Title: Push
Rating: M (language, violence, and sexual situations)
Pairing: Damon Salvatore & Elena Gilbert
I don't own these characters.

A/N: Hello, all. This is my first Vampire Diaries fic, based on the television show. It's just a short fic, only one or two more chapters will follow this one. Thanks for taking the time to read and please enjoy! Reviews and constructive criticism always welcome. :)

Push
Chapter I: The Confession

And I don't know if I've ever been really loved
By a hand that's touched me.
–Matchbox 20, "Push"

"Hello, Elena," I said, before she had even fully stepped into my house. I felt my lips curl into a sardonic smile as I slowly turned around, one hand delicately grasping the glass of straight whiskey. I gave it a slight swirl and placed the glass at my mouth and sipped lightly.

Elena regarded me with disdain as she walked towards me from the entrance. "Is Stefan here?" she asked, looking around the room. She sighed and pushed a hand through her dark locks, dishevelling her hair for a moment, before it fell back into place perfectly.

"No," I answered casually, meeting her in the middle of the room. "He's gone to hunt and won't be back until morning."

She shot me a panicked look. "Hunt?"

I felt the mischievous grin on my face before I could stop it from fully forming. "Oh, yes. But don't worry – only rabbits, foxes...and various other woodland creatures. You know Stefan."

"I thought he only needed to do that – "

I interrupted her. "He's still a recovering addict, you know. We wouldn't want him going over the edge again, now would we?" I rolled my eyes at Stefan's precautions and muttered, "Goody-good." I set my glass down on one of the mahogany tables that furnished the main room.

"I see...well, in that case, I guess I'll come back tomorrow," Elena said. Her soft brown eyes locked on my blue ones for a moment. She quickly averted her gaze and turned to leave.

I appeared in front of her in an instant, startling her.

"Damon!" she snapped. "Don't do that! Just because you have that ability doesn't mean you have to use it to scare the hell out of me every time!" Her angry expression softened when she noticed that I was staring at her quite openly.

"What?" she asked, her voice lighter than a moment ago. She took a step back; I must have been too close for her own personal comfort.

"You knew that Stefan would be out tonight," I accused. Of course, I didn't really know that, but I did like to play my games – especially with her. It made my pulse race and my blood flow every time and it was a feeling that I rather enjoyed. It made me feel alive.

I was surprised when her mouth hung open for a moment. She realized what she was doing and quickly closed it, not being able to think of a response. She finally shrugged, as if to herself, and nodded in my direction.

"You're right, Damon. I wanted to talk to you," Elena admitted, meeting my eyes and searching my face.

"Oh, well this should be good," I replied, smirking. "Pray tell, Elena, what do we have to talk about?"

"Us," she replied bluntly, and I was momentarily taken aback but quickly regained my composure. I wandered away from her and sat down on the couch.

"My, I wasn't expecting this conversation yet! I mean, I wasn't sure if we were ready to take the next step, but apparently we are. Stefan be damned!" I said, chuckling.

She took a seat next to me and probed me with her eyes. I hated when she did that – it made me feel a little too exposed, even though I knew I should be perfectly well-versed in hiding my true feelings.

"It's about what Isobel said," Elena began carefully, still regarding me with that same expression.

"I'm sorry, Elena, but that lady is out of her freakin' mind – birth mother or no, if you get what I'm saying here." I decided to meet her strange expression with one of my own, but found myself unable to tear my eyes away from her delicate face.

"She said that you were in love with me! How the hell am I supposed to ignore that? How the hell is Stefan supposed to ignore that?" Elena shot back, finally moving her eyes to gaze down at her lap.

"Did you just completely ignore my last comment? Isobel is insane," I emphasized. "She's not right in the head!" I made an obscene gesture to show what I meant.

"Damon, as...crazy as Isobel seems, she's also very intelligent. I could see that right away," Elena argued, her nostrils flaring. "Can't you be serious for one damn moment in your life?"

"I'm being perfectly serious, Elena, and let me tell you right now: I am not in love with you." Even as the words left my mouth, I began to feel a strange knot form in the pit of my stomach. "So if I were you, I would just stop pressing this issue and go on home so you can be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning for your oh-so-daring and romantic boyfriend, okay?" I reached over for my drink and took a gulp that almost left me sputtering.

Elena flashed another look at me. "I don't want to ruin our friendship...or whatever we like to call this." She made a grand gesture to encompass all that we had been through in the past few weeks and then stood up, straightening her clothes.

The knot grew as I stood up to escort her to the door and an overwhelming sense of...something crashed into me, over me, and around me. I tried to push it down but it wouldn't go away, especially not with Stefan's earlier words haunting me: This will not be a repeat of 1864, he had said, leaving me momentarily cold.

I shook the thoughts away and took Elena by the elbow, leading her to the door. Something terrible was beginning to gnaw at me. All she had wanted was honesty, and I seemed perfectly incapable of delivering even that. I knew I had trust issues...but I really did trust her, especially after she came back for me in the tomb.

The tomb. I felt my chest constrict tightly as the images of that night floated back. The tomb where Katherine had not been. My Katherine...who had never truly loved me, nor had any desire to see me again. My heart had ached for her for over a century...and now it was laced with a different kind of ache. The one that occurs when that organ is ripped from your chest and squeezed until the blood stops flowing.

It was beginning to seem that women spelled out only one thing for me, and that one thing was doom.

"Damon!"

I came back from my thoughts at Elena's frantic voice. I refocused my vision on her, shaking my head. Since when had I turned into such a contemplative sap? I thought I knew the answer, but refused to acknowledge it and pushed it away fiercely.

"Damon," Elena said again, this time touching my arm lightly. "Are you okay?"

Her genuine concern hammered away at the wall I had built around myself and it was then I decided that nothing could be accomplished by lying. If this hurt her and Stefan, then so be it; but if their love was strong enough, they would be able to get through it. Why should I be confined to the side, as always, only to watch the love of others bloom and grow, while mine lay untouched in a shallow grave, cold, hard and untrusting?

I opened my mouth to say it, to say the words I knew I must say...and no sound came out. I curled my hands into fists. I couldn't do it. My weakness in this moment was truly pathetic.

"I can't do this." The words left my mouth before I even had time to fully process them. I had only said those words once, in 1864, and now they rang clearly through my mind, echoing loudly and unkindly, pulling me into the dark places I had fought so hard to avoid in the past.

Elena stood directly in front of me, still, only a few feet away, brown eyes flashing. "I need to know if there is any truth to Isobel's words," she said again. Confronting me like this was the only way that I would ever answer any of her questions and I knew that she would not leave until I satisfied her with an honest answer.

"It's been a long night, Elena. You should leave. Go home, get some rest, and your head will be clear of all of this nonsense in the morning. Understand?" I looked away briefly as I willed my composure to return.

"So it's just nonsense, then?" Elena pressed, taking a long step forward so she was mere inches from me. She was so close and her scent wafted up through my nostrils, stronger than before; a sweet feminine scent tinted slightly with something floral – but underneath that, something even better lingered: the rustic smell of her blood.

The urge to hide from myself rose up almost immediately, but I fought it down. I licked my lips and stared down at her, pushing a hand through my black hair before letting my arms lay limply at my sides in a gesture of utter helplessness.

"Why won't you deny it?" Elena whispered, searching my eyes. "Why aren't you telling me that it's all a lie Isobel made up to play with my mind?"

I suddenly curled my hand into a fist and slammed it into the table beside us, leaving a sizeable dent and scattering various things to the floor. My hand bled in several places, but I didn't care. Elena started at the violence, but did not back away from me.

"You're not her!" I growled suddenly. I could feel the fury and anguish rising in my chest. "You are not Katherine!" Something burned at the back of my eyes.

Her own eyes widened for a moment, then softened as she regarded my pain. "Damon – "

"Yet I find myself in love with you!" I yelled, cutting her off. I hit my hand on the table again, the frustration of the situation rising in me. "And I would die for you, Elena...just like I died for her." It was something I had realized a long time ago but had refused to acknowledge until this moment. I could feel myself begin to shake as I finally grasped the meaning of my own words.

I was in love with Elena Gilbert and I was about to ruin everything.