PERSONAL NOTE: Hey guys! I'm so glad I'm finally doing this! I've been wanting to write fanfiction about DELENA since, well, forever, and now the time has finally come :p! This is the first time I'm doing anything like this, so it's very possible that I'm doing things wrong. That's where you all come in :p! Please, let me know if my writing sucks (pun intended) and what I could do to improve it. But try to be gentle, because, like I said, it's my first time. Of course, if you like it, I'd love to hear that, too! I can't wait to find out what you guys think! Thanks in advance!

STORY SET-UPThe story begins with Elena only having met Damon once and getting the full scoop on him from Stefan. I try not to follow the TV show too much, because Klaus and Katherine really only bring drama, and this story is about the DELENA love that's been beneath the surface during all of it.

DISCLAIMER: unfortunately, I don't own any of these amazing characters. That honor goes to L.J. Smith.

Chapter One

Elena Gilbert sat quietly on the large couch, her knees propped up against her chest, her eyes filled with unshed tears . There was no light, just darkness, and she liked it that way. She didn't want to wake anyone up.

Especially not Stefan.

It was a terrible thought, she knew, but she couldn't stop it from surfacing. She didn't want him to see her this way. This weak. She already wasn't a physical match for the creatures she'd just learned existed and Stefan already treated her like a porcelain doll because of it. No need to show him she was emotionally just as weak.

A single tear slithered down her cheek and as she reached up to brush it away, she heard a deep voice rumble, "Elena?"

She stilled. That wasn't Stefan's voice. That was "Damon?"

A lamp was switched on next to her. Surprised, Elena looked up at him and, even in the dim light, she couldn't help but admire the gorgeousness that was Damon Salvatore. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans that fit him just right and a black shirt, although she didn't know why he'd even bothered with the shirt since it hung open, exposing a chest that made Elena's heart skip a beat…or two.

"Liking what you see, Miss Gilbert?"

Elena rolled her eyes and tried to look innocent, but it was too late. A cocky grin was already spreading across his face, his blue eyes sparkling with arrogance.

"Do you want something, Damon?" she asked, looking everywhere but at him.

Oh, how he wanted something. He'd wanted something since he'd met her and seeing her sit on his couch with nothing but a black tank top and a pair of tight hot pants made him want something so bad he was considering just taking it right there and then. But then her big, brown eyes found his again and instead he heard himself say, "I just came down for a little snack."

He saw her body tense and he knew why she was suddenly on edge. An image flashed in front of his eyes. Elena in his arms. Pressed against him knee to chest. His finger entangled in her hair, holding her close to him. Her hands roaming over his bare back, her nails digging into his skin, her voice softly moaning into his ear to take her deeper, harder and his fangs doing exactly that. He groaned silently, feeling himself go hard.

"Relax, sweetness," he said in a hoarse voice . "Not tonight."

Her angry brown eyes only making the tightness in his pants grow.

"Not ever," she snarled and she did her very best to put all of her conviction into those two words. Damon Salvatore was never going to get her, that much she was sure of. She knew him. Stefan had told her all about his brother. Damon was a killer, a heartless monster, a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Nice sheep, though.

Damon moved to sit beside her, grabbing her legs and softly placing them on his lap. She tried to pull them back to her chest, but he held them in place without any effort and she knew it was pointless to try again. So she left them there, trying to look annoyed about it.

"So, what are you doing in my humble abode? Did you and Stefan finally do the nasty?" His tone was light, but his mood was anything but. The thought of her and Stefan together made a fire rage within him. A fire that wanted to go upstairs, drag Stefan out of his bed and make him sorry for every laying a hand on the girl.

"You're hurting me," she hissed, tugging on her legs again.

Damon hadn't even noticed his fingers curling around her ankles painfully, possessively. He let go, moving his hands to the nape of her knees.

She tried to ignore the sparks that ran up and down her legs at his touch, but the feel of his fingers softly stroking her sensitive skin proved to be almost too much to bear. Slowly, she felt her head fall backwards in responds to him, her eyes fluttering closed.

Stop it, a voice hissed inside her head. This is Damon! DAMON!

"Not that it's any of your business," she mumbled, composing herself. "But no. Stefan and I haven't done that. Yet. We were just watching a movie and I fell asleep."

Damon smirked, shaking his head. Just watching a movie. Typically Saint Stefan. How the hell could you sit in a bed with Elena and just watch a movie? The things he would do with her in a bed…

"You might like it, you know."

"Sleeping with Stefan?"

"No," he snarled. "Being my snack."

Elena sniffed in a very unladylike way.

"Don't diss it until you've tried it, princess."

Her stomach turned and she tugged her legs back again, this time with so much force Damon was caught off guard and forced to let go.

"What−"

"Don't call me that!" she hissed, her eyes shooting fire.

Damon blinked, confused. "Call you what?"

"Prince−" her voice broke and before she could stop it, tears started to fall from her eyes. "My dad used to call me that."

Damon's chest tightened painfully. He didn't understand this new sensation, but it had to have something to do with the crying girl in front of him. But why? He'd seen countless girls cry and it never did anything to him. But seeing her tears slither down her pink cheeks…

"Okay," he said, making his voice unnaturally soft. "I'm sorry."

She waved a dismissive hand before burying her face in both of them.

He wasn't succeeding in making it stop. He seemed to only make it worse and the pain in his chest became disturbingly agonizing. More so even when he heard himself whisper,

"I'll get Stefan."

"No!"

Damon hadn't expected that and he definitely hadn't expected the little pinch of relief that fell over him. He got more time with her. Alone. He was too happy about that. "Are you sure?"

Please, be sure.

"Yes, I just...yes"

Damon nodded, leaning back against the couch, his eyes piercing hers. Minutes passed with them sitting just like that. Quietly.

"How old are you, Damon?" she broke the silence.

"A hundred and seventy-one."

"You've lost people then, right."

"I've seen people come and go, yes," he said, turning his entire body towards her. "But lost people…no."

She frowned and he explained, "I'm not like Stefan, Elena. I don't get attached. I get what I need and I move on. I have no interest in getting to know people."

"So if they die−"

"I don't care."

She nodded. "It's a good way to protect yourself, I guess."

He scowled. "That's not why I don't attach, Elena. I just−"

"Don't care."

He nodded, hating and loving the way her eyes had suddenly softened.

"Stefan told me about your father."

His chest tightened again, this time with an emotion he was all too familiar with. Anger.

"Goodnight, Elena," he snarled, beginning to rise.

"Wait."

Her legs were on his lap again, but it weren't those tanned delicacies that stopped him. It was the desperation in her voice, the deep sadness, that made him plop back down.

"I just need to know."

"Need to know what?"

"Does it ever go away?"

"Does what ever go away?"

"The pain."

There was that weird feeling in his chest again. What was that?

"I doesn't stop, Damon," she whimpered. "It's always there and it's killing me. There are days when I feel like I can't breathe and now I'm having these dreams−"

She trailed off, rubbing her eyes, trying to push the tears back. He gave her a moment, gave her time to continue.

"I'm in our car," she said so softly a human probably wouldn't even have heard, but he did hear. Every word. "We're driving over Wickery Bridge and I know we're about to crash and then…nothing happens. We get home. My mother and father cook dinner and I watch them, thinking I want a love like that. A love that consumes me. I go to bed and they kiss me goodnight and I feel so safe because I know they'll be right downstairs. I graduate and they're there. Sitting in the front row with Jeremy, smiling up at me so proudly. And then I get married. My father dances with me, holding me so close I can smell−"

The tears came again and before Damon could stop himself, before he even knew what he was doing, he was scooting closer to her, his thumb wiping away those little drops trailing down.

Elena hadn't expected such a sweet gesture from Damon. Not after the way Stefan had described his older brother. Could he have been wrong?

Damon's thumbs were replaced by his hands. Gently, he cupped her face and she let herself lean into his warm touch. It soothed her. He soothed her. What was that about?

"It wasn't like that with my father, Elena. He wasn't the kind to give me goodnight kisses and he was certainly never proud of me."

"I'm sure that's not−"

"The man hated me, Elena."

His hands left her cheeks and that, combined with the torture in Damon's voice, left her feeling numb. She had to do something, anything to make the ache in his face fade.

"I'm sure he didn't hate you."

"Not all fathers are like yours," he simply stated.

"Stefan never said anything about this."

"That's because Stefan was the favorite Salvatore-boy."

And he still is, he thought, bitterly, looking at the girl who was proof enough.

"But you were his son."

"And you think that meant something to Guiseppe Salvatore?" he snorted. "My father was a bastard who had our whole future planned out and, well, let's just say I wasn't good at following orders back then either. When I left the Confederate Army, I was death to him."

"And your mother?"

Damon's eyes softened, but before she could marvel in that rare sight any further, he pushed her legs off and got up. For a second, she was scared he'd had enough, but to her relief, he headed straight for the liquor and poured himself a full glass of a brownish fluid.

"My mother was a different story," he said, his back turned to her. "I never understood what she saw in my father. She was his complete opposite. Kind. Warm. Loving."

"Maybe she saw a side of him he hid from everyone else. A side he hid from himself."

Like you.

Damon stilled for a second until he rasped, "There are no sides to the Salvatores, what you see is what you get."

"I don't believe that."

He was on her so fast she would've missed it if she'd blinked. His hands were beside her head, pinning her back against the couch, holding her captive. His face was inches from hers, the veins around his eyes throbbing dangerously.

"Listen to me very carefully, little girl," he snarled, an icy line to his words. "I am not my brother. Don't be fooled just because we had this little heart to heart. There are no sides here you can discover. No layers you can peel back. I'm a killer. I have no conscience. No morals. I am fucking Damon Salvatore. Don't test me."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Elena knew she should be scared, but for some reason she wasn't. For some reason, all she felt was a deep and profound compassion for the man in front of her, a man who was doing his very best to push her away and was only accomplishing the opposite.

Why wasn't she more scared? His fangs were out. His eyes were vamped. Why wasn't her heart speeding up? Why wasn't her body tense, preparing to run? And why did she look at him in that way that made his chest hurt?

"Elena," he breathed, frowning at her. He could hear her heart skip a beat now. And when she let out a ragged breath, her warm smell invaded his senses, drowning him in her heath.

The veins around his eyes were gone now and yet, this was the point when she got scared. The way he looked at her… He was hungry, but not for blood. For her. His eyes dropped to her lips and she felt her tongue slipping out, wetting them for him.

It's Damon! Her head screamed again. Damon!

It didn't help. Not anymore. The same thoughts that had snapped her out of her lust just a few minutes ago only added to it now. It was Damon…

His face moved closer to hers, the muscles in his arms and neck flexing. Elena swallowed thickly, his nearness making her pulse riot.

"Damon, please, we can't."

But Damon was too far gone to stop now. The second her heart, her body had responded to him he'd lost control. God, he wanted her. He hadn't known just how much until that very moment, until he'd seen her tremble under his gaze.

His hands dropped to her collarbone and to his delight, little murmurs escaped her plump lips. She wanted him, too. That did him in. He moved in to close that final distance between them...and then, everything changed. Suddenly, her warm skin was gone and he was no longer standing on his feet. Instead, he was lying on his back, his brother pushing down on his chest and looking absolutely feral.

"Brother."

A fist slammed into his cheek so hard Damon heard something crack.

"Nice to see you, too."

"Don't you fucking ever touch her again!" Stefan yelled, furious. "I will kill you, do you hear me!"

Another hit. Blood pooling in his mouth.

"Do you hear me, Damon! Elena is off limits!"

He pushed down harder on his chest and Damon could feel a rib crack.

Enough of this.

With a mere flick of his hand, Stefan was off him, flying across the room. Typical Stefan. Trying to be the knight in shining armor, even though he didn't stand a chance against him. Always fighting a losing battle.

"Stefan!" Elena cried, standing over his unconscious body. "Jesus Christ, Damon!"

Gracefully, Damon got up, popping his jaw back in its right spot without so much as flinching. "He'll be fine in a few minutes."

"That's not the point!" She screamed. "You can't do this to your brother!"

"Obviously, I can and do I need to remind you that he started it."

"He started it? That's your defense? What is this? Kindergarten?"

"I don't need a defense, Elena. If I want to kill him, if I want to kill every living being in this town, there's really not much you or anyone else can do about it."

Her brows drew together disappointed. "You were right. There are no sides to you. You're a monster."

He was behind her before she could move. His hands tightly on her waist, keeping her in place.

"Maybe I am a monster, sweetness," his voice teased in her ear as he pulled her closer. "But tell me, are you mad because I'm exactly what I said I am or are you mad because despite of that, you still want me to take you up to my room and show you exactly what kind of a monster you're dealing with?"

Unwillingly, she leaned back, resting against him, feeling his arousal press against her hip. She bit her cheek to stop the little noises that rose up in her throat, but when his lips briefly grazed her neck, she lost the battle and moaned. It was softly, almost unnoticeable, but she knew his vampire hearing would've picked it up.

And then Stefan opened his eyes and he was gone, leaving her breathless and more than a little confused.

"Elena," Stefan said, jumping up and pulling her into a tight embrace. "It's OK, baby. It's over now."

She snuggled against him, burying her face in his chest, trying to forget that he was so very, very wrong. This wasn't even close to over.