Disclaimer: Nothing is owned, only borrowed.

Summary: Set after 3x07. The ghosts from the other side have returned to Mystic Falls and desperate to find a means of killing Klaus to free Stefan from his compulsion, Damon is eager to follow deceased werewolf Mason into the Lockwood Cellar. However, when trouble inevitably finds him, Damon is left with no choice but to ask for help from the people he can only hope still care about him.

Hurt!Damon. Delena if you squint. Damon and Alaric friendship.

Warnings: Moderately graphic description of injury.

Chapter 5

Ultimately, it hadn't been Alaric's swerving around each corner along his route, rather the immense pain radiating from his abdomen, that brought Damon to awareness. Too weak even to shift, the vampire did not attempt to rise to see out of the window and get his bearings, rather he simply rolled his head to the side where he was grateful to find Alaric, focused on the road though undoubtedly aware that he had risen.

"How does it feel?" the teacher asked him, anxiously running his thumbs back and forth over the smooth surface of the steering wheel as he drove.

Damon allowed a pause before he answered, running the tip of his tongue over his chapped lips. "Like someone dropped a flaming torch in me and sifted through my guts trying to get it out."

"Colorful."

Had it not been for the pain, Damon might have smirked at Alaric's wince. Though in his utter helplessness, his mild amusement came out instead as a tired wheeze.

"What can I say?" the vampire forced his words out, each syllable punctuated by a groan. "Got a knack for imagery."

"Sure you do." Alaric tilted his head so he could see the vampire out of the corner of his eye.

Despite the sweat pouring down the sides of his ashen face, and further the heavy jacket cast over him, still Damon shivered, periodic convulsions that brought his teeth together in short clicks. The vampire did not speak again for the remainder of the drive, instead allowing his eyes to drift closed once more. However, it was not sleep that Damon found. Rather it was only torment that embraced him in his exhausted and pained state. The blackness of oblivion eluded him and gone with it was the promise of respite.

"Come on, Damon. It's time to get up."

Alaric's voice tore Damon from his stupor, and distant blue eyes shot open to meet the teacher. Alaric was standing to his right now, and the passenger's side door was ajar.

"Time already, huh?" Damon heaved a sigh, placing hands on the edge of his seat as he prepared to rise.

With a hiss, the vampire forced himself to a sitting position, and at his need then to pause, Damon cursed himself. His utter helplessness.

"Here, let me help you." Alaric edged closer to his friend, though stopped before making contact as if to ask permission.

At his gesture, the teacher was met by the other's unforgiving glare, though when the vampire made no further demonstration of protest, Alaric once more wrapped his arm around Damon's waist and pulled him from the car.

He must really be in a bad way, Alaric thought as he steadied his friend.

Moving slowly and carefully, Alaric helped Damon walk a few steps forward to get clear of the car door before with a fluid motion he threw it closed behind him.

"Slow and easy, now." Alaric spoke gently as he began forward again, treading lightly with Damon over the path that led to his apartment.

By the time Alaric had reached the door to his loft, keys ready in hand, Damon's shallow inhales had become ragged pants, grating as though each breath scraped the walls of his lungs.

"Oww…" Damon complained as the teacher propped him against the doorframe, freeing his hands to work the lock.

"Almost there."

Leaving Damon propped just outside, the teacher darted inside the apartment to make ready for the injured vampire. He headed straight for the living area.

With a swift, sweeping motion Alaric pushed the stack of graded essays to the floor where they landed scattered, though at their disarray the teacher hardly spared a glance. For, at the sound of Damon's body, heavy against the door frame, sliding to the ground as the vampire could no longer hold himself up, Alaric had little thought for anything but the sheer worry taking hold of him.

"Damon, you still with me?" Alaric called over his shoulder, rearranging the pillows on the couch, where he intended to put Damon.

At the lack of response from the vampire, the teacher's gaze returned to the door, where from his angle, he could only see the toe of Damon's boot poking just through the entrance. Alaric's step was hurried as he moved toward his friend, his hands opened and elbows bent in preparation to heave the vampire up once more. Just outside, Damon was slumped against the frame, his head turned to the side so that his chin nearly rested on his shoulder. Dark mussed hair was cast over his closed eyes, each strand a sharp contrast from the light skin of his face, ever paling.

At the look of the vampire, unconscious at his feet, Alaric uttered no words, rather instead he simply took him by the shoulders and dragged him into the apartment, quickly though careful not to jostle him.

"God, you're heavy." Alaric puffed under his breath, his face reddened with surprise.

Damon was not a large man, not too tall, he seemed an appropriate height for a man of 1864. Though despite his slender build, the vampire was built solidly to say the least, and it was with great effort that Alaric maneuvered him to the couch, settling him onto it with a sigh. Drawing back, Alaric closed the door of the loft, unconsciously twisting the lock out of habit, before he surveyed the vampire, unmoving where he lay. The wounds on his abdomen had begun to bleed again, and as Alaric approached Damon, he winced at the loss of his couch.

For a brief moment of respite, Alaric sat down heavily on the coffee table just near Damon's head. Rubbing his hands through light brown hair, nearly sandy, the teacher felt the sting of exhaustion just beginning to burn beneath his eyelids, making itself known for the teacher's momentary lack of preoccupation.

What time is it? Alaric wondered to himself, yawning as he looked at the time on his phone.

5:30 a.m.

Alaric groaned. Normally, by now, he would have been just waking, perhaps even stumbling to the kitchen toward his coffee maker, with palm pressed to his brow to shield his eyes from the harshness of the artificial light he'd ruefully summoned with the flip of a switch.

For a fleeting moment, the teacher wondered if he should leave a message for the school that he wouldn't be coming in today. Certainly he would not be leaving Damon alone to fend for himself. Alaric opened the dial pad and nearly began tapping the numbers that would connect him with the front office, though the pad of his thumb never did find the 'talk' button. For, at just that last moment, Alaric found himself focused instead on the recent callers list, where just below Damon's, Elena Gilbert's name was listed. Suddenly, Alaric felt pressed. He knew that inevitably the girl would find out about Damon's condition. However, unsure of whether or not he wanted to trouble her just yet, at 5:30 in the morning no less, Alaric felt torn. There was guilt then, the teacher felt it in his chest, clawing its way up to settle thickly in the back of his throat. Guilt that with everything going on he would consider adding another thing for Elena to worry about. She was only a child.

But she's no ordinary child. Alaric reasoned, imagining then how angry she would be if he did leave her out of the loop.

Alaric imagined her face, her lips drawn tightly and her cheeks burning red as she would rant, "He's my friend! How could you not tell me?"

Nearly chuckling, the teacher shook the image out of his head. He would not put himself through that, for Elena's will was nearly as strong as Damon's. Though her temper was milder, Alaric never did underestimate the girl's capacity to raise Hell.

Alaric grumbled as he dialed Elena's cell.

A/N: Do you hear them, dear reader? The monsters within these depths? They are restless, you see. For, down here within this darkness they starve. It is flesh they crave, for their own has rotted away. Thus, again I must remind you to stay near. We have bargained my chapters for your ever precious reviews, favorites, and follows, and nothing more. Should they come along, I'm afraid I will not save you.