Jeremy's POV

I was kissing her. She was kissing me. I guess it was mutual.

I knew what she meant. Niether of us wanted a long-term. We didn't want a forever in love. We weren't sweethearts, and we weren't romantically interested in each other. All we wanted was a break.

We wanted a break from all those assholes who spit on our shoes. Who threw swings at us just because we happened to be nearby, gave us busted lips, black eyes and bruises for sharing. The people who never looked at us twice if they even bothered to look at us the first time. We were sick of being stepped on, thrown down, pushed to the edge of people's mind because they just didn't want to bother with scum like us.

Because we were the filth of this world. I was a broken druggie with the past two loves of my life rotting in a grave of crumbling into months-old piles of ashes. God knows what happened to hers. We wanted a back-up plan. When everybody has turned their backs on us, what we want is somebody to turn to and know they won't do the same.

I'm going to die one day. That's for sure. But until that day comes, I want to know that I will have somebody who knows as much pain as I do. Because I'm running out of people to turn to. Elena is a liar and too consumed by her own affairs and romances to do anything but save my ass when I get in trouble. The Salvatores don't give a damn about me. My parents are dead. Uncle John is a self-serving douche. Jenna is... breakable. A good liability. And Annice is no different. Her family doesn't know she's alive. Her lovers are dead. Damon's an ass. Nobody else knows her enough to do anything but fear her.

What we want is a break from anyone who dares to think that they can exploit our weaknesses. We are not weak. We aren't only human. We are everything that people wish to be. We don't want to be alone, waiting for someone to come along and pick us up again only to drop us at the side of the road when they get bored.

We just wanted a break.

Elena's POV

"Thanks for going," I said quietly. I'm not really sure why I spoke so softly. Maybe I was just worn down by the never-ending list of problems that love to hit me over the head whenever I feel just too happy.

Effing problems.

"Sure thing, El," Damon responded with his usual gusto. I pulled back and stared at the phone for a second, confusion mottling my face, before responding.

"Did you just call me 'El'?" I asked. I think I heard him chuckle.

"Yeah, I was trying out a new nickname for you. Didn't work." I laughed at the lame-ass name he'd tried. El. WTF?

I ended the phone call with a little, "Yeah, whatever," and hung up, eager to continue the captivating read of the Gilbert's journal and how Stefan was- and I quote!- a killer. Stefan.

I was in a state of disbelief. There was no way the loving masochist Stefan was a monster. He was the Edward to my Bella! Oh, shit, wait. Edward had a haunting past, too. Crap. Can't there be any adorable vampire that was always perfect?

Anyway, I'd called Damon to go check on Jeremy. He'd seemed a little off for a while now, and I kept hearing things in his room. It was so soft, I could never be sure if it was voices, the TV, or my own paranoia. I could've asked Stefan to sniff it out a while ago, but I just felt like this was a job for Damon. Which I didn't understand. I just figured that Damon should do it.

Odd, really. I can trust Damon now. I think.

Jeremy's POV

It had been pushed to the edge of my mind, but now I couldn't escape it.

Bonnie.

It's like I'm leading two different lives. In one, I was head over heels (was that a chick term?) for Bonnie Bennett, the 'judgy little witch', and in one, I was so worried about everything that I was tumbling right into the cunning, creepy white arms of a red-headed wierdo vamp who's kissed me on more than one occasion. Once I was tricked into it. Once I met her with it. And, strangely, I had this vague memory her giving me a brief kiss in the Salvatore's living room. Was that a dream? A memory? Or a compelling-induced hallucination, a trick of the mind?

And I'd kissed Bonnie, too.

It had just... happened. And now she was coming over to practise magic and Annice was upstairs and- and- ugh. I'd been in love. But a love triangle... that was completely lost on me. I didn't exactly read feminine books where the petty, idiotic heroine was caught up between two generic, equally idiotic boys.

"So, where has Elena been? I haven't seen her in forever," Annice murmured in between kisses, gazing up at me with an unreadable expression. I thought for a moment, trying to gather my mind from the million places it was.

"Uh," I rubbed my temple with one hand, using the other to prop myself over her as we layed sideways on my bed. "At the lakehouse. With Stefan. Some romantic rendezvous, or something. And, just in case you ask, Jenna's not here either." Her brows pulled.

"Oh. Way to be quick to the punch. Where is she?" she asked with something darker than curiosity. I couldn't place it, or the reason for it. She'd asked such an innocent question.

"Salvatore's," I said shortly, and kissed her again. She made that mmm sound in the back of her throat.

"Why?" The words were practically smushed between the close proximity of our lips. I pulled back again, feeling dizzy and out of breath.

"For a, um, dinner party. Damon's throwing one and he invited Jenna and Alaric so he could find a way to get to Elijah."

Oh, I shouldn't have said that.

"Elijah!" she exclaimed, her whole body tensing up against mine. Her dark brown eyebrows ripped from their confused pull and shot up into her unusually red hair, her mouth falling open into a tiny 'O' of surprise. "He's interacting with my brother?" She sounded a little pissed.

I was suddenly tired.

"Um, yeah. Basically, everbody but you and I have talked to him. He's been snooping around, having his fun." I wonder if she just loved her incessant need to add something, anything, to a my 'not detailed enough' (quoted) statements.

"Cracking deals with your sister," she put in, apparently feeling the urge to remind me, "which I have happily compelled you not to talk about to the gang until they know about it themselves."

"Yeah," I said gruffly, partially disgruntled, but also understanding her fear of anyone knowing the limited information she was giving me. Emphasis on 'limited'.

"Oh," she smacked herself on the side of her head, "I'm distracting myself. Why is he trying to talk to Elijah?" I picked apart the snippets of conversations that people had been trying to seclude me from for days.

"John, he, uh, gave Damon a weapon that Damon thinks will kill Elijah. A dagger." There was a flashing memory of a gleaming, silvery-white dagger and a simple glass bottle of ashes bonking around in my brain. "He's going to try it toni-"

"He's going to be freaking trying the White Oak dagger?!" she shrieked, and I thanked God that nobody was home to see her have another breakdown. "Are you shitting me?!" My mouth fell open, my eyes went wide, and I searched for an explanation that would make her stop freaking out. Her head picked up off the bed a bit.

"Yes- I mean, no, I'm not, but yes, Damon's going to test it-" she grabbed me by the hips and pulled me down to her roughly, which shocked me to say the least.

"I'm sorry, but I gotta go," she rushed and pressed her lips to mine right quick.

Okay, I feel a little bad thinking I was relieved. Hey, I just didn't want her here when Bonnie showed up!

The only problem was, as Annice's lips pressed to mine hotly with an almost feverish need, I couldn't do anything but kiss her back. (Don't start the Friends With Benifits jokes, this isn't a romantic comedy.) I twined my arms around her waist, pulling her up until her back was arched, thoroughly pressing her chest to mine, and I don't know how she missed it. Her mind must have been so preoccupied she didn't hear the front door open, because at that exact moment, my door flew open-

Annice's POV

-And it wasn't Elena this time, though I was wishing it had been, because-

Jeremy's POV

-It was Damon.

"You've gotta be shitting me."

* * * * *

Annice sighed those repeated words into my cheek when we broke apart.

Oh, I wish it was a joke. A dream. Anything. Because right now, it looked like Damon was about to rip my head off. Or snap my neck. And don't tell me he didn't have the guts to do it. He's done it before. Which is the exact reason I have a certain belief he might do it now.

Damon's POV

I was going to kill the Gilbert boy, ring or no ring. He was so dead.

I leave Andie Star- the hot news chick I was using as a distraction these days (Even though I mainly just got her as part of my elaborate plans for the dinner party. Smart, right?)- to her dinner party preperations as a favor to Elena, and what do I find? Jeremy effing Gilbert macking on my- my-

well, I couldn't exactly say she was my woman anymore.

But seriosuly! Jeremy? It was so- so unbelievable that I could hardly string my thoughts together to form any kind of understandable reasoning for when I tried to rush him, anger burning my gaze to a very violent red. I felt those delightfully familiar veins lifting through my skin as my fury spiked into some beast that seemed to be clawing at my insides, pressing me further.

But something was holding me back. A very female something.

Annice's POV

"Jeez, Damon, cool it!" I yelled as he tried futilely to get at Jeremy. I had to find something to distract him, because right now, he looked so angry he could drink the blood of every last person in this town and have no problem with it. Finally, something popped into my very preoccupied mind. "I never guessed you were the jealous type!"

Oh, that got him.

He quick his desperate attempts to push past me immediately, and put every effort that he could muster into making his lips turn up into his signature smirk. He clucked his tongue and wagged a finger. Cautiously, I took a step back, keeping a safe hand on his chest.

"Jealous?" he asked as though it was the silliest thing in the world. "Not jealous, dear-"

"Dear?" I repeated, incredulous that he could even try to pull his ass out of this one.

"-Only pissed that Gilbert over here has the balls to try and hide your pretty little fugitive behind." Well, that was a good reason, even if I knew it wasn't true. His eyes said it all.

And get this here, I wasn't like those romantic literature heroines who always say they can practically soul-read just by looking into someone's eyes. But Damon's gaze really did express every dirty secret and truth that was swirling in his demented, cruel mind. His cool, metallic blue gaze was still poisoned with red from his previous *clears throat* 'episode', and it burned with what I made out to be white-hot (or should I say green?) jealousy churning with betrayal. Betrayal? I didn't sleep with Jeremy while Damon and I had an on-the-edge relationship. According to current events, we (was there really ever a we?) were history.

"Well, don't get pissed at him," I say, playing along for the fun of it, "for, um, how did you put it? 'Hiding my pretty little fugitive behind'? Because I compelled him not to be able to tell anybody until they knew it themselves. Plus, Jeremy and I," I winked at him, and I swear he blushed, "we're good friends." Damon laughed bitterly.

Does anybody laugh in actual amusement these days? It's all mirthess and phony.

"You looked a little more than friendly, there," he hinted, his voice splitting with vehemence, like a spitting snake. Well, he had the eyes for it, always watching you with a rabbid intesity. I snickered like a good little girl.

"That was a recent development." I tittered some more just to annoy him, although he seemed enraged enough.

Jeremy looked shamed, but also a wee bit flushed. Damon looked ticked as ever. I bet I looked false and deceptive. But, standing her in the hallway where I had pushed the ebony-haired spitfire, I don't think Bonnie noticed any of that when she walked in. She just looked up at the landing, dropping her bag by the door rather unceremoniously, until she locked eyes with me. Her jaw practically unhinged.

"What's going on..." she began, he words filled with an undertone of fear but putting up her protective barrier of force and strength. "Jeremy?"

"I'm here-" he tried, but Damon beat him to the punch. He was next to Bonnie in a flash, smiling with his usual humorless humor.

"Oh, nothing," he said casually, waving his hand through the air. "I just caught your boy here smooching the new bitch- I mean girl, in town. The usual." Bonnie's whole face drooped into an expression of sadness and searing anger showing just what she thought of Jeremy's treachery.

This wasn't like the whole Rose-and-Damon thing. I just needed comfort, and Jeremy seemed completely willing to give it. I'd known about him and Bennett. I don't think he knew about me knowing about his darling mouth-to-mouth with her. However, when I kissed him, I just wanted him to know that we would be together in our wierd way. I didn't really expect Damon to walk in, get jealous, or tell Bonnie. I sure as hell didn't expect him to do all three.

"I'm just gonna go get ready," Damon said, but nobody but me actually heard him. Jeremy had run to the landing, gripping the banister, gaping as he tried to find a way to explain.

There was a moment, just before he left, where my crossing, lying, pained, heartbroken ex-whatever turned to me in all his beauty, glancing at me one last time with his glorious silvery blue eyes, and I understood. I mean, how far would you go to make sure one of the few people you dared to care about, and one of the even smaller few who reciprocated those feelings, could never be with anybody but you? How far would you go, how many would you hurt, to send that person running back into your arms?

How far would Damon go to make sure I felt every pain and guilt for leaving him, even though I'd left for the crime he'd commited?

But that didn't justify what he did.

Go to hell, I mouthed, and he finally turned back to the door and stepped out with an expression other, lesser people might not find readable. Some might find it as legible as chicken scratch. But I read it like the print on the pristine page of a book. He was hurt. Good.

Although, once he was gone, I still wasn't paying attention to Jer-Bear or his cutie pie ex-almost-nearly-girlfriend. I mentally smacked my forehead. Damon was gone, and I had been so distracted telling him that he shouldn't murder Jeremy that I hadn't told him exactly what he needed to know. He couldn't use the dagger. It would kill any demon who wielded it. I know I'd told Damon I could never confess the real truth, something I had only said in a quick word-vomit to Damon in the Mystic Grill bathroom and never really told the shamed, brown-haired boy next to me, because i was trained by a witch. I believed in balance. Damon should learn any way he could, and if he didn't, he would die.

But I just couldn't let that happen.

I still hated him for sleeping with my dying best friend, but that didn't mean that I still didn't love him.

Gosh, I'd been turned into such an emotional little waste of space. I am so screwed.

* * * * *

When I arrived at the house, it was already bustling with activity. Beams of light were infiltrating the darkness outside with their glow and voices were drifting lazily from any crevice they could. Not that any human could hear it.

One particular voice stood out.

It was smart and cold, calculating but charming, so charming, indeed, that he could trick Jenna Gilbert into thinking he was an innocent historian. Bitch, please. I knew who it was. I knew his styled brown hair and handsome, small grin and the exact way his perfect nose curved. Elijah... this was going to be difficult.

Damon must have gotten here just as the guests arrived. Why had he even been at Jeremy's house? Elena, who never cared enough to do anything more than occasionally worry over her brother's safety, probably sent him as a checker-upper. I don't know if I really liked the doppelganging girl.

Abandoning my judgments, I started off towards the opposite end of the house, with my destination- the second-story window- letting off nothing but darkness and the faint, filmy folds of a pair of dark drapes. I honestly didn't know what I was getting myself into, but what I did know was that my entire life had a different air about it than it did when I first walked into this town. Everything back then was for play, barely knowing the one I called Angelface besides what I'd gotten from stalking him here and there, living in a windmill by a corn field. And now I was half in love with the ass I'd stalked who'd gone behind my back with a girl I hadn't seen in five hundred years and everything was well thought out and emotional and angsty and I just hated myself for my cliche love-triangle-book-heroine-esque I had going on.

Eff. Me.

The window had no lock on it and slid open easily. I had no problem ignoring all of Stefan's things as I ran quickly and quietly down the stairs. I sat on the stairs and listened closely. Or tried to.

It was like my head was being filled with rushing water, the certain sound of falling into a white water raft in a class five rapid. Thrum. I startled, but I couldn't tell if anybdy in the dining room heard me. I don't remember ever being in the dining room. Was it sealed off? Were the doors closed? Would they be able to hear the hush, one faint as the high grass banding beneath a breeze, of a girl shifting during what she could no doubt call her worst headache? Thrum. Hopefully not. And it was bad. Thrum. I don't know how long was passing. Seconds, minutes, hours. Thrum. But that beating, that sickening throb on the outer edges of my mind was growing quicker and stronger. I couldn't take it.

Thrum.

Thrum.

Thrum, thrum, thrum, thru-thru-thrum...

"Why don't the gentleman take their drinks in the study?"

It was a distant, chipper voice that could barely penetrate the vicious pulse that was threatening to send me spiraling into an irreperable state of psychosis, because if somebody didn't help me soon, this would drive me insane. However, the term 'study' did break through the horrific nostalgia enough to make me realize that I was on the stairs to the study.

Should I do someting? Had I already? It was hard to see straight, let alone try to understand how my body was reacting to such a searing, painful attack. It was brutal. Had my sunhat- the one I'd smacked on my head just in case- fallen into my eyes, resulting in a darkness that even a vampires' eyes could not penetrate? Maybe I was just twisted crazy.

But I was proven wrong when it stopped.

It was so sudden that I sat frozen on the stairs for countless seconds in a tumbled sitting way, just waiting for the final thrum that could be just powerful enough to finally end me in a blaze of unbridled pain and confusion.

I was on the stairs to the study.