A/N Here's the second chappieee! Sorry it took so long! With school and all, Imma aim for once to twice a week updates! thanks for the LOVELY reviews guyss! hope you enjoy this one!

STEFAN POV—

I recapped the century old bottle of Bourbon after pouring myself a strong one. Taking out a thin leather-covered flask, I slipped two drops of the contents into my much-needed mignight drink, and re-pocketed it. Five times a day, every day, all year. As I took a sip, I felt the bitter yet hankered liquid burning me and I gnarled to clear my throat. Reminding myself that I was doing this for her, I painfully downed it.

As I was setting the glass down, a voice sounded from the other side of the room.

"While you're at that Stefan," Damon mocked, "Make yourself useful and make me one."

I turned around, raising my left eyebrow.

"Uhm… is it just me or are you distraught over the fact that the woman you desire is still in love with your brother? You finally resorting to alcohol?" I retorted, casually. Being rude to Damon was instinctive, but if I had to be the new "Damon" under the circumstances, I would have to try.

"Oh no," he replied, as casually. He didn't sound taken aback at my tone at all. "It's just that I'm saddened seeing the woman I love, wasting her time waiting on a soulless, impassive, twofaced ripper."

That dickbag. How THE HELL did he dare to think that? In love with Elena, yeah… over my dead body. He would never deserve someone as pure as her! And me, the soulless, impassive, twofaced ripper? A year ago he was just that. Talk about being hypocritical.

I could've ripped his head off at that point… but I didn't. Instead, I chuckled.

"Awwwhhh, how cuh-ute? Wanna borrow some of my waterproof Nike shirts? They'll be handy when you're on shoulder-to-cry on duty?" These "Damon-isms" was harder to conjure than I had thought. I had to give him some credit for being so damn cynical.

"Ha, funny," was all he said, walking himself over to the bar and grabbing the Bacardi rum.

Maybe, I had actually won this little spat against Damon, I thought. Inwardly smiling, I started to walk out.

"Elena will, sooner or later, be done crying over you," he stated in such a matter-of-fact tone, more seriously than I had ever heard him.

Those few words stabbed me right in in the gut. They curled up into my chest, winding and turning and yanking my insides, letting loose the blood in the most excruciating, slow manner conceivable. They proved to me how, even though I held the royal flush of spades in my hands right then, I was helpless. I couldn't call a show. She wouldn't ever find out I was still hers. I had lost.

But he couldn't be left thinking that, so I sneered, "When that happens, brother, be sure to make most of the leftovers."

I winked at him, and in seconds, I was gone.

DAMON POV—

I had to admit, Elena did make the ideal warrior princess. At times I felt she was Elizabeth I reincarnated or Athena or like modern-day Rosa Parks or something. I had to give it to her: she was so strong in enduring for what she believed. That whole acting drunk and jumping off of the bleachers thing— I don't think it would've even crossed Blondie or the witch's mind. Heck, any other girl would've been downright terrified at the thought.

After I cleaned her wound, she had left the study with an appreciative smile. I overheard her telling Alaric how he should continue resume his little bromance with me. Man, I missed him. He was, after all, the only adult in our little clique of the hormonal, teenaged, Mystic Falls vamps, wolves, and witches.

I cleaned up, rolling my eyes at how much I'd softened up… saying I "missed" Ric. Whatever.

I zoned out after that, went up to my wing and watched some football replays on like the NFL channel. It was all about the media these days, not like during the 1920s when football was about glory and spilling blood. It was really too bad, and I eventually got bored. Thinking about the detestable beer cans they had had at that uneventful bonfire, I decided I needed a real drink, and so, made my way downstairs.

Stefan, my dear brother, was just finishing up one of his own and I called out "While you're at that Stefan, make yourself useful and make me one," entering the room.

He was quick to reply with "Uhm… is it just me or are you distraught over the fact that the woman you desire is still in love with your brother? You finally resorting to alcohol?"

Whoa. Didn't see that one coming. What had happened to him? He was like supposed to be the righteous Prince Charming and leave the bad boy antics to me.

Oh yeah. He was Klaus's ripper. Had forgotten that for a while.

"Oh no, it's just that I'm saddened seeing the woman I love, wasting her time waiting on a soulless, impassive, twofaced ripper," I answered.

If trying to bring him back to required me to play his game, I wouldn't hold back. I would lie through my teeth, never letting my stoic mask break. It's what I did. I couldn't let my baby bro, who became this because he tried to save my life, be this. It was just like… weird.

"Awwwhhh, how cuh-ute? Wanna borrow some of my waterproof Nike shirts? They'll be handy when you're on shoulder-to-cry on duty?"

Yikes. Nice comeback… not. He really needed some lessons from moi. He was hopeless, even if he wasn't really him, if that made sense. Whatever.

"Ha, funny," I remarked, helping myself to my much-needed rum.

I think he left, thinking that he had made a legit comeback. He was probably ecstatic… and thus, vulnerable. If I could do something to help Elena out and make his ungrateful ass feel something, I'd do it now. So I said:

"Elena will, sooner or later, be done crying over you."

He froze in his tracks and by the look on his face for that nanosecond, I knew it worked. He broke. Dang, was I DA BEST, or was I da best?

Huhhh, but he regained his controlled, careless ripper expression as quick as he lost it and grinned at me: "When that happens, brother, be sure to make most of the leftovers."

Well… he was my brother so I guess he was kinda good too.

I blinked and he was gone. Whatever.

Finishing my successful drink, I resorted to my wing a mere two minutes after Stefan. It was a night to do the ritual writing no. one. will. ever. know. about. unless. they. have. a. death. wish.

It wasn't only the cliché Elena and the sweet Stefan who kept a diary… journal… whatever. I did too. Being a vampire, memories were too important to be let lost in the sands of time. Words, thoughts, appearances had to be recorded.

So basically, I was merely being informative… not emotional or whatever as I settled down at my desk and wrote in my worn-brown-leather journal like most nights:

Dear Diary,

I love Elena, but I'm not in love with her, nor will I be. I respect her, especially because of the danger she is willing to put herself in for the sake of her loved ones. I will always protect her, not as an envious, available, mr-tall-dark-and-mysterious, but as a big brother. She led me to my own humanity, something that had faded over the centuries, and I'm indebted to her. And, even though I don't wanna admit it, to Stefan too. He saved my life, selling his own to the Devil and giving up 'Lena. I owe them both at least my most sincere efforts in reuniting them.

I guess I also want my B.A. rep back… it just doesn't suit Stefan. And I can't really be a one-woman man… it's so… boring.

Wow, I have softene—

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. My HTC Amaze 4G vibrated from across the room, interrupting my revelation.

I checked the Limited Edition Platinum Rolex on my wrist. What the hell? Who was up and texting me at two-freaking-forty-seven in the morning?

"This better be good," I growled aloud to myself as I walked over.

New Message from Gilbert, Elena flashed on the screen. I impatiently pressed it and the message finally pulled up:

Meet me at the Dunkin on the other side of town 715 am. Cant meet at the Grill. This is serious. Imam bring Stefan back.

I sighed. Ms. Elena was relentless.

I lazily texted "mmkay will b there" back and trudged back to my bed, removing my black Kenneth Cole button-up shirt and dropping it somewhere on the cold stone floor in the process.

Not bothering to finish the entry, I fell on my stomach on the California-king mattress. If I was to hunt AND meet Elena before 7:15 am, I would need my sleep.

The last thought I allowed to enter my mind before sleep consumed me was: guessing at the type of plan Elena would have crafted, the few weeks were undoubtedly going to be some entertaining ones.

A/N So whatdya think? I was proud of this... had some fun with it. u guys have thoughts on damon's thoughts and on stefan? I know there was a little less action, and didnt expand on the cliffie but it was neccessary. Next chapp will be a cute songfic so get ready! 3... chapter 4 will be when the ACTION gets wired up.. yeah ;)