A/N I'm back. I know, this chapter took forever, but I just couldn't get it right. I'm still not all that happy with it, so there may be some edits coming, but the gist of it will probably stay the same. I just felt like I've kept you guys waiting for so long, I had to post something. Let me know how much it sucks (or doesn't? Maybe? I hope?) by leaving a review!

Also, a HUGE thank you to Dhorcas and ScarletRaven21 (you should check out her story: Mistakes on the Road. It's incredible) for being amazing and helping me get this chapter out! You each, in your own way, gave me the little nudge I needed to finish this chapter when I was close to giving up and there is not enough praise in the world for either of you!

CHAPTER 6

December, 2013

The bathroom floor is cold. The faucet taps out an ominous, melancholy beat with its slow and constant drip... Drip... Drip... The ancient pipes creak and moan in this house that is old as sin. I can't get used to how old everything is, here. The house was built over a hundred years ago (and has since been converted into apartments) and I hate it. I jump at every noise, afraid of what's coming, but the bathroom is safe. I lock the doors on either side and curl up on the floor, just waiting for it all to be over. I try to remove myself from the situation by thinking of happier things, but all I can focus on is the fact that the doors are safe. He's outside them. The bathroom is safe. He'll be asleep soon. The floor is cold. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Sometimes, after he's passed out drunk, I sit up alone, just staring into the darkness, thinking about the night that changed everything. What if, what is, what could've been... 'What-if's' and 'what-could've's' don't matter much, though, when you're faced with some pretty fucking dire 'what-can's'. And it's the 'what can' that has me hiding, huddled under a towel, locked in the bathroom, letting myself cry for the first time in years because I finally realize the severity of the situation that awaits me outside that room.

If I don't get out soon he is going to kill me.

May, 2009

"So, how is my brother?"

"He's great, actually." I tried to play it cool. After all, I hadn't done anything wrong and had nothing to hide. "Seems they might be getting a record deal. Hemingway. His band," I added as an afterthought, thinking there was a possibility Stefan didn't even know what the band was called. After all, I didn't until tonight.

"I told you not to see him anymore."

"Yes, Stef. You did, indeed. Here's the thing, though. One, I am an autonomous creature. You do not have control over me. I haven't gone out of my way to see him, for your benefit, but it's not like I'm gonna shun him if we do run into each other because, whether you like it or not, he's my friend. Two, I didn't even know he was playing there tonight. Ask the girls. We had no idea."

"Funny you should mention the girls," Stefan said in a light, conversational tone that had my skin crawling because I knew it was anything but. He examined his nails casually as he continued, "Bonnie called me tonight, all concerned because you and my brother appeared to be thick as thieves. She said when the two of you were talking it was like there was nobody else in the room. She was worried about what kind of crap he's trying to pull that you're obviously falling for."

Note to self: Pencil Bonnie in for murder tomorrow. I think I have time around 11.

"Bonnie's never even met him," I sighed. "And I don't think you've had a real conversation with him in way too long. I really don't think either of you has a clue what you're talking about." Feeling completely defeated, I walked over to my bed and sat down next to Stefan, mirroring his pose. I was just so tired of this argument.

"Thing is," he went on as if I hadn't spoken; "I wanted to be mad about that but... She also told me you're considering coming with me to PA."

I turned to look at him and saw him smiling at me. Really smiling. He looked... Happy. Every muscle in my body, all of which had tensed in preparation for World War Salvatore, relaxed at once. This was a pleasant surprise. I had a fleeting thought that I shouldn't be surprised that my boyfriend was being all nice and reasonable, but I ignored it.

"Of course I am," I replied. "I would be a fool not to. You were right this morning, Stef. I'm so sorry about how I acted. It was just a bit sudden and I kinda freaked out. I would love to come with you." Stefan's sweet smile grew a little and looked more like a victorious sneer for just a second before he grabbed me and pulled me into his lap, showering my face with kisses.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me, baby." I giggled as he tickled me lightly. He planted a tender kiss on my lips and then leaned his forehead against mine. "And it's so great that this happened on your birthday. Now we'll never forget the day we decided to live together."

"Yeah, because heaven forbid we just celebrate my birthday because it was the day I was born. Now we have a real reason to celebrate," I deadpanned.

"Oh, you know what I mean, Lena," he replied, tickling me again. I half-heartedly swatted his hands away and mock-glared at him. Before I knew it, Stefan had flipped us and I found myself pinned underneath him, my wrists being held above my head, as he stared into my eyes with a fiery intensity. His mouth latched onto mine harshly as his right hand released its grip on my wrist and moved downwards to undo my black skinny jeans.

Within moments he had us both naked. I was still beneath him, being held in his punishing grip. His green gaze bore into mine once again, a sinister sort of fire burning in his eyes when he said, "This thing you have with my brother? It needs to stop. He's just trying to get to me. Believe me, if you weren't dating me, he wouldn't give a girl like you the time of day."

A girl like me?

"You're MINE."

This again?

"I love you so much." With that, he pushed himself into me in one solid motion and paused briefly, groaning at the contact. As he started to move he turned his head to the side, watching himself fuck me in the mirror against the wall. His face twisted into a sardonic grin, like he was playing a game that was too easy and he was winning. I really didn't understand these moods he got into. It was like I didn't even know this Stefan. Regardless, for the second time, I let him have his way, feeling more than a little like a masturbatory aid, rather than a lover. If that was what he needed, though, I was willing to give it to him. I was lucky to have him, really. He was smart, handsome, well off and in love with me, of all people. I could put up with his little moods every once in a while. Right?


The next afternoon found me at Bonnie's door. Her murder appointment had to be pushed back a little, on account of me sleeping in until 12:30. Better late than never, I thought. No sooner had she answered the door than I was storming past her into the living room. "Ok, what the FUCK is your problem, Bon?"

"Well, hello to you too." Bonnie gently shut the door behind her and leaned against it, welcoming me with a blank stare. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Why the fuck would you call Stefan and feed him all that bullshit about me and Damon?!"

"What's wrong, Elena? Something to hide?"

"Jesus," I exclaimed through a shaky breath. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sat down on the couch with my elbows on my knees. "Why do I feel like the whole world is against me where Damon is concerned?" The question was more directed at myself than anyone else.

"Maybe because everyone but you can see that the guy is bad news. I'm just worried about you, 'Len." Bonnie's tone had softened and she had joined me on the couch, her previous iciness replaced by a look of sympathy.

"You know, it's funny," I chuckled dryly. "The whole reason he acts the way he does, why he puts on that roughed-up-edges show, is because everyone, and I mean everyone, immediately thinks the worst of him. I think he just finds it easier to fulfill the stereotype. But if you actually get to know him... He's a really good guy, Bon. Once he let me in I felt like I'd known him for years. You didn't even talk to him. I have no idea where this is coming from for you. And I'm getting really fucking sick of people judging our friendship," I finished with a sigh and leaned back on the couch, holding my palms to my forehead before letting my arms fall limp at my sides. Having said my piece, I just waited for any kind of response from Bonnie. She kept me waiting quite a while before she finally spoke.

"I'll give you one thing. When I saw the interaction between you two, you did look like old friends. He did seem to legitimately care about you. But that's what worries me. How well do you really know this guy? I mean, he's chalk full of charisma and you're, well-"

"Don't you say it, Bonnie," I interrupted.

"No, Elena. Sorry, but you need to hear this. You're- we're- young and naive, as much as you'd like to deny it. Guys like him take advantage of girls like us every day."

"It's not like that. We have this weird connection. We just get each other. I can't explain it. Fuck, I'm getting tired of this spiel..."

"It's not just that, though, 'Len. I had a really bad feeling."

Bonnie and her feelings. She fancied herself something of a psychic because she had a 'powerful intuition'. Granted, something bad usually did happen after one of her 'feelings', but it was usually completely unrelated to the thing she was having the feeling about, so I brushed it off as coincidence. There was always something bad happening to someone, somewhere. But Bonnie insisted that she was psychic and just needed to learn to read her 'premonitions', or whatever you would call them, better. It always seemed like it was better to humor her, though, so I did.

"What kind of feeling?"

"Okay, remember we were talking about you moving?"

"Yeah, and you were the one who convinced me it was a good idea." I raised an eyebrow.

"Well, right after that I had this horrible sinking feeling, like you were in serious danger. That's when Damon walked up to you. The guy is dangerous, Lena. I just know it."

"Have you considered that maybe you were having that feeling because I'm leaving? I mean, I get it, Bon. I'm nervous about it too. Maybe you were just feeding off of that nervous energy."

"Why are you so nervous about it?" Bonnie asked, distracting herself from her fit of unsolicited Damon-hatred.

"It's just a big commitment, you know? It's scary."

"Yeah, it's a bit of a big deal. Stefan's amazing, though. He treats you like gold and you guys are perfect together. What could go wrong?"

There are those famous last words again. I nervously fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, debating whether or not I sure tell her about Stefan's recent behavior. I decided against it, though, figuring I was probably reading too much into it. I mean, couples fight, right? Everyone has their flaws so things like that were unavoidable. "Yeah, I know. You're right. It's just a big change and I can't help being a little freaked out." Bonnie gave me a warm hug and a sympathetic look.


When I left Bonnie's I was feeling more confident about my decision and decidedly less murder-y. I was also feeling oddly compelled to talk to Damon, so I sent him a quick text. He wrote back immediately, giving me his address and asking me if I wanted to stop by. He buzzed me in when I got there and I found his door open when I reached his floor. Damon was lounging on a beat up leather couch in the living room, his guitar propped up next to him, furiously scribbling on a notepad. "Hey," I sheepishly announced, feeling like I was interrupting, even though he invited me over.

"Hey back," he replied, not looking up. "Sorry, just finishing something."

"What're you working on?" I asked as I approached him.

"Song," he mumbled distractedly as he finished his frantic scribbling and finally looked up at me with a smile.

"Oooh, what's it called?" I asked, lifting up his feet so I could sit next to him and then placing them back down in my lap, giving his ankle a little squeeze as I did so.

"It's called 'Elena'," he crooned, batting his eyelashes at me.

"Fuck off, smart ass." I rolled my eyes, grabbing his big toes and twisting them.

Damon yelped, through laughter, and exclaimed, "Hey! I need those! Anyway," he shrugged; "doesn't have a name yet."

"Can I hear it?"

"You wish, Gilbert."

"Buzzkill." He winked at me.

"So, what's up, buttercup? Twice in two days; I feel like I've won the lottery."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Salvatore." Damon's answering smirk made me happy I was sitting down. "Almost everywhere," I added and giggled at the ridiculously adorable pout that followed afterwards. "I do have news for you, though."

"Have you uncovered a latent talent for nasal beach ball balancing and you're off to join the circus? Discovered that all this time it really was gnomes stealing your underpants and you've destroyed the colony? Or no, you probably enslaved them to do your girly bidding. Wait. No. I know. You've been reunited with your bisexual, nymphomaniac, long lost twin who's really into bad boy rock stars. That's it, right?"

"Remind me why I like you?" Suppressing my laughter was quite the chore.

"My good looks and charm?"

"And your humility. Definitely."

"Ok, ok. What's the haps, Gilbert?"

"I'm moving to PA with Stef. And don't ever say that again. I'm vicariously embarrassed."

Damon's light mood turned serious. "Well. That's not what I was expecting. I was half worried you were gonna tell me you were pregnant or something."

"Well, how bad would that be, really? I mean, I do support stem cell research."

"Christ, you're morbid."

"Practice makes perfect."

"So, my saintly bro has convinced you to leave the promised land for a little misguided pilgrimage, hey? I can't pretend that I'm not completely devastated. Who'm I gonna fantasize about and flirt with inappropriately?"

"I'm sure you'll make do," I deadpanned. Damon chuckled. He might make do, but I couldn't shake the inexplicable feeling that I might not. Sensing my mood, Damon opened his arms to me with a questioning look. I collapsed into him, resting my head between his neck and his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around me. The sound of his heart beat resonating from beneath his sternum was like a lullaby, calming me and enveloping me in a transcendent sense of security. I still had trouble believing how safe and comfortable I felt with this man. It made no sense. I barely knew him.

"What's really bothering you?" He asked intuitively, the low rumble of his voice reverberating through me like a purr from my own chest while his hand gently stroked my back. I paused, debating with myself, not sure if it would be weird to talk to him about what I was really thinking. My internal debate was won within moments and the floodgates opened, releasing a deluge of fears, insecurities and reservations. I told him everything. Everything that I couldn't bring myself to tell Bonnie and Caroline, everything about how Stefan had been acting and how I'd let him. By the time I finished, Damon's grip on me was fierce, his body tense and his breathing shallow.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him," he spit out, through clenched teeth.

"What? No, Damon," I said as I sat up to look at him. His expression was murderous. "It's not that big a deal. He's just been... Different lately and I don't know what's up with him."

"Not a big deal?! He RAPED you, Elena! How can you say it's not a big deal?"

"Fucks sake, he didn't rape me! It's not like I said NO!" Or did I? "It was just... He was more insistent than normal. Gods, I wish I didn't even tell you that part. Of course you'd take it that way."

"Okay, whatever you say, I wasn't there. But I'm gonna say this, Elena. If he ever lays an errant fucking finger on you, you tell me right away. And you get the fuck out, ok? I'm serious. I don't care if he's my brother. I'll fucking destroy him."

"You're so dramatic! He's obviously going through something right now. I think whatever happened with Katherine really screwed him up. He's paranoid all the time. I feel bad for him. He just needs someone to love him and not fuck him over and break his heart. He just hasn't realized yet that I'm already doing that. He'll figure it out."

Damon sighed. "I hope you're right, Gilbert."

So do I, Salvatore. So do I.