A/N: This is set directly after episode 4x05 and Elena's first kill. It goes in a very different direction than the show from there. I took the idea of the cure, the sire bond and the Delena relationship and formed an idea. As much as I half hated doing it…I'm ignoring all Delena events in episode 4x07 and beyond. Forgive me, but I don't like the idea of their first time being under the sire bond….as hot as it was.

Thank you for the open minded readers that will take this journey with me. I write because I am obsessed with these characters and have grown to love them. I get these ideas in my head that I can't shake so I write them down. I figure there are at least a handful of people out there that could enjoy so that's why I share on here. I list as Elena and Damon because as with any fiction I write in this fandom…it's a major source of inspiration and passion for me. That doesn't mean there aren't other relationships or aspects of relationships included so read with caution and continue on at your own risk. Elena is a huge ingredient in many dynamics in this fandom and I choose not to ignore that.

xxxx

After the blood was washed clean from her hands and her teeth scrubbed of their crimson stain; Elena did the only thing she knew to do. She huddled into her bed, hair still wet and cold atop her head in a messy bun.

She pulled her laptop onto the bed and pressed play on a slide show that was always paused and ready as needed. A picture of herself and Jeremy when they were kids faded in where she stood with her hair in braids and missing a tooth, Jeremy hugging her tightly around the waist. The next photo faded slowly over the last, her mother kissing Elena's three year old forehead.

Elena grabbed the wine bottle that was wedged between the mattress and headboard, popping the cork and taking a long gulp. The liquid dribbled a little down her chin but she didn't bother wiping it away as the next photo slid into view. It was of Elena blowing out her candles on her ninth birthday, Bonnie next to her with a huge grin.

More wine and a shuffled playlist later, and Elena was almost numb to the pain of her first kill. Guilt was a disgusting feeling, eats at you from the inside out like maggots to a corpse. She'd do anything she could to avoid feeling it to the extent she had today. Anything.

Her eyes were fuzzy with the buzz of wine in the dim room, lit only by candles that lined atop every surface. She wanted to drift into the pictures, transport herself back to when evil was only in stories and love was promising.

Now there was no love or kindness without evil in it, around it, through it. Monsters lurked further than inside closets and under beds; they looked back at her in mirrors.

Xxxxx

The smell of cinnamon burned his nostrils before he even reached her front porch. As silent as the still trees that shadowed the edges of her yard, he made his way into the foyer. It was dark except for the light that peeked down the staircase from her cracked bedroom door. He took a deep breath, opening his senses. He smelled her even through the thick sharp scent of cinnamon candles that she tended to burn while scribbling furiously in her diary.

He had just fed, some girl with strawberry hair. She tasted bitter, her blood thinned with alcohol, but it was enough to charge his sense of sight, sound, taste…and more importantly, smell.

His eyes fluttered shut, inhaling slowly. Something like rain burned his nostrils and his head tilted downward in disappointment before his eyes blinked open. She was sorrowful, a scent he had learned quickly from her.

He was at her door, only the shift in the air giving him away.

"Damon?" Elena called out, voice hoarse but strong. He toed the door open with a long creak, never lifting his gaze from the floor beneath him.

Something caught in his throat before his nose picked up on the smell. His eyes drifted upwards and found the source of the familiar aroma.

"Doing a little drinking?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow towards the bottle of wine resting against her side. Her only answer was a shrug and a pop of the cork. He noted an empty bottle was laying on her nightstand.

He watched her take a small sip and pull the bottle away from her lips to examine the label momentarily with a scrunched nose before returning for a healthy gulp. He crept onto the bed beside her, crossing his ankles and propping his hands behind his head against her headboard. "What are we watching?"

She shrugged again, "let's just have a drink Damon." As if her nonchalant act fooled him for a second... He, however, played along and grabbed the bottle from her hand and let the tart liquid top off his already full belly. When he finished he knew she was gazing at him with expectant eyes without even turning his gaze onto her.

"That you?" he asked, nodding towards the computer screen.

"Used to be," she muttered, kicking the covers away to reveal a faded t shirt and flannel shorts.

He turned to look at her then, studying her profile; the way her eyebrows furrowed slightly into the bridge of her nose and eyes turned glassy with tears she wouldn't dare let spill. His hand found hers before he knew it, her head tucking under his chin.

He pursed his lips, taking in a slow breath, acidic rain invading his senses. Not too much longer and the blood would slow in his veins and he'd lose her scent. The hunger would return, his skin turning cooler, human feelings dulled and replaced with a sharp gnawing need. He wanted to smell her, not the sorrow, just her.

"You need to feed," he said into her hair.

A picture of her thirteen year old self in a cheer uniform filled the computer screen and she squinted at it, grimacing at the wide happy smile. She dragged the wine bottle up his chest to tilt the liquid into her mouth, dribbling deep purple onto his white shirt. "Lightweight," he murmured, plucking the bottle from her hand and taking another gulp.

She cleared her throat and settled against him, "I'm not hungry."

Her scent remained the same even as he draped his arm around her and pulled her in. Her head settled onto his chest and knee crept up to rest lightly atop his thigh. He breathed her in again, catching a faint tinge of something sweet. He hadn't smelled it before and it piqued his curiosity.

He nudged the bottle back into her hand and as she took another sip he further pushed the issue, "You're too pale, you'll feel better after you feed."

She snorted then, pushing off of his chest to sit up and face him, "I'm not talking about this with you."

He rolled his eyes, patting her bare thigh and letting his hand rest briefly there before taking the bottle back from her for another swig. "Does it ever cross your mind that I know what I'm talking about?"

Something dark flashed across Elena's face and she turned her attention back to the pictures fading in and out on the screen. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, lips pressed tightly together. Damon sighed, his heart clenching at the memory of her sobbing accusingly over Connor's dead body.

"Elena…" he murmured, "I won't apologize for what I told you to do."

The look she hurled at him caused him to flinch inwardly but he kept his eyes steadily on hers.

"Leave," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"He was trying to kill Jeremy, you…Stefan…", he leaned in closer to her seething body, "you killed someone…and you did it to protect the people that you love. You're a vampire and you're going to kill."

She shook her head, tears welling and lips quivering, "This isn't who I am."

"I'm far too old to play pretend," Damon cupped her face in his hands, bringing his eyes closer to hers, "You would do anything to protect the ones you love, is that not you?"

"I don't know who I am anymore…"