Wow, I never thought I would take this long to get back to another story, but life got in the way, and a lack of new episodes hasn't done wonders for my muse. So for any of my regular readers, any of you remember how I said I would never, ever, ever write another long story after I finished Setting Things Right. Okay for everyone whose hand is in the air, now do you remember how I am a horrible liar and never do what I say I'm gonna do. Yep that's right, you guessed it. I'm starting another story that I know will have at least 10 chapters. I've just been having so many ideas floating around in my head that I couldn't decide on just one, so I meshed them together into one longer story.

This story starts right before Elena chooses who to say goodbye to. I hated that she left Damon to die alone, so I rewrote that. I don't object to her picking Stefan, okay I do, but I get it, sort of. I object to how she picked Stefan, so this is my way of writing a more believable, understandable version of events. This story will have more Stelena scenes than I usually write, but this is a solely Delena story. There also is the tiniest hint of spoilers for next season that is based off two new characters and one possible situation, but it isn't in the first few chapters. I hope you all enjoy, and tell me what you think, because I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter.

"Damon's not with them." Matt reluctantly informs me, as his words cut through me like a bitter cold in February. I barely register the rest of the conversation until my ears perk up at the phrase, "It's your choice." I fucking hate that word. It's haunted me for weeks, and it must be on some word of the day calendar somewhere, because Mystic Falls' residents have been using it like it was going out of style. I've avoided, stalled, given a thousand excuses to escape this moment, but fate it seems is finally forcing my hand. I have to make a choice. He . . . they might die.

It's not fair. I was supposed to have more time. Hell, I fell in love with vampires for God sakes. I was supposed to have eternity. In those few seconds, I'm torn apart thinking about what the Salvatores have meant in my life over the past year and a half. There was Stefan with his gentle support and understanding, never pushing, never questioning, just simple and loving. Then my mind strays to the other Salvatore brother, as it always does without my consent. He's fierce and protective and stubborn and infuriating, but just as loving and loyal to a fault. My heart constricts thinking of losing either one of them, and when it does, I realize that I'm not ready to make this choice yet, not even now. I can't quantify my feelings for one over the other. I can't make a pro/con list and pick whoever looks better on paper.

An epiphany dawns on me in that instant that I don't need to make a choice. Matt's not asking who I love more or who I need more. All he needs is a decision, a destination. The words leave my mouth before I take a moment to second guess them. "Keep driving Matt and hurry." I tell myself that I'm not driving towards Damon because I pick him. I'm doing it because despite everything else, he is my friend, and I can't leave him. Stefan is surrounded by people who love and support him, and we already said our goodbyes. Damon is alone in a storage locker and his only friend in the world is gone. And if this is the end, I can't let him die like that.

Matt keeps his eyes on the road and doesn't look back at me, because unlike everybody else, he doesn't have a dog in this fight. He doesn't care who I choose or who I end up with. He only wants me to be happy, so he doesn't need to give me a smile of approval or a look of scornful condemnation. His indifference towards my decision makes me more appreciative for his presence in my life than all my other friends put together. Matt's refusal to pick a side has allowed me to be honest and open with him. I confide in Matt things that I would never tell another soul for fear that they would judge me. Matt's the one person who never did. For just a second, I regret that I couldn't have loved him like he wanted. We would've gotten married, had two or three kids, adopted a puppy, and grown old together. It would have been so delightfully normal, but if the past year has taught me anything, it's that I wasn't meant for a normal life. Instead of spend endless amounts of time regretting a life not lived, I stare out into the darkness and watch the trees pass by as I shut out the fear of what the next hour will bring.

Matt's lead foot gets us there in almost half the time. Neither of us says a word the whole way there, because words don't mean much in a time like this. Comforting words would seem disingenuous and anything else would be far too depressing. So when we finally arrive at our destination, all I can say is, "Thank you for kidnapping me." My answer startles him and he looks back at me expectantly, for an explanation. "If you hadn't," I add, "I never would have gotten here in time," I remind him with an expression that could never hope to express my gratitude. Matt offers a shadow of a smile to me and turns back on his car to race back to Mystic Falls, just in case he still has time to say goodbye. I look at the time on my phone and realize that he will never make it. It took half an hour to make it here, and if Klaus turned their bloodline, they will be long since dead before Matt crosses the city limits. Matt gave up a chance at a goodbye with Tyler and Caroline just so I could see Damon one last time, but I can't bring myself to feel guilty about that, not yet anyway.

I try to swallow my grief and focus on the task at hand. I race into the facility and shout Damon's name into the emptiness. Two seconds pass before he speeds two feet in front of me. Shock, surprise, joy, and confusion all fight for dominance on Damon's face as he tries to process that I'm really here, that I chose to say goodbye to him. I take a small step towards Damon closing the distance between us and I bury my face in his leather jacket. I try to memorize every smell that is so uniquely Damon just in case I never get another chance. There is the leather from his jacket, the hint of bourbon that is always on his lips, and the unidentifiable smell that is just him. I'd give anything to stay like this forever, just freeze time and shut out the rest of the world, but I can't. This is really happening and that thought brings the first tears to my eyes.

Damon's hands find their way to my back, tracing small circles that spread warmth through my entire body, as I release a few tears that I am incapable of holding inside. He's the one who may be dying, yet Damon's comforting me. I pull away and try to suppress all the negative emotions and bad feelings that are threatening to consume me. I'm sure comforting me as I'm hysterically crying is not how Damon envisioned his last hour on Earth, so I do something for him, just for him, I rationalize to myself.

My head lifts up until it is an inch from Damon's face, and lean closer until our lips are just barely touching. The second Damon senses the contact; our sweet tender kiss erupts into an almost violent coupling. Damon kisses me with a need and hunger and he holds so tight, as if I'm his salvation and his life. The intense make out seems without end. There are no friends or brothers to walk in on us. There is no one to stop us, so of course Damon stops it himself, because apparently someone has to. He waits till we both regain higher order thinking before he elaborates as to why words are so damn important at this moment.

"I need to know," he states, as he stares right through me, searching my face for answers. I play dumb because this is the worst possible time to have this discussion.

"You could die in the next twenty minutes. Is talking really what you want to do right now?" I question him, hoping that he'll drop it. He laughs a little at my remark and stares hopefully into my eyes.

"Yes, as it turns out I am that much of a masochist," Damon replies sarcastically. The tone of the moment turns serious as Damon never breaks eye contact and talks in a softer voice that he reserves for those rare moments of vulnerability. "I need to know why you're here," Damon declares decisively. "I need you to answer right now, because I might not die today. And if I don't, I want to start my life again, whether that's with you or without you." My heart gives another telltale clench as I think about my life without him. He can't possibly be bringing this up now, not when we don't know if he'll live to see tomorrow.

"And it has to be right now?" I ask, begging him to put this conversation off for just one more day. One more day and I'll be ready I tell myself unconvincingly.

"Yes," Damon answers with certainty, and he crushes me hopes of avoidance, "because if we wait till you know I'll be okay, you'll chicken out. You'll drag this out till kingdom come, and because you'll never be as honest as you are right now, when you think I'm gonna die."

He's right. It's one of his more annoying traits. He's always right. The most honest I've ever been with him was on his death bed the night of the werewolf bite. There is a freedom in honesty when you don't think you'll have to deal with the consequences. The difference is that back then, I was sure he was dying. Now he might live, especially if Klaus keeps up his consistent record of lying and manipulation. These are consequences that I'm not sure I can live with, but I don't have a choice. How do you turn down a possibly dying man? Damon holds the trump card in this discussion and he knows it.

"It's not as simple as you think," I try to explain. "I know you assume I'm supposed to choose who I love more or who I want more, but this choice was never about that. I made a decision weeks ago." I hesitate to continue, even though I know Damon is hanging on my every word. After a few seconds of silence, his face drops and he understands, too well, the choice I made. The words are unnecessary, but I say them anyway, because I need to, just to make them real. "I decided to stay with Stefan," I tell him, nearly choking on the words. "I didn't know how to tell you, because the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you. But you need to know, I'm not going back to him because I love him more or because I love you less."

Damon's hand flies up in a stopping motion, not wanting to hear anymore.

"Don't Elena. You don't have to soften the blow or . . ."

"I'm not," I interrupt forcefully. His face is laced with skepticism. He doesn't believe me. It's hard to blame him. I'm not sure I'd believe me either. I think the words 'it's always gonna be Stefan' are probably tattooed on his fragile psyche. I find it difficult to search for the right words to help him understand. Words seem so meaningless at a time like this, which is difficult for any writer to admit. But when words are all you have left, they mean a great deal.

"I'm staying with Stefan because our relationship never ended," I admit reluctantly. I'm not sure if the truth makes it better or worse, but I can't take the unbearable silence as Damon gazes back at me with an inscrutable expression, so I continue. "Stefan and I were in love and happy, and then he was gone. I never stopped feeling like his girlfriend, and that's why I feel so guilty for what I feel for you. It isn't fair to start something with you if I'm still looking back at him." My explanation somehow feels insufficient or hollow. When you break someone's heart does the reason really matter? They're hurt, you're sorry, but it doesn't change anything. Damon takes the longest five seconds in history to process what I've just said before responding in his usual flippant manner.

"Hate to point out the flaw in your logic princess, but don't you run into the same problem if you choose him, but want me." He's getting angry. That's good. Anger's better than the alternative. Maybe if he hates me, then he'll finally be free of me, and I won't be able to hurt him anymore. I want that for him, I do, but I can't bring myself to say something cruel. I can't force myself to push him further away, because he's the one person who is supposed to truly know me, for better or worse, so I need him, of all people, to know the truth.

"No," I answer automatically, "because Stefan isn't asking me for my whole heart, and you are." Damon wasn't just asking for a chance. He wasn't just asking to be my boyfriend. He wanted forever. Damon has waited almost a century and a half for someone to promise to love him for all time, and I'm not there yet. I'm 18 years old, and I'm not ready.

"Stefan is just grateful if I pick him," I elaborate distantly, not wanting to lose myself in Damon's pure blue eyes. "But you want all of me, and I can't give that to you now. I have to know if what Stefan and I have is forever, or if it's just for right now." There's a flicker of understanding underneath a layer of pain and rejection with a light gloss of resentment to top it all off.

"So what, you're asking me to wait, possibly forever, for you to get over Stefan?" Damon asks bitterly. "Basically back to our general status quo."

"No," I correct him for the third time that night. "I'm asking you to let me go, and promising that I'll try and do the same. You need to move on and live your own life again, and trust that if we're supposed to end up together that we'll find a way back." That tiny ray of hope slips past my lips without my approval, and as much as I want to take it back, knowing it's better to be cruel to be kind; I can't bring myself to do it. Hope is what our relationship is built on. Hope that maybe, someday things could be different, and I'm not ready to let that go just yet.

"Trust and hope not exactly strong suits," Damon remarks more lighthearted than I'm sure he feels. He takes a seat next to the car and I sit down next to him and take his hand, because he could still die, and I swore he wouldn't do it alone.

"Lately I'm struggling with them myself," I hesitantly confess, not wanting to discuss how much the past year has beaten my optimistic nature to miniscule proportions.

Damon flashes a mysterious smile in my direction and asks, "Any chance we can rewind back before I was an idiot and stopped kissing you."

It's impossible not to laugh, because Damon's sarcasm is irresistible even in the most dire of circumstances. "I wish we could," I answer regretfully. I glance at my phone and realize that an hour has passed, and Damon's still alive. Klaus lied. Before I have a chance to share my joyful news, we hear someone's voice behind us.

"Wishes are troublesome things," a familiar voice remarks. We whip around to see a very pissed off Alaric standing there with the white oak stake. "See I was wishing to knock off two originals from my list. I mean I did come all this way, gas prices being what they are; I can't help feeling a little disappointed. You," Ric says pointing his stake at Damon, "ruined my whole plan. What are we going to do about that?"

Damon is in action mode and he steps protectively in front of me. "Elena, run," Damon barks out at me.

"No," I reply back just as powerfully. "He's not gonna hurt me. I'm not leaving you."

Before I can utter another word, Alaric rushes Damon and I hear the snapping of his neck before my eyes can recognize what's happened. Ric picks up the stake and my eyes search the floor for a weapon to stop him, and yes, I do realize how ridiculous it is me taking on an all-powerful vampire, but I have to do something. My eyes catch on a utility knife on the ground, and I pick it up, holding it against my throat. "You touch him and this knife slices my carotid artery," I threaten menacingly. Damon's not the only one who can do scary, badass protective.

Ric laughs at my little stunt. "That trick might have worked once, but I'm not stupid. You're not going to leave Jeremy all alone over one dead vampire." Ric wraps his hand around the stake and walks towards Damon.

"You have no idea what I would do to save him," I whisper to myself, before slicing my throat in one quick motion. The pain isn't what registers as the blood pours from my body. All I can see is Alaric falling down, weakened, and Damon is still okay. He's going to live. That thought comforts me until my heart gives its last beat and the light is replaced with darkness, signaling the end of my human life.

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