Chapter: 03 - They Weren't in Denver [Featured Characters: Elena, Damon, Jeremy and Bonnie]
Author: JenniferH (Arabian)
Rating: M (For future chapters/language, sex, violence)
Summary: Post 3.22 -- Elena grapples with who she is as a vampire, struggling for control as she tries to find herself and accept who she loves (spoiler: it's Damon!) while friends and enemies grapple with their own choices in this new world.
Word Count: 6,162
Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries, and all her characters as presented, belong to Kevin Williamson, Julie Plec, the CW, etc., etc., so on and so forth. ;)
Notes: Thank you to my group of wonderful beta-readers who made this fic a ton better than it would have been otherwise. Following canon here, so there will be Stefan/Elena and as portrayed on the show, but fear not, this is very definitely a Damon/Elena story (with other pairings referenced, and some featured (Stefan/Rebekah, Matt/Rebekah, Stefan/Caroline, Jeremy/Bonnie).
After I had finally digested the season 03 finale, I began to think up where they could go from there, especially with regards to Damon and Elena. One narrative stuck in my head and as I continuing weaving it I became so fixated with two major turning points in the story that I just had to try and write it. I've immersed myself in this for the last two and half months, trying to avoid spoilers or even read other fic. I have a head-start of sorts on the story and am hoping that I can stay at this pace so that I can deliver chapters at a steady pace. I can't promise that will stay the case, but I'm going to try. :)
PREVIOUS CHAPTERS - 1 | 2
Chapter 03: They Weren't in Denver
Damon's door was open. She could see the flood of light from his room spilling out onto the hallway. He hadn't made a sound since she'd begun her climb and as she stood just out of his bedroom's entrance she debated the wisdom of following through. She could wait; she could talk to him in the morning when he was calmer, when she was feeling better. After all, in the last three hours they had both been through incredible emotional turmoil. Dying, not dying, turning, believing they'd lost people they'd love, losing people they loved. That phone call.
It was almost funny how now that the both of them were still here that she was re-evaluating what she had told him. Why hadn't she lied? Why hadn't she said that she was trying to reach him, that she loved him? Or at the least, that if it weren't for saying goodbye to Caroline and Tyler, along with Stefan, she would have gone to Damon? But she had not. Because they were honest with one another. That was one of the bedrocks of their relationship ... that honesty. And so even though she knew it would break his heart and he wouldn't have known that it was a lie, she told him the truth. Now he was still here and she was questioning why she'd chosen that route even though she'd be paying the consequences of that lie.
Elena sighed, and leaned against the wall, not ready to venture into his room yet. She closed her eyes, remembering the pain and anger she'd seen flash across his face that night. And that's why she was questioning what she had thought were her last words to him. She didn't like him in pain, didn't like being the one that caused him pain. But she had and then Stefan's actions had piled fury on top of that. Now she had to fix it, fix things between she and Damon. She just hoped that the brothers could repair the damage to their relationship without any help from her because she couldn't handle being their referee right now.
So lost in her thoughts, she hadn't heard Damon move and so when he spoke she jumped. Opening her eyes, she saw him standing in his doorway just looking at her. His face was as close to expressionless as she'd ever seen it. Elena straightened and offered up a small smile. He didn't return it, just waited a beat and then stepped back into his room. Her smile stretched into something lacking any happiness; she let out a long breath, fighting the urge to cry. And then she followed him.
He stood in front of the bed, one arm casually resting against the post. "So..."
"Damon --" She broke off, a bitter laugh escaping her. Because really what could she say that she hadn't already said to him a million times? It wouldn't change his feelings on what Stefan had done, on what she wanted.
He ignored her laugh, and continued looking just past her, refusing to meet her gaze. "What are you doing here?"
She sighed. "Damon, I told Stefan that I need you both for this and I do." She tried to smile again, but could only manage a watery, halfhearted version. It didn't matter. He still wasn't looking at her.
"Yeah, well, maybe I'm not ready to offer a helping hand just right now." He flashed her a quick look and then just as swiftly turned his gaze away.
Elena closed her eyes; she knew that if she wanted to break through to him they had to deal with the elephant in the room. This tension and bitterness between them had nothing to do with her death. And they both knew that. She had made her choice. It wasn't him and he was upset. What had happened on Wickery Bridge just exacerbated that.
"Would it have been better if I lied?" He looked confused. "When I called you?" He nodded, understanding coming to him like a light being switched on.
"Would I be less pissed right now if you told me that you loved me more than life itself? That for the first time Stefan wasn't the chosen one?" His voice soared with artificial sweetness, but his eyes remained hard. "That, of course, absolutely, it's you Damon. It was always you, Damon. It always will be you, Damon."
She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to finish, refusing to look away. Refusing to dignify his sarcasm with a response.
"No. Because, first of all, I wouldn't have believed you. I knew. You knew. Stefan knew. Hell, anyone who's known you for five minutes knew you'd choose Stefan. That it would always be Stefan. Second, since you're technically dead, I'm still around, and I'm pretty sure you haven't switched teams, right about now I'd have to stand here and listen to platitudes justifying why you lied to spare my poor, pathetic feelings. No, thank you."
Elena relaxed her stance, and nodded hesitantly. Damon dropped his arm then and took a step forward, the hardness momentarily leaving his face and when he spoke, his voice had lost its bitterness. He finally, fully looked at her.
"Lastly, Elena, I wouldn't have wanted you to lie to me. Whatever our faults, how much we hurt each other, that's the one thing we have. We don't lie to each other, not really, not when it matters."
He moved close, keeping his eyes locked on hers. "Even if it hurts, it's real. And that matters to me."
She was unable to respond, unable to move, to step back. She was captured by that vulnerable sincerity of his and then it was too much. His love for her that shone so brightly, refusing to be undimmed by her rejection in light of everything else that had happened in the last few hours ... she couldn't deal. She just couldn't.
Her gaze dropped and like so many times before when the air around them sparked with tension she found her eyes glued to his lips. Her breath, her heart stopped as a wave of desire so intense washed over her. It was like Denver all over again, that passion pushing her into his arms with an unstoppable force that was unlike anything she had ever felt before. But now, this, it was a thousand, a million times ... more. More than anything ever.
She felt like she had just been kicked in the gut. Swaying forward, Elena reached out, her hand holding onto his arm to keep upright, to stop from falling into him. But the feel of his skin under her fingers burned, their now mutual lack of body warmth bedamned. She needed him. She needed --
"Elena," his voice was soft, but ... Elena shook her head. She dropped her hand. There was no heat in his tone, only warm concern. He wasn't feeling that wild yearning that was rushing through her. There was only tenderness, only sweetness coming from Damon. His arm reached up, his hand reaching to cup her face and she flew back, moving so quickly with such unexpected force that she knocked the door shut with a thunderous slam. She couldn't let him touch her. Her entire body felt like it was on fire from just that brief contact only moments ago, and if he touched her now, the light pressure of his fingers upon her face, she would go up in flames.
Bewilderment and then a flash of hurt widened his eyes only to be replaced with a hard look, his emotions blanketed.
Pressing her hands flat against the door behind her, Elena let out a long, unsteady breath, desperately trying to get herself under control. Ignoring the insane rat-a-tat of her heartbeat, the inferno dancing beneath the surface of her skin, boiling her blood, she raised her chin affecting an act of calm. She tried to gather the threads of their conversation, coming up mostly blank, which was probably for the best. Firmly, Elena reminded herself that her only intention in coming up here had been to talk about her choice to save Matt. Not her choice between the brothers; obviously that discussion led to a path she wasn't ready to travel.
She took a deep breath. "Damon, I need you to understand."
The impassive expression gave way to a bitter smirk. "Understand why you went all suicidal for Matt Donovan? Yeah, that's not gonna happen."
"Damon, it wasn't just Matt. When I died that ... monster that Esther made of Alaric died with me. That saved all of you."
"Ah, so the role of Mystic Fall's martyr is played by one Elena Gilbert."
"You must be thrilled. You finally got to play the part you've been *dying* to take on ever since you heard about Klaus."
"No," she cried.
"Yes," he barked back. "And you and Stefan are *such* a good team that he made sure you got your final curtain call."
Elena pulled away from the door, standing straight, a new kind of heat, fueled by anger, pulsing through her. "It always comes back to finding some excuse to blame your brother." He rolled his eyes; she narrowed hers. "This is not his fault. It's not on him, Damon. I'm the one you should be mad at, not Stefan --
"Oh, don't worry, I'm plenty mad at you both," he interrupted with an icy smile.
She shook her head in aggravation. "What you did to him downstairs, Damon, was brutal. It was uncalled for, and you had no right --"
"I had every right. He's my brother, that's between me and --"
It was her turn to cut him off, "No you don't. This isn't about your messed-up relationship with him. What happened tonight was about me, and you and I both know it. I have every right to be upset."
"Hah, we both know that's not why you're upset. You're upset because you still expect me to fall into line when you bat your doe eyes at me." He sent a sarcastic wink her way. "Honey, that's not how this is gonna work."
He interrupted, a musing note to his tone as he looked away, one finger tapping at his lip as he pretended to think. "Of course, why you even need that from big bad me I have no idea since I'm right, aren't I?" He dropped the act and looked straight at her, his eyes shining like lasers. "You're sticking with tried and true Stefan." It wasn't a question.
Elena swallowed thickly. "Of course I am."
Damon laughed dryly. "Yes, of course you are. I mean, after all, why wouldn't you want to be with someone who thinks it's more important that you're not mad at him rather than, you know, alive?"
"That's not fair!" she shouted, stepping forward, her fists clenched in anger at her side.
He didn't move nor drop his sardonic smile as his eyes flashed at her. "But it's oh so true."
"You don't know --" She began, determined to defend her and Stefan's actions. She didn't even care at this point if he understood -- to hell with his understanding -- she just wanted him to realize that he was wrong. That his way of handling things, of deciding what she should and shouldn't do with the always-on-hand rationalization that as long as it kept her safe there was justification, wasn't right. She wanted him to finally get that.
"I know, Elena, I know," he said, his voice a soothing mockery, interrupting her thought process. He walked right up to her, leaving only a few inches of space between them. She wanted to move, needed to get away from the heat that threatened to engulf her again from the very nearness of him. But she wouldn't back down; she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Elena raised her chin, meeting his gaze head-on. His eyes were hard and his sarcastic smile disappeared.
"I also know that you're a fucking hypocrite."
She gasped. "I am not."
Damon cocked his head to the side, but didn't move back, and she was frozen still at his accusation.
"Really? So tell me what would happen if you were the friendly vampire neighbor who'd been there ready and willing to offer roadside assistance." He took a few steps back and gave her breathing room. His eyes grew wide in feigned surprise, "And, oh, look, it's Jeremy and Bonnie in that drowned wreck. What would you do, Elena?"
She looked away.
Creating a heavy pause between each word, he repeated his question. "What. Would. You. Do?"
"I -- I would save them both," she very nearly whispered.
"Ah, but who would you save first? What if Jeremy told you to save Bonnie, then come back and get him? Hey, he *might* still be alive by the time you got her to ground and went back."
She tried to speak, but her mind was filled with an image of the bottom of the lake and Jeremy in place of her father, Bonnie instead of Matt and she couldn't. She couldn't answer him. But he wasn't done. Damon continued as he moved closer and closer to her once more and his voice was silky smooth.
"You'd be down for that?" His tone grew incredulous. "You'd leave your baby brother in that car slowly dying in a watery grave because he asked you to save his ex?"
Damon leaned forward, his lips so close to her cheek, she could feel his breath on her flesh. "Really?"
Elena stared helplessly at him for a second and then stepped back, her fists clenched at her side. Unable to meet his mocking gaze any longer, she turned and headed to the closed door
Bonnie stood still on the front porch. If anyone could accept without question what she had done, she knew that it would be Elena. Well, and of course Damon. Bonnie imagined that he would be all for keeping Klaus alive since it meant that he and his brother would be safe. Shaking her head, she admitted to herself in her weariness and worry that while he may not act like it, the elder Salvatore actually cared about more than just himself, his brother and Elena. He'd saved her life and even worried about the risk to Jeremy when she had done dark magic. Damon would definitely understand, but it wasn't his support that she needed, that would assure her that she had done the right thing. She needed to talk to Elena.
Keeping Klaus alive was a necessary evil if it meant that both Salvatores, Caroline and Tyler would live, and Elena would confirm that she took the right action. But even though she believed in what she had done despite what her ‘sisters' would think, right now Bonnie needed assurance that she had. That Caroline and Tyler's lives were worth dealing with Klaus for the time being.
Knocking, she waited for her best friend's appearance, going over the words she would say in her mind. When Jeremy opened the door, she went blank, surprised to see him just because she was so prepared to face Elena.
"Hey, Bonnie," he responded, his voice weary, but warm. "You heard?" Confusion filled her, showing on her face. He sighed and stepped back to let her in. "Yeah, you're gonna need to sit down."
She entered and followed him into the kitchen. He was quiet, running his hand through his hair. Sitting down, she drummed her fingers softly against the island, trying to be patient, her curiosity waning under her own guilt. After nearly a minute of silence, she burst out her confession.
"Klaus isn't dead."
Jeremy's face went slack with shock, and then he laughed, a broken one that held no humor. "Of course he isn't." He shook his head. "That's probably for the best at this point."
"What?" Her planned speech lay unspoken at his surprising reaction to her words. "I mean, OK, so you get it. Klaus is not dead. That means --"
He cut her off. "I can't say I really care all that much at the moment about Klaus." He looked at her intently, seeing her puzzled expression. "Bonnie, Elena and Matt were on the road. They crashed on Wickery Bridge. Matt is okay, but Elena ..." he trailed off and took a deep breath. "Elena --" he began again, but his voice cracked. Jeremy bent down, his head falling into his bent arms on the counter, his shoulders shaking.
"Jeremy?" Bonnie whispered, forcing her mind blank because thinking would mean ... No! She wouldn't think. Standing up, she moved over to where he was. She laid her hands against his back and at her touch, his sobs became audible. She felt something beginning to break inside of her, comparable only to when she'd lost her Grams. Jeremy's words, his grief could mean only one thing. Her eyes filled, and tears began to silently slip down her face.
He pulled up and turned to look at her, his own cheeks wet, his eyes reddened. "Elena died, Bonnie! She's dead."
She knew that. It could be the only answer and yet, she still wasn't ready to face the reality of his words. "What?" Her voice was barely audible. "Jeremy, no, no, no. She's not." But he had said the words; she had to face them. Bonnie's hands dropped, she backed away.
Jeremy shook his head, his hands held up. "Wait, no, I'm sorry, no. She isn't ..." He paused and took a deep breath. Bonnie stood perfectly still, waiting for an explanation. "I mean, she is, but, Bonnie, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that, not like that. She is dead, she is, but she's not gone."
Bonnie shook her head, trying to make sense of what he was saying, but she was so tired, so tired and so grief-stricken with all of this that she couldn't think.
"She had vampire blood in her system, Bonnie."
Of course. Of course she did. "Oh," she breathed, her eyes closing for a brief moment as the realization hit.
"And now she's a vampire. She drank my blood and she's gonna transition. But she's not the same. She'll never be the same again."
She let out a light sigh, a tremulous smile on her face and a bloom of true happiness sparked inside of her. "But she's still here! She's not gone, Jeremy." So what if Elena is a vampire? she thought as relief flooded through her. So was Caroline, and Bonnie still loved her. Elena was still here in their lives and with all of the death and darkness around them she wouldn't be ungrateful for that fact. She said as much to Jeremy.
"I know, I know. I am grateful that she's ... still around and I didn't let her see how I felt about the whole vampire thing. I didn't. I put on a brave face. I couldn't let her know that it was upsetting because I'm not even sure she would have transitioned if she hadn't thought I was one hundred percent for it. As much as I hate the idea of what she is now, I couldn't lose her. I couldn't lose someone else.
"But she didn't want this, Bonnie. I know she didn't. And now she's one of them."
"No, Jeremy, she's still one of us. Just like Caroline and Tyler are. Even Damon, and I suppose Stefan if he's not all psycho on us. They're on our side. They're not the bad guys."
Straightening up, Jeremy wiped at his face and laughed. "Who are you and where's Bonnie? Damon isn't the bad guy?"
Her smile turned wry as his words brought to mind her predicament. "Let's just say I'm kinda getting his whole deal of making the hard choices. He's always the one making them and we not only let him do it, we stand justified in labeling him the bad guy for doing what has to be done."
Jeremy shook his head. "I don't understand. Bonnie?"
Taking a deep breath, Bonnie confessed. "Klaus is not dead because of me, Jeremy. I made the call. I could have let Alaric, or whatever that thing Esther made out of him, kill Klaus but that would have killed Caroline and Tyler, and God, probably Elena since I figure it was Damon's blood..." She trailed off, an inquiring look on her face.
"I don't know. It was blood that Dr. Fell had at the hospital so maybe, but I don't even care. Bonnie, what about Klaus? What did you do?"
"I couldn't just let them die. I couldn't and I wouldn't and I don't care if all the witches hate me for it!" Her voice rose, driven by anger, self-justification and not a small degree of guilt. She took a steadying breath and spoke more calmly. "I wasn't going to let my friends die because they have taken it on themselves to decide everyone's fate. I'm done with them controlling me, using me, expecting me to follow their decisions."
Bonnie met Jeremy's gaze, her eyes hard and determined, her expression set. "I'm making my own choices now. And it doesn't include helping them kill my best friends."
Jeremy was silent for a moment and then nodded, offering up a smile of assurance. "Yeah, I get it. Good for you." His smile turned crooked. "But how did you do it? I mean, *what* did you do?"
Sighing, she sat back down. "That's the tricky part. I had to transfer his consciousness, I suppose, into another vessel and the best way to make sure that the spell worked was to transfer him into a like," she paused, searching for the right word, "being."
"A like being?"
"A hybrid. Tyler. Tyler's still in there, but right now Klaus is in control of his mind and body."
"Oh man, Bonnie!" Jeremy stood up. "But is he -- is Tyler gonna be okay?"
"Yes!" She rose to her feet as well. "I mean, I think so. When Klaus possessed Alaric, you know at the 60's dance, once he was out, Alaric was fine. It should be the same with Tyler."
"Yeah, I mean, once we get the situation with Klaus' body straightened out."
"I know, OK! I didn't have a lot of time. I had to think of something quick, and ..." she trailed off and leaned against the counter, cradling her head in her hands. "I'll figure it all out. I will." She was still for a moment and then she straightened up and looked to Jeremy. "But first I've got to get to Caroline. I don't trust that Klaus won't try anything with her using Tyler's body."
She reached out and rested a hand briefly on Jeremy's arm. "We'll get through this. And Elena will be fine." She nodded determinedly. "We all will." She smiled. "I have to go, I have to get to Caroline like yesterday."
Heading out, Bonnie stopped at the door and turned back to give him one more glance. "Are you going to be okay?"
Jeremy nodded with a smile. "Yeah, I just -- I think I needed to let it out. She's still here. You're totally right. That's all that matters right now. My sister is still here. Well," he laughed, "not *here* here. She's at the boarding house dealing with the transition." He shook his head. "I don't even want to think about how that's going right now."
Elena heard Damon sigh behind her and she paused just on the verge of reaching for the knob. She wanted to open the door, walk out and leave his room. But it wouldn't push out the images of a drowning Jeremy that he had put in her head. Instead they would just sit there, swirling in her mind alongside the empty weariness that had filled her before she'd stepped in here. She could stay here, fight him, fight his words, and make him understand that he was wrong. At least then she'd be feeling something, anything other than this soul-aching lethargy.
She spun around, catching the quick flash of surprise on his face. Marching over to him, she took a deep breath, preparing to battle. But the closer she got, the more aware of him she became. She found herself noting the brilliance of his eyes, the softness of his lips, the energy that exuded from him. Even as she tried to hold onto her anger, her frustration with him, the attraction that she felt that she couldn't deny kept rising to the surface. There was the breath, the scent, the feel of him overloading her senses, but she wouldn't let it happen. She would face him. She would calm him down and they would find that bearable balance that they'd perfected before Stefan left, before he'd kissed her, before Denver, before she'd left him to die all alone. Marshaling her wits together, she took a step closer, meeting his gaze.
"The scenario you're drawing, Damon, it's not the same thing." She gave her head a slight shake, a grimace of a smile flashing across her face.
"It's exactly the same thing and you know it," he countered.
She shook her head. "No." It wasn't, it wasn't. It was not.
Damon let out a dry laugh. "Hmm, so you're not just a hypocrite, but also a liar --"
"I'm not --"
"Oh, give me a break. I know you, Elena!" Damon dragged out her name. "You wouldn't care if Jeremy hated you for an eternity as long as he was safe. And you would sacrifice anyone, including a girl he once loved and your best friend, to do it." His voice dropped to a low murmur as he moved his head, his mouth just by her ear. "If Stefan really --" He broke off, a pained note shading his tone. "If he ..." He stopped again and then just straightened up, backing away.
She stared at him, her eyes wide. He was doing it again, bringing up things that were so much better left unsaid. And the meaning behind what he *wasn't* saying made her heart beat a wild dance, sending so many emotions flooding through her that she didn't know where one began and the other ended. It was all a jumbled mix of crazy that it threatened to overwhelm her.
"Never mind. Go downstairs and wait for Stefan."
No, she thought unexpectedly, frantically. I can't, not yet, I can't. As he pulled away, Elena found herself desperately reaching out to him because she knew that the second he closed her off completely, she would walk out of his room for real this time. And once alone, she'd fall back into that weary pit of confusion and misery that had weighed her down since she realized what she would become.
"No," she bit out. And then louder. "No!" Stepping forward, she grabbed his arm and, for the first time mindful of her new strength, forced him to face her. She quickly dropped her hand once his gaze met her even as she ignored the surge of heat. Thinking on his words, his actions, his fucking attitude, she refused to attribute her fervor to anything but her anger. "What?"
He looked away and shook his head.
"Damon, if Stefan really what?"
"You know what," he muttered, still not meeting her gaze.
She ignored his words, ignored the truth of his statement, determined to make him say it. If he's going to open the door then we are damn well going to walk straight on through. "If Stefan really what?" It was her turn to move closer and she dared to touch him again, but not his flesh. She reached out, snagging his shirt between her fingers in a tight grip and pulled, forcing his attention back to her.
He whipped his head around, his eyes blazing. The silence lengthened and tension bloomed in the air surrounding them and in an ever-expanding knot in the pit of her stomach.
"If he loved you like I love you, Matt Donovan would be lying in the morgue right now and you would still be human."
Tears danced at the corner of her eyes. She let out an unsteady breath and stepped back, shaking her head in a long, silent no. How could he not understand? How could he not know?
"I didn't want that," she finally breathed. "I *couldn't* want that, Damon! Matt dead because of me? God, you don't get that. Stefan did. Stefan does!" She beat her fist against her chest, her voice rising.
"Oh, I get it, Elena. I understand." His voice rose to a shout. "I just don't care!"
She shook her head again, fighting the rain of tears that threatened to fall. "And Stefan does. He respects my choices, he respects me!"
"It's not about Stefan respecting you," Damon scoffed. "It's about the fact that you have him wrapped so tightly around your finger that he'll do anything for you. Even let you die! You have him so whipped --"
"No, Damon, that's called love!" She cried out, stepping closer to him again.
His voice dropped and he sneered with a roll of his eyes. "You really are just a little girl if that's what you call love."
She laughed harshly. "Oh, and you know all about love, what with your 150-year old obsession with a woman who never gave a damn about you!"
Elena's eyes widened, her hand rising to cover her gasp. She reached out with her other to touch him. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't resist that urge. "Damon, I -- I'm sorry. I didn't ..."
Damon just shook his head, a bitter smile crossing his face. He shrugged. "You're upset, I get it. When I'm upset, I say, I do crazy things." His eyes grew wide, a manic light brightening the blue, and he let out a bark of laughter. "Right? That's my specialty." He bent down, his voice dropping to a soft purr, "maybe you can join my club. We can wreak havoc together."
She pulled back and quickly wiped a stray tear away. "Because that *is* what you do, Damon. That's all you ever want to do. Like tonight, beating Stefan so horribly, or snapping Jeremy's neck, or forcing your blood on me. You just do what you want to do, just give into your impulses, damn the consequences! No control, just let it all go."
Stepping away, she shook her head. "You asked in Denver what would happen, would I take a chance on us if you didn't screw up, if there was no bump. Well, I can't answer that, Damon, can I? Because it will never not happen. You always screw things up! There's *always* going to be a bump!"
They stood still, barely inches apart, staring at each other, breathing heavily, eyes locked on one another, and then he cocked his head to the side, genuine curiosity in his gaze. "Why," he began, his voice soft. "Why would you bring up Denver? Why would you bring that up?" She shook her head, but he wouldn't stop. "What happened between us meant nothing to you. Nothing."
She continued shaking her head, her lips parted, but no words were forthcoming. Her eyes fluttered close to escape his burning gaze and then opened again drawn like a moth to his flame.
"Not at that motel when you gave into your lust -- you made that clear at Scary Mary's when you shut me down faster than a gin joint during prohibition. And when you called Stefan the very next day all girlish and flirting, asking him to your stupid high-school dance, clinging to him, turning to him for support and comfort."
Elena took a step back, and another, but he kept coming.
"Oh, you made it perfectly clear that I, that we, meant nothing to you. There was no ‘we,' no ‘us,' not since you finally scratched that itch and got me out of your system."
She found herself against the door again, but this time Damon stood in front of her, pressed against her, his face close to hers, his breath fanning over hers. "So why, why, *why* would you ever bring up Denver again?"
He laid his hands on either side of her, pressed flat, his eyes burning, and that sweetness, that tenderness from before was gone completely from his gaze. Like her, he was feeling the burn now, the fire. She could tell. She could see it radiating, emanating from him like a conflagration, the same one that filled her when she touched him, when she found herself surrounded by that magnetism between them.
Every word he said, every syllable battering into her like a driving force meant nothing; they were gibberish. It was his voice, it was the timbre therein, his face, his lips moving as he spoke. The tension coiled in his body, in his every movement, his scorching eyes ... all of it bringing forth that hot night in Denver. The wind rushing around them, over them, inciting their passion as they clung to each other, mouths fused together, hands, fingers touching, exploring, grabbing, reaching, holding, clinging to one another.
But they weren't in Denver. This was no memory. They were here now, in his room, no Jeremy to interrupt them, no humanity to keep these inflamed passions at bay. She could feel every inch of him pressed into her, his breath dancing over her and she yearned, she craved, she ached. She had to have that memory back, that memory made into reality.
"Elena." And it was like Denver all over again. Standing on that deserted balcony, the wind failing to soothe her heated flesh. She'd stood there determined to resist the pull, the desire that had been clawing inside of her, begging to break free. And he'd said her name then, just like now. Damon lowered his head, nuzzling against her neck and once more he said it. "Elena" falling from his lips like a plea, a prayer, passion lacing every syllable and she couldn't deny it. She couldn't deny him. She couldn't deny what she wanted. What she needed.
She wanted this, needed this. She literally felt like she would die without this. This. Him. Damon under her skin, in his arms, flesh of his flesh. She wanted to be fucked, she thought, as his mouth parted, as his tongue dipped out licking the curve of her throat. God, how she wanted.
Now, here, in this moment, she didn't want to make love, she didn't even want the politeness of sex. She wanted to be fucked and fucked hard. By Damon. Only Damon. The desperate desire to be his, for him to be hers filled her with an aching power that shook her to her very core.
When his mouth found hers, ravaging her lips, his tongue fighting a mating dance with hers, Elena didn't even think of stopping. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her hands gripping the back of his neck. Breaking free from her kiss, he met her gaze. The most incredible, intense longing she had ever seen -- an intensity she'd never fathomed could exist -- filled the blue and he whispered her name, and then again, and again until she pushed against him, until she lunged forward and silenced him with a bruising kiss of her own.
His fingers were soft, brushing against her skin, her cheek, her collarbone, then hard, digging into her hips as he pulled her against him. She moaned against his kiss, feeling the rock hardness of his erection pressing into her. And she wanted, she needed. God, she wanted so badly. She was going to die. She was going to fall apart and splinter into a million pieces if he wasn't inside her right now. Her fingers fumbled at the waistband of his jeans, pulling at the fly, pulling down the zipper.
Damon broke from their kiss and hissed into her ear as he tugged at her jeans, jerking them down her thighs, ripping her panties clean off. His hands slipped behind her, cupping her bare ass. Pulling her up, he entered into her with one hard thrust, his lips plastered to her neck, blunt teeth biting into her neck. He groaned against her, pushing in and out in a hard frenzy and the bluntness turned sharp.
His teeth pierced her flesh just as he adjusted and angled to hit the perfect spot and Elena screamed, the sound ripped from her throat as wave after wave of the most astonishing orgasm exploded inside of her. And she was wrong, it wasn't the not having that splintered her and tore her apart. It was the having.
She was undone.