A/N: This is, hopefully, part one of a trilogy. Story is already complete, so expect prompt updates (uncharacteristic, I know). The title, "And Make it Thus Expire," was inspired by the 16th century Italian love song, "Charm Me Asleep." A stanza of lyrics from the song will be incorporated in every chapter. "AMiTE" begins where the season finale ended, because I simply could not bear the thought of waiting until January for more Vamp. Diaries; I'm taking matters into my own hands, and writing it myself. Elena/Damon, but in an uncertain way, and from Elena's POV. I pieced together different elements from the book series and show, such as the time-period that Stefan and Damon were turned. I much prefer the Renaissance interpretation.

First chapter is slow, exposition, but things definitely quicken with future chapters. I hope you like it!

AND MAKE IT THUS EXPIRE

ELENA GILBERT

"Charm me asleep, and melt me so
With thy delicious numbers
That, being ravish'd, hence I go
Away in easy slumbers."

Chapter 1

Dear Diary,

Things have been strange lately. It began with my discovery of John Gilbert lying bloodied on my kitchen floor. His explanation was sparse, and sketchy. But who am I to question his word? After all, he chose to understand me when I needed him most; in doing so, he contributed to the rescue of Damon, a vampire.

Damon. He's been acting very bizarrely, watching my face with a kind of rapture, searching. I've asked him what he was looking for at least twice now. What does he expect to find written on my face? His careful gauge of my emotions and expressions has me nervous and frayed. I feel as if I'm supposed to live up to an expectation that I wasn't even aware existed. Till now. And…he doesn't touch me anymore, never even comes close. I don't think I'm ready to ask myself why that bothers me so much.

Jeremy hasn't come home since the night of the Founder's Day Celebration. At first I was concerned. But Bonnie has reassured me that he is close, so I try not to worry too much. My anxiety mostly stems from the bad note we left on. "You can go to hell Elena," he had said. And I felt the force of those words exactly the same as, "We're sorry to tell you, but your parents are dead." Why won't he forgive me? Damon told me that Anna had died, and that he'd revealed this to Jer. So maybe it's not about me at all; maybe Jer needed to get away from the memory of Anna for a while. I'll give him that space.

I've been spending a lot of time with Stefan, even more so than usual. He seems to be waiting for something but I'm not sure what. He refuses to share his suspicions or doubts until he's confirmed them. He doesn't want to worry me unnecessarily. Sometimes I'm grateful for that, his considerate nature. But others my mood is not so generous, and I lash out at him for "keeping me in the dark." I'm a big girl. I can handle myself, and whatever comes our way. I wish he would trust me more. It seems odd and even shameful to say but I wish he would hurt me.

When the bell rang signaling the end of last period, I rushed out into the flooding hallway, excited to tell Stefan the news.

"Stefan!" I cried. "Did you hear? It's supposed to snow!"

He smiled weakly at me and placed a hand on my hair. "Snow in Mystic Falls? This early in the season? It seems a bit strange."

I nodded impatiently, waiting for him to grasp the significance. When he didn't continue speaking, I sighed and said, "This will be our first winter together."

"Oh, I suppose that's true." He bended down and kissed my forehead, lingering over my skin. I closed my eyes, content. The smile I loved was plain on his face. I didn't feel at ease when he wasn't smiling. It was just something I'd come to expect from him. A frown meant total catastrophe, but a grin was salvation.

"Come on," he urged me. "I told Matt we'd meet him and Caroline at The Grill."

When we arrived I wasn't surprised to see Damon drinking himself to death at the bar. The practiced reflex of 'shot, drink, slam, shot' was unnerving to watch. I wondered how many years it had taken him to perfect those motions. Then I took into account how long he'd been alive, and considered how large of a portion of those years shot glasses had even existed. I could sense my lips turning up in an idle grin.

But we had drawn closer to Damon. And apparently my smile did not sit well with him.

"Am I funny?" he voiced. "Even if I'm the joke it's only polite to fill me in. I can laugh too." He smirked and brought the attractive bartender to his mouth, whispered something in her ear. She drew away flushed and laughing, raising an eyebrow at Stefan and me. Stefan remained still and stoic, but my blush was instantaneous. Anger soon followed.

"There's no need when you're making a fool of yourself," I retorted. "It's pretty obvious to everyone how pathetic you are."

Instantly, I regretted even opening my mouth to speak. Then his lovely, devastating features twisted into a cool grimace and I regretted being born.

"I was just telling her about your desperation to lose, well, your cherry, for lack of a better word. And Stefan's resolve to keep it intact." His mouth popped on the last letter, and that drew my focus to his lips.

I knew it was entirely wrong to shiver with desire at his words, considering their nature and even the person who'd uttered them. It was doubly wrong to imagine Damon's lips, full and sculpted, against my own while standing next to Stefan.

I shook myself as Stefan started forward. "No," I told him. "It's fine. I shouldn't have said what I said to him." I turned to Damon and repeated the same sentiment. "Sorry. Enjoy your booze." There was a subtle barb in my last line, but I couldn't refrain. I wasn't just angry with Damon, I was angry with myself. I had allowed his words to do exactly what he'd intended. And for that I felt ashamed.

Matt and Caroline were late. They entered looking suspect; Caroline's hair was practically glued into place, hiding distinct tiny bruises on her flesh. Matt's mouth was red, and I sighed. Their appearance was doing nothing to help my mood. Stefan, of course, noticed nothing of my discomfort. Caro was more observant.

"What's wrong E?" she asked. I didn't reply, instead fixedly watching Matt and Stefan talk about sports and racing. How strange.

Later, I pulled Caroline into the bathroom and briefly told her the problem.

"I keep having this…attraction toward Damon. I don't know what to do about it. He's been acting so weird lately, and it's only making it worse for me; for some reason, I keep expecting him to touch or flirt like he normally does, and I get disappointed when he doesn't. I'm so confused." I hung my head in shame, running a hand through my hair with frustration.

"The solution is easy," she told me, flicking her own blonde tresses back over her shoulder. "When you're attracted to someone, especially if you don't want to be, you've just gotta give in."

I flinched. "What on earth are you talking about?"

She smiled. "Kiss him. Shock the hell out of him." She pressed on as I opened my mouth to protest. "Look, I know you love Stefan. But lust isn't something that's easy to fix, or even something you should feel bad about. Damon is just a hot guy, and you're a girl with raging hormones and a surprisingly prude boyfriend."

"He is not!" I replied furiously. "Stefan is perfect in every way."

Caroline pursed her lips and applied more lipgloss. "Do you hear yourself? Who are you trying to convince? Stefan is a great guy, don't get me wrong, but you need more than he's willing to give; don't think I haven't noticed. You practically throw yourself at him and he never gives you the chance to have your wicked way. Personally I think Damon is doing you a favor. Or would be- if you let him."

Her words hung in the air, reverberating, and I gulped, unable to speak. I should be fearless. Elena Gilbert is not one for shyness or hesitation.

'But she is one for faithfulness,' I reminded myself.

"It would be cheating," I finally said, sighing. I hoped rather uselessly that I wasn't sighing because I had found a problem with Caro's suggestion, and that I was just exasperated with her tactlessness.

"No, not really. I mean, I suppose it would be in the technical sense. But emotionally it's perfectly fine. If it's Stefan you go home to, and love, that's all that matters."

I knew it wouldn't be easy. I wasn't even sure if I could do it at all. But…

"I'll think about it," I surrendered. Her face lit up, and she spun me around joyfully.

"Oh, Elena this is so much fun! Thank you for sharing with me," she added seriously. "It means a lot."

I returned her smile, but felt the strain of faking happiness.

As Caro and I exited the restroom, Damon was standing casually outside the door. My so-called friend made a hasty departure, probably assuming she was doing me a favor. I coughed out a quick signal, but she either didn't recognize my S.O.S or didn't care.

Regardless, I was pinned into a dark corner with the subject matter of my latest, more explicit fantasies. I was a nervous wreck.

"What's up?" I tried.

He did not smirk, or slick a finger down his eyebrow tauntingly, casual actions typical for Damon. Instead, his handsome face was cryptic and even cold. I found myself unable to speak.

"Who are you?" he demanded suddenly, and I was more bemused than ever.

"Damon, what are you-"

He interrupted me with a certain familiar ferocity. "No, Elena, you can't play with me anymore. I heard enough of your little conversation. Don't you think you should be more honest with Caroline? With yourself?"

Taken aback, I sensed a frown sneak onto my face, and my heart began racing. "You…overheard me?"

"Of course that's the only part you'd address," he muttered. "Yes, I did. And I want to know why you kissed me, Elena, if you were only going to leave me dry and wanting for the next few days."

I couldn't breathe. "What. Are. You. Talking about?"

Damon scrutinized my expression. "It's okay, no one's listening. Stefan isn't listening."

"I don't care who's listening, Damon, my answer will still be the same. I've never kissed you. I may have wanted to, but…"

He stood there, absorbing the information I'd just given him, and I watched in grim, dawning horror as his aquiline features contorted into a distinct 'aha,' as if all his suspicions had been irreverently confirmed.

'Oh God,' I thought. 'This was exactly what he was trying to trick me into saying.'

"Damn you," I said angrily. "Are you happy now? You know I want you. But it's exactly because of your…your deceit and shadiness that I won't even try. You're nothing but trouble, and I'm sorry you're so beautiful. It's a waste.

That hitch in his black brow, shaped by disbelief and surprise bothered me, and I pondered idly how he could have missed my longing for him; in hindsight, I felt it painfully evident.

I spun on my heel and left him standing with his mouth rather comically agape.

Stefan didn't ask why I wanted to leave. He was unfailingly obliging, and as I kissed him goodnight it struck me as odd that his lips held little spectral wonder for me, and that I didn't stir with committed excitement.

Whatever the reason, it was clearly, agonizingly an ominous indication.

His precious jade eyes followed me protectively up the path toward my front door, and I lingered over the threshold for just a moment, glancing back at him with a frown etched in my forehead.

For a single second, a split rift in temporary time, my mind mischievously transformed his green eyes to grey, slate-like, opaque nothing; then they were brilliant blue, and I was spinning into the sanctuary of my home, knowing those eyes all too well, yet not wanting to.

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