Elena blew her nose and wiped her cheeks. She didn't quite know what to do with the soggy handkerchief - it seemed gross to hand it back to Damon - so she just held on to it, twisting it between her hands as she thought.
"Now tel me about what's going on. What's wrong with Stefan? What happened to him?" Damon commanded.
"Wel..." Elena said slowly, "I don't know what's wrong with Stefan, and I don't know if anything happened to change him that you don't already know about. Maybe he's just reacting to your... you know." It suddenly seemed weird to refer to Damon's death when he was sitting next to her - impolite somehow - but Damon nodded at her to go on. "It's been hard on him. And he's been even more tense and weird for the last couple of days. Then, earlier this evening, I was visiting my parents in the cemetery..." She told Damon about Stefan's attack on Caleb. "The worst part is that I never suspected this side of Stefan existed," she finished. "I can't think of any real reason he had to attack Caleb - he just claimed that Caleb wanted me, and that he was dangerous, but Caleb hadn't done anything - and Stefan seemed so irrational, and so violent. He was like another person."
Elena's eyes were fil ing with tears again, and Damon pul ed her closer, stroking her hair and gently peppering her face with soft kisses. Elena closed her eyes and gradual y relaxed into his arms. Damon held her more firmly, and his kisses got slower and deeper. Then he was cradling her head with his strong, gentle hands and kissing her mouth.
"Oh, Damon," she murmured. This was more vivid than any dream she'd ever had. His lips were soft and warm, with just a little roughness to them, and it felt like she was fal ing into him. "Wait." He kissed her more insistently but, when she pul ed away, let her go.
"Wait," Elena repeated, sitting up straight. Somehow she had lain back until she was half reclining across the musty old mattress with Damon, her legs entangled with his. She moved away from him, toward the edge of the mattress.
"Damon, whatever's going on with Stefan scares me. But that doesn't mean... Damon, I'm stil in love with Stefan."
"You love me, too, you know," Damon said lightly. His dark eyes narrowed. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, princess."
"I do love you," Elena said. Her eyes were dry now. She thought she might be al cried out, at least for the moment. Her voice was quite steady as she added, "I'l always love you, I guess. But you're dead." And Stefan is my true love, if I had to choose between you, she thought, but did not say. What was the point? "I'm sorry, Damon," she went on,
"but you're gone. And I'l always love Stefan, but suddenly I'm afraid of him, of what he might do. I don't know what's going to happen to us. I thought things would be easy now that we're home again, but awful things are stil happening."
Damon sighed and lay back on the mattress. He stared up at the ceiling in silence for a moment. "Listen," he said final y, lacing his fingers across his chest. "You've always underestimated Stefan's potential for violence."
"He's not violent," Elena said hotly. "He doesn't even drink human blood."
"He doesn't drink human blood because he doesn't want to be violent. He doesn't want to hurt anyone. But Elena" -
Damon reached out and took her hand - "my little brother's got a temper. I know that if anyone does."
Elena shivered. She knew that, back when they were humans, Stefan and Damon had kil ed each other in a fit of rage over what they thought was Katherine's death. Katherine's blood had been in both their systems, and they had risen again as vampires that night. Their anger and jealousy over a lost love had destroyed them both.
"However," Damon continued, "much as it pains me to admit it, Stefan would never hurt you, and wouldn't hurt anyone else without a real reason. Not without the kind of reason you would approve of. Not these days. He might have a temper, but he's also got a conscience." He smirked a little and added, "An annoying, self-righteous kind of conscience, of course, but it's there. And he loves you, Elena. You're the whole world to him."
"Maybe you're right," Elena said. "I'm scared, though. And I wish you were there with me." She looked at him, as sleepy and confiding as a tired child now. "Damon, I wish you weren't dead. I miss you. Please come back to me."
Damon smiled and kissed her softly. But then he pul ed away and Elena could feel the dream changing. She tried to cling to the moment, but it faded and Damon was lost to her again.
"Please be careful, Damon," said Sage, worry lines marring his bronzed forehead.
It wasn't often that the muscular Keeper of the Gates looked worried - or spoke only one language at a time -
but ever since Damon had staggered back from death and out of the ashes, Sage had spoken softly and clearly to him in English, treating the vampire as if he were likely to shatter at any minute.
"I usual y am careful," said Damon, leaning against the wal of what they cal ed, for want of a better term, the mystical elevator. "Unless I'm being heart-stoppingly brave, of course." The words were right, but to Damon's own ears, his voice sounded off: hoarse and hesitant.
Sage seemed to hear the wrongness there, too, and his handsome face furrowed in a frown. "You can stay longer if you want."
Damon leaned back against the plain white wal . "I have to go," he said wearily, for what felt like the mil ionth time.
"She's in danger. But thank you for everything, Sage."
He wouldn't be here now without Sage. The powerful vampire had cleaned Damon up, given him clothes - stylish black clothes in the right size - and fed him blood and rich Black Magic wine until Damon had been hauled back from the edge of death and realized who he was again. But... Damon didn't feel like himself. There was a strange empty ache inside him, as if he'd left something behind, buried deep under the ash.
Sage was stil frowning, staring at him with grave concern. Damon pul ed himself together and gave Sage a sudden bril iant smile. "Wish me luck," he said. The smile helped: The other vampire's face relaxed.
"Bonne chance, mon ami," he said. "I wish you the very best of luck."
Bilingual again, Damon thought. I must be looking better.