I need a hero. I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong. He's gotta be fast. And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.
I need a hero. I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light.
He's gotta be sure. He's gotta be soon. And he's gotta be larger than life.
Holding Out For A Hero – Ella Mae Dowen
"Look, Sam, I can't put her in danger." Dean said, resting his hands on the roof of the Impala. "I know." Sam replied, nodding. "So, what are you going to do?" A frown formed on Dean's lips before he said with conviction. "The only thing I can do. She'll hate me for it. But at least she'll be alive."
Elena stretched as her phone rang, incessantly loud. She blinked blearily before reaching for it. "Hello?" Elena said drowsily, answering it. "Hey, 'Lena," came the response hesitantly. "Dean?" She whispered, sitting up.
"Yeah. It's me." "What's going on?" "Look, 'Lena…" He paused, taking a deep breath. Elena frowned, waiting impatiently. "You can't be calling me anymore." Her heart sank at those words. Dean couldn't mean – he just couldn't.
"Why?" Elena said brokenly. "Because, all this –" Dean sighed, "I just don't want you getting the wrong impression. That's all. So, just… don't call me anymore." There was a click at the other end of the phone. Elena breathed out a shuddered breath before dissolving into sobs.
Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket, avoiding Sam's gaze. His voice was hollow when he finally said, "It's done. At least now, she'll be safe."
Elena's eyes opened and she peered around the room sleepily. "Hey, I was hoping we could talk." Dean was leaning against the door jamb. Elena cast him a dark look before shaking her head. "Is Sam here?" "Yeah, he's downstairs." "Good."
Elena slipped past Dean, walking downstairs silently. Dean sighed, watching her walk away. "Morning, Ellie." Sam was sitting at the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in his hands. Jenna was standing at the other side. Her features taut, but forcibly pleasant.
Elena knew why. Jenna didn't like Dean. Not one bit. A knock at the door drew Elena's attention. "Lena," Dean said, stepping off the bottom stair. "Please, just talk to me." She shook her head, walking to the front door.
Elena opened the front door, seeing an envelope resting on the welcome mat. Her name was scrawled on it in an elegant hand. She picked it up. The envelope and contents were made, obviously, of expensive and thick parchment.
"What's that?" Dean asked, entering the room. "I don't know." Elena said, baffled, shrugging. She opened the envelope, pulling the slip of parchment free of it. It was an invitation. Written, painstakingly, in a looping; spiky, elegant scrawl. It read;
Ms. Elena Gilbert,
We wish that you and your suitor(s) would grace us with your presence at,
The Masquerade Ball.
Hosted by,
Lord DeSangue
Held at,
The Lockwood Manor.
Tomorrow evening.
"Who the hell's Lord DeSangue?" Dean muttered. "Guess I'll find out." Elena glanced at him. "Will you be my escort?" She blinked up at him, with wide doe eyes. Dean nodded, "Of course." "Good."
Elena smiled faintly, "This doesn't mean I forgive you." She turned and walked back to the kitchen, saying; "I'm wearing black." Dean followed her, looking perplexed. "Why are you telling me this?"
"So, we can match, of course." Elena said, glancing over her shoulder. Dean paused, sighing heavily, muttering to himself, "And I thought hunting demons was a scary and crazy job."
The party was in full swing. Dean was standing at the bar, yes; they actually had a bar, in an uncomfortably fitting suit. Elena told him she'd meet him there. Dean held his mask in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other.
His mask was black, and made of leather. It covered his features. All but his mouth. When he wore it, his eyes were the only thing visible through the rawhide. At least I get a break from hunting demons, Dean thought wryly.
"You're a scotch drinker, are you?" Dean lifted a brow, glancing over at the man standing next to him. The man was two inches shorter than him and leaning against the bar lazily. The Hunter stiffened at the pallor of the other man's skin.
"Yes, I am." Dean nodded, raising his glass. "I could never stand the texture." The other man lifted his glass. It was partially filled with a darker whiskey. The hunter chuckled, bringing his glass to his lips, "Well, to each his own."
Dean almost choked when the doors opened and a young woman, dressed in a black, flowing, ball gown, glided into the room. She wore a mask that covered most of her face, but it was her lively, ochre eyes that gave her away.
Elena looked beautiful. The gown clung to her every curve and cascaded to the floor. Her mask was gold and overlaid with black lace. Her eyes were heavily shadowed with gold eye shadow. Her lips were ruby red. The entire effect was truly stunning.
Dean was frozen in place. Then he loosened his tie and collar before making his way towards her. He was fully aware of the other man's glacier blue eyes on him, slicing into him with envy and instantaneous hatred.
"Hello," Elena said almost shyly. "You're beautiful." Dean whispered, and then caught himself, clearing his throat. "I mean, 'hi'." He chuckled nervously. "And you're handsome." Elena said with a laugh, "Oh, I meant, 'how are you?'"
She brushed past him and wandered towards the double doors, opening them, they both saw the courtyard. Elena's jaw dropped with awe. "It's beautiful!" The courtyard was lit with strings, upon strings, of white lights.
There were paper lanterns strung along the pathway, giving the illusion of floating above the guests' heads. Colorful strings of lights were threaded through the bushes. The entire affect was magical.
Elena stepped onto the lighted walkway and floated towards the pavilion. Dean followed her swiftly, looking around with cloaked suspicion. The interior of the tent was extravagant. Even Dean was surprised.
The tent was made of a purple gauzy material. There were even more lights strung from the ceiling, spiraling in an intricate pattern. If I see any more of those damn lights, I think I'm going to be sick. Dean thought with distaste.
Elena was ecstatic, looking around the rotunda with delight. The floor was wooden and polished to a high gloss. Dean allowed himself to indulge in a spiteful image of the dancers slipping and sliding across the floor. They even had a string quartet.
A string quartet? Dean thought, horror-stricken. Really? "Rich people." He muttered. "Honored guests," A soft, but unmistakably, masculine voice said. A tinkling resounded around the room. Elena and Dean both looked towards the stage.
A young man in his mid-to-early twenties stood on the platform, facing the crowd. He was clean shaven, pale, and undeniably handsome. He wore a charming smile, which never reached his clear green eyes. A tuft of his soft brown hair curled towards his forehead.
He carried himself like a nobleman. And Dean instinctively and immediately hated him. "I am so grateful," The young man continued, "That you could all join me this evening." His emerald eyes flickered towards Elena and Dean.
"I'm sure that some, if not most, of you are wondering who I am…" "Dear God," Dean muttered to Elena, "Is he trying to kill us with boredom?" Elena bit her lip, quivering with restrained laughter, before smacking Dean's shoulder playfully.
"Don't make me laugh!" She whispered to him. "– And now, here I stand. In a room full of people with whom I wish to make a –" He tilted his head towards Dean and Elena " – Lifelong connection with." Lord DeSangue flashed everyone a charming smile, which to Dean looked threatening.
"Please, join me for a dance. One of my favorite waltzes, in fact. The Viennese Waltz." Waltz? Dean thought, horrified. "W – What? He expects us to waltz?" Dean hissed to Elena frantically.
Elena nodded, looking up at Dean. "That son of a bitch," Dean grumbled, taking Elena's hand, guiding her to the dance floor. Dean's eyes flitted towards the stage. DeSangue had vanished. "You do know how to waltz, right?" Elena asked him quizzically.
"Yes," Dean nodded. Then at her look, chuckled slightly. "No. I don't. But I think it's best that we do what DeSangue wants. For now. Unless we want a bloodbath." Elena nodded hesitantly as Dean guided her into a stilted, but graceful waltz.
"Relax," Elena instructed him. "Okay." Dean nodded stiffly, glancing around the room. He glanced at her, meeting her amber orbs. Dean allowed himself to relax under her gaze. They moved in perfect synchronicity. The quartet played a slow, almost melancholy, but beautiful tune.
As soon as the song ended, Dean and Elena glanced around the pavilion. "Tonight, is all about connections," Lord DeSangue began, "My connection with you." Elena swallowed hard, looking at Dean. "The connection I wish to make. And most of all…"
"He is so full of it, isn't he?" A low, disdainful, voice said. Dean and Elena whirled. The man that Dean had spoken to at the bar was standing next to them. His glacier optics were focused on the man on the stage, narrowed with seething hatred.
"Damon," Elena said, surprised. Dean's jade globes flashed towards her. "Lena, you know this – " He cut himself off, shaking his head and jabbing a finger towards Damon, "You know him?" Elena nodded cautiously. "I do. He's from here, Dean." She said, nervously, watching Damon carefully.
"Yeah. I am." Damon said tersely, straightening his jacket. "Thank you." DeSangue said from the stage, before stepping down from the platform. He made his way towards the trio gracefully. Moving with the easiness of a lazy cat.
"Miss Gilbert, I presume," Lord DeSangue said graciously, taking Elena's hand, kissing the back of it before inclining into a bow. Elena glanced at Dean and Damon, obviously flustered. "Um – it's Elena, actually." DeSangue smiled at her as though he found her peculiarly charming.
"I wondered if I might have a word with you, actually… Elena." "Okay, I'm stepping in now." Dean said, with a trace of a growl in his voice. He stepped in front Elena. "You're not going anywhere with her. Got it?" Lord DeSangue looked vaguely taken aback.
"What kind of man do you think I am?" The hunter uttered a sardonic laugh. "We both know that you're not really a man." Damon looked mildly impressed at Dean's words. "Well…" DeSangue tipped his head to the side.
"If that's case, then you can come with us." Dean nodded stiffly, before saying curtly, "Lead the way." Lord DeSangue lead them into the Lockwood Mansion, he walked up the stairs briskly, before turning down a corridor and disappearing into a room.
Dean took Elena's hand and followed DeSangue inside. "Now," Lord DeSangue started, "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked to speak with you both alone." "Yeah. No kidding." Dean replied, waspishly. DeSangue revealed his teeth in what could be almost called a smile.
He looked at Dean with the patience of an older brother, explaining the way of life to his little brother. "Dean," He said almost reproachfully. "You have no reason to fear me. I mean you no harm." "Right," Dean snapped, "And I'm the Easter Bunny."
Lord DeSangue sighed heavily, realizing there wouldn't be any headway with Dean. "Elena," He said cajolingly, "You know why I brought you here, right?" Elena nodded, glancing at Dean. "It's because of Dean and I, isn't it?"
Dean expelled a breath, shocked. He felt as though DeSangue had hit him over the head. Dean was stunned. "Exactly." DeSangue said, flashing that charming smile. Elena lowered her eyes.
"I'm just going to say it," Lord DeSangue continued, "Because of… well, because of certain complications; you and Dean can't be together. You can't. It's impossible." Dean and Elena exchanged a look, both of them shocked. Pained.
"You see, you and Dean have tried. For millennia." "What?" Dean finally choked out. "Yes, Dean. You and Elena have been one of the many tragic romances that have existed in history."
DeSangue mused, "I rather enjoyed watching the story unfold, several times. It's very different in the beginning. But, the ending is always the same. It's become very tiresome." "Then why tell us?" "Because, I'm tired. And weary. I'm only trying to help you Dean."
"Well, you're not doing a very good job of it." "If you want what's best for your beloved, then walk away Dean." "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't –" "Dean, you can't fool me. You may fool everyone else. But not me."
Dean sputtered for a few minutes, shaking his head. "You're in love with her Dean. And I know it. So, does she." Elena blushed, gaping before looking away. "Now, if you want to protect her," Lord DeSangue began. "What?" Dean said, almost shouting.
"Then stay away." DeSangue continued, looking rather miffed. "Your past is catching up with you, Dean. And soon it'll take her down with you." With that, Lord DeSangue swept from the room majestically. Dean stood, dumbfounded, breathing in deeply through his nose.
Elena stepped towards him timidly. "Dean?" Dean shook his head silently. "Dean, talk to me." Elena whispered, her chocolate spheres swimming with tears. "Lena," Dean said softly, "You know that everything I've done, I've done it for you, right?"
"Yes." Elena replied shakily. "I know I've said and done a lot to hurt you, but, I never intended for –" "Dean, I know." "Then you know how difficult this is." Elena staggered back, gaping at him. "Dean. Don't. Just don't." She said, unsteadily.
Elena turned and rushed from the room. Dean chased after her, calling out, "Lena!" She paused on the balcony, breathing out, her voice wavering, "Dean, let's just not do this right now." Dean snarled, "Why not?" He was breathing hard, upset.
Just like she was. Elena took a deep breath, closing her eyes before whirling to face him. She grasped Dean's collar, yanking him close. Elena crushed her lips against Dean's feverishly.
Dean uttered a strangled sound of surprise before his hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer. When Elena pulled away from Dean, her cheeks were flushed. The hunter was startled. The entire room was silent.
A few breathy whispers resounded against the walls. Elena glanced towards the silent crowd, her eyes wide. Stefan was standing just below her and Dean. His leaf green eyes focused on them.
Elena drew in a shuddered breath as Stefan swiveled and walked out. "Lena," Dean started as she began to walk after Stefan. "Dean, no." Elena said softly. "I think we've both said enough."
She hurried down the stairs and walked out of the mansion, her body taken over by a fine trembling. Elena wanted to go after Stefan and try to explain. But she also wanted to go home and throw herself onto her bed and cry.
"Elena?" A soft voice said quizzically. She turned, seeing Caroline standing behind her. Caroline looked very pretty in the blue dress she wore. "What's wrong?" Her friend asked. Elena walked towards her, throwing her arms around the blonde, unable to stand on her unsteady legs anymore.
"I – Dean – He – Stefan –" Elena gasped out, incapable of holding back the floods of tears and tidal wave of pain. Caroline wrapped her arms around her friend, sinking to the ground, saying softly, "Shh… it's okay, Elena. It's going to be okay."
Dean leaned against the banister, his hands curling into fists, before he turned and punched the wall, pain flaring in his knuckles as he shouted, "Damn it!" He could still feel her. Smell her. Hear her. It almost drove him crazy. And he let her walk away. Again.
So much for fixing it, his mind whispered to him spitefully. Shut up. He replied angrily. Just then, his phone rang, shocking him out of his reverie. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the annoying ringing object. It was Sam.
Answering it, Dean said wearily, "Yeah, Sam?" "Dean, you okay?" Came Sam's response. "You sound kind of…" "I'm fine, Sammy." Dean breathed, closing his eyes. "I'll explain later. What's going on?" "Well, it can't be Lilith."
Sam said, sounding oddly relieved. "Good." "It's something different, altogether. You have to see this. If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it." "Okay." Dean said finally. "I'm on my way."