SETTING: 2x10 'The Sacrifice', the night after (AU). The events in 2x11 'By Light of The Moon' haven't happened yet.

WARNING: Language, Dark Themes


We're running short on air
Breathe it in, resuscitate
At the edge you see clearly, I was dead, now I'm back to life
And love is a fragile thing
We all stand on a bridge, that's been slowly burning down

.

.

.

Fading in, fading out... All because she lost the will to fight.

The night is spinning, she closes her eyes and everything is still spinning.

She opens her eyes.

The goddamn stars are mocking her with all their beauty and glory, she no longer burns bright the way they do. She wants to rekindle the flame deep within her heart, but the realist in her knows better. She tried, God, she tried to care about herself; she doesn't anymore.

The vastness of the sky only reminds her that she's not free. She's locked to her life.

She laughs bitterly because she's not even free to die. They don't get it. She wants it to be over. She wants to die.

Her laughter shifts to tears, it's a disgusting character flaw. She wipes her tears, she's tired of crying. Her tears prove she still feels and she only feels sorry for herself. It's narcissistic, really.

She doesn't want to feel. That's the objective, the reason why this self-destruction started hours ago. She breathes deep, knowing it's the best she's felt in weeks. She's able to acknowledge the appeal in masochism. It's the only thing that feels right, when nothing else does.

Still, she'd rather feel nothing.

Nothing is the road to peace.

She takes a deep breath to shut her feelings out. Over the shingles, she reaches for her discarded iPod, placing it on shuffle, she fades into a song that makes no difference.

She fades into numbness. She fades into the still night, her eyes blur looking back up at the stars, until her eyelids become too heavy to hold open.

She's back in the dark, it's become quite the welcoming place. She doesn't care if she never wakes up again. Somewhere in the dark, she's lost between the beats of the music, the chilling air and the heavy intoxication.

She's lost and he's going crazy. It's three in the morning. He's been sitting on her bed for over two hours. He's waiting for her to return from her secret place. When he came in via the window, her beside lamp had been on, but her bed was made. Her cell phone, car keys and personal belongings remain on the counter. He can't stop staring at the items.

He doesn't know what to do. He's worried someone took her. Someone dangerous, someone more dangerous than him. He swears he's seconds away from calling in the cavalry of her loved ones. She's surrounded by love. They would want to know if she went missing in the middle of the night from her room. In fact, he doesn't know how he's the only one that noticed. No, that's a lie, he's always noticed her first.

Through the half open window, his sensitive ears pick up sounds of light music coming from earphones. It's frustrating, he looks out the window, there isn't anyone in the backyard or driveway. He starts to wonder if the house has an attic, maybe he'd finally find her there. At this point of desperation, he's willing to follow any of his hunches.

Not wanting to wake anyone up in the house by leaving her room - not like anyone knew he arrived - he decides to climb on top of the roof. From the roof, he'll find a window to the attic.

His head is shaking in disbelief at the extent of his passion for the missing girl. He's turned into such a sap. It doesn't take much of an effort for him to swing from her bedroom window to the roof. He lands on the roof ever so gracefully.

His eyes burn in anger.

He can't believe it.

She's been on the roof the entire time he'd been waiting for her.

She's in her fucking tiny pajamas, the same pajamas from the night he'll never forget, but made her forget. She's there on the roof, wearing those pajamas, laying flat with her eyes closed and headphones on.

He flashes over to her, bends down and yanks the headphones out of her ears.

Her eyes flash open and this time he sees something different in her eyes.

The look in her eyes worries him. He's worried because he doesn't recognize her.

"Damon?" She asks softly, at first she thinks he's part of her dream. He's in her dreams sometimes, strange dreams. "What the hell?" She shouts realizing he's really there, on the roof with her.

He looks at her disbelieving, in anger and confusion. "What are you doing? On the roof?"

She rolls her eyes. She doesn't owe him an explanation. As much as he'd like to think so, he's not her keeper.

He smells the strong liquor emanating from her, a smell he's all too familiar with to mistake. "Are you drunk?" He accuses with a tilted head.

She, once again, rolls her eyes and closes them. She doesn't want to deal with him. Wishful, but not rational, thinking hopes he'll go away if she ignores him.

"Elena." He calls her name in a demanding, superior voice.

Her eyes flash open. He notices how red and puffy they are.

"What Damon? What do you want?" She questions exasperated, this was supposed to be her night, he's ruining it.

"Get down from the roof." He demands like he has the right to order her around.

"No." She scoffs.

"Fine. I'll take you down." He says with smug authority. It would be all too easy for him to grab her and jump down.

"Don't you dare touch me. I mean it, Damon." She's gotten tired of him grabbing her whenever he feels like it.

"Can you not act stupid for two seconds and listen to yourself?"

She glares at him. She sits up slightly, her hands pushing down on the shingles. "Will you fucking give it up already?" She shouts. The neighbors might have heard that one.

He stares at her blankly.

"Just stop. I don't need you to save me." She says bitterly, she knows there's no one left to save. Her body is merely a vessel.

"I can't watch you destroy yourself." He says with a tense jaw. He couldn't bear losing her to something he couldn't fight. He'll always fight for her, he can't help it. She brings the reluctant hero out of him.

"Then stop watching!" She shouts annoyed, her nose wrinkles in frustration. "You're wasting your time. I'm not the girl you want."

He looks at her confused. She's wrong. He's never wanted anyone anymore in his entire existence.

"You don't even know me. Not really." She whispers. "Please leave. I want to be alone."

"Okay. You've had your teenage melodrama moment. Now it's time to get down. It's not safe up here."

"Safe?" She scoffs. "You're telling me what's safe? I've done this before, you know."

"Tried to commit suicide?"

"Sat on my roof." She deadpans looking at him like he's an idiot. Before her parents died, Matt and her were roof buddies. When he was 14, he'd sit on the roof to avoid the chaos inside his house. He chalked it up as a way to get perspective. She starts to miss Matt and his roof, he knew a thing or two about human pain.

"Drunk?" He questions with a raised brow.

She laughs sadly, he underestimates her. "More than once." She looks away from him, she refuses to cry in front of him. She hates looking weak around him. Crying would give him another reason to save her. "Leave."

"No."

"I promise not to kill myself. Now will you leave?" She asks, her hands want to strangle him. Her fingers are tense.

"No." He challenges.

He thinks she'll keep fighting.

She won't.

She surprises him by downing a flask, that he never noticed. Her throat burns, but she remains expressionless welcoming the Jack in her body. She stole the flask from Jeremy, it once belonged to their grandfather.

"Goodnight, Damon." She says in an unusually soft voice and closes her eyes. She's fading once again, it looks like she's mastered something after all. She doesn't care anymore, not about her, not about him, not about tomorrow.


A/N: This will be a mini-fic (four chaps?). I had to write Dark!Elena after watching 'The Sacrifice'. Be Good & Review!

Song: Resuscitation Of A Dead Man by Thursday