Title: Push and Pull

Summary: She asks him to stay. He tells her to leave. One of these days, one will have to give in. Damon/Elena one-shot. Major spoilers up to The Dinner Party 2x15.

Rating: T, for sexual situations and very mild language

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

A/N: I had started this last week, and of course, the latest episode of TVD sent it into a tailspin. Major spoilers up to 2x15 – don't read if you don't want to know. Some of the things are my own take on what could happen and I'm taking some liberties with some events in the episode, but I'm slapping on a spoiler warning for the second part of this fic just in case.

They can't save everyone. People inevitably get caught in the crossfire.

When he visits Elena's bedroom the night Klaus makes his first appearance, he wants to hold her forever and tell her everything will be okay. She's sitting cross-legged on her bed, wearing a pair of old, grey sweatpants and a raggedy t-shirt with holes on the sleeves. Her black makeup stains her cheeks and her hair is now a disheveled mess. He's never seen anything so beautifully fragile in his life.

"Matt's gone," she sniffs, in a voice that could break him – anyone – in two. She doesn't bother to look up. Only one person – or vampire rather – uses her window this late at night.

"I know." He takes a seat next to her, but he doesn't know what to do.

"Out of everyone, I thought he was the one we could protect. He didn't deserve to die," she says softly. He keeps his hands on his lap and watches for her next move.

She tilts her head towards his shoulders and breathes deeply. He throws her glances every so often as she looks straight in front of her, void of emotion. They stay like this for several minutes until she reaches for his hand. He gives her a reassuring squeeze.

When she finally breaks and starts crying openly, he sits there and holds her, cradling her in his arms and brushing her hair with his fingers. He doesn't say anything because he doesn't like lying to her. He honestly cannot tell her that everything will be okay.

After an hour of letting everything out, she turns to face him, and he gives her a small smile. When she lifts her head slightly and presses her hand against his chest, his smile disappears and his body stiffens at the intimate gesture. "Stay," she says, her voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. Her eyes are darker and more lucid, and for a split second, Katherine's image flashes in his mind. But he thinks it's probably all in his head – Elena's the most naive person he's ever met.

He thinks he can feel his unbeating heart leap out of his ribcage when she smiles at him. But his mind and body and somehow resuscitated soul are all wrestling for supremacy. So when his mouth parts, he can feel the words escape his lips before his body can betray him and his soul can stop him.

"I'm sorry," he stumbles, "You know I can't." He doesn't want to hurt her, but if he doesn't leave, he'll end up hurting the both of them even more. His mind is taking over - his common sense is taking over. He looks into her big, shiny eyes, and he can hear her glass heart breaking into pieces. He looks away.

"I can't control myself around you," he says quietly, as if it explains everything. He gets off the bed and away from her warm body. He needs to get out of there.

She just nods numbly at no one in particular, and he leaves her in her own pool of tears and ruined makeup.

They don't mention that night. They've seen each other at their most vulnerable states, and neither wants to particularly dwell on it. They have more to worry about than breakdowns and whatnot.

And for him at least, that includes Elena's safety.

He opens the door and finds Elena in a corner, sitting on the dirty floor, with her head in her hands. She looks up, and her confusion quickly turns into rage. She immediately gets up, and tries to shove him backwards as hard as she can. He doesn't budge.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she yells.

"What the hell is wrong with me? Do you want to get yourself killed?"

"Did you have to lock me up in a shed? Where am I?" she demands.

"Well, I thought of kidnapping you and boarding you onto a flight out of the country for today but everything seemed to be booked." He rolls his eyes and moves aside. She walks past him and exits out the shed. She looks around and the only thing she notices is Damon's car and nothing else. The place is deserted; not even trees dot the landscape.

"Where am I, Damon?" she repeats again.

"A few miles out of town…A friend's place," he replies simply.

"A witch?"

"Of course."

"You should have told me before you stuffed me into a trunk and threw me in this place!" she fumes.

"I didn't throw you in, and besides, desperate times call for desperate measures. I vaguely recall a time when you tried to scratch my eyes out when I tried to put you in the backseat."

"Why did you take me here?"

"Your suicidal tendencies are really becoming a pain in my ass."

"What the hell are you talking about? I was in my own house!"

"Klaus was about five feet away from waltzing right in and taking you to your deathbed. You were a sitting duck." She sees the look of worry and devastation etched all over his features, and she softens immediately.

"Damon…" she begins.

"You have to leave," he interrupts suddenly. She looks up questioningly.

"What?"

"You need to leave," he repeats, more forcefully.

"Isn't that what your car is for? There's nothing here…" She gestures wildly at the barren, yellow grass around her.

"That's not –" he starts, "You need to leave Mystic Falls…just until this thing is over. Klaus doesn't know where you are right now. Jonas is somehow nullifying the locator spell for you right now."

"Are you crazy? Leave you guys to die? Nuh-uh. No way." She crosses her hands over her chest.

"We just have to get in, stab him with some white ash wood, and get out. We got rid of Elijah by using our brains; we can trick Klaus, too. And now that Jonas and Katherine are on our side, we have the power to defeat him. He won't know what hit them."

"You make it sound easy," she says skeptically. He shrugs and opens the passenger door for her.

"Hello. Goodbye. It's the basic plot to every life story." She pauses and turns back to face him before stepping in.

"Are you coming with me?" There's a yearning inside of him that wants to say yes, that it would just be like Atlanta. But he doesn't.

"No," he says, "I need to stay to make sure everything goes according to plan. We need all the vampires we can get."

"Then I'm not going." She stares him straight in the eyes defiantly.

"You need to leave."

"No."

"Elena…" he warns.

"No, Damon. You can't make me go," she stands her ground.

"Are you sure about that? I'm stronger and faster than you, and I have the keys to the car," he points out. She scowls and changes her approach. She stares at him with her big, brown eyes and touches his arms.

"Damon," she breathes, "You know I need to stay." She doesn't like using him, but she'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant losing him.

"I fucking hate you," he hisses. She pulls away, and the tension is gone but the heat is still there.

"I would've found a way to get back anyway."

"Fine," he gives up.

They don't speak for the rest of the ride back.

She bursts into the boarding house that same night, and immediately sees Damon in front of the fireplace, glass in hand and smirk already in place.

"What is this I hear about me not going to fight Klaus with you guys?"

"Change of plans," he announces, getting up to meet her.

"What do you mean change of plans?" she demands.

"Well, see we thought it would be better if all the supernatural beings handle Klaus. Me? Supernatural," he says, pointing at himself. He proceeds to point his finger in her direction, "You? Human. Ergo, you stay where Jonas puts you."

"What? That's not fair! Klaus wants me."

"Sorry, Elena. You don't get a say in this. We all decided it was for the best."

"Who? When?" she interrogates.

"Everyone. After Klaus almost kidnapped you this morning, we can't leave you out in the open. We don't know what he can do, the extent of his powers really. It's better if you're not there to witness it." Elena stops to think about what to say and looks at him briefly, before staring into the fire.

"I already lost Matt…" she starts quietly, "And I know that you probably don't care about him, but I can't just stand around watching everyone get die." She blinks back her emotions and looks to Damon again. "I have to go with you guys when you fight Klaus," she says decisively.

"If you know what's best for you, you'll shut up and do what I say," he replies, unfazed by her vulnerable eyes this time.

"If you know what's best for you, you'll stop treating me like I'm a child," she raises her voice, clearly not happy with his response.

"Oh, Elena. If your age is any indication, you are a child." He rolls his eyes, and the atmosphere has changed in an instant.

"Well, if age is any indication, I should be pushing you around in a wheelchair then," she retorts.

"Can you help me get dressed and take a bath, too? These old joints and muscles just don't work like they used to," he smirks. The comment is out of nowhere, and she knows he's trying to make her falter on purpose. She purses her lips together and ignores his comment.

"I'm not a child. I don't need you – or anyone – assuming that I can't defend myself. You can't tell me to hide in a corner."

"I'm not telling you to hide in a corner. I'm telling you to let us fight the war."

"That's the same damn thing!"

"Don't try to be the hero…and don't you even think about offering yourself to an Original again." He pokes her shoulder and digs his nails into her, effectively pushing her back against the wall.

"You don't have to worry about offering myself to Klaus. But I can't promise you I won't jump in to save everyone, and there's absolutely no leeway on that issue," she says firmly, clenching her teeth and pushing his own shoulders in response. Even though he barely moves, Elena's rising anger spreads to him, and the veins underneath his eyes pop out before he can stop them.

"You need to stop right now, before I do something we'll both regret," he hisses. He's inches away from her, and she can tell he's holding back his rage.

"You need to let me go with you," she replies angrily, stomping her feet and not giving in. She lays a hand on his shoulder to push him backwards again, and he lets out a low growl. He doesn't like it one bit, but she doesn't move her hand away.

"You need to stay where we tell you to, when we tell you to," he snaps back.

"No." When she goes to cross her arms over her chest, she intentionally nudges her hands into his chest.

"Well then, it seems we have a problem."

"It seems that way."

The tension is palpable. Silence fills the house, and their defiant eyes and stubborn minds engage in a battle that neither will win. Neither of them moves to escape the labored, hot breaths or the heat radiating out of their bodies, their cores below their waists.

When he crashes his lips on hers and pushes her down onto the floor, they know it's out of anger. But when she tugs and pulls on his shirt, they know that's out of desperation.

It's quick. Within seconds, all articles of clothing are stripped and their warm, naked bodies arch into each other, searching for a release, as pure need and desire overtake their bodies.

The passion and fire building up the last couple of days are evident; little touches and strokes are enough to send them into overdrive.

When he pounds into her over and over again, groaning her name, he's trying to convince her to see it his way. When she screams out his name when he hits her right there, she's repeatedly yelling in reply no. In one final round of thrusts, they climax together, riding a wave of anger and lust and holding on to the little sanity they have left. And in as fast as it began, it's over. He rolls off her body and lies next to her on the cold hardwood floor, while she catches her breath. The anger is gone, but the desperation is still there.

He doesn't look at her when the realization of what she's done sinks in. Her eyes widen in alarm and regret, and he keeps his mouth shut as she curses at him, herself and the entire world. Tears burn her eyes and she bolts upright, as the full weight of what she has just done consumes her. She scrambles to find her clothes and her fingers tremble as she fidgets with the adjustable straps of her bra. She practically trips over herself hurrying to the door. As he hears the front door slam, he continues to stare at the ceiling above him, naked and alone on the parlor's floor.

He doesn't even care if Klaus kills him tomorrow; Elena just stabbed him in the heart tonight.

A/N2: I never imagined Stefan and Elena actually together in this fic, but you can interpret the ending as you wish – cheating on Stefan or just distraught at the notion of sleeping with Stefan's brother. Thanks for reading, and reviews are always appreciated! I'm thinking of continuing this one...