A/N: This is my first TVD/Delena fic and had thought it was the perfect opportunity to venture into writing for one of my favorite couples. I normally have trouble finishing stories, so this one-shot was the better method for me to test the waters, so to speak. BTW, this was un-beta'd, making all errors solely my fault.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Vampire Diaries - it's solely the property of L.J. Smith and The CW. Doesn't stop a girl from dreaming, though.

Belong

Tick-tick-tick-tick … the sound of the antique grandfather clock, slowly counting the seconds, could be easily heard with vampire hearing. Especially in the dead of night. A quirk of lips showed the slight smirk at the dark humor of such a turn of phrase.

Dead – that's technically what he was now and had been for almost one hundred and fifty years. The irony was that he had never felt so alive as he had in the last few years of his existence; than he had in the 1860s when he was human. And the cause of it all laid beside him, breathing the steady, relaxed breaths of deep sleep.

Damon tilted his head to gaze down at the beautiful girl snuggled into his side. His impossibly blue eyes softened with an inexplicable emotion as he gently traced his fingertips down her cheek, tucking long strands of chocolate hair behind her ear.

Elena.

He startled as she shifted slightly and murmured in her sleep. For an instant, Damon thought he had spoken aloud and she had stirred in response. But she still exhausted from the events of the last few days alone – with the whole Silas thing, the hunt for the cure, her recently resurrected brother, the death of her witchy best-friend, her cat-fight with Katherine and graduating from high school in the midst of all that. Small wonder if she slept through the night and most of the following day.

As his eyes traced every feature of Elena's sleeping face, Damon let his mind wander to earlier that night; the moment his life – existence – changed, took a definite U-turn … a complete 180°.

He stood in the parlor of the Salvatore Boarding house, a tumbler of bourbon in one hand as her stared into the dancing flames within the fireplace. Damon knew she was coming – not that she was being subtle or quiet in her search for him. It was more than that – he could feel her… he always could, as human and vampire. Something in Damon just knew whenever Elena was near – like a compass that always pointed North.

Elena was his North.

So Damon stood and waited, absently sipping his bourbon, for Elena to find him. He wasn't disappointed, he recalled with a smirk. She burst through the parlor doors and Damon felt the instant her eyes found him. There was silence in that brief moment and it was then that he chose to speak.

'I wanted to apologize—', he began vaguely. Damon had not moved except to take another sip of his drink, still staring thoughtfully into the flames. He heard heels clicking firmly in his direction, as Elena responded.

'Good,' she had said. Such a simple word with such a wealth of meaning conveyed and wrapped up in her tone. Elena was not happy. Damon finally turned to take his first look at her, gauge her reaction. God, even all fired up with her chocolate-doe eyes simmering with repressed anger, Elena was the most amazingly beautiful and alive woman Damon had ever laid eyes on.

'Let me finish: I said I wanted to apologize—' Damon paused as he eyed Elena, knowing that what he was about to say would tick her off, '—and then I realized, I'm not sorry.' He was right – it did piss her off. But Damon was done. He was done making excuses. He was done being apologetic for who and what he was. That wasn't him, that was his brother, and it was past time that was accepted.

'You would rather die than be human – and you expect me to be okay with that?!'

Was that so hard for her to understand? And again, she completely missed the point. It wasn't just about her – it wasn't her choice to make, but his. That was who he was – who he still was. But he had already guessed that he'd have to make it a bit clearer for her.

So he said snarkily, 'I didn't say that you're supposed to be okay with it. I just said I'm not sorry.'

But before Elena could respond, he continued rhetorically, 'But you know what I really am?' Damon watched as Elena narrowed her eyes before he answered flatly, 'Selfish! Because I make bad choices that hurt you.'

Elena merely folded her arms as she waited for the rest of Damon's rant, bracing herself for whatever he had to say, knowing it to be the hard, unadulterated truth because that was their thing, nothing less.

'Yes, I would rather die than be human. I'd rather die right now than spend a handful of years with you, only to lose you when I'm too old and sick and miserable and you're still you.'

Once the words started coming, there was no stopping them. Something in Damon felt the need to drive home to Elena exactly where he stood. Even if it hurt because that was the one thing they always had – an honesty and understanding that cut deeply.

'I'd rather die right now than spend my last final years remembering how good I had it and how happy I was because that's who I am, Elena. And I'm not gonna change and there is no apology in the world that encompasses all the reasons that I'm wrong for you!'

At that, Damon deflated with a sigh and turned away to stare blankly back at the fire. But if he thought that would be the end of it, he had never been more mistaken.

'Fine. Then I'm not sorry either.'

Not believing his ears, Damon perked up and looked at Elena in confusion and disbelief. She unfolded her arms and stepped towards Damon with a familiar look of stubborn determination.

'I'm not sorry that I met you. I'm not sorry that knowing you has made me question everything. And that, in death, you're the one that made me feel most alive.'

Damon watched with wide eyes as Elena opened her heart to him, her own velvet brown eyes glistening with unshed tears and her voice filled with emotion.

'You've been a terrible person. You made all the wrong choices. And, of all the choices that I've made, this will prove to be the worst one. But I'm not sorry that I'm in love with you!

I love you, Damon!' and the pure feeling that she filled those words with reached him and he knew. Damon had no doubts then – no sire-bond, no doppelganger hijinks, no death-by-werewolf venom. This was real.

He didn't even know when he took the first step towards her but he knew when he took his last. It was moments after Elena barely whispered her third – and final – 'I love you' to Damon that he had finally managed to close the distance, sealing his lips to hers in a searing kiss.

And that was it. Kissing Elena was just like the first time and coming home, all in one. It was something Damon would never get enough of – never get used to. It was so unbelievably, abso-fucking-lutely right – not just right now.

And this had to be the most real thing he had ever felt in his entire existence – the moment that Elena Gilbert, not only loved him but, accepted all of him, with no strings attached and nothing in the way. Only him and her, and their lips still fused together, hands cradling each others' faces, bodies pressed into one another.

When they finally parted, Damon pressed his forehead to Elena's. Eyes closed, they both stood still as their breathing slowed and bodies relaxed into each other – savoring the moment, the shared heat, passion and emotion. Deep pools of blue eyes opened to be snared by soft chocolate brown, so full of something that Damon never thought would belong to him. It was still so hard to believe that Elena's love was his – that he belonged to her, and she to him.

An absent sigh escaped him as Damon's gaze was drawn to the smooth, olive-skinned shoulder that peeked from his dark sheets. From the bare shoulder to the sexy, exposed line of her back, striking blue eyes roved and explored Elena's semi-nude body, half-hidden in relaxed slumber. This wouldn't be the first night Damon spent just watching Elena sleep – nor will it be the last, especially now that she was finally – officially – his.

That thought sent a shiver down through him – resounding and resonating deep within the part of Damon that was claimed by Elena. It was a section – a niche, really – that was carved from the moment the two first met and gradually grew with every moment – their shared smiles, snarky exchanges, intense looks, uninhibited laughter and more.

'I don't deserve her,' he thought wistfully. That was Damon's simple truth – after everything he'd done in his undead existence, let alone the last two years, he didn't deserve Elena and probably never will. But now, the difference came with the realization that, while all that had mattered before, Damon knew that he and Elena were beyond that.

It was never about deserving someone – it never could be. If everyone or anyone had waited until they finally felt as though they deserved whomever they had fallen for, then no one would ever be together.

Simple.

With that thought, Damon silently slid down the bed until he was able to gently cradle Elena's pliant body into his arms, wrapping himself around her, surrounded by her warmth and comforted by her scent – an intoxicating mix of jasmine, vanilla and simply Elena.

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