Chapter 46: Shattered Memories
The rain outside was gentle, whispering against the windows of the Salvatore house like a forgotten lullaby. Inside, however, there was no peace. Stefan stood by the window, phone in hand, calling everyone he could think of. He was searching, investigating, battling worry. Meanwhile, Damon paced the room in quick strides, muttering confused words to himself about Elias Maro, and everything they still didn't know.
As for Alexander—he was lying quietly on the couch, eyes closed, body still—too still.
At first, Damon thought he had dozed off, overwhelmed by everything they'd uncovered. But Alexander's stillness carried something deeper. A hidden tension. A silent grip burning behind his eyelids.
Inside his mind... the dream had already begun.
---
The world was drowning in fog. The cobblestone path beneath Alexander's bare feet was wet, stretching ahead into a narrow alley he didn't recognize, yet somehow felt familiar. He was younger. A child no older than ten or eleven. His clothes were torn, his hands wounded.
And in front of him... stood his father.
"Giuseppe..." Alexander whispered, the name echoing around him as though it were a curse.
Giuseppe Salvatore wasn't alone. A woman stepped forward—Katherine. Her smile was gentle, but artificial, hiding a buried malice. And beside her... there were two others. One was a witch, her eyes glowing with unnatural power. The other was a tall man, shrouded in darkness, his face hidden. But Alexander knew him.
Elias Maro.
Giuseppe spoke coldly, pointing at the trembling child, "This is the boy. A bastard with no origin. Curse him, bind him in pain. Make sure he never harms my real sons. Make him forget who he is."
Katherine murmured with a soft sarcasm, "You want to erase him completely... You've always been a cruel man, Giuseppe."
Giuseppe snapped, "He is not a Salvatore. He is a disgrace to this family. I want him to suffer. I want him forgotten."
The witch stepped forward, whispering incantations in an ancient tongue, while Elias moved like smoke and grabbed young Alexander by the arms. There was no time to scream. The spell flooded his body like fire running through his veins.
Pain.
He felt everything. His bones breaking. His skin igniting. His thoughts shattering like splintered glass. Then—
Darkness.
---
He awoke in chains.
Elias Maro stood above him, and this time, his face was clearer. He wasn't just a monster—he was also a man—wounded, aged, and cruel.
"This is your new life," he said in a hollow voice. "Pain. Until nothing remains."
And the pain came. For days. Weeks. Months. Years.
Alexander no longer knew how long he had been imprisoned in that hell. Time became a fog.
Elias tortured him. Destroyed him. Tore him apart again and again, body and mind. And with every session, he whispered lies:
"You are nothing. No family. No name. No past."
He forced him to forget, fed it to him like poison. Even the name "Alexander" began to sound foreign to his lips.
But... deep inside, a small spark refused to die.
And after years—he didn't know how many—he found a crack. A moment of weakness in Elias's guard. And he escaped.
He fled into the forest. Into darkness. Into the unknown.
It was then that he met someone—
A strange vampire.
He was smiling.
Calm.
A cigar in hand.
That vampire helped Alexander for a long time and brought back part of his humanity—until one day, Alexander decided to leave.
And somehow... he ended up in Mystic Falls.
Wounded. Lost. Holding onto a name he barely remembered, and not knowing why he felt that strange bond toward Stefan and Damon Salvatore.
---
Alexander woke suddenly on the couch, gasping.
The room was spinning around him, but he was awake. His hands were trembling. He looked at his palms—no blood. No chains. Just skin... just the present moment.
Stefan turned, surprised. "Alexander?"
Damon stepped toward him. "What is it?"
Alexander looked up at his brothers. His voice was rough, scorched:
"I remember everything."
Their faces froze.
Damon asked cautiously, "What do you mean?"
Alexander stood with difficulty. "Giuseppe... he's the one who did this to me. He made a deal with Katherine. She brought the witch. And Elias... he helped them curse me. Then he took me."
Stefan whispered, shocked, "What?"
Alexander said bitterly, "He tortured me for decades. That's why no one remembered. That's why I didn't know who I was. The curse wasn't just pain. It was erasure. And Elias... he made me forget everything."
A heavy silence fell.
Stefan murmured, "But you escaped."
Alexander nodded slowly. "Yes. I escaped. And somehow, I found my way to you. The memories were shattered, but the bond between us... was real."
Damon ran a hand over his face, frustrated. "And Elias is still alive."
Alexander's gaze darkened. "Yes. But this time... he won't win. This time, I'm not cursed."
—
Silence returned to the Salvatore living room, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the wall. Alexander sat leaning forward, elbows on his knees, head bowed, fists clenched. The images of the dream were etched into his memory like scars that never healed... but now they were visible. Now they were real.
Stefan poured him a glass of bourbon and handed it over without a word. Damon remained by the window, arms crossed, jaw tight in thought.
Stefan spoke in a low voice, as if louder words might shatter something:
"He tortured you?"
Alexander replied, "For so many years... I stopped counting after the first ten. I think... I wanted to forget. Not just because of the curse, but because forgetting was easier."
Damon turned slowly, eyes narrowing:
"And Elias... he helped Katherine curse you?"
Alexander nodded.
"He wasn't just helping her. He had his own reasons. He fed on my pain... literally. I think he used it to stay alive, to grow stronger. He wasn't just a hunter. He was a predator in every sense."
Stefan's voice darkened.
"And our father... Giuseppe... he orchestrated all of it. Hated you so much he wanted you erased."
Alexander didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Damon laughed bitterly.
"That bastard worked so hard to appear like the perfect father, while sending you straight to hell."
Alexander said softly:
"He always hated anything that reminded him he wasn't in control. And I... wasn't his blood."
A heavy silence settled among them again, broken only when Stefan suddenly stood up:
"I'm calling Alaric and Bonnie. We need everything they have on Elias Maro... any legends about hunters, records of dark magic, forbidden rituals... anything."
Damon agreed:
"I'll reach out to Caroline. If Elias is connected to magic, she might know a witch who can help us dig deeper. This couldn't all have been done by one man. He must've had help building that curse."
Each of them took their role without hesitation. As they always had—circling around one another, finding rhythm even in crisis. This time was no different.
---
Later that afternoon
Bonnie arrived first, her hair up in a messy bun, holding an old spellbook in her arms.
"You said Elias Maro?" she asked, brushing past Damon without stopping, heading straight to the table.
"Alaric's on his way, but I didn't want to waste a second."
Alexander looked up as she passed by, offering a faint smile.
"You got here fast."
Bonnie shot him a sharp look.
"Of course. I brought you back to life. I'm not letting you die again."
She began flipping pages quickly, laying out several old scrolls and notes from her grandmother's archive.
"There's not much on Elias. His name barely shows up in hunter records. But I found references to someone—informally—who broke the natural order. Someone who stole pain and kept it as fuel."
Damon leaned on the table.
"Sounds like our guy."
Bonnie looked at Alexander.
"I think he created rituals to absorb supernatural energy from those he tortured. Over time, he became... less human. Not immortal in the literal sense. But close. Like a parasite."
"He used your curse as a power source."
Alexander laughed darkly.
"So I was just a battery, then."
Bonnie replied softly:
"A powerful battery. You survived him."
Stefan returned with Alaric, who walked into the room holding an open notebook.
He said, showing the book:
"This belonged to one of the old 19th-century witches. A friend from the Bennett line. She wrote about a hunter who made deals with forbidden forces to command cursed souls. She didn't name him, but her drawings match the symbol we found on Elias's old ring."
Damon pursed his lips.
"So he's been planning this for a long time. Longer than we thought."
Alexander sat back, watching them all move. He felt something strange... gratitude mixed with alienation. As if the version of himself they had known was fading. He was no longer just the cursed brother. He was the result of centuries of pain, lies, and betrayal.
And now?
Now he was free of it all.
---
Night fell over Mystic Falls
As everyone dispersed to search and reach out to allies, Alexander remained alone in the living room, staring into the fire.
He didn't notice Stefan approach until he spoke quietly:
"Are you okay?"
Alexander answered honestly:
"No. But I will be."
Stefan asked hesitantly:
"Do you remember our mother?"
Alexander paused, then shook his head:
"Just flashes... a song, her smile. I don't know who she was. I just know she wasn't part of Giuseppe's world. Maybe that's why he hated me so much."
"He tried to erase you from our lives."
Alexander replied firmly:
"But he failed. Somehow, I found my way back to you."
Stefan said seriously:
"Because you're a Salvatore. More than he ever was."
Alexander smiled faintly:
"You sound like the older brother."
Stefan patted his shoulder with a grin:
"One of us has to keep Damon in line."
A sarcastic voice called from the hallway:
"I heard that, little brother."
Damon appeared, carrying two bourbon bottles and three glasses.
"Thought we'd toast to the worst father in history... and celebrate that you survived him."
Alexander took his glass, smiling:
"To survival."
Damon raised his glass:
"And to kicking his ass from beyond the grave."
The glasses clinked, and the flames blazed behind them.
The war with Elias wasn't over. Not yet.
But the brothers were united once more.
And this time... nothing could break them.
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