As an old Scottish woman, my grandmother believed that she had the blood of Celtic druids running through her veins. When I was born, she prophesied that I was cursed to forever feel pain. She said that I had several riotous past lives with murder, and hate, and blood, and heartbreak. My grandmother stared down at me in my mother's arms, and said that I would experience heartbreak over and over again, because I was cursed with past lives that had done the same thing. My mother had laughed at her, saying that she was too old, that her mind was already wandering from reality. 

   When I was ten, Grandmother Geillis had grabbed me by the arm and told me that I would experience the worst heartbreak of my life when I was older. Being ten, the worst heartbreak I could think of was someone close to me dying. I thought it would have been one of my siblings, maybe my mother or father, her or Grandfather Angus, or maybe the person I would marry. As I thought about it now, I thought that maybe it could have been my unborn child. 

   My hand reached for my stomach as I stared at nothing. I wondered how it would have felt like to feel a kick on my hand, a touch. I wondered how it would feel like to hold my child for the first time, see their face as it looked up at me, inhale that baby smell that all babies seem to have. It was a life I would never be able to have, a life that maybe was the terrible heartbreak my grandmother warned me about when I was ten.

   When I turned fifteen, my grandmother died. The day that she died, I saw her sitting on the chair of my bedroom with a solemn look in her eyes. She was translucent, cold, her voice sounding as if she were covered by a veil. Her ghost warned me about heartbreak once again, just like she had done when I was ten. But, this time, her warning was that my heart would break constantly. I would have a moment of happiness, and then it would be taken away, because I was born to feast on heartbreak and pain. 

   I somehow had daydreams, or whatever the hell they were called, about a life that could have been possible. I was human, I was in a relationship, I had children—I was happy. The strange thing about those daydreams was that it was Damon. I was human with Damon, in a relationship with Damon, had children with Damon—was happy with Damon. In those dreams, I lived in a house with Damon, and I greeted him when he came from work with a kiss, and we spent time with our children, and I saw him read books to our children.

   I told these dreams to Damon, who stared at me with a strange look full of confusion. He said that I was daydreaming, that I was going crazy. I thought the first thing at first, but the strange thing was that they felt real. It was so real that I could actually feel the touch, the kisses, every little thing around me. 

   Then, the Travelers took over Mystic Falls.

   "How is it Travelers are everywhere until you actually need to find one?" a voice asked as the front door opened and closed. Damon was walking in, phone to his ear. "That's what I get for working with the Hardy Boys." He stopped in front of the parlour when he saw me, brows furrowed but still paying attention to the conversation he was having on the phone. "Stefan burned his journals a while ago. He was in a mood. Why?" He pushed the phone slightly away from his ear and mouthed Enzo at me, as if I was wondering who he was talking to. "How'd you hear that? Are you with them right now?" His eyes widened a bit as the other person spoke. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Enzo! You have your murder voice on. I need you to speak very slowly and calmly tell me what the hell the problem is."

   At that moment, I decided to listen in to the conversation.

   "The problem, if you must know, is that my girl Maggie, the one who got away, it turns out that she didn't get away for long. Your ripper of a brother took a big bite out of her neck membrane in the sixties."

   Damon's brows furrowed. "Sixties? Stefan wasn't even—"

   "Got to jet, mate," Enzo said. "Nothing personal, just a bit of revenge, you understand?" The call ended at that moment. 

   Damon stared down at his phone, confusion written on his face. "That'st great." He looked up at me as he made his way down the few steps to where I sat. "Any word on Caroline?"

   "I haven't spoken to her since she left me at that junk yard," I said as I shrugged my shoulders. 

   "Great," he sighed. "Everyone's accounted for except for her. If she's ignoring my calls..."

   "I'll call her," I sighed as I stood and took my phone out of my pocket. Before I left the parlour, someone grabbed my wrist. 

   "What's wrong?" Damon asked, letting go of my wrist. 

   "Nothing." I pulled my hand away from his. "I'm just deep in thought, nothing more."

   "Is this about those daydreams?" he asked as I walked away.

   "I have no idea!" I sighed, stopping on the stairs and turning to him. "Damon, I have no idea what I'm thinking about, okay? Everything is just too much for me. First Stefan and Elena were meant to be, then they're not, then they were again but then not again because the Travelers's overlord broke the spell. Second, I had those strange dreams with you in them, and then it all stopped. Third, I'm just..." I took a deep breath and pressed my fingers to my temple. "I don't know, okay? I have so much running through my head at this moment that I don't know." I took a deep breath to calm myself, and looked at him. "So, what is Enzo doing now?"

   "He wants some kind of revenge on Stefan," he said with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders. "The girl he' been looking for, Maggie, yeah, well, she's dead."

   "And?" I raised a brow. 

   "He thinks Stefan killed her," he said as he looked around on his phone. "Sixties. Problem is that Stefan wasn't a ripper in the Sixties." He laid a hand on his waist. "Blondie, now is not the time to be screening my calls. You're the only one unaccounted for, and I don't know where Elena and Stefan are. At least, call your mother."

   "Do you know who killed Maggie?" I asked when he pushed his phone into his pocket.

   "I think I have an idea..." he mumbled, his eyes furrowing. "Okay, Clara, come with me."

   "No thanks," I said, turning around and continuing my way upstairs. Out of nowhere, Damon stood in front of me, a small smirk on his face.

   "Come on, Clara," he said, softly. "You need to get out of this house and help me."

   "So, either whine in my room or whine in the car with you," I mumbled, nodding.

   "Whine in the car with me," he said with a nod. He grabbed my hand and pulled me down the stairs, outside. In the car, he glanced from me to the front of the road. "Okay, so what happened between you and Stefan?"

   I shrugged my shoulders. "Almost the same thing that happened between you and Elena?"

   "You broke up?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine curiosity. "What? Seriously?"

   "I don't know if we broke up," I mumbled, laying my hand on my knuckles. "But, something happened last night between the two of us. Everything was fine after we got out of that junk yard, but then he had those daydreams about Elena and I had those about you..."

   "I'm honoured that you imagine a life with me," he said, almost sarcastically, "but, Clara, you're happy with Stefan. Remember that, okay?" His tone quieted down, gently, reassuring. "After all, I heard the two of you last night... Well, no, I heard you."

   "Okay!" I loudly said, sitting up. "That's enough. Let's not talk about that."

   Damon laughed. "I'm just saying, Clara." His laugh died down, until there was nothing but silence between us. "Those daydreams were only part of a spell. Nothing like that happened between us, and probably nothing ever will. We're not human; that kind of happiness doesn't exist for either of us."

   I let out a hum and turned my head to look out the window. It was a sunny day in Mystic Falls, slightly cool with the breeze that blew gently across. Damon and I ended up sitting on his car in front of the sheriff station as we waited for Liz. While waiting, the two of us tried calling Caroline. She answered neither of our calls, which made me thing she either was taking some time alone or was just ignoring our calls. 

   Liz walked over to us with a red folder in her hands. "Why the sudden interest in Mystic Falls history?" she asked.

   "You know when your brother kills your second to last friend's girl and you're stuck in the middle?" Damon said, his voice neither sarcastic or serious.

   "No," Liz said in a confused tone.

   "I'm sure you're the only one with that feeling," I said, resting my chin on the palm of my hand as I glanced between Liz and him.

   He glanced at me and rolled his eyes. When he looked over at Liz, he shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "Well, don't ask."

   "I'm sure she also wasn't going to ask that," I said again, giving him a small and innocent smile when he glanced back at me with a glare.

   "Okay," Liz breathed. She opened the folder and began to look through it. "Nineteen sixty. There was a mugging reported November 9."

   "No, no, no." Damon said, slightly shaking his head. "It has to be the eighth. He was very specific about the eighth."

   "Okay," Liz nodded, looking back down at the papers. "Well, that would be Maggie James. Died November 8, 1960, unresolved homicide, possible serial killer."

   Damon began to read the folder she handed over to him, his eyes transfixed on the information it held. I sat up and moved closer to him to peer down at the folder. There were pictures of a mutilated body, the girl's head separated form her body. It looked like something Stefan would do, but it was different. I spent time with him when he was a ripper, and he would always try to put the victims back together.

   "Ooh," Damon hummed, shaking his head. "Stefan was right. He didn't kill Enzo's girl."

   "How do you know?" I asked, softly, already knowing the answer.

   He glanced over at Liz, then down at me. "Because I did." He handed the folder back to Liz and got in the car.

   I glanced from Liz and shrugged my shoulders before getting in on the passenger's seat. As soon as I closed the door, he sped off. I turned to him and raised a brow. "How did you kill her?"

   "She wanted to kill me," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. 

   "He's not gonna take that well," I softly said, frowning. "He doesn't take anything well, but this... He might..."

   "I'll stop him," Damon said, cutting me off. "If he turns it off, I'll stop him."

   I stared at him for a couple of seconds and realised that he was saying the truth. He cared about Enzo, of course he did, but Stefan meant more to him. He would do anything for his brother, even if it meant killing his only friend. 

   "We have a long way to Whitmore, so tell me," he began, glancing at me, "what exactly was your daydream about?"

   I rolled my eyes. "I already told you, it was about—"

   "Me, I know," he cut me off. "I want details."

   "Why?"

   "I'm curious." He shrugged his shoulders and glanced over at me. "Come on, Clara. We have at least forty-five minutes until we make it to Whitmore. Does this ride need to be boring and quiet?"

   I took a deep breath and leaned back on the chair. "It..." I swallowed back and bit the inside of my lip. "We met during Stefan's birthday," I began.

   "Just like we really met," he noted. "It was his birthday celebration, and we were formally introduced then."

   I nodded. "Yeah... Like I said, it was just like back then, but in present time. Instead, this time, we actually got married." The imaged flashed in my head as I remembered. "You, uh... We had children, Damon. Two girls, two boys, and a dog that ran around the backyard. When you came home from work, you greeted me with a kiss. Then you'd leaned down and picked up the youngest kid, a girl, and kissed her cheek and asked her how her day went. And then at night, you read them bedtime stories..."

   "Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice soft.

   I quickly wiped away the tears that had fallen down my cheek, and then let out a breathy laugh. "Sorry," I said, shaking my head. "I don't know why the hell I'm crying."

   "Because it was something that could have happened," he muttered, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "It's something that can never happen now."

   "Can we not talk about this anymore?" I asked, sniffing and swallowing back. "Um, why did you completely end it with Elena? You love her, she loves you, and mistakes were made."

   He shrugged his shoulders as a response. 

   "Damon, you said you never wanted to see her again."

   "Because I don't want to be in any more pain, okay!" he yelled. "Clara, every moment that I look at her, I feel like I'm suffocating. Elena will never be completely mine. Stefan will always be there, always."

   I let out a breathy laugh and shook my head. "You know, I also feel the same towards Stefan," I said, softly. "Elena will always be there."

   "We should really stop having all of these emotional talks," he chuckled, shaking his head. "We get too deep."

   "I guess that's why we're such good friends," I breathed, leaning back on my seat and looking at him. "We get too deep."

   "Yeah, no." He made a face and shook his head. "Let's not keep doing that."

   "Come on, you know you love these heart to heart moments we have," I smile. "Either way, like it or not you always find a way to tell me."

   Whitmore was filled with bustling student running to and from around us. They all carried bags, looked as if they were ready to give up, and walked like zombies. It was obviously college. Some of them bumped into me and apologised furiously, nodding and continuing to apologise as they walked away. They were tired, annoyed, and I understood. College was hard, man.

   "Where did Stefan say he would be?" Damon asked, stopping in the centre of the plaza.

   I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know," I said. "He just said he was going to help Elena study and keep her distracted from the impending doom of the Other Side and you." I said with a small and sarcastic smile. "I honestly don't know where he could..." I trailed off as I concentrated on my hearing. It was a yell of pain, then someone telling someone else to stop. "Do you hear that?" I asked.

   Damon furrowed his brows, hands on his waist, then nodded. "That's Stefan alright," he said with a sigh. "I'd know my brother's painful groans anywhere. Come on." 

   The voices came from the Whitmore restaurant. Enzo was giving a speech about how he used to scream when he was tortured, while torturing Stefan. His painful groans made me stop for a second, and then feel completely horrible for pushing myself away when he was about to leave in the morning. 

   "Like I was a ball of dough," Enzo finished when we walked in.

   "Well, this is depressing," Damon said, glancing around the small restaurant. "Stadium seating really necessary? These people are starting to creep me out." There were students gathered around, studying, none paying attention to what was happening.

   "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was a veiled attempt to get to release the damn hostages," Enzo said, his voice full of anger.

   "Oh, I'm sorry," Damon said. "Was that veiled? Release the damn hostages."

   "Whose side are you on?" Enzo snapped. 

   "There are sides now?"

   As they exchanged those fighting words, I slowly moved closer to Stefan and Elena. I took careful steps, keeping my eyes on Enzo in case he saw me moving closer to them. 

   "You were there with me in Augustine!" Enzo yelled, his voice filled with pain. "Look. Don't tell me you've forgotten what it was like to cling onto the one thing that kept you from feeling pain."

   "Enzo, I get it," Damon said, softly. "The prospect of seeing Maggie again was your safety line to the outside world, the one thing that kept you fro shutting it off, but she's gone. There's probably a chapter in Elena's psych book about it." He quickly glanced at Elena and Stefan. "What, are you two study buddies now?"

   "What are you doing?" Elena mouthed.

   In response, Damon shrugged his shoulders. I rolled my eyes and sighed, crossing my arms. I looked at Enzo with sad eyes and bit the corner of my lip. "Look, Enzo, I didn't know she was your Maggie..." I suddenly said. 

   "What are you talking about?" Enzo said, glancing at me with furrowed brows. 

   "Yeah, what are you talking about, Clara?" Damon asked, staring at me with a confused face filled with worry.

   "I didn't know her name when we met," I stupidly continued.

   "Clara," Damon warned. "Shut up. Enzo, don't listen to–"

   Enzo raised a hand to shut him up, and glared at me as he threateningly and lowly asked, "And when exactly was that?"

   "November 8, 1960," I said.

   "Clara, shut up!" Damon said louder this time. He shook his head and turned to his best friend. "Listen, she's lying because that's what she does; she lies to protect those she loves. Sadly, I'm one of those people and she's lying to protect my ass, but... Enzo, I didn't know that she was your Maggie. She didn't tell me her name when we met." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "I'd gotten a message at the house saying a lady wanted to buy me a drink. Naturally, I was curious. When I met her, she said she wanted to interview me for an article she was writing. She reminded me of the fire, I told her I could turn my emotions off, and then she tried to sedate me with vervain." He stood straighter as he spoke, as if he wasn't afraid of saying what had happened. "I grabbed her by the neck, and I squeezed hard enough for it to break off the body. The people were engrossed on the Kennedy victory, so no one paid attention to me as I put her head close to her body and walked away." His eyes weren't focused on anything, too lost in the memory. "Had she gotten me with that vervain injection, things would have been very different. She didn't stand a chance against me."

   "And you made it look like I did it?" Stefan asked, his voice filled with hurt and disbelief. 

   "Maggie was the hope Enzo clung to. You were mine," Damon confessed, "and when you didn't notice that I was missing for five years, let's just say I held a grudge."

   "You," Enzo breathed with pain, "killed Maggie."

   "I didn't even bat an eye," Damon said. "My switch was off, Enzo. But I didn't do it to make your life miserable from every angle. I did it because I didn't care. Just do whatever it is you got to do. You want to kill me, you want to hate me—do it. This is between us."

   "Well, that's the problem, Damon," Enzo cried, his voice full of pain. "I don't want to hate you. Because if I hate you, then I have nothing left." His voice was low, small, as if he were scared and broken and hurt. Suddenly, his demeanour changed. "There is another option."

   He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. I stared at him for a couple of seconds, brows furrowed and wondering what he was doing. It took me a couple of seconds, but then I realised. 

   "Damon," I quickly said. "Damon, he's turning it off!"

   Damon sped towards him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "Don't you dare!" he yelled. "Hey, Enzo!"

   Enzo opened his eyes, and a smirk formed around his lips. "There we are," he said, the smirk growing. "You're right! I don't have a care in the world." He turned and served himself a glass of alcohol. When he finished it, he smashed the glass onto the table. "This is fun, not caring." He tossed the bottle to the air and watched it crash on the floor.

   "Yep," Damon said with sarcasm. "Emotion-free. Bye-bye humanity."

   Enzo had walked around to grab another bottle of alcohol. He raised it to the air. "To Maggie James," he cried, "for whom I feel absolute and blissful detachment."

   "What do you say we get out of here?" Damon asked. "Where was it that you wanted to go—Cape Town?"

   "Cape Horn," Enzo corrected.

   "Even better." Damon stepped forward, closer to his brother, and handed him something sharp. He quickly took a step back.

   "Alright!" Enzo called, spreading his arms in the air. "Everyone's free to go! Show's over! Don't worry. I compelled you all to think you spent the day studying like the good, little student you are." He turned to a blonde girl that came down the stairs with Bonnie. He pointed at her. "Except you. Stay. I want to test something." He bit into her neck and began to drink from her.

   "No!" Bonnie yelled, running over to them. As quickly as Enzo let go of her, the Anchor—she wasn't a witch anymore—knelt besides the blonde girl.

   "Look at that," hummed Enzo. "I don't even feel obliged to say thank you."

   Quickly, Damon sped to attack his best friend. Enzo, who was faster, broke a bottle and stabbed one of the pieces of glass into Damon's neck. Stefan freed himself from the bonds, and ran towards the other vampire to attack him as well.

   I sped over to Elena and quickly tried to untie her. Before I could even start, I felt a hand on my arm and wind brushing through me. The next thing I knew, Enzo had a hand on my arm and was dragging me along with Elena. I tried to pull away, but his hold on my arm got tighter.

   "If you were going to kill me, I'd be dead," Elena said.

   "I think you mean when I kill you, you'd be dead," Enzo corrected.

   "Come on, Enzo," I said, stumbling as he pulled me with him. "I know how you're feeling."

   "I feel nothing," he corrected me. He threw me to the ground, followed by Elena besides me. 

   "You're just lost," Elena said. "You think cutting all this out of your life is the answer, but you're just biding time until it all comes crashing back."

   "I know why Damon doesn't want to deal with you anymore," Enzo said as he stared down at the girl. "You don't shut up." He walked over to a sign and began to break a piece off, but Elena sped over to him and put her bound wrists around his neck. He easily threw her off and quickly broke her neck.

   I stood and sped over to him. My fist was going to connect with his face, but he easily held it in his hand. He gave me a soft smirk and bent my wrist to the side, breaking it. I gave out a soft yell and fell to my knees, holding it over my chest.

   "Come on, Enzo!" I breathed through the pain. "I know how this feels like, how it's like to lose that one person you love so much." 

   "You know nothing," he laughed, giving me a kick on the stomach. "You're Clara Forbes, and you get everything you want."

   I stood and shook my head. "Is that what you think?" I ran up to him and threw a punch, this time hitting him square in the jaw.

   "It's what I know," he snapped. He grabbed me by my other arm and twisted it back. I screamed, falling to my knees with the pain. One of the perks of being a vampire was that I healed fast, but not fast enough. 

   "Then you know nothing about me," I panted, glancing up at him. 

   He grabbed me by my hair and dragged me back, until my back touched cold metal. "I know enough," he said. He threw a punch by my ear, breaking whatever was there. The fresh scent of gasoline immediately engulfed me. "Damon told me so much about you. He cares a lot about you."

   "If you kill me, he'll hate you," I breathed, staring up at him.

   Enzo let out a laugh and shook his head. "Oh, I know," he said. "But, I feel nothing. I could care less if he hated me. But, I do care to find out how it would be like for him to lose someone special. Now, where is my lighter?" He pulled out a lighter from his pocket. "Maggie's lighter, I should say. I wonder what she'd think of all of this. Of course, who knows what lies in the great beyond for a mere human like Maggie James? Probably nothing. It's probably just as well she's not watching this. I believe it might upset her." He flicked the spark wheel. A soft yellow flame stared back at me, threatening to burn me with the gasoline that had fallen all around me and on myself. 

    "Shall we burn together you and I?" Enzo teased. "Perhaps, just you."

   I stared at the dancing flame, eyes wide. It tease me, laughed, told me that I would burn. I was too weak to lift my arms, the horrible throbbing pain from Enzo breaking one of them causing me to sit still and just stare. Enzo glanced from the flame down towards me, a small smirk on his lips. Out of nowhere, he gasped. His eyes were wide as he slowly stood, as if he were careful to take another step. 

   "My brother," Stefan said, "he sees something good in you." I glanced at him over Enzo's shoulder. His eyes were to the back of the vampire's head. At that moment, I noticed that he had something pressed against Enzo's back, probably a stake.

   Enzo let out a soft and breathless chuckle. "Don't you?" he asked. "Isn't there a part of you that thinks I can be redeemed?"

   "Not with your emotions off," Stefan said. "You won't stop until you kill Damon."

   Enzo was quiet for a couple of seconds. A small smirk spread around his lips. "Better yet," he said, "wouldn't it be a sweet piece of revenge when Damon finds out you killed his best friend?" He glanced at Stefan with the smirk. "Have fun sorting this out with your brother." He pushed himself forward, falling in front of me. 

   I let out a gasp and stared at him as his skin became rubbery, as veins crept up his face. Slowly, I averted my eyes towards Stefan. He held Enzo's heart in his hand, eyes wide with surprise. He dropped the heart and looked down at me. "Clara..." He quickly knelt in front of me and pulled me towards him, wrapping his arms around me as tightly as he could.

   "Stefan," I breathed, hugging him just as tight. The feeling of his arms wrapped around me felt warm and gentle, and I felt safe. His arms felt safe and careful and perfect. I pulled away from him the hug and kissed him, just wanting to taste his lips on mine. He kissed back, gently, softly, his hand slowly reaching for my neck. The simple connection of his skin against mine made me shiver, the simple touch was exquisite.

   When he pulled away, he stared at me with a hint of disbelief, but then smiled. He leaned in once again and pecked my lips, simple and fast. He pulled away completely and looked down at Enzo, the smile he had on his lips disappearing. Slowly, he reached into the pockets of the dead vampire and saw his phone. With a frown, he began to type.

   "What are you doing?" I asked, taking a step closer to him.

   "Damon can't know," he said, looking over at me. "Clara, I basically just killed my brother's only friend. It's been a tough year for Damon. Don't you think it would be easier if no-humanity Enzo just left for parts unknown and was never heard from again?"

   I shook my head. "Stefan, I don't know..."

   "Damon thinks Enzo left town, and we need to keep it that way," he cut me off, shaking his head. "We barely just got him back. This would destroy him." He stared at me for a couple of seconds. "Please."

   I reluctantly nodded, somewhat understanding what he was saying. If Damon found out about Enzo's death, he would be devastated. And, knowing Damon, he would do horrible things in that time of mourning for his best friend. So, I agreed to keep this between us. 

   We went back to the boarding house in silence, his hand on mine as he drove. There were no words that escaped our mouths, no words that could be said. But, the simple touch of his hand on mine was enough to tell me that it was all okay. Inside the boarding house, Damon was pouring himself a drink. 

   "I know," he immediately said. "I know what you're thinking, Stefan. I screwed up. I'm the reason Enzo's in our lives. I'm the reason he wants us dead. It's all my fault, and I'll fix it, okay? He was there for me when I was at my worst. I'll find a way to be there for him. I'll get him back. I'll fix it." He paused and drank what he had served himself. "Did I leave anything out?"

   Stefan stood there awkwardly. "I, uh, checked in on Elena. She's, uh, she's all right."

   "Yeah, I know," Damon nodded. "I found her on campus. She was unconscious. I took her home and tucked her in."

   "You didn't leave a note?" I asked, crossing my arms and raising a brow.

   He let out a scoff. "I think I'm past trying to earn points for good behaviour, Clara."

   "You know," Stefan said, slightly changing the conversation, "what happened today wasn't your fault."

   "That's very noble of you, brother," Damon said with a sarcastic tone. "We all know it's not the truth."

   "Well, either way, I think it's time for you to leave Enzo alone."

   "I can't."

   "Come on, Damon. He's not your responsibility."

   "What, you're the only one that gets to play hero?" Damon scoffed and shook his head. "Or you just don't think I can."

   "I think that he's not worth saving." Stefan held his head high, set on his words. 

   Damon's demeanour changed. He got serious, his lips in a straight line and his eyes hard. "You don't know what you're talking about, Stefan."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah, 'cause you know what you never knew? The whole time I was in that cell, every time I'd say something terrible about you or blame you for not coming to rescue me, Enzo would bring me back from the edge," Damon confessed.

   "I know you guys were close," Stefan nodded. 

   "Enzo reminded me that at least I got to grow up with a family, at least I had a family still out there, which was more than he could say for himself,' Damon continued, his drink by his lips. "Said he envied me for having a brother."

   "Even a crappy one like me?"

   I walked away from the parlour, not wanting to ruin their moment. As I walked up the stairs, I could hear Damon speak fondly of Enzo. And at that moment, I wanted to go back down there and tell him that he was dead. As he continued to speak of how much Enzo had helped him, I shut my eyes and shook my head. His best friend was dead, and even though I wasn't the one that killed him, I blamed myself for his death.