Disclaimers: They're all LJS's.

Notes: First person, Matt POV. Set a couple of years after Dark Reunion with Matt in college. Not slash (though you can certainly look at it with slash goggles on).

Wearily, I shifted my books to my left arm, freeing my right hand to juggle with the keys and open my dorm room door. It had been a long day of college lectures, followed by a gruelling evening at work, and now I was ready to ditch my books, fall face-first on my bed, and hopefully sleep for a week. I didn't even have the energy for a much-needed shower, but it would be a small sacrifice to make for blessed unconsciousness.

It was probably my extreme exhaustion that left me staring dumbly for several long seconds at the door as it creaked open before I even managed to get the key in the lock. Huh. My roommate, Manuel, was supposed to be away for the next week on some kind of research trip. This meant that either he was back early (god, I hoped not), I'd failed to close the door properly on my way out this morning (I'd been in a hurry, but could have sworn I'd banged it solidly behind me), or some little shit had broken in. It was to be expected in college dorms, but it didn't make it any less annoying. Not that I had anything worth stealing (I might have gotten a full scholarship to college, but I still had to work my butt off to help support my Mom and siblings back home, as well as afford food and other necessities for myself), but Manuel had a few expensive things, and if they'd been stolen he was going to have a coronary.

I listened carefully and, judging that whoever had been in there was long gone, I sighed and nudged the door open, preparing myself for the damage within. Flicking the light on I was relieved to see everything seemed to be in order at first glance. Maybe I really hadn't shut the door properly? I shrugged it off, figuring whatever the reason was, no damage had been done. But before I could even take two steps forward, I stopped short, staring wide-eyed at the figure lounging on Manuel's bed.

Damon Salvatore.

He was the last person I'd expect to see in my room, to be honest. His brother, Stefan, yes. We were best friends, and Stefan visited frequently (Manuel perved over his car while we went to the movies or went out for coffee). Damon? Not so much. So far as I could remember, he'd visited a grand total of once, and that was because he was tagging along with Stefan for reasons known only unto himself. It wouldn't have surprised me if he'd done it to get a kick out of unnerving me, and if that was the case, he'd succeeded admirably. Other than that, he kept his distance. We had an unspoken agreement that we'd mind each other's business. He didn't try and drain Bonnie's blood again, and I wouldn't indulge in macho posturing that would probably end up getting me killed. It worked, for the most part. He certainly hadn't visited again that I'd been aware of.

Yet, there he was, lounging on the bed as if he owned it, idly flicking through some of Manuel's precious comics. "Manuel gets pissed when his things get disturbed." It wasn't the most intelligent of greetings, but it was the first thing that popped into my head. I was sincerely hoping that vampires didn't leave greasy fingerprints on comics that might cause Manuel to pitch a fit.

"I'll be sure to put everything back where I found it, then." He sounded sincere, but the smirk he threw at me suggested he really didn't give a damn about Manuel's obsessive-compulsive tendencies. To be honest, the only reason I did was because I had to live with him, and it wasn't worth the headache it caused if his prized belongings were moved or put back out of order. Of course, Damon wouldn't get close to having a headache if Manuel bitched at him. He'd probably just eat him instead.

"Stefan around?" I asked, dumping my books and keys on my desk, and my jacket on my chair. I couldn't think of any good reason for Damon to visit on his own, so assumed his brother must be around somewhere.

"No. He's why I'm here. I'm worried about him."

I frowned, suddenly alarmed. I knew he'd been having some problems with Elena recently, though it hadn't seemed to be anything to be concerned over. At least, not yet. It was mostly the whole vampire issue, whether or not she should becomes one. Again. He wasn't thrilled with the idea, to be perfectly honest, and she was undecided. I'd figured they'd have a couple more years before it become a serious issue. But if Damon was concerned enough to not only outright admit he was worried about Stefan (the words blood and stone would normally apply in such a situation), but to feel compelled to visit me about it... then something was seriously wrong.

I sat down heavily on my bed, dreams of falling face-first onto it vanishing from my mind. "What's happened?"

"Elena," he said ominously, as if it explained everything. Ah. It was looking like I'd either underestimated their relationship problems by a metric tonne, or Stefan had been playing the role of martyr, and keeping the seriousness of the situation to himself. I'd been busy with college work, and he probably hadn't wanted to burden me and make me worry. Idiot. It really pissed me off when he did things like that. It was okay for me to vent at him, of course, because he was a five hundred year old vampire with time on his hands and no responsibilities to disrupt. God forbid that poor, frail, human Matt be burdened with St. Stefan's woes. I swear, when it came to Stefan being an idiot, my inner voice was starting to sound suspiciously like Damon.

I groaned, rubbing my face tiredly. "Are things really that bad?"

"They've broken up."

My first thought was a depreciating 'welcome to the Elena's exes club', and despite trying to hide it, I had a suspicion that Damon knew exactly what I was thinking. Don't get me wrong, I love Elena, I truly do. But as one of those exes, I count myself qualified enough to think such thoughts. Elena Gilbert was a much better friend then she ever was a girlfriend. At least she didn't get bored with her friends, and tended to be fiercely loyal to them. Boyfriends? Suffice to say I was the last in a long line of exes by the time she'd decided she wanted Stefan. Though I'd honestly thought the two of them had all the hallmarks of being a perfect couple. Apart from the whole human/vampire problem, anyway, and it didn't take any great leaps of logic to realise that was probably the cause of the breakup.

As if he'd read my mind (and who knew with him?) Damon went on to explain. "Elena doesn't want to become a vampire again." He grimaced, as if he couldn't understand why she objected to the idea. "Stefan, of course, agrees with her."

"They're breaking up because they're in one hundred percent agreement with each other?" My voice sounded high and incredulous, even to me. If it was going to happen, I'd assumed it would be because she wanted it, he didn't, and it was too big a wedge between them. Though in that instance, I really wouldn't have put it past Elena to go behind Stefan's back and turn those big, blue eyes on Damon to get him to turn her. He was almost as bad as Stefan when it came to being unable to deny Elena what she wanted. Otherwise, I'd figured that they'd agree not to turn her, and they'd be together until she died of old age. All romantic like. It fitted them, even if I tried not to imagine Stefan with anyone old and wrinkly, because my brain rebelled at the idea.

"Not quite. They broke up because Stefan decided that if Elena was going to stay human, then she should be able to live a human life, with a human husband, and live in a pretty house with a white picket fence, two point four children, and a fluffy dog." The sarcasm practically dripped off his tongue at the last, leaving me with no doubts about his opinion on that little scenario. I was pretty sure he'd tacked the parts about the white picket fence and fluffy dog on himself, though the human husband and children were patently a Stefan concern. "So, in his infinite wisdom, Stefan decided to leave Elena for her own good, and head back to Italy so she could get on with her life."

"Knowing Elena, she won't have taken that without a fight."

"Oh, they had a fight, alright. A very vocal one that resulted in Stefan pushing Elena too far, and her telling him that he was right, he should leave, and she didn't want to see him ever again. He didn't take it well."

"But she didn't mean that!" I exclaimed. "She was upset, she's says all kinds of dramatic shit when she's upset! Please tell me he didn't take her seriously?" For the first time, Damon looked uncomfortable. "He did?!" I was beyond exasperated, and vampire or no, when I got my hands on Stefan Salvatore I was going to beat some sense into that thick skull of his.

Then Damon floored me. "I think she meant it." He held up a hand to silence me when I opened my mouth to protest. "You didn't hear the things that were said. They were things that can't easily be taken back, things that can cause irreparable damage. Given all she's been through in the past few years with only her friends for support, it's not surprising she exploded. She's probably been bottling up her own thoughts and feelings about her experiences – experiences that no other human has ever had to go through, I might add – and it was inevitable that she would have a breakdown at some point."

"Oh, crap. Okay, so we get them back together to discuss this rationally," I reasoned. "Hell, maybe find her a vampire therapist or something so she can work through her issues." Not that I had any real hope that were any vampires out there with psychology degrees. I began to wonder if things could get any worse.

"Fabulous idea, Matt. Except for the fact that Stefan is missing."

Apparently, they could indeed get worse. Serves me right for opening my big, fat, thought processes. "Missing?" I repeated dumbly. "What about Italy?"

"Elena hurt him badly. I think he was resigned to carrying on keeping in touch from a distance originally, but the things she said..." He trailed off, chewing his bottom lip nervously. The action was too human for Damon, and it disturbed me. "He's severing ties, Matt, and that scares me."

"But... no... he would have come to see me, to say goodbye if he was planning on going anywhere for long," I protested. At least, I hoped he would, because the alternative was unthinkable.

"He has," Damon said. My brows shot up. "Not to see you face to face; his scent is too faded in here for that. But outside, around the tree? He was there, late last night, and probably the night before if the strength of his scent is anything to go by."

I glanced at the window, where the tree outside was clearly visible. You'd have a good view into the room from some of those branches, though they'd be a real bitch to get into without a ladder, especially undetected. Unless you were a vampire with superior strength and agility. Like Stefan. Strangely, the idea of my friend spying on me while I slept wasn't disturbing. I'd known him to keep an eye on me in the past if he was concerned about my health and well-being. The only reason my manhood didn't take exception to this behaviour is because he was generally discreet about it, and hell, I was used to my best friend being a little bit odd. After all, he wasn't human. Normal and acceptable for Stefan were different to normal and acceptable for the rest of us.

My eyes flicked back to Damon's, and I was starting to understand the depth of his concern. "Why would he visit but not talk to me?" I asked faintly. I suspected the answer, afraid that the words that spilled from Damon's lips would be the ones that my brain was whispering insidiously at me.

"Because he didn't know how to say the final goodbye. I think... he's planning on killing himself."

I could literally feel the colour drain from my face, my blood running cold as he confirmed my worst nightmare. I stood immediately, grabbing my jacket and keys, and headed for the door. Damon remained on the bed. "Well? Aren't you coming?" I asked impatiently as I opened the door. He rose, infuriatingly slowly for a vampire, and sauntered over to me. Slowly, deliberately, he shut the door firmly, and turned to face me.

I had at least six inches in height on him, yet it felt alarmingly as if he were the one looking down on me. Long, cool fingers, captured my chin, ducking my head down to meet his gaze. It was disconcerting to stare into those dark, blank eyes. I had no idea what he was thinking at the best of times, and if he was a closed book then, right now he was a locked, forbidden tome with a missing key.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I swallowed thickly. "Stefan... shouldn't we be looking for him?"

"Hmm?" He sounded distracted, though I was certain he was more alert than usual to his surroundings and knew exactly what I'd said. "Oh, no. I know exactly where my melodramatic little brother is. I'm not here to mount a search party. It would be a temporary solution to the problem at best." His thumb brushed softly over my lips, and he hummed thoughtfully.

I took a step back, for all the good it would do me. Damon moved with me, his hand shifting to caress my neck, and alarm bells began to clang in my mind. Used to vampires as I was, it had taken me longer than most humans to realise that I was in some serious hot water. Damon was blocking escape from the door, and throwing myself out of the window wasn't what I'd call an attractive or sane option. A desperate, three-storey fall would probably result in broken bones on top of amusing Damon as he had his wicked way. I couldn't understand why he was fucking with me like this. What was he trying to achieve, exactly? Was he hoping that killing me might finally push Stefan over the edge? He'd seemed genuinely worried about Stefan, scared that his brother really would kill himself, yet here he was, his actions belying any emotion he'd expressed.

"No," Damon was saying, "I think the time has come to find a more permanent cure for Stefan's self-destructive ways." He smiled at me then, flashing his wickedly sharp fangs.

My breath hitched. "Damon, what..."

I didn't have time to finish asking before he struck, teeth sinking into my throat, one of his hands covering my mouth before I could even think to scream. I tried to struggle, but his grip was like steel, and the more I fought him, the more it hurt. White, hot burning as his teeth shredded my flesh. I could feel my muscle shifting unnaturally around his fangs, making my stomach lurch nauseously at the sensation.

Relax, Damon's voiced echoed in my mind, It would be so much easier for you if you didn't fight.

As much as it shamed me, I gave in, letting my body go limp in his arms. I recognised that there was no way to escape him, and if I was going to die, I'd rather not go out in such hideous pain. Damon grunted approvingly against my neck even as he drank. Obviously my relaxing made things easier for him, too. The raw pain began to fade to an aching throb. Hardly comfortable, but far from the agony it had been. I comforted myself with the knowledge that if Damon thought this was going to drive Stefan to suicide, then he had another thing coming. Stefan be furious, and would kill him for this... oh. My anger and hatred dimmed a little as I realised that was probably Damon's intention, to drive Stefan over the other edge, to live for vengeance over my death. I was pissed as hell that Damon was using me to manipulate his brother, and I was even more furious that I was the one who was going to die as a result of this. But a part of my emotional turmoil was eased as I realised that at least Stefan would live.

I was surprised to discover Damon was slowing his drinking as he manoeuvred over to my bed and lay me down in a surprisingly gentle manner. Then, he stopped drinking. I wasn't sure exactly how much blood he'd taken, but I was pretty sure he hadn't drained me dry. Huh. Maybe I'd underestimated him. Maybe he was going to leave me alive after all, settle for pissing Stefan off and out of his melancholy rather than incurring his wrath. Of course, if he left me alive, then he was seriously underestimating me, because I'd be on his ass with a wooden stake. Just as soon as I was able to move again.

I opened my mouth to try and speak, to ask Damon what the hell was going on, or maybe just to hurl insults at him. Instead, my breath whistled wordlessly through my teeth, and I decided it really wasn't worth the effort of finding the energy for such a wasted exercise. Calling Damon an asshole would probably just amuse him more than anything else, and it wasn't like he didn't know he was one already. Instead, I closed my eyes, settling back to wait and hope that Stefan dropped by in a timely fashion to get me to the ER before I bled out.

It seemed so simple, too simple. I really should have known that wasn't all that Damon had in mind. He settled behind me, cradling me close like a child. Everything was quiet and still for a moment, and then my nostrils flared at the metallic tang that was suddenly wafted in front of my face. My eyes snapped open to find Damon's – very bloody – wrist under my nose. My mind blanked for a moment, before suddenly kicking in with a panicked burbling as I realise exactly what it was Damon had in store for me. I had an overwhelming desire to scream 'Oh no, you fucking don't, you bastard!' in his face. Instead, all I could manage was an alarmed gurgle of protest.

Stefan wasn't going to kill him. Stefan was going to fucking eviscerate him. And I was going to feed his balls to Yangtze II.

Despite my pitiful protest, Damon was insistent, pressing his wrist to my mouth. "Drink," he urged as his blood spilled onto my lips. "Don't make me force you more than I've had to."

I wanted to refuse, to hold my breath and deny Damon his satisfaction. But what my mind wanted and what my dying body craved were two entirely different things. It was as if my body knew that Damon's blood was some kind of life (ha!) giving elixir, and it reacted accordingly, my lips latching onto the vampires wrist with an alarming ferocity, my throat reflexively swallowing the hot, red liquid that poured into my mouth. No, no, nononono, I couldn't believe this was happening, my mind refusing to accept what my treacherous body was doing. Yet, despite my horror, I couldn't stop drinking Damon's blood, couldn't get enough of it into me. Sweet, metallic and instantly addictive, it coated my throat, slipping into my body as my own blood seeped out of the wound in my neck.

After an eternity (but oh, far too soon!), Damon removed his wrist. I keened quietly at the loss, and he stroked my hair gently, soothing, as the world began to fade into a pleasant haze. "I'm sorry, Matthew, I really am," he said softly. "You see, this was the only thing I could think of to ensure that Stefan didn't follow through on some fool idea to kill himself. He's too important to me, I can't lose him. Not now.

"He is my constant, the one thing outside of myself I have to cling to. Throughout the centuries, he's always been there. I've always watched him, whether he knew it or not. As much as I've hated him, in my own way, I've always loved him. I'm not sure I can even tell the difference between the two any more. But the one thing I know for certain is that if Stefan dies, a large part of me dies with him, and I cannot, will not, let that happen.

"He'll probably despise me for doing this to you, but it's all I have to give him. And it's not like I'm not used to the hate already. He certainly wouldn't consider doing this himself, even though it's exactly what he needs. He refuses to do it to Elena again, and it isn't as if she doesn't understand exactly what she'd be letting herself in for. He'd never entertain the idea of turning you.

"You're the only reason he hasn't taken a walk into the sun, you know? The last thing in this world he holds sacred. You're the one person who has managed to get under his skin on your own merits since he was human. Hmm. Yes. Even Elena doesn't really count in that respect. As much as he loves her, their meeting was manipulated by Katherine, a deception designed to ensnare us both in her web.

"But you? You, Matthew Honeycutt, never featured in her plans. You were a gift to him in spite of Katherine's machinations. You offered friendship that he never expected, never dared hope for. You've been there for him, been to hell and back with him, and your faith never wavered. It doesn't matter to you that he's a vampire. You refuse to pander to his belief that he's a monster. You ground him, anchor him to his precious humanity. You're more a brother to him than I could ever be."

He was silent for a few moments, as if contemplating what he was going to say next. "Between us, we could probably talk him down, you and I, convince him to live. But I know it would be a short reprieve, because in a few short years you'll die. Rot away, turn to dust, and then Stefan will be alone again. His pain now is enough to make him consider ending his life. Without you? I have no doubt that he'll take off his ring and walk into the sun, leaving me behind no matter what wild plan I could come up with to prevent it.

"This is why I've done the unforgivable to you." His lips brushed the top of my head, planting a soft kiss there. I felt myself floating away, my blood loss too great for me to hang on. Distantly, he continued. "You will be his constant, Matt. You will give him reason to live, to love, and while you both may hate me for what I've done, it's a small price to pay for Stefan's continued survival."

My heart stuttered one final time, one last breath of air gasped from my lungs.

And then, I died.