A/N: Well hi there guys. ;D Jackie (a.k.a xJaackie) here, & her amazingly talented friend Stephanie. :B Baically, this is yet again, another Delena fanfiction (can you guys really get enough?:P) and once again it's a joint. Elena is again written by me and Damon is by Stephanie. (: Although, we each swap and share ideas, cos' we iz cool like that. ^_^ Any who, hope you enjoy reading this, because this has been our life for so long. :L Peace out and make sure to subscribe and review!

Love Me, for Eternity.

Chapter 1: The Antidote.

Elena was leant at an acute angle. Left side against the rough surface of the tomb wall; her arms wrapped neatly around her front with wide eyes, staring at the moonlight filtering through into the cave from the outside surroundings. She exhaled softly, her humming bird heart, consistent at a steady beat as Elena began contemplating how exactly she could spend her time here. It was strange. Not just that Elena was trapped in the tomb with Damon, but more as to why exactly she was trapped there in the first place; Damon had come to her rescue when she was sure she was experiencing her last minutes on earth. She still didn't know exactly who the male vampire that'd tried to kill her was working with, but she had a pretty damn good idea.

However, all of that seemed irrelevant now - Elena was here, with Damon for the uncertain future, whatever that held. Elena swallowed hard and risked a glance Damon's way. She frowned and then found herself speaking to him.

"Say something... Just anything, just say something," she whispered, almost desperately, she couldn't stand the silence between them.

It was exceptionally dark amidst captivity; the only light they had was from the feeble glow of the moon, which sat rightfully against a star-specked, black sky. The tomb was deserted, apart from the unwilling presence of Damon and Elena. It was dreadfully quiet too, for neither seemed to be able to speak. Although he would not admit it, the silence was killing Damon, but breaking it seemed far from possible. What was there to resound? They were trapped and isolated from the rest of the world with no means of escape - unless an admirably powerful witch happened to cross this path – so what was there to talk about?

Damon was lounged upon the bone-strewn floor with his back against a cold, hard, stone wall, his face buried despairingly in the warm palms of his hands. His eyes were closed, blocking out the intimidating darkness that ensnared them and his breathing was ragged and angry. This god damn tomb was the last place he wanted to be, but Elena being bound with him made it much less demoralizing than it should've been. It was like she held a light he needed but could not possess, like she was the last remaining spark of hope that he had left in himself. There was nothing left for them to do but wait – wait for someone, something to get them out of this prison.

Elena's despondent whispers seemed to awaken him and, distracted, he looked up, and a critical frown knotted his brows together. Tiredly, he breathed out a sigh and shook his head forlornly, his eyes lingering on her for a moment.

"What am I supposed to say, Elena?" he murmured weakly, keeping the raging outbursts that tickled his lips at bay, despite it proving relatively difficult. He balanced his elbows atop his knees and stared solemnly at the black wall opposite, finally managing to pull his eyes away from the human girl he was trapped with.

He didn't even understand why she was stuck here. She just … was.

The rational, incredibly stubborn side of Elena was cursing herself inwardly for the sudden outburst of words she'd almost fired at Damon. But, in a way, she always had been and always would be vulnerable in regards to Damon and anything involving him. And she hated that. And although she was eternally grateful for Damon's heroic actions in saving her life; she couldn't rid the heavy cloud of guilt that seemed to hangover her like a dull rain cloud hovering over a warm, bright meadow. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was for forcing his involvement and that she would find a way to get the both of them out; but what would be the point? Her eyes were still fixed upon Damon's body as a light frown captured her lips, due to the weak tone his words had been delivered in. She inhaled a sharp breath before looking down, sinking further back into the wall.

For several minutes then, Elena attempted to reply to him, but no sound seemed to escape her lips. Finally, though, Elena forced herself to respond to him.

"I don't know? Shout at me; tell me how stupid I am for nearly getting myself killed and then trapping you in this tomb with me? Just say anything, I can't stand this..." Elena shot her eyes to him once again, turning on her side as she did so "This silence! So please, just, talk to me."

And Elena, despite holding disbelief that the day she began begging not only for Damon's company, but for the common tone of disdain that she'd grown so used to whenever he spoke… that seemed to be exactly what the human was doing. She felt weak, utterly vulnerable and had no idea what to do.

Damon breathed a half-hearted laugh. Nobody in their right mind would actually tell Damon to get angry at them, for his rage was never a gracious sight. What was it with Elena? Was she not scared of him? Any sane person would be if they had considerable knowledge on his dark and bloody past. He was a killer, admittedly, and felt no remorse for any of his previous doings. He was who he was and nobody was ever going to change that. At least, they wouldn't change it dramatically. He liked the fact that he was feared and he enjoyed the idea of being intimidating to anybody he associated with. But he didn't seem to have that effect on Elena; at least not immediately. She remained friendly – it was almost as if she cared …

"You know you were an idiot," said Damon quietly, "You almost got yourself killed. But I can't get pissed with you. It doesn't matter now, you're safe. All that matters."

Drunk with unneeded fatigue, Damon leant his head against the wall and closed his eyes. He could see where Elena was coming from – the silence was somewhat tedious. But, as already established, words were ungraspable. So, reluctantly, Damon opened his eyes and addressed Elena, his shadowed eyes focused on her soft olive skin. He tried to catch her eye, and gestured for her to sit beside him. If they could not come up with an escape plan or conjure up small talk, there was always clarification.

"What exactly happened before I got to you, Elena?" he asked curiously, the dark eyes beneath his shockingly dark, messy hair narrowed contemplatively. He wanted the whole story. It may be of some assistance to them.

Call her an idiot, and call her crazy, but right now, Elena craved Damon Salvatore's company. It was fairly absurd, for Elena knew Damon, perhaps more than anyone else ever had or ever could; there was just something about him, that although he drove her to the brink of insanity more times than not - Elena had to admit that when Damon cared for something or someone, the chance of any harm coming to the object of Damon's affections would be next to nothing. And whether it was due to the fact that Elena was indeed the spitting image of Damon's vampire ex, Katherine, or whether it was merely due to the fact that Elena had made an effort to try to understand him and chip at his inner walls; Elena knew Damon would never, under any circumstances allow any impairment to reach her. He'd rather die.

She'd be lying if she said she didn't like the way he looked at her sometimes; the shudders were like no other. Thankfully, Damon's words broke her daze and she shot her eyes his way. The brunette sighed, 'same old Damon', her mind chimed. Upon noticing his hand gesture, Elena pulled her tired body up from the ground and slid into the space beside his crouched figure.

"He was... In his late twenties to early thirties I think. And he had an accent... Like, a Mississippi accent," Elena reported, thinking hard.

Appreciative of Elena's approval to slide into the space beside him, Damon lazily inclined his head so that he faced her. He was all ears for her dramatic re-tell of her near-death experience. She wouldn't be here to tell it had he not stepped in and saved her life. Damon usually found great lengths of hilarity in how often he found himself rescuing Elena from her episodes of damsel in distress, but now it wasn't so amusing. As time went on, these situations got even more perilous. Damon found he needed to protect Elena, rather than force himself to.

"Details needed, Elena," Damon said edgily; he needed her to be specific, in order to know exactly what happened and maybe realise why, "Vampire? Human? Alien? Mentally deficient?"

He stifled his yawn as he waited for her to continue. They hadn't been in this tomb long, but to Damon the hours felt endless. Already, he could feel himself weakening and the disturbing ache in his jaw was slowing becoming more prominent. If they were to be stuck here much longer, Damon had to be careful … An extremely hungry vampire in the presence of a rather appealing human was certainly not a good composition.

Elena's legs nudged themselves together before curling underneath her hips, her right shoulder pressed against the tomb wall as she did so. Months prior to this night Elena would've been repulsed by the idea of being even a fraction of this distance close to him; but now? Elena had seen a side of Damon recently that... If he allowed it to show often enough, it could may, just maybe redeem him of the plentiful heartless acts he'd committed over the hundreds of years he'd been alive. She allowed a small smile to crack across her features, elbowing him lightly before rolling her eyes.

"No, it was the cookie monster," she muttered sarcastically before composing herself and continuing "He was a vampire. And he seemed old, real old," she paused before shaking her head "I don't think he was an original though, or he could've compelled you."

Elena allowed a soft sigh to pass her pouted lips and leant further into the tomb wall, her eyes fluttering, making way for a gentle yawn. Elena continued to burrow herself into the rough surface before making a face, unable to find a comfortable spot.

"And honestly? How the hell am I supposed to sleep in here with rocks constantly jabbing me in the back?"

Damon shrugged, dismissing Elena's attempt at dry sarcasm. It was possible the vampire she was referring to was an Original, but Elena could be right; he just hadn't seemed smart enough to come from the first genesis of vampires. They were usually very powerful and very intelligent, but this one had managed to get himself killed pretty quickly. Damon sighed.

"He could've been an Original," he said contemplatively, kicking aside a dusty rock, "Maybe he was too dumb to compel me. He didn't exactly have the chance to, either. I staked him quick enough."

Damon ran a hand through his shock of silky, black hair. He then gestured for Elena to continue with her recital, but wasn't sure if there was much else worth knowing. So far, nothing she had mentioned explained why Elena was trapped in this tomb. He understood why he couldn't get out, being a vampire and all. But Elena was human. It just didn't make sense.

He turned as his only company in this prison expressed her discomfort. For a moment he frowned, then shrugged off his precious leather jacket and handed it to her without a word. A wry, fake smile etched itself across his lips, but as he turned away again, it vanished. He focused on disregarding the conspicuous ache in his jaw instead. He didn't know how long they'd been stuck in this tomb. Quite frankly, he didn't care. Captivity was just making him hungry and a meal was right there, beside him, its shoulder a mere inch from his own.

Damon shut his eyes and exhaled heavily, resting his head against the wall at his rear. There was no way on earth that he would let himself go through with that. It was Elena. And that mere fact explained it all.

Elena copied Damon's careless shrug at his response; she honestly had no idea a) why such a seemingly weak vampire had been sent to kill her or b) why he'd travelled alone to do it. It was then a sickening, petrifying thought crossed her mind. What if he hadn't travelled alone? What if there were numerous other vampires, older, stronger and much wiser ones ready for the second she and Damon were released to launch their attack? Upon that thought, Elena immediately averted her eyes towards Damon and her heart squeezed. Damon wouldn't die for her; why? Because Elena wouldn't let him; then and there she made a silent, private promise to herself; no more hurt and grief, no matter whether it physical or mental would come to Damon due to her cause. Thrust back to reality by Damon's offer, Elena paused, stunned for a second or two before speaking.

"… Thanks," she said, taking the jacket hesitantly before threading her arms neatly through it; and as she did so, a scent, the most intoxicating smell she'd ever encountered flooded her nostrils and she was momentarily taken aback. Had Damon always smelt this way?

She burrowed into the over-sized black jacket and for a second or two just sat there, beside Damon, not saying a word. That was, until she heard him exhale, as if it was a silent cue for her to speak. She looked down to her hands.

"I don't know how I'm trapped in here; and I don't think I'm going to find out anytime soon," she said, raising her eyes, catching his and then adding "But in the meantime, no matter what happens. I won't let you put your life in danger for me, Damon. I'm not being the cause of your death. It's stupid, and ridiculous, and what's worse is that you know damn right it is."

Even though Damon somewhat appreciated Elena's brave and righteous statement, he couldn't help but disagree with her.

"I have to put my life in danger in order to keep you safe," he told her quietly. His eyes did not waver from hers. He stared into her magically sweet, brown eyes, unblinking and determined, "Whether you like it or not, Elena, if I have to, I'll die protecting you. And so will Stefan."

Damon knew that Elena had something against people putting themselves at risk for her and he could see why. But he wouldn't admit he understood the way she felt. After all, it didn't come from own experiences. Not many people would put themselves in danger to save his life, because he was usually quite able to take care of himself. And … he didn't have many friends that would be willing to do that. As Elena slipped on his jacket (which was miles too big for her), he took a moment to just look at her.

The radiant but feeble glow from the moon lit up her face quite majestically. Her skin looked almost silvery against the glum blackness of the tomb and her long, dark hair shone remarkably. The resemblance to Katherine was uncanny, but it was distinct. They could've been twins. But there were differences. Gracious differences. Elena had a heart and a soul, whereas Katherine had killed hers along with everything else she murdered heartlessly. Elena's eyes glittered with maturity and understanding and Katherine's did not. They were very subtle, ambiguous variations, but they were there all the same.

It was only when Elena looked up at him again that he remembered he was staring. Hastily, he looked away, his eyes darkening at his carelessness.

"You'll get out," he said sternly. "I'll make sure you do."

And before Damon's his first sentence had escaped his mouth, Elena's head was already swaying from side to side, a couple of the strands of her light brown hair shaking as she did so. Damon didn't understand, and as to why he didn't? Elena had no idea. But how could one explain to another of whom was already so willing to die for them that she'd rather sacrifice herself than see any of her loved ones hurt. Including him… And once again, she felt a very obvious and much defined pang in her chest; she clutched her arms tightly; trying to suppress the sudden emotion of which had overwhelmed her. Was this how it would feel if Damon was to die because of her? No, it was not. It would be indescribably worse; that much she knew. She sighed, her eyes now staring down at the dirty ground.

"You don't have to do anything, Damon," Elena said, fairly calmly at first before running his words over in her head, analysing them as she did so; and degree by degree angst and anger boiled up within her soul and at the words 'I'll die protecting you' she lost it.

Elena's head snapped up and she took Damon by the shoulders, her brown bambi eyes burning into his scorching blue orbs as she did so.

"Stop that! I'm not having you speak to me that way! As if I'm someone more important than just a human girl," she paused, her rage increasing more and more by the second. "Don't I get any say in anything at all? It's my life Damon, MY life!" She said in a desperate rasp before loosening her grip on his shoulders and shaking her head, her facial features softening as she continued in a tender whisper. "Do you know what I'd do, how I'd feel if anything happened to you ... Because of me?"

To his surprise, Elena reacted to his assurances very quickly. Damon knew that she would not back down if he and his brother continued to tell her that they would die for her. She wasn't having it. She just didn't understand that her life was worth much more than theirs. They'd walked the Earth for over 170 years now – it didn't matter when their time was up. It should've been up a long time ago. And if Elena was to die, then that meant the Originals had won, for they clearly wanted to witness her fate. Why else would numerous vampires be sent to kill her?

"Elena-"

He tried to cut in but she continued to rant and rave. All he could do was sit there and listen to her, watching as her expression turned stony. But when she finally withdrew her tight grip on his shoulders, he still did not look away from her. Before she could retreat entirely, he grasped her hand quickly in his and held onto it.

"Listen to me," he said roughly, his teeth very nearly clenched at his measure of determination. "You are more than just a human girl and I don't give a damn if you think otherwise." His voice was quiet and somewhat weakened, but steady.

He looked at her intently, as if searching her face for a hidden secret, something she buried there. He let go of her hand but refused to retract his watch upon her. For a moment, he felt transfixed, but what she said next gave him a harsh kick back into reality. Not many people would say something like this to him. He was partially misunderstood and, to many, untrustworthy. It was true, nobody sane would put their faith in him, nor would they not fear him. But Elena … She was different. She seemed to sort of trust him, even if it wasn't a lot, and she understood him like nobody else did. Maybe more than he understood himself.

But as she spoke these gentle words, he looked away and frowned. Then he uttered the truth.

"No. I don't."

And what Damon did next, Elena had not anticipated at all; she had no time whatsoever to react before she felt her hand in Damon's; the second their skin made contact with one another's Elena felt sparks, chills electrify her entire body, setting it on fire as goose pimples appeared upon every line of her skin; Damon had never held her hand this way before... Elena's teeth bit down softly into her lower lip, unable to suppress the feeling so obviously overwhelming her right now. This feeling was strange as well as it was powerful; but, at the same time, scared the hell out of her. Upon the release of her hand, Elena couldn't help but gasp slightly, her fingers still tingling from the contact they'd received from his.

Her eyes held his for a very, very prolonged moment; his words cut through her like a knife, causing her emotions, thoughts, senses to become inflicted and blur into one. She knew Damon cared for her, that much was obvious, but to see how much he did? Well, that was another story altogether. And, without asking permission from her mind, her voice spoke.

"Damon..." She said his name quietly, hesitantly almost, but the words she'd planned on saying just didn't seem to be there anymore; her whispering of his name lingered in the sudden silence for a few moments as she heard the break in his voice at that admittance of misunderstanding.

He didn't know how it felt to be cared for. Right then and there, she was determined to show him; she took his hand again, the spark ignited once more as she spoke.

"Then let me show you."

Vampire intuition would usually tell Damon what was coming in situations similar to this, if not more complicating. But his intuition failed him here, as Elena gripped his hand fiercely in her own, a fiery look in her eyes that was enough to melt his heart. The big, brown orbs he so easily lost himself in seemed to gleam in the moonlight. He saw something in them that he had never seen in Katherine's; something that he had never felt nor experienced himself. But he couldn't place a finger on it exactly. All he knew was that it was intense emotion. He could sense it pulsating from her, emitting a ghostly tension between them.

"Elena-" he started, but cut himself off. He felt something growing within the pit of his stomach, something that seemed to rise into his throat and temporarily obstruct his breathing.

The aching need for the hot, crimson liquid that swam inside her only became more distinct at every word she spoke, her rose-tinted lips shaping each sound confidently.

Damon didn't know what was approaching once these five conclusive words had been uttered. Then let me show you … – he wasn't really thinking about what Elena might do or say next. He was only aware of his intensifying hunger and that his grip on Elena's delicate hand was tightening painfully. He was trying to restrain himself from pouncing on her and burying his face in the flesh of her milk-white neck, from letting his fangs protrude and pierce the soft skin that protected the veins there. Never had he felt his usually sustained control slip away from him before. He attempted to adjust and reinstate his crumbling barriers, but his efforts were proving useless. Yet he continued to fight it, trying very hard to maintain the human shape of his canines.

And when those seemingly significant five words slipped from the part in between Elena's lips she could hardly believe she'd said them. What would Stefan think if he could see them both this way right now? Elena's tiny hand desperately, almost painfully clutching Damon's own whilst each of their sets of orbs continued to bore into one another's, their breathing patterns in unison and the many silent words that to Elena, were so loud they began surrounding her. She swallowed back some sort of emotion she didn't recognise and found herself drowning, suffocating even in the intoxicating smell of his scent coupled with the hold he, and those scorching blue eyes had over her.

It was at that moment that Elena decided what she wanted to do; more so, what she needed to do. The gentle, unprotected whisper of her name from those perfectly shaped lips were the last ounce of inspiration (as well as will power) Elena needed to complete her promise to him that she'd made only moments before. Her free hand raised and reached for his face, she took it gently and her forefinger began tracing the invisible lines of beauty from his jawline, to his nose, to underneath his eyes, his forehead and then, at last his lips. Elena's breath hitched as she shuffled slightly closer to him, her forefinger easily slipping through the gap in between his lips, caressing the sharp edge of his fangs.

"I want you to feed from me, Damon."

Steph+Jackie x3