Stefan's ring laid delicately in my hand, a contrast of darkness against light. I grabbed the ring with my other hand and stared at it. Each moment that my eyes stayed glued to that piece of metal, I thought of every outcome that had happen to Stefan. He could be dead for all I knew, and that was the thought that came running back whenever I thought of something else. It was as if it pushed every other thought of the way, presenting itself as number one in the race. 

   Stefan had been suffering for months. He was inside a box, in the quarry, dying over and over and over again. Somehow, he had gotten free, which was the only thing that gave me a small bit of comfort. But, he still didn't have his daylight ring, which caused my mind to go back to the theory that he could be dead.

   "So, I've found nine bars along Route 29," Damon said as he walked into the room, "and none of them are called Joe's."

   Elena, Katherine, and I had the same exact dream. It was about Stefan, in a bar with a red awning and a broken neon sign, and then he walked outside of said bar and screamed in pain because of the sun. It was one of the many factors of why I thought he was dead. Katherine, luckily, knew about said bar and its address. 

   "I had a feeling that there was something wrong all summer," Elena said, "and I ignored it. But I was right. Stefan was in a safe, and probably killed whoever it was that found him... I know it sounds crazy that I'm..." She glanced over at me and cleared her throat, straightening her posture. "That we're following a psychic dream, but it's the only lead we have."

   I stood from the sofa and walked over to her. "It doesn't sound crazy," I said as I crossed my arms. "It is crazy. But, Damon here is very open-minded, aren't you?" I gave him a smile, which he returned with a roll of his eyes and a nod. 

   "Shotgun," Katherine announced as she joined us. "What? I get carsick in the back seat. Another charming, human side effect you stuck me with."

   "Please tell me that she's not coming," Elena said with gritted teeth. 

   "Trust me, I have no interest in Katherine's well-being," Damon said, glancing between both girls, "but for some reason Silas wants her real bad, and if Silas wants her, I want her more."

   "Can we just stash her in the cellar?" Elena asked. "Or maybe a deep, dark well with a pair of water wings?"

   "Do you really think that I wanna take a road trip with you, America's most boring, self-righteous vampire?" Katherine had an amused smile on her face as she looked at Elena. "Just remember, Damon and Clara wouldn't have to play bodyguard if you hadn't shoved that cure down my throat."

   "You were trying to kill me!" Elena tried to reason. 

   "I will admit, though," Katherine continued, "I take great pleasure knowing that you wasted your one shot at a human life on me."

   "All right, play nice," Damon said as he stepped in front of Elena, "or I'm gonna revisit the deep, dark well idea."

   "I wanna find Stefan just as much as you do," Katherine said, her sarcastic smile forming into seriousness, "and not just because I don't wanna be a pawn that you can trade off for his life. I care about him—I always have. And since we've been having the same dream, makes me think you care about him just as much."

   Damon picked up the bag he had brought down with him and took a deep breath. "Okay, trains leaving the station. Choo-choo!"

   It was a roadtrip from Hell. Katherine and Elena bickered most of the trip, more the former than the latter. One teased the other, the other tried to stop herself from reaching back and killing her. I, thankfully, sat in the corner of the car, away from both of them in case they decided to start a fight at any moment. It wasn't until Katherine fell asleep that the car became peaceful.

   Joe's Bar was a depleted bar with the name falling off. I had seen it a bit far, immediately pushed myself to the middle, and pointed at it. Elena confirmed that it was, saying that it was the same one she saw in her dream. Damon sighed, but then pulled the car over to the parking lot. We all got out quietly, deciding to leave a sleeping Katherine inside the car. 

   I walked inside first and glanced around, hoping to see Stefan. Instead, I saw the girl he attacked standing behind the bar and cleaning up a glass. I hurried to the bar and looked at her, seeing the bandage on her neck. It was freaky, because that meant that my dream did in fact happen.

   She looked up at me. "Can I get you something?"

   "Yeah, sure." I decided to compel her. "Tell me what happened to your neck." I glanced down at her shirt, reading her name tag, then gave her a small smile. "Jo."

   For a moment, she looked scared. "Some sicko attacked me," she said, "bit me, told me to run, and when I looked back, he was on fire."

   "The sun must have come up," Elena said besides me. "He doesn't have his daylight ring."

   "And then what happened?" Damon asked.

   "Some woman shoved him into a truck," Jo said, shrugging her shoulders, "drove away."

   "Did you know this woman?" I asked her.

   "No," she answered. "She was driving Cam Peterson's truck. He lives about ten miles down the dirt road out back." She suddenly gave me a smile and began to pour alcohol into a shot glass. "Here. Looks like you need one of these."

   "I could," I said as I reached for the glass. "Thank you." I downed the drink immediately. Suddenly, my throat felt like it was on fire. I began to gag and cough, my mouth and throat sizzling. I slammed my hand on the bar, coughing. "Vervain!" I hoarsely said, glaring up at the woman.

   "What did you do?" Elena asked the woman in anger. 

   "I told her to pour her a drink or I'd kill her," a new voice joined. "Although I hoped it would be him to take it."

   I looked up a few moments later, the sizzling in my throat subsiding slowly. In front of us stood a woman with brown curly hair and deep brown eyes almost hidden by her long lashes. She stared at us with a small smirk.

   "Who the hell are you?" Damon snapped. 

   Out of nowhere, the woman raised a gun at us. It was then when Katherine decided to walk in. When she realised what was happening, she stopped and raised her hands. The woman decided to also point the gun at her. "Which one of you is Katherine Pierce?"

   "She is," Katherine said, pointing at Elena.

   "Katherine is a compulsive liar," the woman hummed, "but I need her alive."

   Elena sped towards the woman and threw her against a table. She glanced back. "Katherine, run!"

   "You really do look exactly alike," the woman said as she glared at Elena. She straightened herself and threw her against the wall with strength, then sped out of the building. 

   I ran over to Elena and helped her up. "You okay?" She nodded and glanced back at the entrance, almost glaring. 

   "Wonderful," Damon groaned from behind us. "Now we've got a vampire bounty hunter to deal with. Let me guess: Euro-bitch was not part of the dream?"

   "I've never seen her before," Elena mumbled. 

   "Whoever she was, she wants Katherine," I said as I glanced at the entrance. "She might be working with Silas."

   "I'll go chase after her," Elena said. Her fists opened and closed to her side, the anger in her radiating towards me. "You two find Stefan."

   "Wait. What?" Damon grabbed her hand before she could go. "She almost killed you."

   "We don't have time for a detour," she reasoned. "Damon, Stefan's hurt. Find him."

   "Go with Elena," I said, already leaving. "I'm gonna go find Stefan myself."

   "Why do I have to be stuck with the two must stubborn people in the world?" Damon mumbled as I left. "Okay, stop. Everyone just wait." I stopped by the front door and turned to see Damon looking down at Elena. "Any sign of trouble, you let her go, do you understand me? I don't care how bad Silas wants Katherine. She's not worth the hair on your head. You got me? Okay? Kiss me. Go." 

   Elena pulled him to her and kissed him. When they parted ways, Damon came towards me and we both left the bar. We followed the directions Jo the Bartender gave us—ten miles down the dirt road out back. The worst part was that we didn't use the care, we walked. I wasn't bothered, but I was anxious. I felt the pit in my stomach churn and push and make me want to stop and throw up to the corner.

   "Damon," I softly called, stopping. "I, uh, need to tell you something." I wanted to get something off my chest, to tell him something I had kept hidden for quite some time. The only person that knew, other than the Mikaelson's, was Alaric. He didn't tell anyone, which was greatly appreciated, and I figured it was time for someone other than them to know what I was.

   "Stefan is fine," Damon said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Don't worry about him." He turned and continued to walk.

   "No, no!" I ran and stood in front of him. "That's not it." I scratched the back of my head and glanced around, unsure on how to begin. "You know how I was with Klaus and Elijah for a long time, right?"

   He rolled his eyes. "Does this have something to do with your past with them?"

   "Yes," I nodded, then stopped and shook my head. "Wait, no, no. I, uh... While I was with them, I found a few drawings."

   "The Hybrid Dick can draw, we know."

   "They were of me!" I cut him off, my voice getting a bit higher. "Damon, the drawings were of me, or girls that looked like me."

   He stared at me for a couple of seconds, the look in his eyes telling me that his thoughts were reeling. For a moment, I could see the screws in his head churning. He squinted his eyes down at me, his mouth slightly opening as he came to the conclusion. "Clara, please tell me you're not a doppelgänger, too?"

   "Okay, I'm not a doppelgänger," I said as I shrugged my shoulders.

   He rolled his eyes. "Your sarcasm isn't needed." He laid his hands on his waist and stared down at me, his eyes still telling me that he was confused. "Let me get this straight: you're a doppelgänger, Elena and Katherine are doppelgängers, Stefan is also a doppelgänger, and I'm the only normal one here?"

   "You're a century old vampire," I said as I gave him a look, "there is nothing normal about you. There's nothing normal about us, or this life, or even Mystic Falls." I ran a hand through my hair and glanced around in annoyance.

   "Why didn't you tell me before, Clara?" he asked, taking a step closer to me.

   "Because I didn't want to believe it," I softly said, avoiding to look at him. "It felt like I couldn't really live as me because I'm someone's shadow, just there to fill the void that they left." Finally, after a few seconds of avoiding him, I looked at him. He stared at me with soft eyes, almost pity. I looked away again and crossed my arms. "I met one of them, y'know, the French me. It was the day Mason Lockwood tied you to a chair and stabbed you in the chest with a hot poker."

   Damon nodded. "You called me that night," he recalled. "You were hysterical."

   "I couldn't really handle seeing another me," I explained. "She told me that I was a repeating pattern of existence. Ever since then I've been confused on who I am: am I Clara Forbes or am I a shadow of a dead girl?"

   "You're Clara Forbes," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. He swung his foot to the front and began to walk, slowly. "You're not a shadow of a dead girl, or anything of that kind. You are Clara Lenora Forbes, born to William and Margaret Forbes on February 5, 1845. You have two brothers and two sisters, but you were closest to Charlotte. Your grandmother was named Geillis and your grandfather was named Angus." He glanced down at me, a small and tight smile on his lips. "You died days after your nineteenth birthday, killed by the infamous Katherine Pierce. You, Clara, are you. You are not a shadow, you are not a doppelgänger; you are your own person." He winked and continued to walk.

   I stopped and stared at him for a couple of seconds, the corner of my eyes blurring. Damon wasn't one to normally be a conversationalist of deep feelings, only to be known to speak during those small rare times. In those small time he spoke, though, his words had always seared themselves into my head and made me realise that he was a good friend that tried to get me out of the deep, dark hole that I dug myself. 

   Damon stopped and glanced back at me, arching a brow. "Aren't you coming?"

   "Yeah," I breathed, hurrying to meet him.

   Exactly where Jo the Bartender told us—ten miles down the dirt road—stood a cabin. Damon and I walked up to it, glancing around in hopes that nothing would pop out of nowhere. The former opened the door slowly, walking in. I followed behind him, stopping right at the door when I saw who was sitting right in the middle. I softly said his name, almost like a whisper. He looked up, then, surprise in his eyes. 

   "Stefan," Damon said, breaking the eye contact between Stefan and I. "You couldn't call a brother?"

   "Nice to see you, too, Damon," Stefan said, almost rolling his eyes. His eyes turned to me, just for a few seconds, before glancing back at his brother. He was bound to the chair by vines, surrounded by a circle of herbs. 

   "What the hell is going on here?" Damon asked, crouching down in front of his brother. He began to try and unwrap the vines from Stefan's wrists. 

   Stefan sighed. "Well, Silas' ex-girlfriend decided to come back from the Other Side."

   "Qetsi-whatever?"

   "It's Qetsiyah," someone corrected. Behind us stood a woman with big brown eyes and long curled hair; she appeared to be of Mediterranean descent. "Do you see why I want to change it?" She sauntered towards the fireplace, a flower in her hand. "You won't be able to break those vines. The spell won't release him until I get what I want."

   "Well, I guess the rumours are true," muttered Damon as he stood up. "You are a ray of sunshine."

   "What do you want with Stefan?" I asked as I stepped closer to Stefan.

   The woman, who I thought to be Qetsiyah, looked at me for a moment. There was an unreadable expression in her eyes, just for a moment. She glanced at the three of us as she spoke: "I'm going to link Stefan to Silas," she said. "Casting a spell on his doppelgänger will neutralise Silas' mental powers. Once he's weakened, I will force him to take the cure."

   "Well, that's a great idea, force the cure down his throat," Damon said, sarcasm dripping in his tone. "The cure is gone, done, it's ingested."

   "Katherine, you mean?" Qetsiyah said, raising a neatly plucked brow. "I'm aware of her condition. She's supposed to be with you."

   "Wait," Stefan spoke up. "Katherine took the cure?"

   "Sort of," I said with a shrug of my shoulders. 

   "We have a lot to catch up on, Stefan," Damon said. "Wait a minute. What do you mean she was supposed to be with us?" He stayed quiet for a couple of seconds. "Did you plant those dreams? What is it, some kind of, like, witch party trick?"

   "So, where is she?" Qetsiyah asked, ignoring most of his questions. 

   "We ran into a little snag," Damon said.

   Qetsiyah stared at him for a couple of seconds, then slowly looked down at a bowl she had in her hands. She slowly laid it on the table. "Then I'll get started without her," she said. Out of nowhere, she began to chant over the bowl, weaving her hand in circles. 

   "Okay, well, thanks for the hospitality," Damon broke in, "but we should really get going if we want to beat traffic."

   "Yep, yep," Stefan nodded. "He's right."

   Qetsiyah slowly turned her head towards us. "Probably don't want to get on my bad side."

   I crossed my arms and sauntered towards her, glaring. "You're not the only one with a bad side."

   "Aren't you brave," she mused. "Without Silas' mental powers, he is an immortal nobody. We can defeat him. Isn't that what you want?"

   "Just do it, all right?" Stefan said from behind me. "Just get it over with. Do it." I turned my head to look at him. He looked tired and annoyed, but determined. I walked towards him and stood in front of him. Before I could even open my mouth to say something, he shook his head and gave a small smile. I let out a small groan, but grabbed his face between my hands and kissed him. Just gently, just softly, just a small kiss. I pulled away and took a stand besides Damon, outside of the herb circle.

   Qetsiyah dipped her fingers into the bowl of molten metal, a small sizzling sound escaping the touch of her fingers against the metal. She approached Stefan from behind while chanting, and slowly pressed her fingers against the side of his head. He let out a gasp, and I didn't know if it was out of pain or surprise. As she continued to chant, I realised that he was groaning out in pain. The herbs that circled them ignited in flames, gentle at first.

   "What are you doing to him?" I asked, my eyes trained on Stefan's pained face.

   "I'm frying Silas' brain," Qetsiyah said, her eyes still closed and fingers still pressed to the side of his head. "No one said it would be pretty."

   "Stop it!" I yelled. Stefan's eyes began to bleed. Soon, his head rolled to the side and he lost consciousness. 

   "All right," Damon spat. "We're done here."

   "You're right," Qetsiyah said. "We're done. It worked." She moved away from him.

   I hurried towards Stefan and grabbed his head between my hands. "Stefan!" I called, hoping he'd wake up. "Stefan, hey! Stefan!" I glared at Qetsiyah, who walked away from the circle. "Whever you did to him, undo it!"

   "Relax," she sighed, waving a hand. "I just burned through his conscious mind. He'll wake...eventually."

   "Undo it," Damon snapped.

   "You sure you want to take him home?" she asked, taunting him. "You and Elena were doing so well without your guilt getting in the way."

   He circled the chair Stefan sat on and began to undo the vines. "Spying on us from the Other Side?"

   "Don't flatter yourself," Qetsiyah said in annoyance. "It was like watching a soap opera, except boring and with no volume control. You know, there was one thing worse than being on the Other Side and watching Silas resist the cure."

   "Oh, yeah? What was that, realising that your plan totally sucked?"

   "Century after century, I watched versions of Stefan and Elena find each other, like magnets, always the same story—conquering all, falling in love. You didn't think that your brother was Silas' first shadow? Destiny has been trying to get the doppelgängers together forever."

   "Look here, Miss Crazy," Damon stopped her, "why don't we just dial down the destiny talk a notch, okay?"

   "You don't want to hear it, but the universe is working against you."

   "If you're trying to downplay your reputation as being a psychopath, you might not want to say that you're spokesperson for the universe."

   "You and I are the same, Damon," Qetsiyah softly said, staring at Damon with a hint of amusement in her eyes. "The obstacle standing between two fates. Silas had his true love, and Stefan has Elena. We're merely the conflict that makes it interesting."

   "So, what are you suggesting, I leave him here with you while I run off and live happily ever after with Elena."

   "I'd keep him safe."

   "You have a bad track record with men."

   "I want to keep him safe," she said. "Now that he's linked to Silas, Silas can't mess with our heads, and as long as Stefan's in the way, you will never be with Elena. Take it from a woman who's had front row seats for two thousand years."

   Damon slowly moved towards her, his head reeling. "No one would have to know?"

   "Damon!" I sat up and stared at him in disbelief. "What the hell?"

   "No one has to know," Qetsiyah nodded.

   Damon paused for a second, seemingly thinking it over. He glanced back at his brother, then at me, then back at the witch in front of him. "Or, you could just go to hell." He grabbed the witch by her throat, his fingers tightly squeezing.

   Qetsiyah said something, a spell that made him release her and grab her his head in pain. She pushed him off with a wave of her hand, making him hit the fireplace and knocking him out. Slowly, she turned to me. She wasn't glaring, but her eyes told me that she was curious. She said my name slowly, as if she were trying to figure something out.

   "Clara Forbes," she repeated, holding her head high. "You really look like her."

   "Who is her?" I asked. The beginning of the conversation reminded me of the one I had with Silas a few days ago, the one in which he told me nothing.

   "Silas didn't tell you?" she asked, crossing her arms. She sounded amused, surprised. "Well, I guess I should tell you since I'm part of their story." She circled me, then stopped once she was in front and let out a sigh. "Before me, before Amara, there was someone who Silas loved more than anything."

   "Who was she?" I asked, swallowing hard. 

   "Her name was Helen," Qetsiyah said, her eyes filled with something of hate and something I couldn't figure. "She looked just like you; blonde hair, green eyes, looked as if she were the sweetest thing in the world, like honey."

   "Honey is bittersweet," I muttered out of nowhere.

   "So was she," she said, almost smiling. "She was a nice girl, but she could also make you wish you were never born." She let out a sigh and paced around the room. "They loved each other a lot, I could tell by they way they secretly looked at each other, the way they secretly went of on their nightly adventures into a small tent in the middle of the woods."

   "But, you loved Silas, too, so you killed Helen." I finished for her.

   Qetsiyah stopped pacing and looked at me. "Back then I didn't realise that I loved him," she said, "which was why I didn't kill her."

   "Then, how the hell am I here?" I asked, pursing my lips in a mixture of anger and annoyance. "Why the hell do I look exactly like her?"

   "Because nature is trying to look for a balance," she revealed, something I already knew. "Let me finish this story, just so you know why you look so much like her." She began to pace again, eyeing the passed out Salvatore brothers. "Due to their many nightly visits to each other, Helen got pregnant. Nine months later, a baby boy was born; hair like straw, eyes the colour of summer leaves, and a laugh that made everyone pause and stare. They named him Kaïn, after Helen's father. He lived as the son of another man, her husband."

   "Wait. So, Helen cheated on her husband with Silas?" I asked, surprised. "Wow..."

   "There was no love in that marriage," Qetsiyah said, glancing down. "She never loved him, and she desired to get a divorce and marry her one true love."

   "A.K.A. Silas," I ended for her, nodding. "So, what happened next?"

   She sighed and stopped a few feet away from me, crossing her arms. "Seven years later, that little boy that was born out of wedlock—the son of Helen and Silas—was killed. The other love of her life— that small boy with hair like straw, eyes the colour of summer leaves, and a laugh that made everyone pause and stare, was killed. Fell off a cliff while playing with a ball, they said."

   "Why are you so sure he was killed?" I asked, growing insanely attached to the story.

   "Why would he play on a cliff, with a ball, in the middle of the night?" she questioned, mostly to dare me to answer that question in my head. "The man she was married to found out about the affair, about little Kaïn being the son of Silas. Instead of continuing to take care of the boy, he decided to get rid of him. Helen was so distraught the next morning, even more when they found his body."

   "And Silas?" I quietly asked, laying my thumb next to my mouth. "Was he sad?"

   "It was his son," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "How do you think he'd feel?" She let out a sigh and began to pace again. "As a distraught mother, Helen decided to act on her revenge. She killed her husband, and then she killed herself. It was tragic. Silas found her, brought her to me, and begged me to bring her back to life."

   I swallowed hard and quietly asked, "Did you?"

   "She was a walking disaster," she divulged, tilting her head to the sides as she took each step. "She was sad and cold, separated from Silas as if by a veil. Helen returned to the mortal world, but she didn't belong here. So, Silas took pity. Guess what happened next."

   I glanced down at the floor and licked the corner of my lip. "He, uh, killed her?"

   Qetsiyah nodded. "Nature has a funny way of recreating events," she said in teasing tone. "Every century or so, a new shadow of Helen is born, and just like then she falls for Silas' shadow; then she dies." She walked over to me and grabbed a strand of my hair, lifting it up with a face filled with disgust. "They all die before they turn thirty. So far, you have lived the longest, and that's because you're a vampire."

   I pushed her hand away from my hair. "So, I'm a doppelgänger because you brought a dead girl back from the dead and defied nature?"

   "Bringing someone back from the dead is far worse than being immortal," she said. "I defied the laws of nature twice, so I guess seeing the men we love with someone else is a curse we share." She wiggled her brows only once, sighed, then brushed past me towards the door. 

   I stood still, taking in every word that she had said. The story of Helen and Silas, how she came back to life and how he killed her. Did I have the exact colour of eyes that she had? Did I share the same laugh? Did I share the same characteristics as she did? Did we smile the same, smirk the same, tease the same? I felt a lump at the back of my throat, my lips trembling as I tried to stop everything that I felt inside of my chest and head from coming out.

   To stop myself from crying, or having any noise of weakness come from my mouth, I turned and crouched by a passed out Damon. Gently, I pushed his shoulder and called his name. "Damon," I softly called, continuing to shake his shoulder. "Damon, hey! Damon, wake up. Please, tell me you're not dead."

   "I'm not dead," he groaned, pushing himself up with the little strength he had. I tried to help him up, but he pushed me away.

   At that moment, Elena came in, yelling Stefan's name. She ran to Stefan first, grabbing his head between her hands and pleading for him to wake up. I watched her with my mouth slightly open, Qetsiyah's words ringing through my head. Bound to see the men we loved be with someone else, it was as accurate as ever. First Damon with Katherine, then surprisingly Stefan with Elena, and thing was that the two were shadows of the woman Silas loved. At that moment, I began to hate Silas for cursing me with such a shitty love life.

   Damon pushed himself up and picked up Stefan, slowly walking out and then speeding to the car at the bar. I was going to get on the back, have Stefan's head on my lap and run my fingers through his hair while worrying about him. Elena pushed me to the side and sat there instead, his head on her lap and her fingers running through his hair while she worried about him.

   I sighed and took a seat in the passengers side, besides Damon, whose knuckles were white as he tightly held to the steering wheel. By the look in his eyes, I could tell that, just like me, Qetsiyah's words had gotten to him. Was he bound to see the woman he loved be with someone else? I saw him glance at the rear view mirror, his eyes landing on Elena staring at his brother with worry clear in her eyes. 

   When we arrived back at the boarding, Damon was quiet. He didn't speak, not even when he laid his brother on the couch and Elena asked for his ring. I pushed my hand into my pocket and closed my hand around the ring, feeling the coolness of the metal on my palm. With hesitation, I pulled it out and handed it to her. When I turned my head, Damon was nowhere to see. He stood in the kitchen, a glass of bourbon in his hands. He glanced up when I walk in, nodded, then continued to drink.

   "Drowning everything Qetsiyah said with bourbon?" I quietly asked, leaning against the counter next to him.

   He hummed. "What made you think that?"

   "Pass it," I sighed, grabbing the glass and drinking the rest of it. "You're not the only one."

   "I heard half of what she said," he said, grabbing the empty glass from my hand and pouring more. "So, Helen, huh?"

   "Helen," I nodded, making a face. "I used to like that name, but now I just hate it."

   "It's a name," he said shrugging his shoulders. 

   I made a face and bumped him with my shoulder, then let out a sigh. "She had a son," I quietly said, looking down at my hand, "with Silas. When she told me that, I imagined being human and having kids. I imagined a little boy, a beautiful little boy that I cradled in my arms and kissed his forehead."

   "You would have been a wonderful mother," Damon said after a few seconds of silence.

   "I blame Silas for getting killed," I muttered, making a face of disgust. "I blame him for taking away my happiness and for making me a bitter vampire."

   Damon chuckled and nodded. "I blame him, too." He handed me the glass of bourbon, and smiled, softly. 

   Although I wasn't in love with him as I was before, I loved him. It wasn't a romantic love, but one that told me that I needed him in my life. At that moment, I realised that Damon Salvatore was my best friend, someone I could confide on whenever I needed to vent. Although he made fun of me for it, he did help. Yes, I needed Damon in my life.

   We walked back to the parlour, where Stefan still laid unconscious on the sofa and Elena by his side. She glanced back at us, then back at the unconscious Salvatore. "He's lucky he has a brother who looks our for him," she said. "Lucky to have a girlfriend that loves him."

   "I'm not his girlfriend," I said, giving her a very small smile.

   "Yet," she pointed, smiling in return. She looked at Damon. "You're suspiciously quiet. Tell me what Qetsiyah said back at the cabin."

   Damon hesitated. "She told me we don't stand a chance."

   I moved towards Stefan as Elena moved towards his brother, a look of distaste on her face. "And what does she know about us?" she asked. 

   "Well," Damon began, "she told me a very interesting little story about the history of doppelgängers, how they're fated to fall in love with each other. Basically, the universe programmed you to fall in love with Stefan, not me, which means... We're a lost cause no matter what we do." He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a tight smile. "I'm paraphrasing."

   "The universe?"

   "Her words, not mine."

   "So, she's crazy?"

   "Maybe. Maybe she's not."

   Elena grabbed his face between her hands, making him look at her. "Look. I know I spent the last couple days focusing on trying to find Stefan, but that has nothing to do with how I feel about you, and I'm not gonna let Silas' two-thousand year-old ex-girlfriend screw things up between up."

   "What, you think I am?" Damon asked, feigning that he was stronger. "I mean, no one tells me how I live my life, no one tells me who I love, especially not some vindictive prehistoric witch, and definitely not the universe. And I'm not gonna let someone else's idea of destiny stop me from loving you or being with you or building a future because you are my life."

   Elena looked touched, a small smile on her lips. She leaned in and kissed him. I made a face and tapped my face for a few moments, feigning. "Ugh, that was so sappy. I think I'm gonna be sick."

   As they kissed, Damon waved me off. I smiled, admiring him. I could see how the talk of the universe rattled him, but so deep inside that no one would see unless they took a good look. It was almost in the crevices of the things that had scarred him, the things that he never wanted to think of. I admired how he pushed them back and showed his love, only a bit afraid. I wished I was like him.

   Besides me, someone stirred. I turned my head to see Stefan sitting up, then slowly stand. He looked around for a few seconds, until his eyes landed on me. I stood and smiled, grabbing his hands. "You're awake," I softly said.

   "Welcome back, brother," Damon said from behind me.

   "Stefan," Elena breathed in relief. "We missed you."

   Stefan pulled his hands away from mine and took a step back. "Uh, I'm sorry," he mumbled, squinting his eyes. "I-I have no idea who you people are."