: Bonnie would throw herself
into Damon’s arms, passionately weeping or passionately kissing him,
whichever best fit the situation, while Elena and Meredith came at him
from the sides and did—well, whatever had to be done.
Elena, with one flash of her own eyes, had categorically nixed this.
Damon was angry, yes, but she could sense that it was more with
Drohzne than with her. The blood had agitated him, yes, but he was used
to controlling himself in bloody situations. And she needed help with her
wounds, which had begun to hurt seriously, ever since she’d heard that
the woman she had rescued would live, and might even have her baby.
But if Damon had something on his mind, she wanted to know what it
was—now.
With one last comforting glance at Bonnie, Elena followed Damon
through the kitchen door. It had a lock on it. Damon looked at it and
opened his mouth; Elena locked it. Then she looked up at her “master.”
He was standing by the kitchen sink, methodically pumping water,
with one hand clenched against his forehead. His hair hung over his
eyes, getting splashed, getting wet. He didn’t seem to care.
“Damon?” Elena said uncertainly. “Are you…all right?”
He didn’t answer.
Damon? she tried telepathically.
I let you get hurt. I’m fast enough. I could have killed that bastard