This is a rewrite of my original fic - this chapter won't look any different because I had already rewritten it while I was writing my Klaroline series, and I saw no reason to change it.

For those of you only just joining me, welcome to my little AU pocket of TVD, where everything is Stelena, Datherine, and Klaroline and nothing hurts.

For the purposes of this fic, after the Delena kiss in 3x11, she and Damon talked and clarified that all they felt for each other was platonic affection. They are fine with this. Stefan has yet to catch up.

This fic is set immediately after the end of season 3, but before Meredith tells anyone that Elena was given Damon's blood.

Therefore, as far as everyone is aware, Klaus and Tyler are both dead; this will change as per canon.

I will then proceed to take the bits of canon I like and ignore everything else, like a very fussy diner at a buffet.

Enjoy!


Over the last year, Elena Gilbert had become a little too used to being unconscious, but waking up this time felt different.

As always, the first sense that came back online was her hearing, and the first thing she became aware of was that people were shouting.

A lot.

The words weren't angry, or even distinguishable, but they were loud, and as her consciousness slowly returned, they penetrated Elena's brains like tiny little screws.

She opened her eyes, ready to snap at them all to just shut up, but the artificial lights seemed unnaturally bright and she squeezed them shut immediately with a pained groan.

The voices dimmed a little, but they didn't stop, and Elena realised she was alone.

Where am I? What happened?

A series of images flashed through her mind as her memory finally kicked in … yelling at Matt … Rebekah … the bridge … Stefan …

Her eyes flew open again with a gasp, causing her to flinch again at the still-too-bright lights, but that was the last thing on her mind right now.

Klaus was dead.

Everything they had been working towards had finally paid off right when it was the last thing they wanted.

Was that the last time she would ever see Stefan? Were her last words to him a plea to save Matt's life?

And he had.

Her compassionate Stefan, ever the champion for her free will, had saved Matt's life and honoured her wishes.

Hadn't he?

Was Matt okay?

Was she okay?

She didn't seem to be in a hospital – at least, she wasn't in a hospital room.

Now the noise had dimmed and her eyes had adjusted to the light, Elena could fully appreciate just how strange her situation really was.

She was propped up against the wall of what appeared to be a hospital supply closet, still dressed in the mildly damp clothes she had been wearing at the time of the accident. On top the shouting from outside and the bright lights, there was a slightly sweet smell wafting in from the corridor outside, a smell that was unfamiliar but that made her insides ache with hunger.

Taking a shaky breath, Elena struggled to stand, but her legs shook, refusing to take her weight, and she sank back against the wall, a sob bubbling up in her throat. She wanted to believe this was all a strange dream, but everything was just too vivid – extremely vivid, right down to the cool metal brushing the hand that rested on the floor from her attempt to push herself upright.

It was a cell phone, but not hers, and it was sitting on a neatly folded sheet of paper. Picking them up, her hands trembling, Elena unfolded the note, finding words that seemed to float off the page and hover in front of her, taunting her and changing her world forever.

Elena,

I am so, so sorry about all of this, and for leaving you to handle this by yourself. Coward I may be, but stupid I am not.

You have lost so much, Elena, and you have been so strong through it all. You have maturity beyond your years; although you shouldn't have to deal with any of this, I have no doubt that you can and will pull through.

I'm afraid I lied the other morning when I told Jeremy you had a concussion. The blow to your head had caused cerebral haemorrhaging, which, as I'm sure you know, is almost always fatal. I took measures to save your life by giving you an injection of Damon Salvatore's blood.

I'm afraid I haven't told your friends about this – I happen to like living, and I have a feeling that telling the Salvatores that I caused you to become a vampire would seriously shorten my life expectancy.

As far as they are aware, you're with our medical examiner due to 'suspicious circumstances and familial connections'. I convinced them to take your boys home.

Obviously, your cell phone doesn't work anymore, so I left you mine.

Please forgive me.

Doctor Meredith Fell

Ice crept into Elena's chest and up to her throat, stealing the breath she no longer needed.

Everything suddenly made sense – made horrible, horrible sense. The loud voices, the brightness of the lights, her elevated confusion, that smell …

It's blood.

A whimper tore from her throat as she curled into herself, fumbling with the cell phone. With parents who were so involved with the town, Elena had developed an excellent memory for phone numbers as a young girl, and she had never been so grateful for it than she was right now.

She hurriedly typed in Stefan's number, her panic mounting with every passing second.

"Come on …" She whispered fervently. "Pick up …"

But the phone rang off without even going to voicemail.

Three more times, Elena tried the number, with increasing desperation, but it was to no avail.

Of course he's not answering the phone, a snide voice in her head hissed. He's dead. Klaus is dead, remember? The bloodline curse would have killed him.

No. She told herself firmly. No, don't think like that. Meredith obviously saw them earlier.

Sage and Troy were fine until they came to kill Stefan. The voice reminded her darkly. Maybe it takes a while.

Tears streaming down her face, Elena dialled another number, not caring about the illogical nature of her actions, just instinctively resorting to the one person that had always been there over the last few months.

All she knew was that there was blood on the other side of that door, and she wanted it.

Badly.

Elena closed her eyes, silently chanting the same words over and over again. I can't hurt anyone. I won't hurt anyone.

Her internal monologue was interrupted, not by Stefan, but by a voice that was no less music to her ears.

"You're interrupting my drinking."

A sob forced its way through Elena's lips, heightened relief breaking her composure. "Damon!"

Instantly, Damon's voice changed, his lazy drawl covering up all manner of emotion vanishing, becoming sharp and alert. "Katherine!"

"No, it's Elena … I'm at the hospital, Damon; I'm alive – I need help, I'm in a supply closet, and something's wrong and …"

"Alright, Elena, calm down!" Damon interrupted. "Try and breathe, nice and evenly for me, alright?"

Forcing herself to stop rambling, Elena sucked in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. It calmed her down, but only a little.

"Good girl," Damon said soothingly. "Do you want me to get Stefan?"

Elena hesitated. It had been Stefan's number she had originally dialled, but … recently, dealing with Stefan had been more stressful than she felt she could handle right now. "I don't know … I thought so, but … I kinda need my best friend."

"Okay. Know where I can find one of them?"

A sad smile touched her face as she rested her head back against the wall, her body unclenching a little. "Probably drinking himself into a coma in his living room. Unless he hates me for leaving him to die alone."

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and Elena's heart skipped a beat, but then Damon spoke again. "Never. Just hang on, Elena. I'm on my way."

The phone rang off before she could respond, and Elena continued to breathe heavily, clutching the phone to her chest like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

She tried to remember everything Stefan had told Caroline after her transition about controlling the bloodlust.

"Breathe through it. You're stronger than it. Breathe through it."

Although … was it bloodlust she was feeling?

The smell wafting in from the other side of the door was intoxicating, definitely, but she wasn't getting the urge to rip the hospital apart for it.

Yet.

A hand rattled at the doorknob, and Elena froze, her breath catching, but in the next second, a low familiar voice said, "Elena?"

"I'm here," Elena whispered, knowing he could hear her. "I'm in here."

With a little more force than maybe was necessary, Damon broke the door open, his eyes alighting on her immediately. "Elena …"

Contrary to popular belief, Damon and Elena had in fact discussed their relationship, several times for that matter, but it came with the understanding that it remained implicit at all times.

She had already broken the unwritten rules of their friendship on the phone, but it seemed they were throwing the rules out of the window today.

Letting the door swing shut, he crossed the floor to where she was pressed against the wall, pale-faced and trembling, reaching out to touch her face.

"Elena, are you alright?" He asked urgently. "Meredith said you were … Christ, Elena, Ric just dropped, and I thought you were …" He pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her head. "I thought we'd lost you."

"You did," Elena sniffled, clinging to him. "You did lose me. It wasn't a concussion; she used your blood to heal me, and then I died. There's a letter on the floor somewhere."

"What the …?" Damon muttered, rescuing the note, his eyes darkening as they travelled down the page. "I'm sorry, Lena."

"Why?" Elena asked, pulling away from him to wipe her eyes. "I thought this was what you wanted."

Damon sighed in a way she knew meant he was trying to keep his temper for her sake. "I'm not gonna lie and say the thought of watching you grow old and die was a cheerful one, and I know what happened before the sacrifice. But I didn't get it back then, Lena. I do now. And I would have watched, Elena – we both would – if that was what you wanted. You're right. I'm not sorry I'm not going to have to lose you, Elena, but I am sorry this choice was taken away from you."

"I know," Elena whispered, hugging her knees to her chest. "I'm scared, Damon."

"I know," Damon repeated, dropping to sit beside her. "I know you are."

"I can smell it," Elena continued, whimpering slightly, "and I want it so badly …"

"Of course you do," Damon murmured, pulling her closer. "You're becoming a vampire, sweetheart. Of course you want blood."

"I don't want to hurt anyone!" Elena protested, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. "Can't I do what Stefan does?"

"What, the bunny diet?" Damon asked, distaste evident in his voice. "If you want, although I wouldn't recommend it. You're jumping ahead of yourself though, Elena. You're still in transition – you need human blood to complete it."

"From the vein?" Elena asked shakily.

"No, it can be from a blood-bag," Damon said, stroking her hair. "But you … you don't have to, Elena. No one's gonna force you to transition."

Coming from a man who had once forced vampire blood down her throat against her will to keep her alive whether she liked it or not (she didn't), it was a huge statement, and Elena felt her heart swell with affection for her best friend. "If I don't," she said, feeling him stiffen against her, "will you stay with me?"

Damon hesitated, but nodded against her head. "Of course. I won't even tell the others, if you don't want me to. It'll be our secret; they'd never need to know."

"I wouldn't ask that of you," Elena said softly. "It wouldn't be fair. What about if I do transition? What happens then?"

"You know what happens," Damon said. "We get you used to being a vampire; help you control the bloodlust."

"And I wouldn't have to drink human blood ever again?" Elena asked.

Damon sighed. "I'd love to say no and convince you to transition, but that would be a lie and you'd hate me for it …"

Elena made a soft noise of protest but didn't interrupt.

"Stefan would tell you that you don't," Damon continued, "and maybe he's right, I don't know. All I know is that … avoiding it won't stop the cravings. If I were you, I'd at least learn how to feed and hunt safely, and that way you know that you won't have an accident if you don't have any other choice. But if you transition, it's up to you. It's your choice."

Elena looked up at his face, seeing the rigid set of his jaw and the distance in his eyes. "Thank you."

"For what?" Damon asked.

"For letting me make that choice," Elena elaborated. "I know that your instinct is to just force me to transition and keep me around; you've got eternity to earn forgiveness after all. It means a lot to me that you're willing to step back, no matter how hard it is."

"Don't get used to it," Damon muttered. "I'm not my brother. You have too much faith in me sometimes."

"I'm your best friend," Elena reminded him, smiling softly. "Of course I have faith in you. One of us has to."

Damon smirked weakly and checked his phone. "Elena, I don't want to rush you, but you need to make a decision. You were out for a long time. You don't have long left."

Elena closed her eyes. People and places seemed to swim through her mind, her life – as clichéd as it seemed – flashing before her eyes.

She saw her parents in the front seats of the car as the water slowly crept up towards their shoulders.

She saw Jenna, her eyes dark with blood, body slowly greying as the stake was sunk into her heart.

She saw John, lying on her kitchen floor, blood seeping from the wound in his stomach.

She saw Isobel, pulling her daylight necklace from her body, burning in the sun with a terrible scream.

She saw Jeremy, reloading a crossbow with a stake and lopping the head off of a hybrid with a meat knife.

She saw Bonnie screaming as her mother's neck was snapped.

She saw Caroline killing her mother's deputies to save the Salvatores, blood staining her mouth like the berries they had picked as children.

She saw Tyler fighting to break the sire bond, his distraught expression at realising he had bitten Caroline.

She saw Matt's face crumple with hurt and betrayal as she told him the truth about Vicki.

She saw Damon, collapsing under her embrace after finding out Katherine had abandoned him, labouring under the agony of Tyler's bite, begging her to kill him, standing sentry outside her house, watching over her and protecting her family.

And she saw Stefan, every perfect, wonderful moment she had spent with him and every second of the nightmares that the summer had produced.

Stefan's unending compassion meant that his behaviour around her since his emotions had completely returned had been cautious. He had followed every unwritten rule, every subconscious message she sent. He had stayed away when she needed space and let her cling to him when she needed closeness.

But still, their relationship remained strained.

Whether he truly believed her to be in love with Damon or whether he had convinced himself that she should have fallen in love with the man who remained by her side while he himself left a trail of body parts along the East Coast, she didn't know.

What she did know was that there were only so many times she could tell him that she wasn't in love with Damon.

If she completed the transition, she and Stefan could have eternity together, which was the only thing she could think of that would make the bloodlust even remotely bearable …

But did Stefan want that?

Had he ever? A nasty little voice said at the back of her mind. He never even broached the subject of you turning. Maybe vampire-Elena is just too close to Katherine.

Elena screwed her eyes tightly shut, her fingernails digging into the palms of her clenched fists, the pain almost silencing the voice in her head.

"Easy, Elena," Damon soothed, taking her hands in his and gently uncurling her fingers. "What are you thinking?"

"Stefan," Elena whispered. "And Katherine."

For whatever reason, Damon had never needed many words to understand what was going on in her head, and his eyes darkened.

"You could never be Katherine, Elena," he said softly. "You share a face, not a heart, or a mind, or a soul. That's not how the doppelgänger spell works."

Elena sniffed. "That's not what Isobel's friend seemed to think."

"Yeah, well, she tried to kill you," Damon said with a scowl. "She doesn't get a vote."

Elena gave a reluctant giggle. "Damon, you can't invalidate academics just because you don't like them."

Damon smirked at her. "Yeah, I can. There's that smile."

Said smile faded and Elena dropped her gaze. "Even if I could never be Katherine, what if Stefan can't love me like this? What if he's using us as an excuse because he meant what he said in Chicago? What if …?"

"Elena," Damon interrupted. "First of all, Stefan loves you. Never doubt that. Second of all, if he reacts like that, I'll rip his heart out. Third, if you're going to transition, do it for you, not for Stefan. Or anyone else for that matter."

"That's not how it works, Damon," Elena said tiredly. "No man is an island and all that. I can't make this decision without considering how it's going to affect the people around me. Bonnie took Caroline's turning really badly, Caroline had to deal with her father deciding not to transition after Ric …" Her mouth snapped shut and she turned a horrified look on to Damon. "Oh, God, Ric! He's dead!"

Damon winced, pulling her close again. "Yeah, Elena, he is." He sighed. "Look, Lena, I hate to rush you, sweetheart, but I need an answer."

Elena swallowed hard, but her voice held no indecision. "Jeremy just lost the last parent we had left. I can't leave him too. I want to transition."