AUTHOR'S NOTE: You're not gonna be happy with me by the time you're done with this. Just a warning. But if you guys are eager enough in what is likely to be your post-read-outrage, maybe I'll post the next part in a couple hours :) Leave me love or hate, I just enjoy getting a reaction from my readers. And this one most definitely should.

Without Jeremy's presence, the ride back to mystic would've been unbearable. As it was, the experience was merely excruciating as Damon and Elena fought to keep up the charade of normalcy.

The fact that Damon let both Elena and Jeremy take their turn at the wheel was a testament to his desperation to get home as quickly as possible. His proximity to Elena was killing him, and he wouldn't tolerate any more pit stops than necessary, although Elena, who was equally desperate to get back, drew the line at forcing Jeremy to pee in a water bottle when he needed to empty his bladder.

Both Gilberts were fast asleep as Damon finally, finally crossed the Virginia state line. He eyed Elena in the rearview mirror; she was in the back seat, curled up in a ball using her duffel as a pillow, and even in sleep a frown puckered her forehead. His hand itched, literally itched, to smooth the discontent away from her face, and he hated her for the impulse. Every time he thought she couldn't possibly hurt him any more, she managed to do just that.

Yeah. it was definitely time to get out of mystic. He'd been a distraction, a fun little "what happens in Colorado stays in Colorado" experience, nothing more, nothing less. Her heart belonged to Stefan; it was her body that betrayed her, and he couldn't blame her for it. God knew they'd been destined to come together eventually - the sparks between them were just too hot, and all that time sharing small spaces only sped up the inevitable. But now it was back to reality. Back to the Salvatore brother she loved.

Jeremy's head rested against the passenger side window. A little dribble of drool trailed from the corner of his mouth, which for some reason annoyed the living hell out of Damon.

The sky was painted soft pink as the car headed away from the setting sun. It was a little past eight, one of those warm summer nights when the light lingered, giving everything a dreamy golden glow. A slant of the fading light fell across Elena's cheek, illuminating that beautiful, troubled face, and Damon's jaw clenched involuntarily.

He jerked his eyes from her sleeping form and floored the gas in a futile attempt to outrun his own misery.

Maybe it was the force of his scowl that had Damon invading Elena's dreams. Even sleep refused to give her the refuge she so badly wanted, so badly needed.

In her dream she lay on a bed scattered with rose petals. She wore a translucent nightie that dipped low at the neck and fell high at the hip, and she was waiting for him, open for him, yearning for him.

His weight pressed her deeper into the mattress as he settled over her, and the smile on his lips was gentle.

"You just can't get enough of me, can you?"

"No," she told him, unable, unwilling, to lie.

"Sweet, sweet Elena." Damon's voice was a soft murmur as he moved inside her. His touch was tender and made her feel beautiful. She wanted to look at him forever, to watch him even as she felt him moving inside her, to see the absolute love lit by the flickering candlelight on his face.

Suddenly the flame shot high, then winked out just as quickly. The room went black, and now Damon's smooth, rocking movements were hard and rough and mean. His eyes were all she could see, twin orbs glinting wild and feral in the darkness.

"Damon, stop," she whimpered, wincing as he drove himself deep inside her, oblivious to her pain, to her needs. No - not oblivious. The exact opposite. She saw it in his eyes, saw the knowledge that he was hurting her. That he was enjoying it.

Her heart wept.

"Damon, it hurts," she begged, trying to draw away, trying to separate herself from him. Still he held her prisoner, his hips moving like lightning, each stroke vicious. She felt like he was going to rip her apart, and her vision blurred with tears. "Please, Damon - please, you have to stop. Damon you're hurting me!"

"This is what you wanted, baby," he said cruelly, beautiful lips curved in a nasty sneer. "I'm only giving you what you want."

"No - this isn't - please, stop!" Her voice was getting desperate, creeping up an octave, and she was no longer on a bed of rose petals - now it was a tangle of angry thorns.

He pumped himself into her, faster, faster. "That's right. Writhe for me. Slice up all that soft skin. I can smell your blood. I can taste your pain." He lowered himself so his mouth was beside her ear, his tongue flicking out to caress the lobe - and then his teeth were sinking into the vulnerable flesh, tugging brutally until he tasted blood. "It's delicious," he whispered. "Who knew you'd be such a good fuck?" And he yanked her legs apart further, impossibly wide, slamming deep inside her over and over. How could something that felt so good only minutes before hurt so badly now? How could her perfect lover turn into a demon mid-coitus? How could he go from making love to her to hurting her this way, so that her body no longer welcomed his? Instead he felt like an invasion, a battering ram at the gates that ruthlessly splintered wood and hinges, nails and crossbeams.

He was ruthlessly splintering her body, her soul, her heart.

"Why are you doing this?" She could barely speak, tasting the salt of her own tears as they traced the curves of her cheekbones and wound their way to her trembling lips. "Damon, why are you being like this?" Oh, God, her body was breaking.

"I'm not being like anything, Elena. This is who I am. The monster under your bed is now in your bed, inside you, forever." His voice was low and vicious and satisfied. "I'll always be inside you, and you'll feel me there, and you'll never forget that i had you under me, moaning and begging and loving it. And the whole time I was fucking you, I was laughing. 'Cause you know what? I got you right where I wanted you. Come on, baby. Take it like a champ."

She forced her mind to go completely blank as he took the final plunge, spilling his seed inside her, his body rigid, holding her down, suffocating her. He tipped his head up and smiled a brilliant smile.

"Thanks for that," he said, before abruptly pulling out of her, and with the exit of his body hers trembled in relief. In devastation. And then shoved her back, had her head slapping smartly against the wooden headboard. "Now get the hell out of my bed. Go home, little girl. I'm all done with you."

Humiliated tears burned in her eyes as Elena stood on shaky legs. "I thought I was home. I thought you were home. I thought you were my home."

His derisive laugh sent goosebumps crawling down her broken, naked body.

"Elena! Elena, wake up! We're home!"

Jeremy's voice penetrated Elena's consciousness as she was jerked out of the nightmare. Home, she thought, stuck in that muddled place between dreams and consciousness. She was safe now. He couldn't hurt her now.

And as her mind cleared she almost laughed at herself. Because oh, he could hurt her now - so, so much more than he already had.

She shook herself to rid her mind of its cold, creeping thoughts. Her brother was getting out of the car and heading for the trunk to grab his things. Damon was silent in the driver's seat, drumming his fingers on the wheel. Like he couldn't wait to get the hell out of there - to get the hell away from her. The dream clung stubbornly to her as Elena fought back tears.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. None of this was the way it was supposed to be.

And suddenly she was angry, so goddamn angry. Her blood began to boil. Rage flooded her veins, and she tried to beat it back as she sat up and grabbed her bag, fighting the little button on the seat in front of her to force it forward. She needed out, she needed air, and she needed it now.

Her fingers were shaking and she cursed as the seat refused to budge. Damon let out a laugh that echoed the one from her dream and her skin prickled as he got out of the car and came around to the passenger side to move the seat for her.

"Thanks," she said, her tone anything but grateful.

He just shrugged. "Need a hand with anything?"

Not one of yours, she thought bitterly, but only said, "I can manage."

"Elena, I'm going in," Jeremy called out, heading for the door, then pausing to look over his shoulder. "Thanks for coming to get me," he added, looking at Damon.

"No problem."

Jeremy frowned, clearly having expected some clever "it's not like I had a choice" remark. But he'd take what he could get.

"I'll see you around, then."

"Actually, no." Damon offered his hand to help Elena out of the car; she ignored it, and him. Her eyes were burning holes in the upholstery, the dashboard, the windshield - she was surprised the world hadn't crumbled to ash courtesy of the heat of her anger. It was paralyzing her, but it felt so much better than the wrenching sadness.

"Huh?" Now Jeremy turned to walk back in their direction. "What's that mean?"

"I'm leaving town for a while," Damon answered, eyes flickering to Elena, wondering how she'd react - wondering if she'd even care. She didn't bat an eye. Of course, she was lost in her fury, eyes downcast as she struggled to master it. Had she heard his words, she probably would've given up the fight and caved, letting the anger free.

"Oh," Jeremy said, wrinkling his brow. "Well... okay..." He came forward, then hesitated, unsure how to say goodbye. Damon solved the problem by giving Jeremy a rough shove toward the house, tempering the gesture with a wry smile. "Don't be a stranger, man. And try not to kill too many people during your travels."

"No promises," Damon returned, his smile widening just a bit.

Jeremy was still frowning as he studied Damon. He wasn't an idiot, knew full well that something was up between the guy and his sister. He really didn't care to know what, exactly, and so decided to beat a quick retreat.

"Well... I'll let you guys say your goodbyes." And he was gone.

That last word dragged Elena out of her trance. She was half in, half out of the car, and now, her head snapped up as she launched to her feet, managing to rap that head against the car door in the process. She hardly felt it.

"Goodbyes?" She looked directly at Damon for the first time in hours. "What's he talking about?"

"I'm leaving," Damon told her, closing the door behind her and leaning against it, studying her through eyes that betrayed nothing. "Town," he clarified after a moment's silence.

"Excuse me?" It came out less like a question and more like an accusation.

He arched a brow. "Something wrong with your hearing?"

Elena gave up the battle, letting her fury break loose - and with it, all hell. "Oh, it's fine. I can't say the same for your brain, though." Her tone was pure acid.

"Wow, someone's in a mood." He had the audacity to look amused.

Blood pumped hard and fast through Elena's veins. "What the hell do you mean you're leaving?"

"It's a pretty simple concept, Elena."

Her heart was thudding painfully in her chest, her rage reaching flash point. She dropped her bag on the ground and whirled on him. "You're not going anywhere, Salvatore."

He let out a humorless laugh. "Whatever you say, Gilbert."

"No. You are not going." She gave him a rough shove, but since he was already leaning against the car it didn't accomplish much. "Damon Salvatore, you are not leaving me. Not now, not after all this."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well I have to say, you're really good at playing dumb. But we both know what I'm talking about and you are not leaving like this. You're not leaving, period! You can't just walk out of my life. Unless you're some sort of coward who can't look a girl in the eye the morning after."

Anger flared in Damon's eyes. "I'm not a damn coward. And I remember, quite clearly, looking into your eyes this morning." He watched her flush, though he wasn't quite sure whether it was anger or embarrassment flooding her cheeks. Decided he didn't care. "I'm sick to death of this place. I need to get the hell out. I need to get away."

"From what?" she demanded. "From me?"

"Yes!" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "From you, Elena! I'm done with this bullshit! I can't deal with it anymore, I can't deal with you anymore!"

"You can't deal with me?" She was crying now and felt a distant sort of surprise that the moisture didn't burn on her flaming skin. "Everything you've touched in my life is in pieces Damon. And just so you know? Last night was the worst mistake of my life. You're the worst mistake of my life."

"Then it's a good thing I'm leaving," he answered evenly.

"Running, more like," she shot back.

"Why do you even care, Elena?" She was making this more difficult than it already was, and suddenly he was furious with her. He was doing what needed to be done. She didn't want him, that was clear. She should be thanking him for attempting a graceful exit.

She was silent for a moment, studying him through fierce eyes. "You're right. Because you obviously don't. Was it fun, Damon? Finally getting to screw your brother's girl?"

He gritted his teeth, and his eyes were cool. His lips curved into a cruel smile.

"Not as much fun as I'd hoped, but hey, you've only slept with what, one, two other guys? I'm sure you'll get better."

As if of its own volition, Elena's arm was swinging back, gaining momentum as she reversed directions and slapped him across the face. The sound of her palm cracking against Damon's cheek rang out, loud and stinging and incredibly satisfying.

She didn't have long to enjoy that satisfaction. The breath left her lungs as Damon grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her around and slamming her back against the car hard enough to make her teeth rattle. Her eyes blazed with heat; his were ice cold.

"I've let you get away with that twice now, Elena. I think I've told you not to try it again." His voice was pure steel.

She tried to squirm out of his grip; his hands only tightened, squeezing with brutal force, undoubtedly bruising her bare shoulders.

"You're hurting me," she told him, just as she had in her dream - but in the dream, she'd spoken in a voice tinged with fear. Now it was jagged as razor wire and just as cutting. Still, she fought his grasp, was almost grateful for the opportunity to rage at him not just verbally, but physically as well. Not that she was doing much good. "Stop it, you jackass! Let go!"

He snarled, shaking her. His voice was a low growl when he spoke. "Maybe I like hurting you, Elena. God knows it's about goddamn time i was the one inflicting some pain!"

"What's that supposed to mean? Damn it Damon, let go of me! You're nothing but a bully, Mr. Big Bad Mean Vampire who thinks he can push people around, who just takes whatever he wants and then walks away without a care in the world! You've never cared about anything! It's all 'want, take, have' with you, and I'm sick of it! I'm sick and tired of you! You walk around acting like some hot stud, like some guy girls should fight over, but you're not - you're nothing, you're empty, you're pathetic! You spend a whole year going after your brother's girlfriend, and after she's stupid enough to actually fall for it you walk away? I can't believe you two are related. I can't believe I thought I should figure this out, I can't believe I thought there was something to figure out! I thought I just might have feelings for you," she continued, on a roll, but he cut into her tirade.

"Do you?" His eyes weren't cold anymore. Instead, they were entirely without emotion.

And Elena laughed. "I was just getting you out of my system, Damon. I should've done it a long time ago. And you know what?" God, she wanted to hurt him, wanted to shatter his grip, wanted to shatter his heart. "Now that I've had a taste of both Salvatores, I know that I was right all along. You're nothing compared to Stefan. He's a man. You're nothing but a monster. How is it possible that you're even related? You don't deserve the Salvatore name. You don't deserve having Stefan as a brother and you sure as hell don't - "

She would've kept going, but her air supply was abruptly cut off as Damon's long, deadly fingers wrapped around her throat, choking her. His eyes weren't cold anymore. They were blazing hot. And red. All he could see was red, all he could think was that he had to shut her the hell up, to stop her from speaking aloud his darkest thoughts.

Her blood pounded, the pulse in her throat hammering against his fingers. He squeezed, eyes riveted on that pulse point as it increased speed. Humans were so very fragile. So very vulnerable. So very delicious.

His fangs descended. Her blood called out to him, a siren's song that drowned out everything else. This girl he'd spent so much time wallowing over? She was nothing. She was just a body, just a human. Just prey.

Elena's nails clawed at his hands in an effort to free herself. Her own anger was rapidly being replaced by fear. Her lungs burned, her vision dimmed. He was going to kill her. His bloodshot eyes, the black veins creeping dark across his face, his bared teeth - this was impulsive Damon, reckless Damon, the one who'd snapped Jeremy's neck in a heartbeat. He wasn't looking at her through the eyes of a man. And he was going to kill her.

She was about to die at the hands of the person she loved, the person she hated, the person she needed more than the air she couldn't breathe. A distant part of her knew it wasn't him, not the man she'd spent her night with, cutting off her very life force. A distant part of her pitied him, knowing that when the bloodlust cooled he'd regret this. She could lay claim to that distinction, at least. A human for whose death Damon actually felt remorse.

A traitorous voice was whispering in her head, telling her that if she was going to die, at least the last thing she'd see was Damon. Beautiful, beautiful Damon, the voice murmured. Beautiful, terrible Damon.

It was her last conscious thought before the world went black.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I warned you! And to the guest reviewer who asked "really? as if damon self hate is the road to take?" it may not be the road he SHOULD take, but it's quite often the one he does, particularly when it comes to Elena.

By the way, just so you all know, this story, as the title may suggest, was inspired by a promo before the s3 episode Heart of Darkness - in which Elena says "Stefan thinks you have feelings for me," and Damon responds "Do you?" I imagine you figured this out yourselves given the Colorado trip and all, but I just thought I'd clarify.