Aftermath
Chapter 1 - Flashes
Damon lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Flashes of images kept appearing in his mind, but they disappeared so quickly that he could hardly recognise them. They were so familiar, though, like a forgotten journey of his youth, but they had Elena in them. He supposed they must be from a dream, dreamt so long ago that he could barely remember.
Elena lay beneath him, hot and sweaty, moaning at him to keep going, to never stop. He had never felt such pleasure or triumph, as he pushed into her over and over, promising to never stop.
And then it was gone. He closed his eyes. Yes, it must have been a dream, the most beautiful, wonderful dream of his whole life. He strained his memory, trying to make out the exact expression on her face, what she felt like, what she smelt like, what she looked like, and even what she tasted like, though he was sure he hadn't taken any blood; he wouldn't do that to her, even in a dream.
"I remember," she had said. She remembers. What did she remember? Then it dawned on him, all the things he had said to her and then taken away her memory with compulsion. It had to have been a dream, mores the pity. And yet, "I was drinking vervain." Well that was definitely believable. She could definitely have avoided him compulsion in that way. But he was just depressing himself by proving that an impossible event, one that he wanted almost more than his life itself, had happened.
"I love you. I'm so sorry."
Elijah was standing in front of him, looking into his eyes. "Forget."
His eyes opened wide. Was it possible that he could have been made to forget? Katherine had proved it could. But could Elijah have taken his memory away? He didn't remember that happening.
Then Elena's desperate voice through the phone sounded in his head again, ringing as it had when she had said it, "I need to talk to you." There had been so much despair in her voice and it had hit him hard, even in the intense joy he had been feeling, for he had finally won, someone had finally chosen him.
Could it have happened? He didn't think that even Elijah could have compelled him to forget what he had done with Elena, not when he had wished for it for so long and would never ever forget it. Was it possible? No. Elena wouldn't have wanted him to forget, would she? No, of course she wouldn't. If he had done anything with Elena and not compelled her, which he wouldn't have done, she would have wanted to do it with her whole heart. She wouldn't want him to forget it if she had meant it like that. That meant, though, that it had all been a dream, just another dream.
As he lay there he found himself wishing desperately that it was true, in between flashes of wonderful moments with Elena: Elena touching him; Elena kissing him; Elena moaning beneath him; Elena covered in the mingling sweat from both of their exertions; pumping savagely into Elena's delicate body; and best of all Elena screaming his name in pleasure. Images of Elena filled his mind and he revealed in it.
After a while he began to realise that these images had indeed really happened and when he did, he also had a terrible thought; if this all were true Elena had betrayed him. He felt as if his rapidly swelling heart had just been punctured. Elena had sold him out to Elijah. How could she?