I owe you guys a lot of love once again. You have absolutely no idea how much your lovely reviews make me smile. :) Anyway, I have only one note for this chapter. This is still a D/E story, so just keep in mind what the end game is. I'm just trying to keep things as realistic as possible. So try not to worry too much. ;) Again, any thoughts you want to give me make you the best person in the world. Also, big shout out to all the people who've favourited or put an alert onto this story. I never expected such a response! Thanks! :D

Damon's definition of a party was curious. He'd let Elena unlock the flat and told her to sit on the sofa. Usually, Elena would never do anything Damon said, purely because he'd said it; but she was too stunned to do anything but concede. Damon went over to the top of a chest of drawers at the side of the living room, pulling some take-out menus from there. Elena was using the time to steady herself. So there was a potential threat on her life hanging over her head again. What was new? She'd been in constant danger for a long time. She supposed the months of peace had desensitised her to it all. But she was slowly gaining a level head again. She was beginning to process. She was slowly feeling less afraid and more at peace. She could handle this.

Damon ordered the food, and didn't raise the subject of her assailant until it had arrived. Damon went to get the food when the doorbell rang too. Elena had settled herself onto the sofa in front of the TV, watching old reruns of some hospital drama. Damon organised everything. Elena had tried to help at first, but he'd just told her he was a big boy and could handle it himself. Not really in the mood to argue, Elena had just settled down in front of the TV. Elena flicked the TV onto a random music channel and turned the volume down when Damon finally sat down. He had a pizza box, and a bottle of Coke, which he set down on the table. The glass of alcohol Damon had for himself was practically obligatory. Elena's eyes flashed to it for only a moment, before she grabbed a slice of pizza, biting the end off of the slice. She'd never thought pizza could be such a comfort.

Damon seemed to consider her for a moment, then shrug off whatever contemplation he'd been in. He let Elena eat for a moment before broaching the subject. "So are you going to tell me what happened?" Damon asked casually, like he was asking about some menial event, not another threat against her life. Elena shrugged.

"There's not much to say." Elena brushed it off. She'd decided that her reaction back at the party had been a bit of an overreaction. She'd flipped out a little. But she was fine now, to a degree. She could handle it. She had to try not to laugh at herself though. She couldn't handle being alone, but she could handle a bloodthirsty pack of vampires coming after her.

"Elena. We've been to hell and back and I've never seen you that hysterical," Damon said. A chill went up her spine when Damon spoke. 'We'. He'd said that they'd been to hell and back. Both of them. Not her alone. It was like they were in it together. Elena was chilled at her instinctive reaction to the collective. What was wrong with her? Elena sighed.

"There was a man. At the cafe we stopped at on the way here."

"That was two weeks ago."

"I know."

"And you didn't think to maybe mention to me?" Damon prodded her. Elena wondered why he thought he needed to know.

"It didn't seem important at the time. But he couldn't stop staring at me. He left before we did. I watched him go, so no, he didn't follow me here. But it was the same guy at the party tonight. He just stood there, and he said 'Katherine' to me. It was like he was surprised to see me, but he was angry too," Elena explained quickly, before taking a bite of her pizza.

"Of course he's mad. Katherine's a bitch, no one runs over to her, hugging her for sheer joy," Damon mocked. But Elena could see the pain in his eyes; feel the deep hatred for her in his tone. Elena couldn't blame him. He'd spent 145 years searching for her, to find out that she didn't even care. If that didn't destroy you, Elena didn't know what did. She felt sorry for him. But now wasn't the time for sympathy.

"But I looked up Damon. When he said her name - I responded to it. He was gone before I could say anything, do anything, but..." Elena tailed off. Damon ended it for her.

"But he probably thinks you're Katherine. Great. Excellent," Damon said sarcastically, swallowing half the glass of his drink in one go. Elena ate some more of the pizza, letting Damon mull things over. She'd finished the slice when Damon spoke again. "Did he say anything else? The guy?"

"No. The second I looked up he was gone." Damon pondered the fact, before finishing his drink and getting up for a refill. Elena didn't even ask where he was getting the alcohol from.

"Well, could be worse," Damon speculated from the kitchen.

"Oh really? Enlighten me as to how this can possibly be any worse," Elena scoffed.

"Well, it's unlikely that he's an Original, which means a stake through the heart solves all our problems." Damon spoke like it was the simplest, most straightforward thing in the world.

"What if there's more than one?" Elena asked, peering at the pizza box and realising she'd already eaten half of the pizza during their conversation. She was ridiculous. If it wasn't alcohol or caffeine, it was food. What had happened to her? Damon sauntered back over to sofa, glass full once more.

"Do you want a lynch mob trying to break your door down?" Damon asked.

"Damon..."

"Then don't think about it," Damon finished. That didn't really make Elena feel any better.

"But-," Elena began. But Damon held up his finger in a motion for silence, before cutting across her.

"Think of it this way. He thinks you're Katherine. And everyone knows Katherine is not dumb. This guy will need to attempt to think things through before he acts or he'll get his head ripped off. Besides, no one can get in this house without an invite. You are perfectly safe in these four walls," Damon reassured her. Elena nodded.

"What about Meredith?"

"What about her? She doesn't have a 500 year old vampire doppelganger, does she?"

"If she invites someone in..." Damon put his glass down on the coffee table. He shifted slightly so he was facing Elena head on. She watched him curiously. Before Elena could enquire further, she was trapped under the gaze of his clear blue eyes.

"Either you can tell her not to invite anyone in, or I can compel her not to." Damon volunteered. For a moment, she was sure he was trying to compel her. She was reassured by her vervain bracelet. Elena had stopped wearing the necklace Stefan gave her after they'd broken up. It had reminded her of him too much. But she had the bracelet. She couldn't be compelled.

"No, you are not compelling Meredith." Elena objected fiercely.

"So what, you're going to say 'Don't invite anyone in, I may have a vampire or two after my head?'" Damon mocked.

"I'll handle it." Elena insisted.

"You know it'd be better if -," Damon persisted.

"I said I would handle it! I spent three months living without you Damon Salvatore, I do not require you to tidy up every mess in my life. You are not the centre of the universe!"

Silence poured into the room after Elena's outburst. She knew the TV was still humming in the background, but she could barely even hear it. She was just so caught up in Damon's eyes. But she didn't flinch, didn't look away. She just allowed her raw hurt, fear and passion to burn away. Damon seemed surprised for a moment, but she was the one who was surprised when Damon placed a hand on her cheek. He was gentle, his fingers barely touching her skin. But she could feel it tingling, like someone had run an electric current over her.

Elena saw the kiss coming. That was the worst part of it all. She saw Damon leaning in so close and so slowly. She knew what he was going to do. That was how well Elena knew him - she knew he was going to go for it and kiss her.

She didn't know why she turned away.

But it happened. Elena just turned her head and looked away, trying to breathe. She couldn't go there. Not with Damon. She just couldn't. It was impossible. He was Stefan's brother! Besides, her heart was still in a mess over Stefan, still tangled up in him. She didn't know how she felt about Stefan; she didn't know how he felt about her. She wasn't ready for a relationship, and when she was, it wasn't going to be Damon. How could it be?

Damon didn't speak, but Elena could feel the hurt and rejection emanating from him. She instantly felt guilty. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't kiss him. Besides, Damon deserved better than her. Some nice, strong girl who would see him perfectly and have the guts to call him on it. Like Rose. Rose had understood Damon. And she hadn't been afraid to say it. Elena was the opposite. She occasionally understood Damon, but most of the time he was so off the wall that she was pushed to keep up. And even when she did see him, she never tended to say anything. She was bold, true, and she'd pushed him again and again to be human, but that wasn't what Damon needed. Not really. Elena sometimes wondered - as she had done with Stefan - if he only liked her because she looked like Katherine. It was, perhaps, some desperate attempt to gain some affection from the woman he'd loved for so long. Only it wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be fair.

"Damon, I'm sorry, but...I can't," Elena said, not looking back yet. She was sure what she saw would break her heart. She could feel it when Damon backed away, when he gave her back her personal space. Why did her gut ache when he gave up? She heard Damon lift his glass, downing some more of the alcohol. She hated when he did that, but she wasn't brave enough to chide him for running to drink. Another reason why she wasn't the right woman for him.

"I get it Elena. There's always some excuse, right?" He said it nonchalantly, bitterly, but when Elena detected the edge of pain under it all, her gut twisted even further. Why was it killing her to say 'no'? She knew she was right. She reminded herself it had killed her to turn Stefan away, tell him it was over between them. Tell him no, they wouldn't be able to get back together. And yet she still thought she was right to end it, even if it still hurt her. She couldn't trust Stefan any more. They'd had their chance. Maybe if Klaus and the doppelganger curse had never happened, things would have been different. But as it was, those events had ripped their relationship apart. But that was the thing about battles like that. They either brought out the best in you, or the worst.

"I'm not making excuses," Elena protested, feeling hurt. She finally turned to look at Damon. His gaze was scathing. Elena thought her intestines had finally manoeuvred themselves into a sound, secure knot. That was how it felt anyway.

"Not out loud," Damon told her. Elena was truly worried that vampires really could read her mind. But it was impossible. Her gaze dropped guiltily as she let her fingers brush her bracelet. She was safe. It couldn't be telepathic. Was she really that open? Besides, she wasn't making excuses. They were all valid reasons.

"Don't do this, Damon," Elena pleaded. Damon stared at her for only one moment, before getting to his feet, meandering around the room. But his eyes were still on her. Elena refused to let him out of her sight.

"Do what, Elena? Tell you what you already know? Or show you something you'd rather not consider?" Elena opened her mouth to reply, but she never got the chance. "Ah ah, don't worry. I know. You're just getting over my darling little brother despite the fact you've been officially a non-couple for months now. You really don't want to push things too far. But hiding's become a habit of yours, Elena, hasn't it? I mean, there's the borderline alcoholic side, and the side that just curls up in her room and decides the world doesn't exist. I know, Elena. It must be so hard, not having a supernatural threat hanging over your head. But good news! Looks like you found a new one. Congratulations." Damon said it with such biting sarcasm that Elena almost regretted not granting him that one kiss. But she knew that it would lead from one thing to another, and before she knew it... Elena discarded most of Damon's speech and focused on the part she could handle. Well; the part she could handle better than the rest of it.

"How do you know about the drinking?" Elena asked, her voice shaking slightly, but surprise cracking through. She'd hoped Damon never found out about it.

"Meredith and I had a good old gossip. You know, about boys and fashion and then about your marvellous bad habits." Damon said, with his sarcasm still in place. However, he quickly dropped it when he spoke again, just sounding a little exasperated instead. "Really, Elena, what's the point?"

"It works for you pretty well," Elena shot back, scathingly. Damon rolled his eyes.

"Glad to know your new life goal is to be me. Really, I'm flattered. Will I find a heartless vampire dick for you to fall in love with, turn you, and then have you devote a century and a half of your life to him in vain, or would you rather handle that part?" Damon asked, the irony back in action. Elena had no response. "Elena. If I can promise you one thing, it's that you do not want to be me. Quit the drinking, or I'll confiscate all the alcohol in the house." Damon threatened. Elena sighed, turning away from Damon, collapsing back into the sofa. Apparently, Damon was on the war path, though. "I didn't hear an answer there, Elena."

"I stopped, okay! It's over." Elena said it more fiercely than she might have otherwise, but Damon was just driving her insane. All the sarcasm was the worst part. He just made her feel guilty. Elena felt like she was going to throw up.

"And when did that happen?" Damon accused. Elena looked up, her eyes burning. She was slightly reassured by the fact that Damon had sat down again - he was lounging in an armchair, glass in hand.

"When you came back."

The statement seemed to knock Damon back. Elena could see the pure surprise in his eyes. It wasn't often that he let his emotions slip like that. It was a moment or two after she'd spoken before she realised what she had said. She let her gaze drop, as she processed what she'd spilled. Damon clearly hadn't been expecting her to say it. But it was true. Ever since she'd returned from Mystic Falls, she'd been drinking less and less. It was only tonight she'd quit fully, but still. She'd began her cutbacks when she'd returned from Virginia. When Damon came back into her life. What was with that?

Elena sat in the silence and felt her stomach properly flip. Her head was pounding too. She really didn't feel well. And sadly, Elena couldn't contribute it to Damon. There was no way that emotional imbalance could make you feel this bad. She wondered if she'd overeaten. Elena closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, as if it would help clear her head. She wanted to crawl into bed and forget about everything. But she wasn't sure if she trusted Damon not to screw around.

"Elena?" His voice was soft, quiet, concerned. He'd moved past the fight, clearly. Elena opened her eyes, standing up. Her head span.

"I think I'm going to just go to bed, if that's okay?" Elena said. What was she doing? Asking permission? Damon looked genuinely concerned.

"When does Meredith get back?" Damon asked. Elena shook her head.

"She's doesn't." Elena had been texting Meredith earlier, to let her know that she'd gone home. Meredith had said she was staying over with a friend that night - she'd mentioned something about break-up drama. If only Meredith knew the drama in her own house. But it was better that Meredith stayed out of it.

"I'm not leaving you here alone." Damon said flatly. It was the kind of tone that meant he wasn't going to be argued with. Elena tried anyway.

"Really, I'll be fine." Elena was trying to sound reassuring.

"I'm staying," Damon repeated. Not really wanting to waste anymore time arguing, Elena just nodded.

"There's some spare stuff in the cupboard. It's a sofa bed," Elena said, gesturing vaguely. Damon nodded.

"Go to bed, Elena," Damon told her. She had never seen him looking so genuinely concerned. At least, not that she could remember. But her memory was a little foggy, so maybe that was nothing to go by. In the end, she stopped trying to work it out and just slipped into her room, closing the door before crawling under her duvet without even really getting changed. She just stripped off her jeans and slept like that, socks on and all. She didn't know why she felt so ill.

It wasn't over Damon. That would just be silly.