Damon was sitting in the cafeteria of the hospital. He was still angry with Elena. Though angry wasn’t exactly the right word. Defeated was más like it. It felt like the universe was doing everything to keep them apart. Well, Damon meant what he’d said. If Elena died, so would he. He wasn’t going to spend another century and a half alone and hated. Sure, there would be other women begging for his attention, but none of them would be Elena Gilbert.
“Damon?” he heard a weak voice say from behind him. He looked over his shoulder. Elena was standing in the doorway, a blanket over her...
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