Nothing compares no worries or cares. Regrets and mistakes, they're memories made.

Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

Adele; Someone like you.

Dear Diary,

Well, my old, faithful friend, it sure has been a while since I have confided in you; I sort of gave up after Damon died. There just didn't seem to be much point anymore; anything I wrote would have been about him anyway. But I am writing to you now, my dear diary, because he's back. My Damon is home and I can finally breathe again. The excruciating hole in my chest has healed. I must confide that I am worried though, worried about Damon. He's gone again diary, not in the sense that he was before; but he's gone all the same. Last night me and Damon did things, things I've never done with anyone before and it was magical. But then Stefan came back home and like the fool I am, I went back to him; not really because I wanted to, but because it's a habit, it's comfortable, it's something I can do without thinking about. I just remember the look on his face; the look imprinted on his beautiful features just as Stefan left the room and I was about to follow. It was completely unreadable, but that didn't mean that I couldn't see the pain beneath it all. If anyone really knows Damon Salvatore- which I doubt- It's me. I love Stefan, I do, but I also love Damon, so, so much. I feel ridiculous, after all the time that has passed since I met the Salvatore brothers, and all that's happened, I still write about them in this diary. About how I am so stuck in the middle and pretty soon I am going to have to choose. Is it so wrong to love two people at the same time? Yes, I guess it is.

Elena was pacing the dining room; back and forth, back and forth, awaiting Damon's return. It was early morning, about half past six, she seriously shouldn't be awake; she didn't have school tomorrow, she had no actual reason to be awake, no reason other than that she was waiting for someone. As soon as she'd awoken, she'd walked to Damon's room, expecting to find him sound asleep. But he wasn't. The bed was still unmade; in the state that it had been in before he'd left last night. Nothing had changed, Damon obviously hadn't returned last night. She was worried; she knew Damon had been upset and upset and Damon weren't the best combination. She was scared, sacred that he'd done something terrible, something to undo all the good work he'd done recently. Deep down she knew that Damon had done something; she could feel it, feel it in the otherworldly connection she had with the elder Salvatore. It was inevitable that he'd done something bad to be honest; it was the way he dealt with things.

She heard a crash coming from the kitchen, it made her nerves stand on edge, every part of her body put on alert. She stood completely still, holding her breath, waiting for the moment when this presence would reveal itself as friend of foe. She heard him before she saw him; he was humming, an unknown song; probably ancient, it made her want to know what song it was; she wanted to know everything about Damon Salvatore. He stood still when he saw her, feigning surprise and acting taken aback in an over-exaggerated way.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Eleeeeeeeena. I would have thought you and Saint Stefan were still cozied up; you looked so sweet, seriously it warmed my heart" Damon slurred.

"Damon? Are you drunk? And you're upset, that isn't a very good combination"

"No Elena, I'm not upset. That would imply that I cared"

"Damon, don't lie. You can't fool me; I know you care, you care so much and I know it hurts you and I'm sorry. I'm sorry Damon, I don't want to hurt you, I never want to hurt you"

Damon stared at her for a long moment, different emotions were fizzling in his eyes, she saw anger, hate, jealousy and then hurt deep hurt and endless tiredness.

"It's been a hard day Elena, and a harder night. How about we save the big heartfelt talk for a different time"

She looked at him, really looked at him, taking in his aura as well as his appearance. It was bloated, filled to the brim with power, dark power. The power that only came from hate and murder. Damon had killed tonight, killed a lot. She couldn't ignore it; his aura was basically shouting it in her face, its dark tendrils almost filling the room.

"Oh Damon" She whispered "What have you done?"

"I've done what you made me do"

"Who did you kill Damon?" She asked calmly.

He stood there, not answering.

"Who Damon?" She shouted this time, battering him with her anger.

"I don't know! Did you seriously expect me to find out their names?"

She slapped him, her hand leaving a red mark on his ghostly, white cheek. She hit him next; she pummelled her fists again his chest, trying to make him react, trying to make him see sense; feel remorse, feel anything towards the people whose lives he had ended. She was crying now, hot salty tears streaming down her face, she felt so guilty, because she knew, in a way that Damon had been telling the truth; he had only killed because of her, because of how she'd made him feel and how much she'd hurt him.

"I hate you" She spat, annunciating all the words sharply. Her hands were still resting on his chest.

"I hate you too"

He pulled her to him, slamming his body against her and crushing their lips together. He kissed her violently, angrily; his fingers squeezing her upper arms, she anticipated the bruises that would flower her flesh in the morning. He lifted her off her feet, pushing her down on the dining room table, climbing on top of her. His hands how squeezed the backs of her thighs, travelling upwards until they reached her buttocks.

His lips moved off hers, travelling to her cheek; nipping the skin softly. A moan left Elena's lips as his continued to nibble and kiss his way down from her cheek to her neck. She anticipated the sting of his fangs before it came; it hurt more than usual, and she didn't doubt that Damon did that deliberately, wanting to give her back some of the pain that she had caused him.

He drank her blood greedily, swallowing great gulps, drinking more and more until Elena felt herself slipping, her life force fading. She knew that letting Damon have her blood was dangerous when he was in this type of mood, there was a high chance that he could lose control and drain her completely, but she couldn't deny him. A whimper escaped her lips and that was what it took for Damon to retract his fangs out of her. She felt dizzy and sore; she also felt like she deserved to feel this. It took her a while before she could meet his eyes but when she did, Damon looked at her, his black eyes unfathomable.

"I'm sorry" He whispered, white around his lips.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run back to Stefan, not after what we did"

"It hurt"

His words were so simple, and in most cases not an excuse at all. But in this case, they were. They were all the excuse Damon Salvatore needed. She pulled him to her; he felt thin and tired in her arms. She placed a kiss on his forehead, before taking his hand and leading him up the stairs; to Damon's bedroom.

When Damon entered the room, she closed the door behind them, she felt like she was closing the rest of the world out. She pulled him to her once again and he bent down; resting his head on her shoulder. She stroked his back softly, soothing him; he buried his head into her neck, breathing in her comforting scent. She pulled away, took his hand, and led him to the bed.

She sat down, crossed her legs and pulled Damon to rest his head in her lap; she then pulled the blanket over their heads, leaving them in their own world. Damon closed his eyes, relaxing in the comfort that her presence gave him. Elena threaded her fingers into Damon's silky hair; running her fingers through it and tugging it softly. She whispered his name softly, noticing the slight smile that graced his pout as she did.

She started to sing softly, a lullaby that her mother used to sing to her when she woke up in the night with nightmares. Damon nestled his head further into her lap, moulding himself into her, as she continued to stroke his hair and sing softly to him, the words slipping out of her mouth as easy as breathing. She knew Damon was almost asleep, she could sense it in his aura; she stopped singing for a second then whispered to him, ever so softly.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you"

Sometimes the line between love and hate blurs so much that it becomes undistinguishable.