Elena was hiding from Stefan behind the house, trying to avoid getting pinned down and tickled again. It was fun, playing with him like this. Stefan rarely was in a playful mood, and he had put this one on especially for her. She had been feeling angry and resentful toward Damon over what he did to Jeremy. He comes up with some drunken speech to get Elena in bed as a rebound for Katherine, and killed her brother when she said no. He's cruel, and cold, and evil.

At least, that's what a part of her thought. Another part, the part that cared for Damon, was sad that she had been so harsh on him. He was nearly crying in front of her, he just wanted her help him. But his continuous presence in her and Stefan's relationship, always there complicating things, is what made her give him the cold shoulder. She could've handled that a little more gracefully, not throwing Stefan in his face, but she didn't know what Katherine said. She didn't know he would lose his mind. There was nothing she could've done.

Except kiss him back, tell him the truth – that she loved him too. But even she didn't know that. Subconsciously she was always wondering what Damon was up to, subconsciously she always felt a little safer and happier when Damon came in the room. But if someone asked her who she loved, and who she would always love, she would say Stefan Salvatore, without even blinking.

Maybe that was a bad thing…

She leaned back slightly, thinking she had finally lost Stefan for a moment and she could breathe, but when her back hit something hard and she looked back, two strong arms wrapped around her chest tightly, making her let out a squeal. "Stefan!"

He laughed at her, turning her around and lying her down on the ground. She struggled, giggling under his hands. "Stefan, don't!"

He ignored her, ruffling his fingers on her abdomen, making her squirm and squeal in laughter at the goose bumps shooting up her spine. Her sides where especially sensitive to tickles, and Stefan loved taking advantage of that. He straddled her hips and ran his fingers under her shirt, moving them as though he were playing an instrument, causing her to near scream.

"Stefan! Stop it!" She squealed again, just making Stefan laugh a little harder.

"Mmm, no." He chuckled, leaning down and nuzzling her neck as he continued to tickle her sides. She squeaked and squirmed, having more fun than she would admit, but he didn't let up for a long while.

When she started wheezing beneath him, cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink, he pulled off and let her have a breath. She sat up, falling onto his chest, panting harshly as she snuggled into him.

"Feeling better?" He asked, his voice full of love and happiness.

Something about his tone made Elena sick, but she smiled up at him. "Yep." Then she leaned in, kissing his neck and nuzzling at the flesh. "You know what would make me really happy?"

Stefan moaned slightly at the contact and leaned his head back, a small smile on his lips as he stood up, pulling her with him. As they walked in the door, Elena continued to nip at his throat, forcing him to walk backward into the house, blindly having to trust her. She shoved him down on the couch, kissing and nipping at the skin of his collarbone. She straddled his hips, loving the sounds she could get out of him.

She was counting backwards in her head, waiting for Damon to show up and call Stefan "Fabio" for his shirt riding up slightly under Elena's hands. It had turned into a habit, a routine. Elena dragged her tongue up Stefan's throat, getting a low moan out of him that turned into a growl. Three…two…one…

Whoa . . . cover up, Fabio, Damon's voice sounded, making Elena look up with annoyance. But when she glanced in the direction his voice came from, he wasn't there. "Damon?" She called.

Stefan lifted his brow, putting his hands on her shoulders, and she realized Damon had only spoke in her mind. "Is it really the time to be calling my brother, baby?"

Elena's forehead creased in confusion. Damon was always there, always, forcing her and Stefan off of 'his' couch, and he would sit and drink and sulk and Stefan and she would go upstairs into Stefan's room and finish what they started.

The fact he wasn't there made Elena feel sick. "Where is he?"

Stefan shook his head, wondering what the point of this was. "Probably at the bar, what does it matter?"

What was she supposed to say to that? That she wanted to stop an intense sexual moment between them to find his older brother? That wouldn't send up red flags in his mind; Stefan didn't even like them talking after he found out Damon thought he had kissed her, being ignored and abandoned over Damon wouldn't please Stefan much.

Elena sighed and faked a smile. "It doesn't," She lied, leaning down and pressing her lips to Stefan's again. Damon would just have to wait.

Several hours and four rounds later, Elena was lying on Stefan's chest, eyes staring at nothing in particular as Stefan slept silently. She was starting to become annoyed; the bed kept making this crackling noise every time someone breathed out. Stefan, sleeping peacefully, was oblivious, and maybe it wasn't as loud as Elena thought it was, but with all the worry and confusion over Damon, the sound was deafening. Finally, she sat up and looked down at the bed, pulling the sheets up to cover her exposed breasts. There didn't appear to be anything wrong with it, perhaps it was her imagination?

She sighed and collapsed back down on the pillow, rolling over, not wanting to be touching Stefan right now. If vampires were able to procreate, she would swear she was pregnant and having morning sickness and mood swings. The crinkle-crack only got louder on this pillow, and Elena snarled, sitting up and picking up the pillow to find a neatly folded piece of paper, wrinkled from being rolled over so often.

She furrowed her brows and picked it up, considering waking Stefan. Her hand lingered over his shoulder, her mind telling her to wake him. She was in his bed, reading a note that was most likely meant for him . . . but it was under her pillow, so she rolled back over, unfolding the paper.

To whomever it may concern, please give this note to Elena Gilbert.
Elena, I'm sorry, but I have to depart this town for a while. I cannot stand to watch you and my brother. It hurts too much, and I cannot take the daily torment of watching the two of you flirt and fantasize about your night doings right in front of my eyes.
Please do not fret, or attempt to find me. I'll be in touch.
Soon.
Damon

Elena felt her stomach churn. There was no way he was gone, no possible way. It didn't even sound like Damon, he would never write something like this. If he did leave, he would just up and leave, let Elena and Stefan and everyone wonder where he was, and if he was okay. He would think it was funny. She shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. How could he be gone? Where would he go if he did leave? Would he really ever leave her?

The thought made her heart burst into a million little pieces, but the reason she was close to having a panic attack was not the thought of living without Damon. It was the fact that Damon hadn't even said goodbye, the fact that this note was not how Damon Salvatore would ever speak . . . and now that she looked at it for a while, it wasn't in his hand writing either.

Her stomach dropped as the realization hit her; Damon Salvatore was missing.

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