A/N - I think I've managed to catch up with the review replies but if you haven't got one, I apologise! Let me know and I shall make sure I respond personally :) So quite a few of you messaged about the idea for the new story which I'll post as soon as this one is finished (next month I reckon). Meanwhile, if you think of any Nian moments you want me to include, just let me know.

This chapter is a lot longer than some of the others, but I'm thinking you're not going to mind ;) Enjoy. Oh - and review ;) xxx

Chapter 11

She could easily not have answered the call. But ignore it or not, Elena knew she wouldn't have slept that night regardless, and so flicked on the bedside lamp, bathing Caroline's spare room in a warm glow.

"Hello?"

"Elena please don't hang up." He sounded gravelly. Like he might have been crying. "I just want to talk to you."

She said nothing. Couldn't find the words even if she'd wanted to.

"I miss you. I'm so sorry."

She sighed into the phone, adjusting her position in bed so that the pillows were propping her up in a seated position.

"Can I see you? You're at Caroline's right? If I come over-"

"-Don't!" The response came out of panic. Of course, in the back of her mind, she'd known he'd figure she was staying with the blonde - after all, she was the one who went to collect Elena's things. But hearing him say it out loud made her stomach lurch. "Don't come here."

"Elena."

"Please Stefan." She hadn't realised a tear had escaped her eye until it landed on her camisole. "Please give me some time."

It was his turn to sigh. "I love you, you know?"

"I know," she whispered.

"When you're ready then." He said softly. "It was good to hear your voice."

"Bye, Stefan."

"I love you."

She ended the call with a shaking hand and placed her phone back on the bedside table. Glancing at the time - 11:27pm - Elena turned off the lamp and lay still for a while as the darkness seemed to choke her. Without warning, the memory of Damon telling her he was proud of her flashed through her mind and she found the pressing weight on her chest ease a little. Taking the opportunity granted by the slight calm she now felt, she adjusted the pillows again so that she was lying on her back before closing her eyes.

X

Elena woke to the sound of crashing bottles and heavy footsteps. Bile rose in her throat and she reached for the lamp just as she heard Caroline's voice shouting,

"Stefan! You can't go in there!"

Instead of jumping up like she should have - like anyone who would fight in this situation should have - Elena stayed anchored to the bed, gripping the comforter in both hands as though it would form some sort of protective shield. The door to the spare room flew open and she saw Stefan with a desperate Caroline trying to pull him back.

"Stefan no!"

"Get off me!" he shouted, shoving the blonde away easily. Elena could feel the sweat slick on her back and chest, her head and ears burning with what she knew in that moment was blind panic. "Elena, you're coming with me," he announced, grabbing at her arm to yank her out of bed.

She winced in pain, trying to claw at his hand with her nails. One by one, she attempted to prise each of his fingers off her but his grip only tightened, forcing a cry to escape her lips which tasted salty. Tears.

"Elena! Elena!" This time, the voice didn't come from Stefan. But it was still panicked. Was it her own? "ELENA!"

She gasped as her eyes flew open and instead of finding Stefan towering above her, Caroline was there, and it was her arms holding Elena's, not in a vice grip, but softly, shaking her. She glanced around the room quickly, scanning it for any trace of him, but all she could see was the cell on the table and Caroline's wide, frightened eyes appraising her.

"Has he gone?" Her voice was a tiny, cracked whisper.

"Sweetie, you were dreaming. Nobody was here. Just me."

"But...Stefan…" she felt her arms, wincing as she touched them where she'd felt him grab her. And then she saw the blood on the underside of her nails. There were claw marks. Her claw marks. Relief at him not having been inside the apartment, yet sheer terror at the vividness of her nightmare overwhelmed Elena, and she broke into sobs, curling her marked arms around her knees, drawing them towards her chest. She wanted her mom. And she couldn't have her. She felt the bed dip and Caroline enveloped her in a hug, pulling her close as she shushed and rocked and stroked her hair.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Caroline asked after a few minutes. "I could make us some tea?"

She just shook her head. Talking about it was the last thing she wanted to do.

"I'll make us some tea anyway," Caroline offered softly. "I could use a chat."

"Did I wake you?" Elena asked quietly as the blonde rose from the bed. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't wake me." It seemed an honest answer. "I had a dream of my own. Think I might need your advice."

The brunette's lips curved into a tiny smile and she just nodded.

"I'll make us that tea. Leave me some room in there," she gestured to the bed. "It might take a while."

By the time Caroline returned from the kitchen carrying two mugs of lemon green tea, Elena had calmed her breathing enough to adjust the covers into neat folds and turn off the harshness of the ceiling light in favour of the bedside lamp's soft glow. She checked her phone: 2:03. She'd managed pretty much two and a half hours sleep. Also, she wondered, how had Caroline managed any?

"You couldn't have been asleep long," Elena said as she was handed a mug. "If your own dream woke you."

Caroline glanced at the kitchen clock through the open door. "Huh, guess not. But my dream freaked me out... and...well...I think I might have feelings for Klaus."

The small smile from earlier grew across Elena's face. "Tell me more."

"Look, I know he can be a complete ass but Elena," the brunette couldn't help but shake her head at Caroline's exaggerated use of her name, "he can be so sweet. And that accent. Jeez, I have fantasies about that accent!"

"Care!"

"I'm sorry! I guess that's why I woke up. My dream freaked me out! But it also turned me on."

The giggle that jumped out of her lips surprised Elena. It sounded foreign after the past couple of hours. Sounded...like it did during her time spent with Damon. "Don't tell me it was an...intimate dream."

"Intimate? Elena, you're not a nun." She covered her eyes dramatically. "I had a sex dream about Klaus Mikaelson and I liked it."

"Caroline!"

"What does this mean?! I mean, I thought I liked Tyler but then he decided he liked someone else and I thought I hated Klaus but then he went all protective over you at your apartment and then-"

"- What?"

"Sorry." Her voice was not longer animated. "I didn't mean to bring that up."

Elena took a sip of her tea and waited for her friend to continue.

"He was the one who suggested we get your things from your apartment. Then when we got there, obviously Stefan was home and Klaus did pretty much what Klaus always does: made his point rather succinctly. In a British accent."

This was why Elena loved her best friend. She could make her feel so much better so quickly without any of the sympathy most people would reserve for such a time. It made her feel less...broken.

"You wanna ask me what Stefan said, right?"

Elena just nodded.

"Not much really. After he yelled at us to get the hell out, and Klaus...well, Klaus made his point, there wasn't much left for him to say. He'd been drinking and by the looks of the apartment, not doing much else."

"What point did Klaus make?"

"Elena…"

"Care,"

The blonde sighed and took a sip of her tea. "That he can easily file the report he has on your injuries; that the apartment isn't in your name, and therefore the only person legally responsible for the rent is him -"

"- How does he know that?" Elena cut in.

"It's obvious isn't it? If your name had been on the lease, he wouldn't have even thought about paying the rent without you."

"And Klaus just figured all this out?"

"The British are smart Elena."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "You know I wouldn't just leave him to pay for everything don't you? I'm not a golddigger. "

"Please, Elena," It was Caroline's turn to roll her eyes. "Everybody knows how good you are. Now," she clapped her hands. "After my...dream… I don't feel like sleeping would be a great idea, and I'm guessing the same goes for you, so how about you tell me what you got up to with Damon today?"

Elena recounted her day from start to finish, complete with details about food and even the bathroom patch-up job she completed.

"Just in case you wonder what happened to most of the vodka."

"Funny," Caroline mused. "Damon doesn't strike me as a vodka man."

"He isn't. Bourbon is his drink of choice apparently, but we didn't have any."

"Then we should get some," she replied, "He's obviously good for you, and if he's going to be coming around more..."

"Care, we're friends."

"Exactly. And friends make sure other friends have something they like to drink."

Elena couldn't argue her friend's logic and made a mental note to buy some bourbon when she next passed a liquor store.

They finished their tea and at some point, must have fallen to sleep as Elena was woken by her alarm to find Caroline with an arm bent across her chest laying on top of the comforter. She couldn't help but feel guilty that her friend had spent most of the night before a long shift making her feel better. They were both going to be pretty exhausted by the time work was over.

X

Despite her tiredness, Elena's first day back at work went rather successfully. She was able to help discharge three patients and for the first time in a long while, their department wasn't over run. She'd caught up with Caroline in the supply cupboard and discovered that Klaus was "coming round after work." With a smirk, Elena had asked what that meant.

"I'm not sure," Caroline had replied, "But if you hear me asking him to say medical terms in a suggestive manner, maybe you should stay in your room."

When she'd looked at her friend quizzically, Caroline had simply shrugged. "That's what happened in my dream last night."

And it was that which had confirmed Elena's plans for the evening: she'd check Damon's dressing at his apartment, not Caroline's.

Elena tried not to feel too intimidated by the impressive building which housed Damon's apartmentment; she'd known he was clearly successful - and money wasn't an issue - but perhaps she hadn't quite realised the extent of his wealth. She made a mental note, while clutching the pad thai and tom yung goong she'd bought from what she considered to be Manhattan's best Thai takeaway, to ask him more about his life. It had only just occurred to her that he was still somewhat of a mystery and besides sharing with her his past with Katherine, Elena didn't know anywhere near enough. She'd been waiting nearly a whole minute after ringing the buzzer without an answer and was ready to turn back towards the subway station when the speaker crackled and Damon's gruff voice spoke,

"Elena?"

"Hey," she smiled softly. "I came to -"

She was cut off by the sound of the buzzer signalling the open front door, followed by his, "Come in."

He met her in the hallway in a tight grey t-shirt and black jeans with wet hair signalling the fact he'd just got out of the shower.

"Hey." His smile was wide as he placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards his door.

"I just came to make sure your dressing was okay."

"And here I was thinking you're here because you wanted to spend time with me." His voice was sarcastic but light as he entered a code on the keypad outside of his door before placing his thumb against a screen. "Secure entry," he told her, nodding towards the piece of technology on the wall. "Nobody's going to get in here if we don't want them to."

A strange feeling of calm settled over her after Damon closed the door behind them, perhaps, she supposed, granted by how safe she felt all of a sudden.

"I brought some food," she remembered, only after the takeout bag brushed against her leg. "Thai."

"Actually, I was just about to serve the fettucini alfredo I left cooking while I was in the shower. But Thai sounds great."

"So does pasta," Elena replied.

"Then we can have half and half. If I remember correctly, you find it difficult to choose just one option anyway."

"Hey!" She replied indignantly. "If I remember correctly, you told me to have whatever I wanted. If you're going to hold it against me, I'm not going to listen to you anymore."

"You wouldn't be the first," he drawled with a raised eyebrow, making his way towards the cupboard for a wine glass each. "Sancerre okay?"

She had no idea, but if Damon was offering it, she assumed it would fit their meal perfectly. "Sure. But first, I want to check that dressing."

"Do you ever stop working?"

"Yes. I'm here as a friend, not your doctor."

"Friend," Damon repeated softly, as if testing how the word sounded. Elena wasn't sure she liked it.

She pushed that feeling aside and asked, "Where's your bathroom?"

"Just down the hall," he nodded in the direction he was speaking of. "First door on the left. Should I bring bourbon?"

"It depends how careful you've been since last night."

She watched a small, knowing smirk creep across his lips. "I'll bring the bourbon."

They settled into the same position as they had the previous night: Damon perched upon the counter top with Elena standing between his legs. He removed his shirt without being asked this time as she pulled on the gloves she'd brought with her.

"Take a swig," she announced, wincing internally as she noticed the wound had wept during the heat of the day - not helped by the shower he'd just taken; she could smell his musky bodywash and as delicious as it was, it would do nothing to help heal his wound - and would make pulling off the tape a painful job. Sure enough, even though she took care to be as delicate as she could, Elena heard Damon suck in a breath, then cough as the amber liquid obviously burned his throat.

"Sorry," she said softly, offering him a small smile. With a clenched fist, she noticed, he returned it before taking another large gulp. "Worst part is almost over."

Finally, she'd managed to remove all of the tape and placed it in the bin beneath them. Taking the cotton wool from beside him where she'd left it, Elena ran the warm water so that she could wipe away the fluid easily and with as little pain as possible. She felt her own skin burn as Damon's eyes watched her every move and almost wished for a sarcastic comment. None came.

"Almost done," she announced, as much for herself as him because the silence that had settled upon them was starting to overwhelm her. "Can you pass me that clean towel?"

Her fingers overlapped his as she took the towel from him and a lump formed in her throat at the feel of his touch before she pressed ever-so-lightly around the edges of his wound. With a small sense of satisfaction, she realised that it had been a good few minutes since Damon had taken a gulp from the bottle, and so figured that she'd managed to be as delicate as she'd intended.

"Final part," she told him, putting the towel down to pick up the dressing pad.

"Want me to hold?"

"Of course."

When he was taped up with his shirt back on, Elena offered her hand to help him down carefully from his position on top of the counter.

"Now can we eat?" he asked with exaggerated pronunciation. "I'm starving."

"Me too," Elena replied. "I'll wash up and be right with you."

X

Damn, Damon could cook. His spaghetti and meatballs had been good, but the fettuccine was incredible. Seeing the smirk play knowingly on his lips as she told him this, Elena almost wished she'd kept quiet. But under that smirk, there seemed to be a hint of genuine pride, and so she continued to twirl the ribbons of pasta around her fork, favoured over the prawn soup she'd brought.

After she finished her final mouthful, Elena brought the glass to her lips and drained the remainder of her wine. It was at that point that she really took in her surroundings. Damon's apartment was on the top floor of a seventeen storey building, meaning he was sure to have the most amazing views of Manhattan. She could see the city's lights dancing and twinkling in the distance, framed perfectly by the coffee-coloured drapes at either side of the wall-length window.

"Can I look at the view?" she asked him, setting her glass down on the kitchen island.

"Of course," he replied, jumping up to help her off her bar stool. With a hand at the small of her back and his lips tinglingly close to her ear, he asked, "would you like a top-up?"

On the one hand, she desperately wanted to stay and enjoy another glass with him, just feeling safe, but on the other, she knew it would be more sensible to enjoy the view and head home, no doubt to Caroline and Klaus finding some worrying alternative for medical supplies. As if sensing her internal struggle, Damon continued, "I'll make sure you get home safely."

Elena couldn't help but turn to smile at him, feeling disappointed when he removed his hand from her shirt. "I'd love another glass."

She made her way over to the window, enthralled by the various lights gliding across the streets below. After not knowing where to focus her gaze for a few moments, she found the iconic bubbles of light along Brooklyn Bridge. It was enough to make her fall in love with the city all over again - though in a different way than before. When she'd first arrived, she'd been blown away by the sheer volume: traffic, noise, people, colours. She'd never really seen the city's beauty. But now, she understood the obsession some people had with the place; it was captivating.

"I never tire of this view," Damon told her, curling his right arm around her from behind so that he could extend the wine glass towards her right hand. "It's why I faced the couch towards the window, not the fireplace."

Perhaps it was the wine, Elena wasn't sure. But sensing Damon's presence so close, knowing that the security of his apartment was so incredibly tight and after her dream that previous night, she suddenly felt relaxed. More relaxed even, that she'd felt during their tourist day yesterday. And she wanted to lean against him, have him prop her up with that delicious musky scent enveloping her, because actually, what was she doing here? What was she doing in general? She had no idea.

"You wanna tell me what's going on in that beautiful little head of yours?" he asked.

"I…" she risked a peek up at his face which looked so genuinely calm and content that her words became trapped in her throat. And then he stroked his fingertips through the ends of her hair, catching them lightly down her back and she felt her eyes shut at the feeling.

"You okay?"

"Mmm hhhh," she managed to answer, feeling her whole body suddenly grow tired and heavy. While stifling a yawn, she told him, "I realised earlier that I don't know much about you. You're still a mystery to me."

"Come on," he took her hand softly in his and tugged her gently towards the couch. "What do you want to know?"

They started off with his family. Elena discovered that he grew up in a small town in Virginia - strikingly close to where she grew up - was an only child, and that while his mother had loved him unconditionally, his father had been somewhat of a hard taskmaster whom he'd struggled to please, despite his obvious success.

"The success in the business side of things came after," he told her.

"After what?"

"They died."

"Damon," she stuttered, completely horrified with herself that it had taken until that night to discover something so defining about him. "I'm so sorry. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was a while ago. Besides, you've had your fair share of stuff to deal with. You didn't need mine as well."

In an accident strikingly similar to the one her own parents were killed in, Damon had lost Lily and Guiseppe Salvatore when he was only sixteen. From that point, with his large inheritance, he moved out of the family home in Mystic Falls to New York and began his publishing company which specialised in Italian to English translations.

His cooking skills had been born out of a combination of watching the family's cook make traditional Italian meals, and basically having to figure out how to cook or starve. Or eat mac and cheese from a box. It was at the comment that Elena had laughed, but still insisted that the mac and cheese she made (Kraft, no less) would rival that of any gourmet chef.

She had sent Caroline a quick text to let her know that she was safe and that Damon would bring her home later. It was as much to prevent any worrying than it was to let her best friend know she had a good few hours to do whatever it was she wanted to with their supervisor. Technically, Elena wasn't sure whether their relationship (or whatever it was) was strictly legal, but she wasn't going to burst Caroline's happy bubble where, apparently, saying the names of various medical terms could become foreplay.

She and Damon had long since finished their wine and were still sitting on the couch, now in a comfortable silence as they watched the city below. Elena could feel her eyelids growing heavier but made no attempt to try and wake herself up. She was almost too comfortable - if that was possible - resting on the cream couch with her legs tucked up under her and her head resting slightly against Damon's shoulder. At what point it had begun, Elena wasn't sure, but his hand which had been on the small of her back was now tracing circles on her left arm. She shifted ever-so-slightly so that her head nestled a little further in the space between Damon's shoulder, chest and neck and she thought she felt his lips press the softest of kisses against her hair, right before the heaviness of her eyelids won out and the dancing lights of the city faded to black.

X

"Stefan, please don't!" Elena whimpered, shielding her face with her hands.

"You left me. Called the police. Now you're going to regret it."

Stefan rocked back on his heels, swaying under the influence of at least a half dozen beers. Elena felt hot, wet tears stream down her face, clouding her vision. Her heart felt as though it would burst through her chest and yet instead of the pain she expected to feel, a sharp cry, almost roar-like filled her ears.

"Stefan?"

He didn't answer. His face faded into a still blackness and then her eyes opened, realisation dawning that she was, in fact, safe, and that Stefan's presence had been another nightmare. Her face was wet with tears and as Elena looked around, she realised she was lying on Damon's couch, a soft grey blanket balled beneath her fists. Alone.

"Damon?"

She sat up, scanning the spacious room for him, yet he wasn't there. All of a sudden, the noise she'd heard in her dream cut through the apartment and she gasped as it made her jump. The light from the standing lamp gave off enough of a glow for her to make her way to the kitchen where she spotted the knife block and a few pretty full bottles of liquor. Any would do as a makeshift weapon, she conceded, and she reached for a knife. The noise sounded again, a little fainter this time, and it was as her fingers curled around the handle that Elena realised she'd heard that noise before - in the hospital. It was Damon.

Following the pained sound, she made her way to a door across from the kitchen area. It was open only a fraction, but enough for Elena to assume it was his bedroom. Sure enough, as she pushed the door open, she found Damon asleep, drenched with sweat, his grey t-shirt showing a darker patch where Elena knew his wound was. So that explained the reason it wasn't healing properly.

"Damon," she called softly, not wanting to scare him. "Damon!"

His didn't rouse though, and she took a few tentative steps towards the side of the bed, crouching down so that her face was level with his. She shook him lightly on his arm, calling his name louder than before, "Damon!"

He woke with such a start that Elena fell backwards, gasping in shock as recognition dawned upon him.

"Elena, I'm so sorry!" he threw back the sheets, standing to help her up. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied. "Just...I heard you in here. Sounded like a pretty bad nightmare."

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry - that's why I left you sleeping. You seemed so at peace and I didn't want to disturb you."

"You didn't wake me." She offered a reassuring smile. "You messed up your dressing though."

Damon looked down at his shirt and noted the evidence of his restlessness. "Sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Elena told him truthfully. She let her hand rest on his arm - a repayment for all of the times he'd soothed her. "But we should get that changed."

X

It was a quicker job than earlier, one they did in a calm silence with the unspoken agreement that he'd hold the dressing while she taped it down - as always.

"It's pretty late," Damon said. "You want me to take you home? Back to Caroline's I mean."

"No."

Elena's eyes widened at her own admission. A startling realisation had dawned on her while she'd been redressing Damon's shot wound for the second time that evening: she slept well when someone was next to her. First it had been Caroline and now Damon. And if her own experience was anything to go by, Damon might be the same. She wanted to try and help him. "If you don't mind," she continued. "Can I stay here?"

She couldn't help the yawn that escaped her mouth, and right on cue, her eyelids became heavy again.

"I'll make up the spare room. There's some blankets around -"

"- No, Damon," she said in an almost-whisper. "Can I….I'd rather not sleep in a room on my own." He looked a little startled. "If that's okay?"

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear in a gesture so careful that it made Elena's eyes prick with tears. "Of course it's okay. Come on." His hand went to the small of her back yet again as he guided her back towards the open door of his bedroom, shutting the light off on the way. "Do you want to change? I have some sweats and t-shirts if you'd like."

She looked down at her jeans and the shirt she was wearing. "Thanks."

Damon left the room so that she could undress in private and knocked lightly after a few minutes. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," she replied sleepily. She'd have to fight harder to keep her eyes open in order to keep watch over him.

"You're exhausted," he observed, drawing the sheets back so that Elena could slide straight in. "If I didn't wake you, what were you doing up?"

"I uh...had a dream of my own."

"I'm sorry," he said softly, lying down with a comfortable sigh. "Want to talk about it?"

She shook her head and Damon reached for her hand, smoothing the skin with his thumb. It felt good. Elena felt the rise and fall of her chest fall in line with his, and the way his hand was tracing circles on her skin was lulling her to sleep faster than she wanted. Forcing her eyes open, she noticed he'd moved closer so that his leg was brushing hers and her hair was splayed across the pillow his head was resting on.

"Stop fighting it," he whispered against the side of her head. "You need to sleep."

"I don't -"

" - I'm here," he cut in. "And you're safe."

His hand moved from her arm to her hair, drawing it out from behind her into one long section with his hand so that he could comb his fingers through its silky strands. Elena couldn't help it any longer; of their own accord, her eyes closed, leaving nothing but the smell of musk and the feel of Damon's hands in her hair.