AUTHOR'S NOTE: Be warned. I'm in a somber mood today. You might need a drink (or twelve) to get through this chapter. Don't say I didn't give you a heads-up.

Okay, maybe you don't need a drink. Now that I'm done writing, it's not as forlorn as I thought. Hmmph! I must be losing my touch! Anyway, this chapter was easy to write as the words just flowed out of me like the red river of menstruation. Yeah, I know! Nice analogy, right? RIGHT?

You guys have NO sense of humor! FINE, I'll shut up so that you can read the result of my verbal period….

A Woman's Worth: Chapter NINE

Elena's POV

"To the cemetery," Damon said as he tugged my hand along, heading towards the front door of his house. Okay, maybe not so much a house as a mansion. Who am I kidding; the guy actually lived in a freaking palace!

As much as his announcement of our next destination alarmed me to no end, I decided to focus instead on the sleeping dog I had pushed off my lap seconds earlier. "Wait, what about Pig? We're not just going to leave her here, are we?"

"She'll be fine. Stef will be home soon," he said without breaking his stride.

Steph? As in Stephanie? As in live-in girlfriend or wife? Or an attractive housekeeper who wears French maid outfits all day long with garter belts and crotchless panties?

Fuck. My. Life.

The unexpected joy of meeting Damon's dog started wearing off as I followed him silently to his car, neither of us saying a word as we each got distracted in our own thoughts. For some reason, I was upset with myself that I was even remotely bothered with the presence of this Steph character in his life. As I sat in the passenger seat, gazing blindly out the window at the passing scenery, my mind kept repeating on a constant loop that I was being ridiculous.

Stupid. Dumb. Silly.

Why did I even care that he had a woman in his life? A week ago, I thought that he was secretly dating my best friend behind Tyler's back. In fact, I wasn't even certain about the nature of their relationship now, especially with him spending so much time over at Care's house. All I knew was that I wasn't comfortable with the idea of Caroline and Damon together. And now with a new character thrown into the mix….

"What are you frowning about over there?" Damon's gentle tone penetrated through the thick silence in the car as we neared our destination. I still didn't know why we were headed to a cemetery, but I was surprisingly comfortable with following a man I just met a few months ago to a place where bodies were buried under tombstones. I guessed from day one I've trusted him, even before I ever opened my eyes to lock with his startlingly blue ones.

"I'm-I'm not. I'm just wondering when Caroline would be joining us," I lied. For some inexplicable reason, I had decided to bring my best friend into the conversation at that moment. Perhaps it was a reminder to myself that the guy beside me was off-limits and that we've always had Caroline's presence as a buffer between us. Then I realized that I should have thought of Mason when it came to reminding me why it was not acceptable to be developing weird feelings for other guys.

"Maybe she's…..busy?" he replied with a slight hesitation in his voice. Perhaps he was looking forward to seeing her. Maybe he was just stuck babysitting me while she was off to class and that he really wanted to spend the day with her instead. Or maybe have a hot raunchy threesome with Steph!

Oh good Lord, what was I turning into?

I didn't bother to answer him as we pulled up to the entrance of the empty cemetery. Well, empty of living, breathing humans, that was. It was filled to the brim with decomposed corpses of Mystic Falls' finest. Man, I am morbid today, I thought to myself as I got out of the car as soon as it rolled to a stop, eager to breathe in some much needed fresh air.

"Hey, are you okay?" Damon called out as he ran over to catch up with me, his eyes narrowing into a worried frown as he searched my features.

I merely nodded and said, "I just haven't been here in a long time, not since my parents…well, you know." I couldn't even bring myself to say it.

My answer seemed to have surprised him and then a guilty look flashed across his handsome features. "I'm sorry that my bringing you here brought up a sad memory for you. I didn't think, Elena. Do you want to go elsewhere? Maybe go home and play with Pig a little bit more?" he suggested, hoping to raise my spirits. It was a nice effort, but he brought me here for a reason, and I had to admit that I was beyond curious to know his back story.

"No, that's okay. I'm fine, really. You said that you had something to show me, right?"

He hesitated for a while, frowning slightly as if he was weighing the pros and cons of proceeding with his original plan. He seemed uneasy, edgy. "Aaahh, maybe it wasn't such a good idea to bring you here, Elena," he muttered, running his fingers through his thick wavy hair as he sneaked a glance at the direction of his car.

"Well, we're here now, and I really do want to know your story. So why don't you start by telling me why you brought me here? To a cemetery?" I suggested, tucking my hand into the crook of his arm and urged him to lead me into the quiet grounds.

He was quiet for a long time as we strolled slowly through the serene surroundings, a light breeze greeting us while we made our way to the east side of the graveyard. Other than the questionable location, it was an ideal way to spend the day; the trees swaying gently, the sky a perfect cloudless blue, and no one in sight. If I didn't know any better, I would think that it was a heavenly way to have a first date. But it wasn't, of course.

"I lost someone close to me a long time ago," he said suddenly, pulling my thoughts away from my little daydream. "She was the greatest woman I've ever known."

Oh God, no. My heart immediately went out to him about the same time that my fingers tightened on his arm, giving him a comforting squeeze. "I'm sorry, Damon. I-I didn't realize," I whispered with a sinking heart. "Who was she?"

At that point, we had already stopped walking, and there we were, standing about ten feet away from a marbled tombstone with a lone wilted red rose on the grass right in front of it. I watched as a somber Damon walked closer to it and crouched down, tracing his fingers almost lovingly over an engraved name, boldly displayed in block letters.

ROSALYN SALVATORE

May 7, 2003

"Salvatore?" I gasped when the name and date came into view.

He swallowed thickly and then nodded slowly. "My mother was one of the gentlest souls you'd ever meet, and the kindest," he started saying softly, his expression calm. It was as if he was lost in his own world, wrapped up in remembering his past. "She was beautiful, even with some wrinkles that I helped put there when I was younger. Everyone who came to know her, loved her and she was fiercely loyal to the ones she loved, almost to a fault. She was the type of person who knew exactly what to say and when to say things to make the people around her feel better. She was the perfect woman; a loving wife and a doting mother."

He released a heavy sigh and then with pain-filled eyes, he lifted his gaze to mine before he declared, "And it was my fault that she died."

Upon hearing his heartbreaking announcement, I found myself kneeling beside him and taking his face in my hands, my fingers wrapped around his angled jaws as I forced him to keep his eyes on me. "No, Damon, don't say that! I'm sure whatever happened wasn't your fault!"

"You don't know that. You don't know what I did," he said sadly, shaking his head at me.

"Then tell me," I urged. "Let me be the judge."

I sank down onto the ground, sitting with my legs tucked under me and reached up to pull Damon down so that he was leaning sideways on his mother's tombstone, his legs stretched out around me. Taking his hands into mine, I nodded encouragingly for him to begin his tale.

"We were a happy family…once," he recounted, his fingers squeezing mine. "My father was a successful businessman, charming, well-travelled and powerful. He was also an egotistical, selfish, womanizing asshole, and he didn't appreciate my mother for the woman she was. When his business started going downhill, he started taking out his frustrations on me and my brother. It started when I was in the sixth grade and Stefan was only nine at the time. Naturally, I bore the brunt of his beatings, because I was older and also because he had always preferred my brother over me."

Oh. So Stef was actually Stefan, his brother. Thank God!

"It got so bad that I couldn't even sit down for over a week at a time, but I kept it to myself because I didn't want my mother to know. She had no idea that my father was a violent man because he never showed his true colors in front of her. The beatings would mostly take place late at night after my mother had gone to bed, and Stefan would go to bed early, hoping that the monster wouldn't go into his room for his turn. I was at that rebellious stage where I made it easier for him to target me instead of Stef, since I stayed out late on most nights and practically drew a target on my own back. Soon, it became a daily ritual. There wasn't a night that went by that didn't result in me writhing in pain in bed."

My heart broke for the twelve year-old version of him when I heard his story, wondering how a child could go through that kind of traumatic experience with no one to turn to and yet managed to turn out into such a caring and amazing man who was sitting before me. There was no mistaking it; Damon Salvatore is a wonderful selfless man who had probably saved his brother's life, too.

"I think you intentionally rebelled to keep your brother safe from him. You would have rather taken the beatings than to let your brother be bullied, and that makes you a hero," I declared devotedly.

I wasn't at all surprised when he shook his head at my conclusion. "I'm no hero, Elena, far from it. I suffered silently for two years until I couldn't take it anymore and I ran away from home when I was fourteen. I quit school, I floated here and there for a little while until Ric's parents took pity on me and allowed me to stay with them for a couple of years. I started on an alcoholic diet, drinking what's left of my allowance just to forget that the past two years ever happened. It didn't even cross my mind at the time that with me gone, my father would turn his attention to my mother next."

He released a long drawn-out exhale as his head dropped against his mother's name, closing his eyes at the painful memories. "My sweet, innocent mother. She had no warning, no clue as to how her life would change the minute I walked out the door. I broke her heart when I left without saying goodbye, but I didn't want to give her a chance to change my mind. I thought that things would be back to the way it was before if I left, like maybe my father only got mad at me because I was such a disappointment to him. I really thought that my mother and Stef would be fine without me. I didn't realize at the time that I basically signed her death certificate by running away like the coward I was."

By now, my eyes were already swimming with tears, but I knew that the worst part of his story was yet to come. After all, his mother was lying in a grave directly underneath where we sat. "You were fourteen, Damon. You can't blame yourself for wanting a better life for yourself. If you wanted to blame someone, you should blame your father. After all, he was the monster that beat up his own family! Her death had nothing to do with you," I told him.

"No, you don't understand. I haven't told you the rest of the story yet. It had everything to do with me!" Damon announced emphatically. "A few months after I left home - and this was before I stayed with the Saltzmans – Ric came looking for me one night at one of my regular hangout place and told me that my mother was in the hospital. She had suffered from a bad fall apparently, but the moment I saw her at the hospital, I knew that my father had gotten to her. She was black and blue all over, had a concussion and a broken leg. I pleaded for her to leave my father and to take Stefan along with her, but she refused. She told me that we were a family and that we had to stick together, no matter what. She asked me to come home, but how was I supposed to live under the same roof as that man, knowing full well what he was capable of?"

"So I left her…again. In hindsight, I should have called the cops on him, but I was so afraid that it might piss my father off even further so I kept my damn mouth shut. So I kept drinking myself into oblivion, night after night, preferring instead to pass out drunkenly than to face the reality that was my life. Booze and women; that was my life then until my sixteenth birthday when I got a call on my cell from home. I figured that it was my mother calling to wish me Happy Birthday like she did every year, and I was so drunk off my ass with a bunch of my friends that I chose to ignore the call. It was also my choice to ignore the six other calls that were made that night. I chose to look for my happiness at the bottom of a bottle instead of with the two most important people in my life. And, as usual, after drinking half my weight in alcohol, I passed out on someone's couch. When I came to, it was already late morning the next day. I finally called back to the house, and as soon as I heard Stef's voice, I knew that something had gone terribly wrong."

I watched helplessly as two big fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he relived that awful memory of losing his mother. I wanted to break down and cry with him, but I had to remain strong for him so that he could continue with his story. I knew that it was probably one of the most difficult things he ever had to do, to share something so private and painful with someone else. But for some reason, he chose to tell it to me, and I didn't think that it was something that he would willingly share with just anyone. He had to get it off his chest somehow, and I was more than willing to be the one to listen to him spilling all his pent-up heartache and self-blame.

I reached up with one finger to gently wipe the wetness off his face before cupping his cheek, and instantly, he leaned his face into my palm, seeking comfort from the warmth there. It was just such an unguarded and tender moment, one that I felt disheartened to break, but I had to keep him talking. It was therapy for his soul.

"Go on," I reminded encouragingly.

"I would never forget the scene that greeted me as soon as I walked in the front door, my first time in two years. My little brother was kneeling on the floor beside her body, holding her hand as she laid there broken, her head at an angle where she landed after my father had angrily pushed her off the stairs," he recalled with a shaky breath. "Stefan had been sitting next to her the entire night, refusing to leave her side. He was waiting, just waiting, for me to call back or for her to wake up, but neither of us did. Until I walked in and he just had this look on his face and he said to me 'She's not waking up, Damon. Why isn't she waking up?' but I had no answer for him."

I was literally bawling my eyes out, my shoulders shaking so hard from my sobs that I had no choice but to bury my face into his shirt as I wrapped my arms around his chest into a hug, welcomed or otherwise. I felt him stiffen slightly when he felt me clinging onto him as if he was my lifeline, and then his body relaxed into my embrace as his arms wrapped themselves around me too.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I kept whispering over and over again, not knowing what else to say to the man in my arms.

"He was so scared. Turned out that my mother was still alive when my brother called me, and if only I had not been so self-absorbed in my own pain, I could have rushed home and got her some medical help in time. She didn't have to die, Elena," he went on as if he didn't hear my broken whispers. "It's the choices we make that define who we are, you know? If I had made the right choice at the time, I wouldn't have deprived my thirteen-year old brother of his mother. I failed him, and I failed my mother. I might as well have pushed her off the stairs myself."

His pain became mine at that moment; I wanted him to have everything he deserved to have after such a horrible past. I wanted him to be happy, to be rid of this burden he had chosen to carry himself, all because he had a monster for a father. "What about your father? Did you see him again?"

I felt his head shaking as it rubbed back and forth against the top of my head, and then his booming voice that sounded as if it was wrenched out from deep inside his chest with my ear pressed against it. "That bastard ran out as soon as he saw my mother's broken body, but I called the cops on his ass and he was caught within a couple of days. I had to bring Stefan down to the station and got him to give his testimony of what happened at the house that night. It wasn't something I ever expected a young boy who was barely in his teens to do. One morning, we were burying our mother and the next, we were sending our own father to prison," he said in a bitter tone.

I could tell that he still had a lot of residual anger for his father and maybe some of that anger was also aimed at himself for abandoning them. Now I understood why he could never just give up on me, preferring to hover like some kind of guardian angel ready to swoop in to rescue me if I ever needed him to.

"So did you move back home to take care of Stefan after that?" I asked, assuming that the brothers stayed together since then.

"Not exactly," Damon answered, his hands now lightly stroking my back, sending chills down my spine. "I was underage, so Child Protective Services wanted to split us up and place us on foster care, but Ric managed to convince his parents to be our legal guardian. It wasn't hard to convince my old man because he was faced with the possibility of a life sentence if he got charged with manslaughter, which he did in the end.

"As soon as I turned eighteen, I became Stefan's legal guardian and I made sure that I was there for him every single day after our mother's death. But I don't think that he ever really forgave me for walking out on him and for not saving her when I had the chance. Our brotherly bond had fractured into pieces and there was nothing I could ever do to make it up to him again. We don't even know how to talk anymore whenever we see each other in the mornings."

Hearing his heavy sigh, I pulled my head back to look up at his haunted expression, guilt and shame crossing his features. "Damon, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself, you know? You did what you thought was right at the time. You were only a child yourself, and it was your father's job to protect his children, not abuse them every night because of his own failures. You had no choice, okay? You had to leave, not knowing what would happen even if you told your mother about him. She decided to stay on even after she was admitted into the hospital. That was her choice, Damon," I told him as I stroked his cheeks.

"Like it was yours?" he asked, his penetrating gaze searching mine with a frown on his forehead. "See, I never understood why my mother didn't want to leave my father. I mean, sure, they were married and all that, and I could argue that I had no choice but to take his abuse for two years because I was born into that family. But what about you? You have no ties to Lockwood, and you don't owe him anything, so why didn't you run the first time it happened? What made you stay on even after everything he has done to you?"

Those were the same questions that I asked myself everyday ever since I ran away from Mason's home. I was certain that I had valid reasons for wanting to work things out with my boyfriend all those times, but now, after some time apart and being this close with Damon today, I couldn't think of any reason that would satisfy him. For the first time, I had no excuse.

"Well, I'm not with him now, am I?" I replied instead, unable to come up with anything else. "Maybe I didn't have a reason not to be with him then, but I do now. Maybe I just realized that I could have a different life with someone else instead." My whispered statement took me by surprise as much as it did him. I watched as his eyes widened with disbelief, and perhaps even a tiny ray of hope as they tried to scrutinize the meaning behind my words.

A peaceful calm surrounded us at that moment, only sporadically interrupted by the sound of birds chirping in the distance, and the leaves rustling in the wind. It was quiet, except for the thundering sound of my heart beating against his chest, echoed by his own. My gaze kept lowering to his lips completely against my will and I swallowed nervously when I saw his tongue snaking out to wet them as if he was nervous too. Our heads were pulled closer and closer together as if by some magnet and soon we were only inches apart. It would have been so easy to simply tilt my head and close the distance, but at that precise moment, a small pebble landed right next to my hip, making me jump out of my skin. And just like that, the moment was over.

"Holy shit!" I cursed loudly, scrambling backwards and looking up to see where the little stone came from, but there were no trees directly above us. There was nothing around us that might explain where the stone came from, but I took it as a sign. Clearly, Damon's mother didn't want me to be kissing her son, or it was nature's way of protesting against the fact that I was about to cross a line with someone who could very well be seeing my best friend.

Okay, fine, Mother Nature, or Mother of Damon. I read you loud and clear!

I jumped up to my feet awkwardly and I could see that a confused look came across Damon's face as he released my hand from his grip, still on the ground. "Come on, Damon. I want you to meet my parents. Upsy daisy," I said with mock enthusiasm, plastering a wide smile on my face as I reached out a hand to pull him up, much like what he did back at his mansion earlier. Without a word, he reached up with one hand to grab onto my outstretched arm and got to his feet, brushing the seat of his pants from grass stains as I led him to my parents' grave.

It didn't take long to locate them; they were on the edge of the north side of the cemetery, next to a tall shady tree that resembled a person. I loved that tree; it reminded me of a watchful angel that was looking after my parents' resting ground, protecting it from harm. I used to come here and lean my back against that tree trunk, pouring all my grief into my journal that I carried around with me. It was sad that I gave that up barely a month after their deaths, choosing instead to not think about the tragedy of losing both people who were my entire world. Instead, I chose to cling to Mason and made him my whole world. Maybe that was my problem, using Mason as a substitute for the family that had been torn away from me.

Maybe.

"Mommy? Dad?" I greeted the plain grey tombstone with my parents' name engraved on it. "This is my friend, Damon. He brought me here to 'meet' his mother, who's alone on the other side of the grounds," I said, gesturing a hand at the general direction of where we came from, noticing that the raven-haired man beside me had awkwardly waved at the tombstone with a reserved smile, one that is usually meant to make a good first impression on someone's parents.

"Err, hi Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert," he called out, looking uncomfortable to be talking to an inanimate object. I had to stifle an urge to giggle at his expression, so I opted to pull him down to take a seat next to me again.

"Oh, so we're sitting again? Okay," he muttered, adjusting himself so that he was seated upright and about a foot away from me. He appeared as if he was trying to be on his best behavior, no body contact, maintaining a respectful distance between us, which was kind of weird since we just spent the better part of the last hour crying in each other's arms. "Not sure how many creepy crawlies we've squished today with our 'juicy doubles'," he commented, straight-faced.

"Aaahhh!" I screamed, jumping up to my feet hastily for the second time today and then running around in circles as I tried to peer at the back of my pants to see if there were any casualties of the worm-kind. Then I heard Damon's loud chuckle behind me, freezing me in mid-twirl as I frowned down at his wide grin.

"Oh my God, you looked like Pig trying to chase her own tail, haha," he laughed at my expense, now looking like his normal jovial self. Suddenly, I felt like making an ass out of myself all over again, just to see him cheerful again. A sad Damon was a heartbreaking Damon, and I didn't ever want to see that version of him anymore for as long as I live.

Deliberately, I stood with my back facing him and stuck my bottom out in front of his face, since he was still in his seated position. "Quit laughing and see if there are any flattened worms on my ass, Chuckles!"

Immediately, his face reddened when his eyes involuntarily slid down to my jean-clad behind, his adam's apple bobbing up and down, swallowing nervously. He almost seemed enraptured with it.

"Th-there's nothing there," he stammered, dragging his eyes away from the curved view. Well, that was a little insulting! Nothing there? I happen to have a nice curvy behind, thank you very much! "Besides, we'd hear little screams if you had killed any. Maybe they're still sleeping and buried deep in their worm beds."

"They don't really scream, do they?" I asked him doubtfully, worried now as I straightened back up, turning my concerned gaze on unsuspecting invertebrate animals found on the ground.

With a teasing smile, Damon shook his head and mouthed the word "No" before patting the area of flattened grass I had just sprung out of, indicating that I should return to my previous position there. I glared at him as if he was insane, and then with a sigh, he got to his feet and went searching for a bigger piece of rock for me to sit on. Finding one at the base of my favorite tree, he dropped the heavy piece at my feet and we sank back down onto the ground, now with me perched higher because of my elevated position.

"So, scaredy cat, tell me about your parents. What do you miss most about them?" he asked, looking amused when I kept looking around our vicinity for signs of the creepy crawlies he mentioned earlier.

I took some time to consider his question, thinking back to my childhood days when I looked forward to spending the holiday seasons with them. "I think I miss the holidays the most, like Halloween and Christmas. Those were the best days, you know? We'd decorate the house and put on our costumes on Halloween, and my mom would create this awesome scary- looking food that would look more gross than delicious but we'd have fun daring each other to eat it anyway. We would come up with different themes every year and my parents and I would dress according to those themes. It was a lot of fun," I smiled fondly as I reminisced.

"What about Christmas?"

"Oh, Christmas was a whole shindig in our house! We would put up our tree like right after Halloween, and we three would each have our own section to decorate however we deemed fit. Then on Christmas Eve, whoever's section that was voted as the most festive would win the Christmas tree trophy. I've held onto that trophy for nine years in a row," I exclaimed proudly and then admitted softly, "But I think that the voting system was rigged anyway because I thought that my mom's section was the prettiest."

"I think your parents would beg to differ," Damon commented with a soft smile. "They sound like wonderful people, by the way."

I turned to the headstone dreamily, my eyes blurry with unshed tears at the memory of them, always happy, always smiling, never an unkind word uttered from their lips. "They were the best, and I miss them dearly," I said in a low voice, my throat tightening with emotions. "I miss the atmosphere at home when they invited everyone they knew to our house for a Christmas party, and we'd all gather around the fireplace, singing Christmas carols at the top of our lungs. We'd have Secret Santa so that everybody had to bring a gift with them and then we'd dance, with strangers, with each other, even with the black Santa, who was actually Uncle Maurice, the homeless guy who hangs out at the mall. The holidays were the best time of the year but now I can't ever have that again."

This time, it was Damon who closed the distance between us, ignoring his earlier gentlemanly behavior in front of my parents, his hand covering over mine as he dragged my head to face him with the other. "You will have that again, Elena. I promise you, even if I have to drag Uncle Maurice out of retirement. Let's hope he still has that Santa suit and that it can still fit him."

And just like that, I believed him.

Damon's POV

It was a heavily emotional day, a light-hearted day, and also a day of exposing all our vulnerabilities out in the open.

In summary, it was a perfect day.

I wouldn't have changed even a single detail about today….well, maybe except for the unfortunate rapping incident in my car. Or maybe not even that! It got Elena into a good mood, and to see that smile on her face; priceless.

After our excursion to the cemetery, I took her to lunch where we continued to share our fond memories of our time with each of our families and I felt like we had connected on an even deeper level with one another. Our friendship was stronger than ever and our mutual attraction….off the charts!

I found myself in a silly mood ever since the incident at the cemetery, my mind constantly returning to that scene where something magical almost happened had it not been for that ill-timed pebble! As dazed and confused as I was at the thought that I almost had Elena's lips on mine, I had a sudden clarity of what I wanted to do to that stupid cock-blocking rock! As disappointed as I was at the time, my mind couldn't help doing mental cartwheels, knowing that we were now headed a step towards the right direction.

Elena trusted me, she was letting go of Jerkwood, and she had cried for me when I told her about my whole sad and sordid past. She even believed me when I teased her about the worms-thing. Granted, she may simply be a really gullible person, but I wasn't one to nitpick. The point was that she trusted me. And she introduced me to her parents! That was huge.

I also felt really comfortable telling her about my mother and what happened all those years ago. It felt like I was talking to a soulmate, someone who knew exactly what I was going through at the time, and opening up to her felt therapeutic. It felt right.

Reluctantly, I dropped Elena off at Blondie's house after a long drawn out lunch. After walking her to the door, I just went back to my car and sat there, grinning like an idiot. I was just darn happy, and I wasn't afraid to let anyone know it. And when I'm happy, I just want everyone around me to be as happy, too, which brought me to my next agenda on the list. I pulled out my phone and dialed the blonde troublemaker's number.

"Damon, I already told you! I can't join you guys because I'm-I'm-I'm….what was I doing again? Oh, I'm watching my friend's pet…iguana," Care said as a greeting. I almost rolled my eyes at that but then I caught myself in time when I realized that she couldn't see me.

"Really? I thought you said that you had to do an extremely important task like washing your hair," I teased, not really angry because I just had the most perfect date with Elena, all because my new girl best friend made the right call in making herself scarce for the day. I've had this idea brewing at the back of my mind all this time for Caroline, and I was going to see it through, but I had to enlist her help first.

After a brief pause on her end, Care volleyed right back after I called her bluff. "Did I say my hair? I meant the iguana's hair….oh forget it! What do you want?" she asked rudely after she realized her own mistake.

"I just dropped Elena off at your house, so you should get home soon. Now, the reason I called you is to find out if you can help me to organize something for Elena, like a party."

A gasp, and then a high-pitched squeal, resulting in me having to remove my phone away from my ears to hold it two feet away, and yet I could still hear Blondie's excitement over the idea. "Oh my gosh, how did you know that I'm thinking of changing my major to events management? Oh my gosh, are you serious? You really want me to plan a party for Elena? Where? When? What's the theme? Oh, is there a dress code? Wait, who's going to pay for it? What about food? Do we cater or cook?"

Chew my ear off, why don't you?

"Care! Care! Chill the hell out, okay? To answer all your questions, I didn't know you were considering a career in events management, but now I do. And yes, I am serious. As for the where, we could do it at either your place or mine, but I'd prefer yours since Elena's more comfortable there. When? I'm thinking Christmas eve because that's her favorite holiday, along with Halloween. I'll let you figure out the dress code, food and everything else. I will, of course, foot the bill. My only requirement is that we have a Christmas tree and we get Elena and the Fab Five – that's us, by the way – to decorate it together, deal? And invite some of your college friends for the party too, if you'd like, and Liz," I instructed, pleased with the plan that was taking shape.

"Deal! Ohmigosh I'm so excited! I'll get right on it, and I'll update you soon. Laters!" And with that upbeat farewell, Blondie hung up the phone.

Now that everything was in motion, all I had to do was to talk to my brother and convince him to spend Christmas with me and my friends. After all, how else was I supposed to match-make him and my new girl best friend if they didn't get a chance to meet?

Elena's POV

It was an absolutely perfect day to spend alone with Damon. Well, with him and Pig. That dog stole my heart the moment she tore into the living room as fast as her short legs could carry her and launched herself onto me. She was adorable, as was her owner.

Today had been fun, surprisingly. Okay, maybe fun was not the right word to describe what transpired between Damon and me at the cemetery, with me melting into a sobbing mess in his arms at his mother's grave, and what almost happened after.

No, I couldn't allow myself to think about that. No way. No sirree bob!

A mental image of Damon sliding his lips onto mine appeared unbidden in my mind and I quickly shook my head to get rid of it. No, I couldn't think of him that way, not now. Not ever. Then I groaned and buried my head into my hands as the image appeared again, only this time, I was returning his kiss.

I walked over to my room's closet and stood just inches from the timber frame. Then, I lowered my forehead onto the surface, knocking my head repeatedly as I chanted, "Don't be stupid! Don't be stupid! Don't be stupid!"

When I raised my head from the frame, all I could feel was a dull throbbing at the front of my forehead and I quickly decided that it was a great time to take a long shower. A cold one. So I grabbed a change of clothing and just as I was about to enter the ensuite bathroom, I happened to look out the window, and my heart began to thud violently in my chest. It was Damon's car! He was still there, exactly where he parked when he dropped me off. Why hadn't he left yet? It must have been a good ten minutes since he walked me to the front door like a gentleman would on a first date. But it wasn't a first date, I reminded myself.

Well, if Damon wanted to stay parked at Care's front porch until the cows came home, then it was his prerogative. As for me, my ice cold shower was long overdue.

Fifteen minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom, freshly washed, scrubbed, and moisturized. I was about to sneak a peek out the window to see if the Camaro was still there when I was halted by the sound of the doorbell.

Damon!

I practically ran downstairs and had the door flung open before I even thought to check the peephole. I had the widest smile on my face as I raised my eyes to the figure at the door, but it was the last person I ever expected to see at that moment.

"Mason," I breathed out incredulously.

Yes, Mason was the pebble-thrower at the cemetery. Why? Because he was spying on Elena. Why? Because he's a sore loser and he wants her back as his punching bag. Why? Should I just tell you the freaking ending right now?!

So, next chapter, we'll see what Jerkwood wants with Elena, and we'll also see some interaction between Damon and Stefan.

Remember when I said that this story would have only ten chapters? Let's all throw our heads back and roar with laughter because that's NOT happening. Ready? One, two, three….. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Stop. Breathe. And again…

Oh, on a more somber note, I wrote the date of Rosalyn Salvatore's death as May 7th 2003 because that's the exact date that my mother passed away after a vehicular accident during a holiday trip to Ashburton, New Zealand with my dad and another couple. The article of the accident appeared on The New Zealand Herald on May 9th 2003. My sis and I flew to NZ to attend her funeral. After that, we decided to migrate to New Zealand one day because we just fell in love with the place! Go figure. RIP, Mummy Dearest!

My twitter: cgsa_cher

Everybody, you should all read Kristi's (tukct81) new story Great Expectations, a canon DE fic that has a new spin on the sire bond thingy, starting from episode 4x07. It's great! Plus, it's her first smut, so go check it out and blush! Or better yet, read and review her story and make HER blush! Thanks for being my awesome beta, Kristi!

Thank you to Carol, too for her input and for reasons I can't disclose yet in this chapter! Love ya!