AN: Sorry for the delay, college is a PITA ;) Hope I'm getting the characters down properly. I've decided to continue to work from Elena's and Damon's POV with a small 'overlap' between them, whatever feels more natural for the story.

Bitter Warmth

Chapter 3

Elena

My chest feels hollow, my legs numb. It's not just the cold that makes me tremble; the hole in the ground is now a gaping mouth, dark and toothless.

The forest is definitely not on my list of places to have a break down. So I clamp down my jaws and breathe in the frigid air through my nose, trying to rearrange my thoughts.

I'm scared and exhausted. I want to talk to Stefan, but I'm not sure how I can accomplish that without being confronted with the twisted mirror that is Katherine. And if I do manage to talk to him alone, what is there to chat about? What would I say?

'Hope you're not starving, are my veins distracting you?' - 'I miss having you around, wish I had someone around that looked like you.' - 'Good news! Your brother is doing his very best to ignore me, I'm sure you're pleased.'

Every imagined attempt at conversation sounds ridiculous.

I briefly close my eyes and push the inane thoughts away. The world still looks the same but somehow I feel a little less alone, a little less scared. I'm not ready to go down to the tomb and not ready to leave either. There's a fallen tree trunk a few feet away and I decide to rest my legs while I contemplate either decision. I brush off the layer of snow with my sleeve when there's a sudden breeze catching the powdered snow, pushing it towards the edge of the clearing - making it glint like fine sugar.

I frown, the pale glint remains. I then realize that he's here, watching me.

He's standing in the shadows of the leafless trees, just outside the small clearing. He takes a few steps forward, into the moonlight. His pale blue eyes drift on my body and then shift to my face.

"Damon," I whisper.

In the empty space of my chest I feel a tiny tendril of warmth, blooming - before I vigorously stomp it out.

He raises his brows, frowns and then gives me a small smirk.

"Next time you lose your way to the fridge just send a text, I can point it out for you on google maps," he jibes and then turns serious in the space of a second. "Why are you here?"

I am embarrassed for three whole seconds until anger makes my cheeks burn instead. "Why do you care?" I mutter.

He still looks at me, his right brow slowly raising. I'm not sure if he's mocking me or if he's only silently repeating his previous question. I silently return his stare, trying to look determined and not cold.

"You're cold," he states.

I break eye contact, feeling exposed and look down at my treacherous hands hiding inside my sleeves, pale frigid fingertips peeking out.

There's a rustle of leather and cloth and then he's next to me. So close. His leather jacket is cold, but when he lays it over my shoulders I feel warm. When he rubs his hands up and down over my arms - trying to create friction, I almost feel hot. When he tries to move one of my arms into a leather sleeve I pull away, cheeks burning once more.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," I say and proceed to put the rest of his coat on by myself. He motions for me to zip it up, his hands already reaching for the zipper. I fumble, my fingers too stiff.

Damon gently bats my hands away and zips up the jacket. His fingers adjust the collar and then he pauses. He looks at me again and I can't help but look back. Both of his hands still linger on the leather collar until he slides his right hand behind my head.

My heart beats an inconsiderately loud rhythm in my ears. His fingertips touch the soft skin of my neck.

One end of his mouth tilts upwards and he gives me a crooked smile.

And then he gently pulls my long hair out of the collar of the jacket, letting it tumble down on my shoulders.

I release my breath, mentally chiding myself for thinking he would, for thinking I would let him...

Damon

The skin of her neck is warm and soft. I can see and hear her fluttering pulse. It would be so easy to pull her close to me, to breathe in the scent of her skin. To really touch her.

She looks flustered and I allow her a small smile. While I used to take immense pleasure in baiting her and edging her on, it's no longer just a game.

I try to memorise the soft silky texture as I release her hair from the trappings of my coat. She exhales and I give her - and myself - some reprieve by taking half a step back.

"I get it," I say and pretend to look bored. "You want to see him."

"Yes," she says, familiar determination now ringing through her voice.

"Well, go on," I make a gracious gesture towards the tomb a few yards behind her. "Ladies first."

She glares at me, clearly unhappy that events aren't unfolding on her terms, then resolutely turns and walks to the tomb. I follow. When we get to the entrance of the tomb she pauses, but doesn't turn to look at me.

"I want to go alone," she says quietly.

"Sorry-"

"Please."

"No."

She finally turns to me. I can see her steeling herself for a verbal fight she's never going to win. I can't help but admire her courage and the way her dark eyes shine with angry determination. Ugh, I am so whipped.

"I am coming with you, don't think I wouldn't-" I stop talking.

Something is wrong. It's in the air, or rather it's not in the air. I grab her shoulders, confusion obvious in her eyes. "Stay here," I give her shoulders a soft but firm squeeze intended to imprint the seriousness of the situation. "And don't move!"

I rush down, vampire speed. It's darker here, but my eyes easily adjust. The tomb itself is still 'open', nothing seems to have changed.

"Stefan?"

My voice reverberates in the cold darkness of the tomb.

Silence.

I can't go in, so I close my eyes and stretch out my senses. But there's nothing but a stale scent lingering, empty.

No Stefan. No Katherine.