Love Hurts

"Your feelings for him have been magnified." Stephen looks at Elena, centuries of pain and love and wisdom reflecting in his eyes. Enough for her breath to catch in her throat.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to lie to you." She sighs, trying to stop her voice breaking, giving into the inevitable.

"You know before, I when I was the, uh, the Ripper, I understood why you cared for him. I mean, I practically drove you to it. But now, " Stephen shakes head, "I can't do this Elena." She turns, not believing him, not blaming him, not surprised. "Not anymore." Silence passes, for only a second, and she knows. She agrees. She doesn't want to hurt him anymore. Trying not to cry, to give in to the half of her heart that is breaking, she says "I know."

And just like that, it's over.


Elena stares out of her bedroom window, her face blank, eyes empty. It's been two days, and she's seen neither of the Salvatore brothers. She wonders if Stephen has forgiven her. She wonders if Damon knows. She wonders if she wants him to.

Jeremy taps softly on the open door, then twiddles with the heavy ring on his finger; a silent reminder that he is safe from his sister as long as it stays on. Elena doesn't move, doesn't speak. Jeremy is worried.

"Elena, do you want something to eat?" He steps into her room, over the threshold, his heart beating solidly in his throat. "I can get you some.." he pauses, still unable to finish the sentence, no matter how long it's been since she changed and no matter how grateful he is that she's undead, and not dead dead. She still doesn't move, and Jeremy wonders how long a vampire can go without…how long it takes for them to desiccate. "Matt said he might stop by later. Maybe we could all go to the Grill?" She turns her head, almost robotically, and looks at him. He steps back at how different she looks, how emotionless. She answers in a stale, flat tone.

"No."

Jeremy didn't argue, didn't try to persuade, because yes , even though he was chosen to be 'one of the five', destined to be a Vampire Hunter, born to slay the predators, he wasn't stupid enough to piss a vampire off. He turns and leaves silently, and Elena is left alone again.

She watches a rain drop fall and spatter onto her window pane, followed by another, then another, and she wonders if, just like the raindrop, she has no choice but to follow a path. If fate has a wicked sense of humour, and Elena has no choice but to be the monster she never wanted to be. Maybe, instead of trying to run from it, she should embrace it. Maybe she should finally give into the urges that she tried so desperately to compress, to hide deep within. Hadn't she been doing that for Stephen? The same Stephen that had left her, because she loved his brother, too? Now Stephen wasn't here, wasn't a part of her, and what was the point in trying to be the person, the vampire, he wanted her to be? Elena's fangs ache. Like it or not, she needs to feed. And she needs to feed from the vein.

Matt's coming over. She tells herself, willing herself to wait, to not give in, but she can feel her resolve slipping before she's even started the argument. Her fangs grow, and her heart pounds her blood around her body so fast she can hear it in her ears. She rolls her tongue over her newly shaped mouth, embracing the change, almost liking it. She doesn't need to be the vampire Stephen wants her to be.

Flash backs of her dirty-dancing-blood-high night with Damon races through her mind, and she remembers how it feels to have human blood in her system. How her feelings and thoughts are forgotten. How amazing and euphoric it feels.

She gets up in a too quick fashion, grabs her coat from her bed, and races down the stairs silently, so as not to disturb Jeremy.

Elena trawls the dark streets. It's a little cold, and there aren't many people outside. She stands under a street light, watching, waiting, for the elderly lady to reach the sidewalk. She hasn't had an OAP before, and she wonders if age effects taste, and her fangs hurt. Her heart pounds as the lady slowly wanders towards her, and her vision improves and her veins swell in anticipation.

For a brief second, Elena wonders if she should trick the old lady, pretend the perhaps she is lost, encourage her closer, and then she quickly dismisses is. That's something Stephen would encourage, and he left her. He's not here. Elena shrinks back into the shadows, and counts the slow, scuffing steps….one….two…three…four…

She jumps out, grabs the lady and clasps her hands over the lady's mouth to stifle any screams. The idea of compulsion crosses her mind, and she shoves it back, before ripping into the soft, warm, jugular. She drinks, and drinks, until she's drank the last drop of blood, and the stranger is dead. Elena feels amazing, feels high, loves it, and wants more. She wipes the blood from her mouth with her sleeve, as she drops the body to the ground. She knew where her legs were taking her before she had time to think about it. She needed alcohol, drugs, and too many people to count. She needed a nightclub.


Damon is annoyed at his brother. He left town three days ago, only leaving a note, and without actually saying goodbye. He sips at the bourbon in his hand, and reads it again, contemplating throwing it into the fire.

Damon,

She chose you.

Bravo, brother.

He's not stupid. He knows what the note means. He can work that out. What he can't work out, is where Elena is, and why she hasn't told him herself. Or why he doesn't feel happy about it. Why he feels guilty. And why he hasn't turned up on her doorstep, swept her off her feet and made love to her like the many, many times he's imagined.

Another sip of bourbon, and he reads it again. Maybe Stephen is playing with him, getting him back for letting Elena drink from him. Maybe Stephen has turned into the type to play mind games. Damon snorts. Hadn't Stephen been working with Klaus, their sworn enemy, willingly and in secret? Maybe, Stephen had even planned for this. But, then, where is he now? Why isn't he here, lapping it all up? Why win the game, and then skip the victory celebration? Maybe he's drinking humans again, Damon ponders, and then realises that he hopes Klaus has compelled his brother to be a monster, so he at least has an excuse. The other reality is too hard to contemplate.

Another sip of bourbon.

He should just rip it up and burn it. But he can't. Because the words scrawled on the crumpled, ruled paper are burned into his memory. Even if the note vanished, he'd still see it, still read it, over and over. Because, even if this is some majorly messed up, sick game his brother is playing, his soul wants it to be real. He's so sick watching the monster play victim and actually fooling people. He tries so hard, so damn hard, at being the monster, but no matter what, She sees through it. Elena fixes him. She saves him.

And he wonders why she's not here.

Why she hasn't chosen him.

He screws the note up in his hand, stuffs it into his pocket, and stares into the fire instead.

"Damon?" The voice echoes in the big, main room, and Damon had been so lost in his thoughts, so distracted, he hadn't heard the human boy walk into the house. He whirls around, gets ready to pounce and kill, when he sees Jeremy staring at him, his eyes rimmed red, his skin pale, and Damon's undead heart stops. Something is wrong.

"What is it, Little Gilbert?" He tries a slick, nonchalant tone, but he knows it hasn't worked, because no matter how cool and calm and collected he always seems, when it comes to Elena (and he knows it's about her before Jeremy even moves his lips) he loses himself.

"She's gone." Jeremy says the panic in his voice evident. "I mean, she was there yesterday, and now she's not."

"Elena?" Just to clarify. Jeremy nods.

"She hasn't fed in days. Since Stephen…Where is he?"

"Gone." Damon answers harshly.

"We need to find her, Damon." Jeremy orders. "She's hurting, feeling guilty, confused. That's if she hasn't flicked the humanity switch." His voice cracks, but Damon doesn't move to comfort him. "I've looked everywhere."

"Don't worry, Jeremy. I'll find her."

And then he's gone, too, because no matter if she chose him or Stephen, he'd always go to Hell and back for Elena Gilbert.