Forever Is Not Enough

Fire

1864 - Mystic Falls, Virginia

Elena woke slowly. It felt as though she had been suspended somewhere between alive and dead for days. Her lungs burned slightly and she struggled to fill them all the way with air. She smelled something burning, but she didn't want to open her eyes. She wanted to be unconscious, blissfully unaware of the pain in her lungs and in her hips. Instead, she forced her eyes open. She was buried in a pile of soft fabric, lurking so deep under it all that she couldn't see anything but the ceiling above her. Light jumped across the ceiling, likely a result of whatever she heard burning. She sat up and a fire crackled in the fireplace to her left, but it wasn't like her fireplace... or any fireplace in her home. This one was made of white marble with gold accents; her own was made of clay bricks. The room was a sullen gray color, marked with dark oak furniture. Pretty, she thought, but unfamiliar.

Just as she was about to investigate further, she heard someone at the door. It opened slowly and only just a sliver. A foot slid in first followed by a body, and then wavy black hair. Damon didn't look at her at first; he looked back and forth down the hallway before closing the door quietly. She sat there with wide eyes, watching him, as he slowly turned around to face her. He jumped a little when he realized she was awake. "Elena!" He almost forgot to whisper.

"Where am I?"

He rushed to her side, sitting on the bed. "How are you?"

"Where am I?" The question was pointed this time.

"The Salvatore estate. We brought your family here after the fire."

The fire. Now she remembered... or she barely remembered. One minute she was getting ready for bed, the last rays of sunlight still coming through her window, and the next she was running out of her front door, tripping over her nightgown onto the yard. Jeremy held tightly to her arm, stumbling and tripping just as she had. Katherine was right behind them, shrieking as loud as she could.

Flames danced behind the windows in Elena's room, but they were jumping out of the window in Jeremy's room. Elena felt tears falling down her face, but she didn't cry out as Katherine did. Soon she heard shouts in the distance. The Fells were running up the road; noise came out of their mouths, but Elena couldn't understand what they were saying. Katherine waved furiously, "Help! Please help!"

Then there were shouts coming from the other side of her. The Salvatore family, along with their stable boy, came running up the road as well. Each of the brothers had a rifle strapped to his back. Katherine saw Stefan running towards her, but she glared at him. Not now, she thought. He hesitated, falling behind his brother and father. Damon, however, ran straight to Elena. He grabbed her face and tried to get her to focus on his eyes, but she wouldn't focus on anything. "Elena? Elena, are you all right?"

Only one thought came to her mind and she finally looked at him. "Uncle John. Where is Uncle John?"

"Where is John?" Damon called, looking around frantically. "Where's John Gilbert?"

Katherine had to hide a smile. "He must still be inside."

Elena shook her head, and tears continued to spill down her face. Uncle John was not close to her, and they did not share any fondness toward each other, but he was family. Elena had already lost too many loved ones too early, and now her uncle was being burned alive. Damon watched her for a moment. Each tear that fell down her face made his insides hurt. He took her face in his hands once more and kissed her softly on the lips. It wasn't as he had always imagined. It wasn't to show his affection. He couldn't smell her perfume, only the smoke in the air. She didn't run her fingers through his hair. It was nothing more than a promise. In those few seconds he promised that he loved her, that he would do anything for her. Once he pulled away, she looked up at him, a silent question in her eyes.

Without explaining, he turned and ran to the house. The growing crowd called after him, but he didn't falter. Stefan watched in horror as his brother ran into the burning building, and before he knew it, he was running too.

"Stefan!" Katherine yelled. It was a slip up, but no one seemed to notice.

Stefan found Damon standing at a door at the end of the hallway, covering his mouth and nose with his handkerchief. "Damon?"

"The handle is missing."

The door had a hole in the very center. "Did you try to kick it in?"

"I think he did. Look." Stefan looked through the hole. John Gilbert's body was curled up on the floor. A wall to his left was ablaze and smoke-filled the room, slowly filtering out through the hole. The brothers took turns smashing into the door, but it became more difficult the longer they inhaled the smoke. Stefan paused, hunching over to cough. Damon made one final kick where the doorknob used to be. The wood splintered beneath his foot and the door finally swung open. He didn't have time to be relieved now; it looked like his brother was dying and felt like he was too.

He bent down and grabbed John by his underarms. "Stefan," he grunted. "Stefan, come."

They made a slow and clumsy escape, the entire structure of the house groaning under their feet as they went. Damon looked into the rooms as they passed. One looked to be the study, the giant flames that erupted forcing him and Stefan to cling to the wall when they passed. Another, he assumed, was Elena's. The soft pink wallpaper was turning brown from the ground up as the flames licked at the walls. What was left of the champagne colored curtains billowed above the fire. All of her things were caught in the heat and he wished he could save something, but her uncle would have to do.

He practically threw the man on the ground once they made down the front steps of the porch.

Elena shook her head, coming back to the present. Damon still sat before her, worry etched on his face. "You saved my uncle," she sighed, throwing her arms over his shoulders.

He smiled, burying his face in the hair on her shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around her torso. "How are you?" he mumbled into her.

She pulled back, tucking a loose tendril behind her ear, "I'm tired... and my chest hurts, but I will survive."

"You fainted, you know," he smirked. Her cheeks turned red; that was not something she remembered. "One minute, you were standing before me and the next you were as stiff as a board, falling backwards."

She was embarrassed, but it explained the throbbing in her hip. "Mr. Salvatore," she exclaimed. "You didn't catch a lady in need?"

"Please don't be angry with me," he chuckled. "I didn't make it much longer until I, too, was unconscious."

She intertwined his fingers with his, "And my uncle?"

"Sleeping," he answered, looking down at her soft hands. "The doctor says he will recover, with time."

She closed her eyes, pleading with herself not to cry. "And my home?"

He paused, weighing the words carefully. "Gone."

She nodded, the muscles in her face forcing her to frown, but she willed the tears back. "Where will we go, Damon?"

"You are exactly where you belong," he smiled. "With me."