A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews!

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Mistaken Observations: You Are Rough Around The Edges

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"I think we should go now; it feels like we've been sitting here for five hours," Damon slowly stood up from the floor, taking Elena's elfin hand in his own, and pulling her up to her full height. Elena pouted, her lower lip jutting out, and he tried not to notice how broken she seemed next to those rusty looking urinals. He cringed in distaste. "And this bathroom is starting to smell weird."

But, Elena just sagged against him, her tired limbs telling her to plant it and to never get up for a second time. "But, I don't want to leave," she mewled, tugging on his worn leather jacket, signaling to him that she wanted him to let her go. She had almost been comforted by Damon's sturdy collarbone and the smell of his skin. She wasn't ready to get up and leave just yet.

And this is one of the many times that she wanted to be comforted by him, and he just pulled away?

Damon almost groaned in response to her words. Elena always found a way to complicate things. If it wasn't her complete control over him, then it was her inability to disagree with every little thing he said. She always wanted to do the exact opposite of what he told her. It was probably just because she had such a strong-will, and a complete free mind, but Damon was starting to wonder if it had something to do with the sick humor she found in infuriating him.

"Knock it off, Elena," Damon tried to keep his voice steady and in control. "It's fine that you feel like shit right now. I get it, okay? I usually don't feel too good when you slap me across the face, so I can imagine what you're thinking about this situation. But we need to go home. People are going to get suspicious if we don't come out."

He then heard her say something along the lines of, "Like it even matters what they think anymore. They already think I'm some sort of mental case who can't hold a good friend to save her life."

Damon sighed, and Elena just looked somber. He really needed to get her home before her inability to walk set in.

Yanking her hand from his, Elena straightened her spine out, her face flushed, and her irritation set to a new high. "Fine," it sounded like a growl to Damon, "I'll go. Just don't expect me to like it."

Damon thought she sounded briefly like a stubborn kid who had just been denied of their candy. It made him want to laugh, and he had to quickly compose himself of doing so. He figured that Elena wouldn't appreciate it very much. She looked to serious right now- to melancholy, and he simply didn't have the heart to poke any more fun at her. The poor thing looked like she was about to fall at his feet.

After he was sure that he wouldn't explode into laughter, and he securely had Elena by his side, Damon unlocked the white door, opened it, and rushed Elena outside into the rush of drunk and overly-excited people.

Elena ducked her head, trying with a fierce determination to go un-noticed by the array of party-goers. Even when she stayed pressed into the side of Damon, and all but buried her face into the heated skin of his neck, she could still feel all of their eyes on her back, and boring into her head like strong headlights.

And, she couldn't hear them, but she knew that they were laughing at her; they were all laughing at her on the inside, and she hated feeling so needy- so un-put together. After Stefan had left, she had spent months building up her tolerance to what other people thought. Was it working? No, not really, but she still liked to convince herself that she was immune to the gossip that she knew people talked about behind her back.

The silence in the room was pressing down on her head, and a woman in her late twenties gave Damon a very peculiar look. Elena had to bit her tongue just to refrain from telling her to fuck off. But who was Elena to do that? It wasn't like Damon was her boyfriend or anything closely resembling that. He could go around and see whoever the hell he wanted.

The thought of that made Elena bitter, and before she could stop herself, she whispered into the shell of Damon's ear, "I hope you know that half the woman in here are eye-raping you."

At this, Damon exploded into loud mirth, and it made the tension in the bar suddenly disappeared. The people started chatting amongst themselves, the clinking of beer bottles became present, and the lady who had given Damon that flirty little glance had turned back to her boyfriend.

"Let them," he replied, "They're never going to see me again."

Elena smirked at that before letting out a breath of relief as they stepped out of the building and into the frigid, cold air.

And she would definitely make sure that those people never saw her again, either. Not if she could help it.

From the corner of her eye, Elena saw Damon slid his hand into his pocket of his dark-wash jeans, producing his rattling car keys with a flick of his wrist. "Ready to go home, Pouty?"

The corners of her mouth twitched up, resembling a small smile and also some lingering bitterness. She remembered that nickname from when things were easier; when things were simpler to come by, and the only thing she had to worry about was how bad Damon would annoy her that day.

God, she missed those days more than anything in this world.

But, still, she replied to his question with a barely-there nod of her head. "More than anything."

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"Ouch," Elena whined, "What are you trying to do, rub until you hit bone?"

Damon rolled his eyes. He was trying to help her after all, and she was acting like he was shoving bamboo splinters under her nails. "I'm trying to clean this," He slapped her hand away as she brought it up to her swollen cheek. "Blondie really did a number on you, didn't she?"

Elena sighed and shifted on the bathroom counter. "Well, that's what you get when you practically threaten one of your best friends. And it turns out that they don't like that very much."

"I do it all the time, and look at me," Damon gestured to his body, his face glowing in the dim lighting above him, "Perfectly fine. Not one scratch on me."

Elena couldn't help but laugh, causing her nose to scrunch up in pain as the scratches on her face tightened up. "That's probably because you heal as soon as you get a cut," Elena said, then laughed even harder as she added, "And because you have no friends that you can actually annoy the hell out of."

"I still find ways, though. It's really not that hard. Just look at Alaric. I don't even think we qualify as friends, and I've probably irritated him to the point of suicide a couple of times." Damon smiled over at her, but Elena could have sworn that there was sorrow in the depths of his blue eyes.

Elena watched as Damon applied more ointment to a washcloth, bringing it up to her skin again. She flinched from the coldness. Or she could have flinched from the way his other hand unknowingly caressed her cheek.

"I'm your friend," she deadpanned, but it sounded like she was trying to convince herself of that more than anything.

"And do I annoy the hell out of you?" Damon didn't really care to hear her answer. Everything she said was practically bound to make him feel worse about himself. In plus, he basically already knew her answer.

Elena couldn't help but twiddle her thumbs, avoiding his penetrating gaze with everything she had. "I don't know yet. Maybe you do, maybe you don't."

"Well," he screwed the top back on the salve before setting it down on the counter, "Let me know when you find out. I'll be curious to hear your answer."

Yeah, Elena thought, so will I. Because I honestly have no clue what my feelings are towards you right now.

Damon smirked down at her as she hoped off her spot on the granite counter top, and the action unnerved her. He really was too tempting for his own good, and the evidence of this came as a hard hit on her part.

"All better. You have been officially nursed back to health by Damon Salvatore," he smiled, the tops of his white teeth only visible. "You're welcome."

Taking a good step away from him and his body, Elena was able to think more clearly… only to find that she was at a complete loss for words. Things were confusing her now. When did Damon suddenly become the good one fighting for his brother's innocence? When did everything become so topsy-turvy?

"Why do you do it?"

Damon froze, tempted to play dumb and act like he hadn't heard her. But he just couldn't. It was almost like he was compelled to answer every question she directed her way. "Do what, Elena?"

She spoke quietly, still trying to put distance between his body and hers. "You know what I mean, Damon. Why do you take care of me? Why don't you kick me out of your house and go look for Stefan yourself?"

God, there were so many reasons he couldn't just kick her out of the house like she was some lost cause, or leave her to fend for herself. She needed him by her side because without him, she would most likely be dead. He would never have been able to live on without her, and he probably would have just killed himself, too. And that would be no help to Stefan. That would have been giving up on him, and he promised Elena he wouldn't ever do that. But there was also another reason he couldn't just do those things, and once again, it undeniably revolved around Elena. He couldn't do those things because he loved. He loved her so damn much that he wouldn't be able to think of doing those things.

And he almost wished that she knew those certain things. Maybe she did, and she was just denying what was practically being shoved in her face.

He still didn't know how to answer this though, so he just settled on, "Because I just can't, Elena."

Knowing not to pry any further than that, Elena just leisurely nodded her head, pretending to be fascinated by Damon's shoes. She knew without even trying that this wasn't the real reason. Damon was just afraid to tell her the real motivation behind keeping her safe.

But she wasn't going to say it aloud; if she said it for other people to hear, it would have made it more real- harder to ignore.

"What even brought that question on?" Damon asked as he trifled through one of his oak cabinets, searching for a clean towel. He desperately needed something to distract himself from her penetrating brown eyes. She looked like she was close to piecing everything together.

And what would be the problem in that? Damon thought to himself, she already knows that you love her. Or maybe she forgot…

Damon shook his head. How could someone forget when they got told that someone loved them? Well, Elena always had been good at blocking painful memories, and maybe this was no exception. Maybe he was just another reverie to be forever obstructed.

Elena watched as Damon came up with dark purple towel. "It was just something I've been wondering. I thought you would have a good reason this time. Apparently you don't seem to."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Damon wasn't quite sure whether she was trying to insult him or not. Her words made him feel somewhat like a nosy child who had gotten in trouble one too many times.

Elena shrugged. "Every time you save someone or do something nice for someone else, you always just say it was because you had to." Elena narrowed her eyes at him. "But I don't think that's very true. I think there are very good reasons why you do the things you do."

A muscle in Damon's jaw ticked, and he grinded in his teeth together. "And what would they be then, Elena, if you suddenly know so much about me?"

She smiled up at him, looking everything like the cat that had just eaten the canary. It almost scared him a little. She looked too much like Katherine in that moment.

"I just think you care too much to let anything bad happen to anyone in this town."

And Damon immediately felt bad for even thinking of comparing her to Katherine. Everything Elena said was somehow brought up with a love and tenderness that Katherine and never managed. She really was the exact opposite of the bitch.

He shifted uncomfortably, fingering the frayed seams of his bath towel. "Well, yeah," he mumbled. "If Stefan and I would have never showed up, then innocent people wouldn't be getting brutally murdered left and right."

Elena saw the unhinging guilt that layered up into his eyes. "I don't think of it that way. If you and Stefan hadn't come into town, Klaus would have been still searching for me. He would have killed me and everyone in this town." She stopped, looking at him directly. "You and Stefan saved me by coming into this town, Damon. That's the only way I can look at this situation."

The bathroom suddenly felt too small to Damon. He knew that he had potentially saved Elena more times than he could even count, but to actually do it and then to have Elena say it out loud to him where two completely different things. He could practically feel himself glowing.

"Do you really think that?" He couldn't help but feel skeptical over that foreign concept. He had, after all, been hoping she would admit something like that for over a year now.

She nodded her head slowly. "I do."

Damon turned away from her, but he could still feel the small smile adorning his lips. "Good to know," he mumbled, and Elena knew he was a lot happier than he put on.

"Yeah, it is," Elena agreed, and then she said, "What's the towel for?"

Chucking the soft towel at her, Damon gave her an incredulous look. "What does it look like it's for? You're going to take a shower. You reek of drunk people… and Caroline," he pretended to mock shiver. "Gross."

"I smell fine, Damon," but she couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious.

Damon smiled at her. "You're telling that to the guy that can smell from miles away. Don't try to convince me otherwise."

"True," she pointed a finger at him, "But just because you have some freaky super-sense thing doesn't change the fact that you need to leave. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

"Why?" he asked, and he almost had the nerve to tell her that there was no door to his bathroom. This house wasn't really meant for anyone else but him and his brother.

Elena raised her eyebrows at him. "Why? Why do you think, Damon?"

Oh. Right. Her taking a shower meant clothes would have to be shed. And he wasn't allowed to see her naked… no matter how much he wanted to.

Damon briefly remembered the time he had found Katherine in his shower. He was so sure that it had been Elena, and it didn't help his libido when the original doppelgänger herself had to go prancing around in front of him wearing nothing but golden brown skin.

He had seen Katherine, but all he really saw was Elena. His eyes had been scarred for life, and he found himself liking it. How sick was that? All it did was remind himself of what he would never have.

Damon just thought it sucked that Elena wasn't into the whole 'you show me yours, I'll show you mine' kind of thing. By some weird turn of events, she had seen his meaningful tattoo on a not-so-innocent part of his body, and he didn't get anything in return?

He thought it was a little harsh and a tad bit awkward at the same time. Here he was, a 168 year old vampire, pinning after some eighteen year old girl like a horny teenager. He was practically a pedophile in the making.

"Right," Damon shook his head, trying to clear it of all bouncing thoughts. "Sorry. I guess I'll just- I'll just leave now."

Elena bit her lip. "Yeah, that would probably be…best."

Damon seemed to agree with her, and the room suddenly stunk of some strong kind of tension. He looked at her, licked his suddenly dry lips, and then turned on his heel, doing his best not to tear off his own clothes and join her like he so badly wanted to.

He hadn't shared his shower with a beautiful woman in way too long. No-one that mattered, anyway.

Elena watched as he strode out of the room and into his bedroom. There really was no bathroom door- just one big opening, and she wondered how she could have forgotten that significantly important piece of information. Somehow it managed to slip her mind as Damon tended to her wounds.

"Damon?" she called out as her feet shifted from side to side.

"Yes?" Damon answered back, and he sounded like he was near his bed, or maybe next to one of his windows.

"If you come in here for any reason at all, I will have to personally hurt you…" she trailed off, and then added, "by getting Bonnie to torture you." She wasn't quite sure, but she could have sworn that she heard Damon's responding chuckle.

"But what if you trip and fall… and then you can't get back up or something? I think it would be in my best interest to come and rescue you."

Elena hoped that he was joking, but she still couldn't hear anything from his tone to convince herself that he was.

She sighed. "I'll be fine, Damon. I think I can manage taking a shower without hurting myself. I'm a big girl."

All was silent for a minute, and Elena rolled her eyes, her fingers going to the straps of her dress. The only thing her clothes reminded her of right now was the horrible things she had said to Caroline at the bar. She hadn't meant to get so carried away. Sure, Caroline had been snooping through her personal life, and had been saying crazy, unrealistic things, but in no way did she deserve those harsh words said to her. And Elena didn't even many half of them. No, she was not going to have Damon personally deal with her, and yes, she did want to see her again. Infect, she wanted to see Caroline more than anything else in the world.

Because, even if the blonde did get carried away most times, she always had something to say. It usually was the wrong thing to say, but at least it was something. And all Elena could do was prance around and say bitchy things to her best friends.

Elena blew her hair out of her face and tried to keep her tears in check. It didn't seem to help though, and she wiped her nose on the back of her hand, sniffling quietly. She wanted to reprimand herself that she was just being a baby, but with Damon in the other room and probably listening to every move she made, she didn't have the courage to.

Wiping her eyes and severely smudging her make-up in the act, she pulled her dress off and neatly folded it, placing the red piece of fabric on the counter next to the ointment Damon had used on her. She placed her boots next to it and shook out her messy hair.

The handle to the shower was cold to the touch, and she quickly turned it on, rotating it until it was scalding hot and she was being smothered by the steam. The window in front of the countertop was clouded in fog, and she was grateful for that. She didn't want to see herself in all her misery.

From the only visible part in the mirror, she caught the reflection of Damon. He was lying down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. Elena flushed and it was not from the heat in the bathroom. She was just glad he wasn't paying attention to what was playing out in front of him.

She really didn't feel like tempting him tonight of all nights. They had both been through enough crap.

Elena hastily moved away from the mirror, stripping the remainder of her undergarments off, and pulling the thick curtain back that was separating her from the warm water on the other side. She carefully stepped inside so she wouldn't fall and unintentionally cause Damon to rush to her aid, and then sighed almost immediately as the deliciously hot water ran down her back, wetting her hair and eyelashes. The muscles in her back and shoulders bunched up and then unknotted completely as she slid her hand over her shampoo she kept handy on the shelf to her right. She would have liked to stay away from the soap that Damon preferred.

As if she didn't get enough of his smell as it was…

Elena stayed in there until the water started to run cold and she heard the soft padding of boots on the floor. She switched off the water, carefully listening, and when she didn't hear anything else, she scowled and pulled the shower curtain back, her head the only visible part of her body peeking out.

She grunted at who was in front of her. Of course it was Damon. Who else was she expecting? Stefan?

"Was there something you wanted?" Elena said as sweetly as possible. "I'm feeling a draft."

Damon sat on the counter where, moments before, she had just been sitting herself. He looked serous as he stared down at his lap, and she couldn't help but feel like something was wrong.

"Damon?" She said softly. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Damon lifted his head, his blue eyes shining back over to her. "Caroline didn't call me," he said. "She never even tried."

Elena could have laughed if she wasn't feeling so exposed. "Is that what you look so serious for? Because Caroline didn't call you? What does that even mean?"

"What does that mean?" Damon scoffed. "Caroline didn't call me, Elena. I followed you to the bar tonight."

"Oh," Elena tried to feign not being surprised. But by the way Damon was looking at her, she didn't do it very well. "And why would you do that?"

Damon huffed out a heavy breath, throwing her the purple towel that she had laid on the toilet only moments before. She caught it with her suddenly cold hands.

"I heard something before you left with Caroline; I don't really think you're going to like it very much." Damon winced before he could stop himself. "I sure as hell didn't like it."

Elena took the towel and wrapped it around her body. "And why are you just telling me this now?"

Damon shrugged and let his hands dangle between his legs. "You just looked so sad from everything that happened earlier… and I just couldn't find myself telling you. I don't even know if it's true or not, so I didn't really think it mattered at the moment."

"So," Elena stepped lightly out of the tub, clenching her towel to her breast, "What is it? How bad can it possibly be?"

Damon pursed his lips, his eyebrows scrunching together and creating creases between them. "Well, I guess it depends on how you look at it. You could take this as really good news, but I highly doubt that. You might just run for the hills and never look back after this."

Rolling her eyes, Elena pushed her dripping hair back and behind her ears. "Okay, I don't think it's that bad. The only thing that would have me running and screaming is-"

"I think Stefan's back." Damon interrupted her, watching as her face dropped about ten decibels.

"Stefan?" She froze and she didn't even think that it sounded like it was her voice. It was like she was suddenly hearing everything through cotton. Her hands fell to her sides, and she swallowed, sucking in a breath. "And how do you know this?

Damon watched her carefully, tensing her reaction. It didn't look like she was handling it well at all. "Well, I guess I didn't really hear it from any one person- which is really just further proof that I am completely wrong, and am just freaking you out for no reason."

"Spit it out, Damon." Elena persisted, tapping her foot on the push carpet underneath it.

"There have been all these reports on the news this past week. And there are all these warnings of murderous animals, and what people should do at night just to keep safe, and how one family of ten people was ripped apart- ripped apart, Elena!" He slumped his head backwards, hitting it against the mirror. "I've been trying to convince myself that it really is some sort of animal, or maybe another vampire in town, but, in my heart, I really know what it is. And what it is is a complete and udder monster." Damon smiled even though he didn't find anything funny in this situation, "My own flesh and blood; my own brother."

Elena tried to swallow, but it came out more as a choke. Her throat felt like it was closing up, and she sensed that she was going into panic mood. What if Stefan came back to try and kill Damon again? Would she even be able to live with the guilt of that?

What if he tries to kill me? A small part of her mind said. There would be nothing you could do about it.

"If these things have been all over the news, then how come I never saw anything?" There was an unmistakable edge of hysteria in her voice that Damon didn't know if he could manage to calm down.

"Because I've been trying so damn hard to keep it from you. And it was working apparently." Damon slid off the counter and walked over to her. "Elena," he whispered, "Everything's going to fine, okay? For as much as we know, Stefan could be half way across the world right now. This really could be some sort of rabid animal."

Elena had enough feeling left in her body to snort. "And what are the odds of that being true? Honestly, Damon, in a town that has a pretty harsh track record of vampires, do you really think that all these people being massacred is the doing of some animal? Are we really that stupid?"

Damon took her by the shoulders, trying to smoother the tremors that were running through her slight frame. "I know this sounds bad, Elena. And I don't think we're being stupid; I think we're just being optimistic." He cocked an eyebrow. "Well, at least one of us is. But it's all we have right now. We can either just give in and assume the worse, or we can fight. I happen to think it's something we are very good at."

Elena wanted to tell Damon that they were good at something, but it definitely wasn't fighting. It was more like they were good at getting their asses kicked over and over again. She didn't say it; Damon would have strangled her then and there if she had.

"Wait, wait, wait," Elena interrupted, "So how does this tie in with you stalking me?"

"Not stalking you," Damon admonished, "I just wanted to make sure that you were safe if anything was to happen."

Elena squinted her eyes. "And a, 'Hey, Elena, I'm kind of worried about you going out with Caroline tonight what with my lunatic of a brother out on the rails and all, so do you mind if I join you tonight,' wouldn't have sufficed? I'm not that cruel of a person, Damon. You could have just asked."

Damon rubbed at his eyes. The stubborn girl in front of him was going to be the death of men everywhere. "You should really hear yourself right now, Elena." He sighed and took his hands off her wet skin, "I thought you would appreciate some time without your alcoholic bodyguard by your side. Excuse me if you suddenly want me to follow you everywhere."

Elena scoffed, raising her hands up, palm out and facing him. He tried not to notice how the life line etched into her skin was exceptionally short.

"Oh, trust me, I don't. I just think it's funny how you never seemed to ask me what I wanted before, and now you suddenly want to honor my wishes like it's the most important thing in the world," she shrugged. "And excuse me for thinking otherwise."

Damon knew there was going to be no arguing with her; she was as stubborn as he was, and there was nothing on this planet that would make her back down from the argument.

"So," Elena said, sounding calmer and more under control then she had before, "What do we do now?"

Damon looked at her body. "Go get some clothes on. You're dripping all over the floor."

"And what about after that? Are we not even going to talk about this anymore?" Elena knew that they both had a nasty habit of dropping a subject like a hot coal, and then never picking it back up again. "Even if the whole town could be in danger again?"

That seemed to get to Damon, because he ushered her out of the bathroom, showed her the pajamas he had put for her on his bed, and soundlessly said, "We'll talk about it in a little bit. Just get dressed."

And she did.

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"Did you hear that?"

Damon shifted next to her, too far in sleep to understand what she was saying.

She could have sworn that there was something knocking on the door downstairs, but she pushed it off after a while, burying herself further into her pillow, and trying to let sleep overtake her once more. But the only way she could do that was by counting big, fluffy, and pink sheep.

One.

Two.

Three.

Knock.

Four.

Knock-knock.

Elena shot up in the bed. She knew that she hadn't imagined it this time. There was something or someone knocking on that damned door.

"Damon," she hissed, turning to him and roughly shaking his bare shoulder, "Damon, get up. There's someone at the door." He didn't move, and Elena lightly slapped him across the chest.

"Ouch," he exclaimed as his bright eyes popped open, but she knew that it hadn't really hurt him at all. "What the hell was that for? Some people actually like to sleep at night."

Elena tugged on his sweats, ignoring as he slapped her hand away. "There's something outside. Go check what it is."

Damon rubbed at his eyes. "Do you even know what time it is?" He groaned when Elena didn't respond, throwing the heavy blanket back over his body. "Go back to bed, 'Lena. There's nothing outside."

"Yes, there is," she chided.

Damon's voice came muffled from over the downy sheet and pillow blocking his mouth. "Then go see for yourself. It's not my job."

"Yes," Elena argued, "It really is. You're the man in this house- not me."

Damon groaned, noting how he had just started another fight after they had just finished one up a couple hours previous. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Even though he couldn't see her, Elena still rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter. Everyone knows that men take care of the problem when this type of thing happens."

"Nothing's happening right now except for a seriously annoying teenager infuriating a really old vampire. Not that it doesn't happen a lot, but let's just save this argument for the morning, 'kay?"

Elena huffed, mumbling 'jack-ass' into the air above her. Under normal circumstances, she would have gotten him up with her persistent begging, but she really was exhausted… so she just gave up.

Damon was silent next to her, probably sleeping again, and she tried to follow suit. Just as her eyes felt heavy enough, and she was on sheep number 156, she heard the sharp tapping noise again.

This time, both her and Damon shot up from their spot on the bed. Damon looked over at her with his mouth open wide.

"See," Elena jeered, "I told you that someone was out there. I'm not a complete idiot, Damon."

"Shhh," he hissed, "Just be quite for a sec."

Elena immediately shut up with a whispered, "sorry."

There was no more sound for a couple minutes, and Elena was almost convinced that she had completely gone insane, when she suddenly heard the imperative sound again.

"Damon-" she started, but he was already out of the bed, shrugging on a shirt that was on one of his dressers. She flung the covers off her in one fluid movement, placing her feet into her yellow slippers, and running down the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her.

Damon was already at the front door by the time she got down there, and Elena struggled to see over his shoulder as his broad structure swallowed up her view of who was on the other side of the door.

She had prepared to say something witty to Damon that he must have been getting old if his hearing was that bad, but she immediately stopped. He hadn't said anything yet, but she could tell by his body language that there was something extremely wrong.

"Damon?" She stood up on her tip-toes, trying to catch a glimpse of the stranger, "Who is it?"

She waited for what seemed like a millennium before Damon could even voice a response. And what he said made her wish that they had never even gotten out of bed in the first place.

"Stefan."

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A/N: Dun dun duuuuun! Looks like Douche-Bag Stefan has some business to tend to. *looks at Damon and Elena*

I give all my love to Peri (you know who you are… hopefully) for helping me with this EXTREMLY hard chapter. Seriously, this had me wanting to throw in the towel and scream that I never wanted to write again…but I somehow managed it!

I hope you all liked the VD mid-season finale as much as I did… because I REALLY liked it. :D

Leave your reviews, pretty please, and maybe I'll have some Delena love go down next chapter…