Sitting with the information of her own discovery offered a most uncomfortable feeling for a good portion of the summer. It felt like having a secret that could burst out of her gut at any moment. All she wanted to do was talk about it with anyone willing to listen. But common sense held a hand over her mouth, catching herself right before the fall, right before she had the opportunity to change everyone's opinion of her.

The nightmares, however, did not stop in the weeks after her discovery. Despite insisting that they were trying to tell her something, she could never quite crack what exactly they were trying to say. Some nights she was allowed peaceful sleep and other nights were poisoned by one of two visions of Damon Salvatore.

The first featured him saving her from the carriage, saving her from a vampire attack. Sometimes he was a vampire too, he'd offer her blood to heal her wounds, he'd look at her like he cared what happened, like she was something important and big. And there was Stefan, always Stefan ripping out her throat. Those mornings she woke up covered in sweat, reaching for a wound that didn't exist, hands on her head trying to convince herself that while vampires were real, it was completely impossible for the people she knew to be creatures of the night.

In the second nightmare—because despite the feelings it left her with, she'd continue to insist that it was, in fact, terrifying—Damon kissed her in ways she'd never been kissed before. Delicately up the column of her neck, passionately and with a hunger, his lips crashing against her own. Those mornings, she'd wake up slick with sweat, too. These dreams made her angrier than anything else. They made her even more determined to ignore the feelings Caroline insisted she had for the annoyance of a Salvatore.

At least in the weeks since their last meeting, she'd managed to avoid him as best she could. Maybe it was because she was afraid of blurting out an asinine question like are you a vampire, that she stayed locked in her room most of the time. Or maybe it was because she was afraid of her inability to keep her eyes off him. Either way, she'd managed to turn down Caroline's invitations to dinner and drinks on multiple occasions. She's said no so many times that the blonde had stopped asking altogether.

By the time the third Friday of July rolled around, her mind felt like it was working against her. Every moment of the day was another opportunity to drive herself insane. She'd turned that frantic energy toward reading, spending hours and hours in the town library and letting herself escape into faraway worlds with other fantastical problems that she didn't have to worry about.

She took her time getting ready, stared at herself in the mirror for too long. She bound thick fabric around her chest, pinned at the back. She pulled on her brother's clothes and hugged herself tight. Despite time and distance, they still smelled faintly of him. Maybe he would listen if she made a case for the supernatural. It seemed impossible for him to think her insane.

Even though the sun was slowly going down, the heat still bared down heavily. It didn't change anything. She still wore a cardigan over the button up, still took the time to carefully braid her hair and pin it up before placing the hat on snuggly. She messed with her makeup for much too long, eyed herself for ten minutes at least before she gave up, decided it had to be good enough for the society.

But leaving the apartment, walking across town by herself, and stepping into a den, it was just as panic-inducing, just as stomach-clenching as getting on the train to Harmon alone had been. Even more so. She did it anyway. She'd always been good at that, staring down difficult situations and walking head-on into them no matter what her body tried to tell her, no matter the reeling thoughts and anxiety. It had gotten her this far, after all.

When she got to the familiar run-down shack on the edge of town, she quickly circled to the back. Elena, like always, was early. She pulled open the door and was greeted with the smell of cigar smoking and the hum of conversation beneath her feet. The door opened to a narrow corridor that ended in a staircase. One hand on the railing to keep herself steady, she slowly descended the steps. The hum grew into a chatter, and even though she could not isolate any individual voices, she knew there were many scholars at the base of the steps. A new world for her to uncover. But her hands still shook and she clung to that railing like it would keep her alive until she turned the corner at the base of the steps and took in the sight before her.

It was unlike any basement Elena had ever seen before. The walls were lined with wooden slats and sconces full of warm firelight. Two walls were lined with booths, all full of people engaging in conversation. Across from the base of the stairs was a full bar, manned by two men in clean-cut suits busy making drinks. The center of the room was packed with tall tables and even more people loitering around. For a secret society, there were many more people than she'd expected. And of course, they were all men. Exactly what she'd expected but still disappointing.

After a few moments of standing frozen at the base of the stairs, she wove through the crowd and nestled between two men at the bar.

"Gin and tonic," she said, keeping it short. These men didn't seem the kindest of people, and fitting in, of course, was the ultimate goal. The barkeep placed the drink in front of her without question or comment and she wrapped one hand around it and did a slow circle through the room, looking for any familiar faces.

Damon found her first, a smug smile on his face as he lifted his glass from across the room. Her brain said don't engage, but her feet had another idea. They carried her through the crowd in his direction.

"Well," Damon said, looking down at her over his nose. "Is it everything you dreamed?" The sarcastic tone was not appreciated. Hadn't he worked equally as hard to be in this position?

Her lip curled up into a sneer, again, acting without her permission. "Seeing as I've only spoken to you, it could certainly be better."

"And here I thought we'd overcome our differences."

"Call it a lapse in judgment," she said, the sneer melting into a smile. She resented it, smiling at him. He didn't deserve her kindness. Didn't deserve the feelings she tried not to feel. Especially if he was a vampire.

"Right," Damon said, and she could have sworn there was a tinge of hurt behind that one single word. "I do hope you enjoy yourself, Gilbert." Sarcasm back in full effect.

"I will." Elena lifted the drink to her lips, peering at him over the rim as she took a sip. Could he be a vampire? She found herself assessing him, looking at the angles of his face, the look in his eyes, the curve of his lip. Could he kill, drain the blood from another, make the wounds she'd seen in those pictures? Had he?

"Is something the matter?" he asked, taking a step closer to her in an act so obviously protective it hurt.

Hesitating, ever and always hesitating when it came to him, she took a step back, keeping the same amount of distance between them. A safe amount. An amount that didn't make her mind and body react in ways she wasn't prepared for.

It was too much all at once. The theories, the feelings, the everything about him suffocated her. The look of worry on his face only made matters even worse. Elena backed away, step by step, looking anywhere but him. Always avoiding his gaze, always avoiding facing him fully, letting him in fully, getting to know him fully. She was drowning, so suddenly, in a sea of scholars, of men she didn't know and one she wished she'd never met. An escape from the claustrophobic space began to feel like the only right next move when the shrill sound of metal on glass disrupted her thoughts.

Standing in the center of the room was a man. A completely average man in a suit that likely cost more than her education. He lowered the wine glass and knife he'd used to get everyone's attention and folded his hands. A smile grew on wiry features, pleased to have all eyes on him. The rich suit did not make up for his sour face, narrow and long with heavy jowls and a thin mouth. He must have been at least sixty with his deep set eyes and crooked nose, hair long since gone, leaving a shiny bald head behind.

"Good evening," he said, eyes shifting around the room but not quite catching anyone's direct gaze. "It is always a pleasure to have the great minds connect, but this night is particularly special, you see." To Elena's extreme displeasure, those deep set eyes locked onto hers, freezing her in place as her heart thumped against her rib cage, trying to find a way out. "We have new members. And you all know just how rare that is." He extended a hand to Elena. "Please, introduce yourself."

God, this was so much worse than when the arithmetic teacher had made her share two interesting facts about herself on the first day of classes. She didn't mean to look at Salvatore, but the smile of encourage on his face actually made her feel better, capable even. She stood up straighter, looked at the wiry old man and said, "Jeremy Gilbert, sir. Pleasure to be here. I thoroughly enjoyed Mr. Harmon's treasure hunt. Though I still have many questions unanswered."

"Don't we all," the man said, a graceful smile on his lips that seemed very out of place on a face constructed solely for scowling. "And you, sir?" he said, motioning toward Damon, on the other side of the room. Maybe it made her a coward, but she didn't offer him any encouraging smiles.

"Damon Salvatore," he said with a firm nod and no follow up.

The man clasped his hands together once more. "Well, that settles that. Please, I do encourage you both to speak with as many of our members as you can. I dare say this room is full of geniuses. And you now among them. I do offer most sincere congratulations. There may be many of us here, but it is a hard journey, joining us. Many do not make it." A beat of silence and ice clinking in glasses. "Please, enjoy yourselves."

The room burst back to life. Elena had to restrain herself from walking right back over to Damon. How badly she wanted to grab his hand and declare that they were in this together. At the same time, she wanted nothing more than to stand on her own two feet, to prove to herself that she could handle this without the help of anyone else, and especially without the help of some man.

"So," another man said, striding right into her field of view before she even had the chance to think about who she wanted to speak to first. "What did you think of Arthur's puzzle? Genius, wasn't it?" He paused as if giving her a moment to react. When she didn't immediately say something, he continued. "Dr. Martin Gallagher." He extended a hand and she took it, shaking firmly.

"Nice to make your acquaintance," Elena said. "And yes, I thought it was most brilliant. I personally very much enjoyed the codes. I've always been interested in mystery novels. It almost felt as if I was living one, myself."

"Incredible!" he exclaimed. "Mr. Harmon was really something. So, Mr. Gilbert. What do you do?" he asked this in such a way that made it seem like her answer was of the utmost importance. Like he was sizing her up, determining whether or not she was a worthy conversationalist.

"I'm a student at Harmon College."

"Fascinating!" he said, seemingly utterly un-fascinated.

"I suppose so," she said, letting out a small laugh. "I study Greek and Latin, hopefully, one day I'll be translating works of my own. One can dream." She paused, thinking this the perfect opportunity to ask questions associated with her recent findings. After all, these members had seen what she'd seen, had found the same story, the same code word. "I'm also quite interested in learning more about Arthur Harmon's story. Particularly the disease he suffered from and his research efforts."

"Ah," he said, looking down at her. "An interest in the concept of immortality? You've joined the right club. Many of us share similar goals as Harmon in that case."

"Is that true?" she asked. She couldn't imagine actually wanting to obtain immortality for herself.

"Indeed. Many say that the society was originally founded as a means to seek immortality. A way to gather the intelligent, those studied in maths and science, history and the like. Unfortunately, as you very well know, Arthur never achieved his goal."

"Right," she said, though she couldn't help but think about Harmon's empty resting place. Where had his body ended up, if not resting in the tomb meant for his family?

Dr. Gallagher, a large rotund man with blonde hair and thick glasses, lifted his drink and motioned to a group across the room. "Let me introduce you to a few friends of mine. They're particularly interested in Harmon's story. Well, I suppose you could say we all are. But there are few of us who keep the work going."

"You're still looking?" she asked, following him across the room, trying her best not to come on too strong, to seem too eager.

He turned back to look at her, a wicked smile on his lips. "Of course, Mr. Gilbert. The work won't stop until we find what we're looking for, after all." He stopped in front of two other gentlemen, both in fine suits. Everyone wore fine suits. She felt most out of place in her cardigan and button-up combination. "This is Mr. Jeremy Gilbert," Dr. Gallagher said, motioning toward Elena. He pointed at the first man, a short man that appeared to be in his forties, with brown hair and a thick beard. "This is Dr. Blackwell." He motioned to the other man, slightly taller with a hooked nose and dark, nearly black hair. "And this, Dr. Moller."

"Pleasure to meet you both," Elena said, raising her glass.

"You as well, Mr. Gilbert," Moller said.

"Mr. Gilbert finds himself in like-minded company, with an interest in Harmon's story of immortality," Gallagher explained.

Blackwell grunted but raised his glass in return. It almost felt welcoming. Elena had half a mind to look around, to try and spot Damon and figure out what he'd gotten himself into, but she kept her eyes trained on the trio that had welcomed her into their circle.

"Yes, that's true. I'm a student of Ancient Greek. You know how fond the gods are of their immortality. To think it could be true, possible," Elena said.

"More possible than you even know," Moller said. This earned him a glare from Gallagher, but neither commented on it.

"I have learned much of what's possible in recent months," Elena said.

The trio exchanged another glance. Men and their means of communicating through eye contact. It drove her crazy. What could they possibly be saying with shifting eyes and pointed glances?

Blackwell spoke. "Oh, is that so?" He seemed the grouchiest of the trio, the most unwilling to accept a newcomer. His eyes the most narrowed, glances the most like daggers, voice rough and full of grit. "And what is it that you have learned, Mr. Gilbert? As a student of such a young age," these words were meant to cut, "There must still be much you do not understand."

She longed for the presence of Salvatore, now. These men were unlike him in every way. They made her feel gagged like a hand was wrapped tight around her throat, pressure making her feel small, like they meant to keep her underneath their boot.

"That is certainly true. I do have much to learn," she said. But she refused to make herself small for these men, refused to let herself go easily under this Blackwell's thumb. "I've learned a great deal about the supernatural. I think vampire not just a code breaker."

"Is that so?" Moller said, a wild look in his eyes, glassy and villainous.

"Let him speak, would you," Gallagher chastised.

Elena couldn't help but smile, feeling all the stronger for having said something that many others must have kept to themselves, that others may have feared to speak aloud. That her, for the past month, had refused to say to anyone but these, well, strangers.

"Do you believe?" Elena asked, arrogant and smiling, feeling tall despite being surrounded by men who towered over her. "I've read many of Harmon's writings. I find what he's said about the supernatural most interesting. And though he failed with immortality, I do think he made a lot of important headway. Headway that you three continue to build upon, I assume?"

Blackwell let out a deep belly laugh that caught her completely off guard, threw her off balance. Had she said something wrong? Instead, he only clapped her hard on the back, and she almost tipped forward. "I like this one," he proclaimed, taking a long sip of his drink. "You can stay, kid."

Had it been a question of kicking her out? Did they truly have that much pull within the society? Nonetheless, she was glad to have made an impression. Whether or not that impression was actually good, she'd have to wait and see.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading. At Dawn will update next!