Once more, I thank you all for the reviews. I hope you guys can forgive my apparent predictability. :) As always, feel free to let me know what you think!

The wooden stake dug softly into the flesh of Damon's arm as he walked down the hallway towards the front door. He didn't quite know what to expect. He'd seen the wide, doe eyed surprise on Elena's face when the doorbell rang - it was so clear that she wasn't expecting a single intrusion on her sickbed today. Not at 9am, anyway. Of course, Damon's mind immediately went to the worst, and his fears were only further supported by the lack of doorbell ringing from the bottom of the stairs, outside the building. So there was no way he was going without the stake. He had his hand curled around the base of it, holding the weapon parallel to his arm. The downside of the position was the fact that the tip of the stake was digging in just below his elbow. But the pain kept him focused.

Careful to be completely prepared for any eventuality, Damon reached out for the doorknob. He wanted to make this fast. It would be the least messy. Steeling himself, Damon whipped the door open, ready to strike out. It was lucky he stopped himself. Damon had been sure he was ready for anything. He could openly admit to himself he wasn't ready for this.

"Stefan," Damon said, a mix of tiredness, relief and surprise colouring his tone. Damon dropped the stake letting it hang loose between his fingers. He might have tried to kill his brother a couple of times in the past, but it was really unnecessary now. It would be messy and he was sure Elena would never forgive him. Damon watched Stefan's gaze flicker between the stake and his own eyes.

"Damon. What are you doing here?" Stefan asked cautious, but surprised none the less. Damon sighed dramatically.

"Kicking back and playing true or dare with your ex, obviously." Stefan would have tried to reply in his usual, broody, tired tone, but Damon could hear Elena moving behind him. She was padding cautiously down the hallway. Damon saw his brother's gaze move past him, and he knew Elena was there. "Why don't you invite my brother in, baby?" Damon said, in the kind of suggestive tone that was only used by any sane person when they were dating the person it was said to. Or maybe just sleeping together. However, Damon wasn't the epitome of sane. Stefan obviously picked up the tone and wasn't sure what to think. Damon took pleasure in his brother's shock.

"Come in, Stefan," Elena choked out, eventually. Damon smirked. Elena hadn't even protested against his tone. She was probably too surprised to do a damn thing. Damon turned around to saunter back down the hallway, flipping the stake back and forth in his hand. Elena really did look surprised. Actually she looked kind of sick again. "I'm really sorry Stefan but I was actually just about to go and do my hair. Would you be okay on your own for a while?" she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, raspy, quiet. Damon knew she'd had no plans to do anything with her hair. But she wanted out of the situation. Damon found it hard to blame her.

"Of course." That was Stefan, ever the gentleman. As Damon walked back into the lounge and flopped down into the armchair, he heard Elena whisper a 'thank you' and close her bedroom door. Stefan walked slowly into the lounge. Damon didn't even bother to acknowledge him. The last thing Damon had wanted was his brother showing up. Not only did Stefan make a habit of driving him bat-shit crazy without realising he was doing so, there was also the fact this couldn't be good for Elena. She'd practically admitted just last night that she was still hung up on Stefan. Damon was only just beginning to drag Elena back into the land of the living as opposed to her world of hiding and depression and solitude. He'd be damned if he let his brother ruin all that for her. Of course, there was the minor fact that probably was already damned, but still. The sentiment stood.

Stefan spoke first. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I would be worried if you did, considering this is Elena's house." Damon looked over at Stefan, with a sweet little pretend smile on his face. Stefan's eyes roved around the room. Eventually, they hit the empty liquor bottles in the kitchen. Damon heard Elena's hairdryer start up, but he still heard Stefan's voice ringing through his head.

"Were you drinking with Elena last night?" Stefan accused. Damon snorted.

"No, of course not. That was all me." Damon said smoothly. Stefan looked vaguely suspicious.

"It's not like she looked normal, Damon," Stefan pressed. Damon sighed.

"She's sick, Stefan, okay? Elena is human, and therefore vulnerable to nasty bugs and other lovely things like that. Not every episode of illness is alcohol induced." Damon said tiredly. Stefan's expression immediately changed from suspicious to concerned. For Elena, of course.

"Are you sure that it's just a bug? She should see a doctor..." Damon got to his feet, months of frustration barely leashed in his head.

"You lost the right to make decisions about her life when you left, Stefan." Damon bit out viciously. Stefan looked a little taken aback. Damon was pleased. "You're not her father, Stefan. She's a big girl now, she can make her own choices," he mocked his brother. Stefan inhaled slightly. Damon could only feel the pounding of his own frustration inside his head. Stefan walked out on them, and now he got to walk back in and pretend nothing had happened? In that instant, Damon was struck by exactly how Elena must have felt when he'd turned up again. Maybe she had been justified, after all.

Stefan seemed to decide to let that particular matter slide, but he wasn't giving up by any terms. Stefan never had known when to quit. "So what are you doing here, then, Damon? Considering you don't live here," Stefan enquired. Damon smirked evilly.

"Who says I don't?"

Stefan seemed vaguely shocked at the fact. His eyes were the size of medallions, as he considered whether it was possible or not. Damon grinned.

"I don't," Damon reassured his brother. He figured Stefan would give himself an aneurism trying to work it out. It was clear, however, that Stefan's question still stood. Damon sighed. "Do you want to pretend to be Father? Is that your aim here, Stefan?" Damon didn't even give Stefan time to answer. "Fine. I took Elena out to a party last night because she needed to have fun. Fun fact, brother, you know she's been depressed since you and the rest of the Scooby gang walked out? Pretty close to alcoholic too. So she went to a party with her flatmate and I tagged along. There was no heavy drinking, and don't even ask if I took advantage of her, because there was a very pretty blonde called Hannah who was very entertaining. At least, until Elena's flatmate turned up and told me Elena was having a mental breakdown in the garden. At which point I swooped in, did your white knight act and brought her home, because someone turned up and called her Katherine. Enough detail for you?" Damon demanded. Stefan really did look surprised.

"Someone called her Katherine?" Stefan echoed. Damon sighed.

"Yes. I'm loving the part where you questioned what happened last night before the fact I was about to stake you," Damon mocked. Stefan exhaled slightly.

"You're trying to keep her safe," he proclaimed.

"I'm a good guy now, remember?" Damon said it with a tone that made it crystal clear he didn't believe it.

"So what happened to Hannah?" Damon rolled his eyes.

"She's fine. Probably woke up this morning with a killer headache, not remembering a thing about last night due to what she thinks is a hangover. Some of it probably is," Damon reasoned. He was amused by the fact that Stefan actually looked relieved about the fact that he hadn't murdered her.

"So why did you stay over?" Stefan asked him.

"What is this, Twenty Questions?" Damon queried. When Stefan didn't answer, Damon merely sighed. "I stayed because she looked sick and I didn't want to leave her on her own. Capiche?" No need to mention any of the events in the flat last night besides Elena's impending illness. Like the almost-kiss. There was really no need to mention that.

Silence echoed between the two brothers. The only sound was Elena - her hairdryer, thrumming away in her room as she delayed coming to face them. Stefan seemed to be absorbing everything Damon had said to him. Damon was glad. He wanted Stefan to feel guilty for what he'd done to Elena. He wanted Stefan to think about what he'd said, or Damon never would have bothered saying it. Eventually, Stefan spoke once more.

"When you say she's depressed; is this another one of your games, Damon?" Stefan asked. Damon's eyes burned as he stared at his brother. Damon knew he'd had made hundreds of games over the decades, but with Elena? He couldn't. Trust Stefan not to recognise that.

"No, she was really depressed. It took a lot to snap her out of it, and I swear if you screw it up I will never forgive you." Damon threatened. He was deadly serious - he promised Stefan something similar before - an eternity of misery - and proved he could come through on it, to a point. He would do it again. Because this was Elena and she was actually worth it. The hairdryer cut out. They both took it as a symbol that the brotherly bonding time was over. Damon instantly moved to sit back down in the armchair, lounging there with eyes still on Stefan. Stefan just stood there, looking awkward, out of place, and mildly surprised in general. The expression on his face was worth more than Damon could imagine.

Elena walked in soon after the noise of the dryer had stopped, still wrapped up in her fluffy little bath robe. Damon's eyes immediately went to hers, and he decided she looked okay, even if she was still sick. Her gaze darted between the two brothers, clearly trying to calculate what the hell had gone on. However, she obviously decided against a comment and headed right for the sofa, looking like she wanted to collapse. She spoke as she walked, her voice still quiet, like a ghost. "I didn't expect to see you, Stefan," she said in a tone that suggested she'd never expected to see Stefan Salvatore again.

"I was in the area; I thought I'd see how you were doing," Stefan said softly.

"I'm fine, Stefan." Damon recognised the deflection for what it was. She wasn't comfortable in the situation. Damon felt some small spiteful victory at the fact she was comfortable around him and not Stefan, but it was dominated by concern. Damon didn't think she was ready for this. He knew Stefan had called her a couple of times, but Damon didn't like to think she could take this. Either she'd crawl back into a corner and cry her eyes out for sadness, or she'd go running back into his brother's arms. Damon didn't think he could stand to watch either.

The only thing that had kept him overnight was concern. She needed someone to protect her. Despite the fact that Stefan was back on the bunny diet, Damon liked to think he could look after her. He'd proved as much before. As much as Damon was afraid of what Stefan would do to her emotionally, he trusted him to take care of her physically. He was relatively sure no harm would come to Elena while Stefan was around. Which left Damon free to leave and do whatever the hell he wanted to do. No point in hanging around and prolonging the pain.

"Well, as much as I'd love to hang around, I'd rather not turn this into some tacky sitcom." Damon said, getting to his feet and grabbing his leather jacket from where he'd abandoned it last night. He then looked around at the expressions of the other two people in the room. Elena's wide eyed horror and Stefan's worry was enough to tip Damon over the edge. They were acting like he'd just announced he'd murdered some cute little puppies with fluffy ears and everything. It was an overreaction of the highest standard. Damon smirked slightly. "Have fun," he told them before heading down the hall for the front door. As far as Damon Salvatore was concerned, his work for the day was more than done.

"Damon." He heard her voice, the strongest it had been all day. She was following him down the hall, leaving good old Stefan behind. That was novel. Damon paused just in front of the door, turning to face Elena. They were alone in the hallway, but that didn't mean they were alone, per se. Stefan would be able to hear them perfectly well, bunny diet or not. "Damon, wait," Elena insisted.

"What, Elena? Want to kiss me goodbye?" he taunted, as much for his own amusement as to torture his brother. To be fair, Damon and Stefan were on better terms than they had been in the past. That didn't mean Damon didn't enjoy taking a shot or two occasionally. Elena looked at him pointedly. Damon rolled his eyes. "I'm coming back, Elena, if that's what you're so painfully concerned about."

"I wanted to thank you." Elena took him by surprise. Damon's brow creased in confusion.

"For what?"

"Staying. Trying to help," she said. Damon wasn't sure if she meant overnight or just in general over the past fortnight. He didn't ask; he was happy with her gratitude whatever it was for. With Elena Gilbert, Damon had to take what he got.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure Stefan can look after you just as well in my absence." Damon told her, deflecting. Funny how they both did that - hid how they really felt.

"I know. But he's not you," Elena whispered, in a voice so quiet Damon was sure Stefan couldn't have heard. It was like she was fading away right in front of him.

"Go on, go lie around on the couch and be a good sick person," Damon instructed her. Elena nodded, before slowly walking back down the hallway towards the lounge, almost reluctantly. Fancy that - she was reluctant go and face Stefan. It was interesting, but it didn't make Damon feel any better. He was still sure she'd be changed in some way by his brother's spectacularly timed visit. He couldn't imagine it being positive. She silently mouthed 'thank you' as she slowly paced down the hall. She really meant it. Damon just smiled a little, mournful half smile and mouthed back 'you're welcome', just like he had done before; back when they'd gone to rescue Elena from her kidnap by Rose.

Damon still remembered how that story had ended. She'd looked like she'd been running towards him - he'd been so close to finally reaching her. Then Stefan had just stepped back in and that had been the end of it all. Elena had gone back to lovely, saintly, rescuer Stefan and Damon had been left as the big bad soulless brother. And all was right in the world once more. As he slipped out Elena's front door and headed down the stairwell, he couldn't help but feel a little fear. That Elena would forgive his brother for every sin since the dawn of time and then she'd run back to him. It would break him. Damon had watched it all once, he couldn't watch it again. Not after she'd granted him so much hope. This was why Damon loved to shut off his feelings. It was just so much simpler to forget about all this pain and just not feel at all. Rose had tried to tell him there wasn't a switch. Damon was sure she'd been lying. It was just that he'd lost the ability to find and use his as of late.

He reached the outdoors and the cool morning air slapped him in the face. Damon breathed in deeply. There was a pretty young girl on a bench nearby. Her hair was flaming red, and she was silently crying her eyes out. Damon didn't normally like to deal with crying girls, but she was the closest member of the female species available. Damon sat down next to her, throwing up his charming-nice-guy act.

"Hey, are you okay?" The girl nodded, breathing in deeply.

"Fine. My boyfriend just dumped me, that's all." She spoke sadly. Damon had to restrain a smile. It was too perfect.

"How about I help you forget all about him?" Damon suggested innocently. The girl looked up at Damon, cautious, uncertain.

"No, I have to..." she began slowly.

"I insist." Damon said seductively, not even bothering with compulsion. She so clearly didn't require any. She might later, but that was beside the point. Eventually the girl nodded.

"Okay then." Damon got to his feet, holding out a hand for her.

"What your name?" Damon asked sweetly.

"Lisa."

"Come on, I'll take you for a drink." Damon told her, reassuringly. It wasn't so hard to find a distraction. He might have lost that emotional switch. But so be it. He'd make a new one.