Author's notes: I needed a quick break from the multipart story I'm working on, so this is just something short I was distracting myself with. AU; vampire; Damon/Elena.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, or the town of Mystic Falls.
Dr. Salvatore entered the emergency room at a half run, a contrast to the blur of speed that had brought him down from the third floor of Founders' General. But there was no one to note the contrast; he'd been careful to check that there were no observers.
Now he paused, noted with some distaste that Tanner was the physician on duty, and addressed him curtly. "What happened? I was paged." He forced himself not to draw attention to his still-damp hair by touching it, though he badly wanted to check and see if it was dry enough to escape notice.
Tanner had the sour look of a man having to rely on the skills of a colleague he both loathed and envied. He answered shortly, "Car accident at Wickery Bridge. Two pronounced dead on arrival; I want you to take a look at the third."
Stefan nodded, already pushing past Tanner for a closer look at the girl on the table. One of the attending nurses chanted the girl's blood stats without being asked, used to the pediatrician's demands for efficiency. Low blood oxygen, in spite of the mask at her face. He lifted one slender hand in his, noting the blueish tinge beneath the nails. Her blood pressure was dropping. He probed her abdomen, noting the rigidity and swelling, and sighed. Internal bleeding, and a lot of it.
She was so young.
The dark hair fanned across the table, wet and gleaming. Her lips were full but delicate in her pale, perfect face.
That face was so familiar it made his chest ache.
I can't lose her, he thought, not without knowing her.
Out loud he said, "Clear the room, Tanner." The two nurses at the girl's head exchanged glances, no doubt eager to add this story to the volume of gossip about the crazy new doctor and his impossible demands. Tanner drew in his breath for what would obviously have been a tirade, but Stefan cut him off.
"I mean it. Get everyone out of here, and send for my own team. I'll cope on my own until they arrive." Having his own hand-picked interns and nursing crew had been one of his preconditions for accepting this job. The hospital's governing board, stunned at their good luck in acquiring a specialist of his calibre at the relatively modest salary the small town hospital could offer, had capitulated happily.
Tanner snorted. "There's nothing your precious team can do. We've called for a surgeon already, but chances are there's too much damage to repair. You want to wait for him own your own, be my guest." The nurses were already scrambling to get away before Tanner could take his bad temper out on them.
Stefan heard them all leave, heard the doors swing shut behind them, and didn't realize someone had taken the opportunity to slip into the room until he heard the familiar, sarcastic voice.
"She looks a little old to be in need of a pediatrician, surely? I mean, she looks old enough to...well. She looks old enough."
"You're disgusting," Stefan answered automatically.
Damon smirked. "Whereas you, dear brother, are a saint. Virtuously stepping in to save the life of this young woman, with absolutely nothing to gain. No personal investment here whatsoever, is that the story?"
Stefan's voice was tight. "She's sixteen. She's just lost both her parents. And she's dying. What do you expect me to do?"
"I'm sure you'll do whatever makes you miserable," Damon said. "The real mystery is, why wasn't I paged first? You'd think they'd want their newest, hottest, most talented surgeon on scene for this." He buffed his nails modestly against his white coat. Stefan gritted his teeth and tried to ignore him.
"I'd just love to get to work on her," Damon continued, drawing the last word out obscenely. Stefan growled and stepped closer, threateningly, but the elder Salvatore brother laughed and sidestepped him, moving closer to the unconscious patient.
He stood next to the girl, his face still as he looked at her. For a long moment neither brother moved.
Then Stefan became aware of increasing noise from outside, shouts and crying, and stepped away. "I'll be back," he said shortly. "Someone needs to tell her family what's happening. Don't do anything stupid."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Damon said mildly once his brother had left. Then, neatly, he bit into his own wrist and slipped the oxygen mask away from the girl's face, letting his blood drip steadily between her barely-parted lips. The wound healed in seconds, unnoticed; his eyes were fixed on her face, watching as she swallowed, and waiting for the inevitable change.