A/N: I keep telling myself that my lack of inspiration is just me, but I do think it's got to do with the way things are going on TVD at the moment as well. I keep finding inspiration to write these different o/s, so I do apologise profusely... I'll try to do better and not let DE on screen ruin any more of my time to continue writing on my other stories.

This o/s is more of a cleansing from the pent up emotions I have from watching what's going on with Damon and Elena on the show. From Elena's POV only. Don't know a certain timeline. Stefan could still be gone, or he could be back. It's all open to your own imaginations.

Special thanks to aj81writing for being my trusted beta. And to angel6881 for providing me with some awesome lines for this story.

Take a breath, take it deep

Calm yourself, he says to me

If you play, you play for keeps

Take a gun, and count to three

I'm sweating now, moving slow

No time to think, my turn to go

I've got an itch to scratch, but I'm undecided. I should let it go and be done with it, but the devil in me is somehow pulling at my strings, dragging me down with him.

I fiddle with my cell phone for a while, scrolling down the recently dialled numbers. One by one I disregard them; Bonnie, Caroline, Jer. Stefan. I shake my head and bite my lip. I exit the recent list and open my phone book. My finger hovers over the letter D. Just looking at it makes my pulse race. I'm actually nervous, I find myself thinking, all the while my head is reeling; 'This isn't you. Stop it, stop it now.'

I proceed to ignore the voice of reason as I take the devil by the hand and push the key to make the call.

"What's up, Pouty?"

I feel his voice reverberating through my body, slightly distorted and wrong and since I'm shaking so hard, I can barely hold the phone to my ear. I'm quiet, can't speak. What am I supposed to say? –'Hey Damon, wanna ruin me for the day? Fancy corrupting me like the bad boy you claim to be?'

I can hear him smirk, I seriously can, and it annoys me. But I can't stop now. I don't want to stop.

Scary, I'm not making this shit up…

"I hear you breathing, Elena" he drawls, sounding bored. "What do you want? Or are you just trying to prank-call me?" There's a short silence. "It's not working you know, seeing as your name is lighting up my screen right at this moment."

I draw a shaky breath and open my mouth.

"Just say it like it is." He pauses. "I need you, Damon", he says in a most needy voice apparently trying to sound like me.

There it is. The smirk.

I hang up.

I throw the cell on my bed and rush to the bathroom. My head's a mess. What the hell was I thinking calling Damon?

Damon. Really?

I'm a wreck.

One short, hot shower later I feel better. Back to being Elena; the mature and sensible girl next door, and without a doubt the most – I nearly jump out of my skin (or at least my towel) as I walk out of my bathroom and Damon is lying on my bed, hands behind his head and a smirk on his face.

(Seriously. Why couldn't that rescinding the invitation business work in real life like it does on True Blood? Cause I sure as hell could use it right now.)

"What are you doing here?" I ask surly, even if I know the reason he's now perched on top of my bed, absently patting Mr. Bear.

"You call, I come. I'm easy like that, remember?"

I scowl at him, remembering when I called him during another one of Stefan's brushes with 'the other side' of vampirism. Sometimes I wish I could forget. I try to hide my chagrin.

"I hung up, which means I changed my mind." I turn my back on him and pull the towel closer. "Could you at least leave the room, so I can get dressed?"

"Why leave when all the fun's about to start?"

I glance over my shoulder and give him my best 'death-stare'. He holds his hands up and saunters towards the door.

"Alright, I'll be in the kitchen annoying baby bro' till you're ready", he says over his shoulder, leaving my bedroom door wide open on purpose.

I stalk over and slam it shut. Grinding my teeth in exasperation, I get dressed. And I'm cursing myself for being so stupid. Damon's a dick; no two ways about it, so what did I want from him all of a sudden? What could he possibly give me that Stefan never seemed able to? –'Freedom', that tiny little devil sitting on my shoulder whispers in my ear. I mentally try to push him away, but he won't budge.

So I flip my hair over my shoulder and open the door, barely glancing at my reflection in the mirror before I leave. I know what I look like; a young woman in skinny jeans and a tee, with a martyr complex and a death wish. And right now I'm signing a pact with the devil himself. He's as beautiful as an angel, but just as Gabriel when he stepped down from heaven towards hell, he's black as tar on the inside.

Damon− the fallen angel.

Damon− my temptation and my release.

You can see my heart beating

You can see it through my chest

I'm terrified but I'm not leaving

I know that I must pass this test

So just pull the trigger

We're in his car, with the top down and my hair flying around my face. I've got my feet on the dashboard and a can of Coke in my hand. I put my sunglasses over my eyes and try to push my hair behind my ears, but it's too windy to make a difference.

Don't ask me how I got in his car. I don't even want to figure that one out myself.

I glance over at Damon. His jaw is set, but there's a trace of a smile on his lips and I shiver.

"Are you cold?" he asks, and my mouth falls open in surprise. It's like he's got eyes on the side of his head or something.

"No", I answer and look over at my side of the road, watching the trees in a blur as Damon drives way past the speed limit. I'm trying to relax, but it's hard with him this close to me. And what's making it worse is the fact that Damon knows that I'm nervous. I take another sip of my Coke before I reach into my jean pocket to retrieve my cell. I ignore the missed calls; I delete them all without a second glance. I stare at the screen for a moment before I resolutely switch it off.

"What was that for?" Damon asks, a hint of surprise coloring his voice. His eyes are still on the road and I don't understand how he's even noticed what I've done.

"Where are we going?" I ask him instead, avoiding his question. He looks at me with a raised brow.

"Diverting. I like", he smirks and I blush. I hate the fact that he knows me so well. He's not my boyfriend; he shouldn't know me this intimately, taking me on mad road trips, showing up in my room uninvited.

I speed past the fact that I actually called him first.

I shove the cell as far into my bag as I possibly can.

"You're not gonna tell me then, where we're going?" I ask him.

He looks at me now, the blue in his eyes glittering dangerously and I have to physically stop myself from drowning in the depth of them by forcing myself to look ahead of us, on the road.

"There's no mystery, Elena. You wanted to get away. All I'm doing is providing the getaway car. You're the one in charge, I'm just your humble servant today."

I only take a moment to make the decision.

"Ok then. I wanna get drunk."

If he's surprised, he doesn't show it. He just speeds up a bit more and we don't talk until we hit the next town over.

"You know anyone in this dump?" Damon asks and I shake my head. "Sounds good enough."

Say a prayer to yourself

He says; close your eyes

Sometimes it helps

Then I get a scary thought

That he's here means he's never lost

He pulls over by a rundown bar and nods for me to step out.

"Let's get wasted then."

There isn't even a shadow of a smile on his face as he looks at me, those amazing eyes boring their way into my very soul. I quickly look away and grab for my jacket and my bag.

"What if they ask for my ID?" I ask, as we walk over towards the entrance.

"They won't", Damon replies.

I feel his hand lightly against the small of my back and I fight the impulse to move away from him. My pulse sets its own speed record and I'm sure Damon can feel it too− even through my clothes.

The bar is as dingy on the inside as it looks on the outside. There are few customers and the ones I can see pay us no notice at all. The actual bar is in the dead center of the room with a few scabby bar stools surrounding it. An old woman in a way too tight denim skirt is swaying her hips to the sultry music coming from the jukebox in the far right corner of the room, next to the rest rooms, which I hope I won't be having the misfortune to visit until I'm too drunk to care. I can smell them from where I'm standing, next to the entrance.

I start to turn towards Damon to tell him I've changed my mind, but his hand is urging me forward, so I step up to the bar, very reluctantly.

"Shot of tequila for me and a slippery nipple for the lady", Damon tells the bartender and I look at him incredulously. 'Dammit, Damon. Why can't you just for once not make everything sexual', I think just before I get caught up in the bartender doing his thing.

I find it amazing the way the shot is layered in two. I recognize the Irish milky liqueur, but I ask the bartender what exactly the aniseed smelling transparent liquid is that he's poured in first. He smiles ruefully and says; 'Sambuca.' I glance over at Damon, who's just looking at me with this weirdly content smile on his lips. He nods for me to look at what the bartender is doing next.

To my amazement, he's gotten a clear bottle out, half full of a red liquid. He opens it and sticks a straw in. 'Grenadine'; I read on the label in large swirly letters. After putting his thumb over the top of the straw to keep some fluid in, he pulls it out and carefully dips it into the shooter glass with Baileys and Sambuca before letting go of the top of the straw.

"That's the nipple", Damon whispers in my ear as the red alcohol stays like a drop of blood encased in the clear Sambuca. I shudder as his lips graze my lobe, but I don't move away from him. Instead, I take a deep breath and grab hold of the edge of the bar to keep steady.

The little devil is sitting most comfortably on my shoulder, smirking at me through the dirty mirror behind the bartender, who's already moved on to another punter standing next to Damon. Damon raises his glass and I bring my glass to his, letting them touch with a gentle 'clink'.

"Here's to past sins and new temptations", he says to me.

I smile my gentlest smile that I usually only ever gave my parents when I had to manipulate them into giving me what I wanted.

"Why? You think I'm tempted to act irrational just because I asked you to come?"

He looks at me coolly, but his lips are curled into a dangerous smile.

"Better the devil you know, Elena."

It's the way he says my name that makes me throw the shot back quickly before I grab the bartender's attention and order another. I ignore Damon's eyes on me as I lift the second shot to my lips. I feel the heat of a blush stain my cheeks and the blood burning my veins like fire.

I regret this day already. I really honestly do.

But when I finally meet his gaze and those blue mesmerizing eyes fills my vision and the rest of the world blurs around the edges, I know that I'm screwed. And I know that I want this. And all of the regrets fall away into a daze that is Damon.