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

Chapter 9

It turned out not to be difficult at all.

Or at least it wasn't as difficult as she thought it would be. Feeling the wind tugging on her hair, Elena drew a breath, stepping forward like she would into a scene that was made up and not real.

The sight still made her uncomfortable, but there was also a touch of something thrilling to it, although she didn't think there was more than one person to whom she would admit thinking that. For a few moments she actually drifted away in her thoughts imagining telling Damon what she was thinking right now. It caught her off guard, that wish to share her thoughts, to hear what he would say. It wasn't the subject that mattered, but just talking and listening that suddenly felt like the most exciting adventure in the world.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Elena glanced at Damon, and realized that he was deliberately staying one step behind her, leaving it to her to improvise. Even though the physical distance was comparable, she felt a thousand miles away from the people in front of her - and so close to Damon that she was barely able to breathe.

She listened to the tone of her own voice when she was saying "our car broke down," and was both relieved and mortified by the fact that her voice didn't tremble, didn't sound unusual. There was hardly anything odd about her tone and despite a dull sense of guilt weighing her down, she couldn't help feeling a bit proud that it worked, that her first attempt at compulsion was a successful one.

Damon added something about the tires, and the stranger's girlfriend who had gotten out of the car a moment after her companion was compelled as well. Elena found herself staring at the scene long enough that Damon noticed she was staring. She looked away, wondering what it was she was feeling. It seemed ancient, even if it felt new to her. She used to think that there was only one kind of pain. The pain of losing someone. But there were many more kinds of pain out there, and she might have just allowed them access to her. I'm jealous, she thought in surprise, trying to match the real feeling with what she imagined it to be.

Damon moved quickly in front of her, shaking her out of her thoughts.

"What are you doing?" Elena asked a little offended when he scrutinized the stranger with wary eyes, and waved his hand in front of his face.

He smirked at her over his shoulder. "Just making sure we won't get eaten by our own dinner." He turned around and looked at her, his smile imperceptibly dwindling to the level of uncertainty that vanished when she asked.

"Could we... switch the plates?" Her voice sounded strained because of the humor in it that she could not quite afford, but tried to anyway; because of what she was saying, what she was admitting by saying that, because she was speaking in an inappropriately lighthearted way about something serious. And because in the weird world of high school life she was beginning to forget it probably went against Caroline's solidarity of girls rules.

"Sure," Damon said with more light in his eyes than the circumstances warranted, clearly disarmingly gleeful that she was jealous.

Elena drew a breath, suddenly remembering what was about to come next. She kept dividing everything in her head into small, harmless parts, because it was easier to think that one thing didn't necessarily lead to another. Compelling people was one thing. Drinking their blood was another.

The first time it had happened she was exhausted and dying. Then it was Damon's blood. Then there was nameless blood served in a tea cup. This, however, was different. She was aware of everything that was happening. She was making it happen. She was a vampire. She could be a vampire. She could lure strangers in the middle of the night into being compelled, and then feed on them.

She realized her hands were trembling when she bent her head and sank her fangs into the human flesh. It tasted almost like water... or rather it didn't taste at all, because it wasn't Damon's blood, she thought with a twinge of fear, because it was a dangerous explanation, she knew. But even though the taste was absent, the blood quenched the thirst and hunger that would have been pulsating in her brows, in her veins, everywhere otherwise.

When out of her own accord Elena drew back, and saw Damon standing next to her, she immediately thought that she had drunk too much. Panic surfaced in her eyes but Damon hushed her and tucked an loose lock behind her ear. "Tell them what you want them to remember."

Regardless of Damon reassuring her that she had done everything with utmost vampire perfection, Elena was extremely glad to be back in the car and far away from their victims. Even the fact that she had stopped herself without Damon's intervention and that it might mean she wasn't prone to control issues, all of it wasn't able to cheer her up. It wasn't right. Attacking people. Drinking their blood. Taking their memories away. Being jealous of food, she could almost hear Damon add. But it was unavoidable, and she wondered if she should put up more of a fight before accepting the fact. The most she could do was try not to ever kill anyone. She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing away the thought that something like that could happen one day. It couldn't happen. It mustn't ever happen. It wouldn't happen. She shifted in her seat feeling rejuvenated by the blood and contemplating how much it annoyed her that she felt rejuvenated because of it.

"Do you think…" Elena started in a low voice, trying to find the right words, "that one day I could… snap for no reason? And kill someone," she added hardly above a whisper, choking on the words.

"There is always a reason," Damon replied in a matching tone, meeting her gaze when she looked at him.

"What is the reason?"

"It's a different reason for everyone."

She wanted to ask him what his reason was, but then thought that she knew. "What do you think my reason would be?" she asked instead.

His brows furrowed in thought. "Whatever drives you most crazy," he said pensively, looking at the road.

Elena raised an eyebrow. "That would be you."

Damon's face lit up in a smile. "No, I mean something negative," he said in a serious tone after a pause. "A negative feeling that you know that it drives you insane. Or not a negative feeling but a feeling that drives you insane in a negative way," he amended. "Disappointment, fear, anger."

Elena leaned her head against the back of her seat, looking at the road, and trying to figure out what it would be.

"You may not even have something like that," he said, glancing at her, his eyes flickering to her lips before returning to her eyes.

She smiled, subconsciously doing the same. "You really believe that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know," he said sincerely. "But it's possible."

Elena smiled to herself thinking how the first part of his answer was the matter-of-fact one, while the second part was his feelings for her speaking. Both were sincere, both were specific to him, but they just contained that grain of the inevitable contradiction that could only cause trouble.

"You know I won't just let you get away with what you said earlier," Damon said suddenly in a low, seemingly calm voice that resonated with intensity that sent shivers up Elena's spine.

She turned her head to look at him, but didn't say anything, didn't smile. He kept glancing at her, his eyes moving between the road and her face. Very slowly, Elena pushed herself more upright and then sat with her back against the door rather than the seat without averting her eyes from Damon even for a moment.

There was a flash of something in his eyes that told her he was beginning to think he had only imagined the meaning of her earlier words, but once again she managed to change the direction of his thoughts.

"I could look at you like that all day," she said in a quiet, thoughtful voice, almost as if she was speaking to herself.

The car stopped so abruptly she stifled a cry of dismay, but then he gathered her into his arms and kissed her, and everything else ceased to matter. She buried her hands in his hair and kissed him back, gasping for air when they drew apart after what simultaneously felt like eternity and a millisecond.

A car passed them on the left, honking repeatedly to signal they were blocking the road for no apparent reason.

Elena laughed, burying her face in Damon's shoulder. He brushed her hair to one side and pressed a kiss to her neck.

"Let's go home," Elena said, straightening up in a voice so clear and radiant that it would've made Damon smile if he didn't give his full attention to the meaning of her words. She smiled, inwardly shaking her head at him, at them, wishing she could find a way to get rid of that recurring glimpse of doubt in his eyes. "Unless you're not in a great hurry to hear me out," she added in the most casual voice she could muster, returning to her seat and hoping that she had made it clear what home she meant.

The pressure caused by Damon starting the engine and making the car reach its final speed within a second, pushed Elena deep into the car seat, and when she looked to her right all she could see in her window was a blur. She laughed and then smiled thinking that she had never felt that young, that alive before.

"What do you mean you don't want to go?" Caroline crossed her arms over her chest, looking at Bonnie with a mixture of disbelief, fear, hurt, and concern in her eyes. She took it upon herself to organize the perfect trip to bring Elena back home, but the lack of excitement on everyone's part over the phone made her decide to visit everyone in person. That ought to be intimidating enough.

Apparently it isn't, Caroline thought, watching Bonnie fluff her pillows in a very annoyingly unhurried manner.

"I didn't say I don't want to go, Caroline," Bonnie said pointedly with a small sigh. "I said I'm not going."

"Well, then I'm obviously stupid, because I don't see how it makes any difference." Caroline hesitated between worry and anger, and at last decided to go with the more manageable emotion. "Bonnie!"

"I'm not going to change my mind," Bonnie said seriously under her breath, straightening up and holding Caroline's gaze for a second before turning away from her. "I gave Jeremy a ring for Elena. Maybe you could take it with you."

"What's going on?" Caroline asked, wrinkling her forehead, and tilting her head to the side, waiting for Bonnie to turn around but she remained standing with her back to her.

"I can't tell you," Bonnie admitted after a longer moment of silence and Caroline froze, her eyes widening. "But I've got it," she said firmly, turning around. "I just really can't go with you," she added with a small grimace… or a reassuring smile, Caroline was too worried to tell.

"OK," she said slowly. "We'll call you when we get there," she added, looking at Bonnie expectantly, hoping she would say something more but Bonnie only shook her head.

"Call me when you get back," Bonnie said, holding her gaze.

Caroline nodded slowly, and left.

When they stopped in front of the house, Elena looked at it as if she saw it for the first time. She hadn't really taken a good look at it before. Her eyes scanned the dim rose bushes, and the white-washed walls gleaming faintly in the moonlight. It wasn't her house, she didn't know it well, didn't spend much time in it, yet walking inside felt like coming home, and she couldn't understand why.

Damon closed the door behind them, and she looked at him when he turned on the lights, his eyebrows furrowed as he glanced around the living room, making sure everything was in order.

Elena started walking toward one of the couches, but Damon stopped her, grabbing two of the shopping bags they had brought from the trunk, and taking a pair of gray sneakers, sweatpants, and a top out of them. "You have ten minutes to change, Elena," he said, pushing the clothes into her arms.

She wondered if it would be wise to tell him that he could convince her to do nearly anything only by saying her name the way in which he had just said it. "What are we going to do?" she asked with mock-suspicion.

"You'll see," Damon said with a smirk.

"How about you?"

"I'm a tutor. I ought to look formal at all times." He winked at her and went away.

Biting back a smile, Elena went to the bedroom, and managed to get dressed in less than ten minutes but was left with the dilemma of having nothing to tie her hair with. She looked around the room in search of something to use when Damon entered without knocking.

"What if I was indecent?" she asked, squinting.

"I counted on that," he said with a smile, looking her up and down.

She shook her head in pretended exasperation. "I'm ready," she said, placing her hands on her hips. He studied her for a moment before, in a flash, moving to stand behind her. She opened her mouth to speak but fell silent when she felt his fingers comb through her hair and then gently tie them into a ponytail. Only then Elena noticed a mirror on the wall, and when Damon finished tying up her hair, his hands slid to her shoulders, and their eyes met in the reflection in front of them.

"Let's go," Damon said with a brief smile, averting his eyes as if he was afraid to look at the momentary picture for too long.

Elena wanted to say something but he had already turned around, so she just followed him outside - and stared at the ladder that immediately caught her eye. "What's that for?" she asked crossing her arms over her chest.

"Jumping up is harder so we'll be climbing up and practice jumping down first," Damon explained, motioning for her to come closer to the ladder.

Elena blinked, her eyes following the ladder all the way up to where it led. "You mean... jumping down from the roof?"

"Well, you can try jumping up from the roof, although I'm not sure where that would land you," Damon said, smirking.

Probably in heaven, Elena thought automatically, almost saying that out loud. She cleared her throat. "Probably on a tree," she said, gathering all of her resolve, and placing her foot on the first step of the ladder. She drew a breath when she felt his hand on her back. "Where you could join me as a crow. By the way," she turned toward him, eyebrows knitted in thought, "how do I change into a crow?"

"Oh no, no, no, Elena. You're not there yet. Definitely not there yet."

There was something in his eyes that stopped her from demanding an explanation. The price for the tricks was blood, that much she knew, but if despite his earlier reassurances that she could try anything she wanted to, he was now saying no, it could only mean that the price for that particular trick was too high.

She pushed grim thoughts away. "How about the fog?"

He smiled, and she didn't know exactly why, because there was nothing new about his smile, but suddenly it was as if she flipped a page of the book and a completely new story began, and whenever she tried to look back, all the pages were blank, and no longer could she recall any of her fears or doubts.

"I want you to keep an eye on Bonnie while we're away," Caroline said in a solemn voice. "If you're not going with us anyway," she added, squinting.

"Who is we?" Matt asked, ignoring the hostile undertones, calmly drying his hands in a small towel, and throwing it on the counter behind him.

Caroline thought the Grill was annoyingly crowded that night, and she wondered when she stopped recognizing everyone's faces. She half-feared some of the guests were Klaus' hybrids. "Stefan and I," she said absently, wrinkling her forehead, and scanning the room with wary eyes.

"You convinced him," Matt observed with a small smile.

"Who? Oh. No. Actually, it was Stefan's idea."

"He's afraid to go alone?"

Caroline's eyes darted to Matt. "Do you know something I don't?" she asked, looking him straight in the eye. She was the one doing all the thinking and trip planning. Yet Tyler was dodging her calls, Bonnie was being cryptic, and now Matt sounded as if he was a better-informed friend.

Matt squinted thoughtfully into the distance before returning his gaze to her. "I may know a few drink recipes you've never heard of." Caroline huffed in exasperation. "I think..." Matt hesitated but then his smile faded into a more serious expression and he looked up at Caroline. "That Elena's more confused about this entire situation than you all give her credit for."

Caroline immediately acquired the friend emergency look that Matt always secretly, or not so secretly admired. "Confused as in... confused, or confused as in not really confused?"

"Yeah," Matt smiled, even though his eyes remained serious. "The latter one."

He then went back to work leaving Caroline to stare after him in silent dismay.

Elena found jumping off the roof much more pleasurable than she thought it would be. The wind in her hair made her feel like she was on the fastest roller coaster ever.

Jumping up was a little tricky but once she got a hang of it, she stopped falling into Damon's arms half-way up. Although of course he made it very clear he didn't mind.

"You can't think about falling down," he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's all in your head. If you won't think about falling down, you won't fall down," he said in a low voice, smiling at her.

He was smiling at her.

It suddenly occurred to her that there was something infinitely precious about him smiling at her. She marveled at the certainty that when his eyes were on her he was thinking about her only. And he liked her. She was certain he liked all of her, the good and the bad, the tone of her voice when she was angry and her laughter. And he would never judge any of it. He would completely embrace all the scattered pieces she was made of. She doubted it was how it was supposed to be. It surely was an astounding collection of unhealthy exaggerations and free passes.

Or perhaps it was exactly how it was supposed to be, and that was what scared her most of all. She held her breath. "You want love that consumes you." She felt she could love like that. She could try not to be afraid to love like that.

"You must be Elena."

She learned to read his eyes so fast and yet never fast enough. A thousand of wrong first impressions, ill-timed good deeds, lethal grudges and his arms around her when he would carry her to safety over and over and over again.

"Elena?"

She looked at him like she had not seen him in a very long time.

They were standing on top of the house, on the uneven surface of the roof, surrounded by the night, pale moonlight and silence. She tried to pinpoint the moment when his silhouette became the most familiar shape in the world; when it became such a thrilling sight; when she understood that there was something so painfully lonely about it. He scorned the idea of excuses and explanations, and she had made the mistake, less often than anyone else, she believed, but still, of misinterpreting his exits that now broke her heart when she recalled them as a series of missed chances when she could have proved to him that she would always be on his side – like he was on hers.

No, it had not always been him, but it was him now, and she could no longer remember what it had been like before it was him, and him only.

He looked at her, slightly worried, but she was still trying to collect her thoughts well enough to say something. She was soaring above her memories, above the past. She could touch the future with her fingertips. The wind blew loose strands of her hair against her face and she had never felt more alive than now that she was dead – and for the first time she was certain what she wanted.

"Elena?" Damon repeated, and Elena imagined saying the words out loud but they remained silent once again.

"I'm sorry. I was just… I think I'm tired," she stuttered, realizing that she couldn't make it sound more like a blatant excuse if she tried.

"Tired." He studied her face for a second. "We have to make the most of the dark, Elena. As soon as the dawn breaks, we'll have to get inside."

It made her smile that he had made it sound almost like a threat. Or perhaps it was a threat, seeing how he in all likelihood intended to interrogate her on the occasion of what she had almost said three times now.

"Or you could just lend me your daylight ring and stay inside while I went somewhere on my own," she offered in the most serious voice she could muster, and had a brief déjà vu moment when he looked to the side with a lop-sided grin.

"A mysterious stranger who has all the answers?"

"That was almost funny, Elena," he said and shifted his eyes back to her.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm eighteen," she argued, recalling the lighthearted bantering long gone; the time when she thought everyone was human, and he was just a rascally older brother of her high school sweetheart.

"Yes, and it means you can drive and get married, and that's about it." He seemed to regret the retort for some reason immediately after he had uttered the words because his expression grew somber slightly before he continued. "We could try with the fog."

She suspected the offer was solely caused by how uncomfortable his own words had made him, but she was not the one to turn the offer down, as it was something that always intrigued her.

She simultaneously tried to understand the source of his discomfort – and a strange effect that his words had on her. It was very much unlike the first mentioning of marriage that she remembered, Matt's awkward plans for their happy future that promptly resulted in her breaking up with him. She paused in her thoughts for a moment mildly baffled by not giving the subject of marriage a single thought ever since. Happily ever after. The traditional importance of it derived from childhood stories, family trips, and late night chats with her mom somehow evaporated in the conflagration of tragedies.

But now when Damon had said the word something snapped open and the idea returned to her as she had perceived it years ago, and she was certain it was because in his book the word meant what she had believed it meant when she was a child. She could imagine him in 1864 thinking about proposing to Katherine the second time he had seen her. Maybe he also had not thought about the word ever since, but somehow when he had said it, his 1864 clashed with his present just like her present clashed with her memories.

"Let's try with the fog, then," she said pensively thinking about something else.

He moved to stand right in front of her and she nearly lost her balance.

"Close your eyes," he said, cupping her face in his hands and she looked at him, trying to focus on what he was saying.

"I'm going to fall," she muttered, blindly reaching out to grasp his shirt, the edge of the roof feeling closer the moment she closed her eyes.

"I won't let you," he said and she shivered for his voice hadn't come from where she had expected it; it had flown straight into her ear and then his arms were around her, and he continued whispering in her ear, describing the places, the weather, the feelings he wanted her to imagine.

When she opened her eyes there was only a very thin veil of fog visible around her and she wrinkled her nose. "What did I do wrong?"

"Did you imagine everything I told you to imagine?"

"Ye-" she trailed off and he widened his eyes at her questioningly. Perhaps she should have focused more on the images than on his voice. "I tried," she said defensively, glancing at his lips.

"Let me try," he said, glancing at hers and she dragged her gaze to his eyes; he closed his.

Elena studied his face, taking advantage of his eyes being closed, but soon her attention was diverted to their surroundings, to the white mist rising from the ground, climbing higher and higher until it was on the level of the roof upon which they were standing.

She gasped in amazement, smiling to herself, and watching the fog engulf their feet, their knees. "Damon!" she shook him lightly to make him open his eyes and stop, because she was afraid the fog would soon obscure everything completely.

They were standing in the middle of nowhere now, in the middle of everywhere. She couldn't see anything except for the white mist around them and the black sky above. And him, right in front of her.

Damon opened his eyes and glanced around with a coy shrug. Elena smiled, looking right and left at the white sea that looked infinitely magical against the dark, cloudless sky.

"This is-" Elena started but broke off when Damon pulled her very close to him, his lips ghosting above hers.

"I know you must be tired of hearing this from me, but-"

"Don't say that," she cut in with a suddenly feverish smile, as if he had just said the exact words she had been waiting for. "It's not true. It's what's been carrying me through for a very long time now," she said earnestly, holding his gaze. He looked at her unblinkingly. "But how can I say it back if I don't know what it means?" she shook her head with a hopeless smile.

Damon slid his hands into her hair, his eyes narrowing in a faint, warm smile. "You know what it means, Elena," he said in a low, melodic voice. "But you think it should mean something else. Something stable and calm. A safe-house. But love is a tempest, Elena. It isn't safe and it isn't kind. It breaks you, it heals you. It consumes you. Elena-"

"What if you're wrong?" she whispered against his lips, their eyes locked. "What if we are wrong, Damon?" she asked breathlessly, her face lightening up in a dismayed, exhilarated smile. "What if love is a safe-house and we're just mad?"

He cupped her face in his hands. The wind picked up and was now tugging on their hair and their clothes. He lowered his mouth to hers.

"Then tell me you're mad, Elena," he whispered through his teeth in a voice that was frantically hopeless and hopeful at the same time.

"I'm mad," she said, clutching his shoulders, smiling and crying, drawing a breath and losing it. "I love you."