A/N: This is what I call a controversial chapter... OK, it's nothing really bad (& it's not like I take any responsibility anyway, since this story, like all stories, is pretty much writing itself lol), but I'm just not sure how you'll feel about it... that's why I'm posting it on my Birthday, so hopefully no one will feel like bashing it too much haha The same goes for this chapter being a little belated ;)

Disclaimer: TVD belongs to L.J. Smith & CW.

Chapter 5

He could hear her cry despite the noise of the running water, and the sound was unbearable. He called her name and after a moment she turned the water off, drowning them both in sudden silence.

Getting up from the floor and grabbing a towel, for a split second Damon drifted away in his thoughts to a world where there was a mirror she had picked, heart-shaped soap bars, and her lipsticks scattered all over the vanity top.

A spray of cold water hit his face as soon as he pulled the shower door open, but it did not last for long, and when he blinked the water out of his eyes, he met Elena's grim gaze. She put the shower head away without breaking the eye contact with him. With a wry, inward smile he thought that it was almost as if she could read his thoughts.

Damon squatted down, tilting his head to the side. "Well-deserved, and yet not really," he said with a small smile that quickly turned into a frown because of the sad look on her face – and because how difficult it was for him to focus on her face when she was hardly wearing anything at all.

He stood up, and unfolded the towel for her, but she propped her head on her hand and looked away. For a few more moments he waited, but then hanged the towel near the stall so she could reach it, and made to leave the bathroom.

"I'm not upset with you." Her voice reached him before he walked out of the door. "I'm just-"

"I know, Elena," he cut her off in a low voice, taking a few steps backwards to look at her. She closed her eyes for a second before shifting her eyes to him too. "I know," he repeated holding her gaze. "I'll go fix some breakfast and you can... get dressed and all. Not that you have to get dressed if you don't want to," he added on his way out, and it made a flicker of a smile pass across her face, even though she still felt like crying.

Reluctantly, she pulled herself upwards and walked out of the shower. It had not struck her as such at first, but when she started brushing her hair it occurred to her that breakfast could only mean something ominous.

Very slowly, she put the brush away and looked at herself in the mirror. When she closed her eyes she could still feel his lips on her skin, and the memory was so vivid it made her shiver. She opened her eyes, grabbed the towel, and wrapped it tightly, so tightly that it almost hurt, around herself.

Turning away from the mirror, she leaned her back against the counter top, trying to catch her breath. Did he really think taking a shower was going to help? She snorted humorlessly under her breath. She still felt overcome. She was still shivering. She was still a vampire.

No. She paused in her thoughts. No. That was not it.

"…and most importantly..."

She was still Elena. She was still herself and that was the problem.

Dragging her feet across the slippery floor Elena paused at the door, peering into the adjacent bedroom. It was empty. From further away, she could hear the clinking of glasses, ordinary sounds that reminded her of home. Home. Home was life and light and warmth, and she was dead, and everything was going to be dark and cold.

She rested her head against the door frame, and tried to guess what Damon was doing in the kitchen. "I like you. You know how to laugh." She walked across the bedroom, and a cluttered but charmingly furnished living room, looking at the elaborately embroidered pillows and a collection of small music boxes with curiosity. Maybe it was not dark and cold, but it should be, she thought guiltily, not knowing why flowery patterns on the curtains were making her feel like she was doing something wrong.

When she walked into the kitchen Damon was standing with her back to her. Noiselessly, she slipped into a chair and crossed her arms over her chest to keep the towel in place. She should have probably gotten dressed.

"I see you opted for the classic morning attire," Damon said, turning around, and she realized he had known exactly when she had come in.

"I just don't know where you threw my shirt," Elena retorted, even though she had not even looked for it.

He smiled briefly, and she did not know how, but she knew that he was just glad she was at least trying to put herself in a better mood.

Placing a glass pitcher on the table, he headed out of the kitchen. A second earlier, Elena had thought she had managed to calm down completely. But as he was walking past her, his unbuttoned shirt brushed lightly against her bare arm, and it made her take such a sharp intake of breath that for a moment there she thought she would faint.

Damon stopped, and shot her a concerned look, but when she muttered through her clenched teeth that she was OK, he left without further inquiries.

Elena shook her head, snorting incredulously at herself. This could not possibly be so ridiculous. Determined to get herself together, she reached for the glass pitcher and poured some blood into a cup in front of her.

Only when she put the pitcher away she realized what it was. She stared at the liquid in silent dismay, caught off guard by how real it looked, how real it was.

"Here you go." Damon returned to the kitchen, gently placing her jeans and her shirt on an empty chair next to her. "We'll go shopping later, so you won't have to wear these all the time."

She wanted to ask for how long he meant for them to stay here, but for some reason the question seemed irrelevant. "Shopping," she echoed without really making it sound like a question. She reached out for her clothes and put them in her lap.

"Grocery shopping too."

Her eyes darted from her clothes to his face. He was smirking, but the look of concern did not quite disappear from his face yet, and soon it overshadowed the smirk completely. "How are you feeling?" he asked in a low voice. "Elena?"

If only he limited himself to asking the question!... She dug her fingernails in her jeans. She wished he would stop saying her name. Or at least stop saying her name in this voice of his that ignited everything she tried to extinguish.

"I'll go get dressed," she said abruptly, storming to her feet, and leaving the kitchen so fast that Damon thought it would be very easy to teach her how to move at blinding speed.

"You're welcome to stay here for as long as you want," Stefan said with a small smile, when after Bonnie had left, Caroline slumped down in an armchair, and did not seem to think about going anywhere.

"We should go get Elena," she said, glancing around the room with unseeing eyes. "It's not safe for her to be away from here and from us. Alone. With Damon only," she amended, to be fair, but then added after some reconsideration. "Especially with Damon."

"Especially with Damon only," Matt offered with a small smile.

Caroline silently widened her eyes at him, but Matt returned the look as if he did not know what she meant. Caroline rolled her eyes, glancing at Stefan, who shifted his eyes to the window with a pensive expression on his face.

"I think we should go home," Caroline said at last, suddenly realizing that they had just gotten through a sleepless night.

Stefan walked them to the door, but when he opened it for them, they recoiled at the sight.

"Caroline."

"What do you want?" Caroline asked with a grimace, irritation clear in her voice. She crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at Klaus; she tried to look past Tyler's face and actually glare at Klaus. "Did you change your mind? So what now, do you want us to turn Elena into a werewolf? Or maybe half-werewolf, half-mermaid?"

Tyler glanced at Stefan who was looking at him in a similar way Caroline was. He looked at Matt but his expression was serious and grim.

Tyler exhaled with difficulty. "Caroline, it's me," he said, taking a few steps toward her.

She took as many steps backwards. "Stay away from me!"

Matt stepped in between them. Tyler shot him a sidelong glance.

"Caroline!"

There was something so sincerely hurt in Tyler's expression that for a moment Caroline lost all sense of being certain of anything.

"Are you saying you are actually you?" Matt asked cautiously, squinting.

Caroline shot Matt a dismayed look and then looked at Stefan whose eyes were fixed on Tyler.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying," Tyler said, exasperated, giving Matt such an irritated look that Matt had no doubt it was indeed Tyler. "It's me." He hesitated before continuing in a lower voice. "At least... at least at the moment," he added dejectedly.

Elena stubbornly looked at the glass cup in front of her feeling utterly stupid for being near tears at the memory of cereal.

"At least appreciate the fact that I'm serving you breakfast instead of sending you to get it yourself." Damon clinked his own glass cup against hers with what Elena considered a very irritating smile, and leaned back in his chair, taking a sip.

Gathering her courage, Elena looked up at him, and watched him for a second and then closed her eyes before opening them again, going back to staring at her own cup. Her cup that was filled with blood. With blood. With human blood.

Although for the first time it occurred to her that dealing with blood was going to be easier than dealing with him.

Damon nudged her under the table by lightly hitting her foot with his but she kicked him rather hard in response. "He didn't even notice he had lost such insignificant amount of it, Elena. Would you rather drain dry some cute little bunny?" He did his best bunny face and Elena could not help letting herself chuckle a little.

Damon gave her a lop-sided smile. "Now drink," he said seriously. "I won't be able to teach you any tricks if you won't," he wiggled his eyebrows but Elena's face grew serious again as she surveyed the glass in front of her.

Taking a deep breath she took the glass in both hands and gulped down half of its contents in one go.

"It doesn't taste as bad as before," she said, glancing at Damon.

"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it? You shouldn't think about it as blood anymore. Now it's food."

"It's human blood, Damon," she said in a no-nonsense voice, but then drank the rest of the blood in her cup and put it away with a stifled groan. "What do we do now?" she asked in a determined voice, collecting her wits and shaking off the overpowering sense of disgust. She doubted it would ever go away. A part of her did not want it to ever go away. Being disgusted by being a vampire made her feel human. She just wanted to hold on to this lie for a little while.

"At dusk we'll go outside."

"At dusk? It's," Elena glanced at the clock,"8am. What are we going to do until dusk?"

Damon smirked and she tilted her head to the side narrowing her eyes at him in mock exasperation. He shrugged his shoulders and stood up.

"You need to practice how to feed. We'll start with that." He collected the empty cups and carried them to the sink.

Elena looked right and left, and after a moment of consideration stood up and went to him.

"What do you mean practice to feed?" She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him suspiciously.

Her eyes shifted to his hands, and she watched him, mesmerized, as he rinsed the cups and put them away.

"I mean practice to feed, Elena." Damon leaned against the counter mirroring her pose, and she hurriedly lifted her gaze to his face. "How do you suppose to survive otherwise? By stealing blood bags from hospitals all over the country?" Elena cringed inwardly, the idea making her feel nauseous. Oddly, it made her feel more nauseous than, how had he called it? A traditional way. "This might do from time to time, but you can't rely on that completely."

"I know." She exhaled slowly." But you said that we won't be going anywhere until dusk," she quickly jumped at the opportunity to change the direction of the conversation. To push away whatever was going to happen.

Damon looked at her intently for a second. "I said practice, not feed," he said without breaking eye contact with her.

She looked back at him, a small frown appearing on her forehead. "What do you-" she trailed off, her eyes widening. "No."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Elena, I thought you said you didn't want to hurt anyone, so if you're still concerned about that you should learn how to bite." There was a hint of lightheartedness in his voice that somehow made her heart clench... or beat furiously in her chest, she was not sure which. "Once you drink more blood you will be able to use compulsion, but even that is only good for pain. If you don't want to leave someone with a torn neck that takes months to heal you should practice biting."

She could not deny he sounded reasonable but for some reason the fact that they were reasonably discussing that particular subject made her feel dizzy.

"I can't just bite you!" Elena exclaimed helplessly, her expression miserable.

"Sure you can." Damon pushed himself away from the counter and walked toward her.

"You said I didn't want to hurt anyone, but you think I'm going to hurt you? Do you think I'm fine with hurting you?" she spoke quickly, walking backwards but soon she hit the wall and could not step away when he stopped in front of her.

"No, no, Elena. I don't think that. Besides, I can turn it off, so there is no reason in the world why you should worry about that."

His smile faded when confronted with acute insight twinkling in her eyes. He was not going to turn anything off and she knew it.

"Which is my choice, and not your problem," Damon replied to what neither of them had said out loud. He tugged her closer by the shoulders and held her gaze. "Bite me."

She swallowed, trying to focus on his words that were overwhelming enough, and not on the fact that he was touching her, his hands burning her shoulders through the fabric of her shirt. She was trying to understand what he was doing. Whatever it was that he was doing, she decided that stalling was going to work best. "I want you to do it first."

He blinked, confused, but understanding dawned on him when Elena gathered all of her damp hair, pushing it over one of her shoulders and tilting her head to the side.

"Are you mad, Elena?" he asked angrily, abruptly sliding his hands off her. "Why would I do that?"

"Mikael fed on vampires," Elena answered without thinking, not really knowing how she suddenly remembered about that, but quite grateful to her mind that she did. Otherwise there would really be no excuse for her to come up with such a ridiculous proposition. "Why don't vampires feed on vampires anyway?" she asked, actually struck by the idea, and therefore sounding almost legitimately curious.

"Because no vampire would allow another vampire to feed on them," Damon answered through his teeth.

"Well," Elena slightly thrust up her chin as much as it was possible with her head tilted to one side. "Here is one."

"Elena."

"Show me how," she said, undeterred by his eyes practically glaring daggers at her. She did not know what she was doing anymore than she knew what he was trying to do. But for reasons she could not quite comprehend it felt right. It seemed strangely logical, and she just followed blindly an inner voice that insisted that she carried on.

Damon brought his face closer to hers. "You know how."

"You just told me that I don't. You were the one who said I should practice."

His mouth twitched. "Why do you want me to do it?" He tried one more approach, looking almost miserable, but not entirely sincere, and it was not helping that he knew she could not answer this question sincerely either.

She just looked at him, so with a stifled groan of defeat he cupped the side of her face and sneaked his other arm around her waist. They locked eyes, and he shuddered at the intensity of her gaze. Lowering his mouth to her neck he felt her tremble violently, but when he wanted to draw back, her hand found anchor on his shoulder grasping it so hard that he did not dare to move away.

It felt like fog, like a soft whisper wrapping itself around her mind. The twinge of pain she felt was only a string of letters she used when she was thinking about it, because she could not actually feel any pain. She did not think she had turned anything off (she subconsciously acknowledged that he had not even suggested for her to do that). She felt his fangs sank into her skin but instead of the sharp, unpleasant sensation she expected, there was only warmth that washed over her and brightness behind her closed eyelids.

It must not have lasted for long. It seemed to her that he drew back very quickly, looking up at her in apprehension, concern, and something else, something she could not stand because she felt it too.

In order not to give him time to say anything, she leaned forward, keeping one hand on his shoulder, the other seizing his forearm as she inched her mouth closer to his neck. She was certain it was not the scent of blood that was drawing her in. She was heady with the scent of his skin, but she could not allow herself to think about that. It was easier to find an excuse, and since the excuse was easy to find she made herself believe, if only for a second, that she was only practicing how to feed, that she was only a vampire, and not Elena, that it wasn't Damon, that she didn't want him, that she didn't want this, that it wasn't happening. Lightly brushing his skin with her lips she closed her eyes and concentrated, feeling her fangs protrude out of her mouth.

She was so lost in what she was doing that she almost did not hear a sound he made when she bit him.

"Look for a vein, Elena," he whispered in a voice as amused as circumstances allowed.

Her eyes snapped open. Closing her eyes when she was biting into someone's skin was clearly not a good idea.

"I'm sorry," she muttered and then sank her teeth into his skin again. I'm sorry... I'm sorry...

Bonnie was sitting on the floor in her grandmother's room, studying a dark-covered grimoire. Shutting the book closed, she leaned her head against the wall, and sighed.

This was never going to work.

Rising to her feet, Bonnie walked toward the bed, and took her grandmother's photo from the nightstand. "You're stronger than all of this." She was looking at the picture for a long time, and was almost certain that after some time her grandmother started smiling back at her.

Or maybe this was going to work, after all.