Are you ready for the longest update so far? (I think its the longest?)

Thank you SO much for your reviews last chapter. I love you all! I know you're eager for Damon to find out about Molly and I promise, it's coming soon. Not this update, but soon - swear! And then, the real story will begin! I'm Dying for y'all to read it, just so I can read your reactions and thoughts. Any who...

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Vampire Diaries.

"There you are," Elena said, finding Stefan up to his elbows in grease in the middle of Salvatore Racing's Sprint Cup shop. "We have a meeting scheduled to start 20 minutes ago." Stefan let out a curse word as he reached for a grease rag in a futile attempt to clean up.

"I lost track of time messing with this thing," he admitted, gesturing at the car. "I'm sorry. Do you have time now? I'll go clean up and meet you in your office." Elena surveyed the scene, taking in a number of parts to the Cup car his team would run in Daytona scattered around Stefan.

"How about we multitask?" she proposed. "You keep working while we talk. I only need 10 minutes."

"You sure?" Stefan asked, already picking up a wrench to go back to work. "I can take a break."

"But, can you?" Elena countered, her eyebrow raised. Stefan gave her a guilty grin.

"Daytona is three weeks away. I need every spare minute I can get to get this team ready if we're going to contend for a championship this year."

"I figured as much," Elena replied. She leaned against the body of the car as Stefan worked. "It looks like Jeff is in a good position to make the Chase this year."

"He'll make the Chase," Stefan said with confidence. "Winning the Chase is going to go down to the very last lap at Homestead with this new format." Elena nodded in agreement.

"Martin should make the Chase as well."

"He should," Stefan agreed. He glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was around. "And then there's Damon…"

"What do you think his chances are?" Elena asked, knowing Stefan would give it to her straight. He blew out a breath.

"It all depends on where Damon's head is," he said. "If he's got his head in the game and has his priorities straight, I think he could squeak out the win he needs to get there. I don't think he'll still be standing at the end of it. I don't think he expects to be. But, if he doesn't get his act together, he won't be in the final sixteen. Not this season."

"I guess we will just have to wait and see," Elena mused.

"Pretty much all you can do with Damon," Stefan said. "I recommend keeping your expectations low. It's a lot easier in the long run." Elena gave Stefan a look, taken back by his uncharacteristic display of animosity, and decided to change the subject.

"So, this prototype of yours…" she started.

"What about it?"

"What are you willing to tell the press?" she asked. "Half of my inbox is inquiries about this mythical engine."

"What do they want to know?" Stefan replied.

"Anything you will tell them. What sort of data did you get at Daytona? When are you planning to run it in a race? What sort of horsepower are we talking about? Does it shoot of rainbows and glitter every time you pass a car?" Stefan scoffed.

"No rainbows and glitter," he said. "And I'm not willing to tell them a whole lot. I want to keep my data under wraps for now. It's too preliminary to start shouting about it. How about I write up a statement tonight and send it to you?"

"Is it going to say something besides 'no comment?'" Elena asked. "Because they aren't going to like that. They are like rabid dogs, trying to find out more about that thing and what it could mean to the future of NASCAR."

"I'll do my best," Stefan promised. Elena opened her mouth to reply, but was startled by the sound of a wrench clattering to the ground. She looked around for the source of it, her eyes falling on a closed garage bay near the end of the row. She had noticed the bay before, wondered why its rolling door was shut up tight while all the other doors were open, even on the other two empty bays.

"Why is that bay shut up?" she asked Stefan, tilting her head towards it. Stefan glanced over his shoulder at the garage bay, then resumed his work.

"Do you remember that old shell of a Camaro Damon bought about five years back?" Elena nodded.

"It was literally a shell," she recalled. "Nothing more than heap of metal and Damon's big dreams of restoring it back to its former glory, bit by bit."

"It sat under a tarp in Dad's barn until a couple months ago. Once Damon was able to get around by himself after his accident, he started tinkering with it again. He hauled it over here about a month ago. He's been spending increasing amounts of time holed up in there, working on it. It's actually kind of starting to resemble a car from what little I've seen of it."

"That explains why UPS drops off packages of car parts for him every other day," she mused, glancing towards the bay once more. Now that she knew Damon was in there, she could hear the faint hum of his music and the occasional clink of metal against metal.

"It's either car parts or blackmail," Stefan stated. Elena studied Stefan for a moment as he worked.

"The two of you really don't get along, do you?" Stefan shook his head.

"Every once in a while, we manage to act cordial to one another. Those times are far and few between. It's easiest to just keep my distance."

"You used to be best friends," Elena reminded him.

"That was a long time ago," Stefan said with a shake of his head. "I love Damon because he's my big brother. But honestly, I don't like him very much." Elena sighed, but didn't say anything further on the subject. She didn't know what to say.

"I need to get back to my office," she said. "I've got a call with Martin's sponsor in a few minutes. Get me that statement tonight?"

"As soon as I've had my dinner," Stefan confirmed. Elena grinned.

"Caroline is trying a new recipe tonight," she warned him. "You might want to sneak a few fast food tacos before you go home, unless you like lentils substituted for beef."

"Tacos it is," Stefan said with a grin to match Elena's, both well aware of Caroline's lack of ability in the kitchen. He looked at Elena for a moment. "God, it's good to have you back."

She couldn't help herself.

Ever since Stefan told her Damon was working on his Camaro the day before, the closed garage door was like a siren, calling her to investigate. Tired of answering emails and being on phone calls with demanding sponsors, she slipped away from her desk for an afternoon cup of coffee. Instead of heading back to her office with her now full travel mug, however, she found herself walking across the shop floor, headed straight for the closed off bay. The shop itself was largely empty, most of the crew members either in team meetings or gone home for the day after an early morning start. She hesitated before pulling open the side door to let herself in.

The Camaro was nothing more than a primed out shell, just as it had been when Damon bought it. The hood was propped open with a metal rod. Parts and components to make it run were scattered about the workspace. A half assembled engine hung from chains extending from the ceiling. Damon himself sat on an overturned milk crate, a sight that made the corner of Elena's lips twitch upward in recollection of days gone by. He was concentrating on piecing together a part of the engine. Rock music pumped out of a battery-operated stereo perched on a toolbox, disguising her footsteps as she approached.

"The rumors are true," she stated. Damon jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Jesus, Elena," he breathed out. "Way to sneak up on a guy."

"You couldn't hear a bomb go off over AC/DC," she replied. She stood by the font of the car, her arms crossed over her chest. She didn't quite know how to act around Damon when there wasn't something work-related in front of them to act as a buffer. Damon picked up on her unease.

"It's my thinking music," he said. He stood, crossed the bay, and turned the radio to a low hum. "What rumors are you referring to? I've been on my best behavior lately." At least, he had kept his last drunken outing a few nights earlier out of the papers and, more importantly, away from his father's ears and, by extension, Elena's.

"I was referring to the rumor that you're actually working on this thing," she said. She reached out and placed her hand on the front fender to emphasis her point. Damon shrugged.

"No sense in letting it rust out any more than it already has," he said. He sat back down on the milk crate, picked up his wrench, and resumed his work. "Anything I can help you with?" It was Elena's turn to shrug.

"I needed a break," she told him. "I got coffee and somehow ended up down here instead of in my office where I should be, checking things off my to-do list."

"Your choices for a distraction must be limited if you found yourself here," he replied.

"Like I said, I had to see this Camaro for myself."

Damon glanced at Elena as he continued to work. He almost wished she was one of those women morning shows made over, one that used motherhood as an excuse to let herself go. Instead of ratty yoga pants and oversized sweatshirts, she wore a pair of dark wash jeans that fit her just right, a pair of brown riding boots, and a deep purple shirt. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in soft ways, and she had just enough makeup on to enhance her features. She was beautiful.

"Not much to see," he said. "Just a bunch of parts and a rusted out shell."

"Looks like it's coming along well enough," Elena replied. She peered through the driver's side window which was missing glass. "You should get some seats for this thing. Maybe a steering wheel, too."

"Thinking about putting in seatbelts as well," Damon agreed. "If I get crazy." Elena smiled at his wit.

"What color are you going to paint it?" she asked. She leaned against the car once more. The uneasiness was gone, she realized. This, sitting around a garage and chatting about nothing, was familiar. She could do this with Damon, despite their past.

"Blue," Damon answered. "The color you see just before the sun starts to set. It's darker than daytime, but lighter than the night sky. It'll be a while, though. A paint job will be the final touch."

"Well, paint job or not, it looks good," Elena said. Damon looked at her for a moment before letting out a snort as he attempted to keep himself from outright laughing. Elena smiled, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks.

"Shut up," she mumbled, making him chuckle. As knowledgeable as she was about racing in general, she knew very little about cars and what went into making them work. Her lack of understanding them had been one of his favorite things to tease her about when they were dating.

"Where's Molly?" he asked casually.

"She's with your mom, actually," Elena admitted. "She picked her up from school and they're going to hang out until I leave here in an hour or so."

"My parents seem rather fond of her," Damon mentioned. Elena raised an eyebrow, not sure if he was implying something. "Makes sense, I guess. They clearly stayed in contact with you over the years."

"They do adore Molly," Elena said, picking her words carefully. Again, she considered telling Damon the truth, right then and there. Again though, she opted not to. It didn't feel right. And, she was able to admit to herself, she was afraid to tell him. She was living in a house of cards and she was terrified of what would happen when it inevitably fell. Damon finished tightening a bolt and studied his next move, weighing his options. Finally, he looked at Elena.

"How are those super top secret shop skills of yours these days?" he asked. Elena faltered a moment before she grinned brightly.

"There's a phrase I haven't heard in a while," she said. "I haven't used my super top secret shop skills in a while, but I think I've still got it." Damon chuckled, stood, and walked to the work bench that ran along the wall behind him. He picked up a flashlight and held it out to Elena as he returned to his seat on the overturned milk crate.

"Let's see if you do," he said. Elena beamed at him as she took the flashlight and moved to stand beside him. He had to make himself look away if he had any chance of remaining professional. Still, as she moved closer, he could smell the lavender and vanilla scent of her lotion. It was familiar and, oddly, comforting. "Shine that light right into that crevice," he instructed, using a screwdriver to show Elena where he wanted her to direct her beam. "I need to tighten several screws and I can't see what I'm doing." With a click, the space Damon pointed to lit up. Elena grinned.

"Still got it," she declared, making Damon chuckle again. He went to work, eyes zeroed in on the small screws.

"So," he started, "What have you been up to over the last few years?" Elena shifted her weight from one foot from the other, but the stream of light remained steady. She was about to use a standard answer of "not much," but stopped herself. She had lied to Damon enough.

"Well, I moved to San Bernardino, went to work for the Marcos," she started. "And, of course, I had a baby. So that was sort of a big deal."

"Sounds like you've been busy," Damon mused. "New state, new job, new baby…"

"It's been a whirlwind," Elena agreed. Damon finished one screw and moved on to the next.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I figured you would be married by now," he said. "At least in a serious relationship." Elena shifted her weight again.

"Having a kid doesn't give me a lot of time for dating," she told him honestly. "And a toddler doesn't exactly make you a desirable bachelorette." It was the truth. Molly was her priority, which meant dating wasn't something she had a lot of time for. She hadn't been a hermit, had dated here and there, including one semi-serious relationship about a year ago. But, ultimately, she had to put Molly first.

"Oh, come on," Damon said, shrugging a shoulder as he worked. "Molly is a cute kid. You could be using her to pick up men." A shiver ran through Elena as a vision of Damon, Molly in his arms, chatting up a tall, leggy blonde as she fawned over Molly, popped into her head. She quickly shoved it down.

"She's not a puppy," Elena told him instead, hoping he remembered that sometime down the road, should he ultimately decide to be a part of Molly's life. "She's a living, breathing, disturbingly intelligent almost three year old human being." Damon chuckled.

"She is smart, isn't she?" he asked. His curiosity about Molly was as strong as ever. There was something about her that he felt like he was missing. Or, he reasoned, it was just that she was a part of Elena he didn't know.

"Very," Elena confirmed. "She's almost too smart. She got in trouble at school last week for trying to tell the teacher what she was doing wrong." Damon laughed in earnest, his hands steady as he worked, just as Elena's beam of light never wavered.

"Like mother, like daughter," he teased. He tightened the last screw. "I need to do the other side," he told her, standing and moving the milk crate to the other side of the engine. Without waiting for instruction, Elena moved too, positioning her beam of light so it shined into the new crevice. Damon resumed his work.

"What about you?" she asked. "What have you been up to over the last few years?" She knew a lot about Damon's life over the last three years and a half years, thanks to Googling his name and what she heard from his family. She was interested, however, in what he would tell her. He cleared his throat as though buying time.

"Racing," he said. "That's pretty much it." Elena bit the inside of her mouth to keep herself from making a sarcastic comment about everything else Damon had been up to.

"Racing is all you ever wanted to do," she said instead.

"Yeah," Damon agreed. He left it at that. A comfortable silence fell between them while Damon methodically tightened the remaining screws. When he was finished, he stood and wiped his hands on his grease stained jeans. "Thanks for the help," he told her. He rolled his shoulder which had stiffened as he focused on the small compartments of the motor, holding himself in the same position for extend periods of time as he worked.

"It was exhausting work," Elena said seriously, making Damon chuckle again. She switched off the flashlight and placed it on top of a nearby toolbox. "I should get back upstairs. I have a few things to finish before I leave." Damon nodded.

"I guess I'll see you around," he said.

"Guess so," Elena agreed. She gave him a soft smile before walking out of the bay. Damon blew out a breath and leaned against the frame of the Camaro, eyes on the door he had just walked through.

"You blew it, Salvatore," he reminded himself quietly. "It's all on you."

His phone chimed. He pulled it out of his back pocket to find a text message from Klaus, giving him details of where their group planned to meet up that night. He didn't respond, instead slipping the phone back in his pocket. He shoved off the frame and picked up the first tool he hand landed on. He needed to focus on something, anything.

The room still smelled like lavender and vanilla.

"Seriously, Mom, how do you make this?" Stefan asked, scooping a second helping of macaroni and cheese onto his plate. "All Caroline has figured out is Easy Mac. It'll do in a pinch, but it doesn't come close to this stuff."

"You are the worst husband, ever," Caroline stated, narrowing her eyes at Stefan. "You can make your own breakfast in the morning."

"Care, you burnt toast this morning," Stefan reminded her. "And, you attempted to make hardboiled eggs, but didn't actually turn on the eye of the stove, so they just sat there in cold water. Your threat of no breakfast in the morning carries no weight."

"Seriously, worst husband, ever," Caroline repeated. But she had little room to argue. Her skills in the kitchen left a lot to be desired, no matter how much Food Network she watched.

"Slow down on that mac and cheese," Ginny said from her seat across the table. "The rest of us have barely put a fork in our mashed potatoes." Giuseppe chuckled from his place at the head of the table as he cut into his chicken breast.

"It's just so good, Mom," Stefan said, attempting to butter her up. Instead, Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Caroline, darling, you come over this weekend and we will have another cooking lesson. I'm going to teach you how to cook if it's the last thing I do."

"Which it may very well be," Stefan quipped. Caroline scoffed and stabbed her chicken with more force than was necessary.

"You may very well be sleeping on the couch tonight if you don't watch your step," Giuseppe told Stefan. Stefan grinned, but he understood his father's message. While the teasing was meant in jest, he was close to crossing a line and genuinely hurting Caroline's feelings. He reached under the table, placed his hand on Caroline's thigh, and gave it a gentle squeeze. She replied by covering his hand with her own, signaling that everything was okay.

"I invited Elena and Molly tonight," Ginny said changing the subject. "She very politely turned me down, said she had to run a couple of errands and get Molly into bed on time. I'm sure she does have errands to run and I don't want to keep Molly up past her bedtime, but the two still need dinner."

"I'm sure Elena made Molly a very good dinner," Giuseppe said. "You have to give Elena her space, Tesoro. She just made a big move and is adjusting to being back here, and at Salvatore Racing, with Damon around. Let her have her time."

"Tuesdays are family dinner night," Ginny said stubbornly. "She and Molly are family." Everyone at the table made an effort not to look at the empty seat at the end of the table opposite Giuseppe that once upon a time was occupied by Damon. It had remained empty for months. And, before his brief return home after his accident, years.

"She likes having the evenings to spend with Molly," Caroline piped up. "She drops her off at preschool in the morning, and then doesn't see her until the afternoon. She looks forward to the time she gets to spend with her after work."

"She's a good mom," Ginny said approvingly. She looked at Caroline. "You would be a wonderful mom yourself."

"Here we go," Stefan muttered. Giuseppe grinned into his glass as he took a swig of sweet tea.

"We will have kids one of these days," Caroline promised. "When the time is right."

"When the time is right?" Ginny asked. "You' have been married for nearly two years!"

"Mom…" Stefan opened his mouth to make the same argument he made at least once a week, but was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing. They looked at each other.

"Maybe Elena changed her mind," Ginny said, already moving to stand and greet her guests. Giuseppe shook his head, recognizing the footfalls and the lack of small footsteps to accompany them.

"That's not Elena," he said. A few moments later, Damon appeared in the doorway of the dining room.

"Damon!" Ginny gasped in surprise. "What are you doing here?" No one else said anything, all looking at Damon with surprise. Damon raised an eyebrow.

"Is Tuesday no longer family dinner night?" he asked. "Because I can leave…" Ginny was on her feet.

"Of course we still have family dinner on Tuesdays," she stated. "We're just surprised to see you, that's all." She took Damon by the elbow. Petite in stature, she barely cleared Damon's shoulder. "Sit down," she ordered. "I'm going to get you a plate and some utensils. What do you want to drink?"

"Bourbon, neat," Damon answered as she half shoved him into his seat. He was already regretting his spur of the moment decision to make an appearance at family dinner.

"Try again," Ginny stated. Damon managed to refrain from rolling his eyes, fully aware that his mother's no alcohol at the dinner table rule was created and implemented strictly for his benefit.

"Tea is fine," he said. He was eager for her to come back as soon as she left. He wasn't exactly on good terms with anyone else in the room.

"Did I see you at the shop this morning?" Giuseppe asked Damon. He picked up his utensils and resumed eating his meal.

"Enzo and I worked out this morning," Damon answered. "I helped him out around the shop for a while, then worked on my Camaro."

"How is that coming?" Giuseppe continued. If Damon was going to make the effort to show up for dinner, he was going to make an effort to make it as peaceful as possible. Any form of progress with Damon was worthwhile.

"Slowly," Damon answered. "I'm just about finished building the engine."

"You'll need some help dropping it in."

"Maybe," Damon nodded. "Ric and Enzo will help."

"I would enlist your brother's help, if I were you," Giuseppe said, nodding towards Stefan who had purposefully been quiet since Damon's arrival, his motives also to keep the peace. "He knows a thing or two about engines." The two eyed one another across the table.

"I'll keep that in mind," Damon said evenly. Giuseppe sighed and was spared from further small talk by the return of Ginny with a plate, silverware, and a glass of sweet tea. She placed the silverware and tea in front of Damon, then started scooping servings from the dishes on the table onto the plate. "I can make my own plate, Mom," Damon said.

"Yeah, the rest of us managed it," Stefan piped up, unable to help himself. Caroline kicked him under the table while Giuseppe gave him a look that served as a warning. Damon spared him a look of disdain of his own. They had had their moments in recent weeks, but their relationship was still extremely strained.

"You haven't eaten a proper meal since you were here for Christmas," Ginny said, as Christmas was the last time Damon had eaten at their table. "If you're here, I'm going to make sure you eat well."

"I eat, Mom," Damon said as Ginny placed a plate loaded down with some of his favorite foods in front of him. He didn't hesitate to pick up his fork and dig in. He couldn't stop the groan that escaped. "This macaroni and cheese is amazing."

"Told you," Stefan said, resuming his own meal. Caroline rolled her eyes, but remained silent. She had made it a point to keep her conversations with Damon to the barest of minimums. She couldn't forgive him for breaking Elena's heart. She couldn't forgive him for breaking Stefan's either.

"Of course it's good," Ginny said dismissively as she returned to her seat. "And, Damon, microwavable dinners, fast food, and potato chips does not constitute eating."

"So, what earned us the pleasure of your company this evening?" Stefan asked, changing the subject. Damon glanced at Stefan.

"Last time I checked, my last name was Salvatore too," he said. "It's my understanding that I'm qualified to attend family dinners."

"It's just that it's been so long since you showed up to one," Stefan replied. "Color me shocked you even remembered what day of the week family dinner is."

"Boys," Giuseppe warned.

"Relax, Dad," Damon said, cutting into his chicken. "Stefan's just living up to his role of annoying little brother."

"And Damon is attempting to be the prodigal son," Stefan added.

"Enough," Ginny said in a firm voice. She fixed a glare on both of her sons. "We are at the dinner table. We will be respectful of one another. Do you understand me?" There was no room for argument.

"Yes, ma'am," both Damon and Stefan mumbled.

"Giuseppe, I watched a Clint Eastwood movie I hadn't seen before last night," Caroline said, stepping up to the plate to diffuse the tension and change the topic to her and Giuseppe's shared love of Eastwood flicks. "Tightrope?"

"Ah, that's a good one," Giuseppe said. He too resumed his meal. "It was released in 1984, I believe. He played a detective in that one."

"Wes Block," Caroline said with a nod. "It kind of freaked me out, all those murders. I made Stefan leave the bathroom light on last night."

An easy conversation settled over the table, led by Caroline and Giuseppe, Stefan supplying commentary where he could, Ginny eating in between making sure everyone's drinks were full and they had second and third helpings if desired. Damon, she noticed, remained quiet throughout dinner, clearing two plates of food. When it was time for dessert, he surprised Ginny again by offering to help. She turned him down, but noted he continued to eat his pound cake quietly, even as the topic of conversation shifted back to racing, despite Ginny's best efforts to keep shop talk away from the dinner table. It was a battle she had been fighting and losing since marrying Giuseppe some 30 odd years ago.

Once dessert was over, Giuseppe retired to his study. Caroline and Stefan offered to do the dishes, just as they did every Tuesday night. Ginny put what few leftovers there were in containers for Giuseppe to have for lunch the next day and, once she was sure Stefan and Caroline had things under control, she went in search for Damon. He had slipped away from the dinner table amidst the shuffling of post-dinner clean up. She knew he hadn't left, and also knew where she was likely to find him. Sure enough, as she pushed the heavy library door open a few inches, she spied him standing in front of a shelf, a book in his hand as he read a few pages.

"Looking for anything in particular?" she asked, pushing the door all the way open and entering the room. She hadn't had a chance to talk to Damon one on one in weeks, his expertise in avoiding her sound. Now, she had him cornered. She knew too to tread lightly.

"Not really," he answered. "Just something to read before bed. I think I might read One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest again." He indicated the book in his head. Ginny shook her head.

"You've read that book at least ten times," she said. She wandered over to another shelf and plucked a book from it. "You will like this one," she told him as she passed it to him. "It's set during the Civil War, tells J.E.B. Stuart's story."

"Weren't his last words 'I am resigned, God's will be done?'" he asked, flipping the book over to read the back.

"They were," Ginny confirmed. "Just after he was shot down from his horse during the Battle of Yellow Tavern on the outskirts of Richmond."

"I think I'll give this one a shot," he said. "Thanks for the recommendation."

"Of course," Ginny said with a nod. While her boys had bonded with Giuseppe over cars and racing, she had found other interests they could share with just her - history and reading with Damon, art and music with Stefan. She took a seat in one of the comfortable armchairs that resided in the middle of the library. "How are you doing, dear?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Damon answered automatically. "I'm ready for the season to start. It's boring, sitting around the apartment on the weekends, wishing I was behind the wheel of something going 200 miles per hour."

"Let's be clear, my dear son, that if you give me another scare like you did at Talladega, I will personally finish the job, should you walk away from the car." Damon smiled, but not from humor.

"I'm planning for Talladega to be a onetime thing," he told his mother. "I'd rather not repeat it myself."

"You're feeling okay?" Ginny pushed. "Is your shoulder bothering you? How about your leg? Don't lie to your mother, now. If you're hurting, we need to know." Damon sighed.

"I'm fine," he said again. "My leg doesn't bother me. My shoulder is stiff sometimes, but nothing I can't handle. It's okay after I stretch it out, move it around some."

"No headaches?" Ginny continued. "Vision is okay?"

"Mom, I'm fine," Damon said again, this time with more force behind his words. "No headaches. Vision is fine, better than 20/20. I'm good. I know you're worried, but I promise, I'm all healed up. Other than a stiff shoulder and a few scars, I'm okay."

"I do worry," Ginny agreed. "And it's been a while since I've seen you." Damon shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"I know,'" he admitted, feeling guilty. "I've been busy."

"Doing what?" Ginny pressed.

"Just stuff," he answered with a shrug. Ginny pursed her lips, well aware of what that "stuff" was. She opted not to bring it up right then as she had other things she wanted to discuss. Bringing up his questionable behavior would only serve to cut their visit short.

"What brought you here tonight?" she asked. "Stefan was right, despite his way of going about it. You haven't attended a family dinner for a while."

"I was hungry when I left the shop," Damon said. "This place is on my way home."

"So is The Grill," Ginny pointed out. She knew there was more behind Damon's visit, besides a growling stomach and a new book to read.

"I wanted a home cooked meal," Damon said, deflecting. In truth, he didn't know what had made him turn into his parents' driveway. He drove past the house a few times a day, coming and going from his apartment near downtown Mystic Falls, if one could call the historical square "downtown," but he hadn't so much as considered flipping on his turn single since Christmas. Tonight though, the thought had occurred to him and he had turned into the drive without hesitation, at least not until he was in the dining room, facing a sit down meal with his family.

"Sweetheart, anytime you want a home cooked meal, you just come right over," Ginny said. "Breakfast, lunch, or dinner. You know I will feed you."

"I know," Damon said with a nod, the slightest smile on his lips. If there was one truth to be had in the entire universe, it was that Ginny Salvatore would always be at the ready with her frying pan to feed anyone who so much as mentioned wanting a snack.

"You're all healed, you have a full stomach, and a good book to read," Ginny said. "How is everything else?"

"What else is there?" Damon countered. He knew what she implying, but he wasn't going to offer up anything on his own. "My injuries are healed, I'm ready to go to Daytona, you gave me a book to read, and you fed me. You're pretty up to date on my life these days."

"Since you aren't going to tell me, I'll outright ask. How are you getting along with Elena?" And there it is, Damon thought.

"Fine," he said with a shrug. He flipped through the book in his hands. "We don't see each other all that much. I'm sure that'll change once the season starts. She's going to be traveling with us to each race."

"She is," Ginny agreed. "She's going to be bringing Molly along with her. It will be so nice to have a couple more girls on that plane."

"She's bringing Molly to the races?" Damon asked. Even as he voiced his question, he realized it was the most obvious answer. NASCAR was family friendly on the whole, and Giuseppe encouraged those who traveled week in and week out to bring their families. Still, the idea of Molly traveling with them caused a stirring in his chest that he didn't understand.

"Of course," Ginny said with a wave of her hand. "She wouldn't leave that little one."

"That will be pretty cool for Molly," Damon mentioned. "She will get to travel all over the country."

"Just like you and Elena did as kids," Ginny replied. "And Stefan," she added as an afterthought.

"Just like us," Damon repeated. He closed his book. "I'm going to get going. It's getting late, and I'm supposed to meet Enzo and Ric at the Riverview Trail in the morning to go for a run."

"Don't overdo it," Ginny warned, standing. She worried constantly that Damon was pushing himself too hard to recover.

"I won't," Damon promised as Ginny pulled him into a hug. He returned his mother's hug. He found it more comforting than he would ever admit, being wrapped in his mother's arms, however brief. Ginny let go of him, reached up, and pushed his hair off his face.

"You need a haircut," she informed him. Damon nodded.

"I do," he agreed. "I'll get one this week."

"Do it before Daytona," Ginny told him sternly. "You don't want to look like a slob when you're interviewed."

"Yes, ma'am," Damon said with a patient nod. "Bye, Mom."

"Don't make it so long before you come back, okay?"

"Okay," Damon agreed, edging towards the door. He held up the book. "I'll bring this back when I'm finished."

"Take your time," she said, knowing Damon had a fair amount of books borrowed from the Salvatore library that had never made their way back to their home shelves. She remained where she was as Damon made his way towards the door. She couldn't stop herself. "Damon?"

"Yeah, Mom?" he asked, turning with a sigh he tried to disguise. He was ready to get home, relax on his own couch, and maybe have a beer before he went to sleep.

"You and Elena," she started. "Is there any chance…?"

"No," Damon cut her off with a shake of his head. "That ship has sailed."

"Never say never," Ginny reminded him. "Crazier things have happened."

"I left Elena," he reminded his mother. "I walked away. She has her own life now. She has a kid. She's still as beautiful as ever, but that bridge is burned. I know you love her, Mom. But don't get your hopes up about a big, romantic reunion."

Ginny studied Damon for a moment. She knew her son. The 'as beautiful as ever' line was all she needed to hear to know that deep down, Damon still had feelings for Elena. "Never say never," she told him again. Damon shook his head.

"Goodnight, Mom," he said.

"Night, baby," Ginny replied. "Make sure you tell your father goodnight."

"I will," Damon said with a nod as he exited the room. Ginny listened as his footsteps echoed down the hall and out the front door without so much as a pause outside of his father's study.

I really wanted to accomplish two things with this update. 1) I wanted to show Damon and Elena growing closer. I'd say old feelings are definitely still there. 2) I wanted Damon to interact with his mother one on one. Ginny is vital to this story in a lot of ways - and she's the one person the Salvatore men are scared of.

Next chapter, lots of Damon and Molly (and Elena) interaction!

Let me know what you think!