Ch.2: The Dark Knight

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Dear journal,


Katherine and I are working together and, for once in a long time, getting along. I guess a crisis makes things like that happen; more specifically Klaus, Elena's death and resurrection, and Katherine's experience of near death. I hope things will stay peaceful between us if and when Klaus is gone.


-Damon Salvatore, 2005


When I walk inside, I hear a noise from the basement. I rush down there to check, since Kat's not upstairs.
When I see the dagger coming out, I use a fire machine of Ric's, which makes it stop. When it does, I race to Kat's side, where she lays on her side, and kneel down. She's pale with cracked skin, and her eyes are closed. There's a stake in the middle of her chest, so I pull it out and gently roll her onto her back.
As I look down at her, I try to sense something through the sire bond; anything.
"No," I say, half growling. I won't lose her. Not tonight. If anyone deserves to die, it's me.
I'm the one that has always killed people. Kat tries to do the right thing. She's trying to do better.
I gently pull her into my arms and pick her up, closing the door to the cell. Then I race up the stairs and lay her down on the couch.

She's very limp. This both worries and frightens me.
I sit by her and position her head gently back, before biting my wrist and putting it to her lips, making my blood go down her throat.
"Come on, Kat. Don't die. Please, don't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Kat. I left when I shouldn't have. Please, stay with me," I say, pleading with her.
When I think I've given her enough, I take my wrist away. It instantly heals and I look down at her still form. I then take her cold, fragile hand in mine. I use my free hand to rest on her forehead.

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