"I used to think the worst feeling in the world was losing someone you love, but I was wrong. The worst feeling is the moment that you realize you've lost yourself."

They always say that you see your life flash before your eyes as you die. Elena supposed it was true—after all, she'd died enough that she should probably have an opinion on that statement. But as she watched the life fade from his eyes, she became him. She saw him growing up, relived all of the hardships he'd faced throughout his short life, the pain he'd suffered—most of it was blood on her hands.

She tried to stop, to protect him from her, but she was a part of him and him a part of her. At no point in her life had she lived without him, and now he was gone—dying by her hands just as everyone before him had. And as she saw the last ember of life die, she knew that part of her was dying with him.

TEN YEARS LATER

"Well you tell Rosaline that if her manuscript is not on my desk by eight tomorrow morning, she's done," Elena snapped into her phone, hearing her secretary's breath catch. Elena no longer noticed the sharp edge to her voice—she'd long since grown used to it and truly enjoyed the fear she instilled in others by simply speaking.

"B-but Ms. Gilbert, she said she just needs a few more days because her mom is in the hospital and—"

"I don't care if her entire family drove into the ocean. She's already missed her deadline twice, and if I don't have that manuscript by tomorrow, I will make sure that her name is mud at every respectable publisher on the east coast. Do you understand, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, Ms. Gilbert. I'll make sure she knows."

A smirk spread across Elena's face as her secretary agreed. "Good. Now get back to work. Mr. Evans is visiting in two days and the office needs to be in top shape for his arrival. You know how much I hate disappointing Mr. Evans, Elizabeth."

"I know, Ms. Gilbert. I'll make sure the office is clean by the time you get here."

"Wonderful! I'm heading there soon, so don't screw it up." Elena quipped as she laid her phone back on her nightstand. She heard a quiet whimper and returned her attention to the young man on her bed. "Sorry, I can't say I enjoy interrupting my personal time with business calls, but sometimes it's unavoidable. Now, where were we?" Elena purred, relishing in the terror she saw in her captor's eyes.

"P-please don't hurt me," the young man whimpered, "I thought we were just g-going to get drinks."

Elena smiled, crawling up to lay beside him on the pristinely-made bed. She reached up to gently move a stray curl from his teary eyes. "I am," she whispered as she sank her fangs into his neck. The warmth of his blood spread throughout her eternally cold body as it flowed across her tongue. The sweet and tangy taste of him engulfed her taste buds, noting the delightful hints of freesia flowers and orange zest.

It had taken her years to differentiate between tastes and textures of blood, and even longer to find her specific favorites. The night before, she been bored and had decided to make the trek to the pub down the block for a midnight snack—and had been sorely disappointed in the results. The drunkard hadn't lasted long before she decided he was unworthy and snapped his neck.

This man, however, was delectable. Hints of sandalwood and wood smoke wafted through her nose as she pulled one last gulp, releasing his neck from her grasp and looking into his weary, exhausted eyes. She ran her tongue slowly over the bite, watching as the skin knitted itself back together. When she'd discovered this trick a few years ago, a part of her had wondered how the Salvatores had never noticed this power—but she quickly blocked the thought from her mind. "Why are you doing this to me?" he mumbled as his hand came up to grasp his neck.

"Because I have to… Because I don't have anything else. " Elena's eyes clouded over with painful memories, but felt nothing. She had long since turned off her emotions—it was the reason she was the best publisher in New York City. She felt nothing but irritation towards the humans that worked and wrote for her. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and Elena had the guts to eat all of the competition—literally.

"But why me? Why'd it have to be me?" he cried, tears rolling down his face. Elena's face hardened as his yell echoed throughout the apartment. She rose off the bed and began pacing the room as her nostalgia disappeared, replaced with that ever-common irritation towards the human race.

"Because you looked delicious. And you are," she purred, the edge returning to her voice as her head cocked to the side, "But now you've left me in a difficult position. You see, I have neighbors—neighbors that probably heard that little outburst. Now I could let you live and just compel them to believe that my boyfriend likes to get kinky. But it's a lot easier to just do this."

She suddenly grabbed him and shoved him into the wall. "You won't struggle. You wanted this."

She watched as his pupils dilated with her compulsion, and before he could make a sound Elena pulled him through the door to the balcony. Without a second thought, she launched him over the protective railing and gazed at his body as it fell ten stories, landing with a satisfying crunch on the brick ground of the alley behind her apartment.

After locking the door and grabbing her bag she left the apartment, knowing that it would be a matter of minutes until police got the report of a poor young man that had jumped to his death due to the stress of student loans and a gambling addiction. If the neighbors really ratted her out, she would just deny it. Elena always cleaned up after herself, so they wouldn't find any evidence to the contrary. She couldn't find it in herself to care.

As she walked down the busy streets of New York City, she quickly pulled out her phone and dialed Elizabeth. Her snack had taken longer than she'd expected, which meant she needed an update from the surprisingly helpful secretary. As useful as the emotion-switch was, it had enhanced other parts of her personality—namely her need to constantly know what was happening that stemmed from the multitude of death threats she'd experienced in her 28 years.

Elizabeth picked up after only one ring, just as Elena had instructed her to years ago when they'd first begun to work together. "Ms. Gilbert, I was just about to call you. Mr. Evans called to tell you he's coming tomorrow instead of Thursday."

Elena groaned. That insufferable man had been the bane of her existence since she'd left Virginia. She'd risen to power in Evans Publishing quickly using her writing skills, education, and compulsion to become the lead publicist of the company—the only position below President Evans. He continually told her what to do, which would be no problem for her compulsion—if she could ever get past his body guards and entourage. "Fine. That just means I need you to call Rosaline back and tell her I need the manuscript in four hours. Okay, Elizabeth? Oh, and you need to make sure that Mr. Evans' car is ready at the airport by f—

Elena was cut off as she slammed into someone, her bag and phone falling to the ground. She hadn't been taken by surprise in years, but had been paying so much attention to the call that the man seemed to appear in front of her out of thin-air. "You've got to be kidding me!" she griped as she leaned down to retrieve her things, still not comprehending the stupid human man until he spoke—not as if he'd just run into her on the sidewalk, but as if he knew her life story.

"I'm sorry."

She froze as her blood ran cold, her brow furrowing as she tried to place the voice that she hadn't heard since that night ten years ago. Then it hit her. Her mouth began to open and her eyes widened in fear and surprise as her breath caught in her throat. She kept her head low as she rose with her bags in limp arms, trying to pretend as though her two worlds had not just collided in a cataclysmic way.

But she could no longer avoid his powerful gaze—it was as if he was compelling her to meet his eyes. Elena slowly turned her head toward the face she knew would be there. The ice-blue eyes she was faced with made her stagger backwards. She had left him behind—had left them all behind. He was part of a different life, and one she had never wanted to return to. Taking in a shuddering breath, she whispered the name she never thought she'd have to say again.

"Damon," she breathed as shock coursed through her body. Elena had left Mystic Falls ten years ago without thought—and without goodbyes. She'd always figured Damon would show up again, but had never imagined it would be this soon. They had eternity, after all. But now seeing him after all this time, she couldn't remember how she'd went two years without jumping his bones. This man was gorgeous, and he was gazing directly at her.

Elena steeled her gaze as the surprise wore off, and returned to her normal attitude. "It's been a long time, Damon. I didn't think I'd ever see your face again."

He gave her an odd look before responding. "You know it'll take a lot more than a seven hour drive to keep me from finding you," he smirked, playing along and jumping right back into their carefree banter from years ago, "So this is where you live now? I can't say I had you pegged as a big city girl, Elena."

Elena smirked as she started walking, sending a suggesting glance for him to follow her. "What can I say? Small town life is boring. It was time for a change," she answered, countering with a question of her own. "But what are you doing here? For some reason I doubt it's just to see the Statue of Liberty."

The smirk on Damon's face disappeared, and Elena knew that she wasn't going to like his reason. "I came to bring you back to Mystic Falls. Caroline—"

Elena interrupted him with a short laugh before shadow fell across her face. "If you think I'm ever going back to that hellhole, you're sadly mistaken. That town has nothing left for me—it's already taken everything from me."

Pain flashed across Damon's features as he remembered all the pain Mystic Falls and its creatures had caused her before he refuted her statement. "What about your best friend? She's still alive and she needs you a hell of a lot more than the people in New York."

Her step faltered as she turned to face him. "Who, Caroline? What happened to her?" she asked, trying to sound concerned but failing horribly.

"Her mom died a few days ago. It's practically destroyed her."

Elena paused, recalling the woman that had helped raise her and trying to find some emotion other than irritation that Damon was here ruining everything she'd worked towards for years. "Is that supposed to mean something to me? I told you I couldn't care less about anyone or anything in that town."

"But Caroline is your best friend, Elena! Why aren't you…" Damon trailed off in thought, attempting to determine what was different about the woman in front of him. Finally, his eyes widened as he realized the truth. "You turned it off," he muttered in disbelief.

"Turned what off?" Elena replied with a fake expression of confusion and innocence. She'd known that he'd figure out that she'd flicked the switch, but it had taken him longer than she'd expected. It disappointed her a little.

His shock turned into anger as he realized she knew exactly what he meant. "Your emotions, Elena. Why the hell would you turn them off?"

She chuckled, "Oh, those pesky little things? Can't say I miss them much. All they did was get in the way."

"Elena, this isn't you. You're better than this!" he growled, grasping her arm in a hold she couldn't break. In the past ten years she'd never been overpowered—there weren't enough vampires in New York to pose a threat. She didn't like feeling weak, but there was nothing she could do to stop him.

"Oh it's very much me, Damon," she gritted through her teeth, and ugly scowl marring her features, "This has been me for ten years, and it'll continue to be me for as long as I want."

"No. You're not this person, Elena. You're good, and you're caring—and the biggest freaking martyr I've ever met. You'd do anything to keep the people you love safe. Remember that person? That is the real Elena Gilbert, and I'm not going to let you keep living this lie you've created in New York. You belong at home, Elena."

"I'm not going," Elena hissed, twisting her arm out of his hand. She began to walk away when some clueless human slammed into her shoulder in his haste to get to work.

"Hey, watch it!" the man snapped at her, but before he could get away she grabbed him by the wrist and gazed into his eyes. She vaguely heard Damon trying to stop her, but she effectively ignored his protests as she instructed her poor captive.

"Do you see that car driving towards us? I want you to kill yourself by jumping out in front of it. Do you understand?" Elena compelled, smirking as the man muttered in agreement.

She watched in awe as he bounded off of the sidewalk, hurtling himself towards the speeding car. Staying only long enough to watch Damon launch himself to protect the man, Elena heard the sweet crunch of bones as the man's neck snapped while she made her escape from the man who had made her old life a little less miserable and was now threatening to tear everything she'd built apart.

A/N: I've had this story stuck in my head for months, and I finally decided to write it down. I still have two other stories that I'm in the middle of writing (and I've sucked at updating them. Like, A LOT.), but I have had such bad writer's block with them that I thought getting this story out might help! This story takes place sometime late in the season, and you'll see why later in the story.

Finally, I've obviously never seen Elena without her emotions (yet—I'd love to see it on the show!), so any suggestions would be great! If you have any comments, critiques, questions, or concerns, I'd love to hear it! Feedback is love, people, so read and review!

-Kiki :)

Quote: Elena Gilbert, Season 4 Episode 5, "The Killer"