Author's Note: This chapter is named after "I Should Go," by Levi Kreis. This, as you may recall, was the song playing in "As I Lay Dying," when Damon and Elena were cuddled together in Damon's bed, exchanging what they both believed would be the final words they would ever say to one another. Of course, this special song also provides the soundtrack to their First Official Kiss! I found the lyrics of "I Should Go" to be breathtakingly beautiful - filled, as they are, with the complexities of unrequited love . . . of wanting to do one thing, but forcing yourself to do another, because it is the "right" thing to do. Considering that this is a "morning after" chapter for everybody in our story, I thought the song would fit well here . . .

8:23 a.m. – Bon Temps Motor Lodge

Still swaddled in the comfortable blanket of sleep, Elena nuzzled deeper into the strong firm chest on which her head rested. Instinctively, she allowed her own breathing to fall in sync with his, so that their hearts beat in unison. She sighed deeply, noticing that one of his arms was wrapped protectively around her shoulders, while the other hugged her waist. The way his fingers rested on her bare skin sent a sensation of soothing warmth throughout her body.

Her eyes still closed, Elena smiled blissfully, feeling more safe, comfortable, and secure than she ever remembered feeling. "Damon," she whispered drowsily.

Upon hearing his name escape her lips, Elena's eyes shot open. She looked down and noticed, to her horror, that she was wearing only a lacy black bra and panties. Damon too was scantily clad, dressed in nothing but a pair of black boxers, which, while loose fitting, were apparently not loose enough to hide his morning arousal. "Uh Oh." She said out loud.

Now that she was fully awake, the effects of Elena's night of binge drinking began to take their toll on her, in a major way. Sharp lightning bolts of pain began to shoot through her forehead, and across her temples. Her mouth felt desert dry. Her stomach groaned its protest of the monster truck rally that had apparently taken place inside of it, just hours earlier.

Ever so gently, Elena began to peel Damon's hands off her skin . . . first one . . . then the other. She crept into the bathroom in search of Aspirin. "Looking for these?" Damon inquired from inside the open bathroom door, shaking a bottle of Aspirin in front of her tauntingly.

Elena jumped backward, clutching her hand to her heart. Damn, my boyfriends, and their annoying vampire speed! Wait . . . Damon ISN'T my boyfriend. Only Stefan is . . . at least . . . he was.

As far as Elena knew, vampires didn't actually get headaches. This meant that Damon probably stole that bottle of Aspirin out of her suitcase, while she was sleeping. Sighing, Elena reached up and snatched the pill bottle from Damon's open palm. As she did so, her hand brushed against his, sending a frustratingly familiar tingle down her spine.

"Thank you," she muttered, turning toward the sink, so he couldn't see that she was blushing. (Then again, he probably saw it through the mirror, anyway.)

"Yeah, well, I figured you might be a bit . . . sore . . . after last night," Damon replied, giving the mirror a lascivious wink.

Elena cringed, as drunken memories from the night before flooded her subconscious. She had done a lot of very bad things last night . . . and she probably would have done a whole lot more of them, if Damon hadn't . . . Or had he? Elena noted, to her chagrin, that the final portion of the evening . . . the portion in which she had somehow ended up mostly naked in bed, in Damon's arms, was a complete blank space in her mind.

"Ummm . . . about that . . ." Elena began, as she shoved three Aspirin in her mouth, and followed it down with a mouthful of water.

"How much do you remember exactly, about what happened?" Damon asked with a knowing smile.

He was doing that Eye Thing again. Why must he always do that damn Eye Thing, when my defenses are down? Elena thought.

"I remember going to Fangtasia," Elena said slowly, trying desperately to call up the blurred images in her aching foggy brain.

Damon nodded, and motioned with his hand for her to continue.

"I remember getting into a fight with Stefan . . . I remember dancing, and drinking an entire bottle of tequila."

"Go on . . ." said Damon, as he handed Elena a towel for her hands and face.

"I remember us coming back to the hotel room . . . and I remember that I . . . that we . . ."

Damon grinned widely. "Yes, you seduced me with your feminine wiles. Thank you for that, by the way," he added.

Elena felt herself blushing again, but she had to stay strong. "Then, I remember getting sick," She concluded, conveniently sidestepping the part of the story, where Damon did the gentlemanly thing, for once, by rejecting her drunken advances.

"Ahhh . . . yes . . . and ruined my new shoes. Good times!" Damon offered, raising a glass of what looked like blood to his lips, and taking a long sip. "What else do you remember?"

Damon was standing right behind Elena now. She felt his abdominals pressing up against her back, and could see the intense look he was giving her in the bathroom mirror. His nearness flustered her in ways she wasn't ready to admit to herself. "That's all I remember," she mumbled, looking ashamedly down into the sink.

"You're forgetting the best part," Damon said, as he swept Elena's hair away from her neck.

He then began lazily tracing his finger down its surface, toward her chest, causing her to shiver with a mixture of excitement and fear. "Did we?" She whispered.

"Yes . . . yes we did. And, I must say, you rocked my world."

Elena gasped, and stepped away from the sink, nearly tripping over the toilet, as she backed away from Damon's hypnotic touch.

"I mean, you were truly an animal! The whole time, you just kept screaming my name, over, and OVER again . . . DAMON . . . DAMON . . . OH . . .," he mimicked, in a comically high-pitched voice. "How are you and Stefan brothers, when you are so . . . much . . . BIGGER!"

Elena smirked and shook her head, secretly relieved. Obviously, Damon was only kidding! She then wiped the smile off her face quickly, so that she could go back to the business of pretending to be mad at him.

Thinking fast, Elena threw the bottle of Aspirin at Damon, causing it to bounce off his head, onto the floor. Damon pouted comically, before bending down to retrieve the bottle. He did so with exaggerated slowness, wiggling his admittedly cute ass in Elena's face, as he bent down. Elena groaned, being sure to slap Damon in the ass, as hard as possible, on his way back up.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to take a shower," Elena commanded, reaching out her hand to Damon's bare chest to push him through the door.

"You mean I can't come?" Damon inquired mischievously, licking his lips.

"NO!" Elena said, as she pushed Damon across the threshold, so that he was standing outside of the bathroom, and she was still in it.

Elena watched, to make sure he had actually walked away. She was about to close the door on Damon, when something gave her pause. "Damon . . ." she called after him.

Damon turned, and dashed back to the doorway. "Change your mind?" He inquired jokingly.

"I just wanted to say thank you . . . for taking care of me, last night . . . and for being . . . good. I know how hard it must have been for you. And I just want to let you know that I really appreciate it." Elena offered shyly.

Damon smiled sadly. In that moment, the veneer of the Cocky Bad Boy Vampire had cracked. In its place, was the visage of a vulnerable sensitive boy . . . one who was desperately head-over-heels in love with a girl he believed he couldn't have. "Anytime, Elena . . . I'm here . . . for as long as you'll have me," he concluded.

Elena closed the door then, leaning back against its pane, as emotional and physical exhaustion overtook her. We are all SO screwed. She thought to herself.

8:35 a.m. – Queen Sophie Anne's Mansion

Stefan woke up with a dry mouth, and a heart filled with guilt. They had both passed out, right there on the couch, exhausted from hours and hours of drug-induced love making. The more Stefan tried to forget what he had done the night before, the more his body reminded him. Every breath he took, he could smell Katherine's vanilla shampoo, and the natural floral aroma of her skin, intermingled as it was with the distinct aroma of sex.

He had fallen asleep with one of his hands clutching her soft pliant breast, and the other between her firm muscular legs. The gentle weight of Katherine's body pressed up against him, as she moaned softly in her sleep. Her lips were curled into a distinct smile. Stefan was so hard right now, it hurt.

For a brief moment, before he passed out, Stefan had hoped that the drug cocktail Queen Sophie Anne had slipped into his blood would have the effect of causing him to black out . . . to forget the way he mauled those two innocent girls at Fangtasia . . . to forget the horrible way he had treated Elena . . . and most of all, to forget the night of passion he had experienced with Katherine.

But, alas, Stefan remembered everything. The animalistic way she ripped off his clothing, and bit down on his neck . . . his stomach . . . his thighs. The way she screamed his name over and over again, as she road him for hours and hours on end, never seeming to tire, or run out of different moves to try on him, different positions with which to test and experiment . . . positions that definitely didn't exist, back when she took his virginity in 1864 . . . back when he loved her more than life itself . . . or at least thought he did.

They came together every time, without fail, that night, their bodies instantly recalling how spectacular sex was between in the past, and eager to get back into business. Even arched in pleasure, Stefan's and Katherine's finely muscled stomachs seemed to fit perfectly into one another - his curves matching her hollows, and vice versa. So hungry was Stefan for blood . . . so eager was he to forget his sins . . . to forget Elena . . . that he had let the sensations brought on by chemical enhancement cloud his reasoning, and shut off his mind, so that all that was left was pure, unadulterated instinct.

But now, in the light of day, Stefan was forced to face what had happened. He could see Elena's face in his mind . . . her eyes filled with tears. "How could you?" She exclaimed in his subconscious. "How could you abandon me? How could you do what you did . . . with her . . . and still claim to love me?"

Stefan was beginning to wonder that, himself. To blame his behavior on blood addiction and drug consumption would be an oversimplification of things, and he knew it. He wasn't going to let himself off the hook so easily. Somewhere deep down, Stefan had WANTED Katherine last night. He WANTED to hold her close, and feel her skin on his skin. He wanted to know if the feelings he had for her all those years ago still existed.

Not everything has to be black and white, Stefan. Katherine's words echoed in his brain.

Stefan looked down at Katherine, who he was still holding in his arms. In sleep, she looked so peaceful. Gone were the manipulations, machinations, and sly mockery. Gone was the cold and heartless façade she hid behind . . . the wall she erected between herself and others, whenever she was trying to avoid feeling. Without all of this, Katherine looked surprisingly vulnerable . . . sweet even.

And that's when Stefan realized it: he was still in love with Katherine Petrova . . .

8:42 a.m.

Elena emerged from the shower with a way too small towel wrapped loosely around her midsection. (Apparently, all the other towels in the hotel room had been used by Damon to clean up last night's mess.) When she entered the bedroom, she noticed that Damon was lying on top of the unmade bed, watching the news. Upon seeing her enter, he quickly turned off the television, a nervous look in his eyes.

Elena folded her hands across her chest. "What . . . what did you see?"

"Nothing . . . just some lame local commercial for spare tractor parts. The people in this town are SUCH hillbillies," Damon said, as casually as he could muster.

Elena knew immediately that he was lying. "Give me the remote, Damon," Elena threatened, moving toward the bed.

Damon shook his head vigorously, holding the remote away from her. "I told you, it's nothing. You should get dressed," he said.

OK, now Elena KNEW something was up. The Damon she knew would NEVER encourage Elena to put on more clothing. The Petrova Doppelganger rushed to Damon's side, and attempted to make a grab at the remote control. Thinking fast, he slipped it beneath his backside.

Refusing to be deterred, Elena leapt on top of Damon, and reached beneath him, leaning forward to get a better grasp on the remote. Suddenly, she stopped. Damon's lips were just inches away from hers. She was on top of him again, just as she had been the night before. Suddenly, she was overtaken with an intense desire to kiss him. Damon's eyes widened. And Elena could see now that they were filled with as much passion as she was feeling.

They stayed there like that for a few moments, in shock over the strength of their emotions. Elena came back to herself first, tightening her towel around her, as she extricated herself from Damon's body. Released from her spell, Damon found himself able to think rationally once again. He threw the remote control at the television, breaking both in a single toss. "Oops," he said with a slight smirk. "How clumsy I am."

Elena shook her head in disapproval. "You are paying for that, you know!" She scolded, relieved to be fighting with Damon again, instead of doing . . . whatever it was they almost did, back there on the bed.

Suddenly, Elena had an idea. Without bothering to get dressed, she threw open the door to their hotel room. As expected, the Bon Temps Spectator had been conveniently left on their doorstep that morning. Leaning against the door, Elena read the headline in bold letters on the front page. "Double Homicide at Vampire Nightclub - Suspect Still at Large." Just below the headline were three pictures.

The first two photographs were obviously of the girls she had seen hanging all over Stefan at Fangtasia, the night before. Without their vamp makeup and trashy outfits, the two victims looked surprisingly innocent. They looked like the type of girls Elena might have even befriended, if they attended her high school. For a moment, Elena thought about the families' of these young women, and how devastated they must be this morning.

But it was the third picture that shook Elena to her core . . . a picture of Stefan Salvatore.

9:00 a.m. – Queen Sophie Anne's Mansion

Stefan's stomach growled ferociously at him, causing him to moan in frustration. Of course, he was hungry again. What else was new?

The younger Salvatore Brother extricated himself from Katherine, and stumbled toward the kitchen, stark naked. Once there, he was greeted by a man in a butler uniform, who wordlessly handed him a pitcher filled with blood. Embarrassed, Stefan muttered a thank you, and took the pitcher from the man, chugging it down, as fast as he could.

Before he could finish, the doorbell rang. That same butler scurried quickly into the living room (where Katherine still lied, sleeping and naked) to answer the door. Not wanting to startle Queen Sophie Anne's guest with the sight of yet another naked body, Stefan stayed in the kitchen . . . until he heard the sound of the butler's heart being ripped out of his chest.

"Well, hello Katherine. Don't bother getting dressed on my account. You always did look fetching in your birthday suit," said Klaus, as he carelessly stepped over the butler's corpse.