Elijah Mikaelson////Eclipsed Emotions
Anonymous request: Hi could I request a Elijah Mikaelson and Gilbert!Reader (bf/gf)
Where the reader is a vampire and is Elena's oldest sister. She finds out that her family has died so she turns off her humanity and kills people for fun but her boyfriend Elijah (s2) gets very worried about her so he goes to the gang and asks them to help him find his gf before things gets worse. They go out and look for her until they find her about the kill an innocent person. "Baby!!! What are you doing!!" Elijah shouts at her which causes the reader to stop and look round to see Damon, Elijah, Stefan, Elena and Bonnie standing there looking at her worryingly.”How did you find me??" She asks angry before she could attack them Bonnie does a spell which causes the reader to pass out but Elijah catches her before she collides with the fall then carries her back to the Salvatore house and placed her gently on the bed in the cell and waits outside before she wakes up and tries to get her humanity back.You can add the rest
Ps. I hope this isn't to confusing for you
(She has red streaks in her hair)
Warnings: Grief and Loss, Violence, Dark Themes, Character death, Abuse, Vampire Lore, Mature Content
You’re helping your Aunt Jenna prepare dinner—chopping vegetables while she stirs something on the stove. The kitchen smells like rosemary and garlic, and there’s a comforting hum of music playing in the background. You’re both in your aprons, bumping elbows playfully as you move around the kitchen.
Suddenly, Elena walks in, phone in hand and a hopeful smile on her face.
“Hey,” she says, leaning against the counter. “Is it okay if I hang out with Bonnie and Caroline after dinner?”
You glance up from your cutting board, nodding. “Yeah, that’s fine with me.”
Jenna, without missing a beat, also says, “Sure, sweetie.”
Then, slowly, you and Jenna turn your heads at the same time and stare at each other.
“She was talking to me,” Jenna says, raising an eyebrow, a hint of smugness in her voice.
Your jaw drops slightly as you wipe your hands on a dish towel. “Nooo, Auntie. She was talking to me.”
Jenna puts a hand on her hip. “I’m the adult in the house. I think she knows who she needs permission from.”
You scoff dramatically. “I’m her older sister, thank you very much. Which means I’m practically her second mom.”
“Practically doesn’t count,” Jenna says, rolling her eyes. “I actually pay the bills here.”
You gasp. “Wow. You went there? Really? We’re pulling out financial receipts now?”
Jenna smirks. “Don’t test me, I’ve got spreadsheets.”
Elena groans from the corner. “Oh my god, both of you yes, I asked both of you. Can I please go?”
You and Jenna look at each other again, this time laughing.
You put an arm around Elena’s shoulder. “Yeah, go. Have fun. But if you stay out too late, I’m calling Bonnie’s mom.”
“And I’m texting Caroline’s,” Jenna adds with a grin.
Elena just rolls her eyes and walks away, muttering, “You two are literally the same person.”
You and Jenna glance at each other again, then say at the exact same time, “No.”
And then burst into laughter.
You and Aunt Jenna are standing at the sink together, shoulder to shoulder, sleeves rolled up as the warm water runs and the scent of lemon soap fills the air. The clinking of dishes and soft hum of crickets through the open window make the moment feel cozy, almost like the old days before everything got complicated.
Jenna hands you a soapy plate, and you rinse it off, placing it in the drying rack. There’s a peaceful silence for a few minutes before she speaks.
“So…” she says casually, but there’s a knowing glint in her eye, “how’s your relationship going with Elijah?”
You glance at her with a soft smile, a faint blush rising to your cheeks as you rinse off the next dish. “It’s going good,” you say honestly. “He’s… he’s really sweet. A complete gentleman. Despite him being a Mikaelson, I can’t hate him or his family. I’ve tried, trust me.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “But they’re the ones that saved my life, Jenna. I would’ve been dead if they hadn’t been there.”
Jenna stops scrubbing for a moment and looks over at you, her smile tinged with both relief and guilt. “I’m glad that he’s treating you well,” she says quietly. “That’s always been my main concern your happiness, your safety. I mean… I can’t lie, it’s still weird for me sometimes. The whole vampire thing. And part of me—” she swallows hard, “part of me can’t help but blame myself.”
You stop rinsing and look at her, confused. “Blame yourself?”
She nods slowly. “Yeah. I was supposed to protect you. I was supposed to make sure nothing happened to you and Elena. I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t know the world we were walking into when we moved here. And then… it just happened so fast. You turned. And I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t enough.”
You frown, stepping closer to her and wiping your hands on a towel. “Jenna, no. Don’t do that to yourself. None of us were prepared for what this town had hidden underneath. You were thrown into all of it just like we were. But you still stepped up. You stayed. You fought for us. You loved us.” Your voice softens. “And honestly, if I hadn’t turned… I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have met Elijah. I wouldn’t have found this new part of myself.”
Jenna looks down at the sink, lips pressed together, emotions swimming in her eyes.
“I know it’s not the life you imagined for me,” you continue gently. “But… it’s my life now. And weirdly enough, I’m okay with that. Elijah makes it easier. He reminds me I can still have love, even with all the darkness that comes with what we are.”
Jenna finally smiles again, this time fuller, more sincere. “You really love him, don’t you?”
You nod, heart full. “I do. He sees me not just the vampire part. Me.”
Jenna reaches out and cups your cheek, her thumb brushing a small bit of soap from your face. “Then that’s all I care about. Not that he’s a Mikaelson. Not that you’ve changed. Just that you’re still you… and you’re loved.”
You smile, eyes glistening, and whisper, “Thanks, Auntie.”
She grins. “Now, if he ever breaks your heart… I will stake him. Just so we’re clear.”
You laugh out loud. “Noted. I’ll warn him.”
You’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror, a towel draped over your shoulders, your hair parted in uneven sections, and a box of red hair dye sitting open on the counter. You’re squinting in concentration, trying to paint the strands evenly with the little brush it came with, but it’s already looking like a crime scene. There’s dye on the sink, some on your ear, and even a red streak suspiciously close to your jawline.
You’re halfway through your second section when Aunt Jenna appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed and an amused smirk on her face.
“What in the world are you doing?” she asks, eyebrows raised.
You freeze for a second, then glance at her through the mirror, your expression sheepish but determined. “Trying to do red streaks in my hair,” you reply, holding up the dye brush like it’s a magic wand.
Jenna walks in, surveying the chaos red stains splattered on the counter, gloves thrown carelessly to the side, and one section of your hair looking more pink than red. She stares for a beat, then lifts an eyebrow again. “Uh-huh. And are you also trying to dye your neck, both elbows, and my brand new white walls in the process?”
You look down and gasp when you notice a faint red handprint on the cabinet. “Oops.”
Jenna lets out a laugh and shakes her head. “Move over, Picasso. Let me help you before you turn this bathroom into a murder scene.”
You groan playfully but make space for her. “I was doing okay!”
She grabs a pair of gloves and clips your hair up in cleaner sections. “No offense, but your ‘okay’ was about five minutes away from dyeing the dog if he walked past you.”
You both laugh as she starts applying the dye more precisely. Her hands are steady and practiced, and you can’t help but smile, watching her through the mirror.
“You know,” she says while brushing another section, “red’s a bold choice. Trying to send a message?”
You shrug. “Maybe. I just wanted to feel something different. Be a little edgier.”
Jenna smirks. “Well, mission accomplished. Just don’t go full vampire rebel chic and start piercing everything next.”
You giggle. “No promises.”
She finishes up and wraps the dyed sections in foil, wiping a stray smudge from your forehead. “There. Now just sit still and don’t touch anything red unless you want it to stay that way.”
You nod, then glance over at the bathroom door. “Should we tell Elena not to freak out when she sees me with red streaks?”
Jenna grins. “Let’s not, and just enjoy the reaction.”
You both burst into laughter, and as the dye sets, it feels less like a makeover and more like a memory you’ll always keep.
The next morning, the house is quiet sunlight pours through the kitchen windows, casting a golden glow over the countertops. You’re sitting at the table with Aunt Jenna, both of you still in your pajamas, sipping hot coffee and sharing slices of leftover chocolate cake from the night before. Your freshly dyed red streaks are still damp and pulled back into a low bun, and you can smell the faint chemical scent of the dye even over the aroma of brewed coffee and sugar.
You’re laughing about something Jenna just said probably another joke about how you almost dyed your eyebrows red when Elena walks into the kitchen, still half-asleep and rubbing her eyes. She’s in sweats, hair tied up in a lazy bun, and she’s clearly not expecting anything out of the ordinary.
She freezes mid-step, eyes squinting as they land on your head. Her brows furrow slowly, like her brain is still buffering what she’s seeing. Then she blurts, “Wait… is that blood on your hair?”
You choke on your coffee mid-sip and start coughing while Aunt Jenna bursts out laughing behind her mug.
You hold up your hand and wave it dismissively. “No, Elena, relax, it’s just hair dye.”
She blinks. “It looks like blood. Like, freshly spilled, just-off-the-victim’s-neck kind of blood.”
Jenna sets her mug down, barely suppressing her smirk. “You should’ve seen the bathroom,” she says, eyes twinkling with amusement. “CSI would’ve taped off the whole area and brought in a forensics team.”
You roll your eyes. “It was not that bad!”
Jenna snorts. “You got dye on the walls, the mirror, your chin, and I’m pretty sure the towel rack has a permanent red streak now. You basically reenacted a vampire attack in there.”
Elena walks over and leans in, inspecting your hair closer. “Okay… fine. It does look kind of cool. But for real, I thought you snapped and went full bloodlust before breakfast.”
You smile, pleased with the reaction. “It’s supposed to be edgy. You know, mysterious but cute.”
Jenna raises an eyebrow. “More like chaotic but charming.”
You nudge her playfully with your elbow, and she laughs again, reaching for another bite of cake.
Elena shakes her head, heading to the fridge. “I swear, every day in this house feels like a deleted scene from a vampire sitcom.”
You lean back in your chair and grin. “That’s what makes it fun.”
Jenna lifts her coffee cup and clinks it lightly against yours. “To red streaks, ruined towels, and mild heart attacks before noon.”
You both laugh, and Elena groans into the fridge, muttering, “I’m moving in with Bonnie.”
It’s late afternoon, and your room is filled with soft golden light filtering in through the curtains. You’re curled up on your bed, wrapped in Elijah’s arms, his fingers gently tracing lazy circles along your shoulder as your head rests on his chest. He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then finally your lips slow, soft, and lingering.
You giggle quietly as his hand brushes along your waist. “You’re such a sap when you’re like this.”
Elijah smirks, his voice smooth and low. “Only for you. Don’t tell Klaus he’ll never let me live it down.”
You’re just about to reply when the door swings open without warning and Aunt Jenna walks in holding a laundry basket. Her eyes immediately land on you two tangled up on the bed, and she halts mid-step.
She sighs dramatically, her head slowly shaking in mock disappointment. “Not in my house,” she says, deadpan.
You freeze, then slowly lift your head from Elijah’s chest, trying not to laugh. “Yes, Captain,” you say, giving a mock salute with a cheeky grin. Elijah chuckles under his breath, clearly trying to keep his composure.
Jenna raises an eyebrow and sets the laundry basket down with a thump. “I gave you a bedroom, not a day spa for vampires.”
You sit up, still nestled close to Elijah, and smirk. “We were just cuddling… and maybe kissing… and barely corrupting your nice clean sheets.”
Jenna shoots you a look. “Barely?”
Elijah clears his throat politely. “If it helps, I can assure you that our intentions were—”
“Don’t.” Jenna holds up a finger, stopping him mid-sentence. “I don’t need a Mikaelson monologue about restraint and Victorian romance right now.”
You laugh and fall back against Elijah’s chest dramatically. “She just doesn’t understand our epic love story.”
Jenna folds a towel and mutters, “I understand that if you two start dry humping again, I’m bringing holy water and garlic next time I walk in here.”
Elijah leans closer to you and whispers, “She’s terrifying.”
You whisper back, “I know. That’s why I love her.”
Jenna points toward the door on her way out. “Keep the door open. I want airflow in this house.”
You and Elijah glance at each other. “Airflow?” you echo.
“And to keep you two from getting ideas.”
She leaves the room, and you both burst into laughter the moment she’s out of earshot. Elijah kisses your forehead again and says, “I adore her.”
You sigh happily. “Me too. Even if she treats us like horny teenagers.”
He smirks. “We are acting like horny teenagers.”
You snuggle closer and grin. “Exactly. It’s kinda fun.”
It’s late well past midnight and the house is silent except for the faint creaking of the wooden floors and the soft rustling of leaves outside your window. Your room is dimly lit by the glow of a small lamp, casting warm shadows on the walls. You’re lying on your bed, hair tousled and cheeks flushed from laughing too much, Elijah resting beside you, fully clothed but relaxed, propped up on one elbow.
“I should go,” he says in that velvet-smooth voice of his, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face.
You pout teasingly. “You could stay a little longer. You’re already halfway scandalous.”
He smiles, but there’s a spark of amusement in his eyes. “If I stay any longer, your aunt will assume we’re eloping. Or worse shopping for cribs.”
You snort. “Fair. And she would give a lecture.”
He places one last, lingering kiss on your forehead before rising from the bed. “Goodnight, my love.”
You whisper, “Goodnight,” and watch as he quietly exits your room, trying not to disturb the creaky floorboards.
As soon as he steps into the dim hallway and walks toward the living room, click the overhead lights suddenly snap on. Elijah freezes mid-step like a well-dressed deer caught in the headlights.
Jenna is standing near the light switch in her robe, arms crossed, face unimpressed but very amused.
“Well,” she says dryly, “at least you had the decency not to sneak out through the window like some sketchy boyfriend in a teen drama.”
Elijah straightens his jacket like he’s in a press conference. “That was never my intention,” he says politely, his tone calm and sincere. “I would never disrespect your household or your niece that way.”
Jenna raises an eyebrow. “Mmm-hmm. I’d believe you more if your tie wasn’t crooked and your hair didn’t look like she ran her fingers through it twelve times.”
Elijah clears his throat and adjusts his tie swiftly. “Force of habit. She was enthusiastic about a discussion on Shakespeare.”
Jenna snorts. “If ‘Shakespeare’ is code for ‘let’s make out until sunrise,’ then yeah, I bet she was.”
He maintains his composure with a tight, dignified smile. “Your niece is a remarkable young woman. I care for her deeply, and I assure you, my intentions are entirely honorable.”
Jenna walks to the kitchen, pours herself a glass of water, then glances back at him. “You do realize I’ve been raising her since she was practically climbing trees in a tutu, right? You don’t need to give me the ‘gentleman’ speech. Just treat her right and don’t give me a reason to keep a vervain dart gun under my pillow.”
Elijah nods with a small bow, the corners of his mouth twitching with restrained amusement. “Understood. Though I must say, if you ever require assistance with vampire defense, I’m at your service.”
Jenna laughs into her water. “Yeah, okay, Vampire James Bond. Just don’t leave your cufflinks in my sofa.”
He moves toward the door but pauses. “Goodnight, Jenna. And thank you for trusting me with her.”
Jenna softens, her expression losing its teasing edge. “Goodnight, Elijah. And… she’s lucky to have you. But don’t make me regret it.”
He nods one last time and steps out the front door, disappearing into the night like the immortal gentleman he is.
Upstairs, you’re peeking through your blinds and smirking as you watch him leave, already knowing your aunt had her “mom-mode” switched on the moment he stepped into the hallway.
You hear her coming back up the stairs and she calls through your door, “I better not find Shakespeare quotes on your ceiling in the morning!”
You shout back, “Too late!” and collapse into laughter under your blanket.
Elijah is seated in one of the armchairs, a book open in his lap, though it’s clear he hasn’t read a word in the last ten minutes. He’s lost in thought his mind still in the warmth of your room, still hearing your laugh and feeling your hand in his.
Rebekah eyes him for a moment, then takes the seat across from him, curling her legs underneath her. “You’ve got that look on your face again.”
Elijah looks up from the book, brow arched. “What look would that be?”
Rebekah smirks. “The lovesick, utterly useless, floating-on-air look you get whenever you’ve just come back from her place.”
Elijah lets out a soft, amused sigh and closes the book. “She makes me feel… human. In ways I haven’t felt in centuries.”
Rebekah swirls the wine in her glass and shrugs. “Well, I don’t like Elena,” she says bluntly, “never have. She’s too judgmental, too self-righteous, and always acts like she’s the moral compass of the universe.”
Elijah raises an eyebrow. “That’s quite a list, sister.”
Rebekah continues without apology. “But Y/n? She’s different. She’s real. She doesn’t pretend to be perfect, and she doesn’t treat us like we’re walking curses. I actually like her. Which is saying a lot.”
He smiles faintly. “That means more than you know.”
She leans forward slightly, her tone shifting into something firmer, darker. “Which is why I’m only going to say this once.”
Elijah tilts his head, sensing the change.
Rebekah’s eyes narrow, and she lowers her voice. “Never. And I mean never think about hurting her. Not emotionally. Not physically. Not accidentally. Not out of some twisted Mikaelson drama or guilt-ridden sacrifice nonsense you always pull.” She points a finger at him, wine glass in the other hand. “Because if you do? You will not be dealing with Klaus. Or Kol. You will be dealing with me.”
Elijah’s expression is unreadable for a moment, but the seriousness in Rebekah’s voice lands like iron.
“I’m not joking, Elijah,” she adds, softer now, but dead serious. “She’s been through enough. If she’s finally found something real with you, then don’t ruin it. Don’t ruin her.”
He nods slowly, a quiet sincerity in his voice. “I would never do anything to hurt her. Not intentionally. She’s become… precious to me.”
Rebekah leans back in her chair, satisfied but still watching him. “Good. Because she deserves a love that won’t destroy her. We all know too well what it’s like to be torn apart by someone you trust.”
He lowers his gaze for a beat, the weight of those words hitting home.
After a long silence, Rebekah sighs, then softens her expression. “Besides… you’re better when you’re with her. Less brooding, more tolerable.”
Elijah chuckles, the tension easing slightly. “High praise.”
She smirks. “Don’t get used to it.”
Rain taps softly against the tall windows, casting shifting shadows across the walls of the study. A fire burns low in the hearth, crackling faintly. Elijah stands near the mantle, hands clasped behind his back, his posture rigid with thought. Klaus sits in an armchair nearby, swirling a glass of bourbon, eyes trained on his older brother, waiting for him to speak.
After a long silence, Elijah finally breaks it, his voice quiet but weighed down by something deeper.
“My love for Y/n…” he begins, pausing as if the words themselves are too much. “It runs so deep that it terrifies me. It’s a kind of vulnerability I haven’t known in centuries. I know she’s strong brilliant, resourceful, capable of protecting herself. But still, I can’t shake the fear… that she’s going to get caught in the crossfire.”
Klaus tilts his glass thoughtfully, taking a slow sip before replying. “You think I’ll involve her.”
Elijah turns, eyes narrowing slightly. “I know you, Niklaus. I know how you think. How you react when you’re cornered, when your back is against the wall. You bring down kingdoms to save yourself. You burn cities if it means escaping your fate. So yes I fear that one day, when the war comes to our doorstep, you won’t hesitate to use her as leverage, or worse… collateral.”
Klaus doesn’t answer immediately. His gaze darkens, and for a moment, the silence between them feels volatile.
“You think I would be so careless as to drag the woman of my own brother into my destruction?” Klaus asks quietly, dangerously.
Elijah meets his eyes with unflinching resolve. “Not because you want to. But because you do, Niklaus. You always do. Our enemies are many witches, werewolves, hunters, the very people we once called family. They know who Y/n is to me. And I know how easily someone like you can forget the cost of your chaos until the damage is already done.”
Klaus rises from his chair, walking slowly toward the fireplace, standing beside Elijah now. His voice softens, but it’s threaded with a rare sincerity.
“You’re right,” he says, staring into the flames. “I have done terrible things. I’ve sacrificed innocents, burned bridges, betrayed those who trusted me. I’ve hurt people to survive even loved ones.”
He turns to face Elijah, and for once, there’s no rage behind his eyes. Only truth.
“But not her,” he says. “Not Y/n. She’s different.”
Elijah watches him closely, as if weighing every syllable.
Klaus continues. “She brings out something in you—something rare. Something good. And despite what everyone believes, I do care about that. About her. She’s not just some girl you’re enamored with. She’s family now. And I don’t destroy the people I care about.”
Elijah sighs, shoulders loosening slightly, but his tone remains steady. “Then prove it. When the time comes when danger is at our door I want your word. You protect her. No matter what. Not because of me, but because she deserves that.”
Klaus nods slowly. “You have my word, brother. I will protect her. Not just for you… but because Y/n is one of the few people in this wretched world who sees the good in us, even when we can’t.”
They stand there for a moment, the silence no longer filled with tension, but something solemn sacred.
You and Aunt Jenna are sitting on the porch, warm mugs of coffee in hand, wrapped in cozy blankets as the early sunlight filters through the trees. Birds are chirping, and there’s a lazy calm in the air no supernatural drama (yet), no urgent text messages, just the quiet buzz of a small town waking up.
You take a long sip of your coffee and lean back in your chair with a sigh. Jenna’s watching you out of the corner of her eye with a suspiciously playful smirk tugging at her lips.
“So…” she begins, dragging out the word.
You narrow your eyes. “What?”
She shrugs, pretending to be casual. “I was just thinking… if you hadn’t fallen in love with Elijah, do you think you would’ve ended up with Klaus? Or…” She raises her brows suggestively. “Damon?”
You nearly choke on your coffee. “Wait, what?!”
Jenna laughs. “Come on! You’ve been around both of them a lot, and don’t act like you haven’t noticed they’re both walking, talking episodes of a guilty-pleasure drama.”
You blink at her, stunned. “That’s… actually a really good question,” you admit slowly, setting your cup down. “I mean, I never really thought about it. Klaus and I have this chaotic history, and Damon he’s like this unpredictable storm with a weird sense of charm… but I don’t know.”
Jenna sips her coffee like she’s the wise oracle of all things romantic. “Mmm-hmm. You don’t know, but I do. It’s Damon.”
You gasp in mock offense. “You think I’d fall for Damon?”
She grins wickedly. “Absolutely. I know you. You’re drawn to that whole tortured-bad-boy thing, whether you admit it or not. Plus, he’s a total hottie.”
You stare at her. “Aunt Jenna!”
She shrugs shamelessly. “What? I’m not blind. The man’s got jawlines for days, and that leather jacket situation? Don’t get me started.”
You groan, covering your face. “Oh my god. You know Elena is going to threaten your life if she hears you talking about him like that.”
Jenna smirks into her mug. “Even if she’s dating Stefan? Please. I’ve seen the way she looks at Damon when she thinks no one’s watching.”
You lower your mug and give her a look. “You are way too observant for your own good.”
Jenna nudges you playfully with her elbow. “Hey, I’m just saying if Elijah hadn’t swooped in with his old-school manners and perfect suits, you might’ve ended up with the dark and brooding Salvatore or the charming, dangerous hybrid.”
You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Imagine that love triangle. Elijah the gentleman, Damon the reckless flirt, and Klaus the overprotective chaos incarnate.”
Jenna laughs. “It would’ve been messy. But very entertaining.”
You smile, looking off toward the trees. “Thank god I ended up with the one who actually makes me feel like I’m safe… even when the world’s falling apart.”
Jenna’s voice softens. “Yeah. And I can see it in your eyes every time you talk about him. You picked right.”
You glance at her and smile. “But if I ever do find Damon shirtless in my kitchen, just know it wasn’t my fault.”
She winks. “I’ll allow it… as long as I get to stare too.”
It’s late afternoon at the Salvatore house, and you’ve stopped by to drop off a book Stefan lent you something about ancient vampire treaties that you definitely pretended to be interested in just to be polite. You were planning to drop it and leave quietly, but of course, Damon is lounging on the couch like he owns the entire town, a tumbler of bourbon in one hand, that cocky smirk already locked and loaded.
“Well, well,” he drawls as you step into the room. “If it isn’t Elijah’s lovely other half. What brings you to my humble fortress of bad decisions?”
You roll your eyes, placing the book on the table. “Relax. I’m not here to steal your bourbon or borrow your leather jacket.”
Damon grins, sitting up straighter and eyeing you with way too much amusement. “Shame. I was starting to think you missed me.”
You shoot him a deadpan look. “Missed you? Damon, if I wanted endless sarcasm and unsolicited winks, I could just talk to my reflection in the toaster.”
He lets out a dramatic gasp and presses a hand to his chest. “Ouch. And here I thought we had a special little connection. The way you look at me? Those lingering glances? That tiny smirk you always try to hide when I walk into the room…”
You blink. “Are you seriously rewriting our entire history into some romantic comedy in your head right now?”
He stands, walking toward you slowly, glass still in hand, voice low and overly confident. “You definitely flirt with me. Admit it. It’s okay. You’re only human… well, mostly.”
You cross your arms and raise a brow. “Damon, I smile at you because I’m trying not to laugh when you try to act smooth. It’s sympathy. Not flirting.”
He steps closer, now just a breath away, and smirks like he already won. “You sure? Because I’ve seen the way your eyes linger. The way you bite your lip when I say something ‘dangerously charming.’”
You scoff. “Or maybe it’s because I’m debating whether or not to throw something at you.”
He raises his brows. “Still counts as attention. I live for it.”
You shake your head with a small smile, turning to leave. “Unbelievable. You are the human version of a smirk and a leather jacket.”
As you walk out, he calls after you with a cocky grin, “Just admit it, sweetheart! I’m your guilty pleasure.”
Without turning back, you call out, “My guilty pleasure is chocolate cake and Elijah reading poetry. You’re just a headache in tight jeans.”
Damon raises his glass in salute. “Still love me.”
Elena is mid-sentence, animatedly waving her hands. “and then Stefan literally blushed when I told him I had a dream where he turned into a golden retriever and tried to propose.”
You burst out laughing, nearly choking on your tea. “Wait what? Did dream-Stefan have a little ring box in his mouth or something?”
“He did!” Elena groans with a laugh. “He sat there wagging his tail and everything. I woke up confused and emotionally betrayed.”
Jenna grins, sipping her wine. “Honestly, sounds like a metaphor for most Mystic Falls relationships sweet, loyal, and completely surreal.”
You lean back into the couch, legs tucked underneath you. “Okay, okay. But can we talk about Elijah for a second? Because this man bought me first edition Emily Dickinson poetry and didn’t even brag about it.”
Elena gasps. “That’s better than jewelry.”
Jenna nods approvingly. “Gentleman behavior. Take notes, Mystic Falls boys.”
“Seriously,” you say, grinning. “And when I told him I had a bad day, he just listened. Didn’t try to fix it, didn’t make it about him. Just… sat with me.”
Jenna sighs dreamily. “Marry him.”
Elena raises a brow. “Slow down, Aunt Jenna.”
You laugh and raise your mug. “To emotionally available vampires with great taste in literature.”
Elena and Jenna clink their mugs with yours, all of you giggling like teenagers.
Just as Jenna leans in, clearly about to dive into some juicy story from her college days, the front door creaks open and in walks Jeremy hoodie half-zipped, earbuds dangling around his neck, and an expression that screams why is it so loud in here.
He stops in his tracks when he sees the scene: candles, blankets, chick flicks, and the unmistakable aura of feminine energy.
“Uh…” he squints. “Am I interrupting a coven meeting or something?”
Elena rolls her eyes. “It’s called girl talk, Jeremy. You wouldn’t understand.”
Jeremy raises his hands in mock defense. “Okay, okay. I just came down for a soda. Chill.”
Jenna grins. “Unless you want to sit down and discuss vampire boyfriends, exes, and emotionally unavailable men, I suggest you take your soda and run.”
Jeremy makes a face. “Nope. Hard pass.”
As he turns to leave, you call out, “Wait! Before you go Team Damon or Team Stefan?”
He pauses, groans loudly, and keeps walking toward the kitchen. “Why is that even a question in this house?!”
You, Elena, and Jenna dissolve into laughter as the fridge door slams open in the background.
Jenna leans in and whispers, “Boys are so dramatic.”
Elena smirks. “They really are.”
The next morning, the sun is shining but it feels wrong. Too bright. Too calm.
You pull into the driveway of your house after spending the night at the Mikaelsons. Elijah’s cologne still clinging faintly to your clothes. His goodbye kiss had been soft, his hands warm against your face, promising he’d see you soon. Everything had felt safe. Peaceful. For once, it felt like things might finally be okay.
But as you approach the front door, that peace begins to crack.
The house is quiet. No music playing from Elena’s room. No clatter of dishes in the kitchen. Just… silence. Thick and eerie.
You step inside slowly, calling out, “Elena? Aunt Jenna?”
Your heart starts to pound. You drop your bag by the door and move further in, eyes scanning the living room. It’s empty. A coffee cup is still sitting on the side table—half full, gone cold.
“Elena?” you try again, your voice trembling now.
You hear a small sound a sniff. Then another.
You follow it upstairs, your footsteps cautious, every creak of the stairs echoing through the stillness. When you push open Elena’s door, you find her curled up in the corner of her bed, knees drawn to her chest, her face buried in her hands. She’s shaking.
“Elena?” you whisper, stepping closer, fear gripping your throat.
She looks up slowly, and her eyes are red and swollen, mascara streaked down her cheeks. The moment she sees you, a broken sob escapes her lips.
You rush to her side, kneeling in front of her. “What happened? Elena, what what is it?”
She tries to speak, but her voice cracks. She covers her mouth like she’s trying to hold herself together. You grasp her hands gently, your voice shaking. “Please. Tell me what happened.”
“Y/n…” she chokes out. “You… you need to sit down.”
“Elena,” you say, firmer now, “What. Happened?”
She looks you dead in the eyes, and it’s the kind of look that tells you your world is about to fall apart.
“It’s Aunt Jenna,” she whispers. “She’s gone.”
The words hit you like a car crash. You blink, trying to process them, your body frozen.
“No,” you whisper. “No, that’s not… that’s not funny.”
“She’s gone,” Elena repeats, voice breaking completely now. “Last night Klaus he… he killed her.”
The room spins. You stumble back, barely catching yourself on the edge of the bed.
“No, that can’t be right Elijah said Klaus was keeping his distance. He said he wouldn’t he promised—”
“He lied,” Elena snaps, more anger than anything else, tears pouring down her face. “Klaus turned her into a vampire. Then he used her. And when he was done, he —he killed her like she was nothing.”
You’re shaking your head, your hands gripping your thighs so hard your nails dig into your skin.
“No… no, no, no. She was just she was just drinking wine on the porch yesterday she was teasing me about Damon she can’t be gone.”
Elena wraps her arms around you, but it doesn’t feel like comfort. It feels like suffocating. Like reality is pressing down on your chest and stealing all the air.
A sound tears from your throat a cry so raw, so guttural, it doesn’t even sound like you. Your whole body folds in on itself, and you sob into Elena’s shoulder, both of you shaking, both of you drowning in the loss.
“I should’ve been here,” you whisper over and over. “I should’ve protected her. I should’ve been here.”
Downstairs, the clock ticks like nothing happened. Outside, birds still sing. But in that room, the world has changed forever.
And all you can feel is the absence of the woman who raised you gone because of a man you thought you could trust.
And something inside you starts to harden.
The moment Elena’s words sink into your soul Klaus killed Aunt Jenna something inside you cracks so violently it feels like it takes your breath with it.
You barely remember how you left the house. Your legs moved on their own, your vision blurry, ears ringing with Elena’s voice echoing like a ghost: He used her. He killed her.
You feel numb. Cold. Like the warmth from your body left the second you realized you’d spent the night wrapped in Elijah’s arms safe, cared for, even laughing while your aunt was being turned, used, and discarded like nothing.
And he knew. He had to have known.
It doesn’t take long to find him. He’s outside the Mikaelson compound, standing in the courtyard, speaking softly with Kol. The second he sees you, he straightens, his expression instantly shifting—concern, relief, warmth.
“Y/N,” Elijah says, stepping toward you, “I was just coming to see you.”
You stop in your tracks, eyes fixed on him like daggers. Something about the way he says your name makes your stomach twist—how dare he sound so calm.
He notices the storm brewing in your eyes and takes another step closer, cautiously. “What’s wrong?”
You don’t answer immediately. You just stare at him. And the moment of silence is heavy. Too heavy. Then you breathe out—broken, sharp—and ask quietly, too quietly:
“When were you going to tell me?”
Elijah’s brow furrows. “Tell you what?”
You clench your jaw. “That your brother killed my aunt.”
The color drains from his face.
“Elena told me everything,” you go on, voice shaking, but no longer soft. “Klaus turned her. Used her. And then he killed her like she was disposable. Like she was nothing.”
Elijah opens his mouth, but you hold up your hand. “Don’t. Don’t even try to defend him. Don’t tell me he was desperate or that it was a sacrifice. Don’t insult her memory like that.”
“I wasn’t going to—” he starts, but you cut him off, anger bubbling out like lava.
“You knew, Elijah. You knew Klaus was planning something. You kept telling me you’d protect me and the people I love, but you let me stay the night with you while he slaughtered her!” Your voice cracks at the end, and tears spill down your cheeks, but you don’t care. “You were distracting me while she was dying.”
“No,” Elijah breathes, stepping closer. “I didn’t know. I swear to you—I didn’t know. If I had—”
“You would’ve what?” you snap. “Stopped him? Lied better? Offered someone else instead?”
He flinches like you slapped him.
“I trusted you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper now, full of heartbreak. “I let you in. I let myself love you. And while I was in your arms, my aunt the woman who raised me was being ripped away from me.”
Elijah takes another step toward you. “Please—Y/N, look at me. You know me. You know I would never—”
But you shake your head, backing away.
“I don’t know you,” you whisper. “Not anymore.”
You turn, your footsteps heavy and uneven, but you don’t stop. You don’t look back, even as Elijah calls your name—once, then again, more broken, more desperate.
“Y/N please don’t walk away like this—”
Because if you turn around now, if you see the guilt in his eyes, the pain on his face you might shatter completely.
And you’ve already lost too much to let him break you, too.
You don’t know how you got home. The roads blurred beneath your tires, the air was cold and sharp, and your hands shook the entire drive. The house is dark when you step inside too quiet. Too still. Like it knows something is gone.
You stand in the middle of the living room where it all once felt full. Jenna’s laughter used to echo here. Her music used to play. Her voice used to call you in from the porch for dinner or force you and Elena to sit down for “girl talks” you’d pretend to hate but secretly loved.
You drop your keys and just stand there, arms hanging limp at your sides as the weight of it finally sinks in.
A sob builds in your throat, but before it can rise, your knees buckle, and you collapse onto the couch. And then, like a dam shattering, the memories hit you hard and fast, in violent, suffocating waves.
You see Jenna holding you as a child, brushing your hair behind your ear, whispering, “You’re safe now, baby. I’ve got you.”
You see her at your first school play, standing and clapping way too loudly, cheering like you’d just won an Oscar.
You see her with Jeremy, gently guiding him through heartbreak. With Elena, holding her steady through every storm. With you always with you wiping your tears, grounding you when everything felt like it was falling apart.
You remember the night you told her you were a vampire. How scared you were that she’d look at you like a monster. But she didn’t flinch. Not once.
She’d sat beside you, silent for a long moment, and then said, “You’re still my girl. No matter what. Nothing nothing could ever make me stop loving you.”
You remember her stroking your hair that night while you cried in her lap, whispering, “I know you didn’t ask for this. But I’m here. Always.”
Used. Killed. Just another casualty in Klaus’s sick game.
Your vision blurs as tears spill down your cheeks, your body trembling. You scream into the silence a scream so raw it doesn’t even sound human.
“I should’ve protected her!” you shout into the empty room. “I should’ve been here I should’ve—I should’ve—”
But there’s no one to answer. No one to hold you this time.
You crumble onto the couch and weep until your voice is hoarse, until your body feels like it’s unraveling from the inside. The pain is unbearable like fire in your chest, like acid in your veins. Your heart feels like it’s ripping open over and over and over again.
You sit up slowly, the tears still wet on your face. Your breathing evens out not calmer, but emptier. Like something inside you is retreating.
You walk to the mirror in the hallway and stare at yourself.
Eyes bloodshot. Cheeks pale. A girl who looks like she’s already dead inside.
“I can’t do this,” you whisper. “I can’t feel this.”
You place your hand on your chest, where the pain sits like a knife.
“I can’t survive this kind of pain again.”
And then, without another word, you close your eyes.
It’s immediate. Like someone silenced the screaming in your head. The pain stops. The grief disappears. The tightness in your chest melts into nothing.
You open your eyes and stare at your reflection again. There’s no emotion. No tremble in your lip. No tears on your lashes.
You breathe in deeply, straighten your shoulders, and whisper:
“She’s gone. And now so am I.”
And you turn away from the mirror no longer the girl she raised.
No longer someone who feels anything at all.
It’s nearly midnight when Elijah finds him.
Klaus stands at the edge of a clearing just outside the woods, his back turned, paint-stained fingers gripping a half-finished canvas propped against a tree. The moonlight casts long shadows over the grass, and the only sound is the quiet rustling of the wind through the leaves.
He doesn’t turn when Elijah approaches.
“You knew,” Elijah says, his voice low, trembling with fury, heartbreak swimming just beneath the surface. “You knew what you were going to do to her. You planned it.”
Klaus doesn’t respond right away. He continues brushing a few strokes across the canvas, like he’s trying to distract himself from what he already knows is coming.
“I made you a promise,” Klaus finally says, still facing away.
Elijah steps closer, his voice rising now. “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt her! You said you cared about her—that you wouldn’t drag the people I love into your games. That was your word, Niklaus. And like always, you twisted it.”
Klaus finally turns, slowly, his face unreadable. “You think I wanted this?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Elijah spits, eyes burning. “You told me you don’t hurt the people you care about. You said it. And now Jenna’s dead. Y/N is broken. You destroyed the only home she had left.”
Klaus narrows his eyes. “You don’t understand the cost of what we’re dealing with. Sacrifices had to be made.”
Elijah’s jaw tightens. “You call Jenna a sacrifice?”
“She was human,” Klaus says flatly. “A liability. One of many.”
Elijah steps closer, his hands clenched into fists. “She was her family. She was ours. And now she’s gone. And for what, Niklaus? Power? Leverage? Some twisted ritual to prove you’re still in control?”
Klaus’s expression shifts just for a moment. Guilt. Regret. But it vanishes quickly.
“Sometimes,” he says quietly, “you have to make choices that hurt the people you care about… if it means protecting them from something worse. Or saving yourself before everything collapses.”
“You sound like our father,” Elijah says coldly.
“That’s what he did, didn’t he?” Elijah goes on. “Sacrificed us. Made his choices. Said it was to protect the family. You’re no different than him now.”
Klaus’s face hardens. “Don’t you dare compare me to him.”
“Then prove it,” Elijah growls, his voice cracking with emotion. “Tell me there was no other way. Tell me you didn’t have a choice. Tell me that you didn’t watch Y/N smile and laugh and trust you, knowing what you were about to do to the one person she couldn’t live without!”
Klaus turns away again, jaw clenched, eyes dark and stormy. He doesn’t answer.
And that silence says more than anything else.
Elijah’s breath shakes as he speaks again, softer this time, full of quiet devastation. “She’s turned off her humanity, Niklaus. She looked me in the eye and didn’t even see me. She’s gone… because of you.”
“She loved you,” Elijah adds bitterly. “She defended you. Even when I couldn’t. And now she doesn’t feel anything. Because that was easier than surviving what you did.”
For a long moment, neither of them speaks. The wind blows between them, cold and hollow. The canvas flutters in the breeze, streaked with angry brushstrokes.
“I never meant for it to happen like this,” Klaus finally says, so quiet it’s nearly a whisper.
Elijah’s eyes shine with unshed tears, his voice soft and tired. “You never mean to, brother. But you always do.”
And with that, Elijah turns and walks away, leaving Klaus alone in the clearing haunted by the silence, and the weight of what he’s broken beyond repair.
It’s been days since you turned off your humanity.
Days since the screaming inside your head finally went quiet.
Days since Jenna’s face last haunted you in your dreams.
Now, all you feel is… nothing. And that nothing has become your sanctuary.
The sky is dark above the Mystic Falls back road, clouds swirling above like bruises. You stand over your next victim a young man trembling in the dirt, blood already smeared at the corner of your mouth. His pulse is loud, quick, panicked. The fear in his eyes used to mean something. Used to stop you. But now?
You crouch slowly, gripping his collar, your fangs just beginning to drop, when—
“Y/N,” a familiar voice says behind you, strained. Pleading.
You don’t turn. Your jaw tightens.
“Elijah,” you say coldly, “you should go.”
He steps closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t you. You don’t kill for pleasure. You don’t hurt people who can’t defend themselves.”
You finally stand and turn to face him, slowly, your expression unreadable. But your eyes are darker now. Hollow. Your voice is void of warmth.
“Why are you talking to me like I’m the one who started all of this?” you ask, your tone sharp but calm, almost mocking. “Like I’m the villain in the story?”
He looks at you, aching in his eyes. “Because I know you, and I know this isn’t what Jenna would’ve—”
“Don’t you say her name,” you snap, stepping forward, your eyes glowing faintly. “You don’t get to say her name. Not when your psycho brother killed her.”
Elijah flinches at the venom in your voice.
“She was the most innocent woman in my life,” you continue, your voice rising now, each word cutting like glass. “The only mother I had left. She protected me, believed in me, loved me when I couldn’t even love myself. And your family took her away.”
“I didn’t know—” he begins, but you cut him off with a bitter laugh.
“No, of course you didn’t. You were too busy pulling me into your bed and whispering promises you couldn’t keep. While your brother was tearing my world apart—again.”
Elijah’s eyes flicker with guilt, but you shake your head before he can speak.
“So don’t stand there trying to guilt me, Elijah. Don’t play the noble card and pretend you’re still the better brother. If you need someone to shame and lecture, try Klaus. Or better yet yourself.”
You walk past him, brushing his shoulder with yours, cold and unforgiving. He reaches for your arm, gently, desperately.
You yank away, your voice low and final. “Let me be.”
The sky is heavy with clouds as Elijah makes his way to the Gilbert house, his footsteps purposeful but weighed down by the burden he carries. The past few days have been a nightmare a whirlwind of guilt, pain, and shattered trust. He knows what he has to do, even if it means facing the very people his family has hurt.
Bonnie’s already in position when he arrives, standing slightly behind Elena and the Salvatore brothers, her hands just brushing the edge of her spellbook. A protection charm glows faintly beneath her fingertips, ready to be activated at the first sign of danger.
Elena’s arms are crossed, her stance rigid, eyes sharp with distrust. Damon moves in front of her instinctively, his hand twitching slightly as though he’s already thinking about staking Elijah before he even opens his mouth. Stefan watches silently, but his expression is taut and weary.
The moment Elijah steps into the clearing, they block the path to Elena.
He stops a few feet away, lifts his hands to show he’s unarmed.“I didn’t come to fight,” he says softly.
Elena narrows her eyes. Her voice is cold. Flat. “Then what did you come for? Another one of your carefully-worded, emotionally detached speeches? Did you come to justify what your family did?”
Elijah bows his head slightly, the weight of her words sinking deep. “I know I have no right to be here,” he admits quietly. “I wouldn’t show my face after what Klaus did. But I need your help with Y/N.”
Elena’s eyes flash with suspicion and concern. “What’s wrong with my sister?”
Elijah takes a deep breath, steeling himself before he speaks. “I’m afraid she’s… turned off her humanity. The pain of losing Jenna was too much for her to bear. She couldn’t handle it. So she shut down all her feelings.”
There’s a heavy silence as his words settle over the group. “She’s not just hurting, Elena,” Elijah continues, voice low and urgent. “She’s changed. She’s killing—feeding—without restraint. And if we don’t help her, she could spiral into something far worse. Something that could destroy her completely.”
Bonnie’s fingers tighten in her spell, ready to protect if needed, but her eyes flicker with empathy.
Elena’s face crumples, the raw pain of fear and helplessness breaking through her usual composure. “Y/N… my sister… I don’t want to believe it. But if she’s out there hurting people, then we have to stop her. We have to save her.”
Stefan steps forward, voice calm but resolute. “We’ll help. Whatever it takes.”
Elijah nods, grateful but still weighed down by the burden of what’s to come. “Thank you. I know this is difficult. For all of you guys.”
The search had gone on for days.
And with every passing hour, it felt like you were slipping further and further away.
Elijah stood rigidly in the Salvatore living room, arms crossed, jaw clenched, staring at the map sprawled out across the coffee table. Pins. Circles. Places she’d been spotted. Corpses drained and abandoned. All dead ends.
Elena sat on the edge of the couch, exhausted and anxious, her fingers twisting the silver daylight ring on her thumb. Stefan leaned over the map, trying to make sense of a trail that didn’t want to be followed, while Damon paced behind the sofa like a caged animal, half a glass of bourbon in hand, though even he hadn’t touched it in minutes.
“Nothing,” Stefan muttered, drawing a line between two towns. “No leads. She’s not staying in one place for long.”
“She doesn’t need to,” Damon added bitterly. “No humanity means no guilt, no hesitation, and no reason to hide unless she wants to toy with us. She’s playing with us.”
“She’s not playing,” Elijah said, voice low, but full of a quiet ache. “She’s lost.”
The room went still at that.
And then, Bonnie who had been sitting silently with her grimoire open and pages scattered around her stood suddenly, as if a light had flickered on in her mind.
“I think… I might have something,” she said.
“What is it?” Elena asked, hope and desperation laced in her voice.
“I’ve been reading a tracking spell. It’s ancient, but it was originally used to trace the bloodline of vampires… or those sired by the same blood,” Bonnie said, flipping through the pages of her book.
Damon frowned. “You want to use a sire bond locator?”
“No,” Bonnie clarified, “not the bond itself. But blood that shares the same lineage. The spell can link a vampire’s location to another from the same bloodline. And since Y/N was turned by Katherine…”
Stefan’s eyes widened slightly. “Who turned Damon and me.”
Bonnie nodded. “Exactly. That makes your blood linked to hers distantly, but enough for the spell to work.”
Damon raised a brow, lowering his glass. “So you want a sample of our blood? You could’ve just said that instead of reciting a whole spellbook.”
“Damon,” Bonnie said through a clenched jaw. “You want to find her or not?”
He rolled his eyes but held out his arm. “Fine. Poke me, witch.”
Bonnie gave him a tight smile and handed him a small silver blade. Damon sliced his palm, letting a few thick drops fall onto the blank parchment she placed in front of her. Stefan silently did the same beside him.
Bonnie closed her eyes, letting the blood soak into the page, murmuring the spell under her breath as her fingers hovered above it. The candles around the room flickered violently, reacting to the surge of magic. The blood began to swirl across the paper like ink in water, carving lines, symbols, and finally slowly forming a map. Red veins spread outward until they landed on a single point, glowing faintly.
“She’s in Oak Hill,” Bonnie whispered, opening her eyes.
Elijah stepped forward. “Are you certain?”
Bonnie nodded. “Yes. She’s there. But I don’t know for how long.”
Elena leaned forward. “Why would she be there? There’s nothing in Oak Hill.”
Elijah’s eyes darkened. “There’s nothing for you there. But Y/N… she once told me it was a place she and Jenna used to go. A quiet retreat when things got too loud.”
“So now she’s turning it into a feeding ground,” Damon muttered. “Great. Even her trauma has real estate.”
Elijah shot him a sharp look but said nothing. The urgency in the room thickened.
Bonnie stood, her voice steady. “We have her location. But you need to be prepared. She’s not Y/N right now.”
Stefan nodded solemnly. “Then we’ll bring her back… one way or another.”
Elijah’s eyes stayed fixed on the glowing point on the map. His voice was barely a whisper.
“She’s still in there. I know she is.”
And now, for the first time in days, they had a way to find her.
Even if what they found… wasn’t who they remembered.
The forest at Oak Hill was quiet… eerily so. The sun had dipped low behind the trees, casting long shadows across the clearing where the last blood trail had led them. Elijah, Stefan, Damon, Elena, and Bonnie moved through the trees with a careful urgency. Each footstep was deliberate. Each breath was heavy.
They were close now. They could feel it.
A woman’s voice frantic, terrified.
Elijah didn’t hesitate. He ran.
The others followed closely behind, weaving through the brush until they broke through the treeline into a clearing—and there you were.
Your back was to them, your hand gripping a woman by the throat, lifting her off the ground effortlessly. Her eyes were wide with terror, her feet kicking helplessly, the scent of blood already thick in the air. You were just about to sink your fangs into her neck when—
“Baby!!” Elijah’s voice thundered across the clearing.
“What are you doing?! Please—let her go!” His voice cracked, raw with desperation.
You froze. Slowly, your head turned.
Your eyes locked onto him, then flicked across the clearing.
All of them stood there, unmoving. Faces tight with fear, concern, heartbreak.
You narrowed your eyes, your grip on the woman loosening, but your expression twisted with anger.
“How…?” your voice was low, a growl almost. “How did you find me?”
Bonnie stepped forward slightly, her voice calm but steady. “We tracked you. Through your bloodline.”
You dropped the woman to the ground, where she crawled away, gasping. You didn’t even look at her anymore. Your eyes were locked onto them.
“I told you to let me be,” you said, stalking toward them slowly, predatory and poised. “But you just couldn’t do that, could you?”
Elijah stepped forward carefully. “Y/N, please. I know you’re in pain. I know you don’t want to feel it—but this isn’t the way.”
You laughed bitterly. “You think you know what I feel? You think you understand what it’s like to watch the only good person in your life die while you’re too busy sleeping next to the man whose brother murdered her?”
His face dropped, jaw tightening with shame.
“You should’ve stayed away,” you whispered. “All of you. Do I need to show you again what happens when you don’t listen?”
You took another step forward, veins darkening beneath your eyes, your fangs descending.
Bonnie’s fingers twitched.
“Now, Bonnie,” Elena said quietly.
Bonnie closed her eyes and murmured a spell under her breath, voice ancient and precise. A golden light began to glow between her palms as wind rushed through the trees like a sudden storm.
“What…?” you gasped, stumbling backward. “What are you—”
And then your body collapsed.
Elijah moved faster than anyone, catching you before you hit the ground. You were limp in his arms, your breathing shallow, face still and pale, your dark lashes resting gently against your cheeks like you were just sleeping.
He held you tightly, cradling you to his chest like you were the most fragile thing in the world.
The others stood around silently relieved, broken, and afraid of what would come next.
“She’ll wake up soon,” Bonnie said quietly. “But that was temporary. It bought us time. Nothing more.”
Elijah looked down at you, brushing the hair from your face, voice shaking as he whispered, “I’ll bring you back. I swear to you, I’ll bring you home.”
And in the middle of the woods, surrounded by blood, silence, and broken hearts, the first battle to save your soul had just begun.
You blinked slowly as you opened your eyes, vision blurred by sleep and unfamiliar stillness. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the lamp on your dresser. You recognized the sheets beneath you—the soft ones you’d picked out with Jenna after a long afternoon of shopping. The scent of lavender still lingered faintly in the air.
But it didn’t feel like home. Not without her.
Your body was heavy as you sat up in bed. There was no ache, no tension just numbness. You looked down at your hands, flexing your fingers, remembering the weight of your last victim’s blood, the way the warmth drained from their skin.
And yet, somehow, this bed… this house… it still hadn’t burned to ash the way your insides had.
You stood and crossed the room slowly. Every movement felt distant, like it belonged to someone else. Your feet carried you to the door almost without thought. You placed your hand on the knob, twisted it, and pulled it open.
Elijah was standing right there.
Tall. Silent. Steady. Like he had been waiting the entire night.
His face was etched with exhaustion and guilt. His eyes, those eyes you once loved to get lost in, were now glassy with a sadness so deep it mirrored your own.
You moved to step past him without a word.
But his hand gently caught your arm not forcefully, just enough to stop you.
“Y/N,” he said softly, voice thick, “please. Just… wait.”
You turned toward him slowly, your face blank, but your eyes holding a storm beneath the surface.
“I feel what you’re feeling,” Elijah continued, stepping closer, still holding your arm with a touch that was more anchor than restraint. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for the pain my brother has caused you.”
You stared at him for a long, agonizing moment before your mouth twisted, your voice finally cracking through the shell around you.
“You don’t know what I’m feeling.”
Tears welled up in your eyes so suddenly it took your breath away. You shoved at his chest not hard, but enough. Your voice shook, broken and angry and lost all at once.
“You weren’t there. You didn’t see what he did to her. You didn’t feel her slip away. You didn’t hold her hand while she was alive you didn’t wake up knowing she’s gone. Forever.”
Your voice dropped to a whisper. “You don’t know what that kind of emptiness feels like.”
Elijah didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away.
“I do,” he said gently, his hand moving from your arm to your cheek, brushing away a tear that had started to fall. “Because I know you. I know your heart. I know how much Jenna meant to you how she raised you, loved you, protected you. I know you’re walking through every second of this pretending it doesn’t hurt, because it hurts too much to let yourself feel it.”
You shook your head, but the tears were already spilling freely. You didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to break, but his words his eyes were cutting through every wall.
“I know you think shutting off your humanity was the only way to survive it,” he whispered, stepping closer. “But you’re not alone in this, Y/N. You never were. And you don’t have to carry this weight without someone to hold it with you.”
He paused, swallowing hard.
“If you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here. If you need silence, I’ll sit with you. If you need rage I’ll burn with you. But please…” his voice faltered, “I pray you turn it back on. Not for me. Not for them. For you. Because the girl I love the woman who fought so hard to keep her family together she’s still in there. And she deserves to come back.”
You stared at him, your face trembling as tears spilled freely now, no longer held back.
His hand pressed gently to your chest, right over your heart.
“Let her come back,” he whispered. “Please.”
Like a wave crashing over your soul, the dam you built so carefully burst open.
The grief. The love. The guilt. The memories. All of it came flooding back in one unbearable, unstoppable surge. You gasped and staggered forward, clutching his shirt as a scream escaped your lips raw and guttural.
Elijah caught you instantly, pulling you into his arms as you sobbed uncontrollably against his chest. Your fists balled in his jacket, your body shaking as every emotion came crashing down, drowning you in everything you tried to escape.
“She’s really gone,” you whispered between sobs, “and I couldn’t save her.”
“I know,” Elijah murmured, pressing his lips to the top of your head, his own eyes wet with grief. “But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
You collapsed into him completely, no longer fighting the pain. No longer pretending it wasn’t there.
And for the first time since you lost her, you felt again.
And for the first time since you shut the world out, someone was there to hold you through it.
