Barely A Memory

Chapter 21

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With her thoughts hazy and vision dangerously blurry, Elena forced herself to open her heavy eyelids. Was she going blind? Feeling her pulse begin to accelerate, she made the decision to rely on her other senses to determine her location. Stricken by fear and suddenly alarmed, she felt around for a long moment, coming to the conclusion that the cold substance against her fingers was concrete. The thing that baffled her, though, was the stickiness, the dry, syrupy stickiness that somewhat reminded her of a melting lolly-pop. She was sure, though, that whatever this cracking substance was, it was nothing sweet. Finally, her vision cleared and she took a glance around. The lighting was dim, but now, the drying, thick stuff on her fingers was more distinguishable. It was dark. And dense. And coming from Stefan.

It was coming from Stefan!

Involuntarily, a loud gasp escaped from Elena's trembling lips. She regretted it immediately, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. It was then that she remembered exactly where they were, under the possession of a cure-crazed vampire, in a dark, windowless, cold room.

Oh god, she tasted his blood on her lips now. Elena swiftly removed her hand from her mouth and placed it against his face. He was so cold. She was going to be sick.

"Stefan," she whispered, kneeling down as low as she possibly could by his limp form. She reached around to find the source of his bleeding and quickly learned that it was coming from his head. Luckily, it seemed to have stopped, but the old wound from his experience in Mystic Falls a few weeks ago was split open once again. He was not moving at all, so still she worried for a second that he was dead. Then, she remembered their link and nearly cried out in relief. He was okay. For now. "Stefan, wake up," she silently pled, terrified by his lack of response. How hard had he hit the sidewalk? "Stefan!" She shook him now, shaking him a bit. Gradually, his eyelids fluttered open and he looked up at her, through her. His expression was glassy, and there was no doubt in her mind that he had a bad concussion. He didn't even bother looking around.

"Hey," she whispered, pulling him against her. His fingers twitched for hers, and immediately, Elena placed her bloody hand in his. He didn't seem to mind all that much. "Do you know what day it is?" She remembered her dad once asking Jeremy these questions after he'd hit his head on their swing set.

Stefan didn't seem to hear her for a long moment before responding, "The day... the day I die?" a dry chuckle escaped his lips, and Elena was quite surprised by this answer. She wasn't sure if it was his dark attempt at humor or if the only thing he could acknowledge at the moment was that they were both in danger. She suspected the latter.

"You're not dying today," she whispered, kissing the top of his head. The taste of his blood somehow seemed less vile now that she knew that he at least had a chance at being okay. "We're going to get out of here. Damon and Katherine will find us." With her every word, his eyes appeared to be getting heavier and heavier. "No! Don't fall asleep on me. Whatever you do, you can't go to sleep. Stefan!" He was out again, and she was terrified that he would not wake up. It was the wildest thing she'd ever experienced, but with every passing moment, Elena was beginning to feel weaker and weaker. Oh, god... Stefan was dying. She could feel it in her veins, and it sent her mind and body reeling.

"Hey!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "I know you can hear me!" Her throat was dry and sore, but she didn't much care. "He's dying! You're killing him! How are you going to get the cure if he's dead?"

She heard rustling a distance away and could now hear muttering among what seemed to be a group of vampires. She cupped her ear and leaned in, trying to catch their conversation. Elena quickly realized that they were not shy about their plans, their volume increasing every moment as they argued.