You need me. Elena groaned. To rely on anyone was to set herself up for loss. She knew that well enough. "Fine," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Even her grumbled acceptance was enough to put a smile on his face. "As I said, you have to kill in order to complete the transition. It won't be your only kill, I'm sure. But it's the most important."

The words he said didn't translate. She couldn't find the meaning in them, the importance, couldn't grasp the fact that this was really happening, that what he was saying was true. That she would, indeed, have to kill someone. It made her stomach turn.

"How?" she asked, unable to voice any of her other concerns, not wanting to make herself appear weak before him. Not when she'd been so headstrong before.

It was impossible to describe the kill. He could hardly remember his first in the haze of it all. But at the same time, he would never forget it. The feeling.

"That's where my expertise and immense kindness will come in," he said, teasingly. She wanted to wipe the damn smile off his face. But not if it meant getting any closer to him. "You don't have a lovely little set of fangs just yet, so I'll have to get the job started. The question is, who?"

Her brows furrowed. She didn't want to think about who, didn't want to think about the fact that the person she would have to kill was a person with a family and a backstory. People who cared about them. Oh god, she was going to start spiraling again.

"You've never wanted to hurt anyone?" Damon asked, catching the look in her eyes. Terror. Fear of what had to be done.

She raised a brow. "You."

He rolled his eyes. "Off the table."

"I disagree." If only he hadn't taken her stake. It was a good thing she could easily seize another from her father's workshop. If the dastardly handsome monster ever let her out of his sight again.

"Come on, Gilbert," Damon said, apparently dropping the Miss now that they'd gotten to know each other on a, well, hands-on level. "You're telling me you've never wished harm on another person before? I don't believe anyone is that good. Especially not you."

She pressed her lips into a tight line. There was one person. Revenge she'd always wanted but had never been strong enough for. Finding and hurting him would have only resulted in her own death days prior… but now?

"There is someone, isn't there?" Damon asked, that cold smile making her skin crawl. "Good little Elena Gilbert wants someone dead, hm?" he teased. "Tell me."

He did not deserve to know any of the intimate details of her life, of moments that haunted her while awake and at rest. Because, of course, yes. There was someone she wished to harm. Someone who deserved to be hurt as badly as they'd hurt others. But these details hadn't been shared with even her own parents, telling them to someone all the more a stranger felt like an invasion of privacy.

"It will be easier to kill if you have a motive. At least at first," Damon explained. Killing came naturally to him now, but that first one had been difficult. That much he could remember. Killing an innocent would certainly result in the good Elena Gilbert giving up her own life instead. Something he wished to prevent, if only to maintain his own sanity and prevent further regret from piling up. "What did they do to you, Elena?" he asked, sounding as if he cared far too much.

The night played again in her head. She'd seen it so many times, over and over again, that she could have painted it, could have described it in perfect detail. But the words did not come. Her lips tried to form around them, tried to start explaining Matt's death. Each time they caught in her throat.

"You wish to kill them?" Damon asked.

Elena nodded numbly. Oh, how the air between them shifted so rapidly. Tension, joking, seriousness, fear. Emotions passing them both by in rapid succession. Neither one able to tell exactly how they felt about the other.

"Yes," she said. "I want him dead."

"That's all I needed to know," he said, smirking. It was so tempting to dig deeper, to delve into her nightmares and attempt to figure the woman out. He thought he had her placed, though he knew what he was getting himself into—inviting her over, feeding on her, killing her. None of it had gone according to plan, and maybe that was because everything about her was simply so unexpected. "We'll kill him," he said, taking a step toward her despite how desperately he needed to stay out of her personal space. It was too intoxicating, being in her vicinity. He couldn't help it. Couldn't stay away. He lifted a hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, Elena staring at him with wide eyes. "For whatever he did to you," he said, hushed. "We'll kill him. And it will feel… so good." He licked his lips, the monster in him surfacing at the thought of the hunt alone.

This seemed to ignite something within her, too. A desire to make the killer pay. Revenge, it's what she had wanted, wasn't it? And here it was, served up to her on a silver platter. It almost made her want to thank the vampire before her. Almost.

Instead, she smacked away his hand, tilted her head slightly to the side, and smiled. "Don't touch me," she said, sickeningly sweet.

"Because you're afraid of what you'll do?" he asked, wiggling his brows.

Her smile grew, as did the saccharine tone. "Yes. I'm afraid I'll remove your head from your body."

"I'd love to see you try," Damon said, another raise of his brows.

Her eyes rolled as if on command to do so anytime he opened his mouth. "And to think I believed you such a gentleman when we first met." How wrong she had been about him.

"And I thought you innocent. I suppose we were both wrong."

"I am innocent," she argued.

He fought the urge to reach out to her again, if only to document her reaction, to use it as evidence against her claims. Instead, he only mocked her, pretending to toss long hair over his shoulder. "Why won't you kill me, Mr. Salvatore?" he said in a high voice that sounded nothing like her. "And I believe that was before you kissed me, was it not?"

She glared daggers at him, hating seeing herself in such a light, no matter how much truth there was to it. That she had uttered those words at all made her want to scold herself. What had she been thinking? Enticing him in such a way. Though she didn't feel regret about the situation, either. That was worrying. Was this how a normal, sane, well-adjusted person reacted to being killed and potentially turned into a vampire? His words registered once more. "I did not kiss you!"

He smiled, all too pleased to get any sort of a rise out of her. "You certainly didn't push me away. In fact, I think your tongue—"

She stomped her foot like a child. "Shut up."

He gave her some space, mentally and physically, by changing the subject and taking a step backward. "So, this person you want dead. Where can we find him?"

That was the question, wasn't it? But ever since that night, she hadn't seen him even once. And she'd roamed the streets many a time since then. Had she not been an interesting enough target to him? Or had he simply found other people to rob and murder earlier in the night? "I have no idea," she said, sounding slightly defeated at the idea of not being able to kill him.

"You see how that's a problem, don't you?" he asked. He wasn't a magician. He couldn't simply make someone appear if they did not wish to be found.

He was beginning to get used to the angry expressions that crossed her face whenever he opened his mouth. Furrowed brow, pursed lips, narrowed eyes, and still, somehow, quite beautiful.

"A wild goose chase for a man I know nothing about may not be an effective use of our time tonight," he paused to check his timepiece. "Seeing as we don't have much to spare before the sun comes up. Is there anything else you can tell me about this person that might help us find him? Else we'll have to choose someone else. A drunk or an asshole. There are plenty to choose from in the city."

"You fit that bill nicely."

"I'm not a drunk," he said pointedly. Then, "This is serious, Elena. If you want it to be him, you need to tell me all that you can."

She sighed, twisting a ring on one of her fingers. A simple piece. Not too expensive. He would soon show her a world of unlimited delight. Where any desire could be easily fulfilled.

"I…" she started, immediately struggling to find the right words, "...encountered him near my home. He was tall, maybe a little bit taller than you. Light skin. Dark hair. He wasn't dressed well. Ripped clothes and all that." Much like some of her own. "He stole from a friend of mine. Everything they had. I don't know if that tells you anything."

He looked at her, listening to every word and trying to place the man in his memory. Unfortunately, her description didn't offer much and could have fit hundreds of different people. Something strange struck him, then. "You wish to kill a man for robbing a friend of yours?"

"No. For killing him," she said, deadpan. Then, offended, "Besides. You killed me for even less, did you not? For nothing, even."

He disregarded the second comment. It didn't need a response. Of course, he killed for less. And she would too, eventually. "Murdering the murderer, then. Very noble."

"I suppose," she said.

Something came over him, then. A desire to protect her, to fight for her. "If we can't find him tonight, we'll find him another night. That's a promise."

Her eyes flicked up to his. "A promise from someone you do not trust means nothing."

"Trust me on this, if nothing else," he said. Then, not wanting to give her the chance to respond, "Let's go."

The pair took the carriage back into the city, leaving it just on the outskirts of a highly populated neighborhood. It seemed the people within hadn't gotten the memo about the dangers lurking in the darkness all around them. How strange it was for her to be one of those dangers now, to be someone waiting in the shadows to kill. The streets were lined with pubs, and drunken men stumbled out onto the street every few minutes, waving down carriages or continuing down the street until they eventually passed out in a bush.

The pickings were anything but slim. Elena didn't frequent this part of town, but she had experience with these kinds of men. The ones who would get drunk and hit on her, a sad attempt at courting if she'd ever seen it. But despite that, she didn't wish death upon them, didn't wish to be the reason their families mourned. With Matt's killer, it was different. She wanted him dead, and although she never thought she'd be the reason for it, she relished the idea now. But Damon was right, despite how much it pained her to even think that. If she wanted to murder the murderer, she'd have to settle for someone else first.

It begged the question: did she even really want to go through with this? Only days ago, she'd asserted herself as someone who didn't believe in vampires, and now she was on the edge of becoming one herself. But the idea of letting herself wither away instead, the idea of dying at the sunrise, was even more unappealing. Her family would be the mourners then.

Her vampire bodyguard dragged her into one of the pubs, a loud bustling place with live music and free-flowing beer and liquor. He wrapped an arm low around her waist and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Follow my lead."

Oh, how she wished to do exactly the opposite. How she wished to throw his arm off of her entirely and cry for help from anyone who would listen. But in the same vein, the warmth his cold body ignited under her skin could neither be ignored. How loathful! To be betrayed by one's own body.

Damon held up two fingers, and the barkeep delivered them each a pint. Elena sipped hers slowly, unaccustomed to the pungent taste. He pulled her closer to him as they each continued drinking. Did he even have a plan, or was this all just to put his hands all over her again? But then, he pulled her further into the mess of people.

He'd found his target. A grizzly looking man who would do perfectly. He made a show of spilling his beer down the man's front. To which, as Damon entirely expected, the man began to rage, swinging fists. The first of which connected with Damon's jaw with a crack.

"My god!" Elena gasped, uncertain whether or not she was even acting. Part of her concern was real until she remembered his likely more indestructible nature. "Please, don't hurt him!" she cried, now obviously putting on a show, for she would have loved to see him take a few more hits. "It was an accident, I swear it."

The grizzly man turned on her, a sloppy smile flashing across his mouth before he licked his lips, looking at her as if she were prey. Little did he know. "I think you could make it up to me, sweetheart."

She could have retched. The smell of his breath alone was hard to bear.

"Leave my girl out of this," Damon barked. His girl. Again, was this really necessary to the plan? Why couldn't they have just picked someone already passed out on the street outside? Did he really need to get into a fight and stake his claim on her in front of several people? Thankfully, none of which she recognized. Her friends would never be caught in a place like this.

"Your girl?" the man sneered. "Much too nice for someone like you, don't you think? What do you say, sweetheart? Why don't you grab a drink with a real man?" Words slurred and all. Disgusting.

This time, Damon landed a hit with a sickening crack. Blood dripped from the man's nose, and something inside Elena stirred at the sight, at the smell. Without realizing it, she gripped Damon's forearm tight, nails digging into flesh.

"How about you boys take this outside? What do you say?" she said, batting her lashes. "Then I'll decide who I want to go home with. Hm?"

The drunkard nearly made a beeline for the door, and Damon sauntered after with her still at his side. He smirked, looking down at her as they walked out. "Lot easier to kill a man when he's an ass. Don't you think?"

She nodded, licking her lips.

"Oh, you are so beautiful," he drawled, voice low. Unable to stop himself. Not that he really tried. Seeing her desire for blood only influenced his own.

Her cheeks flushed red with his blood.

Once outside, tucked away in a dark alley between the pub they'd exited and another one just as busy, the drunk man threw a fist immediately in Damon's direction. Desperate to win Elena in the end. If only he knew what the future held for him. Damon caught his fist, separating himself from Elena in the process. He twisted the man's arm, and bones snapped, but Elena did not cringe away.

Instead, she stood still, completely transfixed by the line of blood still dribbling down the man's face. Absolutely disgusting. Both the man and the blood, but she could not bring herself to look away. Even feet away from him, the scent of it swirled around her, rooting her to the ground. Iron. Once a smell that would have made her gag now made her mouth water.

Damon lifted a hand in her direction, still holding the drunk mess of a man with his other, the man's twisted arm pinned to his back. He cried out something unintelligible.

Without a second thought, Elena slipped her hand into Damon's. He pulled her closer, inspecting the desire so clearly written out across her face. A smile of satisfaction crossed his, and for a moment, all of the guilt left him, and he was glad for everything that had happened, glad that he had a partner in crime, especially one so devastatingly attractive. Fangs extended, and veins grew dark around his eyes as he turned from Elena, quickly sinking his teeth into the man's neck in one fluid motion. The man hardly reacted. A groan and a bit of a stifled cry, but no scream. Damon didn't drink long. Just a sip. He tugged Elena closer as he circled to the front of the man, holding him still. He watched her carefully as her eyes widened at the sight of the man's bloodied neck.

"Go on," Damon encouraged.

No hesitation. She closed her lips around the holes Damon's fangs made and let the hot blood flow into her mouth. The first taste made her want to gag, but that changed fast. After his blood slid down her throat, her gums began to throb, and she could feel sharp points sinking into their victim's neck. She drank and drank, beginning to understand why Damon hadn't been able to stop when it came to her, but feeling no remorse regardless of her actions.

"That's it," Damon whispered, stroking her hair as she fed.

He could feel the man's heart weakening beneath his grasp. Almost finished. The beating slowed to a stop. "That's enough," he said, encouraging her off of him as he grew limp. But Elena kept feeding feverishly, wanting to take every last drop. "He's dead, Gilbert," he said, letting go of the man's body. But she kept him upright. He sighed, circling her quickly and wrapping an arm around her waist as he pried her hands off the dead drunk man. Once the man fell to the ground, he turned her around in his arms. Lifting a careful hand, he dragged a thumb across her bloodied lip, then touched the tip of her fang. "God," he said, entranced by her.

She looked up at him with those big, beautiful brown eyes and a look he'd never seen on her before. And then she did something entirely unexpected. She stood on her toes, leaned forward, and kissed him.

A/N: AHHH I'm sorry I'm SO obsessed with these two in this setting, they're so much fun to write. Hope you all are loving reading it as much as I'm loving writing it!