Forever Is Not Enough

Death Bed

1864 - Mystic Falls, Virginia

As Elena watched the love of her life dying, there was nothing she could do but give him more and more liquor, hoping that even though he was drooling all over himself and speaking like a man in a brothel, he was distracted from his pain.

"Oh, Elena," he slurred. Each of his words came out with a whiskey stained breath. His sentences were riddled with little hiccups and pauses now and again. He was so drunk, she wondered if the real Damon was even there anymore. "Elena, Elena, Elena."

"Yes?"

"You e-ever get that feeling where you're so happy that your teeth grit... grit together and your head s-starts to hurt and your chest gets all tight and your fists get all fight-"

"Fight?"

"Tight! I mean t-tight. So, you're fists are all tight and you just feel like you'll go off like a cannon? You ever feel like that?"

The corners of her mouth turned down harder and her face got hot. Willing back tears, she tried to remember the last time she was genuinely happy – a time when she wasn't worrying about Damon or vampires. Before Katherine stated playing with her memories and emotions like they were toys. Damon continued on as though she had answered him. "Why do you think that happens, hmm? Why does my body want to explode when I'm happy? Does it think I won't get any happier?"

She brushed a tear from her cheek, hoping he didn't see. "Is that how you feel now?"

"I'll tell you when the liquor wears off," he smirked.

Just then, the nurse walked in, a worried look on her face. "No more of that," she said sternly, gesturing towards the bottle in Elena's hands. "Help me change his wrappings."

Elena nodded and stood quickly, setting the bottle on the table at Damon's side. They pulled back the bedclothes and the nurse adjusted his legs so they were straight. Apparently, being mortally wounded removed the suspicion of impropriety because now Elena unbuttoned his trousers and slid his shirt up his chest, revealing more of him than she ever should have seen before they married. Elena grabbed his hand as the nurse peeled back the white bandages covering his wounds. Damon groaned a little, but another sound caught her attention. She heard the front door open and slam shut, followed by almost inaudible sounds of footsteps flying across the floor. A second later, Katherine appeared in the doorway, her hair tumbling from its pins and her eyes wild. "Leave," she said to the nurse.

"Wait!" Elena called, looking down to the bloody flesh that just sat exposed now. But it was too late; the nurse was gone.

It was then that Stefan entered as well. His cheeks were red and he was breathing hard. Katherine shut the door behind him. "How is he?" he asked.

"Not now," Katherine chided.

"You have news?" Elena asked uneasily.

"They hanged two men and one woman," Stefan said. "Slaves."

Elena's cheeks grew red. "On what charges?"

"Conspiracy to commit murder," Katherine said, looking irritated. She gazed at Damon's partially visible lesion. It had been too long since she fed, and even with the smell of rot in her nose, her mouth watered. "The council knew they couldn't be vampires because they walk in the sun, so they thought the threat of death would make them offer up whatever information they had."

"Did they even have anything to do with the murders in the first place?"

"They were witches," Katherine said. "If anything, they would have been trying to keep the vampires away."