Thank you again for the lovely reviews, it really is amazing watching the numbers of views/visitors creep up when I post a chapter and then read how you're responding to my characters.

This chapter is mostly fluff and feelings, a break from the drama. I'm on the final push with writing this story, the backbone of all the remaining chapters is finished and I'm currently fleshing them out.

x-x-x-x

Isobel's eyes flickered in her vision every time she closed her eyes. Elena had seen pain like that, pictures on the news, in TIME magazine. It had always been removed from her, a sad story, something to donate to or feel sad about.

This was different, it wasn't on a glossy sheet. Did a look like that, directed at you, ever leave your memory?

She'd felt numb since, going through the motions of sharing contact details with Elijah, promising John she would be okay; Damon keeping a tight hold on her hand the entire time. Now she was in his arms, her head resting on his chest as she stood staring into the flames of the fire.

There was a desire to scream, to break things, to burn the entire house down and run. Katherine had run for 500 years, why couldn't she?

She knew why; the reasons had been sitting all around her. Not to mention Caroline, Matt, Tyler and the rest of Mystic Falls. Upsetting Elijah or Klaus could have horrendous consequences for everyone.

No, she had to die.

He was stroking her hair, planting a light kiss on her head.

"No offence, Elena, but you stink. Shower?"

She nodded slightly, looking up to see his eyes. They were locked to her, showing only hope and a spark of humour. Whatever he felt about what they'd learned today was hidden. She knew she was his priority, and however much she wanted to fight it and put him first, right now she needed it.

She needed a moment to breathe.

Letting him guide her to his en-suite, she stood facing the mirror as he began to untie her corset. Her hair was matted, blood had soaked into it from the gash she kept irritating. The dress was scuffed, marked. She had ripped part of it earlier, frustrated with the mounds of fabric when Elijah had stopped at a gas station to allow her a toilet break.

He took his time with the lacing, his fingers deftly working at the crude knots Bonnie had forced the strings into. The skin of his knuckles making contact with her bare back, sending electric shivers up her spine.

Letting the gown drop to the floor, he worked quickly at the buttons on her petticoat. Starting the shower for her, he guided her inside.

Deftly kicking off his own shoes, pulling his t-shirt off and stepping out of jeans he stepped in the shower after her. He looked glorious; sculpted and simply beautiful.

Her eyes could appreciate the sight, her body responding to it even as her mind strayed elsewhere, repeating Elijah's words over and over again.

Crooking a finger under her chin, he tilted her face to the water, and she felt the warmth flush over her. Spinning her around, he massaged the shampoo into her hair, soaking the dried blood out and tentatively cleaning the wound with the hot water.

Once she was clean, he stepped out from the water leaving her there to stand.

She knew he was simply getting a towel, drying himself before he dried her. It was logical, it was sensible, it was obvious. Tonight though, she couldn't comprehend the loss of his touch.

What if he never returned?

She found herself on the floor of the shower. Her knees pulled up to her face and her arms wrapped around herself, she couldn't differentiate between the water running down her face and the tears she knew were freely flowing.

Turning the water off, he engulfed her in a towel that had no right to be that fluffy. She could feel it being tightly wrapped around her as he lifted her into his arms, carrying her, as if she were a swaddled baby, to his bed.

Setting her down on the edge, he proceeded to dry her silently. He took care to find every spot, holding a robe out for her to put her arms into, one that matched his own, before combing out her hair.

She stared at the cream wall, contemplating what she could even say. What words would express the thousands of thoughts running through her mind?

"Damon?" She whispered.

"Hmm?" He hummed.

"I don't want to die."

He didn't pause or flinch, his words were confident, "You won't have to. I have a plan."

She turned quickly, wincing slightly as a knot in her hair caught on the comb at the sudden movement.

"You can't mess with them, Damon. You know what could happen if you anger them, they're originals. They'll kill you." She reached her hand up, stroking his hair out of his face.

"You want me to watch them kill you?" This time his eyes betrayed the pain he was in as he spoke, his upper lip curling in distaste.

"I can come back. I can be like you." Surely, he could see it was the easiest way?

"I am dead, Elena. I died. I was shot and then I died." He was angry, practically spitting the words at her.

She lifted her other hand to his face, cupping it gently, "We both know I'm going to turn eventually; I've said it before."

"Hints, Elena, little comments. I won't let you die at 17, you have to live first. I want you to live first." His eyes were searching her face; looking for any sign she would back down but she had made her decision.

She didn't want to die, didn't want to be an object of sacrifice. She didn't want to be in the middle of the drama between Elijah and Klaus, or to do anything to help such dangerous creatures.

It was the safest for everyone else though, if she died, they would all be okay. She could tolerate dying to protect them, she would happily die to protect them.

"Elena."

"Damon, I'm doing this. It's the least I can do."

He frowned at her, monetarily appearing confused before something clicked behind those icy eyes. Before she knew it she was on her back on the bed, her hands being held down by him.

"Elena Gilbert, this is not your fault." He growled.

She tried to fight against him, her efforts futile against his strength.

"Repeat after me, Elena. It is not my fault."

She shook her head at him, the tears threatening to escape her eyes as she tried to look at him defiantly.

"I can't Damon."

He nodded, "You can. 5 easy words, 'It is not my fault.'"

"I can't. It's my blood they want, Elijah and Klaus are here for me. If I wasn't here, everyone else would be okay. There'd be no threat. If I wasn't here, they'd still be alive."

At that, any attempt to stop the tears failed and she sobbed. The weight above her lifted, and she was in his arms resting on his chest as she cried.

"None of this was your fault, Elena." He sighed at her.

"If I hadn't snuck out, they would still be alive." She managed to splutter the words between sobs.

"Maybe," He whispered, "Maybe they'd have crashed the next day. Maybe I'd have eaten them, I was a dick back then."

She managed a slight chuckle, stabilising her breathing.

"Just back then?" She looked up at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Elena Gilbert!" He gasped in mock horror, "Did you just call the love of your life a dick?"

"Who said you were the love of my life?" She teased.

"Well, if you're dying in 24 days, I don't see much competition." He grinned at her.

Trust Damon to be able to turn the worst day of her life into a joke. She slapped him on the chest, not hard enough to hurt him but hard enough to get her frustration out. A human would have probably complained, but he was made of tougher stuff.

"What's your plan, then, oh mighty love of my life?"

"Call me that again, and I might tell you." He hummed, stroking her hair.

"I love you, Damon Salvatore."

"I love you too, trouble."

x-x-x-x

They'd laid silently for hours. She'd drifted in and out of sleep in his arms, so calm and comfortable there.

How had he become her safe space? He understood completely how she had become his, his home, his everything. How could she not have? The way she looked at him, seeing through every defence he had ever put up.

It had terrified him, initially, how this girl could read him. How would he ever be able to keep hidden from her the worst mistakes he had made? Every time she had crept closer to finding them, every piece of terror she had unearthed she had embraced. She'd seen the reasoning, she'd understood him.

The way he had seen her.

Elena would march into that sacrifice willingly, for a part of her believed the world would be a better place if she were not in it. She believed she should have died, or worse that she should never have been born. He knew that pain, saw through her defences the same way she cut through his.

He could fight her on that. He could tell her the story of his life, every cowardly moment, every pitiful mistake. He could spend the rest of their lifetime showing her how undeserving of her love he was, if it made her see. He didn't doubt she would still say she loved him, that she would argue he was worth it, that he deserved to live and be loved.

Whether he believed her was a different matter. He wanted to. Lord, how he wanted to.

That was inconsequential though, if he could get her to say that he deserved love despite his actions then how could she possibly deny that she didn't? She deserved to be loved, to be alive. He could make her want to live.

Would it be too late?

There was no point denying that he had dreamt of the day she would turn, the day he could worry just a fraction less about losing her. They could plan an eternity together, see everything the world had to offer.

It was a life she should choose, not one that should be forced upon her. He knew how that felt.

Listening to her shallow breaths as she began to wake again, Damon knew he would fight with everything he had for her to be able to make that choice. He'd told her John's plan for the device, and she'd argued against it. She didn't want to risk the wrath of Klaus if it didn't work and didn't want him to take it out on her friends.

He had a solution for that. He would trigger the device, nobody else needed to be involved.

He would willingly die to allow her the choice of hers.

x-x-x-x

Caroline rolled over, her hair splaying wildly as her head hit the pillow.

"Wow." She sighed, dreamily. "I feel like I should have a cigarette, that's a thing, right? Smoking after sex?"

Tyler chuckled next to her, "That's a thing, but neither of us smoke."

"Maybe we could pretend?" She pulled her fingers to her mouth, mimicking the action.

He laughed, rolling over to tickle her. "You're crazy, Caroline."

"Good crazy?" She asked, feeling self-conscious for the first time in hours. Tyler was ridiculously hot; she'd never seen muscles like it in real life.

"Mmmhmm" He hummed into her neck, nipping the skin as he kissed it. "Good crazy."

The tickles began again, but she bit her bottom lip.

However good the night had been, and it had been amazing, she had to get up early in the morning. The masquerade ball was only a few weeks away and now the founder's parade was over she needed to start preparing. She'd requisitioned part of the art room to produce a range of masks. Last year, many guests had conveniently forgotten theirs but this year she wasn't going to let that sloppiness fly. It was a masquerade; everyone would be masked!

"I best go," She whispered, pulling away from his hands, "I have to sleep at some point."

"Stay," He said, using those muscles to good effect as he pulled her back close to him, "I want you to."

"What if your parents find out?" She nervously chewed her lip. It was one thing staying at her house, where the sheriff was rarely home and certainly didn't pay attention to her daughter, staying in the Lockwood mansion was a whole other ball game.

"My mom would start planning the wedding, and my dad would get mad. What's new?" He asked, his voice not sounding quite as humorous as he was obviously aiming for.

Tyler's dad getting mad certainly wasn't anything new, Caroline's fingers trailed up to a bruise on Tyler's arm that was evidence of that fact. She kissed it softly, pouring every ounce of affection she held for Tyler into the kiss.

Nestling into him, she wondered if his mom actually would start planning the wedding. To Mrs Lockwood, they would be the perfect couple- she couldn't have arranged a better marriage for Tyler. Caroline grinned proudly at the thought and fell asleep dreaming of bouquets and table arrangements.

x-x-x-x

Elena woke the next morning feeling like she hadn't slept in a week. The night had certainly consisted of lots of tossing and turning, dreams about sacrifices and rituals she'd only seen in cheap horror movies.

Coffee was certainly needed, and she could smell it. Stefan or Bree must have come home and put the pot on, and her nose was drawing her to it.

Pulling on one of Damon's shirts and throwing the robe back on top, she padded down to the kitchen. He was finally asleep, so she left him there, hoping he got the rest he would certainly need.

Walking into the kitchen, she stopped dead. Isobel was sitting at the counter, sipping a mug of coffee; her eyes smiling at Elena over the rim.

Her birth mother, emotions presumably fully active, was in their kitchen. She hadn't even had coffee yet, how was she supposed to deal with Isobel? The last time they'd had a full conversation Elena had left it bitterly disappointed. Would this be the same?

"Good morning," she said, trying to not sound either overly welcoming or hostile. Neutral was the way to go. Coffee was required before any further conversation.

"Good morning, Elena." Isobel responded, "There's plenty of coffee left."

Elena nodded, finding her usual Twilight-themed mug in the cupboard and filling her cup almost to the brim. She was tired enough to need it.

She was tempted to just wander back up to bed, sit there and drink her coffee instead of having whatever conversation Isobel might be intending to have with her. That would almost certainly wake Damon though, and he needed his rest. Plus, this conversation was bound to happen at some point, it might as well happen now.

Instead of retreating, she took the stool next to Isobel, swinging it around to face her.

"Why are you here?" She asked, the hostility creeping out in her voice far more than intended.

"I have nowhere else I'd rather be." Isobel said, trying to make eye contact but Elena avoided by sipping her coffee, grateful she'd poured such a large serving. "I've sent the human I was staying with back home, and there's nothing for me in that large, empty house. I suppose I could ask to stay with Ric, or John, but as they're staying under the same roof at the moment, I don't expect that to end well. I'm in this Godforsaken town to protect you, so that's where I chose to come. To you."

"Why did you come back to protect me, you had your humanity off." Elena questioned. It had bugged her, when Damon had explained the plan, that Isobel had ever participated. With no humanity, why had she cared?

"Even on my dullest days, the days I was most devoid of myself, the idea of your death was… distasteful. It wasn't something I could allow." Isobel paused, staring out of the window and biting her lip. This Isobel shared some of Elena's mannerisms, the way she was playing with the handle of the mug was identical to the way Elena's own fingers were moving. "I was, am, still your mother, Elena."

Elena shook her head, "Miranda Gilbert was my mother."

Isobel turned back to her, a sweet smile on her lips but sadness in her eyes. "Miranda was, and always will be, your mom. I could never hope for such a lofty title, I am your mother, though, and I love you."

Elena's heart clenched, her whole chest tightening. Since the day she had found out she was adopted, she had felt a hole there- something that was missing, a fact she needed to know. She'd hoped her birth mother loved her, wanted her, but Isobel had been such a disappointment. Until this moment.

"Why did you give me away?" She whispered, though it came out as more of a whimper. The question she'd been asking herself for months, why was she not loved enough to be kept?

"I was young, we both were. I'd wanted to keep you, to raise you. That's why I kept the pregnancy, I had hopes of moving in with John and being a family. He wanted a career, to follow in his brother's footsteps." She sighed; they both knew John hadn't done that.

"When you came, I was terrified. John had brought me to Grayson for medical care, so we didn't have to deal with the bills, but we weren't prepared for reality. He'd been unable to find us an apartment; we only had some clothes, a blanket and one teddy bear. We were both so scared we'd get it wrong, do something wrong, hurt you."

"You'd have had help." Elena said, knowing it was true. Her mom and dad would have helped, the whole town would have. They'd supported the Donovans in times of need, they'd have been there for John and Isobel.

Isobel nodded, "I know that now, but at the time I didn't believe anyone would want to help me. An unknown teenage mother? I watched Grayson with you, watched Miranda's entire body light up when she held you. They were ready to be parents and would do a far better job than I ever could. So, I ran. I ran and I kept running for months."

"What made you stop?" Elena asked.

"You. I knew that one day they'd tell you that you'd come looking for me. I became determined to become someone you could be proud of."

She was, Elena thought, or at least she had been. Alaric had spoken of the Isobel he had married with fondness, respect. He'd told Elena of how brilliant her mind was, and Elena had seen the stack of research they'd brought back- a small section of Isobel's work.

Perhaps, in time, she could get to know Isobel, form a relationship with her mother.

It was a shame that time was one of the things Elena seemed to be lacking an abundance of.

x-x-x-x

The school was eerily quiet on the weekend, but she'd been able to secure the keys and permission to use the facilities months ago. Her place organising so many school and town events came with special privileges, sometimes.

Caroline yawned as she pushed open the doors to the art storage cupboard. She'd really not had enough sleep last night, and she needed coffee. Luckily, she'd been able to grab an iced coffee on the way- but in her tiredness had left it neglected on the table.

The supplies could wait, she'd drink that first.

"Isn't it rather early for lessons, love?" A voice asked from the other side of the large art classroom. English! The accent was English. She'd struggled to place it the other night, but now it clicked.

Without bothering to turn, she took the keys out of her pocket and wiggled them in the air. "I have special permission from Mrs Lockwood and the principal, and I'm rather busy if you don't mind."

"Looks like it." She could practically hear his smirk, even though she couldn't see his face. Annoyed at his accusation, she stood up and spun to him.

"I'm sorry, Mr Michaelson, if I am taking a moment to drink my iced Latte. It must be terrible for you to have the inconvenience of a student sitting quietly taking two minutes longer on a job that is quite simply going to take hours. If my presence bothers you that much, you could help me and then I'd be out of your way faster."

She was bright pink by the time she was done, the realisation that she was snapping at a teacher only meeting her about halfway through the speech and the idea that she should perhaps stop only occurring after she had already done so.

Sheepishly, she looked at the floor, awaiting the detention she would surely be issued.

"I'd gladly help you, Miss Forbes. Or should I address you by your proper title, Miss Mystic Falls?" As he smirked at her, she couldn't help but notice his dimples or the mischievous glint in his eye.

It was a dangerous game to be seeing her teacher like that. She couldn't imagine ever thinking about any of the rest of the faculty that way. Then again, Alaric was basically her best friend's stepfather, give or take a few steps, and he was probably the only other member of staff under 50.

"Caroline is fine." She sulked, placing her half empty drink down and turning back to the supply cupboard, "You don't actually have to help."

"It's what I'm here for. Though I would rather like to know what I've signed myself up for."

Walking into the cupboard she reached for the large sheets of card and felt, before thrusting them at him, his arms coming out as a shelf for the supplies. On top of that she stacked a bag of feathers, pipe cleaners, and every time of glitter she could find. Finally, she grabbed a large container of liquid glue.

"That should be enough for now," she smiled at him, his face partly obscured by the pile of supplies. She was sure she looked at least mildly demented to be as excited as she was about arts and crafts, "we're making masks."

"Masks?" He repeated.

"What did you expect? I'm not about to start painting a counterfeit Mona Lisa like some kind of genius."

He laughed loudly, for some reason, as he placed her selected supplies on the desk in front of her.

It was a surprisingly fun day, producing the masks with her teacher. She learned that he liked to be called 'Nik' but did not like her making jokes about her favourite teachers, Nik and Ric. Apparently, they would not make a good superhero duo, though Caroline really could imagine it. Then again, there was a possibility she just wanted to imagine Nik in spandex.

They'd managed to make a few dozen masks, his creations far superior to her own. He'd pulled out more and more supplies as they'd worked and laughed. Nik had been working at a school in England before he moved to Mystic Falls, and she'd expressed how she couldn't believe anyone would ever choose her town over such a historic country.

When they'd called it a day it was well into the evening; she wasn't hungry, he'd ordered a ridiculous amount of food when he'd realised what a huge task they had. She was, however, covered in glitter and dried glue, in sore need of a shower.

Wincing at the thought, she inspected her foot. Like the clumsy fool she was, she'd managed to drop a craft knife on it as they were tidying up. Nik had quickly provided a band-aid when she'd panicked, having to sit down at the sight of blood. She was going to have to remove the band-aid before the shower, it wasn't waterproof, and she probably needed to wash the wound anyway. It was going to sting like a bitch, though.

Undressing in the bathroom, the water running to warm up, she carefully avoided banging her foot. It didn't hurt anymore, hadn't since she'd left school, but she wanted to be careful not to make it bleed again. She really hated the sight of blood. Reaching to remove her necklace, the beautiful pendant Elena had gifted her that she wore every day, she swore to herself.

She must have forgotten to put it on this morning, leaving it at Tyler's. Hopefully, the cleaner hadn't found it and presented it to Mrs Lockwood. How humiliating would it be if she had to ask her boyfriend's mother for the necklace she'd left after sneaking in?

Sighing, she reached down to pull the band-aid off, the final step before heading into the shower. Whatever wound had been formed underneath must have been much smaller than it felt, for she couldn't see any sign of it now.

God had she actually almost fainted over a single bead of blood. In front of Nik?

That was it, she could never show her face in the art room again.

x-x-x-x