"Look, let's have our own decade dance at the boarding house instead. Play some Duke Ellington to start, slow it down with some Gershwin when it's time for the clothes to come off, dancing in the firelight...it'll be way better than whatever crap Caroline threw together in a high school gym," Damon said as he shrugged into his jacket. "I think I even have an old bottle of Macallan '26 in the cellar. Very authentic."
"We can do that any night. I want to see my friends," Elena wheedled. "Besides, this is a night to celebrate."
They'd done it, somehow. It hadn't been pretty. Klaus had awoken just as Esther put the finishing touches on the spell that would bind him within the tomb, impotent and trapped but desperately, hopelessly alive. His screams and threats as the door slid shut would live in her dreams for a long, long time. But it was really over.
In some ways, it was strange not to have a mortal enemy anymore. It was strange not to have to scheme and plot and fight and bleed every day. It was strange to wake up and lie in bed and have nothing more pressing to worry about than catching up on the mountain of homework that had accumulated during their road trip, or what she would wear to the decade dance. Strange, but Elena thought she could get used to it.
Oh, there were still problems. There always would be in this world of shadows she'd chosen. But for now, they were manageable. Ric still had some of Bonnie's herbs, and he assured them they were keeping his dark side at bay. He'd headed out of town for a few days to get his head together, and who could blame him? Jeremy was settling back into Mystic Falls slowly, but Elena had asked Matt for help keeping Jeremy moving in the right direction. The pain and guilt of Bonnie's death was still visceral and real, but she wasn't paralyzed by it. She, too, could keep moving forward. And there was no better way to remember Bonnie than to dance. It's what she would have wanted.
"Did you forget the part about how people always die at these shindigs? I can't believe the school still lets you have them," Damon said.
"That was only twice. They used to be a lot of fun, back before vampires rolled into town," Elena said. "Besides, if we just do it at the house, there'll be no reason for me to wear that cute little dress I have picked out, the one that ends about here." She indicated a spot high on her thigh.
Damon blinked, eyes focused on the location she indicated. "So, dance starts at eight?"
"Yep. Meet you here?" Elena stood, leaning in for a kiss.
Rather than meeting her lips, Damon slid a hand down her thigh, stroking the invisible hemline. Even through the thick fabric of her jeans, his touch made her shiver. "I think we can arrange that." He kissed her. "I'm not dressing up, though."
"Damon!" She put her hands on her hips. "Even Stefan dressed up. And you'd look so hot in a fedora."
"You're right; I did. Too bad you'll never know." He kissed her again, stifling her protests. "Now hurry along to school. Play nicely with the other students, study hard, and call me if you feel the urge to snack on any classmates."
"I'll be fine, Damon," she said. "It's all under control. I've got a little cooler of blood for lunch, and it's all going to be fine." The cravings for blood were still intense. The entire ride home from Denver, she'd been acutely aware of every variation in Jeremy's heartbeat, every change in his breathing, the gentle rush of blood in his veins. It had been distracting but manageable. Being around hundreds of those beating hearts would be hard, but Elena knew she could do it. She had to.
"Elena! We going or what?" Jeremy called from downstairs.
She stole one final kiss, grabbed her backpack, and headed down the stairs.
Empty. Empty. Empty. Elena smacked the last stall door open with a trembling hand. Finally, she was alone. Splashing cold water on her face helped a little, but Elena could still see the faint blackness of veins, a few drops of red swirling in the whites of her eyes.
Shit. She leaned heavily on the sink. It was too much, it was just too much. Things had gone so well at first. History, Biology, and Pre-Calculus all passed without a problem. She focused on the lesson, focused on catching up with her friends, focused on acting normal and not like everyone around her knew her secret, and it was fine. Fine. But as the bell rang at the end of third period and she was whisked into the mass of humanity in the hallway with their thumping hearts and sweet blood just waiting for her to set it free, the hunger and desire to grab her nearest classmate and tear them into blood-red confetti had overwhelmed her. She tried to keep it together, tried to go to her locker, tried to focus on what they'd be doing in English today, but her hands shook and she couldn't remember the combination and then the stupid lock just snapped off in her hand and it was too much. She fled to the bathroom, sitting in a locked stall, knees clutched to her chest, until the last heartbeat retreated.
Stupid. What an idiot she'd been to think she could do this. She wasn't in control, wasn't calling the shots. The monster inside of her was in charge, the monster who had killed Bonnie, the monster who wasn't satisfied with the cold, congealed blood in her locker, the monster who wanted the blood straight from a young neck or slim thigh, the monster who wanted it warm and vibrant and beating in time to a panicked heart.
She fumbled for her cell phone to call Damon, to tell him what a fucking failure she was and beg him to come get her out of here before she did something terrible. Before she could punch in his number, the door swung open. In a whirlwind she still didn't fully understand how to control, she flew into a stall, slamming the door closed. She couldn't be seen like this; she couldn't be around anyone right now. It wasn't safe.
"Elena?" Caroline called. "It's me. You weren't in class and I was worried, so I faked cramps and you know Mr. Peters gets totally grossed out at anything having to do with girly bits so he let me go," she said. "Are you okay?"
Taking deep breaths of useless air helped a little. Even better was the blessed silence from the other side of the stall door. No heartbeat, no whisper of blood in veins. Elena summoned the courage to peek out of the stall.
"Oh, honey," Caroline said as she caught sight of Elena's transfigured face. "It's one of those days, huh?"
Elena nodded miserably. "It just...it just kinda hit me. I don't know what to do, Care."
"First, you need to get out of that nasty stall so I can give you a hug." Elena couldn't help but obey, letting Caroline pull her into a fierce embrace. If only Caroline knew the truth about Bonnie, about what she'd done, she'd never comfort her like this.
"Caroline, I-"
"You're gonna be okay. It's been what, less than a week for you? You're doing great. You're doing so great. Not like when I first turned—God, I was such a hot mess." She pulled back, smiling. "But you've got this. Elena Gilbert, savior of the damned, would never hurt anyone, right?"
"But Care, I'm not doing great. I'm not doing great at all."
"I know it feels that way. I know exactly how it feels. Well, maybe not exactly—our circumstances were a little different." Caroline shrugged, voice devoid of bitterness or pity. "But I mean, I killed that guy at the carnival, even Abby tried to bite Jamie who's practically her son. That kinda stuff happens when you turn. But look at you. You've held it all together, even managed to get rid of Klaus and-"
"I killed Bonnie." The words ricocheted in the small space, too loud, too blunt. But Elena couldn't listen anymore, couldn't hear what a great fucking vampire she was when there was blood not just on her hands, but on her face, on her teeth.
Caroline froze, preternaturally still. "Damon killed her; you were there when he said it. Damon said he killed her in self defense."
Elena hesitated. She could still go back now, still let Damon take the blame. But she couldn't. She had to confess. "She was going to kill him. There was fire, and..." Just the memory of the night made her want to retreat into herself again, shove all the pain away and return to the blessed blankness. But that hadn't solved anything the first time. It wouldn't solve anything now. She steeled herself and went on. "I had to protect him, and...I lost it. I killed her and I let Damon take the blame. It was all me, Caroline. It was all me."
Tears welled up in those big blue eyes. Elena's own tears began to fall. In front of Caroline, it wasn't guilt she felt as much as shame. Shame that she hadn't been strong enough to control herself, to save Bonnie. Caroline would have. She made all this look so easy.
"I miss her," Caroline said through her tears. "I miss her so much."
"Me too. I would give anything to take it back, to have her back. I'm so sorry," Elena said.
"I guess I was lucky—that's not the right word, but I don't know what else to call it—that the guy I killed wasn't someone I knew. But it could've been. It really, really could have been one of you just as easily as it was him." She turned to the mirror, looking at her smeared mascara with despair. "I just...I don't know." She shucked a handful of paper towels out of the dispenser, dabbing under her eyes. "However it happened, she's gone. Crying isn't going to bring her back." There was a desperate calm to her voice. Caroline had lost so much lately—her father, her best friend, her own mortal life. Sometimes, you just had to carry on and not look back at what was lost. "I have to get to class."
"Caroline, I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you from the start, but..." she trailed off. Did it matter why?
"I know. Look, I still love you. You're still my best friend. But this is kind of a lot to deal with. I'm just gonna go back to class. You should drink this-" she pulled a bag of O-positive from her purse, laying it on the rim of the sink. "-and go too. I'll see you at the dance, okay?" Heels click-clacked on the hard floor and Caroline was gone. Elena was alone with the blood.
The school was so alive that night, full of laughing students in flapper gear and zoot suits. Elena stopped on the walk, staring at the school. "I can't do this."
"Elena. I didn't get dressed up for nothing," Damon said. Despite his earlier protests, he'd gotten into the theme of the evening—just a little. It was simple enough, a charcoal gray shirt and black flannel vest, an ivory tie peeking at his collar. His hair was slicked back just enough to keep those floppy bits out of his eyes. It looked so very Damon, not at all like a costume. He looked fantastic. She still couldn't do this. Even with him by her side, she couldn't do it.
"What if I lose it again? What if Caroline hates me?" she asked. After her run-in with Caroline, she'd fled home. She couldn't face school, couldn't face all those beating hearts and Caroline's tear-streaked face. The rest of the afternoon had been spent watching bad made-for-TV movies and leafing through old photo albums. And crying. A lot of crying. Damon had managed to coax her out of the house, but now that she was here, Elena knew it was all a mistake.
"You're not going to lose it, but if you do, we'll leave. And Caroline will deal with it. The girl's nothing if not practical." Damon took her hand in his, brushing against the gardenia corsage he'd given her. releasing a wave of its sweet scent into the air. "This is what we fought for-the chance to live a normal life and do normal things. If you're ever going to put all that shit behind you, we have to keep going. Okay?"
"I hate it when you're right," she said with a tiny smile. Together, they walked into the swirling cloud of noise and light and heartbeats.
"But it happens so often," Damon said, drawing her onto the dance floor. And for the next hour, she didn't have time to think about Caroline or Bonnie or the warm, pulsing bodies around her. He kept her too busy dancing. They never tired, never stopped, never sat out a single song. He taught her all the old dances—the Charleston, the Lindy hop, a few she was pretty sure he made up right on the spot. Sometimes he just swung her around and around in circles until she couldn't help but laugh, the sound unfamiliar but sweet.
Every now and then, she caught a glimpse of her friends. Jeremy and Matt together by the punch bowl. Later, Jeremy on the dance floor with a girl Elena didn't know. Stefan standing quietly in the corner, arms crossed, surveying the scene with gentle amusement. Once, during a slow song, she made eye contact with Caroline, her friend clutching Tyler's neck and swaying to the music. Caroline just nodded. Elena smiled and turned her eyes to her own date.
Damon raised her arm high and twirled her—not because the music called for it, but because it pleased him. She obliged, but was happy to settle back into his arms. "Thanks," she said. "This was just what I needed."
"The more stuff like this we do, the less you'll remember the other parts. The easier it'll be to realize that this is our life now," Damon said.
Elena lay her head on his shoulder. "Did the dress live up to the hype?" she asked quietly.
She felt his smile. Fingers flirted with the hem of the skirt. "You may have exaggerated just a smidgen, but I'll accept the hyperbole. Mostly I'm curious what it looks like in a heap on my bedroom floor," he said.
Elena stopped to pick up her purse on the way out. Her phone was vibrating. "Hey Ric, what's up? How's the trip?"
"I'm not on a trip, Elena." Hysteria tinged his voice, breath coming in ragged gasps. "I don't know where I am or how I got here. I'm in some kind of tomb or crypt or something—there's blood everywhere. Help me."