The response to this story has been amazing. I am so glad that you guys are enjoying it. This chapter is going to focus on Damon/Stefan, because I am obsessed with writing Stefan's perspective on Damon/Elena. He always seems to understand so much more about them than he is telling. Pretty much every story I write has at least one chapter with Stefan giving advice to Damon. If it seems out of character for Stefan, just remember that Stefan is at his heart a noble character who does want to do the right thing. I feel like at some point that will lead him to do the right thing for his brother and step aside so Damon and Elena can be happy. At least one can only hope.

Damon's POV

My frustration and rage bubbles up until it erupts like a volcano. I toss my tumbler into the fire place, overturn furniture, and break a chair on the ground. Once I have satisfied my need for destruction, I survey the damage that was once our living room. My destructive redecorating is interrupted by my brother's voice echoing through the silence. "Rough night," Stefan asks with a questioning inflection in his tone? He inquires with a slight hint of caution and concern in his voice. Stefan knows better than anyone the havoc that I can wreak when I am upset. He clearly does not wish to incur my wrath, so he approaches me carefully, never getting too close.

I have had enough heart to hearts for one night, and I am certainly not going to engage in one with the cause of all my problems. It occurs to me how profoundly selfish it is of me to blame him for my issues with Elena. Stefan didn't ask for everyone to love him more. They just always did. After a while, I accepted it as fact. Stefan was special. Stefan could do no wrong, and I was the black sheep, destined to walk this Earth despised by all. I just never thought I would be despised by her, again. Elena was supposed to be the one person who saw me better than anyone, and if she felt that I disappointed her, then I really must be a heartless bastard. I of course don't tell Stefan any of this. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was right about my humanity starting to show, so I come up with a witty retort that will hopefully make him leave me in peace. "No, I just thought tonight would be a nice time to reconsider our interior design choices. I call this tornado chic. Tell me brother what do you think," I darkly quip? Stefan lets out a humorless laugh as he continues to play our little game, probably hoping that I will open up about my secret pain, not likely.

"Might be a tad uncomfortable for guests who want to sit if all the chairs are broken and the couches are overturned," Stefan advises with a respectable hint of humor in his voice.

Our back and forth continues effortlessly. Sarcastic quips are our primary mode of communication, why mess with a good thing? "I never was one to encourage visitors, two birds one stone brother," I jokingly add.

The fun part of our evening seems to be at an end, because Stefan chooses this moment to address the elephant in the room. "Ah, I see, so this has nothing to do with the crying girl in our driveway?" Great, I think to myself. Here I was hoping that Elena had made her hasty exit before Stefan arrived.

I let out a frustrated sigh of exasperation, and the emotions that I was attempting to conceal flow freely. "God, she's still here? She can't even abide by one simple request. Vacate the premises. How difficult is that? I swear she is the most stubborn, bone headed, infuriating person that I have ever met . . ."

"But you love her anyway," Stefan finishes for me.

He's right of course. Despite all the arguments and the pain she has caused me, I still can't imagine a world without her. My voice must sound laughably irritated as it raises several octaves. "A fact that I assure you I find really, really annoying," I admit. Stefan nods his head in agreement as if he understands, which I suppose he truly does. He doesn't appear angry or hurt by the truth. Ever since he came back, we have been more open with each other. It seems pointless to try to lie to him. He sees right through me regardless of my evasions and half-truths. Oddly enough, we seem to bond over our shared love of the same woman. Who else in the world could understand? Some days I swear I almost think he wants to help me. The irony that he wants to help repair my relationship with Elena is not lost on me.

"Well if it makes you feel any better technically she did leave, though I suppose you meant leave the property and not just the confines of this house. From the looks of it, she was plenty upset and in no condition to be driving."

And the guilt trip arrives just on schedule, I realize crossly. Just when I think that we are having a moment, Stefan has to get all high and mighty on me, surely thinking that I have done something terrible to upset her. "I'm sure after a few comforting word s from her white knight she was perfectly content again. You two probably bonded over what an ass you think I am. It must have been a nice moment for you. Are you two finally back together, or are you still doing the tortured star crossed lovers' thing? Because you can both stop, it is draining watching all of your moping and your pining."

Stefan just releases a heavy sigh and asks dejectedly, "Surely after all that has happened you cannot truly believe that Elena and I could ever be together again?"

"On the contrary brother, I am quite certain of that fact. Elena has assured me several times that it will always be you. These past several weeks have taught me that I was a fool not to have listened more intently." I loathe the sound of bitterness in my voice. I'm not even sure who I'm blaming anymore. Maybe I'm just blaming the universe for not being fair.

My self-pity is rapidly replaced with shock at Stefan's next question. "Then why is she crying over you and not me tonight?" I stand frozen in place contemplating a response, when Stefan interrupts the silence to convince me further. "You weren't there today when she found out you were taken. Her heart broke for you, and that means something whether you are willing to admit it or not. She just kept repeating I can't lose him; I can't lose him, over and over again like the mere words would keep you alive until she got to you." Stefan's account is a relief to my ears, because there is a part of me that questions whether she would even miss me if I was gone.

Stefan's is clearly weighting his next words carefully, and I start to wonder if he will say nothing at all until the words come out. "Elena loves me and I love her. That is a fact that can't be questioned or undone, but her loving me does not and will never diminish how much she loves you. Because she does, no matter you say, no matter what she says. I know in my heart that she does," Stefan urges me to believe his words. I wish I shared his faith. There was a time when I might have believed him, but that time had come and gone. It was a dream, an illusion, and I needed to return to reality.

I utter the words, "you're wrong," for the second time that evening. This time with far less conviction in my voice, because there is still a small, hopeful part of me that almost dares to believe.

He doesn't press me. He doesn't argue. He only offers a non-committal response. "Maybe," he replies unconvinced. "There is only one way to know for sure," Stefan claims. My ears perk up as he speaks, because my curiosity is getting the best of me. "Go find her," Stefan challenges. "Tell her everything. Tell her how she hurt you. Tell her what you feel. Take one last shot and hold nothing back. Once you do, look into her eyes. Take a good hard look and if you can't see what I have seen for months now, than you are blind, because it's there. Just look her in the eyes and it is right there," Stefan claims emphatically. Stefan offers an uncharacteristic comforting pat on my back before he exits the room, and I can hear the words, "good luck brother," leave his lips in a whisper.

I sit on the floor in the rubble while I contemplate my options. Opening my heart again just to get it stomped on is not a particularly appealing choice, but I can't help wondering if there was some truth in Stefan's words. Elena could have told me that she would never feel anything for me months ago. It would have been a kindness. It might have finally freed me. She had to know that keeping me so close was giving me hope. All our late night talks when she allowed me to touch her face and hold it between my palms. She never once pulled away, never once told me to stop. The only possible explanations for her actions are exceeding cruelty or love. Before the night is over, I am determined to discover which it is. Either she loves me, or she's not the person I thought she was. No matter what, the truth might set me free.

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