"You're supposed to take it easy. Mr. St. John!"

Cheryl placed her hands against her hips, hoping against hope that her reproachful look would leave an impression on the young man, but of course it was not to be.

"Missed you, too, Cheryl," he rasped, and she almost blushed at the smile he cast her way. These boys...

She had been a nurse for a long time, had seen her fair share of awfulness. Of heartache and heartbreak. She had even had more stubborn patients, believe it or not. But something about Lorenzo and his friend Damon got to her more than usual.

Maybe she was just getting old. It wasn't long now until she would retire and she had noticed that she was more prone to take stuff home with her these days. Emotional baggage. She found herself thinking about some of her patients for days, and they would sometimes revisit her in her dreams.

Like Lorenzo here. With his sad eyes and fake if handsome smirk, or Damon, who pretended to be all cocky, all flirty, a player. But when she would check on him at night, he couldn't sleep and tossed and turned, aggravating his injuries, until she gave him a sleeping pill or sat with him for a few extra minutes.

When they had been rooming in together, her work had been a tiny bit easier in a way, yet also more annoying. These boys simply didn't listen to any orders, any advice.

Now Lorenzo had left against medical advice, barely able to use those poor feet properly again, not to mention the arm, and darkness had returned into Damon's nights. She felt awful for both of them, awful too that they didn't seem to be able to communicate properly with each other about their needs and fears.

She made a face as the handsome Brit passed her by now with that innocent smile.

"You here for your friend Damon?" She asked him, then said. "You wouldn't have to visit if you had stayed a little longer - like Doctor Lu told you to."

He raised an eyebrow briefly, smile still in place. She could tell that he was about to say something, something snarky or "funny" (yes, definitely with quotation marks). But he stopped himself and settled on silence instead, then, with an off handed wave, went straight to his friend's door.

It was jarring sometimes, to see how hard these kids worked on appearing like nothing had fazed them. When it was so damn obvious to her how broken they all were. The girls, too. The pretty one that always came to see Damon, but pretended they weren't all that close. And the distant blonde that struck her as the most furtively suffering of the two.

Because that was another thing Cheryl had gotten good at over the years. Noticing people's different kinds of pain.

Damon Salvatore who tackled his pain like something that could be shoved down, put aside, could be pretended away with cockiness and banter, until it came back to haunt him.

Bonnie Bennett, who forced herself to be strong, to face her pain, but was threatening to break under the strain of wanting to do it on her own, while always putting everyone else first.

Rebekah Mikaelson, who was suffering in silence, watching her friends out of big pain filled eyes, unable to communicate how she really felt.

And Lorenzo St. John, who carried the pain like a cloak or a shadow that was part of him yet that he denied, using his physical pain to shield himself against the real one.

The problem was, they all weren't listening to her, and why would they? She was just an old nurse to them, and probably not a very beloved one either (despite Damon's flirty reassurances. She could see right through him…)

So, with a sigh, Cheryl went back to work, making a mental note to make sure she checked on Damon later. He was always especially agitated after a visit from his friend, because lately, it meant that the lawyer would be there, too…

It was time the poor kid got discharged, too. Got back to the comfort of his own home.


Damon was trying to listen to Elijah talk, but concentrating was somehow insanely difficult.

Enzo had arrived an hour earlier, the Mikaelson ten minutes later, and all Damon really processed was how he and his friend were probably going to have to face an actual murder trial instead of a wrongful death lawsuit.

The problem was, Casey had pleaded for his life, multiple times. For some reason, though, Elijah seemed to think this was good. Apparently the burden of proof was much higher for the murder trial, and even despite the fact that there was a video showing what they had done, what he had done especially, Elijah said they would probably win this one.

As long as they managed to find the people that were behind all of it first. Which was way easier said than done.

At that point, Damon had begun to zone out, trying to figure out how to even get to these people, how to deal with them if they found them. He'd have a hard time letting them live...

"I mean," Elijah was just saying, as if he was answering a question that Damon hadn't caught, "that even Rebekah and Bonnie are in danger of being prosecuted for murder, if we can't clear your charges."

"You or Elena are not going to press charges, though, right?" Damon shot Bonnie, who had been quietly listening, a cajoling look as he said it, which she didn't quite return. She clearly knew he was trying to sound more enthusiastic for her sake, and she wasn't having it. So he deflated quickly, watching as Elijah made a face.

"It doesn't work like that, unfortunately. In the case of a murder trial, the state could press charges on behalf of the victims."

Damon was exasperated. "You said the murder trial was a good thing. Fuck that, Elijah."

As if talking to a child, the man calmly replied, "It is. But we have to win the trial. If we prove that you were forced to fight, they won't come after the girls. If we don't, however, it'll become harder to keep them out of it. Since your case will create a precedent."

Getting up gingerly, Damon began pacing the room. He had enough of this lawyer talk. "So," he said, glaring over to where Elijah was standing, "what do we do? How do we find those assholes?"

The ensuing silence was not particularly encouraging, and he exchanged a look with his tired looking friend.

"Tell me we can find them. Tell me the police—"

"We are looking into it." Elijah seemed to contemplate his next move. Licking his lip briefly, he looked from Damon to Enzo and back. "My brother and I found someone who was at that… event."

Event. Damon scoffed at the word, but remained quiet, catching Enzo's gaze. The kid looked as ready to bail out of here as he was.

He needed to go home. He couldn't sit here anymore, patiently waiting for others to try and make this go away.

"Who."

"You won't know him. Just a local kid. But… he might know something. He's currently being interrogated by the sheriff and the FBI agent they put on the case."

"Good. I mean, is that good?"

Elijah smiled a small smile. "I think it is. Yes. I know this is hard, but try and stay calm. And… most importantly: do not go out there on your own to try and find them. Do you understand me?"

He looked at them so earnestly that Damon felt the urge to laugh. But he didn't.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, E."

The man rolled his eyes. "I mean it. It's already hard enough to keep my own brother out of trouble, I cannot have you two get into more problems out there, not with the trial looming over your heads."

Making a face, Damon nodded. Maybe the guy was right, he admitted grudgingly. It wouldn't help anyone if he and Enzo got caught doing anything stupid.

But it might help him feel less like an idiot, like a helpless pathetic idiot...


...

A day had gone by since Elizabeth Forbes had met Elijah Mikaelson on a balmy evening to take Luka Martin into custody.

She remembered his distant expression, the kid sitting slumped in on himself before him, hands tied together, blood staining his shirt in the front, his nose looking broken, eyes bruised, one of them swelling shut. But Elijah's hands had been without any evidence of a fight.

It hadn't been difficult to piece it all together. Elijah hadn't assaulted this kid, but Liz was pretty certain she knew who had. Klaus, noticeably absent, was the type to get violent, and she could picture it all. How he had hit Luka to get some kind of confession out of him, how Elijah had probably stood by, letting it happen - for their sister, but then had stepped in, probably making sure Luka ended up in her custody instead of in the ditch that Klaus might have pushed his body into.

Not because he cared about Luka. But because he cared about his brother, and didn't want him to commit murder, didn't want to see him go to jail for someone like this kid.

Liz sat across from him now, Luka Martin. A handsome boy, too young to be involved with something as horrible as that game. Yet here they were, and he was fidgeting slightly under her unrelenting stare.

"Luka. We have identified you on that video. What were you doing there?"

His lips pressed together, he waited a moment before he reluctantly reiterated what he had told her before. "I swear I have nothing to do with this. I wanted to leave as soon as I realized what was going on."

"But you didn't."

"No…" He drifted off, gazing to the side.

"You could have called the police."

Turning his head toward her once again, he glared at her defiantly. "I was scared, okay? Once I was in there and all these people began to cheer and stuff? I didn't want to end down in that pit alongside them. This guy, Beast, he was just so damn into it. Told us if this was gonna go well, he'd do it again, plan an even bigger event."

"The guy that, as you said, had befriended 'the rich kid down in the pit?'" She read off of her notes, and he nodded at her.

Liz clenched her jaw, pressing her lips together as she mulled it over. It all came down to a guy going by the name Beast. According to Luka, this man hadn't exactly been the initiator, but had set the whole plan for the game in motion for someone higher above. The question was, for whom? And if she wanted to find that out, she needed to find Beast.

The problem was that she had no idea where to even start looking for him.

Just as she was contemplating her next move, Agent Stinson, who up until that point had quietly sat back, letting her lead the interrogation, leaned forward until his face was almost in Luka's.

"Tell me something," he said, "A kid like you, young, handsome, with the right kind of connections to all sorts of people, and you really had no idea about any of this?"

"Like I said, man, I didn't know what I was getting myself—"

Stinson got up so quickly his chair toppled over, startling both Liz and the kid across from her.

"Fuck that!" he blurted, loud, venomous, and very unlike his neat outer FBI-Agent-in-a-suit appearance would have suggested possible. "Let me tell you something, Luka Martin. Me? I deal with internet crimes. The bigger ones, crossing state lines and all. And this 'game' is a pretty big thing online right now. You can find people chatting about it in secluded little corners of the internet, but also out in the open, on public forums your own grandma might be using. Believe me when I tell you that we were able to trace this stuff back to a bunch of IP addresses already. Since we don't normally go for the small fish, we don't knock on all the doors, but yours… yours came up, too. And I know you've been watching that video. You've shared the link. You've messaged with your friend 'Josh' about it."

Stinson paused as if for effect, but it was obvious by how pale Luka had grown that the effect had already been achieved. "Apparently you thought it was, and I quote, 'pretty dang hot how that chick just slashed that loser's throat.' Gave you a hard-on, you said. - So excuse us when we don't believe a single fucking thing you just said. You were not there against your will. You enjoyed it. - And now you are going to tell us everything we need to know about this guy, Beast. Where you first met him, how tall he is, what he looks like. Whether he has a beard, what he likes for breakfast, whether he needs to be at home to take a shit… Every damn thing."

Slowly, Liz turned her baffled attention from him to Luka, unsure of what to think.

It had been a pretty damn smart move to bring him and his team in, that was for sure. There was an actual chance that they'd be getting somewhere. And it had been a good idea to try and be friendly with Elijah Mikaelson or he might not have ever brought them this guy. (Maybe, just maybe, Elijah had felt the same way. That meeting her had been a good thing, that it had made him want to do the right thing and hand over Luka to her…)



...

Being wheeled out of the hospital felt both awkward and exhilarating. After almost three weeks there, Damon was so ready to sleep in his own bed again, take a nice long shower in his own bathroom, and pretend that the world was still okay.

Bonnie had said she might come over once he got home, and he couldn't quite put his finger on how exactly, but it did make his level of anticipation rise another notch.

"Alright, Mr. Salvatore." Cheryl looked down on him with a rare open smile and he beamed up at her. "Here we are: freedom. Do me a favor and take it very easy."

"I'll make sure he does," Stefan chimed in, patting his brother's arm lightly, and Cheryl nodded at him.

"Please do."

"Bye, Cheryl!" Damon grinned, slowly getting up and out of the chair, doing a little pirouette just for her, and just because he could. "See, I'll be just fine. Nothing to worry about. I know how to take care of myself."

She made a face, but smiled anyway. "I don't want to see you back here, Damon."

"Aw. Cheryl." He gripped his chest theatrically. "You're breaking my heart! I thought we had a thing there."

"Off you go." She chuckled with a shake of her head and a roll of her eyes, before she sobered a little, looking him straight in the eyes. "You boys take care of each other now," she whispered, and he knew instantly that she didn't just mean him and Stefan, but him and Enzo, her two former patients.

With a last, more solemn nod, he waved at her, then slowly walked toward Stefan's car, ready to slump into his seat as if he had walked ten miles instead of a couple hundred feet.

The drive went by in a bit of a haze, the landscape half blurring before his eyes as he tried to follow what Stefan was saying, while at the same time trying to go over the things Elijah had told him.

No one was going to put him in jail just yet. He was a free man and would stay free for the time being, but they would have to get ready for a lawsuit, and it would begin in the next few weeks.

"Oh, and… you might want to steer clear of the kitchen at night," Stefan was just saying, making Damon frown over at him.

"Why would I be going in there at night. People sleep at night, Stefan. Even me. It's not like we're vampires, the days our nights and the nights our days."

His brother rolled his eyes, concentrating on the road ahead. "Just…" He sighed, pressing his lips together, suddenly making Damon nervous.

"Spit it out. What's going on."

Stefan shot him a glance. "Enzo's sleeping in there."

Damon made a face. Trying to comprehend. "Well, it's a free world I guess. Let him sleep there if that makes him feel better. At least he's not in his shitty apartment. Thanks for that, by the way. Didn't think you'd manage that," he deflected, and Stefan let him.

But the thought was jarring. Enzo sleeping in the kitchen… He knew, they all knew that they had been through something completely fucked up, but he generally managed to pretend even to himself that it wasn't so bad, that he'd just have to keep pulling himself together, not let it get to him. It was always there, however, somewhere, on the periphery, and stuff like that damn lawsuit, and now Enzo's stupid sleeping arrangements put it all to the forefront and made it harder for him to ignore what he didn't want to think about. Didn't want to relive.

"Our father is still AWOL by the way."

Stefan's words cut through the hovering darkness of Damon's musings and made him return his attention to his brother. He scoffed. It wasn't like he had expected Guiseppe to suddenly grow a heart and visit him at the hospital, but for the man to just vanish without so much as a goodbye was pretty low, even for him.

"I guess that's for the better," he said out loud, earning himself a concerned look. Stefan was clenching the steering wheel a little too hard, Damon found, and he was just about to comment, already raising a finger and putting his best "good advice is coming" face on when the younger man suddenly said, "You think something could have happened to him?"

"What?" That was a thought he could honestly say had not occurred to him. At all. "Nah. Brother, you know him. That he's gone probably just means he's on some oh-so-important business trip and his latest mistress is with him. Probably enjoying life a little too much right now. Away from the sons that drag him down…" Damon rolled his eyes, knowing that he sounded bitter, but Stefan didn't seem to notice or at least, didn't comment on it, and he was strangely grateful for that.

"Yeah… Anyways. At least we don't have to deal with him right now."

"You'd love him lecture Enzo on what is proper house etiquette, wouldn't you?"

Stefan made a face, shooting Damon a glare. Somewhere between upset and angry. "I'm not as bad as you think, you know? It'd be nice if you could give me some credit every once in a while."

"I was joking, Stef."

"Yeah. Not funny, okay? I've done my best trying to be nice and understanding. I even called Caroline for the guy, despite the fact that he is living in my house - my freaking home - after everything. I haven't asked him about it, I haven't given him a hard time. I've even accepted his apology for what he said about… about Lexi. Okay? But…"

"Stefan…"

"I just don't understand what you see in him. What even dad saw in him, when he allowed him to come over so much while I could barely bring a friend over. He's arrogant, aloof, he flirted with my girlfriend, and nobody cared—"

"Didn't exactly look like you cared either," Damon stated drily, but Stefan only shot him a sideways glance before continuing on his unfounded rant. And Damon let him. Because, really? Stefan clearly needed to get this off his chest and he better did it now than later, at the boarding house.

"I did! Okay?! I just… didn't feel like letting him mess with me like that. He's always pushing my buttons. He's always freaking there. Taking my brother away from me, my family, my girlfriend, and… he was even the one with Lexi when she died. He got to see her. He… I just… I want to see her one last time, Damon. I wanted to be there for her. And now she's dead and I never got to thank her for coming all the way out here, for me. And it's my fault that this even happened."

Stefan had stopped the car in the middle of the road, awkward silence suddenly spreading between them as Damon realized that at some point during his monologue, Stefan had blurted out what was really bothering him. None of this was really about Enzo, it had never been about him. It had always been about Stefan and the way he thought of himself as the root of everything that went wrong in his life.

The older brother hung his head, tired, exhausted. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he spoke as if to himself. "It's not your fault that she died."

Slowly, he looked over to where Stefan sat, clutching the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.

"I know. I mean, logically I know all that. I also know that I can't blame your bestie for any of it. And I'm sorry that I even bring it up when I should be looking out for you." Stefan sighed, sounding defeated, and almost as tired as Damon.

"You don't need to be looking out for me. I can take care of myself, little brother." Damon tried it with a lighter tone, a wag of his eyebrow, but it was lost on Stefan, or rather, the kid could see right through him, as usual. Of course.

"I mean," Stefan said, "I'm sorry. You don't need to hear about my minor little struggles, especially not on your first day back."

"We aren't even home yet, so technically, I'm not back."

They both chuckled briefly, despite themselves. Then, Damon patted Stefan's shoulder like the good big brother he wished he could have been more often, and said, "Come on, Stef. One step at a time. - At least that's what Bonnie keeps telling me and I trust that girl to know what's good for me."

The car slowly began to move again just as another car appeared in the rear view mirror, and quickly, Stefan accelerated, leaving the dark moment on the street behind them.

"You seem to be getting along well," he noticed, making Damon shoot him a glance.

"Me and BonBon?" He half-frowned. "Of course. We've always been tight." Crossing his fingers, he grinned at his brother, who rolled his eyes at him, then shook his head.

"Not like that. No. You two tolerated each other. For Elena. That's it."

"Yeah well, what can I say? She kind of grew on me. Tough little cookie, I never knew that before…"

There it was, looming ahead again. The things they had had to endure. The things he didn't want to share and yet would have to share with the world now. It would only take another few minutes before Stefan would mention the video or the Ormonds, or…

Stefan nodded, making a turn. They were almost home now. Yet still so far away.

"You're all pretty damn tough," Stefan allowed, looking at Damon briefly. "I'm sorry you guys have to deal with a lawsuit on top of all of this now."

"Ya…" Damon scoffed. Trying to get the conversation into a different direction again. He didn't want to talk about this now. About the accusations, or the fact that, soon, he'd have to sit in an actual court and defend himself against the allegations the Ormonds had made. No, not allegations. They were right, weren't they? He had killed their son, merciless, ruthless. And if he was being really honest with himself, so honest that he didn't dare share it with anyone, not even Bonnie Bennett, he didn't even feel bad about it. For having killed Casey, despite his pleas. No, he didn't even feel sorry for that kid.

Because if he hadn't killed Casey, the kid would have gone on a rampage. He'd already started after all, had cloven Vicky's face in half, had tried to butcher Enzo next, mincing the guy's arm in the process.

Casey Ormond would have killed him, too, and then… then he would have gone for one more person. Maybe Damon, but more likely one of the girls, Bonnie, or Rebekah.

And that couldn't happen. He couldn't have let that happen.

He had made a promise to Kol, after all, to Jeremy, too, and while they hadn't exactly been the best of friends or even all that close, it had been something he had wanted to honor. Because how could he not honor an already dead man's wish?

And Bonnie. Bonnie had had to live. Not just because of Jeremy's sacrifice, or Damon's promise to get her out, or even because she was his (then) girlfriend's best friend, but because she had something about her, a strange energy, fight, kindness. People like her simply weren't allowed to die in dark pits or pools or horror houses, not on his watch.

So he didn't have any regrets. He had done what needed to be done, he had protected his friends. It was as simple as that. (Except that it wasn't simple.)

"Almost there."

Blinking, Damon realized that his thoughts had spiraled him down and away from the world for a moment, and sniffing, he quickly adjusted his position, giving Stefan the thumbs up.

"Can't wait. You better have the bourbon ready and the welcome home party under way."

Stefan gave him the funniest look, and Damon smirked involuntarily, shoving his darker thoughts even further away where he could ignore them again.

"I thought you'd prefer some quiet, to be honest. I…"

"Relax, brother. I was kidding." Because Stefan was right. The idea of having a bunch of people hang out at the house was kind of… not very enticing at all. Especially after his last party experience… He added, "You, me, the bourbon, on the other hand, now that sounds like a grand plan."

Stefan made a slightly sheepish face. "I kinda invited Bonnie over."

"You… what?"

"You were so much more relaxed whenever she was around, Damon. A blind man could see that. I just figured…"

Damon didn't even really know what to say. Or feel. Was he supposed to be excited? Or upset, or…

"Stef, if I didn't know any better I'd think that this is all a great ploy to pave your way into my ex-girlfriend's panties—"

"Damon!"

He grinned, happy that he could still make Stefan feel awkward in an instant. "No," he continued, "I mean, I get it. We just broke up, and you guys have grown close quickly these last couple weeks—"

"She lost her brother, Damon. I was just trying to be there for her. And with Lexi… I kind of understood where she was coming from…"

His poor brother looked flustered, swimming to gain back control over the conversation and failing. And Damon had to chuckle, even though maybe he should have felt something else.

"And then you send Bonnie to me in hopes of distracting me, hooking us up, is that it?"

"Oh geez, no! That's absolutely not—"

Damon raised his eyebrows, laughing, lightly boxing the other's shoulder just as they pulled into their driveway.

"I'm messing with you, Stefan," he allowed, watching his poor brother roll his eyes. "I'm honestly glad Elena has you to lean on."

"You don't mind…"

"I don't mind, no. I'm relieved, actually. It couldn't be me. Trust me, I wanted it to be me, but I couldn't… I can't. I'm pretty messed up, Stefan. And I can't drag her down with me. So I'm glad you were there for her."

He had surprised himself with his confession, and clearly his brother, too. Stefan's gaze was on him, the car parked, but neither of them ready to get out yet.

Damon bit the inside of his lip, contemplating. "Bonnie gets it. I don't have to explain or pretend or…"

Stefan nodded. "I know. Same with me and Elena." He shot Damon a glance. "Not on your level of course, but…"

Damon smiled, shoving his brother. "At least this time I win the jackpot, huh?"

They both chuckled briefly, quickly realizing how not funny it was and growing quiet.

"Anyways. You ready to go in?"

Heck yeah, he was. Anything was better than the hospital. And if Bonnie was already here...