Damon POV

1 month later…

The tepid amber liquid swished against the sides of the bottle, with every stumble in my step. I trudged along the sidewalk, burnt brown and singed green weeds crept up through the cracks, poking their heads out for a glimmer of sunshine. My smooth grace, I was once so proud of, was discarded in the gutter like trash, along with my charming facade. I stopped sluggishly, leaning my shoulder against a nearby tree, the rough bark grating the black fabric of my shirt. I lazily brought the tip of the half filled bottle up to my parched lips, taking a long swig. The scotch was warmed from the harsh rays of the afternoon sun. It slid down my throat easily, leaving a pleasant sting along the way. I licked my lips, savoring the taste of my best bottle.

At first, to occupy my free time and drown my misery, I would partake in the following events: get drunk, have sex, kill, usually in that order. Yet now it seemed as though, the only thing I had the energy for anymore, was bringing a bottle to my mouth and guzzling down its contents.

I can feel it now. Whatever bond Isobel and I had before, was no doubt, waning beyond repair. Sometimes we spent weeks apart from each other. Time seemed to drag on slowly and painfully without her. In the time we had spent together, it was always brief, abruptly cut short.

Something in me was withering away. I had forgotten how she had the ability to make me agonize internally with her mere absence. I have endured it before, when I abandoned her as Angelina, and as the years passed, eventually I believed she was dead. I guess that was easier to accept. Now knowing my feelings for her, knowing that she's gone by her own choice. That is what hurts me. There is nothing in our friendship that is in dire need to be repaired, and that is the problem. Because at least when we were fighting, there was a reason for her absence…but now…what's the reason?

I needed her…. and not in that naïve romantic sense, that made people gag, but the raw and crippling way that tore something in me, torturing me mercilessly until the only thing remaining, was an empty shell of the man I once was.

I swallowed another lengthy gulp of fluid, my swaying vision focusing on the glossy golden hair of a young woman. She bounced happily into view, my mood instantly souring, upon recognizing the familiar angelic face.

Elena POV

I squinted my eyes, straining them to get a glimpse of the face that was attached to the muscular silhouette in the distance. The figure was teetering slightly from side to side, regardless of the stability that the tree provided. I proceeded to glide closer, the bags in my hands bouncing with each fluent step I took.

My mouth spread into a wide grin the moment I realized who exactly it was. He glowered at me, which only caused my smirk to deepen.

"Well, well it's been awhile since I've last seen you Damon." I drawled smugly.

He snorted in disgust, "Not long enough wench." He spat angrily.

I raked my eyes over him, trailing them down his body. He looked like hell that was for sure. His eyes were hollow and bloodshot, his hair tousled messily, wrinkled clothing enveloping his rock hard physique, purple shadows hung underneath his eyes, dark stubble popped up along his jaw bone. For Damon Salvatore, the roguishly stunning man that he was, who prided himself on his looks, he looked bad.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I take it the bitch Isobel isn't being as clingy as she usually is?" I quipped, an underlying bite dripping from my tone.

He grabbed my wrist, his fingers curling around my arm, his short nails biting into my flesh as he tightened his grip. He yanked me forward, causing my bags to spill to the ground. I let out a gasp of surprise. "I'd watch what you say very carefully. You should know better than to piss off a vampire who has nothing to lose." He growled, his bone crushing grip, loosening.

I ripped my hand from his hold, his arm slumping back to his side. I rubbed the tender skin, from where his fingers had been; pink streaks were left behind on my wrist. I snatched my bags from the cement furiously.

How dare he handle me so forcefully! I'm a lady damn it! The bastard didn't have the right!

An irrepressible rage in me bubbled over, and before I could dwell on it any longer, the words began to stream out.

"You and Stefan both see that bitch as the epitome of perfect, when she is anything but! You two can't see the truth, but I sure as hell do!" I yelled. "She's a vindictive little slut, just like Katherine, toying with both of the Salvatore brothers." I hissed vehemently, relishing in the confusion that flashed across his features.

"Well that seemed to sober you up, now didn't it?" I remarked, as his glazy eyes became clear, posture stable.

"What are you talking about?" he growled.

A maniac laugh broke through me, "What they didn't tell you how they've been fucking each other behind your back?"

"You're lying." He muttered, although I could see that the doubt had already taken root in his muddled brain.

"Fine. Don't take my word for it. Why don't you go ask them yourself? Ha they're probably fucking right now. But they've been keeping it from you for, shit, I don't even know how long!" I added.

The sheer agony that broke out onto his face, made me stumble backwards, causing something in me to plummet. I tried desperately, but I couldn't ignore the heartbreak I felt for him. I couldn't help it. The look on his face was enough to make the coldest person feel pity.

The weight of my actions plowed into me, and I instantly regretted everything I said. It was true I wanted him, and the others, to suffer the way I did…but now as I stared at him…his pain was worse than mine, much worse.

He swung his arm into the air, and I braced myself for the blow, but it never came. Instead he drew back his arm and propelled the bottle into a tree, the liquid exploding out of it, glass flying in every direction, minuscule pieces raining down onto the gray cement. His eyes frantically darted around the area. He looked about ready to break. He roughly tore into his wavy raven locks, panting heavily, his body trembling slightly. His eyes locked with mine, burning like a rabid animal.

"Are you sure?" he breathed, barely above a whisper, the utter desperation in his voice to know the truth, blatantly apparent.

I felt even worse. Unable to find the words, I simply nodded.

Before I could muster an apology, he vanished. The only evidence that he was ever there was the broken bottle, and the unnatural breeze that gusted through my hair with his departure.

I sighed, letting the shame consume me. For the first time, in what felt like forever, I felt undeniably guilty.

I walked home, wondering what had happened to the girl who had once been so amerced in her love for the Salvatore's, but was now only enveloped in bitterness.

Isobel POV

I was sitting on the plush brown couch, clutching my gut, giggling uncontrollably, as Stefan continued to do his horrible impersonation of The Godfather.

"Just stop!" I begged. "You're embarrassing yourself." I chocked on the words, gasping for even the smallest fraction of air, as another wave of laughter overtook me. My throat became itchy as a rush of air flooded my lungs unexpectedly, sending me into a coughing fit.

I quickly felt Stefan's gentle touch, rubbing soothing circles into my back, coaxing me to take deep breaths. "Calm down. I know my impersonation is good, but there's no need to kill yourself over it." He teased.

I peered up at him, unable to look him straight in the eye, without giggling.

Finally containing myself, I began, "You are-."

However my voice was drowned out, at the large crash that echoed throughout the house. I shot up from the sofa, a feeling of dread thickening the atmosphere. Any humorous thoughts were immediately expelled. The only thought popping into my brain was that something was terribly wrong.

Stefan was immediately at my side, as we traveled to the sight of the sound. Splinters of wood and metal fragments were sprinkled along the carpeted floor. The large mahogany door was fractured beyond recognition, chucks of wood clung to the broken hinges.

Damon stood underneath the threshold of the door, breathing heavily, looking worn and sleep deprived, the strong smell of scotch impeding my nostrils. He had a crazed sparkle in his eye…the last time I saw him so distraught, ended up being one of the worst days of my life.

I took a step forward, but before I could go any further, I felt Stefan's finger hook through the loop of my jeans, and gently tug me back. "It's ok." I reassured him, and he unwound his fingers hesitantly.

He clearly didn't have as much faith in Damon as I did.

I watched as Damon's eyes flitted in between us, and something in him snapped.

He stormed past us and into the living room. I trailed hastily behind him, worry igniting within me. I could hear Stefan's noisy footsteps padding alongside me. He stopped in the center of the room, ten feet or so of distance separating us. He began to pace the room, as he often did when he was on overload. He stopped again, his body ridged. He swiveled his head up to me, his dark eyes pained. "Is it true?" he whispered.

I froze…. he couldn't mean…

"Is wh-what true?" I stumbled over my words helplessly.

He punched a whole in the wall, sheetrock crumbling around his fist. "GOD DAMN IT ISOBEL, IS IT FUCKING TRUE?" he roared, so loud that I thought the walls would shake and collapse around us. Part of me prayed they would, and hopefully the debris would kill me along the way. Because right then, I knew exactly what he was talking about.

He had found out.

My brain and body went completely numb.

"I think you should calm down, before you do something you'll regret." Stefan reasoned, his voice calm, although I could hear the worry in it.

Damon shook his head in astonishment, a sinister smirk forming, before his face fell cold again. "Now is not the time to play peacemaker Stefie. Not when I'm hovering on the idea of staking you right now." He threatened, his tone lethal.

I knew he was serious, he wouldn't think twice about killing Stefan. He had the exact look in his eyes, the same hiss in his voice, the day Katherine 'died'. My heart sunk a little more, knowing that no one would be able to talk him down. He was like an unstable bomb, anything could set him off, and the destruction could be disastrous.

"Now Isobel, I would like you to tell me the truth." He growled, his voice amplifying with each word.

"Yes." I whimpered, taking a shaky inhale, reminding myself to keep breathing.

He charged at me, uncontrollable rage blistering his eyes. I knew he wouldn't hurt me…or at least I hoped he wouldn't. But to my dismay, Stefan stepped in front of me, posing as a barrier between Damon and I. It was something incredibly caring and brave, because I know all he wanted to do was protect me, however it was also incredibly foolish.

"That was a big mistake." Damon hissed through barred teeth, grabbing a thick shard of wood that splintered off the door, and plunging it into Stefan's stomach. He grunted in pain, doubling over, crimson beginning to stain his white shirt, as he dropped to the floor.

A screech erupted through me. No no no no… I would not have any more repeats of the past. Never again would I remain paralyzed by fear, watching from the sidelines as they murdered each other.

Damon was already on top of him, hammering in punch after punch. Blood gushed from Stefan's nose, cuts were sliced into his face, as he struggled to get up, but each time failed. A sickening crunch rang through my ears, as Damon punched him in the ribs.

I clawed Damon's shirt, gripping him and trying to tug him away using every ounce of strength I contained, but he didn't budge.

"Stop!" I screamed, as Damon ripped the stake from Stefan's chest, and prepared to drill it into his heart.

I didn't care about the danger or death I could face. I let go of Damon and within seconds I had wedged myself into the tight space separating the two of them. I hastily draped my body over Stefan, shielding him. "Damon stop! You'll kill him! Really kill him!" I cried in fear. I caught Stefan's eyes; half open, silently pleading me to get out of the way.

I knew he was not willing to take the risk that Damon hurt me, but I was. I would not let him die. I have lost far too many people in my life. I would not lose another.

A shimmer of comprehension flickered onto Damon's face, and the wood tumbled from his hands, clattering to the floor. He slowly got off of Stefan, puzzlement visible. Whatever was left of the sane Damon, took control again.

Without pause, I thrust my wrist into Stefan's face. "Drink now." I ordered, leaving no room for argument. He had already lost too much blood. I would not have him die.

He obeyed, and I felt a sharp pain, that quickly dissolved, as his fangs pierced my skin.

I watched, as the wounds began to slowly seal, color come back to his face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Damon had resumed his tedious pacing, he glanced over a few times, each time, more jealousy and more anger, brimming over his forlorn features.

The only emotion I felt was guilt. How could I have done this to him? I didn't deserve either of them. They were both too good for me, and didn't deserve the heartache I would bring them.

Stefan gently pushed my wrist away, although he had hardly taken enough. "No more." He coughed. Even though he did look better, I knew he was still in pain and the fatigue was settling upon him.

"Just try and stay still." I said tenderly, he complied warily and laid back on the floor. I brushed my hand against his cheek, and he gave me a weak encouraging smile.

I sighed, heaving myself to my feet. The second I was standing in front of Damon, panic, fear, and guilt all made my stomach curl, twisting it painfully into a tight ball. My heart was beating violently.

"Damon I-"

"How long?" He murmured, cutting me off.

I gulped, my throat feeling dry and scratchy. My eyes flickered to Stefan, he gave me a brief supportive nod, as he breathed heavily on the ground.

"Since the late 1700s." My voice was soft, and shaky. I felt like the walls were closing in around me, and they didn't plan on stopping until I was flattened like a pancake.

His midnight eyes swirled into an even darker abyss. "The 1700s…" he echoed in disbelief, his steel eyes sliced into mine, causing me to shiver.

How could I have done this? He was never supposed to find out like this. How did he find out? Why didn't I just tell him the truth? Did I really think I could hide this from him forever? How could I not of noticed how much he was hurting before? It was apparent in his gait, his appearance, his demeanor. He was a different Damon. I've been a self-absorbed bitch. Why did I do this to him? This was all my fault. All my fault. I've been nothing but a selfish idiot. Why did I-

"How could you hide this from me?" he shouted, his booming voice piercing through my jumbled mind. I shrunk back ashamed of my lies, wondering the same thing. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded louder.

"I-I was going to! I swear I was!" I stammered feebly, moisture pricking my eyes.

"Really when?" he snapped harshly.

"I-I." I fell silent. I didn't have an answer, and he knew that.

"You let me hope that you and I-" he stopped himself, his fist clenched, his body shaking.

My brows knitted together in confusion, "Hope what Damon?"

He shook his head angrily, dragging his hand down his face, and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe you." He spat, ignoring me. "You know my predicament with women, and how they always choose him over me! I thought you of all people wouldn't do this to me…" he rambled on his voice cracking. "Why Isobel? Why?" he croaked.

The pain in his voice made my heart coil with grief, and the torrents of tears began to fall freely. "I didn't choose him over you Damon! I didn't choose anyone!" I argued. "Why can't I love him? I know he's your brother, but why can't I love him?"

He winced at my confession.

"Because you-you just can't!" he stuttered.

"Then tell me Damon, please enlighten me! Who am I supposed to love?" I shrilled.

He ignored me again, but I kept going. I needed him to understand. Show him that I could still be there for him. It could still be the same. "Damon we can still be friends. I won't leave you. You're not second to Stefan, you'll never be."

His eyes met mine for the briefest fraction of a second, they were frantic, nearly to the point of madness. He released a humorless bark of laughter. "Don't you see Isobel? I already am!" he cackled bitterly. "Can't you see we're already falling apart?" he questioned harshly. The answer was yes. I had felt it and it was hurting me but…I don't know I just wanted a damn choice! It seemed as though everyone had one but me. I wanted to be able to love Stefan, without anyone telling me it was wrong, or I wasn't allowed to. Is that so hard to understand! "I'm losing you Isobel." He muttered in defeat. It made my heart squeeze in agony to hear him hurting so badly because of me. "I know it, and it physically kills me. Something in me is tearing away…and now I find out that all of this pain is because of you and my fucking brother!" he bellowed. "You promised me that things would never change between us. That you would always be there for me!"

"I will be." I urged. "It can still be how it used to." I pleaded in a desperate need to keep him in my life, no matter how selfish it was. "You won't lose me Damon! Just give me a chance!" I begged. "I can't lose you!" I screamed in despair, frustrated tears slicking my face and trailing down my neck, drenching the collar of my shirt.

"Then give me an excuse to stay." He countered.

I struggled for an answer. Any answer. I knew what he wanted me to say, but I couldn't give him that.

I love Stefan, more than anything, I do….but somehow I couldn't imagine my life without Damon. I've been separated from Stefan, and managed. But without Damon, it's like nothing mattered. That's why I searched for him in every life, for a chance to reconnect again.

Uggghhh, but I love Stefan I know I do! So why do I feel this way? I didn't give Damon an answer, because I didn't know for sure myself...and I needed to be sure.

He shook his head, turning on his heels to leave. I lunged for him, my fingers brushing against the fabric of his black shirt, scrunching the cloth beneath my hands. Tears continued to spill from my eyes, I ordered myself to stop crying, not show him how weak I would be without him, but it was hopeless. I couldn't suppress a single tear. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I wheezed, as he peered down at me with his beautifully haunting eyes. "But please…. please don't go-don't walk away." I wept. "Please don't go…you're my best friend."

His eyes were detached, and cold as he said the words that shattered my heart into millions of tiny pieces. "Not any more." He mumbled, in a perfectly inflectionless tone. He shrugged out of my grip, and walked away.

My eyes were wide with horror, as I watched him go, my gaze remaining fixed in the direction he had disappeared. It felt like an elephant was perched on my chest, crushing my lungs, compressing them till not a breath of oxygen was left. I chocked on a sob, emitting a strangled sound from the back of my throat, as I struggled for air. The room started to spin in slow sickening circles, swirling into a blur of dizzying colors. I thought I was going to vomit. I felt my legs give out from under my weight.

The last thing I remember, was feeling two strong arms catch me, and an unbearable ache in my heart, before a shadow of darkness pulled me under.