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“It could have been one of us.” Meredith said. She bit her lip. “Especially you, Elena. You went there alone.”
“No,” Elena said absently. “It would never have been one of us.” She barely noticed the way the other girls stared at her, shocked by the certainty in her voice.
Elena clenched her fists, her nails biting into the palms of her hands. It couldn’t all be inevitable. There was a way to save Mr. Tanner, a way to keep the town safe from all the havoc Katherine, Damon, and Stefan had, in their own separate ways, brought down upon it.
She had to find Damon, and soon. Halloween was coming fast, and she would need time with him if he was going to fall in love with her, if she was going to show him there were things more pleasurable than destruction.
Elena needed a plan.
A chilly breeze swept through Elena’s hair, and she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. The sun hadn’t set yet, but there was already a pale moon high in the sky, and dark shadows were spreading under the trees.
She’d really thought Damon would have come to her by now. Elena had made excuses to dodge Bonnie and Meredith after school, and headed out to the woods. She had to draw Damon to her again, needed to start building a connection between them. And here, isolated beneath the ancient oak trees, was just where he was likely to appear.
A bird crashed through the top of the tree above her, and Elena looked up with a burst of relief. But it was just a blue jay, not the sleek black crow she was waiting for.
Maybe she should give up on subtlety and just shout Damon’s name until he answered her. No, that would only make him suspicious.
If he was nearby, there was one thing that ought to draw him out. Blood.
Elena uncrossed her arms and looked around carefully. A rough gray boulder lay half-buried between two trees with twisted roots growing up around it. That might do. Steeling herself, Elena wandered toward it.
Her toe caught on a root, and Elena tipped forward, eyeing the sharp-edged rock. About right. Pretending to lose her balance, she threw herself onto the ground hard.
Her teeth clacked together as she hit the ground more violently than she’d meant to. There was a jolting, blinding pain in her knee. Her palms were stinging, scraped by tree roots. Winded, Elena lay gasping for a moment, fighting back tears of pain. She glanced down at her leg and was relieved to see a trickle of red blood. She didn’t want to have to try that again.
“Let me help you.” The voice, husky and a little unsure, was so familiar, so loved. But it was the wrong one.
Elena looked up to see Stefan Salvatore standing above her, his hand extended. His face was shadowed so that she couldn’t quite see his expression. Tentatively, she laid her hand in his and let him pull her gently to her feet.
Upright again, she winced a little, and Stefan quickly turned her hands palm-up, carefully brushing away dirt and bits of dry leaves. “Just a scrape,” he told her quietly.
“My leg,” she said, looking up into his face. Her voice cracked, and she had to swallow hard. He hadn’t changed. Of course he never changed; he was a vampire. Elena’s heart ached, and for one mad moment, she wanted to forget everything and throw herself into his arms and hold him tightly, weep with joy that he was alive.
“Let me see,” Stefan said, letting go
of her hands. He didn’t look her in the eyes, but instead knelt in the dirt, pulling a white silk handkerchief from his pocket. Unfolding it, he tucked something small—Elena couldn’t see what it was—back into his pocket. Gently, he blotted at her knee and then tied the handkerchief around it as a makeshift bandage. “There, that should get you home.”
He rose, eyes still averted, and backed away. Impulsively, Elena stepped forward and took hold of his leather-jacketed arm. He was so close, so solid, and real. A warm flush of love and relief ran over her. “Thank you,” she said. “Stefan—”
Almost faster than her eyes could follow, Stefan pulled away from her, and stepped back, deeper into the shadows of the trees. “I—” he said and stopped, then began again. “You’re welcome. You should be careful, though, out here alone. Did you hear about the attack?”
“Yes, I did,” Elena said, moving closer to him again, her eyes searching the shadows, trying to make out his face.
“They’re saying whoever did it must have been a monster.” There was an ugly, harsh note in Stefan’s voice. Without the sunglasses, he looked vulnerable and terribly tired.
“I don’t believe it,” she said firmly.
For a moment, their eyes met. Elena could see a wild flicker of hope rise in Stefan’s and then disappear, leaving nothing but grim hopelessness. “Anyone who would do such a thing is a monster,” he said.
Elena was almost touching him now. She wanted to run her hands across the chiseled lines of his face, remind herself how smooth his skin was.
His gaze traced over the curve of her neck, she saw, and his lips parted a little. “You look—” he said. “You remind me of someone I used to know.”
Katherine. Elena suppressed a grimace. The Stefan of this time was still guilt-stricken over the role he thought he’d played in Katherine’s death. She wanted to announce the truth: She’s not dead. Crazy and vicious, but not dead. It’s not your fault.
But she couldn’t. There was no way she could know that now, or at least no way she could explain. And so, Elena said nothing. Instead, she reached out a hand, slowly, carefully, as if she was taming some wild creature, and finally touched him. Just for a moment, her fingers brushing across the bare skin of his wrist.
She couldn’t have him. But this—a moment of touch—she needed.
