A normal person would have collapsed at their brother's side upon seeing them impale themselves with a dagger, but Elena was no longer a normal person. Instead of dropping to her knees beside her brother—who bled out on the hardwood—Elena threw herself backward against the wall as the scent of his blood overtook her senses.
The scent was in her nose, forcing itself down her throat, choking her. Veins extended from her eyes and fangs elongated in her mouth. Remembering that the person who bled out before her was someone she cared about was an impossibility. All she could think about was the scent of his blood and how much she wanted to sink her teeth into his neck and drink. The hunger was so bad it hurt. Somehow, she stayed pinned to that wall, keeping her distance as Caroline stepped forward tentatively.
That same anxiety flickered behind Caroline's eyes. Her ability to resist was stronger than that of a newborn, but her hands still clenched at her sides as she knelt next to Jeremy, and Elena knew they were both in danger of hurting him further.
In the end, it didn't matter. Caroline bit into her wrist and moved forward to offer him the blood, but his head lolled to the side. She reached forward to touch her fingers to his neck, and the expression that transformed her face was not one of hope.
Caroline did not stand. Her hand fell away from his neck, and she sank back on her heels, defeated. Elena could hardly look at them, could hardly register what had just happened. It still didn't click, the dots didn't connect. All she could smell was blood, and as it spread across the floor, she took one step forward and then another, entranced by the slow moving circle expanding outwards from her brother's corpse.
She must have screamed. She must have. Or maybe the sound had come from Caroline's mouth. The room spun around her, but still, all she could think about was the blood. Caroline stood in front of her in a flash, holding an arm up to bar her from walking any closer.
"Elena," she said, carefully. "Snap out of it. It's your brother. It's Jeremy." She met Elena's eyes, trying to seize eye contact, to keep her from looking at the blood. Her sick sense of desire only wanted to drop to her knees and put her hands into it before licking them clean like some kind of feral animal.
Elena stepped forward again, pushing back against Caroline. Caroline had two hundred years on Elena, but starving newborn vampires had strength of their own too. If the door hadn't opened, if Damon hadn't walked in when he did, Elena may have turned into that animal once more, may have done something she'd regret.
But Damon threw open the door, his face falling immediately at the sight, eyes finding the body and the blood first and then the tense stand-off between Elena and Caroline. He didn't struggle at the smell of blood, only immediately jumped into action. He got between the body and the girls, between Elena and her brother.
"Caroline, get her outside. As far away as you need to," he said, not asking any questions.
Elena's eyes met Damon's and for a second that blood lust broke and all the pain and loss overtook her. That moment lasted an eternity. She broke over and over again, realizing what had happened for the first time but feeling powerless to do anything. Her brows crinkled together and her eyes glistened with tears that would certainly fall at a later date. And he looked at her. He looked at her, his own ice blue eyes filled with an understanding, an empathy and a sorrow, communicating what he could through eye contact alone. But when the second passed, when her eyes shifted away from his, the agony of hunger overtook any feelings of grief.
Caroline gave her no time to think before she tugged on Elena's arm and whisked her out of the house. Everything that had come crawling to an abrupt stop slammed back into full speed the moment they were far enough away from the scene and the smell.
Grief bloomed behind her ribcage, growing and spreading throughout her chest, digging into her heart and making a permanent home there—how could she ever recover from this? She needed to get back inside, needed to see if he was alright if there was anything she could do. She needed to be by his side. He was alone. She couldn't let him be alone. Taking a step toward the house, Caroline moved quickly in front of her once more, putting her hands on Elena's wrists.
"I know, I know," Caroline said, attempting to mollify the girl who had just seen the last family member she had and the only one she'd ever cared about to begin with, die. "Damon's going to clean up the blood," she said. "And then we can go back, okay? I know this is hard, I know—"
Elena did the only thing she seemed capable of doing when sadness took over when grief and loss felt too large and too heavy to bear. She lashed out. "You don't know," she snapped. "Because last time I checked, your brother was alive." As she said the word, a sob escaped her throat and tears started running down her cheeks. She'd wanted so badly to believe that he'd been alive, that there was still some chance of saving him. But in saying the words aloud, she accepted it, confirmed to herself what she'd seen when his head fell backward, the blank expression on his face. "Oh god," she sobbed, bringing her palms up to cover her face.
Why had she ever come to this town, to this place that had only caused her pain and sorrow? If she'd stayed home, if she'd never bothered to wish for more than she'd been given, would any of this have happened? Would Jeremy still be alive? Would she still be human? It was impossible to know, of course. But in that moment, it was equally impossible to feel as if all of the negative things that had happened to her within the past several days were anything other than her own fault.
How had she let their relationship slip through the cracks? How had it been so long since they'd truly seen one another? And god, why couldn't that hug have lasted hours longer? She wished to go back, only twenty minutes or so, to a time before so she could hug him even tighter and tell him just how grateful she was to have him as a brother, so she could thank him for all he'd done for her. Now she only felt numb and empty and worn. It didn't seem fair, for so many terrible, horrible things to happen to one person in a span of so many days. To experience her own death and that of someone close to her in less than a week's time. It only made her want to pull everyone else left around her even closer, to ensure that they couldn't get hurt. It made her want to do two things, which of course, conflicted entirely.
First and foremost, her fingers twitched with an anger she'd never experienced before, even after her own death at the hands of the same man. She wanted revenge. Nothing would ever even the scales, but she could certainly try. But on the other hand, she wanted to lay down all of her weapons, wanted to cross the line he'd drawn in the sand between them, and turn herself over to him if only to protect everyone else around her.
But none of it made sense either, really. Hadn't he gotten what he wanted? Hadn't she given all she could give? Why had he taken more? Because of her defiance? Her mind wasn't clear enough to think things through, to understand why exactly he'd taken the steps he had, and she wasn't positive she'd be able to understand even after the scrambled feeling faded. If it ever truly did.
Damon appeared beside her in a flash. He didn't move to touch her, to place a hand on her shoulder, to do anything comforting. Her grief manifested as rage and she wanted to fight both of them again, to yell and scream until she'd pushed them far enough away that they'd never come back. But she needed them, too. Needed them more than anything in the world. And she knew that one of these times would be the last, and if she pushed them away again and again, maybe they'd stay away. It was a risk she couldn't take.
She looked at Damon with watering eyes and he tilted his head toward the apartment. He must have had experience cleaning up blood-smeared floors before because when they re-entered the floor sparkled like his blood had never been there to begin with. The sharp chemical smell deterred her blood lust, and she could kneel next to her brother's body, pale and growing cold.
Damon and Caroline did not speak, only stood a few feet behind her as she looked down at Jeremy. It had only been fifteen minutes, maybe, since he'd knocked on their door, and yet her entire life had been changed and his ended. The worst part, perhaps, was that there was no one else to mourn him. No parents, no loved ones except for those very distant, and she knew nothing about the friends he must have made in his travels, knew not how to get into contact with them.
She took his hand into hers and held it so tight as if he would come back if she just waited long enough. Tears fell and fell until her cheeks were completely wet, and all hope faded away and she was just a girl, sobbing on the floor, holding her family member, her best friend's hand in hers. Time ticked on, but she did not move from that place. Her head leaned forward, resting on his chest, hands still around his, sobbing at the hollow, at the emptiness, at the lack of movement from his body.
Eventually, Damon came over a placed a hand on her back. He rubbed long, calming circles, and did not speak for quite some time. Until finally, after a deep sigh, he said, "We should take care of his body. Put him to rest. Somewhere nice."
Elena lifted her head to look at him, eyes ringed with redness, nose sniffling. She shook her head, her lower lip wobbling as she tried to find the words to say everything she felt. How impossible it was to explain that she didn't want her brother to go anywhere, that taking him away from her apartment felt like losing him all over again. She did not drop his hand, even when Damon placed his atop one of hers.
He searched her eyes, trying to find understanding there or maybe just trying to get through to her, to reach the girl behind the tears. "He can't stay here."
She nodded numbly, even though she didn't really understand.
A carriage was hailed. Even though she cried, they were quiet tears. Despite being with his body, despite seeing the dagger driven through his chest, it was still difficult to put the pieces together, to see him and understand that he would never come back. It wasn't until the carriage arrived and Damon picked him up and laid him down on one of the benches that Elena had to catch her breath as heavy sobs wracked through her body like dry heaving.
"This can't be happening," she said through sobs as she stood on shaking legs. Numbly she walked slowly back through the apartment and to the bedroom she hadn't sleep for at least a week. This was at least the second time in so many days that she found herself wishing she could wake up from a particularly terrible dream. And sure, there had been good things to come from moving to Harmon, but it was hard to see them now past the visions of her brother thrusting the blade into his heart that played over and over against behind her eyes.
If only the blood lust hadn't taken over. If only she'd been faster. If only the dagger hadn't struck him so lethally. If only he'd aimed it at her, instead.
She rummaged through the chest in her bedroom, the smell of him overwhelming her senses and only making the sobs come harder and faster. If she'd been human she would have started hyperventilating, maybe even have passed out. As she dug through, she found one of his sweaters and pulled it to her chest, falling back onto her heels as she cradled it, burying her face into the fabric.
"I'm so sorry, Elena," Damon said as he lurked in the doorway. When she looked up, he tilted his head to the side and drew his brows together. His mouth parted for a second like he was going to speak, but then he closed it again. Walking closer to her, he squatted down and met her eyes once more, one hand reached out to stroke her hair. When his fingers touched her skin, she threw herself into his arms, sobbing all the same. He held the back of her head with one hand and her lower back with the other, holding her tight against him.
His touch was soothing but it solved nothing. It didn't stop the tears nor the gasping sobs that threatened to pull her under completely as if she weren't already drowning. Between breaths, she said, "I want to kill him, Damon. I want him dead."
Damon nodded, leaning his head against the top of hers. "I know," he said. "We will."
Getting through the death of a loved one certainly didn't take place in the first hour of their passing, but still all things felt lost. It felt as if she were faced with an unclimbable mountain placed directly in her path with no tools, with nothing. There were no paths laid before her, no instructions. But channeling that grief into rage, into a desire for revenge, it made standing up all the easier.
"You don't have to feel like this," Damon said carefully, tipping up her chin with two fingers so he could look into her eyes as they stood facing one another. "Perks of being a vampire, I guess you could say."
She looked at him with confusion, brows slightly drawn.
"You can turn if off. The dread, the guilt, the sadness. Everything that comes with losing someone you love." He didn't say the words like they were a recommendation, just as if she deserved to know all the options. "Push them away hard enough," he started, caressing her cheek, wiping away tears. "And all these feelings, they'll disappear."
Her eyes bored into his, vision blurry with tears. Was that what she wanted? To ignore the pain that pulled her deeper and deeper into a pit of despair, that made it hard to stand on her own two feet? No. Not necessarily. In a way, it felt like forgetting him, too. Like ignoring her grief would make his death feel meaningless. But his words, at least, carved a path through the mountain blocking her way, gave her one solitary way forward.
The three of them, along with Jeremy's body growing colder by the minute, took a carriage to the outskirts of town. Damon, of course, compelled the driver, allowing them to easily transport his body from the carriage out into the woods, not too far from a nearby cemetery. From which Damon stole two shovels. He and Caroline began to dig, but unable to stop looking at his body on the ground, Elena reached for Caroline's shovel soon after and took over, hitting the dirt hard over and over again in an attempt to keep the sadness from pulling her back to her knees.
What good would these tears do her, anyway, in bringing the fight back to Klaus' doorstep? He clearly felt no remorse for his actions, and if she wanted to have any shot of taking him down, she would need every bit of emotional stability she had available. The tears fueled the fire, but so too did they cast a haze. If they were to take down this adversary, her head would need to be clear. Clearer than this.
Once the hole was deep enough, Damon lowered Jeremy's body into it, and Elena turned away, unable to watch as the dirt covered him. She walked deeper into the forest, trying to let the sounds of the wind, of birds chirping calm her. They did not.
"Elena?" Caroline said, coming up behind her. She wrapped her arms around the brunette, pulling her in for a tight hug. "I'm so sorry."
"I can't believe I thought he would be fine. That he would be safe. I should have—I don't know," Elena said, exasperating.
Caroline sighed, pulling away. She looked down at the ground for a second, shame in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I really didn't think—he wasn't always like this. Not when I knew him," she said. Words unspoken, but they both heard what she'd meant. When I loved him.
Elena nodded but did not speak. She didn't know what to say, not to someone who had once cared for the man who'd murdered her brother. How Klaus could ever have been any different than he was now, she had no idea.
"What Damon said," Caroline spoke, words tentative. "About turning everything off… Elena, it's not a good idea."
They continued walking through the forest, Elena with her eyes forward and Caroline with her hands clasped together in front of her, eyes low, glued to the ground. She continued. "When Klaus turned me… I was lost. For a really long time. And, I killed so many people. The guilt I felt. The pain. I thought it would make me feel better, to push all of those emotions away. But it just comes back worse in the end."
"I see," Elena said, feeling wholly unlike herself, instead of the bright, peppy girl who'd once shared many a conversation with the blonde, she instead felt beaten down, broken, numb in a way that could not be described. Not devoid of feelings, not without humanity, but hollow. Cold.
"I know you must want revenge, but please," Caroline said, taking one of Elena's hands. "There are better ways to go about it."
"I don't think I can do it," Elena said, shaking her head, tears falling once more. "To kill him… I need a clear head, and I think the only way for me to have that is to turn everything else off. I can't feel like this and go forward, Care. He's—he was my brother. He took my brother. My only family. I need to kill him, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens."
"I know," Caroline said, sadly.
Elena stopped walking and let her eyes fall closed. Her head throbbed and her stomach ached, almost as much as her heart. Suddenly, the plan took shape in her mind and she knew what she had to do. She knew that to be her best self, that to be able to take him down, these overwhelming feelings would only get in her way. And she was a pragmatic, at best. She'd run the numbers, she could see the outcomes, and this was the best way forward.
Sacrifice was not unfamiliar to the young vampire. No, she and sacrifice held much in common, kept each other close by on long nights. Sacrifice a familiar friend, one she laid her head down next to at night when all felt lost. What can I give up? A question most familiar. What can I lose? If it means getting what I want? Caring for those around me? Questions that never seemed to fade into the background. And she would, she always would, sacrifice bits of herself—her name, her humanity, her morals—to do what needed to be done.
"I have to," she said, finally, looking at Caroline through tears. "Maybe you don't understand. But I feel—I feel lost, Caroline. I feel… empty. I need to feel powerful, strong. I need to be able to fight with everything I have."
"Okay," Caroline said with a solemn nod, taking Elena's other hand. "I'll walk you through it."
A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Thank you so much for your continued support on this story. Excited to bring you the last 5 chapters in the new year.