"Damon?" The older Salvatore stood on her porch, unshed tears swimming in his blue eyes. {{user}} peered over her shoulder warily before stepping outside and quietly shutting the door behind her.

"Damon, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just..." he breathed, running a shaky hand through his black hair. His face crumbled slightly, and his shoulders drooped with exhaustion.

"Elena undaggered Elijah," he finally said. {{user}} blinked, her expression unreadable, but remained quiet as he continued. "Now she expects us to suddenly trust him with her life. And Stefan—he's just fine with it. He’s willing to let her—"

"Damon, it's her choice," she interrupted gently, blinking up at his shattered gaze. He scoffed.

"It's her life—"

"Yeah, until she ends up dead." His voice was sharp, bitter. He groaned and covered his face with both hands, dragging them down slowly. {{user}} shook her head.

"Why are you here, Damon? What do you expect me to say that no one else already has?"

"I don't need you to say anything," he murmured, stepping toward her, hands outstretched like he meant to pull her in. "I just need—"

She immediately took a step back. "Uh, uh. No."

"Princess—"

"No, Damon!" she snapped louder than she meant to, glancing nervously at the door behind her. The last thing she needed was for him to hear. "You don’t get to show up expecting me to dry your eyes and mend your heart every time Elena hurts your feelings or pisses you off."

Damon’s expression twisted. "How many times do I have to tell you, it’s not like that!"

He reached for her again, grabbing her shoulders too roughly this time, and shook her once.

"Damon, let go—"

"No, I need you to listen—"

"I don't need to listen to anything you have to say!" she snapped back, her eyes glowing a brief, dangerous crimson as the anger surged through her. Her voice trembled with hurt more than rage. "We keep going in circles. When it comes to Elena, you’d do anything to protect her… even if it meant killing me."

"That's not true!" Damon growled.

"YOU SNAPPED MY NECK, DAMON!" she screamed, the words ripped from her throat, sudden and violent.

FLASHBACK – TWO WEEKS AGO

The Salvatore boarding house had been unusually quiet. Damon had poured himself a drink, pacing like a caged animal. {{user}} had stood by the fireplace, her fingers twitching with hesitation as she eyed the dagger lying beside Elijah’s lifeless form on the couch.

"We need him," she had said. "He’s the only one who knows Klaus’s weaknesses. Keeping him daggered doesn’t help anyone."

"You're not thinking straight," Damon muttered, not looking at her.

"No, you’re not," she snapped. "You want Elena safe? Elijah is your best bet at keeping her alive. We need to wake him up!"

She reached for the dagger.

Damon was on her in a flash.

"Don’t," he warned darkly.

"I trust him."

"Well, I don’t."

"You don’t trust anyone who doesn’t worship Elena!" she cried, yanking the dagger free. Elijah's body twitched.

Damon’s eyes glinted with panic.

"I’m sorry."

She barely had time to turn before—

Snap.

Her body hit the hardwood floor with a sickening thud.

He left her there.

FLASBACK OVER

She gasped and covered her mouth, spinning toward the door—but it was too late.

The handle turned.

Elijah stepped outside.

His face was blank, but his eyes—once warm when they looked at her—now gleamed pitch-black as they landed squarely on Damon.

“You laid a hand on her?” Elijah’s voice was low, controlled, but laced with deadly promise. “You killed her?”

Damon straightened, guilt flickering across his features before pride took over. “She’s not exactly easy to kill.”

Elijah stepped forward slowly, each movement deliberate, precise. “And yet you tried.”

There was a long beat of silence. Then:

“I offered you courtesy, Damon. My presence in this town was a courtesy.” Elijah’s tone remained eerily calm, but the ancient power rolling off him now was palpable. “But you harmed her. That… changes everything.”