Pulse

There were no stars, no moon, no sound. But there was a beating. A beating of an immortal heart and a mortal one, tangled in the dark night. And they aren't meant to be together, they're like the ends of the universe, impossible.

But still, they are.

"Next time that you think of going on a suicide mission...don't," Damon said, raising his eyebrows and staring intently at Elena. She cocked her head to the side and sighed.

"You can't save me every time, Damon. I won't let anybody else get hurt. And that includes you," she said. Damon tried not to be surprised with her words. Elena moved towards the door and as fast as a blink of an eye, he was in front of her. "Move," she said in a tone he'd never heard before. He knew she was serious but well, so was he.

"You can't go out. You're under house arrest after that little stunt you put," Damon said. Elena glared at him.

"I have to see Stefan."

"Oh, Elena. You're so dramatic. You can live without him for a few days or months...maybe even years if we're lucky." Damon gave a sarcastic chuckle and Elena felt like putting all her force into her hand and driving it into Damon's nose. But she didn't. She couldn't.

She turned around and studied the vase that was on top of the counter. For a moment, she wondered how much it would hurt to smash it at him. She shook her head. What was this? What was this rage and passion that overtook her? This feelings that she only had for Damon were not...normal.

But this situation isn't ever normal. She moved the couch and dropped her body, suddenly realizing how extremely exhausted she was. Her eyes closed and she meant for them to close for a few seconds but soon she was drifting into sleep.

Damon twirled the glass of whiskey in his hand as he watched Elena sleep. He didn't know what it was about her that made him so conflicted. She looked like Katherine but she wasn't like her at all. It's as if the two were born specifically with polar personalities.

Except for the fact that both drove him irrationally crazy. But watching Elena sleep, he realized she drove him crazy in another way.

It was the way she talked and walked. The way her hair looked so soft. He wanted to touch her hair now, feel the softness between his fingers. What would it be like? he thought, to kiss her?

He loved her. He had told her that night in her room that he did. But she would never remember it. And he thought he had seen the love in her eyes when he'd said it. But he wasn't sure anymore...he could never be sure.

She woke with a gasp, her hair sticking to her forehead which was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. He couldn't even set the glass down before he moved beside her. The glass shattered. He didn't care. Elena's eyes were sad, frightened. Damon could see she was near hysteria.

"Sh," he whispers, cradling her close. He could feel her shaking, her body gone rigid and cold.

The house was dark, Jeremy was probably asleep in his room (Damon needed to thank him for bringing his liquor) and Elena was crying. For the first time, Damon didn't know what to do.

And she smelled like the wildest forest, fresh and flowery. All those smells drove Damon crazy. "What happened?" he asked, instead of succumbing to his urge.

She shook her head. "I-" She could barely spit out the words. He didn't know what she wanted to say but for a moment, he wanted to hear her words, hear her voice.

It would have been incredibly easy to take advantage of her. Just a tilt of the head, lean down a bit, and he could kiss her. He would have done so, too, if he didn't love her. But he did and he was willing to spend forever without her as long as she was happy.

"I have to tell you something," she said, her voice clearer although she sniffled. Damon pulled away and inspected her. Her eyes were bloodshot red and she look like she'd never be happy again. And it hurt him, more than anything else ever would.

"About your dream?" Damon asked, hating the way his voice showed how much he cared. A few months ago, all he wanted to do was rip this girl's heart out, cause his brother pain. He had felt nothing for no one. And now, feeling so much, he didn't know what was worse.

"Yes and no," Elena replied. She pulled away and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I have to be honest and maybe-" she broke off as if to think hard about what she was about to say. She sighed and looked up into his eyes. Those deep sea-blue eyes that seemed to tell million stories. The eyes that teased and tortured her; wound her up and destroyed her. She loved those eyes.

"Go ahead, I'm all yours," Damon said, trying to add his usual sarcastic comment but his heart wasn't in it. He was scared. He was afraid at what she might say, what she might reveal. He was scared that she would shut him out again, close him off her life. He didn't want that.

Fuck, he wanted her.

"Well, this is probably the worst thing I could say, especially at this moment." He braced himself, braced himself for the sharp knife that would soon cut into his flesh. "But this dream..." she said it as a whisper, something he couldn't possibly hear if he was still mortal.

"What happened?" he asked again and then added, "In your dream?"

"I kissed you," she said. Her eyes didn't waver and he didn't break away either. All he could feel was his pusle beating through his veins, the demonic blood feeding his heart. He didn't say anything, he couldn't. What could he say to that? "But the worst part is," she said. "It felt...right."

He couldn't contain himself anymore. If he waited any longer, his urge to sink his fangs into her neck would explode and there would be no turning back. He needed her.

She moved closer, narrowing the spaces between them. "How did that feel?" he asked. It was barely a whisper, something said in an after thought but he meant it. He wanted to know.

"Like this," she said and closed the space between them. Pressing her lips to his.

The world disappeared. She was on him and he was on her. He grabbed her by the waist and pushed her down on the couch, careful to keep his strength in check. She moaned under his touched and struggled with the buttons of his shirt. He moved his hands from her waste, to the curve of her breast.

They kissed. Her mouth was invigorating, her tongue slipped into his mouth and he could taste strawberries and mint, and the smell that was so peculiarly hers.

Effortlessly, he slipped her shirt over her head and she was there, under him with her chest exposed except for the lacy bra she wore. She pressed her hands into his abdomen and he moaned. She moved his hands down to his hips and then back up again, feeling his sculpted body. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. This moment it was them together.

"I love you," he whispered. He knew that this time he wouldn't erase her memories. He couldn't.

"I love you, Damon Salvatore," she said before nibbling in his lower lip. "And I need you to save me."