~
Moods that take me
and erase me
and I'm painted black
~


The familiarity he held with the locked door still ensnared him at the threshold.

It had taken every synapse worth of control he had left to not rip it from its hinges. He could have easily forced his entrance. He had been invited in after all. But that was too many mistakes ago to even matter anymore. The onslaught of arguing voices coming from just beyond it almost matched the ones that filled his head.

So, he collected himself in the time it took his fingers to slip closed the middle button of his jacket before placing three reasonable knocks against the starched door. The same one that would crack open just enough for one careful eye to test the intentions of whoever it was that chose to visit. Only moments later, they would soften and the protective barrier would be replaced with the secure declaration of his name on soft breath and a warm smile of relief.

Now it framed a scornful grimace; one he had grown accustomed to being in the spotlight of whenever in the presence of a Salvatore, though more predominantly the elder. One he would have found a sickening amount of satisfaction in had the situation been anything aside from what it was. He held no patience for childish jealousy now.

Damon's tense form shifted to fill the doorway.

"You should not be here," he spoke as if the home had been his to command from the very first time he stepped foot in it; though he held that regard towards all things he believed he claimed, it seemed.

"And yet, here I am," Elijah fought to hold countenance over the spark of frustration that begged him to disable the younger vampire from having the ability to speak another dull word. "It seems I cannot leave you alone for five seconds without the world going up in smoke."

He caught the slight tightening of Damon's hand along the edge of the door; watched how he leaned back as his words took edge and dug beneath his skin. He had failed at the one thing that mattered most to the callous Salvatore, and if Elijah accomplished only one thing by coming back to the town that destroyed him, he would be sure that Damon knew it for the rest of his days.

In a blink, the door was being slammed closed between them.

Elijah's palm caught it just before it met the hinges, easily overpowering the force pushing it shut.

This young vampire was one of the luckiest creatures he had ever held the displeasure of encountering and would never know it. For reasons unbeknownst to him, Elena held a spot in her heart for both Salvatores; Elijah had learned that quickly from their talks, and it was for that reason alone that the door between them was not quickly turned into provisional stakes.

Elijah pushed it open instead, using the surprise on Damon's face to his advantage as he purposefully brushed passed him and crossed the threshold with no magical barrier to stop him.

Apparently Elena had not filled at least one of the brothers in on everything. He almost smirked.

The living room had not changed much since he'd last been in its warmth but the familiar faces that filled it did so with a deep sadness.

The football player, Matt, rested in what looked like a very uncomfortable position in the arm chair, his head leaning back and brow drawn in troubled slumber.

The best friends consoled one another on the couch, Bonnie's eyes still puffy from past tears and Caroline's arm draped around her shoulders. The blonde's eyes questioned him harshly, always the fierce protector. In sharp contrast, a look of sheer sickness crossed the Bennett Witch's face before she looked away at anything but him.

Stefan paced just behind them, scotch in hand. He looked disheveled; a darkness settling beneath his eyes and panic edging his gaze, as if he had just woken up from a nightmare. He stopped short at first sight of Elijah, his jaw setting squarely and expression falling somehow blanker.

Stefan acknowledged him flatly.

Elijah fully entered the main room and did not return the favor. There was no need for further decorum.

"Where is she?"

The front door was swiftly slammed shut before the elder Salvatore chimed in from a distance he must have considered safe.

"Not with us, clearly. But she would be if it wasn't for you and your damned family issues."

The anger behind the declaration was pointed and raw.

Elijah blinked at its weight, keeping his eyes firmly on the glass Stefan held a bit tighter in his hand for fear of breaking yet another promise to Elena should he divert his attention elsewhere.

"Sadly, I do not have time to chat," he admonished the elder with only his voice, hoping the younger would keep his head, as metaphorically as possible at such a time. He dipped his brow. "Do not tell me you left her to rest where you failed her."

He watched his words break Stefan; his left eye wincing and refusing to relax as if he truly felt pain.

"Don't pretend we're the only ones that did," Damon accused again, proving that he'd felt it too. "All of this could have all been ended long before it got so out of control…"

"I only did what she asked," Stefan answered him as if his brother had not spoken; always the more reasonable of the two. "Matt was in the car too. She wouldn't let me save her until he was out."

Elijah could feel the air leave his chest. There it was; all of her stubborn beauty and reckless compassion. How could he possibly have expected it to happen any other way? She'd martyred herself, refusing help before her friend was aided. It was every bit maddening, and unbelievable, and Elena Gilbert.

He moved his gaze to find the blonde boy still sleeping away in his chair. Exhaustion, no doubt. He wasn't sure if it was right to suddenly hold a deep rooted hatred for him just for happening to be in the car that night, but reasoning had long since been forgotten.

"It wasn't his fault," Caroline confirmed severely from her perch on the couch.

Elijah's jaw flexed. The building fire in his chest must have shown on his face. Never had his restraint felt so nonexistent. Of course it wasn't the kids fault. If he was entirely honest with himself, the Salvatores were not to blame either. He knew that Stefan would have given his own life for the girl and Damon would have given that and everyone else's. It was the only trait that made them useful (and even somewhat relatable, though he would never admit it aloud).

Rebecca had run Elena and Matt off the road; For that, she was guilty, but even so Elena could have been saved if what Stefan claimed was true.

Elena had put this on herself. It was her own fault she was gone.

No, it was her own decision.

It was always her.

"She should be waking soon."

Damon's quiet words snapped Elijah so forcefully from his reverie that he shifted his weight to face him.

A heart wrenching silence filled the pause as comprehension quickly plagued him and Elijah took a measured step in the Salvatores direction. Then another. It was like the ritual all over again, but this time there had been no failsafe. Nothing to keep her from becoming a monster like them. She never would have wanted this. She had told him so once and he was sure the brothers knew better as well.

"What have you done?" His command lit the room in white hot fire as he steadily approached and Damon fell back. "You forget your place…"

"Elijah?"

He froze mid-step and for a beat his eyes slid closed. Never in his long life had he experienced an art as beautifully crafted as his name so feebly whispered by a soft, familiar voice he believed he'd never hear again. It had come from upstairs, just barely reaching even his pristine ears. The second room on the left. His nightly post and daily torment.

The heat in him burned cold in an instant and before it was even fully out, he was at her bedside.


Epigraph: Falling Slowly - Kris Allen