Barely A Memory

Chapter 2

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Elena sat in the parlor of the Salvatore mansion, an empty glass resting between her shaking fingertips. Her gaze was glued to the fireplace, and she pretended to be interested in the burning embers, though her mind was wandering.

"You know, I can fill that up if you want." Damon's smooth-as-silk voice brought her back into reality. Just a little bit.

"Do you think it hurt?" Elena whispered, running her thumb along the rim of the glass, a sad attempt to see if she could still feel the invisible imprint of Stefan's lips. "Do you think it hurt him when... he... died?" She dug her teeth into her bottom lip.

Caroline, who had arrived merely minutes ago, plopped herself on the loveseat and shot the dark-haired girl a glare. "Of course it hurt," she spat. "You read the lure." Warningly, Damon said Caroline's name, but she continued, "It felt like someone reached into his chest and squeezed his heart until there was nothing left. Oh, wait... that happened before he died. Didn't it, Elena?"

Damon winced. "That's enough." Normally, he would have put in his ten cents, throwing in a snarky comment to lighten the mood, but not tonight. Instead, the eldest in the group let out a slow breath and reached for a blood bag, saying nothing.

Everyone knew what tonight marked, and the tension in the room was especially grim. Stefan had died exactly two months ago, and everyone was experiencing the detrimental grief. No one was smiling.

"I'm sorry," Caroline breathed, accepting the glass of blood offered by Damon. "It's just... You shouldn't have let him walk away." Breathing out heavily, the blond vampire tilted her head back and tried to brush away her ugly tears without letting her mascara run. After about thirty seconds of this ordeal, she simply gave up, deciding that something as miniscule as looking presentable was not important.

Elena swallowed, wondering how full her glass would be if she simply pored over it all night. The sun had just set, and already tears were streaming down her olive cheeks. "I know," she mumbled, trying to wipe her eyes. "God, why did I? It was like I didn't even care..."

"It was the sire bond," Damon said flatly. Slowly, he moved to sit beside Elena, placing a gentle hand on her knee. Instantly, she rested her head on his shoulder. As intimate as she wanted this action to be for Damon's sake, they both knew that it was far from it. Ever since Stefan had... passed... and Elena became human, she could not shake the emptiness that always lingered in the pit of her stomach, haunting her every time she looked at Damon, every time she kissed him or slept beside him. It was an insatiable, indescribable loss that was always present, a feeling that she never bothered explaining to anyone but her journal.

Stefan would understand this feeling, Elena thought to herself. But then again, if he was here, I wouldn't be feeling this at all.

The guilt was overwhelming. Stefan died heartbroken and shattered, but he died loving her. He died for her, despite the things she had done to break him. Hell, Elena had killed Stefan long before he was actually dead, but he still loved her. He never stopped. Not even for a moment.

So, once Damon and Caroline downed their glasses of blood, he grabbed Stefan's favorite bottle of scotch –the only liquor his brother would ever be caught drinking– and poured everyone a small amount. Elena extended her empty glass and watched the amber liquid as it hit the bottom.

"To Stefan," Damon whispered.

"To Stefan," Caroline agreed.

Elena sighed heavily. She didn't want to toast in honor of Stefan's memory. She wanted to have a toast with him, spend a split second with him to clank her glass against his. Spend a mere moment to exchange glances, and maybe even a smile. That was all she wanted. One more second with him. She wanted to apologize, needed to know that he was okay, wherever he was. But she couldn't do that. So, she bit back her tears and raised the glass.

"To Stefan."

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He awoke with a large intake of breath.

Dark.

Everything was so dark.

He had opened his eyes, hadn't he? His eyes felt open. Was he blind? Feeling his heart accelerate, he forced his hand to twitch just the slightest. It was resting against his chest; he could feel his heartbeat pounding. He then clenched his fist. His knuckles cracked loudly.

I am not deaf, he confirmed to himself groggily, letting out a sigh of relief. Why can't I see? So, he decided that he would feel his face to see if his eye sockets were empty. He cracked a little grin at the thought. When he tried to move his arm though, his hand hit something hard with a thunk. A wall?

Using his other hand, he felt on the other side of him. Another wall. He reached above his head: yet another wall.

His throat tightened with fear, and his body instantly tensed. He was surrounded, with no way out. He kicked in front of him, but nothing happened, except for the dull ache that was now rising in his ankle.

I'm going to die in here, he thought, his heart pounding louder than ever. He could hear his pulse in his ears, could feel it in his fingertips. Suddenly overwhelmed by this sense of entrapment, he tried to take in a deep breath, only to realize that the air was stale and dusty. The blood in his veins rushed with a mix of terror and panic. He tried to shout, but his throat was dry and swollen. Fearing for his life, he kicked the wall that was above him, groaning and thrashing and hurting until he felt it give way a bit. Dizzy, he kicked again, even harder; some light shone through. Closing his eyes and desperate for escape, he kicked one final time with all his might and was muttering incoherent prayers when the top flew off. Dirt fell on his cotton shirt and landed on his face, though he hardly noticed.

Stunned, he sat up and took in as many breaths as he could at once, feeling as if he hadn't breathed in months. Trembling and dazed, the young man looked down at the object he was sitting in and made out the shape of a coffin. Barely able to move, he rested his elbows against the mossy ground, still trying to recover from his panic attack.

Then, he closed his eyes and wept.

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Elena and Caroline rested back-to-back, laughing and crying as they reminisced about Stefan over an empty bottle.

"And so... and so I said... that's the same as your 'Hey! It's Tuesday!' look!" Caroline giggled, and Elena cracked up as well. Relentless tears streamed down both of their faces as the blond continued to go on and on about how Stefan had helped her when she was turning. Elena shared a few stories of her own, though she had trouble speaking about him even then. The wound was still too fresh.

"That's nothing," Damon inquired. "When Stefan was ten, he fell in love with his teacher. The kid was so smitten that Father had to hire a completely new woman. And, no joke, he locked himself in his room and cried for days. Days."

Elena could have sworn she saw wetness on even Damon's cheeks. This, all of this, was too bittersweet. A little too bitter. Not sweet enough.

Elena set her glass down. "Are we going to do this every month?"

Caroline giggled. "Why not?"

Just then, the phone rang. Damon stood to answer it, but Elena waved him off and got up to answer it. Sniffling her nose and wiping her tears, she attempted to collect herself and picked up the phone. "Damon and Stef—Damon Salvatore," she greeted.

"Elena? Is that you?"

The distraught voice on the other end caught her by surprise. "Sheriff Forbes? How are you?"

Caroline rolled her eyes at her mother's intrusion, but Damon sat up a little straighter. The other line was muffled, and her hearing was not magnified anymore, so Elena covered her other ear to listen. "Yes, Elena. Hello. I'm, uh, I'm okay. There's actually, um, something at the station I think you'd like to see..."

She furrowed her brows. "Can it wait? It's past midnight..."

"I don't think you'd want to wait on this one," Sheriff Forbes answered immediately. "One of our deputies found someone in the woods and brought them in."

"Did you find another vampire?" Elena asked, baffled by the importance.

"No, Elena. I think..." Liz stuttered, and for the first time in their conversation, Elena recognized shock in the Sheriff's tone. "I think we found Stefan."

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