Thanks again for the amazing response I got for the last chapter. It was totally unexpected. Lots of love to all those who reviewed - I wish I could give you all something more meaningful than this, but really, the fact you enjoy this so much means a lot to me. Again, a big shout out to kat - your insights and thoughts are such an encouragement, and I honestly love seeing your reviews each chapter. :) Anyway, on with the show! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as the last.
It was hard for Damon to pin a reason down for why he'd decided to stay. He'd been all set for leaving until Elena had admitted she'd stopped drinking when he'd come back. Then she'd started looking positively ill. And without warning, Damon had been hit by a scenario where Elena was so ill she lost the protection of vervain. And then those vampires came back, compelled her to let them in and then killed her. Damon didn't think he'd be able to live with himself. He had wanted nothing more than to leave when Elena had turned him down. He'd wanted to go and find some distraction, because this was torture. It was clear Elena Gilbert would never want him like that, and it was killing him inside. But he couldn't leave her like this. So after she'd gone to bed, Damon drank enough liquor to knock out a horse.
He really was such a hypocrite sometimes.
Eventually, he passed out on Elena's sofa. Despite her advice, he hadn't bothered turning the thing into a bed. He had, however, taken the liberty of grabbing some sheets from Elena's linen cupboard. When he slept, he dreamed of her.
It was hard for Damon to decide whether he was glad or not when he was abruptly awakened in the middle of the night. He heard feet padding down the corridor. Damon could hear it was the only heartbeat in the flat apart from his own and knew it was Elena, which reassured him. It meant that it wasn't some psycho vampire, which was always a plus point. However, he was concerned at the pace of her steps. It was like she was running. Damon listened for a moment - he hadn't heard anything unusual. Damon rolled over, his perfect eyesight making out the shape of the wall clock through the darkness. It was ridiculously early in the morning. It wasn't until Damon heard her retching that he connected the dots.
Getting to his feet and yanking on a pair of jeans, he made his way to the bathroom, and found Elena sitting with her back against the bathtub, looking white, sickly pale and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Elena groaned when she saw Damon, who had neglected to put a shirt on.
"Go away," she complained hoarsely. Damon just let his eyes sweep her over, before he decided there was, again, no way he could leave her like that - sick and definitely needing some help. Quietly noting to himself that Elena had definitely turned him into a sap, he sank down onto the bathroom floor next to her. Elena turned her head away from him. Damon just watched her, as if he would find an answer to the mysteries of her brain in her hair. "I'll make you sick," she croaked again, trying to drive him away. Damon couldn't help but smirk.
"I think that's a little beyond you, Elena." Damon told her. It always struck him how easy she was to be with. She seemed to forget they were vampire and human. In truth, Damon managed to forget sometimes too, with her. Just very occasionally. Sometimes, they were just Damon and Elena.
There was a pause that seemed to radiate her embarrassment at forgetting he didn't get sick. Damon didn't see what her problem was, but he left her to stew anyway, still analysing the separate strands of her hair. Her hair was such a pretty colour. This gorgeous shade of russet chocolate coffee, that was entirely her own. He'd never met another person with hair like hers. Not even Katherine.
It was Elena who broke the heavy silence of the early morning. "Nothing I say can make you go away, can it?" She almost sounded resigned to the fact. Damon smirked, in a way that seemed to catch just a hint of a smile about it too.
"It would have to be very creative," Damon assured her. Elena just sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back against the bathtub. They sat in silence for a few minutes, leaving Damon to listen to the steady thrum of her heart. It was vital, alive, and a sound Damon had become far too familiar with. He'd spent too long trying to make sure it continued on. It was like Elena was a magnet for tragedy. She'd been cursed from the start, he supposed - with Katherine for an ancestor and a vampire mother, who wouldn't be? Add in the Gilbert legacy and he supposed Elena's fate was sealed. It wasn't like it was her fault. And she obviously couldn't handle not being involved with the supernatural. It was a completely perverse reaction. But Damon was clearly no expert on the matters of the mind of Elena Gilbert. He doubted anyone was.
Eventually, Elena crawled over to the toilet and puked again. Damon, on a normal day, would have fled at this moment. Human disease was so messy, he hated handling it. It was just another sign of their weakness, just another symbol of inferiority. But this was Elena. He'd tried to walk away from this girl so many times, and she just kept dragging him back. He vaguely wondered when she'd metaphorically wrapped him in chains as he went over to her, sweeping her hair from her face. When she was finished, she finally seemed to realise he was there. Elena swatted at him, trying to make him go away. Damon just gently rubbed circles on her back, making his best attempt at being caring and kind and that kind of crap Elena was so apt at making him believe in. Eventually she flushed the toilet and shifted away, clearly embarrassed at being sick.
"Better?" Damon asked with entirely the wrong tone for the situation. Elena dragged her fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her face. Damon thought it looked vaguely sexy, but it was completely the wrong situation for those kinds of thoughts. Elena seemed to inhale deeply, before nodding slowly. A moment or two passed, then Elena shakily got to her feet, catching sight of her reflection .
"I'm just going to clean up a little," Elena said. Damon took it as his cue to leave. He was gone before Elena could process what had just happened. That was precisely how Damon liked it. Leave 'em reeling - it meant you were still on their mind for another day or so, at least. Damon went back through to the kitchen, leaving Elena to her own devices. Somewhere deep inside, Damon was still hurting from Elena's rejection. He wanted nothing more than to go and find oblivion somewhere, somehow.
The question was, despite it all, why did he still care about Elena Gilbert?
Elena washed her face, trying to get rid of the feeling of being filthy. She was still running a bit of a fever, and her stomach hadn't quite settled yet. But she didn't think there was anything left in her gut to puke. Elena closed her eyes. She hated being sick. It made her feel weak, vulnerable. She didn't want to feel like that. And the whole situation was made worse by the presence of Damon. Why had he insisted on staying over? She had to be strong around him; she had to hold her own. Elena knew he took any advantage given to him. She didn't like giving Damon advantages.
However, she was a little puzzled by his reaction to her illness. She'd expected him to stay in the lounge and then taunt her about weakness or something of that ilk later. She'd expected him to take revenge on her for rejecting him. But instead, he'd come to check she was okay. He'd tried to help. It was hard to say that was the same person that had killed innocent people just because he could. Elena couldn't tie up the personalities. She wondered if this sickness wasn't messing with her mind too. Because if she didn't know better, she would have said Damon cared.
But that was nonsense. Ludicrous. Damon always had some agenda, some end goal. He didn't do anything for anyone unless it benefited him in some way. Somewhere deep within, Elena knew that wasn't strictly true. But she wasn't seeing it at that moment in time. She just wished she knew why Damon was at Duke in the first place. It would make things so much clearer.
However, Elena was realistic. She knew it wasn't going to happen, so she was just going to have to move on. She could move on. She liked to imagine she was getting good at moving on. (She didn't have the heart to tell herself she was deluded in that assessment.) But her main priority now was cleaning herself up. She washed her face, and found a band to tie her hair back with. It wasn't nearly good enough, but she was still tired. She wanted to see if she could sleep for a couple more hours before cleaning up. She still didn't feel quite right, and she desperately hoped that sleep could cure some of it.
Elena examined her crumpled shirt. She was going to have to wash it later - she was beginning to regret passing out like she did. But the past was the past and it wasn't like she could change it, could she?
Walking out of the bathroom, she groggily went through to the kitchen, needing to drink something in an effort to dispel the disgusting taste that hung in her mouth. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised when she found Damon waiting for her. He was still shirtless. Elena didn't want to admit he looked good - but he did. The sickness really was making her delusional. She wished he'd just put a shirt on. It was becoming vaguely distracting.
He had a glass of water, which he held out for her. She took it gratefully, sipping at it. "Thanks," Elena murmured after a few moments as Damon wandered back to the sofa. She noticed the sofa with the abandoned sheets, and the empty bottles of liquor on the floor. Elena wondered where he'd got it from for only a moment. Then she was just concerned about the fact he'd downed them all himself. Was that really all over her? How could she make Damon see that she wasn't the right person for him?
Elena leaned back against the counter, considering if she could hook him up with another girl. It would certainly distract him. Of course, it meant running the risk of letting said girl being compelled and regularly drained of blood, which maybe wasn't the best idea. Elena still remembered how he'd treated Caroline back when he'd first arrived in Mystic Falls. She liked to think they'd both moved on since then, but still. She couldn't ignore the history. But it still left her with the issue - how could she possibly show him that she wasn't the right girl, not worth it? Although she hated to admit it, Damon had saved her. She'd started living again and somehow, it was because of him. She owed him the same in return. Didn't she?
Damon was rearranging the sheets on the sofa, when he patted the space next to him. "Come on, have a seat," he encouraged her. Elena felt a vague throwback to the first time they'd met, when he'd invited her into the boarding house. It was still Damon, but it was such an odd side of him. Elena was cautious, but obliged none the less. Damon tucked the sheets around her, and she was struck by the fact they smelled uniquely of him. Elena didn't like how the smell was immediately a comfort. "How're you holding up?" Elena shrugged.
"I'm sick. It's not like it's the end of the world." Her voice was still rough, hoarse. Elena sipped some more of the water, trying to dispel it. Damon smirked, as if she'd reminded him of some long forgotten event that amused him to no end. Elena was tempted to ask, but she decided she didn't strictly want to know. "So you slept on the sofa."
"Surprising comfortably too, until someone starting puking everywhere," Damon told her plainly. Elena glared at him pointedly. He just smirked away. Elena sighed, tugging the sheets closer with one hand. Damon leaned in closer until his lips were inches from her ear, and then he whispered softly. "I could play nurse if you like." He said in a way that turned such an innocent statement into something completely different, so much so that Elena smacked him feebly on the shoulder. He pretended to be in pain. "Really, Elena, I'm only trying to help."
"Whatever Damon," Elena said tiredly. She sipped some more of the water, watching Damon until he turned away. It was silent for a moment, until Damon spoke once more.
"Hey, where'd my bag end up?" Damon asked, obviously confused. Elena was puzzled too.
"What bag?" She had to try hard not to tease him with that statement.
"The one I brought from Virginia." Damon said, like it was obvious. Elena blushed slightly. The duffel bag that she'd refused to open.
"Oh. It's in the bottom of my closet." Elena said meekly. Damon looked at her, an ominous expression on his face.
"Mhm, Elena." He spoke in a way that screamed innuendos and a hundred taunts about that fact because one alone simply wasn't good enough. Elena turned away, burrowing deeper under the sheets. She felt that Damon was gone due to the absence of weight on the sofa beside her, but he was back in a second. Elena peered over at the bag, curiosity overtaking her. All that seemed to be there were clothes. All black, funnily enough. Elena couldn't help but be a little scandalised as Damon pulled out a t-shirt and slipped it over his head.
"You left me your clothes?" she asked, incredulous.
"Well, I can't leave in the same shirt I turned up in. What would the neighbours think?"Damon asked mockingly. Elena exhaled in frustration, her eyes downcast. She sipped some more of her water. All this nonsense with Damon was distracting her from her sickness. She couldn't decide if it was good or not. It was only when she heard Damon withdraw something else from the bag that she looked back. She almost choked when she saw it.
"A stake? Were you expecting all this trouble, or did you think I'd find it handy?" Elena bit out.
"I like to be prepared," Damon said nonchalantly, zipping the bag closed again. Elena placed a hand to her forehead, wondering if she was hallucinating all of this. She finished what little of her water was left and slipped out from underneath the sheets, getting to her feet. She felt dizzy, but she was steady enough. Damon looked over at her, concerned.
"I'm going to see if I can catch some more sleep," Elena said, subdued. Damon nodded. He didn't speak, but Elena thought she could see in his eyes the fact that he would still be there when she woke up. It was enough for Elena. She went back to bed and passed out. She didn't dream of anything that she could remember later - she was far too tired.
Elena stirred only when the phone rang. It cut off quickly, and she heard Damon murmuring into the handset. She rolled over and stared at the clock. It was half past eight. Elena groaned, and as much as she wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, she had an insane urge to get clean. She could lounge around later. She dived into the shower while Damon was still on the phone.
If Meredith had been home, Elena knew she'd never have been so indulgent. She took a long shower that probably ate up most of the hot water in the tank. When Elena dressed, she chose loose, comfortable clothing, and wrapped herself in her bath robe. Her hair was a damp rope when she went through to the lounge, but for once, she couldn't honestly say she cared.
Elena collapsed onto the sofa, as Damon lounged in an armchair, half asleep. His eyes were closed, anyway. However, it became clear Damon wasn't asleep pretty quickly.
"Feeling any better?" he asked her. Elena nodded, wrapping herself in the fluffy fleece of her robe.
"Much," she said. Of course, she still felt lightheaded, a little dizzy, and her stomach wasn't precisely normal. But she was better than she had been earlier that morning. Damon opened his mouth to make some remark when the doorbell rang. They both glanced in the direction of the door. Then Damon looked to Elena.
"I'm not expecting anyone. And they should have needed to buzz up first..." she trailed off. Maybe Meredith had forgotten her door key. Damon grabbed the stake from the coffee table and Elena sighed, although she couldn't help squirming into the corner of the sofa, as if it would help hide her. She would normally try to run, or fight back. But she was sick. If she tried to run, she knew she'd give herself concussion faster than anything else. The same for a fight back. Her immune system had crappy timing.
As Damon walked down the hallway, Elena felt her gut twist. She wondered why for only a moment. Then she realised she was afraid. But not for herself - for him. What if it was one of her new threats? Would they kill Damon as soon as he opened the door? Were they both in danger once more? But the only thought Elena could focus on was a shocking one.
'What would I do without him?'
Elena didn't want to answer that question. She didn't have to either, as she heard the door open. She heard Damon speak, but she couldn't make out the words through the haze of her mind. She was completely shocked at the sound of the other voice, though. The one of her visitor. She'd heard that voice so many times before - it was impossible to remove it from her mind. She didn't need to hear the words. She knew who was standing at her front door. She didn't know whether to be completely horrified or not.
It was a hard choice.