Present.

It was a peculiar feeling to make a declaration of love and not have it reciprocated. It hurt Elena—far more than she wanted to admit. He had stayed silent, though he was very tender towards her. But he didn't acknowledge her words in the slightest. She wondered of his capacity for love. Did he even have it anymore? Did he ever? This was Damon she was talking about. He was ruthless, cold. But he had saved her many times, hadn't he? He came to New Orleans for her, didn't he? If it wasn't love, what was it?

"Pride," her voice was mocking. "You are his shiny new toy. He just didn't want anyone else to have you. First from Stefan, then from me and then from Klaus. He's like a spoiled child."

She had no retort. Because it was what she had been thinking herself. Just a toy.

Her arms yanked at her restraints. She looked up at them.

"You both think you're so clever. It's not over, you know..."

Elena sighed, shutting her eyes.

"Oh, so you're going to ignore me now?"

"I have nothing to say."

"The strong and opinionated Elena Gilbert has nothing to say? Well, I'm just scandalized."

"I take that back. I do have something to say."

"Shocking," she deadpanned.

"I'm sorry."

She felt herself tense as she began to speak softly.

"I'm sorry for the life you lived. I'm sorry that you lived under someone like Klaus for so long. I'm sorry that you allowed it to turn you into a jaded and cruel person. I'm sorry that Emily took a part of your soul as protection and that that protection was me. And yes, I'm even sorry that Damon killed you. Because despite how much I hated you…you saved me. And I couldn't save you. I can't save you. This isn't your body, Katherine, it's mine. And I'm sorry, but you can't stay here."

She laughed. It was cruel, mocking.

Tears were rolling down Elena's cheeks.

Just then she heard the muffled sound of voices from the floor below.

"Damon's home," Elena whispered.

"If I die," Katherine whispered, "I'm taking you with me."

Elena shrugged.

"I wouldn't expect you to try anything less."

It's amazing what a few threats can do for a person, Damon marveled. All it took was a promise to do harm to his congregation, and Father McLaughlin agreed to do the exorcism. It would not be, though, without Damon's cautious presence. He didn't want Father McLaughlin to try and martyr himself at the 11th hour. And he made sure to let him that he had a very watchful eye on him.

When they walked into the Boarding House, the priest marveled at the pristine condition of the house. The dark antiques and rich décor wasn't what he had expected. In fact, he had expected something akin to a "crack den." And a crack den this was not. It was expertly furnished and he had to admit it was impressive.

As they begin to ascend the stairs, Father McLaughlin spoke.

"May I ask you a question" he asked.

"No."

"If you don't believe in the Lord, why are you doing an exorcism? Don't you find it pointless that I pray for a demon to be expelled? Shouldn't nothing happen, then?"

Damon stopped at the top of the stairs. The priest, in front of him, stopped as well.

"Don't people often turn to God when they have nothing left, Father?"

Damon watched as the Father's eyes changed—they were pleased, sad. He had no way of knowing, but that one simple sentence would later cause the priest to question the humanity of a vampire. Because it was clear, in that very moment, that Damon clearly cared for someone beyond himself.

"Can I trust you to stay outside of the room for a moment, padre," Damon asked tiredly. "I need a moment."

When Damon entered Elena's room, he saw that she was alert, her eyes on him.

"Have you come to give me my last rites?"

"Don't listen to her, Damon."

Damon sat on the edge of the bed, smiling lightly, though it did not reach his eyes.

"I'm not," he said.

"Oh, he'll listen if he knows what's good for him. Won't you, lover?"

Elena groaned, frustrated.

"I'm sorry."

Damon covered her foot with his hand reassuringly. He pulled out a silk handkerchief from his shirt pocket.

"Don't be. The priest is waiting outside. I asked him to give us a minute."

"I'll be holding her in my death grip, Damon. She is coming with me. But if you let me go—let us go, we can start over. We can start a new life together. We can go to Greece and lay naked on the beaches together or I don't fucking know. Whatever. We can be happy."

"I'm going to have to blindfold you, Elena," he ignored Katherine, "Because I don't want the priest being compelled when he looks at you. We pretty much only have one shot at this and I we can't risk it."

Elena nodded quickly.

"Okay,"

Damon moved up the bed and began to put it blindfold on. Elena's head jerked roughly with Katherine's guidance.

"You sorry sonofabitch. You're brother was always better than you. You know that? Always!"

"Yeah," Damon said quietly as he held her steady and knotted the silk behind her head. He cupped the side of her face—feeling her tense and un-tense. He could physically feel the battle between Elena and Katherine. It hurt him. His thumb brushed over her lips. He knew that at any moment, Katherine could snap her jaws at him. Even so, he lightly brushed his lips against hers. It was aching inside his chest—that unmoving, silent mass that resided underneath his ribcage. It was his heart. And it ached. He pulled another handkerchief from his pocket.

"I'm also going to have to…" He trailed off as he tied the fabric across Elena's mouth.

He stood back, watching her struggle with her eyes blindfolded and her mouth gagged. The muscles in her thin arms flexed and alternately relaxed as she yanked against her restraints. But it was of no use. He shifted his eyes to the floor as he walked to the door and beckoned Father McLaughlin inward.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say.

Father McLaughlin took one step into the room, looked at Elena, and froze.

"Is all that bondage necessary," he asked, wary.

"Yes," Damon's tone offered no room for any more questions.

Father McLaughlin was dressed in a dark surplice with a purple silk stole around his neck. He was pale with fear but his eyes were filled with determination. He had prayed the better part of the afternoon for the strength to perform this exorcism. It was going to be the most significant moment in life and he needed all the guidance that his Lord cound muster.

"Then," Father McLaughlin said steadily, "Let us begin."