A/N: I think everyone's feelings about 404 are pretty much well known by now. I'm not even sure where this one came from. It's a drabble type thing, and I'm kind of proud of it. So read and review and never give up hope for Delena. :D
He hated to do it. He really did, but Mystic Falls was no longer the place for him. Damon Salvatore was on his way out. The main thing keeping him here, the only thing really, was Elena Gilbert and she wouldn't give into her new vampire urges. Telling him one thing, and then saying the opposite to Stefan.
It killed him. He couldn't help her, wouldn't help her, unless she was willing to give in and commit. Damon had watched Elena's relationship with Stefan play out over the course of three years, thousands of ups and downs in between. He had remained quiet about his feelings and when he couldn't anymore, compelled Elena to forget his confessions.
Her words at the Murder House frat party had been the last straw. No matter what Damon did for her, no matter how much he looked after her, no matter how damn much he loved her; she would always go running back to Stefan.
Saint Stefan, Damon thought, the vampire who would end up sending Elena over the edge, causing her to shut off her humanity. Damon scowled to himself as he thought about how his brother treated Elena. Like a fragile doll that would break if looked at the wrong way, Stefan wanted to hide Elena away, protect her from becoming like him, like Damon. He would protect her so much, she'd snap one day, and go on a rampage, killing anyone in sight. And Damon, the only one who could stop her? Well, he'd be far away, away from Mystic Falls, away from Stefan, away from Klaus, away from her.
One day, he thought, throwing a few shirts into his duffel, one day, he'd come back. See what had happened to the town, to her. One day, he thought, when he had put enough time in between her words and his feelings.
Damon reached for a a pair of pants to throw them in the duffel, and the flyer from the frat party fell out of the pocket. He picked it at and stared at the words for a minute, two minutes, three minutes. He thought about Elena's face as they danced. About her breath on his face as she said, "I feel good." About her warm body pressed against his as they hugged.
Damon put the flyer down and placed the pants back on his bed. He took out the shirts one by one. He put the duffel away in his closet. He sat on the bed, head in hands.
He couldn't leave her just yet. His business with Elena Gilbert was unfinished.