A/N: Thank you so much for all the awesome reviews! :]

Beta: arabian - Thank you so much! :)

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

Chapter 6

She did not know if she could do this with anyone else. She doubted anyone else would have understood.

Later, they spent an hour in complete silence, sitting in a daze side by side, but not looking at each other. Elena was not sure what exactly had happened, but she felt calmer now, and she was quite certain it had little to do with quenching the thirst for blood. Blood. The word seemed so odd to her now. Like a name of a medicine in a foreign language.

"It was your blood Meredith used," she said quietly, breaking the silence.

"Maybe," Damon said in a matching voice after pondering this for a moment, not sure what it meant, if it meant anything at all. "Would it mean anything to you if she did?" There was nothing particularly demanding about his tone but Elena bit her lip with a small frown anyway.

"Yes. No. I don't know." She shifted in her seat, wishing to change the strange mood she was in, but somehow only making it stranger. "I can't imagine what it would mean..."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his eyes wander up and down her face.

"What can you imagine, Elena?"

She sighed, blinking quickly. She could not imagine anything as long as it had something to do with him. He always did something different, something less, something more, she never knew what to expect, and when she tried to imagine what it would be like… what it would be like to be a part of this unpredictability that surrounded him, to be close enough to be affected - to the core - by every storm, to willingly allow him to exercise that kind of power over her… No, she could not imagine that at all.

"You said you would teach me some tricks." Elena changed the subject with little subtlety. "Is there something we could do inside the house?" She looked at him with as much fortitude as she could muster. His closeness alone was not as terrifying as the sudden familiarity of it.

When she glanced down at the space on the couch between them she noticed that her hand was clasped in his. She could not remember when that had happened.

"Maybe this is all a bad idea. Maybe we should just go back home," she blurted out, beginning to fear that she was forgetting too much. Too easily, she could make herself believe that they were at the end of the world, in the middle of nowhere, far away from everything – but it was an illusion, and although it did not seem so now, all the rules and promises still held true, and if she broke something in this strange, mesmerizing non-reality – it would remain broken, in the reality, forever.

She looked at him, and he was once again wearing that expression that she absolutely loathed, although she could not even describe it properly. She felt like he craved honesty, yet sometimes her honesty seemed to hurt him, and she did not know what to do about that.

"Maybe that's the problem."

She doubted he had ever suspected her words to mean that she was at fault, that he should go save himself because she did not think she could save him.

"All you have to do is tell me that you want to go home," he said, and she shot him an exasperated look. She clearly did not know what she had wanted, but he could have spared her.

"I find it hard to believe, seeing how I can't even stand up," she said wryly, slightly raising her hand that was still locked in his.

Very slowly, he began loosening his grip, his eyes fixed on her, and she angrily pulled her hand free and stormed to her feet. He followed her in a flash, and before she had a chance to fully turn around he pinned her against the wall.

Once again, she found herself breathless, any soothing effects the feeding practice (or whatever the hell that was) might have had on her was gone in an instant, and there was only one thought, one feeling, one instinct that replaced everything in her head, that circulated in her veins and made her want to scream and shout and run her nails across his face. The sudden surge of emotion, of violence that for a moment encompassed her like a hurricane frightened her so much that she gasped out loud. She did not want to feel like that. She did not want to have such thoughts.

"What are you doing? Do you even know what you're doing?" she asked through her teeth. "How was drinking your blood going to help? How is any of this going to help?"

The look in his eyes made her heart clench. Hurting him was too easy, and she wanted to shake him, tell him to stop caring so much for what she, for what anyone was saying when they were driven by fear or sadness.

"I don't know, Elena," he said with a frown, and she was actually taken aback by the answer. "You're not exactly my average type of problem."

She blinked in disbelief, forgetting all about what she had been thinking a moment ago. "So you think that you you have a problem, and I am your problem? I am a problem?" she asked, half-realizing that she had no reason to be angry. She was most likely his problem indeed, and all things considered, he might have had a right to throw that in her face.

She expected him to enter into an argument, but he only tilted his head to the side and lifted his hand to stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "You're the biggest problem I've ever had." She wanted to tell him that it was actually the other way around, but he continued. "You need to find a key to this, Elena," he said in a calm, firm voice, seemingly ignoring the fact that she was leaning into his touch.

She looked at him questioningly, her face contorted in a grimace. "Key to what?"

"It's either you trapped inside a vampire, or a vampire trapped inside of you." He cupped her face in his hands, and inched it closer to his. "But it doesn't need to always be a trap. You just have to find a way to control this."

It finally dawned on her what he meant, although she vaguely suspected he was reading her feelings right now all wrong. She looked at his lips. Or maybe he was right, and she was wrong.

The reality began slipping away from her. Then she realized that the point of him holding her face in his hands was not merely something he was doing out of habit, but rather a way of stopping her from kissing him until she figured it out... figured something out... She just did not know what it was.

"Elena."

His voice was gentle, and he looked at her with such tenderness that it would have made her cry if she was not so angry with him for doing that... for not doing what she wanted him to...

"I can't fight it," she whispered through her clenched teeth, tears welling up in her eyes at the sound of her own voice, at how hoarse, how inhuman, yet at the same time too human it sounded.

He smiled at her. Briefly, softly, brushing his thumb across her lower lip. "Elena, I'm not asking you to fight it," he said, looking intently into her eyes. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I'm asking you to control it."

She didn't know how long it took her to process his words. For how long they looked into each other's eyes. How much time had passed until he slid his hands off her cheeks and waited for his words to sink in. But when they finally did, she inhaled deeply, and leaned slightly forward only to draw back with half-lidded eyes. He didn't even need to open his eyes to feel her intermittently inching her lips closer and further away from his. He opened his eyes only when she spoke.

"It's not the same, Damon. It's not like the thirst for blood. It's nothing like it."

"But it may seem that way," Damon argued, brushing the tears off her face with his thumbs. "All the emotions might mingle into one, especially in the beginning-"

She cut him off, laughing nervously through her tears. "Don't tell me I can't differentiate between you and a blood-bag. I'm not hungry, and I'm not angry."

"But you can learn to control blood-lust by controlling this."

"What if I don't want to control this!" she said impatiently. "Maybe I could control it if it was just about... But it's not just about this, Damon, it's about you."

He looked like someone who wanted to believe something that was obviously not true. But soon the expression was gone, and he brought himself back to the reality. "Now you are angry."

"You're making me angry!" She said in helpless frustration, feeling as if she was pounding her fists against the wall. She was trying to find her way around that labyrinth in her head, but instead of helping her do so, he was pushing her off the track she was working so hard to uncover.

"Good. Be angry. Make sure you know what it's like to be angry. How it makes you feel. What it makes you do." He looked into her eyes with encouraging intensity. "So it won't catch you one day when you least expect it," he added under his breath, almost tonelessly, and she wanted to grasp at the memories that flickered in his eyes but he buried them fast.

She stared at him in silence for a while and then shook her head. "This is not going to work. I can control blood-lust, but I can't control what I feel-"

"You think you can control it, Elena, but you can't," he said sharply. "Not yet. If you can't control a human emotion, you can't control something like that."

Elena looked at him searchingly. "Do you think that what I feel... By a human emotion do you mean lust?" she asked in a low voice, suddenly realizing it. "Do you think it's that simple?"

For the first time she felt like she suddenly gained access to some strange lucidity. Everything was more overwhelming – but also clearer.

"Elena-"

Or maybe it was simple, but simple in a different way. „I'm scared," she said, drawing a hasty breath, trying to read her own, mostly unintelligible thoughts. "I'm scared… of you."

He blinked. "You're scared of me?" He repeated and the tone of his voice indicated that he was almost taking offense. It made Elena smile despite the tears in her eyes. Damon's eyebrows knitted in further confusion.

"Not in that sense," she started again, beginning to doubt she would be able to carry this confession through. She took a breath and exhaled slowly, making a point of not averting her eyes from him. "I'm scared of what it would mean… of what it would be like-" She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. "I'm scared of what you would do to me." She laughed humorlessly. "I'm scared that I wouldn't be me anymore," she said after a pause in a low, serious voice. "That I wouldn't be the same. That you wouldn't be the same. That nothing would be the same anymore. And I'm scared of that, Damon."

He looked at her, trying to listen to the words she was saying instead of the ones he wanted to hear. "You're right," he said somberly, studying her face, and a twinge of pain caused by his words made her realize just how much she had wanted him to disagree.

But then his expression changed, and he leaned toward her speaking in a soft, melodic voice: "You're right that nothing would be the same, Elena. But did it ever cross your mind that it wouldn't be worse?" His voice fell to a whisper, eyes glittering. "It could be better."

She gazed at him like she would at the starlit sky. No, it had never crossed her mind that it would be for the better. From her experience it seemed like when something changed, it usually changed for the worse. She felt like every step she had ever taken led to a tragedy, so she wanted to remain where she was and keep herself and everyone else safe.

"Think about it," he said, his mouth twitching into a brief smile. He took a step away from her. "But now let's go back to your training, and do something simpler," he said and moved with blinding speed to the other side of the room."Your turn," he said with a wink.

She felt somewhat disappointed that he ended the conversation so abruptly, although it was perhaps for the better. She needed some time to think."That's easy," she said, biting her lip, and trying to pull herself together. Oddly enough, she gladly dived into the reality in which her being a vampire was the main issue. As long as it served as an escape clause she thought she could live with it.

Damon gave her a lop-sided grin. "Impress me."

"You know I've lost my magic." Abby repeated, and for the tenth time during the last ten minutes Bonnie wondered why she had tried. "I can't help you."

"You may have no magic, but you still have knowledge. Unless," Bonnie paused, "you don't want to help me."

Abby shook her head with a grimace. "You know that's not true."

"I don't know anything when it comes to you," Bonnie said levelly, her eyes fixed on her mother who stared back at her, struck by the words, but not looking as affected by them as Bonnie would have hoped. Although now that Abby was a vampire, her tendency to repress her feelings was probably heightened, so what else could she expect?

"I do want to help you," Abby said unsmilingly, taking a step toward Bonnie. "What are you trying to do?" she asked, wrinkling her forehead, and glancing at the grimoire in Bonnie's hands.

"There is a spell I want to play with."

Abby widened her eyes at her. "You know how dangerous-"

"That's not the part I need your help with," Bonnie cut her off. "I made a deal with Klaus." Abby's face drained of all color. "Or rather that's what he thinks," Bonnie added, squinting. "I agreed for him to take over from time to time. That's the only way to ensure that he won't know what I'm doing," she added noticing a complete lack of understanding on Abby's face. "And this is the only way for me to find out what he's really planning."

"Bonnie! This is... Not even your grandmother would attempt something like this!"

Bonnie stiffened. "How do you know? You missed too many years to be able to tell." They just looked at each other in silence for a while. At last Bonnie drew a breath, and said in a low, controlled voice. "If he gets into my head, I can get into his." Her hands rolled into fists as her grandmother's face flashed across her memory, leaving tears in her eyes. "I am strong enough for this."

It was a few hours past dawn, and the pale rays of the sun were sneaking from above and in between the curtains in the living room of the boarding house, setting the dust aglow.

"Are you saying that Klaus just... keeps taking over your body from time to time?" Caroline asked, sounding so irritated that Tyler felt like she thought he was to blame.

"It's not my fault, Caroline," he said, looking to Matt for support.

"So where is he, when he is not in you?" Matt asked matter of factly. Tyler looked at him like he had just been stabbed in the back.

"Do you think this is amusing?" Tyler asked, shaking his head at both of them.

"That's actually a good question, Tyler," Caroline said, glancing at Matt who shrugged.

"We have every reason to believe that Klaus' body is currently unavailable to him, so it's no surprise that we're curious," Stefan observed cautiously.

Tyler rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe you should double-check about that then. All I know is that he takes over, and then leaves. I can't tell you anything else."

"Maybe you're not the only one he's possessing," Matt said thoughtfully, but Caroline was not in the mood to discuss it any further.

"We have to work out some secret code, then," she said, her forehead wrinkling in thought. Tyler gave her a questioning look. "So we'll know when Klaus takes over."

Tyler's face fell and he stood up and turned away from them. Caroline looked at Stefan and Matt, as if they could explain Tyler's reaction.

"I can't stay here," Tyler said, turning toward her again, his eyes sad as they bore into hers.

"What are you talking about?" Caroline asked with a disbelieving, nervous smile, quickly walking toward him.

"It's not safe, Caroline. What if Klaus is planning something? And of course he is, so... What if you won't notice... it's him? I wouldn't forgive myself if he hurt you, any of you. I have to stay away."

"What are you talking about?" Caroline repeated in agitation. "How could I possibly not notice it's him and not you?"

Tyler smiled at her briefly. "Just a moment ago you thought it was him not me."

"But that's because I didn't know!"

"I need to figure it out on my own," Tyler interrupted her, exchanging a look with Matt who nodded grimly.

Caroline stared at Tyler in disbelief, frozen to the spot as he just walked out of the room, the sound of the door closing behind him sounding to her like the most surreal sound in the world.

Two vases and a clock were the only casualties in the battle that Elena fought in learning how to move at supernatural speed within furnished interiors.

"Are you sure Mrs. Flowers won't mind?"

Damon smiled. "Just remember to think about the destination rather than the distance," he said, picking up the remaining pieces of a broken vase.

"I'm thirsty," Elena said all of a sudden, dropping down onto the couch, feeling her breath quicken. She was not even sure she was really hungry, but the words just spoke themselves and she followed, subsequently beginning to feel hungry.

Damon's hand froze suspended in the air as he looked up at her. She was clearly making an admirable effort to sound casual.

"Diet or high calorie?" he asked jokingly.

Elena slowly looked up, meeting his gaze.

Making sure not to drop the vase pieces he had collected from the floor, Damon stood up. "Me or the police officer?"

Elena stared at him. She would have scolded him again on the occasion of stealing blood from police officers and serving it to her for breakfast without even telling her about it, but the jest of his offer - that was clearly meant as a joke - made it impossible for her to think about such trifles. Perhaps if she wanted to reconcile with the idea of being a vampire, she should first of all reconcile with the way he made her feel, with the way she wanted him to make her feel, with what she wanted.

And what she wanted was being close to him, and if, for now, ("it's right... just not right now", she blinked and gasped) there was only one way to do it...

"If that'd be alright with you," she said breathlessly, barely recognizing her own voice, and not recognizing at all the thought process that had led her to uttering such words.

Without a word, Damon walked out of the room and she sat very still listening to him throwing the shards of the broken vase away, washing his hands, drying them – she could imagine every gesture without seeing it. He then came back into the room and sauntered toward her.

She did not understand why she wanted to do it again. Why she could not catch her breath when he looked at her; why she trembled at the mere thought of his touch; why she climbed onto his lap when he sat down, and let him hold her while she sank her fangs into his neck; why when she drew back, she wordlessly offered to return the favor; and why, when he whispered huskily, "I'd rather kiss you", she kissed him.