Elena paused for breath, and to gauge what effect, if any, her speech was having on the brothers. At least they weren't currently trying to kil each other. That had to be a good sign. They stared at each other now, their faces unreadable. Damon licked the blood from his lips. Stefan reached up and careful y ran his free hand over the torn skin on his face and chest. Neither one said a word. Was there a connection left between them? Damon was looking at the cuts on Stefan's neck with an almost soft expression in his black eyes.
Elena let go of them and threw up her hands. "Fine," she said. "If you can't forgive each other, then just think about this. The phantom wants you to fight. It wants you to kil each other, to hate each other. Your jealousy is what's feeding it. One thing I know about you - about both of you - is that you've never given your enemies anything they wanted, not even if it would have saved you. Are you going to give in to what this phantom, this manipulative monster, wants? Is it going to control you, or are you going to control you? Does either of you real y want to murder your brother for someone else?"
At the same exact moment, Damon and Stefan blinked. After a few seconds, Stefan cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm glad you're not dead after al ," he offered. The corner of Damon's mouth twitched. "I'm relieved I didn't manage to kil you today, little brother," he answered. Apparently, that was al they had to say. They held each other's eyes for a beat longer, then turned to Elena.
"So," said Damon, and he was beginning to smile, a wild, reckless smile that Elena recognized. Damon the unstoppable, Damon the antihero, was back. "How do we kil this bitch?"
Mrs. Flowers and the phantom were stil locked in their silent, almost motionless battle. Mrs. Flowers was beginning to lose ground to the phantom, though. The phantom's stance was wider; its arms had spread out. It was gradual y gaining the power to move, and Mrs. Flowers's hands and arms were shaking with strain. Her face was pale, and the lines of age around her mouth seemed deeper.
"We have to hurry," Elena said to Damon and Stefan. They skirted around Mrs. Flowers and the phantom, and joined the others who, white-faced and wary, were watching them approach. In front of them, only two candles stil burned.
"Stefan," Elena said. "Go."
Stefan stared down at the dark blue candle stil burning on the floor of the garage. "I've been jealous of everyone lately, it seems," he said, the shame evident in his tone.
"I've been jealous of Matt, whose life seems so simple and good to me, who I know could have taken Elena out of the shadows and given her the uncomplicated life she deserves. I was jealous of Caleb, who seemed like the kind of golden boy who would be a good match for Elena, so much so that I distrusted him even before I had reason to, because I thought he was after her. And especial y, I was jealous of Damon."
His gaze left the candle and settled on his brother's face. Damon looked back at him with an inscrutable expression.
"I suppose I've always been jealous of him. The phantom was tel ing the truth when she said that. When we were alive, he was older, faster, stronger, more sophisticated than I was. When we died" - Stefan's lips curled up in a bitter smile of remembrance - "things only got worse. And, even more recently, when Damon and I found we could work together, I've resented how close he was to Elena. He has a piece of her that I'm not a part of, and it's hard not to be jealous of that."
Stefan sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "The thing is, though, I love my brother. I do." He looked up at Damon. "I love you. I always have, even when we were at our worst. Even when al we wanted to do was kil each other. Elena's right: We're more than the bad parts of ourselves. I have fed the phantom of jealousy, but now I cast my jealousy away."
The blue candle flickered and went out. Elena was watching the phantom closely, and saw the rose in its torso dul for a moment. The phantom flinched and snarled, then renewed its struggle against Mrs. Flowers's spel . As it gave a powerful twist, the older woman staggered backward.
"Now!" Elena muttered quietly to Damon, looking at him meaningful y and wishing more than ever that she had her powers of telepathy. Distract her, she hoped her eyes said. Damon nodded once, as if to say he understood her message, then cleared his throat theatrical y, drawing every eye to him, and picked up the dark red candle, the last one burning in the line. He dabbed a line of his blood down its length and spent a few seconds posed with his head lowered pensively, his long, dark eyelashes brushing his cheeks. He was milking the moment for every drop of drama.
Once every eye was fixed on him, Elena touched Stefan and indicated for him to help her approach the phantom from either side.
"I have been jealous," Damon intoned, staring down at the flame of the candle he held. He flicked his eyes up quickly at Elena, and she nodded encouragingly.
"I have been jealous," he repeated, frowning. "I have coveted that which my brother has, over and over again."
Elena slipped closer to the phantom, coming up beside it on its right side. She could see that Stefan was inching nearer on its left.
Mrs. Flowers saw them, too. Elena could tel , because the older woman raised her eyebrows fractional y and began to mutter her spel more loudly and fiercely. Damon's voice rose, too, everyone in the room competing for Jealousy's attention, to keep it from noticing Stefan and Elena's machinations.
"I don't need to go into every single detail of my past,"
Damon said, his familiar smirk appearing on his battered face, a smirk that Elena found oddly reassuring. "I think there's been enough of that here today. Suffice it to say there are things I... regret. Things that I would like to be different in the future." He paused dramatical y for a moment, his head thrown back proudly. "And so I admit that I have fed the phantom of jealousy. And now I cast jealousy out."