The first time they'd danced together, Elena had realized she could really love Damon. This time, she realized she would have to betray him.
Every beat of the music was painful, the song's words of love a mockery. But it was only because she loved him with such frightening intensity that she was willing to risk his wrath now. As long as Klaus lived, Damon would never be safe. They could never truly be together, not when Klaus could use the threat of Damon's death to get Elena to do whatever he wanted. And Esther was their only hope to kill that monster. But Damon, with the best of intentions, wouldn't let her anywhere near the witch. Not alone.
"In case it isn't obvious, you look stunning," he said. He was stunning himself, though it had little to do with the immaculate tuxedo he wore. It had everything to do with the happiness in his eyes as he twirled her, the relaxed smile that curved his lips as they moved together. He was still wary, of course; Damon never truly let his guard down. But if there was one thing Damon loved, it was dancing with a pretty girl. With her. "Still wish you'd tell me what you dreamed. I can still see it there, behind your eyes," he said gently.
"It's nothing. I told you, I don't remember it," she lied. Every awful second of the dream was branded into her memory with Technicolor clarity: The look of complete devotion as he'd gazed up at Katherine, Stefan's sweet familiarity and nearness, the agonizing pain as Damon devoured her blood, a pain dwarfed by the crushing brutality of his words.
Seconds after she'd awoken from the nightmare, he'd been there, cradling her in his arms, pulling her away from sheets sodden with her own blood. In her thrashing, she'd reopened the wound on her shoulder. In that moment, she couldn't bear his kindness. All she could see was fangs, all she could hear was Katherine's mocking laughter. She fled, locking herself into the bathroom, listening to his pacing outside the door as he begged her to tell him what was wrong. But she couldn't. She'd emerged hours later, explaining with downcast eyes that she was just tired, that she was fine, that she shouldn't have worried him. And though she knew it pained him, he didn't pry any further. He chose to trust her.
They'd spent the day deep in preparations for the ball: Getting her mother's dress out of storage, enlisting Caroline for help with her hair. She could've killed Caroline when she saw the mass of curls her friend saddled her with. Now if she ever wanted to think of Katherine, all she had to do was look in the mirror. But mostly, Elena kept herself so busy, she even managed to convince Damon that she was fine. Everything was fine.
He pursed his lips. "You know, dreams are tricky things. Especially when you're running around with vampires," Damon observed.
"What are you saying?" she asked.
"Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. Don't know what you dreamed. Just remember, things aren't always what they seem," he said as he whirled her away and into Stefan's waiting arms.
Elena tried to remember the last time Stefan had held her, the last time she knew he loved her. She couldn't remember. But here he was, so close, his arms strong and sure, his gaze cool and disinterested. He could have been dancing with a cousin he didn't particularly like.
"I didn't think you'd come," Elena said. "Dances aren't really your thing."
He shrugged. "Didn't have any other plans. Figured I'd better see what moronic scheme Damon could come up with this time. Those are usually amusing, if nothing else."
For a moment, she simply danced, focusing on the feel of his hand at the small of her back, the other couples whirling around them in a blur of color and whispering fabric. Would he help her? "He's the only person I trust to have my back," Damon had said. Could she really ask Stefan to betray that trust?
"I need your help," Elena said.
"Of course you do. What do you want?" he asked.
"Not here." She nodded to the door, and Stefan released her from his hold and led her towards the entrance. Elena glanced over her shoulder. Damon was partnered with Rebekah, smirking at her. Good. That would buy her some time before he came for her. She slipped into the cool Virginia night.
"So what is it, Elena? Need relationship advice? First piece of advice: You're dating a dick," Stefan said.
"Don't do that, Stefan. Not tonight. One Damon is enough, and he's better at one-liners than you are," Elena said.
"Insulting me is an interesting way to ask for my help," he said.
She swallowed hard. Here it was. This was the moment. If she said this, there was no going back. "I need you to distract Damon for me."
"Uh huh. And what secrets do you need to hide from your one true love?" Stefan asked, looking down at her, the very picture of studied disinterest.
Heat burned in her cheeks. "He won't let me get anywhere near Esther without him. And she won't see me unless I'm alone."
Stefan considered this. "And what do you think you'll learn from Esther, exactly?"
"I don't know," she confessed. "But if she wants to talk to me, I think she probably has a good reason. She might be able to help us."
"Or Damon might be right and she wants to kill you," Stefan pointed out.
"Or she might have be the key to killing Klaus. And isn't that the only thing you care about now? Revenge?"
He was silent, his eyes searching her face. He didn't seem to find what he was looking for. He gave a tight, tiny smile. "Yeah. You're right. It is. So tell me what you want me to do. He's watching you like a hawk, he's faster than I am, and he's got that pesky vampire hearing. How do you intend to distract him?"
Elena balled her hand into a fist at her side. "I want you to take him out."
"Tell me what you want me to do, Elena," Stefan repeated. "I want to hear you say it."
Elena hated Stefan. Hated him for forcing her to put her monstrous plans into words when he knew exactly what she wanted, despised him for making her take a good, long look at exactly how she was betraying the man she loved. And she nearly lost her nerve, nearly couldn't let the words pass her lips. But she loved Damon enough to risk ruining everything. "I want you to break his neck."
And he did. Everything went according to plan. She lured Damon into the library. Stefan accosted him from behind. Damon's confused eyes met hers for just an instant before his neck snapped like green kindling and his face went slack and blank. For a mad moment, Elena wanted to abandon the plan, to wait by Damon's side until he awoke, to explain why she'd done it, to beg his forgiveness and forget Esther and Klaus and the whole damn world. Anything to make this all-consuming guilt fade away.
But Stefan looked at her, his eyes hard and glittering in the dim light. "You'd better hurry. He won't be out long." And she knew she'd gone too far now. The best way to earn his forgiveness was to finish what she'd started, to take Klaus out once and for all.
She knelt beside Damon's prone body, brushing a lock of dark hair from his forehead. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Then she squared her shoulders and did what she had to do.
Elena hadn't thought it was possible to hate herself any more than she already did, but she kept finding new ways to surprise herself. The instant she'd given her blood to Esther, she regretted it. What did she really know about the witch's plan? Was it worth killing the entire Original family just to get to Klaus? What if Esther had her own agenda? The witch could use her blood to cast any spell, and Elena wouldn't have been able to stop her.
She'd had a chance to thwart her, a chance to take Elijah's glass and dash it to the ground, to save him, at least, from whatever Esther had planned. Elijah had always been upstanding and fair with her, always kept his word to her even when he probably shouldn't have. Always...except the one time it mattered most. When he'd had to choose between his family or ridding the world of Klaus, he'd broken his word. And it was because of that single moment of weakness that Elena assured him that Esther had forgiven Klaus everything, that he had nothing to fear. It was because of that moment that Elena let him drink from the bitter cup.
"Elena," Damon said, approaching her, whole and alive again. Elena's heart sank. He wasn't furious. This was something far, far worse than rage. He was disappointed. "Did you get what you wanted?"
She couldn't tell him her doubts or her agony over what she'd done to him, to the Originals. So she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze evenly. "Actually, I did."
"Good. Tell me on the ride home; we're leaving," he said, grabbing her arm in a painfully tight grip. She winced, struggling to pull out of his grasp.
"Let go of me, Damon. You can't just drag me out of here," she said, jerking her arm free.
His eyes widened. "You're going to lecture me about free will and ownership when you just had my brother break my neck?"
"Look, I'm sorry I had to cut you out of the plan, but you didn't leave me much choice," Elena started, but the excuses sounded hollow even to her own ears.
"There shouldn't have been a plan. You took a stupid risk, and you're lucky you didn't get yourself killed," Damon spat.
"Do you think I like going behind your back? I don't. But you wouldn't listen, and if I had told you what I was going to do, you would've tried to play the hero and you would've ruined everything. I didn't know what else to do, so I called in Stefan," she said. Damon could pretend to be the anti-hero as much as he liked, pretend not to care about anything. But every time their plans went to hell, it was because he took matters into his own hands and tried to save her. But there were more important forces at play than just the two of them.
"Right. Trusting my brother who tried to kill you less than a week ago instead of me. That makes no fucking sense, Elena," he said.
"Now you're mad at me for bringing Stefan in? You're the one who wanted him here in the first place," she returned.
"And once again, trusting Stefan bit me in the ass. He doesn't give a shit about whether you live or die anymore, Elena, don't you see that? One of these days you're going to have to tell me why you're so hell-bent on dying," he said, nostrils flaring. There was the rage she'd been expecting.
"And one of these days you're going to have to realize that I'm not a child. I can make my own decisions," she said.
"Whatever happened to being partners, Elena? Imagine if the tables were turned and I compelled you to get you out of the way so I could do something stupid and self-destructive. What would you have done then?" His voice was raised, his eyes wide. Whatever fragile control Damon had managed to build was crumbling fast.
"I would have hated you," she said. He was absolutely right. What she had done was inexcusable. Here she was, once again, doing the wrong thing for the right reasons.
"Points for honesty," he sneered.
"Hey, have you guys seen Matt?" Caroline asked.
Damon's eyes widened slightly, and he turned to go. But he stopped himself, turning back to Elena. His words were cold as ice: "You know, I was wrong. You're exactly like Katherine." And he stalked away.