Thanks again for the kind words. Enjoy Elena's journey, as it should be.

A few hours later we're on the road, and the sun is starting to set. I no longer smell like a river. I send a text to Jeremy - There's some of mom's casserole in the fridge. I'm taking tonight off, maybe tomorrow too. Be safe. - Sweet, strong Jeremy. I'm so proud of him. - I love you 3 - I'm not above emoticons.

I lean up against the window and ride my hand in the air. I have no idea where we're going, and it really doesn't matter.

But, I am starting to get hungry again. I look at Damon, and he's flipping through radio channels, rolling his eyes at the religious channels and making a face at the country stations.

"Did you bring any blood bags?" Maybe they'll stay down this time. I did feed this morning.

"Yeah, they're in the cooler in the back." He's slightly surprised. "Have you been able to keep them down?"

"I haven't tried since the memorial. But I fed this morning...so maybe now it will work." I twist between our seats and take one out. He pulls over in the middle of the highway.

"Just in case," he says cautiously. I nod, tear the bag open, and take a sip. It's like drinking flat soda- but it's not toxic anymore. I finish the whole thing, and we're back on the road in minutes.

"So, where are we going for this timeout?"

"One-street town. Mostly crappy, but there's a really old bar, a decent diner, and an elegant motel known as the Kuntry Korner - that's spelled with Ks."

"You take me to the nicest places."

"You're fond of motels."

I narrow my eyes. You think you're clever. But I can't stop the blush rising from my collarbone, remembering our last encounter at a motel. I remember everything.

It's actually not bad. We drop our things (There are two queen beds in the room. What does it mean? Does it mean anything? Don't most motels have two anyways?) and head to the bar, which is as old Damon claimed it was - one of the first to open post-Prohibition era. He swipes a bottle of bourbon, two glasses, and we head outside to a back porch. The cicadas are in full chorus and it's a moist, swampy evening. I can feel the sweat rise and coat my skin.

He pours each of us a glass. "So. Do we discuss your existential crisis on this timeout? Because I'm interested especially in the part where you strip down to your underwear."

"Hah. You're a dog."

"You love it."

I kind of do. "Yeah, we can discuss my crisis."

He takes a swig of his bourbon. "It's normal. Immortality is not normal, so your reaction to it- quite normal."

"Did you go through this?"

"Present tense. Going through this."

It never goes away? My heart sinks. I can't live like this. I stare down at my bourbon.

"But some things stay the same. Family, whoever they are at the moment. Love."

"How do you feel about death?" I'm feeling more naked than i did earlier today, by the river.

His voice drops. "Some days I want to take off my ring and be done."

I feel my nerves freeze over. He continues, gently. "I used to read a lot about immortal beings, other than vampires. Many of them were cursed with wanting death but unable to die."

This isn't going the way I wanted it to. I'm starting to feel angry, and I grit my teeth. "Aren't you supposed to be giving me some answers?"

"I'm not that guy, Elena."

"Well try. This isn't making me feel any better, at all."

"It's not supposed to. It's just the truth."

I'm silent and staring at my bourbon again. "The truth sucks."

He nods.

"Are most vampires alcoholics?"

"Actually, yes. I'm not as depraved as you would assume."

"I don't think you're depraved." I bared some of my feelings. Now I want him to spill.

"Okay, I have questions. Ready?"

He opens his hands off his glass and replies gamely, "Shoot."

"Honestly- do you feel gross when you feed on people? I feel like a freak."

"Well, it's changed over time. At first I was in a panic at what was going on and felt like a freak. Then, as my life became an unending search for that bitch Katherine, I pretty much hated everyone and everything, and I was ready to take it out. I still do take it out on regular people."

"Do you actually feel your age? Like, do you feel like you're over a hundred and fifty?"

"Do I look it?" He waggles his eyebrows. I laugh.

"It depends. Most of the time, i feel like most people do, still trying to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to be doing with my life. Searching for Katherine, that at least gave me a purpose, and time flew. Things have slowed down since that chapter closed."

Since me, I flatter myself. I've run out of questions.

"Hey," he leans forward, "I'm not taking my ring off anytime soon. I've still got some things to live for. The question is, do you?" He leans back into his chair and waits for me.

I clutch my glass of bourbon and crack my knuckles around it. I'm not so sure I'm really ready to answer this question.

"Well, I really love frozen yogurt."

"Hey, that's something."

"It doesn't taste the same anymore, but I do like the consistency. Also, I have never been to Europe. Or Asia."

"Definitely." He's grinning.

"I have a really long book list, too."

"Well, then it looks like you're good for now."

As we settle back into our chairs, we hear a commotion near the front of the bar. People start pouring through the doors and they're laughing, shouting, and throwing rice. It's a wedding. The couple bursts through the crowd and heads for the teeny tiny dance floor.

I'm awash with jealousy, and I feel myself despising them and their happiness.

"Hey." He's standing next to me, looking down, and offering a hand. "We can dance too, you know."

Yes, I guess we can. I take his hand and stand up. The man does know how to dance, and he doesn't disappoint. I'm invited to dance by one of the groomsmen and I accept, raising my eyebrows at Damon, who winks, and grabs a bridesmaid. I dance with an older gentleman, who is actually better than Damon, and then I spot Damon with an eleven-year-old girl standing on his feet, who looks thrilled that she's allowed to be at such a grown-up party. I figure it's my turn to make someone's night and I ask a gawky teenage boy who's probably fourteen, and I have to compel him not to follow me around for the rest of the night. Nobody cares that we're not with the wedding party.

I pop over breathlessly to the bar and order a beer. He joins me.

I take a swig and turn to him. "I'm having fun," I declare, surprised at myself.

"That's more like it. Come on, we're doing the cotton eyed joe. My specialty."

"I'm surprised you haven't led us all in the electric slide yet."

"Do you think I should?"

"No. You get enough attention as it is."

"Fine! Fine." He's not mad at all.

It's a country bar, so we only have until midnight. It's ten til and we're standing close, in the middle of the floor swaying back and forth, my head tucked under him looking out towards his shoulder. It's a nice, strong shoulder. I feel myself clutching his shirt.

"One day, I'm going to see you wear something other than black."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Like blue, or green."

"Well, one day, I'm going to see you naked. Oh wait, already did that!"

I pull away and face him, scoffing. "I wasn't naked, I still had my bra and underwear! It was like a bathing suit."

"True enough, though I've never seen lacy swimsuits."

"Are you always on?"

"Honestly? Yes."

I can't help laughing and I settle back in, close to his chest, this time tucking my face into his neck. I reach up with one hand and trace his jaw, the veins on his neck. I move to my tip-toes and very quickly kiss his neck, below his jaw, and hastily duck my head so I don't have to face him.

"Hmmmm." I hear it somewhere in his chest, and I feel his hand squeeze mine a little forcefully.

We close out the bar, and then we start walking home.