OBVIOUSLY: I do not own "the Vampire Diaries," or any of the characters. Sigh. If only.

So, I know I left you guys hanging for a while. Life is busy, things come up. So I'm sorry, but I assure you I only take so long so that I can be sure whatever I publish is TOPS for you guys : ) Plus, I know you guys are all satisfied by the newest episode. Finally we get some action after the six-week dry spell! And hooray for my 100th review... Thanks Poor Wendy! A shout-out to my best friend Hallie. I wrote her into this chapter because I knew she'd appreciate it!

A few words regarding the much-celebrated return of the series... I know that my story doesn't acknowledge a lot of the problems and story lines currently evolving on the show, so I hope you guys forgive me for that. I've been ignoring the Isabel issue, the Harper issue, and all sorts of other issues, I know. But this is what is so wonderful about the land of Fan Fiction, yes? We make our own fun! BUT, if there's something from the series that you feel deserves its place in my fic, let me know! Don't be shy with recommendations and suggestions, kids!

Now that I've bored you, here's Hunger!


Elena pouted as she drove away from the boardinghouse early Monday morning. School was going to be hell today—she just knew it. Sitting in cramped classrooms all day while her mind raced with sweaty memories of skin-against-skin was bound to be a challenge, but she supposed she didn't really have a choice. When she got home, she was headed to the front door, but it swung open before she could reach for the knob. Jenna was standing there, her arms lifted in some conceding shrug.

"So is this going to become a regular thing?" her aunt asked.

Elena giggled. "I'm sorry, Jenna."

Jenna sighed. "Listen, I just want to know you're alright. And I want to know if you aren't going to be home. So do me a favor—next time, call. And try to keep the school-night slumber parties to a minimum. Deal?"

"Deal," Elena agreed happily.

Jenna smiled. "See? It pays off to have a young, hip guardian like me." Elena really laughed now. Jenna was right—it really did pay off.

Elena glanced at the kitchen clock. "I'd better get ready for school." Jenna nodded. "You know Bonnie's grandmother's wake—"

Jenna cut her off. "Yeah, Jeremy and I are going over. You can come with us if you want, but I didn't know if you would rather go with your friends."

Elena shrugged. "I'll see," she said, and then she headed up to her room. She wasn't sure how appropriate it was to show up at a wake viewing with the guy you couldn't stop thinking about—it made it feel like a date or something. It might be better to just see Damon there, but then again, it might seem a little weird if Damon just showed up on his own. Even if Stefan came back, Damon certainly wouldn't show up with him.

In her room she shuffled through her closet and her dresser drawers quickly, settling on a thin burgundy v-neck sweater and a pair of blue skinny jeans. She got dressed and kept glancing at the clock. She was thankful that she'd had another shower with Damon that morning—for more than one reason. She pulled on a pair of socks and laced up her sneakers. She brushed her teeth and did her make-up hastily, and grabbed her leather jacket as she headed back downstairs.

She was nearly out the door when Jenna stopped her. "Where's your book bag?"

Elena paused to think. "In the car," she said with a please-don't-kill-me smile.

Jenna put her hands on her hips—the go-to parenting stance. "That, on the other hand, isn't going to fly, Elena."

Elena smiled apologetically. "I know—I'm really sorry. It won't happen again. Busy weekend… crazy weekend, actually, but it won't happen again, okay?"

Jenna nodded assertively. "It better not."

Elena hugged her aunt. "Thanks for caring so much, Jenna," she said as she held on briefly.

"Yeah, yeah," Jenna laughed. "Get out of here."

As expected, school was miserable. The whole day was flooded with talk of Bonnie's grandmother—the funeral, the viewing, and "poor Bonnie." Some people were talking about Stefan's absence, but considering his already shoddy attendance record, no one made a very big deal about it. Of course, no one knew that Elena and he were no longer together, and they certainly didn't know anything about her and Damon. In the halls there was a bit of chatter regarding the blossoming relationship between Caroline and Matt. Some kids were giving Elena sympathetic looks, and others were avoiding her gaze completely. It was eerily familiar—it was almost exactly the way they'd acted when she'd first returned to school in September.

History was particularly uncomfortable. It had been strange for a while, ever since Alaric had spoken with Stefan and found out the truth behind the Salvatores. But with both Stefan and Bonnie's seats vacant, Elena felt especially lonely. After a day of awkward excuses to teachers about her missing homework, averted glances from her classmates, and the utter inability to focus on anything but the weekend's… activities, she was even more grateful than usual to leave.

As soon as she got into her car, her phone rang.

"Hey, Caroline."

"Elena! Where are you? I was waiting by your locker—"

Elena cut her off. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't stop there—I have to run home and change for the viewing."

"Oh, okay. Well that's what I was going to ask you—if you were going. Well, I mean, not if you were going, because obviously you're going…"

Elena rolled her eyes. "Obviously," she mimicked.

"Okay. Well go change and Matt and I will see you there."

"Alright," Elena said. "See you guys in a bit."

"Bye!" Caroline chirped as Elena ended the call.

When she got home, Elena told Jenna and Jeremy to go ahead without her. As soon as the door shut behind them, she headed upstairs to call Damon before getting changed. When she opened the door, his gorgeous form was already lounging on her bed.

She gasped and smiled, surprised. "You've got some nerve," she managed to say after she caught her breath.

"I've got a lot of nerve," he corrected her as he rose from the bed. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"And to think, I was going to call you just so I could hear your voice," she said, her forehead and the bridge of her nose pressed against his. He smiled. "I didn't see your car outside," she added.

"I parked it around the corner," he said with a wink. "I wanted you nice and surprised." Then he slid his hands under the hem of her shirt, tracing his fingertips along her bare hips.

"Oh, no, pal," she kidded as she pulled away. "I have to get changed."

He raised his eyebrows in that all-too-familiar way. "Great idea; I'll help."

She bit her lip. "I guess I can't argue with that, but I mean it, Damon—we can't fool around right now. I'm not walking into Grams' wake smelling like sex and you."

Damon was dressed pretty typically—he wore his black jeans and boots, as always—though Elena noticed he'd made the effort to dress up slightly for the occasion. He was wearing a black blazer instead of his usual leather jacket, and beneath it was forest green v-neck sweater.

He helped her out of her sweater and her jeans. He ran his hands along her nearly naked body and reached around to unclasp her black bra, but she asserted herself and gave him a playful slap on the wrist. He reluctantly complied and followed her to the closet, where she picked out a long-sleeved gray sweater dress. She reached up and let him slide the dress over her curves. She fished a pair of black wool tights out of her dresser drawer and rolled them up her legs slowly. Damon watched, his lips slightly parted, and he fought his undeniable desire to pounce on her and have her then and there.

He swallowed as she smoothed her dress down over her thighs again. She slid into the pair of black flats that sat on her closet floor. She looked up at him.

"Stop looking me like that," she said.

"Like what?" he asked, though he didn't need to.

And she knew it too. "You know what. Like I'm a cupcake."

He laughed, and she couldn't help laughing too. "I smell a new pet name," he kidded.

"Don't even think about it," she said, and then her smile faded. "We'd better get going,"

Damon sighed. "Well, I think I'm going to need a little something to hold me over, cupcake." He added the name just to push her buttons, but he didn't really give her time to react. He pinned her between himself and the wall and held her face in his hands, looking into her eyes longingly, but briefly, before pressing his mouth against hers.

Now, every kiss with Damon was incredible, but this one was far and away the best yet. She felt everything in it—the desperation of a starving man, the charge of one who was in command, and the vulnerability of a boy who was laying everything on the line for this girl. When he finally drew back, she had a dreamy look on her face. Damon swept his raw emotions under the rug and put an arm around her. "Come on," he said as they walked toward the door, a satisfied smile on Damon's face.

***

Bonnie's street was lined with parked cars, so Damon had to park a few houses down. They walked to the house, Damon's arm around Elena's waist. Bonnie's father answered the door and invited them in. Elena and Mr. Bennett hugged briefly and kissed each other on the cheek. "I'm so sorry," she told him.

He then shook Damon's hand. "I'm sorry for your loss," Damon said sincerely.

"Thank you," Mr. Bennett replied. "You're a friend of Bonnie's?"

Well, there's a loaded question, Damon thought. "Yes," he ultimately agreed. It wasn't the time or place to go into that explanation.

The man nodded. "Well, thank you both for being here," he said before excusing himself to greet another guest. Damon and Elena walked to the open casket. Elena's breath was shaky, and she felt Damon reach for her hand to comfort her as they saw Grams. Elena was slightly relieved at the sight—Grams looked… peaceful. She had been thinking of the frightening sight of her parents' bodies. It had been very unsettling; they had been so pale, and the cakey makeup had looked even more unnatural on their too-young faces.

Grams, on the other hand, looked almost as though she was sleeping. Her hands were folded across her chest, and she was dressed in a lovely black gown with embroidery. Her cheeks almost seemed as though they still had some color in them. She looked content, lying there. She had been a wise, knowing woman in life, and it seemed that in death, she would take with her all the secrets and knowledge she'd acquired through her years. Elena touched the old woman's cool hand and bowed her head.

"Goodbye," she whispered almost silently. And then, even more quietly, added, "Thank you."

Damon couldn't bring himself to say anything, but he'd stared at Sheila with a newfound appreciation and respect. He nodded when Elena thanked her, as if to echo her gratitude.

And then they turned away to find Bonnie. She was in her kitchen, as were most of the students present. Caroline was beside her, her arm linked with Matt's. Elena's eyes passed over many faces, but none of them belonged to Stefan.

Bonnie caught her eye and motioned her over, and Damon followed, his hand still holding Elena's.

Elena let go briefly as she pulled Bonnie into a hug. Bonnie hugged her back, partially because she was thankful to have a distraction from Caroline for even a moment. "How are you?" Elena asked quietly.

Bonnie shrugged. Damon looked at her, doing his best to convey sympathy without having to speak, and Bonnie understood and nodded at him. He then looked at Caroline to see she was looking at him with disdain, but when he caught her eye, she turned away immediately, and pulled Matt a bit closer to her.

"So where's Stefan?" she asked Elena. "Bonnie here has been worrying that he wouldn't show since I told her he wasn't in school today, but I kept saying he'd come with you guys."

Elena bit her lip. "We were kind of hoping we'd find him here," she admitted.

Speak for yourself, Damon thought.

Caroline furrowed her brow suspiciously. "So what, is he like, missing?"

Elena tried to keep it vague. "He's out of town."

The group was silent for a few moments. Elena noticed how devastated Bonnie looked. She didn't have to say that she wanted Stefan there—Elena could see it in her eyes. "Bonnie," she said softly, trying to speak only to her. "I can't believe he isn't here, either, but please don't take it personally. It's our fault."

Bonnie looked away. "Listen, it's no big deal," she said as she turned to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Caroline asked, sounding almost offended.

"I've been down here all day. I just want to be alone for a while," she explained, and then disappeared up the stairs.

Matt maintained his silence, pretending not to feel the unbearable tension surrounding the four of them. Caroline shot Elena a narrow-eyed, you've-got-a-lot-of-explaining-to-do look. Damon was eyeing the staircase, and Elena was searching frantically for any escape.

"Well, I think I'll go find Jenna and Jeremy," she said. "We'll see you guys tomorrow."

Elena pulled Damon toward the adult crowd, but he stopped her. "I'm actually going to use the restroom."

"Okay," she nodded and pointed toward a line of people.

He frowned convincingly. "Maybe I'll sneak upstairs."

She smiled. "Alright, but don't get into any trouble."

Damon cocked an eyebrow at her and they split up.

He wandered up the stairs and saw the bathroom door open. He pulled it shut and then, in a fraction of a second, he was at Bonnie's bedroom door, which she'd left ajar. She was swirling the petals around on her vanity when he saw her, and the candles in front of the mirror were lit.

"So," he said. He startled her. The petals fell just as they had the day before, and the candles blew out as she turned to see him. "You're hiding something from Elena." The accusation was accompanied by his usual grin.

Bonnie froze for a moment before replying. "What are you talking about?"

He rolled his eyes. "'Oh, Stefan, I didn't tell Elena about what happened,'" he mocked in a feminine tone.

Her eyes widened. "You heard," she muttered. "Listen, whatever you're thinking, you're wrong."

"I really doubt that," he laughed. "I know my brother, sweetheart, and while I'll never understand it, I know the effect that brooding, eternally adolescent mess has on girls." He eyed her carefully. "And you've got it. So whatever happened—"

She interrupted him. "Damon, you don't understand; we just—"

"Save it," he said, cutting her off. His tone was serious now, and the humor was gone from his eyes. "I don't want to know, alright? But I'll be damned if Elena is going to walk around thinking St. Stefan is the only victim here."

Aren't you damned already? Bonnie thought to herself. She hesitated. "He's going to tell her," she tried to insist, but it lacked enthusiasm.

"You sure about that?" he asked, noticing the absence of faith in her voice.

She nodded. "He told me to let him deal with it," Bonnie said slowly.

"Well, somebody had better deal with it. I know you're not exactly 'Team Damon,' Bonnie, but I love that girl," he said as he extended his arm toward the door, pointing at the stairs, "which means I'm personally invested in this situation now." He looked her in the eyes.

"Are you…" she started slowly, "doing that… trance thingy?"

He shook his head and laughed, but there is no humor in it. "No. I'm not compelling you. Because I don't think I need to, Bonnie." She nodded. He spoke the next words dramatically, needing to get the point across. "Do not hurt her."

Bonnie's head fell guiltily. "Alright." He turned to leave, but stopped when she spoke again. "When is he coming back, Damon?"

He turned to face her, and he almost felt sorry for her. The tears were welling up in her eyes. She was so vulnerable. Damon fought the urge to chuckle at his brother's carelessness in taking advantage of such an innocent little bird like Bonnie. "I really don't know. This is categorically uncharacteristic of him; he's never been the chivalry-is-dead type." And with that, he headed downstairs again. The floodgates were about to break, he feared, and he didn't intend on sticking around for the emotional downpour. He pitied the girl—he really did—but there was only so much raw human emotion he could tolerate, especially when it involved his brother.

Elena was talking with Jeremy, Jenna, and Mr. Bennett when Damon found her. He politely greeted them, and then he and Elena gave their condolences again before showing themselves out.

Damon dropped Elena off at home. "Aren't you coming in?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "I have some stuff I have to do," he explained vaguely.

She raised one eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Tidying up the place, cooking, generally setting the mood," he trailed off. She stared at him with intrigue and he smiled. "I want you to come over tonight."

The intrigue in her stare turned to near disbelief. "You're going to cook for me?"

He nodded proudly. "Why is that such a surprise? You know I can cook."

She laughed. "No it's not the cooking that's surprising, it's more the premeditated romance," she explained.

"Well, you must be something special then, huh?" She smiled at him. "Come by around seven."

She was grinning from ear to ear now. "Okay," she nodded. "Okay, I will."

Elena was awestruck as she watched him drive away, and turned to go inside.

***

It was just after seven when Elena stepped out of her car in front of the boardinghouse. The cool evening air almost made her shiver as it wrapped around her legs, which looked miles long, running from her black satin peep-toe heels to the hem of her short, deep sapphire halter dress. She was about to knock on the big wooden doors when she heard the loud music coming from inside. Elena pushed the door to find it was open, and after shutting it behind her she wandered to the kitchen.

She could have found it with her eyes closed—the warm aroma of tomato sauce on the stove was strong. She walked in to see Damon, adding a dash of what looked like oregano to the pot. He must have known she was standing behind him, because he picked up a small remote control and turned down the music, and then he spoke. "Well, shit, is it seven already?"

Elena smiled. "About ten after, actually."

Damon turned to look at her and his jaw nearly dropped. She had placed her purse on a chair and was now taking off her leather jacket—god, how he loved that leather jacket on her—to reveal her bare, olive shoulders. Every inch of her was perfection, he thought. Her lips were glossy, and she pursed them into a sultry pout when she noticed he was so enthralled in them. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes were swept with silvery, smoky shadow and mascara, and her dark chocolate hair was full of body, framing her perfect, round face.

Of course, he gathered his cocky composure shortly. "Well, I feel a little underdressed," he said as he turned off the stove. He was still wearing the green sweater from earlier that day, but the sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and there was a red spot from the sauce by the collar. He walked up to her and cupped her face gently in his hands. "You look gorgeous," he said before leaning in to kiss her gently.

She licked her lips. "You taste good," she cooed.

He hummed an appreciative mm. "Not so bad yourself," he said with a grin. "I'm going to go change. Help yourself," he said, motioning to the bottle of wine on the counter beside the stove. "Glasses are on the table."

Elena watched him speed off, and then poured herself a modest glass of the pinot noir. Of course, she thought. She glanced at the bottle and saw the year—1991. She breathed in the wine's scent—which was very subtle—and took a sip.

"Like it?" Damon asked, suddenly behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and caressed her midriff with his hand. He pushed her hair to one side with his other hand and kissed her neck.

She nodded. "It's silky," she added. He murmured a sound of agreement against her flesh. "This wine is older than I am, you know," she said breathlessly as he kissed her lightly up and down her neck.

He laughed a little. "Barely," he said. He moved around her so that he was facing her. "Shall we?" He motioned to the table.

"Sure," she happily agreed. She took a seat where she had found her glass and lay her napkin across her lap. Damon had set his glass, half-full, at the head of the table. There were two white candlesticks in antique bronze candle holders. Damon followed her to the table and set down the bottle of wine, then returned to the stove to make their plates.

He'd changed into a crisp, gray button-down shirt and a black tie. His hair looked as though he'd tousled it a bit when he'd gone upstairs. She swallowed a giggle at the idea of Damon primping himself in front of the mirror for her. She'd taken at least an hour to get ready. Damon looked like perfection after mere minutes.

He came back to the table with two plates of ravioli, smothered in the delicious tomato sauce. He set them down on the table, and then quick as a flash, fetched a basket of Italian bread and a butter dish. He struck a match to light the two candles with a fascinating sort of efficiency. Then he sat down in his seat and pulled hers slightly closer to himself.

Elena smiled and held her glass up. "Cheers," she said.

Damon clinked his glass against hers. "Cheers," he agreed, and then leaned in for yet another incredible kiss. His tongue poked through her lips and swept over hers with soft intensity.

"Dig in," he said when the kiss finally broke.

Elena tasted a bite of ravioli. "Oh my god," she said as she chewed. "It's delicious."

"I'm glad you like it," he said. "Of course, I only had time to make the store-bought stuff. Someday I'll make you real ravioli."

"What, from scratch?" she asked. He nodded. "You can make pasta from scratch?" she asked, eyes wide with enamored wonder. Everything she found out about Damon drew her closer to him, even the not-so-pleasant things.

"I learned back sometime in… I guess the early fifties," he began. And as he began, Elena experienced a wave of excitement. She realized this would be the first of many, many stories she would hear from Damon about his long life's many exploits. She rested her head in her hand and engrossed herself. "I had this friend, Jack, up in New Jersey. He was Irish, but his mother-in-law was from Brooklyn, and she was just the most Italian mother you can think of. She was a sweet lady. She adored me, too, of course—Damon Salvatore, the charming Italian boy," he flashed a gorgeous smile before going on. "And his mother-in-law would come to Jack's house and she and Annie, his wife, would make pasta and lay it out on the bed."

"On the bed?" Elena repeated him.

"Yeah," he explained. "They would put the ravioli on these sheets of paper to dry. And once in a while I'd help them out. Most of the time, Jack and I would just sit and listen to the radio, ballgames and stuff. He was a good guy. He was a little shaky after World War II, but he was a good guy."

"Wow," Elena breathed, trying to really understand the amazing reality of it all, that this ostensibly young man in front of her had really lived through those times. "Where is he now?"

"He died about fifteen years ago. Last time I was up there I met his daughter. Of course, I didn't tell her I knew Jack or anything. Annie had died just a few months before I talked to the daughter," he explained.

Elena's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry," she offered lightly.

He shrugged. "You get used to it," Damon said. Elena believed him, but she was sure there was always some pain in losing people. Even for Damon.

She placed her hand on his for a moment in some attempt at comfort that they both knew wasn't necessary. Then she went back to the most divine ravioli she'd ever tasted. They talked and laughed as they ate their dinner. Elena finished the glass of silky wine and Damon poured her another. He told her more stories, and talked about the music that was playing—who he'd heard live, who he'd listened with…

"The iPod is incredible," he explained. "I've got a century of music—more—on that tiny little thing. It never ceases to amaze me."

She smiled. "It's pretty cool," she agreed. Their plates were empty by then, and a new track started.

"Frank," he said. "One of my absolute favorites," he added. Damon scooted his chair out and dropped his napkin on the table. He stood up and extended his hand toward her. "Well, Miss Gilbert, you left me hanging at the sock hop; I'd say you owe me a dance," he said with a classic Damon smile.

Elena laughed as she took his hand reflexively. He pulled her up from her seat and into his arms with one swift motion. Elena seemed to melt into his arms—she felt as though there was nowhere on Earth she should be rather than in his arms, dancing beside the dining room table. Damon's lips were mouthing the lyrics. She could tell he was also, just barely, whispering them—not because she could hear it, but because she could feel the breath on her own lips, only inches away.

And as the song picked up and really started to swing, he held her tighter and they were really dancing. They spun, frames locked loosely, his arm around her waist, her arm around his shoulder, and their other hands joined beside their shoulders. His eyes were fixed on hers, and behind his elated stare was an underlying earnestness. In that moment, he knew that he would have no problem whatsoever with never letting her go, just holding her and swaying for eternity. Elena was everything that he'd forgotten about humanity over the decades upon decades of primal, vampiric hunting. Everything about her was alive, and as she smiled in his arms, and the song ended in a light note, he was sure that he could never be without her.

And then, for the first time all night, Damon's eyes shifted from hers. His expression changed from one of adoration to one that she couldn't recognize, not at first. But when she turned to see what he was looking at, it was clear to her—Damon had been giving a sort of arrogant warning with his eyes. Stefan was standing in the doorway behind her. His fangs poked out from beneath his lips, and his eyes were black, surrounded by the angry red veins she'd seen before.

"Stefan," she said, but the name had barely escaped her lips when he seemed to vanish. The front door was wide open when she ran to it. "Stefan!" she called after him helplessly.

Damon walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, holding onto her. "Don't bother," he explained. "He's certainly not going to come running back to this candle-lit scene."

Elena turned back to Damon with a sadness in her eyes that was agonizing to him. "Where is he going to go, Damon?"

He was almost confused at her worry. "Elena, he lived pretty comfortably in the shadows for a long time. He can make it one night." The reminder was enough to make her come back in the house. He closed the front door and locked it. "Come on," he started with a smile, "let's have another glass of wine and go upstairs." He twirled one of her satiny tresses around his finger.

Elena smiled meekly and nodded. Let him go back into the shadows, she thought. The coward couldn't even show up at the wake. He was making it hard for her to give a damn anymore.

She and Damon walked back to the table where he picked up the bottle of pinot noir and his glass. Elena picked her own glass up and followed him upstairs.

***

He was hardly man any longer. He was some creature. And the creature wanted blood. He crawled out of the shadows and saw her. She was a student at the high school. She was pretty small, with seemingly dark hair, but it shone red when she ran through scattered beams of moonlight. She didn't hear him coming.

It had been so long since he hunted man that it took him a minute to decide exactly how to start. He could drop on her from above and dig his fangs into her throat before any scream could ever escape it. He could frighten her into thinking her mind was playing tricks on her, and then finally show himself and absorb the horror that would undoubtedly be on her face, and listen to her helpless cries before he devoured her. He could compel her—he wouldn't even have to kill her—he wouldn't even have to hurt her; he could convince her that she wanted it. But was there any satisfaction in that? What he wanted, what this hulking, starving, beastly abomination in the mere shell of a man wanted, was to kill.

He waited for her to look away, even for a moment, so he could begin. And she did. When she looked back at the path ahead of her only to see him, she halted, stumbling and falling to her knees with a startled yelp. She didn't see him smile at the thought that already, with so little effort, he had her in his trap. He walked toward her slowly as she stood up, brushing bits of gravel from her scraped knees. She was hardly bleeding, but the smell intoxicated him. Still, he kept himself under control.

"Are you alright?" he asked her with more seduction in his voice than concern.

She was not afraid, but rather embarrassed at having fallen in front of such a gorgeous being. "Yeah," she said. "You kind of… came out of nowhere," she added with a laugh.

He smiled, but didn't laugh. He knew he was probably looking at her as though she was a meal, but she would never have known the difference. "Sorry if I frightened you," he lied.

"It's okay," she assured him. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, and back again. On her feet were what looked like barely-worn running shoes, and she wore very short mesh shorts. She had a gray hoodie zipped part of the way up over a brightly colored sports bra. "I'm Hallie," she said, and extended her hand to him.

He shook it. "Stefan."

Hallie smiled. "Yeah, I've seen you around with Elena. People said you weren't in school today," she said.

"Yeah," he said, caught off-guard by the mention of her name. "I wasn't really feeling up to it."

"I didn't see you at Bonnie's, either. I was kind of surprised—I'd heard you guys were friends," she continued. Stefan nearly frowned at this. "But I mean, I thought you'd show up with Elena."

He took a step toward her without thinking. "You saw her there?" he demanded, probably too forcefully.

Hallie swallowed. "Yeah, she was with…" She stopped. She couldn't bring herself to speak… or move. Everything began to happen so quickly that she could hardly think fast enough to scream.

His fangs elongated as the veins surrounded his eyes again as she stopped talking. "Good girl," he snarled. He lowered his mouth to her neck and touched his fangs to her flesh so that a drop of blood surfaced. He licked it away with the tip of his tongue and closed his eyes. His mind raced.

The taste of fresh blood brought the memory of the first taste of blood, and the impossible delicacy it had so quickly become for him. The whinnying of the horses that ran off without riders after Stefan had swept them clean off the saddle. The look of fear in the eyes of those that had become his first meals. The unsettling way that his satiated hunger overpowered any remorse or guilt for having taken these innocent lives. As he was about to sink his teeth into her veins, and she finally managed a scream, the next image plagued his memory—Katherine's face, the first time she had shown her true form before him… the beginning of that horrible, twisted path that became his damned life. He had been innocent, once. Of course, he didn't plan on turning Hallie, or leading her on in any way, but somehow, he couldn't help but see himself becoming the heartless… thing that Katherine was, preying on the innocent.

He fell. The veins disappeared and his fangs retreated painfully. He was at her feet, his head in his hands. She stumbled, nearly paralyzed with terror.

He looked up at her and took her hand frantically in both of his. "I'm so sorry," he practically sobbed. "Please… please forgive me!" Hallie staggered backwards, wanting suddenly to retreat, but Stefan held on. "Please!"

"Let go of me!" she cried. Hysterical tears of panic were streaming from her eyes.

He scrambled to his feet and took hold of her shoulders. She kept crying and struggling for a minute until he finally managed to compel her again. Her cheeks were tearstained, but the emotion had left her face entirely. "You never saw me tonight," he said, trying to steady his own voice. "You were running through the wood when you tripped and skinned your knee. You will go home and forget about anything that happened between us, and you will be careful in the future not to run through the wood alone at night." Hallie nodded like some mindless drone, and when she started running off for home, he was already gone.

In another minute, he was at Wickery Bridge. It wasn't far. He looked into the water and remembered pulling the beautiful, unconscious body onto land. She had needed him then. His Elena had needed him. Was it true that she really didn't need him anymore? St. Stefan. The name his brother had so mockingly given him all those years ago… was it perhaps more accurate than he'd thought?

How quickly he had been able to forget Elena when Bonnie had been so small and helpless in his arms just two nights before. Bonnie. The thought of her warmed him. He tread back into the wood. "Tomorrow," he told himself aloud. Tomorrow he would be there.


Soundtrack Listing for Chapter 7:

"Sweet Nothin's," Brenda Lee
Elena drives away from the boarding house - Caroline calls

"Bad Boy," the Jive Bombers
Jenna and Jeremy leave for the wake - Damon and Elena leave for the wake

"Ain't No Sunshine," Bill Withers
Damon and Elena walk to the Bennetts' house - "Goodbye" to Grams

"Look What You've Done," Jet
"So where's Stefan?" - Damon drops Elena off at home

"Come and Get Your Love," Redbone
Elena watches Damon drive away - "Like it?"

"Always You," Sophie Zelmani
"Shall we?" - A new track starts

"At Long Last Love," Frank Sinatra
A new track starts - Elena follows Damon upstairs

"Lover I Don't Have to Love," Bright Eyes
Stefan is hardly a man anymore - He remembers Katherine's face

"House Fire," Someone Still Loves You, Boris Yeltsin
He falls to her feet - end of chapter


Hope you enjoyed this nice, long chapter. Please keep all the wonderful reviews coming. I'd love to hear what you guys think, your predictions, and your suggestions! I know you're all patiently awaiting the lemons. Ah, you fiends. I promise you a tall, cool glass of lemonade in the upcoming chapter. I do believe it will quench your thirst!