AN: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. This is a (late) birthday present for my friend Luna, who is a saint for waiting so patiently for this. This is set in season one, right after the seventh episode, and ignores everything after that, so no Lexi, sorry folks. Basically if you are mortally offended by the idea that Damon did anything wrong in his treatment of Caroline in s1, This Is Not The Story For You. You don't have to read it, I will not be offended, trust me. Also, if you feel like Stefan did all he could do to help Caroline, boy is this Not The Story For You, Either.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: for allusions to sexual and physical and emotional abuse, please be aware of this and tread carefully, and I will definitely not be offended if you can't handle it, I understand. The title is taken from the same spoken word poem as the quote. The poem is about an abusive relationship, so please be aware of that before you decide to go look it up, although I will say it is amazing, and would recommend it highly, as long as you feel you are capable of watching without any potential triggering. It's on youtube for anyone who wants to watch it, though.

Without further ado, or warning, here it is.

Hurricanes Are Named After Humans For a Reason

"I am not making a pact with the devil,

I am learning how to fight back against him,

How to tell him 'you are not welcome here anymore.'"

-Anny Miner

"Wicked Women"

"Do you understand what happened tonight?" Elena asks Jeremy, her tone cutting and her gaze intent. He knows the answer is very important to her, but can't quite wrap his head around it.

"No," he denies. "I don't understand. I mean, I know what I saw, but…" he trails off. He shakes his head decisively. "I don't understand," he repeats firmly.

"She was going to kill me," she says, and she looks him in the eyes intently, trying to convey the importance of her words.

"But they—he killed her," Jeremy says weakly. Elena nods, and there's something like guilt in her eyes.

"I know," she says, "And I'm so sorry, I never thought—I should've been quicker."

She's not making any sense and Jeremy just watched the girl he loved get killed in front of him, and vampires are real. His sister is dating one. He doesn't understand, he wants to close his eyes and wake up from this very bad dream—the nightmare that started in May with the death of their parents, but no matter how many times he pinches himself, he never wakes up.

Elena grasps his hands in hers, looking at him so intently and Jeremy can't help but wonder how long she's known, but before he can open his mouth to ask she shakes her head. She touches her finger to her ear to indicate that the Salvatores can hear them. He shuts his mouth abruptly.

She leans in close, her voice soft and whispery, but urgent.

"I know this is a lot to take in Jer, but I need you to trust me," she says, and he stares dumbly back at her. "Don't do anything stupid. I will answer all your questions to the best of my ability, but right now, I need you to just, trust me," she begs.

He stares at her incredulously. "They killed her," he reminds her thickly. "She's dead, Vicki's dead."

She nods fervently, on the verge of tears. "I know, I know, but just, don't do anything, okay? We can't do anything. Just. Trust me, please."

"He killed her, and his brother buried her and they're just gonna get away with it," he says, anger coursing in his veins. His sister shakes her head, leaning in closer, lowering her voice until it's barely more than a puff of air.

"They won't," she swears vehemently, and he sees the intent in her eyes.

He looks at her, and he realizes that the frenetic energy buried inside of her isn't because of her secret keeping efforts—she's planning something. So he shuts his mouth and nods his head.

She sags with relief, squeezing his hands briefly and gratefully. "Thank you," she breathes.

He nods dumbly again, not knowing how else to respond.

They sit in silence for several long moments, before the lingering thought in his head slips past his lips.

"Why does everyone have to die on me?"

Whatever Elena says to the brothers, they leave soon after, completely unaware of anything amiss.

Elena waits an agonizingly long time before she comes to Jeremy—days. The police investigate Vicki's disappearance and Jeremy says all the right things just like Elena told him to.

Finally, she drags him upstairs to their bathroom and locks them in. There's a box on the floor, and Jeremy's so transfixed on it that he's startled when Elena starts turning on the sinks, then the shower, and finally flicks on the bathroom radio. She settles down on the floor and looks up at him expectantly.

He lowers himself down to sit across from her, crossing his legs in front of him like her. The box sits between them.

"Dad left this for me—for us, underneath the floorboards of his study," she says, shocking him to his core.

"What's inside?" he asks, looking at it curiously.

"The truth," she replies simply, and then she opens the top. "There have been vampires in Mystic Falls for centuries, and for as long as they've been here, there have been people who know about them—people who fight back against them."

Inside the box, there are various rolled up papers, a journal Jeremy recognizes as their father's, a bundle of dried flowers, and various weapons—a crossbow, a handgun with half a dozen magazines of what looked like wooden bullets, a dozen of syringes filled with amber liquid, and twice as many beautifully crafted wooden stakes.

"This was under the floorboards?" he asks in amazement, picking up one of the stakes to examine the craftsmanship.

Elena shakes her head.

"Not exactly," she admits. "Just his journal, and a letter addressed to me. The rest of it was in the attic."

"A letter?" Jeremy asks. Elena grabs the journal from the box, opening it to reveal a letter. She pulls it out and hands it over to him.

With shaking hands, Jeremy takes it and opens it reverently, his throat closing up at the familiar slant of their father's handwriting.

'My dearest Elena," it begins. "If you are reading this, then I am sorry to say I have left you too soon and am unable to tell you all the things a Gilbert must know. So I must be content with you reading them in this letter, and hope that you understand why I have kept you in the dark for so long, in the naïve hope that I might be able to preserve your youth for a little while—but first I must tell you all the things a father must say to his daughter.

You are so brave, and beautiful, and full of life, and I am proud to be your father. Everyday you amaze me with the woman you are becoming. Perhaps I am biased in my fatherly affection, but I know you to be the most generous and loving person I have ever met, and you continue to fill your mother and I with love and pride. I love you, Elena, please don't ever doubt that. We love you and your brother so much, and I hope that you never have to read this letter, so that you may never know the pain of losing someone too young, and so that I may never miss out upon all the beautiful things laid out in your future.

Unfortunately, life rarely goes as planned, and although I had always planned to share the truth of our family with you on your eighteenth birthday, as it was shared with me, I cannot be sure that I will be there to tell you. I have tasked John with informing you then, but just in case, I leave you this letter, and my journal, in hopes that it will shed light on certain dark truths about this town—and the world.

There are monsters in this world, Elena, and they have immense strength and other abilities beyond your scariest nightmares…'

The letter continues on, admitting the existence of vampires and instructing Elena where to find the weapons in the attic, and more at the family's lake house, as well as a whole collection of journals from their ancestors, detailing the town's history with vampires.

'If John is unable to pass this knowledge on to Jeremy, it is up to you to tell him the truth of our family history—when the time is right. I know this is a great burden to place upon you, but I never doubt that you won't be able to bear it. You have a remarkable strength inside of you, Elena, never forget that. All of my love, Dad.'

When Jeremy gets to the end of the letter, his hands are shaking so badly that the paper quivers, and his gaze is blurred by the tears in his eyes. Elena takes the letter from him, setting it aside and getting up on her knees to lean over the box and hug him tightly to her. He wraps his arms around her, and the two siblings hold each other for the longest time.

At last they pull apart, settling back into their respective spots on opposite sides of the box.

"So what are we going to do about the Salvatores?" Jeremy asks, determined to be of some help. Elena shakes her head.

"You are going to read dad's journal, I am going to take care of the Salvatores," Elena says firmly.

Jeremy shakes his head violently.

"No way am I letting you put yourself at risk without any back up," he says vehemently. Elena simply shakes her head.

"Jer, neither one of us are prepared to take them on, but of the two of us I am a little more suited for this," she says.

"Look, we're not the only ones who know, Uncle John does too, and in the journal, Dad says all kinds of town officials are in on it—the mayor, the sheriff, the coroner—we're not alone," she explains.

"So you're going to ask them for help?" Jeremy asks, feeling relieved until Elena shakes her head reluctantly.

"No, I want this as contained as possible," she admits. He raises an eyebrow at her. "No one else knows who the vampires in town are, Jer, and after what Damon did to Caroline and Vicki, I want to make sure he doesn't have the opportunity to hurt anyone else."

"What did Damon do to Caroline?" Jeremy asks, worried for Elena's friend. Sure, Caroline can be annoying and catty, but she doesn't deserve to be hurt by that monster.

Elena's expression turns glacial, and Jeremy can see the girl from before the accident for the first time in months—the popular cheerleader party girl who could cut someone down to size with nothing but a well placed giggle.

"He's been hurting her, there are bruises and bite marks all over her body," she says, anger evident in her tone. Her voice drops even lower. "He's been feeding off of her."

Jeremy leans forward, taking her hands in his.

"Don't you see, Elena? That's why you can't do this alone," he says firmly. She shakes her head, resolute.

"No, that's why I have to," she says flatly. "Look, I've been planning this for weeks—since I found out what the Salvatores really are. I have this under control, trust me," she pleads with him.

Jeremy narrows his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Elena, I can't let you do this alone," he says flatly. Elena sighs, and smiles grimly at him.

"I was afraid you'd say that," she admits softly. "Vampires can control you, you know, they can tell you to do things and you have to do them—they can make you forget things," she says delicately. "There are ways to prevent it—but if you don't know how then you're screwed," she says wryly, and Jeremy wonders where she's going with this.

"It's called compulsion. The night Vicki died, Damon offered to make you forget," she says deliberately, and Jeremy's stomach drops, understanding abruptly what she's saying. "As far as they know, I have nothing against them, so if I happen to mention that you aren't handling Vicki's death very well…" she trails off, and Jeremy recoils.

He's always known that Elena's capable of deceit and manipulation—it takes more than just a pretty face to be the most popular girl in school—but she uses it against him so rarely that it hurts like hell every time she does.

"You wouldn't," he says through clenched teeth.

She looks at him, eyes sad, but her jaw stubbornly set.

"You know I would," she contradicts him, almost gently. "I don't want to, but if that's what I have to do to keep you safe…" she shrugs delicately. "Then so be it."

He stares at her, betrayal thick in his throat. She stares him down, her resolve firm. At last, he gives in, recognizing that he can't win.

"Fine, whatever," he says, furious with her and with himself. She sags in relief.

"Good," she says simply. She takes a bracelet out of the box, fixing it to his wrist.

"What's this for?" he asks. She shows him the small charm.

"It's full of vervaine, to prevent compulsion," she explains. "So don't ever take it off," she says sternly.

"Do you wear one?" he asks and she nods.

She lifts up the delicate gold locket around her neck—she recently started wearing it whenever she isn't with Stefan, in place of the silver one he'd given her. Jeremy recognizes it—it was a present from Caroline for her sixteenth birthday. It's a vintage gold Tiffany's locket that Caroline had loudly bragged about dragging her dad to an auction for.

Elena rarely wore it, since it was so expensive, but it's become a fixture around her neck whenever she's not with Stefan.

"But what about when you're with Stefan? You wear the one he gave you?" he asks. She nods.

"It has vervaine in it too, he gave it to me originally," she explains.

"That's good of him," he admits reluctantly. Her expression hardens.

"He never did anything to help, Caroline, not really," she says. "That makes him just as responsible as far as I'm concerned."

He nods reluctantly.

"Elena, if you ever start to feel like you're in over your head, you have to tell someone what they are, or I will," he says firmly.

Elena nods her head.

"I will, I promise," she says.

"Good," he says with emphasis.

He looks at the box in front of him, the letter and journal on top. He frowns, a thought occurring to him.

"How did you know to look for the letter and the journal?" he asks, looking at her curiously.

Elena cocks her head to the side.

"You remember that saying Dad was so fond of, about secrets? I was freaking out about realizing that Stefan and Damon were vampires, and then I thought about all the secrets Stefan had been keeping from me, and I remembered it—the saying, and it just clicked, so I went looking," she says.

Jeremy frowns a little, concentrating.

"I remember, I think," he says with effort. "Something about how there's never just one secret," he summarizes.

Elena nods her head.

"'There's always another secret.'"

Elena has a full day, before school she meets with Jenna and their family lawyer, she has three quizzes and a paper due all before fourth period, she has to play nice with Stefan all day—who is still giving her hopeful glances, and longing puppy dog stares—and keep an eye on Caroline. After school, she casually invites Caroline over to study.

Caroline happily agrees, especially when Elena mentions she needs some help studying for their history test. Caroline draws out a plan of attack for their study session, and Elena has to bite her tongue. It would be so nice to have Caroline's planning skills on hand for her plans to get rid of the Salvatores, but Elena knows she has to do this on her own.

Armed with the knowledge that her father bequeathed her, and little odds and ends she's managed to get out of Stefan, Elena feels reasonably prepared, but no less nervous. It's not everyday a normal girl like her goes up against vampires, after all.

Still, Elena doesn't let her nerves show, instead she focuses on Caroline's study guide, temporarily losing herself in the history of her country, almost forgetting about what she has planned for that night.

When Caroline suggests a break, Elena puts down her pen readily. They stretch out across her bed, chatting idly. When there is a lull in the conversation, Elena leans over to pull a small box out of her bag, where it had been waiting all day. She's already given Bonnie hers at lunchtime, but for some reason, she wanted it to just be the two of them when she gave Caroline hers.

"I have a present for you," Elena says, feeling almost shy. Caroline's eyes light up.

"I love presents," Caroline says happily. Elena hands over the box. Caroline takes it giddily, but stops before she opens it. She cocks her head, looking at Elena curiously.

"What's the occasion?" she asks, clearly surprised by the gesture.

Elena studies her, thinking about how the scars on Caroline's body were the first thing she thought of when Stefan had admitted what he was—what his brother was. How she'd been filled with such intense hatred and rage that in that moment, she could've sworn she would've been able to kill Damon and Stefan with nothing but her bare hands.

She knows this: she's loved Caroline for so long, she can't remember a time when she didn't.

She smiles at her wistfully, swallowing back her anger at what had been done to her.

"I feel like we've grown apart in the past couple of months, since—" she trails off, both of them knowing what she's referring to, since her parents died. Caroline reaches out to squeeze her hand. Elena smiles at her.

"I know it's mostly my fault," Elena continues. "And I just, wanted you to know how much you mean to me," she says simply, shrugging, embarrassed. Caroline smiles at her, touched.

"You mean a lot to me, too" Caroline says. Elena smiles at that.

Caroline opens the box, cooing at the delicate heart-shaped pendant—filled with vervaine, unbeknownst to her. She offers the necklace to Elena, asking her for help to put it on, Elena happily does, wrapping her arms around Caroline's neck to fasten it. They're practically nose-to-nose, and Caroline's mascara enhanced eyelashes brush against Elena's cheek, causing a shiver to go through her.

"It's perfect," Caroline breathes, and when she leans forward to press a kiss of thanks against to Elena's lips, it's Elena who opens her mouth to deepen the kiss, turning it from a friendly gesture into something more.

Caroline happily kisses her back, slipping her arms around Elena's neck to pull her closer. It's an old habit, maybe even a bad one, but neither one of them want to stop. Caroline presses Elena back into her pillows and Elena surrenders willingly.

They kiss for what feels like hours, already comfortable with each other's body from years of showers after cheerleading practice and experimenting with one another.

When they finally pull apart, out of breath, lips swollen, and hair mussed, it's almost dark out. Elena knows she has to leave—it's almost time to set her plans in motion, but she doesn't want Caroline to leave.

"You know, you can stay the night if you want," Elena says offhandedly. "I have to go do an errand for Jenna, she's gonna be on campus until late, but she asked me to go get the Gilbert heirlooms from Mrs. Lockwood, I'll be back really soon though," she explains.

Caroline's eyes light up.

"Can I? My mom's working late and I don't really wanna be home alone," she confesses. Elena smiles.

"Of course, I want you to," she assures her. "Jeremy's here, you guys can order pizza while I'm gone and I'll be back before it even gets back, probably."

Caroline grins. "Awesome."

Elena smiles back at her, getting up to straighten out her clothes and smooth her hair.

Caroline finishes getting herself sorted out before Elena, so she skips downstairs to ask Jeremy his opinions on pizza, like Elena hoped she would.

Elena knows Sheriff Forbes isn't really working late—tonight there's a meeting of the secret Founder's vampire council to discuss Vicki's disappearance, and Elena knows because Damon told her, since he's attending. Stefan had shyly confided at lunch that he'd been invited by some of the guys on the football team to hangout at the Grill, so Elena knows the Salvatore house will be empty for at least the next hour, plenty of time to set her plan in motion.

She grabs her keys and heads downstairs; everything she needs is stored in the trunk of her car.

Caroline and Jeremy at the kitchen counter, arguing passionately about anchovies.

"I'm going now, I'll be back soon," Elena says, flashing them a smile. Caroline smiles back at her, nodding happily. Jeremy smiles too, but she can see that wary flash in his eyes, and she knows that he suspects what she's up to, but she doesn't let any indication either way show on her face.

"See you later," she says, heading out the door. "And for the love of god, no anchovies, please."

Damon comes back from the founders' meeting feeling tense but pleased. For the most part, the other members of the council had bought Vicki skipping town in a drugged hazed out of the blue, and they all thought the vampire threat was gone.

Satisfied, he pours himself a generous tumbler of his favorite bourbon, ready to celebrate his victory. He can detect movement from the next room, but he assumes it's Stefan, and he lets himself enjoy his drink before he goes to antagonize his brother—Elena had recently been keeping her distance from him, and it gave Damon immense satisfaction to needle him about it.

He takes a healthy swallow of his drink, and immediately regrets it. The drink burns all the way down—like acid, not the pleasant burn of good, strong alcohol.

"Vervaine," he hisses, falling to his knees, his throat full of his own blood.

Little Elena Gilbert slips into the room on surprisingly quiet feet. He stares up at her in hazed confusion and shock. She approaches him cautiously.

"Elena?" he questions in disbelief, unable to connect his spiked drink with the girl in front of him. She ignores him, jabbing a painful needle into his neck, injecting even more vervaine into his system.

His limbs are no longer under his control; they rest limply against the floor. She flips him over onto his back, and then she swings one leg over him, settling down to sit on him. Her face is still inscrutable—but he catches a flash of something in her eyes—anger.

"What are you doing?" he slurs uselessly. She puts one hand behind her back and withdraws an expertly carved stake from the waistband of her jeans.

"I'm here to make you an offer you can't refuse," she says smoothly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asks, furious, but unable to take a swipe at her.

She cocks her head to the side, her face as smooth as glass—and he can't help but think that she has never looked more like Katherine.

She presses the sharp tip of the stake to his left collarbone, tracing a straight line to the hollow of his throat. She deliberately traces it over to his ribs over his heart, deliberately counting them off. She stops right where the center of his heart is roughly located, dragging the stake back to his sternum, directly above the center of his heart.

"Your heart is right below the end of my stake," she says unnecessarily, he rolls his eyes, but she ignores him and continues on deliberately.

"But the sternum is between it and my stake, and unfortunately, I don't quite have the blunt strength to drive it through," she admits carelessly. "However," she begins. She holds his gaze, dragging the tip of the stake down until she finds the end of his ribcage, expertly angling the stake to suit her needs.

"If I approach from an angle at the end of your ribcage," she continues, and without warning, she shoves the stake through his shirt and skin, up towards his heart, causing his eyes to widen and him to groan in pain. "It slides in, so easily," she marvels.

"Tell me, is the point pressed against your heart?" she questions sweetly, all wide-eyed innocence. He glares at her. Her eyes narrow, but her expression stays pleasant "If you don't tell me, I'm going to have to assume that it isn't, and I'll keep pushing until you tell me it is, and if I push it too far, well…" she trails off, the implications clear.

"It's pressed against my heart," he says through clenched teeth. She nods grimly.

"Good," she says simply.

"I can see someone's been playing with her poor dead daddy's anatomy books," he observes. She gives him a cool look.

"Means to an end," she replies shortly.

"Why are you doing this, Elena?" he demands, furious at himself for being without the advantage. Somehow, Katherine's frail, human doppelganger had got the best of him.

"Well I need you to know that I'm absolutely serious when I give you my proposition," she explains innocently.

"What the hell do you want?" he asks through clenched teeth.

"It's simple, really, I want you to stay the hell away from my friends," she states flatly. "In fact, I want you—and your brother—to leave town and never, ever return."

He stares up at her, amazed at her guts. She stares back down at him, unflinching.

"Why the hell would I leave?" he demands incredulously.

"Because I'll kill you if you don't," she says simply. "I could do it right now, but I figured I'd give you an easy out first."

"Who says I won't kill you the second the vervaine leaves my system and bury you in the woods right next to dear old Vicki?" he asks, amused by her lack of foresight. She smiles at him.

"Who says I haven't told all the council that you and your brother are vampires?" she counters. He blinks up at her.

"You didn't, I was just with them, no one suspects," he says, dismissing her quickly. She raises an eyebrow at him.

"Are you sure? Maybe they're playing it cool, maybe they're waiting to see if you'll take my generous offer before they try to stake you?" she suggests candidly. "Maybe they're planning to stake you at the next Founders' meeting—Julius Caesar style—does that make the Sheriff Brutus?" she wonders aloud.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks, bewildered by her motive—and just a little bit impressed by her steel.

"You hurt my friend," she says simply.

He stares at her for a long time.

"You're doing all of this for stupid little Caroline Forbes?" he sneers, distaste clear in his tone.

Her expression turns glacial, and for the first time, he finds no trace of Katherine Pierce in her. Elena radiates rage and protectiveness—Katherine had never protected anyone but herself, her rage had never been on behalf of any wronged party except herself.

Elena's face is unmoving, but with the delicate jerk of her wrist, the stake slides a fraction of an inch deeper into him, the point scraping against his heart. He groans in pain and Elena smiles, just a little.

"You will leave Mystic Falls in three days with your brother or you will be the ones buried in the woods with Vicki, do you understand me?" she demands.

"You have no idea who you are messing with, sweetheart," he sneers.

Elena smirks.

"Neither do you," she shoots back.

For a second, in the back of his mind, Damon has to appreciate the expression on her face, the dominant positions she holds. In any other situation, he would find her unbelievably hot at the moment. She clearly has the same fire as Katherine.

"You are wasted on my brother," he tells her.

She twists the stake with the flick of her wrist, and he chokes on his own saliva—still salty sweet from his own blood.

She gives him a grimly satisfied smile.

"Three days, or I'm coming for you—don't worry about convincing your brother, I'll take care of it."

With that, she pulls the stake out and climbs off of him, heading out the door without so much as a glance behind. He lies there on the floor, regaining his strength, contemplating what just happened, and what exactly he's going to do about it.

Elena spends a fun night with Jeremy and Caroline watching bad soap operas and pigging out on pizza, and if either of them notices she's a little tense—it's never brought up.

Once Jeremy is passed out on the couch, and Caroline is curled up snuggly in her bed, Elena slips into the shower where she finally lets herself fall apart. She screams into her hands—muffling the sound so she doesn't wake Caroline in the next room.

She's shaking from disgust—with herself. Going in, she knew what she was going to have to do to show Damon that she isn't messing around, but actually hurting another person—threatening to kill them—is a lot harder to do than just planning on doing it.

Elena swallows down gag after gag of self-revulsion, reminding herself of the necessity—reminding herself of what's at stake. She thinks of Jeremy downstairs, of Jenna away on campus, Bonnie blissfully unaware in her home, and finally, of Caroline, tucked into in her bed, bruised and scarred because of Damon's hands—Damon's teeth.

She reminds herself of Vicki's desiccated corpse in an unmarked grave in the woods and of Matt and their mother who will probably never know what really happened to her. She finds her resolve again, and decides that she will sleep just fine tonight.

The safety of the ones she loves is more important than her own innocence—if she has to kill Damon to keep them safe, then so be it, she'll learn to live with it.

When she crawls into bed, Caroline automatically curls her body around Elena's, slinging one long leg over hip and burying her face into Elena's neck, her arms wrapped around her. Elena cuddles into her embrace pressing her face into Caroline's hair, reminding herself what she's fighting for.

Half asleep, Caroline kisses Elena's neck, and Elena presses her mouth to her hair, falling asleep much more easily than she anticipated.

It only takes Damon a day to show up at her window, and Elena's only mildly surprised that he waited for the sun to go down.

She's coming out of the bathroom from brushing her teeth, and he's there, leaned up against the tree outside her window, his eyes narrowed.

"I can't get in anymore," he observes carefully, looking irritated and reluctantly impressed. She smirks back at him.

"As it should be," she replies. She's alone tonight, she sent Caroline home in anticipation of his visit. She hadn't been sure that he would come directly to her house, but she was relying on his need for intimidation, and coming to her territory expecting her to be caught unaware and helpless is a classic intimidation move.

"So who did you sign the house over to?" he asks casually.

She shakes her head in amusement, leaning casually against her dresser.

"I'm not stupid enough to tell you, and you know it," she says, thinking of all the documents she and Jenna had had to sign the previous morning. Jenna had been very understanding when she'd initially approached her with the idea. After all, seventeen is very young to be a homeowner.

She can't be stronger than him or Stefan, it just isn't possible, that much is true—but she can be smarter than them.

He rolls his eyes in irritation, but nods in agreement.

"Yes, you're actually incredibly clever," he admits. "It's very annoying."

Elena smiles blandly at him.

"In any other situation, I would find you incredibly sexy right now," he says candidly. Her expression turns glacial.

"I honestly can't say the same," she snaps back. He frowns at her, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

"And to think you're doing all of this for pathetic little Caroline," he says, shaking his head in disgust.

Elena's hands itch for a stake, a gun, a handful of vervaine, anything to hurt him with.

"God, you could do so much better. I have no idea why you waste your time on this dull little town and your ridiculous little friends when you're clearly leagues ahead of everyone here," he rants, shaking his head.

"Am I supposed to be flattered?" she asks dryly, clearly unimpressed.

He shakes his head at her disdain.

"You know, I never knew I could be turned on and homicidal at the same time until I met you," he admits casually.

She bites her tongue, refusing to let the words that are choking her slip past her lips.

"And trust me, that is quite a feat, because Katherine was a very complicated woman who incited some very complicated emotions in me, but never that."

She gives him a flat look.

"You do know I'm a minor, right?" she asks him dryly. He chuckles.

"Do I look like I care?"

She gives him a conceding nod.

"Here's the thing, Elena, I don't want to leave Mystic Falls, not yet anyway, so how about a new compromise," he proposes. "I'll stay away from your friends, and when I'm ready, I'll be on my merry way, never to bother you again." He smiles at her, playing the part of a Southern gentlemen a little too well. She stays still as stone, unwilling to give him an inch.

"Now Elena, that should be more than enough for you considering what I'm capable of—I could just kill you and all your little friends and be done with it," he reminds her. "But I like you, and I admire your spirit—you have guts, and brains, you remind me a lot of Katherine, so I'm willing to compromise, like I said."

She waits a deliberately long moment, leaving him hanging.

"But I'm not," she says, enunciating every word.

The smile drops from his face.

"God, you're a tough cookie aren't you?" he says, his tone still full of grudging admiration. "I can't tell if you're brave or just stupid."

She raises her chin a fraction, but says nothing. Internally she considers his position. He's standing on the branch of the tree—she's scaled down that tree many times to go to parties and clubs with Caroline—perfectly at ease, and there is nothing but air behind him.

Jenna and Jeremy are asleep, and even a hurricane can't wake them at this point. Her closest neighbors on the left are out of town for the week, the ones to her right sleep like the dead, and the one across the street is at her boyfriend's house across town.

Elena keeps her face serene, her hand casually resting on the dresser she's leaning against.

"You and your brother are going to leave town in two days and never return, or I'm going to kill you," Elena says serenely, sticking to her original plan.

Damon gives her a condescending smirk

"I'm going to do whatever the hell I want, little girl," he says shortly, clearly at the end of his patience. "In fact, I think I'll burn your house down, see how cocky you feel then," he says gleefully.

In one smooth motion, Elena opens the drawer beside her hip, withdraws her father's gun, and fires a single shot directly between his eyes. His body free falls to the ground.

"I never knew I could kill until I met you," Elena says to the empty air, finally letting lose the words she's been biting back.

Caroline's mother is the sheriff; she's always felt that it's important for the girls to know how to defend themselves, and how to handle a gun. She used to take them down to the shooting range twice a week to practice. Bonnie had been terrible at it, and Caroline had been pretty decent but mostly uninterested, but Elena—Elena had always been good. Her aim had been near perfect from the beginning, and with a little guidance from Liz, she's had pinpoint perfect precision shots since she was fifteen years old. Liz likes to joke that Elena would be an amazing cop—or sniper.

Elena calmly puts the gun back into her drawer, waiting for the sound of Jenna or Jeremy getting up. She hears nothing so she heads outside, grabbing the wheelbarrow from the backyard. The lights in the neighborhood all stay off, all of them blissfully unaware of what's going on outside the Gilbert house.

Elena heaves Damon's unconscious body into the wheelbarrow—all too aware that he isn't really dead, just knocked out, for now—and wheels him back to the woods behind her house.

When she feels she's deep enough in the woods she drops him unceremoniously onto the ground. She kneels down to shoot him up with more vervaine—to keep him out longer—and then pulls his daylight ring from his finger.

She wheels the wheelbarrow back to its spot and then goes upstairs to crawl into bed. She sleeps like a baby.

She knows she only has so long before Damon makes his way back to the boarding house, so she invites herself over for coffee early the next morning to speak to Stefan.

When he gets back from his morning hunt, she's sitting at his kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in her hands, and one waiting for him. From his wary expression, Elena knows Damon's mentioned something about their encounter.

Elena gives him her softest smile, his locket around her neck, her eyes sweet and friendly.

"I thought it was time we finally talked," she says, her voice low and sweet—she looks harmless, and she knows it. She can see his shoulders relax a fraction. She takes a sip from her coffee.

"I know I haven't exactly been the most understanding about this whole vampire thing, but I think I'm starting to get it—I think I know where I stand now," she says, her tone still calm and frank.

His face relaxes a little—he looks eager now, as he takes the seat across from her.

"I just have a few more questions," she tells him. He wraps his hands around his cup.

"Ask away," he invites, trying—and failing—to not seem too eager.

She takes a long drink from her coffee, and he follows suit. She moves back a second before he chokes, spraying the counter with coffee and vervaine and blood.

She takes another long sip from her drink, certain that he now knows where she stands.

"What exactly did you think I was going to do when I realized you stood by and let your brother hurt my friend?" she asks him calmly.

He looks up at her with wide, injured eyes. She stares back at him impassively.

"So it's true, you did attack my brother?" he asks, his throat hoarse from being burned by the vervaine.

Elena nods calmly.

"I did," she confirms. "But I figured you could handle having a normal conversation like a big kid," she says sweetly. "Am I wrong?" she questions, pulling out a vervaine filled syringe from her purse.

"Because I'm cool with either way, really."

He stares at her like she's someone else entirely—like she's his worst nightmare. She stares back at him blandly.

"That's not necessary," he says at last. "Elena, you don't have to do this, if you want me to leave, I'm gone, but you have to know—there was nothing I could do to stop Damon—"

She cuts him off abruptly.

"Really, because I've already almost killed him twice. The only reason I haven't is because your three days aren't up yet, and I always keep my word," she tells him, smiling a snarling grin at him.

"Don't kid yourself Elena, I know you, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you killed anybody—even my brother," Stefan says, shaking his head. Elena laughs at him.

"You clearly don't know me at all," she contradicts. "Because I can do a lot of things to protect the people I care about—and I can live with them too."

"Elena—" he starts, but she cuts him off.

"You and your brother need to be gone by tomorrow night, or I'm coming for you both, make sure Damon understands that," she tells him, grabbing her purse as she stands up.

"I have no control over my brother, Elena," he says desperately. "Please, I can't protect you from him, not really—you have to stop before you get yourself killed."

Elena turns back, her expression as cold as ice.

"You don't have any control over me either," she says. "I'm the only one who controls my actions—I'm responsible for them, and I know what I can and can't handle," she says calmly.

"Elena you are in way over your head, you're just a kid—"

"Was I just a kid when you shoved your tongue down my throat and followed me around like a little puppy?" she asks, her voice acid sweet, and he flinches. She smiles in satisfaction. "Tell me Stefan, what did you want to be when you grew up? Before you died?" she asks flatly, already sure of his answer.

He's so shocked by her question that he answers. "I wanted to be a doctor," he says.

She nods. "I thought so." She pauses. "'do no harm,'" she quotes, sneering. She's barely holding back her rage, and it rattles her bones and fills her mouth with bitter hatred. "Did you think that meant you could stand back and do nothing while your brother hurts people?"

Stefan flinches, her words like bullets in his chest.

"This is about Caroline isn't it?" he questions, his voice still hoarse with pain, but his tone soft and sympathetic.

"You knew what he was doing to her, and instead of helping her, you used her as bait and then left her bleeding on the ground," she spits, her mouth pulled back into a snarl.

If it weren't for the fact that her anger stemmed from a wrong committed against her friend, Stefan would look at her and see nothing but Katherine. But in this moment, Elena's rage belongs to Caroline—like her heart and her loyalty—and despite her viciousness, that still makes her better than Katherine ever was.

"I did what I had to do to lock Damon away," he says, justified in his reasoning.

Elena sneers. "Look how well that went over," she says mockingly.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Elena, Damon's not going to give in so easily," he warns her.

Elena smiles at him. "I've always been good at playing games."

With that, she turns around to walk away from him again.

"Elena please, he'll kill you," he calls after her.

She turns back again.

"No, I will kill him," she says, correcting him. She looks him over with disdain. "God, I don't know what I ever saw in you," she marvels. "You're a coward and a hypocrite. Remember you're gone by tomorrow night or I'm coming for you."

She walks away and this time, she doesn't turn back.

At dusk, Damon appears at her back door, glowering and furious. Elena is the only one home—Jenna is on campus again, and Jeremy studying at the Grill.

Elena calmly puts down her pencil, stretching her aching fingers after hours of pre-calc. She stands leisurely to open the back door so she can hear what he's saying before she lazily returns to her seat at the kitchen counter.

"Give me back my ring you little—" Damon stops and takes a deep breath.

"Are you going to leave before tomorrow night?" she counters.

He glowers at her.

"I can't leave yet," he says between clenched teeth, miles past the end of his patience. "I have to get Katherine—"

"I don't care," Elena says loudly, interrupting him. "I don't care about you, or your brother, or Katherine, I only care about you leaving my town, before tomorrow night, or I'm going to kill you."

"I could burn down your house and just take my ring back you ungrateful little—"

"Do you really want to find out if I have another gun hidden in the kitchen?" she asks with one arched brow. "Because let me assure you, that wasn't a lucky shot, I really am that good."

He glares at her, but she can see the grudging respect and admiration in his eyes.

"You have no idea how much like Katherine you really are," he says.

She shrugs indifferently. She doesn't care if he thinks she's like Katherine anymore.

"I'm a vampire, I'm faster than you, I could burn your house before you even reach for your gun," he reminds her.

She arches an eyebrow at him.

"And then you have to find your ring in the wreckage, who says it's even here? Who says it isn't going to melt from the heat of the flames? Who says I didn't throw it down the garbage disposal?" she counters, ticking off ideas at warped speed. "You really think you can find a witch who's willing to make you another one? Emily Bennett's not around anymore, and I doubt she'd make you one if she was."

He looks taken aback.

"Someone's been doing her research," he says.

Elena shrugs. "I like to be prepared."

He shakes his head, his gaze almost admiring again.

"So much like Katherine."

"If I'm so much like her, then you know I am going to kill you if you stay," she says serenely.

"I think I actually believe you," he says. He shakes his head in defeat.

"Fine, I'll leave, give me my ring," he says abruptly, ready to throw in the towel.

She cocks her head.

"You expect me to believe you just like that?" she counters.

His nostrils flare.

"I am at the end of my patience, little girl," he growls.

She stares at him, unimpressed.

"What do I need to do to prove that I will leave as soon as you give me my ring back?" he asks exasperatedly.

"Convince me," she says flatly.

"You're a psychopath disguised as a seventeen year old girl, I'd like to get as far away from you as I possibly can before you flay me in my sleep," he hisses, out of breath.

She stares at him impassively. He rests all his weight against the invisible barrier.

"So far you have spiked my drink with vervaine, injected me with vervaine—twice, stuck a stake in my gut and delightedly poked at my heart with it, shot me point blank in the head, and left me for dead in the forest. I know when I'm not wanted," he says.

"Do you?" she questions bluntly.

"No, not normally," he admits. "But you scare the hell out of me, and I don't actually have a death wish, despite popular belief. So give me my ring and I'll be on my way."

She looks him over, and seems to come to a decision because she stands and crosses the kitchen to open a kitchen drawer. She pulls out his ring and tosses it to him.

He grabs it and shoves it back onto his finger.

"It's been de-spelled," she tells him, stopping him in his tracks.

"What the hell, you little psycho," he seethes. She smiles at him.

"I went to see Sheila Bennett, she kindly de-spelled it for me, and she will willingly put the spell back on the second I have confirmation that you're really gone."

She moves forward to close the door. The invisible barrier is the only thing between them.

"If you ever come back, I'll make good on my threats, you remember that," she tells him serenely, and then she closes the door in his face and heads upstairs for some much deserved rest.

"So much like Katherine," he whispers to himself.

The next night, Elena's snuggled in her bed with Caroline. Legs tangled together, nose to nose, Elena's halfway between sleeping and waking, Caroline's wide awake, her fingers stroking delicate circles into the curve of Elena's hip, patiently waiting for her to wake up.

Stefan had appeared at her door that morning, promising that he would leave and never return. Elena had been stoic and uninterested throughout his goodbye.

Later that day, Damon had called her from the road.

"I'm gone—you can go check the boarding house if you want—so tell your damn witch to fix my fucking ring," he'd demanded.

After confirming that he was indeed gone, Elena had called Sheila, who promised to fix his ring—the next day. Elena hadn't originally planned on involving anyone, but she felt she needed a little security to guarantee that he would indeed leave.

She still isn't fully relaxed—and she might never be again, but she is fairly confident that they will both keep their word. She's made it clear that she is a bad enemy to have, and she's certain that she's left a strong impression on both of them.

"Hi," Elena murmurs sleepily, her breath hot against Caroline's mouth.

"I want to have sex," Caroline says bluntly.

Elena blinks, suddenly wide awake.

"Excuse me?" she asks, her eyes wide.

Caroline rolls her eyes.

"It's not like we've never had sex before, Elena," Caroline says condescendingly. "We lost our virginity to each other at cheer camp when we were fifteen, remember?" Caroline says, trying to sound snide, but her tone is too full of fondness for it to be convincing. Elena arches an eyebrow.

"I remembers," she assurers her. "I just…are you sure you're ready?" Elena asks tentatively.

Something hardens in Caroline's expression.

She untangles their legs to hitch her leg over Elena's hip, pulling them flush against each other. She traces her fingers up under Elena's shirt to trace the bare skin of her back.

"I want you," she breathes against Elena's mouth, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I want you to touch me, please."

She covers Elena's mouth with hers, kissing her slowly, languidly. Elena responds to the kiss almost instinctively, kissing Caroline is practically second nature to her by now.

Several long, hazy moments later, and Elena is on top of her, Caroline's tank top pulled aside for Elena's hungry mouth.

"Please," Caroline says breathlessly. Elena's nimble fingers pull the shirt up and off of Caroline's body gently.

Pulling them up into a sitting position, Elena holds Caroline's face in her hands delicately.

"If you want me to stop at anytime, you have to tell me, okay?" Elena says seriously. Caroline arches up, catching her mouth in a searing kiss.

"I don't want you to stop," she says demandingly.

"Caroline," Elena says with gentle reprove.

"I want you to touch me everywhere," Caroline says against her mouth, sliding her mouth along Elena's jaw and down to her neck. "I need you to touch me everywhere," she says into the skin of her neck. "I need you to make me forget about him, Elena, please," she demands.

Elena finally understands, so she lays Caroline down gently, and kisses her long and deep and breathless, until Caroline can't remember what it feels like to kiss anyone else—until she forgets about the taste of her own blood in his mouth.

Elena touches her everywhere, trailing gentle, burning fingers over every inch of her body, her touch so light that her scars and bruises hardly sting at all. Her mouth is lighter still—leaving nothing but a trail of tingling nerves in its wake.

Elena rids them both of the rest of their clothes pressing their naked skin together. She whispers dirty, sweet things in her ear that makes Caroline want to cry with relief and love.

She is gentle—gentler than she ever has been, but her touch is so hot it burns the bruising feel of him from her skin, leaving her as clean and new in its wake.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Caroline chants and Elena murmurs her reciprocation into her skin again and again.

At last her mouth descends between her thighs, Elena taking her sweet time to bring her to her peak again and again and again. Her hand rests gently on one thigh, fingers gently stroking a nearby bite mark, feather light and soothing, and fingers of her other hand buried deep inside her.

Caroline can feel the tears slipping down her cheeks, but they belong to Elena too—and they only serve to make her feel even more clean.

"Elena, Elena, Elena," she repeats like a prayer.

When at last she is satiated and half asleep, Elena slips up beside her, wrapping her arms around her, pressing their bare skin together.

"He's gone, and he's never coming back," Elena murmurs into her ear. "He's never going to hurt you again," she promises.

Caroline believes her.

"Are you positive the Salvatores are really gone?" Katherine asks skeptically. In the next town over, she holds court with her designated Mystic Falls spies.

Mrs. Flowers nods vehemently.

"The place is all closed up, it doesn't look like they ever plan on going back," she reports. The young man who works at the grocery store nods in agreement.

"Why did they leave?" Katherine demands.

The young lady from the florist shop pipes up.

"No one knows, Elena Gilbert visited both of them a few days before, and then they both visited her just before they left, but no one knows why," she reports dully.

Katherine raises an interested eyebrow.

"So my little doppelganger must have something to do with it," she says, making the intuitive leap easily. "And here I was, thinking she was as dull as dishwater. It seems she's inherited the Petrova fire after all."

She smirks, suddenly ravenously curious about the next doppelganger.

"Keep a close eye on her," she orders. They all nod their heads dutifully. "This is going to be very interesting."

THE END

AN: That was so satisfying to write, honestly. I borrowed the saying 'there's always another secret' from Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson, the amazing first novel in his Mistborn trilogy. I'm not positive if the saying is word for word, and I'm too lazy to go search through the book for it, but it's something close to that. I hope you enjoyed! Please review:)

xoxo

-Pixie