Elena sat cross-legged on the futon making lists. She was a big fan of lists. They were calming; they organized the fear out of the unknown and some of the darkness out of the coming night.

Initially she planned on making a list for the things she needed to do, now that her bruises were fading it was time to get on with her life. But she kept getting distracted by making a list of things that could be done for Giuseppe and the rest of Mystic Falls' senior population.

Her own list was boring: press conference, campaign for Jeremy. Yuck.

Organizing a poker night for seniors at the Grill was a whole lot more fun.

The front door of the house opened, letting in the night and the fresh smell of rain. Damon stood there, one hand on the doorknob; his head bent as if listening to someone say his name from a place far away.

Everything shifted inside of Elena, cringing to the sides to make room for all this…feeling. For Damon. Great bullying feelings that pushed around her common sense and her other plans and any thought past him. And the next moment with him.

Oh, she thought. Oh, this is bad.

"How did it go with your father?" She put her pencil down on the pad, scenting something terrible in the air. The sharp edge of heartbreak and the bitter tang of fear. "You were gone a long time."

Without a word Damon crossed the room and Elena saw the wet spots on his shoulders, the rain like stars in his dark hair. She sucked in a breath that tasted like lightning.

He stood over her, a shadow thrown across her whole world.

"Damon?" she whispered, electrified by his silence.

Something was very, very different.

"I want you," Damon said, the words landing like cinders from a fire against her skin. Elena had to open her mouth to pull in enough air, and even that sizzled through her lungs.

"I have always wanted you," he whispered. And it was a dream, a fantasy; he came down to his knees on the floor beside the sofa.

"I want you, too," Elena whispered. Damon groaned and pressed his head into her stomach. His hands furrowed under the hem of her cut-offs, up along the warm skin of her thighs.

"This is a mistake," he whispered into her belly. "Tell me you know that."

"No," Elena said. Greedy, aware that this moment, this breakdown of his iron control, his impeccable solitude, might not last, she covered as much of his territory as possible, making huge circles with her palms over his back, taking note of every muscle, every dimple of scar tissue. Hot flesh and hard muscle. She twined her fingers into his hair, smoothed it down over his ears. She was drunk with touching him. High. It was the only reason she would ever open her mouth and say, "I'm falling in love with you."

Damon sat back on his heels, his eyes wide.

She was lying—she was already in love with him—and he knew it. If he didn't he was an idiot, and no one could accuse him of that.

There was no point in being embarrassed by her feelings; it was a relentlessly bad instinct to love this man, but it was also equally impossible not to.

Elena shrugged. "Sorry."

Suddenly the house was illuminated by a giant lightning strike and then it shook with booming, rolling thunder.

And in the silence that followed, the air around them changed. Damon changed. Heartbreak and fear were replaced by the razor-sharp edge of intent. Sexual intent. He was going to say something rude, ask her to do something ruder to try to cure her feelings, but it was useless, she was wet at the thought.

He sat back on his heels, his jeans stretched taut over his legs, and carefully she uncrossed hers and put her bare toes against his thigh. He burned through his denim. Her toes slid over the round hill of his muscle, toward his lean waist. His belt.

Her face burned, she was blushing so hard, but she touched her big toe to the cold metal of his belt buckle. An unmistakable signal.

I'm in, she tried to convey. Mistake or not, I want you.

"Undo it," Damon said, his voice a low growl that could ask her to do anything and she would comply. Leaning forward, Elena brought her mouth within a breath of his. The fact that he didn't kiss her was excruciating, they simply breathed each other in and then out. He watched her; she watched her fumbling, shaking fingers slip the leather from the metal loop and push it free.

"Take me out."

She dipped her fingers behind the brass button, her knuckles flush with the hot skin of his belly. He sucked in a breath and the thin line of hair there tickled her hand. The button was stubborn, her fingers were clumsy, but she managed to get it undone.

The loudest thing on the planet was that zipper. But then it was down and…Oh God. Elena bit her lip. It had been a really long time since she had been in this position and most of those experiences had ended in disappointment or marginal horror. But she reached into the soft black cotton of his boxers and slipped her hand around…

She moaned at the size of him. The heat. The awkward reality of pulling a large, fully erect penis free from underwear. But then he was out and it was soft and hard and gorgeous. She ran her fingers down its sides, finding veins and secret soft spots that made his body clench hard. The thick plum at the top leaked a tear and she touched it with her finger, running it around the spongy head.

Suddenly, Damon stood, his hips—his erection—at eye level. Mouth level. He pulled his underwear down under his sack and stroked his dick with his own hand, and it was so hot, so unbearably erotic that she squirmed in her seat.

"Look at you," he breathed. "You want it so bad."

I do, I really do, Elena thought.

But while she might like his raw words, she felt stupid saying them herself. Didn't know how to make them sound right out of her mouth, so she just nodded.

"Suck me," he said. Between her legs, she throbbed. The weight of her T-shirt against her nipples was unbearable. Her skin felt like it couldn't hold in how much she wanted him.

Damon cupped the back of her head, pulling her toward him, and she braced her hand against his hip, her thumb right there in the divet where his muscles met, and that was so hot she stroked it.

"I said suck me," he said and Elena nearly rolled her eyes.

"You should know, if you are trying to scare me, it is not working. I like this. If I didn't, I would walk away."

Damon blinked, his mouth slack, and Elena shook off the hand he was trying to use to intimidate her. When she curled her fingers around him, his breath came out on a hitch, like something he was trying to hide, and that wouldn't do.

She couldn't hide from him. Had never been able to, and she was tired of letting him hide from her.

More graceful than she thought she could be, she slid to the edge of the sofa and spread her legs so he stood between her knees and then she licked the long, broad underside of his dick before pulling the tip into her mouth.

"Oh God."

That hand Damon had used to try and force her now curved so tenderly over her shoulder, the moment was transformed. This wasn't something she was doing to him, or him to her. They were in this together. His thumb rested right at her heartbeat and she felt the rebound of her pulse under his skin.

Carefully, because he was big and she didn't know exactly what she was doing, she took more of him in her mouth, a long slick slide, until her eyes watered and she felt him at the back of her throat.

"Easy, honey," Damon breathed, pulling her away very slowly. Her hand curled around that soft-hard mystery and she slowly went from root up to tip and back again, sucking on the head, slowly jacking him off.

Everything about this, the intimacy of his taste and his smell, the way he bent his knees when she took as much of him as she could. The way his hand squeezed her shoulder—all of it fed her. Delighted her. Told her a hundred little stories about him.

Damon liked it when she slipped her other hand around his waist and over his ass, up his back and down again. He liked it when she sucked hard on the tip and moved her hand fast just below her lips. She touched his balls and he laughed.

When Elena looked up at his face while sucking him, he groaned, his cheeks bright and red. His eyes were unfocused like he was just barely holding on. He touched her cheek, her lips where they wrapped around him, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing and wanted to be sure.

His dick, his fingers against her lips, it was too much. She arched toward him.

He popped out of her mouth and Elena rested her head against his hip. "I'm dying. Damon," she whispered. Every bad date, every drunk guy who passed out, every time she had said no for reasons she didn't really understand but probably had their roots in this man. All of that desire she had shelved came tumbling down on her and she was ready to crawl out of her skin. She rocked hard against the sofa, making herself crazy, searching for a relief.

"Lie back."

Eager, she did, her arms out by her sides. Her eyes on him.

Damon ripped off his shirt, toed off his boots, pulled down his pants, all in one big long graceful strip, so fast if she blinked she would have missed it.

There were men who paid lots of money in an effort to look like Damon. A man, with muscle and hair in all the right places. The scar tissue from the burns along his hip, the spider web of surgical scars across his knee—it didn't diminish anything about him.

His hands caught the bottom hem of her shirt, lifting it up and over her head, making her hair shower down around her shoulders, over her breasts, and across her face. Not wanting to miss a second of his face, Elena quickly brushed it away. Her cut-offs, too big from the last time she wore them, slipped down her hips with one good yank from him.

His eyes took a walk all over her—her hair, her face, her breasts, the yellow blooms along her ribs—and as he looked, he was right out there in the open.

No more hiding.

So effected, so turned on, she arched under his gaze, her arms up over her head.

"Touch me," Elena whispered.

Damon spread his palm wide just under her throat and slowly dragged it over her breasts, down her tummy, to the soft brown fur between her legs.

"You are so beautiful," he said. His thumb found the damp top end of her slit and slid into the furrow, down over her clit to where she wept for him.

Elena couldn't control the way her body jerked; she grabbed his wrist to keep herself centred. It seemed like they had jumped ahead a few steps and she needed them to back up. There was no part of this she wanted to skip. The smallest tug on his hand brought him up and over her body. He ducked his head and kissed the swell of her breast; she shifted and he licked her hard nipple, sucked it into his mouth, and her nerve endings went berserk, she twitched, her hands reaching up into his hair, keeping him close.

Damon cupped her breast in his hand, holding it high, and Elena watched as his tongue licked her nipple, his lips covered it. Oh, she couldn't breathe…when he sucked she cried out. And again when he used his teeth on her nipple. Pleasure boiled inside of her and she lifted her knees up along the outside of his thighs and his erection pressed right into the centre of her body. Her hands clawed at his back, wanting him closer. Needing him closer.

"Kiss me," she breathed.

"I am." His breath, hot and wet, blew across her breast and she shuddered.

"My mouth."

Damon looked up at her, their eyes meeting, and suddenly the reality of what they were doing hit home. The intimacy of it was shocking. It wasn't just their naked bodies. It was their naked souls. At least hers anyway.

He braced his elbows over her shoulders and slid his thumb along her lips. She could taste herself on his skin, the musk of her desire. She opened her lips and he slid inside.

His groan was pulled from his guts and she couldn't stand it anymore; she leaned up and kissed him. Forced his lips open with her tongue, wrapped her hands in his hair to keep him close.

It was every kiss Elena had ever wanted from Damon, and he kissed her right back, with the same velocity. The same hunger and need, and he thrust against her, his dick sliding through her wetness to brush against her clit.

Elena gasped, the kiss forgotten as stars exploded in her body.

"Again," she breathed and he complied, his head bent to her neck. She met his thrust with her own, pressing down against him as he pressed up.

"Elena, honey." He sucked the tender skin at the base of her throat into his mouth. He pressed kisses all along her chest until he got to her breasts. He pushed them together, licking and biting the peaks while she went ape-shit under him.

There was no control, she was just raw electrical impulse. She pushed against him until the sparks gained momentum, until it hurt and there was a current pushing her somewhere.

"Damon," she groaned. "Damon…what…I need more."

"More?"

"Please."

Damon slipped away from her.

"No!" she cried, furious and…he licked her. There. He pushed her legs over his shoulders, kneeling on the floor between her legs. His fingers spread her open and his tongue…Elena fell back against the sofa. His tongue was inside her. Fast and hard and then he sucked on her clit and it was his fingers inside her and it hurt…for a second it hurt. Not because her hymen was intact, but because nothing as big as his fingers had ever been inside of her. There was a stretch and a pull.

"You are so tight," he said against her unbearably hot and wet skin. He twisted his fingers inside her, stretching her, and the ratio of pain to pleasure skewed off and she didn't like that.

A new urgency burned through her, to have this done with. To make this choice and get on with her life.

"Come on," she breathed and tugged on his elbow.

"You are not ready, honey."

"I am. Trust me, I'm ready."

His finger slid in deep and then out again, dragging across nerve bundles she never would have guessed she had.

"Please, Damon, hurry."

Damon stood up, his mouth wet, and when he wiped it with the back of his hand it was the hottest thing Elena had ever seen.

"I will be right back." His eyes danced across her body and he seemed transfixed, so she gave him a push with her foot.

That made him smile, and he left but not before leaning over her to press a kiss to her belly.

He walked to the bathroom and she admired the bunch and pulse of his legs, the wide lovely sail of his back. Honestly, there was not a man more attractive than Damon. Through the bathroom's open door Elena watched him take a silver packet from his kit bag. As he walked back into the room he tore open the packet with his teeth and without taking his eyes off her, slid the condom over his erection.

Her breath shuddered in her burning lungs.

He was back between her legs, and she knew better than to say anything about her virginity. There would be no way to measure the speed with which he would run from her if he knew, so she reached up and touched him, the latex wrapped heat of him.

"Move back," Damon said and as Elena scooted up the sofa he crawled over her.

His fingers ran through the dampness between her legs, he slid one finger inside of her and then slowly another one.

"Come on," she breathed, pulling his weight onto her, against her. His dick replaced his fingers, not inside of her but against her. Hard and high against her clit, and she whimpered, pulsing against him. She clutched him with her arms and legs, wanting more, wanting this to be over as much as she wanted it to last forever.

Elena felt him reach between them and then when he thrust again, it wasn't against her, it was inside her, and she gasped with the pain.

Damon buried his face against her neck, his hands in fists by her ears.

The next thrust was a long, slow splitting of her and she bit her lip against the burn and sting. It would feel good again, she knew that. She wasn't a total innocent, but this…this hurt.

And then suddenly she felt his hip bones against hers and he was lodged, high and hard, inside her. She felt pinned to the sofa by his cock. She tried to shift but couldn't. Not without pain.

"Elena?"

She opened her eyes to find Damon staring at her.

Her attempt at a smile was lame, she could see how utterly unconvincing it was by the way he frowned at her.

She curled her arms up over his shoulders and tried to pull him down to kiss her, but he caught her hands and pressed them up above her head.

His strength was so exciting and she felt the sting of him inside of her lessen.

"Well," she said, trying to sound okay, when inside she was suffering through an earthquake. "We took care of that."

"Elena," he groaned, dropping his head. He shifted as if to pull out of her and she clutched him with all her strength.

"Don't you dare, Damon. Don't you dare leave because you are freaked out. I'm freaked out. Me. And I need your help."

His eyes glittered as they looked at her, and still Damon pulled away.

"No," she groaned, her hands trying to grab on to the slick muscles of his back. "What are you doing? Please—"

"If we are going to do this, we are going to do it right, Elena."

x x x

Elena was a virgin.

Of course she was, because nothing about her was totally as it seemed. At least for Damon.

If she was already the most good and innocent thing he had ever touched, she had to compound it. She had to gild herself with all the beauty he had no business touching.

A virgin.

On some level Damon had known she was inexperienced, but it still wasn't enough to make him walk away. Nothing at this point could make him walk away.

He slid down to the ground again, between her leg, and put his mouth on the tender flesh he had hurt. He licked and kissed, found the hot spots and the places that made her dance away from him. When Elena gasped and cried out, when she put her fingers in his hair and held him still, he was fiercely, selfishly glad that he had this moment with her. That it was him making her come. Him using his finger, and another one slowly twisting and pushing inside of her, getting her ready for his cock.

Damon wanted to make it good for her. So good. As good as it was for him just touching her. Kissing her.

For other people Elena could be brave and noble. Kind and generous. For him, he wanted her wild. Out of control.

"Damon," she groaned as he twisted his fingers, finding that soft spot on the inside wall of her. He pressed and she cried out. He licked her clit, sucked her into his mouth, and he felt her start to fall apart.

He made her come twice, until the muscles in her legs were twitching, until she could take three fingers inside her body without flinching.

After she came the second time, he surged up over her, licked sweat off her beautiful breasts, kissed her nipples, her neck…and finally her lips.

Elena hesitated at the taste of herself, but Damon didn't give her a chance to be shy. He was burning alive and he wanted her with him.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"So good." Her hands slipped along his back where all the sweat was pooling at his spine. Her hips pressed against his and it was all the invitation he needed. He lifted her hips with one hand and slowly thrust into her.

Elena was tight, so freaking tight. But she was ready, and Damon didn't feel her flinch away from him like she had last time. She wasn't tense beneath him, putting a bright smile on the pain she felt.

No, she was sweaty and panting, her eyes heavy-lidded, her lips pink and raw where she kept biting them.

Good, he thought, nearly mindless with his need to finish this. He braced one hand on the sofa, by her ear, and she grabbed his wrist; his other hand he kept under her hips, keeping her as close as he could. They slid against each other, sweaty and uncoordinated. But then she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, pulling him higher inside of her. Harder.

Damon pushed her knees back, slowly thrusting in and out of her until her forehead wrinkled and she groaned.

"More. More, Damon."

And he had more. He gave her everything, everything he wanted and wasn't brave enough to put into words. He pushed and he pushed and she pushed back, until he was light-headed and up was down and down was up and he didn't know who he was or what point there was to fighting this woman.

Damon pitched forward, caught himself on his fists. She came a third time, her body tensing up against his, her breath caught in her throat.

One more thrust and he followed her into the darkness.

Elena woke up wrapped in sheets that smelled like Damon and sex. Her body was full. Lush, swollen. There was too much blood in her veins, her brain made slow by pleasure.

Her lips were sore, between her legs she throbbed and ached, but she stared at the ceiling and smiled.

A wild pulse of memory flooded her—his mouth between her legs, his fingers twined with hers, the bend of his neck as he rested against her, catching his breath.

It had been everything Elena had ever dreamed and a thousand times more.

But now she was alone. She could tell by the echoing silence that the house was empty.

For a moment, she was exhausted by the thought of the distance Damon would place between them again. When she saw him next he would be predictably cold, predictably Damon.

The sting to her heart was not small.

Perhaps she should have held off on the I'm falling in love with you stuff.

Perhaps she should have never said those words loud.

After showering Elena got dressed and brushed her hair, all while systematically shelving her fledging romantic feelings. One by one she put them away. She was a realist, pragmatic to her bones.

She might love Damon, but she was under no illusion that she could change him. He was going to have to do that on his own. If he wanted to.

And she had her doubts about that.

So resolved, excited but preparing for the worst, she left the house and walked towards the Grill.

Damon had been hard at work since yesterday morning, and the wall between the bar and the garage was completely gone. Nothing but stud. Damon was walking armfuls of old panelling out the back door.

He stopped when he saw Elena.

Amazing what his attention did to her, amazing his stoic, silent face's effect on her blood and bone and heart and skin.

It wasn't fair that so much of her wanted to be his.

"Hey," Elena said and gave him a little wave. The stupidest wave ever waved.

Damon lifted the hem of his black T-shirt to his forehead, revealing the slice of his muscled belly, and she looked away, embarrassed. Hot.

"How are you feeling?" Just looking at him reminded her of every touch, that hard push in her body, the suck and slide of his tongue, his mouth—on her breasts, between her legs, the back of her neck.

Inside she shivered and shook.

I feel alive and sad and happy and terrified, Elena thought.

"Fine," she said. "You?"

"Good. Very good." Damon sent her a knowing glance from the corner of his eyes and Elena felt herself light up like Rudolph's nose.

Not so distant after all, she thought, so pleased and surprised she had to force herself not to touch him. Instead, she put her hand on the yellow wood of a two-by-four, picking off the edge of a splinter.

"You didn't wake me up," Elena said.

"You were sleeping pretty hard."

She imagined Damon watching her sleep and it was such a nice thought, such a romantic vision, she made herself stop. It was one thing to be in a doomed love affair with the man, but creating romantic visions about him would only get her hurt.

More hurt, she corrected herself. Because pain was already coming her way.

"You know we…ah…we never talked about your dad last night," she said.

"You were right, the pills were a mess. He is not eating well. But you didn't tell me about the cigars."

"He swore me to secrecy. But I figured if he didn't come clean, I would let you know."

"Very diplomatic."

Elena did a silly little curtsy.

His lip kicked up and he shook his head. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I'm looking for Stefan."

"He went over to Rebekah's for coffee and some food."

"Perfect," Elena said, thinking she could use the same. She pulled her sunglasses and hat from the back pocket of her cut-offs.

"What are you doing?" Damon asked, watching her put on her ridiculous disguise.

"I'm going to Rebekah's to talk to your brother." She crossed the bar and pushed open the front door. It was cloudy and last night's rain still hung in the air, which made the sunglasses totally unnecessary.

Damon caught up with her, his long legs in a short stride to match hers. "I will come with you," he said.

Elena ignored the leap in her heart.

"Protection from all the villainous photographers?" She wiggled her fingers and pretended to look behind bushes, making fun of him.

"I just want to come with you."

She tripped over the edge of the sidewalk, but caught herself before he touched her. The motion made her ribs ache and she felt her cheeks get hot, not because she tripped, but because she had decided not to care anymore about what Damon did or didn't do in regards to her and now that was ruined.

I just want to come with you.

A couple of words, the warmth of his body as they walked into town, and she wanted him to care.

So badly it hurt, Elena wanted him to care.

Rebekah's café was going at a steady Saturday pace and Stefan was sitting in a booth with a tall cool blond woman whom Elena had never seen before.

"Hey, Lexi," Damon said as they approached the booth.

"Hi, Damon." The blonde's smile was just a shade above lukewarm. Elena got the impression that it wasn't personal, it was just the way she was.

"A coffee break already?" Stefan asked, his arm stretched over the back of the booth. A half-eaten omelette, a few stray potatoes, and some toast sat on the plate in front of him. "What am I paying you for?"

"You are not. But you can start by buying me some breakfast." Damon helped Elena sit down beside Lexi and then slid into the booth beside Stefan. "Lexi, this is Elena. Elena, this is Lexi Branson, she is an art teacher for the district and runs an art facility on the edge of town."

"Art facility," Elena said as she shook hands with the woman. "That sounds amazing." How strange that all of this seemed so okay. So normal. Of course she and Damon would just sit down with these two and Stefan would give Damon a hard time and Elena would ask questions about the art facility Lexi ran.

Stefan would crack a joke and they would all laugh. Except for Lexi, but her eyes were warm and that seemed like it was good enough.

This was what our life would look like if we were here. Together, Elena thought.

What an outrageously dangerous idea—a grenade with the pin pulled.

But if I had more time with him… If he could just get used to being loved. There was no doubt he felt something.

There was a chance, with time, Damon would love her back.

"Elena wanted to talk to you, Stefan," Damon said and pulled the half-eaten omelette away from his brother. He cut himself a bite and then pushed the plate towards Elena, with his eyebrow raised, offering her some.

Elena shook her head and Damon went to work on the rest of it.

"Is it about Dad?" Stefan asked. "Damon already told me about the cigars. And we have got some feelers out for nurses."

"Actually, it is about your poker night at the bar."

"You are not still trying to do that, are you?" Lexi asked Stefan.

"It is not the failure everyone thinks it is," Stefan said.

"It is worse," Damon said and wiped his mouth.

"Does your dad know about it?" Elena asked. "Those guys he plays cards with?"

Stefan blinked. "I don't know…I guess so. Or maybe not. It is really only publicized in the bar."

"And they don't come."

Stefan shook his head.

"Well, I was thinking, since it is not a crazy success now, what if you made it…like, a game night."

"For seniors?" Stefan made it sound as if Elena had suggested a game night for gonorrhoea. "They can nurse a cup of coffee for three weeks. I won't sell any drinks."

"Hear me out," Elena said, getting excited about her idea all over again. "You are not making a mint on poker night anyway, and the guys that want to sit in the bar and drink can do it. But if you had tables set up for poker and bridge…"

"Bridge?" Stefan asked. "Bridge is not sexy."

"Not everything is sexy."

"My bar is." Stefan winked and Elena and Lexi shared a groaning glance.

"I think it is a good idea," Damon said and the whole table's incredulous attention turned to him. "But do it earlier. It is slow on Thursday afternoons."

"How would you know?" Stefan asked.

"I have eyes."

"There is no money in it," Stefan said.

"Giuseppe is lonely," Damon said. "Bored."

"Since when do you care if Dad is lonely?" Stefan asked quietly.

"Since now. I think you should give it a try."

"You know I have been thinking about doing an art class for seniors," Lexi said. "But most of them don't drive and the Art Barn is too far away for many of them to walk."

Transportation, Elena hadn't thought about transportation and it seemed like a giant piece of the puzzle.

"Surely someone in Town Hall could help us figure out a way to do some of this stuff," Elena said.

"Town Hall is pretty strapped," Stefan said. "The town is bankrupt."

"What about donations?" Elena asked, but Lexi shook her head.

"The community is just coming out of the recession and the schools do a lot of fundraising already. I'm not sure we can tap the community again."

"My foundation can help," Elena said.

"It is funny," Stefan said. "I keep forgetting who you are."

Elena laughed. "Me too. It is nice."

"I can give you the name of the Parks and Rec chair over at Town Hall." Lexi took a napkin and jotted down a name and phone number.

"So we are not doing a game night?" Stefan asked.

"Oh, we are totally doing a game night." Elena smiled at him. "And maybe a dance once you get the garage up and running. It sounds like our real problem is transportation."

"Fine, but how are we going to let them know?" Stefan asked. "I'm not paying to put an ad in the paper for something I'm already going to lose money on."

"I can make a flyer," Lexi said. "We just need somewhere to hang it. Somewhere central."

All four of them slowly glanced around. Two of the three men from Giuseppe's kitchen poker party were in the back booth, eating breakfast with their wives. "Rebekah needs a community bulletin board," Elena said. "Right by the door. I will talk to her about it."

"I will help you hang it," Damon volunteered. Stefan's startled and suspicious look wasn't entirely unwarranted. It was strange to listen to Damon offer something of himself and act like it was natural. Even Lexi was watching Damon from the corner of her eye as if the cyborg who had taken over Damon's body might at any point erupt from his skin.

"What has gotten into you?" Stefan asked his brother.

"It is a good idea." Damon shrugged and signalled the waitress for two cups of coffee.

"Why are you doing this?" Stefan asked Elena.

"It is what she does," Damon said. Elena blinked at him and his whole face softened. "Community," he elaborated. "You can't help yourself."

It was a different Damon sitting there, and Elena was wasted by this version of him. It was the version of him that had washed and combed all the tangles from her hair. She had no protection from him when he was like this, when he managed to embody everything she wanted and hadn't even realized was possible to find.

Strength, caring, knowledge, support.

Too much, she thought. Too much. She couldn't build a shelter strong enough to protect herself against him.

So Elena turned away, because there was no telling how long this would last. How close he would let her get before disappearing from her life again. It was safe in a way to love the version of him who would never love her back, but this version, she might become convinced of his feelings.

"But you are forgetting something," he said.

"No, actually, I made a list and it is pretty detailed—"

"You are not going to be here," Damon said.

Elena sat back hard against the padded red bench. "I'm in no hurry to leave," she said and Damon watched her as he took a sip of coffee.

Careful, his eyes said, careful you are not substituting my dad for Africa. Careful you are not creating a long list of things that are more important than yourself.

Or maybe his eyes said, You have a booger. She didn't know. One night of sex hardly unlocked the code to his inscrutableness.

"Well, I need to get going," Lexi said, gathering her things, and Elena slipped out of the booth, carefully sidestepping Damon, who put out a hand to help her.

Lexi walked up to the cashier and Damon sent an intense look over to Stefan, who shrugged. "Lexi has been busy with some art exhibitions," he whispered.

The bell over the front door rang and the man in the Red Sox hat, Gary, and his tall partner in crime, Darryl, stepped into the café.

"Get back in the booth," Damon whispered and Elena slipped in. She recognized both of them, and neither made her felt safe. Gary made a detour to a booth across the café from them and immediately got out his phone, Darryl approached the counter where Lexi stood.

"Time to go," Damon said, his fingers on her elbow like little points of heat. She was bummed that she didn't even get coffee or to talk about the bulletin board with Rebekah, but she understood that those two men with whatever knowledge they had of her could end her time here in Mystic Falls. And she wasn't ready to be Elena Gilbert again.

Elena slipped out of the booth and let Damon shield her from the two cameramen.

"Hey, I figured out why you look so familiar," Darryl said. Elena stiffened, but he wasn't talking to her. He was talking to Lexi.

"You have seen me around town," Lexi answered and something in her tone made Elena turn around.

"No. You were on that morning show," Darryl said. "That America Today contest where they were going to move a factory to some small town that America voted on. Right?"

"Please, let me pass," Lexi said.

"No. I'm sure of it. I Googled that shit, you should see how many YouTube hits you have got. So is it true? Did you really let that guy fuck—"

"Get out of my café!" Rebekah cried.

Elena gasped but Damon made her start walking to the exit. "Stop, Damon." She dug in her heels. "Lexi—"

"Stefan can handle it," Damon said.

She yanked her arm free and turned just in time to see Stefan step between Darryl and Lexi, who was white as a ghost. As Lexi gathered her purse together, her hands shook so hard she dropped her keys.

"Christ, it was a question," Darryl said. "Nothing to get everyone all upset."

"You heard the woman," Stefan said, "leave."

"Calm down." Darryl peeked over Stefan's shoulder at Lexi. "I'm sorry. If I offended you—"

"You are offending me!" Stefan said and pushed the guy back. "You have been asked to leave."

Darryl lifted his hands as if to surrender and said, "I will take my coffee to go, then, Rebekah."

"Oh no," Damon whispered, just as Stefan wrapped his hands in the neck of the guy's shirt.

"What part of get the hell out of this café don't you get?" Stefan yelled, driving the guy backward across the café, towards the door.

Damon reached over and opened the door for his brother, and the two scuffled past.

"You need any help?" Damon asked.

"I got it," Stefan muttered and shoved the guy off the sidewalk, into the street.

Elena caught something out of the corner of her eye and glanced over at Gary in the Red Sox hat, whom she had totally forgotten about.

He was holding his phone toward her. Taking a picture.