A/N: Okay my dears, here is part 2! The response to this little story has been so heartwarming, thank you all so much for every view, every follow, ever review, and every fav. Each one is the best high-five, ever. Enjoy!

To the best beta ever Trogdor19: Troggy, you know you're my rock. What would I do without you?

Soundtrack for this chapter is starting with The Glitch Mob - Between Two Points, followed by an album runthru of Karen Marie Garrett - It's All About The Rose. Hope you check it out and hopefully enjoy!

/playlist?list=PLOuiEQUL4mBm9xk9Tz_JJg4ie1f2P6AQn

DAMON POV

Knotted Truth

Five hours, forty-three minutes and not a damn word.

Won't talk to me, won't look at me, won't come within three feet of me. Yeah, she knows just how to hurt me.

I'm back in the bathroom of the suite where I've been for almost an hour, sitting on the floor with my head in my hands and desperately wishing I had something to drink. But I'm halfway thankful that all the alcohol I'm craving is on the other side of the locked door I don't have the balls to open, because getting drunk is only going to make this worse. And it won't be long before she starts wanting something a little warmer, a little fresher, and I won't have a choice then.

I don't even want blood, and that's a whole other level of fucked up. I know it's only going to make me feel better, and I don't want to.

I just want her to talk to me. But she won't.

At least she hasn't tried to leave. Yet.

I can hear her lying on the bed, exactly in the same spot she's been in since we got back. She's flipping through a magazine without a care in the world and acting like our whole life hasn't fallen apart. I guess for her it hasn't gotten any worse than it already was and she's numb to it all anyways.

I'm not. And I couldn't take sitting in there with her like that anymore, so I came in here so she wouldn't see that I'm not nearly as strong as she thinks I am, as I wish I was.

There's a burning ache in my chest that beats werewolf venom every day of the week, no contest, and I'm not breathing because if I do then she'll hear that I'm trembling. And I'm not crying because she'll smell the salt and she'll know. So I'm just sitting, silent and shaking.

She turns another page and lets out a bored sigh. She knows where I am, knows I'm hurting, and she couldn't care less and that's all at my doing.

It was never supposed to be like this.

I make myself get up and start the water for a bath because it's the only comfort I can allow myself at this point. I've been still too long and my muscles are sore from sitting on the tile floor, and I need to pull this shit together before the next round of "How else can I fuck up the one good thing I had in my life?"

I wait until it's prepared before I go to face her, ready to be ignored but hoping that I won't be.

I find her where I left her and even after everything, all the anger, the guilt, the threats, the frustration, she's still beautiful and adorable and I'm completely hers. She's resting on her stomach, her knees bent and feet swinging lazily as she flips a page with the hand that's not supporting her chin, her hair thrown up in a messy bun and one rogue strand framing her face.

She doesn't acknowledge me in any way as I kneel beside the bed so my face is level with hers. I didn't really expect anything different. But when I tuck the hair behind her ear she doesn't jerk or slap my hand away. That has to be a good sign.

"Come take a bath with me."

Silence, except for the turning of another page.

I try not to sigh my disappointment as I slowly close the magazine she's using to punish me, gently sliding it away from her and setting it on the floor. She finally looks at me, and it's irritation and annoyance but not rage and not blind hate. I can work with that.

Her free hand is picking idly at the comforter, her wrist healed and perfect where I know it would be purple and blue if she were still human. I jerk my eyes away from it, choosing to watch her eyes instead as I wind my fingers through hers, carefully bringing them to my lips and placing a kiss on the back of her hand. Her scowl softens.

"Please?" I barely smile, letting her see the remorse in my eyes. "Tonight we'll do whatever you want, you name it. But you've had a long day, and you'll feel a lot better if you let me exchange your clothes for bubbles." I smirk and flare my eyes, praying that she'll take the opportunity of what I've denied her twice earlier so we can try to get past this. She never resists make-up sex, and I need to feel her, all of her, to know that she's okay. That we'll be okay.

Her eyes slightly narrow and I brace myself.

"Anything I want?"

"Yep," I say without hesitation. I can't afford for her to have the slightest doubt that I don't absolutely mean it.

"What if I want to kill?" She cocks her head at me, probably thinking I'll stop her. I won't, not anymore.

I'm barely hanging on to her by a thread and whatever it is she wants, I'll give it to her. We'll deal with the consequences later. I just need to keep her with me so we can deal with them, and there's no guarantee she even wants to stay at this point.

"Whatever you want, whatever makes you happy."

I can see it all over her face. She knows I'm being honest and that if she's happy, that's what I'll be. She doesn't like that at all.

"What if I want to fuck somebody else?"

And there it is.

I feel my objections try to drop and my gums groan in protest, but I catch them in time before she sees. And it takes all my self-control not to let black veins stretch out across my cheeks, painting me for the liar she just made me. I know she's pushing me, trying to see how far she can go before I snap and I won't let her win. She'd probably do it now just to make her point, and I have no idea what the fuck to do.

After watching her with my brother and waiting for her for over a year, my possessiveness is admittedly a little out of control. She's finally mine, and I don't want to share her. It's hard enough not to kill all the men who are constantly staring at her ass. I don't know how the fuck I'm supposed to tolerate them putting their mouths and hands and whatever else they want on her body.

I can't.

I won't.

The Ripper of Monterrey will have nothing on me.

"Is that what you want?" I say it calm, even, like I'd be able to stomach the fact that when she eventually came back I'd have to smell them on her. I can't let her know that I'm actually imagining all the ways to drag out their torture so they will never be able to look at her again, much less touch her.

"No," she says quick and sure, and it's like somebody just slapped all the air back into my body.

She doesn't know how to lie turned off. She doesn't need to, because she doesn't care, and her truth is that she still doesn't want anyone else. Somewhere in there, buried deep beneath the cold detachment, she may actually love me. She just doesn't remember what it feels like, but I do.

"So how about that bath?" I smile, because I can't help it. Hope is too powerful to be denied.

I get the "Whatever, Damon" eye roll she's patented in the last week, but I don't even care because she's pushing herself up with her other hand and getting off the bed to join me. I stand with her, following her into the bathroom as she strips off her shirt and bra and tosses them on the floor and I fling my shirt on top of hers. I'll pick it all up later, none of that shit matters now. She's right in front of me, and she doesn't want to leave. I don't care about anything else.

I stay behind her as she stills in front of the large Gobi bathtub* and unbuttons her jeans, quiet and blank and lost in her own thoughts or lack thereof. I don't want to startle her, especially after what happened today, so I tickle my nails from the tops of her shoulders all the way down her arms until our fingers are braided together, gently stopping her.

She falls back into my hold like it's the most natural thing in the world, and it is. Her back to my chest, skin against skin, this is her home even when she's absent and lost. I feel the shift as she fully leans her weight against me with no fear, just an innate trust that I'll catch her, support her. I will.

I lay my lips to her temple and her hands give way to mine, not resisting as I untangle them so I can unzip her jeans. She's still as I undress her, sliding the clothes that aren't hers slowly down her legs; steadying her as she steps out from them and into the water I drew for us.

I smile as she sinks into the middle of the tub, leaving enough space for me behind her. Even though I asked her to join me I wouldn't have been surprised if she decided she'd rather be alone. But she's inviting me to be with her, and the warmth radiating from the water can't touch what's seeping through my chest.

"You coming, Stud? Or you gonna stand there all night and stare at me?"

I can't help but chuckle as I remove my pants, not missing the way her eyes are hungrily taking me in. I've been marveled at enough that there's no way I could ever have confidence issues about my body, but when she looks at me like that…it does dangerous things to my ego.

I slip into the water as she wraps her arms around her knees, bringing them to her chest. I'm caught a little off guard at realizing that from our near-daily baths she knows exactly how to leave plenty of room so my legs can find their place on either side of hers. It hasn't been long but we already have a rhythm, somewhere crossing the line from hesitant first steps into our own private dance of intimacy.

She rests her head against her legs with a contented sigh, staying curled into herself as my hands tenderly roam over her, lightly massaging my way up her spine and to her shoulders. I frown as I uncover tension that shouldn't be there, instantly adjusting to use just enough pressure to begin working out the hidden knots I find. Her body can't hide reality, confirming signs of the emotional weight her mind and heart are burying at my insistence.

I take my time working over every inch of her back and her breathing becomes deeper, more relaxed, her heartbeat slowing as she melts under my touch. I focus purely on her movements as she shifts and stretches, unconsciously directing me to where she needs me to heal her. There's much more stress under her skin than I'm comfortable with, but before long I ease it all and her physical peace brings mine along with it.

She's so quiet and still as I finish that I wonder if she may have fallen asleep, but when I lean forward to fully wrap her in my arms she sighs in a way that speaks of serenity.

"Better?" I whisper, dropping a kiss on her shoulder.

She nods lazily, but her pulse spiked as my lips met her skin and there are goosebumps rising where my breath is caressing her. It's so simple, but her reactions have always been the calling card for how she feels for me and I need that speed, even more than her words.

I smile and kiss her again, teasing her with a light touch of my tongue. I'm rewarded with another burst of momentum and a sharp intake of breath, her hips rocking back to press further into me. Something softens in my chest as I harden below because even after everything, she's still asking.

We're going to be fine.

I guide her arms to release her legs, leaning us both back so we're fully stretched out with her head tilting against my shoulder. My mouth greets her neck, ravenously absorbing the swiftness of the blood racing under her unbroken skin and her hands lead me, laying over mine to cup and caress her breasts, rolling her nipples between our fingers as we explore her, together.

She releases me to wrap one arm around my neck, the other gripping the edge of the tub so I have free reign over her. I let one of my hands drift down her stomach, sliding over slick and soft skin and stroking the top of her thigh. I know I'm welcome as she parts her legs further, opening herself up to me and moaning in impatience.

I'm careful with my touch, walking two fingers back down her until I'm hovering where I know she wants me, where I want to be. I dip down, using just the tips to nudge her apart so I'm holding her exposed and untouched, the hot water lapping against her.

She squirms against me with her hand on my neck moving to my wrist, urging me closer and silently asking me to touch her. I love that she still fights to set the pace, always in a rush to feel the euphoria she knows I'm going to bring her and forgetting that I'm not some bumbling kid who she needs to direct. I pinch her nipple in warning and bite her neck with blunt teeth, drawing a gasp out of her.

I know how to take care of my girl.

I shift the placement of my hand so I'm still holding her open, but freeing my middle finger to slide over her in one slow pass, lifting away just before I reach her clit. Even in the water I can feel her want for me, silky and warm, pure and honest desire. My mouth dries in envy.

"Damon…" she moans, and my name on her lips is pure sex. I'll do everything in my power to make sure it stays there as long as I'm alive, pulling it from her in breathy pants and uncontrollable screams.

I know I'm driving her crazy by not fully touching her, and I want to feel her just as much as I know she wants me to. But I also know after dangling it in front of her, her orgasm will be that much more fulfilling when I finally let her reach it.

It's my favorite game, and I always win.

I drag my finger across the crest of one of her lower lips, as far away from her as I dare to go.

"Here?" I whisper.

She shakes her head at me, shifting closer and straining but it's no use. No matter how much she moves, she's only going to get what I choose to give her.

"Here?" I tease, stroking her again closer to her center but still not where she wants me.

She whimpers and I can't help but chuckle. She doesn't stand a chance.

"What about…here," I rumble, tapping her clit once with the smallest touch I can manage.

Her whole body jerks at the contact, shuddering with sensitivity.

She nods against my shoulder as she recovers, her eyes closed and cheeks flush.

"Where?" I ask innocently.

"There…"

"No, I don't think so," I say seriously, and she grumbles and pouts. Right where I want her.

"Here," I growl and plunge two fingers into her, curling them into the spot that always makes her scream.

She doesn't disappoint, her yell a delicious mixture of a curse and my name.

"And here," I tell her, pressing my thumb into her clit.

Her back arches off me as far as she can, but she doesn't get far. My other arm is holding her to me and teasing her nipples, propelling every sensation to its peak while she pulses in harmony with my strokes.

I let her ride her climax as long as she can, greedily wanting every second of her pleasure that I can get her to give to me. When she can't take anymore I slip out of her but I know she's not done. Not by far.

She proves me right, not even taking a moment to catch her breath before she turns and sinks herself down on to me. I can't think to control the veins taking my eyes as I fill her, my groan at how warm and tight she is slicing over my descended fangs.

She kisses me and it's sharp, blood dripping between us as her teeth cut into my lips and mine into hers. I taste her and it's life and death, our complicated pairing that now flows through her veins. I can sense her compassion from when she was human and my instinct to kill, her penchant for forgiveness and mine to distrust. She is both of us, a glorious contradiction blended together and no matter how often I taste her I'm still possessed.

I've never tasted anything more perfect.

She releases my lips and arches back, riding me slow and hard and using the full force of her hips to grind against me. I meet her every thrust, squeezing her waist and up her back until I have her shoulders under my hands to anchor her to me; wrenching her down as I drive up into her.

I know she wants me harder, deeper, to give her every inch I have. I'm happy to obey, my dick hungry and demanding as I push up into her, finding the edge of what she can allow and stretching her further.

She gasps and trembles under the force, her walls contracting as a single wave ripples through her. My swollen head throbs in her grip and I can already feel the familiar tightness brewing in my stomach, but as much as I want to release into her, I'm not ready yet. I need to feel her come over me first.

I lean forward to take her nipple into my mouth, sucking and nipping until it hardens even further over my tongue. She moans my name and I know what she wants, not teasing or denying as I sink my fangs into the soft flesh of her breast and giving us what we both need.

Her blood spills into my mouth as her warmth coats my cock, pulling her orgasm from her everywhere I can. Her screams are beautiful, unfiltered bliss, the wondrous forfeit of control. I'm plunged into silence as I feel two unexpected stabs of pain in my palm, the pressure bending into pleasure as her mouth sucks the blood from my hand.

My hips lurch and a grunt escapes my lips, pumping heat as far into her as I can. She takes my orgasm as selfishly as I did hers, and I want to come in her forever; filling her with my scent and irrevocably designating her as mine.

I fall back dizzy and exhausted and she comes with me, both of us still and sated and struggling to breathe.

I don't know how we're not sinking to the bottom of the tub because even though I know I have bones under my skin, I think they may have dissolved. I can only listen as my racing heart sloshes blood through my veins.

I know I should probably get us to the bed so we can sleep, but I don't even have the strength to reposition her so she's more comfortable, let alone carry her.

Fuck it, we can pass out in the water. I won't risk dropping her.

She nuzzles my neck and I'm safe, her nose tickling me as she blesses me with languid kisses to my throat and jaw. I return the comfort she's giving me with my fingers drawing random patterns on her back as I hold her to me. She shivers at first, her awareness to my touch on overdrive but I know she likes it and I need to feel her; her skin my much needed cigarette and silkier than any sheets.

I realize her hair is still in a messy bun and it has to be uncomfortable, too much pressure sitting at one point for her to fully relax. As gently as possible I let it down, combing my fingers through it but it's tangled with knots. I'll wash it once I regain some semblance of composure, but for now it's the perfect excuse not to move. If I don't get them out first it'll just be worse afterwards, no matter how much conditioner I use.

"Damon?" she mumbles as I free the first few strands.

"Hmm?"

"Do you love me?"

"Very much," I tell her before I can stop myself. I'm so cozy and unguarded I'd probably recite sonnets if she wanted.

But I know I should be careful and I have been, not saying the words to her since before we went to that wretched island. We weren't in the best place during that trip and it hasn't been appropriate with everything that's happened since. I know she can't feel and I'm not about to tell her just to have her say that she doesn't care. I've already heard that too many times in the past.

She's not saying anything at my admission and I should let it go at that, but I just can't.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I don't understand..."

"Understand what?" I probe as I start on another knot.

"Why you made me turn my emotions off."

My hands still with my heart. I really don't want to go there with her, especially right now. It's a complicated and dangerous conversation that we still haven't had, and all I want to do is lay here in post-orgasmic bliss and play with her hair, not remind her of all the horrible things that drove me to that.

I'd also prefer to avoid being yelled at, because I'm sure she thinks me using the sire bond was just as bad as any compulsion, and she was more than pissed when she found out that I had manipulated her memories.

I resume my attempts to untangle her hair, and try to find the gentlest way to say it.

"Because you were in a lot of pain," I murmur, venturing as far as I'll go towards Jeremy's name.

"I'm not anymore though," she says honestly.

"I know."

I don't want her to be hurting, and I'm glad she's not, but it's bittersweet. I wish I had been strong enough to endure her anguish, but I wasn't and her screams from that night will haunt me forever. I needed it to stop and I had to help her in the only way I could think to do.

I'll never know if it was the right decision.

"I don't feel anything, Damon…"

I don't say anything, because I know what she's saying. She doesn't love me now, because she can't. My hands start to shake but I don't want her to know, so I keep them in her hair, focusing on the one thing I can fix that doesn't cause her pain.

"You knew that would happen? That it would all go away?"

"Yes," I say quietly.

"Doesn't it hurt?" she asks, sounding curious, but not quite concerned.

I don't reply. This is exactly why I've been avoiding this conversation. She doesn't need to know just how much it does. It doesn't matter, not to her, so why say it? There's no point.

"You said that it would make you happy, if I couldn't feel."

"So you weren't hurting, Elena…"

"But you are."

I won't lie to her, so I don't; just finishing my task as the last of the knots becomes undone.

"You're not happy," she states, pulling back to look at me.

I take her face in my hands, kissing her once slow and soft before I rest my forehead against hers.

"Right now, in this tub with you next to me, I'm very happy." It's the truth, though only part of it. I hope she doesn't notice.

She leans back a little, cocking her head as she studies me. I smile at her, but it feels false and I know I'm failing to make her believe me. Her hands tenderly touch my face, her brow furrowing like she can feel the stress I've been able to see in the corners of my eyes.

I cover her hands with mine, bringing them down to lay them on my chest between us.

"I just got laid and free dinner. What more could I want?" I try to smile again, but it still feels wrong.

"You're lying," she tells me and I wish I wouldn't have moved her hands because now she'll be able to feel how fast my pulse just started to race.

She doesn't miss a thing, sliding her gaze and right hand so they're right above my heart, holding them there as she listens to the truth I won't say.

"Elena…" I start, but I don't know what to tell her.

She looks back at me, and there's the blankness that I've come to know and expect. Not the fire I fell in love with.

I watch her, waiting for her to yell or hit me because she knows I've been lying, but she doesn't speak.

The silence is deafening, my racing pulse and her even heartbeat echoing through my ears.

Without warning hers thuds out of rhythm, speeding up with such intensity that it bypasses mine.

He eyes flare in shock, and the indifference that I put there is overcome with life, like color bleeding into black and white.

"Elena?"

Her chest is heaving, and I'm not sure what I'm seeing. She can't have, it's not possible…

"Damon," she whimpers, and a tear rolls down her cheek.

"You're okay, I'm right here," I rush out, taking her face in my hands because I only have seconds before she crumbles.

She nods and she's shaking, tears streaming faster and her skin paling in defeat to the onslaught that's hitting her.

"I'm so sorry," she mutters and I'm panicking. I don't know what she's apologizing for, what she may ask me to do. I won't be able to use the bond to turn her off again. The lie I'll need won't hold a second time now that she knows the truth.

"Please don't make me turn it off," she whispers.

A sob bursts out of her, but it's strangled.

Then another. Louder, harsher, her eyes pinching closed and her nails cutting into my chest.

And then she starts to scream.

"Breathe honey, I need you to breathe…"

"I…can't," she chokes out and throws up again.

She screamed for an hour before she started getting sick, and it hasn't stopped since. Her body so ravaged with grief it's tearing her apart from the inside out.

I re-gather her hair, collecting the few strands that have come loose and holding it back as I lay a wet towel on her neck. I hear the groan of the porcelain cracking under her grip as she clings to the toilet, and she's been empty for almost half an hour but she's still heaving uncontrollably.

Her muscles unclench as she finishes and I catch her before she collapses, leaning her back against me and pressing the cloth to her face.

"I've got you. You're okay…"

"He's dead…they're all dead…" she mumbles and lurches forward again.

"This is your fault!" she bellows and hurls the clock at my head. I dodge it, but wince as it shatters against the wall behind me.

"Pfft, where have you been? Haven't you seen my memoir? It's titled Damon Salvatore: Kicking Ass and Ruining Lives Since 1864."

I didn't expect her to turn on me so fast. After she finally stopped getting sick, I moved us to the bed and held her in my arms as she cried for another two hours. She eventually calmed down, and when she sat up and turned around I didn't quite know what to expect.

It wasn't for her to slap the ever living fuck out of me.

All the things she's been burying are hitting her in endless waves, and I know she can't begin to control what she's feeling. She's blind with rage, but I'll endure it as long as she doesn't turn on herself. She'll run out of stuff to throw at me eventually and I need her to get it all out. I can't go through this again.

I'm doing a pretty good job of acting like I'm blowing all this shit off, which is not easy when she's been steadily blaming me for everything bad that's happened in her life.

Ever.

Not saving her parents from dying when she knew I was close by.

All the people I've killed since I've come to town. And those that I didn't, but still died anyways as a result of my actions.

Being a wedge between her and her friends.

Stefan abandoning her to save me and me deserting him. Not teaching him control and blaming him for Katherine.

Her turning into a vampire.

Jeremy.

"You were supposed to protect him!" She accuses me with the shattering of another lamp at my feet.

"I fucking tried, Elena…"

"Stop lying! You always wanted him dead! You killed him!"

Her voice is screeching and cracking, completely hysterical as she grabs a chair and swings it at me like a baseball bat.

I blur out of the way at the last second, letting it explode against the wall.

"Coward!" she shouts and whips around to find me on the other side of the room.

"See, I have this thing about cheerleaders and chairs. It's one thing if you wanna give me a lap dance…"

"I hate you," she spits at me and I steel myself against her.

"Stefan teach you 'The Small World' song too?"

She's not thinking clearly, and she doesn't mean anything she's saying.

She's out of control, and you can't listen.

You can't.

She loves you.

In some way, she loves you.

She growls and blurs towards me, brandishing a piece of the wooden chair she broke.

I dodge around behind her, older and faster and undistracted by tears and fury. I lock my arms down over hers, pulling her back into me and slapping the make-shift stake from her hand.

"Easy with that toothpick, sweetheart. It's all fun and games until somebody loses an eye."

"Let go of me!"

"Why would I do that? You know how I feel about bondage."

She fights and squirms, using all her strength to try to wrestle free.

"Do me a favor and remind me when we get home to up the weight on your bench-press."

She kicks back and takes out my knee just like I showed her, causing me to buckle for a fraction of a moment. It's all the opening she needs, snapping her head back to connect with mine but I move just in time to avoid her. I've trained her well, but I also know her moves, and she's not going to win this round.

"I don't need a stake, I'll just rip your heart out!"

"But your nails! What would Caroline say?" I taunt her because I'm losing my patience.

She hits me with an elbow, knocking the breath out of me. She goes for my other knee and I step back out of the way. I don't wait for her to steady herself before I sweep her feet out from under her.

I keep my grip on her as we crash to the floor, landing on my back to break her fall. She's facing the ceiling on top of me, still struggling even with my legs wrapped around her; growling and snarling and cursing at me.

She throws her head back once more and I have nowhere to go, the top of her head connecting fully with my jaw. She caught me with enough force that I'm actually a little dazed, which makes me oddly proud and crazy furious at the same time.

My grip loosened at the hit and she has an arm free, scrabbling for a nearby chunk of wood that is thankfully out of her reach.

This has gone far enough.

"I'm sorry," I whisper before I snap her neck.

I glance out the windows past the ripped curtains and survey the skyline.

The sun will be up soon.

I'm so comfortable and so exhausted and I want to go to sleep more than anything.

But I can't.

I'm stretched out on the bed, sitting up against the pillows and I have a peaceful Elena in my arms. It would be the perfect time to drift off, if she wasn't temporarily dead.

I have her against me with my arms and legs still over hers, ready to lock her down in case I need to restrain her again. And her head is on my chest, but far enough away that she won't be able to head-butt me if she tries.

We've laid like this more than a few times, especially at night when she can't sleep, but usually I'm reading to her and she's not recovering from a broken neck. I don't have any books with us, and I can't risk not keeping a grip on both of her arms anyways. So instead I'm listening for her heart to start pumping again and holding our woven fingers to her chest, wondering what version of her is going to wake up.

I wonder if-

"Where am I?" she gasps, her eyes suddenly popping open and trying to sit up; her voice rough from screaming.

"You're safe, Elena. You're with me, and you're safe," I say as quickly as possible, but not releasing her.

She relaxes with a sigh and stops struggling, and I'm so glad she's not screaming yet. I just need five minutes of her awake and not crying or trying to kill me so I can try and make it through the next round. It's going to take a while for her to work through all that emotion, and one night is just the beginning of all that's ahead of us.

But she can feel.

I remember what it was like when I let my humanity back in, and it's all the bad at first. Anger, grief, devastating guilt. It takes a while to get to the good parts.

But I was off for years, and I still found it.

And I know it's going to take some time, but she'll find hers again too. At least now we can find them together.

I smile as I watch her turn her head, nuzzling her cheek against me and taking a deep breath. She's confirming my scent. She does the same thing in her sleep, shifting closer and inhaling, then melting into me. I know it has to be disorienting for her because she can't see my face and we're not at home, but I love that my smell is enough to bring her a sense of security.

I wait and listen to her pulse while she breathes, knowing soon the memories will start to come back. It takes a minute after you wake up to recall how and who killed you, and I don't really want to think about how mad she's going to be once she realizes what happened. I just want to hold her and if I'm really lucky, sleep. I know she needs it too, especially after all that crying.

"Try to get some rest," I whisper, knowing that it's probably a lost cause. But still, I have to try.

"What time is it?"

"It's almost dawn," I answer because she actually broke all the clocks in the room and I don't know where my phone is to check. It's probably in pieces somewhere, a casualty of her outburst.

"The room…" she mumbles, surveying the damage.

"Doesn't matter, I'll take care of it," I assure her because I will and I don't care. I'm probably going to have to compel the manager not to call the cops when they check it, but it's fine. It's not the first time I've left a place a little worse for the wear and she doesn't need to worry.

"You snapped my neck," she whispers, sounding a little surprised, but not angry.

I don't want to think about it and I hope I never have to do that again because nothing has ever felt so wrong. I don't really understand why she's not more upset about it, but it's probably just the shock. I'll apologize when she's more stable, and I didn't have a choice, but right now I'm not even going to try to make excuses for doing that to her.

"Yes, I did."

"I…I tried to stake you…"

"Happens," I say lightly with a gentle squeeze so she knows I'm not mad. I still haven't released her, but she's not fighting my hold either, seemingly happy to be close.

"Damon?" she quivers and just like that, I know it's starting again.

"If I let you go are you going to try to kill me?" I ask quickly before she breaks.

She shakes her head no and I probably should be a little more cautious, but I need to try and keep her calm and to do that I need her closer.

I unlock my legs and arms, and before I can help her she's scampering up my body, straddling my hips with her arms wound around my neck.

"Damon, I'm so sorry," she whimpers and small sob trickles out. "I didn't mean it and it's not your fault it just hurts and it's too much and I just couldn't think I was so mad-"

"Shh, it's okay, Elena," I sooth, hugging her back. "Everything is going to be fine, I promise."

"You can't promise that…" she sniffles, but she's not full out crying.

"Sure I can," I tell her, shifting us so I can leave a kiss on her forehead. "No matter what it always works out in the end, and nothing you or I do will change that. We can't, so try not to worry."

Her shoulders shake a bit as she sniffles again, but I think she may actually be laughing just a touch. I pull back so I can see her, brushing her hair away from her face. Her eyes are red and her cheeks are wet, but she smiles and God help me, it's a real one.

"Something funny?" I smile back.

"Nothing," she shakes her head and shrugs. "It's just…you're still a fatalist."

I actually laugh with her for the first time in what feels like years. The weight and stress of past weeks disappearing at the singular knowledge that she's still here with me and it's exactly where she wants to be. I don't need to know anything else.

"Honey, some things never change."

She moves a hand to my cheek, her face glowing in the first light of the new day. And I don't know what I've ever done to deserve the love in her eyes, but it's there and a part of me knows that no matter what lies ahead in our future, it will remain to be.

"Some things do," she says softly and as long as I live, I will never forget this moment.

I cover her hand with mine, bringing it to my lips and placing a gentle kiss to her palm before laying it over my heart.

"Yes," I smile back, "some do."

FIN

*Gobi bathtub: free standing, rectangular shaped bathtub made of white Cristal Plant.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! You guys are the best and I'll admit I can't wait to hear your thoughts, so please review. Even a simple word is so meaningful. Don't underestimate it, because every one matters. Truly. Thanks again, and Happy Reading!

-Goldnox