Briana's POV

Days had gone by. Failed attempts during the setup for the masquerade had shown Tyler had already given the moonstone to Mason, something I hadn't known but had acted like I had. Damon, although he had enjoyed our clubbing, was still refraining from talking to me as often as possible, even though he was the villain in our little war. I tried to forget casually walking into the house to find Mason slumped over in a chair with singed holes in his shirt and a bloody, gory cavity in his chest, his heart in Damon's hand. They were going to extreme lengths to get information. Elena and Stefan were fake fighting and avoided me whenever possible, not that I had bothered to be around them much in the first place. And tonight? Tonight was the ball itself, and everyone was planning on killing Katherine. Not my ideal Cinderella fantasy, the one I'd been having up until Damon walked in and said, "We're murdering Katherine tonight. I can trust you won't go blabbing to your little buddy about this?"

"Absolutely not," I said. "Katherine may have been my best friend but the act we put up now is only pretense. Kat has several faults and more enemies, both of which I am and have been included in." I sobered, finally remembering why I had left. Damon read my mind.

"She hurt you, didn't she?" I opened my mouth and closed it again.

"Yes," I snapped bitterly, "People I get close to tend to do that." I wouldn't meet his eyes, show him how crushed and angry I actually was for his cunning tricks. I became even more pissed off when he opened his mouth again.

"Well, at least you've admitted you were in some way close to me. Trust me, it doesn't do you well going on pretending it doesn't still hurt." He grabbed the crystal bottle of Bourbon of my stack of romance novels and took a sip, an acidic look on his face.

"Oh, yeah," I joked with a voice like vinegar, "it's not like you've been doing that for, say, a century now." I jerked the bottle out of his hands and took a swig, scowling. He heaved a large sigh and reclined on the bed next to me, looking devastated and incessantly raging in one plain expression.

"Yeah, I know. And look where that's gotten me." We continued to pass the drink back and forth, the taste delightfully scalding in our throats. I laughed without mirth.

"Alone, hated and left behind by anyone you got to trust you at some point?" We smiled wryly at each other.

"All the older vamps said it would be better this way. No one to use against you, no one to have to leave behind. If you care about a human, you don't want to damn them and make them a vampire, take their humanity away from them, but you don't-"

"Want to live without them?" He looked down at me with the weight of the world on his gaze, more sadness then I thought possible. "I've been in love several times, Angel, and none of them ended well." I took a steadying breath and stared longingly at something past the walls and wooden chest, to something all vampires craved with every fiber of their being: love. "I've never known someone- undead, werewolf, witch or human- that didn't love someone, something. Even now, the vampire hunters John and Alaric love Elena and Jenna, whether they say it or not. Bonnie loves Elena and her Grams, even if she's dead. Mason loved Katherine, Katherine loved Stefan, and Stefan loves Elena and so on and so forth." Damon winced and his lip curled.

"Is this supposed to be helping, because-"

"You may love Elena but, even if she didn't love your brother, she wouldn't fall for you like you would want her to. You hide everything behind a switch you never turned on. You notice how, in everyone's little love octagon, it's not only one person loving the other? Someone is always loved by someone else?" He nodded reluctantly, unsure. "You don't have anyone loving you because the only person you loved you made all the wrong impressions on. You love Elena. No one loves you. You're like the point on a completely different plane then their octagon."

"So, I'm screwed? It's nice to know not a soul cares for me," he muttered, and I smiled sadly.

"No, but then again, I'm undead. It's shattered, I have no soul." He looked down at me with something like disbelief and I returned it with silent resilience. There was a long pause in which there was only the slight murmur of voices downstairs and a thin connection between Damon and I that threatened to break at any moment. Finally, he looked away with a brief snort of humorless laughter and an expression I had once seen on Jeremy after Anna died.

"This is going to sound bad," he said, "but why don't you tell us what you know about-"

"The Originals and the doppelganger and Katherine?" He nodded. "In my village, there was a witch. My mother was the bad witch, but this one was good. When I had time to spare, I would go to her and she practically accounts for the better part of me. She taught me about the balance of nature. In the way that creatures were created with specific weaknesses to maintain balance, knowledge must be distributed with an equality." I paused and ignored his irritated expression. "I am an abomination- not quite vampire but not exactly human- and my knowledge and I were therefore never meant to exist. If I told you everything I knew, then it would upset the balance. You need to figure these things out for yourself." A deep breath fell past my lips and the long speech made throat tight.

I didn't expect the certain reaction Damon gave me when I was done. I looked at him expectantly, and at first he seemed deep in thought, chewing at his lips, the crystal bottle nearly falling out of his limp hand. Before he could drop it, I tugged it away and placed it on the bedside table next to me. When I turned back, he kissed me gently. It was like a downy blanket, warm and soft and comfortable. He pulled back and said tenderly, "You are so perfect."

My eyes became glassy and full. Nobody had ever told me that, and I've been called a lot of things, but never perfect. I had to look away, the thickness in my throat threatening to dissolve into tears. I don't cry. I don't cry. It's not in my list of possible actions, but then again, I'd never had a truly good reason to cry. Because no one had ever looked at me like that. No one had ever called me perfect.

I wound my arms around Damon and held onto him strongly, like we were both in a rushing river and I would float away if I let go. He smoothed down my hair and said something in my ear but I didn't hear him. Everything was suspended on a tight rope thinner than a single thread. The weight of lies, deception, unbreakable emotion and people standing on one single point, suspended in air by that little thread and at some time- some time soon- it's going to be too much pressure and that thread is going to snap, and there's no net below waiting to catch us.

* * * * *

Nobody told Elena or me of the plan. They didn't trust me, and they didn't want Elena involved. Knowing her, she would probably find a way to figure out what was going on and get to the ball, but I kept this to myself. Either way, I wanted to go.

My dress, a piece I had kept in my miniscule trunk for decades now, was rosy and elegant. It strapped around my bust with a blush-colored ribbon that hooked between my shoulder blades and laced down my back to tighten the corset of the dress and tied into an extravagant bow between my hips. The blossoming bell of the gown fell to my ankles, folded into shaded creases of the finest silk and stuffed with satin taffeta. My high heels were approximately four and a half inches tall, sort of like ballet slippers with heels and ribbons twisting up my legs. These were both magnificent, but my mask was the pride and joy of my ensemble. It was strong glass with silver inlaid into the edges which winged out like the stroke of a paint brush, as if it were made of feathers. The eyes of it were rimmed with gorgeous diamonds, and the handle of the rod was a matching, glittering silver. Everything was genuine, a gift from a English prince who had been quite taken with me centuries ago.

In the car, Stefan drove while Damon and I sat in the back holding hands in silence, praying everything would go correctly. Jeremy and Bonnie drove together, and the trunk was loaded with some of the sparkly little vampire torture devices Alaric was mostly willing to give. Damon looked incredibly suave in a sleek black tux and a black mask that covered half his face, sparing his beautifully sculpted lips. By the arrogance on his face, he was positive everything would be fine, that Katherine would die and we would all skip into the sunset. But we still had dangers to face, and Katherine was a crafty bitch.

The Masquerade itself was marvelous. The night sky set off the soft glow of lights flooding the front lawn from the house, and the moonlight glowed white on the two vampires' faces as they walked beside me. Women pranced by in gorgeous, regal ballgowns and men escorted them calmly in outfits relatively similar to Damon's and Stefan's, though none of them looked quite so fabulous.

"I'll take Briana inside and look for Katherine," said Damon to Stefan, his lips barely moving, "You do the same out here. Text me when you find her." They both nodded at her and I had the extreme urge to giggle.

As we split up, I turned to my 'date' and said, "You guys are like spies." He gave a smooth smile.

"Salvatore, Damon Salvatore." His voice incredibly low, he did his flirty eye thing and his smirk widened. A chuckle danced in my throat, and we were suddenly in the mansion.

There were waves of beautiful people with their faces hidden behind masks, smiling, laughing, conversing and dancing. Fancy violin music was playing in one of the larger rooms, and while a few couples knew something about what they were doing, the others simply held each other and swayed. I felt the impulsive, incessant need to prove them all inferior to my endless dance skill. A snobby grin stretched over my face, like the Grinch with a wonderful, awful idea.

"I think we should dance." There were people swerving about outside as well, but since our post was inside, we might as well make the most of it.

Damon agreed, and though he had a searching look on his face the whole time, I enjoyed it nevertheless. We dipped and swirled in a cross between a waltz and the near-touch dance we had both been around to see invented, putting all the other couples to shame. Eventually, we were left a wide berth as the people watched in awe. It was in stony silence that I spun and twined my way around the room like I had been raised dancing in it. There was one moment when he lifted me, the folds of my dress raising behind me like a glass of wine in a toast, my freshly curled and wickedly twisted hair flying with the agility and allure of an eagle soaring through the air, that I was suspended in pure joy, an angel falling from grace. Perfect.

And then that moment ended.

The phone in Damon's pocket beeped, and I was lowered, swept from the dance hall to the dismay of several onlookers and upstairs into a room with plain couches and one simple door leading off into a closet. The two brothers were working at the holders of Alaric's weapons, pulling out wristbands racked with stakes that made me cringe and gleaming vervain darts. I sighed.

"I'm going to watch Jeremy, make sure everything goes okay. I like him, and would rather him not be dead," I said nervously, and Damon looked up suspiciously and, I could've sworn, jealously. I winked and walked out.

From what I could tell through the second story window, everything went fine. Kat obviously had no intention of murdering the boy, but seemed more curious and coy. Finally, once she'd left him, I sat down on the window bench. In the past few weeks, life had gone by like a dream. You just watch yourself do things, feel emotion, but it's all so detached, and things were whirling wildly out of control without any sway of mine over the situation. I'd nearly forgotten about my family except for when I'd argued about it with Damon, and I knew I had to end things. My siblings were coming, and when they did, I would kill them. I die when they die, and I shouldn't grow roots here. I shouldn't care for Damon, soul or no desperately fractured, shattered soul, and act as to get him to care for me. I had to focus on this. I had to prepare to die.

When I walked back to the room, Damon had Katherine up against the wall, Stefan was pulling on his shoulder and Jeremy was panting by the door.

"Stop! Everything you're doing is hurting Elena!" Damon reluctantly pulled back and Kat sneered slyly.

"Of course she is. There's a witch downstairs with more power than you've got cuteness, Jer," I said and straightened his tie. He looked shocked and slightly out of place, gaping like a dying fish. "I'd go check on her, but as long as Damon keeps his cool, she should be fine." He looked between me and the empty hall before taking off in the direction of Elena who had finally snuck here. Kat leered at me.

"So you've gota human on your arm now. Is he your consort?" she played breathlessly. I gave a twitchy smile, flickering on and off like a candle's flame and noticed Damon turn an unsightly evil look at his old lover.

"It's complicated." I had drank his blood, flirted with and kissed him. "Got the spells on your clone, Kat? She feels what you feel?" She grabbed one of the stakes and sliced her palm open, smirking in smugness and victory. I thought she seemed a bit insane.

"Yep. Or better yet-" she dug her fingers into Damon's jacket, "kiss me Damon. She'll feel that, too." My face flushed and my nails cut into my hand.

"Cool it, Kat, you've already won," I warned, eyes flashing white. It happened when my emotions started running away from me, sort of like how they can turn red with blood lust. Kat looked at me, pieces falling together in her eyes.

"Oh... I haven't won until they give me the moonstone. Why the rush? Don't want him with another? You were always possessive," she droned, looking, interested, at the wooden stake in her hand. My temper spiked.

"I wasn't possessive back then, Katherine, only protective, which I think I had every right to be." My voice was deathly quiet, threatening to mutate into a scream at any moment. This only encouraged her.

"Over a mere human? It was useless and stupid-"

"And so you killed him?!" I shouted furiously, fangs extending.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," interjected Damon while Stefan looked frightened and worried behind him, "What are you talking about?" I glanced at him but tried to keep my gaze steady on Katherine who was smirking happily at me, arms crossed.

"In 1809, I fell in love with one of Katherine's servants. Convinced the love was shallow and fake, the damn hypocrite, she killed him to keep me from distractions. Ripped his heart out right in front of me." I remembered it clearly, standing their in a pale blue dress, staring lovingly at Andrew in his adorable servants outfit and quicker than a thought, there was a hole in his chest and Katherine stood beaming in an immaculate white lacy gown and a gored, deep red heart dripping blood into a puddle at her feet. It made my insides writhe and twist painfully.

"Yep, and enjoyed every second of looking at the crushed expression on your pitiful little face. It was for the best, you know," she simpered and fingered the pocket of Stefan's jacket. He slapped it away. I roared, finally hitting my boiling point. Damon tried to push me back, but was failing seriously.

"Then," Kat continued, "if you won't let me play Damon, I guess I'll go straight for Elena." She raised the stake above her head and Damon's grip around me finally broke. I ran to her and grabbed the stake, smashing my mask into her cheek. With a shriek of pain, shards of glass cut across her face. In one vicious kick, she smashed into the opposite wall. Fire burned in her eyes and she wailed.

"Hey!" screeched a woman at the door with skin like espresso, holding up a moonstone that looked sort of like a bar of soap. "Katherine, you're free to go." Kat stood up and brushed herself off, trying hard not to jump at me. My chest was heaving.

"About time," she complained, holding out her hand expectantly.

"As soon as I give you this, I owe you nothing," the witch said, and though the others noticed nothing, I saw her plan immediately.

"Yeah, yeah, now give it," Kat griped and snatched it, just before falling to the floor, moaning and clutching her head. I glared down my nose at her. The witch looked at us apologetically.

"I'm sorry for my part in this." And she was gone. Stefan picked up the moonstone, and I saw Damon start grabbing the pieces of my broken mask.

"Here," he said, pouring the pile of glass of jewels into my hands, "I'll take care of her."

The night had worked, in some way, and everyone was safe for the second. I was craving the comforting warmth of my bad, craving the release of breath once I took off this damn corseted dress, and desperately wanting somebody to hold me again like Damon had earlier today. Like Andrew had used to. Stefan walked out to find Elena, Damon scooped up Katherine promising to talk to me later, and I was left here waiting for somebody to give me a break. Say, "You're free," and let me finish my days without this responsibility on my shoulders. No matter what supernatural being I am, I- and everyone else in this world- will die one day. Mine just happened to be sooner than the others.