Favorite Delena Quotes

[Deleted]

To bring back an old favorite, what is everyone's favorite quotes from the books or show?

One from the books I liked.

Damon: A mole on the neck means you'll be wealthy do you mind if I check?
Stefan: I mind
Damon: But do you matter?

And another favorite of mine from the show.

Elena: Don't do that?
Damon: Do what?
Elena: You know what, that move was deliberate.
Damon: Well, yeah, I was deliberately trying to get to the sink.

I know Elena was loopy when she said these but hey it's the truth coming out XD

Damon: And who am I? Do you know who I am?
Elena: Of course I do. You’re Damon, and I love you.

Elena: I'm here to collect my beloved Damon and Stefan is just here helping me.

"But we both enjoy worship, she replied telepathically, and felt his laughter on her lips as he admitted the truth of it. There was nothing sweeter in her life these days than Damon’s kisses. She could drift like this forever, forgetting the outside world. And that was a good thing, because she had the feeling that there was much depression in the outside and not too much happiness, But if she could always come back to this, this welcome, this sweetness, this ecstasy…"

Excerpt from book:

“Vampires know how to take care of wounds,” he said confidently,
and his great eyes that seemed to hold their own universe of stars caught
and held her. “We can clean them. We can start them bleeding again—or
stop them.”
I’ve felt like this before, Elena thought. He’s talked to me like this before, too, even if he doesn’t remember. And I—I was too frightened.
But that was before…
Before the motel. The night when he’d told her to run, and she
hadn’t. The night that Shinichi had taken, just as he’d taken the first time
they’d shared Black Magic together.
“Show me,” whispered Elena. And she knew that something else in
her mind was whispering too, whispering different words. Words that
she would never have said if she had for a moment thought of herself as
a slave.
Whispering, I’m yours…
That was when she felt his mouth lightly brush her mouth.
And then she just thought, Oh! and Oh, Damon…until he moved to
gently touch her cheek with his silky soft tongue, manipulating
chemicals first to make cleansing blood flow, and finally when the
impurities had all been so softly swept away, to stop the blood and to
heal the wound. She could feel his Power now, the dark Power that he
had used in a thousand fights, to inflict hundreds of mortal wounds,
being held tightly in check to concentrate on this simple, homely task, to
heal the mark of a whiplash on a girl’s cheek. Elena thought it was like
being stroked with the petals of that Black Magic rose, its cool smooth
petals gently sweeping away the pain, until she shivered in delight.
And then it stopped. Elena knew that she’d once again had too much wine. But this time she didn’t feel sick. The deceptively light
drink had gone to her head, making her tipsy. Everything had taken on
an unreal, dreamlike quality.
“It will finish healing well now,” Damon said, again touching her hair so softly that she could barely feel it. But this time she did feel it,
because she sent out fingers of Power to meet the sensation and enjoy
every moment of it. And once again he kissed her—so lightly—his lips barely brushing hers. When her head fell back, though, he didn’t follow,
even when, disappointed, she tried to put pressure on the back of his neck. He simply waited until Elena thought things out…slowly.
We shouldn’t be kissing. Meredith and Bonnie are right next door.
How do I get myself in situations like this? But Damon isn’t even trying
to kiss…and we’re supposed to be—oh!
Her other wounds.
They really hurt now. What cruel person had thought up a whip like that, Elena thought, with a razor-thin lash that cut so deeply it didn’t
even hurt at first—or not that much…but got worse and worse over time? And kept bleeding…we’re supposed to be stopping the bleeding
until the doctor can see me….
But her next wound, the one that burned like fire now, was diagonally across her collarbone. And the third was near her knee….
Damon started to get up, to get another cloth from the sink and cleanse the cut with water.
Elena held him back. “No.”
“No? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“All I want to do is cleanse it….”
“I know.” She did know. His mind was open to hers, all its turbulent power running clear and tranquilly. She didn’t know why it
had opened to her like this, but it had.
“But let me advise you, don’t go donating your blood to some don’t let anyone sample it. It’s worse than Black
Magic—”
“Worse?” She knew he was complimenting her, but she didn’t
understand.
“The more you drink, the more you want to drink,” Damon
answered, and for a moment Elena saw the turbulence she had caused in
those calm waters. “And the more you drink, the more Power you can absorb,” he added seriously. Elena realized that she had never even
thought of this as a problem, but it was. She remembered the agony it
had been to try to absorb her own aura before she had learned how to keep it moving with her bloodstream.
“Don’t worry,” he added, still serious. “I know who you’re thinking about.” He made a move again to get a cloth. But without knowing it, he had said too much, presumed too far.
“You know who I’m thinking about?” Elena said softly, and she was surprised at how dangerous her own voice could sound, like the soft
padding of heavy tigress feet. “Without asking me?”
Damon tried to finesse his way out. “Well, I assumed….”
“No one knows what I’m thinking about,” Elena said. “Until I tell them.” She moved and made him kneel to look at her, questioningly. Hungrily.
Then, just as it was she who had made him kneel, it was she who drew him to her wound.
Elena came back to the real world slowly, fighting it all the way. She
sank her nails into the leather of Damon’s jacket, found herself
wondering briefly if removing it would help, and then her mood was
shattered again by that sound—a sharp, imperative knock.
Damon raised his head and snarled.
We are a pair of wolves, aren’t we? Elena thought. Fighting nail and tooth.
But, another part of her mind supplied, that isn’t stopping the knocking. He warned those girls….
Those girls! Bonnie and Meredith! And he’d said not to interrupt unless the house was on fire!
But, the doctor—oh, God, something’s happened to that poor, woman! She’s dying!
Damon was still snarling, a trace of blood on his lips. It was only a trace, because her second wound had really been healed just as
thoroughly as the first, the one across her cheekbone. Elena had no idea
how long it had been since she had pulled Damon to her to kiss this cut.
But now, with her blood in his veins and his pleasure interrupted, he was
like an untamed black panther in her arms.

Okay I should stop here I've done enough! On this post at least lol ;D

[txhearts]

Ahh so many!
One of my favourites is from The Last Dance when Damon says "Let me clear about something. If it comes downt to the witch you and again i will gladly get Bonnie die. I will always choose you."
I think that this was also the scene that made me lean more towards Delena <3

[pixiestyx]

Damon: When I drag my brother back from the edge and deliver him back to you, I want you to remember the things you felt when he was gone.

[bluebonnet]

My favorite DE scene of all time is the one in her bedroom at the end of "The Hybrid," when D makes her admit she was worried about him in the woods. So I guess my fave quote would be "WHen I drag my brother back from the edge, and deliver him back to you, I want you to remember the things that you FELT while he was away." I think that's it - might not be perfect word-for-word.

Before that episode, my fave was the dance in S1 with her in the blue dress.

[Doppelgänger]

Yeah, that's a good one. I like how he made her fess up, knowing the truth but making her see it. This is why they're good for each other. She won't be able to live in denial with Damon around to snap her out of it.

[Princess of Darkness]

"And now, certainly, Elena felt like a flame. We were meant to be this way. She couldn’t remember if it was an old quote of Damon’s or something new he was just barely whispering to her mind now. Like two flames that join and merge into one."

- Shadow Souls (Written by L.J. Smith)



{Actual Excerpt}


It was her favorite waltz since childhood: the one she'd been brought up on: Tchaichovsky's Sleeping Beauty waltz. But some child part of her mind could never help but pairing the sweet sweeping notes that came after the thundering electrifying beginning together with the words from the Disney movie version:

I know you; I danced with you once upon a dream . . . .

As always, they brought tears to her eyes; they made her heart sing and her feet want to fly rather than dance.

Her dress was backless. Damon's warm hand was on her bare skin there.

I know, something whispered to her, why they called this dance riotous and indecent.

And now, certainly, Elena felt like a flame. We were meant to be this way. She couldn't remember if it was an old quote of Damon's or something new he was just barely whispering to her mind now. Like two flames that join and merge into one.

You're good, Damon told her, and this time she knew that it was him speaking and that it was in the present.

You don't need to patronize me. I'm too happy already!

Elena laughed back. Damon was an expert, and not just at the precision of the steps. He danced the waltz as if it were still riotous and indecent. He had a firm lead, which of course Elena's human strength could not break. But he could interpret little signals of her own, about what she wants and he obliged her, as if they were ice dancing, as if any moment they might twirl and leap.

Elena's stomach was slowly melting and taking her other internal organs with it.

And it never once occurred to her to think what her high school friends and rivals and enemies would have thought of her melting over classical music. She was free of petty spite, petty shame over differences. She was through with labeling. She wished that she could go back to show everyone that she'd never meant it in the first place.

The waltz was over all too soon and Elena wanted to push the replay button and do it from the beginning again. There was a moment when the music stopped where she and Damon were looking at each other, with equal exaltation and yearning and--

And then Damon bowed over her hand. "There is more to the waltz than just moving your feet," he said, not looking up at her. "There is a swaying grace that can be put into the movements, a leaping flame of joy and oneness-- with the music, with a partner. Those are not matters of expertise. Thank you for giving me the pleasure."

Elena laughed because she wanted to cry. She never wanted to stop dancing. She wanted to tango with Damon-- a real tango, the kind you were supposed to have to get married after.[/center]
[/color]

[Princess of Darkness]

Something moved in the shadows.

Her scream froze in her throat. Her muscles were frozen, too, held motionless by her terror—and by some nameless force. Helplessly, she watched as the shape in the darkness moved out of the shadows and toward her. It seemed almost as if the darkness itself had come to life and was coalescing as she watched, taking on form—human form, the form of a young man.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you."

The voice was pleasant, with a slight accent she couldn't place. It didn't sound sorry at all. Relief was so sudden and complete that it was painful. She slumped and heard her own breath sigh out.

It was only a guy, some former student or an assistant of Mr. Shelby's. An ordinary guy, who was smiling faintly, as if it had amused him to see her almost pass out.

Well… perhaps not quite ordinary. He was remarkably good-looking. His face was pale in the artificial twilight, but she could see that his features were cleanly defined and nearly perfect under a shock of dark hair. Those cheekbones were a sculptor's dream. And he'd been almost invisible because he was wearing black:soft black boots, black jeans, black sweater, and leather jacket.

He was still smiling faintly. Elena's relief turned to anger.
"How did you get in?" she demanded. "And what are you doing here? Nobody else is supposed to be in the gym."

"I came in the door," he said. His voice was soft, cultured, but she could still hear the amusement and she found it disconcerting.

"All the doors are locked," she said flatly, accusingly.

He raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Are they?" Elena felt another quiver of fear, hairs lifting on the back of her neck.

"They were supposed to be," she said in the coldest voice she could manage.

"You're angry," he said gravely. "I said I was sorry to frighten you."

"I wasn't frightened!" she snapped. She felt foolish in front of him somehow, like a child being humored by someone much older and more knowledgeable. It made her even angrier.

"I was just startled," she continued. "Which is hardly surprising, what with you lurking in the dark like that."

"Interesting things happen in the dark… sometimes." He was still laughing at her; she could tell by his eyes. He had taken a step closer, and she could see that those eyes were unusual, almost black, but with odd lights in them. As if you could look deeper and deeper until you fell into them, and went on falling forever.

She realized she was staring. Why didn't the lights come on? She wanted to get out of here. She moved away, putting the end of a bleacher between them, and stacked the last folders into the box. Forget the rest of the work for tonight. All she wanted to do now was leave.

But the continuing silence made her uneasy. He was just standing there, unmoving, watching her. Why didn't he say something?

"Did you come looking for somebody?" She was annoyed with herself for being the one to speak.

He was still gazing at her, those dark eyes fixed on her in a way that made her more and more uncomfortable. She swallowed.

With his eyes on her lips, he murmured, "Oh, yes."

"What?" She'd forgotten what she'd asked. Her cheeks and throat were flushing, burning with blood.

She felt so light-headed. If only he'd stop looking at her…

"Yes, I came here looking for someone," he repeated, no louder than before. Then, in one step he moved toward her, so that they were separated only by the corner of one bleacher seat.

Elena couldn't breathe. He was standing so close. Close enough to touch. She could smell a faint hint of cologne and the leather of his jacket. And his eyes still held hers—she could not look away from them.

They were like no eyes she had ever seen, black as midnight, the pupils dilated like a cat's. They filled her vision as he leaned toward her, bending his head down to hers. She felt her own eyes half close, losing focus. She felt her head tilt back, her lips part.

No! Just in time she whipped her head to the side. She felt as if she'd just pulled herself back from the edge of a precipice.

What am I doing? she thought in shock.

I was about to let him kiss me. A total stranger, someone I met only a few minutes ago.

But that wasn't the worst thing. For those few minutes, something unbelievable had happened. For those few minutes, she had forgotten Stefan.
[/color]

- Excerpt from The Awakening (Written by L.J. Smith)

[Deleted]

A good thing I refreshed or I would have missed that last sentence you added

There are so many favorite DE moments from the books that I adore and that's one of my top favs!

That was there first meeting right? Sounds like it from the text but my mind could be a bit hazy since it's been so long

I especially loved this part:

"Did you come looking for somebody?" She was annoyed with herself for being the one to speak.

He was still gazing at her, those dark eyes fixed on her in a way that made her more and more uncomfortable. She swallowed.

With his eyes on her lips, he murmured, "Oh, yes."

"What?" She'd forgotten what she'd asked. Her cheeks and throat were flushing, burning with blood.

That cracked me up! Damon making Elena forget what's what and all

[Princess of Darkness]

"What would I have to do?" said Elena doubtfully. She felt strangely intrigued, but at the same time rather frightened.

"It's simple. We have to get everything ready before the stroke of midnight…"

Five minutes before midnight, Elena stood in the McCulloughs' dining room, feeling more foolish than anything else. From the backyard, she could hear Yangtze's frantic barking, but inside the house there was no sound except the unhurried tick of the grandfather clock. Following Bonnie's instructions, she had set the big black walnut table with one plate, one glass, and one set of silverware, all the time not saying a word. Then she had lit a single candle in a candleholder in the center of the table, and positioned herself behind the chair with the place setting.

According to Bonnie, on the stroke of midnight she was supposed to pull the chair back and invite her future husband in. At that point, the candle would blow out and she would see a ghostly figure in the chair.

Earlier, she'd been a little uneasy about this, uncertain that she wanted to seeany ghostly figures, even of her husband-to-be. But just now the whole thing seemed silly and harmless. As the clock began to chime, she straightened up and got a better grip on the chair back. Bonnie had told her not to let go until the ceremony was over.

Oh, this was silly. Maybe she wouldn't say the words… but when the clock started to toll out the hour, she heard herself speaking.

"Come in," she said self-consciously to the empty room, drawing out the chair. "Come in, come in…"

The candle went out.

Elena started in the sudden darkness. She'd felt the wind, a cold gust that had blown out the candle. It came from the French doors behind her, and she turned quickly, one hand still on the chair. She would have sworn those doors were shut.

Something moved in the darkness.

Terror washed through Elena, sweeping away her self-consciousness and any trace of amusement.

Oh, God, what had she done, what had she brought on herself?

Her heart contracted and she felt as if she had been plunged, without warning, into her most dreadful nightmare. It was not only dark but utterly silent; there was nothing to see and nothing to hear, and she was falling…

"Allow me," said a voice, and a bright flame sputtered in the darkness.

For a terrible, sickening instant she thought it was Tyler, remembering his lighter in the ruined church on the hill. But as the candle on the table sprang to life, she saw the pale, long-fingered hand that held it. Not Tyler's beefy red fist. She thought for an instant it was Stefan's, and then her eyes lifted to the face.

"You!" she said, astounded. "What do you think you're doing here?" She looked from him to the French doors, which were indeed open, showing the side lawn.

"Do you always just walk into other people's houses uninvited?"

"But you asked me to come in." His voice was as she remembered it, quiet, ironical and amused.

She remembered the smile, too. "Thank you," he added, and gracefully sat down in the chair she had drawn out.

She snatched her hand off the back. "I wasn't inviting you ," she said helplessly, caught between indignation and embarrassment.

"What were you doing hanging around outside Bonnie's house?"

He smiled. In the candlelight, his black hair shone almost like liquid, too soft and fine for human hair. His face was very pale, but at the same time utterly compelling. And his eyes caught her own and held them.

" 'Helen, thy beauty is to me/Like those Nicean barks of yore/That gently, over a perfumed sea…' "

"I think you'd better leave now."

She didn't want him to talk anymore. His voice did strange things to her, made her feel oddly weak, started a melting in her stomach.

"You shouldn't be here. Please."

She reached for the candle, meaning to take it and leave him, fighting off the dizziness that threatened to overcome her.

But before she could grasp it, he did something extraordinary. He caught her reaching hand, not roughly, but gently, and held it in his cool slender fingers. Then he turned her hand over, bent his dark head, and kissed her palm.

"Don't…" whispered Elena, stunned.

"Come with me," he said, and looked up into her eyes.

"Please don't…" she whispered again, the world swimming around her. He was mad; what was he talking about? Come with him where? But she felt so dizzy, so faint.

He was standing, supporting her. She leaned against him, felt those cool fingers on the first button of the shirt at her throat, "Please, no…"

"It's all right. You'll see." He pulled the shirt away from her neck, his other hand behind her head.

"No." Suddenly, strength returned to her, and she jerked away from him, stumbling against the chair.

"I told you to leave, and I meant it. Get out—now!"

For an instant, pure fury surged in his eyes, a dark wave of menace. Then they went calm and cold and he smiled, a swift, brilliant smile that he turned off again instantly.

"I'll leave," he said. "For the moment."

She shook her head and watched him go out the French doors without speaking. When they had shut behind him, she stood in the silence, trying to get her breath.[/size]

- Excerpt from The Awakening (Written by L.J. Smith)

{Make sure to pay special attention to the parts in bold. I think its interesting because a ghostly figure is supposed to enter, and sit in the chair-- would a vampire not seem to be a "ghostly" figure? And low and behold none other than Damon Salvatore steps in and sits down into the chair after the candle blows out.} [/color]

[Princess of Darkness]

Dec 16, 2011 23:46:27 GMT -5 @anbuprincess said:

A good thing I refreshed or I would have missed that last sentence you added

There are so many favorite DE moments from the books that I adore and that's one of my top favs!

That was there first meeting right? Sounds like it from the text but my mind could be a bit hazy since it's been so long

I especially loved this part:

"Did you come looking for somebody?" She was annoyed with herself for being the one to speak.

He was still gazing at her, those dark eyes fixed on her in a way that made her more and more uncomfortable. She swallowed.

With his eyes on her lips, he murmured, "Oh, yes."

"What?" She'd forgotten what she'd asked. Her cheeks and throat were flushing, burning with blood.

That cracked me up! Damon making Elena forget what's what and all

Yep. That's the scene where she almost lets him kiss her. I think this scene is comparable to the first time they met, as well as the scene in 1x03. In 1x03 during the infamous (I'm not Katherine scene,) its dark, Elena looks down at his lips and seemingly almost allows Damon to kiss her, snapping to her "senses" at the last moment and slapping him away from her.

[Princess of Darkness]

Elena stepped into the clearing.

Beneath her feet tatters of autumn leaves were freezing into the slush. Dusk had fallen, and although the storm was dying away the woods were getting colder. Elena didn't feel the cold.

Neither did she mind the dark. Her pupils opened wide, gathering up tiny particles of light that would have been invisible to a human. She could see the two figures struggling beneath the great oak tree quite clearly.

One had thick dark hair, which the wind had churned into a tumbled sea of waves. He was slightly taller than the other, and although Elena couldn't see his face she somehow knew his eyes were green.

The other had a shock of dark hair as well, but his was fine and straight, almost like the pelt of an animal.

His lips were drawn back from his teeth in fury, and the lounging grace of his body was gathered into a predator's crouch. His eyes were black.

Elena watched them for several minutes without moving. She'd forgotten why she had come here, why she'd been pulled here by the echoes of their battle in her mind. This close the clamor of their anger and hatred and pain was almost deafening, like silent shouts coming from the fighters. They were locked in a death match.

I wonder which of them will win, she thought. They were both wounded and bleeding, and the taller one's left arm hung at an unnatural angle. Still, he had just slammed the other against the gnarled trunk of an oak tree. His fury was so strong that Elena could feel and taste it as well as hear it, and she knew it
was giving him impossible strength.

And then Elena remembered why she had come. How could she have forgotten? He was hurt. His mind had summoned her here, battering her with shock waves of rage and pain. She had come to help him because she belonged to him.

The two figures were down on the icy ground now, righting like wolves, snarling. Swiftly and silently Elena went to them. The one with the wavy hair and green eyes—Stefan, a voice in her mind
whispered—was on top, fingers scrabbling at the other's throat.

Anger washed through Elena, anger and protectiveness. She reached between the two of them to grab that choking hand, to pry the fingers up.

It didn't occur to her that she shouldn't be strong enough to do this. Shewas strong enough; that was all.

She threw her weight to the side, wrenching her captive away from his opponent. For good measure, she bore down hard on his wounded arm, knocking him flat on his face in the leaf-strewn slush. Then she began to choke him from behind.

Her attack had taken him by surprise, but he was far from beaten.
He struck back at her, his good hand fumbling for her throat. His thumb dug into her windpipe.

Elena found herself lunging at the hand, going for it with her teeth. Her mind could not understand it, but her body knew what to do. Her teeth were a weapon, and they slashed into flesh, drawing blood.

But he was stronger than she was. With a jerk of his shoulders, he broke her hold on him and twisted in her grasp, flinging her down. And then he was above her, his face contorted with animal fury. She hissed at him and went for his eyes with her nails, but he knocked her hand away.

He was going to kill her. Even wounded, he was by far the stronger. His lips had drawn back to show teeth already stained with scarlet. Like a cobra, he was ready to strike.

Then he stopped, hovering over her, his face changing.
Elena saw the green eyes widen. The pupils, which had been contracted to vicious dots, sprang open.

He was staring down at her as if truly seeing her for the first time.
Why was he looking at her that way? Why didn't he just get it over with? But now the iron hand on her shoulder was releasing her. The animal snarl had disappeared, replaced by a look of bewilderment and wonder. He sat back, helping her to sit up, all the while gazing into her face.

"Elena," he whispered. His voice was cracked. "Elena, it's you."

Is that who I am? she thought. Elena?

It didn't really matter. She cast a glance toward the old oak tree. He was still there, standing between the upthrust roots, panting, supporting himself against it with one hand. He was looking at her with his endlessly black eyes, his brows drawn together in a frown.

Don't worry, she thought. I can take care of this one. He's stupid.

Then she flung herself on the green-eyed one again.

"Elena!" he cried as she knocked him backward. His good hand pushed at her shoulder, holding her up.

"Elena, it's me, Stefan! Elena, look at me!"

She was looking. All she could see was the exposed patch of skin at his neck. She hissed again, upper lip drawing back, showing him her teeth.

He froze.

She felt the shock reverberate through his body, saw his gaze shatter. His face went as white as if someone had struck him a blow in the stomach. He shook his head slightly on the muddy ground.

"No," he whispered. "Oh, no…"

He seemed to be saying it to himself, as if he didn't expect her to hear him. He reached a hand toward her cheek, and she snapped at it.

"Oh, Elena…" he whispered.

The last traces of fury, of animal bloodlust, had disappeared from his face. His eyes were dazed and stricken and grieving.

And vulnerable. Elena took advantage of the moment to dive for the bare skin at his neck. His arm came up to fend her off, to push her away, but then it dropped again.

He stared at her a moment, the pain in his eyes reaching a peak, and then he simply gave up. He stopped fighting completely.

She could feel it happen, feel the resistance leave his body. He lay on the icy ground with scraps of oak leaves in his hair, staring up past her at the black and clouded sky. Finish it, his weary voice said in her mind.

Elena hesitated for an instant. There was something about those eyes that called up memories inside her.

Standing in the moonlight, sitting in an attic room… But the memories were too vague. She couldn't get a grasp on them, and the effort made her dizzy and sick.

And this one had to die, this green-eyed one called Stefan.

Because he'd hurt him, the other one, the one Elena had been born to be with. No one could hurt him and live.

She clamped her teeth into his throat and bit deep.

She realized at once that she wasn't doing it quite right. She hadn't hit an artery or vein. She worried at the throat, angry at her own inexperience. It felt good to bite something, but not much blood was coming.

Frustrated, she lifted up and bit again, feeling his body jerk in pain.

Much better.

She'd found a vein this time, but she hadn't torn it deeply enough. A little scratch like that wouldn't do. What she needed was to rip it right across, to let the rich hot blood stream out.

Her victim shuddered as she worked to do this, teeth raking and gnawing. She was just feeling the flesh give way when hands pulled at her, lifting her from behind.

Elena snarled without letting go of the throat. The hands were insistent though. An arm looped about her waist, fingers twined in her hair. She fought, clinging with teeth and nails to her prey.

Let go of him. Leave him!

The voice was sharp and commanding, like a blast from a cold wind. Elena recognized it and stopped struggling with the hands that pulled her away. As they deposited her on the ground and she looked up to see him , a name came into her mind. Damon.

His name was Damon.

She stared at him sulkily, resentful of being yanked away from her kill, but obedient.

Stefan was sitting up, his neck red with blood. It was running onto his shirt. Elena licked her lips, feeling a throb like a hunger pang that seemed to come from every fiber of her being. She was dizzy again.

"I thought," Damon said aloud, "that you said she was dead."

He was looking at Stefan, who was even paler than before, if that was possible. That white face filled with infinite hopelessness.

"Look at her" was all he said.

A hand cupped Elena's chin, tilting her face up. She met Damon's narrowed dark eyes directly. Then long, slender fingers touched her lips, probing between them. Instinctively Elena tried to bite, but not very hard. Damon's finger found the sharp curve of a canine tooth, and Elena did bite now, giving it a nip like a
kitten's.

Damon's face was expressionless, his eyes hard.

"Do you know where you are?" he said.

Elena glanced around. Trees. "In the woods," she said craftily, looking back at him.

"And who is that?"

She followed his pointing finger. "Stefan," she said indifferently.
"Your brother."

"And who am I? Do you know who I am?"

She smiled up at him, showing him her pointed teeth.

"Of course I do. You're Damon, and I love you."

Stefan's voice was quietly savage. "That's what you wanted, wasn't it, Damon? And now you've got it. You had to make her like us, like you. It wasn't enough just to kill her."

Damon didn't glance back at him. He was looking at Elena intently through those hooded eyes, still kneeling there holding her chin.

"That's the third time you've said that, and I'm getting a little tired of it," he commented softly. Disheveled, still slightly out of breath, he was yet self-composed, in control.

"Elena, did I kill you?"

"Of course not," Elena said, winding her fingers in those of his free hand. She was getting impatient.

What were they talking about anyway? Nobody had been killed.

"I never thought you were a liar," Stefan said to Damon, the bitterness in his voice unchanged. "Just about everything else, but not that. I've never heard you try to cover up for yourself before."

"In another minute," said Damon, "I'm going to lose my temper."

- Excerpt from The Fury (Written by L.J. Smith)

[Princess of Darkness]

That was the scene Damon strolled back in to find; two couples embracing, one platonic, and one . . . not.

He stood and stared at it for a very, very long moment, and then he turned and moved silently into the foyer, toward the door.

One second, two, and then the non-platonic couple broke apart, Stefan clearly very reluctantly.

“He left,” Elena said.

“Maybe Santa recalled him because of defects,” Stefan suggested.

“No,”

“Elena”—a shade impatiently. “What do you think that entire business about the mistletoe was for? It was for one reason, and one reason only. And it failed.”

“I know,” Elena said, getting up and hurrying to the front door.

It was cooling down fast outside, clouds gathering. Elena recognized angry-Damon weather. But at least she could see him, walking away from the driveway. He hadn't turned into a crow and taken off.

“Damon!” she called. “Damon!”

He didn't turn. Elena, running down the driveway, wished that she was wearing shoes.

“Damon, you forgot your present!”

“Give it back to Stefan along with the others.”

“Are you sure?”

Something in her voice made Damon hesitate and finally stop, turn about face and come back toward her.

“Aren't you afraid I have another sprig of mistletoe?”

“No. I know you don't, even if I don't know how I know it.”

Damon gave one skyward glance, where thick and heavy clouds were rapidly obscuring the stars.

“And Little Brother isn't going to come rocketing out of there like a dragon, ready to kill me because we're alone?”

Elena laughed. “Not if he keeps his word, anyway.”

“And . . . if I just decide to seize you and make off with you?”

“Ah . . . then Stefan might do the dragon thing.”“Then what are you out here for?”

“Your present,” Elena said, still smiling, even as he glanced ostentatiously from one of her empty hands to the other.

She put a hand on his arm, effectively keeping him from turning his back to her. Then she leaned in close and kissed him warmly and sweetly.

“I meant to let you catch me in the house,” she said, “but that might have made Stefan unhappy. Merry Christmas, Damon.”

Damon was tempted to say “Ooh,” but resisted it. Stars began to show above as the dark clouds parted.

After a moment he stepped back from her.

“And this is the part where I don't grab you and kiss you back. Because of the Christmas spirit.”

Elena smiled. “Exactly.”

“Well, then . . . Merry Christmas, Elena.”

“Merry Christmas, Damon. And Happy New Year.”

“Does that really come along with it? I've always wondered.”

“Well . . . traditionally it does. Let's just say an interesting New Year.”

“An interesting New Year to all, then, Princess.”

“And to all—a good night.”

She watched him shimmer until he disappeared then watched a black shadow soar over the suddenly-visible moon.

Then she turned back toward the boardinghouse. None of it was promised, she knew.

They'd had a merry Christmas, but there was no guarantee that the next year would be interesting. She just had to have faith.

Merry Christmas, Fell's Church, she thought. God bless us, every one.

- Excerpt from a short story/ an untold story ~ Elena's Christmas (Written by L.J. Smith)

[Doppelgänger]

I wish they'd give Damon back his special powers in the TV show. The thing about Damon in the books that really stood out to me was it seemed very clear that he was above and beyond everyone else in those books who was a main character and could have not given any of them the time of day, but he did.

[Princess of Darkness]

Dec 17, 2011 1:14:00 GMT -5 Doppelgänger said:

I wish they'd give Damon back his special powers in the TV show. The thing about Damon in the books that really stood out to me was it seemed very clear that he was above and beyond everyone else in those books who was a main character and could have not given any of them the time of day, but he did.

I completely agree.

[Doppelgänger]

There's alot to be said about getting the feeling that we 'humans' are their food, and understanding that in a real sense. It makes it all the more interesting and intriguing to me if that is never forgotten.

Otherwise, why the romance with a vampire thing if it's watered down, dismissed and the vampire is tamed? The entire reason it's exciting to begin with is that it's risky.