She was beginning to ask too much of him, he knew that.

The moment Elena asked him for his piece of Jonathan Gilbert's invention, which could serve to put an end to his race and leave her gorgeously haunting face unscathed, Damon Salvatore realized that she knew… she knew that she had a certain hold over him and she was using that to get what she wanted, like a feel good drag. She was using him, just like he used other people to fulfill his more urgent needs. Blood, sex, booze, you name it.

He also knew that Stefan had probably begrudgingly agreed to follow her when she cornered Damon with her sweet words, those old broken promises of trust resurfacing as her excuse, while her innocent, brown doe eyes pleaded silently with him. No one else really spoke or interrupted, because no one else mattered. Not the witch or his brother.

Even Katherine was starting to become a sore, overused subject with him, but that was probably because he'd spent so many years mourning for her, drinking away his last remnants of his soul and humanity; wasting away into nothing… an eternal nothing, at that.

Elena was the least convincing of the three, for Bonnie wouldn't trust either Salvatore (not even if they suddenly became saints) and Stefan… well, it was clear that Stefan wasn't comfortable with exactly how they were going to get what they needed to stop Isobel. He too must be aware of the pull, a bond that must have formed somewhere during that car ride between just the two of them and their last dance.

Still, she couldn't compare to Katherine's mind games. It wasn't like she could compel him into doing anything. No one could. Not his younger brother, or the wise words from his past conquests, or even his own conscience…

Funny, Damon didn't remember having one before stepping foot in this town.

Then Stefan finally decided to do what he's been telling him for years, though it was of course at the worst possible moment, especially with the Council keeping a sharper eye on things. The moment Stefan let go and flew completely off the rails, Damon decided to step in and extend his arm to young Elena, covering as her dance partner.

Maybe he was just sparing her the embarrassment of being stood up. For everyone knew that however charming Damon could be, he never did anything out of the kindness of his heart. His moments of good will were always simply the first steps to something much greater.

But what could he possibly gain from dancing with the brunette? Another point on his side of the scoreboard in a game of sibling rivalry? Or a fulfillment of a dream with the same face, but a different soul?

On some very rare occasions, Damon did something simply because he wanted to. Dancing with Elena had been one of those moments, or so he had convinced himself. He didn't plan it, or expect anything more to come of it, but he was wrong. Not about himself, but about her. Elena saw it as the goodness within him, forgetting about how dangerous he was and instead falling into the idea that he trusted her.

Damon Salvatore didn't trust anyone; sometimes he couldn't even trust himself.

But they danced gracefully that day, as if they had been practicing for months, years, maybe even centuries. It felt like it had been longer than he'd been alive. After all, forever wasn't that long; he had learned that many, many drinks later after losing his beloved Katherine.

As their hands hovered in the air just inches from each other, their fingertips barely touching, his piercing blue eyes locked with hers in a steely gaze while his feet moved perfectly in sync with her own. Not a single fumble or awkward movement, nor his usual cocky swagger was in place. Maybe his suit made him look and feel a little more modest for the occasion, his features softening as his eyebrows rose slightly with every movement.

It almost seemed like she was… enjoying this?

Damon quickly disregarded those silly suspicions, because he knew that deep down, the only person that she wanted to be dancing with was Stefan. She had turned him down before at a party, a small bruise to his ego that he'd never forget. But, oh Stefan… she certainly didn't mean the Stefan that was stealing from the local blood bank, causing quite a stir with the council, which was not putting him in a good position.

It seemed like the roles had been reversed lately, for Damon was the one cleaning after messes. He wondered how long it was going to last. Elena was merely seeking comfort in him while Stefan tried to get used to the lifestyle that he'd tried to avoid for so many years…

She was only allowing Damon to get so close because Stefan had been pushing her away.

It was only a matter of time before things went back to normal. They could only dance for so long before the music stopped. He could only hope that she would forget this. It was a lot easier keeping her at an arm's length than it was being close enough to pick up her scent. Not because he was afraid of losing control, but because maybe… just maybe, he was afraid of losing her too. The only person who sometimes didn't look at him like he was a completely soul less, unfeeling being.

They took their bows for the audience, all in the sake of appearance as their fingers entwined and her brown tresses fell in beautiful waves down her flawless face, lightly grazing one of her rosy cheeks as she smiled warmly at him. The elder Salvatore hadn't seen her smile like that in a while.

Damon crossed his hands before him when he came to a stop behind Elena, shortly after their cue was given to appear as her backup, before glancing over to see his brother nodding gently at him. Why was he here again? Oh, that's right, because she asked him to come. Not his childe Isobel, for he was this close to killing the messenger, but Elena. It was always Elena, it seemed.

"But you took a risk with Damon. How did you know that he was going to give it to me?"

At the mention of his name, his sharp gaze seemed to blur back into focus, like a camera lens re-adjusting itself for the next shoot. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear that his hands were a little clammy, and not just because he was part of the undead. His insanely bright blue eyes flickered quickly over to Isobel's slender form, wondering what stupid remark she was going to come up with next. It wasn't like she could see inside his head and…

"Because he's in love with you."

Speak of the devil... there was a long pause after that statement. It was almost as if her words could raise the dead, and if they gave her a little more time, he was fairly certain that she could with her conniving ways.

There were only three times in his life when Damon Salvatore really felt the urge to completely disappear into thin air. One was after Katherine was taken, which could be tied into the time when they discovered that she was no longer in the tomb under the church. Two was when he went on that car trip with Elena and he walked out of the bar to find that she was gone.

And three... was right now.

Right in this very moment, when the manipulating, sultry messenger opened her big mouth and left that ridiculous accusation hanging in the air. Then again, there was nothing worse than a vampire woman scorned. Damon, out of all people, should know that by now, shouldn't he? No one said anything for a while, although he could almost feel his brother's eyes boring a nice big hole into the back of his head.

But Damon wasn't really interested in that. He wasn't even interested in what else the wicked bitch of the west had to say. The only thing that mattered right now was what Elena must be thinking of him. She didn't think that was true, did she? He felt his lips parting to offer a quick rebuttal, some kind of well-grounded protest that would counter something so unfounded as that…

Instead, his lips pressed together into a neatly straight line and he just stood there, clenching and unclenching his jaw subconsciously.

The rest of it was a blur to him. Isobel took the device from her and disappeared, leaving Elena to seek comfort in Stefan's arms, while he stood just a few feet away and watched over them. He caught the tail end of his brother's dark glances, knowing that one of those 'jealous boyfriend confrontations' was in order for them once Elena was back home safely. Yet Damon didn't fret about that.

He felt exposed. Not like when he undressed himself infront of other women or walked around baring his chest for kicks, his vain smirks dripping of confidence. No, he felt exposed in a very uncomfortable way: hello, vulnerability.

Isobel might be a lot of things: a bad mother, a bad vampire, and a bad messenger. But she was also a bad liar. He just hoped that Elena saw it as that and nothing else. He could handle Stefan, or if Isobel decided to backstab them and start killing the people in this town anyway…

But Damon couldn't handle Elena, or another one of those looks that planted more doubt in his mind than answering them.

He was beginning to ask too much of her, he knew that.