The Truth

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"Stefan, what's going on," Elena asks. I can tell from Stefan's expression that Elena had also seen Damon's face. Stefan and Damon get up and brush the glass off of themselves. Stefan walks towards Elena, but I can hear Elena step back.

"Maybe some things are to be discussed inside," Damon says, gesturing towards the front door. Oh god, I think to myself. If Elena walks in that door, the first thing she'll see is me, writhing in pain on the floor. Thankfully, I hear Stefan walk towards the door and open it. I turn my head, painfully, just in time to see Damon walk in and stare at me wide-eyed. Had they forgotten that I was still here? And then Elena walks in and I hear her heartbeat quicken.

"Oh my god," Elena say, under her breath. The pain is starting to subside, but the vervain still courses through my veins.

"Damon, get Cecily what she needs," Stefan says. Damon nods and heads to the kitchen. "But without vervain this time," Stefan adds.

"I know," Damon says from the kitchen.

"Vervain," Elena asks, but Stefan doesn't answer. He walks towards me and picks me up. He sets me on one of the couches. 

"You ok," he asks me.

I nod, "just...need...it." I'm careful not to say blood. Stefan nods as Damon returns with a glass full of blood. He lifts it to my lips, but I'm careful. I smell it before I take a sip. There's no vervain in it and I down the glass.

"What the hell are you giving her," Elena asks. No one answers her. I feel my strength start to return and suddenly, I feel normal. 

I sigh and smile, "no one could accuse you of being soft-hearted."

Damon smiles, "right back at you."

I stand and walk over to Elena, my right hand extended, "Cecily Lauderdale."

She shakes my hand, though her heart is racing, "Elena Gilbert."

I smile at her before I turn to Damon, "I think Stefan and Elena have things to talk about, don't you Damon?"

He smiles, "of course." Damon and I make our way out of the living room and into the library. As soon as I close the door, I pin Damon to the wall. 

"What the hell was that," I snarl.

"You're hiding something and I want to know what," he says.

"It's none of your business," I snap.

"Of course it's my business," Damon hisses, "you're staying in my house. I believe I have a right to know who stays in my house."

"You know who I am," I retort.

"Apparently not, otherwise you wouldn't have snapped my neck," Damon says. I sigh and release Damon. He gasps and sighs, rubbing his throat with his hand. I sit down on one of the chairs and stare out the window. Damon sits in the chair next to me and I can feel his eyes on me. "You're different," he says to me.

"A good different or bad," I ask, not tearing my eyes from the window.

"I mean you're different than you were in 1864," Damon says.

I sigh, "even if I wanted to tell you what I was doing in New Orleans, and that's a big if, I couldn't. If I did, I would be dead."

I can hear Damon tense, "who would kill you?"

"Many people," I say, "New Orleans was filled with the most powerful vampires and I happened to befriend all of them."

"Well, that sounds like you," Damon says.

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