AN: Short note: I'm going to be posting these last chapters in spurts. I don't want to leave you guys hanging, but I also don't want to post them all at one time. It doesn't feel right either way, but I like how these work. Enjoy! 3

The whole plane ride home, Damon had been pinching himself. Not literally, of course, but he was still in disbelief that in the past 72 hours, his one wish had come true. As stupid as that sounded, he prayed like hell to whoever was listening to send him home. He was insane, he had decided. He'd seen more bloodshed and heard more taps than he'd ever wished. He thought the Carol thing was horrible, but it was easily just the tip of the iceberg. At least she hadn't suffered.

Now, he stood at the edge of the Bonnie's yard, luggage hidden against the house. He was supposed to wait for Stefan, but he didn't have the patience. He was ready to be back home. See his friends, his family. /Stay./ It was overdue. He'd decided. So instead, he'd gotten a cab from the airport.

People went in and out, but they were just a little too far for him to tell who they were besides busy. What the hell were they doing? He crept around the backside of the house, finding Bonnie just as occupied as the rest. She was toting a basket loaded with flowers and he watched as she set them in the center of the table and accompanied them with a pair of white candles. She was dressed, from the curls in her jet-black hair to the fancy burgundy dress she was wearing. She bustled about the patio, and in the short time he watched her, she had transformed the back porch from that normal hang-out place into something out of a magazine. The whole time, she was so invested and distracted by her work, she didn't notice him standing so close, waiting on a chance he could sneak past her into the house. After a few long minutes, she emptied her basket and stood back to admire her work. She moved a chair, mumbled something, then went inside, closing the door behind her. He sprinted the best he could to the patio, slipping past the rearranged furniture and then inside. But Damon paused as he saw the bouquet on the table. The soft white petals looked almost like wads of paper on a stem. Those flowers—those were the same flowers Elena had shown him just a few days before. Peonies…wasn't that what she called them? /Was this a wedding?/ No, not /a/ wedding. /The/ wedding. Damon stood a little taller and chuckled to himself, that much more anxious to see Elena. She never failed to surprise him. But now it was his turn for once.

He could hear the chattering of Caroline and Sheila in the dining room, the metallic clatter of silverware as they set the table, and just as Caroline turned he shot out of her line of sight, too- enough so that she paused in the middle of her jabber to look. He quickly found the room that was Elena's second home and let himself in, shutting the door as quietly as possible behind him. It was semi-dark in the bedroom as the sung began to set. An array of mascara, eyeshadows, and lipsticks were strewn over the old dresser's surface on the opposite side of the room. A pair of shoes sat neatly in front of the closed closet, and what he assumed to be her dress hung from the wall trim ledge, covered in a black bag. In front of it, she sat in the center of the bed, legs folded beneath her, and fussed with her hair. He heard her mutter as she pinched a lock of hair into a steaming roller with a pin, then lovingly nursed the pad of a burnt finger as she let it fall against her head. He grinned, watching her silently.

"Oh, thank God you're here, Bon," she sighed, bumping the rack of rollers a little towards him. "Could you do the back? My hair's just /too/ long to reach." She held up metal clips as she let the long brown locks fall gracefully down her bare back. Licking his lips, he walked lightly across the carpet, taking the pins from her and wordlessly sliding the hot rollers into his reach.

"I'm so ready for this, Bon." Her voice radiated excitement. She began to rub what he knew was her growing belly as he carefully started wrapping her hair onto another roller. Fuck. Was he even doing this right? He longed to see it, that bump they made together, but despite how much he wanted to talk, he kept himself quiet. "Ten years ago, I never would have thought I would be here. Pregnant, again. Marrying the best man I've ever met who is /coincidentally/ Damon Salvatore." She paused, and he swore he could hear the gears turning in her mind. He wished she would go on, say more. But she suddenly laughed instead, and he heard her sniff. "What am I doing? I should be saving this for my vows."

"That's okay. I won't mind hearing it again." He clipped the last silky lock as her body went rigid and she turned, seeing him there. Brown eyes grew with excitement and she got to her knees, flinging her arms around him. He enveloped her in a hug, breathing in her scent. The feel of her skin on his was like a long lusted-after drag on a cigarette. She smelt of her everyday perfume, mixed with the stiff odor of the spray that held her hair in place. It was amazing to actually see her outside of a computer screen. It was like a different world. And to think he'd never have to leave again—it was the most glorifying thing he'd ever thought.

"You're home! Oh my gosh—you weren't supposed to be here for another two hours!" Elena was already crying, now he just made it worse.

"They let me out early. Good behavior," Damon quipped as he planted a long-awaited kiss to two painted lips, really not caring if he messed up all that makeup she had probably spent an hour putting on. She laughed, that musical, melodic sound that made his heart skip a beat each time he heard it. But there was something else he was longing to see, too. He backed away, blue eyes skipping down her covered figure to rest on her abdomen. It was cloaked in an old button up of his, so big it was hard to see it on her. Elena smiled, smoothing the fabric across herself to how him the bump that was their child. Nonexistent when he left, her belly now bulged in a beautiful way, one he remembered too fondly from what seemed like a lifetime ago. She was bigger compared to last time, he thought, gently lying a hand just below hers.
"Girl or boy?" It was all he knew to say at the moment.

"I don't know. You weren't here, so I didn't go," she whispered, observing the wonder that was dancing in his eyes. She laid a hand atop his, gently squeezing it. She loved that look. "But now we can go." Damon's lips began to stretch into a smile again. Was now a bad time to? "I'm so glad you're home—really home."

"I know, babe," the man that would soon be her husband whispered back, kissing her cheek. "So am I."

"But," she cut in, "You need to go so I can get ready and we can get married." She began to push him away, pointing to the clock. "If you're ready in an hour, we'll do it." It was her turn to smile widely, excitedly. "Deal?" He chuckled. This was why he loved her.

"Deal, angel. An hour and you're a Salvatore. And hot damn, we're gaining a good one." And he shut the door behind him, instantly migrating to the other end of the house. He found the spare bedroom and busted in, Stefan and Jeremy just tying shoes and ties.

"What the hell?" Stefan jumped, totally untying his black dress shoe at the sight of his brother.

"Surprise!"

"No joke," Jeremy laughed. "We were supposed to come get you—" he paused to look at his watch. "Now, actually."

"Eh," Damon shrugged. "Saved you the gas. You're welcome."

"You better be damn glad I didn't drive all the way to the airport to get your ass," grinned Stefan as he rose. "Welcome home, brother!" He gathered up Damon in a tight hug, his silent way of showing how glad he was to see him in once piece.

"So. Have I been assigned a monkey suit or what? The other says if I'm ready in an hour, we can get this show on the road!" Damon rubbed his hands together, eyeing the bag that sat on the end of the bed. He pulled the tab and opened the zip, revealing his tux.

"I'm /finally/ gonna marry Elena Gilbert."