Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while. ;)

Author's note: Finally going out on a limb and posting my first story. Hope you enjoy it! Chapter Two is about halfway done, so it should be posted by midweek. Feedback/reviews welcome.


"Wait For Me to Come Home"

Chapter One

I miss those blue eyes

How you kiss me at night

The feel of his fingers gliding lightly over her skin made her shiver in anticipation. Even with her eyes closed, her hands found the soft silkiness of his hair and tangled in it, bringing his mouth to hers. His lips skimmed over hers, teasing, testing. When he pulled back, she started to protest and he took advantage of the opportunity, swooping down to take her mouth properly. His tongue brushed against hers, and she savored the unique taste of him—bourbon and . . . citrus? Oranges. Had to be.

When he finally broke the kiss, she was panting softly. He traced a path down her jaw to her throat, alternating between nips and hot, open-mouth kisses. As he reached a particularly sensitive area on her neck, just below her ear, she held her breath. At the same time, he shifted, and she felt his erection press against the most feminine part of her. She spread her legs further and reached down between them to grasp his hard shaft, stroking him gently from base to tip. On the fifth stroke, he let out a low growl and grabbed her wrist, pinning her hand next to her head. "That's enough of that, you little minx," he rasped, giving her earlobe a sharp nip with one of his fangs.

She couldn't help but smile at the effect she had on him. "What's the matter, tough guy? Can't take a little teasing?"

He chuckled and used his free hand to pinch her nipple lightly. He laughed harder when she squealed and tried to bite his wrist. Deciding she'd had enough, she lifted her hips until the head of his cock slid between her folds. His laugh died on a hiss, and he buried his face in her throat once more. Lacing his fingers with hers, he eased his hips forward, entering her fully and finishing what she had started. Sighing with pleasure, she surrendered to the steady rhythm he set. His fangs scraped against her neck, and her whole body tightened in response. Turning her head to give him better access, she spoke the words that were always on the tip of her tongue now. Words she didn't need or want to stop saying. Ever. "I love you, Damon."

He hesitated for a moment, and she couldn't help but wonder if it still caught him off guard. Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she heard his slightly muffled response, felt it in her soul.

"Love you, 'Lena. Always." With that, he thrust deep and buried his fangs in her throat, his possession complete. As Elena cried out from the force of her release, she knew that even an eternity with Damon would never be enough.

###

Elena came awake on a gasp, her body still burning with desire. As she reached blindly toward the other side of the bed and felt nothing, realization slammed into her, turning pleasure into devastation and bringing tears to her eyes.

It was only a memory, an agonizing reminder of the blissful summer they'd shared just one short year ago.

Damon was not here beside her, holding her in the aftermath of their lovemaking. In fact, he'd been gone for 91 days, 12 hours, and—she looked at the clock—seven minutes.

No, not just gone. Dead.

The buzzing of her phone brought her back to the present, and she grabbed it off the nightstand. The name showing on the display made her tighten her grip until the screen cracked. Touching the green phone icon, she reluctantly answered. "What do you want, Stefan." Her voice came out in a strange monotone that surprised even her.

"Uh . . . hello to you, too, Elena." Stefan's voice was stilted, yet he still managed to convey the emotion she'd been lacking—concern, pain, heartache. Too bad she couldn't muster enough energy to care. She'd left Mystic Falls the day after they'd b—. She had to force herself to mentally finish the sentence. The day after they'd buried Damon in the Salvatore crypt. After that, her friends had started calling her every day. When she didn't pick up and didn't return their calls, they backed off to once a week, then every other week. Finally, they just gave up and let her do the calling, which she did just to reassure them that she was still walking the earth and to keep them from trying to look for her. The fact that Stefan had called must mean something was up.

After an uncomfortable pause, she forced herself to speak again. "So? What's going on?"

Another awkward silence before Stefan cleared his throat. "Alaric's worried about you. We all are. He thinks you're up to something . . . dangerous."

Shit. On some level, she understood their concern, but she didn't want or need it right now. She had more important things to focus on. "Thanks for worrying about me, but I'm fine." As she waited for Stefan to ask the inevitable question, she ran through a laundry list of lies about her whereabouts and activities and tried to choose the one that was least likely to bring them to her doorstep. She didn't have to wait long.

"Have you flipped the switch?" Aaaaand there it was.

"No. Have you read any news reports about a serial killer on the loose or an unexplained string of animal attacks? You know how I get when my humanity's off." It was true. Her switch wasn't flipped, not fully anyway, but it was frayed. Stefan should recognize the difference. He'd done the same a few years ago after his latest Ripper binge.

"No, but—"

"No 'but's. I haven't flipped the switch, okay? I'm dealing with this the best way I can. The only way I can. Damon's dead, and so is Bonnie. Again." She sighed, feeling exhausted even though she just woke up. "I'll be back when I've sorted things out. I need space." Damn. That had to be the most words she'd strung together for any of them.

"Elena, we're all trying to deal. You're not alone in this. He was my brother." Stefan's voice cracked on the last word.

"I know. I remember how that feels," she said quietly.

"And I remember what it's like to lose the person you love, the other half of yourself. And your best friend. You'd do anything to get them back." He paused for a moment. "Just come ho—. Um, back. We can help each other."

She picked up on his choice of words immediately. Home. They didn't have one anymore. The Travelers had removed all but their own special brand of magic from Mystic Falls, leaving Elena, Stefan, Alaric, and Caroline unable to return without risking their lives. Even the boarding house was off limits. Not that she could bring herself to go back there. Snapping back to the present, she forced herself to sound as level as possible. "Not yet. I'm sorry, but I need more time. Tell Alaric and the others not to worry. Goodbye, Stefan." Not wanting to give him a chance to say anything else, she hung up.

Tossing the phone on the bed, she made her way to the bathroom on shaky legs, her body still reeling from the dream. Catching her reflection in the mirror over the sink, she did a double take. After all this time, it was still unnerving. Granted, her restless night had mussed the once perfect curls and her eyeliner was smudged, but there was no mistaking the face that stared back at her. Or rather, the mask.

A knock at the door got her attention and she tensed, not knowing what to expect even though she was thousands of miles away from those who would try to search for her. Opening the way cautiously, she was relieved to find that it was only a smiling hotel employee with a room service tray.

"Good morning, Ms. Pierce. Here's your breakfast, as requested. 8 o'clock on the dot," he beamed proudly before dropping his eyes to admire the cleavage peeking out of her low-cut tank top.

Even in death, Katherine Pierce was as much a part of her life as ever.

###

A feeling of warmth washed over him. It was comforting, almost like being wrapped in a blanket fresh out of the dryer on a cold winter's day. Damon focused on the sensation, letting it sink in. He'd never been a believer in Heaven, or the Great Beyond, or whatever you wanted to call it, let alone the idea that he stood a chance in hell—pun intended—of ending up in such a place. Still, it was hard to argue given his current surroundings, or lack thereof. A soft light emanated from an unknown source, but there was no scenery to speak of. Part of him wanted to be bothered by the nothingness of it all, but the sense of peace, of calm, was too overwhelming.

His thoughts drifted, his final conversation with Bonnie replaying in his mind.

"Do you think it'll hurt?"

Surprisingly, it hadn't. When the bright light overtook them and the Other Side collapsed, everything faded away until they found themselves here. It was odd, but sometimes he could sense Bonnie, and every now and then, a snippet of her thoughts would reach him. He chalked it up to the fact that they'd been holding hands when everything went down. He was sure she was hearing some of his as well.

Aside from his mysterious connection with Bonnie, his memories were his constant companions. He'd thought the whole life-flashing-before-your-eyes bit was supposed to come before death, not after. Must be his brain hadn't gotten the message and was making up for lost time.

Only moments ago, he'd been reliving a particularly pleasurable occasion from last summer. Vivid images flashed by in quick succession—Elena, her head flung back in ecstasy, hair fanned out across satin pillows, skin slick with sweat. He could still hear the sweet sounds she'd made as he brought her to orgasm, the first of many that night.

God, Elena. He kept returning to his time with her in the woods before everything had happened. This particular memory was annoyingly vague. He could only recall one thing clearly—their kiss. The rest of it was unfocused and muted, like a Polaroid that hadn't developed properly. He sensed it was something important, but every time he tried to force himself to remember, it would dissipate completely. Had he told her he loved her, or given her a message, or made a promise . . .