A/N: Okay, to start things off, I want to thank you all so much for your amazing reviews. They really inspire me! And I also want to give a big, grand shout-out to fallenfairy4; she is the sweetest girl around, and her review made my day! (Not to mention that she is an amazing writer.) You go, girl! Anyways, thanks for bearing with me, you guys!

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Mistaken Observations: Darkness In The Distance

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Damon and Elena were both buried in something they didn't even recognize anymore; they were suppressed in something ugly, and something that clawed at them from both the inside out. Whether it was because of the night, many weeks ago, when Damon somehow managed to let his feelings free, or because it was Elena that managed to make the lines even blurrier between them, things were set to an all-time force. Something- or someone- was telling Elena that she should have been embarrassed at how rash she had acted that night. Telling Damon she would see the rest of that damn tattoo? That was ballsy enough in itself. If you added the fact that she was curling up to him while she said it, it was downright indecent and completely immoral. But there were other parts of her, parts she would rather not identify, that simply wanted her to give in to temptation and just fly right off the handle.

This helped in making time move both agonizingly slow, and blaringly fast at the exact same interval, causing Elena to wonder if she was spending these days and nights the way her normal, teenage side would have wanted. Sometimes, mostly at night, she would sit down, and then what seemed like a couple seconds later, she would come to find out that the sun was rising, and hours had passed rather than minutes. It was disconcerting, and she was getting agitated to do at least something, anything at all to get her out of this stand-still that had become her life.

Damon, on the other hand, just looked pissed. She could tell by the desperate look on his face that he wanted nothing more than to put a plan in action and actually have it work this time. He never said anything, but Elena could tell he was thinking he had lost his mojo.

Running her fingers through her already mussed hair, Elena sat, perched on an old couch near a large window, watching as slow drips made its way down the glass. It had rained for four days straight, now. This was good; it gave her an actual reason for not wanting to leave the house. She didn't even want to talk to Caroline, which actually concerned her enough to want to call her, but not enough to actually do it. Caroline had her own baggage to lug around. There was no need to add unnecessary weight to the load.

So, Elena just sat, viewing with nervous eyes as Damon etched permanent trails in the hard wood flooring. She couldn't help but notice how this was not the man she had once known. This was someone who looked like he hadn't eaten, slept, or even breathed for that matter, in what seemed like weeks. His hair was almost in even more of a wild disarray than hers was- due to his fidgeting fingers that he couldn't seem to keep still to save his life- and his eyes were raw from rubbing them constantly.

If she didn't know any better, than she would have assumed that he was a stranger in a very familiar body.

But this behavior almost seemed narcotic to her. Damon had been devastated after Stefan tried to put a stake through his heart, and he had been sick with all the feelings of heartache he was being put through, but this was something else entirely.

It has started about a week ago. Damon had said he needed to go run an errand (which was strange enough, because he now hated leaving the boarding house almost as much as she did) and she couldn't find an excuse to feed him on why he should not be going anywhere without her. Damon was nothing less than persistent and after very persuasive reasoning from his behalf, she finally just told him to leave if that was what it was going to take to get him to shut up.

Minutes had turned into hours, and those hours soon felt like eternities. She was almost about to fall asleep on his trademark leather couch when she had heard the front door shut with a loud crash. When Damon had walked through the hall and into the living room, the first thing she had noticed was that he was completely wasted…again. He didn't say anything to her, didn't even look at her, and he proceeded to go up to his room.

It didn't take a brain surgeon to know that some shit had gone down wherever his 'errand' had taken him. Asking him about what happened soon proved pointless. She could beg all she wanted; she wasn't going to get the answer.

Stretching her numb limbs, Elena detangled her body from its crunched up position. "Denial will never get you anywhere, Damon."

Damon tried halfheartedly to not understand what she was talking about. If he pretended everything was fine, then everything would stay in his range of view. If he thought about anything too hard, he wouldn't be able to plan his next move.

"I'm not in denial," he managed to roll his eyes, "I just don't have anything to say to you right now."

That was probably true, but it didn't make the fact that he was keeping something from her any less urgent. "Someone once told me that beating around the bush was for pussies."

Damon didn't have the strength to comment on her vulgar language; she had picked up on all of his bad habits. "Well, you're talking to the biggest pussy of them all, so I am therefore allowed to do whatever the hell I want."

Elena turned her head away, forcing the smirk away that would have shown in her eyes if he observed her. It was almost nice to hear Damon snap his words in intent of hurting her. It was difficult to live in such a big house and have it completely surrounded in silence.

When she turned back to look at him, she noticed his scrutiny was set on the door. "If you want to go, then just go. There's not much I can do about it anyway."

Damon hesitated, choosing his next words prudently. "I should be going…but I don't think I can."

Curiosity and fear bubbled in her stomach, flooding all other intense moods. She stood suddenly, but stayed rooted in the same general location. There were the very beginnings of anxiety creeping into Damon's voice, and that was scarier than anything she had encountered in these past couple months.

"What are you talking about?" she asked quietly, "You don't have to go anywhere, Damon. No-one's forcing you."

Gradually, he shook his head, coming to a stop in front of a lamp that flickered infuriatingly. He snapped the switch off, and she watched as part of the room went dark. "I don't think you understand, Elena. I can't tell you, and it's killing me."

Elena took a stumbling step forward, intent on getting Damon to spill the meaning behind his ramblings with a careful touch to his shoulder. Before she could even get anywhere near him, the ancient Grandfather clock sounded nosily behind her, causing her to jump unsteadily. Damon paled noticeably at the sound, sucking in a breath and smoothing out his tousled, frayed hair.

"I have to go." He spoke the words in a barely-there whisper, creating the act of Elena having to move forward to catch his words. The pain in his blue eyes was easy to see, and even though he said he needed to go, she could tell that he wanted to do the exact opposite. He looked like he wanted to flee in the other direction.

This just confused Elena further. Damon could do whatever he wanted, and if he didn't want to go, then he didn't have to. Why, if he looked so terrified of leaving, did he also look so hell-bent on getting to where ever it was he needed to go? It didn't add up in her eyes. Maybe she was just over-analyzing things like she always did. This probably meant nothing, right?

Elena only could watch as he shoved his feet into black boots, picked up his leather jacket, and with one last long, lingering look towards her, walked out the door and into the pouring rain. The way he ambled down the path to his car was really what got to her. He wasn't using any super-vamp speed at all. Elena knew that he hated getting wet almost more than she did. And his walk was all wrong; Damon strutted as proudly as a male peacock showing off his feathers when he travelled any short amount of distance (it was just what came naturally to him), and to see him do this action now, it almost made him look like he was in a dream, wandering aimlessly to no-where in particular.

He looked like he was being pulled by an invisible string.

He looked like he was being…compelled.

Realization hit her hard; she almost careened back from the strong force. There was no time to hesitate or doubt herself. She needed to stop Damon now. Elena didn't even glance back to grab an umbrella- or even shoes- to shield herself from the pounding of the rain currently wreaking havoc outside of the four walls, there was simply no time to. If Damon was actually compelled, and not just being an ass to scare her, then there would be no way of stopping him. She knew this much courtesy of Stefan.

She didn't know what she was doing, but it didn't matter. All she really knew was that Damon could not get in that car and drive away from her.

"Damon!" Elena screamed at the top of her lungs, tossing open the door and hurling herself down the stairs, the rain and sleet burning and clouding her vision. She had lived in Mystic Falls well enough to know that this wasn't just a mere shower. This was a full-on storm.

She tried again, viewing helplessly as Damon didn't even glimpse at her, and continued to open the door to his car. "Damon, wait! I have to tell you something! You can't leave me here alone!"

Elena didn't know how it happened, but this actually made Damon falter. As water dripped down his face, plastering his hair to damp skin, his grip loosened on the handle of the door. His eyes still had that ghosted over feeling that Elena was nearly accustomed to now, but knowing the reason behind that made her skin crawl.

The rain was making its way down the ground in rivers, but she managed to keep her footing as she sprinted over to Damon. She wasn't breathing hard because the run had made her tired- his car was only about ninety feet from the front door- but her breath had completely vanished when she had figured out this dire situation, and getting it to re-enter proved difficult.

She messily pushed back the wet hair matting her face- how did she get so drenched this fast? - and tugged on Damon's hand. Maybe if he knew that she cared and looked after him, he wouldn't feel so forced to leave.

"Wait, stop. I can't let you leave with me, Elena. You won't be coming back if you do." There was a silent war being fought behind Damon's eyes when he spoke.

What was he talking about? She was barely even aware of the pressure he was putting on her shoulders, using his palms to scoot her in the direction of the boarding house once again.

Elena pushed him back, slapping his hands, and telling him to get the hell off of her. She couldn't tell if there were tears running down her face, or if it was just the water carelessly falling from the sky. Did it even matter at this point? In the end, she knew this almost certainly, Damon would end up saying good-bye, pulled by whatever idea Klause had planted in his mind.

The name caused white-hot fury to attack her nervous system. She wanted to hit Damon with all the force in her body for getting himself in this situation.

She got up in his face, using her right hand to yank his grip off the knob to the door. If there was ever a time to really resist compulsion, it was now. "You have about ten seconds to tell what the hell is going on. I won't let you leave until you do."

Ripping his hand away from hers, Damon let out an agonized groan. "I can't, Elena! If I told you, then I would have to kill you!"

The power behind his voice startled her to the core, and she was instantly glad that the boarding house was not surrounded by busy-body neighbors. He wasn't messing around this time. He meant what he said; if he told her what was going on, then he would have to kill her.

It was Klaus's orders, after all. If anyone disobeyed him the blood would be on their hands only.

"Did Klause do this to you? Did he tell you that you had to do this?" She still wasn't sure on what it was exactly, but if it came from the hybrid himself, then she knew it couldn't be good.

Damon didn't have to answer her question, partly because his expression said it all, and also because she knew. She knew that Klause was the only one capable of this. He had been the only Original around here in decades, and only Originals themselves could compel other vampires.

Damon tried to open his door again, but Elena slammed it shut. A small part of her knew that if she pushed him too far in his unstable, under-the-influence-of- Klause state, then he could just rip her hand completely off, and be on his way. But she didn't think that he could do that even if he was being compelled by something much stronger than him.

He was actually looking physically pained at this point, like defying Klause resembled shoving tiny slivers of wood under his skin, and Elena knew she had to act fast.

If she didn't, then he was going to snap.

"Just take me with you," she said in a desperate, raw voice, "Klause will never even have to know."

At Damon's desperate shake of the head, she knew that he couldn't do that.

"Please, Damon. I can't lose you. Just please, hear me out."

Damon's eyes snapped to her attention. "Not Klause." He mumbled unintelligibly.

Elena didn't know how he managed it, but he was actually repelling bits and pieces of the compulsion. It was the greatest feat she had ever seen Damon accomplish.

But, not Klause?

A certain type of dread filled her body and mind; a type of horror that left her hollowed out and unable to comprehend completely.

"Rebekah," she whispered. The name alone was enough to rile her up for the rest of her life. She hated the blonde bitch with a passion. At first, it was only because she was related to the one man who had ruined her life, but now? Now, it was personal.

Her fingers suddenly became animated, trying with useless force to pull Damon away from his car and back to the safety of his own house. She tugged as hard as she could, pulled at his jacket, and scratched at his bare skin, but nothing seemed to work. Hysteria crept up her throat as Damon opened the door one more time. This time, Elena couldn't stop the massive force coming from his hand.

Maybe it was the rain swirling around her eyes and successfully making her brain a touch foggier than she would have liked, or maybe it was the unhinging realization that Damon would go to Rebekah, be compelled to do something horrendous that he would no doubt regret later, and simply just turn back into the Old Damon.

Or even worse, he could just be dead.

It could have been any of those things, but there was something in the back of her mind that was saying she simply couldn't take to watching Damon get hurt anymore.

In a matter of seconds, Elena had slipped between him and the car he was trying to get into, bringing him closer and closer to her until their hips were pressed intimately against one another's. Elena was hoping that if he focused on her- and nothing but her- then he would find that place in his mind where she knew he could turn away from it all.

The Originals weren't going to win; not this time, at least.

The shock in Damon's eyes was present, if not a bit dimmed, and Elena pressed harder into his wet, solid body.

Damon's voice was like a caress on her lips. "You have to let me go. I'll come back, I promise."

When it was evident to Damon that Elena was not going to back down, he let out a low snarl, pushing her away until she stumbled onto the sodden grass with a thump.

The look in her eyes was almost too much to bear. She looked hurt, betrayed, and if he wasn't mistaken, a little bit aroused.

But, she didn't understand. He had to do this. If he didn't do what Rebekah wanted, then she had meant it when she said she would make sure Elena died a slow, sure death. Damon wasn't risking that, no matter what the cost was.

He almost wrenched the hinges to the driver's side of the Mustang off in his attempt to get away. If she did any more of that thing with her hips, then she could be confident he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. He would simply be a puddle at her feet.

Elena scrambled up, furious with being pushed around by Damon of all people. "If you leave," she started in a slow, threatening voice, "Then I will hate you forever."

It was a low blow to Damon, and he almost stopped- almost. But, then Rebekah's warning rang throughout the part in his mind that wasn't confused. He was doing this to protect Elena. Why couldn't she just see that for what it was?

Damon situated himself in his seat, starting the car with a roar, and slamming the door to close him in. Deliberately, he shook his head. "No, you won't. You've already tried that once before."

And with that…he was just gone, revving the engine to the point where she flinched as a natural reflex, and gliding down the road like it wasn't possibly the last time she would see him. Elena had never felt so defeated and unconfident about herself in her eighteen years of life.

And Damon was right. She could never hate him; she couldn't even hate him for a minute.

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Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock….

These moments were going by agonizingly slow for Elena. It had been five hours, thirty-seven minutes, and ten seconds ago since Damon had left her- not that she had been counting- and she felt that if she waited by any longer, the air would start to suffocate her.

She was such a train wreck with her jumbled up nerves, she had just finally convinced herself that Damon wasn't going to come back. This- very pitiful- act forced her mind to think of all the good times that had had together- and the bad times-, and all the things about him that she knew and others didn't.

She spoke the words almost like a pray from inside her head, where she knew they would be safe.

Black hair, blue eyes, compact, only slightly taller than her, capable of witty banter, snaky attitude, charming, unpredictable, could make the devil himself laugh, and couldn't stop the first thought in his head from coming out his mouth, hyperactive, tattoo on his lower hip, seductive, dangerous…dangerously attractive?

Elena could have gone on forever, thinking back to when she had first met him. He was the cocky, very handsome stranger in a black T-shirt, black jeans, and boots. He was the damned brother.

Oh, how things had changed.

All she could do was hold onto one of Damon's glasses filled to the top with Bourbon with a vice like grip, and hope that the ticking of a nearby clock wouldn't force her hand to do something rash. She wasn't sure if she was holding the alcohol because she was going to drink it, or if she was holding it to bring back memoirs of Damon. This was what he was doing the most to occupy his time lately- drinking, drinking, and more drinking. She knew how he felt. All she wanted to do nowadays was get smashed until she couldn't even recall her own name. And yet, she couldn't make herself drink the burning liquid. It somehow felt wrong, like she was doing something that she and Damon should have been doing together.

The thought of this made the back of Elena's eyes burn, and she looked around the room with a helpless abandon. In the outside world- which really felt like miles away from her point of view- it was still raining profoundly. It was such a horrible day to go along with her even more horrible mood. She was essentially questioning whether she could just go outside and literally drown her sorrows away.

The weight of the glass was becoming heavier and heavier in her hand, and she set it down with a grimace. Allowing her legs to fold out from under her stung, but it needed to be done. She couldn't just sit here and wait for something to happen. Even as she did get up, there was really no point in the act of doing so. She had no clue where Damon was or what he was getting himself into. If she had known something, then she simply would have followed him. She was getting up, but there was nowhere to go.

This deafening silence lasted for another hour, and pretty soon the world was pitch dark outside. The only way Elena could tell that it was still raining was by the slight pitter-patter on the roof. The inside of the house was just as equally dark due to the lack of lighting being turned on at sun-down.

It was between the time Elena was pacing in front of the fire she had made earlier and wondering if Damon was ever going to make it back, when she heard the distant roar of a car in the background. She didn't know how she had heard it over the rain, but she guessed that is was because she had been waiting for almost seven hours to hear that type of noise. It was ironic really. She used to hate the sound of any loud sports car. She thought they were obnoxious, and yet here she was, praying that she would somehow hear the racket fill her ears again. Maybe she had changed as much as Damon had.

When Elena's head snapped up from the unexpected clamor, her heart started beating faster and her face broke into a grin.

Damon was back. He hadn't broken his promise!

She was frozen for a moment, unable to believe that the sound of the car was really Damon's; she knew by the way the car seemed to stop right outside of the boarding house. All at once, joy rebounded inside of her. With quick movements, she bounded over to the door, and flicked on the porch light. When she stepped outside, her face was instantly covered in a light mist that made her eyelashes stick to her cheeks when she blinked, and her clothes hung uncomfortably at the hips.

Careful not to slip, Elena went as fast as she could while still being safe, and turned the sharp corner. Despite the darkness in the distance, she could still see perfectly fine in front of her.

She came to a sudden halt, terror filling her stomach and chest for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. It was Damon's car and Damon was in it- much to her obvious relief- but it was the state that he was in that had her wanting to rip her hair off and sit and weep for a good few hours.

Damon usually painted a pretty picture with his physical looks- anyone with eyes could see that- but this was plainly a different story. His hair was no longer in his usual disarray, but caked with what looked like dried blood, mud, and various other things that she would have been happy without noticing. There were tiny, patchwork holes carved into his blue shirt were red stains bordered them, and when the wind moved the fabric, she could see that the holes in his shirt also matched the holes in his skin. What worried her most about this was that none of those wounds were healed. His lip was split open, blood casually dripping down the skin and onto his neck. It was usually his victim's blood running down his face, and to see that it was now his made a sad pang go off in her heart.

The worst of the damage- from what she could see, at least- was revealed as he achingly stepped out of his car. Blood covered both of his thighs, were it looked like he had been staked repeatedly, and where the wound from Stefan's attack weeks earlier had healed over, there was now a newer, fresher one it it's place. This one seemed even closer to his heart, if that was even possible.

When Damon turned his head, wincing with blurred and dull, blue eyes, she saw savage bite marks marring the soft patch of skin. She knew the human body well enough to say that his Carotid artery had been successfully ripped out. This was all at a good distance away, and Elena couldn't even imagine what he must have looked like from up close.

Damon still hadn't noticed her gaping at him, one hand covering her mouth in awe and frustration, and she knew that he must have really had the sense knocked out of him. How was he even still standing? How was there even any blood left in his body? He looked like he was about to collapse on the damp pavement.

As Damon started to sway, clutching the hood of his car for support, Elena made her move. She tried to step slowly, not wanting to make Damon even dizzier than he already was, but soon panic overtook her, and the natural instinct to launch herself into his arms was becoming rampant.

Damon turned to the sound of her fast approaching footsteps, and she embraced him as carefully as she could manage, still exceeding to pour her heart and soul into the touch. She didn't want to start anymore bleeding than there already was, but she was pretty sure that she did anyway.

Damon grunted lightly either out of pain or just the sheer force of having her in his arms. She guessed that it was a pitiful combination of the two. He didn't return the embrace, and before she could get overly defensive about that, she noticed that his left arm was hanging at an odd angle. She cringed, cautious not to brush against it in her haste.

Burying her nose against the good part of his neck, Elena breathed in the scent that was blood, carnage, and the musky, sour smell of dirt. She felt his body give another jerk in her arms, and she immediately placed her hands on his hips, trying to steady him.

Blood was now smudged against the bare bits of her arms, and she felt the metallic tang of it against her mouth, most likely coming from Damon's chewed on neck. The rain quickly washed it away afterwards, but she still felt like she was the one who had grime covering every inch of her body.

From the corners of her eyes, Elena could see that, even under her support, Damon would not be able to walk anymore anytime soon. She let him collapse against the side of his car with an incoherent grumble, and she followed suit. Her legs felt like jelly all of the sudden and she realized that is was because of the emotional overload she was now receiving.

With careful fingers, she wiped away bits of dirt and water from his face, avoiding the purplish bruise that splotched against his cheekbone. His eyes stared forward, blank and without any emotion. He didn't looked scared or angry or even the tiniest bit sad. He just looked like nothing.

She slid down the slick door of the car, and sat on a puddle. She suddenly felt like she needed to vomit. What if he's still compelled? She thought. What if there is nothing I can do this time?

"Damon," she spoke, her voice scratchy from hours without use. "Damon, say something." It was more of a demand, but it would have to do at the moment. She didn't have anything else.

Elena was sure that after about a minute of silence, that he didn't even hear her. When he slowly shook his head, she instantly knew that he did hear; he just didn't have the voice to respond.

An anomalous sense of foreboding seemed to caress the air. Tonight was an eye- opener for Elena, and hopefully for Damon, too. Well, if Damon even knew what was going on right now, then she assumed that it would be something he could get a life lesson out of.

Tonight had showed her that no-one was safe. No-one was ever going to be safe for a long time now. The calm before the storm had now evolved into something bigger, into something frightening that chased away all good things about life.

Either way she looked at it, she knew one thing for positive.

She was screwed.

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A/N: Well, there you go! Is anybody wondering what went down with Damon? You are? Well, so am I! I really have no idea at this point, but you should be informed next chapter…Along with some Damon/Elena moments. Last night's Delena scenes were awesome, right? And Elena was totally jealous of Damon 'flirting' with Rebekah. Does anybody else notice how Elena always seems to stare at Damon's lips when he talks, or is that just me? I'm pretty sure it's not…

Make sure to leave comments! The good, the bad, the ugly, it really doesn't matter to me!