Hey, guys! Finally, here it is, chapter 3 :)

I'm not too proud of this chapter, if I'm honest with you. I'll leave you with this thought: it isn't the best I've ever written. But I guess it's needed to carry the story on.

Please remember to not favorite without reviewing first!

Chapter title is from the artist 'A Fine Frenzy'.

I'll leave you guys to read now. :)

There's no use in crying,

All my tears won't drown my pain

Streaming from your sorrow,

I can't grieve you again

Bury Me Alive – We Are The Fallen

Everyone goes by her orders. People know that right now she's so brittle, so easily manipulated, so delicately bruised that they silently obey. No questions are asked – only a few sneaky raised eyebrows are cast. Caroline doesn't pull her usual quizzical expression followed by a dainty sigh; Bonnie doesn't narrow her eyes like she does when she's surprised. Everyone leaves her in peace – they know it's for the best.

Except from Damon.

(This stubborn, dauntless, beautifulman can't seem to leave her alone.)

She's curled up on her bed, curled up in that usual position she has been taking for the last three weeks. She's so conflicted, so tired of all these flitting thoughts. She still doesn't understand how she has woven herself into this situation – this world where danger hides behind every counter, where there are these wonderfulpeople who try and protect her but she can't seem to protect them. She doesn't know whether to blame fate or to blame herself.

"Elena?" The voice is all too familiar. It's still silky, silky as always, still almost too smooth and almost too comforting for her ears. She wants to tell him so badly that his voice is perhaps the most pleasant thing she has heard for ages. Instead, she goes for the easier option.

"What do you want, Damon?" She feigns a sigh, not knowing what else to do. A part of her wants to talk to him, to tell him how grateful she is, to tell him that he's only getting better every day. Another part of her wants to yell at him, to yell at him because he's unable to bring Stefan back, to yell at him because every time he's close to loveable he does something to fuck up, to fuck up so badly that she ends up loving it.

(She ends up almost loving him.)

"Why did you do that, Elena?" he says this through clenched teeth, and she knows, sheknowsthat it's so hard for him. It's so hard for him to love a woman like her, a woman so indecisive, unavailable and so damn confusedabout her feelings for him. She knows, and she's getting so tired of it.

('I love you. You should know that.' She yearns for him to say that just once more.)

"Why did you agree with me?" he continues. "Isn't that what you want, to find your Stefan? To be with him forever?"

"That's notwhat I want," she immediately replies. She bites her lip – she's just throwing things out there now. She inhales deeply, steadying herself.

"I mean," she rephrases, "I'm just not ready. I love him, but I don't know what I want. God, Damon, I don't know what I want."

(From you,she adds in her mind.)

"I want him back," she says weakly.

She reaches out to take his hand. Their skin touching is like a bold electric shock – the sparks fly out far, and it shocks her. She's sure it shocks both of them. It's truly a magical moment, a guilty, regretted magical moment.

"Damn it, Elena," he says softly. He clenches his fists; his whole body seems to tense up. She can tell that he's irritated – if that's something vampires feel.

"Decide," Damon says. "Decide how you feel. We're not going to let you sit here and mourn. I'mnot going to allow it. Either accept that he's not coming back, or we start looking."

"Start looking?" she repeats his words, puzzled.

It's a while before Damon replies. His face twists into so many emotions, so many emotions that she once thought he was incapable of feeling. It's the most haunting, alluringthing ever.

(Perhaps he's just as human as her.)

"He's my baby brother," he chokes out weakly. His face is vulnerable. Too vulnerable.

"But you said it was a bad idea," she says.

"It is," he agrees. "But I'm made of bad ideas."

She considers this. It's true, but his bad ideas end up saving her life. His plans to defeat Klaus, his blood feeding – they had all been reckless and not thought through, but they did save her.

"I don't know," is all she can think of to say. It's all she can ever think of to say.

"Then know!" he bursts out. He holds on to her face, so harshly that it pains her. He grips it like it's his only stretch of humanity.

"I love him, Elena. Just as much as you do. Seeing him break you like this is killingme, you know?" She breaks free of his grip, and cups her head in her hands.

She feels defeated.

"But there's a limit," he says, trying desperately to be calm. "None of us know what you're thinking. He may be the love of your life or whatever, but there is a limit."

"He did this for you!" she exclaims, agitated. He still can't seem to acknowledge that the love of her lifehas risked everything to save his brother. That he's succumbed to his old ways, that he's succumbed to pure evil.And it's all because of this man, standing right in front of her. Does he not understand that? Does he have no compassion at all?

(She knows the answer to that.)

"He did this for you, and you're telling meto decide. It's yourfault, Damon, and you think you can take this out on me? I'm just his girlfriend. Am I not allowed to grieve? Do I have to become a no-emotion vampire just to be around you?"

She sees his face start to crumble. She can feel his insides turn to ash, his legs turn to jelly. She wants to slap him so badly, she wants to slap him hard for taking Stefan away from her, but she wants to just take him in her arms, to heal him of all the things Katherine has done to him, all the things that Katherine has made him become.

"Elena, I'm sorry." She notices the goodness in his eyes, and she realizes at that moment that he's irrevocably changed. She's never wanted him to; really, she's just wanted to remind him of who he once was.But this man, this broken, lost man, who apologizes to her on countless occasions, who makes her heart melt with all the good deeds he does, who takes away her beloved with the swift movement of a hand – this man is all she has left. For now.

"I want you to be happy," he says. He is being so selfless, so baring that it scares her. It scares her because she doesn't think she's ready for this whole new good side of him, yet another one in the hundreds that she's seen.

"It's hard sometimes," he continues, "but I'll die trying."

She shakes her head furiously. No.She won't let someone so precious like him give themself to her like this. She doesn't want him to be scared of displeasing her.

(Above all, she wants him to be happy, too.)

"Do you care about me, Elena?" he says quietly. It's more to himself, really, rather than to her.

She wants to gush about how much she doescare about him, about how she'll, too, be happy if he is, about how deserving he is of her care. But she just nods feebly, the words stuck in her throat.

"I do."

The words are meek, thin, but they mean everything. At least she's finally baring somepart of her soul to Damon. She doesn't know how much she's going to be able to keep to herself.

She wonders whether this conversation is going to be about Stefan any longer.

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