Forever Is Not Enough

Culprits

1865 - Mystic Falls, Virginia

Damon ran. He wanted so badly to linger, to wake his love and to see her face when she realized he had come back to her, but the dissonant sound of two heartbeats chased him from the room. The sun had still not crossed the horizon, but the blue light of morning had spread across the yard. How long had he stood there before he fled? He couldn't say. The look of her face was too much in every way; when he finally saw it in person, he was filled with such elation that it scared him. The smell of her perfume was too strong in his nose, no longer bringing the comfort it usually did. The sound of her breath was too heavy, although he had just hours ago been desperate to hear it.

It might have been his imagination, but he felt his body heat up. If he could sweat, he'd be drenched. If he had a heart, it'd be loud in his ears. He sucked in a big breath, but his lungs didn't expand like they used to, and he was left feeling as though he couldn't get enough air. Blood rushed to his eyes and his teeth slid down from his gums. God, he was hungry. He'd fed before he came, of course. It had taken five fully-grown men to appease what felt like famine in his throat, and he fed on five more after that, just to be sure.

It was too much. He felt like he was being attacked from every corner of his mind and body. Every muscle ached, every nerve vibrated.

He fled out of the window before he did something he regretted, unable to look back. He retreated to the woods from whence he came, his feet moving as fast as they ever had. Yet he was still so new at it all. He was too distracted to keep up with his feet and sometimes they would carry him too close to a large tree, and he would stumble over the roots. Sometimes his legs would stop working like he wanted them to and he would slow to the pace of a human. Finally, he just stopped in the middle of the trees and sat on the ground like a child, shoving his face into his hands and letting the panic leak from his eyes and throat.

He couldn't get his emotions straight. Two visions of Elena attacked him from either side. On one, she was standing somewhere in the sun, somewhere that the warmth would engulf her and fill her smile and eyes. Her hair was down, and blowing in the breeze with her skirt. Pulling on her hand was a little boy, looking up at his mother like he had just watched her put the color in the sky. They were perfect.

On the other side was the sight of those men he killed on the battlefield, all piled together. Elena stuck out from the middle of the pile, her hand reaching out to him. Her body was covered in crescent shaped scars and blood covered her clothing and matted her hair to her face. Below her, he saw the hand of a child emerging from under a blue coat. This was his doing, he realized. He turned his back on them, unable to look at it anymore. Elena, the live one, smiled up at him, but smile left her face when she met his eyes. The sun was too hot. It was burning him.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a man, who took his hand and shoved the ring back onto one of his fingers. When Damon looked down, he could see his flesh healing. He must have taken it off in his panic.

"Lapis lazuli," the man said.

"Excuse me?"

"The stone in your ring, its lapis lazuli."

Damon looked down to appraise what he was talking about. It was a gaudy thing, big and blue, with the letter 'S' and his family crest in the center. Emily had stolen them from Giuseppe's room after they fled. Stefan had one that was exactly the same. It allowed them both to walk in the sun – or it would as soon as Stefan was allowed his – but that was all he knew.

"I have one as well," the man continued, holding up his hand. Indeed, his finger housed a large stone that matched Damon's.

It took a moment for Damon to comprehend. "You are –"