First, let me just say that I love Vampire's Diaries. I love Elena, I love Jeremy, Caroline, Bonnie, Stephen and Damon, Alaric, Tyler and I even love Katherine. I love the story lines, and I love the way every episode is developed. Everyone there is doing a phenomenal job, and I only wish the people that pull this show together could have done the Twilight movies the same way, as far as editing, theme, script, and cinematography. As much as I love the Twilight series, the movies don't live up and they even feel pretentious sometimes, whereas Vampire Diaries is always genuine, raw, and never feels forced. I really appreciate what everyone is doing over there.

Okay. This one-shot begins where at the end of the episode where Damon tells Elena he loves her, and compels her to forget. He is just about to jump out of the window where my interpretation picks up. Also, I thought I'd mention for anyone who's read my other big Twilight fanfic (How to Save a Life) that while this piece is not necessarily vulgar, it is a little more intimate than what I usually write. I do this because I can. To elaborate, I mean the characters are more flexible than Stephenie Meyers' so I can do more with them. Nothing gross though, just tender.

Read, review, but most importantly, enjoy.

Anita.

"Damon."

I stopped and looked back at her from the window.

She pulled a token from her pocket and slipped it onto her wrist. It was a small, ancient coin hung on a thick cord of leather. "I boiled it in vervain." Slowly, she approached the window.

I shut my eyes. Shit.

She waited for me in silence. Finally, I turned to meet her eyes rather than be a coward and disappear. They were angry, sad, and accusatory all at once, and I couldn't blame her. The repercussions that were sure to result from words spoken in a moment of uncertainty echoed endlessly behind my eyes. Stephen was going to be pissed.

"I'm so sorry, Elena." There wasn't much more I could say. "I didn't know."

Her eyes were swimming. "Would you take it back? If you could?"

Not a chance in hell.

"You already know the answer to that." I looked away.

Gasping lightly, she nodded and brought her hand to her mouth. She was going to be sick. I caught her as she swayed, and without thought, wrapped my arms around her. She was trembling and her breath came fast. I held her until she calmed. The trembling ceased as she put a hand between us, on my chest. Immediately, I dropped my arms and backed away, but before I could react, she stretched to her toes and kissed me. Briefly. I didn't trust myself to move, but before I could consider an alternate plan of action, she kissed me again, and this one lasted much longer.

I pulled away and looked at her, burning. "Elena."

"Why now? You waited too long. It's too late now."

"Too bad."

She glared at me, and then pulled closer, and our lips met roughly. This kiss was more insistent.

Rolling my eyes, I muttered, "Elena. What are you doing?"

Her eyes flitted around the room as her hands found the back of my neck.

"Stephen." It was the last thing I wanted to say, but it worked.

She sniffed calmly and looked down, unable to meet my eyes. The tears came freely now. "I know." She clung to me.

I cursed myself, and then reached up to break her hold. Her arms fell to dangle at her sides.

"This isn't what you want?" she challenged me stiffly.

I growled and cupped her face between two hands. Her eyes were wide. I brought her forehead to touch mine and closed my eyes tightly. "This is wrong," I tried, even while thinking that it felt so right.

Her lips twitched. "I know." She made the first move. She kissed me. This time, against every instinct, I didn't hold back. There was no hesitation. No pretense. There was only truth. She had managed to fall in love with both Salvatores, and I was just as selfish as I'd always been.

At one time, it had amazed me how often beauty and despair came hand in hand. Now I was simply aware of it. So it really didn't surprise me when Stephen's apology came to mind as we shed our clothing. We met once again, but it wasn't as careful as the first. Stephen. We went at each other angrily, grabbing, biting, kissing, pulling, tugging. Stephen. Her finger tangled themselves in my hair, and I held her closer, tighter, until we became one, not just Elena and Damon, but ElenaandDamon. Stephen. There was fire and tenderness, violent and harsh. Agony, bittersweet and painful, made only more desperately beautiful by the knowledge that this could never happen again. We moved together and fit like puzzle pieces, puzzle pieces to some tragically damned portrait. Her name was on my every breath. I had never known despair could taste so sweet, so sinister. Stephen. Stephen. Stephen. I wondered distantly why it was now that my conscience had decided to make a cameo. All of a sudden, it all seemed to move too fast, more pain than pleasure, and I'd never wanted to hurt her. I wanted to love her, tenderly…but somehow, I didn't think she'd let me. I stopped.

"Are you sure about this?" The moon watched us, cold and silent.

"This is what I want," she breathed, and that started the wrestling match. We tossed and tumbled around her bed like two lions at play, yes, we were like animals. I nearly paused again, trying to be gentle…but we were playing a game of chess, and she'd put me in check, so in the back of my mind, I thought, what the fuck? and with the palm of my hand, I grazed her cheek, and then we tore each other apart, in the dark, until finally, we both collapsed.

I had no way of knowing what she saw, but me? I was blinded by white lights, lying naked next to her, quivering, marveling at how we escaped ourselves in each other. For her, it might have been just a fling, but for me, it was rejection in disguise. Beauty and despair. It was easy to lose yourself and give in to temptation, but waking up to reality was something else. In a couple of hours, she'd be back in Stephen's arms, I'd go back to being the aftermath of Hurricane Katherine, and we'd barely be able to look at each other. Order would be restored without anyone being the wiser. But I couldn't judge her. Soon enough, this would be just another place she'd been. It was the principle of the thing.

Moonlight bathed us in oblivion. It seemed prophetic to me somehow, as if telling us that there was nowhere to hide, or perhaps that we didn't have to. "I can't love you this much," I murmured into her naked shoulder.

"You shouldn't," she whispered darkly.

But I did.

"Is it too late for me to hope you weren't just getting this out of your system?"

For a long time, the only sound in the room was her breath slowing. Then: "I can't say what you want me to, Damon." I knew this. "You won't appreciate it a week from now, and it'll keep me up at night." She sat up. Dark hair fell in waves, framing her face like a halo. There was something about her that I couldn't quite touch. Something about her that had stolen a part of me. Something that reduced me to nothing and scared me shitless. Something that filled me with strength even while making me weak. There was something about Elena that made me want to be more careful with her than I'd ever been with anything else in my entire life.

"Then can I say it?" I asked, frowning.

She hesitated, twisting around to face me. "Damon, I'm not sure if that's the best – "

"I love you, Elena. I don't know how it happened, and I didn't mean for it to, but I do." My throat was sandpaper. I swallowed and brushed a tendril of hair out of her eyes. "I do. More than I ever knew was possible, and I wish that things were…different." To imagine, even briefly, in some alternate universe where things were different, that we could've been something more was unfair. I wouldn't do that to her. "I'm also very sorry. I know I shouldn't have let this get so far, but it's just that somehow, you ended up with the lead role in my life, and I know you said it was Stephen, and it always would be, and it sucks, but I still can't help hoping it was me too. Just a little bit."

She didn't speak for a moment. Then she sat up, cupped my neck in her hands, and brushed a kiss on my forehead. "I'm sorry, too."

I caught her hands on their way down. They were soft and delicate. Silently, I kissed one palm, and then the other. I twined our fingers together and brought her hand up to my face. She stroked my cheek and ran a hand through my hair. I closed my eyes softly. She pulled me into her chest and I let out a shuddering sigh, as her heart pounded in my ears. We stayed this way for hours. Eventually, morning light washed over us in stripes. Elena had fallen asleep. I swore and slowly extracted myself from her embrace. I scooted to the edge of the bed, slid on my clothes and pulled on some boots. Reluctantly, I stood and looked back at her. She was sitting up now, squinting in the light with the bed sheets pulled up over her chest. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. No one had ever looked so beautiful on the edge of sleep.

"I should probably go."

She bit her lip. "I don't want you to leave," she whispered hoarsely.

My feet were nailed to the floor. "The sun's up," I sniffed, looking away.

In my peripheral, I felt her nod.

"Stephen can't know about this."

"Never."

I walked to the window.

"Damon?"

I stopped. Looked back. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she seemed to see right through me.

"It is you," she said in a small voice. "Just a little bit."

I turned back and shook my head with a little smile.

"I know."