A/N: While working on my other story, Shadows, I was listening to Get Up by Barcelona, and I suddenly started to cry. That song is so beautiful. Truly. To me that song is about a man who is suffering for the woman he loves. Suffering because she is suffering. And I thought of Damon...and his eternal love for Elena. This is the story of that love and that pain. I do not guarantee a happy ending.

We Might Not Make It Home Tonight

Dedicated to the anyone who has ever lost someone they loved.

PROLOGUE

"I'm leaving."

He stared at her as she entered into the cramped, but homey, living room, setting down a heavy suitcase before him.

Her hair hung down her back in a tight, plaited braid—a different look than her usual loose waves—and had her thick yellow raincoat on; it was her absolute favorite piece of clothing.

His penetrating blue eyes searched her beautiful face carefully.

"Leaving? Are you going on another business trip? Want me to come-" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

"No," she interrupted harshly. "I'm not going on a business trip," she said, her eyes averting his intense gaze.

"Then, are you going to visit your brother?" he asked, his heart suddenly filling with dread.

"You know I'm not," she said, her brown eyes welling up with tears.

He attempted to close the space between them by wrapping his arms around her but she pushed him away and took several steps back.

"Don't-don't touch me! Don't even get near me!" She said, her voice high and frantic.

His eyes widened in shock. The look of horror on her face—she almost seemed afraid of him!

Of course, she used to have all the reason in the world too but not now, not anymore. She couldn't be.

"Elena," he said gently, taking a couple cautious steps towards her. "Why in the world are you trembling dear?"

Upon feeling his cool hand graze her cheek, Elena felt a piercing shiver run down her entire body. She pushed his hand away and wiped her tears away angrily.

"B-b-because," she stuttered. "Because you're going to hurt me!"

Damon gaped at her. His face ranged in emotions-from anger to sadness, from confusion to love.

"How could you say that?" He spit out, harsher than he intended. "I LOVE you Elena. I would die before hurting you!" He let out a deep sigh before he softly said, "You're everything to me…"

She looked up at him through her wet eyelashes and whispered, "Yes Damon. You're hurting me right now, you have no idea how much…"

Elena shook her head furiously as fresh tears poured out down her face. Her mascara had begun to run and she was sniffling rather loudly.

Damon still thought her the most gorgeous creature he had ever laid eyes on.

"I-I hate you! I hate you Damon!" She screamed loudly, her eyes blazing.

Damon was confused. So confused.

Everything had been so perfect.

They were together, after all the odds against them, they were together, happy and madly, passionately in love.

Just last night they had made love and it had been the most amazing, most earth shattering, most incredible thing he had ever experienced. At the end of that wild night, Elena had cuddled up on his bare chest and repeated over and over again how much she loved him. She had made him promise—made him swear—that he would never forget how much.

Then, he had come home after work and this happened.

He stared at her—her lithe, small body emitting such a fierce anger that Damon wondered if he should be the one afraid.

He came to the immediate conclusion that yes, he should be.

She stared at him—his strong, well-toned body had never seemed so small, so fragile. His entire being released such an immense surge of love and Elena knew he was vulnerable.

She buttoned up the last button of her jacket, picked up her suitcase and walked towards the front door.

Damon's feet were nailed to the carpet—she wouldn't leave, she couldn't leave.

He loved her.

She loved him.

She paused before turning the handle and turned her head around.

For one fleeting second, Damon thought she was going to drop her things and run towards him. But the next second, her small perfect face stiffened and she glared at him coldly.

"Goodbye Damon. Don't come looking for me."

And she left—slamming the door as she did.

Why couldn't he move?

Because she was coming back.

He knew she would.

She had too.

They've had worse fights, much worse and they've always made it through.

But, Damon suddenly realized, they hadn't fought this time…

Damon hadn't done anything reckless, their lives weren't in danger…why had she been so angry?

His legs gave out from standing so stiffly and he ran outside.

He looked down both ends of the street.

No Elena.

Damon ran his fingers through his hair.

She'd be back.

No doubt some ex-girlfriend of his had crossed her path and made up some stupid lie to separate them.

Yes, that's definitely what happened, Damon assured himself.

"She'll be back," Damon whispered. "She'll come back home to me…"

MONTH 1

"And you have no idea where she is? Are you lying?" Damon asked harshly into the cell phone. An affronted voice hissed through it. Damon clenched his fists tightly.

"No I'm not going to calm down! The woman I love has been missing for a month! How am I supposed to calm down!"

A light tap sounded on the other side of the study's door.

Damon grunted loudly and the door slowly opened.

A short, grubby man looked in warily and Damon pointed to his cell and mouthed 'Just one second.'

"Ok, ok. I didn't mean to take it out on you Jeremy. Just…just let me know if you hear anything. Thanks."

Damon ended the call and set the cell down with a soft clang on the desk.

"So," he said wearily, addressing the man. "Any news?"

The man waddled in to stand on the other side of Damon's large desk and fidgeted with a portfolio in his hands.

"There have been a few sightings of a young woman in Atlanta—people say she wanders around the town, mumbling to herself—apparently lost her mind."

Damon's heart raced.

"Show me the picture!" His voice was loud and urgent.

"Oh! Yes, yes of course." The man, shaking and sneaking wary glances up at Damon, laid out the portfolio on the desk and took out a picture of a young brunette huddled by an abandoned warehouse, wrapped tightly in a moth eaten shawl.

Damon's head pounded as he took the picture and held it closer.

His heart sank.

The girl had bright green eyes, pale white skin and her hair was chopped short.

It was not Elena.

He sighed.

Out of relief.

And out of misery.

She was still missing.

He threw the picture roughly back at the man.

"It's not her!" He roared. "Elena has BROWN eyes and OLIVE skin! Have you even glanced at the picture I gave you?"

The man trembled and took out a white handkerchief. "Y-yes Mr. Salvatore." He wiped the sweat off his grimy forehead. "I merely thought…"

Damon cleared off everything in his desk in a mad rage. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THE BEST PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR IN THE SOUTH! GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

The man didn't need telling twice.

He ran off with a squeak and Damon fell into his chair, panting loudly.

The picture of the crazy girl had somehow managed to get under his shoe.

He raised his foot and took the picture in his hands.

Right now, he'd give anything for this girl to be Elena.

He needed her. He needed her now.

He would keep looking.

He'd hire more human PI's while still searching on his own throughout the night.

That was when he spent endless amount of hours flying across the sky as a crow searching and searching for any sign of her.

He would find her.

He had to bring Elena back home.

MONTH 2

Alaric parked his car next to Damon's in the paved driveway and yawned heavily before turning the warm car off. Cold air immediately seeped in and Alaric shivered. He glanced at his watch.

5:30 a.m.

Whatever made Damon text him must have been urgent. Hopefully it was good news.

Alaric reluctantly stepped out of his car and into the icy cold. Snow lined the path to the front porch and Alaric felt a pang of pain as he looked up at the small home.

Damon had set up Christmas lights and, by the way the lights twinkled in rhythm as if following the beat of the song, he had taken quite a bit of effort in it.

In the small patch of yard in the front, Damon had made a snowman. Yes, a snowman—complete with a carrot nose, button eyes and a checkered scarf.

Swallowing, Alaric opened the front door quietly with his spare key and relished in the warmth, closing his eyes to take it all in—momentarily forgetting the torment of his friend.

But alas, it was only momentarily.

As soon as Alaric opened his eyes and came face to face with the scene before him, he felt the strong urge to cry.

Yes, he wanted to cry—shed actual hot tears.

The entire house was in a state of winter wonderland. Garland hung over the stair railings, red bows were strung on every dining chair, two stockings hung over a crackling fireplace, and a giant tree stood in the middle of the room, every single branch decorated with bright lights, colored ornaments, silver tinsel and even strings of popcorn.

It was beautiful.

And it was also the most depressing thing he had ever seen.

And he wanted to cry because the house—decorations, snowman, everything—was EXACTLY decorated in the same way it had been last year. When Elena had still been here.

He heard a loud clatter then a voice call out his name from the garage. Alaric wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his sweater and headed in the direction of his friend.

Damon sat cross-legged in the middle of the freezing garage surrounded by a hectic array of newspaper clippings, photos, maps, and little leather-bound books.

He looked up at Alaric and grinned. But the smile didn't reach his eyes—not even close. He was thinner and scruffier than the last time Alaric had seen him, about two weeks ago, and there were large, dark circles under his eyes.

"Hey. Sorry for the early call. Couldn't wait." He patted the only spot on the ground that wasn't covered with something. "Sit down, I need your help…"

They spent the next hour or so going through the newspaper clippings and supposed sightings of different oddities. Alaric knew what Damon was looking for—what he feared.

That Elena wasn't simply missing—that she was being held hostage by something supernatural. Vampires, werewolves, etc. Even though Klaus had been defeated three years ago, Damon's eyes still flashed red whenever he was mentioned. No lifetimes would erase the pain Klaus had afflicted upon Elena—upon all of them.

Although Alaric pretty much always trusted Damon's judgment and detective work—he had after all, along with his brother Stefan, established an organization dedicated to surveying whereabouts of supernatural entities—Alaric couldn't help wondering whether his friend's diagnosis was wrong.

The scenario Damon had described about Elena's departure seemed…normal of that of a breakup. It hadn't seemed that Elena had been threatened or compelled. Perhaps, the trauma of the previous years had caught up with her and she had wanted out. Out of the supernatural world and into a normal, human life.

When he had mentioned this to Damon, Alaric thought for a second that Damon was going to hit him.

He had, thankfully, restrained himself but repeated again and again the same words.

"She loved me. Elena loved me. I swore I wouldn't forget that…I swore…"

Alaric could only sigh and continue aiding Damon in the hysteric search for Elena.

But he couldn't blame Damon or be angry with him.

He knew how much Damon loved her.

He'd known even before Damon had known himself.

Elena was his world.

After all their obstacles, suffering and trials—Elena had finally realized that she couldn't live without Damon and had confessed her love.

Alaric remembered the goofy, silly grin Damon had worn once when they met up for drinks at the grill. He and Elena had just moved in together into this small, but very cozy, home. The look on his face said it all.

Damon, for the first time in his entire life, was happy.

Alaric thought Elena had been too. She certainly seemed to be. The way she looked at Damon—fiercely, possessively and passionately.

But maybe Alaric had been wrong.

And looking down at his friend, he realized it didn't matter what he thought about Elena.

Damon loved her.

So he never said anything more about his theories or suspicions.

They worked in silence. They worked in rapid chatter.

They attempted to pinpoint the exact location and time when another supernatural event was bound to happen.

By the time dusk had fallen, Alaric's stomach grumbled so loud, he felt he might pass out from hunger.

Feeling horrible leaving Damon alone, he attempted to stay a bit longer.

He picked up one of the leather-bound books and flipped through it curiously.

It was…a diary.

He looked through the other ones.

They were all diaries.

"Damon?" He said quizzically.

Damon snapped out of his lost look and looked at the book in Alaric's hand in horror.

"Don't touch them!" Damon hastily grabbed all the little books and clutched them tightly to him.

Noticing the look on Alaric's face, Damon sighed and his face softened.

"I'm sorry. It's just—these diaries are the closest things I have to Elena right now. I've been reading them, hoping to see if maybe she inserted some sort of clue and also…I just like to imagine her voice as I read the words."

Damon gave an undistinguishable sound, which seemed to be a cross between a laugh and a sob.

"Of course, most of these are about my prick of a brother but…there is some stuff about me. The early stuff—when her heart was still conflicted. Those are my favorite bits…"

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable as if he were intruding on an intimate moment, Alaric stood up and pointed at his stomach—which gave another rumbling roar.

Damon nodded and stood up also.

Still clutching one of the diaries in his hand, Damon patted Alaric's back in appreciation.

"Thanks for being here…for helping me. Not everyone wants to help…I don't know why…"

Alaric offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

"I'm here till the end buddy. I'll be back tomorrow."

Damon shook his head. "I'll be flying until Christmas Eve. Want to be here in case…" He paused.

Alaric gave Damon's shoulder a squeeze and headed out.

"Feel free to have some of those chocolate chip cookies on the table. But don't eat them all! They're Elena's favorites…"

Alaric nodded and hastily walked away.

He didn't know how much more he could take of this pain and covered his ears to try to block out Damon's muttering to himself.

"She'll be home for Christmas." Damon said, his voice reassuring and hopeful. "I know she will. She loves Christmas…"

Month 3

It had been three months.

There's had been no laughter, no joy, no happiness inside of the little white house that stood nestled in-between a magnitude of trees in a private cul-de-sac, for three months.

The closest neighbors were completely oblivious to the absolute torment that a young vampire had been suffering through for three months in that little house.

After Elena had not shown up at the house on Christmas, Damon had torn every decoration down. Destroying it all- crushing the ornaments in his bare hand—turning the beautiful into nothing but dust.

He had locked himself, in what had been his and Elena's bedroom, ever since.

Crying.

Yes, Damon—the badass, frightening, strong vampire—had been crying for almost an entire month straight.

He'd cry for a few hours. Then he would be completely still and quiet for another few. After that, he would be tormented with nightmares—even though he was awake. And for the last few hours of the day, he would cry some more.

After coming to the painful conclusion that the diaries contained no secret, hidden message—Damon had burned them all. Save one. His favorite one.

The one where he was mentioned—the one in which Elena had slowly described how she was slowly falling for him.

He'd reread her words over and over again.

He had the entire book memorized but he wanted to LOOK at her handwriting. TOUCH the little book knowing Elena had once held it in her delicate hands.

Damon needed no other books. He needn't know any other love story—for the most romantic and most beautiful was contained in that little leather book.

His favorite part of the story? The very last entry.

Dear Diary,

It's all over. Klaus and all the Originals…have been destroyed. For good. I almost can't believe it—my hands are still shaking as I write this. Oh Diary, it was horrible. So many people died. So many innocent lives were destroyed in this long three-year battle!
But I'm alive. And so is Jeremy! And Stefan, Bonnie, Caroline, Tyler, Alaric and, and….

And Damon.

For several horrible minutes, I thought Damon was gone.

Before even half of the Final Battle was fought Stefan, on Damon's orders, had taken me away from the scene—dragged me is more like it.

When it was all over, survivors began to walk or limp over to where we were. Jeremy returned as did my friends but…Damon wouldn't show.

Fear.

I'd never been so afraid.

Anxious.

I had never been so anxious.

I begged Stefan to let me go find him but he refused "It was too risky still"…but I could see he wanted to go himself.

So, taking advantage that he was tending to Jeremy's wounds, I made a run for it.

The scene in the forest was horrible.

There was no more forest.

Just dust, blood and dead bodies.

I called his name.

Just his name.

And all was eerily silent.

Just when I was about to completely lose it, I heard a voice.

It was raspy and deep yet sensual and intoxicating.

"Elena…?" It called out weakly.

I turned and he was there.

A few feet from each other we stood. Just looking at each other.

He looked horrible—blood all over his torn clothing and gashed all over his face—but he was still the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

With tears gushing out, I ran to him. I jumped into his arms and, for having just fought the strongest vampire that had ever existed, he was strong and clutched me tightly to him.

"I thought I'd never see your face again…"

That's what he said to me. His blue eyes were so full of emotion and so full of love—I don't know why it took me so long to realize it.

Yes I know Diary, you must be rolling your eyes at me. I used to rant about how much I hated him—how I wish I'd never met him.

But now Diary…now things are different.

Damon is different. He's changed in these last few years and so have I.

Don't get me wrong, he's still the same snarky and vain git that I first met but…he's also…intelligent, brave, passionate and…so…so gorgeous.

I never noticed just how much until he was holding me in his arms and I was caressing his wounds on his face softly.

In that moment, I finally accepted what I had been denying for so long.

What I had been trying so desperately to fight.

"Thank you." I whispered to him.

He looked at me with the most adorable expression on his face. "For what?" He asked confused.

"For coming back to me."

He stroked my cheek and, with a lone tear running down his face, said, "At the end of the day, I'll always go back to my home. You, Elena. You are my home."

And I finally said the words he had longed so long to hear.

"I love you Damon."

And I kissed him and he kissed me back.

It was perfect that kiss.

And I knew the second our lips touched, that I would always love Damon Salvatore.

No matter what happens, I will never stop loving him… and I know….he will never stop loving me.

He'll always come back home.

Damon's lip trembled as he lowered the diary and broke down once again.

Those were the last words Elena had written.

Damon couldn't find another diary—that was all.

That's where her story ended—where their story had begun.

He stood and threw the diary with all his force (which wasn't very much) against the opposite wall.

He immediately regretted the action and ran toward the diary.

It lay on the floor, open to the very last page.

No matter what happens, I will never stop loving him…and I know…he will never stop loving me.

Gently, Damon picked up the book and pressed it to his heart.

"No, Elena. Never…"

All of a sudden, the doorknob started jiggling. Someone was trying to get inside.

He hastily tucked the book in his back pocket and yelled.

"Who's there? What do you want? GO AWAY!"

"It your brother you idiot! Open the damn door!"

"Just go away Stefan!" Damon yelled, clearly annoyed.

"Come one Damon!" Yelled another softer voice. "You can't stay locked in there forever! You can't give up!"

"I HAVEN'T GIVEN UP!" Damon shouted. "But…there's no point in searching anymore…she doesn't want to be found…"

The door fell forward with a bang as the combined strength of Stefan and Caroline knocked it down.

"You don't mean that," Caroline said sadly.

Damon looked at her and saw that her eyes were not so unlike his own, filled with sadness and grief. She too had lost someone special—her best friend.

"No, I don't."

Damon turned his gaze over to Stefan—who was openly gaping at him.

"What?" Damon snapped, not appreciating the scrutiny.

"It's just…you're so…so…"

"Thin." Caroline said, finishing for him. She too was ogling him, but not in a way Damon was used too. "Have long has it been since, um, you've, um, feed?"

Noting how well fed and well-groomed Stefan was, Damon answered with a gruff, "Can't remember."

Stefan scrunched his brow in worry. "How long has it been since you slept?"

"Three months to be exact." Damon retorted harshly. "Now if you two are done with the interrogation, I've got things to do—"

"THREE MONTHS?" Caroline and Stefan both shouted together. If they had looked worried and concerned before, it was nothing compared to how they looked now.

Now Damon was pissed.

"Do you really expect me to sleep when Elena—the love of my life, my reason for existence, the woman who means EVERYTHING to me—is missing? Is gone? Is NOT BY MY SIDE?"

Caroline and Stefan stared at him, completely taken aback.

"When I finally do sleep again, it'll be because Elena's finally back at my side or because…"

Damon gulped and his voice lowered to a whisper. "Or because she's dead. That's when I'll sleep again because I'll go with her—follow her wherever she goes…"

Caroline let out a whimper and Stefan squeezed her hand comfortingly. He whispered something in her ear and Caroline whispered a hushed, "I know we can't. I know…"

Damon sighed loudly.

"I know you're just trying to help me—but nothing can help me. Nothing can make me smile or laugh or eat or sleep—nothing but having Elena back. I will keep looking for her, I will keep searching…I WILL find her. I HAVE to find her. I-I've kept close to this house because I was sure she would come back to it. This is our home. So I thought. But her home…is in my arms. And my home? Is in hers. I'll find her and when she sees me again, she'll realize it too."

"So? How do I look?"

Elena did a little spin in front of the large mirror, her eyes amused at the conflicting emotions in her brothers' face.

He didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to be honest either.

Elena turned around to face him and crossed her arms.

"Oh just say it. I look awful."

Jeremy eyes widened and he shook his head frantically.

"No, no, no! You look beautiful!" She shot him an incredulous glare and Jer nodded his head even more rapidly. "Honest Elena! You're still the prettiest girl in the entire world!"

Elena rolled her eyes. "Okay, now I know you're lying."

He opened his mouth to protest once again but Elena spoke before he could.

"It's ok Jeremy! Its just hair."

She turned back around to face the mirror again and stared skeptically at her new hair 'do.

Her hair, which had always been long, silky and glossy, was now short (reaching just above her ears) and choppy but luckily, still retained some of that gloss.

She smoothed a stray hair down with a dab of saliva and smiled at her brother standing behind her in the reflection.

He smiled back but Elena could still tell he was glum.

In an attempt to make him really smile, Elena held out the sides of her long, flowing nightgown and spun around again in the form of a ballerina. But she lost her balance and stumbled into Jeremy instead.

He immediately grew worried.

"Are you alright? Does something hurt? Should I call—"

"NO!" Elena shouted. She gently pushed back from Jeremy but took his hand and squeezed it. "I just lost my balance a bit! Nothing to worry about!"

She released his arm and turned back to her reflection. She tried making Jeremy laugh by posing in various, scandalous ways but Jeremy hardly blinked.

Elena knew when she had lost a battle.

She glared at him in the mirror and crossed her arms again.

"I said I was fine Jeremy! Seriously, one little stumble and—"

"It's not that." Jeremy interrupted.

"Okay…" Elena said slowly, dragging the word out. "Then what's on your mind? Spill."

Jeremy sighed.

"It's just. There's not much time left until, well, you know and…"

"And we've talked about it Jer," Elena smiled sadly. "I'm ready, truly, I am."

"No, I don't think you are Elena." Jeremy said roughly, his tone of voice surprising Elena. He'd always been very soft spoken and gentle with her. "And neither is HE! HE doesn't even know that, that—"

"STOP IT JEREMY!" Elena spun around so quickly, she quite nearly almost lost her balance again but thankfully, she kept steady. She narrowed her eyes. "You promised me! You swore you wouldn't tell him!"

Jeremy didn't even bat an eyelash at the finger wagging in his face.

"And I've kept my promise. But you have no idea how hard it's been! You have no idea how many times I've wanted to grab him and bring—"

"You wouldn't!" Elena squeaked, her eyes round and frightened.

"No. I wouldn't. Because my loyalty is to you first, always." Jeremy inched closer to her, his face pleading. "He has to know. He hasn't eaten or slept in three months!"

Elena's entire body tensed. "He-he hasn't?" She asked quietly.

Jeremy shook his head sadly. "People say he's gone mad. Talks to himself like a lunatic. They say he makes sure he's home at exactly 6p.m. because you always hated it when he was late to dinner. He hasn't cut his hair because only you know how to cut it. I reckon your hair is a whole lot nicer than his."

Jeremy watched Elena's face register all this closely.

Shock. Fear. Sadness. Pity. Worry. And…yes. Yes, there's—

But Elena's face once more became impassive, uncaring, and emotionless.

"He'll get over it soon enough," Elena said stiffly. "Trust me Jeremy, it's better this way. And like you said, it'll be over soon anyway. Soon…this will all have been just some bad dream for him and he'll wake up. You'll see Jer, you'll see…"

Part two will be posted shortly.