When Kensie awoke the following morning she felt positively dreadful. Her entire body ached, her throat felt sore, her head throbbed, and despite having just slept over 12 hours straight, she was exhausted. Her first instinct was to burrow beneath the covers and go back to sleep, but Damon would surely come in at some point in time, huffing about her still being in bed.

She didn't know how she felt about being sick now that she was living with Damon. Back when her mom was still alive, the woman had doted on her whenever she was ill, knowing just how to make her feel better. Kensie considered herself fortunate that she hadn't been sick at all while living with the Smiths, as she was sure that would have been a nightmare. Damon had been decent to her so far – more than decent, if she admitted it – giving her a place to sleep, food to eat, the chance to go to school, and for all intents and purposes a stable home environment. Still, she couldn't imagine him being all warm and fuzzy just because she wasn't feeling well, and the thought left her feeling sad.

Slowly she managed to drag herself out of bed, especially after the increased pounding within her skull after she sat up. Normally she would have taken a shower first and gotten dressed before heading downstairs, but that morning she just didn't have it in her. Instead, she shuffled down to the living area, barefoot and wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of drawstring shorts in spite of the late autumn chill.

Damon lifted his gaze from his book, first glancing at the clock and then at Kensie. "Why aren't you dressed? Go eat breakfast quickly. You're going to be late and I'm not writing you a note."

Kensie tried to shake her head, but the movement hurt too much. "M'not hungry," she mumbled, tiredly rubbing her eyes.

The vampire sighed in annoyance. "Kensie, I'm not arguing with you about this. You need to eat breakfast."

She shuffled to the nearest chair and nearly collapsed on it. "Not hungry," she repeated.

Damon narrowed his eyes. In a flash, he was standing directly in front of her – a move that any other time would have made her jump at least a little. This time she didn't react. Damon noted her glassy eyes, raspy voice, and lethargy. Reaching out, he placed both hands on Kensie's cheeks. The warmth radiating from her skin surprised him.

"You have a fever," he announced.

"Probably why I feel like crap," muttered Kensie, though the response lacked her usual sarcasm, a detail that didn't go unnoticed by Damon.

"I want you back in bed right now."

Kensie didn't have the energy to shake her head. "Not moving."

Seconds later, Damon leaned down and lifted Kensie into his arms. Even through her clothes, he could feel his arms grow warm. What concerned him more, though, was that she didn't put up a fight. Any other time Kensie would protest his carrying her like a child but today she didn't say a word about it. It wasn't like her to be so complacent.

Damon wasted little time in carrying the child back up to her room. He laid her down, carefully pulling the covers from beneath her so he could properly tuck her in. "Does anything hurt?" he asked, his eyes searching for any other signs of illness.

"Everything."

He sat beside her on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath to maintain his patience. Becoming short with her wouldn't do any good, even if it was his first instinct. "Maybe you could be a little more specific?"

She swallowed some saliva, trying to provide some relief within her throat. "Everything hurts," she croaked, frowning at the friction.

"All right. Stay here; I'll be right back." He expected a sarcastic retort of some sort, but none came. His brow furrowed, Damon swept out of the room, heading straight for Zach's old bathroom. He knew he wouldn't find any medication there that hadn't already expired, though Jeremy might have some in his room. Damon wasn't giving Kensie anything, however, until he knew how high of a fever he was dealing with. Being dead, technically, he didn't think he could accurately discern just from the heat on her skin whether she had a low-grade temperature or something more serious. He suspected it was higher, given the girl's lethargy and glassy eyes, but he needed something more precise.

Damon found a digital thermometer in a drawer the bathroom, but was frustrated to discover that it wouldn't turn on. Whether it was because the thermometer was old or the battery had died, it left him without a way of gauging Evie's temperature. Huffing, he turned to leave when he noticed something shiny out of the corner of his eye. Turning back, Damon reached into the very back of the drawer to retrieve an old glass thermometer. He couldn't imagine anyone having used it in years, decades even, but even from his human years long before he remembered that such thermometers didn't typically stop working unless the glass broke. It would take longer than a digital thermometer to get a reading, but he figured it should work just fine.

One problem solved, Damon snatched a single Advil tablet from Jeremy's room and a glass of water from the kitchen before returning to Kensie's room. The girl was exactly where he'd left her, her eyes half-open as she seemingly stared at a blank space on the ceiling. She blinked, her eyes shifting to look at Damon as he set the water and pill on the nightstand.

Kensie rolled over somewhat and began to reach for the pill, but Damon's hand stilled her, gently moving her hand back toward the rest of her body. "Not yet," he told her, resuming his seat on the bed. "I want to know how high of a fever you have first."

As he held out the glass thermometer, he expected some sort of wisecrack from Kensie about how the thermometer was as old as he was. It was the kind of thing she would say, and while he'd of course roll his eyes or tell her she needed to have more respect for her elders, truth be told Damon liked Kensie's spunky personality. He knew no one was going to step all over this child and that she could handle just about anything that got thrown her way. It was a good quality to have, particularly when someone spent their time surrounded by all things supernatural.

To his complete and utter surprise, Kensie silently opened her mouth just enough for Damon to place the thermometer under her tongue. He waited for her to close her lips around the thermometer, then reached up and felt her forehead and cheeks once more with the back of his hand. He hadn't really expected a difference, but the motions felt right somehow.

Three minutes seemed much longer in Damon's mind as he waited. It bothered him that Kensie didn't move, aside from the gentle rise and fall of her chest and her eyes drooping a bit. When he realized the necessary time had passed, Damon wasted no time in retrieving the thermometer from Kensie's mouth and holding it in front of his face so he could read it.

One hundred two.

A slow movement caught his eye, and he glanced down to find Kensie reaching once more for the Advil. This time, he reached out to grasp the pill, placing it in Kensie's outstretched hand. As she deposited it in her mouth, Damon offered her the glass of water.

Kensie took a rather large gulp, holding out the glass for Damon to take afterwards. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Damn, kid," muttered Damon. "You're definitely sick. I should probably take you to the doctor."

For the first time that morning, he got a strong reaction from Kensie. Her voice cracked as she said, "No!" She meant for the word to be forceful, but it came out as more of a plea. The effort left Kensie with the need to cough, which sent a sharp pain coursing through her throat.

Tears pooled in her eyes. She slowly wiped them with the back of her hand.

Before he realized what he was doing, Damon reached over to brush the hair from her forehead. Good grief, he thought in dismay, he was going soft. "You aren't in danger of being taken away by child protective services any longer," Damon pointed out, keeping his musings to his self. "What's with the aversion to doctors?"

"Please, Damon…" she whispered, trying not to agitate her throat any further. "No doctors."

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He could see the question in Kensie's eyes, but instead of answering, he touched the screen a few times before bringing the phone to his ear.

Kensie could only hear Damon's side of the conversation, but her attention was focused solely on him.

"Dr. Fell? Damon Salvatore…"

So he was calling the doctor. Kensie wasn't sure what to make of that. She'd actually liked Dr. Fell, if she had to admit it, but the woman was still a doctor and Kensie tended to avoid doctors whenever possible. Still, she couldn't picture Damon dragging her all the way back to the hospital over a little fever. It couldn't be that bad, or she wouldn't still be coherent, right?

"Listen, Kensie's sick, and I wanted to get your medical opinion on the matter…" After a few seconds, Damon rolled his eyes. "I'm offended, Dr. Fell. Why do you assume this is a result of negligence on my part?" A few more seconds of silence passed, which only served to fuel Kensie's curiosity. "She has a fever, and she says everything hurts… One hundred two."

Ouch. So maybe it wasn't just a 'little' fever, but it still wasn't hospital-worthy.

"Hold on…" Setting the phone on the nightstand, Damon leaned toward Kensie. "Open your mouth and say 'ahh.'"

Kensie frowned in confusion. "Why?" she mumbled, her lips barely parting in the process.

"Because I said so, that's why."

She wanted to glare at him, but decided it would take too much effort. Instead, she opened her mouth just enough to give a half-hearted 'ahh' even though it hurt to do so. It was odd to have him peer into his mouth without a light or anything else, but she figured it must be a benefit of vampire vision.

Moments later, he resumed his phone conversation. "Red and swollen," he told the doctor. "There's a whitish substance, too… Got it… Thanks."

Kensie watched expectantly as Damon tucked away his cell phone.

"There's a walk-in clinic a half hour from Mystic Falls," he explained, "and we're going."

She shook her head half-heartedly. "Damon, no…"

"Dr. Fell thinks you might have strep throat. The only way they'll know for sure is to do a throat culture. If it is strep, you'll need antibiotics to clear it up. I know you don't want to the doctor, even if I have no idea why, but we're going, whether you like it or not. Go ahead and get dressed, and we'll get this over with."

Not at all interested in visiting any doctor, Kensie pulled the covers over her head. "No," she mumbled, low enough that only someone with supernatural senses could hear. She knew she'd end up annoying Damon, but there was no way she was going to agree to going to the doctor. For one thing, she had no interest in even leaving her bed, let alone the house. For another, well, she just didn't like doctors. Dr. Fell had been okay, but clearly Damon had no intention of taking her to the hospital to see the woman.

Undeterred, Damon removed the comforter so he could see Kensie's face. "I know you don't want to go, Kensie, but it isn't up for debate. If you want to wear a warmer pair of pajamas and your jacket to the clinic, I'm okay with that, but it's too cold outside for you to walk around in a t-shirt and shorts, especially considering you're sick."

"I'm not going," she managed, somewhat defiantly that time, before burrowing once more beneath the comforter.

Her behavior stirred mixed feelings in Damon. On one hand, he was relieved to see even a hint of the bold and sassy girl he'd come to care about. As sick as she was, she still had that fire in her, even if she didn't have the energy to really let him have it. On the other hand, he was quickly becoming frustrated by her refusal to cooperate. What a walking contradiction he was! He was half-tempted to reach out and smack her defiant rear, but another part of him thought it wouldn't be right, considering she wasn't feeling well.

Instead, he pulled back the covers completely. "Mackenzie Garrison, my patience is wearing thin," he said in a firm tone, trying to keep the exasperation to a minimum. "You are going to the doctor, end of discussion. I'm giving you five minutes and some privacy to put on something warmer. If you haven't done so by the time I come back up here, twelve or not I will dress you like a toddler." Point made, he stood and, true to his word, left to give Kensie some privacy.

Kensie had no intention of going to the doctor no matter what Damon said, but there was no way in hell she was letting him dress her like she was a baby. Even under the covers, she'd begun to feel chilled, so Kensie managed to drag herself from the bed long enough to switch into a pair of pajama pants and a thick sweatshirt. A pair of fuzzy socks went on her feet, and then she crawled back into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin as she resolved not to leave that bed for the next few hours, Damon or no Damon.

Nearly an hour later, Damon parked the car in front of a new but modest sized building. Glancing over at Kensie, he could tell she was fighting like hell not to cry, arms wrapped protectively around her torso, even though having to visit a doctor was apparently a big deal for her. He still couldn't figure out why. She hadn't been with the Smiths long, and after examining her records he'd found no indication that she'd received any medical treatment during that time. Her phobia regarding doctors had to stem from something before she'd been in foster care, but he couldn't figure out what. The twelve-year-old certainly hadn't been forthcoming.

Stepping out of the car, he walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for Kensie. As he'd expected, she made no move to exit the car on her own. Crouching down, Damon made eye contact with the girl, his gaze holding hers. "I told you the other day I won't let anyone hurt you," he reminded her in a low, calm voice. "Do you trust me to keep you safe?"

Thing was, amazing as it was to believe, Kensie did trust Damon. She didn't trust doctors, aside perhaps from Dr. Fell, but she knew Damon meant it when he said he wouldn't let anyone hurt her. Blinking back a stray tear that had escaped in spite of her determination not to cry in front of him, Kensie gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Returning to full height, Damon extended a hand to Kensie. He waited patiently for her to hesitantly unbuckle her seatbelt and place her hand in his. Pulling the girl to her feet, Damon did something that surprised both of them – he pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her almost protectively.

Kensie stood rigid for a moment before she allowed her body to relax. Her arms snaked around Damon's torso, holding on for dear life as she buried her face in his chest and willed herself not to cry. It was the first time he'd openly displayed such affection toward her, and while she wasn't sure what to make of it she couldn't bring herself to refuse it. She'd gone so long without affection from a parent or guardian, and she hadn't realized how much she'd been craving it until now.

"Come on," Damon said when he felt Kensie's grip loosen ever so slightly. He pulled back, but wrapped an arm around her shoulders to steer her toward the entrance.

Once inside, Kensie made a beeline for a chair against the far wall, slumping down at once, allowing her head to rest against the wall. She wasn't alone long when Damon took the seat beside her, a clipboard and pen in his hand.

"Would you like to play a game on my phone while we're waiting?" he asked, figuring she hadn't brought her own phone with her. Considering the number of people already waiting in the waiting room, Damon anticipated a lengthy wait before a doctor would be able to see Kensie. As it was, he had a hell of a lot of paperwork to complete before they even could see her. It was fortunate that he'd obtained a copy of her medical records in the adoption; it was even more fortunate that he'd taken the time to read through them, so he knew what to put down when answering questions about her family history.

Kensie didn't have the energy or the interest in trying to play a game, though, so she gave a single shake of her head. "No, thank you."

Damon made quick work of filling out the forms. It took him a few minutes simply to read through everything, but once he'd signed the last one he returned the clipboard to the receptionist and settled once more on the chair beside Kensie. Paperwork out of the way, he wrapped an arm behind Kensie, pulling her gently toward him until she laid her head on his shoulder. It was an unconscious act on both their parts, but Damon didn't regret it when he realized what he'd done, nor did he make any attempt to pull back.

They stayed that way for the better part of an hour, Damon occasionally rubbing Kensie's shoulder with his hand. He noted that she still felt very warm, though it wasn't to the degree it had been before. The medicine must be working, he decided. Looking down, he noticed Kensie's eyes growing heavy.

"Mackenzie Salvatore?"

Kensie's eyes flashed open as Damon's head snapped up to spot a nurse standing in the doorway leading to the examining rooms and offices. Giving Kensie's shoulder a gentle squeeze, Damon stood and turned to her, holding out a hand for her to take. "Come on."

"I don't want to," she tried, looking up at him with what she hoped was a rather pitiful expression.

He offered her a small smile, but didn't retract his hand. "I know."

Sighing, Kensie allowed Damon to help her to her feet. She followed him and the nurse through the door, where she was led to a scale to get her weight before heading for an empty examining room.

The nurse was friendly enough – a woman in her early sixties with a warm smile who tried to engage Kensie in conversation – but the preteen didn't give more than one or two word answers. Kensie waited patiently on the examining table as the nurse took her blood pressure, pulse, and temperature.

"The doctor will be in in a moment," the nurse said, giving Kensie one more smile before leaving guardian and child alone in the room.

Kensie, who still had on her coat, curled up on her side on the table. "I'm cold," she admitted in a small voice.

Damon gave a small nod. "It's the fever. As soon as the doctor is finished and we've picked up any medicine you need, we'll go straight home and you can go back to bed."

As if on cue, a knock preceded the opening of the door. A man in his early thirties stepped into the room, giving both occupants a smile. "I'm Dr. Hubbard. I hear you're not feeling well, Mackenzie?"

Normally Kensie would be quick to correct any adult, telling them to call her Kensie instead, but she didn't say anything to Dr. Hubbard.

"Does anything else hurt besides your throat?"

When Kensie continued to lay there in silence, Damon cleared his throat. "Kensie, you have to answer the doctor's questions. He isn't going to be able to help you if you don't."

Kensie wanted to remind Damon that she was there under duress and didn't care whether the doctor 'helped' or not, but she wisely chose to keep that thought to herself. Instead, she glanced up at the doctor briefly. "Everything," she told him, repeating her earlier answer to Damon.

"How long have you been feeling bad?"

Kensie shrugged her shoulders. "Since I woke up this morning."

"She fell asleep early last night," Damon added, figuring that detail might be important.

The doctor gave a nod. "I know you're tired, but I need you to sit up for a moment so I can quickly check you."

It took a moment, but Kensie managed to push herself up to a sitting position. She'd just adjusted to the change when Dr. Hubbard put his hands, which felt like ice to Kensie, on her neck, pressing gently. Kensie flinched and tried to pull back. "Ow."

He checked her eyes, ears, and nose before asking the classic, "Say ahhh." Kensie did so as gently as she could, a false sense of relief washing over her when the doctor pulled back and she was able to close her mouth.

"You have a double ear infection and what looks like strep," Dr. Hubbard explained. "We'll need to do a throat culture to make sure." He retrieved a long swab, encased in a plastic tube, from a drawer. "I'll rub this swab inside your throat for a second to get a sample of any bacteria present. It will be a little uncomfortable, but it will only take a moment and then you'll be done."

She wanted to say no, she really did. The response was on the tip of her tongue, ready to be let loose. However, even more than that, she wanted to be done with the doctor and back in her own bed. Arguing and being difficult would only prolong the inevitable, and at least he wasn't sticking a needle in her. Squeezing her eyes closed, Kensie opened her mouth as much as she dared.

The swab made her gag, and she felt close to throwing up whatever might be in her stomach when the awful sensation suddenly stopped. Opening her eyes, she saw Dr. Hubbard place the swab back in the tube and seal it. He smiled at her. "All done. We'll test this to make sure, but I'm going to go ahead and give your cousin a prescription for an antibiotic that should clear up both your ears and your throat." He turned to Damon. "If she's not feeling significantly better in 48 hours, bring her back."

Damon nodded in understanding. "Thank you, doctor."

It didn't take long for them to make it back out to the car. Once both parties were buckled in and the engine was warming up, Damon turned to Kensie with an expression she hadn't seen before.

"I know that sucked," he sympathized, "but we'll swing by the pharmacy to get your prescription and then we'll head home. You did a good job in there, kiddo. I'm proud of you."

She hadn't thought four little words could make her feel so good inside, but Kensie felt her chest grow warmer at Damon's announcement. "Thanks," she said, putting as much meaning into that one word as she could.

AN: Thank you to the anonymous person who provided some much needed inspiration!

For those of you who love reading about sassy Kensie and bossy Damon, never fear - they'll return soon in full force!