All Elena

So, waking up after having killed someone is the vampire equivalent to waking up with a massive hang-over and the shitty consequences of alcohol-induced behavior, weighting on your shoulders.

We've all been there.

Waking up hung-over, that is. Sucking someone dry, while sober, is another ordeal – personal, traumatizing and literally heart-wrenching.

Twelve hours – the exact amount of hours I've spent sleeping. I can tell, by the moon's position outside Damon's balcony doors, that it's around eleven P.M. I'm still using his body as my personal mattress. My head weights a ton – the combined result of tears, nightmares and a dead man's blood metaphorically demanding its rightful owner. I glance at the door – I half expect Damon to have chained it, just in case someone would decide to stroll in and wake us up. Of course, at nearly midnight, the house is only semi-silent. Stefan, Caroline and Katherine, are hanging in Stefan's room but Katherine's only snorting and flipping magazine pages over Stefan and Caroline's whispered discussion. And Jeremy – my dear, supportive Jeremy – is doing the unthinkable up in his bedroom. He's listening to music with the volume turned down to an impossible minimum.

They're all trying to allow the latest crazy vampire – namely, me – rest.

I slowly roll off Damon's chest, trying to be discreet.

I'm thinking vervain darts…or, maybe, I can put my newfound creativity in use and stake myself with the wood from Damon's fireplace. Why did I ever think I could do this? How could I – the eternal martyr – imagine I'd be able to live with guilt? It's crippling me. It washes over me – wave after drowning wave and the only thing I can see, especially now that I'm out of Damon's embrace, is that man's face; those eyes, that were the wrong shade of blue and that I was selfishly – childishly – punishing.

Expectedly enough, Damon's eyes snap open and his hand, grabbing my waist forcefully, tosses me back into bed, before I can even lower my feet on the ground.

"Don't go kamikaze on my ass."

Not that he has developed the ability to read my like an open book or anything.

"It's called suicide." The throaty whisper that leaves my mouth is barely recognizable. I cough, trying to level my vocal chords. "Kamikazes kill others, too, in the process of dying."

He laughs bitterly and tightens his hold on my waist, punishing me for mouthing words that, to Damon, are unthinkable. "You'd be killing me."

He keeps his arm draped over his eyes, but his lower lip quivers lightly and weren't my hands too heavy to command, I'd be reaching for his face. Ah, forget the vervain darts – this is punishment enough; I'm so full with guilt, that the thought of being filled by Damon now, despite wanting it (needing it), makes my stomach uneasy.

I decide to use the strategy I skillfully mastered these past three weeks in order to survive my emotions – I turn all the longing and sorrow to anger and frustration.

"So much for your promises."

I picture my cruel words materializing to proverbial slaps against his face and his jaw indeed clenches, but his hold never wavers. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so I am – so is the dead guy." I allow my anger to completely take over. I turn sideways and, resting my head on my palm, keep the verbal attacks going. He only curls his arm more securely around my body, his other forearm still covering his eyes. His seeming indifference fuels my fire. "Do you even know what you're apologizing for? I mean, please enlighten me; are you sorry that you've been gone for three weeks? Are you sorry because you promised I'd be in control and now a guy is dead? Are you sorry that I found out you were staying with Katherine?" I cock my head to the side and, God, I want him to fucking look me in the eyes. "Or are you sorry that you couldn't spend more time with her?"

Of course, the moment I make the last accusation, my head fills with images of Damon taking a wooden stake in the back to save me, Damon expressing his love over and over again, Damon choosing me over Katherine – Damon always choosing me. I'm a moron but I'm also a depressed vampire with someone who'll take everything I throw in his way, just so I can feel better.

"I'm sorry that you're in pain."

He smartly ignores my Katherine comments. I wish I could let it go as easily but, dealing with Damon's eventual anger is easier than dealing with my deserved guilt.

"How very heroic of you." I snort. My harsh tone earns me a look. He, once again, differentiates himself from Stefan by letting the hurt and frustration he's feeling slip into his gaze. He's not the altruistic vampire that'll take all the blame so I can feel better. He'll try to convince me that, somehow, what I did was justifiable and explainable and natural. Well, there's nothing natural about us; more anger clouds my thoughts. "Nothing you can say will make me feel better."

"That's because you don't want to feel better."

He's on his side too and yearning to touch me. I'm yearning to touch him too, but I can't move my hands so, instead, I'll yell at him. Anger is the only thing I can hold on to.

"No, it's because I ripped someone's throat open!" Why isn't anyone making a big deal out of this? I feel my head exploding from the intensity of my own voice.

"Just like many, many others before you. Elena, baby –

"Don't baby me." I bark and he grimaces.

"Ok, fine; Elena, adult vampire, I understand that you've carried your compassion and martyrdom syndrome along for this undead ride, but some things you just can't fight – your instincts being one of those."

"You said you'd teach me." I whine.

"And I will. I will. It was one slip, Elena." He grabs my chin and forces my angry eyes on his. "It was stupid of me to leave you locked inside this place with only Blondie and Broody for company."

"Blondie and Broody saved my ass." I spat and that really torches him. Eyes still locked with mine, he blinks twice and drops his hand. He moves on a sitting position – his elbows resting on his bent knees and his head falling somewhere in between. Still in his black Tee, I can smell his Camaro sits' leather on his back and the steering wheel on his hands. I can smell every particle of air that got stuck in his hair, while on his way back to me. And I do remember extending my arms and needing him so I could fall asleep. With herculean effort, I sit up too and link my arms around his waist. I rest my face on his shoulders and inhale deeply.

He takes my hands in his and brings them to his lips. "There is nothing you can do, that'll make you a monster."

"You're just saying that because you love me." I whimper in his back. My tears start falling in waterfall mode again.

"No, I'm saying it because you prefer grief and guilt better than indifference and cruelty. You didn't shut any of your emotions off and the guilt will keep you on track from now on. You'll be fine." He squeezes my fingers. "You're always going to be more human than vampire."

I lay back down, dragging him with me. He rests his head on my stomach and I find enough strength to pet him. Memories of my mother doing the same to my dad, on the couch, while watching TV, drag me down. "My parents would be so disappointed of me."

I feel him tugging my – his – shirt upwards and placing one soft kiss on my skin. What would seem insensitive to others, given the situation, does wonders to my aching heart. He rests his chin there and I imagine him sucking some of my sorrow inside his body, because, honestly, I feel like I can move again.

"I didn't know them and I'm not exactly parent material myself, but I do know you. And I know you wouldn't have transitioned wasn't it for Jeremy. Give yourself some credit."

I want to snort and huff sarcastic comments, but his murmurs and gentle words get the best of me. I burry my fingers in his hair and cherish the feeling of peace that duels my guilt. "I was really jealous," I whisper, when he's level with my neck and kissing it softly, "I've always been jealous, when it came to you."

…Even when I wasn't supposed to.

He hovers above me and smiles apologetically. "Elijah contacted her. She kinda, unfortunately, gave us some crucial Klaus info."

"Am I supposed to be thankful?"

He rolls his eyes and wipes the remaining tears off my face. "No. You're just not supposed to be jealous – though, it's hot." He notices the serious face I'm still wearing and the playful smile disappears. "Too soon to joke?"

I link my hands around his neck and close my eyes. I like the texture of his hair and the warmth of his body against mine; they're excellent pain-killers. "I don't know how to let what I did go." I whisper, while he leans to kiss my mouth.

"Look at it this way;" he's only half joking, so I concentrate on what he's saying rather than what he's doing with his hands, "think of all the people I would have killed if you hadn't insisted on resurfacing my humanity. Hell, I'd still be killing. You've saved all of them so…here; you've balanced your numbers."

I feel my heart swelling with love for him. He can sleep in the same bed with Katherine now as far as I'm concerned, and I'd still be convinced his feelings for me run deeper than he'll ever let on. I love that he has mastered a perfect balance between gentle and cruel – it's exactly Damon. And I take pride in being a part of that development. I also find myself willing to consider his proposition, as long as he knows just how much he's changed me too.

"It'd be good if it worked like that, wouldn't it? But, fine, I'll give it a thought."

"Just so you know, once we restore Klaus' spirit in his actual body and send him away to Honolulu, I'm taking you away."

I shake my head at how easily he changes subjects, but, then again, he has done some serious killing through the centuries and he still has the 'deranged vampire' laying somewhere beneath the surface. One death is genuinely nothing to him. "What about Stefan?"

He growls angrily. "We've reached our limit of seeing each other in the past two years. In order for our…brotherhood to survive we'll need to spend the next century in different hemispheres. He better join a monastery in Tibet."

I shiver as he nuzzles my neck. "And Jeremy?"

I can imagine him rolling his eyes. "I need to find that boy a decent, human girlfriend. We'll figure it out."

"What about Caroline and Bonnie?"

I laugh at his incredulous look and pouty lips. The sound, coming out of my lips, still feels traitorous because of everything but I can't help it. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're deliberately ignoring something." He looks wild as he presses his hips to me, letting me in with the lengths of what I'm ignoring, but I keep up the innocent face and bat my eyes. "Fine; what about Blondie and Judgey?"

"I don't want to travel the world without them."

I'm lying and he knows it – I'm more than excited with the idea of going anywhere with Damon. I used to enjoy our roadtrips even when I wasn't sure he could be trusted. The joy of the promised future travelling shines through my face but he plays along with my rambling.

"They can come, but I'll gag Caroline so I don't have to hear her nonsense and blindfold Sabrina so I don't remove those judgey eyes out of their sockets."

"You're gruesome."

"Yes, I am."

With one heated kiss, he effectively finalizes the conversation. I lose myself in the kiss; I've longed for his lips for so long. I've been longing for them for two years and it'll take us a while to extinguish that lust. I bury my fingers in his hair and melt his face with mine. When I part my lips, allowing his tongue entrance, I do much more than that – I crack myself open. I trust him with my guilt and sadness and animalistic instincts and he doesn't judge. He never judges; he strokes with his tongue, cleaning my wounds and strokes with his hands, soothing the pain away. He inhales in my mouth, sucking my lower lip and I feel lighter, holier. I'm balanced; hanging in a safe place between heaven and hell, human and vampire and it's his love that keeps me floating.

I get rid of both our clothes and allow him to explore whichever part of me he wants. I'm dimly aware of what I'm doing and seeing, but that's as far as it goes. My senses pick everything up, but my neurons must have some glitch that stops impulses from turning into coherent thoughts into my clouded mind. I receive sounds but their sources remain unknown. Moaning – someone is moaning. It could be me, it could be Damon. I'm not sure. I see pale skin against tanned one; such a pretty sight. I smell cologne and cold, night air and flesh and I wish I could bottle the scent and swim in it. I taste blood; judging by the taste, it must be mine. These are the facts and it is facts they remain because everything else is feeling. Deep, moving, emotions that can only be compared to drugs; I don't know what drugs feel like but this has to be it.

The only proof that my body is shivering and thrashing and shaking is the feeling of the cool sheets against my sweat covered body. Damon physically holds me still, but he, fortunately, does nothing to halt my emotional upraise. There, from between my legs, he uses everything he has to take my higher than high and I, hazed and incoherent as I am, can only sigh his name in adoration and pray the feeling never ends; or, that he finally ends it with flashing fireworks. Again, I can't be sure.

There's one thing I know; one feeling strong enough to be translated into thought. Love, obviously. Just in time, after I've lost count of the number of climaxes I've reached and the time that has passed without seeing his face, he climbs up and, pressing against me, lets me catch my breath. The halves of my eyes are hooded and misty, but he's still very beautiful and his smile asks to be captured on camera.

"I thought you passed out on me." He murmurs, kissing my face.

"Almost." I manage to breath.

"Not just yet."

I don't need any prompting. I spread my legs for him and welcome the out worldly feeling. He looks at me, a small smile gracing his lips, and I order my eyes open. I grip at his shoulders and arch against him when he withdraws and strongly slams back inside. He grabs my thighs and places my legs high around him; I cross my feet and dig the heels to his skin, assisting his movements. He powerfully thrusts deep and right, with an unmistakable pace and rhythm. I kiss him hungrily, using his mouth so I don't scream and wake Jeremy up. Every other vampire in the house is surely aware from where the moaning and panting and bed thrashing is coming from. Not that I care; I wouldn't care even if someone lit a match and burned me alive. All I can perceive are Damon's words of love; his hands, his mouth, the depths he's reaching and the highs he's flying me to, his hair warming my jaw as he breaks eye contact and pierces my skin with his fangs, one of his hands resting on the bedpost and allowing him speed and strength and the other offering me blood…I lace his fingers with mine and reach for his shoulder.

He hits one magic spot over and over again. All it takes are three mouthfuls of his sweet, intoxicating blood and four right strokes to make me scream and give me the most powerful orgasm yet to be experienced. He moans my name as he follows me to oblivion and when, after a couple of minutes, the aftershocks are finally over, we rest in a tangled mess of limbs and body parts.

I keep him on top of me. His weight isn't really a problem – especially not when it comes with the privilege of having him inside me and breathing him in. His face is hidden in the pillow, his body moving evenly on top of me. He might be sleeping but I can't. Not with being extremely happy and sad at the same time.

I close my eyes and let go. I promise there won't be another slip and I forgive myself, just like I forgave Caroline and Stefan and Damon and Rick and just like they've forgiven me. Not for lack of guilt as much as knowing that if I don't, I'll go crazy.

"I love you." I whisper to Damon's sleeping form, unable to keep it inside any longer.

"I love you too." He immediately replies and, with a soft sigh, really falls asleep.

I wake up in the morning, well-slept and well-loved, in an empty bed. I focus to where the sounds are coming from and, after quickly putting random clothes on, rush to the kitchen. They're talking and co-existing like nothing out of the ordinary has happened. At the end of the day, life indeed goes on.

Jeremy's on the counter, drinking coffee and watching Katherine's and Caroline's banter with an amused smile. Stefan and Damon, equally bored and impatient, have never looked as similar and brotherly as they do now.

"You know," Caroline exclaims, "you don't get to talk. You killed me!"

"Your point is?" Katherine raises one lazy eyebrow and nonchalantly rests against Stefan's side. Taking my place between Jeremy and Damon, I see Stefan stiffen and remove her. She pouts.

"My point is you're a bitch." Caroline slams and, even though confused over what they're fighting, I smirk at her tone.

"Well said Blondie. Well said."

Damon offers me a bag of O negative in the process of devilishly offending Katherine and kisses the top of my head. I purr a little and longingly suck the blood out of the bag. It's been more than twenty four hours and I smile sheepishly at Jeremy, who awkwardly moves at the other side of the table with a small 'don't-worry-about-me' nod, unable to withhold my eagerness and thirst.

"Wait, I think I know how this record plays;" Katherine scoffs, "you all insult me and bitch about how much you hate me up until the moment all of your plans are proven pointless and you beg me to save your sorry asses. Did I miss something?"

"You missed the part where you still manage to somehow screw everyone over." Damon shoots back.

She gives him a sugar sweet smile that makes my gums ache. "Survival is a tricky thing Damon dearest. I wouldn't have made it to this century if I didn't know how to gain from every situation."

"And what's in it for you this time?" Caroline wonders hatefully.

She doesn't answer. Instead, she lets her eyes roam over Stefan's currently inattentive eyes, making it very clear what she's here for. Caroline and Damon snort at the same time, but Katherine looks very sure of herself. Jeremy and I exchange wary eyes – after all, we know firsthand the lengths she's willing to go to take what she wants. I throw the blood bag in the bin and decide to make my presence known.

"What's going on? What are we fighting about?"

Of course, she takes advantage of my still hoarse and small voice. "Nothing to worry your little head with, Sleeping Beauty."

I'm well aware that the two months ago, human version of me would have frowned and sought out help in Stefan's or Damon's eyes. There's always been something that scared me shitless about Katherine; honestly, far more than Klaus ever did and it's never been about our similarity or the fact that Katherine could wander around, posing as me, hurting the people I loved. I thought of her as competition. The Salvatore's first, true love; their creator, the first Petrova doppelganger and the reason that, one way or another, despite claiming otherwise, both men I truly ever loved and will love were drawn to me like a moth to a flame. Most importantly, Katherine has always represented all the sins I was never brave enough, but thought about nevertheless, to commit.

Not anymore though. I won't let my second, undead life, be ruled by fear and intimidation.

"How about you spill and let me decide what I want to worry about."

Damon intervenes and it suddenly hits me that his trip to New York was more than vacation. They were searching for Klaus – Tyler – and I was so upset and then, well, horny, yesterday, that it totally slipped my mind.

"Klaus has a plan." He states unceremoniously. "He needs his body, which apparently can be restored, the dagger evil Rick used to stake him and bitchy witches to complete his dirty business."

Caroline interrupts him, clearly pissed off. "Elijah will hand over the body and Damon will hand over the dagger and the Originals will be one big, happy family again," she snorts.

I cautiously look around, sensing and justifying Caroline's anger. "Damon? Why are we participating in this?"

"Because, he will make it happen one way or another. I know he's stronger in his body, and much more annoying, but Elijah has some serious original plan. He said that as long as he has the dagger he can blackmail Klaus into pretty much anything." He catches my eye. "I truly believe he intends to keep his brother out of our life this time. You know I wouldn't risk it."

Our life, not our lives; I feel warmth all over me and nod. I know he wouldn't risk it. "Well, I can't see a problem."

"Oh, right, you don't know the best part yet!" Caroline exclaims in fake enthusiasm before turning and flashing her fangs to Katherine. "The body switching involves dark magic and Klaus is currently coming to Mystic Falls with his witch to perform said process. His witch is our very own Bonnie."

The laugh that escapes me is dry and hallow; scary, maybe. Stefan's eyes snap to my face and he looks nervous and on edge. I don't get why though. They must be joking. "His witch?" I scrutinize Caroline's grave expression. "Bonnie learned her lesson Caroline. She'd never voluntarily help Klaus again – ever. She's staying with her mother because of her problems with dark magic; she won't allow anyone jeopardize that."

I'm restlessly, mindlessly blubbering and they're all staring at me. Caroline shares the same expression. I don't think we've ever been more united than now. I look at every pair of eyes and halt at those annoyingly identical with mine. "He better find another witch."

Katherine shrugs. "Hey don't look at me. I couldn't care less."

"She's not doing it voluntarily Elena." Caroline mutters. "He threatened her mother – I mean, he's still a hybrid. And he's still Klaus; he's freaking intimidating and scary. I don't see how Bonnie had a choice."

So we're back to dealing with situations that can lead to epic destruction. "What do we do?" I ask no one in particular. "We can't let Bonnie sink deeper than she already has."

Caroline nods faithfully. In her worst days, she won't let anyone suffer more than affordable – that's the kind of person she's become. In this very moment, I love her more than ever.

"Klaus will be here sooner than later but, for once, we have the upper hand." Stefan concludes. "We still have the dagger and we know what he's up to."

"Plus the advantage of not being in his stake-proof, Original body," Damon adds.

"We still can't kill him Sherlock," Katherine rolls her eyes, "that'd be suicide."

Damon looks like he's about to pin her to the wall. "Thanks Captain Obvious. What I mean is we're dealing with the reflexes of Tyler Lockwood's body. I can have him slammed against a wall in a heartbeat. That's an advantage, hel-lo."

"Don't talk about Tyler like that, have some respect!" Caroline cries.

"People!" Jeremy's voice shuts us all up. "Can we regroup here?"

"Right…Bonnie." I hesitantly turn to Stefan again. He looks the most focused and on track.

"Like I was saying," Stefan smiles a little, "Klaus has a weird sense of humor. He could find any witch, yet he picked Bonnie. He's obviously looking for vengeance; he'll always want to get even and Bonnie's our current weak link."

"I don't give a shit about her." Katherine scoffs.

"Well I do." Stefan's eyes are blazing as he turns to look at her and she immediately shuts up, transfixed. I smile – it seems like he's taking a page out of Damon's book. "So you'll either help us or get the hell out."

She masks her shock with a lewd smile. "I like it when you play rough."

Stefan rolls his eyes, but we can all see the faintest hint of a smile curving his lips. I don't know if I want to bang my head on the counter or go with the flow so, instead, I exchange looks with Damon and shrug.

"He'd be a fool not to have a back up witch – and we all know Klaus' not a fool. I think, with the right bargaining and Elijah's cooperation, we can get Bonnie out of this."

"Thank you Stefan." Caroline smiles sheepishly and hugs him lightly. She's been sad despite doing her best to hide from us all and having Bonnie sacrifice a piece of her yet again would be the death of both of us. "So when's the guest of honor arriving?"

Her voice is almost breaking. I mentally promise to do everything in my power not to let her face Klaus in Tyler's body. She's buried him in her mind and she's doing the best to bury him with her hear too. I'd be a blow to have him walking around in his body shamelessly, probably giving Tyler his ridiculous British accent.

"Elijah will contact us. We're a stop he'll just have to make along the way." Damon smirks. "I'll be damned if I don't make him beg for that dagger."

"Where do you have it? Katherine casually asks – too casually.

Damon replies with a tsking sound and the wavering of his finger. "Hidden somewhere your nosey little self will never, ever, find it." He stays pensive for a while, then ads, "I think the best part of it all is we don't have to worry about Elena ending up dead anymore. Your vampirism has been such an upside to everything so far, baby."

I frown, but everyone, except for my doppelganger, is smirking in amusement. Good thing my curse has turned into a private joke. "Hey! You so enjoyed having to protect me all the time."

"Of course I did," he admits, lowering his head and kissing me in front of them all; our first public kiss. I smile against his mouth and feel like nothing in the world could go wrong.

After that, Stefan silently leaves and, soon enough, Katherine gracefully follows him. I hug Caroline for a while, letting our eyes do all the talking. We vow we won't let anything happen to Bonnie. We're not innocent, little high-school girls anymore. Well, we are that but we're also so much more – ready to fight for Bonnie the way she's frequently fought for us.

Caroline marches upstairs to talk to her mother and I'm left with Damon and Jeremy.

"Want to go out for a while?" Damon suggests.

My heart flip flops in my chest and I feel like a kid about to be taken at the zoo. "Out, out?"

He sees my eyes sparkling with excitement and laughs. "Yeah, out out. Come on, I trust you'll be good."

I know I will. That dead man's face has been engraved in my memory forever. I doubt I'll be able to kill anyone else without killing myself too. So, drinking people dry is a no-no. "I'll be good." I assure with a smile. "Can Jeremy come?" he nods. "Jer, do you want to?"

"Sure, I'll go change and be right down."

"Thank you." I smile up to Damon and kiss his cheek. He's clearly making an effort but he just shrugs, like it's no biggie.

"Let's wait outside."

I follow him and smile as the cool, morning air makes my hair fly around. I glance at Damon, who's playing with the buttons of my shirt like a little child, and dare ask the question that's been nagging my mind.

"I've been thinking…"

"Things would be so much easier if you pressed pause for a while," he mutters playfully.

"…and I've reached a conclusion. If Klaus' body can be restored, maybe the soul…person, whatever, trapped inside isn't really dead." I pause, trying to study his poker face. "What if Tyler's not really dead?"

He gives me an alarmed look. "You cannot tell Barbie this. You cannot, under any circumstances, give her hope. She'll be a sobbing mess if it's nothing but a theory and I really do not want to have to deal with that."

His eyebrows rise with a hundred different expressions and I know that under all the false pretenses, he simply cares that giving Caroline hope, and crashing it in case of a fake alarm, will be bad for her.

"I know that! Of course I won't tell her. But do you think it's possible?" I urgently ask, listening to Jeremy descent the stairs.

"After everything I've seen, I don't think something not possible exists."

"And do you think Bonnie could be of any help?"

He looks helplessly desperate to give me the answer I crave but decided not to lie. So he just kisses my forehead and looks at the front door, "Jeremy's coming."

"No," I argue, half mad. "Promise me that you'll try to convince Bonnie."

"She's your friend!" he urgently hisses.

"Yeah, but you got her to spill about the body switching." I tug at his shirt. "Please, promise me."

"What if it gets in the way of protecting her from dark magic?" he challenges.

"Try. All I want is for you to try." Jeremy opens the door and heads our way, goofy grin on his face. "We owe it to Caroline." I whisper.

"Fine, I promise I'll try." His raises his voice then and transforms it to its usual, cocky tone. "Come on kid; let's go fetch you a hot girlfriend."

Jeremy shakes his head in disbelief and mock horror but when he enters Damon's car and shoves his head between us, from the backseat, he seems and sounds amused. "You know Damon, under all the snarling and swearing and growling, I think you're pretty soft – and whipped."

Damon looks incredulous. His saucer huge eyes turn to me, scandalized and he seems to get even more offended when I laugh at his expression and shrug. He slits his eyes and, completely ignoring the road and removing his hands from the steering wheel, turns to Jeremy.

"I think you miss having your neck snapped."

"Noted." Jeremy leans back and Damon, still tense, focuses on the road. Nevertheless, he plays with my hand and turns the music on and all I can think about is how good it feels to have him back.

A/N: Yes, I do deserve hate reviews or no reviews at all for the dely. No, I have not abandoned the story and I will finish it no matter what. I actually, finally (!), have everything planned out so it's all good. No excuses here; just bear in mind that I'm getting ready for college abroad and the paperwork has been a pain in the ass. Excuse my French. I really hope you haven't given up on me. Real life just gets in the way sometimes. Anyhow, I hope you still like it. I promise to update faster next time. I hope you're having a nice summer. Thank you for reading! Yours, S.