A/N: And…I'm back. Sorry for the long wait guys! It has been awhile so here's a short recap of chapters 15-19. If you have time though, this story is complicated and I would advise some re-reading if possible. I do it myself frequently as I write.

Chapter 15: Damon, Buffy and Xander leave for Italy to meet up with Willow and Bonnie in order to come up with ways to get into Klaus's fortress. Caroline and Andrew go to meet the converted hybrids in Rome. Elijah finds Katherine, sends her to meet up with Caroline in Rome, and returns to the compound to assist Faith with escorting Elena safely to Italy. They stop for the night in London where they are attacked by hybrids, with Faith injured and Elijah temporarily incapacitated, Elena flees the city alone on a night train to Paris.

Chapter 16: Elena attempts to survive in Paris with few language skills and almost no money. Elijah and Faith follow Elena to Paris and inform Damon and Buffy in Italy of the situation. Damon immediately attempts to leave for Paris to find her and winds up taking Katherine (who has left Rome due to sending Caroline into a fit of rage) with him.

Chapter 17: Damon and Katherine finally locate Elena at the mercy of vampires connected both their pasts. Annalise, the head vampire, instructs a low ranking vamp to call Klaus and inform him they have the doppelganger and want to negotiate.

Chapter 18: Damon and Katherine manage to get Elena out of the hands of the vampires and Damon, who has Katherine's blood in his system, loses his life in the attempt. Elijah and Faith arrive and they flee Paris, missing Klaus only by a few minutes. Elena grieves as Damon does not wake on the train to Antibes where they bury Damon and meet their connection who will sail them to Naples. Back in Paris, Klaus is angry to have missed them and threatens revenge.

Chapter 19: Elena has a strange dream in which she is forced to convince Anya and Esther that Damon's life should be restored as a vampire. Esther remains unconvinced but with the help of Emily Bennett and Anya's support, Damon's life is restored, Elena does not remember her dream once she wakes. Faith finds her in the graveyard digging Damon out of his grave. They pull him out, he completes the transition and the three of them head back to the yacht that will take them to Naples.

Chapter Twenty

The light streaming from the yacht throws a cheery glow over the otherwise shadowy, dark docks as their rag tag group approaches. Damon and Elena walk closely together, his arm firmly around the waist. His eyes narrow as he makes out Elijah, standing stoically on the edge of the lower deck. Just the sight of him, casually watching them as if Elena had never been in danger, as if he hadn't just been buried alive, makes his blood boil with rage. Katherine, at least, doesn't surprise him, drink in hand; she lounges on one of the plush recliners, unperturbed by the entire endeavor.

Elena pauses at the bottom of the gangway, sensing her trepidation; Damon gives her waist a gentle squeeze, urging her forward.

"Damon, Elena," Elijah greets them calmly, but not necessarily warmly. "Damon, I'm glad you're alive. I apologize for—"

Damon glares at him and for a moment all he sees is his failure to protect Elena when she needed it most. He doesn't let him finish his sentence. Letting go of Elena, his precarious grasp on his emotions snaps and he launches himself at Elijah, pummeling blows to every part of the body he can reach. He has the element of surprise, but Elijah is, of course, much faster.

Seconds later, two struggling bodies hit the yacht's lower deck, emanating a loud screech as expensive wrought iron furniture goes flying. Katherine shrieks in indignation, barely managing to pluck her martini glass off the table before it goes hurtling through the air. Elena rushes towards them with Faith hot on her heels while Elijah pins Damon to the floor by the throat.

Gagging, he grapples for a broken piece of wrought iron and manages to plunge it between Elijah's shoulder blades. The excruciating pain shatters Elijah's usual sense of restraint, causing him to squeeze tighter.

"Stop it," Elena demands, her voice cracking. "Elijah let him go, he's choking."

Elena's voice snaps out of his daze. He loosens his grip and calmly stands, reaching behind to pull out the piece of iron. He drops it onto the ground next to Damon's head with a clang.

Their eyes lock and the two vampires stare at each other for a moment, Damon with sheer loathing, Elijah with mild curiosity.

"I'm sorry," he finally says evenly. "But I would advise you do not do that again."

Damon pushes himself to his feet, scowling. "You know what?" He snaps. "You can go to hell. All you had to do was keep her safe and you fucked it up. Repeatedly."

He brushes angrily past Elena, then Katherine, and storms below decks.

Elena glances from one stunned face to the other, counts to ten, and then follows him below decks.

Moments later, Elena shuts the door to her suite with a quiet snap and leans against it for a second, grateful to be away from everyone's prying eyes. The bathroom door is propped open, emitting the gentle echo of water hitting the tiled floor.

She shivers, glancing down at her pajama bottoms, soaked through in places from running through the cemetery and then sitting on the wet ground. Kicking them off, she concentrates on rustling through the closet for clean ones.

In the bathroom, the humming of the water shuts off, plunging the room into a sudden quiet. She buries her head further into the closet, buying herself time to put her torrent of emotions into words. Love, anger, relief, all of them barrage her until she can hardly tell one from the other.

There's a click as the bathroom door opens further and Damon clears his throat.

She releases her tightly held breath and drops the pair of satin sleep shorts clutched in her hands back unto the top of the pile. Slowly, she turns to face him.

He stands close behind her, a towel knotted around his waist, another clutched limply in his hands. She expects his half teasing, lusty expression, but instead his eyes sweep over her with that unguarded, tender look that never fails to make her feel like the single most important thing in his universe.

Like most girls in early adolescence, she'd gone through an awkward stage of hating her body; she'd been tall and gangly, her teeth rimmed with lime green banded braces. By the time she'd met Stefan, she'd more or less grown into herself. He made her feel beautiful, and if her hair still frizzed in the summer or her skin had the occasional blemish, she was too preoccupied to care very much.

At least until she came face to face with her identical doppelganger in the boarding house foyer.

Suddenly, she was confronted with the fact she was far more beautiful than she'd ever imagined, yet at the same time, she'd yearned vehemently to look different. Blonde haired or blue eyed, shorter or taller, she didn't care much as long as she could shed the sense that she was being looked at, but not seen. It wasn't just Stefan's need for her to be some antithesis of Katherine he'd constructed in his head. It was the way Rebekah loathed her on sight, it was Klaus's thirsty vengeance and Elijah's deep regret. It was Isobel's sick sense of enjoyment and Esther's sheer revulsion at her presence.

Yet somehow, Damon always was and always would be absolved in her eyes. Over two years he'd watched her with everything from anger and hurt to love and desire, but never once had his gaze make her wish she was any different. When he looked at her, it never felt like he was seeing someone else.

The moment hangs suspended between them and only one-thing matters. It's the only thing that ever mattered. "I love you, and it's because I love you that I can't be selfish with you."

She steps forward, and wraps her arms around him, burying her head into his shoulder.

"You deserve more from me than judgment or lectures," she murmurs. "But don't ever do that again. Please."

His hands grip her waist with urgency, his thumbs running soft circles over her hips. "Are you referring to dying, getting buried alive, or picking a fight with an Original?"

"All of it." She steps back so she can take his hands in hers. "He could've killed you. Permanently."

"He didn't, though."

"But he could've."

"Elena…" He tries to look away but she reaches up, cupping the back of his neck, she scratches her fingers gently into his hair.

"Hey, look at me, okay? I am asking you, I am begging you, for all our sakes, to let this Elijah thing go. We need him on our side right now."

He swallows. "I just…what happened to you— what happened to us…we wouldn't have even been there if he hadn't fucked up everything in London. And now…"

Elena holds a finger over his lips. "And now," she says between the kisses she plants along his collarbone and down his chest. "Nothing has changed. We didn't lose anything in Paris." With a newfound anticipation, she pushes him gently towards the bed, her hands already fighting to undo the knot on his towel.

"This doesn't change anything," she murmurs. "Not for me."

Elena perches on one of the stools of the boarding house breakfast bar with a cup of a coffee and a bowl of cereal, enjoying the peace of the early morning while it lasts. A golden retriever sits sprawled at her feet, staring up at her with baleful brown eyes.

"I'm not feeding you," she says firmly. "You had a perfectly good doggy breakfast already." The dog gives her a pouty look, so she brings up one of her socked feet, gently brushing it back and forth across his back. He sighs with contentment and rolls over, giving her access to his stomach.

"Morning," a voice murmurs in her ear. Damon wraps his arms around her back, tucking his head on her shoulder. Gingerly, he brushes aside a piece of hair that has fallen from her messy bun. "You're up early."

"Mmmm," she replies, leaning against him while she stretches languidly. "I had an early morning spurt of inspiration."

He plants a soft kiss on the curve of her neck. "Your publisher will be glad to hear it, but your husband did not enjoy waking up alone."

Her lips curl into a smile. "I suppose I'll have to make it up to him."

"Hope so," he teases, his fingers tracing the waistband of her yoga pants. She spins around on the stool, intending to kiss him, but a small cry sounds from the baby monitor on the counter.

"Busted," he whispers under his breath.

Elena laughs, cupping his face, she pulls it towards her for a quick kiss. "Go now," she says against his lips, releasing him from her grip. "Before he starts to really scream. I'll feed him in the living room."

He kisses her forehead softly, holding her gaze for a moment. "Be right back," he promises.

She grabs the feeding cushion and cloths she needs and busies herself while she waits from them to return by contemplating the latest plot twist in her novel. In the time it takes for Damon to return with their son, she has already killed off a character and changed her mind, twice.

"Someone would like their mama," Damon calls lightly as he enters the room, gently bouncing their baby in his arms with ease.

Elena opens her arms immediately to take the soft bundle that is her three-month-old son and he immediately nestles against her, gazing up with sleepy amber eyes and tousled dark hair. She undoes the button of her oversized navy shirt and the baby gapes eagerly for her breast, gurgling happily as soon as the milk begins to flow.

Damon props himself on the edge of her armchair, throwing an arm over her shoulder. She leans against him and with his warm embrace behind her, a happily crooning child in her arms, an overwhelming sense of peace washes over her. Everything horrible that has happened to them seems like a distant memory, a reality that is part of someone else's life. It can't be part of hers, because if it is, that means that this is not real.

Elena looks from Damon to the child in her arms and back again, suddenly panicked.

This is not real.

She sputters awake, grasping for breath. Rolling over, she drapes her limbs over Damon.

"Mmmph," he murmurs sleepily. His hands come around her, rubbing her back gently. "Bad dream?"

"No," she whispers sadly. "It was nice."

He pulls away so he can see her face, propping his forehead against hers, he regards her with confusion. "What happened?" He wipes a tear away from her eyes.

"It wasn't real," she says wistfully. "I dreamed…we had this whole different life. We had a family."

He sucks in a breath. "God, Elena. I'm…"

"It's not your fault," she finishes for him. "I'm sorry," she sniffs. "I just need a minute." She slides out of the bed, tugging on a red silk robe in hanging in the closet and opening the curtained French doors that lead outside to a small private deck.

She shivers at the chill of the evening, wishing for the warmth of the fluffy teal robe she keeps hanging on her bathroom door at home. The balcony faces out towards the ocean instead of the shore, she leans against the railing on her elbows, enjoying the gentle sound of the waves lapping up against the side of the vessel.

He comes to stand behind her, locking his arms around hers. "I wanted to give you that life," he confesses quietly. "And I'm sorry I can't anymore."

She doesn't speak, just laces their fingers together, bringing them up to plant a soft kiss on the back of his hand.

"But you could still have that someday," he comments. "Not with me, but…"

She turns around, cupping his face in her hands. "If I can't have that with you, I don't want it at all," she vows firmly. "I love you and I don't want anyone else."

She goes quiet for a moment as realization begins to dawn on her. "I don't know if we could have ever had that in the first place. I mean let's face it— we are not normal people, Damon."

She watches the water, stretching for miles; somewhere beyond their sight it meets the sandy shores of North Africa where, perhaps, another couple stands as they do, planning their life together. She pictures the life she wanted: one where she graduates from a good college and goes on to have an exciting, fast paced career, a beautiful, laughing baby, and a husband unable to rip open someone's throat with their teeth. She pictures it all, and then, like a child releasing a balloon in the wind, she lets drift away with the tide.

She gazes up at him through her lashes. "We were never going to be the type of people suited for a white picket fence and the minivan and the two point five kids and the golden retriever. I know you wanted that for me, but I know you didn't really want it for you. And you know what? It's okay." She presses her lips to his. "It's okay," she repeats with a small smile.

His hands slide from her face to her waist, pulling her closer to him. "You're wrong, you know. It's true that isn't a life I ever really pictured for myself, but with you…it fit."

He makes a face. "Minus the suburbs, the minivan and the half a kid, that is." He pauses for a moment, propping his chin on the top of her head. "And maybe the golden retriever, too. I'm not watching Stefan ruin another rug while he puts the food chain into action."

Elena pokes him teasingly in the stomach. "Stefan does not eat puppy blood."

"Well he prefers blondes," he quips back. "But he's not real discriminating, my brother."

Their light moment fades into worried silence. "Do you think he's alright?" she wonders aloud.

Damon swallows. "I don't know. Now that the compulsion has worn off, I can remember he was relatively stable when we left him, but…"

Elena starts to bite her bottom lip but Damon stops her, hooking his finger over it. "Let's just call a time out, okay? Remember Georgia?"

She nods, smiling. They've come a long way from Georgia, in every sense of the word.

"I do, but—"

"Elena, you look exhausted. We'll be in Naples in two days; we can either spend those two days stressing about stuff we can't do anything about or…we can recoup and be ready to take out Klaus as soon as we get there."

She leans into his arms, yawning. "Let's talk about it in the morning," she mumbles sleepily.

Damon lifts her gently into his arms. "Let's get you to bed, Sleepy."

"Whatever you say…Dopey."

He rolls his eyes. "Dopey? Seriously?"

"Well which dwarf would you pick? Bashful?"

He drops her lightly on the bed and slides in next to her, pulling the comforter up to cover them.

"Happy," he mumbles into the crook of her neck. "I'd pick Happy."

Elena nestles into him with a contented sigh. "You are such a sap, Damon Salvatore."

He gives her a wry smile. "And if you ever tell anyone that, I'm gonna have to kill them."

A/N: Anyone else need that Delena fix? I know I did! I hope you enjoyed a bit of fluff before we get back into the more meaty chapters. Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed or followed this story! I truly appreciate all your support and encouragement!