A/N: Hello and good evening!

See the end for the actual notes because I don't want to spoil everything beforehand. As always, a shout out to all of you who took the time to comment and follow this story. It means so much to me!

Enjoy and like always, let me know what you think!

Cheers!

Anna

o.O.o

Chapter Thirty-Seven, The Collapse of Nature

Jeremy was the first who came home, ashen-faced and eyes red-rimmed. I had gotten home, teeing off my shoes in the hall, the overhead lights were off, but gray afternoon light filtered through the windows.

The sun was sinking below the horizon, the hall darkened until I turned on a lamp and almost screamed when the front door slammed shut.

He stumbled inside only half a minute later. His shaggy, brown hair was a mess, his clothes disheveled and I felt my breath hitch.

"Jeremy?"

He walked over to the kitchen counter, dropped his keys, and then hesitated, his muscles straining against the material of his shirt. When had he started to grow up?

"Hey— are you okay?"

I hadn't expected him to say anything to me. He'd been upset with me for months, giving me the silent treatment most of the time and I thought my expression must have shown that. "I'm as well as I can be, I think. How are you?"

"Same," I mumbled.

I crossed my arms to ward off the chill from the hallway. "I'm so sorry, Jer."

His lower lip trembled and then, his moves jittery, crossed the kitchen and hugged tightly. I returned the hug awkwardly, breathing heavily as he crushed me against his chest. "He's gone, Elena! He's really gone!"

"I'm so sorry!" I gasped and pressed my chin into the crook of his neck. "I'm so sorry!"

He muttered some nonsense against my shoulder and we stood there in the kitchen until the light outside was replaced by the deep darkness of night. Pale, moonlight spilled into the kitchen, giving everything an ethereal glow and I slowly let go of Jeremy.

"I'm— I'm not sure what I should say," I whispered; the words came out high and unsteady.

"What is there left to say?" He asked and crossed his arms in front of his chest. His ears were rapidly drying, leaving damp streaks on his cheeks.

"I don't know," I whispered back, my voice quaking. "Do you want something to eat?"

"You can't cook Elena."

I ran a hand through my hair. "Right, of course."

"Well, at least you don't burn water like mom does, perhaps it won't be that bad—" he tried.

"Thanks for the confidence, little brother."

He rolled his eyes, "I remember the toaster incident all too well, Elena."

"I'm sure I won't blow the anything up," I muttered, looking quite forward to get my mind off of the jittery emotions churning my stomach.

I had no idea how I should feel about Grayson's death. Of course, I was upset (although, alarmingly, not as much as I should be) and I felt horrible for Jeremy.

I turned to the refrigerator, taking out everything I could use to patch up some dinner. Withdrawing a kitchen knife from the wooden block, slashing through the air with a swish, I set to work.

Moonlight bounced off the blade and a plethora of questions formed in my mind. Why would Damon go after Grayson anyway?

Or even more importantly, how had he known about the magical ring? My mind went to Alaric— Had Jenna's boyfriend gone and confronted the lunatic psychopath like in the original timeline? Was that how Damon had learned about the ring?

Or had Katherine done something? She'd known about the ring through Isobel, but I just couldn't think of one reason why she would go after Elena's foster father. I couldn't think of a reason why Katherine would wanted to stay in Mystic Falls at all.

I didn't think Stefan was that much of a reason. She certainly hadn't stuck around for him before. My tongue felt like it was wrapped in gauze and my head throbbed in waves of pain and a wave of dizziness hit me. Why was nothing ever normal in this stupid town?

"What are you making?"

"Oven-baked chicken with vegetables. Can't go wrong with that." I mumbled.

"That involves the oven…"

"Jeremy, I watched a lot of YouTube movies. I promise you, I can make simple dishes, without making the kitchen look as if it is an after scene from some natural disaster."

"Right." He mumbled. "Can I help?"

"Sure," I nodded and pushed the broccoli his way, "you can cut the vegetables."

"Sounds dangerous," he remarked and I wondered if he'd popped some pills when I wasn't looking. He acted like a completely different person. Upset and horror-stuck one moment and calm and collected the next.

It didn't help the headache that curled behind my eyes in the least. It didn't— but his calm demeanor helped to keep me grounded. If only it kept me thinking straight—

The days following Grayson's death passed in much of a blur. The first few days passed by in a daze of me sagging into my bed with my laptop and cycling between Facebook, MySpace and Twitter for news about Grayson's murder.

Meanwhile, Miranda had succumbed to a hefty depression after the first day, which left most of the funeral preparations for me to do. In a blur of phone calls, accepting food, brought over by the Gilberts' neighbors, and speaking to the funeral director, the days passed.

And while Jenna had come and stayed with us she was probably even more useless than Miranda. She meant well, but Jenna was a mess on the best of days and an absolute disaster on the worst.

I lost count of the times I had to change the arrangements of the funeral, the flower arrangement and even the reception afterwards.

In the end, the service went all right. Practically every citizen of the town attended and by the time we left for home, my right hand felt numb, tired of all the condolences.

However, I was nowhere near as frazzled as Miranda and Jeremy were, nor was I as upset, but taking on all the responsibilities was tiring. Besides there was also the police investigation.

Could it have been a vampire? Yes.

Was it obviously one? To me, again, yes, but to the coroner office apparently not. I overheard Liz share with Miranda that Grayson's wounds were neat.

Too neat, even, made by something like an axe or perhaps even a homemade surgical tool. Either way, it was very much possible a human murdered Grayson. And if it was a vampire, there were no signs of vampirism. No bite marks, no head ripped off. Both perpetrators were a possibility.

And wasn't that a nice awakening into reality? It could have been a human. And why would that even be a surprise? I had long since learned that you didn't have to be a vampire to hide a monster underneath.

For my moral compass might have been dented and scratched, killing someone in such a fashion was horrendous— Killing in revenge I understood— loathe to admit as I was, I understood. But this—

I didn't understand how you could torture anyone. Cutting into someone's body, removing lungs or whatever other organ, and see if it'd grow back.

But I didn't understand how you could saw someone's head off either. There was no love lost for Grayson, but— that? And as much as I pretended— I couldn't shake the fear that it had been Bonnie.

Not witch-Bonnie from the TVD series— But the Bonnie whoa been hurt so much. And I didn't want to think differently about her after all that she'd been through.

So I did what I did best. I evaded her.

And I went through the days pretending to be the grief-stricken Elena. Or at least the demure Elena. I couldn't muster up enough energy to cry and grumble, but I could be silent.

Three days after the funeral, at the reading of Grayson's will, I followed Miranda and Jeremy up the stone steps into the solicitor's office. Being there was a stark reminder that I wasn't supposed to be, and my stomach churned.

Miranda wasn't in her right mind — I started to understand where Jeremy inherited his drug problems from — and she sat slouched into her chair, her eyes glazed over.

I guessed it was the unhealthy amount of red wine that had her in an almost catatonic state and I hoped I could understand enough of the complicated legal system the lawyer outlined, to figure out what I should do with all of this.

Jeremy, although he handled all of this much better than I'd thought he would, didn't seem like himself either, yet I wasn't going to let that kid handle his father's practice or all the paperwork that I was sure would have to be handled.

At least John Gilbert was there too. He might have been a bit (much) of an arsehole in the series, but he seemed to at least understand the legal contracts, the ownership of Grayson's practice and what other assets that had to be divided.

I entrained the fantasy of him at least being helpful dealing with all of this. I remembered the death of my father — my real father — vaguely.

I'd been thirteen and I certainly hadn't been present, when his will had been read. My mom had arranged everything while I had wallowed in self pity. I certainly didn't have to know about obligations, our how the stock market worked…

When the lawyer finished his reading — explaining the trust funds for the children — Miranda hobbled outside, greeted by her worried little sister and Jeremy stalked outside without as much as a look back. I watched him go with furrowed eyebrows and slowly got to my feet.

"Elena?"

I turned to John with a tired smile. "Yes, Uncle John?"

"You're handling this really well."

"I suppose."

I was quite certain I didn't react the way I should have. In the last few months I'd seen so many bad things, there only numbness now.

I wondered if this world was slowly, but steadily, twisting me up. Or perhaps the systematic exposure to violence and death was building up a resilience normal people shouldn't have.

I wondered if this was the other way of dealing with this. Something cold and harsh and totally opposite of bereavement and depression?

"Are you all right?"

"I'm— all right," I settled on and wetted my lips. "I'm a bit worried about Jeremy though…"

He nodded. "I suppose everyone processes grief in a different way."

"I suppose," I echoed lamely and followed him out of the small office and down the hallway. "Did the police find out who—"

"No, I still don't know what Grayson— what your father was doing in the basement of the Grill in the first place."

"Is it vampire related?"

"Elena, don't get involved."

"No, I already did that once." I remarked, crossing my arms over my chest. "If it is vampire related, there aren't so many suspects."

"No, there are not." He agreed. "But Elena, you're forgetting your friends had every reason to go after Grayson as well."

That had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up and shook my head. "I— they wouldn't."

"Do you really think they wouldn't?"

I thought about Caroline— in the original timeline, she'd forgiven Damon— Well, perhaps forgiven wasn't the exact word I should use, but she didn't actively try to castrate him either, so I'd say they'd come to some understanding, but Bonnie—

Bonnie, who was so emotionally scarred by routinely exposure to torture and trauma— I had no idea. If I was honest to myself, I didn't really know this Bonnie and clacked my teeth together noisily. I met John's intense stare with one of my own and for the first time in a long while I felt my lower lip tremble. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"I—" his face turned red, "Darling, just stay out of this."

"What?"

"Let me figure out who did this, or what exactly happened. Just focus on school, cheerleading, benign, usual teenage stuff you know?"

I swallowed, "I— okay. But you will tell me?"

"Wha—" he started and opened and closed his mouth, at a loss of what to do, or what to say. "Yes."

"Even when it is one of my friends?"

"Yes."

"Even when it is a human?"

"You think it is?" He asked skeptically.

"I know for a fact humans can be monsters just as much as your regular vampire."

I left before he could recover enough to say something and exited the notary's office quickly. My thought went to Caroline and Bonnie— I really should stop treating vampires as if they were human. They weren't— and they didn't play by our rules.

Founders' events continued a week after the death of Grayson — again, there couldn't be too many self-congratulatory parties in Mystic Falls — and I made an art out of finding excuses to not spending time with Elena's best friends. I supposed I had good reasons to need some time to myself.

It gave me some time to think— to consider my next move. But if I was honest, I had no idea what I should do next. I was quite good at making an even bigger mess out of things than Elena had—

Or at the very least, my actions so far, had changed canon and I had no idea what or when something would happen now. I realized that what Grayson had done was bad.

He saw the world in black and white, while there was no gray left in his world view. However, the supernatural beings in this town where hardly the snowflakes of humanity either. I'd thought that Grayson was one of those people that had become a monster while fighting one.

It was something I had been trying to prevent. I didn't want to be one of those people who would be okay with killing and maiming others to further her own agenda. Even if I did think the world might be a better place afterwards.

The honking of a car door somewhere in the distance, jerked me out of my thoughts and I realized I'd been waiting in front of an intersection for several minutes, deeply gone in my own thoughts. Blinking confusedly, I shifted the car into drive, noticing the enraged face of the driver in my rearview mirror and sped down Washington Street. I wasn't even sure what I'd been planning to do when I'd stepped into the car thirty minutes ago. A moment to myself had been all I'd wanted— and I'd gotten that—

I let my eyes glide over the busy town's center when I noticed Damon Salvatore and hit the brakes so harshly I was propelled forward hard, the seatbelt cutting into my shoulder and collarbone. It was probably just luck there was no one behind me and I steered the car haphazardly into a parking slot and stumbled out of the car.

The air outside was balmy, with a hint of summer, even though it was only mid-March and I hurried down the sidewalk, moving towards the Grill. Damon had just disappeared inside and I needed to know.

I knew he noticed me the moment I pushed the door open and stumbled inside. Matt waved at me awkwardly and I nodded at him. One thing I learned that was easily getting old was the way people pitied me for my loss.

Everywhere I came, there were people telling me they knew what I was going through (I doubted it) and the number of casseroles people brought by at our house was frightening.

Pushing my hair behind me ears and pushing my doubts away, I crossed the room. Damon watched me approach with a smirk. He lifted his fingers from the steering wheel and rippled them in a wave.

"Did you do it?" I hissed, pushing his bourbon away, just out of his reach. "Did you kill him?"

"Elena," he whispered in mock hurt, "how could you think that?"

"Because you're the town's psychopath aren't you?" I snapped annoyed.

"You're hurting my feelings."

"No," I disagreed irritably, "I'm not! Did you or did you not kill—"

He rolled his eyes. "Because if it isn't me, it must be Barbie or Sabrina the teenage witch?" His voice seemed trapped in his throat. "That's what this is, isn't it Elena?"

"Did you do it?" I echoed again.

"Because if it wasn't me, then this safe, insulated little world you created is nothing but an illusion."

I knew he heard me suck in a small breath, could tell I was gathering what was left of my courage. Curling my fingers in tight fists, I glared at him. "Just— did you do it, Damon? Did you kill Grayson Gilbert?"

"No, Elena," he made a face. "Why would I?"

He sounded earnest enough, but I would never forget the way he'd gazed at me from within his Camaro when I'd found Caroline and Bonnie in that parking lot all those months ago.

I wondered if that was the moment when my carefully insulated world, trailed off the script into a horror story of vampires and witches.

"I should go," I mumbled, toying with the fringe of my sleeve. I wished I didn't believe him.

"That's it?"

"Yeah," I agreed, "that's it."

He peered up at me with an unreadable expression. "Say, Elena, do you want a drink?"

"No," I mumbled.

"I think you do," he told me pleasantly.

"Really, you're compelling me now?"

"Of course, not." He grinned in what he must have thought looked flirty, but looked creepy instead and I crossed my arms over my chest. "I hardly need to. Honestly, Darling, you look like shit. A drink would do you well."

"No," I denied and shook my head, already regretting talking to Damon. "No, I've had a first-hand look into day drinking and drinking your sorrows away. I think I'll pass."

Damon's eyes turned cold, bright blue, like early morning's winter-frost and I stepped back, moving away from him with small, even steps. My slow retreat must have evened his mood somewhat as his mouth curled into a lascivious grin and I finally turned around to the door.

The anger boiling in my stomach, the itching beneath the surface of my skin, it was hard to ignore. I wanted to so something. Wanted to fight. I wanted this all to end. God, what I wouldn't give to be a normal girl again. The girl I'd been before I'd gotten stuck in Mystic Falls with all the things that go bump in the night, the blood and the death—

This town that was riddled with violence and a still growing pile of dead bodies. I might have dropped the kill count somewhat, I'd still gotten a large number of people killed.

I might not have been the one who'd pulled the trigger or jammed the knife into someone's neck, I'd still played a critical role into their demise.

I might have been good at pretending, the human brain marvelous at hiding inconvenient truths from yourself, I was still the one who'd changed the story.

Pushing the door open, I stepped outside. The sun was warm against my face and the town's squire busy, still bustling with people. Inside my pocket, my phone suddenly vibrated and I let out a tired sigh.

I knew it was Caroline before I even looked at the phone's display. She was calling— Again. This must be the twentieth time she'd rung and every time she did, she would leave a lengthy message telling me she was worried and she needed me to call her back. I hadn't so far, and that had mollified into a number of e-mails.

It vibrated again and I reluctantly fished it out of my pocket and stared at the display before finally, lifting it to my ear and answering it.

"Hi," I started, my voice sounding scratchy. "Hi, Caroline?"

"Are you all right?" Caroline demanded and I licked my lips.

"I'm okay."

"Right, stupid question." She muttered.

"I'm fine Caroline," I answered mechanically, despite the weather, suddenly feeling cold.

Because I knew what to do—

It wasn't that hard—

I'd known what to do for a while now—

"Do you want to come over?" Caroline asked and I wondered if I was one of the projects she liked so much. I supposed I was exactly like one of those cases she would want and coddle. I had no one. I was alone in a world where everything was riddled with violence. I was the Doppelgänger and somehow everything in this universe, or at least in Mystic Falls, turned around the Doppelgänger.

It was simple, wasn't it? I'd been so busy, trying to figure out what I should do or trying to ignore the spine-tingling horror of being Elena Gilbert, I'd ignored the obvious.

"—El?"

It was simple—

It had been simple for a long time—

Just get out of this hellhole and never, ever, look back—

I froze, the breeze lifting my hair and my face felt slack. In a town of grimly exhilaration, of vampires like the Salvatores, of monstrous family legacies like the Lockwoods, it was obvious. I'd been waiting to take my SAT tests, but what was the point of any of those? What was the point, when I wasn't even sure I would make it to next week?

"—Elena?"

"Oh— erm, sorry, I can't. Perhaps another time?"

"Sure, that's okay. Another time…"

"I need to go," I mumbled, "I'll talk to you later."

"Right, bye—"

I thought I said something back, but I couldn't be sure and turned the phone off before following down the pavement. My hair fluttered around me. I'd gone through the trouble of flat-ironing it until it hung limp and straight, again, to keep up the image Elena Gilbert had painted all around her. My eyes flitted down the street, over my reflection in a shop window and I curled a lock of hair around my fingers. It would be the first thing to go…

I wasn't even sure why I kept holding on to the normality of the human life Elena had been leading. I'd chosen to consider all of this from a human angle in a world that just didn't play by my rules. Why did I have to play by the rules when no one else did?

I stared at myself for several seconds, sliding my eyes over Elena's features. She didn't look well. Or I didn't look well. Being a Petrova doppelgänger meant I was still quite beautiful with sharp cheekbones, a pert nose and long coal-black lashes.

But stress and irregular meals had made me lose weight; making my cheekbones a little sharper and my face a little more angular. God, I could do with a drink. A really strong one.

I considered going back to the Grill, take Damon up on his offer, but in the end thought the better of it and stumbled into a hair salon. The perky purple haired cashier smiled down at me.

"Hi, what can I do for you?"

"I want a haircut." I tried, curling a lock of hair tightly around my fingers. "And I don't just mean the split ends. I need a different coupe. I wanted it short— a bob perhaps—"

"What do you think of bangs?"

"I feel that that is a bit too drastic for my liking."

"Hm, right," she agreed and led me to a chair at the back of her store. Her fingers ran through the locks and her smile turned a little bit manically and I wondered, was everyone in Mystic Falls a bit touched? "Chin length or just below?"

"Just below," I whispered, staring at my reflection until it became blurry.

The girl grinned again and draped a nylon cape around my neck. It almost felt like a noose tightening just before I would step off stool and for a second I hesitated. For just a second— and then my resolve returned and I clenched my jaws. I was done looking into the mirror and not seeing someone I wanted to see. This was my body now and I would threat it the way I saw fit.

Initially when the scissors whizzed through my hair, I felt guilty and nervous. Not because I was altering someone's appearance — which was a nice change — but because it had been a spur on the moment thing. I clasped my hands on my lap as the purple haired girl pulled a comb through the locks still having their original length and bit my lip.

Would the change in appearance keep Damon and Stefan at bay? They hadn't bothered me as much as I'd thought they would, but both men were still in Mystic Falls and I could not think of any reason why they want to stay here.

More importantly, with the knowledge of all the things that go bump in the night, how had no one noticed two vampires coming back for a century and half?

At the very least, I knew Stefan had been filmed when his so-called uncle was mauled by an animal fifty years ago, and that the material had been stored in the television archives.

I was sure there must have been more material stored away in the library archives or even the forgotten Founder archives (in a town like this there must be Founder archives) and yet, no one but John and Grayson Gilbert — although the latter seemed happy enough to hide inconvenient truths even from himself — seemed to be aware what dangers people in Mystic Falls invited in their homes.

"There," the girl's voice declared and I blinked at my own reflection, somewhat disorientated.

The first thing I noticed was how much lighter my head felt. The second thing would be the shortness. It was several inches shorter than I had asked for, and, for a small moment, I mourned the dark hair covering the floor.

God, it barely even reached my chin, but then, I felt triumph flush through my body.

I finally, truly cut away from Elena Gilbert—

Finally—

To be continued…

A/N: Drinking after losing a loved one is quite common, I've been told. And I like adding normal human reactions, coping mechanisms if you will, because for me that add credibility to a story. And as for Non-Elena cutting her hair— yeah, that is her literally cutting herself off from Elena. In a way, its her declaring her independence from everyone. A declaration to stop pretending to be someone she is not. Oh well—

About time I suppose. She's been depending on others, being in an unfamiliar village, body and timeline and trying to juggle all the balls up in the air without letting them drop. Some have commented that she has been a bit forgiving? Personally, I don't agree. Not only are you in an unfamiliar world where suddenly everything that goes bump in the night is fixated on you, you're also in a world where you're basically all alone. You can't confide in anyone, because the first thing someone thinks, you being stuck in someone else's body, is your fault. Or, even worse, people will think you're crazy.

As for her seeing into Elena settling into her skin? No, Elena is not necessarily a bitch having no quals with taking over someone else's life, but when Non-Elena saw things from her perspective, it had been months. And whatever might have transpired before that scene, that was something Non-Elena didn't see. Elena might have struggled, she might have fought to get home, Non-Elena interprets everything on what— five minutes of being in her original body?

However, everyone is free to interpret that scene the way they want, I left it open for interpretation in the first place^^

And that was enough of me babbling I guess. ^^

Anyway, next update around Friday or Saturday (It probably will be Saturday, when I'm ready to publish the next chapter) and as always, let me know what you think:)