Disclaimer: Everything belongs to LJ Smith...not me :(

Damon sat on the floor, shocked. Just last night, he had been all-powerful and, dare he even think it, happy. But, that had all changed in a matter of minutes. He'd been so curious about that damned bouquet! If Stefan had known what it was, why hadn't he told the group? Did he want to keep it a surprise? At the very least, he could've taken it to his bedroom! Part of Damon knew that his complaints were ridiculous. Everything that had happened was his fault. But, another part of him needed to blame someone else. He simply couldn't deal with the fact that he'd just ruined his entire immortal life in one stupid move.

As he sat, lost in his depressing thoughts, he felt something on his face. Putting a hand to his cheek, he felt a wetness. Confused, Damon looked at his hand. Blood. He was bleeding. He looked up. Stefan was on the couch, panting, head in his hands. Matt was near Stefan, trying to console him. Elena, Bonnie, and Meredith were…laughing? Did they think this was funny? He'd smelled a flower and woken up with the worst chest pain he'd ever felt. Of course, Sage had sensed his distress and came to him. Once he'd figured out what had happened, he had been reluctant to tell Damon. And then there was the whole breathing issue. Damon, feeling slightly dizzy, realized he'd forgotten again. Taking a deep breath, he sent the angriest glare he could muster towards the girls. This was not a laughing matter. How were they supposed to beat Shinichi now? And, how was Damon supposed to prevent himself from receiving another malach? He certainly didn't want to deal with that again.

Then, he noticed Mrs. Flowers. She was holding a tray of waffles, looking about as confused as he was. She saw the blood on his face, put the tray down, and hastened to get an icepack. Damon stood. Cursing his weak, human body, he made for the couch. But, at Stefan's face, he turned around. Looking around the room, he saw glares and amusement. No one had any sympathy for him. But, he mused, why should they? He was a sarcastic, murderous animal to them. Even Elena was laughing at him. Her reaction hurt the most. After all that they'd been through, she didn't even care. Damon blinked furiously, trying to rid his eyes of the tears that were forming. Being human, he couldn't lock away his emotions. He was forced to feel. And, he hated it. He could feel a tidal wave of the pain he'd accumulated over the years. It was threatening to break through his tough exterior. So, he turned and ran to his bedroom. He wouldn't lower himself and cry like a woman in front of Elena.

He flopped on his bed, feeling like an actor in a bad soap opera. The tidal wave he'd felt in the other room was overtaking him. Images flashed in Damon's mind. Mother holding him. Mother holding Stefan. Mother's death. Elena. Stefan. Elena. Katherine. Katherine's death. Katherine tying him up, hurting him. Katherine's real death. Elena's death. Stefan. Stefan's face. Stefan as a baby. All the things Damon should have done as an older brother. Mother, again. Father. Father, hitting him. Father, telling him he wasn't good enough. Now, there were just faces. Mother. Katherine. Stefan. Elena. Stefan. Katherine. Elena. Mother. Father. Elena. Stefan. Stefan. Stefan. Oh, the things he had done to his brother. Damon's body was wracked with sobs. He simply couldn't hold them back any longer. Now, he lay on his bed feeling like some sort of baby, crying his eyes out. No one bothered him. No one even ventured up the stairs. Damon didn't care. He didn't need any of them.

And then, it was over. Damon sat up. All of his pain had, quite simply, poured out of his being. Well, all but the most recent pains. Stefan, and of course, his newfound humanity were still there. The last, the fact that no one wanted to help. He'd made everyone at the boarding house so unhappy with him that, now that he was dying, they didn't care. In fact, they were probably thrilled. Elena's face as she laughed with her friends flashed through his mind again. He winced. There was a knock at the door. Damon check the mirror. The red rims around his eyes were barely noticeable. And, at this point, he didn't care. At this point, he just wanted to die, to get it over with.

"Can I come in?" A voice. Elena. Damon sighed and fell back on his pillows. Sure, she could come in, but only if she didn't expect an answer. Obviously, she hadn't. She opened the door and looked upon him, pity clear in her expression. Damon frowned at her.

"I don't need your pity, Elena. If you've come to 'make me feel better' than get the hell out." He knew he was being a bit harsh, but he was angry. He was so angry at Stefan it blotted out all other feelings. Even the ones that were pleased that Elena had come to speak to him. The ones that, subconsciously, realized she cared for him. He watched her face. Hurt flashed in her eyes and then it was replaced by anger.

"I thought you might want an icepack. You're face is probably already bruised. Unless you want it to swell, I suggest you take this." She said, coolly. Damon looked at her, surprised. He touched the left side of his face and found that it was a bit squishier than usual. How he had failed to notice this when he had looked in the mirror was a mystery to him. He could tell, now, that his face was not pretty. Groaning, in both pain and frustration, he took the icepack from Elena and pressed it to his face. But, he had pressed to hard. Yelping, he threw the icepack down. Elena sighed and picked it back up again. She moved toward him.

"Stop being such a baby. It doesn't hurt if you don't slap it on!" She laughed and gently put the ice pack to his cheek and left eye. The cold felt good against his throbbing features. Damon moaned, this time in pleasure. And then, he noticed something odd. Elena smelled different. She didn't smell like blood, like sustenance. She smelled…like roses. He looked at her strangely. Elena stared back. She looked into his eyes and Damon felt drawn to her. He leaned toward her and Elena did the same. Then, the door banged open.

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