They rode in the carriage ride in silence, as if they were complete strangers, two people who had not gotten to know the intimate details of each others bodies, two people who had not spent months exchanging longing glances across living rooms and classrooms and dance halls.
Elena tried to keep her feelings shoved under the surface, but they started to overwhelm, bubbling up in the silence. Her brother was dead. It always came back around to that one detail. Everything else, she could have moved on from with time and space, even found normal ways to make it through her daily life. But the loss of Jeremy shattered her to the very core. Her first best friend, the person who'd always looked out for her, helped her pick the lock to her bedroom when her father had trapped her inside, had encouraged her to apply for college, had given her everything and more including his name, was dead. She chewed on her bottom lip, biting into the skin and letting it heal over and over again as if it gave her any semblance of control.
Because that's what she'd been lacking this entire time, wasn't it? Every moment of every day had only been an attempt to seize that control. Finding out that everything had been orchestrated, that no decisions had truly been her own made her feel more helpless than she'd like to admit. Elena Gilbert was used to being manipulated, controlled, used for everything she had—after all she'd grown up with Johnathan Gilbert for a father, a man who only saw her as a tool and a trophy. But to have the rug pulled out from under her after months of, what? So called accomplishment? To have everything she thought she'd earned tooth and nail ripped away, made the anger in her chest dissipate into a lingering sadness. If only she'd been able to see the trap door, the strings guiding her along. If only she'd been smarter, stronger, braver, any number of things. Maybe she'd still be alive. Maybe Jeremy would still be alive. Maybe things wouldn't look so horribly bleak.
But it was impossible to know, and that's what killed her, what made the hold she had on her humanity start to crack slowly, fractures in the grout, bricks starting to crumble at the corners. If she stayed home, never attended Harmon, would things be any different? If she'd hid, run away, would they have died all the same? It was easy to feel disillusioned, to feel as if she'd made every wrong choice like she'd been led on a leash with no autonomy. But at least she'd fought. At least she'd tried. She had that, and no one could take it away. And whether or not she continued to follow the invisible path they'd laid out for her, Elena would always fight.
"Are you alright?" Damon asked, looking at her from across the carriage.
It'd come to a stop several minutes ago, but she hadn't moved. Frozen in place, with her nails digging into the soft leather seat, she attempted to push away those feelings once again. Just as she'd expected, it wasn't so easy the second time. Damon's eyes flicked down to her hands, her fingers clenched, her arms tense.
She let the words hang between them for a long time before she shook her head hesitantly. Where was the headstrong snarky woman who'd fought him on campus only an hour ago? How had she allowed herself to crumble so quickly with just a few minutes alone with her thoughts?
"You would have gotten in either way," Damon said. "To Harmon."
"I know," Elena said, feigning a confidence she didn't feel. Not that any of this mattered now. "Maybe this is a bad idea."
"Maybe it isn't."
"I thought I made poor decisions."
"You do. But so do I." Silence. He ran his hand up and down her tensed arm. "Listen… Gilbert, I know I suggested ignoring all these feelings, but I was wrong."
"Damon Salvatore admits he was wrong, I guess there is a first time for everything," she said, a small smile appearing on her lips, if only for a second.
He sighed. "It was selfish. It hurt to see you like that, and…"
"It's okay, Salvatore. I'll be okay." Saying it almost made the words true. Almost.
"You will."
Still holding a lot back, like a dam that could burst at any second, Elena forced a reassuring smile to her face before opening the carriage door.
As soon as they opened the door and began to descend the stairs, the smell of blood clogged their noses, crept down their throats. It didn't trigger the feeling of insatiable hunger in newborn, however. Elena opened her mouth to voice a question, but Damon raised a finger to his lips. They crept downward. At the base of the steps, they met a most gruesome scene.
Bodies. Piles and piles of bodies crowded the room. Some had stakes sticking from their chest cavities, and others had pinprick marks on their necks where they'd been drained of blood. Familiar faces, all those who'd been in previous society meetings with them. Moller, Blackwell, Gallagher, and many others she recognized. They'd all been vampires, by the smell of it, and someone had killed every last one.
They should have turned and fled at the scene, at the scent of blood, but by the time they stood in front of the bar in the familiar meeting house, it was too late. The door next to the bar sat open wide, and a familiar voice beckoned to them.
"Come in, don't be shy," Klaus called.
Damon and Elena exchanged a glance. He tilted his head toward the exit and Elena nodded. Before they could so much as move an inch, Klaus appeared behind them in a blur. He seized Elena quick, wrapping on arm around her chest to keep her flush against him. Panic grew on Damon's face, wide eyes searching hers for something, anything.
Klaus ran the back of his hand down Elena's cheek with a chilling smile on his face. "Did you get my delivery?"
"Go to hell," Elena spat, thrashing, trying to escape his grip. He held firm.
"I'll take that as a yes," Klaus said. "I am sorry about the dramatics, but you see, your little trick had some unforeseen consequences."
Damon cleared his throat. "Hate to bring up the elephant in the room, but what's with the vampire graveyard?"
"Always impatient, this one," Klaus said, looking down at Elena.
"What do you want?" Elena asked, still struggling in his grasp.
Klaus' hand shot out to the side, and a stake caked in blood flung into it from across the door, sliding out of the chest of a deceased vampire with a sickening sound.
"It's my turn to ask the questions," Klaus said, bringing the stake up to rest against Elena's chest, the point pressing into her button-up shirt, but not quite touching skin.
Elena's eyes met Damon's. She could see a promise of something in his glance, the desire to help her, and a hatred for the man that held her tight against him. She tried to convey all of her feelings in her own gaze, tried to tell him that it was okay, that she didn't want him to get hurt, that they should have seen this coming.
Klaus dragged the stake downward to the center of her abdomen. "You remember Celeste, don't you?" he asked, looking at Damon with a glance sharp enough to cut.
"Our paths may have crossed once or twice," he said through gritted teeth.
"I always had my suspicions," Klaus mused, tightening his arm around Elena. "I kill your doppelganger, you kill my wife, I'm sure you see the logical next step."
Damon did exactly the wrong thing. He laughed. Klaus drove the stake through Elena's stomach and flung her to the ground. The wound stung and burned, and pain shot outward in every direction. She hit the ground hard, eyes rolling back in her head before refocusing. Klaus roared with pain but didn't move to attack Damon. Instead, he clutched his own stomach, and his hand came away red with blood. Like her wound, his refused to heal.
Damon took the opportunity to strike, landing a blow across Klaus' cheek that sent him stumbling backward. He recovered quickly as Elena managed to sit up. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes, but willed herself forward, forward. Her hands found the stake jutting from her abdomen and gritting her teeth, she pulled it out with a gasp. The pain sharpened and then subsided as the wound stitched itself back together.
Unfortunately, Klaus' abdomen did the same. Time slowed. He grabbed Damon by the neck with one hand and slammed him against the wall, wielding a new stake in the other and a wild expression on his face.
"Stop!" Elena yelled, getting to her feet. Klaus looked over his shoulder at her. Damon's eyes met hers. She stood, white shirt stained with blood, ripped open where the stake had gone through, holding the tip of that very same stake to her chest, right above her heart. "If you hurt him—" Elena started, trying to convince her hands not to shake, trying to infuse as much confidence into her voice as she possibly could. "I'll put this stake through my heart. Hurt him and I'll take you down with me."
Klaus laughed dryly, "And if I call your bluff?"
She barely gave him a chance to finish his sentence before she drove the stake straight through her opposite hand. He flinched, releasing his grip on Damon's neck as the same hole appeared in his left hand.
"It's your funeral," Elena said.
Damon shook his head, but she didn't look at him, wouldn't acknowledge the pain in his eyes, the betrayal. She kept her eyes glued to Klaus' instead, studying his every minuscule movement, ready to strike if he so much as moved the stake in his hand a fraction of an inch.
Klaus stepped away from Damon, lowering the stake and then letting it clatter to the floor. Power rushed through Elena's veins. She'd never felt stronger, even with her healing injuries. Despite Klaus' compliance, she refused to lower the stake, refused to give him the upper hand.
"Answer his question," she snapped. "What's with the vampire graveyard?"
"I suppose it doesn't matter what you know and what you don't," Klaus drawled, justifying himself and his reasons even when his very life was in danger. "You're clever, you know. I've underestimated you. Turning yourself, well I didn't expect that. And this, well, this is the revelation of the century. The question is, would you really do it? End your life for him?"
She held firm. "Why are you killing vampires?"
Damon didn't move, only watched the conversation between cat and mouse play out before him. Elena held Klaus' rapt attention. Any movement from Damon could have cost them both. She couldn't even risk sliding her eyes away to look at him, no matter how much she wanted to.
"Because of you, Miss Gilbert," there was vitriol in his words, a hatred for her. "You soured my ritual with your deception. And while yes, I don't have to feed any longer, there are a few flaws. My dearest Claudia figured it out quite quickly though. I've created a lot of vampires, you see. And they've been leeching my power. Simple solution to that problem is, well, as you see here."
"And my friends?" Elena asked, a hint of her nerves showing through.
"Still so human, aren't you? Even with all of their lies, you still care for them so much. As you can see, your life is evidently safe. Theirs, well, not so much." He took a step closer to her and she took one back, still clutching the dagger. "If there's anything else?" Elena didn't speak. "I shall take my leave, then. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon."
Klaus took a step away, and then another. In a blur that had Elena gripping the stake even tighter, if it were possible, he'd fled. Damon rushed forward just as the stake dropped to the ground and Elena took a deep, heaving breath.
He reached for her hand, but the skin had already mended back together, only leaving a trace of pain behind like a phantom. He pressed his lips to the palm regardless, leaving her hand against his lips as silence hung around them.
It settled in then, for both of them, like a crushing force. "We can't kill him," Elena said, voicing what they were both thinking, eyes flicking up to meet his as the devastation spread across her face. She'd pushed out all the grief for this fury, this rage, with nowhere to point it anymore.
Damon laced his fingers through hers. "We'll find a way." How many times had someone said those words in the past few months? And yet, they hadn't found a way to save her. They hadn't found a way to save Jeremy. Their track record did not offer much in the way of comfort. Pulling away, she turned away from him, heading toward the back room. Damon followed without question.
Unlike in the main room, where bodies piled up every which way, the mess in the covert meeting room seemed much more controlled, restrained. As if Klaus had been on a tear when he'd arrived, only to regain his footing by the end. There, collapsed on the table after being stabbed through the chest, was Klaus' brother. Elijah. Just as dead as the rest of them.
Damon and Elena exchanged a glance. Elena stepped forward to examine the shining silver dagger that protruded from his chest. It was the very same he'd used to offer her his blood during their first meeting. It had an intricate handle with gemstones along the hilt. When she pulled it from his chest, slick with blood, it looked completely ordinary. She turned to show it to Damon, who took the blade, wiped the blood off on his pant leg. Neither spoke.
Other bodies fell around the table, too. A few other faces she recognized. They looked around for only a few minutes longer before departing with the dagger tucked away safely in Damon's coat pocket. Hopefully, it would be enough to kill the first vampire. Elena tried not to think about the intertwined nature of their lives, tried not to think about how easy it would be to plunge that very dagger into her chest right then and there. Instead, she took Damon's hand again, and they returned to her apartment together.
A/N: Hope you're having a good week! This week between Christmas and NYE is always so strange and timeless. I have a few questions I'd love your answers on in the reviews! 1. Would anyone be interested in reading this story (or perhaps a few scenes) from Damon's POV? 2. Would there be any interested in a Hades/Persephone retelling featuring our beloved delena? I'm sure it's been done before, but I have a few twists and turns in mind! Let me know. Hope everyone has a good New Year if I don't post before then. Thanks again for all the love.