Hi there, friends. At last, here's the end. :)

It took me a long time and a lot of rewriting until I came up with an ending that I liked- and I'm not certain this is perfect, but I don't want to keep you waiting any longer, and I think that this version suits the story well.

Thank you for all of your inspiring reviews, comments, and "favorites." They work wonders to keep me motivated and imagining what comes next- especially since this is the only multi-chapter fic I've ever deemed good enough to publish.

It's been fun writing this, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it!

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo - O.A.

The kiss was soft and gentle, bordering on chaste. It was completely at odds with everything else they'd experienced together.

Joy, happiness, peace.

There had been precious few times in the many, many years Damon had lived when he'd touched a woman with a totally light heart. All of the girls in the early days had been shadowed by Katherine. The countless, nameless faces that came later were soured by the contempt a conscienceless vampire felt for his victims, and all he'd romanced since regaining his morality in Mystic Falls were tinged bitterly by the denial of his feelings for Elena. Even Elena herself had come with baggage- his brother's love; his own emotions were a betrayal of his family.

But today Elena melted into him without hesitation or reluctance. He kissed her almost in disbelief, dizzy and off-balance, like someone who had been straining against an obstacle with all of his might only to have it suddenly move and cause him to lose his footing. Perhaps, in the end, that was exactly what had happened. He sighed, overwhelmed by tenderness, closing his eyes to center himself.

"What's wrong?" Elena asked softly, the feel of her voice vibrating through his shoulder and neck, where her head rested.

"Nothing," he said, amused at himself for how dopey and Stefan-like he was behaving. He opened his arms wide as he stepped away and theatrically declared, "You've ruined me, Elena. You've stripped away the layers of tortured, misunderstood bad boy. There's nothing left but grinning idiot."

"Well the grin is a change, sure. But otherwise you're exactly the same idiot I fell in love with before. I think we'll manage to adjust somehow if you're cheerful, once in awhile."

He swatted at her lazily, and she leaped away and ran across the room, laughing because she knew he could catch her at any moment, eyes glittering because he was playing along and pretending she stood a chance.

When he grew tired of chasing her, he tumbled her onto the plush carpet and pinned her down, marveling at how much trust she displayed in her complete surrender, knowing how strong he was and how quickly he could kill her with a single swipe of his arm.

He ran his hands, light as a feather, all over her. He removed her clothes as though unwrapping a priceless, fragile treasure, and sighed appreciatively at the sight of her naked body laid out before him. Reverently, he worshiped her. He wanted to touch all of her, know all of her... and for once, he had what seemed like all the time in the world. She writhed beneath him, begging wordlessly for more. Unable to deny her anything, he bowed his head to taste her hot, molten core.

Elena moaned and a tremor ran through her body. That soft sound made him feel more powerful than any feat of strength or trick of vampirism ever could. And so with his dextrous tongue and the gentle touch of his hands he tried to show her his gratitude, praying at the altar of her body, trying to give her an offering of pleasure in return for her saving his broken soul.

When he finally crawled up her body to capture her mouth again she was quivering with pleasure and anticipation, clawing at his clothes, trying to rid him of them, and when she nicked her lip against one of his teeth, he groaned at the taste of her blood mixed with the earthy flavor of her sex.

He found his cold heart was pounding. Without the game of seduction, the danger of stolen moments, there was nothing to distract him from the sheer, incredible amount of love he felt for her, and he found himself as nervous as a blushing virgin.

A roll of her hips reminded him that his own body's needs had been completely neglected during his worship of Elena's gorgeous form. His cock was painfully hard in his jeans, and so senitive that the brush of the denim against his skin was almost too much. Quickly he stripped, coming to lie beside her and shivering at the touch of her hot, warm skin against his.

When he finally entered her, the tight, hot wetness of her center took his breath away.

"Elena..." he breathed, and she moaned a wordless reply, wrapping her arms around the back of his head and shoulders, while arching her back to draw him in closer. The angle the position afforded him was unspeakably good, deep, and hot. His bottom arm held her lithe body against him while the top arm ran feathery touches over her hips, breasts, and the apex of her thighs where they were joined.

It wasn't enough, though. He couldn't see her soul, couldn't share her thoughts. He needed more.

The strain of her body against his let him know she felt the same, and so he brought his wrist to his own mouth, tearing away the skin and held it to her mouth. Without hesitation she bowed her head to latch onto it, and her acceptance made him wonder at her once again. With love overflowing from him, he bent and pierced her neck.

Blood sharing... Her throat, his arm. And then for a few moments their crude physical forms seemed to vanish, as he tumbled head first into a flood of pure Elena.

It was not a frantic, panicked plea for him to live, as the last time had been. This connection was, warm and relaxed, but no less passionate. In fact, Damon found the moment to be overwhelming in its intimacy. But he couldn't stop. She was a shining golden flame and, like a moth, he was helpless to do anything but reach for her. When he finally touched her mind, it was exquisite.

Such a truly, honestly kind person... He thought with awe. She had suffered the loss of so much... Jenna, her parents... Yet, at only eighteen years old, she showed a compassion that eluded many far older and more worldly than her.

And she had so much love. Love for Jeremy and her friends, for Alaric and Matt and Bonnie and Caroline.

And love for Stefan. Colored now with worry and concern, the glowing ember of her affections for him was warmly protected in her mind. It was pure, the sweet devotion of one's first love, and so sincere and honest that Damon couldn't even muster the jealousy he would need to feel resentful, or upset, or anything other than happy, joyous acceptance that such a love existed in her life.

Especially while he was awash in the tumultuous storm of her love and passion for him.

Devotion, tenderness, frustration, and helpless, animal lust flooded his senses as he touched her mind with his own. The passion that emanated from her was so great that he suddenly remembered he had a physical body, and that it was very much alive.

His head fell back as he lifted it from her shoulder she dropped his wrist and the sight of his dark blood on her lips and chin was the most erotic sight he had ever seen.

Her eyes were glassy. She was drunk on him, literally. And the moans that were escaping from her throat as she licked the flavor of him off of her lips would have turned the most penitent monk to sin. And Damon was not a monk.

His lust was driven to impossible levels as he moved over this woman who loved him so much, whose blood was singing in his veins. He felt as though he was going to burst.

Not yet, though, he thought. Not yet. She is so close, you have to wait for her. As the tension built in him he reached down to wrap a hand around the base of his cock, trying to stave off the inevitable.

"Damon," groaned Elena, gazing at him through the fever haze of her passion. "Don't stop."

"Oh god Elena," he groaned, "I'm gonna come, beautiful girl. You feel so good, I can't stop it."

Elena's eyes darkened even more at those words, which encouraged him to keep going. She liked to hear him talk.
He leaned over and whispered in her ear as he pistonned his hips into hers, moving higher and higher towards his own ecstasy.

"I want you to come too, beautiful girl. Right now. Come for me, come with me, oh, God I love you so much..."

And after that, speaking was impossible because the orgasm that washed over him was among the most powerful he had ever experienced. It exploded through his taught body, causing him to scream as he held himself up on trembling arms, vaguely aware of her spasming and crying out underneath him.

"I love you too," she whispered, moments or hours later, stroking his damp hair out of his face as she bent her head to kiss his lips, softly.

And for the first time in his life, Damon actually believed it, accepted it, and embraced it. And it felt wonderful.

They would meet whatever came towards them, and they would do it together. If and when Stefan returned to them, they would welcome him with open arms. He was loved, and he was not alone. And that, Damon realized, was the day his life began. He was home.