Damon, don't worry) ahead. And we're up over 700 reviews, which is just completely bonkers, so it's time to thank you all again for being generally amazing.
The door was open. The way was clear. Elena just couldn't take a single step outside. It wasn't dramatic; there was no force field that flung her back from the door, like when a vampire tried to enter a home uninvited. No, she could put her feet right up to the threshold, and not a single step farther. She'd been trying all afternoon with every door and window in the house, certain that if she just tried hard enough, wanted it enough, she could break free. But so far? No luck.
The feeling of helplessness was nearly overwhelming. When Damon left, it had been bad enough, the first moments lost in anger and betrayal. How could he? He knew how she felt about compulsion, and after everything they'd been through together—how she'd shown that she could help, that she could save him (and not in some touchy-feely way, but in actual, saving-him-from-torture ways), why would he do this to her?
A barrage of texts and calls went unanswered. Hours stretched endlessly. Just when Elena was starting to consider doing something petty like pouring blood all over Damon's immaculate bedroom, she heard stirrings below. She turned toward the dungeon door to find Alaric and Stefan. When they caught sight of her, they exchanged little smiles. Elena put her hands on her hips.
"You know," she accused.
Stefan shrugged. "Yeah, he called me. But what do you expect, Elena? It's Damon. I tried to tell you."
Elena's eyes narrowed, but even Ric agreed. "He's got a point. Damon's always been pretty clear about the lengths he'll go to so he can keep you safe"
That was true, but Elena had hoped they were past the unilateral decision-making phase of their relationship. Obviously, she was wrong. "Where are you two going? Damon said you were on lock down. Hence why I couldn't go downstairs to see you," she said bitterly.
Stefan coughed, and Elena suspected it was to cover a laugh. She resisted the urge to throw something at him, but it was good just to see some semblance of happiness on his face, even if it was at her expense.
"Bonnie was here," Ric said quietly. "She says I'm going to be okay. So long as I keep drinking this." He held up a Nalgene full of a murky yellow liquid.
Ric had tried to kill her. Multiple times. When she looked at him, sometimes all she could see was his face twisted into a rictus of rage. But right now, she didn't care. She flung herself into his arms, letting herself truly believe that for once, a problem could be solved with a spell. Ric stumbled back a step in surprise, but returned the hug, patting her back awkwardly before pushing her away. "It's still probably better you keep your distance," he said.
"Not happening," Elena said. "It wasn't you, Ric, so don't you dare beat yourself up. Not over this. But where are you two going?"
"Long story. Apparently Sage got into Damon's head and found out about the Wickery Bridge, told Rebekah, and she burned it to the ground," Stefan said.
"You seem strangely...not upset about that," Elena said. Her heart sank like a lead balloon. They'd just lost their last weapon in the fight against Klaus. She'd always be a human blood bag.
"Because there's something Damon didn't know. We have more white oak," Stefan said with a grim smile. "The Wickery Bridge sign, back at Ric's place."
So it wasn't over, then. There was more fight left in them yet. Well, in all of them. She was still stuck here. "So Damon's going to come back and let me out so we can all go get it and figure out a way to kill them, right?"
The men exchanged glances, silently arguing over who had to break the news to her. "He's not coming back," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Damon thinks—and we agree—it's better for you to sit this one out," Stefan said.
"This is crap, guys! I can help, I can do something." she said. Did they really think so little of her?
"It's too risky, Elena. Just leave this one to us. It'll be over soon," Ric said.
"It's just as risky for you, Ric—riskier! Unless you take this." She fished in her pocket for the heavy ring, lapis lazuli embraced by the sheltering wings of an eagle. It was heavy and cold in her hand. She held it out to Ric expectantly. "Bonnie's spell worked. You need to take this."
Ric looked at the ring, obviously torn. "Please. I can't lose you, Ric. You and Jer are the only family I have left," she said.
"Manipulative little thing," Ric muttered, but he took the ring and slid it on. "We'll be back soon."
They left. She was alone. Anxious. Frustrated. Worried. Bored.
She called Caroline. "Can you override his compulsion? Can you get me out of here?"
"Elena, he's one hundred and fifty years older than I am," Caroline said gently. "And Damon happens to be really good at compulsion. I'm sorry he did that to you—that's way shitty, and I'll tell him that when I see him."
"Wait, when you see him? What are you talking about?"
Hesitation. "Um. Apparently the boys cut up the sign. They have like a dozen stakes. And it's going down. Tonight."
Again, Elena couldn't but marvel at the strength and steel in her friend's voice. Once, Caroline had only worried about what dress she'd wear to Miss Mystic Falls. That Caroline was long gone, replaced by a girl who was resilient and tough and smart yet still so endlessly hopeful about people and life that it took Elena's breath away. But all that joy and fire could disappear in a moment if their plans went awry.
"Are you sure about this, Caroline? This isn't your fight, you don't have to-"
"Isn't my fight? Have you been paying attention? Of course this is my fight. Klaus tried to kill me, and the things he's done to Tyler? This is my fight as much as anyone's," the girl said. Elena sighed. She was right.
"Be careful. And tell Damon...tell Damon to be careful, too. Tell him I love him, but he's gotta survive this so I can yell at him." she said.
"You got it, babe," Caroline chirped.
Elena couldn't sit still, couldn't concentrate. Everyone she loved was out there risking their lives, and she was stuck here. Somehow, things always worked out that way. Elena had stood by while Jenna was murdered, unable to do anything but impotently scream, beg her aunt to run from her emotions, block out the terror that must have invaded her last moments. She'd cradled Damon in her arms while death stalked his veins, but had been unable to ease his suffering. She'd been unable to soothe Stefan's pain through that long, hot summer, unable even now to bring him back from the brink.
Sometimes, she was so useless, it was all she could do not to scream.
It took her twenty steps to pace the length of the living room. Twenty footfalls. Pause. Turn. Twenty more. The ticking of the grandfather clock pounded in her ears. Where were they now? The entire team holding down Rebekah as she screamed like a hellcat? Damon, alone and swallowing his fear as he snuck up behind Klaus on velvet feet, every muscle coiled like a spring as he reared back, only for Klaus to turn, that mocking cruelty in his eyes as he reached for Damon's throat.
If he died, the compulsion would break. So long as she could not leave this house, she had hope. Her irritation with her captivity evaporated. She would never set foot outside this house again if it meant having him back. All of her anger at his compulsion was nothing beside this terror. Elena turned to the door. She would stand there until he returned, or until...the latter didn't bear thinking of.
Only two steps separated her from the door when it banged open, revealing a screaming banshee, red hair flying in a fiery halo, red eyes leaking furious tears of rage and loss. Sage threw herself through the door and caught Elena with a back-handed blow that forced Elena to her knees as stars cascaded across her vision.
"What are you doing?" Elena cried. As the stars faded from her eyes, replaced with a dull throb in her jaw, she could vaguely make out another figure behind Sage.
"Your Salvatores took everything from me," she hissed, eyes glassy-bright with manic fury, her face pale. "They took him. I'm just repaying the favor."
Finn. Sage had loved Finn. How was Finn even in Mystic Falls? But none of that mattered. If he was dead, they'd won. The bound siblings were all dead. But Elena wouldn't survive to savor the victory. Another brutal blow sent her reeling to the ground.
"Go ahead," she gasped. "Kill me. I'll come back, and Finn won't. You still lose, Sage." Taunting the 900-year-old psychopath was probably not among Elena's finest ideas, but she was punch drunk and elated with the knowledge that even if she died, they'd still won, and Damon still lived.
Sage straddled her prone body, kneeling, her grief-torn face just inches from hers. "Oh, sweetheart. You won't come back if I rip your heart from your body and feed it to your precious Salvatores." Her hand came to rest on Elena's chest. There wasn't time for fear, wasn't time to scream. All she could do was brace herself and wait for the penetration, for the jerk as her beating heart was torn from its rightful place and-
But it never came. Sage suddenly collapsed atop her, coughing bloody sputum on Elena's face. "Trent, help me!" the woman cried.
The man staggered forward, but quickly fell to his own knees. Elena struggled to free herself from under Sage's thrashing body as the vampire screamed, a keening wail that ended suddenly. For an eternity, Elena was frozen in place. Then her own horrified scream echoed through the house and she scrambled out from under the dead weight.
Both vampires lay dead, shriveled and gray. Vampires didn't just keel over dead. Lurching to her feet, Elena ran to the door. She nearly fell when she hit the threshold. She could go no farther.
There was still hope .