Chapter 4

(Well, I had to make a few adjustments to the current situation, so here's how this story is veering away from our S3 truth: with Elena away, there's no Evilaric, and Klaus isn't desiccated yet because in this story Bonnie can't do it alone.)

Damon stared out the window at Elena, who was strangely calm on the balcony of their Frankfurt hotel room, watching the planes take off and land. She had been the one to call Stefan, but within moments handed the phone to Damon, tears running down her cheeks.

The call was hard, without a doubt. Stefan reported in clipped phrases that everyone was still alive, even if Klaus was enraged and unpredictable. Damon suggested he placate him by taking him out for a boys' night of jugular beverages, pretending to be his friend again, but Stefan's harrumph shut him up. Bonnie was looking for the old desiccation spell and Caroline and Tyler were watching over a steadily healing Alaric. Then Stefan said something Damon had never expected to hear.

"You were right to leave with her."

Damon stopped pacing but couldn't respond with anything but a rush of breath.

"Thank you for keeping her safe."

He shook his head. He didn't deserve Stefan's gratitude; it had been such a selfish act. "Brother, I didn't do it for you."

"I know. But thank you just the same." There was a heavy pause. "How is she?"

Damon glanced at her still form, guessing at the emotional whirlwind inside her mind. How do you think she is? She's a mess! She's going home to probable death, she's wracked with guilt, she's putting her trust in disturbingly attractive Originals with dubious nobility… "She's holding up all right," he muttered unconvincingly.

"Look, when you get back, I'll leave. I can be gone before you hit the driveway. I don't want to cause her more trouble -"

Damon had considered it dozens of times himself. But he knew it would break her heart if Stefan left. "That's not what she wants. She loves you."

"She loves you, too."

"Yes, apparently she does. But you can't make her choice for her and neither can I."

"It's going to be Katherine all over again."

Damon sighed, realizing how much he had come to understand about their triangle in such a short time. "No, it won't, Stefan. Elena's love for both of us – it's not about manipulation, or power. You know this better than I do. It's real, open-hearted love. She may choose you – you're certainly less of a challenge. Who knows, maybe she'll choose me. But I know for a fact that if you leave, you will shatter her heart."

There was a long silence, but Damon could hear the clink of fingernails on crystal. "Fine. I'll stay. But -"

Damon rolled his eyes. "But what?"

"But I don't think I can watch you kiss her."

He spun his daylight ring around his middle finger, remembering the excruciating hours he spent just down the hall from the two of them making love. "Man up, little bro. You get used to it."

Once he coaxed Elena inside again, Damon drew a bath for her and filled it with bubbles and rose petals. If they couldn't have Florence – not right now anyway, he reminded himself, but someday, perhaps – then he would make the most of this spartan suite by the airport. She made a show of declining, but soon enough had climbed into the warm, inviting water. He wanted to climb in with her, let her lean back against his chest, while he slowly washed away the pain and anxiety and fear that seemed to cling to her like a veil. But he gave her her space and when she closed the door between them, her eyes red and swollen, he didn't even pout.

He ordered food but she didn't touch it. She stayed in the terrycloth robe, her hair left carelessly to dry in thick ropes. She was distant. She barely spoke. Damon was desperate to find a way to bring her some sort of comfort, but nothing made a dent. The food, the bath… she wouldn't touch the bourbon, no surprise. She sat nearly immobile, one hand wrapped around her knees, the other aiming the remote at the television as she flipped through channel after channel in German.

"We have to get up in six hours. I'm going to bed," Damon finally said, defeated and worried. He pulled back the sheets, tugging at the spot where Elena held them in place. She didn't move. "You need to sleep."

She spoke in a monotone. "I'm going to die when we get back to Mystic Falls."

His heart sank. She was always on the brink of death. Calamity followed her like a lost puppy. But he wanted to comfort her. It seemed kinder to disagree. "You're not."

"You know it's true. Elijah is going to betray me for Klaus – again – and I am going to die. Or Elijah will kill me to keep me from making more hybrids. Or Rebekah will. Or Alaric will go crazy and kill me. Or you, or Stefan, or Caroline. I'm going to die, Damon. You can't fight it. And you can't stop it."

"Damn well I can fight it, Elena."

"I'm not going to be able to sleep."

Damon lay down next to her on the bed and pulled her back so that her head was cradled on his shoulder, against his chest. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Elena pushed back hard against his chest, pressing herself up and then off the bed. She leaned her back against the wall, kicking her heel at it in irregular time. "Fucking vampires," she spat.

"Excuse me?"

"Shut up. Just shut up. Stop trying to make me feel better. This all started when Stefan came to town. Yeah, it was all bunnies and decade dances back then, but vampires eat people, for fuck's sake! Him too. You all do. You use people for food, entertainment, just to be a sack of meat to fuck. Honestly, Damon!"

Damon's breath caught in his throat. After everything, was she finally breaking down?

She blustered on, oblivious to his mask of worry. "It's not okay! You can't pardon it or explain it away. And me, moronic, hormonal, trusting me, I let you all in. Everything that happened to everyone that I love, it was because I trusted him, and I trusted you, and now I'm trusting Elijah who already betrayed us once -"

He couldn't resist. "To be fair, you betrayed him once too, so you're even -"

Elena slammed her fist against the wall. "Shut up! You are not helping!" She took a deep, shaking breath but couldn't meet his gaze, as much as he hoped he could calm her with a look. "It's not fair, Damon. It's just not fair." Her voice began to tremble.

"I know," he breathed.

One tear fell, then another. She wiped her nose impatiently. "Why does everyone else get a life, a life with college and a human fucking husband and kids and grandkids and no fucking vampires? Why did this have to happen to me?"

She was shaking now, sobbing, taking in heaving, hysterical breaths. Damon slid toward her off the bed, not sure whether he expected to catch her or hold her. He reached out, his arms surrounding but not touching her.

"Don't." She stiffened, violently wiping a tear from her cheek.

"Elena…" What could he say? That he was sorry? He was exquisitely, painfully sorry, but it didn't change anything. That it was going to be okay? They both knew it wouldn't. That he was here for her? Him, the very thing she hated and blamed for the destruction of her future? He was helpless. But he was all she had.

"What?" she threw back at him, like a challenge.

He braced himself for her anger, making a first feeble attempt. "If I could take all of this away – including myself – to make it better, I would. In a second."

"Whatever." She started kicking the wall again. He could tell it was not a good sign.

"Please." Feeble attempt number two, Damon tallied: totally useless and unspecific begging.

"Will you finally just shut up?"

"Elena -" But he couldn't finish. She launched herself at him, smashing her mouth violently against his. He was caught off guard, falling back onto the bed as she ripped apart his shirt, buttons flying, nails scraping at his skin.

He knew what this was. He'd been there before, with Rebekah, with countless others. He recognized rage sex immediately, though he was surprised to see it from Elena. He resolved in that moment, immediately, to let her take out all of her anger on him. Do your worst, he thought. I'm here, I'll absorb all of it and let you heal. Give it to me.

She threw his hands off of her, refusing the familiar, tender feeling of his palms against her neck. Her robe was at her feet now, and under it she was naked, all fierce muscle and hard bone. He heard her growl, low and totally uninhibited, as she tore at the fly of his jeans. The fabric strained and tore as she yanked them off of him.

Damon had never once seen her like this. Anger pulsed through her body, flushing her skin and darkening her deep brown eyes to a flinty black. Pale patches covered her clenched hands where the skin strained against bone. Hatred, of him, of what he represented, of tomorrow, flowed through her – he could practically feel it, smell it. He wouldn't protect himself. He was completely vulnerable as she stood before him, ready to attack. And then she was on him, straddling him, crushing against him and forcing him into her with all of her strength.

This was one of thousands of moments when Damon had been exactly what she needed, and he knew that, on some higher level of thought, she felt it. But right now, strength equaled power and here, in this realm, she had all of it. She needed to. She ground herself against him, driving him deeper into her, curling her legs under his to lock him in. She scratched her nails up his chest, red welts in their wake, until she held his biceps against the bed. He watched her bite her lip, her eyes boring into his.

"Give it to me," he rasped under his breath, barely audible. "Give it all to me."

She choked back a sob and thrust harder, her body curving in waves from her hips to her shoulders. Damon watched her with a new layer of love, born of admiration and heartbreak. He ached to kiss her, tease a breast, wrap his fingers around her thigh, but he couldn't bear to break her that way. Instead he watched her, mouth open and waiting, breath shallow, while she exorcised her demons. She was radiant, a goddess. She would make the most perfect vampire.

Elena's rhythm – it certainly wasn't one that they shared – slowed and her thrusts became sharper. Three more and she came with a wordless yell, full of rage and violence. It seemed to unlock something in her. She collapsed beside him, wailing in grief, and now he knew she would accept his comfort, so he gathered her up and held her, rocking her while she wept. If she had had the presence of mind to notice, she would have found tears on his face, too.

(A/N: Good luck tomorrow night, everybody. See you on the other side.)