Elena cocked her head to the side and a wary look came over her face. "What kind of surprise?"

Damon sighed. Of course she'd decide to be stubborn tonight. "A Christmas one. You'll like it." He extended his hand again and tapped his foot against the hardwood floor. He'd never liked this room – not since he found Aunt Laverne here…or at least part of her was here. Part of her was strewn down the hall and the rest of her was in the master bedroom. Uncle Benedict had interrupted Stefan before he could finish his tidying up. His little brother was lucky he'd been around to set a convenient house fire. He glanced up at the ceiling. The repairs never quite matched the rest of the house. "Come on. Let's go."

Elena sat up slightly and placed her hand in his. "Where are we going?"

"Shopping." Damon said simply as he reached for her coat that had been draped over the hope chest at the end of the bed. Judging from the clothes strewn around the room, she'd chosen the gloomiest room in the house for her own. Typical.

Elena shook her head. "I don't have anyone to shop for this year."

Damon felt his eyebrows knit together. "That's debatable. But, before we even think about presents, we have to pick up something else first." Elena's look of confusion showed that she wasn't following his train of thought. He waited as she put on her coat and pulled her gloves from her pockets. "This house is sorely in need of a tree. It's Christmas Eve. We have to go get one – Italian tradition."

"I'm pretty sure putting up the tree on Christmas Eve is German." Elena started to remove her coat.

"Work with me here." He reached out and rebuttoned her oversized buttons of her scarlet peacoat. "Would you rather go buy a Christmas tree or do Midnight Mass?"

Elena unwound her scarf from the doorknob of her room and wrapped it around her neck. "Christmas tree shopping it is."


Damon slowed the car to a crawl and gave the mostly-vacant lot a quick once over – not much to choose from, but they didn't have much choice. The Boy Scout Christmas tree lot closed on the 21st. The Methodist Youth lot was empty – its workers needed for the living nativity scene in front of the church that would start in less than an hour. So, Damon made the quick drive to Double Oak Christmas Trees and more. The private farm located halfway between Mystic Falls and Miller's Grove hosted a pumpkin patch in September and October, a hay maze in November, and rounded out the year with the Christmas tree farm before the aged couple went into hibernation for the rest of the winter.

A white bearded man in a flannel jacket was just opening the door to a truck that once might have been blue but now was mainly rusty orange. The owner of the lot paused mid-step as the sound of tires on the gravel road. "Cutting it mighty close, aren't you?" The old man could have been working as a department store Santa, except for the trucker hat advertising the town feed store.

Damon gave a shrug as he waited for Elena to get out of the car, a discouraged look on her face. He'd almost gotten her excited at the prospect of looking for a tree – that was thirty minutes ago. Now, after two closed lots, a discouraged wrinkle had formed between her eyebrows. "We're just glad you're still open."

Damon stood straighter and surveyed their choices. A handful of trees so barren they wouldn't even have been an option for a retelling of the Charlie Brown Christmas special rimmed the front of the lot.

"I think you should just take me back home." Elena wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

Damon stepped next to her and offered her his arm. "We haven't even really looked yet."

"Do y'all want some cider?" The owner of the lot peered into a brown slow-cooker. "I think there's still a little left. Doris always puts in extra cinnamon on cold nights."

"No. We're fine, thanks." Elena smiled at the man. Damon knew that smile. It was her fake smile. He'd seen her use it more than once when navigating the world of Mystic Falls' founding families. She shook her head and ducked beneath the tarp covering the trees for sale.

And she froze.

Elena's eyes widened like they had the day he'd presented her with her necklace the first time she'd encountered Elijah. She'd found her tree.

It had to be nine feet tall. Big and bushy. So full that they likely wouldn't have been able to wrap their arms around it, even if they'd linked hands.

"Your lady has expensive taste." The old man approached Damon and gave a knowing grin. "That one was supposed to be for the city of Mystic Falls. After the mayor died, though, no one from the city ever came to pick it up. I was saving it for them." He consulted his watch. "I don't really reckon they're coming for it now. It'd be a pity to turn it into mulch." He pursed his lips. "I guess I could let her go for $100."

Damon didn't even try to haggle over the price. He refused to do anything that would make Elena's current expression leave her face. "I'll take it." He reached into his wallet and pulled out two crisp bills. "Can you deliver it?"

The man smiled at the picture of Benjamin Franklin before pocketing the money. "Where to?"

"Salvatore Boardinghouse."

The man nodded and looked over at Elena, who was still circling the tree. "I can leave it on your doorstep." He turned toward the open field behind the tent. The snow had stopped falling, but a thick blanket of snow covered the entire countryside. The full moon shone down, leaving everything glowing with a silver light. "If you're not in a hurry," he nodded to the field, "why don't you take the little lady on a stroll?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "There's mistletoe in the trees at the edge of the clearing."

Damon glanced at Elena who was doing her best to pretend like she hadn't heard the man. Her acting skills hadn't improved any with her transition to a vampire. Her cheeks blazed red at the man's suggestion. It was almost as if….Damon shook off the suspicion that she might be interested in standing under the mistletoe.

He'd been with her at the motel in Denver.

But he'd also been on the phone with her when she chose Stefan.

Tonight, his only goal was to give her a semblance of Christmas – to prove that making the choice she'd never wanted to make was worth it. He had the pleasure of her company, nothing more. But still….

For the second time that night, Damon extended his hand to her. "Shall we?"

The snow crunched beneath their feet, practically echoing in the stillness of the night. For humans, the world would have been cast into grayscale, but Damon and Elena weren't human.

"It's a beautiful night." Elena gazed up at the cloudless sky dotted with stars it would have taken all night to count. She took a deep breath and stepped away from him…and straight onto something.

Transitioning into a vampire hadn't improved her balance. Her foot shot out from beneath her before Damon had a chance to react. She landed in the snow with a thud followed by a peal of laughter. "I didn't know it was this deep." She grinned widely as she studied the snow piled on each side of her face. As she struggled back to her feet, she left a perfect Elena-sized impression in the snow.

Damon laughed. He couldn't help himself.

"What?" For the first time in ages, she gave a genuine burst of laughter.

Damon shook his head. He didn't want to bring reality back to this moment.

"Damon?"

He could never resist her when she looked at him like that. "When you fell, it reminded me of when I was younger. Stefan and I would make snow angels in a field like this one."

"You made snow angels?" The disbelief was evident in her voice.

"And you didn't?"

Elena shook her head. "No. My mom always thought we'd get too cold. She didn't want us to get sick."

"No snow angels?" The thought was almost beyond Damon's comprehension. No wonder Elena was always so uptight. What kind of childhood had she had? "Well, there's just one way to fix that." Channeling his long-forgotten teenage years, he dropped to the ground and tugged her down next to him. He swept his arms and legs through the deep snow – and waited.

She only rolled her eyes once before she joined in. Her giggles filled the air, breaking the stillness of the night, but he didn't care. She carefully stood up and surveyed their handiwork. "Our angels are holding hands." She gave an embarrassed glance in Damon's direction. She stared at the section of the snow where the two angels' arms crossed paths.

Elena dusted the snow from her pants and her snow-dampened hair clung to her shoulders. No wonder her mother never let her play in the snow. She was a drippy mess.

Vampires didn't get sick. However, Elena had proven to be unlike other vampires in every other regard. She'd probably figure out how to do it. As if on cue, she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered from head to toe. "Come on." Damon pointed to the car. "Let's get you back where it's warm."

"I'm fine." Her words would have been more effective if her teeth weren't chattering loud enough to wake the squirrels in the trees at the end of the clearing.

"Sure you are." Damon didn't even try to mask his skepticism. He started walking, and thankfully, she trailed directly behind him.


True to his word, the owner of the Christmas tree farm had deposited the tree on the front porch before going home to begin the evening's celebration with his family. Damon stepped around the twine-wrapped tree and placed his key in the lock. Elena sniffled. He hoped she was taking in the fresh-pine smell. He didn't want to push his luck. "You're still dripping." Damon took hold of a lock of her hair as they stood on the doorstep.

"It'll dry pretty soon." Elena stepped through the open door and into the foyer. No longer in the half-light from the full moon, Damon was able to get a good look at her. Yes, her lips had a decidedly bluish tint. It was bad enough that her weird doppleganger blood still kept her from drinking from blood bags, if she came down with pneumonia on his watch, he'd never hear the end of it….or forgive himself for it.

"Why don't you go upstairs and take a hot bath?" Damon hefted the tree onto his shoulder and walked into the house. "I can take it from here."

"You're sure?" Elena hesitated, but her teeth were chattering so much it was difficult to understand her speech.

"Go. When you come back down, I'll have it all set up." She didn't even wait for him to finish talking before she disappeared up the stairs in a flash. She must have been colder than he'd thought. Decorations. Damon paused. They were…

The sound of water running distracted him. Elena was upstairs. Probably naked. They were the only two people in the house.

Damn it, Salvatore, head in the game. Damon couldn't allow himself to think like that. She'd made her choice. He knew where he stood. Even if she and Stefan were on a temporary hiatus, she wasn't his – and she never would be.

So what was he even doing here tonight?

He took a deep breath as he pulled a box of ancient Christmas decorations down from a shelf in the basement. Why was he here? Because it was Christmas Eve. And Elena was hurting.

And her pain tore at him more deeply than a stake through his heart.


Harry Connick Jr.'s rendition of Sleigh Ride was playing softly in the background when Elena finally descended the stairs. Damon had begun to wonder if she was coming back down at all. He'd had time to trim the tree, sweep up the evergreen needles that seemed to be breeding along the path from the front door, and make hot chocolate from scratch before he sensed her presence on the stairs. The blend of rosemary shampoo and ginger lotion was intoxicating – and uniquely Elena. "I thought you'd fallen asleep."

"I might have." She was blinking at the tree in disbelief, or appreciation, Damon couldn't quite tell which. "It's gorgeous." She didn't even notice the mug of hot chocolate he offered her. She was transfixed by the tree.

Damon gave a self-assured grin. He really had outdone himself. The tree was arrayed with tiny red balls and gold metallic ribbon. The white lights glinted off the ribbon and cast a warm glow in the living room. He'd turned off the rest of the lights. Between the tree and the fireplace, the Salvatore living room could have been a set for a Hallmark Hall of Fame Christmas special.

He walked to Elena's side and held out the mug again. The lure of the chocolate shaving-topped whipped cream finally drew her in. He'd never known Elena to resist chocolate.

"You even made hot chocolate?" She gazed at him appreciatively before her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. "Maybe I did fall asleep." She took the mug from his hand and added, "I haven't been sleeping very well." She spoke so softly, Damon wasn't entirely sure he was meant to hear it. Backing up until her calves brushed against the couch, she settled into her favorite spot, drawing her feet up under herself.

Nat King Cole's version of The Christmas Song played softly over the speakers as Elena took her first sip of her drink. Her lips curled into a grin as she stared at Damon. "This isn't just hot chocolate."

"No, it isn't." Damon grinned back. He'd given her almost double the amount of Bailey's in her drink as he'd given himself, but he knew she needed it. Elena Gilbert had an uncanny ability to work herself into a sleepless mess when she was worried about something. That's why he'd spent so many nights fully-clothed sharing Elena's bed last year. If worrying about Stefan kept her from sleeping, Damon assumed getting a letter stamped "Return to Sender" from her little brother would qualify as well.

Damon was surprised to discover that tonight they'd fallen seamlessly back into that same dynamic as they'd shared last year. They didn't even need words to communicate. Elena glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and gave a faint smile – the second genuine one she'd had tonight.

And they sat sipping their hot chocolate and staring at the tree while listening to the fire crackling in the hearth. Christmas music played softly in the background. And they didn't need words. She sat contentedly beside him, and that was more than enough.

Her head bobbed as she finished the last of her drink. Traces of a whipped cream moustache still clung to Elena's lips, and he desperately wanted to lick them off – but he settled for gently stroking them away with his thumb.

Elena yawned widely and settled against his shoulder. Her eyes drifted closed as Marilyn Monroe began to sing about what she wanted Santa to leave her under the Christmas tree. By the time the opening chords to Christmastime is Here played, her eyelids closed and didn't open again.

Damon scooped her up and carried her up the stairs. She didn't even flinch. Maybe he'd gone a little heavy on the whisky. He turned into a bedroom, but not the one she'd adopted for hers. No one should spend a night in that room if they didn't have to. Instead, he carried her to a bed much more familiar – at least to him. He held her in one arm as he turned back the freshly washed sheets of his bed and settled her in the exact center of the mattress.

As much as he'd dreamed of this moment…seeing her chocolate-brown hair fanned out across his pillow, he wouldn't be joining her tonight. He still had to be Santa Claus one more time.


Author's note: One more chapter to go. I hope to have it up tomorrow. Thanks for all the reviews so far. I'm pleased y'all are enjoying this rather melancholy tale.