"That's my brother for you," said a voice. Elena and Stefan pulled away from each other turning toward the door where Damon stood, his expression unreadable. "Always putting others first."

For a moment no one said anything and only stood still, the distant clattering of the downstairs guests rumbling beneath them, and then Elena and Stefan spoke at the same time. "Damon…"

"What?" Damon's voice rang out, gruff with rage. He clenched his fists. "What are you going to say to me, that you're sorry?"

"We are sorry," said Elena emphatically.

Stefan moved toward the door. "Damon, we—"

"Shut up, Stefan," said Damon sharply.

"This wasn't how —"

"Dammit, Stefan, shut up!" Damon threw out his fist so that it connected to the wall next to him, punching a hole through the mural. Elena flinched and Stefan's pained expression deepened.

"Damon, listen to me," he said. "Listen to me! I'm sorry. OK? I'm sorry. I didn't want you to —"

"To what?" he shouted. "Find out this way?"

"I didn't want you to find out at all! I didn't want you to hear any of that or know any of that—"

"It's true," said Elena quickly. "I did this, I went to him. This is my fault. God, Damon, believe me," Elena's tone turned desperate. "Stefan, he didn't want—"

Stefan turned quickly toward her. "Elena, stop. I did this as much as you —"

There was a sudden crash and Stefan snapped his head back toward the door and saw pieces of what looked like a shattered vase on the floor next to Damon's feet. Damon's mouth was contorted into a sneer, his eyes wild. "Both of you stop talking. The two of you defending each other and all of the 'we's, it makes me want to … I just want … I — I —" He let out a yell and picked up a miniature clock from the mantelpiece next to him, hurtling it across the room so that it broke apart against the wall opposite of him.

"Damon, I swear to you," said Stefan. "That I didn't want any of this to happen."

"You keep saying that to me like it's supposed to make me feel better," said Damon. "No, you didn't want me to find out, you would've just rather me marry someone who doesn't love me!"

"She does love you!"

"Not like how she loves you!" The words tore through Damon's throat, each syllable a guttural sound full of vitriol. He turned to Elena. "Isn't that right?"

Elena didn't respond.

"Isn't that right, Elena?"

Damon's shouting made Elena flinch again. She spoke quietly. "I really thought I could be with you forever," she whispered. "Because Stefan is right, I do love you, Damon, I just—"

"You just never unfell for Stefan, right?" said Damon harshly. "Even after all this time, it's still the same isn't it? You care about me, you really do, but you love him, it's always going to be Stefan, right?"

Elena bit her trembling lip as tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping from her chin. "I'm not trying to hurt you," she said. "I don't like that I'm doing this to you, Damon, I hate it. I hate myself for how much pain you're in but this is … it's bigger than …" She sniffed and took a deep breath in.

"Well don't stop now," said Damon more quietly but still venomously.

"I don't love anyone the way I love Stefan," said Elena. "Damon, when I'm with you, I forget about everything and everyone, it's like we're in a vacuum. Nothing else matters, it's just you and me in one amazing moment but …" Elena pressed her lips together. "But when I'm with Stefan…" She paused and glanced at Stefan who was also teary-eyed. "It's not a vacuum, it's everything but a vacuum. He fills me with hope, hope for the future, for the present, he reminds me to appreciate what's happened in the past, good and bad … being with him reminds me of everything I can get out of life, and all of that possibility, I want that for myself, I want that for my friends and for Jeremy and I'm in love with him for that and I want to experience … everything with him. I…" Elena looked at Damon's face and then let her voice trail away.

Damon turned to Stefan, his eyes wide and intense and angry. "Is that how you feel?" he said.

"How I feel doesn't matter," said Stefan dully.

"I'm asking you how you feel, you owe it to me to tell me," said Damon, his voice rising.

"Nothing will come from it anyway," said Stefan. "I'm not going to—"

Another yell ripped through the room and seemed to shake the walls. Damon charged toward Stefan, grabbing him by his jacket and shouted in his face. "STOP BEING SO DAMN NOBLE. ALWAYS THE GOOD BROTHER. WHAT'S GOOD ABOUT LOVING ANOTHER MAN'S FIANCEE? WHAT'S RIGHTEOUS ABOUT THAT? ARGH!" And Damon punched Stefan with such force that his blood splattered onto Elena's dress and he fell onto the floor. Elena screaming his name in the background, Damon rushed forward and dragged Stefan up by the collar of his shirt only to punch him again. Stefan's hands stayed limply at his sides.

"FIGHT BACK!" Damon shouted as he knocked his fist into Stefan's jaw yet again. "FIGHT BACK AND ADMIT IT, ADMIT HOW MUCH YOU WANT HER. ADMIT HOW MUCH YOU HATED SEEING ME WITH HER ALL THIS TIME."

"I'm sorry," said Stefan, his voice thick and his words almost incoherent because of all of the blood and the bruising. "I'm so so sorry…"

"STOP SAYING THAT."

Damon struck him again, harder and harder.

"I'm so sorry, Damon … so sorry…"

"Damon, stop it!" Elena shrieked. "Please stop it!"

"ADMIT IT!"

Stefan continued to mumble apologies and Damon continued to pummel him so that his face was unrecognizable with the bruises and the cuts and the swelling; blood dripped from his mouth and his eyes started to flutter.

"Sorry…"

Damon raised his hand to hit him again but then he suddenly felt a weight around his shoulders, pulling him back. After a minute he realized that Elena was dragging him away from Stefan and she pushed him so that he was slammed against the mantelpiece on the other side of the room. Almost immediately, Damon regrouped and charged back toward Stefan, his fist already raised, but as he approached his brother, Elena blocked his path so that he had to stop short so he wouldn't collide with her. They were a breath away from each other, Damon's fist inches away from Elena's face, her expression sad and determined. Damon glowered at her as he lowered his hand. He looked behind her to Stefan who was spitting out blood and breathing heavily, his eyes squeezed shut, his face a constant grimace because of the pain and then turned to walk out of the room.

Stefan spoke, his voice a rasp. "Damon," he said. "Damon!"

Slowly and wordlessly, Damon turned back around.

"You said I owed you telling you how I feel," said Stefan. "OK fine." He coughed out some more blood and winced then looked at Elena. "I love you, Elena. I never stopped loving you. And I never will. And there is nothing I want more than to be with you." Stefan paused and heaved a great sigh then turned back to Damon. "Nothing except being with my brother again too."

Damon stared at Stefan for what seemed like ages. "You know I'm not even going to wish you an eternity of misery this time, Stefan," he said in an almost ponderous tone. "No, I'm just going to wish that you keep being who you are. It's pretty much the same thing anyway."

And with one last contemptuous look at him and Elena, Damon left the room, his speed making him a blur of colour. Elena looked at the spot Damon left for a few moments before bending down next to Stefan and placing her hands on his face, examining his cuts, stroking his hair and his eye and his jaw.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," said Stefan. "I'm already healing, I can feel it." He held Elena by the wrists so she could stop touching different parts of his face but he didn't move her hands away. He looked up at her, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes raw and blazing. He swallowed hard.

"Elena…"

"I know," she whispered, nodding her head. "Whatever chance there was before … it's gone now."

Stefan's lips parted as he let go of Elena's wrists, returning her hands to her, and he gazed at her open-mouthed. "I love you so much…"

"I know," she said again. "I love you too."

"At least we have that."

"Yes," said Elena. "At least we have that."

Elena allowed her weight to give way so that she was no longer stooping above the floor but sitting down next to Stefan in her bloodied dress, her legs curled beneath her. She sat, heaving, trying to contain the sobs in her chest and then rested her head on Stefan's shoulder, clutching his arm. After a beat, Stefan enclosed her knee in his hand, leaning the side of his face against the top of her head and both of them cried silently for what they at least had.