21|BLOOD BROTHERS

Gemma leans against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest, her demeanor dark and solemn. Although she and Stefan weren't close, it didn't make her particularly cheerful to see her younger brother caged up like an animal. Her eyes flick up to meet Damon's and she musters up a questioning look, her lips parting whenever he nods toward Elena. Of course he'd want Gemma to bring up the conversation; to break the ice between the three of them hovering over Stefan like mother birds.

"Elena," Gemma calls. "Are you okay?"

The girl turns from looking at her boyfriend, shaking her head slowly. "It's so hard to see him locked up like this."

"You're the one who locked him up," Damon reminds her.

Gemma throws her hands up in exasperation, sighing as they slap against her thighs. Good job, she thinks to herself. Guilt trip the human.

"You guys helped," the Gilbert sniffed.

Gemma side eyes the girl, raising her eyebrows. "I most certainly did not help. I was in my bedroom trying to find my dignity—thank you, Elena— whenever you two pulled a mission impossible stunt on Stefan."

"What dignity?" Damon mutters.

Gemma gives him a look and straightens up, "you know wh—?"

"I didn't ask you to dance with me," Elena cuts Damon off, shooting Gemma a blank look.

"You were practically begging, peach. Don't play innocent now that Stefan's in hearing range."

Elena flushes red and falls silent, looking at Damon thankfully whenever he moves forward to make a comment. "Locking Stefan up was the best option," he tells them. "We couldn't have him running around chewing on people while the town was looking for vampires."

"This had nothing to do with you actually caring about him?" Elena wonders.

Damon shrugs, "your thing, not mine."

Gemma runs a band through her hair, her shoulders slumping as she directs her gaze back toward her little brother. A distant part of her wonders if it'd be different; if things would've ever changed had they stayed human. Would she and Stefan be closer? Would she have stayed by Damon's side through the years like she had after immortality struck them all?

"What are you thinking about?" Damon hums, idling up to her side and leaning against the wall as well.

Gemma casts him a small smile and grabs his hand, lacing their hands together. Her eyelids slip closed gently and their hands tighten around each other. She'd rather show him.

Gemma sits on the edge of the river bank, her hands clasped around her legs as she rests her chin on the top of her knees. Damon sits beside her, silent and stoic and she spares him a glance. She knew they were both thinking the same thing, feeling the same thing. Anger, rage, hurt, betrayal.

"We were meant to make this decision with her," he finally says.

"Yeah," Gemma whispers in agreement. "Yeah, we were."

"I'm not sure I want to make it now that she's gone."

The female Salvatore swallows thickly, not replying. She knew her brother's love for Katherine ran deep. She knew in the end, Damon would always want the Pierce; even if she was no longer around to yearn for.

"I think—"

A gasp startles Gemma out of her haze, her head turning to look at Stefan when he sits up with a start. She studies his panicked form, the way his chest heaves up and down; the way his eyes frantically dart around as if he's looking for something he can't find. He lifts his hand and stares at the ring adorning it, his eyebrows furrowing. It makes Gemma glance down at her own, a soft smile pulling at her lips.

"Katherine had me make that for you weeks ago," Emily tells Stefan.

"Where am I?"

"The quarry just north of town. My brother and I brought you here last night. We found you dead in the woods."

"Where's Damon and Gemma? Am... am I?"

Gemma rolls her eyes. Stefan, never the one to pay attention to detail. She almost lifts her hand to wave him over but decides against it when Damon shifts closer, his hand inching toward hers.

"Not yet, you're in transition."

"But how? I—"

"You had Katherine's blood in your system when you died."

"No," he refuses. "I never..."

"She's been compelling you to drink it for weeks, Stefan."

"And my siblings?"

Damon reaches for Gemma's hand and holds it tightly, his icy blue eyes shining with unshed tears. Gemma felt sorrow for her older brother. Despite her losses, despite her pain; she wasn't what mattered. Damon lost the love of his life, and she didn't assume he'd take it lightly.

"No compulsion was necessary," Emily says. "They drank from her willingly."

Gemma watches Stefan walk down to them by the river, his skin pale as he plops down on the ground beside Damon. The eldest Salvatore's grip tightens on her hand and she grimaces, feeling the anguish roll off of him in waves.

"I woke up last night," Damon says. "I didn't know where I was, so I went to the church. I watched them drag her inside. They set fire to it, and the whole church went up in flames."

Gemma remembers waking up a few minutes after. Having to follow Damon into the woods, having to drag him back by the remains of his tattered shirt. It took all of her strength and then some to stop her brother from throwing himself toward the flames; toward what would be left of Katherine in the end. The only thing that stopped him in the end was Gemma collapsing in on herself, the weakness thrumming in her veins getting the best of her.

"They killed her, Stefan. She's gone."

Gemma leans her head against Damon's shoulder, a soft inhale causing her chest to rise.

••

Next session?

Gemma sighs, her lips pressing together in slight annoyance. Not that she could ever be genuinely annoyed with the pure energy that Willow radiated, but the blonde's insistence for Gemma to miraculously just get better was becoming overbearing. You'd think as a therapist, of all cursed professions, that Willow would know you can't rush the healing process. Not that it's much of a process at all, really. Can you even process and heal something that happened almost two centuries ago? Gemma wasn't sure and after spilling all of her dirty secrets, she wasn't so sure she wanted to find out anymore.

Soon, is all she's able to write back. She can't make the blonde anymore empty promises about when their next session will be. Gemma's more than happy to hang out with the woman, off the clock, she always emphasizes. Which translates to: absolutely no questions about the past.

That's what they all say, the blonde replies quickly. You're breaking my heart, Salvatore.

Gemma smiles dryly, you're not the first person to tell me that, probably won't be the last.

"Gemma?" Elena calls softly, entering the living room where she and Damon had be residing. Truth be told, Gemma didn't realize her brother was actually in the room with her until he made a sound of acknowledgment when Elena walked in. Goes to show how often Gemma checks in and out of reality.

The female Salvatore slips her phone into her back pocket before folding her arms, raising her eyebrows in Elena's general direction to let the human know she was listening.

"I was just wondering if you and Damon ever figured out what that is," she explains.

Gemma looks at Damon to see him holding a pocket watch of some sort, his eyes trained on it like it holds all of the answers to his life's questions. "I have no idea what it is, peach. I wasn't even here when she gave it to him."

"Whatever it is, it doesn't work," Damon complains.

"Pearl didn't say anything else about it?"

"She thought she was stealing his vampire compass, but that was a pocket watch. That Johnathan Gilbert was a crazy scientist." Damon pauses and raises his eyes to squint at Elena. "Have you spoken to your uncle lately?"

"I've been avoiding him, actually. That, and I've been here most nights."

Gemma scoffs out a laugh. She was certainly aware of the extra heartbeat taking residence in their home. What with Elena's hushed murmurs of it'll be alright, Stefan and the human scrummaging around for food in the middle of the night, Gemma can't sleep. Not that she particularly needs the sleep but its better than letting Elena know she's awake because if she did that, the poor Gilbert wouldn't get any rest. The first night she stayed, she sat in Gemma's room and listened to the girl read half the night, in between checking on Stefan, of course.

"So, you'll be here again tonight?" Damon asks, breaking Gemma's train of thought.

"Is that a problem?"

Yes, Gemma grits her teeth. She meets the human's deep, brown eyes and she sighs. "No," she admits. "But I'll be going to bed early."

"Like that's a surprise," Elena hums. "You're getting old, Gemma."

Gemma hums and pulls her phone out of her back pocket. "You're gonna be late for school, kid."

"Funny," the brunette glowers. "I'll see you guys later." She grabs her bag and makes her exist hasty, very obviously bothered by Gemma's comment.

The vampire doesn't know why it bothers the girl so much. It's true, and it's more of a reminder than anything. Wouldn't want any lines getting blurred, right? Gemma grimaces, unlocking her phone and opening she and Willows messages. Soon is sooner than I thought. Any openings?

I can be at your house in two hours, she replies. Almost as if she were waiting by the phone. With how much Gemma's dragged her through the mud already, she wouldn't doubt it if she were.

Fine by me. Bring floaties, we've got some swimming to do.

"While you gossip with Willow, I'll be in the cellar antagonizing Stefan," Damon pipes up.

"I'm not gossiping," the female Salvatore replies distractedly, still texting with the blonde. "It's a therapy session, stupid."

"What ever happened to that plant you got?" He wonders, a smug undertone to his voice.

Gemma pauses and slowly lowers her phone from her face, her lips parting as her eyes widen in horror. "Oh God, no."

"Yeah, well, you have fun with that. Bye, bye now."

--

Gemma and Willow sit across from each other in the foyer, their eyes challenging. Gemma has her hands clasped in front of her, her fingers laced together as she leans forward to brace her forearms against her thighs. Willow raises her eyebrow, leaned back against the couch with a cool demeanor.

"Does it have to be a fight every time?" The blonde questions, cocking her head to the side. Gemma notes that she didn't bother bringing a notepad or anything of the sort that'd give off the impression that it's a session.

"I have trouble figuring out what to say," Gemma explains. "There's always so much going on, so many things that are more important and bigger than just me."

"Just because your problems seem smaller compared to somebody else's doesn't make it less important. Everyone's pain tolerance is different, Gemma. For emotional pain too, that is."

"I just, uh, it's just that everyone else's problems relate to mine, you know? That's the issue with never straying from your siblings. You're too much alike. Their problems are yours, yours are theirs. It just goes like that."

Willow inhales deeply, blinking at the girl. "Just start where you'd like, okay?"

"Well..." She trails off, her eyes straying from the blonde toward the general area of the downstairs entrance. "Stefan's really sick. It could, um, it could be fatal. If he doesn't take initiative to get better, or if he doesn't take his medicine like he's supposed to."

Gemma can't help but grieve over how much easier these sessions would be if Willow knew the whole truth, but that's just more incentive for the therapist to run screaming. If the female Salvatore was a little less selfish, she would've told her to go already.

"Stefan's illness is terminal?" Willow wonders.

"We're waiting," Gemma confesses. "For test results, for a decision... I don't know."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Worried, obviously, but it just..." Her breath hitches as she comes to a pause, shaking her head. "It just makes me think of this time whenever Damon was in a horrible state of mind. It was after Katherine died and it hurt him more deeply than Stefan and I, you know? He was more in love, more defined by his love for her. He made himself into everything she wanted him to be and when she was just gone, he couldn't find a reason to keep going."

"You mean he wanted a way out?" Willow uses lighter phrasing than Gemma thought she would. The therapist must be treading lightly.

"Yeah," the Salvatore confirms. "Stefan and I, we saw the brighter side of it. We knew we'd survive without her, that one day it might not hurt so bad anymore, but Damon... he didn't know how to function. What's left to do when the one thing you define yourself by is gone?"

Willow nods slowly, "does that relate to Stefan's situation?"

"I think so," Gemma admits. "I mean, he's young and he has more than a lifetime to fix things, but he hurt somebody on accident."

"He's beating himself up because of it?"

"God, yes. Stefan's defined himself by having control of his... anger and keeping himself reigned in. He prides himself in having perfect impulse control. When he lost sight of it and accidentally hurt someone, I think... I think he feels like all of that's washed away. That, now that his definition of himself is gone, he can't move on."

"Gemma," Willow murmurs. "How long has it been since you've looked in the mirror and seen something other than what's happened to you?"

The vampire looks up at that, her eyes sharp. "I don't think... I don't think I've ever seen somebody who's not broken."

"What about since that day you told all of us?"

"I see someone who's capable of healing," Gemma shrugs. "I see someone who's not totally broken beyond repair, but I try to put a name to a face and it's not me."

"So, Gemma, who are you?"

The female Salvatore makes a face, twisting the rings on her fingers as an anxious feeling settles over her. Who was she? It's a hard question. Gemma hasn't got a clue who she is, who she's supposed to be, or who she wants to be. She's only ever defined herself by everybody else's definition.

"I don't know," she confesses. "I don't think I've ever really thought that who I wanted to be was important. I was who I needed to be. A sister, a daughter, a friend, a... a wife."

"What do you feel like you need in order to move on?"

Gemma shakes her head, "I don't think anything will work, Willow. An apology? It won't do any good, it happened—" Decades ago. "So long ago. An explanation? No excuse is good enough for what they did to me."

"How about putting yourself first?"

Gemma scoffs, "do I not?"

"I mean, learning to identify your emotions without playing off of other people, Gemma. Taking up your own space without following the lead of others. Maybe, get your own place."

"I identify my emotions just fine, thank you," the dark haired girl replies defensively.

"Really?" Willow drawls, "you're like a blank sheet of paper, Gemma. The most excitement I've ever seen or heard from you is when they restock the alcohol at The Grill."

"What do you mean, playing off of other people?"

"I've seen your mechanisms, your cues. You're like a mirror. You bounce off of other people and what they're feeling, right? Because whatever you're feeling is just too much or not enough."

Gemma sinks back against the couch, a large exhale of air causing her shoulders to curl inward.

"What about pursuing your nursing career?"

"Jenna told you about that?"

Willow grins, "it may have come up."

"I just don't know that I'm ready."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Gemma furrows her eyebrows. "Not enough time."

"You're not getting any younger," Willow tells her.

Gemma smiles to herself, not getting any older either.

"So," Willow taps her fingers across the arm of the leather sofa. "Damon told me that Elena's staying here for a few nights? Until Stefan feels better."

Gemma clears her throat and squints at the blonde, "do you two talk? What are you, gossip buddies?"

"No, but he fills me in when you're being stubborn and refusing to tell me the truth about things."

The female Salvatore groans, "I should've never come back for a second session."

"Does her staying bother you?"

"No."

"Then why the sudden therapy session?"

"She's just... she's difficult to be around."

"How so?"

Gemma shifts. How does she explain that more and more each day, the lines blur between Elena and Katherine? The words, the lingering touches and the gentle stares.

"Elena resembles Katherine," Gemma blurts out.

Willow's eyes widen and she leans forward, her lips parting at a loss for words. "She..." The therapist trails off, "she resembles Katherine?"

"Yes. Not— not in the way they act or their characteristics, not even close. Just, um, their facial features and a few other things."

Willow bites the inside of her cheek, her gaze calculating. "This changes things."

Gemma blinks, "how?"

"Excuse me for being blunt, but Katherine's dead. The fact that you're feeling an emotional connection to Elena because she resembles Katherine is concerning."

"Woah, woah, woah," Gemma stands up from the couch abruptly, her fingers twitching at her sides as she paces in front of the couch. "Nobody said anything about feelings for Elena. Definitely not because of the fact that she resembles Katherine!"

"Okay, okay, all right," Willow holds her hands up in surrender. "No talk about feelings and Elena."

"Elena's a friend, if that. I'm obligated to tolerate her because of the fact that she's dating Stefan, that's all."

Willow runs a hand through her hair, a tight smile gracing her lips as she stares up at the stoic vampire. "I'm guessing this session's coming to a close?"

"Yeah," Gemma agrees. "Yeah, your guess is right."

"I'm just trying to help you," Willow reminds her.

"By insisting that I have feelings for somebody? How is that any form of help? How is that any form of therapy?"

"Because maybe, just maybe, this girl you're so hellbent on tolerating all of the time is the key to you finally waking up and realizing that you're alive, Gemma!" Willow finally snaps, throwing her hands up. She stands up from her seated position and faces the Salvatore, her eyes fiery. "You are so focused on the trauma and the pain of it all that you're forgetting it's over. It happened, it's done and you're not going through any of it anymore."

Alive, alive, alive, al—

"Alive?" Gemma repeats dumbly.

"I've tried to coddle you and baby you into the healing process but that's not my job. I can't do the work for you. I won't."

Gemma sets her jaw, "I'm not asking you to."

"Aren't you?" The blonde argues, "everytime we get somewhere, you clam up and push me away. Then the next time we have a session, you pretend that there was no progress made. I get the back and forth of it all, I do; and I sympathize with you, but I'm starting to wonder what exactly it is that Damon's paying me for."

Gemma presses her lips into a thin line, straightening her shoulders and pushing back the wave of anxiety that washes over her. She didn't particularly like it when people were angry at her. You see, Gemma holds grudges. Whether it be conscious or not, she can't find it within herself to ever forget what people say to her when they're angry. She tries to argue with, what about what you've said while angry? But logic doesn't seem to do much good in these situations.

Gemma shrugs carelessly, "to sit still and look pretty."

As soon as Willow opens her mouth to reply, the front door is being pushed open and in walks the problem to begin with. None other than Elena Gilbert. Gemma folds her arms across her chest and hardens her face, rolling her eyes whenever Willow continues looking at her with an expression of disbelief.

"What's going on?" Elena asks, curious.

Willow smiles wryly, "another day in the life of a burdened therapist."

Gemma almost winces, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

Elena raises her eyebrows, "if it's a burden, why be a therapist?"

Willow grabs the bag she entered with and shakes her head with a heavy sigh, muttering a quiet, "I ask myself that everyday" as she leaves the Boarding House in a rush.

"Well," Gemma claps her hands together, lacing her fingers. "That was quite the show, wasn't it?"

Elena gazes at the vampire, "what did you do?"

"What did I do? Peach, my therapist just quit on me. All hope is lost, there's nobody who can save me now, get the coffin ready because I—"

"I don't even know why I bother asking at this point," the Gilbert mumbles, collapsing on the couch in exhaustion. Her overnight bag lies dormant next to her, her arms limp at her sides. "I'm tired."

Gemma stands stock still, studying the human. Elena's eyes slip closed so easily, so carelessly; like a vampire with half the morality of a serial killer isn't standing in front of her. "Yes," the Salvatore murmurs. "Packing clothes must be tiring."

"John was there," Elena murmurs. "He knows."

Gemma hums, a soft sound of agreement. "He's a Gilbert. Of course he knows."

Elena shakes her head before forcing herself to sit up, a frown gracing her lips. "I'm gonna go down to the basement, try and get Stefan to feed."

"Don't force it," Gemma advises.

"I will if I have to," Elena says firmly.

Gemma scoffs out a laugh. The irony in history is amazing, she thinks to herself. "Alright, well," she sniffs. "I'm gonna go do some day drinking, probably bump into Willow at some point."

"Don't make her drag you back here drunk," Elena groans. "I feel like you've tortured her enough already."

Gemma smirks, "not nearly." She shoves her hands into her pockets and shuffles toward the door, casting the human a glance over her shoulder. "Be a good girl, peach. Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone."

"I can't make any promises!"

••

A couple of hours later, mixed with a few glasses of Bourbon, and Gemma's finding her way back to the Boarding House. Her hope is, is that the newfound warmth of alcohol thrumming in her veins will make everything a little more tolerable. By everything, she means Elena, of course. She opens the door and moves into the house slowly, a hum escaping her throat whenever she sees a fire going in the fireplace. The Gilbert girl sits on the couch in front of the mantle, her legs folded underneath her and a book resting on her abdomen as she reads.

"Still here, peach?"

Elena looks up at Gemma's voice, a small smile gracing her lips. Her eyes hold a foreign looking emotion that the vampire can't decipher but she brushes it off and walks toward her, sitting down beside her on the furniture.

"Were you expecting anything else?"

Gemma sinks into the leather and grabs the crease of Elena's knees, throwing the girl's legs over her thighs. Elena accepts the action without protests, stretching out to get more comfortable. "No," the vampire replies. "Maybe a party, or a few strippers. Didn't think I'd come back to find you reading one of my books, looking like this."

Elena shrugs, "you have a nice selection. How was the bar?"

"Was great," Gemma lets her head rest against the back of the couch. "Willow found me, bitched me out, apologized, and then talked me into coming home, so—"

"Same old, same old?"

"Mhm," Gemma nods. "Did Stefan eat?"

"I thought you didn't care."

The female Salvatore makes a face, "I never said I didn't care. I'm just not overly concerned."

"I think he's getting there," Elena pauses. "But he's got a lot of guilt that he's got to deal with. It doesn't help that you and Damon have spent the last one-hundred and forty-five years punishing him for Katherine getting caught."

The warmth in Gemma's chest shrivels up and disappears almost as fast as it came, her eyes widening as a sober feeling overtakes her. She lifts her head up to look Elena in the eyes, her hands holding the girl's legs falling slack. "So this is my fault?"

"No, it's no one's fault," the human shifts. "I'm just saying... you're not exactly innocent. Damon's made it his life's mission to make Stefan miserable and you've done nothing. You've just been a bystander while claiming to love them both."

Gemma nods sharply and stands up from the couch, disregarding the way Elena yelps at the abrupt movement. The female Salvatore runs a hand through her hair, nodding slowly as she gazes at the Gilbert. "Let me ask you a question," she starts. "In all of this important soul searching and cleansing of the demons from Stefan's past, did you ever manage to get the rest of the story?"

Elena hesitates, "he said there was more."

"Yeah, that's an understatement."

Elena stands up from the couch, her hands outstretched to reach for Gemma. The vampire tries to turn away but the Gilbert's insistent, grabbing her by the forearm and pulling her close. "Gemma," she murmurs. "Gemma, tell me. It's just us, it's just me."

That's the problem, she thinks to herself.

Gemma sits by the edge of the quarry with her head in her hands. Damon had long since wandered off somewhere, wanting to mourn Katherine in peace and Stefan; God only knows where he's gone. He's developed a habit for disappearing when she and Damon needed him the most.

She presses her fingers into her temples, a soft noise of pain escaping her lips. She knew what was happening to her, but she couldn't find it within herself to care. Was there anything left for her? Without Damon, without her best friend, without the dignity she once had— there was nothing. Nothing but the guilt and—

"Gemma!" Stefan exclaims, coming out of the trees.

The female Salvatore immediately turns to him, her eyes wide with what she knows mirrors a look of horror. She could practically smell the blood on him as soon as he exited the brush of trees surrounding them. The bleeding girl he holds, the girl that looks so familiar, the girl that's pleading with her eyes, the girl that's half dead already, the—

"Violet," Gemma breathes, pushing herself to her feet. She doesn't dare move forward for the fact that the blood is too much already, and she's barely glanced at it more than once. "Stefan, what are you doing? Why do you have her?"

"I brought her for you and Damon," he says, his eyes frantic and wide. "She's a gift, have a seat, please!"

"No, no, no," Gemma brushes off his attempt to sit her down again. Her hands hover in mid-air, unsure on what to do. "What have you done?"

"Gemma, I've been to see father. He came at me. I didn't know my own strength. There was blood everywhere, he was dying and the blood was too strong. I needed it, I had to have it."

Gemma swallows thickly, "you fed."

"Yes, and it's incredible!" He gushes. "My body is exploding with power, Gemma."

"Maybe I should find D—"

"I can hear things from far away," Stefan lurches forward and grabs Gemma by the arm, his other hand occupied with holding Violet. "I can see through the darkness. I can move, like it's magic. The guilt, the pain, Gemma, I can turn it off! Like a switch. Katherine was right, it's a whole other world out there. You, me and Damon, we can—"

"Katherine's dead, Stefan," Gemma says wearily. "Damon doesn't want to live without Katherine."

"No, no, he can turn that off too. He doesn't have to feel that pain anymore."

"But I—"

"You can be strong, Gemma!" He tells her, "isn't that what you've wanted? To be strong."

Gemma shakes her head, gently trying to tug her arm out of his grasp. "Stefan, so much has happened that you don't know about. I don't want this, I don't want this life. I cant—"

"You'll die," he says, almost desperate.

"No," Gemma finally snaps. "Let her go. I'm not doing this."

Stefan hand moves from her arm to the crease between her neck and shoulder, his eyes flashing with a newfound irritation. "I won't let you die. You do it, or I will."

Gemma stills, white hot anxiety slithering down her spine. "Let me go," she demands.

"No."

"Stefan," she struggles harder but it's no use. He's already transitioned, he's stronger and faster. He's turned it off, he doesn't care. "Stefan, stop!"

The veins under Stefan's eyes grow prominent before he pushes Violet forward at the same time he forces Gemma's mouth onto the innocent girl's neck. Violet's body thrashes and vibrates with a piercing shriek but it doesn't seem to matter anymore. Blood has been spilled, and Gemma can only seem to be glad that it's not hers this time.

••

Gemma sits on the stone wall of the Boarding House, her lips stretched into an amused smile as Stefan and Elena trail up to the house with their hands laced together. How sweet, she thinks dryly. All's right in the world and Elena runs back to Mr. Loverman. "Little boy lost," she greets.

"I'll be upstairs," Elena whispers to Stefan, flashing Gemma a small smile before disappearing inside.

Stefan sticks his hands inside of his pockets, awkwardly lingering beside Gemma. "Thank you," he finally says.

Gemma laughs humorlessly, "for what?"

"For helping her take care of me. I know it's probably the last thing you wanted to do, seeing as how you feel about me, but—"

"You brood too much," she cuts him off, her voice sharp. "You feel guilt and pain for things that didn't happen to you, or for things you weren't even blamed for in the first place. Let it go, brother. I don't blame you for the past. They call it the past for a reason."

"Do you feel guilt?"

"About Violet?" Gemma asks, her voice almost somber. Stefan nods and the female Salvatore shifts, clearing her throat. "I do. I looked into who she turned out to be after father did what he did, you know... she was to be married. She had step-children that adored her, and a family-to-be that worshiped the ground she walked on. She would've had the life she deserved."

"Why don't you hate me?"

"A part of me does," Gemma admits. "But not because you made me feed off of Violet."

"Then why?"

Gemma stands from the stone wall, facing her brother with an emotionless expression. "Because you made me feed at all. I wanted to die, Stefan. I wanted this life to be over. I wanted to die and be at peace, and never have to worry about father or Leo ever again. I knew that death was the only way out and you robbed me of that."

Stefan's lips part, "I thought you just wanted to be free."

"Little brother," Gemma clasps her hands onto his shoulders, a solemn smile gracing her lips. "For me, death is freedom." There's a long pause between them before the woman nods and brushes past him, a slow exhale of air escaping her lungs. "I'm glad you're okay. Goodnight, Stefan."

••

not edited.