DISCLAIMER: Don't own it. Don't profit from it. Don't sue me, please. I am a poor, poor mama.

A/N: Um, yeah. I'm really *really* sorry. Really. I know it's been awhile (years!) but I really struggled with this. And then I had a trip, and then jetlag, and just drama and...yeah. I pretty much suck.

But! I'm back and I'll be replying like a maniac to all of my reviews (here's hoping you're still with me after this absence! Please still be there, peeps!)

Ok, so warning. This chapter gets a little more adult. Not bom-chicka-bom-bom Adult so much as bloody Adult. Honestly, I wrote this scene three weeks ago, and cut it because I was afraid of how it would be received. And I tried to write the chapter six ways from Sunday, but in the end, I felt like that scene was right. It needed to happen. So the scene is back, for better or worse. And after reading some things that one of my lovely readers (big hugs to Ochun) found, I guess I'm not ENTIRELY crazy in this scenario afterall.

So let's just hope I don't lost all my lovely reviewers by squicking them out or failing to convey something right. *chews nails* Remember, all of this is for those of you who review. I'd never ever do it without you. So click that button and make me write harder! :-)

**CHAPTER 4**

The day after Elena leaves my newly stolen apartment, Stefan calls. And apparently, I'm still brain-dead by my visit from the Hooker Vampire Formerly Known as Elena, because I actually answer.

"Stefan," I say. "What perceived crime did I commit today?"

"I didn't call to fight," he says. "I called to talk."

"You probably called to lecture. Your God complex doesn't really allow for ordinary conversation."

He pauses, as if he's processing that. Or maybe preparing himself to deliver some truly shocking news. "Elena wants your help, Damon. "

I shrug, though he can't see me. "I want a supermodel full of AB positive. The world is full of disappointment. Also, didn't you say it was time for me to go?"

"I did," he says, "but in the end, it's not about me. It's about her."

"Is anything not about her anymore?" I root through the kitchen cupboards irritably, finding two packs of ramen noodles and some mismatched coffee mugs. Jesus, Ric, don't you have an emergency bottle stashed somewhere around here?

"You know it's not like that," Stefan says. "You guys are close. She worries when you're not here. She's a worrier."

"No, she's a controlling little bitch who likes to keep her thumb on me. "

Stefan sighs and I can practically see him rubbing a hand over his eyes on the other end of the line. "Either way, Damon, I think maybe she's right."

"You'd think Elena was right if she told you to eat shit and dance the cha-cha."

That seems to snap him to attention. His tone goes cold and hard. "Don't you think I'd look for any reason for this to be a bad idea? Any reason at all."

He's got me there. I frown at the counter. "Go on."

"Look, she needs to learn about her new life. Caroline's too young to teach her and I...well, I don't know if she believes a strictly animal diet is a good idea. And given my record, I can't blame her."

"I'm not Master Miyagi of the vampire race, Stefan. And isn't this going to cut in to all your starry-eyed alone time?"

He gives a long, low sigh. "I just want her happy, Damon."

"Then I'd recommend some strong pharmaceutical assistance."

"She doesn't need drugs. She needs you," he says, and while I don't believe it, it's clear he does. And that keeps me quiet. He takes a breath and drops his voice to a murmur. "I know how the two of you are. You make her laugh. She makes you..." he drops off in another sigh. "I love her more than I've ever loved anyone, but she still finds something in you. Something I can't give her."

God, he is one depressing bastard. I think of telling him as much. Hell, a dozen snappy remarks are burning at my lips, but some sentimental big brother bullshit holds my tongue.

This is how Stefan falls to pieces. Ever since he was a kid. Like when he figured out Santa Claus. He starts looking at the facts too hard and too long and suddenly the black and white world he so desperately craves smears into muddy gray. And he can't handle it. Never cold.

Instead of answering him, I open and close random drawers in Alaric's kitchen. I find some wooden spoons and a cheap whisk, but no booze. And no answers to how the fuck to toe the line between ruthless hell-raiser and vaguely concerned sibling. For the record, things were a lot damn easier when I was the villain of our little story.

Finally I sigh, leaning against the fridge. "I'm not going to blow sunshine up your ass, here, Stefan. It would be better for you if I left."

"For me, yes. But not for her."

"What, you think I'm good for her? " I stop, scoffing at the idea. "I'm not good for Elena. When she's with me, my head is ten kinds of fucked up. I don't care, Stefan. Not about her having a boyfriend or about the fact that my brother happens to be said boyfr-"

"I don't think that's what I am," he says, and I hear him swallow hard on the other end of the line. "I thought so at first, but I don't know. She's different. Everything's different."

How this morose mother-fucker came from the same uterus as me is an absolute mystery.

Hell, maybe he's the butler's kid.

I sink into a chair and stare at one of Ric's jackets hanging by the door. "Of course things are different. She's a newborn vampire. You can't expect her to be ready for declarations of eternity-hell, she probably still hasn't figured out how to talk without cutting her tongue on her fangs."

"You can help her with that. With all of it."

"So what's your grand plan, Eeyore? You want me to play bad teacher so she appreciates you? Or maybe just talk you up in between biting lessons? Ooh, maybe I can pass her a note with checkboxes for whether or not she still loves you forever?"

"The plan, Damon, is for you to do exactly what you always do with Elena."

What the hell does he mean? What I always do? Fight with her? Placate her? Eye fuck her? Instead, of those, I say, "And what's that, Stefan?"

"Balance her."

I roll my eyes so hard, I'm surprised they don't fall out. "How very Hallmark Channel of you. But, what makes you sure I want to play along?"

"Because you don't know how to leave her anymore," he says, and then so softly even I almost miss it he adds, "And neither do I."

**TWO DAYS LATER**

It's been one of those days. One of those days where my skin itches and my mind races like a rabbit after a crack-laced carrot. I want something. Need something. Something I can't quite get my finger on. I can't even make a fucking drink without being haunted by strange, detached memories-the feel of my mother's fingers on my brow. The sound of Ric's laughter. The smell of my father's tobacco. The taste of Elena's mouth.

All the journal-scrawling mope-it-out genes landed in Stefan's DNA which leaves me climbing the mother fucking walls when a mood like hits. I need to feed. And drink. And be the hell away from this apartment. So, for the second day in a row, I ignore my agreement to train Elena and I head out to drink.

I find the one nightclub near Mystic Falls. It's not exactly top shelf, but one more glass of shitty scotch at The Grille and so help me God, I will tear somebody's arms off. So, here I am. A different shitty scotch in my glass, and a redhead in my lap. Her blonde roommate is whispering in my ear, too, so it's shaping up to be a decent night.

Until I smell her. That same sweet-haunting jasmine mix that I know better than I should. Better than I ever wanted to.

"Do you want to go somewhere more quiet?" the redhead says, walking long pink fingernails up my chest.

"We've got a beautiful apartment," the blonde says. She's nothing but tits and blue eyes, and the kind of beestung lips that would look amazing wrapped around my cock.

God knows, I could stand a good fucking. I should go. Two years ago, I would have gone with them twenty minutes ago.

"It overlooks the water," the redhead says, and then she plants her hand on my inner thigh and leans in to give me a view down her shirt. "The bedroom, I mean. It overlooks the water."

They're plenty hot, but they smell like cheap booze and too much perfume. And sad as it is, the hottest thing about this is that I can feel Elena watching me. So, petty little shit that I am, I make sure I look damn comfortable. And interested.

"Do you want to come, Damon?"

"Don't make us beg."

"Tempting," I tell them, "but I'm afraid I may have plans."

"So, blow them off," the blonde laughs, her fingers threading into my hair. "We can make it worth your while."

I hear Elena moving through the dance floor, making her way over to me. And I don't want to think about how fucked up it is that I can pick her quiet footsteps out of all the chaos in this bar tonight, but I can. I am tuned in like a mother-fucking radio. As if I needed one more reason to hate her.

"We can blow your mind," the redhead purrs.

"I'll bet you could," I say, because I'm a damn fine liar.

They'd have to be nymphomaniac contortionists who juggle fire to blow my mind. And now that Elena's here, slinking through the only nightclub in the county on a school night? Yeah, it's going to take more than a low-rent threesome to distract me.

"He's with me," I hear Elena say.

Did she seriously go there?

I spin on my barstool to face say something, but one look sucks the words right out of my mouth. It was probably something witty, too, but now I'll never know. Just looking at her blocks all rational thought out of my brain. Jesus, I need a fucking lobotomy.

Elena's wearing her jeans like a second layer of skin tonight. Her lips are glossed as red as the itty bitty tank top she's wearing. It's not over the top. She's got none of that stiletto-heeled streetwalker flavor that Katherine's so fond of. This is something else. Dark lips and long hair and eyes that flash hunger and fear in equal measure.

"Well, I think he's with me for now."

For a second, I don't even know who's talking. Because I've completely forgotten about the girl riding my thigh like I slipped her a few twenties to do it.

"He's. with. me." Elena repeats, and this time there's a thin dangerous edge to her voice, one that's aimed at the redhead's jugular.

Well, well, well. Look at kitty's little claws. I turn a lazy smirk on her, wondering just how far she's willing to go with this.

"Well, I'm not going to tell them to leave, Elena," I say, because I'm waiting for her to pussy out. To give that little indignant huff and go crawling back to my brother. Because that's the teacher she really wants. The one who'll show her how to be every bit as pathetic and warped as he is.

"You heard him. So, I guess that's that," the redhead says and I feel her hand slip possessively over my chest.

"Not quite," Elena says. She lunges in with her jaw clenched tight, one hand catching each girl's face in a hard grip.

Okay, didn't expect that. And I sure the hell didn't figure she'd try to compel them both, but she does.

"Quiet," she says, moving her gaze from one pair of eyes to the other, waiting for the telltale shift of pupil and pitch of pulse. The girls breathe heavy and slow, and I don't breathe at all. I just watch, transfixed.

"You will leave the bar," Elena says in a low tone. "You will leave together and you'll take a taxi home. You'll forget all about him. About both of us."

They slide off of me without fanfare, slipping quietly through the crowd with blank faces and steady steps.

I try not to look impressed. And it's hard. Because I am impressed. Impressed as all fuck, actually, but I don't want to say that. Elena's already pretty much the center of the damn universe around here, and frankly, I don't want to give her any more ammo.

"Not bad," I say, but I direct my attention to the dance floor, where a couple dozen people are writhing around to some annoying Top 40 hit. It's a damn meat market out there, all gyrating hips and raised arms.

"No, it's bad. This is very bad," she says, and her words are distorted just enough to get me to look.

She's got her hands over her mouth, which hides her fangs just fine. But it's not doing dick to cover the black lines spidering down from her eyes. Compulsion is kind of like an appetizer, so it's not surprising. She's so bloodthirsty, I can practically smell it.

"I have to get out of here," she says, looking frantic. She turns for the door, but I snag her sleeve and pull her back.

"No, you don't."

"Damon, are you-"

"Are you here because you want my help?" She hesitates, but I move in closer. "Are you?"

She nods once. It's all I need.

I cut off any protest she might have gone for with a quick tug on her wrist. And then I lead her, or hell, practically drag her to the dance floor. Music thumps and lights flash, casting strange shadows on the dark floor. I feel the press of bodies and the soft electric thrill of hearts pumping warm, red blood.

Elena moans and twists her arm in my hand, but I force her to stay with me. I keep her moving and I keep her close. I know this is agony. I can practically feel the way her fangs are aching and burning with all of this flesh nearby. I remember every damn minute of those early months. Which is why I know it's necessary. Hiding in the fucking forest just delays the inevitable.

Bodies bump against us, and I see Elena's mouth open. A flash of dark eyes and white fangs under the strobe. She's straining towards someone. Ready to strike. I yank her hard against my chest, settling my hands on her hips as I guide her into the beat. Her fingers curl against my chest, nails clawing hard enough to draw blood right through my shirt.

"What are you doing?" she hisses.

"I'm dancing. What are you doing? This isn't a buffet line, Elena."

"Let me go! I will hurt someone!"

"No, you won't. Relax."

She struggles fiercely, face pulling into cruel lines and predator eyes. In this moment, she is every inch of the monster she's become. And hell if I don't think she's twice as beautiful as she's ever been. That itch that's been humming in me all day is droning into a frenzy now, working me into a knot of hunger.

"You can't stop me," she snarls. "I will hurt them and you can't do a damn thing to stop me."

It's practically a dare. Bloodthirst will do that to you. But a century and a half of experience will do something else.

I pin her arms hard to her sides and haul her flush against me. And then I drop my mouth to the skin just beneath her ear and let my fangs scrape her.

"I have a hundred and sixty years on you, Elena," I say, breathing the words right against her skin. "You can't do a damn thing I don't want you to do. Are we clear?"

She goes very still in my arms, her breath catching in a way I'll remember for-fucking-ever, I'm sure.

The music shifts low and dark, something that grinds against my ears and seeps into my skin. Something that tells me I need to end this little makeshift lesson right now. I need to straighten out my fucking head and get out of here.

I keep my face tucked in just beneath her jaw, maybe because I don't want to say this loud, or maybe because she smells so damn good. "Rule number one. You decide when your fangs come out. You. Not the hunger."

Elena's body is like a stone against me. And then it isn't. She takes a breath and her fingers uncurl. I pull back just far enough to see her face. Her human face. Her hands slide to my shoulders as we sway to the new song, the slow, heavy bass pulling me along for a ride I really shouldn't be on.

There's a moment where we just dance. I don't think either of us thinks about it. I sure as hell don't think about it. And God, if it wasn't so damn easy, maybe I would. If she didn't feel so right in my arms. If she didn't fit me like it's her whole fucking purpose in life-maybe I could remember all the reasons why I need to stay angry. And stay distant.

"What the hell are you doing here anyway?" I finally ask, conjuring irritation from God knows where.

Her lips purse and she shifts under my hands, as if it's suddenly concerning that we're slow-dancing in the middle of this hedonistic frenzy. "I don't know. I've been looking for you. I've been having trouble. With hunting. Caroline said I should think about it, scope some places out -" she stops herself, shaking her head. "I just meant to look around. Then I saw you."

"When's the last time you fed?"

"I hunted earlier," she says, shrugging a shoulder.

I eye her tank top with a smirk. "Wearing that?"

She frowns, eyes narrowing. "No. Earlier. Stefan took me."

I make a tsk'ing sound and cock my head. "What's a-matter? Didn't find a big enough groundhog?"

She makes an ugly sound in the back of her throat and narrows her eyes at me. "Can you not do this tonight?"

"Can you not beat around the bush, Elena? What do you want from me? What are you looking to learn?"

She opens her mouth like she wants to argue with me, but to my shock, she doesn't. She nods once and then licks her lips. "Caroline told me that you know how to hunt without hurting."

"What, without pain?" I shake my head. "That shit's for fairy tales. It's teeth tearing through skin. There's an ouch factor involved."

"I know that, but she acted like it didn't matter. That you can make it not hurt them, even if it hurts. And I thought if it didn't hurt as much..."

I exhale slowly, because I know exactly why she's here now. "Then you could feed on someone. You want to feed on a human."

She flinches, as if the words cut her up a little going down. Good. They should. If I have a damn thing to do with any of this, this girl will look what she is in the eyeballs. She will not play Stefan's little "almost human" game for the next century. She will be a vampire. She will drink blood and break hearts and live with every mother-fucking ounce of passion she's got in her.

"That's why you're here right?" I say, pushing her. Poking at that bruise to make sure she doesn't forget it. "Animal blood isn't enough. You want something more."

Her eyes move to the people around us. Writhing. Sweating. Hearts beating, beating, beating, like a mother fucking drum.

"I don't know. I don't know," she whispers. Then she shakes her head, and I can see her shrinking, her fear pushing her down. "I don't think I can do this."

"You can and you're going to. It's not an opinion, Elena, it's statistics. And if you do it unprepared, you'll kill the next one too."

Elena's head snaps up, her eyes locking onto mine. But her retort dies without a voice because deep down in the places she likes to pretend she doesn't have, she knows I'm right.

She crosses her arms behind my neck and shifts closer. Our chests brush and she bites her lip. I close my eyes and try not to take in air. Every breath is like a taste. Every taste is like a kiss. And it's all pulling me closer to something I need to stay the hell away from.

"You could do it with me," she says. "If you're there, you could stop me."

It's the best and worst idea I've ever heard in my life. I think about it for a second. Watching Elena feed, seeing her eyes slip shut and listening to the sounds she'll make. My cock throbs at the image, but I laugh like it's ridiculous.

"No chance, Elena."

"No chance?" she asks, and there's a devilish look to her frown. One she would have never, ever unleashed before she sprouted those pretty, pointy teeth. Back then, it was all big, doe eyes and good-girl urging. This is something else. She knows what she wants and she's going to get it.

She's Elena and then some. Every innocent, earnest thing I've ever loved in her is laced with something razor sharp. Something I want more than I've ever wanted anything.

She licks her lips and swallows hard, the smile fading from her lips. She tilts her head and her eyes lock on mine. "Help me, Damon. Please."

This is a bad idea tonight. An un-fucking-believably bad idea. I have ten thousand reasons not to do this. Really damn good reasons, too. But with the music thrumming slow and dark and her hands brushing over the nape of my neck, I can't remember any of them.

I lace my fingers with Elena's and move for the closest dark hallway. I grab the first girl I see. Don't know what she looks like and I don't much care. She's alive and she's drunk and after one slow slide of my hand down her side, she's ready to follow me to the grave. And Elena's right on me, licking her lips so close to my shoulder that it makes me shiver.

We don't make it far. A storage closet, if I'm going to guess by the paper products stacked around us on the shelves and the single, weak light bulb hanging overhead. The music is almost as loud in here, making the floor vibrate beneath my feet, making the shelves rattle around us.

I flash my fangs and the girl pulls a delicious face of terror that reminds me just how long it's been since I fed. God, I want to rip this girl apart and hear Elena feeding right along with me. I can already imagine her moans, the way she'll move when she has real, fresh blood -

No.

No, I am not this fucking vampire. I am not going to lose my mind and help her kill someone because I'm too mind-fucked to keep my shit together. I am not Stefan.

"Don't scream," I say to the girl. I pull out my human face, because she'll like it better. And then I stroke her hair away from her eyes and smile at her, watching her pupils go wide.

I feel Elena beside me, tense and poised, her fangs glistening along with the hunger in her eyes.

"What's your name?" I ask the girl.

"Maggie." Her voice is small, but steady. Calm.

"Do you know what we are, Maggie?"

She nods automatically, but I can still see the astonishment in her eyes. And who can blame her. Who the hell actually believes that the things that go bump in the night are real?

"Do you know what we want from you?"

"Blood."

"Just a little," I tell her, holding her face and feeling Elena move closer. "It will sting at first, but it will feel good too. Like magic. Your body wants this to feel good. And it will."

She nods and I tell her to close her eyes and be very quiet. And she does. Like the good little lesson prop she needs to be for me.

I slide a hand to Elena's lower back and urge her forward. She trembles under my fingers, so damn desperate, I see she's bitten her own tongue. The smell of her blood fills the air and sends my head spinning. Fuck, I need to shake this off. I should have fed first. Hell, I should have done a lot of things. Like leave town. Or stake myself on the dance floor for being such an unbelievable pussy.

I square my shoulders and shake it off. Now is not the fucking time. "Go closer, Elena. Just a soft push. Top fangs only. She'll scar if you bite too hard."

Elena's hands are balled into fists and Maggie's heart is slamming wildly in her chest and the music is still pulsing right through the walls and God, I'm about to come unglued. It's all sex and heat and blood in here and I'm fucking drowning in it.

"I can't," Elena whispers.

"You can." I grit the words out, determined to keep my cool.

"No," she whimpers. Shakes her head and clings hard to my arm. "It's killing me. You do it."

"Just try," I say, and hell, I'm practically whimpering, too. The tension is throttled so fucking high right now, I'm about to rip this little girl apart. Or maybe throw Elena against the nearest wall and fuck her into next week.

Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?

Elena edges forward and then jerks back with a cry. She turns into me, burying her anguished face in the crook of my shoulder. "Please, Damon. You first."

Sweet fucking hell, I am not built for second-guessing.

So, I snap.

I dart in like a cobra, fangs latching onto the girl's neck so fast, no one has time to think, least of all me. The girl gasps once and hot blood fills my mouth. Elena's still there, pressed against both of us, her arm twisted around mine, the breath she doesn't need coming hard and fast against my neck.

I groan, half-drunk from the blood, and beyond-fucking-wasted by the feel of Elena so close to me.

Elena moans and I feel her hair against my face now, her body pressing against my side. Her thighs shifting aimlessly. I swallow again and again, trying to calm down. Trying to force myself to pull back so I can get her on the girl. That's when Elena's lips slide against my skin.

Then her tongue. On my neck. Shit. Mother fucking shit, she can't-

Pain flares through my flesh as Elena's fangs lodge into my flesh. Elena's fangs. Elena's fangs are in my neck.

She sucks once and my vision swims. Elena mewls against me and my grip on Maggie loosens. Elena's climbing me like a tree, arms and legs wrapping and her mouth doing wicked, hungry, amazing fucking things.

I tear free of Maggie's throat with a groan and hear her sigh and slide to the ground. She's gone from my mind in an instant. As is the lesson Elena just failed and the towers of fucking toilet paper stacked up all around us. I could be free-falling into the under-belly of hell and I wouldn't notice a damn thing.

I ease my back against the nearest wall and arch my neck to give Elena better access. And she takes it, one hand knotting in my hair while she drinks deep. Little whimpers spill from her lips and go straight down into my bones. It's all I can do to hold on. I've got one hand on her ass and one buried in her hair and I'm panting and grunting so much you'd think she was sucking my dick.

In truth, that would be easier. If she were on her knees instead of tangled all around me-if I wasn't so close to her sweet smell and her endless sounds. But I am. And she's drinking long and deep and I can't do a thing. I can't do anything but pray she doesn't stop, because fucking hell, I am lost in this girl.

I am lost.

I don't know when she stops. I don't know when the music turns low or when Maggie disappears or when I pass out, for that matter. I know I wake up with my head in Elena's lap and her tears dripping onto my face. I turn my head and swipe them off.

"You have got to stop with this crying shit," I say, my voice a little rusty.

She shakes her head, all smeared mascara and blood-stained lips. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Damon."

I have no idea what the hell she's sorry for or why she's crying, but I sit up, rubbing my spinning head. She must have finished off Maggie because I don't see her anywhere. Would she have already hid the body? How long have I been out?

Hell, it doesn't matter. What matters is that Elena can't handle another murder. And I sure the hell can't handle any more fucking crying. "Elena, that girl's on me. I drank too deep. I should've thought about it."

Elena's face twists in total confusion. And then she gets it. "Maggie's fine. She's fine. I'm the problem. I attacked you and I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop, Damon."

She looks revolted. Absolutely horrified by what she's done. "Is this what I am? Tell me! What kind of twisted, awful thing have I-

"-Hold on," I say, but she rambles right past.

"I'm disgusting. I just treated you like a blood bag. Like Klaus treated-"

I catch her face in my hands and her words cut off as I force her to look at me. "Would you stop being this drippy little washrag? You are stronger than this, Elena, so knock it the fuck off."

"How can you say that? After what I did to you tonight-"

"Let's make one thing very clear. If you knew what it felt like to have your teeth in me, you wouldn't be apologizing. You'd be blushing."

Her eyes cloud over and her mouth drops open, just a little. For one second, I'm seriously tempted to kiss her. Except kissing Elena is a pointless endeavor. It's like having a single spoonful of the best thing you've ever tasted. And then watching the rest of the bowl get pushed across the table to your brother. Twice.

I drop her face and shake my head, standing up. So much for Lesson One. Should have called it How To Have A Monumentally Fucked Up Feeding Encounter With Your Vampire Mentor.

I check the door and hear the soft tinkle of glasses being cleaned and floors being swept. Good. Less people to compel if the need arises. Which means less time until I'm in bed and forgetting all about this ridiculous night.

"Do you still love me, Damon?"

You've got to be fucking kidding me. I turn around to glare at her.

"Jesus, what is it with you? Are you incapable of being happy unless you know you've got me by the short hairs?"

She doesn't look away, but she shakes her head. "That's not why I'm asking."

"Why then?"

"Everyone looks at me differently. And I don't even think it would feel so awful if it wasn't for you."

"Are you shitting me? Everybody looks at you different, but it's my fau-"

"You don't."

"Excuse me?"

She raises up to her knees now, something new and dangerous in her eyes. Something that looks an awful lot like realization. God, she's really nothing like my brother. Nothing at all. Her facts are lining up and all the black and white is running together and she isn't scared. She is steadier than she's ever been.

"You don't look at me different," she says. "You look at me the same. Like you feel exactly the same as you always have."

I take a step back because this is new territory. And I don't want to be here. I don't want to be within a hundred fucking miles of the place she's going.

"You still love me," she says. Doesn't ask it, mind you, because she knows she doesn't need to. "None of this changes anything for you, does it?"

I finally throw my hands up, scoffing. "It doesn't fucking matter, Elena? "

"It does to me," she says. And then she stands up and comes closer, looking at me like she's never seen me before. Or maybe like she's never actually looked.

"It matters," she says again. She slips past me to the door and then her voice drops so soft, I almost think I'm imagining it. "I think maybe it always did."

And it's just like her. This isn't sincerity. This isn't Elena finally coming around. It's her standard protocol-dangling some vague sentiment in front of my nose before she confesses her heart, soul, and body to Stefan for the umpteen millionth time.

My vision goes red, rage flaring through me, but it's too late to fight. By the time I turn to look, Elena's already gone.

-TBC-