Elena was awake, but nothing seemed quite real. She could have mistaken Damon's strong arms for Stefan's gentler touch; his intensely masculine scent for Stefan's lighter, sweeter aroma. But his eyes were blue. They were blue. This was right. This was true. She took a deep, shuddering breath.
Damon rubbed her back. "It was a dream, Elena. A hell of a nightmare, but just a dream," he reassured her.
"Yeah, a nightmare," she said, pushing her sweat-matted hair from her face with trembling hands. That wasn't the right word; she hadn't been afraid. There had simply been that overwhelming sense of wrongness. Yes, she loved Stefan, but more like a stupid, wayward brother she had to look out for, not like a lover. It had been months since she'd dreamed of him like this, and it hadn't happened since she and Damon had cemented their relationship. "I'm fine, Damon. It's nothing."
"Horseshit," he said, flicking the bedside lamp on. Elena was relieved as light flooded the room, driving the shadows away. It helped her focus on what was real. Blue eyes. "I let you get away with that yesterday; it's not happening again. Now tell me what it was."
How could she tell him? After tonight, after what he'd seen on the porch? She knew that deep down, some part of him would always suspect that her heart belonged to Stefan. If there was one constant in Damon's life, it was that he was always chosen last.
"It's just a dream; it doesn't mean anything. That stupid sandwich you made me eat probably gave me indigestion," she said. "Just turn the light out and let's go back to sleep."
"'More of gravy than of grave'? I don't think so. Humor me," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. She sighed. She'd start at the beginning; even though the dream of Katherine had been more horrifying, it was easier to recount now.
"Last night, I was lost. I heard you and Katherine talking." Her cheeks colored at the memory. "You said it was always her, that you'd been waiting for her to choose you. And I found you, and you two were...you were-"
Surprisingly, Damon didn't smirk at her discomfort, didn't tease her. He just gave a little nod. "Got it. Go on."
"Then Stefan was there, and he said that we had to let you go. And he looked like his old self, Damon, like he did before Klaus." She sighed. "And then you...said some other stuff and then you bit me," she concluded. She couldn't repeat the words he'd spoken in the dream, those hateful words that played on her deepest, darkest fears.
Damon's face was grim. "And tonight?" She hesitated, and his hand tightened on her shoulder. "Please."
This was going to set off a firestorm, and she couldn't bear it. He would accuse her of still being in love with Stefan, of her subconscious telling her what she really wanted. But even in the dream, even when his hands and his lips and his body against hers had felt so familiar and so good, every cell of her being had known that it wasn't right. Not anymore. "I was with Stefan."
"With Stefan?" he asked significantly. She nodded, staring down at the blankets, unable to meet his gaze. "Look at me." She didn't respond. "Look at me, Elena," he demanded.
Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his. There he was at his most raw, his most unmasked; no humor, no artifice, no facade. Just Damon. "You have nothing to feel sorry or guilty about. Nothing. But this is important, so I want you to think very carefully. Was there anything unusual about the dreams?"
Something deep within her relaxed. He understood. It wasn't a betrayal, it was just a dream...or was it? He certainly seemed to be taking the nightmares seriously. But now that he mentioned it, something about the dreams had been too bright, too crisp around the edges. Elena was no stranger to nightmares; they visited her most nights, taunting her with choking water, flickering flames, the faces of the dead. But not like this. "They were so real." She paused, brow furrowing in thought. "I've only ever had one dream like it before-"
"You were with Stefan. He started to take his shirt off and it wasn't him anymore—it was me," Damon interrupted.
Elena stared up at him. "How did you know that? I never told anyone about that dream." She pulled away from him, pushing herself upright, clutching the sheet to her chest. How had he known?
"I know because I made you dream it," Damon said.
A thousand thoughts raced through her mind all at once. Betrayal, hurt, relief, but mostly confusion. "What?"
"There's still a lot you don't know. Things vampires don't really advertise. The compulsion, well, that's hard to hide; it shows up in all the legends about us anyway." He sat up, but gave her space, eyeing her as if she might bolt at any moment. "But it goes deeper than that. It's called dream walking, and it lets us control every part of a dream—what you see, what you feel. Everything."
"And you did that? You did that to me?" Elena asked. She felt sick.
"Once. Only once," he said. He started to reach for her, to grasp her hand, but stopped himself. "When we first met. And I hated Stefan, and there he was, getting the girl again. The girl who looked just like Katherine," he sighed. "And I wanted to shake you up a little."
Elena forced herself to breathe. He'd compelled her, but that had been different. That hadn't been right, but he'd only made her forget, not made her see things that weren't there and feel things that weren't real. "What does that have to do with what's going on now?" Understanding dawned. "Oh, God. You think Stefan-"
But Damon shook his head. "No, it's not his style. He's never liked the vampire mind tricks, and his diet of fluffy bunnies meant he couldn't do most of them, anyway. And dream walking is much more difficult than compulsion—more variables to control. That's why when I influenced your dream, I only modified what you were already dreaming. It was much easier to just insert myself into a dream than to build one from scratch."
"I really don't want to hear the details," she said, her hand clenching on the bedclothes.
He blinked, seeming to shake himself from some memory. "Right. No, this isn't Stefan's MO. But Katherine is the best dream walker I've ever met," he said.
Of course. Katherine. It always came back to her, didn't it? Everything always would come back to her. She was the monster under their bed. Every insecurity, every nightmare, every terror could be laid at her feet. Elena climbed out of bed.
"What're you doing?" Damon asked.
"I'm going to kill Katherine," she replied calmly.
He was at her side in a second, pushing her gently back onto the bed. "Yeah, because that'll end well. Just take it easy, we'll pay her back." He frowned down at her. "Where's your bracelet?" She'd taken to wearing the simple woven band of vervain after Bonnie had taken the necklace for her magical experiments.
"I take it off at night, Damon. Because no one ever told me I had to worry about compulsion when my eyes are closed!" Her voice cracked in frustration. Nowhere was safe.
Damon sank onto the edge of the bed beside her, enveloping her in his arms. She stiffened, but he didn't budge. "I should have told you. But I didn't think Katherine would pay any attention to me once Stefan was available," he said, unable to keep the edge of bitterness from his voice. "I sure as hell didn't think she'd go after you. She kinda seems to have a soft spot for you."
"Then I'd hate to see what it looks like when she hates someone," Elena said, allowing herself to relax fractionally in his arms.
Damon reached for her nightstand, picking up the little friendship bracelet woven with vervain. "It's not pretty." He winced as the material touched his skin, but tied it tightly around her wrist. "At night, in the shower—never take this off. Promise?"
Elena brushed her fingers across the band. "Do you promise me it was only once?"
He sighed. "Once. What do you want me to say? Haven't we already established that I was a fucked-up jackass back then? Even more than I am now. I wanted to hurt Stefan, so I hurt you. No, I haven't done it again. Don't intend to." Mischief flitted across his features. "Unless you wanted me to-"
"Not even funny, Damon," she said, but her smile gave her away.
"C'mon. It was, a little," he said, tugging her back onto the bed.
She curled up against him, his arms holding her close. This was right. This was real. This was what she wanted. Even with Damon's laundry list of sins and past transgressions, she wouldn't have traded this moment for anything. She nuzzled her head against his shoulder.
"Now we just have to figure out what to do about Katherine," she said.