"Welcome home, Elijah," the group squeals when he enters the house followed by his parents. A rare smile forms on Katherine's face as she looks at her guests. There's a banner on the mantle, balloons, and even a cake.

The young boy's eyes widen in wonder and then he runs over to the table. With a devilish look on his face, he swipes his finger across the frosting and sticks the yummy goodness into his mouth, pulling it out with a hearty plopping sound.

"Elijah," an astonished Katherine chastises him gently.

"But it's my cake, right grandma?" he looks at Lily as he licks his finger clean.

"Yes, it's your cake," Lily laughs, ruffling his hair. "Go sit down and I'll cut you a piece okay?"

He nods and runs over to the couch where Damon and Elena are seated.

"How are you feeling champ?" Damon asks, smiling at him while holding onto his wife's hand securely.

When Kol informed Elena that Elijah was in surgery, she informed Damon and after he picked her up, the two of them rushed over to the hospital, arriving just as the surgeon was talking to his parents.

"My belly is sore and the doctor told Mama that I can't go swimming for two whole weeks or play baseball."

"It'll go by fast," Damon reassures him. "Your aunt and I brought you something," he pulls a card out of his pocket and hands it to his nephew.

"Thank you, Uncle Damon," he tears open the envelope, squealing when he finds tickets to the miniature golf course in Florence, Oregon. "Dad, look what I got," he waves them in the air for Nik to see.

He says a few words to Stefan before moving to his son. "If I had known all it took to get tickets to play gold was getting my appendix out, I would've done it long ago," Nik teases, thanking Damon and Elena with a nod.

"Do you still have your appendix?" Elijah asks, his mouth slightly agape.

"Nope, I had it out when I was a little boy but I never got loot like this," Nik teases, winking at him.

"Let's go so I can show mom."

Nik shakes his head and follows him over to where Katherine is chatting with Rebekah.

"Do you want a bottle of water or something stronger?" Damon asks Elena, his insides getting a little prickly as his eyes land on the bar, bottles of amber and clear liquids sitting on top. There's also a wine cooler behind it, holding a variety of expensive brands.

"I'll take an iced tea or a soda, either is fine."

"Elena, you don't have to abstain on my account."

"I know that... You sit, I'll get it," she's about to get up when Kol takes the seat Elijah vacated.

"Kol," Damon says coolly, not comfortable around the youngest Mikaelson male.

"I come in peace, Damon. Elijah's my nephew too."

"Why don't you let me get those drinks," Damon walks away, stopping when his father pulls him aside.

"Is he okay, Elena?" Kol asks, his eyes drifting to Elena.

"I think he has a lot on his mind, Kol, about many things," her voice trails off as she watches Elijah drag Damon into the rec room to play a video game with him.


It's amazing how a scare, whether it's an illness or an accident, can bring families together. The thought makes her smile and she turns her eyes back to Katherine and Klaus. Although Elijah protested, his mother insisted that he go to bed when he couldn't hide his yawns. After taking a pain pill, he said goodnight to everyone and then disappeared into his room.

Soon the conversation veers into unexpected territory...

"I believe you will all agree that the AA meetings are doing Damon a world of good. It was my idea," Stefan adds proudly, all but puffing out his chest.

Elena looks around seeing most of them nodding at his words. Damon studies the carpet under his feet, nursing a glass of soda, fingertips as white as a sheet from holding it too tightly.

She mentally sighs as she knows she will disappoint them once again.

"I'm not so sure it's the best approach for Damon," she turns back to Stefan.

Everyone, including Damon, looks at her surprised.

"But it works," Giuseppe says with conviction.

Stefan, on the other hand, can't hide his anger.

"Does it?" Elena questions. "I'm sure, for some, it works miracles, but there are people who simply can't confide in strangers, making it more of a hindrance than anything else." She shudders inside at the thought of this soul-stirring. "For some, the added weight might just be too much to bear."

Damon looks at her in awe. Is she saying... what he thinks she is? She wouldn't mind if he left AA. Is she giving her tacit approval for him to quit?

"You know I've never understood your relationship," Stefan comments as his eyes dart to Damon. "Does she want you dead? Or merely a daily drunk?"

"Stefan, you're not helping," Giuseppe cautions, sensing the tension rising in the room, and not in a good way.

Ignoring him, Stefan looks at her with scorn and accusation, "Do you want him to fail? Because from where I stand, it certainly seems that way."

"Don't be ridiculous," Elena defends herself. "I want what's best for him, I'm just not sure if AA is it. Does it make you feel stronger? Or better? Does it help when you...," she swallows thickly, "tamper down the urges, does it...?"

"Do you think I'm weak? That I can't handle it?" Damon interrupts her, unable to stop the question. He doesn't want her pity, he wants to be her hero, and although he did plenty to destroy that notion...

"It's not weakness, Damon..., I believe you're strong enough to handle it in the way that works best for you."


After finishing up a heavy mail day, Damon goes directly to Enzo's, not so much for a workout or grappling with each other, he wants his opinion since he knows intimately how difficult it can be to both achieve and maintain sobriety. On his way, he stops at Little Caesars to pick up a pizza, breadsticks, and a 2-liter bottle of soda.

Hearing the bell above the door, Enzo looks up, smiling when he sees his good friend. "Damon," he finishes his routine on the parallel bars, ending it with a summersault, landing it perfectly.

"You should teach me that," Damon chuckles, approaching him with a smirk on his face.

"Like that'll happen," Enzo laughs, patting him on the shoulder. "Whatever it is must be important that you brought supper," he arches an eyebrow.

"I wanted to run something by you," Damon follows him into his office, takes a seat, and opens the pizza box. After handing Enzo a paper plate, he takes a couple of pieces and bites down, almost groaning at how good it is.

"It's good but it's not moan-worthy," Enzo looks at him as he stuffs a breadstick in his mouth.

"I lived on this stuff when I was in law school," Damon chuckles and chugs down his glass of soda.

"Do you think you'll ever go back to it, being a lawyer I mean?"

Damon reaches for a napkin and wipes his mouth. "I miss it sometimes, I won't deny I've thought about it... If I were to go back, I think I'd try to get in at the DA's office or something."

"That'd be a pay cut."

"I know, but I'd be helping get bad people off the streets. We'll see, I'm satisfied with my job right now."

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" Enzo reaches for another piece.

"Elena surprised me..."

"How so?"

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. "She mentioned that for me, the AA meetings seem to be hindering more than helping me. I can't disagree with her, Enzo. I get completely discombobulated emotionally but I don't want to let her down yet again."

"If you want my two cents, I happen to agree with her. You stress yourself out so much, that you're a wreck when you stop by afterward. I've told you before, I don't want to discourage you, the group helps millions of people... Still, there are people like you that just don't do well laying themselves bare before strangers."

"Very true," Damon nods and takes another puff before putting it out in the ashtray that Enzo slides over to him.

"Give it some thought, I can talk to Elena if you want?" he offers while refilling their soda glasses.

"Thanks, I appreciate it, Enzo, more than you know," Damon picks up a breadstick. "Hey, how did the date with Bonnie go?" he changes the subject.

"How did you know it was Bonnie?" his eyes snap to Damon's.

"I didn't, but you just confirmed it," he laughs. "Truth is, Bonnie and Elena, have been best friends since the crib almost. When I talked to her, she said Bonnie had a date and when I told her you did too, she put two and two together." Damon waggles his brows playfully.

"I like her, a lot. We made plans to go to a movie this weekend."

"That's great Enzo... how about a game of cards?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Enzo pulls a deck out of his top drawer with a smirk and a wicked gleam in his eyes.


Swallowing back his anxiety, Damon raises his hand and raps on Elena's door. She surprised him yet again when she offered to join him at one of the AA meetings. A part of him doesn't want to burden her but if he's to be honest with himself, he could use her support. Moments later, the door opens up and there she is, a beaming smile on her face.

"Come in, Damon. I just have to grab my bag," she pushes the door closed once he crosses the threshold.

Damon focuses on her eyes, which are darting back and forth, shining in the last rays of the sunlight. They are a deep brown - the color of the earth after torrential rains. But there is something else in them, something glistening. Glistening like an old copper penny being examined in the warmth next to powerful flames that are licking the safety glass door of an old fireplace.

"You're staring," she remarks, tilting her head ever so slightly.

"You're so beautiful, Elena. I must have done something good at some point that I have you in my life."

"Damon, that's one of the most precious things you've ever said to me," Elena acknowledges as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses her lips to his. The feel of him impossibly close warms her more than any fire could. She kisses him possessively like she wants to steal the breath from his lungs, and she tangles her fingers in the hairs at the back of his neck, never wanting it to end.

Damon whispers hoarsely after a moment, his lips still brushing hers. "You're incredible…" He opens his mouth against hers once more, leaving her light-headed and feverish. She presses closer then, kissing him back so fiercely, allowing her to savor the taste of him on her tongue. He is sweeter than the finest champagne but just as intoxicating, and she kisses him until her lungs burn until air becomes an absolute necessity.

"That was nice," he teases, reaching to steady her when she sways.

"You still take my breath away, Damon," she steals another quick kiss.

"You do the same and as much as I would love to continue, we should go," he grimaces at the thought of attending another meeting.

Elena nods, picks up her purse, and follows Damon outside. After locking the door, she takes the hand he offers and walks to his car.

"Are you sure about this?" Damon turns his head as he starts the engine.

"I'm positive," she assures him with a luminous smile. Reaching over she lays her palm on his leg.

"Okay," he shifts the car into gear and leaves her neighborhood behind. His eyes drop to where her fingertips are gently pressing into his flesh, each new touch leading straight back to his heart.


Damon sucks in a deep shuddering breath as he exits the car. He lights up a cigarette, needing something to calm his jittery nerves before he goes inside the building. Elena steps out, she doesn't say anything, she's here more to observe and offer him silent support.

He removes the cigarette from his mouth and blows out a plume of white into the air. Then he watches the ribbon of smoke twist and squirm like a garter snake. When he feels Elena link one of her hands with his free one, he takes one more pull on it then drops it to the ground and stomps it out.

"You ready?"

"Yeah," he nods and squeezes it as if to reassure himself that she is indeed there with him. Together they walk down the sidewalk until they reach the building. Damon latches onto the handle and pulls but Elena doesn't miss the almost imperceptible tremor. She can see that he's troubled. There's an uneasy quiet about him. She rubs his hand with her thumb for a few seconds and lets go of it.

Once inside, Elena looks around at the fairly decent-sized group of people. Men, women, young, old, black, white, they're all here, the thing they all have in common is an alcohol addiction. Damon extends his hand for her to choose a seat. There are two folding chairs in the back, she looks at him and when he nods, they sit but not too close to each other.

She feels like she's invading these people's privacy, not being one of them. Except, her husband. She's here to support him. And also to find out if this is a place that can help him or break him. She suspects it might be the latter.

She's aware of the looks she's getting. The people here are very respectful, they don't stare, and don't try to involve her in conversation, knowing she must be new here. Still, the looks, fleeting and curious, are there. It's not a good feeling. Her eyes drift to Damon. He's tense and nervous, she can tell, a woman and the man next to him address him but he doesn't react verbally, just absently shakes his head.

"Good evening everyone," a man in probably his fifties speaks to the crowd, calling the meeting to order. "I'm glad to see new faces here, welcome, and trust me, you will never be alone among your brothers and sisters. Feel free to ask for advice or chat with anyone here or you can just stand up and share anything. I, myself feel very lucky and happy to be here, not only is my condition better, but also my relationships have improved, I talk to my family again, and my daughter comes to see me once a week. I haven't had alcohol for 276 days. Oh, and my name is Connor, for those who don't know me..."

He receives applause and goes back to his seat, people whispering words of appreciation as he passes them. A few minutes later the meeting is called to order and Elena watches as the younger man, appearing to be in his 30s walks up to the podium.

"Good evening. My name is Pete. I've been coming here for a while now... well over a year. I have this perfectionist trait. My mother noticed it and commented, my employer noticed and reaped the rewards. My friends saw it too, in my immaculately kept sports car and my general demeanor, and they had a chuckle about this noticeable characteristic. I was nearly 19 years old before I started drinking as I had a deep-seated fear that I could and would become the same uncontrollable, irrational, unpredictable alcoholic that my father was. And my brother, three years my junior was already out of control and experiencing problems in many areas of his life, he later died at 25, due to alcohol and drug abuse," Pete pauses to take a drink of water.

"Thank you," he hugs an old woman back when she leaves her seat to voice her sympathy for his loss. "My drinking was fairly civilized for quite some years," he continues, "I found that drinking large quantities at dinners, parties, pubs, barbecues, and the like was living. Eventually, I experienced my first drunk driving offense, followed by an arrest, a police charge, and suspension of my driver's license.

Two more drunk driving offenses, the last one resulting in instant dismissal from a very rewarding position as a sales representative. That night, I drove the company-owned vehicle into a stone wall and I still have no recollection of that. The next five weeks I drank in and out of oblivion with very little recollection of anything much at all. So alcohol was playing a large part in this alcoholic's life. In all areas, work, play, sex – all situations saw the gluttonous and persistent consumption of large quantities of alcohol," he steps back from the podium for a minute or two before speaking again.

"Being a single man with no commitment to anyone, I believe gave me license to drink as much as I wanted. A close friend frequently said, 'You never think about the consequences of your actions when you are hopelessly drunk.' He was right, I was totally out of control and life was progressively becoming more and more unmanageable. .."

Elena is alert to all of Damon's little mannerisms. His face is rigid with tension. Beads of moisture glisten on his furrowed brow, his hands are clasped tightly in front of his stomach and he's constantly fiddling with his knuckles, weaving his fingers in and out of each other.

Damon listens intently to Pete. Sweat rolls down his back and he can feel his heart throbbing inside his chest. It feels like his skin is roasting. He begins to bounce one foot rhythmically against the floor trying to trick his mind into focusing on that instead of the fact that his lungs feel like they'll burst.

When Elena lays her palm on his thigh, his eyes snap to hers. The anguish on his face is something she hasn't seen in a very long time. She has the sinking feeling that although this place has helped people like Pete, it's not helping her husband it's exacerbating his anxiety. Somehow, she knows she has to get him out of there. Leaning over, she whispers in his ear to follow her out. Feigning illness, she wraps her arms around her middle as she walks out. Damon looks dumbfounded but soon follows after her, trying his hardest to ignore the stares.

He catches up to her at his car, she's pacing alongside it.

"Elena, are you okay?" Damon pushes his face closer, his mind ordering his body to fall in line. it's a mask of defiance and surety, for retreat would be a show of weakness.

"Yes, Damon, I'm fine." She raises a hand to palm his cheek. "But you're not..."

Like hail slamming against a glass pain, his heart is drumming hard and relentless. "Elena, I..."

"You don't have to hide from me, Damon. I'm not blind, I can see this place is tying you in knots." Sensing a sadness in his frustration, she adds, "There's no disgrace in that."

"I don't want to fail you again," he presses his palms against the hood of the car and drops his head.

Laying her hand between his shoulder blades, she gently massages her fingertips into his flesh. "I've always thought heroes were rare. All the storybooks tell of their large muscles or other qualities an ordinary person can't hope to aspire to - but I've seen so many that it can't be so. I've seen my students be heroes of kindness, showing the kind of perseverance that would rival any fictional character. I've seen a young man helping out a lady in a bank, carrying her stroller up the stairs when the elevator was out of order. You might think you don't measure up, but I disagree. I'm very proud of you, Damon."

Even amid the chaos that's swirling inside of him, Damon straightens up and turns around to face her. His hand reaches for hers and they interlock as he kisses her tentatively, passionately, and tenderly. He lifts her shirt just slightly so he can touch her. She feels the little sparks of static dancing over her skin. She's not sure whether they're from her shirt or from the way his hands gently skim her flesh. Either way, it's a magical feeling and causes her to shiver in complete pleasure.

His lips press against hers with love, and affection as his warm hands roam all over her lower back leaving a trail of sparks in their wake.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers so close that she can feel the warmth of his breath tickle her ear.

"I love you, Damon," she smiles at him, hoping he believes her because it's as true tonight as was the first time she said it.

"I love you too. I better get you home, you have school tomorrow," he moves to open the car door for her. After she slides in, he pushes it closed. He looks up, the summer night is luminous with starlight and the moon full and bright. He takes a shaky breath and drives her home.

When they arrive, he walks to the front door with her. "Goodnight, Elena. Thank you for coming with me."

She shakes her head. "Of course, I wanted to..."

It's impossible how shaken she still feels from the passion of their earlier moment. She can feel the heat radiating from his body as he towers above her. Mirroring his actions from before she steps closer, her fingers slipping under his shirt causing him goosebumps. The feel of his hands tightening on her waist brings flashes of other times and other moments when he played her body like a violin.

Elena longs to have that connection again, she doesn't want to rush it, rush him, though. He isn't ready. With heart heavy from all the pain and trouble he must be going through she gives him one last kiss and lets go. She watches till his tail lights are no more than specks in the distance.


Thank you everyone, so much.

Chapter title: Listen to Your Heart by Roxette.

I have nothing against AA. I know they help and have helped scores of people. It doesn't work for everyone, my husband included.

Have a wonderful weekend and we'll see you next with Hey, Santa.