Hi y'all. It's been a while.

I'm just gonna say this straight: I fucked up. In 2014, an opportunity to publish fanfiction as LEGITIMATE FICTION came into my life, and I took it. I pulled down stories and put them on amazon, and after it was done, I couldn't get out of the contract. No matter how much screaming we did about the US only clause, there wasn't anything we could do. Then a miracle happened: the publishing division CLOSED and all of us got our rights back!

So I'm putting the stories back where they belong:

HERE

For free.

Content Ratings restored.

I'm so sorry. I was selfish, and blind, and I know a lot of y'all are pissed off. You have every right.

MBT will be fully restored, original author notes and all. For Unthinkable, Sounds of Tomorrow, and Birthday Girls Love Boys Night, I'm gonna get you as close as I can, but some of my files are missing. Karma, I guess. I'm not even gonna tweak punctuation or anything that's going to embarrass the living fuck out of me and the writer I am now, because this was where we started. Where *I* started - clumsy and figuring it out, and with your endless support.

I couldn't have gotten to where I am today without you. And I'm so sorry I took these stories down.

Warning about Auto In: DOWNLOAD THE HELL OUT OF IT! It's being reworked as an original fiction, but I'm changing the gender of the main characters, and at some point, if push comes to shove, I may have to pull for copyright because so much is being kept.

Again: DOWNLOAD AUTO IN! I don't care – PLEASE! Keep it as it is now, because it is in a phoenix state, and I want you guys to be able to have BOTH: The original, and the re-roll with a new plotline.

Thus concludes my long apology, and without further ado:

Your story.

-goldnox

Chapter 1: Mirror, Mirror

A/N: Hello my darlings! How I've missed you!

This fic was written by request for Trogdor19, who was in need of a new Memorial fiction while she kills us all with deathly cliffhangers, wrapping up the masterpiece that is Desperate Love. If you haven't read it, please go read it, follow it, and check out her other work too while you're at it.

We're starting with Elena POV, and this fic will be a mixture of canon and non-canon events taking us through the episode. Some parts we saw, some we didn't (hehehe). POV will shift btwn Damon and Elena, and I'm going to try to really take advantage of the rating level (when I can). For the purpose of this story, the whole episode takes place over one really long day, and we're going to kick off pre-episode btwn 4x01 and 4x02. This will only be the first chapter, many more to come! Thanks for reading!

ELENA POV

Mirror, Mirror

This is completely, utterly, insane.

I'm beyond exhausted but there's no way I could sleep right now even if I wanted to. I don't have a say in the matter, surprise surprise.

Stefan sent me straight home to pack after we cleaned up everything that went down at Pastor Young's cattle ranch and he took Matt home after burying the bodies. Our idea of a typical date night. I was given two hours to clean up, calm down, and get ready, along with my marching orders to return back to the boarding house for the rest of my internment (transition).

Stefan said he wants to take me hunting in the woods so I can learn to feed on animals, which is not exactly how I wanted to spend my first night as a creature of the undead. If I was having my way, which I'm not, I'd be halfway through an hour-long shower and about to get into bed to snuggle with my down comforter and some blood. Well, a lot of blood.

Other than a few measly drops from the dead guard at the farm, I haven't fed and I'm so hungry I swear I can feel the insides of my stomach scraping together. I honestly don't know how I'm standing when all this emptiness is rattling around inside of me. Thank God Jeremy isn't here because I'm not sure how safe I am right now.

I'm trying to pack and I'm moving around my room too quickly; twice I've knocked off the picture frame that sits on the edge of my vanity. I'm not trying to blur around my room but I can't seem to slow anything down. It's all moving too fast one minute, then everything just stops short and life comes to a rapid halt when I think of something else.

Hurry up and stop, that's my life right now. Speedily tumble over a bridge and drown in the water, jailed by a polyester seatbelt that's supposed to keep me safe. Right. Fall in love, fast and overwhelming and consuming, then shut it down and walk away repeatedly. Waiting all day to feed to turn, pushing time, waiting a little longer, testing it, then rushing to drink in the last few seconds before it's too late.

Life in a series of jolts. I just need it to be a smooth ride for the next five minutes before I completely lose it and start freaking out. I bet I could give carnival-terrorizing, post-werewolf-bite Rose a run for her money if anyone so much as looks at me like they want to ask me how I feel.

I glance at my suitcase. I've only managed to successfully pack one pair of jeans and some socks. I roll my eyes at myself. I'm obviously handling this task brilliantly. At least I managed to shower without forgetting to wash my hair.

I did condition though, right? I can't even remember.

At the sight of the dark wash denim my focus immediately shifts back to Damon. That's why I can't pack. It's his fault. I can't seem to stop thinking about him. I haven't even spoken to him since I told him I remembered him compelling me and that was a few hours ago. It's normally not that big of a deal not to talk to him, but this is different.

He must be going crazy.

When Stefan dropped me off he told me that Damon was fighting Alaric when I died so he knew the instant that it happened. In one second his best friend was cheerfully trying to beat him to death then stopped because the girl he loved, the one that didn't choose him, had died.

He lost two of the most important people in his life in the same moment and there was nothing for him to do but to hold his dying friend while my life drifted away from me. I was beyond his reach and where he couldn't see me or save me from whatever it was that was taking me from him. There was nothing he could do, it was already done.

In all my life I'll never know what that did to him.

I'm actually amazed that after the last day's events filled with both me and Ric dying, Stefan and I getting kidnapped, closely followed by my Hail-Mary transition that there's a single human left alive in Mystic Falls at this point. If Damon was really half the monster he wants everyone to think he is then by my count he should be on his fifth sorority girl and drowning in bourbon and blood.

Then again, he could be and I'd never know. In truth, I wouldn't blame him. It's been a rough couple of days, even by our standards.

I freeze.

What the hell is happening to me?

I sigh and sit down on the edge of my bed, leaning my head onto my hands with my elbows on my knees. I can't believe I'm condoning possible murder on Damon's behalf. I never would have done that before. Would I?

Before.

I'm a vampire now.

I shiver.

I don't hear him when he lands inside my room; I never do. But I can feel his stare and I can smell him on the air that pushed into me when it made room for him.

I'm not going to look at him. I can't deal with this right now. I thought he was going to die, he asked me to make a choice and I made one. He has a right to be upset but now is a dangerous time to provoke me and that's his default when it comes to dealing with me and my unruly emotions. He's always pushing my damn buttons and they just love to rise up to meet him, like he knows exactly where they are and how to conjure them. It's always provoke or explode, so he shoves.

He hasn't moved. He's still just standing there, looking at me. I don't know what he's seeing, who he is seeing. I don't want to know.

"Damon…" I warn him.

This brings him back to life. Awareness ripples through him, reminding him that he's supposed to be a man and a monster and to not act like he's actually dumbstruck looking at me. I can see it out of the minute space awarded to me as I peek through my fingers and it's all over him in the way he's rolling his shoulders back and puffing out his chest just the littlest bit. He's trying so hard to act like he didn't just let it show that he has feelings.

Give me a fucking break. The man takes bubble baths after he murders people.

And he can give Stefan shit all day long about his hair gel but I've been in Damon's closet and I've seen his bathroom and I know that I can't even read the labels on his loofahs, let alone his clothes. I know what kind of man he is, who he is.

Two long steps and he's in front of me.

"Not now," he says bluntly as he kneels down.

He's wearing my favorite jacket because I think he knows I like this one best. He's been wearing it constantly ever since I crashed on the couch of the boarding house one night and he caught me hugging it while Stefan was out hunting and I thought he was asleep. I should have known he'd never let that slide after he busted me.

The smell of the leather is mixing with the dark spice of his cologne and its contradicting with the fruits of his shampoo and body wash with just a hint of the wood polish he favors reaching through. He smells so good, I just want to sit here and drink it in for hours in absolute silence. That's all I need, just quiet and this smell.

The over stimulation of my senses is going to make trying to resist him so much harder, I can already tell. That's why I can't look at him. I can't take the eyes.

He's not giving me a choice. I never get a choice.

He peels my hands back from my face and drapes them around his neck. I hadn't noticed until now but they're shaking. He ducks his head until my eyes catch his. I knew I was right to avoid them. It's so easy to just suspend knowledge, reality, morality, when he looks at me like this.

I let myself really look at him and just like that, it's done. He's thoroughly captured me and I know that whatever it is he wants, I'll give it to him. I'm so screwed.

"How do you feel?" he asks me seriously, no trace of a smirk to be found.

If his hands weren't holding mine to his neck I might slap him. Somebody please tell me he's joking.

I make a face that immediately sends him reeling into clarification.

"Do you hurt, Elena? Is your skin aching, head throbbing? Are you nauseous?"

His hands are cupping my face and he's looking me over like he should be able to see these things physically on me.

"Is your mouth sore?" he adds quietly like it hurts him to ask. He brushes his hand over my cheek and I don't want to tell him the truth.

I don't say anything. I just sit there shaking, staring at him in wonder with my hands against his skin. I think a tear escapes my eye.

"Elena, tell me…"

"Yes," I whisper. "All of it."

He releases a heavy sigh and rests his forehead against mine, his eyes pinched closed.

"You need to feed," he tells me like I don't know this. "But we'll come back to that."

What? What else is there? That's all this is, all I am now. I know the truth, I've seen it.

He sits back on his heels, drilling me with that look again. Crap.

"Have you looked?" he asks quietly for my sake.

I don't know why but I'm mortified. Of course Damon would think about this. He already knows the answer too, otherwise he wouldn't have asked.

I hang my head and let my hair fall forward to cover my guilt. I don't know what he's making of me not being able to look at my vampire face in the mirror. He's probably taking it as a rejection of who and what he is. I wince.

Part of me realizes what I'm doing by refusing to look, knowing that I'm causing him pain. But I also know that he's choosing to suffer through my struggle because more than anything he needs to make sure I'm okay. He needs to know that I can try to handle this without shame or guilt, the two things he won't allow me to feel.

He understands how scary it will be for me to look in the mirror and see someone else staring back. What if I don't like her? And I don't consider myself particularly vain but what if I think I'm ugly like this?

Damon gets that and won't let me run from it. I'd rather not have to do this at all, or at least have the privacy to cry alone when I realize I hate who I've become, but if I have to do this with someone I'm glad it's with Damon. He won't let me feel bad. He probably doesn't think there will be a reason to tell me anything but the truth anyways. I just don't know what the truth is anymore.

And I do want to look, to see myself take shape as someone that can protect herself and her family and not just play the hapless victim. I'm just scared that I won't see the strength that comes with this but only the unfurling of my mind and humanity.

"So, don't you think it's about time?" he says mockingly while standing, taking my hands and pulling me up with him. "Come on, Elena. I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he smirks, turning me to face the mirror.

He stands behind me so I can see his face reflected back to me over my shoulder, his right hand lightly squeezing the skin that plays keeper between my collarbone and my throat while his thumb twirls the hair at the base of my neck. He's warning me not to try to run. He's promising that I don't need to.

His left hand is clasped around mine, hanging down by my side and dangling below my hip. I can't see it thanks to the height of the mirror but I'm overwhelmed with the sensation of his fingers sliding through mine as he watches me, locking us together.

I'm having trouble breathing and I want to call bullshit on that because I'm supposed to be dead. This isn't supposed to still be happening.

"Watch me, Elena," he purrs at me and I do as instructed. As if I had a choice.

He lets the veins take his eyes, pulsing out and throbbing and painting just the tips of his cheekbones. His blue eyes are now black, the hunter revealed and unflinching. He parts his lips and I gasp a little when I see his fangs grow and lengthen all the way down. Those sharp and pristine weapons have brought incalculable pain and pleasure to so many before me, more than I want to think about. They've been in my skin and I know them. They look like old friends with a complicated history.

I'm suddenly aware that instead of the human fear that should be surging through me at such a brazen display of his lethality my vampire mind is only repeating a single thought over and over.

I want to taste one.

The few times we've kissed he was always wearing his human face. I rarely see him fully displayed like this and he's exotically beautiful. I don't know why he ever hides and I understand why he doesn't like to. It makes me want to show him who I am, to reveal myself and see if I'm just as striking as he is.

Everything about him is shouting danger and passion and sex and I can't help myself when I shift my hips so I can rub against him, to feel that he's real. I can sense every thread of my jeans as they massage against his, the friction causing a small growl to roll out of his throat while he presses his thumb harder into my neck.

"Your turn, Elena," he smiles at me. That smile drips knowledge of endless orgasms and all the ways he wants to give them to me.

I need to focus, damn it, and he's making it impossible.

I take a breath and try to clear my scrambled mind; it's echoing with the sounds we could be making right now instead of the strained breaths, gasps, and low growls we're reining ourselves into. I should be screaming his name and he should be cursing mine but we're not and I have to try to find my bloodlust. It's not hard when he's so near.

I close my eyes and think of blood: warm, rich, flowing. I can already feel them on my face, starting out under my eyelashes. It feels like I'm crying but I'm not. They're moving to and from my eyes like tears flowing under my skin instead of over. They don't hurt but they almost tickle.

My fangs start to drop and I scream, my free hand flying up to cover my mouth as I hunch over in agony while they mercilessly pierce my gums.

Damon has me.

His arms are locked around me, holding my back to his chest. He's trying to keep me upright as I bow under the pain. He's whispering things in my ear but I'm not sure what he's saying. Whatever it is, it's not working and the torment is infinite, it's unyielding, it's unbearable. It'll last forever no matter what he says to try to make it stop.

My fangs finally finish cutting me as they reach their maximum size. I still, the pain ceasing with their lack of movement.

"That'll get easier," he tells me gently. "Soon, you won't even feel it," he tries to assure me as he pulls me back upright, though he leaves his hands on my shoulders.

"Now, look."

I do as he commands and open my eyes.

"Beautiful," he huffs out incredulously as if he can't help it. Like he's relieved, but surprised that he is. He's shaking his head and laughing to himself, looking at me like he's almost angry at me for being nervous because I somehow made him nervous too.

I want to pay attention to him but I'm mostly studying the vampire in the mirror. She's fierce but uncertain. The way her eyes are roaming for prey, sizing up her target and knowing she's better, reminds me of Katherine and I hiss at her.

Damon just chuckles while he continues to rub little circles on my back, pretending that he's doing it absent-mindedly. But there is nothing inattentive about the way he's handling me right now.

"Katherine?" he confirms with a smile.

I nod.

"Tell me about it," he rolls his eyes. "Look again," he says sounding slightly exasperated. I do. "Did Jeremy ever break his arm learning to ride his bike?"

"What?" I ask, utterly thrown by his question.

He cocks his head, lifting a frustrated eyebrow at me while refusing to cave and still waiting for my answer. Damon hates repeating himself, almost more than he hates martyrs.

"Yeah, I guess," I shrug, then remember. "Actually, he broke his arm diving at the Lake House but he sucked at learning to ride a bike. He's actually surprisingly uncoordinated," I say, letting myself drift into memories.

"Oh, I believe it," he says casually like we're just having idle chit-chat and not staring at each other's fangs in the mirror. "I've seen him try to swing a baseball bat, remember?"

I smile and blush in memory of our trip to Denver and that glorious wall outside our motel room.

"See, there you are," he whispers to me, tucking my hair behind my ear so I have a clear view of my face. "Red cheeks and all," he smirks.

He's right. I still have black veins around my eyes but I can barely feel them. And the fangs are there but my face is more embarrassment and nostalgia than monster. I look like me, but as a vampire.

He waits for me to find myself in my reflection before he speaks again.

"See? Nothing to be afraid of. She's not so scary…"

He lets his eyes clear and his teeth blunt so I do too. It feels odd but it's easier when I think about Jeremy. It's harder when I think about Denver. It's almost unmanageable if I pay attention to his hands. They're so big the tips of his fingertips are still plucking at my collar bone while his thumbs dip deeper under my shoulder blades and into my back. It feels like I'm absorbing him it's so natural.

Why is he touching me so much?

I guess he always has but my skin is exploding in awareness. He moves a hand to my hip and I know he sees the heat flare around my eyes because the barest hint of a smile pulls at the corner of his lips. This is so unfair. As if it wasn't bad enough that he could hear my heartbeat thundering away as a human now he can see my badly hidden reactions to him written all over my face. Fantastic. I frown and look down, humiliated again.

He grips me harder so I'll look back at him, his fingers curling around my side more roughly than he should but still not enough. He's only teasing me with what we both know: that any moment he'll push me too far and I'll give in. I'll let him take me, claim and possess me every way I know he wants to. As a human I barely resisted. As an hours-old vampire I'm too raw to even try to put up a fight.

"Elena," he says sincerely and I try to pay attention to the words that are coming from between his perfect lips. This must be important, it always is when he says my name in that voice. "It makes no difference to me. Human, vampire, you are Elena and that is all that matters, all that I care about. Do you understand me?" he asks sternly like I'm a child being scolded.

I nod my head. He loves me no matter what I am or who I kill, though others may not. He needs me to know this so I have someone left when they all run away from me.

"Good. And do not expect me to apologize. Not for the compulsion, for wishing Matt had died instead of you, or for the part of me that's happy that it's done and that you are a vampire now. I'm not sorry."

His non-apology means more to me than any "sorry" I've ever heard because I know he actually means it. I'm not shocked he's not remorseful, I'd be more confused if he was because now he won't have to worry about me dying anymore. At least until someone tries to stake me or I lose my daylight ring.

Crap, I don't have a ring. I'm so not ready for any of this.

"I understand," I mumble and he turns away releasing me.

I don't even think before I reach for his hand to stop him. His back is to me now and I can't see his eyes. That makes this easier.

"Damon…"

I want to thank him for making sure that I'm safe even when he hates me and I need to apologize for being part of the reason he's hurting. I want to yell at him for showing up here when he's not supposed to do this anymore, to scream that it wasn't his responsibility to save me and it's not his fault that I died. I want to hit him for making me want him here and I'm longing to kiss him for loving me more than I deserve to be loved, especially by him.

I don't know what I want. There's too much to sort through to even begin trying to understand the slightest degree of all that he makes me feel.

He doesn't move, so I do.

I step around and throw myself up at him with all the force I can find. He rocks back on his heels, unaccustomed to my new strength. I don't wait to let him steady us. I just keep stretching up on my toes, wrapping all of my arms around his neck while I press us together as close as I can.

He hesitates only a second before he concedes, circling his arms around my waist and lifting me the rest of the way off the floor so I'm suspended by his strength alone. His face is in my neck and I can tell he's taking deep gulps of air, faster than I want him to need to. His chest is slamming against the top of my stomach with every inhale and it hurts to know that he has to breathe me so deeply. And I hate that I always have to tell him that he can't have me to keep. This is all we get, all I can allow us.

He's gripping me so fiercely that if I were still human he'd be hurting me but I'm not and I don't care. Even if I was I'd take the bruises happily and readily conjure up some dumb excuse on command. In the last 24 hours I've been kidnapped and I've been killed and I know he's impatient to hold me, to feel me against him. He needs to re-find the certainty that I'm alive and that I'm safe.

I need it too.

Alaric could have killed him. He should have died when Klaus was staked. He should have died so many times before. He shouldn't still be here for me to cling to. And I've seen him hurt so often but that doesn't make it any easier. Especially not when I'm the reason and we both know it.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to him and he squeezes me tighter. He thinks he knows why I'm saying it. He thinks it's for Ric and for not choosing him. He thinks it's because I don't love him. He's so wrong.

He sets me back down to the floor and I wind my arms under his so I can grip his back under his jacket. It is so unfair that he feels this good. He feels like comfort and safety and home. He's not supposed to feel like this, but he does.

I feel him place a light kiss to my hair and the faint trickle of his breath as it reaches my scalp.

"I love you," he tells me so quietly that as a human I would have never heard it.

This enrages me. How many times has he done that, told me this, without hoping to receive anything in return because he never gave me the chance? How dare he place that perfect recipe for resentment on my shoulders without my knowledge. There's passive-aggressive, but Damon is passive-affectionate. It's so underhanded, to both of us.

"So," he says light and chipper and making me hate him even more. "Let's talk about where my delusional baby brother is and why you're not off feeding with him. That," he says and points to my suitcase, "and wherever it is we're going that has such a lenient wardrobe policy."

"Oh," I say biting my lip and crossing my arms against his reaction. He's going to be pissed. "I told Stefan I needed to pack. He wants to go camp in the woods, while I…adjust."

Damon looks murderous.

"No."

"Damon…" I wheedle. He's never going to go for this and this is only going to end with him angry and drunk and hitting Stefan. Round one, here we go. "You have to let me try this. Please…"

"No," he tells me again, leaning into my face and gesturing heatedly. "What you need to do is for once save yourself the trouble and just listen to me. You're going to end up doing it my way in the end and you know it, so just skip the bullshit and hours spent picking fur out of your teeth and just drink from the damn vein."

"No. I have to try this first, Damon. I can't hurt anyone," I explain feebly.

He doesn't understand. I knew he wouldn't but I wish he did.

"Denial is not control," he growls at me. My head hangs and I stare at his feet. He does it all the time but I still hate it when he yells at me. I just don't have the energy to wage my own war back at him right now.

"You want to be a ripper?" I flinch. He's going to win and he knows it. "Then take a ripper's advice. I kill, Elena, but only when I choose to and never because I can't control my fucking bloodlust."

Oh, this sucks. I don't want him to make sense. I need this to work for so many reasons.

"You want to be able to choose when and who you kill? Then stay away from the damn animals," he snaps and strides towards the window.

He's gone before I can even say his name.

I arrive at the boarding house an hour later, finally packed and far from calm and right on schedule for round three. Two has already been going on without me. I knew that it would the moment he left.

I'm not even out of my car and I can already hear them arguing. Damon just told Stefan they need to knock me off track so they can fix me faster and Stefan replied that I'll be fine, that I can handle it without being broken first. Although it's a little contradictory when two seconds before he was saying any minute I could crumble under the pain and shut off my humanity. I wonder what he really believes.

I'm climbing the stairs and I can tell they've squared off thanks to the shuffling of feet and fabric, but I haven't heard the familiar sounds of knuckles and teeth and broken skin so they haven't started swinging yet.

Damon must have heard me come in, he always does. But Stefan won't, that's the beauty of animal blood. So Damon knows what I heard Stefan say and he knows that I know where they both stand.

So I get to make a choice. In front of them. Between them. Hooray.

To be or not to be? To feel or not to feel? Humans or animals or blood bags or everything or nothing?

Green? Blue?

I suddenly realize that I have an eternity of this in front of me and I've never felt this tired.

Awesome.

A/N: So, how do you feel? (lol)

*Side note, I don't think Elena normally curses this much, but she kinda earned it, so I let it roll.

Please read and review guys, always love to hear your thoughts. And please follow, updates to come hopefully soon! Happy Reading!

-Goldnox