Okay, so I totally said this would be the last chapter, but then the epilogue got really, really long, so I decided to break it up into two chapters. In the first one, I will answer what that pesky spell is about, and in the next one, it will be more like the real epilogue with a sort of retrospective of Elena's life and what happens now. I hope you all enjoy.
Future Elena's POV
Previously on:
When I open my eyes again, there is a near blinding light that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere. There is nothing around but vast emptiness wherever I look, except for a familiar face gazing back at me with a smile.
"Miss Sheila," I speak in disbelief, unsure as to what is happening.
"Hello, child," she addresses me, like she did when I was little and playing over at her house. "We have much to talk about and important decisions to make, so we better get started."
She doesn't stop to chat, doesn't even turn around to see if I am following her, she just starts walking away, apparently expecting me just trail after her. I catch up to her easily, and pull gently on her arm until she is facing me.
"Wait just a minute, hold the phone," I ask exasperated. "You can't just show up here and play the whole cryptic ghost card and expect me to follow you into oblivion. If you want me to go with you, I need to know what's going on."
Miss Sheila's expression is one of great amusement, like there is some inside joke that I will never understand.
"He said you'd be stubborn about this," she replies teasingly.
"He, who he?" I question, more confused by the second. "Is it God? Are you talking about God?"
This time Miss Sheila can't hold in a small giggle that I wouldn't expect from someone as old as Bonnie's Grams, but apparently the unknown hilarity continues.
"Not quite," she answers, still obviously finding humor in my frustration. "I'm afraid there is only so much that I'm allowed to tell you, special rules and all."
At this point, I start pacing back and forth across the endless expanse of whiteness that never seems to stop or start anywhere. My aggravation level is through the roof and my tone betrays my mood.
"You're a witch and we're both ghosts, and you want to lecture me about rules," I respond while pointing out just one more of life's little ironies. Miss Sheila doesn't appear to take offense to my attitude, but instead chooses to ignore it.
"Life," she explains, "even the afterlife has rules, just like everything else. There needs to be balance, structure, or else everything falls apart. You can call me old fashioned if you like, but even in death, we must strive for order." Her explanation while all wise and reasonable sounding doesn't really answer my original question.
"Oh, fun," I reply sarcastically, "more cryptic messages about life and from a ghost no less. Just what I was hoping for when I asked you to elaborate further."
Obviously eternity has driven Bonnie's Grams a little nutty, because I hear the beginnings of a chuckle in her throat.
"And we're back to the laughing," I notice, increasingly annoyed.
"It just surprises me sometimes," she clarifies. "As much as you've changed, you're still that same four year old girl who stubbornly refused to wear a dress to your birthday party."
The wave of nostalgia takes me back to a simpler time, when my biggest concern was looking like a girly girl in front of Matt. "I can't believe you even remember that," I whisper softly.
"The sight of you taking your dress and throwing it in the mud is hard to forget," she reminds me, with a hint of mockery in her voice.
"I haven't felt like that girl for a long time," I state with a bit of regret.
"That might be true, but she's still there, somewhere deep inside," Miss Sheila reassures me. "It's easy to think that we leave our past selves behind when we grow up, but they're still a part of us. I've watched you all this time. I've watched you struggle and hurt and I've watched you survive against unimaginable circumstances. Some days you've acted with a maturity far beyond your years, and some days you remind me of that little girl too willful to listen to the people around you, but your strength is one thing I've always admired about you."
Her buttering me up makes me feel pretty lousy about yelling at her. Today, I definitely became in touch with my inner child.
"I suppose you think I'm acting like a brat?" I question, ashamed at my behavior. Miss Sheila's eyes soften and she smiles back at me with love.
"I think you're acting exactly like you deserve to act in this moment," she assures me. "Death, especially a sudden one, can prove rather jarring."
So to summarize, I was acting like a brat, but I died today, so it's alright. Good to know. I try to suppress that childish side that made a sudden reappearance, and attempt to bring forth that maturity that I know I'm capable of.
"So putting aside my childish tantrum, will you please just tell me what's going on?" I ask in a pleading voice. All I need is a few answers, because this whole dying thing has thus far not come with a manual.
"What's going on is that your life, your death, it presents a unique set of problems that the servants of nature have never faced before," Miss Sheila explains delicately, as if she is afraid to give too much away. "The other witches, we fought about what to do with you from the very beginning. We set you on the path to open Esther's coffin, but we never imagined that it would end with such bloodshed. We had to make it right, and that's why we transported you to the past. But even after we sent you back, it seemed too cruel to just let you die before you even had a chance to live."
"That's kind of a moot point, seeing as how I'm already dead," I state, with an uncertainty as to where this is going.
"Perhaps," Miss Sheila concedes, "but that doesn't mean that you can't at least experience what it means to live." And we're back to the cryptic messages that I love so much.
"You lost me again," I tell her, trapped in my confusion.
"The spell, the one we had Bonnie perform, it linked your past self's emotions with your own."
"Yeah, and what a barrel of laughs that was," I derisively reminisce. "I spent my last 24 hours on Earth fighting with Damon and with my past self, only to die the next day."
"Your death was predestined," she reminds me unflinchingly. "That was the deal that you made, but we hoped that the spell could give you a second chance."
"To what?" I ask, growing frustrated once more.
"To feel."
"For a day," I respond with bitterness in my voice, "how useful is that?"
Miss Sheila studies me for a moment before replying. "You still haven't figured it out, have you?"
"Let's assume that I am incredibly slow and you can explain it to me," I reply, dripping with sarcasm.
"What do you feel right now, this second?" She questions me inquisitively.
"I feel frustrated and confused," I admit, "mostly at you."
"That's not all is it? What else do you feel?" I search deep within myself to answer her question, because in the midst of dying, I haven't had a whole lot of time to sort out my emotions
"Sad, and lost," I reply, confused by my own answer. "There's like this emptiness inside of me."
"Have you ever felt that way before?" She prods gently.
"The emptiness and the sense of loss, too many times to count," I respond mournfully, still unsure as to where she is going with all of this. "It feels like I'm . . . grieving," I state, and the epiphany comes flying in. "I can still feel her can't I? My past self's emotion, the connection isn't broken. But why, why keep me connected to her even after my death?"
"We can't give you your life back," Miss Sheila informs me gloomily, "but we can, for a little while at least, let you live through hers. That's where I was taking you, to a special place where you can watch over your loved ones."
"So it's like heaven?" I ask with all the innocence of a child.
"I find its best not to ask too many questions," she advises me warmly. "All you need to know is that you have a choice. You can choose to watch over your past self's life, feel what she feels, or you can let go and move on to the afterlife that you were meant for," Miss Sheila finishes outlining my options.
"What will happen to me in this afterlife?"
Despite all the stories that I heard in Bible study when I was a child, I really don't know what awaits me on the other side.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," she responds regretfully.
"More rules?" I guess, with a touch of annoyance.
"Always," she replies with a half-smile, "but just so you know, if you do choose to stay and watch, it doesn't have to be forever. You can move on whenever you like. All you need to do is call for me, and I will be at your side instantly. The choice is up to you."
I never was very good at making decisions, especially in a time sensitive situation. My mother used to tell me that I always made the right decision, once I was done exhausting all the wrong ones. I don't know if I'm making another mistake, but at least it's not forever. My uncertainly and fear echoes in my voice.
"I . . . I need to know that they'll be okay," I rationalize convincingly. "I just need to watch for a little while," I promise to Miss Sheila and myself. A few days, maybe a few weeks, then I'll be able to move on. Miss Sheila smiles at me sadly, for some reason unhappy with my reply.
"As you wish child," she states before slowly disappearing before my eyes. Suddenly the scene changes, and as I look around, my surroundings are different. There is still the endless expanse of white nothingness, but there is also a screen, that looks oddly similar to a TV set. I am mesmerized by the images flashing across it. I see myself and Damon and Stefan walking into the boardinghouse. I witness Damon defend my honor, drown his sorrows in bourbon, and claim that he failed me. I want to reach out and hold him myself, pull him in my arms and never let go, but I can't. That is the one limitation of this situation, I can't call the shots. I have to trust my past self to make the right choices.
The only comfort that I draw is that I can feel the touch of Damon's skin when my past self grabs his hand. I can feel the trepidation as she confesses her love for the first time, and I can feel his lips on mine as we make out before Caroline so rudely interrupts. I tear up at the toasts celebrating my life, and I'm filled with such love that I'm certain I will burst. After a couple of days, the moments happen almost in a blur. Time must move faster here, because what is hours back on Earth, feels like only a few seconds, where I am now. That is my only excuse for staying so long, for watching so long. In the back of my mind, I know that I should leave, I've seen all that I need to know that my loved ones will be alright, but I can't bring myself to turn away, so I resign myself to watching, before I know it five years have passed.
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