Disclaimer: I do not The Vampire Diaries, or any of its characters.

Author's note: I continue to be amazed and delighted at the responses this story has generated. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. The following chapter takes place directly after the final scene in Miss Mystic Falls.

He had indulged her long enough. They had been sitting on the floor in front of Stefan's makeshift prison for over an hour. Elena had kept her gaze focused on the door, waiting for any sound or hint of movement. Damon knew she was suffering from some completely misplaced feeling of guilt and that keeping vigil was somehow easing her conscience. But enough was enough.

He stood abruptly, extending his hand to her. "Come on. You can't sit here all night - this is ridiculous."

"You can go. No one's forcing you to stay down here, Damon," she said, ignoring his hand. "I'm not leaving."

So damn stubborn. Heaving an exasperated sigh, he knelt in front of her, capturing her attention. "Elena. We pumped him full of enough vervain to keep him out for another eight hours - at least." He could see her resolve wavering. "Come upstairs with me and have something to eat. Get some rest. If he so much as rolls over, I'll hear it and we can be right back down here." He rose and extended his hand to her a second time.

"Fine." Slipping her hand into his, she was easily pulled from the floor as he smiled at her acquiescence. "You promise you'll tell me if you hear anything? Even if I'm asleep?"

"Especially if you're asleep," he replied with a cocky grin and smoldering eyes. "Imagine how much fun I can have waking you up."

"Sorry I asked," she muttered as he led her up the stairs, keeping her hand firmly tucked in his.

The stairs led to kitchen and Damon released her hand with a reassuring squeeze as he walked over to the fridge, Elena trailing behind him. "What do you have to eat?"

"Hmmmm...looks like wine and baking soda. I think we have something..." He closed the door to the fridge and opened the freezer. "Ha! Frozen pizza and..." He paused, searching behind the ice cube trays. "My emergency blood supply," he finished victoriously, holding the last two bags of blood in the house. Generally they kept the blood in the freezer downstairs, but Damon had stashed a couple in the main kitchen, just in case. Thankfully, he hadn't told Stefan. He placed their respective dinners on the counter and set the temperature on the stove to preheat.

Elena picked up the frozen blood. "Do you want me to defrost these?"

"It doesn't gross you out?" he asked, a quizzical expression on his face.

She shrugged. "Sort of." After putting the bags in the microwave and setting the time, she turned to him. "It doesn't bother me as much as it used to. I think I'm becoming desensitized."

She crossed the kitchen and stopped in front of him. "In all the confusion today, I forgot to thank you for stepping in for Stefan as my escort." Her mind flitted to the brief moment of panic she had experienced when she had descended the stairs with no Stefan in sight. Shaking her head, she continued, "That could've been really humiliating." She smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

Damon had been the perfect escort. He knew all of the rituals, had displayed perfect etiquette, and was an amazing dance partner…. When she was dancing with him, she had completely forgotten about Stefan. There was something all-consuming about Damon when his attention and intensity was focused solely on her. It used to frighten her, but now... It had been thrilling.

"It was my pleasure." And it really was.

She had looked absolutely beautiful in her blue silk dress. He remembered why he had liked dancing so much in his human days. In those days, when propriety reigned supreme, dancing was one of the few opportunities that allowed you to be close to the opposite sex. As such, he had mastered it. Dancing with Elena had resurrected those long forgotten feelings. When just having your hand on a pretty girl's waist could set your pulse racing. Her eyes had been fixed on him, the same fire burning within them he had seen that night in the study. He could barely stop himself from dragging her into some empty room, pushing her up against a wall, sliding his tongue into her mouth, and shoving that blue silk up her thighs until...

The microwave dinged, dragging him from his x-rated thoughts and Elena spun away. Pulling the warm bags out she asked, "Do you want this in a glass or do you want to just rip through the bag?"

He threw a sour look in her direction. "A glass, Elena. I'm not a savage."

Opening the cupboard, she found a selection of lovely crystal stemware...and one plastic cup featuring SpongeBob SquarePants? How the hell had that ended up in here? Smiling to herself, she grabbed it and wrinkled her nose as she emptied the bags into it.

Damon had just put the pizza in the oven when she presented the glass to him, grinning widely. "Dinner is served."

His eyes flicked from the plastic cup to her smug grin. Bitch. "Well aren't you a regular Donna Reed?" He removed it from her hand and took a drink.

"Where did that cup come from? It doesn't really seem like your style."

"I stole it from the toddler I had for lunch last week."

"You're not funny."

"Yes, I am."

Rolling her eyes, she turned away from him and picked out plates from the cupboard. "Do you think he's going to be okay?" she asked in a soft voice, eyes on the plates in her hands.

Damon walked over to her and put his finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "He'll be fine, Elena. It's just going to take some time for the human blood to leave his system."

"Is it always going to be like this? I'm afraid I'm always going to be on edge now, waiting for him to lose control. Slip up." The prospect was exhausting emotionally. The Stefan who drank human blood was a very different Stefan from the person she had fallen in love with. He was a loose cannon with no impulse control.

Damon took a step back. "I can't answer that. I'm many things, Elena – gorgeous, charming, and outrageously sexy – however I am not omniscient."

They ate and cleaned up the kitchen in relative silence. Elena was tired, but still felt the need to unwind a bit. She made her way to the study and scanned the shelves, looking for something to read. She selected a book of English poems; it had a beautiful cover and looked like an antique. Curling up on the couch she opened it, flipping through the thin pages with care.

"That belonged to my mother." Damon was leaning over the back of the couch, peering at the book over her shoulder. "It's one of the few the possessions of hers I still have," he said quietly, running his finger along the edge of a delicate page.

Feeling guilty for touching something that was obviously precious to him, she closed it carefully and moved to put it back on the shelf. "I'm sorry. I didn't know –"

Damon halted her movement by placing his hand on her shoulder. "Elena. You're more than welcome to read it."

She sat back down on the couch and watched him fix a drink. "What was your mother like? I don't recall Stefan ever mentioning her."

He smiled to himself, and sat down next to her, glass in hand. "She was very warm and vivacious. Loving." He paused, as if contemplating whether or not he should continue. "She died when I was twelve. I came down with typhoid fever. I got better…..and she got sick." He finished his drink. "My father blamed me for her death. He never actually came out and said it, but it was always there, beneath the surface." His jaw was tight and the emotion in his eyes was a mixture of sadness tinged with anger.

Leaning closer to him, her dark hair brushed over his arm. She had to resist the urge to reach out and touch his jaw, smooth away the tension she saw there. "Damon, your mother's death was not your fault. I'm sure your father knew that."

Hard eyes met hers briefly. "No. He did not."

Finally noticing her proximity, his mood shifted, relaxed. He would not waste time dwelling on the past. Not when what he wanted was very much in the present and seated next to him. He tilted his head towards hers. "So how should we pass the time? Truth or Dare?" Moving even closer he smirked. "Naked Twister?"

She sighed internally. Apparently, sharing time was over. "I think I'll pass." She rose from the couch. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. You'll wake me up if he comes around?"

"Scout's honor," he replied, holding up his hand in the accompanying gesture.

"Night." She left the room carrying his mother's book.

Several hours later, Elena felt herself being unwillingly pulled towards consciousness. She fought against the unseen force and buried her face deeper into her pillow.

Damon pushed her satiny hair off her cheek before sliding his arm around her waist. He tugged her forward slightly, until a scant few inches separated them. "Wake up, Elena," He said softly, for the third time.

Her eyes flew open and with a startled gasp she met Damon's amused gaze. Reflexively, she tried to move back a bit, but his arm tightened around her like an iron band. "What are you doing?" He was much too close and smelled far too good.

He smiled lazily and released his hold on her. He didn't pull away completely, merely shifted so that his long fingers rested lightly on her waist. "Keeping my promise. Stefan woke up." Those fingers held her in place gently as she moved to get up. "It was brief – not more than a minute. He passed out again."

"Then why did you wake me up? And why are you in bed with me?" Her eyes shifted downward and widened. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Against her will, her eyes traced the curve of his pectoral.

"Ah – you said to wake you 'if he came around'. You should have clarified." Damon moved closer, she could feel his warm breath on her lips." As for the other part…..I warned you I'd have fun waking you up." He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something. He grinned and narrowed his eyes, "Your heart is pounding like a jackhammer. Do I make you nervous?"

Yes.

"No! You just startled me." Her face flushed red. "Plus, you seem to have no regard for anyone's personal space." Her hand landed against his abdomen, fingertips pressing into his soft skin and hard muscle for just a second longer than was appropriate, before she pushed him away.

He rolled onto his back and turned his head to look at her, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Pffft. Who wouldn't want me in their personal space?"

Smiling at his blatant arrogance, she rolled her eyes at him. "Bye, Damon."

Groaning, he climbed out of the bed and disappeared. Her hair ruffled and shivers exploded down her spine as he whispered, "Bye, Elena," into the back of her neck. Chuckling, he shut the door.

Sleep was elusive after that. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore her body's reaction when Damon was near. She should most definitely not be having these feelings. She was in love with Stefan. Wasn't she?

She rolled over to the spot Damon had vacated and crushed her face into the pillow. It smelled like him. She was asleep within seconds.