Good evening, good evening!

Wow, it feels weird, but also really nice uploading a chapter on "You can never be sure".

Over the last… many months I've been working on "Learning to love again", a story that I absolutely love, and will definitely continue.

I am not exactly putting it on a hiatus, I'm not officially taking a break from it. I just need to focus onto something different. Plans about LTLA are always finding their way into my mind, but right now I want to write something else. And I believe that YCNBS is just the right story for me.

As you have all probably gathered from the prologue, this is a story written in a different style from my other ones. Obviously enough, I'm writing in third person. It may seem like no big deal for you, but for me it is a great change. I am a little hesitant about it, but experimenting will improve my writing technique. Or so I hope!

In addition to this, I am using 'dark Stefan' in this story. If you are looking for the kind, romantic Stefan of S1,2 then I'm in the unpleasant position to announce you that you've come to the wrong place. MAYBE and that's a huge sparkling MAYBE he will make an appearance in later chapters, towards the end of the story. I can make no promises for that, though, because I have not, yet, figured out all the details of this story's plotline.

What I can promise you, is a journey that I'll do my best you will enjoy. A journey that will be different from all the others I've taken you to. A journey that even I cannot be sure where it'll lead us. Because, my awesome readers, this is after all 'You can never be sure'. :P

Welcome on board!

Disclaimer: I don't own TVD, even though I'd love to!

Defense mechanisms are more accurately referred to as ego defense mechanisms, and can thus be categorized as occurring when the id impulses are in conflict with each other, when the id impulses conflict with super-ego values and beliefs, and when an external threat is posed to the ego.

It had been one hour since Damon had received a rather unexpected phone call from little Jeremy Gilbert, and about fifty eight minutes since he'd entered Elena's bedroom. Fifty eight minutes, and she still hadn't woken up. His blood had obviously healed her injured neck, but the more time she spent unconscious, the greater the chances of her dying became. Damon tiredly rubbed his hands over his eyes. He was in desperate need of a good night's sleep, and lots lots of blood. But it was probably the first time that the lack of that nutritious crimson substance wasn't the thing bothering him. No. It was the fact that if Elena's heart stopped beating, the blood that he had admittedly half-forced down her throat would turn her into the one creature she hated with a passion. A vampire.

Yes, Elena becoming a vampire would definitely make it impossible to tell her from her many centuries older vampire ancestor, Katherine. Screw Katherine, Damon thought to himself, gently caressing the smooth skin of Elena's cheek. What really unsettled him was that if Elena woke up a vampire, she would never speak to him again. He knew it, and for some odd reason, he dreaded it.

Normally, Damon Salvatore didn't give a shit whether someone wanted him around, or not. He could either force his company on them until he got bored, or decide that they weren't worthy of his time, and move on. But this was far from the case with human girl Elena Gilbert. Unbeknownst to her, and until recently to him, she had made her way straight to his heart. How come the only girl I actually care about not only wants nothing to do with me, but is also dating my stupid childish usually bunny murderer brother? Whom she'll undoubtedly eventually forgive for going all vampire-y on her, and they'll live happily ever after in their blissful love.

Damon's bitter thoughts came to an abrupt halt, when said girl stirred, her eyelids opening for a split second.

Elena could tell that there was something weird going on. She couldn't exactly put her finger on it, but she felt that something critical had happened, something that had left her feeling insecure, and vulnerable. She fought against the thick fog that seemed to occupy her mind, but came up with nothing. Taking a deep breath, she hesitantly cranked one eye open, silently thanking whoever had made sure to keep the lightening in the room-was that her bedroom?- low. Without further hesitation she fully opened her eyes, sitting up on her bed at the same time. For a moment everything was white, but as her vision cleared out, she managed to make out a form sitting next to her.

She couldn't really have controlled her body's reaction to his presence, namely the sharp intake of breath, or the speeding of her heartbeat. Or at least, that's what she told herself, as she took in the gorgeousness that belonged to none other than Damon Salvatore. Your boyfriend's brother, her harsh mental voice scolded her, and suddenly she was hit with images. Images that had to be a part of some sort of twisted dream, nightmare to be exact. Stefan's reflection on her mirror, the agonized look in his eyes as he confessed how strong the pull for blood was, his firm hold on her body, and of course, his sharp teeth sinking into her flesh, causing her more pain than she had ever experienced before. With tears shining in her eyes, Elena brought her hand to her neck, and felt for any wounds. She found nothing, except for her soft skin. But when her gaze landed on the top of her dress, she noticed that it had a much darker color than the rest of the fabric. It was stained with blood. Her blood.

"It really did happen, didn't it?" she asked in a small voice, hesitantly looking at Damon, who simply nodded in response.

Because… really… what more could he have said? Yes, Elena, your beloved boyfriend attempted to drain you dry, and I had to heal you with my blood? Oh, and you should be extra careful for the next twenty four hours, because if something happens, and you die, you'll actually come back as a vampire.

"How did you know?"

"Your brother gave me a midnight call," Damon replied forcing a smirk on his lips. "At first I thought he was trying to figure out his sexual preferences by hitting on me, and seeing where that would take us, but when he told me what had happened…" He was compelled to look away from her smart eyes, for fear of his true emotions showing "Well, I instantly knew I had to come, and save you. What better way to repay you for saving my gorgeous body from turning into ashes in Georgia?"

Elena stared at him thoughtfully, trying to grasp her mind around the fact around the fact that Damon Salvatore had actually helped someone. This wasn't in him, or actually, it wasn't a part of his personality that he openly demonstrated. But throughout the time he'd been in Mystic Falls, Elena had noticed that there were moments -very few, yes, but they existed nonetheless- that his behavior was gentle, and caring. Like the time he saved her after she had crushed her car. Sure, he basically kidnapped her, and took her against her will on a road-trip. But he made sure that she was safe, and in the end that trip was exactly what she had needed. A time out for five minutes, that's what he had called it, and she couldn't help the small smile that made her way to her lips.

Damon watched as Elena's gaze moved from his eyes to her nightstand, and lingered on her framed photo with Stefan. If he hadn't been a vampire, he would have probably missed the flicker of fear in her eyes, and the small shudder that ran through her body. Exactly how violent had his brother been to make his girlfriend petrified at his mere sight? He mentally rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of his own question. Of course Stefan had been rough with her. In his over a century and a half long existence, Damon had often had "angry" meals, but even when his feelings were incontrollable he never created that much of a mess. No, Elena's bite marks were deep, vile. Marks that your typical vampire would never inflict, regardless of the level of his hunger, or his emotional state.

But then again, Stefan wasn't your typical vampire, Damon forced himself to admit. He had never managed to get his bloodlust under control. He would either entirely suppress it, or fully embrace it. And honestly, Damon couldn't decide which technique he hated the most. With the first scenario, his brother turned into a living, breathing poster of Prozac, pretending to be something he would never again be, and pissing the shit out of him. In the second case, though, he was a full-blown ripper. A ruthless creature, who would do anything, say anything, just to gain access to the one and only thing that mattered to him. Blood. And once he got a hold of it, he would never stop. Until it was really over.

Damon felt a tugging sensation inside his chest as realization hit him like a tone of bricks. Stefan wouldn't stop. It was indeed, surprising and totally uncharacteristic of him to run away, when Jeremy walked in Elena's bedroom, instead of snapping his neck, or draining him, or perhaps even both. Stefan's head, ripper Stefan's head was a dark place, that even the great Damon Salvatore couldn't begin to understand. If he knew one thing about this version of his brother, however, it was that he would be back to finish what he had started.

Stefan would be coming back to kill Elena.

And Damon would be damned if he didn't fight with everything he had to protect her from his brother's claws.

Elena took a deep breath, and moved towards the side of the bed. She desperately needed to take a shower in order to clear both her body, and her mind. Everything was a mess right now, and she was never good at operating when things weren't in order. It was a habit she'd had since she was nothing but a child, one that Caroline and Jeremy used to mock her about. But was it really so strange and wrong, that she preferred to place the bottle of water on the left side of her books, and her toast on top of them in her school bag? Was it so strange and wrong that her clothes were sorted by season, color and length in her closet?

Her feet came in contact with the cold floor, and she barely refrained from hissing at the difference in temperature. With everything she'd gone through lately, walking around without socks, or slippers shouldn't really bother her. Pressing her palms against the mattress of her bed, she pushed her body off it, and was immediately hit by a dizzy spell. She felt her form wobbling, and she hopelessly reached out her arms, knowing well that she wouldn't be able to avoid her fall, since she'd spent countless hours in that room, and she was aware that the only thing her hands would find was the air.

She was wrong. Her fingers curled around soft leather, as strong arms wrapped around her body, holding her upright, and carrying most of her weight. Beyond surprised at the turn of events, she opened her eyes –that had probably shut down in preparation of her drop- and gasped as she realized she was basically standing mere inches away from Damon.

Her lips parted, and Damon groaned internally as her hot breath fanned over his tightly pursed lips. This was wrong, on so many levels. He couldn't be so damn attracted at her, for both of their sakes. He wasn't supposed to be falling in love ever again, and she was dating his brother. She wasn't supposed to be intently staring at his lips, with a look that could only be described as longing in her warm brown eyes. Wait, what?

Elena was brought up to reality by Damon clearing his throat. Her gaze snapped up to meet his, and she felt her cheeks blushing with embarrassment. What was wrong with her? She had decided to be past these… these feelings for Damon, and yet, here she was making a fool of herself by shamelessly ogling him. She attempted to pull back from his powerful hold, but it was impossible.

Damon couldn't help but smirk as she thrashed around in his arms, amazed at her sudden strength. Wasn't she almost fainting, and taking her place as floor decoration moments ago?

"Easy, kitten," Damon chuckled "with how energetic you seem right now, someone would suspect you only pretended to be losing your balance, so that I could rescue you again."

Elena huffed as Damon's words sank in. "Damon, if you have some knight in shining armor complex I suggest you found another girl to be your damsel in distress. I am not willing to fill that role for you." With a final jerk, she slipped out of his grasp, and glared up at him.

"So, you don't want me to save your ass, again, Elena? That's what you're saying?" Damon asked for clarification, and she laughed loudly in response.

"You are the last person I need to protect me, Damon. In fact, I need to be protected from you. This has not changed since when you first came to Mystic Falls, and I'll let you in on a little secret: it never will."

Damon would never admit it, but those words hit him straight to his heart. He had long ago accepted the fact that he was a monster, a non-human blood drinking creature. But somehow the idea of Elena being afraid of him irked him. He knew that it was crazy, but he hoped that she had started leaning on him. When she had invited him over earlier that day, and asked his opinion on Stefan's bloodlust, he hoped that it meant she was starting to see him as a friend. And he felt absolutely excited about that. Because, God… even he wasn't naïve enough to wish that she would at some point be interested in a more than friendly relationship with him. The idea alone was absurd, but he was still disappointed at her confession. And he reacted in the only way he knew.

"Fine then, the next time your boyfriend attempts to make dinner out of you, call your ignorant witch of a friend to help you out, or better yet, the lacking brain-cells Caroline. I'm sure you'll live to see the light of the next day."

Elena stood frozen in place, while Damon fumbled with the window, growling a long string of curses since it stubbornly refused to open. When he finally reached his goal, he disappeared in the dark night, leaving the window open behind him. She shivered as the cool air hit her bare skin, calming her down enough to understand what she had just done. She had pushed away the only person that had the will and power to protect her. The only person she was afraid to acknowledge her feelings for. The only person that she could, and would never have.

On the back porch of the Gilbert house, Damon rested his forearms on the banister, and groaned in frustration. He hated that she had this power, this ability to get him out of control. But on the other hand, he loved this same ability, because the truth was… Elena Gilbert was the only person–and he had met a lot of them- in a long time that managed to awaken his emotions. And anger, pain, they were both better than nothing. Turning off that magic switch had been the easy way out, and it had worked for him for a while. Not anymore, though.

He had reached a certain level of maturity after spending over a century on earth, and he had come to a point in his life where he was no longer satisfied with simply existing. He wanted something more, he needed something more. The prospect of opening up to another person, of being vulnerable again, scared him shitless, but it was nothing compared to the terror he felt when he realized that nobody would be willing to get to know him.

He was a dick.

Everybody hated him.

He was doomed to be forever alone.

And that saddened him to no end.

I honestly hope you enjoyed the first actual chapter of 'You can never be sure' and that you will be staying with me for the rest of the ride!

Either way, feel free to leave a review!

You can add me on twitter: ts_eirini

Take care, my lovelies!