Epilogue – Not Was

Curling her fingers into fists to hide the tremors raging through her body, Elena sat in the passenger seat of Caroline's car, focusing every ounce of her self-control on patience. She was nearly home – just a few more miles until they reached the Mystic Falls city limits and then only a few minutes to drive through town back to the Salvatore house.

She could make it. She had to.

"Elena," Caroline said, breaking the tense silence in the vehicle. Glancing at her friend, Elena noted the furrows of concern creasing the blonde's forehead and the way she was worrying her bottom lip. Great. Here come the platitudes, she thought, pressing back into the seat in irritation.

"I don't want to talk about it," she muttered through gritted teeth.

"But you're beating yourself up over nothing," Caroline insisted, ignoring Elena's explicit request. "Nothing happened, that sales clerk is fine."

No thanks to me. "I said I don't want to talk about it," Elena repeated, clenching her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms deep enough to draw blood. The scent hit her nostrils instantly, making her ravenous and nauseas at the same time. Uncurling her fingers, she pressed her palms flat against her thighs and leaned against the headrest in despair and frustration as she fought the bloodlust.

When was it going to get easier? It was supposed to be getting easier…

To Elena's grim satisfaction, Caroline kept her mouth shut for the rest of the drive home, wordlessly handing over her shopping bags as she wrestled with the door handle in her haste to get out of the car. The dome light came on as she opened the passenger door, illuminating Caroline's crestfallen features. Marshaling the ragged threads of her control, Elena offered her friend a pathetic excuse for a smile. "Thank you," she said, forcing as much sincerity into her voice as possible. She was grateful to Caroline. Not only had she devoted the better part of the last month to helping Elena through her transition she'd kept her from making a horrible mistake that afternoon – one that would have changed her life forever. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

The blonde's perfectly curled hair danced around her shoulders as she nodded. "Okay."

Climbing out of the car, Elena slammed the door with far more force than necessary before blurring up the sidewalk to the house. Throwing open the front door, she barely slowed down long enough to kick it closed with her booted heel before blurring toward the back of the house, tossing her shopping bags in the general vicinity of the staircase as she passed.

So. Fucking. Stupid, she berated herself, storming into the kitchen without bothering to turn on the lights and yanking the refrigerator open so hard that the door bounced off of the cupboards. Grabbing a blood bag from the bottom shelf, she ripped it open, bringing the tube to her lips without bothering to warm it up.

The blood was awful – thick and cold, coating her throat like glue and hitting her stomach like rocks – but it did its job. Elena's fangs descended as she guzzled it down, closing her burning eyes in relief as the fiery, demanding need that had been sitting like a boulder on her chest finally rolled away.

Finishing the first bag, she tossed it toward the sink, not caring when it bounced off of the edge of the counter and landed on the floor with a dull thwap. Grabbing a second bag from the still open refrigerator, she made short work of the contents, grimacing at the medicinal aftertaste as she sucked it down.

"Rough day?"

Startled, Elena whirled around, the tube of the nearly empty blood bag still trapped between her lips as her eyes widened. Standing calmly at the end of the counter, on the very edge of the pool of light emanating from the refrigerator, Damon watched her, his eyes hidden by the shadows. She swallowed, reluctantly lowering the bag from her mouth as she self-consciously licked her lips. She must be losing it. Damon hadn't been able to sneak up on her like that in weeks.

Fantastic, she thought, her stomach turning as she threw the blood bag into the sink. It was like she hadn't learned anything since she'd turned. Thrown off by a little bloodlust and suddenly she was a mindless animal, too focused on feeding to pay attention to her surroundings.

"Didn't Caroline tell you?" she snapped, working hard to get the words out around her elongated canines. "I'm surprised she didn't call you to tattle on me the second I got out of her car."

"I'll take that as a yes," he smirked, casually closing the distance between them. He studied her for a moment before bending down to retrieve the blood bag from where it had landed on the floor. His eyes never left hers as he tossed it into the sink. "What happened?"

"Nothing much," she replied with a shrug as her canines began to recede and the heat around her eyes lessoned. With the hunger momentarily sated, she was able to focus all of her energy on self-loathing. "I almost killed someone, that's all."

"Ah."

"It was so…stupid," Elena fumed as tears flooded her eyes and the words poured from her mouth with ease. Letting Damon in – telling him the truth – was gradually becoming second nature again. "I know better, Damon. The salesclerk was just trying to change the receipt paper on the printer and he got a paper cut. There wasn't even that much blood, but somehow I had him pinned to the floor and Caroline was yelling at me to stop while she tried to haul me off of him."

"But she did haul you off of him," Damon said, standing close enough for Elena to feel his body heat, but not yet trying to touch her. "Right?"

Closing her eyes, she braced a hand on her hip before nodding. "Yes. We had to compel the whole store to forget that they saw me leap over the counter and attack the poor guy like some kind of psychotic vampire ninja, but yes, she did. And I learned a brand new trick. Yay for mind fucking people, right?"

"Psychotic vampire ninja?" Damon snickered, ignoring the snide remark about compulsion. "I wish I'd been there to see that."

"You think that's funny?" Elena snapped, opening her eyes and glaring at her boyfriend. "God, yes, it's just so funny that I almost tore a man's throat out today, Damon. It's absolutely fucking hysterical."

"You're a vampire, Elena," he reminded her – as if she could ever forget. "And you're fighting centuries of instinct. There isn't a vampire in history who's done what you're trying to do."

"So, you're saying it's hopeless? That I should just accept the fact that I'm a monster destined to rip people apart?" she demanded tearfully, smacking his hand away when he tried to touch her shoulder.

"You're not a monster, Elena," Damon replied, ignoring her desire to keep her distance as he grabbed both of her shoulders and dipped his head so that she had little choice but to meet his eye. "What I'm saying is that it's fucking hard and that you shouldn't beat yourself up over the almosts."

"That's easy for you to say," she argued stubbornly, crossing her arms as she pouted like a child. "You never have almosts. You never-."

"Elena…" Damon muttered, casting his gaze heavenward as he blew out a frustrated breath. "I've got a few years on you."

"Whatever," Elena mumbled petulantly, looking away. Deep down, she knew that he was right, but at the moment she didn't care. She was tired of constantly fighting the cravings as she waited for the mythical day when she'd finally be able to handle the bloodlust and just be.

"Hey," Damon commanded, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Elena kept her gaze lowered, preferring to wallow in self-pity rather than be moved by words of encouragement. "Look at me."

Almost against her will, Elena found herself doing as he asked, looking deeply into the crystal blue eyes she knew so well. The part of her that was still terrified over what had happened desperately wanted him to say the magic words that would make everything better. "It won't change anything," he said. "You know that, right?"

"What are you talking about?" she frowned. "What won't change anything?"

"If you kill someone," he stated bluntly, making her wince even as she held his gaze. "That isn't going to change what I think of you or how much I love you."

Elena blinked.

Son of a bitch.

How did he do that?

How did he know of the fear that she'd barely allowed herself to think, let alone say out loud? The fear that if she killed someone – if she gave in to the bloodlust – she'd not only lose control, she'd lose the part of herself that made her Elena Gilbert. Something other than a mindless, killing machine.

Suddenly, she felt like the biggest whiny brat on the planet. He was so patient with her, believed in her so much and she was repaying him by acting like a child. "Damon," she murmured, practically falling against him in exhaustion as he pulled her into his arms. Pressing her forehead against his shoulder, she eventually slipped her arms around him, clinging to him tightly. "I know you will. I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass."

She felt his chuckle rumble through his chest as she snuggled closer. His lips brushed her temple as he said. "I suppose I'll forgive you. This time."

"Gee, thanks," she said with a muffled laugh as she let him hold her and soothe away what remained of her agitation and the annoying, skin-crawling sensation of the bloodlust. As they stood there quietly, Elena did her best to soak up every ounce of comfort that he offered.

She needed it – needed to be reminded that no matter what else changed in her life, she'd always have him as her one constant.

Elena stared at the blood gushing from the bartender's wound, paying careful attention to what her body was telling her. She hadn't witnessed the accident – somehow a beer mug had shattered, slicing the bartender's hand – but she'd instantly been drawn by the scent blood. Instinct raced through her, sharpening her senses as her mouth watered and her gums ached. Tightening her grip on her glass of bourbon, she waited for her eyes to burn as the bartender scowled and wrapped a towel around his hand.

Nothing.

The burn never came and within moments the ache in her gums eased. Closing her eyes briefly, Elena released the breath she'd been holding.

"Elena?" Damon asked, his strong, sure hand on her thigh, pressing lightly against her in reassurance.

"I'm okay," she promised, turning away from the scowling bartender as he held his hand to his chest and caught the attention of one of the wait staff. Meeting her boyfriend's gaze, she smiled. "Really."

Damon nodded, brushing her hair away from her face and touching her cheek before turning back to his drink and his conversation with Alaric. Swallowing, Elena ran her tongue over her teeth before taking a large gulp of her drink. A member of the wait staff helped the bartender apply first aid to the shallow wound and in less than five minutes, he was back to work, sweeping up the broken glass as if nothing had happened.

Finishing her drink, Elena slid off of her barstool. "I'm going to go play pool with Caroline," she said, resting her hand on Damon's back as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. He turned his head at the last second, capturing her lips in a much deeper kiss than she'd intended.

"Have fun," he said, his eyes sparkling as he pulled away, leaving her breathless. Rolling her eyes, Elena couldn't help but grin as she headed toward the pool tables, weaving her way through the crowd.

Two nights before Christmas, the Grille was packed with regular patrons as well as college students who'd returned home for the holidays. Everywhere she looked, Elena saw groups of people hugging and laughing their greetings as if they'd been apart for years, rather than a matter of months. Catching snippets of conversations about classes and dorm life, her heart ached a little for Emory and the life she'd been forced to put on hold.

Nearly three months ago, at the beginning of October, she and Damon had returned to Atlanta long enough for her to file the proper paperwork to drop her fall classes and officially take the semester off. Her stomach had turned at the portion of her tuition that she wouldn't be getting back, but she'd understood that it was her only option. She'd been able to handle Mystic Falls and events like the Founder's Party, but she hadn't been anywhere near ready to return to Atlanta. Clinging tightly to Damon's hand and holding her breath, she'd barely kept her bloodlust in check as they'd made their way across campus. She'd needed more time to get used to her new life, to work on her self-control before diving back into the much bigger and less familiar city.

"Wait, what do you mean I lost?" Caroline demanded, her voice cutting through the din of the other patrons. Elena focused on it as she skirted around a group of squealing girls, all speaking simultaneously at maximum volume while jumping around and hugging. "I got the eight ball in. That's how you win."

"Yeah, but you scratched on the eight ball," Tyler explained, reaching into the slot at the end of the table to hold up the cue ball. "That's an automatic loss."

"Since when?"

"Since always."

Caroline glared at him, one hand on her hip, the other holding the cue stick as Elena sidled up to the pool table. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Well, don't blame me," Tyler replied with a shrug as he began racking up the colored balls for another game. "I didn't make up the rules."

"You're supposed to let your girlfriend win," Caroline insisted, nudging him playfully in the side with the end of her cue stick.

Tyler scoffed, easily maneuvering out of range as he finished the set up and rolled the cue ball down to the opposite end of the table. "Babe, you're the one holding the pool cue, I can't make you not shoot the ball into the pocket," he said, winking at Elena.

"Whatever," Caroline huffed, pouting as she crossed her arms almost comically. Noticing Elena, she said. "Play Tyler at your own risk. He cheats."

"Caroline," Tyler said, dropping his chin to his chest in exasperation. "It's the rules."

Grinning, Elena grabbed a cue stick of her own from the wall, chalked it and lined up her first shot, being careful to keep her strength in check so that she didn't send any of the balls flying across the room. Chuckling softly at the mental image of the patrons ducking under their respective tables for cover, she watched the break before standing back as Caroline took her shot without interrupting the flow of her argument with Tyler.

They fell into an easy rhythm, one game bleeding into the next as they teased and cajoled each other about bad shots. Caroline had just snatched the ball Tyler had been aiming at off of the table, causing him to scratch the cue ball into the corner pocket, when Elena felt the weight of a familiar gaze on her back.

Glancing over her shoulder, she met Damon's eye and smiled. I love you, she thought for no other reason than the fact that it was true and she was happy –happy to be with her friends, happy that Jeremy would be coming home in a few days, happy that she'd be in Mystic Falls for Christmas with the people she loved, happy to be alive.

She was just…happy.

Really fucking happy.

That happiness had been hard-won. The explosive fight with Damon the night of the Founder's Party had brought down the walls that had been separating them, but the foundation of the problems between them had stubbornly persisted. Her nightmares had continued as well – albeit with decidedly less frequency and intensity now that Damon had returned to their bed – and she'd lost count of the number of times she'd caught him staring at her with a tortured, guilt-stricken expression. True to his word, however, he'd stayed – refusing to hide from her even when his desperate need to put distance between himself and his failure had been written plainly on his features.

Every day, the tension between them had lessened and every week was an improvement upon the last, allowing Elena to focus more and more of her energy into figuring out how to live as a vampire surrounded by human prey. It hadn't been easy. Despite her success at the Founder's Party, she'd had some horrifyingly close calls where a sudden surge of bloodlust had nearly resulted in the death of an innocent bystander.

The incident with the sales clerk had been an unexpected turning point for her. Elena had been too upset to admit it out loud that night, but Damon's assurance that he'd love her no matter what happened had eased some of the pressure she'd put on herself – the pressure to be perfect. The night had been another milestone, marking a shift in her transition and their relationship as they'd continued to heal.

Returning her attention to the game, Elena lingered by the pool tables through last call and, only when the overhead lights flickered on, did she reluctantly return the cue sticks to the wall mounts where they were kept.

"I'm going to miss this," Caroline sighed, throwing an arm around Elena's shoulders and voicing her exact thoughts out loud as they made their way toward the bar where Damon and Alaric were waiting for them. "Are you sure you have to go back to Atlanta?"

"I don't have to go back, Care, I want to," Elena clarified, taking her jacket from Damon as they headed toward the door in a group. The new semester began in mid-January, but Caroline had been lamenting about Elena and Damon's departure for the past three weeks. "I have to go back to school. I'm already a semester behind."

"Oh, whatever," the blonde replied, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. "You're a vampire, you have all the time in the world."

"That's what I told her," Damon muttered under his breath as he held the door open for the two women. Rolling her eyes, Elena was about to point out that he'd been the one to insist on only a semester off while she'd initially proposed a year, when she stepped out into the night and stopped in her tracks.

It was snowing.

Elena stared up at the cloudy sky, smiling as tiny, cold flakes hit her cheeks and instantly began to melt. A week ago, a cold snap had descended upon Mystic Falls and now, two days before Christmas, a four inch layer of snow blanketed the town. She'd always loved the snow – especially in December – but this year she was appreciating it on an entirely different level.

Covering up the faded leaves and brown grass of fall, the snow teased her heightened senses, smelling fresh and clean as it sparkled from bare tree branches and rooftops like millions of brilliant diamonds. She'd taken advantage of her high tolerance for the cold weather after the first snowfall, racing out of the house to play like a kid on Christmas morning. Damon had laughed at her enthusiasm, but she hadn't cared as she'd knelt amidst the fallen snow, scooping up handfuls of it and marveling at how soft it was as it slowly melted and dripped from her fingers.

Trying to explain the beauty of the snow to her brother, however, had left him unmoved.

"I live in Colorado," Jeremy had reminded her during his Thanksgiving break. "There's snow in the mountains all year round and besides, it's not like it's never snowed at home when we were growing up."

"Yeah, I know," Elena had sighed, staring out of the big picture window at the smooth, sparkling expanse of white stretching across the front yard. Staring at it while the sunlight reflected off of the multi-faceted surface actually hurt her eyes, but she couldn't look away. "But this is…different."

Jeremy had rolled his eyes and Elena had given up trying to explain it to him.

Everything was different now. Becoming a vampire had changed so much for Elena, but she'd quickly learned that it was difficult to describe it to…humans. She didn't have the words to adequately express how everything – sights, smells, sounds, feelings – were just so much…more. It almost saddened her to know that most humans would never appreciate the simple beauty of snow.

"Aw, what the hell man, seriously?" Alaric whined as he and Damon made their way out of the bar, escorted by one of the harried wait staff who quickly closed and locked the door the second the two men crossed the threshold. Glaring at the sky, the thoroughly inebriated teacher muttered. "If I wanted to see a white Christmas, I'd watch the damn movie."

"Hey!" Elena cried, pretending to be hurt. "Stop insulting the snow. It's-."

"It's beautiful, yeah, yeah, I know. I heard you the first hundred times you said it," Alaric mocked, his tongue loosened considerably by the amount of alcohol he'd consumed. "You wouldn't be waxing all poetic if you had to shovel this shit out of the driveway."

Damon snorted. "When have you ever picked up a shovel?"

"Not the point," Alaric snapped.

Elena bit her lip to hold back a smile as he continued to grumble, her gaze shifting to Damon. He winked at her, leaving her weak in the knees as he egged Alaric on in his drunken rant against the snow.

"Come on, Grandpa," Damon teased, trying to take Alaric by the shoulders and guide him toward the Camaro. "It's past your bedtime."

"Grandpa?" Alaric retorted indignantly, shaking out of the vampire's grasp and proving he wasn't nearly as drunk as he seemed. "Who are you calling 'grandpa', old man? You're like a hundred and…" he frowned as he tried to quickly do the math in his head. "A hundred and a lot of years older than me."

"A hundred and a lot?" Damon snorted. "And they trust you to prepare children for the real world?"

"Social studies and history," Alaric reminded him. "Not math."

"A lover's spat," Tyler mused, eyeing the squabbling duo. "Isn't it cute?"

The vampire and the former hunter stopped in mid-insult, simultaneously turning to glare at the werewolf as Elena and Caroline burst out laughing.

"Aw, I don't want this to end," the blonde vampire repeated, bouncing on her toes as she grabbed Elena's arm. "It's going to be so boring when you two go back."

"Are you kidding, it's going to be awesome," Alaric said, punching Damon on the arm before leaping out of his reach. "I won't have to share my alcohol with this loser."

"Share my ass," Damon retorted, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. "As if I drink that cheap shit you guzzle like a-."

The rest of his insult was lost as a ball of fresh snow hit him squarely in the face. Elena's jaw dropped, her surprise quickly morphing into laughter as Damon blinked and clumps of melting snow slid down his face.

"Seriously, Ric?" Damon demanded incredulously, wiping the snow off of his face, but the teacher was already gone, leaving a pristine trail through the snow as he ran toward the town square. The normally grassy expanse was covered in snow drifts where the town's lone snowplow had dumped what had been scraped off of the streets. Damon shook his head before looking toward his girlfriend. "He's not really trying to outrun me, right?"

"Damon…" Elena said, eyeing him warily as he brushed the remains of the snowball off of his shirt and jacket. "Play nice."

"Fuck that, he's got his ring," Damon retorted, taking off toward the square in a blur of black against the white backdrop with Tyler close behind him.

"Come on," Caroline said, grabbing Elena's hand as Damon tackled Alaric to the ground before leaping back to his feet and pummeling him with snowballs. Tyler caught up, assisting the teacher at first until the human hit the werewolf with a snowball in his face as well. Eager to join in, Elena broke into a run as the fight turned into a free-for-all. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a snowball fight…

"Wait, hold on," Elena said, stopping on the edge of the square and pulling Caroline up short.

"What?" Caroline asked, her gaze darting between the action to her left and Elena's face. "We can totally take them."

"I know," she replied, grinning as her gaze swept over the gazebo, half-buried in a snow drift in the center of the square. There were drifts all over, some of them big enough to hide behind. Her gaze shifted to Damon as the last snowball fight she'd been in returned to her in vivid detail.

Payback's a bitch.

"Then what are we waiting for?" the blonde demanded, tugging on Elena's hand like an excited child.

"I have a plan," she said, her eyes sparkling as her grin turned mischievous. "And I'm going to need your help."

Dripping snow and feeling like a drowned and frozen rat, Damon made his way up the driveway toward his home. The temperature seemed to be hovering right around freezing and while the cold didn't bother him, the fact that his goddamn hair and clothes were icing over did. Leaving the Camaro parked at the Grille, he'd walked all the way back to his house.

There was no way in hell he was ruining the leather interior by driving in wet clothes.

I'm going to kill her, he thought as he opened the front door silently and stepped into the darkened house. There was no fire burning in the grate in the living room and while he could smell Elena – after three months, her perfume had permeated the entire house once again – he couldn't see or hear her.

Which was just as well for her…since she was about to die.

"Elena," he murmured, stepping cautiously into the living room, all of his senses on high alert. "Come out, come out wherever you are…"

After a long moment of silence, he heard a whispered. "No."

Damon smirked at the soft sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. She was probably upstairs, whispering down from the landing, but he couldn't be certain. Elena had proven to be unnaturally skilled at utilizing her heightened senses to move silently through the house – especially when she was trying to sneak up on him.

Which she did often.

He suspected it was payback for the three years during which he'd held the monopoly on stealth in their relationship. In the past three months Elena had not only proven that she had a long memory for the little things he'd done to tease her over the years, but that she could also be very, very patient in choosing her moments for retaliation.

Case in point - an hour ago, she and Caroline had snuck up on him during their snowball fight and flipped him upside down into a snow bank. Revenge, she'd murmured through the layers of cold, wet stuff seeping into his clothes and skin, for St. Moritz.

He hadn't understood what the fuck she'd been talking about until he'd scrambled his way out of the damned pile of snow. As he'd attempted – unsuccessfully – to brush most of it off before it melted, he'd had a vivid memory of their trip and Elena's erotic striptease as she'd peeled away layers of wet clothing.

He'd been as proud of her as he'd been annoyed.

By the time his frozen brain had thawed enough for him to think about retaliation, Elena had disappeared and he'd been stuck with a guffawing and equally snow covered Tyler and Alaric in the middle of town at three in the morning. Leaving his idiot friends, he'd cast a longing look toward his car before setting off for home.

Creeping through the silent house, Damon realized that the games were far from over. Obviously, Elena wanted him to hunt her and since it was apparently a night for showing off, he decided to oblige.

It was time Elena realized just how good of a hunter he could be.

Especially when she was the prey.

"I've got to admit," he said, keeping his voice low so that she'd have to stay close to hear it as he leaned into the living room and scanned the darkness. "That was pretty impressive."

"I know," she whispered after a few seconds of silence.

Definitely not in the living room, Damon decided as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Turning around slowly, he looked across the foyer into the library, squinting into the darkness. He was still convinced that she was upstairs, but the library was worth a look.

"How long did you spend planning that?" he asked, making his way silently across the polished floor.

"Years," she admitted, the murmured answer feeling like a caress over his entire body.

Upstairs. Definitely, upstairs.

"Years, really?" he mused, raising his voice slightly to mask the creak on the second step.

"Since Switzerland," she replied, confirming his revenge theory. She seemed further away, leading him to believe that she'd been standing somewhere that had allowed her to see him.

"That's a long time to plan revenge," he said, abandoning some of his care as he picked up the pace and ascended the stairs more quickly.

"It was worth it…"

Rolling his eyes, he smirked at the way she practically sang out her smug satisfaction at what she'd accomplished. Arriving at the top of the stairs, he looked around the landing, groaning internally when he saw that she'd opened every single door exactly the same amount. She could have slipped into any one of them and knowing her, she wouldn't answer him anymore, leaving him to guess blind.

"Yeah, but does it really count?" he asked, assuming that the blatant challenge to her victory would flush her out as he listened sharply for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

"I mean, Caroline had to help," Damon continued, thinking he'd heard movement in Stefan's room and taking a few steps down the hall. "So, you didn't get me on your own."

Curling his fingers around the door handle, he threw it open suddenly, expecting Elena to start guiltily at being caught on the first try before she attempted to blur around him and back into the hallway.

But she wasn't there.

Okay…

Frowning, he turned around, scanning the array of partially open doors as he tried to figure out where she'd be hiding – and more importantly why she wasn't taunting him anymore with that ethereal whisper. She wanted him to find her – that was the point – but she was certainly making it difficult this time.

A sigh, so soft he thought he'd imagined it, caught his attention, drawing his gaze toward his bedroom. Narrowing his eyes, he noticed that the door was slightly more ajar than the rest of them. Vague suspicions rose to the forefront of his mind, as he studied the door.

She wouldn't be so obvious as to hide in his own room…unless she had something else planned.

Abandoning the hunt, he walked across the landing, vaguely aware of – and annoyed by –the water that he was dripping all over the floor. He'd have to wipe up the water soon before it stained the hardwood.

Which meant that the hot bath he was envisioning-for two-was going to have to wait.

Elena Gilbert had a lot to make up for…and he was going to enjoy making her pay up.

His bedroom door opened silently on its well-oiled hinges, allowing him to slip inside without a sound. He found her immediately, his gaze drawn to her as always – like a moth to the flame. Standing at the bathroom sink clad only in her red bra and panties, she seemed oblivious to his presence as he slowly approached.

Opening his mouth to speak, he snapped it shut again as the rest of the bathroom came into view. She'd lit half a dozen candles, arranging them around the bath that had already been drawn. Damon's chilled body ached with longing to slide beneath the steaming hot water. There'd clearly been more to her plan than a simple game of hide-and-seek, and while the red bra and matching panties stood out beautifully against her bare skin, highlighting every curve to erotic perfection, as far as staged discoveries went, this wasn't one of her best.

Standing in a trance in front of the soap dish, completely oblivious to his presence, really wasn't…

The soap dish.

Damon groaned inwardly.

Shit.

"Elena?" he said softly after clearing his throat. Jumping in surprise, she whirled around to face him, her hands clutching something to her heart.

"Damon," she gasped, glancing down as she started guiltily before tucking her hand behind her back in a vain attempt to hide the little black box that he already knew she'd already discovered. Looking sheepishly around the bathroom, she added. "You weren't supposed to find me yet."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, playing along, waiting to see how far she'd take it before admitting to what she'd found.

"Yeah, I was…going to be waiting in the tub," she explained, gesturing weakly with her empty hand toward the claw footed tub. "I figured you might want to warm up after your, um…fun in the snow."

"Ah," he said, smirking as he unzipped his jacket and began the awkward task of peeling the waterlogged thing off of his shoulders. Raising a brow, he asked. "So, what stopped you?"

"Oh, I…," she stammered with a shrug, obviously scrambling for a lie. Finally, she closed her eyes and sighed, holding out her hand and revealing the velvet jeweler's box that she'd found. "I found this and got distracted. Why didn't you tell me you had my ring? And why the hell did you put it in the soap dish? It doesn't exactly blend in."

"And yet, it took you two months to find it," Damon pointed out, chuckling as he tossed his sodden jacket to the floor and crossed to her. "Old habits," he added with a shrug, taking the box and opening it so that the silver ring caught the soft glow of the candlelight as Elena began unbuttoning his shirt. "I brought it back after we went down to Atlanta to take care of your classes for the semester. And I didn't tell you because I was going to give it to you for Christmas."

"Re-gifting?" Elena asked, raising a brow. "Classy, Salvatore." Her fingers trembled, however, as she struggled with the buttons and wet fabric of his shirt and when she looked at him her smile was strained. Damon saw the fear and excitement in her eyes during the brief glimpse she allowed him before refocusing on her work.

"Someone told me to keep it until she needed it, so I figure it's not so much re-gifting as follow through," he explained as her hands stilled, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. For a long moment, he waited for her as she stood silently before him. He could practically hear the wheels in her head turning as she ran through the various ways that the next few minutes could play out. The mood between them had changed considerably, from playful to deliberate, and Damon felt the weight of it like a boulder on his chest.

"Damon?" Elena finally asked, lifting her head to meet his eye with an expression so nakedly vulnerable that it nearly squeezed his heart into mush. "Christmas isn't for two days, but…can I-can I have it now?"

Damon made his way to the bar as Elena continued ranting about Bonnie. Keeping his gaze lowered and his attention seemingly focused on pouring a precise two fingers of bourbon, he did his best to appear uninterested.

In reality, he was hanging on her every word. If he wanted to break her heart thoroughly enough to make her leave, he needed to pay attention.

"So then Caroline said 'I'll buy it for you two as a housewarming gift,'" Elena revealed, directing her comments in Damon's general direction as she continued to pace the length of the room. "Right in front of Bonnie! I mean, I know Care isn't the best secret keeper in the world, but she just blurted it out without even thinking!"

"Why were you keeping it a secret from Bonnie?" Damon asked bluntly, taking a sip of his drink and folding his arms.

"What?" she asked, pausing in mid-stride as she blinked at him in surprise over the interruption.

"You were going to tell her, right?" he pressed, meeting her eye with an unblinking gaze. "You weren't going to hide the fact that you planned on moving in with a vampire from your best friend forever, were you?"

Elena winced at the clear accusation in his tone before trying to mask her guilt with exaggerated defiance. "Of course, I was," she insisted. "I was just waiting for the right time to-."

"Break it to her gently?" Damon asked, scoffing derisively as he made his way casually around the couch and took a seat on the end furthest from her. "Come on, Elena. Even you're not that naïve when it comes to Bonnie. Like you said, she hates me."

"Right," she replied, gritting her teeth. "Anyway, like I was saying, I was definitely going to tell Bonnie, but with finals and all the graduation stuff going on I hadn't had a chance to yet."

"You had time to tell Caroline," he pointed out, studying the amber liquid in his glass.

"Do you want to hear this or not, Damon?" she huffed, placing a hand on her hip as she glared at him. Holding up his hands, he shrugged and waved at her to continue. Despite the fact that he was used to Bonnie's anti-vampire vitriol, listening to a play-by-play of her argument with Elena stung. The witch apparently didn't understand why Elena wanted to have anything to do with vampires, why she loved one, why she'd want to move in with one in Atlanta and play house when all they did was fight all of the time. The real fist to the gut came near the end of the conversation, however, when Bonnie had apparently laid all of her cards on the table and presented Elena with the coup de grace.

"Mistake, Damon," she cried, shaking her head in anger and disbelief. "She actually used the word mistake to describe the most important relationship – the most important decision – of my life."

Damon's stomach churned as he silently took a sip of his alcohol, feeling like he was right back at the Bleeding Wolf, listening to a far less diplomatic version of Alaric's speech.

"And as if that wasn't enough, she told me that I didn't have to settle for you. Settle," Elena continued ranting as he stared into the empty fireplace. Whatever doubts he'd had about following through with his plan to end things faded with each word that she recapped for him. Bonnie may be a judgmental bitch, but that didn't mean she was wrong and adding her voice to Alaric's simply reinforced the truth that Damon hadn't wanted to face.

Until now.

Letting Elena go was the best thing he could do for her.

"Damon," she said sharply, her long, bare legs filling his field of vision as she stopped directly in front of him. "Are you even listening?"

To every word. Rising abruptly and forcing her back a step, he shrugged as he turned his back on her and walked toward the fireplace. "Not really."

"Not really?" she repeated, her voice cracking like a whip in the tense room. "Seriously?"

"What's the point?" he asked, his stomach turning with every mocking word he continued to deliver. "Bonnie hates me because I'm an evil vampire, an abomination against Nature, out to ruin her best friend's life, blah blah blah. Same shit, different day."

A measure of hurt bled into her expression, mixing with and sharpening her anger. "How can you be so glib-?"

"How can you take it so seriously?" he demanded, draining his drink and heading back to the alcohol as the weight of her incredulous gaze bore into his back. "I mean, the Sabrina the Teenage Bitch has been singing the same sad song for almost two years. Why is this time special and worthy of discussion? Unless…" He paused for effect, flicking a glance her way and noting the confusion in her eyes with an aching heart. "Deep down, you've decided that she's right."

Taken aback, Elena demanded. "What?"

"I am a vampire, Elena," he reminded her, splashing bourbon into the tumbler quickly and with far less precision than before. If he slowed down she might notice the way his hands were shaking and he couldn't afford to show any weakness – she knew him too well. "And I get why someone like you would be attracted to one."

"Someone like me?" she repeated, crossing her arms protectively across her chest. "What's that supposed to-."

"Everyone that you've ever loved has died on you," Damon snapped, desperately trying to remember how it felt not to care. "And I can't. No matter the supernatural bullshit that you drag me in to, I'll always be here. It's probably what made you stick around after you found out the truth about Stefan and I. A literal eternity with a vampire sounds pretty appealing, even though it's my nature to prey on humans." Pausing for effect, he added. "You're supposed to fear me, Elena, not fuck me."

Elena's jaw dropped in shock and it took her a long moment to find her voice. "Wow."

"Speaking of which, why don't we just skip to the fucking?" he asked, mentally calculating how quickly he could take the discussion from peaceable to all-out-war with a method of escalating vulgarity. Knowing that she'd hate the implication that what they had was nothing more than really good sex, it became his weapon of choice."That's the only part we've ever been good at."

Visibly stung, Elena shook her head as she blinked away tears. "Why are you-"

"Am I wrong?" he demanded, deciding that it was best not to let her speak because the anguish in her voice wreaked havoc on his resolve. "Come on, Elena. The first time we met, you wanted me to take you down to the floor and fuck you until you couldn't move. I could smell it. You were so turned on, you couldn't think straight."

"Stop," she demanded, her voice surprisingly strong considering the blush staining her cheeks.

"That's all this is," he continued, taking a sip of his bourbon and ignoring the way her chin was trembling with emotion. "Fighting and fucking. You get off on the fighting, on the way I wind you up like a toy until the only thing that will get rid of that itch between your thighs is bending you over and taking you-."

"Shut up, you son of a bitch!"

Leering at her – and hating himself with every fiber of his being as he watched the tears roll down her cheeks – he took another sip of bourbon before striking out again. "Are you going to hit me now?"

Shaking her head, Elena wiped the tears away angrily, her whole body trembling with a mixture of hurt and rage as she continued to stare at Damon, speechless and humiliated and confused. Mind racing, she desperately tried to catch up and figure out what the hell had happened in the past few minutes. She'd expected him to rail at Bonnie, not at her, and yet somehow the entire conversation had been flipped upside down and sideways. Jesus, he expected her to hit him.

Although, the more his crude words sunk in, the more she really really wanted to.

"Do you want me to hit you?" she asked quietly, trying to keep her voice steady as she tried not to think about the number of times she had hit him in the heat of an argument. She'd regretted it immediately, every time, but Damon had always known what buttons to push to bring out the worst in her.

Buttons he hadn't pushed in almost two years.

Why now?

"It's the pattern, Elena," he sneered, uttering her name in an erotic way that dripped with sex and made her skin crawl simultaneously. It was the way he used to talk to her when they'd first met – when he'd wanted to piss her off. "We fight, I upset your delicate sensibilities by saying something true that you don't want to hear, you hit me, we fuck." He shrugged again from his place behind the bar. "As much as I like a little violence now and then, I'd rather we just skip to the end."

"You think I'm going to let you touch me after what you've just said?" she asked, cursing herself for sounding weak and scared when she wanted to be strong. "Why are you acting like this?"

"I'm not acting like anything," he said dispassionately, lifting his shoulders in a maddening and dismissive shrug that set her nerves on edge. Looking away from her, he took a sip of his drink.

"Bullshit," she cried, advancing on him determined to get the truth. If this was how he really felt – if he really considered her nothing more than a good lay – then she wanted to know why he'd strung her along for the past year. "We were talking about Bonnie. I thought you'd commiserate with me on what a horrible bitch I have for a best friend and instead you…Why are you saying all of these things?"

"I'm saying these things because they're true," Damon insisted, backing away from her as she rounded the couch. "It's time you faced reality and quit living in the fairytale where I'm some kind of white knight instead of an evil monster."

Elena narrowed her eyes at the catch in his voice on the last word. Monster. Not bad guy, not vampire, but monster. On instinct, she stepped closer, noting the way he countered the move with another step backward. Suddenly suspicious, she lifted her chin and met his gaze unflinchingly. Damon held it for a few seconds before looking away and bringing his glass of bourbon to his lips with a trembling hand.

Elena started. Damon didn't tremble. He also didn't keep his distance when they fought. He crowded her, deliberately invaded her personal space in an often successful attempt to throw her off of her game.

He's lying, she realized with relief. Whatever point he was trying to make, whatever pain he was trying to inflict, he was utterly full of shit.

But why?

Why would he purposely try to hurt her in the midst of her story about Bonnie? Where the hell was this even coming from?

"You're not a monster," she argued, buying time as her mind raced to make sense of the conversation.

"Oh, I'm the definition of monster, sweetheart," he replied, his trademark smirk suddenly looking like a grimace of pain.

"But you don't think you are," she insisted, advancing on him slowly as he stared into the empty fireplace. "Damon Salvatore – at least the one you so vividly described – thinks he's at the top of the goddamn food chain."

"I am," he nodded, gulping his bourbon as he crossed his arm around his torso. The gesture had appeared casual and defiant when he'd done it earlier.

Now, it just looked like he was trying to hold himself together.

"Deep down, you've decided that she's right."

Elena's eyes widened with sudden understanding. Everything out of his mouth had been a lie, but he'd looked her right in the eye when he'd made that comment. She didn't think that Bonnie was right, but Damon…

He did.

He believed that she was making a mistake. Settling. He believed that she was better off without him.

"I know what you're trying to do," Elena said, noting that she'd hit the nail on the head when she'd thought about the way Damon knew how to push her buttons. He'd been pushing her on purpose so that she'd do what she always had in the past and walk away in a huff.

Walk away…and never come back.

"I'm just telling the truth."

"No, you're lying," she argued, crossing her arms as she stared at him appraisingly. "You don't think Bonnie's right. You never think Bonnie's right. You're just trying to upset me."

"Now why would I do that?" Damon demanded, his hard, cold gaze slicing through her as he looked at her again. Her confidence wavered in light of that gaze, fueling her resolve to get to the truth.

She refused to believe that everything she knew to be true was really a lie.

"I don't know. So, I'd save you from having to grow a pair and leave me, maybe?" Elena said, her brain racing a mile a minute as she tried to piece things together. "What happened? Did Bonnie get to you, too? Did she call you or something? You can't tell me that you just decided somewhere between this morning when we woke up in bed together and now that you're tired of me."

Damon shook his head before saying evasively. "I haven't talked to Bonnie in weeks."

"Then who?" Elena demanded, trying to remember what Damon had told her he was doing that day. He'd said something about meeting with Liz and then having drinks with Alaric after school, but that didn't…

Fuck.

"Ric?" she murmured, her stomach turning at the implied betrayal. It had to have been him. Even if Sheriff Forbes had had an opinion on her and Damon moving to Atlanta, she wouldn't have voiced it. Rushing to his side, she demanded. "Oh, my god, what did he say to you, Damon-."

"Noth-."

"Don't lie to me," she cried, tears burning behind her eyes. "We were fine this morning – better than fine. So, tell me the truth. What the hell did Ric say to you?"

Cursing under his breath, Damon closed his eyes briefly and rubbed his hand over his face. When he opened them again his entire demeanor had changed. Pain and anguish radiated from his intense, blue gaze, breaking her heart as it searched her face. Lifting his hand, his fingers hovered near her cheek for a moment before he dropped it back to his side and turned away. "Nothing I didn't already know," he muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, following close on his heels and ducking around him as they drew close to the fireplace. He brushed her away as she reached for him, but she insisted, taking his face between her hands and forcing him to look at her. "Damon, talk to me."

"Elena…" he murmured, gazing at her helplessly. "What the hell are you doing with me?"

"I love you," she replied, frowning at him in confusion.

"You shouldn't," he said, his gaze flitting all over her face, as if he were memorizing her features. "Klaus is dead. You've been happy and safe for a year and now you've got a chance to get the hell out of Mystic Falls and put all of this doppelganger bullshit behind you. You can be human, live a human life."

"Why do you think I've been happy?" she demanded, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs as the gravity of the situation weighed her down. Every time they fought, a small part of her wondered if this fight would be the fight – the one that broke them for good. She'd never paid much attention to that small part of her, but suddenly it wasn't so small. Suddenly, the fear that she could lose Damon for good took over her entire being. "It's because of you, Damon. I'm happy because I'm with you."

"But I'll destroy you," he insisted with such earnestness that it made her heart break. "My life, my world...me. It'll ruin everything good in you…everything that I love about you."

Tears coursed down her cheeks as she argued. "No, you won't," she insisted, shaking her head for emphasis. "Damon…if it weren't for you…and Stefan…coming into my life when you did, I'd be dead. This…doppelganger bullshit isn't something that I can escape. No matter what Ric said."

"But Klaus-."

"Fuck Klaus," Elena cried, dropping her hands to his shoulders and shaking him a little. "God, how can you be so short-sighted? Not everything is your fault."

"I think everyone who's ever met me would beg to differ," he quipped, trying – and failing – to laugh.

"Shut up," she muttered, her voice breaking with emotion. Elena didn't find it funny. She didn't find any of this funny. In that moment she hated Alaric and Bonnie – hated everyone who'd ever said or done anything to make Damon doubt his place in her life and how impossible it would be for her to continue without him. "It doesn't matter that Klaus is dead or that things have been quiet for a year. It's not over, Damon. It's never going to be over. I'm never going to live a normal, human life."

"You could," he argued. "I'm the last link, Elena. Without me -."

"Without you, there's still Caroline and Bonnie. And Tyler," Elena pointed out. "And my brother who can see ghosts. And me," she added, reminding him of the irrefutable truth. "I'm always going to be the doppelganger. Until the day I die or turn, I'm going to be different, a target because we don't know who else out there might want my blood for their magic spells or whatever."

"I'll protect you, Elena," he promised, a look of horror crossing his features as if he were appalled that she could even think that he'd abandon her completely. "I'll always protect you, but you don't have to be with me for me to do that. You can fall in love with a human, get married, raise a family. You don't need me-."

"Yes, I do," she cried, tears falling down her cheeks unchecked now. "I need you, Damon. And I want you. Just you. It's always going to be you."

Damon blinked at those words, his expression clearing slightly as he continued to stand stoically before her. The uncertainty in his gaze was breathtakingly painful to behold, as if he'd already let her go – on the way home perhaps – and now the challenge came in convincing himself that he could take her back. Her hands fell to her sides as he took a step back from her and turned away. Despair coursed through her as he continued to stare into the empty fireplace, the sudden silence in the room deafening.

"Damon...please."

Taking a deep breath, he turned towards her, his gaze unwavering before a corner of his mouth hitched upwards. "Fuck Klaus, huh?" Something in his voice – something that sounded a lot like acceptance – made her heart soar.

"Yes," she nodded. "Fuck him and Bonnie and Ric…fuck anyone that tries to say that this isn't right. That the way we love each other isn't the best, most amazing thing that's ever happened, okay?"

"Okay," Damon promised after a drawn-out silence. Half sobbing and half laughing with relief, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in the crook of his neck, already trying to forget how real the past few minutes had been, how incredibly close she'd come to losing him.

Slowly, Damon returned the embrace, his hands moving over her body reverently as if he were memorizing every curve. For a long moment they stood like that, limbs entangled and pressed against each other so tightly that if Elena hadn't known better she would have sworn that she could hear his heart pounding against his ribs.

"I need you to promise me something," she said, pulling away to look him in the eye. "Promise me that no matter what happens, we don't let anyone come between us. If we fall apart," she paused, swallowing the bitter taste the words left in her mouth before pressing ahead. "If we fall apart…"

"It won't be because a bitchy little witch hates me," he supplied with enough venom in his voice to prove that things were returning to normal.

"Or because your idiot best friend thinks he needs to look out for my best interests," she finished, raising a brow as she ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Right," Damon said, his gaze dropping to her mouth a second before he claimed her lips. Passion flared between them, fierce and intense, reminding her that they'd fought – and would inevitably fight again. Between kisses, almost as if he'd read her mind, he murmured. "Sorry I was an asshole. I'll make it up to you."

"I know you will," she replied breathlessly as he turned his attention to her neck, dragging his blunt teeth against her skin and making her thighs clench. "Besides, you may have been a dick, but you weren't wrong. Our fights do tend to follow a pattern."

"They do," he agreed as he tugged her tank top down to press a trail of open mouthed kisses to the swells of her breasts. Elena clung to him, letting her head fall back as he made his way back to her mouth. "And I kind of like how they end."

"Me, too," she grinned, nipping playfully at his bottom lip. "We shouldn't break tradition."

"No?" he asked, raising a brow.

Elena shook her head. "No."

Grinning against his lips, Elena wrapped her legs around his waist as he lifted her off of the floor and carried her toward the couch, the familiar heat between them building in intensity with every step. The knot of anxiety that had taken root in her stomach that afternoon at the mall loosened as he settled her against the cushions without breaking their connection. Parting her lips, she allowed entrance to his probing tongue, arching into him as his hand smoothed down her hip and beneath the hem of her shorts. Elena moaned into his mouth as he caressed her thigh, his fingers inching slowly higher as they kissed.

Best. Tradition. Ever.

Can I have it now?

Damon could have gone nuts with innuendo and smartass remarks – and any other night, over anything else he would have – but in that moment all he wanted was to do what Elena asked.

Nodding, he tugged her temporary daylight ring off of the middle finger on her left hand before taking the beautiful, intricately carved silver band from the plush velvet box. He rubbed his thumb over the lapis lazuli stones, momentarily struck by the fact that those tiny blue gems could be spelled to protect them from the sun.

Would be protecting her from the sun.

"Wait," Elena said as he tried to put the new ring back on her middle finger. Frowning slightly, he raised a questioning brow as she smiled softly and said. "Not on that one."

Presenting him with her left ring finger, he smirked and shook his head at the embarrassingly giddy sensation that swept through him. He knew it was silly to be so sentimental about putting the daylight ring on such a noteworthy finger. The ring was life and freedom for vampires– meaning so much more than an engagement ring or a wedding band – but Damon held his breath as he slid the ring into place, anyway, releasing it only when he knew for certain that it fit.

Perfectly.

"Thank you," Elena breathed, taking a moment to stare at her hand and admire the ring in a new light. Lifting her gaze, she blinked away the tears in her eyes before rising on her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him, her soft lips feathering over his with reverence as his hands settled on her hips.

"You're welcome," he murmured as they broke away, brushing extra kisses to the corner of her mouth and the tip of her nose. Desperate to break the tension before he did something so foolishly romantic as to voice the thoughts that were running through his head –that she was the one who deserved the thanks, that she was the one who'd saved him and chosen him a thousand times over – Damon wrapped his arms fully around her, pulling her flush against his wet, fully clothed body. Speaking into her ear as she squealed and struggled against the uncomfortable cold, he added. "But don't think you're off the hook for your little stunt in the square."

"You're such a sore loser," she exclaimed, wriggling out of his arms before backing him toward the tub as she helped him get rid of his clothes and boots. Reaching behind her back, she unhooked her bra, releasing it only when he eased into the water. Dropping it to the floor, she shed her panties as well and climbed in after him.

Damon leaned back against the wall of the tub as she settled against him, her back resting against his chest. For a while they soaked in silence as the hot water penetrated his chilled body. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against her crown, nuzzling his nose in her hair as he breathed her in.

"What's this?" she asked suddenly.

"Huh?" he asked, without moving.

"On my ring," she said, shifting slightly and forcing him to lift his head. Opening his eyes, he saw her leaning toward the candlelight, adjusting the ring minutely. "It looks like…dates. Did you have this engraved?"

"Remember that day you and Jeremy followed me around Atlanta?" he asked, sliding his fingers up the length of her arm and threading her fingers through hers. "That's what I was doing."

Narrowing her eyes, Elena read the tiny print of one of the dates aloud. "That was…that was a year ago, but I don't…" Blushing in the candlelight, she turned and guiltily met his eye. "I don't remember what happened."

"You wouldn't," he said, recalling the innocuous Saturday when he'd opened the fridge and discovered her diet coke nestled next to his blood bags as if it had been the most normal thing in the world. "But it was the day I realized that you weren't leaving. That whatever this thing was that we had…you weren't going to change your mind."

Tears filled her eyes as she looked at him. Swallowing, her voice was rough as she asked. "And the other date?"

"Figure it out," he said, nodding toward their joined hands. Biting her lips, Elena studied the first date and Damon could tell by the way the color drained from her face when she remembered the when.

"Damon, this is…we weren't even together yet."

"Nope," he replied, pulling her back into his arms as he settled against the tub. Keeping their hands joined, he explained. "But we were together. In a bar. In Georgia."

"Oh," Elena breathed, twisting slightly to grin at him. "Our first roadtrip."

"Yup," he said, running his fingers over the tiny engraving. "Two very significant things happened during that trip."

"And what were those very significant things?" she asked, the grin evident in her voice.

"Well, I decided somewhere between your fifth and eighth beer, that any girl who could hold her liquor like you could, couldn't be half bad."

"Not half bad?" she repeated, glancing over her shoulder at him and raising a brow.

"Well, considering I was all bad at the time, that's actually pretty high praise."

Elena rolled her eyes, turning back around and shifting her grip on his hand as she began to play with his daylight ring. "What's the other thing?"

"You saved my life," he said, vividly recalling the heat of the flames, the scent of the gasoline and Elena's anguished pleas for mercy. "For the first time."

"You'd already saved mine," she murmured softly, tugging his ring from his middle finger and slipping it onto his ring finger where it spun around, just the slightest bit too loose. "You've never stopped."

"I never will," he answered honestly, sliding his free hand below the water to lock around her waist. They sat in silence for a while as Damon fought with lingering reminders of the one time he'd failed. He knew that Elena didn't see it that way and it was in moments like these, thather belief in him was the only thing that kept him from succumbing to the crushing weight of guilt over her death.

"Neither will I," Elena promised, her soft voice sounding incredibly loud in the silence as she held Damon's hand up so that his ring could catch the light. He looked at their hands, matching rings flashing in the candlelight as her heart beat slow and steady in time to his. He'd never felt so deeply at peace and he marveled at the fact that this was his.

She was his.

Forever.

"I love you, Elena," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the soft spot just behind her ear.

"I love you, Damon," she replied back, turning her head to capture his mouth in a lingering kiss that promised more to come. Lacing their fingers together, her lips curved up in a smile and her beautiful brown eyes sparkled as she added. "Tomorrow, we'll get your ring resized."

The End

AN: This is already the longest chapter in the history of ever, but I can't end this story without saying something. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed this story along with sharing it on other sites and with other people. Your reviews kept me going when I felt like I'd bit off more than I could chew. Seriously.

Huge thanks to my beta for coming up with some of the best flashbacks and lines when I literally had no clue what I was going to do next. She's really my collaborator - even though she swears she's "just the beta."

I have a few ideas for more DE fic, but this version is done. I won't rule out the idea of returning for a one-shot or two if the muse strikes, but I think I've pretty much got Damon and Elena set for eternity. ;p

Thank you again, so, so much for sticking with me through SIW and DaCP. It's been SO much fun and even though I'm thrilled to be bringing this to a close, I'm really going to miss it.