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Elena was crying in Stefan’s room. Quietly, softly, but Damon’s ears had caught it as soon as it had started, less than a half hour after she’d told him she was too tired to go home, she was going to stay here, and had said goodnight. His eyes had followed her as she’d walked out of the living room, leaving him to drain his glass and stare at the spot on the couch where she’d been sitting, helplessly, only moments previously, asking him in a small voice if he’d thought they had any chance of getting Stefan back.
Damon’s honest answer was that he truly had no idea, Stefan was too violently tumultuous for him to be able to even place a bet on his next move - something, Damon hadn’t realised until now, he and his brother had in common. He’d stared at Elena, who looked back at him with wide, lost eyes that he’d fallen for the second he’d met her, and plastered what he hoped was a genuine look on his face, told her he was sure they would, he would get Stefan back for her.
He was almost sure he hadn’t convinced her.
Despite his own selfish reasons for thinking maybe things would be easier for him if they couldn’t pull Stefan back from the edge, he knew that wasn’t actually what he wanted. He hated to admit it, and he wouldn’t, anyway, but he’d grown to depend on his brother once more. Not only that, he wanted both his brother and Elena to be happy. And if that meant being happy together, maybe, maybe, he could suffer through. Maybe.
That was when he’d picked up on Elena’s uneven breathing on the floor above him, tucked away in Stefan’s room, and all thoughts of his brother fell away. He could only hear her, and the selfishness returned. You go and comfort her , the dark voice said in his head that controlled most of the decisions he made that ordered people to believe he was the bad brother. You go and comfort her and she’ll turn to you. She trusts you. Maybe she even wants you. She will, if he stays away long enough.You’ll be her only source of comfort.
Despite the longing, devilish voice that enjoyed toying with his humanity, Damon stood up not for himself, but for the girl in the room upstairs who had begun to cry helplessly, softly, desperately. The girl who had lost so much and who he had a chance to be there for - for her sake, not for his. He couldn’t leave her like that. Each sob she took felt like a punch in the gut. He cared about her so, so much-
He found himself standing outside the closed door to his brother’s room, awkwardly, for a moment, unsure of what to say. He raised a hand to knock, lowered it, then raised it again. He tapped, gently, and spoke.
“Elena?”
The crying didn’t cease, but it muffled.
“Elena, can I come in?”
There was a short silence in which Damon was sure she would turn him away. No, I’m fine, No, go away, No, my boyfriend’s empty room will bring me more comfort that you ever will-
“Okay.” Her voice was soft, but he heard her clearly. He twisted the doorknob.
He hadn’t been in Stefan’s room in a while. It smelled more like Elena’s perfume than it did his cologne. He realised, with a small pang in his chest, that he recognised both smells as ones of comfort, then brushed that thought away impatiently.
The room was dark with no lights on, but the curtains remained open and moonlight shone through, lighting up the room a little more. Whether Elena had left them open for the moonlight or because she was simply too exhausted to close them, Damon wasn’t sure. Elena herself lay in bed, and though she’d stopped crying properly now, there were traces of it on her cheeks and in her voice that Damon noticed as he lowered himself on top of the covers and lay down, turning to face her.
“Can’t sleep?” He asked, and his voice came out gentler than he thought it would.
“Not particularly,” she said, and she’d definitely stopped crying now, he noticed, but her eyes sparkled. “You?”
“Haven’t tried,” he replied, resting one hand on the pillow under his cheek and not ceasing eye contact with her. She didn’t look away.
She took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, for all of this, Damon, it’s not your job to look after me-”
“Well, Stefan isn’t doing a very good job of it,” he joked, and she smiled weakly, but didn’t laugh. His voice softened. “I’m not looking after you,” he said, although they both knew that every time he’d offered for her to stay the night, every time he’d slept on the couch at the Gilbert’s house, every time he’d driven her to school and picked up her calls in the middle of the day or the middle of the night was him doing exactly that - caring for her.
Her face, lit only by the moonlight, gave him such an Elena-like ‘oh, please ,’ look that he almost laughed out loud. He couldn’t help himself, he grinned at her, and she smiled back, a little more genuinely than she had previously. The smile was fleeting, however, before it slid off her face, and his followed.
“Damon,” she said, and when she said his name, he felt a shiver go down his spine. “Be honest with me.”
“About what? Okay, fine, Alaric did catch Jeremy smoking behind the school again the other day, but in my defence, he said he’d tell you-”
“About Stefan,” she said quietly, cutting over his joke. He dropped the sarcasm quickly and chewed the inside of his lip briefly. “Do you - do you honestly think we can get him back?”
And because she looked so helpless, so desperate, her eyes lacking a certain fullness they did when he saw her with Stefan, he felt a sudden determination press against his chest.
“Yes, I do,” he said. “I do, Elena, I honestly do. I can’t promise it’s not going to take a while but - but we’ll - I’ll - get my brother back for you if it’s the last thing I do.”
Even if he didn’t believe it fully, he believed it enough to bring Elena some semblance of comfort.
“And for you,” she whispered back tiredly, her gaze still holding his.
“Hm?”
“You said you’d get him back for me. We’ll get him back for you too.”
Damon made a soft noise from the back of his throat without meaning to. He was briefly so overcome with love for the compassionate girl that lay next to him that was rendered speechless.
“Go to sleep, Elena,” he said, with gentleness he only reserved for her and Stefan, and, before he could stop himself, brushed a small piece of hair from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. She was falling asleep, and he couldn’t tell if she’d noticed or not.
The twinge in his chest, he realised, as he lay, watching Elena sleep, her chest rising and falling gently, her hair splayed out around her, eyelashes against cheekbones, was perhaps what selflessness felt like.
Damnit, brother , he cursed internally. Come and take her back already before I do the least selfless thing of all.