Matt's eyes blinked open blearily. He could feel a firm mattress underneath him, pillows propping his head up.

"Hey, Matt. How are you feeling?"

"Care?" He realised he was in a bed, but nowhere that he recognised. He tried to push himself up, but felt a prick in the crook of his elbow. An IV tube was attached to him, a bag of saline half drained hanging from a stand nearby. There was a steady beep in the background.

"Thank god," Caroline sighed, relieved. She pulled him in close, trying not to squeeze too tightly.

"Ah, ah, Care, not so tight," Matt groaned, he could feel the bruising beneath his gown. "I'm in the hospital?" His mind was still like wet sand, but the sensation was dulled. He wondered how long he'd been there.

Caroline nodded, wiping away a tear. "You passed out at the Lockwood's earlier. We were so worried." She breathed a sigh. "Mom's waiting outside. She wants to talk to you about what happened. When you're ready."

"Pesto or carbonara?" Damon called through from the kitchen, a pot of pasta boiling on the stove.

"Damon, I'm fine. I really should go home soon anyway," Elena insisted, still lying on the sofa, basking in the warmth from the fire Damon had lit. Alaric had left them, needing to get back to Jenna and Jeremy. The running story was that Stefan and Elena were having relationship trouble, so Alaric had let them be to 'talk it out.' Of course neither of them would know that Stefan was elsewhere, wherever he was.

"Pesto it is." Damon appeared in front of her, a bowl of pasta in his hand. He placed a box of cookies on the table to her right. "For dessert," he smirked.

"Damon," she said, giving him a look that said she wasn't in the mood for games.

"You lost a lot of blood, Elena. You need your strength. Eat." He picked up a forkful of pasta, flying it through the air, his mouth making a playful plane noise. "neoooowwwwwwww... Open up."

Elena rolled her eyes. "I'm not five."

"Good, then I don't need to worry about getting you a bib. Now, open."

She took the fork from him with a scowl, shovelling the pasta into her mouth.

"Thatta girl," Damon smirked. He kicked off his shoes and plunged into the armchair closest to the fire. The heat cast soft shadows around his face. He watched her pick at the pasta, and couldn't help his mind wandering. There was a guilty part of him, not so far from the surface, that was enjoying Stefan's unravelling. It was the part of him that was reckless, impetuous. The part that had watched Stefan be the saint for the good part of 50 years. It was also the part of him that ached to kiss Elena, no matter the implications.

"So, what are we going to do about Stefan?" Elena asked, in-between mouthfuls.

"We are not going to do anything. You are going to stay far away until Stefan gets his urges under control," Damon replied firmly. He watched the irritation malign her features.

She frowned, stabbing a piece of penne with her fork forcefully. "You can't seriously expect me to just sit here and do nothing while Stefan is out there, struggling."

Damon sighed, rubbing his forehead as if trying to dispel a headache. "That's exactly what I expect you to do." He caught her gaze, determined and defiant. He loved that about her. "Elena," He sighed, "it's not about doing nothing. It's about staying safe. Stefan's emotions are heightened and unpredictable right now, and I'm not going to risk you being near him."

"I can't just abandon him, Damon!" Elena argued, her voice filled with determination. "He needs us- needs me."

"What Stefan needs is to curb this binge. He's been on a bunny diet on and off for a good part a century, Elena. Sure, he's had his moments off the wagon, but that much bunny would be enough to send anyone off the rails."

Elena sighed, shoving the bowl aside. She'd officially lost her appetite. It felt like an ongoing pattern of Stefan and Damon- in this case, Damon- saving her from one thing or another. She was bored of being treated like some fragile child, too weak or precious to get involved herself.

Damon couldn't help but laugh. She looked like some dejected puppy, big brown eyes curved in a frown, lips pouting. "You're not going to go on hunger strike are you?"

"Maybe I will," she shot back, crossing her arms defiantly, a slight smile playing on her lips. "If that's what it takes to get you to listen to me."

Damon rolled his eyes, but his smile softened. He moved closer, sitting on the edge of the sofa beside her. "Elena, you know I'm only trying to protect you. If something happened to you-"

"-Stefan would kill you, I know. Well, when he's normal Stefan," She finished.

"Exactly," He smiled unconvincingly. He meant to say something more like I would never forgive myself but was relieved at the interruption. He could even feel the words 'I'm in love you with, Elena' tickling his lips. He realised he'd had too much booze.

"So, what exactly is the plan then?"

"We are going to get you to a safe house, I am going to kill John-"

"Damon!" She sat up abruptly, sucking in the air again tightly at the pain. He eased her back.

"Kidding!" He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Not kidding.." He amended, muttering under his breath. Elena shot him another one of her unimpressed looks. He cleared his throat. "Then, I'm going to find Stefan, before he kills anyone else, or worse, gets killed."

"She could have come to me," Jenna lamented. She and Alaric were sat on the sofa in the Gilbert's house, a bottle of wine between them, some crappy show on the TV. Jeremy was sleeping off the alcohol upstairs.

"Well, she could see you were having a good time with Jeremy, Jenna. I don't think she'd willingly come to her high school history teacher with boy drama," He smiled at her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "Us history farts don't tend to be too good with the emotional stuff," he smirked.

"I don't think you're too bad, as history farts go," she smiled. "More wine?"

"Please." He held out his glass.

"So, what happened between them? They seemed fine earlier." She turned the TV down, turning to look at Alaric thoughtfully.

"Honestly, I'm still not sure. It all seemed very convoluted to me. Stefan was drunk though, so I figured I'd drive them back anyway. Elena said she'd go stay at Bonnie's after they talked." He was surprised at how easily the lies came to him. It wasn't a good feeling, lying to Jenna, but what was the alternative? Telling Jenna about vampires and daylight rings? Telling her that her niece not only happened to be dating one, but that he'd gone off the rails? No, he concluded firmly. Maybe there would be a time and place someday where he could clue her in, but all of that was a bit much for someone so completely out of the loop. It had taken him years to come to terms with the existence of vampires, and that had been after many years of dealing with Isobel's obsession.

"I'm exhausted, Damon. It's getting pretty late. I think I should head home." Elena eased herself off the cushions, moving to stand, one hand propped on the sofa for support. The wounds were firmly packed with gauze, sore, but firmly taped around the edges. The dress was ruined, but that was the least of her worries right now.

"Yeah, about that..." Damon turned to her, voice sympathetic. "You're staying here tonight," he said firmly, crossing the room in a flash to sit steady her. She could see the concern in his eyes.

She sighed, pushing him away. "I've got to see Jer. Make sure he's okay. He seemed really drunk earlier, and I'm sure Jenna is worried sick." She wobbled slightly. Damon saw her wince but did nothing, ready only to catch her if she fell.

"Like I'm going to let you out of my sight," He folded his arms, learning back against the drinks table. His tone softened, "C'mon, I know you've only seen Stefan's room, but you're gonna like the others. It's a cool house, Elena. Lots of history. You'll love it." He quirked his smile again, arm outstretched, waiting for her to take it.

"Honestly, Damon, I can manage," she protested, hobbling towards the door, resolute. Damon rolled his eyes. Must she be so stubborn?

He appeared in front of the door, arms still folded. The sole of his foot pushed against it, holding it closed. "And how do you think you're going to drive yourself, Elena? Ric took your car, and I sure as hell am not giving you my keys." He jingled his keys around his finger, tucking them back into pocket. He was bored of her martyr behaviour. Let me help you, damnit.

"Damon, please. I'm so tired," she breathed, gazing imploringly at him. She wanted nothing more than to be asleep in her own bed, in her own house, the night's events lost to a dreamless haze.

Damon saw the exhaustion in her eyes. His own softened. "Ric's told Jenna you're not going to be there tonight, okay? It'd only confuse her more if you turned up now. Plus, with an impetuous Stefan, I think having a spare vampire in the house might be a good thing." He held his hand out to her once more, and she took it, resigned to a night at the Salvatore's house.

Soon they were in one of the spare bedrooms; Damon laid out some essential items on the bed; toothbrush, pj's, blankets. "Shout if you need anything, and I mean anything. I'll take another look at the grazes tomorrow, but for now sleep would be wise." He smiled sympathetically at her, lingering only for a moment before shutting the door behind him. He'd barely made it down the hall before a soft voice called out to him.

"Damon?" She called quietly. The door creaked open a crack, Damon poked his head into the room. She was still sat on the bed, arm stiffly tucked in to her side, forearm pushing against the bandage on her waist protectively.

"Elena?" he said softly, eyes looking into hers expectantly. He could feel his heart clenching again under his chest. The desire to kiss her was hard to suppress anyway, but the lack of inhibitions paired with the way her beautiful brown eyes gazed into his made it even harder. Stupid humanity.

"I... Need your help." She blushed, looking at the pj's on the bed, her eyes flicking back to the wound on her side. Damon tried to wipe away the snide comment that pinged in his brain. He simply nodded, moving to help her out of the dress. "No looking," she said seriously, letting Damon pull a sleeve over her head.

"Cross my heart, hope to die," he smirked, taking careful movements to make sure the fabric was well away from her cuts.

Once she was dressed, teeth brushed and face washed, he led her over to the bed, helping to ease her into the pillows. "There's some painkillers on the side and some water, in case you need it through the night." She nodded, letting herself be tucked in.

"Thanks, Damon," she murmured, her eyes already heavy with sleep. Her hand found his and squeezed it gratefully. Damon watched as she drifted off, the steady rise and fall of her chest a small comfort amidst the chaos. He lingered for a moment longer, smoothing a few stray strands of hair from her face, before turning off the light and closing the door behind him.

"Goodnight, Elena."