Happy fall, y'all! :) Thanks for not hating me after the last chapter, lol. Not sure how you'll feel after this one. A quick warning - temporary major character death.

Chapter Twenty-One: The Worst Day of Loving Someone

It was the last full hour of dusk, and Damon was sitting quite comfortably on the roof of the Salvatore boarding house, partaking of his favorite alcoholic beverage straight from the bottle and enjoying an unparalleled view of the darkening forest.

Until unexpected movement caught his attention. Glancing down, he watched a woman emerge onto the balcony below him. The light of the setting sun lent her exquisite figure a warm golden glow. He knew that figure, recognized it instantly, even though he couldn't see her face. He saw it every time he closed his eyes. Could recall every tanned inch of it in breathtaking detail.

Elena.

She'd come. Here.

He refrained from announcing his presence, simply continuing to observe her. It looked like she was searching for something. Him, most likely. Too bad he'd been avoiding her for hours. The cellphone relegated to the table beside his bed could attest to that, the red light on top blinking angrily with a slew of unanswered texts and calls.

Cowardly? Yes.

Better than dealing with whatever Elena wanted to talk to him about? Also, yes.

His lips quirked. The coward's way it is.

When Elena didn't see what she was looking for, she frowned and scanned the woods. Still not satisfied, she walked over to the edge of the balcony, resting a hand on the thinly wrought iron railing, which was mostly obscured beneath vines of leafy ivy and blooming morning glory, and looked down. Bees hummed productively around her, securing one last taste of pollen from the blue morning glories before they shriveled up for the night. She half turned back the way she'd come, one hand still resting on the railing, and right then, just so happened to chance a look up.

She spotted him perched on the roof like a dark bird of prey.

Ha, her triumphant expression seemed to say, found you.

He twiddled a few insolent fingers at her by way of greeting.

"Have you been up there this entire time?" she asked with no little exasperation.

"I'm perfecting my tan."

Her hands went to her hips. "Can you come down, please?"

He took a slug of bourbon. "Nope." He really made sure that 'p' popped.

"Fine," she huffed and followed the railing to the place where it joined with the vine-choked wall. She pulled herself up onto the skinny railing and reached for the edge. Her fingers hooked on the ledge.

"Elena," he warned, muscles tensing into watchful readiness, "you'll fall."

Ignoring him, she felt around for purchase and stuck the tip of her shoe into a groove in the rustic red brick and began to ascend the side of the boarding house like she was part damn squirrel.

What the hell was she thinking? This girl was completely nuts!

Amazingly, she almost made it - until the large shingle she was gripping in her left hand gave way, and she slipped, losing her grip. Her scream pierced the air.

With the speed and reaction time of a top predator, he was up and leaning over the edge of the roof, her hand caught securely in his. He stared down into brown eyes wide and frightened as a doe's as she dangled helplessly below him. Her mouth was open from the shriek she'd just emitted; the thunderous spike of her heartbeat roared in his ears. A second later, he heaved her up to safety, into his arms where he held her tightly for one selfish moment.

He waited for her to pull away.

She didn't.

She took a deep breath, gulping in air. He scanned the area quickly, but didn't sense any magical interference. Just Elena being clumsy.

"Jesus, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Fear that she could've been hurt made him sound angrier than he truly was. "Last time I checked, you weren't bitten by a radioactive spider."

Now that she was no longer precariously swinging in the wind, her eyes regained their sparkle, her cheeks their pink color. She looked breathtaking. And mad. Reminding him how much he missed her. He missed her moods, her piques, the way she filled his life with light and laughter, the simple pleasure of her presence. All of it. Every bit and piece of her.

"I've been looking for you, and you're hiding." She sniffed and made a face. "And drunk." A statement of the obvious.

An eyebrow lifted at her tone. "Hiding and drunk are two highly subjective terms."

"I needed you, and I couldn't find you."

Averting his gaze, he released her and shrugged. "I'm right here."

Paying no attention to her angry look, he resumed his seat and picked up his bourbon, taking a drink in order to help drown out the unsettling mix of adoration, irritation, and fascination she inspired in him.

She hung back at first, taken by surprise at his indifferent response. But it didn't take her long to get over it. Soon, the coarse shingles crunched and scraped beneath her shoes as she shuffled closer and sat down beside him. Damon intensified his broody study of the dark forest stretching dimly out of sight. He wasn't trying to be a dick just to be a dick, he just wasn't sure what she wanted from him or how he was supposed to act around her anymore. Especially since she smelled like she'd recently finished taking a stroll through a sunny field filled with blooming lavender, and it made him want to kiss her more than he'd ever wanted anything ever.

Christ, this was too fucking hard. He felt like his heart had been carved from his chest with a steak knife and handed back to him in a soggy paper bag. And the most fucked up thing of all? He'd still rather be right where he was next to her holding his heart in a bag than anywhere else in the world.

He sought refuge in another sip of bourbon.

At least it was blessedly silent for a time, so he didn't have to think of anything to say, and he made sure his closed expression did not encourage conversation.

Instead, he spent the whole time trying not to notice how long and bare her legs were, and how vastly this moment would be improved if only they were wrapped around his head right now.

He tried not to notice that she wasn't wearing a bra under her t shirt, those curves and nipples so clearly delineating their unbound state.

He tried not to notice every dip and swell and slim line of her neck or how the veins pulsed enticingly below the velvety shell of her ear.

He tried, and he failed. She was impossible to ignore.

The sun sank lower, almost completely out of sight, and he didn't know if she was waiting for him to break the loaded silence first or what, but he had no intentions of doing any such thing, so she was finally forced to gesture at the bottle debris strewn about. Her lips pursed in disapproval at his disheveled state.

"Is this what you've been doing all day?"

He could read the unspoken subtext, and the hurt, in her question. Is this the reason you've been ignoring me? Running ran a hand through his hair in a doomed-to-fail attempt at putting the chaotic strands into some semblance of order, he said in a snarky voice, "Enlighten me, Elena, how else should I be coping with constant rejection from every woman I've ever loved?"

Oh yeah, he was in that kind of mood.

"That's … not what happened," she protested weakly. "You sent me away."

"You know what your problem is? You're sober." Before she had a chance to deny this hard fact, he tilted an unopened bottle toward her, a clear invitation. He winked. "Here. This should fix that."

He knew before offering that there was no way she'd accept. He was just trying to get a rise out of her, but she surprised him when she gave a small hollow laugh. "I hate bourbon, but you know what? After the day I've had, I think I will."

He managed to dredge a half-smile up from the depths of his misery. "Nice."

After he twisted open the bottle, she grabbed it from him and took a surprisingly hard swallow.

"So, what happened?" he asked as nonchalantly as he could. He didn't like being out of the loop – her loop. "Rough day?"

"God, I really hate bourbon," she said again after another, smaller sip.

"Why are you dodging my question?"

"I'm not. Today was a really long day of party planning with Caroline. Apparently, me turning eighteen is a big deal." She said this last very dryly.

A dark smile ghosted across his lips, there and gone in an instant. "It is. I mean, it should be."

She turned her head and met his gaze very solemnly. Twilight shadows accentuated the heartbreaking symmetry of her features. "Well, with everything else that's going on that's actually important, it doesn't feel like it should be."

His gaze swung back out towards the forest.

"I told our friends you'd be there," Elena said, still looking at him.

"I don't have any friends."

He felt her scrutinizing the hard set of his mouth, his flared nostrils, and he could sense that she wanted to argue. She thought better of it. "It's this Friday night. At Rebekah's."

"Rebekah's?"

"I know, but she's graciously letting us throw the party at her mansion. It's the only place big enough for the DJ and the band." Elena rolled her eyes. "That's a direct quote from Caroline."

He needed another drink. A big one. It helped to sear away his distaste for the topic at hand. "Are you sure you really want me there? Could get kinda awkward considering who your date will be."

"We-ell… that's what I need to talk to you about. After we deal with something else first."

He regarded her warily. "Is this gonna be a judgy lecture? If so, I'm afraid I don't have any room in my schedule."

"No, no lecture." She held up her hand as if she were making a pledge. "I promise."

He narrowed his eyes and took a drink. "Hurry it up, then. If you haven't noticed, I'm busy."

She looked hurt. "Busy doing what? Getting wrecked?"

"You said no judgy lecture."

She pressed her lips together until they turned white. Just when he was starting to get worried, she took another sip of bourbon, even though she clearly found it vile-tasting. She made a face. Set the bottle down next to her foot, where it wouldn't roll away on the sloped terrain, and wore a look that said she was contemplating how best to say something before she spoke.

Which never boded well for him.

"Out with it," he forced himself to say. "Whatever it is, just say it."

"I couldn't figure out," she finally said, "why Stefan was only mad at you, but not me." Her eyes met his in the twilight, reflected sparks of ire.

Damon gazed back at her with a hard, implacable expression, like he'd been carved from a slab of marble, lifting his bottle just enough to wet sculpted lips with bourbon. "Hmm," he mused blandly, "figure it out?"

Elena bristled. "You told him you compelled me to sleep with you!"

He maintained his stony expression, in spite of the fact that she looked ready to go toe to toe with him. "And?"

"And? Are you serious? Why would you tell him that?"

"Why does it matter?"

Her face turned incredulous. "It matters because you lied again, and now Stefan thinks something awful! I thought we agreed on no more lying, but this is always going to be an issue with you, isn't it?"

"Due to some minor character flaws that I refuse to work on … probably," he allowed. "Call me crazy, but this is starting to sound like a lecture."

She blew out a breath. "It's not a lecture. I just need you to tell him the truth."

"No."

"You have to!"

"I don't have to do anything. I said I was going to get Stefan back for you, and I did. You should be happy. Grateful, even. And yet," he cupped his ear and pretended to be listening very hard, "that's not a thank you I'm hearing. Odd."

"Why would I be grateful when you got him back by lying?"

"As opposed to what? The original lie you wanted me to tell?" She glared at him, but he persisted. "The one where you and I are just friends? The one where we haven't fucked each other's brains out a dozen times? That lie? How is that lie any better or worse?"

She gritted her teeth. "I do not want to be the reason you two hate each other."

His snort was automatic. "Oh, come on, there're plenty of other reasons."

Her eyes narrowed practically to slits. "Please just tell him the truth. He won't listen to me. He really believes you compelled me to sleep with you."

Blue eyes flashed, cold as ice even in the late evening summer heat. If Stefan believed him capable of something like that, she most likely did as well. It sucked how much that hurt. "How do you know I didn't?"

"Didn't what?"

"Compel you to sleep with me."

She frowned, thrown by his question. "Because I know you didn't."

He cocked his head inquisitively. "But … how can you really be sure?"

"Stop it. I know you didn't compel me. I know you wouldn't do that. Not to me, not anymore. Being with you is the most real thing I've ever felt in my entire life."

"All seventeen years of it?" he snarked unkindly.

"I'm eighteen in three days, and don't pull the age card with me."

He rolled his eyes. "I can't even count the number of times you've been around me with zero vervain in or on you. I've had every opportunity in the world to make you do anything I want."

She shook her head stubbornly. "I know that what happened between us was real. I know you didn't compel me to sleep with you."

"Huh," he replied noncommittally. "Stefan tell you what else was said?"

"Yes, and it doesn't matter, because none of that was true either. I don't know why you felt you had to do this. God, Damon, this is probably one of the stupidest thing you've ever done, and that's really saying something. You didn't fix anything!"

"Agree to disagree. Who cares if I'm the bad guy? I already am anyway, right? It's my fault that Stefan left with Klaus in the first place. This way, I can make it right, and you both get what you want. Stefan gets his humanity and kumbaya life back, and he'll blame me completely, not you, so you get to be with him, scot-free, just like you wanted. And don't worry about me. I won't get in the way of you two turtledoves. I'm leaving, and I won't be coming back until all of this blows over in, oh, let's say, fifty or sixty years or so." Once Elena had lived out her mortal life.

"Wow." Her voice rang uncharacteristically sharp. "You've got this all figured out. Everything's so easy for you."

Anger surged, made him lash out a little more viciously than normal. "Newsflash, Elena – nothing with you has ever been even remotely easy. You are the most difficult and infuriating and utterly incomprehensible - " He closed his eyes and forced himself to bring it down a peg. "Frankly, I don't know how Stefan puts up with you. Speaking of my brother, shouldn't you be with him right now? I figured such an epic pair of lovers would be surgically attached at the hip by now to ensure you're never separated again. What could you possibly need from me?"

She drew her knees in close, wrapping her arms around them, suddenly hesitant to meet his eye. When she lowered her chin, long brown hair cascaded forward, whispering over her shoulders and cloaking her features in velvet obscurity.

He surreptitiously reached for the bottle beside her. She looked like she was mostly done with it. And his was empty. She wrinkled her brow, and he waited to see what she would do, but she let him take it without a fight. It took all his willpower to restrain the impulse to reach over and smooth out the small knit between her eyes with a gentle caress of his thumb.

"What am I missing?" He hadn't really thought that Stefan would hurt Elena, or he'd never have let Elena go to him. But if Stefan had done something, if he'd done anything …. "Did something happen?"

She gave a small humorless laugh, gaze still trained on her feet, and brushed an imagined spot of dirt off her leg. "Yes, something happened."

"What?" He could barely take the suspense.

She looked up. Met his gaze directly with those expressive, long-lashed eyes. Somehow, she looked brave and scared and beautiful all at once. "You."

His jaw dropped. He suddenly couldn't breathe. "Me?"

She smiled just the tiniest bit, and her eyes softened. "You know, this wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to be so – you."

He blinked, unsure of how to respond. "Um, my bad?"

She bumped her shoulder against his playfully. "I'm serious. You act like all of this should be so easy, and I guess, for you, it is, but for me, it isn't. I've been so afraid that I'm going to do the wrong thing and make the wrong choice."

He rubbed his forehead, finding his voice. "Once again, Elena, I have no idea how you got the impression that any of this has been easy for me. As for the rest, still not following."

"All these months, I've been clinging so desperately to the belief that I just needed to see Stefan again. I thought … I thought if I could just see him again, then it would all come rushing back, and everything would go back to the way it was before. When everything wasn't so … confusing. And hard. I thought I would feel the way I felt - before. That's what I kept telling myself, anyway."

Why did he sense a very big 'but' coming in her words? And why did it make him so damn jumpy?

Feeling some of those same nerves, Elena pushed some hair behind her ear, an anxious gesture. "But now Stefan's back, and I don't feel that way anymore. None of it came rushing back. I mean, I feel relief that he's safe, and I'm happy that he's free from Klaus, but it's not like it was before. Everything's changed. I've changed, and I've decided that I'm not going to let fear keep me from having what I want anymore."

Still confused, he frowned. "Huh?"

"I spent all day yesterday with Stefan."

"Uh-huh," he said cautiously, "and how's our recovering blood addict doing?"

"Really well. Well enough to control his blood lust in public. We went to the town square and had dinner at the Grill. It was nice. And at the end when we said good night … he kissed me."

His heart clenched, as did his hands. He had the fierce, unmistakable urge to break something. "How romantic. Is there a reason you're telling me this, or have you just not finished ripping my heart out yet?"

"I was glad when it was over," she said quickly, chastened. "The dinner and the kiss."

"You were glad," he repeated, ensuring he'd heard her correctly.

"Yes, I was glad when it was over, because the only person I want to kiss is you."

"Me," he repeated, not so much for clarification this time, as that he simply couldn't wrap his head around that answer. His expression must have mirrored that of someone who'd just been clonked on the head with a very large sledge hammer.

A small smile flitted over the corners of her mouth, there then gone. "Everyone keeps saying that I shouldn't want you. That you're this terrible person. Everyone keeps saying that Stefan's perfect for me. Even you. But then why do I feel this way? Why did I spend the whole time I was with Stefan wishing that I was with you, instead?"

His heart beat faster, even as time seemed to slow. Had he stepped into some alternate dimension? "I don't understand. What exactly are you telling me, Elena?"

"I'm telling you that I still love Stefan, but I'm not in love with him. I'm telling you that being with you these last few months has made me question everything I thought I knew about myself. I'm telling you that if I have to make a choice, then I know who I can't live without. I know who I choose, and my choice is you, Damon."

For a few suspended heartbeats where time ceased to exist and the world momentarily tilted crazily on its axis, Damon still didn't understand. He stared at her, too stunned to formulate a response.

She reached over and placed a hand over top of his balled up fist, anchoring him with the warm weight. He could feel her pulse, could hear the nervous thud of her heart that matched his own. "It's probably too late," she said quietly, "and I definitely understand if it is, but I really, really hope it's not. I love you, Damon Salvatore."

She paused, giving him time to say something. When a muscle ticked in his cheek, just below his eye, she stroked the back of his hand with gentle sweeps of her thumb. "I'm asking you to stay – and be with me. No more secrets. No more sneaking around and hiding. I want you to be my date to my party, because I love you, and … I'm so sorry that I was too much of a coward to admit it until now."

The world righted itself, interrupting his moment of dumbfounded thrall. He held up his hand to prevent her from talking anymore. "Hold on, please. Rewind. First of all, no way in hell you're a coward. You're the bravest girl I've ever met in my entire life. Second, I'm gonna need you to say that last part again. I think I suddenly started hallucinating."

"Um, I'm sorry that - "

"No." He drew her close and cupped her jaw and throat with one hand, gazing deep into her brown eyes with foolish hope blooming wild in his blue ones. "Before that."

"I want to be with you?"

"After that."

"Uh, I love you?"

"Yeah, that. Say that part again."

She smiled the most radiant, gorgeous smile. "I love you."

Shock coursed through him. Oh, how he'd imagined this moment a million times over, and yet never once had he imagined it might actually happen. The cynical part of him wanted to call bullshit and shake her and demand to know what game she thought she was playing at. But the other part of him wondered if it could possibly be true. "Say it again," he breathed.

"I love you."

A deep rumble started deep inside his chest, then tore through his throat as he crashed his lips atop hers and kissed the hell out of her. The thrill of it, soaring, primal, and fierce, flashed through him, pure magic, and his wits scattered into a million senseless fragments.

She melted into his kiss, and when her husky moan vibrated on his tongue, his entire being came together again, solidifying into one single laser beam focus of desire, the fiercest desire he'd ever known.

"Say it again," he demanded roughly, dragging her into his lap, arms circling her body.

She laughed, her sweet breath caressing his lips, and averted her eyes from the edge of the roof, clinging to him like a cat. "I love you, and please don't drop me."

"Don't worry. If you fall, I promise I'll catch you." He captured her mouth for another kiss. "Again."

"I love you."

He pressed heated, passionate kisses along her jaw, down her neck, sucking at her skin, overwhelmed by his insatiable need. He'd been so sure he was going to lose her forever, and now …. He couldn't believe this was actually happening. Didn't believe it. Not yet. "Again."

"I love you."

His body vibrated with need. He nibbled on her earlobe. "I need you in my bed. Now."

"Yes, okay, but – mmm," her forehead scrunched up adorably as she tried to remember something, "we do still need to talk about – mmm – some things."

With the sole thoughts in his head still being Bed and Now, he was quick to say, "It can wait until I'm done fucking you into next week."

"Oh," she gasped as he rose and swept her up in his arms with zero warning, "yes, we can wait for that."

In the last rays of the sun's dying light, Damon leapt down from the roof, agile as a cat. He landed smoothly and set her back down on her feet. Almost immediately, she turned into him and sought out his lips again. They kissed madly as he steered her backwards through the French doors, back inside his room. Towards his bed.

Processing would happen later, he told himself. What had just happened up on the rooftop, what it meant. If nothing had changed, or everything. All of that could wait. For now, the devil on his shoulder was telling him to focus on this magically sublime moment and the sweet, beautiful girl in his arms. To hell with the angel on his other shoulder babbling on about consequences and the right thing to do and other dumb shit he didn't want to hear about.

I got the girl.

It still didn't seem real.

By the time they crossed the floor and made it to the bed, he'd managed to divest both of them of all their clothes. They collapsed onto the mattress, bare, heated flesh pressed together.

He was on top, every inch of his hard body covering hers, spreading her thighs. He caught her wrists and held them to the bed, pinning her in place. Stiff nipples abraded his chest when she flexed against his control, arching beneath him, her whole being reaching, seeking his touch, his kiss, his anything.

She was a taut, sexy bowstring he couldn't wait to pluck.

His head dropped low, so that their noses touched. His eyes glowed a wicked blue. "God, I'm going to do unspeakable things to you. Now. Later. Always." He was a hungry predator, and she was his tender prey. He needed to know that she knew that. "That's what you're signing yourself up for."

"I'm all in," she vowed, his willing victim.

"Say it again." His voice was dark and commanding.

She knew exactly what he meant. "I love you, Damon Salvatore."

And just like that, he wondered how he could have ever wasted a single moment when the girl he craved like no other was looking at him was such tender affection and blatant desire in those dark eyes framed by even darker lashes. Fuck, did he need more of her.

He slanted another frenzied kiss over her lips, clutching her hips and rolling with her, spinning them both so that she was on top now, suspended over his thighs. His gaze was drawn to her breasts, how gorgeous and swollen they were with their prominent pink tips. Sucking one tip into his mouth, he simultaneously pressed up between her legs, a hot, sweet kiss on the pulsing head of his shaft that made a shudder travel along every single one of his nerve endings.

She was definitely wet and ready for him. Good. She would need to be.

Her hips were gyrating in his hands, begging him to fulfill the threat of penetration, but he had the strength and skill to hold her perfectly in place.

Obeying some instinct of her own, she reached down, unable to resist touching his impressive length and thickness, her hand sliding up and down in a bewitching blend of need and reverence. He nearly jumped out of his skin. His head fell back onto the pillow. This woman was going to kill him.

"Look at me, Elena." Her gaze reluctantly dragged up from where her hand was occupied, revealing blown out pupils and desire shining bright. Her touch, her eyes reached deep inside him, conduits for deeper emotions, a connection so powerful he was in awe. "Tell me what you want, beautiful girl."

She released him, brought her hands to rest on his chest, dug her nails in the slightest bit. "I want you, Damon."

"You are the sexiest little thing I've ever laid eyes on, and I've never wanted anyone the way I want you," he ground out, barely able to keep himself from thrusting up into her tight, young body as hard as he could. A coiled spring about to snap. "And you are mine."

"Yes," she agreed.

"All fucking mine. Say it."

"Oh my god. Yes. Damon, yes, I'm yours, make me yours. Please, I can't wait another second."

He liked the sound of her begging. He was going to make her do it forever. He slid into her with one sure thrust, an audible wet slide. They both let out a matching moan of relief as he filled and stretched every space inside her.

Jesus fuck, she felt good. So, so good.

Those unbelievably tight inner muscles yielded around him at first, welcoming him inside her like a soft and silky dream, taking him all the way. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Her head thrashed from side to side.

"Tell me if it's too much, baby." He didn't even recognize the strangled sound of his own voice.

"No, I want more," she assured him breathlessly. He felt her undulate and squeeze around him, like she was trying to trap him there inside her forever.

A raw sound ripped from his throat, and he lifted her up and down, dragging her over his aching shaft again and again, absolutely entranced by the way her body felt and moved on his. If there was such a thing as heaven, this was it.

Her teeth dug into the sexy pout of her bottom lip, stifling a groan. But it didn't matter anymore if someone heard them, because she belonged to him, and they could do anything they wanted as loudly as they wanted to.

So fuck it. Let whosoever happened to be nearby hear exactly how well he took care of his woman.

"Come on, baby," he encouraged, squeezing the curve of her ass, "let me hear you scream. Let me see how beautiful you are."

His gentle order seemed to free her, and she let go of the incredible effort it took to hold herself back. Cries broke from her lips. He kept fucking her until her voice was hoarse, kept driving up into her until she was convulsing with pleasure and raking her hell kitten claws down his chest.

He didn't give her any time to come down after she reached her peak - he couldn't, his self-control was non-existent. Still lodged deep inside her, he rolled her beneath him and shoved his hips tight against hers, taking her in a mindless frenzy, desperate to stake his claim and make her his in truth. It was more of a dark, brutal possession than sex, but it was one that she welcomed and embraced in full.

The mattress creaked wildly beneath them as he let loose, looming over her, the muscles and veins in his upper body standing out in stark relief. Her hands slid up and down his back, his arms, his buttocks, straining and flexing beneath her fingers.

"Fuuuck." The sentiment from him was practically a growl. She was soaking wet, and they were making sloppy squelching sounds every time their bodies slapped together. "I will never get over this pussy. So wet and tight. Drives me fucking crazy." He thrust harder, faster. Grabbed one of her bouncing breasts and gave it a rough squeeze, pale fingers leaving marks in the tender skin. "You drive me fucking crazy. Fucking insane."

Her legs were spread and high up, her heels hitting his low back with each thrust. "Oh god … Damon …"

Christ, the way she said his name when he was inside her.

Wicked girl. He grunted and pounded into her harder.

"Damon," she gasped again, "please, don't stop. Don't stop."

No force on earth could've stopped him right then. "Never. Come on, baby girl. Come for me again. I want to feel it." Needed to feel it.

She cried out.

"That's it, angel," he urged.

There was an answering contraction between her legs. "Yes! Damon!" She reared up and bit his chest, her little teeth sinking into the meat of his pectoral, and it hurt like the best fucking feeling in the entire fucking world. She actually managed to draw blood. His blood. His blood was spurting salty and hot into her mouth, down the back of her throat.

Holy shit, that just might be the hottest thing that had ever happened to him.

He palmed the back of her head, held her there, cradled against his chest as her teeth remained clamped on his muscle, completely lost in her own pleasure.

In and out, in and out, in and out, their bodies slick and hot. He fell into her deeper with each thrust, with each breath, with each unified pulse of their pounding hearts. There was a rush, an inner tightness building, building, building.

He groaned. Everything quickened, tightened, and he couldn't stop the momentum. He didn't want to. He was coming, pouring himself into her with total abandon, thrusting, pumping, groaning even louder. Branding away any other who'd come before. Her deepest muscles were still rippling from her own climax, and they managed to wring every last hot burst of wetness from him, every single drop of his devotion and desire for her.

"Elena. Oh, fuck." He buried his face in the side of her neck as his thrusts slowly turned languid. He was on his elbows above her, trembling with the effort of not simply collapsing and crushing her with his weight. Her sweet, sexy scent floated all around him.

Her arms came up around his neck. "Sorry I bit you," she said a little sheepishly. "I don't know what came over me."

He raised his head and grinned. "Sadistic little thing."

She pushed on his chest half-heartedly. "I am not."

"You know I don't mind. Vampire, remember?"

When he rolled, drawing her back up into her straddled position over him, he remained fully inside her, locked in that deep rapturous place, barely able to move. He still felt light-headed and tingly all over. His arms wrapped around her, holding her flush against him, flesh against flesh.

After she let out a startled yelp, she settled in on top of him, nestling into his hard, strong body. God, it felt so good to lay here with her like this, sated, boneless, empty, nothing interfering with their connection of physical and emotional warmth. He breathed her lavender and sunshine scent in deeply, finding a measure of peace.

He hadn't thought it possible to feel like this. Whole. Complete. Happy. And he didn't know what he'd done to deserve any of it.

Or the crazy, beautiful, sexy girl who'd made it all possible.

"Does this mean you'll be my date to the party?" she asked without moving.

His lips quirked into a little half smile. "I suppose it does."

"And does this make me your first real official girlfriend?"

"I'm afraid so. You've devastated women around the world in one fell swoop. I'm not sure how you're gonna sleep with all that guilt weighing you down."

She giggled, a sound so arousing his dick gave a tentative twitch. "You're an idiot."

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot."

She wiggled her hips the tiniest bit in response. "I know we should probably get up and talk about some stuff, and you have to tell Stefan the truth, but can we do it later? After we take a nap?"

"It's like you took the words right out of my mouth." Later he would worry about all of the consequences of Elena's confession and what the right thing to do was, but for now he just wanted to hold her. Be with her.

She yawned. "And I want to see them. All of them."

"Them?" He didn't have the brain function to understand what she was talking about.

"Your toys and stuff. I know you have some."

"I might have some toys and stuff." A slow, wicked smirk spread across his face. "And I might share."

"You'd better." She snuggled into him, and it didn't take long for her breaths to turn deep and even. It took even less time for him to also fall into nap mode.

Wondering as he did so if this had all been a dream.

Because it had been perfect. So unbelievably perfect.

And nothing good in his life ever lasted.

He awoke to a hangover lingering unpleasantly in his system. Ouch.

Elena was already awake. She regarded him with a warm, sleepy, sexy smile that he returned. Good – no detectable signs that she'd returned to her senses yet and realized she was better off with Stefan. His fingers flexed, began to stroke the soft strands of rich chocolate they found themselves tangled in. Senses came back into focus, albeit somewhat hampered. He scowled fiercely as his head throbbed from the onslaught of voices outside.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice soft in the silence of early morning.

"Klaus is here."

She pushed up on one elbow. "Klaus?"

Damon's gaze grew unfocused as he stroked her back, gently caressing the bumps of her spine while concentrating on the far away voices. Through the pounding in his skull and the ringing in his ears, he was able to ascertain that there were two distinct voices. "He's on the lawn arguing with Elijah about something." His eyes slid to the window and the bare slivers of sunlight just beginning to stream in. Why did it have to be so ungodly bright? Fuck. "Why are they on my lawn so goddamn early?"

He heard her small laughter and smiled himself. "You sound like a grumpy old man," she said.

"Yeah, because my head hurts."

"Because you drank too much last night." She glanced at the clock. "We slept longer than I thought we would." She sighed. "Should we go see what they're doing here?"

He rolled on top of her. "I'd prefer if we just ignored them." Ducking his head, he sucked one pink nipple into his mouth. It hardened instantly.

"Damon," she said reprovingly, even as she arched her back so he'd pay attention to her other breast, too. He did. "We can't just leave them out there. What about when Jeremy comes home? Or Caroline, or Bonnie?"

He pouted and nuzzled the valley between her breasts. "But this is so much more fun."

"Yes," she agreed, then hit him with a pleading look from which he wished he was immune. But truth be told, he was feeling pretty generous, given the current state of … well, everything, so he'd do this for Elena, and after he'd shooed off their unwelcome Original guests, he'd pop back up and make love to her until the world forced them to come back out again.

"Fine," he pretended to grouse and gave each of her nipples a tender parting kiss. "Soon," he promised them.

"Yes," she agreed again.

He rose and pulled on some pants and a shirt. "You, stay put."

Her lips compressed into obstinacy.

He leaned over the bed and gave her a smart slap on the derriere. "I mean it. I won't be gone long."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'll give you somewhere to stick that tongue," he play-threatened.

She was still giggling as he descended to the foyer area. He was so full of happiness – for the first time ever - that he was surprised he didn't start skipping down the stairs like an infatuated schoolboy, despite his almost-but-not-quite-gone hangover. However, opening the front door certainly put a damper on his mood as it revealed that his senses had not failed him. Klaus and Elijah were indeed standing on his front lawn, their argument ongoing.

Damon walked out and spread his arms wide in faux-greeting. "Uh, hi, guys. What's going on?"

They both completely ignored him. "The only way we'll defeat him is if we work together," Klaus was imploring. "You know I'm right, brother. Together, united, we will prevail."

"Are you absolutely certain he's here? Is it possible you might be," Elijah paused delicately, "mistaken?"

"I wish I were. No, I am certain he's nearby, and as long as he lives, we're all in danger. You know this as well as I."

"Then I suppose I must choose if I can trust the brother who has plunged a dagger through my heart every time I turned my back on him."

Klaus shrugged, utterly unremorseful. "If there's anything eternity's taught us, it's that sometimes there is no good choice. I do know that if we don't come together now and destroy him once and for all, then there's the chance he'll destroy us. That he'll destroy our entire family. Is that how you envision our story ending? Does our family's legacy expire on the end of Michael's stake? I, for one, refuse to let that happen."

Before Elijah could respond, Rebekah appeared right next to him, vamp speeding in out of nowhere.

"Great," Damon muttered under his breath, "now we have to deal with Crazy, too." He could not have wished more that he was still upstairs having more sexy time with a nubile and willing Elena instead of witnessing this stupid, awkward family squabble.

"This is where I find you? You cannot be serious," Rebekah snapped, giving Elijah a look of abject betrayal. "You cannot possibly be thinking of trusting this treacherous snake. You cannot possibly be thinking of forgiving him for all the horrible things he's put our family through!"

"Little sister," Klaus began.

But Rebekah wasn't even close to being done. "He's just trying to use you, and I don't understand why you can't see that. Pretending like he cares about our family. That's rich. And meeting with him behind my back?"

"And in my front yard?" Damon added in an aggrieved tone. Once again, everyone ignored him.

Elijah's mouth quirked sideways. "It's not because I imagined this would be your reaction."

Rebekah's pouty top lip curled with contempt. "I see now that none of my brothers are to be trusted."

"Sister, you're overreacting."

"Yes," concurred Klaus with a cruel smirk, "Rebekah does have quite the talent at injecting unnecessary hysteria into every situation."

Rebekah's summer blue eyes flashed. "Fine," she addressed Elijah, "if you'd willingly work with our hateful brother again, knowing that you're just going to wind up with a dagger in your heart as soon as you're no longer useful to him, then you deserve whatever happens to you."

"Rebekah - "

"He brought Mikael here! To our new home! We'll have to go on the run 's ruining our lives again!"

She was really working herself into a tizzy. It was making Damon's skin itch. Right between his shoulder blades.

"I have a plan," Klaus said as cajolingly as he could, which wasn't very, "one that ensures we'll never have to run again."

"We'll never do anything together again. You can deal with Michael on your own. We can handle this together, just me and Elijah. Right, Elijah?"

The handsome vampire in a suit spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "In war, sometimes the enemy of our enemy is our ally. Just until the war's over."

She refused to be calmed. "Really? So that's it then? Just like that, he gets everything he wants? Your forgiveness, Elijah? And the doppelganger?"

Damon didn't like that Elena was being brought into this. The itch intensified, became a crawling sensation across his nape.

Rebekah wasn't even close to being done. "His hybrid army? He's going to replace us with them! It's been his plan all along. Make a new family, one that can't disobey or disappoint him. Then he can shove his real family in boxes and drop us to the bottom of the ocean somewhere and never have to deal with us again."

"It's not like you don't make it sound tempting or anything," Klaus jibed.

"Go to hell, Nik," she hissed, showing her fangs.

"Relax." Klaus rolled his eyes. "It was a joke. I'm not replacing anybody. My hybrids are simply a matter of protection. I wouldn't have to go to such lengths were I not presented on all sides with fickleness and treachery."

"What are they arguing about?" Elena asked.

Damon looked over – wait, what? Why was Elena down here? He'd told her he'd take care of this. Why couldn't she just trust him to handle one simple thing?

"Go back upstairs," he said sharply.

The words hadn't even had time to die on his lips when Rebekah turned in Elena's direction. "You're right," Rebekah intoned, black veins seething across her face, canines gleaming in the sunlight, "you won't be replacing anybody."

In her crimson gaze was a deadness that betrayed her loss of agency. A deadness he'd seen once before in another pair of eyes the night Magic Itself possessed a human girl and tried to restore the balance of nature by making her fatally stab Elena with a cake knife.

Finally, finally, Damon recognized the creepy-crawly sensation plaguing him for what it was – and a barb-like burst of panic zinged through him.

Christ. And he'd wondered if it could possess a vampire.

Yes. Apparently, the answer the yes.

He turned to grab Elena, intending to whisk her away to safety, but he was too slow. He would never be faster than a thousand year old Original vampire.

For a terrifying split second in time, Damon could only watch as Rebekah cut across the yard with deadly intent, her mind no longer her own, her body no longer hers to control.

Before Elena could react, Rebekah snatched the girl's face in a tight grip, hands on her cheeks, fingers webbed out like claws.

"Rebekah!" roared Klaus.

"No," yelled Elijah, hand outstretched, "sister, don't!"

Snap.

Elena's face whipped to the side, long hair spinning out in a dark arc behind her head. And then she collapsed to the ground with a horrible thudding sound that Damon would never be able to unhear.

"There," Rebekah said, taking a step back from the prone girl at her feet. "Good luck building your hybrid army with a dead girl."

She moved away, and Damon's knees gave out. He fell to the ground beside Elena, catching her up in his arms.

"No," he gasped, "no, no, no, please, you are not dead. No."

No. The word pulsed through him, a brutal, insistent rhythm trying its best to keep the awful truth at bay. Anything to keep the horror of it all from ripping him to shreds and incapacitating him.

He cupped Elena's face, felt below her jaw for a pulse, strained his ears, searching for a spark, for the sound of a breath being drawn, for any sign of life at all.

There wasn't one.

This … this could not be happening. Not to Elena. Please not to Elena.

"Do not die on me. Elena, do you hear me? You are not dead." The entire world narrowed down to the limp girl in his arms. She had no breath, no heartbeat. Her head lulled at a grotesque angle that was just wrong.

The panic slowly suffocating him was immense and only growing. It was like drowning and screaming at the same time and no one could hear him. There was no way out from this. No magic potion, no healing spell, no get out of jail free card. Not this time.

Give her some blood, you imbecile!

Of course. So beyond grateful to have had any useful thought at all, he bit into his wrist, ripping the entire underside wide open in his urgency, and jammed it to her lips, driven by desperation enough to pray to whomever might be listening that she'd get enough of it down before it was too late.

But no one was listening to a vampire's prayers. The blood mostly just dribbled wet and red down the side of her chin.

"No, please, please, no," he begged, clutching her to him in a grip that was too tight for her fragile mortal body, but it didn't matter, because she was gone. He wasn't holding the girl he loved in his arms anymore, only the cold emptiness of death.