I don't always write TVD fanfic, but when I do, it's Delena. Be warned: Contains small spoilers for season four, (minor) Stefan bashing and hints of Steferine. Also contains underage drinking, but if y'all cared about that, I doubt you could watch this show in the first place. Tee hee. Now commence to chapter one!

Becoming Elena Gilbert

The bunny diet was just not cutting it, and Stefan's melancholy looks were getting on her last frayed nerve. So Elena Gilbert, baby vampire, was taking a page out of the Damon Salvatore playbook. She was getting wasted in Mystic Grill on a Saturday afternoon.

It was an odd hour, not quite lunch and not quite dinner, so the place was peaceful and almost empty. The interior of the grill was dimly lit, illuminated only by thin beams of muted sunlight hitting the carpet and the gleaming wood of the bar. This suited Elena just fine. Ever since she completed the transition, she'd been in sensory overload. Everything was so much more vivid when you were a vampire, and it was terrifying, even painful. The sun was even brighter than it had been when she was human. Her ears were constantly buzzing with noises she used to be able to tune out. She saw colors she never could have imagined and detail that she could never have guessed had been there all the time. It was better here, in this cool dark quiet place. She could focus better, her near-constant headache dying down to a dull thud in her temples.

"Another Jack and Coke, Elena?" Matt asked from across the bar. "Or have you reached your limit?" His blue eyes glinted with mischief but also caution.

"Please," Elena snorted. "I'm just getting started." She pushed the empty glass towards him, and Matt took it in hand and started mixing her next drink. He did it quite nonchalantly, because it didn't matter who saw. No one was watching, and even if they had been, Elena could have compelled them into forgetting that she wasn't actually twenty-one.

She wished that she could compel herself to forget that she would never be twenty-one.

Another painful throb in her head made her flinch. She pressed a shaking hand to her forehead and leaned on the bar, gritting her teeth. The country station on the radio was turned down to a low hum, but Elena could hear every word with stunning clarity. In the kitchen, forks clinked as they were washed. Water roared out of a bathroom sink. Someone dropped a plate, and the resultant crash made Elena shudder.

"You okay?" Matt asked her, sliding the drink across the bar into her waiting hands.

Elena raised her eyes to his, her eyebrows elevated in an expression of innocence. "I'm fine," she said, with a small smile. Matt returned the smile and went back to polishing glasses and bottles. Elena took a long sip of the Jack and Coke. Around the glass, her hands shook constantly.

Being a vampire was supposed to make you freakishly strong, but so far Elena had only felt weak, even sick. When she looked at herself in the mirror she saw a gaunt, pale girl. That might have been what vampires in the books were like, but having been up-close and personal with an assortment of vampires had told Elena that in real life, they looked like people. They looked just like they had when they were alive. She didn't. She looked ill. And she felt even worse.

The hunger never left her, no matter how many squirrels and rabbits she drained. And Stefan was always there, trying so hard, being so gentle and sensitive and cautious.

The problem was that Elena didn't want gentle and sensitive and cautious, not right now. Stefan was trying to make her feel better, but instead whenever she was around him, every time he praised her, every time he handed her some inspirational quotation or a Lexi anecdote, it made her feel even worse. Sometimes it even made her angry, though she never said a word about what she was really feeling. She wanted them to be Stefan and Elena again, to have things sweet and tender and almost easy, like they'd been before. But that wasn't happening. And she was starting to realize, sickeningly, that it was never going to be the same between them again. Stefan didn't look at her the same way. He was always sad, always worried. She couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled at her with real warmth. As for Damon, he hovered on the edges. He smiled, but bitterly. He barely spoke, and when he did, it was either one bland word to her or a venomously sarcastic remark to Stefan. There were no jokes. Not even any fights. She longed for those fights.

Bad enough that she was a vampire… she didn't want to be treated like one.

Matt had moved off down the bar to refill a couple of the beer taps, but now he was back and talking. Elena had to force herself to concentrate on what he was saying, because there was a fly whining in the corner of the room and it was very distracting.

"Did Caroline tell you what happened in English yesterday? With the sub?" Matt said, vigorously wiping down shot glasses as he talked.

"No, what happened?" Elena asked automatically.

"It was funny as hell! Let me start at the beginning…" Matt launched enthusiastically into the story of the prank the class had pulled on the substitute teacher. It really was funny, and Elena's laughter was genuine, but more than the story itself, she was happy because it was being told. Matt was talking to her about school, Matt was proving that with all they'd been through they could still appreciate juvenile humor. Matt was proving that there was still something worth smiling about. Most importantly, Matt was treating her the way he always had. She washed his words down with a sip of whiskey.

God bless Matt Donovan.

"So then, Care was all like… aw, shit!" Matt had dropped a glass, and it had shattered. The noise splintered Elena's concentration and set her head throbbing again. A piece of flying glass had nicked Matt's hand, and the jagged line of blood was so bright against his fair skin.

So bright.

He was saying something, but Elena couldn't hear him. All she could hear was the thudding of his heart. The crashing roar of his blood. He was pressing the washcloth over the wound, but the scent of his blood, hot and metallic and sharply sweet, hovering in the air. Drifted into Elena's nostrils. Settled in her open mouth. Her stomach twisted and ached; she was suddenly starving to death. Her jaw began to ache as her fangs struggled free. She watched from somewhere outside herself as Matt's expression of worry shifted into one of fear. He was saying more things, but they didn't matter. She wasn't going to kill him. How could she? He was her friend. But she was so so hungry, and he smelled so good. Surely Matt wouldn't mind if she just drank a little.

After all, he owed her.

One moment was all it would have taken. In an instant, she could have been over the bar. She could have pulled Matt into her arms and locked her jaws around his neck and sucked his delicious blood into her mouth, savoring every drop. She could have. She would have.

But instead she felt hand closing, gently and firmly, around her wrist, locking her in place. She felt an arm encircle her waist and somebody much stronger than she was leading her away with no effort at all, and through the haze that had overtaken her senses she heard him say coolly, "Don't worry, quarterback. I've got this."

"Dammit, Damon," she snarled, trying to twist free. "Let me go! I'm hungry!" How dare he take her away? She wanted blood, and she wanted it now!

"Oh, I get that," said Damon, his tone simultaneously patient and mocking. He was leading her out of the grill and into the blazing sunlight, glaring down from the sky and leaping up from the pavement. Momentarily overwhelmed, Elena closed her eyes and stopped struggling and allowed Damon to lead her blind to his car. Then his hands were on her shoulders, steadying her, and the next thing she saw was his eyes, staring down into hers intensely. They were so blue.

"Breathe, Elena," he urged. "Breathe and focus."

It was tone, more than his words, that brought her back to her senses. He sounded steady and sure, like he truly expected her to get her shit together. Like he would expect nothing less.

He didn't sound like this was the end of the world.

The world shifted. She came back into herself, and she was weak, hungry and horrified.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "I almost… I almost tried to kill Matt…"

"Yeah, but you didn't," said Damon calmly.

"Only because you stopped me."

"You could have fought me," Damon pointed out, rolling his eyes as though this was oh-so-obvious. "You could have tried harder to get away, but you didn't. And you didn't drain your ex-boyfriend. So, congratulations. Have a drink on me."

He produced from his jacket pocket a pouch of O-Negative and tossed it to her as casually as if it were a Coke can. She caught it in her trembling hands and looked at Damon, fearfully. She was scared. She was scared to drink it because if she liked it… God, if she liked it, could she ever stop? Images of Stefan's face, contorted with bloodlust, welled up from her memories and paralyzed her. She didn't ever want that to happen to her. She knew it worried Stefan too. That was why he had her sticking to forest animals. That was why he watched her every move and flinched whenever her fangs came out.

But Damon obviously thought she could handle it, or he wouldn't have given her the blood. And she trusted Damon.

And she was so hungry. So hungry.

Damon kept his eyes fixed on hers. He seemed to know exactly what she needed him to say. "It's okay, Elena. I won't tell Stefan." There was a slight bitter edge to his voice, but she knew it wasn't directed at her. And she was so tired of feeling like a walking corpse.

Elena ripped into the pouch and savored the blood.

She couldn't remember the taste of Jeremy's blood, which she'd taken a few drops of in order to complete the transition. She'd been in such a daze, and she didn't really want to remember drinking her brother's blood, so she tried not to think about it. She used to imagine what blood must taste like to vampires, before she became one. She didn't see how it was possible for them to enjoy the metallic taste of it. She figured they must taste it like wine or spaghetti sauce or a V8. But of course it wasn't like that at all.

It was so much better.

It was incomparable to any other thing. It was indescribably in human terms. It was rich and full and tingling and electric and bursting with vibrancy, with warmth, and it tasted of life. It slipped past her lips and trickled onto her tongue and down her throat. It filled up her senses and it quenched her raging hunger and it made her feel alive again. Under Damon's watchful gaze, she drank it in like she used to take in oxygen.

When the pouch was empty, she licked the residue of the blood off her teeth. She expected to want more, to plead for more. But she didn't. She wasn't hungry, she wasn't sick. She was satisfied.

She hadn't felt this much like herself in a very long time. She didn't feel human, but she did feel alive. And she felt like Elena Gilbert.

Damon was smiling. "So tell me, warrior princess. How does that compare with the veggie lifestyle?"

"I've always hated tofu," Elena joked.

Damon's smile widened to genuine amusement, but he didn't say anything. He just looked at her. Mischievously. Fondly. Proudly. Admiringly.

Lovingly.

Just as he always had.

Elena imagined that her heart was beating faster, even though she knew that wasn't possible. She could almost feel the thud against her ribcage. The body remembers even what the mind no longer does. She could still feel the butterflies fluttering their wings against the inside of her stomach. Her skin still prickled with awareness as she gazed into those beautiful eyes. They were so much more arresting now, she thought, now that she could see the golden flakes in them, like sunlight dappling the ocean's shallows.

You should say something now, her mind prompted.

She opened her mouth. "Thank you, Damon," she whispered.

He nodded. "Anytime."

You should say something else.

"Really, I don't know how to thank you enough. I don't know what I'd do without you." Elena was embarrassed the moment she finished, but oddly she didn't regret the words. They were true and it felt good to say them and he deserved to hear them. And to her surprise, she found that there was more to say. Was this what Elena Gilbert would do? It must be, because it's what Elena Gilbert was doing.

Damon looked surprised. "It was no big deal," he said.

"No, it's a huge deal!" Elena exclaimed. "Don't downplay yourself, Damon, not this time. You saved me from hurting one of my best friends. You were there for me when I needed someone most. You knew exactly what to do and exactly what to say. You were the first person to tell me it was okay to drink the blood. You were the only one who trusted me to drink it. I couldn't even trust myself unless you had shown me first that you thought I could do it."

"I knew you could do it," he said.

Her eyes watered, but she knew she had to get through this. "Exactly, Damon. But I didn't know. I was too scared to drink blood in front of Stefan. I wanted to, so badly, but I was afraid of disappointing him. I never wanted him to see the worst of me." Her voice shook. She was confessing things to Damon that she hadn't even admitted to herself.

"But you don't mind showing the worst of yourself to me," he said bitterly.

"That's not the point," she cried. "I was afraid he would stop loving me."

There was a long silence. When Damon spoke, he sounded pained. "Elena, Stefan would never stop loving you."

"We both know that's not true," said Elena. "In fact, I'm not sure he ever did. Not truly. For Stefan, it's always going to be Katherine. Now that I'm a vampire, there's nothing to separate me from her in his eyes. " A tear slipped down her cheek.

Damon opened his mouth to argue with her, then closed it.

Elena knew that she had to say these things. It hurt her to admit them and it was going to hurt worse, but it had to be done. The words poured out of her like water. There was no stopping them. She didn't even want to try anymore.

"I never gave you enough credit. This not-killing-people thing… it's hard. It's harder than I ever imagined it would be, and I almost killed Matt today, and I know that I'm going to make other mistakes. I know that I need your help if I'm going to make it through this and gain half the control that you have."

"Elena," Damon said quietly. "Of course I'll help you."

"I'm not finished."

He shut his mouth, and watched her closely. There was a crow in the tree at the edge of the parking lot, and it gave a soft croak that both of them heard.

"Through everything, you've always been there for me," Elena said. "And I just… I can't believe how stupid I've been. Not to say this sooner…"

"Say what, Elena?" Damon's voice had gone somewhat hoarse. The air around them both had gone still. The hum of the insects in the background was a muted music.

Elena's eyes peered into Damon's as if for dear life. Her voice was clear and bold and strong. "I love you, Damon."

The crow took to the air in a burst of black feathers, leaving the tree branch trembling in his wake.

Damon looked away. He looked upset. Angry.

"Please say something," Elena whispered. "What, don't you believe me?"

"No," Damon said finally. "No, Elena. Sorry, I don't believe you." His voice was hard and cold. "It's kind of hard to be thrilled about you realizing your love for me right after my brother starts falling out of love with you. Awfully convenient, don't you think?"

He was hurt. Elena felt cold. She'd made a terrible mistake. "Damon, please, that's not what I meant!"

"It is what it is, Elena," Damon answered. "I'm tired of being jerked around." He did sound tired, exhausted. He put his hands in his pockets like a dejected high-schooler. "I've had enough."

"What do you think I'm trying to say?" Elena shouted. "I'm trying to say I'm not going to jerk you around anymore! I want to be with you, why won't you accept that?"

He rounded on her, his eyes flashing. He was yelling now too. "Because, Elena! Because you don't know how to be alone. You don't know how to make a choice and stick to it. You tell everyone you don't know what you want, and now you tell me you want me? How am I supposed to trust you?"

Elena opened her mouth to give him a good answer. Then she realized she couldn't. She just stared at him, her heart breaking inside her chest, tears coming silently down her cheeks.

"Sorry," Damon said, softly and bitterly. "I want to believe you, Elena. You have no idea how much I want to believe you. But I can't."

Then he turned and walked away, leaving Elena in the parking lot of the Mystic Grill, alone and hungry for something that wasn't blood.

Hopefully I'll have chapter two up in the next couple of days. I'm sorry if there was any incoherent rambling in this chapter, I'm super-sick and might have gotten a little delirious. I would definitely appreciate any critique I can use to make this story better!

Reviews = awesome