What Dreams Are Made Of

A fic by: Jenna

Rating: M

Pairing: D/E

A/N: Okay, I know I've been gone for a long time…honestly, for a while, I was so frustrated with the show that I couldn't find my musie…and then…a few months ago, on 12/13 I had tragedy strike and I my Dad died in a freak accident that happened in my own back yard! I went through some very serious trauma and guilt at not being able to save him…(I'm getting grief counseling now) but I simply lost the will to write for a while. I honestly didn't think I'd get it back, but a week or so ago musie came to me with a spark of inspiration and I've been writing again. :) :) :) It's actually cathartic to get out of my own head now! Lol! In that week I've finished one of my lingering B/A fics and I'm working on my B/Aus fic BoD, but I really wanted to get back to DElena too…I know I have The Auction and Fool For Love still unfinished and I promise all of you who've been so kind to support both those fics that I will get to work on them, but this little ditty came to me and I wanted to see if I could write Damon again…

I'm actually nervous...*yikes*

Anyhow, I hope you guys like it. It's a short one—at least for me—(lol) only 2 parts, but it IS already finished. I will post this part and then in a few days I'll post the last part. In the meantime I will start outlining my next chappie of The Auction. I want to finish that one first since I still have a pretty good idea where I was going with it. Unfortunately, Fool For Love is kind of a mystery and I need to re-read it before I start writing on it again, but I will do that too. I've made a goal for myself get one fic finished from each of my fave couples before summer… wish me luck! :)

Okay, now enough chatter from me…on with the show!

xoxo

Jenna

****D/E****D/E****D/E****D/E****D/E****D/E****D/E****D/E****

Part 1:

Damon limped into his room, flipping on the overhead light as he entered. It was over. Klaus was dead and surprisingly, well maybe astonishingly was a better word; most of them had survived the battle virtually unscathed, though he'd taken a stake to the chest meant for Stefan. The damned thing had been far too close to his heart to forget anytime soon, but at least Elena was alive and safe. No thanks to Stefan. Damon was so pissed at his brother he couldn't see straight and he barely restrained himself from slamming his heavy oak door behind him. Stefan had nearly gotten them all killed tonight! Hell, Damon had almost taken a stake to his brother himself when he'd realized Stefan wasn't as strong as he should have been, especially if he'd been drinking his daily dose of O-neg. Stefan had lied to them all and it became apparent very quickly when one of Klaus' goons had nearly ended him within the first few minutes of the fight. Damon had jumped in front of his brother and taken the pointy piece of wood to his own chest instead, but…truthfully…he'd been so angry…he'd almost let it happen. The only thing that had forced him to save his asinine brother was Elena.

Grabbing his favorite bottle of scotch, he poured himself a healthy glass of the rich brew as he went over his brother's pitiful excuse for his deception. Poor weak willed Stefan hadn't been able to handle drinking human blood while being around Elena, so he'd quit without telling them. Damon scowled fiercely. Pathetic! His brother was a pathetic excuse of a vampire! And as a result of that weakness, he'd nearly gotten not only himself killed, but Elena and the rest of them too!

He tossed his drink back, downing it in one gulp before he poured another glass and shot that one down too. He poured a third, sipping this one as he hobbled into his bathroom. He set the glass on the marble counter and removed his torn and bloodied shirt, wincing as the movement aggravated his wound. His brother—the Saintly Prince of Fools! What a joke! He'd been a liability, not an asset, yet he still got the girl in the end. It was enough to make Damon want to pull his hair out! How did that happen? Didn't Elena see he was weak? That she was far stronger than Stefan gave her credit for? Funny, his brother thought Elena needed protecting, but ironically, it had been Stefan that had needed the protection tonight—not Elena. Damon saw her as she was; independent and courageous. Why couldn't she see him?

"Shit," he muttered, pushing the thought from his head. That was a conundrum better left for when he didn't feel like death warmed over. He smirked at his own pun before he caught a glimpse of himself in his mirror. He grimaced. Damn he looked like shit. His face was covered in dirt, grime, and blood. His hair was unkempt, wild and sticking up—in all the wrong places. Thick black soot from the fires tonight covered most of his face and skin, making him look like some kind of reject from a coal mine. And basically…he looked like crap—a bloody mess of crap with holes—wait—what the…? Holes—where the hell did those come from?

His eyes widened, taking in the few extra injuries he hadn't realized he'd gotten. "Well crap!" he complained, poking at the small, red rimmed hole along his waist, it looked like he'd been shot too! In all the craziness he hadn't even felt it happen, must have been when he was racing after Elena. He turned and noticed two more. One in his lower lumbar area and one just under his shoulder blade. "Fuck!" Damon cursed softly, downing the rest of his glass. He was going to need more booze...

Damon made his way over to his bottle. Each step was done slowly and with care because it was excruciating to even move at this point and he wanted nothing more than a drink, a shower and some blood to ease his pain. He tipped the bottle to his mouth and guzzled down several swallows. Ahhh. He stumbled, but stayed on his feet. He finally smiled. Now that was better.

As he turned and faltered back to his bathroom, he vaguely remembered several small, stinging jolts of pain right before he tackled Elena to the ground. She'd fought him, so he couldnt really remember, except that he'd been so frantic—so utterly furious that she was going to get herself killed trying to save his fool of a brother. In retrospect, Damon wasn't really all that surprised he hadn't noticed he'd been shot! He'd been far more worried about Elena.

"Dammit..." he snapped, rubbing at the throbbing pain he had in his chest. His wounds were positively pulsing with pain and he swayed a bit, grimacing as he stared at the one on his side. He gripped the counter and leaned forward to get a closer look. It was angry-red and puffy-almost as bad as the one on his chest. Fuck-that one was bad! As a matter of fact, all of the bullet wounds stung like the devil now, burning…almost like…vervain inside his flesh. He heaved a huge sigh. Terrific! That meant the bullets were made of wood. He looked at his tired face and rolled his eyes at his reflection.

"Of course they are," he muttered to himself. "What else would they be?" He started to go over his body, taking inventory of the extent of the damage. He counted the three bullet wounds and the huge gaping hole in his chest. All in all, four serious wounds and some other minor cuts and scrapes. Not bad considering they'd exterminated The Original Vampire, his 'Goon Squad' and his 'Hell-Hounds'-all in one night!

Wincing at the pain, Damon stuck his finger in the largest one at his side and rooted around, trying to see how deep it was and if he could get to the little wooden piece of hell with his fingers. Blood gushed and he hissed at his foolishness. He quickly gave up the search and extract mission. It was too deep. He couldn't even feel the damned thing at all.

Tonight had been insane. Klaus was a scary prick, but Elena...she'd been so brave. Damon was still riding the adreniline rush of it all. But, he was feeling it ebb and knew he was heading towards the downside of all that energy. The crash and burn faze. Yet, again he thought of her. She was a little tiger, he'd give her that, facing Klaus without flinching. Telling him to 'come and get her-if he dared!

Damn, he got hard just remembering how fierce she looked standing up to that monster. Damon guessed life still held some appeal after all.

With a long drawn out sigh he turned his back on his reflection. His shoulders slumped. He was wiped out and while it had been exciting to kick 'The Orignal's' ass, the truth was...he'd almost died tonight and what did he have to show for it? Some wooden bullets lodged inside him, a stake in the chest and an empty room to come home to! Rah-fucking-rah! That wasn't spectacular. It sucked, but it was his life, and his luck. If it wasn't bad, it was just plain shitty.

He flipped the switch on his pain. No whining. He refused to brood and lament over the woes of life. That was Stefan's gig! Damon preferred to live in the now.

And right now he needed to get these damn bullets out!

"Great!" he muttered, opening a drawer and looking for his surgical tweezers, "I'm the one who gets shot and staked, but poor little Stefan screws everything up and comes out smelling like a rose." He slammed that drawer shut and opened another and started carelessly rooting through its contents, muttering the whole time...

"I'm here...alone...shot and needing to pull little bits of wood out of my flesh, but Stefan...who was the frigging biggest dumbass ever is probably downstairs getting coddled by Elena and probably drinking up the last of our blood supply too."

He scowled as he opened another drawer and rummaged around for what he needed. "Dammit!" he snapped, haphazardly tossing things out of the drawer and onto the floor as he searched for the special surgical tool requred to remove the bullets. "Where the hell are they?" He was already hungry, tired and more than a little angry. damon scowled. He needed those fucking tweezers! Finally, he simply yanked the entire drawer out of the cabinet and dumped its contents on the counter.

With an exclamation of satisfaction, he spotted them under a roll of gauze. "Ah, there you are…" he said, snatching both the tweezers and the gauze up before going to work on getting the bullets out. A few minutes later, an even angrier and more frustrated Damon cursed and tossed the surgical tool across the room. He smirked, somewhat satisfied when it embedded into the wall with a *twang* sound. He was still hurting, but he'd managed to get all but one bullet out of him. The last little bugger was lodged in the middle of his back, just under his shoulder blade. And no matter how he twisted, turned or angled his body; he just couldn't get to it by himself.

"Fuck it!" he snapped, turning on the faucet to his shower. What he needed—well what he needed he couldn't have, but a shower might go along way in improving his temper. He stripped off his dirty jeans and boxers, tossing them, along with his shirt, into the trash can. He made a mental note to burn them. While he waited for the water to get hot, he fumed. Stefan and his bullshit had cost him a perfectly good outfit too. That shirt had been a John Vervatos original. Damon made a face. Well, that'll teach him to be fashionable in a bloody fight to the death!

The steam was rising from the shower when Damon stepped inside. He sucked in a sharp breath when the hot water hit his wounds. "Aaaggghhh!" It was freaking painful! He moved out of the hot spray and took several deep breaths. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea. Damn…the water made each and every wound seem to come alive in agony, but he stepped back under the hot jet and suffered through it. He needed to get clean, there weren't any other options. Once the pain settled into a dull throb he opened his eyes and began to wash the grime from his body He was a mess and he watched, fascinated as the blood, dirt and soot sluiced down his chiseled abdomen to swirl down the drain in a menagerie dirty suds. Damn, he wasn't healing. The hole in his side was still just as big as it was when he got the bullet out. He needed blood.

For once he hoped Stefan decided to stick with his guilty ways and hadn't finished off the last few bags of blood left in the house…

**Later**

Damon had just crawled into bed when a knock sounded on his door and Elena poked her head in. "Hey," she said, "can I talk to you?"

He frowned. Right now all he wanted was some sleep and blood. The blood, thanks to St. Steffie, was a no go, so Damon was sincerely looking forward to kicking back and getting some much needed rest.

"Can't it wait?' he muttered, "I'm pretty beat."

"Not really. I…" She stepped into his room and stood there fidgeting for a second. "Thank you…what you did tonight…" She was tripping over her words and he wanted to shove a sock—or better yet—his cock in her mouth and just-shut-her-the-fuck-up!

"Elena spit it out…I want to sleep sometime tonight!" He wasn't making it easy and it didn't take a rocket scientist to see she was staying, but he was so sick of her sweet little hugs and her cheering him on to be 'the better man'. He wanted to be mean tonight so he was.

Elena seemed to shrink for a brief second, before her inner backbone—or balls—as Damon called them came to the party and she straightened her shoulders. "I just wanted to tell you thank you," she said in a clear, strong voice.

Now that she was looking so feisty he was more apt to keep her around. He sat up, pushed a few pillows behind his back and pulled the sheets up to his waist—covering his private (and best) parts. He didn't bother grabbing a shirt to cover his naked chest. She was in his room after all—uninvited to boot! "For what?" he interrupted, before she could fully get into what ever little speech she had prepared.

Elena sighed. "For saving my life, Damon…for saving Stefan…for—"

He held up a hand. "Stop." Damon laughed softly. "You don't get it do you?"

"Get what?"

"The fact that I don't want or need your pretty little thank yous', Elena."

She froze, doing the fish out of water gape at him. That had surprised her apparently. Guess she didn't know him as well as she thought! "But I—"

Damon growled. "I know. You want to say thank you. I get it, and now you have."

"B-but that's not enough…"

He took a deep breath and sighed. "Don't worry, Elena, you don't owe me anything. We were fighting for our lives out there." He smirked and made a shooing motion with his hands, "So why don't you run on back to Steffie now. You did your duty."

Elena huffed, but instead of leaving she turned and shut the door. Great she was gonna grow a pair again…Damon scowled, but she ignored him as she came further into his room until she was standing beside his bed. "I'm not doing my duty, Damon and you know it. You saved my life tonight. I want you to know I appreciate it."

He didn't want her appreciation, dammit! He shrugged as if he didn't care. "Stefan was there too. Maybe he saved your life, not me."

Elena raised a brow and her lip curled, "We both know that isn't true," she scoffed. "Stefan wasn't much help. He tried, but…" Her words died off and she shrugged. "It was you. You jumped in front of Klaus' hell hounds when they attacked. You tackled me when they were shooting at me. It was all you…" He looked away and Elena's eyes lit up in anger. "Why are you acting like you don't care?"

Damon was so fucking tired of caring—look where it's gotten him. Here…in bed, his body nothing but a mass of painful suffering. No blood. No girl. Fuck caring! "Maybe I'm tired of caring," he retorted, blue eyes flashing.

Elena took a step back at the angry pain written all over his beautiful face. Her eyes darted away, "I'm sorry for bothering you. I thought it meant something, but I guess I was wrong!" She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her.

"Dammit!" he snapped, "don't go." He sat up and leaned towards her, "Elena, I'm just angry. It does matter and you—" His words choked off in a pained groan when his wounds reopened. It was agonizing and he fell back onto the pillow. "Aaahh…fuck!" he cursed, when the bullet still lodged in his back made its presence known again and blood gushed from the wound in his side, staining his white sheets red.

Elena gasped when he cried out, but when she saw the pooling red stain her eyes bulged and she rushed forward. "Damon! What the hell? Are you hurt?"

He sat up and pressed a hand to his side, wincing in pain. "No," he muttered sarcastically, "I usually spontaneously start to bleed all over myself!"

She glared at him, but her voice was soft as she sat next to him. "Let me see."

He smacked her hands away when she went to pull the sheet back. He doubted she was prepared to see every inch of him—literally. "Trust me…" he told her an impudent smirk making his lips curl, "you don't want to go there."

Elena rolled her eyes. "Then pull it back enough to uncover the wound so I can see why it hurts so bad," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"It hurts because it isn't healed yet," he griped, "if you really want to help…I have a bullet in my back, maybe you could get it out for me." He gasped, breathing hard from the shooting daggers of agony racing through his entire body from all his numerous injuries.

"A—" her eyes bugged wide, "you were shot?" she asked, alarmed. He nodded and she frowned. "Oh my God, Damon, when…?" But before he could reply she answered her own question. Their eyes met and he saw her frown slightly—guiltily. "It was when you were running after me—when you tackled me, wasn't it?"

He didn't want her to feel guilty. He didn't want her appreciation either. "Elena…can you get it out or not?" he growled, angry all over again because the simple truth was…what he wanted from Elena, he could never have.

He was all growly and she let the issue drop. "Where are the tweezers?"

That brought his smile back. With devilish glee he pointed to the wall across the room. Elena turned, spotted them lodged in the plaster and rolled her eyes. "I won't even ask…" she muttered and went to retrieve them.

He snorted. "If only getting you to stop talking was always that easy…"

She ignored the impertinent remark and headed into the bathroom for bandages, antiseptic and some towels before coming back and sitting down next to him on the bed.

"Are you sure you want to fix me up? You might want to ask Stefan…this could be your big chance to get rid of me and all that…"

She leveled a no-nonsense glare on him. "Damon, for once in your life will you just be quiet and accept that I care about what happens to you."

That shut him up right quick and for a long-long second Damon simply blinked at her. The air between got thick and Elena suddenly found a spot above Damon's head fascinating. "I know…" he whispered.

Elena gnawed her bottom lip refusing to meet his eyes for a moment. Things had gotten into dangerous territory. Damon didn't push the issue. After a second or two she pulled herself together and told him, in a business like manner, to lean forward. "Here," she said handing him his glass of scotch. "You might want this."

He grinned. "I want this even when I haven't taken a bullet, but thanks," he teased and took a sip of the calming liquid.

Once they were back on familiar ground, she relaxed again and concentrated on getting the bullet out for him. A few minutes and several curses later, Elena held up the bullet triumphantly. "Aha! All out," she said, dropping the little wooden chunk on the towel she'd placed on the bed. "Now," she said pinning him with her dark eyes, "let me see the rest of you."

The double entendre of her words hung there for a second until a lewd grin look slowly made its way across Damon's face. His eyes sparkled. "I'll show you mine, but you have to show me yours too…" he teased.

Elena sputtered, but shook it off. "You know what I meant."

"So? You know what I mean too," he countered.

"Damon will you be serious."

"I'm so totally serious."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you going to let me help you with your other injuries or not?" she snapped, patience running thin.

He shook his head. The alcohol and her presence were making him a bit giddy. Better she leave now before he said something he'd regret. "No. I'll be fine." He waved her away. "Go back to Stefan."

Elena crossed her arms and her expression turned mulish. Damon recognized that stubborn tilt to her chin and he sighed. "You know what, I don't believe you and I'm not going anywhere until I see that you're okay, so either you show me where you're hurt or I will take that sheet and see for myself!"

His eyes widened at that, but then he recalled how she'd blushed a minute ago when he'd teased her and he didn't think she had it in her to strip him naked. He decided to call her bluff. "You wouldn't dare," he said, smug in his assumption that she would never do something so outrageous.

Much to his utter shock, Elena did exactly that. Without batting an eye she grabbed the sheet and yanked it. Damon's eyes nearly popped from his head as he was exposed—utterly naked—for about a second before his vamp speed had the sheet back and tucked firmly around his waist once again. He stared at her wide eyed and flabbergasted. "I can't believe you did that," he sputtered, stunned that she had that kind of gumption. He knew she was brave, but brash and ballsy…? This was a new and…he had to admit, intriguing side to her.

Elena just grinned and raised a brow at him "You dared me. I've never turned down a dare. Ask Caroline."

Damon had no intention of asking Barbie anything, but he tucked that little piece of information away to possibly be used at a later date. "You know," he said, his voice lowering until it was a seductive purr. "If I wasn't feeling like shit right now, I wouldn't have pulled that back and you'd be dealing with full frontal Damon right now." His grin widened until it was positively indecent, but Elena didn't crumble under his bawdy look, instead she just raised her chin another notch and met his gaze unflinchingly. Damon's eyes narrowed. The fight and everything must be making her feel bulletproof because she was definitely sporting some big brass ones tonight. He leaned forward a bit and wagged a finger at her. "That was your only warning," he told her softly, "Don't ever do that again unless you're prepared for seeing the real me…and I mean…all of the real me," he added with a cheeky smirk.

Elena simply laughed. "Duly warned, but the fact is you did run for cover." Her face was alight with mischief as she teased, "So who's the chicken here?"

His jaw dropped. "Are you—?" He shook his head as if he hadn't quite heard her right. "Did you really just call me chicken?"

Elena chuckled huskily. "If the feathers fit," she said succinctly, but her twitching lips gave her away.

Damon stared for about a second. Well, it looks like someone ate her 'Wheaties' and is feeling all kinds of clever. He decided he liked it. He rarely saw Elena like this. Lately she'd been almost as doom and gloom as Stefan, but right now she was being playful. His stomach flip-flopped before he finally responded in kind by growling and pretending to grab her. He caught her hand, but his wounds hindered him again and he ended up letting her go as the gaping hole in his chest opened up and bled right through the bandage he'd put on after his shower. "Damn! Not fair. I'm injured," he panted, falling back on his pillows as blood seeped from the dressing and down his chest and abs.

Elena's brows drew down at the amount of blood on his chest. "Damon, oh my God…you're really hurt. I need to get a look at that," she said, immediately serious again. He tried to shrug it off, but she wasn't buying it. "Don't even try and tell me no," she told him, brooking no argument as she crawled right up on his bed and scooted up next to him. He tried to stop her hands as she went to take the bandage, but she swatted him as if he were a naughty child. "Stop being a baby and let me see it," she ordered.

His lower lip jutted and he pouted. "Fine," he grumbled, finally acquiescing as if he had a choice, but the truth was—he simply couldn't deny her anything once she turned those big brown eyes on him. He'd been a goner the minute she shut the door.

Elena bit back a grin at his petulant expression, but didn't say anything to tease him as she gently pulled back his bandage. She gasped and her eyes about popped from her head when she got a look at the gaping hole in his once perfect chest. "Oh my God! Damon! What the hell happened?"

He leaned back, wincing again as the holes in his back started to ache too. He closed his eyes and sighed. His body was one big throbbing pile of misery and that wasn't as bad as this. He'd really wanted to avoid this conversation. "I…got staked…" he finally said.

"What? How? Oh my God, when?" she demanded.

"Which one do you want answered first?" he quipped, cracking open one eye to peek at her.

"Not funny," she said as she got up and went into his bathroom for a fresh towel and more bandages. "So…seriously…" she prompted, climbing back on the bed. Damon noticed her look of concentration as she pressed a clean white towel to his chest. "How did this happen?"

He gave another sigh. She was like a bulldog with a bone about everything tonight. "I…" He paused and debated lying to her. He wanted her to see Stefan for what he was, but not like this.

She frowned and Damon wasn't surprised when she was able to see right through him. "Don't lie to me."

He rolled his eyes. "When have I ever lied to you, Elena?"

She nodded. "You're right. You haven't. So…how did you get staked?"

He hemmed and hawed. Damn he wasn't looking to throw Steffie under a bus. "I just did. Can you drop it already?"

Elena tilted her head to the side and studied him for long enough to make him feel like squirming under her scrutiny. Finally she sighed and said, "It was because of Stefan." She said it as a statement, not a question. "Because he wasn't as strong as we thought he was going to be. So you had to protect him, right?"

Damon didn't reply, but the tightening of his jaw seemed to tell her all she needed to know. Her face fell just a bit and Damon felt a twinge of regret for trouncing Stefan in her eyes. It hadn't been his intention. She pulled back the bloody towel and inspected his wound. "Why do you think everyone else's life is more important than yours?" she asked, slipping the loaded question at him as if she was asking him what time it was.

Nice try, Gilbert…but no. he snorted and gave her his classic smirk. "You must have me confused with someone else. I'm not the noble one, remember?"

Elena simply rolled her eyes and got out some cotton swabs and antiseptic. "Whatever. You're not the same guy who showed up in town two years ago either," she said, meeting his gaze evenly. Damon looked away, but Elena went on, "You've changed, Damon. You've become a better man."

His jaw tightened. There it was again…she wanted him to change. She wanted more from him than he could give. "Or maybe you just think I've changed," he said, unable to help himself.

She set the swabs aside. "No, I've seen it." She tucked her hair behind her ear and peered at his chest. The wound was still oozing blood. She raised her eyes and a worried frown creased her brow. "Why isn't this healing?"

He shrugged, but grimaced when the movement caused another stabbing pain in his chest. "It'll heal…eventually."

"You need some more blood. I'll get you some." She started to get up, but he caught hold of her wrist.

"I already looked. There isn't any."

"Sure there is, Stefan was—" Her words died a hasty death when Damon simply shook his head and told her there wasn't. "But…" Her eyes widened as realization dawned. "He drank it all!" she fairly screeched. "Why the hell would you let him do that?"

She said it so accusingly, like she was actually pissed at him for the situation that he rolled his eyes in response. "I didn't exactly let him, Elena," he said as patiently as possible. "By the time I'd cleaned up, it was gone." Her eyes narrowed on him and she looked ready to spit some more snarky comments his way, so he cut headed her off at the pass. "Look, I'm tired and while I appreciate your concern…and the bitching that's come along with it…" he added flippantly. "But…" She scowled at his sarcasm. He batted his lashes at her in reply while continuing in the same glib tone. "I'll be fine once I feel a little more…rested."

She wasn't appeased. "These look bad, Damon."

He sighed. "Look, I'll get some more blood tomorrow and everything will be peachy, okay?" He motioned to his bleeding chest and side, "I just can't…right now, but I'm not dying, Elena, so don't worry about me." He made a production of yawning. "Now," he told her, waving her off like he was swatting at a pesky fly, "you've really gone above and beyond the call of duty, so why don't you run on back to Stefan. I'm sure he's pacing a hole in the rug wondering why you've been up here so long."

"Shut up, Damon. Stefan's totally out of it and even if he weren't I wouldn't leave you like this so you can stop trying to shoo me away." She bit her lip as if she were having some kind of internal debate.

Was she thinking about offering what he thought she was? He swallowed thickly and he preyed she wouldn't tempt him like that.

After what seemed like an eternity to him, she seemed to come to an understanding within herself and she leaned forward, invading his personal bubble of space. "You need blood to heal." She took a deep breath and Damon caught his, "So you'll have to drink from me," she said finally.

His brain ground to a halt. He knew it! He just fucking knew it! He was shaking his head before she even finished the sentence. "No. You can't be serious!"

"Damon, what's the big deal? You—"

How could she not see how insane that idea was? "No way, Elena! How can you even think it?"

"Because you need it," she answered simply.

His brows drew down and he scowled at her. "Not that bad," he snapped.

"What, isn't my blood as good as one of your sorority girls'?" She said it as a sarcastic quip, but she had the gall to look offended and that made him want to grab her, pin her to the bed and fuck and feed on her for the rest of the night.

Shit! Damon gnashed his teeth. "That's not it and you know it," he all but growled at her.

She didn't seem to understand his absolute refusal to even consider it. "Then what is it?"

He cursed softly. Why did she have to be so damned stubborn? He evaded the question. "I just…can't," he insisted.

Elena wouldn't let it drop. "Why-not?" she asked, enunciating each word.

He pursed his lips as he wracked his brain to come up with a suitable reason besides 'I'm in love with you and if I taste you—I'll want to fuck you until we both die from it'. He'd rather drink a vervain flavored milkshake than tell her that. "Well for one…your boyfriend would probably give birth to a small cow if you did. Imagine St. Stefan's reaction to you offering up your blood!" There, he thought, that'll stop all this nonsense. He had to get her out of here and pronto before she noticed how aroused he was getting. That would be embarrassing and he didn't have it in him tonight to try and compel away any more of her memories.

As if she knew what he was doing, Elena smirked right back at him and climbed up on the bed. "Nice try, but since its Stefan's fault you have no blood…he'll just have to deal, won't he?"

Damon's jaw dropped in surprise. She wasn't giving up. She was seriously going to let him drink from her. It took all of a second for him to become painfully aroused. "Elena," he said moving away from her. "This really isn't a good idea."

She scooted up to him again, almost on top of him and he felt his resolve weakening. "Damon, you need blood. I have it. It's not a big deal."

His jaw tightened and Damon had to bite back the groan that wanted to burst forth—this was hell. He wanted her so badly and she simply had no clue what a huge fucking deal it was! "Elena…" he warned, "you've never—"

She cut him off with a shake of her head. "Yes, I have. I let Stefan drink from me that time," she reminded. "It hurt, but…" she gave a little shrug, "you need it, so I'll deal with the pain."

He shook his head. "I appreciate your sacrifice," he muttered with more than a little sarcasm, "but that wasn't what I was saying. I was going to say…you've never had me feed from you…I'm not Stefan."

"Are you saying you'll hurt me?" She scoffed and had her counter ready before he even replied. "I know you wouldn't, Damon, so don't even bother."

He didn't. "No," he agreed, "I'd never hurt you. Not like that." His mouth watered and he swallowed thickly. "But…when I drink…it's not from the wrist. It's too painful that way and the blood doesn't flow as easily." He reached out and ran a finger along where her neck met her shoulder. Elena shivered and Damon bit his lip hard to not growl in response. "I feed from here," he said huskily, "or…" He glanced down at her thighs and let the insinuation hang there. Elena flushed the shade of ripe apple and Damon cleared his throat, willing away the raw hunger that was racing along every nerve ending. "So…now you see why we can't—"

"From here?" she asked, brushing her hair back off her neck. Too stunned to do more he simply nodded. "Fine," she said and tilted her head to the side. Damon was frozen to the spot simply unable to comprehend that she was offering herself to him like this. Finally Elena took his hand and pulled him closer. "I trust you," she said softly. "You need this, Damon."

He couldn't resist any longer. He'd tried. God knows he had, but this—she was everything he wanted. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, giving her one last chance to change her mind.

"Yes. I know you'll take care of me, Damon."

He capitulated. "Okay," he said, "come here." Since he was naked under the sheet he held out his hand for her to come to him. She knelt beside him and tilted her head to the side for him again. His fingers trembled as he tucked her hair behind her ear. She shivered and he brushed the rest of her long locks over her shoulder, baring her neck to him. His mouth was salivating so badly he thought he might even drool a bit before he even got a taste of her. He was hungry, yes, but this was Elena and biting her was a favorite fantasy of his. He just couldn't quite believe it was really happening.

Damon sat up and wrapped an arm around her waist. He cupped her cheek. "I'll make it painless," he whispered softly, his lips brushing her ear, "I promise."

Cut scene: fade out…

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Okay guys…so I'm totally nervous since this is my first attempt at DElena again…please let musie know what you think because believe it or not…your reviews totally make a difference. As a matter of fact a review I got tonight for my B/A fic reminded me of an important part I'd left out in the fic and I went back an added a scene in the final chappie solely because of that review! :) So, believe it or not, musie hears and she listens. :) :) Plus…she's a greedy little fat-cat that needs tons of affection! Lol! Anyhow, I'm going to work on The Auction after this. I feel like I can get back into Damon's head again now. Thanks for all your support…you guys are awesome! :)