DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. Obviously.

A/N: I am CLEARLY insane and this will be the longest A/N in history. Sorry. I am now holding down THREE jobs and raising kids. And I owe gratitude and hugs to so many reviewers, reviewers who are the SOLE reason I'm typing this right now.

Here's the thing. I'm so upset with the writers for the direction they're heading that I can barely even stand to watch the show right now, so why in God's name am I posting another fan fic? It was supposed to be catharsis. And just left on my computer...but gosh darnit, you guys are always so kind and maybe you're just as bitter and sad as me.

So, this is sort of Damon/Elena in action and Stefan/Elena in theory - obviously I'm not about to explore the rosey path of Stelena love, but their seemingly unavoidable coupledom is a major factor in this sotry. Happily Ever After it is definitely not.

Things feel very bleak in TVD land to me, and this fic really, really reflects that. I'm SO hesitant to even post it. It's DARK to the tenth power and really tragic - honestly, I just can't write anything super snarky and fun with where they've put us. So, this is bleak folks. From beginning to end.

So. Right. What a chipper note! :P At any rate, I know this isn't all that great, but I don't have the time to polish it as much as I'd like.

There is a chance that I might add more to this, but I just don't know. It really might not be interesting enough to warrant it. And frankly, I'm kind of running out of a steam with a show that keeps kicking me in the teeth.

At any rate, if you do find some brief sliver of enjoyment (or comfort or whatever) in it, drop me a line. With the god awful spin TVD is throwing at us, I could really REALLY use the cheering. :-) And who knows, maybe you guys will inspire me to not give up...maybe this thing could go on to find a happier ending. So yeah. Review? Please?

Last warning - It's smutty. Not great and too dark, but a little smutty! :-)

DAMON'S POV -

I know Elena's here for sex before I even open the door. Worse still, I know why.

The why is because she wants to be with Stefan.

And for the record? It is seriously fucked-up-beyond-compare that I've got a girl desperate to nail me, and it's mostly because she loves my squirrel-sucking brother so much. Scarier still, this isn't the first time this kind of thing's gone down.

Yeah, there's apparently some pretty twisted shit in the Salvatore DNA.

Elena doesn't come right in. I hear her out there, of course, but I wait, swirling my scotch and listening to her scrape her shoe on my porch. From the sound, I'm guessing heels, not sneakers. Nice of her to make the effort, though she should know she doesn't need to bother. I'd be ready to go if she showed up wearing sweat pants and a mud mask.

I tilt my head when she lets out a huff. I might as well see her out there. She's probably chewing her bottom lip and shaking her head. Scolding herself preemptively for the sins she's about to commit.

Sins against my brother.

Jesus, it sounds like a romance novel. I can see Elena center cover, spilling out of some half-ripped yellow dress. Stefan would be cradling her in his arms, no doubt, wearing an expression that's supposed to be anguish, but always makes me want to suggest more fiber in his diet. I'd be there too, relegated to some small, dark corner, looking surly and mostly unimportant to the story.

Hell, that's not even too far off the mark.

She finally knocks twice, swinging open the door before I can get there. Then she's walking towards me in a little swishy white dress that shows off about ten miles of soft, golden skin.

"Hey," she says, stepping into the living room so the firelight illuminates her. God Almighty, this girl is gorgeous. She doesn't know it either, not the way Katherine did. She's still a little unsure in those tall heels, but she shouldn't be.

Now I've seen pictures, so I know she's worn this sexy kittenish look before, back when she had two parents, one brother, and zero vampires. Way before she fell into the epic-love-forever bullshit with my baby brother. God knows she should have had the chance to try it on a couple of more times before everything in her world went to hell.

"Hey yourself," I say, taking a drink to steel my will. "You here to give me more shit about Rebekkah? Or maybe Abby?"

The names fly like arrows, and I watch Elena flinch as she feels the sting. But she shakes her head and draws a slow breath. "No. No, I'm not here for that."

It's pretty fucking clear what she's here for, but I don't say that. I wait her out.

"Damon," she says, and those two soft syllables go straight to my groin. Her cheeks are pink and her lips are a little wet, like she just licked them. For some reason I can't begin to guess at, she's not hiding the fact that she wants me. Normally she locks that fact up like a chastity belt, but tonight is different. And I really need to figure out why, because I can feel my willpower folding like a taco under her big, hungry eyes and impossibly tiny clothes.

She opens her mouth and takes a breath, holding it a little before she speaks. "I came because I think it's time to say goodbye."

Does she think she's just leaving? Of course she can't-oh. Wait a minute. Wait just a fucking minute.

I laugh, because it's what I do best. "You think that's going to work? You think you can just march in here and tell me it's time I hit the road? I think you've got the wrong brother, Elena."

"Look Stefan and I talked..."

"Of course you're talking. Stefan's back on the bunny bandwagon, so everything's almost as it should be in LaLa Land."

"That's not true."

"All the pieces are here, Elena. Connect A to B and snap them both into your self-righteous asses, and voila- the "Time for Damon to move on" plan is complete."

The look she gives me could cut glass. "Just stop. Stefan didn't want me to do this. He thinks it's an overreaction."

"Stefan doesn't know what he wants, Elena. Sure, Elena. You honestly want to try to tell me your little fairy tale love story won't get a little rosier with me several hundred miles away? "

"I'm not with him," she repeats softly.

I down the rest of my scotch in one hard swallow. "Yet."

She doesn't deny it. And that shouldn't be a surprise, but it still stings.

She sighs, looking up at me. "Look, I'm grateful for the things you've done, Damon. I am. When I told you I didn't know what I would have done without you this summer, I meant it."

"Yeah, you meant it all the way up until the moment you caught a whiff of your white knight's cologne. I'm pretty sure your appreciation left skid marks on its way back up Stefan's ass."

"Like the skid marks Rebekkah left jumping into your bed?" she asks, crossing her arms.

I look at her then. Long and hard. "I figured you'd prefer a night of hate sex to me bleeding one of your precious neighbors dry."

"Sorry if it's hard for me to imagine heartless sex as a viable option for dealing with bad feelings. "

I give her a smirk that's halfway to a snarl. "Oh, I don't think it's that far from your holy moral perch, Elena."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, it's pretty damn clear you picked that dress with a pity fuck in mind."

She doesn't just blush; she practically catches fire. Her cheeks are tomato red and her eyes are dark as coal. "Do you even hear the things you're saying to me?"

"You mean the completely true things? Yeah, Elena, I hear them and if you didn't want honesty, you shouldn't have come. You don't get it both ways and you sure the fuck don't get to call the shots. Not with me. Not anymore."

She doesn't say anything, but her eyes are full and wet. And for once, it doesn't break me. For once in my sorry life, I really couldn't give a damn.

"It won't work," I tell her. " You want to lead your pony around the ring? Call Stefan."

"I don't want to talk to Stefan right now," she whispers.

"Really, because I'm pretty sure you'll always want Stefan. Always, Elena."

She tugs a hand through her glossy hair and huffs. "The way I feel about Stefan doesn't make me not care about you. We both wanted him back, Damon. And he is back, but he's struggling."

"My heart bleeds," I snarl.

"Well, it should. Because his is. It's killing Stefan seeing us together-seeing how close we've become. You know that and you know I'd never ask you to leave if I didn't think it would save him from losing it all over again. "

I laugh. It isn't nice, but neither am I. And let's face it, this little game we're playing hasn't been nice since I kissed her on the porch. So fuck it. Time to call her bluff.

I step forward and her heart skips three beats. "Let me get this straight, Elena. You're here tonight in your fuck-me heels because you want to save Stefan from himself? "

She swallows hard, and glances at the floor. But she doesn't answer me. God knows, she doesn't do that.

I'm no-fucking-where near drunk enough for this. I abandon my glass on the drink cart and head straight for the bottle. Down the hatch. Four swallows in, I pull the bottle free of my lips and look at her.

"What do you want from me, Elena?"

She's breathing hard and twisting her hands, as if she's stuck on a melting bridge, waiting for the inevitable. And then it hits me. She doesn't know. For the first time since I've met her, she's here with some half-hatched plan because she's too fucked up to line it all out beforehand.

Good.

About damn time somebody other than me got to play that part.

"I thought some time apart might help him. And me. I thought..." she trails off, shaking her head. "I don't know what I thought. I don't even know why I'm here."

"Bullshit," I say, and I put the bottle down. I stalk forward then, watching her body tense and listening to the way her breath catches with every step I take. "You're not here for Stefan. You're here for you."

"Damon, that's not-

"I'm not finished," I say, and now I'm close enough to smell her. Close enough to feel her temperature rise. "Maybe you're here because you think if you give me what I want-what we both want-that I'll finally walk away. And then you'll be back to your tidy, picket-fence-fence life with Stefan. All of the bad, wicked things will be behind you. Including me."

She tries to laugh me off, tries to shake her head, but I skate the tips of my fingers over her shoulders and the smile withers on her lips, replaced with something dark and miserable. And hungry.

"That's not it," she protests, but it's half-assed at best. She's too busy hyperventilating at the stroke of my fingers to put up much fight. Besides, she's not here to fight. We both know that now.

She closes her eyes and I can practically see the resolve move over her features. "No."

I circle her wrists with my fingers, feeling her heart race even as her face closes off. "Damon, every time I look at you, it's like Stefan slips further away. I can't lose him. We can't lose him. "

I don't give a frilly flying fuck about losing Stefan right now, not with her pulse flying beneath my fingertips and her eyes locked onto my mouth.

"Look at me, Elena."

She does, and I damn near wish she hadn't. I can't handle her like this, so obviously on the edge of giving in. Fuck, I can't handle in her in any way, shape, or form. If I could I would've never stayed in this town-a neutered puppy jumping through every hoop I can find to make her happy.

But God help me, I'd move mountains for this girl. Burn cities. And deep down I know all the bad-ass I've got is never going to be enough to override the fucking love I have for this girl.

I can't screw this up. Not this time. Not with her. The gaping canyon of god-knows-what is butted right up to our mother-fucking toes.

If we jump, it might kill us both.

And if we don't-I'll never get this chance again.

"Tell me you that you don't really want to be with me tonight, Elena." I keep my voice soft and my eyes elsewhere, trying not to spook her.

She flinches, new tears rising, even as she shakes her head.

I look back to her and she doesn't look away. So, I move slow. So fucking slow. My hands slide around to the small of her back and then I ease her forward inch by inch, until we're touching. Whatever resistance she's offering is a token effort at best because I can already feel her fingers dancing against my sleeves.

"Say it, Elena," I continue, looking down on her upturned face. "Tell me you don't want this every damn bit as much as I do."

She's panicking now, heart thundering and eyes wide. But she doesn't move. And I can feel the pads of her fingertips tracing my shoulders. Then my biceps. Her voice is raw, a ragged whisper in the stillness of the room. "Damon, please. We have to stop."

Fuck stopping. I'm in to my balls now. And whoever built me forgot to put in brakes.

So I lean in until I can almost taste her. "Tell me that this is really about him, and I'll stop. I'll stop and I'll go, just like you want me to."

She's working the shit out of these shivery breaths now, her lips going softer and eyes going darker with each heartbeat. Her tongue flicks out to moisten her lips and I practically come unhinged right there. I slide my hand up the length of her spine until my fingers are buried in the hair at the nape of her neck.

"Tell me," I say, gently urging her on.

Her whole face seems to crackle with fury, her skin going hot and electric beneath my touch as the words explode out of her. "Tell you what, Damon? That despite knowing we could never, ever be together, that I do think about this? About you? That some horrible part of me wanted this before I sent you away? Do you know what that says about me?"

Yeah, I've got nothing. I haven't heard a damn thing since 'I do think about this' and those words are currently playing a nonstop, repeat loop in my head.

Her eyes go wet with tears and she bites her lip. "I hate myself for feeling this, for coming here tonight. I hate myself for even thinking this."

I move my hand to her face then, thumb tracing down her cheek until she shudders. This girl is in my system like poison. Eating me alive. Burning me from the inside out.

"But you can't help it anymore than I can. Can you, Elena?"

She doesn't deny it. And I know damned well there should be some shred of self-preservation or common sense, or fuck, dignity, if I can even remember what that word means. But there isn't.

There's just me, cock stiff and heart bleeding, and Elena pressed up against me with desperation in her eyes. Dignity can kiss my ass. I want her too fucking bad to care.

"I'll take that as a no," I say.

I lift her off her feet as I kiss her. And it takes nothing, absolutely nothing, to pull her legs around my waist as her lips open under mine. She's zero to sixty like a high-end Porsche, clutching my neck and crossing her ankles behind my back. The sounds- Jesus, the fucking sounds she's making. Moans and groans and things I can't even describe, coming straight from her lips into my mouth.

She's grabbing handfuls of my hair and holding on so tight that both of us are shaking from the force of it. It's hot and wet and fierce as all fucking hell, and right now, right this second I think maybe this will work. One night with her and I'll walk away. Hell, it's better than nothing.

My fingers are digging hard into her hips when she pulls free, panting, but pushing at my shoulders. "No, stop. I can't do this to you, Damon. "

"Yeah, you can," I say, tilting her chin to the side so I can taste the hollow of her throat. "I'm an evil bastard, it's like your civil duty. Justice." I can feel her moan against my tongue, and Christ, her blood is pumping so hard I can practically smell it.

My fangs descend without warning and I suck in a shocked breath, turning my face away. Son of a bitch. This happens now? I've been able to keep my game face in check since my first feed, but tonight of all nights I can't keep my teeth in my mouth?

"Sorry," I say, expecting her to struggle free with a prissy little dissertation on how this is proof that we shouldn't do this. That it's foolish and dangerous and wrongity wrong wrong with a side of wrong.

So, I don't expect her hands on my face. I sure as shit don't expect the hunger I see in her expression, or the raw fascination in her when she traces the veins beneath my eyes.

"Sometimes I think it would be easier if you weren't so beautiful," she says absently.

She's looking at me like I fell from the gates of heaven. Hell, I know I'm easy on the eyes, but this is crazy. Especially from her.

"Would it?" I ask, my voice barely there at all.

Her laugh is like a sob. "No. No, I don't think it would."

Maybe it's her words. Maybe it's just the satin feel of her fingers against my jaw or the anguish in her eyes. Whatever it is, it's darker than magic and hotter than the sun.

And it's a hell of a lot bigger than sex.

Shit. I'm not a psychologist, but even I know that fucking this girl right now will ruin us both.

But she needs me. For once in our ridiculous unrequited rodeo, there's something I can give Elena that no one else can. Course, it'll be a damn miracle if I can figure out what it is.

Her tears are coming in earnest now, turning into fast, hitching sobs. "I can't stand this anymore."

I ease her feet to the ground and cradle her face in my hands. "Tell me what to do, Elena. I'll do anything. You know that."

She sniffs hard, swiping at her wet cheeks. "I can't stop the way I feel about either of you. And I can't be what you both need-not with you here."

"Then, I'll go."

Jesus, I hate myself for it, but it's true. In the end, she'll always call the shots with me.

Her face scrunches in anguish, her hands little knots of worry burning at my sides. "But I can't imagine-I don't- God, I can't think. Please. Just once, I don't want to think. "

Hell, I don't know what to do, so I kiss her again, pulling her closer with one arm. She's on that like a cat with cream, her tongue curling against mine and her arms locking hard around my middle. I feel her nails scraping under the back of my shirt and fuck, hell, fuck, I can't even-

No.

No, I have to get it together. Because we can't do this. She can't handle this tonight. Not all of it, anyway.

But I'll be damned if I'm going to get her this close without giving her something to remember.

I unbutton her jeans and slide my hand inside without leaving her a second to think it through. She bucks against my fingers with a hiss and, damn it, my fangs come out again. I try to pull away from the kiss, but she's having none of it. She continues writhing, slippery heat against my fingers and demanding mouth crushed against mine and then, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-I taste blood. She must have nicked her tongue on my teeth.

I wrench my mouth free with a growl, and at this point I'm not sure there's a drop of blood left in my body that isn't throbbing in my dick. Elena whimpers, tugging at my hair to bring me back to her lips, but I slide two fingers into her and her head drops back with a soft cry.

"I've got you," I tell her, but shit, I'm as boneless as she is. We're going to drop in a heap any damn second.

I can see the couch, but there's no way. I couldn't make it six inches farther, let alone across the room. So, I lay her out right there on the floor, one hand cradling the back of her head as the other works between her thighs, bringing her closer to the edge. She opens her eyes as she groans my name and for one terrifying second I think I'm going to come. I'm just fucking watching her and I am thisclose.

Her hips move against my hand and it's all just one low cry after another now. I know she's close. And she's flailing for me, scraping at my chest, my stomach, until her fingers hook into my waistband. She gives up on the button and rubs me hard through my jeans.

She pulls herself up, sitting up as she climbs closer to me. She's pushing herself closer, making it hard for me to work. And then I'm rolling to my back, squirming to keep my leverage as she looms over me, her climax approaching. She's squeezing my cock through denim and I feel her body clenching around my fingers and it's my name, my fucking name, tumbling from her lips over and over and over.

She leans forward, mouth hot against my neck, and then she bites. And that's it. I'm gone. Coming in my own jeans like a mother fucking kid.

The world drifts back down around me. First there's the sound of our breathing, hard and fast and all the good things that come with this sort of business. The silence that comes after shouldn't be this peaceful, but it is. Everything is still and golden. Perfect.

Elena's hands flutter to my face and I feel the damp press of her forehead against mine as I extricate myself from her pants.

She touches me like a lover, fingers lingering in my hair as we look at each other with drowsy eyes. She doesn't ask me to stay and I don't tell her I'll never leave. There are no epic words or gut-wrenching promises. Hell, why would I need that? I've got the scars of her touch on my soul now.

An hour later Elena sits on the foot of my bed as I pack. She trails down the stairs behind me, and barely glances at Stefan when he slips inside, all furrowed brow and thin lips.

No one speaks. No one says a damn thing, not me, not my brother, who will always be better. And not the girl, who will own us both until we turn to dust.

Stefan kind of flinches when I open the door to leave. Part of me wants to push him back, like a jumpy dog. But hell, he's still my damn brother. I hug him once, slapping a hand on his shoulder and hoping to pull away. But he's reeling me in, sniffing hard and dammit to hell, why can't I hate him more.

Then I feel her. She's behind me, her slim arms around my middle, her face pressed to the space between my shoulder blades.

Time slows to a pause, as if the whole damn world is holding its breath. And maybe it should. Maybe everything should wait as we freeze in this awkward embrace-me standing between them for the last time.