This feels like a walk of shame of sorts :O I'm so SO sorry I didn't post sooner, but I've been so swamped I've barely had time to sleep, much less write. I hope I've made up for it at least a little bit by including some pretty great scenes in this chapter? I guess we'll see.

… … …

The first time Elena tried to permanently take Damon out of her life, She knew it wouldn't stick.

"Road trips work well for us," Damon piped up energetically, rounding the corner of Elena's porch behind her.

"This doesn't mean that things are back to the way they used to be, Damon," Elena sighed, wishing with all her might that none of this ever happened, and that things were like they used to be. But he snapped her brother's neck. And she couldn't (wouldn't) just forget that.

"Oh, come on," he said teasingly, quickly closing the distance between them. "You know I chipped a little bit off of your wall of hatred." His tone was light, but she could feel the anxiety radiating off him in hot waves.

She couldn't let them continue this way. She was suffocating from what was unspoken, what was undone, and she couldn't stand it anymore. They had almost always been real with each other, and that was one thing she wouldn't allow to be changed.

"I need to know the truth," she said, suddenly turning and fixing her eyes upon his tense face. "When you broke Jeremy's neck, did you know that he was wearing the ring?" Elena was inwardly shocked at how calmly she could speak of her brother's almost-demise.

Elena could see the change in his face – the furrowing of his brow, the tilt of his head, the fear and pain in his magnificent eyes – and she already knew the answer.

"No," he finally managed to say, his voice oddly tight. "No, I didn't. Katherine really pissed me off, (Elena felt that this was an understatement, given his degree of reaction, but not knowing the circumstances, she kept quiet) and I – I snapped, and I-" Elena ached as she watched him struggle to speak before her. She hated seeing him so artless, so unlike himself, and for a moment, she believed she could forgive him. But she knew what she had to say, even after he found the words. "I got lucky with the ring. I don't know what I would've done if he wasn't wearing it." She could hear the guilt permeate his voice, and it made her want to crumble, to hold him, but she remained stoic.

"Elena," he began, his voice soft, reverent at her name, "I'm sorry." He nodded, his voice husky, laden with sincerity, worry – worry that what he was saying wouldn't make a difference. Elena swallowed a lump in her throat, because she knew it didn't.

"Thank you for being honest with me," she choked out after a long pause, trying to keep her voice even. "And the answer to your question, about our friendship?" She almost changed her next words right then and there at the wounded, hopeful expression that ran deep in his eyes, an expression that tore at her heart – but he'd gone too far this time. No one could expect her to just forgive and forget. It would never be right. "It's yes. You have lost me forever." She saw the pain sear through his eyes before he wiped his expression blank, fixing her with a cool gaze.

"But you knew that already, didn't you?" he asked tonelessly, his face a beautiful mask. "You used me today." The truth of his words stung Elena, and she could hardly bring herself to look him in the eye.

"You had information about Katherine that I needed to know," she admitted, and this answer was partially true. But a bigger, more selfish part of Elena had been through this today with him because she just wanted one last day in his company before she had to do the inevitable; before she had to cut him out of her life – before he could hurt anyone else she loved.

"I thought friends don't manipulate friends," he reminded her smoothly, a note of indignance in his gravelly voice. Elena couldn't respond to this. He had thrown her words in her face, just like he'd thrown himself in front of that arrow for her. She was speechless as she remembered the excruciating pain cross his face as he leaned over her, taking an arrow to the back for her without a second's thought. This made her want to cry even more, so she merely remained silent, staring up into his face and trying to forget his betrayed feelings.

"You and Katherine have a lot more in common than just your looks," he finally sneered, the old look of a wounded wild animal back in his eyes. He leveled her with one last icy glance before he finally turned away, striding down the porch steps and disappearing into the night. Stunned, all she could do was watch him go, a lump rising in her throat. He knew exactly what to say, what would sting her the most, and she fought back tears that had been a long time coming. All she wanted to do in that moment was run out into the night, find him, and prove how much he really did mean to her – prove that this hurt her as much as it hurt him. But she had to be strong, and what she had done was for the best. For everyone. She stayed frozen on the porch, bathed in the soft lamplight, for a few more minutes before finally trudging inside and stumbling to her room. Numbly, she collapsed on the bed, the world around her fading. It was as if she had gone blind, and the only thing she could still see was a pair of endless blue eyes – eyes that were lost to her.

… … …

The first time that Elena wanted to run to Damon's arms instead of Stefan's, it just wasn't meant to be.

She was tired, aching, anxious – the wait for a rescue had seemed to stretch on forever. She nearly cried with relief when she saw Damon pin Elijah to the door with the wooden post (she hadn't really known Elijah then; all she knew was that she wanted to go home, and he was stopping her). She stood at the top of the stairs, gazing down on the scene in wonder, no longer fearing for her life, and when Damon advanced toward the hall to go after Rose, Elena realized in a panic that she didn't want him out of her sight.

"Just let her go," she called down to him, hoping he would heed her plea and stay with her. He halted at the foot of the stairs, staring up, fixing her with an earnestly relieved but somewhat disoriented look. Elena couldn't help but heave a shaky sigh and look right back, drinking in the light of his wondrous eyes. A faint smile tugging at her lips, she barreled down the stairs to him, wanting to throw her arms around him and let him hold her, protect her, make her feel safe again. Because despite all of his brash recklessness, she knew he didn't do something if he didn't mean it, and he'd come with Stefan to save her with thoughtless abandon. Salvatore. As in savior. And he was hers.

As she hurdled down toward him, an expression crossed his face that she'd never seen before – a genuine, almost beatific smile – and it transformed his entire face. It was the first time Elena understood the expression that someone's smiling face "shone", and it was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. She smiled back, and as she neared the last few steps, something interrupted her line of sight, blocking her from him.

Stefan.

Elena's heart gave a great lurch, and her stomach plummeted as Stefan held his arms out to her. Of course it was Stefan – she loved him, was with him, and his arms were the ones she should be falling into. And really, she had no choice. So she did.

When she threw her arms around Stefan's neck, she closed her eyes, burying her face in his shoulder. She didn't want to (couldn't) look at Damon's face; she knew the crestfallen, broken look in his eyes would make her break too. Her heart throbbed, and when she finally thought she could maintain her composure, she peered up at him. By now his face was changed to an unreadable expression, and she could have chalked him up to indifference if she couldn't see the disappointment in his eyes. She knew she couldn't extricate herself from Stefan to go to Damon – that would be wrong for too many reasons to count. But to her, it felt like the only thing that would be right.

She felt horribly inadequate as she mouthed a feeble "thank you" in his direction, and she felt doubly worse when he sent back a solemn, tight-lipped "you're welcome". The downhearted, despondent shadow lingered over his features, and eaten up by guilt, Elena buried her face into Stefan's neck; she couldn't help but feel empty – like she'd found something beautiful and let it drop.

… … …

The first time Elena heard Damon say he loved her, he took it away from her.

She had been nearly dead on her feet as she padded into her bedroom, fully planning on collapsing on the bed and staying there for a very long time, when she heard his voice.

"Cute pj's," came his voice from the opposite side of the room, and she stopped dead in her tracks, startled not only by his presence but also his air of…nervousness. He was fidgeting. Damon never fidgets. Elena's foggy, sleep-deprived mind suddenly sharpened, and she wondered what the hell was going on.

"I'm tired, Damon," she said feebly, trying to ward him off; she couldn't handle anything else important. Not tonight. He stood up and walked toward her, slowly, like he didn't want to scare her off. Hell, like he didn't want to scare himself off.

"I brought you this," he said, his tone failing to retain any semblance of lightness whatsoever, as he held up a small, dangling silver object.

Her necklace.

"I thought that was gone," she said, surprised to see it at all, much less have him return it to her himself. At this hour. He merely gave his head a slight shake, his eyes immutably sorrowful for some reason.

"Thank you," Elena breathed, stretching her hand out to retrieve the prized possession. Warning signals sounded in her head when he pulled it back out of her reach, his eyes growing even more mournful (if that was possible).

"Please give it back," she asked, unease creeping into her tired, cracking voice.

"I just have to say something," he announced after a brief pause, and Elena sucked in a shaky breath.

"Why do you have to say it with my necklace?" she questioned suspiciously, her eyebrows inching slightly upward.

He frowned. "Well…because what I'm about to say is probably one of the most selfish things I've ever said in my life," he supplied, almost sounding disbelieving of himself.

A click resounded in Elena's exhausted mind, and she was afraid. She couldn't listen to this – not after she realized how she wanted to run to him today instead of Stefan, not after he saved her life – she was afraid of what she might do in response. "Damon, don't go there."

"No, I just have to say it once, you just need to hear it," he almost pleaded, his hands spread wide toward her as he stepped closer. Elena suddenly thought that it felt as if the air had been vacuumed out of her room, leaving just the two of them there together, frozen. Alone. But she didn't feel trapped. No, not at all.

Damon leaned down so that his face was inches from hers, and the space between the two of them nearly hummed with electricity. He gave a slight nod, as if he was so convicted with what he was about to say that he was trying to find other ways to acknowledge it, and then he opened his mouth to speak.

"I love you, Elena."

If Elena had thought that the world stopped turning when the two of them dance, she had severely underestimated the mere power of Damon's words. She was rooted to the spot, and she felt what he said strongly that she knew that the two of them must be connected, somehow. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move – all she could do was stare up into his eyes, stricken with awe.

"And it's because I love you that I can't be selfish with you," he continued, his voice falling to an arresting whisper. Elena thought that love could never be more beautiful than when it was in his eyes. She felt her throat closing up, and she knew her eyes must have been shining with tears. How must he be taking her muteness? But she couldn't trust herself to speak. She didn't even know where to begin, where words were concerned.

"-Why you can't know all this," he whispered, his head tilting to the side, as if weighed down by sadness. "I don't deserve you," he said, his voice threatening to crack. "But my brother does."

Elena was spellbound. She'd never been so affected by such devastating emotion in her life, and she couldn't utter a word even if she tried. She continued to gaze up at him, nearly drowning in his eyes. She started when he leaned even closer, his lips gently brushing her forehead. She had been tilting her face to his, practically welcoming a kiss, but quickly caught herself when she realized he had something more chaste in mind.

"God, I wish you didn't have to forget this," he whispered almost painfully, and she leaned into his touch as he held the side of her face. Wait…forget? What was he saying? Her heart plummeted at the idea of not being able to keep this moment within her. "But you do," he murmured at last, a single tear rolling down his face. Elena vaguely thought that an angel could not be more beautiful if it cried. She wanted to hold on to him, to bring back the glorious smile she'd seen early on his face, but she was at a loss. If only she could tell him…

But then she could feel the pull of something otherworldly tugging on her consciousness, and in the split second before she succumbed to it, she realized what he was doing. He was making her forget, so she wouldn't be caught in a compromising situation between the brothers. But after everything that had happened, in that last second, he was the only brother she wanted…but then the moment was gone.

… … …

That's it for this time! Scenes were from episodes "Bad Moon Rising" (2x03) and "Rose" (2x08). I really am so sorry I got so behind on this, but I honestly haven't had a chance to post until now. Please let me know that you're still out there and leave me a review! Oh and if there's a particular scene you want to see written from the episodes I haven't covered in season 2, please let me know. I'm totally open to suggestions. On the bright side, the wait is finally over for season 3! I'm trying not to think about it or I'll get too impatient. If you've made it this far, thanks so much for still reading! Until the next (more timely) post.