Finding the Lost... (Third Journey: Based off The Vampire Diaries Books & TV Show)

C h a p t e r - F i v e: A little sorrow, a little happiness.

It didn't last long in case you were wondering, Damon actually was the one that broke it off. he started crying under my embrace which saddened me more than words could possibly begin to explain. I hated seeming him like this, so broken inside. He had no control over himself after the weeping and tears had controlled his mechanical abilities.

The once powerful and reckless Damon was now sitting here on my couch crying and for once I felt bad, I myself was crying. The person we both loved was found in a bloody mess and there is no way of bringing him back. It was horrifying but it hadn't made sense. I patted Damon on the back and waited for him to look up at me. Soon he did, his red, blotchy eyes staring into mine.

Alaric came running down the stairwell holding a coat in one arm and a long bag in the other. I turned towards him after bringing Damon to the point of a somewhat calm state of mind.

"Where are you going?" I asked a bit curious.

"Tracking a lead on Silas..." I shot him an okay look and focused my attention on the still in shock Damon. We both heard the front door shut but it seemed I was the only one that noticed, Damon still just sat there, face perked up, eyes still cowered toward the ground. I tried to get his attention but he was just in too much pain to try any harder than I had.

So instead I let him sit here, but I left and followed him with my eyes as I walked away. He still was in the same position even when I marched up the stairwell making it quite evident that I had left.

The sullen mask that had trapped him within himself was finally showing through. This poor boy that had lost everything, had experienced five hundred years of pain and grief. But it was worst off know because he had made it through the war as they say just to find out his brother was killed and there was not a damn thing he could have done to save him.

I almost felt stupid for the time and self pity I had for myself when my parents died, eighteen years didn't come close to comparing to five hundred. But still, I had to hold on to hope for the both of us. This other side was a sort of Limbo and there's always a way out. Knowing a powerful witch was with Stefan gave me a little more peace and relief.

Gently my arm brushed the corner wall as I made my way down the corridor to my bedroom. Out of the corner of my eye I could almost swear I saw something, possibly somebody. It was a transparent shadow that slid across the hallway.

It looked like a ghost.

It came back, the blurry image of a person becoming apparent.

"Stefan?" I said narrowing my eyes.

"Oh it worked, thank goodness, - listen to me carefully in order to kill Silas you need to rip his heart out, it's the only way." His hair was long, almost covering a good portion of his wide forehead. I leaned forward and tried to touch him but my hand fell through distorting the soft image in the process.

"No, wait, are you okay? Is Ronnie? Stefan, please tell me your going to find a way back I don't know if Damon can take this any longer..." Before I even had time to realize it his silhouette had vanished and I was simply talking to the empty hallway. I turned toward the door to my left which was Jayons's room. I knew I shouldn't have walked in but I had and I couldn't take it back.

It was the same nothing had changed since he died, or since I had last opened it. Inside me I could feel the exhilaration and fear when I saw his face for the first time in what had felt like millennium's.

Damon and I both had experienced grief that was beyond repair. We both were broken inside, both of us had held onto hope because we thought things could get better but they hadn't and I can't help but believe that they never will.