AN: This is a very sad piece about Elena's feelings after Alaric's 'death' and how she and Jeremy came to paint that room in the middle of the night. It's horrible how they keeps losing everyone in her life.

Spoilers for episodes 3x20 and 3x21. Warning: talk of character death.

Empty Rooms

When Stefan dropped her off at home had had offered to stay with her for the night, just as a friend, but she had turned him down. She had wanted to be alone.

But as soon as Elena had stepped into the house she had regretted that decision. She could feel the emptiness of the place pressing down on her like a heavy weight. Every empty room, every silent corner was like a punch to the gut, a painful reminder of how the house had once been. Full of life, full of joy, full of people who weren't here anymore.

Her mom, her dad. Jenna. John. And now even Alaric.

They were all dead.

She ran up to her room, as tears started to run down her cheeks again, and she discarded her 1920's costume, pulling it off so violently that she tore her dress at the seams.

She didn't care, because at that moment she felt sick to her stomach, anger bubbling up from inside her. Only that morning she had been worrying about the stupid dance. About what to wear, who to take, how to deal with her fucked up love life.

She was angry at herself. Angry at Esther, at Klaus, at all vampires and Originals, werewolves and hybrids.

If she had a chance, a weapon that could destroy them all, she would have at that moment, damn the consequences.

She dressed in her pajama's and as the anger wore down she felt as empty as the house around her. She almost went to bed, wanting the night to be over and maybe, just maybe, wake up the next morning and all of it would have been a dream. Everyone she had lost would still be there, alive and well. Everything would be alright.

But Elena had stopped believing in miracles a long time ago.

She wanted to sleep, but something drew her out of her room and before she knew it, she was standing in the doorway to Ric's room. Standing there was almost too much and she had to steady herself against the doorway.

The room was still full of his stuff. Full of memories, smells, full of him. One of his shirts still hung carelessly over a chair, threatening to glide off. His books were scattered on his desk, next to a pile of papers he still needed to grade. His bed was unmade.

If she had thought to find some sort of comfort in his room then she was wrong. It was nothing more then a reminder that he wasn't there anymore. Dead, dead, dead, the room seemed to scream at her. Dead, dead, dead and it was all her fault.

Elena couldn't stand it anymore and she slammed the door shut, the sound echoing through the house. But it was no use, she could still feel it, sense the empty mockery of his room, excusing her, blaming her.

She felt herself standing on the edge of hysteria and she knew damn well that she wasn't in her right mind right now. She was grieving, in shock.

She was going crazy with grief and it wouldn't be long before she would probably break down completely. She was a mess, but even in her darkest hours there was one thing that Elena never did and that was give up.

And so she angrily wiped away her tears and headed downstairs.

The room had to go. She couldn't sleep with it there, waiting, empty. It had to go and Elena knew just what to do.

She had managed to haul out almost everything save for the desk and one large closet, but it still hadn't been enough. So she had grabbed some paint and went to work. She had only just begun when she heard the front door open and close.

"Elena?" Jeremy called from downstairs.

She was glad to hear his voice, but she felt too tired to respond. She could barely stand on her feet as it was and he needed all her energy to keep paining. Painting the room kept the pain, the sorrow, the hysteria at bay. As long as she kept painting she wouldn't have to think about it. She wouldn't have to worry about the fact that Jeremy and her were really truly alone now.

Jeremy came up the stairs and of course he headed straight to her. He must have seen the furniture in the landing and smelled the paint.

"Elena. What are you doing?" He asked a little bit hoarsely. He was still wearing his costume. But his hair was disheveled and his eyes were red and puffy.

Elena didn't stop painting while she answered him.

"I'm changing the room." She said, as if that would make any sense.

"Why?"

"Because ..." There was no way she could even explain it, explain the feeling it gave her, the guilt, the pain, the need she felt to be rid of it. "I just have to Jer, I ..." She looked at him pleadingly, willing him to understand.

Gently, Jeremy took the brush from her hand and set it down on the floor.

"Please Jer." She pleaded once more and she was crying again, even though she didn't think it was possible to shed any more tears.

Jeremy sighed and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Elena welcomed the hug and held him tight, so tight that she would never ever lose him too.

"Do you want to paint the room?" He asked quietly as he stroked her hair to calm her down.

"Yes." She whispered miserably and she didn't care that this was all wrong. That she was supposed to be the elder sibling, that she was supposed to be taking care of him. She didn't care, because she just couldn't right now. Perhaps in the morning she would be strong again, but not now.

"Okay." He replied. "Then I'll help."

He stepped back and that made her stomach turn.

"Promise me." She blurted out franticly, grabbing his arm again.

"What?" Jeremy exclaimed confused. "Sure, I promise to help you paint a room. In the middle of the night. For no apparent reason." For a moment he smiled as he always did when he teased her.

"No." Elena said. It hadn't been what she had meant. "Promise me, you'll never ... " She couldn't finish the sentence, she just couldn't say those words, because if she said them then maybe, maybe it would be true. "You have to stay. Always."

She didn't think she was making any sense, but Jeremy still seemed to understand her perfectly and he looked down on her more serious and sincerely then she had ever seen him look.

"I promise." He whispered.

Elena knew deep down that it made no difference. That if Fate wanted Jeremy dead a stupid promise wouldn't save him. But it still made all the difference in the world to her.

Jeremy handed her her brush again and picked one up for himself.

"This is a really ugly color." He said after a moment.

Elena shrugged at that. "It was the only paint we had."

Jeremy shrugged as well and then, with a mischievous look in his eyes, he splashed some paint on her.

"Hey!" Elena exclaimed and she couldn't help it. For the first time after leaving Alaric, she laughed. It was stupid and childish and juvenile and Elena splashed him right back, hitting him right on the cheek.

Jeremy retaliated again, painting a streak on her arm and they both laughed.

And just for a small moment in time, the silence was gone and rooms weren't quite as empty as before.