Disclaimer: Still don't own Vampire Diaries or anyone involved with it.

A/N: Okay, I had wanted to get this posted by the 26th, but the holidays were just crazy-palooza. Plus, I struggled with this chapter. I'm finally mostly happy with it, but I wanted to say that it was all the reviews that forced me to not give it up. Knowing that it's making people happy made me really want to keep going.

Thank you so much for the kind words, the compliments, and more than anything just taking a couple of minutes to let me know you're enjoying it. Season 2 has been tough for Damon/Elena folks like us, so I really hoped this story would be enjoyable.

Hope you like the chapter, and as always, any comments are so very appreciated. Please drop a line if you have a couple of seconds. :-)

We're going to need a bigger witch.

Or a better one, at least.

As it stands, we're T-minus eight days until the next full moon and as Damon put it earlier this afternoon, 'We don't have dick.'

It was a shitty thing to say. Especially to Bonnie, who's already on the fence with whether or not she even wants to be involved in this. And it's not like he's helping, skulking around the doorways with his bottomless glass of scotch and his endless supply of one-liners, all of which sound dirty.

I swear Damon could make a traffic report sexual.

I shoot him a lethal glare, but he's too sucking down his liquor to notice. Then I turn a page in the botany book and scribble some total nonsense in the notebook beside me. God knows why. It's not like this is study hall and I'm trying to look busy. Except that it is exactly like that. Except Stefan is the teacher today and Bonnie is a better student than me.

My 'teacher' looks up and gives me one of those perfect smiles of his, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. I smile back, wishing I felt it more.

And then Damon makes a disgusted noise and my blood boils. Seriously, that is all it takes. One juvenile noise and I'm thinking long and hard about the last time I used a pencil for a stake. I am that pissed.

Which is just…I mean, really? Why am I so pissed?

I stare at an illustration of some leaf segment that looks like every other leaf segment in this book and try to think about what's making me so mad.

Everything about Damon is infuriating me. It's been that way for two days. I hate the way he walks, the way he laughs, the way his mouth falls open a little when he's really listening. Most of all I hate the fact that he needs a haircut, a shower, and probably ten bags of blood to counter all the freaking scotch, and despite all of that, he's still prettier than me.

Or maybe I just hate myself for being completely distracted by this jerk.

"What'd you do to your finger there, Elena?" Damon asks, gesturing at my bandage.

I'm instantly assaulted by the image of his lips slipping around my fingers, by the feel of his tongue against my skin.

No, it's him. I definitely hate him.

"I got cut," I say. Battery acid is less caustic than my voice. "Have you noticed that we're trying to do research here?"

Bonnie looks at me like I'm insane. Or possibly like she really just wishes I'd be quiet so she can work. But Damon looks genuinely surprised. Almost thoughtful. "Gosh, Elena, I just figured Stefan finally started one of those Oprah book clubs."

Stefan looks up, gesturing at Damon. "As usual, you are a paragon of maturity. I think Elena's trying to say we could use your help."

And I think Elena can speak for herself. But I don't say that.

Damon tilts his head. "Tempting. But I think I'm going to channel my inner pacifist on this one. Do the Ghandi thing."

Whatever focus Bonnie had is clearly shot. "You kill people to prove points, Damon."

"Killed people," he corrects, wagging a finger at her. "There's a difference. I'm a regular white hat these days. I even donate to the blood bank we rip off."

"He gets a tax write off," Stefan explains.

And then Bonnie and Stefan shake their heads and get back to their research. But there's none of that for me. I stare at Damon wishing he'd catch on fire. And he stares right back, smirking like this is all some huge joke. Like Rose didn't matter one damn bit and stopping this from happening again isn't even worth five minutes of his precious time.

And then I get it.

It really doesn't matter. Because Damon already has a solution to this problem.

He heads out of the dining room and I wait until I'm sure enough time has passed that it won't look like I'm following him. Of course, I am going to be following him, so now I'm a lying liar who lies on top of being a girl who really needs psychiatric evaluation.

I push out my chair and stand up and Bonnie and Stefan look up, startled.

"I'm going to get a little fresh air. Maybe call Jenna."

"It's freezing out there," Stefan says and I smile so tightly it's a miracle my cheeks don't cramp.

"I know. I'll get my coat."

Damon's beside the drink station when I enter the living room. I brush past him, pausing just long enough to tug his sleeve between my thumb and forefinger. I don't look at him or speak to him or do anything else to indicate that I want him to follow me.

But he'll follow me. I know that.

I put on my coat, zipping it halfway before I head outside. Damon is behind me like a shadow, dark and silent.

The porch is slick with ice. I move to one side of it, drawing a frosty breath as I lean against the wall. He takes the opposite wall, watching me.

"What's up, Elena? Got another boo-boo you need me to kiss?" he asks softly.

Heat floods my face. And other regions I won't even think about. I ignore it and him entirely.

"I know what you're planning and I'm not going to let you do it, Damon."

He rolls his eyes, but keeps his voice low. Low enough that Stefan will have trouble hearing, no doubt. "I'm not going to hurt your little rat terrier friend Tyler, if that's what your worried about."

"Do you think killing Jules instead will get a pass by me?"

He shrugs one shoulder, as if this isn't even important enough for a response.

"Is that what you think?" I ask again, because I want an answer. I want to hear him say it.

"I don't need a pass," he says. "She's a threat, Elena. She killed Rose and she's threatened Stefan and I both."

"So, screw the cure. Screw any rational solution!" I round on him, my hands perching on my hips. It's all I can do to keep my voice soft now. "God, you're never going to change, are you? Anytime someone pisses you off, you're going straight to murder."

He stalks forward, eyes narrowed. "If I killed everyone that pissed me off, you'd be dead twice a week."

"No, when I piss you off, you go after my brother!"

He flinches.

I do, too.

"There's your trump card," he says, voice thin and cold. "So, I guess we're done here?"

No. No, we're never done. That's the whole damn problem.

I swallow hard. "I'm sorry, Damon."

"Don't be. I did it. We both know it. You're just making sure I never forget it."

I ball my hands into fists. My fingers are cold. Freezing. I take a shuddering breath before responding. "I don't think you'd forget," I say. "It was a mean thing to say. You just…you make me crazy sometimes, okay?"

"You make me crazy all the time," he says, and there's something low and gravelly in his voice that makes my belly do a slow flip.

I'm afraid to meet his eyes, but I do it, squaring my shoulders before I speak again. "I don't want to you to kill Jules."

"I don't want another season of One Tree Hill. We all have our crosses to bear, Elena."

God, he's infuriating. I'm so mad, so unbelievably furious right now. I sniff, and to my total mortification find that I've got angry tears spilling down my cheeks.

"Now you're turning on the waterworks?" he cries. "Really, Elena? I mean, for all this good girl act, you've got a seriously manipulative side."

I whirl for the door, seeing red. But then his hand is on my arm and he turns me back and there it is, that tender face that cuts right through me. Sometimes I think I'm the only one who ever sees this face.

I remind myself that seeing it doesn't make it real.

"I'll give them until the full moon," he says. "No longer."

"Can I trust you on that?" I ask.

He rolls his eyes. "How often have I refused you something you want?"

I know my cheeks have gone pink again. Because I believe him. It's never made any sense at all, but I really can get practically anything I want out of Damon Salvatore.

"Why?" I ask, before I think better of it.

"You know damn well why," he says, calling me out, pushing that invisible boundary. "Let's not stand here and pretend you don't know exactly how I feel about you, Elena."

And there it is. No pretense. No pretty wrapping. Just the bald reality that Damon loves me. Rather or not he says the three words isn't relevant. The naked truth of it is looking me in the eye.

And it's scaring me to death.

I take a step. I'm not sure where I'm planning to go, but I want to go there fast. I don't, of course. I slip on the ice, my feet sliding wild. He catches me by the waist. Sets me steady.

We are too close.

He smells amazing. His eyes are impossibly blue. And I would give anything if I could just not be so aware of him.

He tilts his head, eyes flicking to my mouth.

I'm in serious trouble.

"Yours is the only live blood I've tasted in months you know," he says.

I can't look away from him. Though I need to. I really, really need to because he's like a vortex sucking me in.

He inches back, loosening his grip, but not releasing me. I feel each one of his fingers against my sides, right through my puffy winter jacket. Each little point of pressure sends a swirl of lightning through me, a shock that I can still feel when he takes his hands away.

"This thing between us," he says. "It's not going to go away, Elena."

"What's between us is friendship," I say, but my voice is a shaking wreck. "Maybe not even that."

He reaches one hand forward, sliding two fingers against my palm. That's all he does and I swear I have to hold my breath so I won't make a sound. He slides past my hand until I can feel those fingers press against the tender underside of my wrist. Against my pulse.

My heart is hammering wild and loud. I can feel it everywhere.

And so can he.

His gives me a wicked look and licks his lips. "Just friendship, Elena?"

And then, finally, finally, I escape.

Stefan meets me at the door, having gotten up to check on me. I'm relieved and irritated, but most of all, I'm on fire. I literally feel like I'm burning from the inside out. So, I throw my arms around my boyfriend's neck and close my eyes. And then I kiss him more fiercely than I have in weeks.

It would be a really good thing for us. If I wasn't still thinking of Damon.