Title: Medical Advice

Disclaimers: I don't own any supernatural powers or anything else to do with TVD.

Genre: hurt/comfort as usual.

Set: Nonspecifically somewhere around the beginning of season 3, but nothing to do with it as such.

Summary: Drunken Damon, sympathetic Meredith, no particular plot.

Matt sat another bottle of whiskey down on the bar in front of Damon, discreetly removing the one that the vampire had in front of him before, almost empty. It was common practice by him and Jeremy at the Grill to try to conceal how much vampires who came into the pub restaurant more and more often actually drank, it could've been suspicious how they never really got that drunk. Damon had been sitting on his regular seat for hours now, staring at the empty space Alaric used to sit, which meant several bottles of spirits by now and Matt had started to wonder if he should address the dark vampire, disregarding Damon's usual natural animosity towards him. Not much of what had happened to Damon was his fault he felt, he had suggested Elena should choose Damon. Matt couldn't help thinking that if Elena would've taken his advice, they wouldn't have been by the bridge at all and her turning would've never happened. Having a lull in the business given the later hour, he stood close by at the other side of the bar, working up courage to talk to the vampire before he actually put out a hand and squeezed his shoulder, "are you all right?"

Matt was quite relieved in some ways to see that Damon didn't quite react very quickly and in an aggressive manner. It took a few seconds for him to raise his lolling head, eyes taking time to focus on the bartender. Sluggish, unvampirelike."What do you care?" Damon barked back, loosing some of the effect of his intended ire as his words slurred.

Matt shrugged, "just because the whole town is messed up doesn't mean I can't have moments when I want things sorted out."

"And what things would you like sorted out little football player?" Damon frowned at him, "all vampires staked?"

"I would prefer if they haven't existed at all, but since you do, the second best would be them leaving town. But since that's not gonna happen either, third best would be making everyone a bit happier."

Damon raised his eyebrows, "probably somewhat over your league, don't you think?" He raised his glass in a toasting way towards the quarterback. "You'd probably be better off leaving town yourself."

"Same goes for you," Matt countered bitterly.

"You offering?" Damon smirked at him, "cause I usually prefer my bed fellows a little more durable."

"Well, I'm glad you're all right," Matt pushed himself away from the counter at the other side of Damon, "at least as all right as you usually are," he established from his conversation with the vampire.

Damon nodded, swinging his head wildly up and down until it reached the counter, where he left it hanging, "I will be after a couple more of your finest liquor," came the muffled reply.

"Look, Damon," Matt leaned close, lowering his voice, "you can't drink at that rate in here, you know that. People will notice. It's not humanlike."

"Fine." The vampire snapped, grabbing the last bottle he was given. He had enough of being nagged by the humankind anyway. "I will act as if I'm drunk on my way out if that makes you happy," he gave Matt a wide grin and set to put his feet down off the stool, hanging on to it with one hand as it swirled after he moved it, "later buddy," he patted the air above the empty stool next to him.

The barman watched with curious irritation as the Salvatore let his hand move further with the motion of the seat, loosing his support and ending up on the floor in a sottish, no doubt practised, seemingly uncoordinated motion, hitting his head onto the leg of the stool. Matt wasn't sure if Damon meant to shatter the bottle as well, but he doubted the vampire was not fond enough of his drink to do such a thing. So not a completely controlled, show fall then. The young man stepped to the side to lift the counter to get to the troublesome customer on the floor, now well grabbing the attention of the other people in the bar.

"Happy?" Damon grinned at him.

"Not quite," Matt took hold of one of his arms to get him up, "there's a nice mess to clean up. Would you mind helping with the standing up?" He grumbled at the older man who was still in pretend mode, making it hard to manoeuvre him onto his feet. Thankfully Matt had help in the form of Meredith, who abandoned the remains of her late dinner after the end of her shift and moved to offer her shoulder for the vampire to lean on.

"That's a bit too much pretending," Matt frowned.

"I don't think too much of it is pretence," Meredith gave her opinion.

"You don't know Damon well enough," the bartender argued back, "but either way, whether if it's for the other customers' purposes or Damon's, I'd like to get him to his car if he'd cooperate," he suggested.

"Cooperating here!" Damon shoved the boy away from him in vexation, leaning most of his weight onto the doctor instead.

"Ughgh," the pretty woman swayed with him under the extra burden, but managed to wave at Matt, letting him know she was ok to deal with the vampire herself from now on. "Come on, Damon."

"Well, well, the doctoress thinks I need medical attention," he put both his arms around his helper and grabbed her bottom.

Meredith ignored him for just as long as they reached the outside air where there weren't any onlookers. "Damon." She let him go and ducked out from under his arms, which resulted in him making contact with the wall and banging his head again. "I understand that Ric and you didn't have any other good coping mechanisms, but drinking isn't going to solve anything," she sighed.

"Why? I can't get alcohol poisoning," Damon stated.

Meredith raised her eyebrows, "are you sure about that? Your balance is completely off, your skin is cold and clammy and bluish. You're very pale and you hardly taken any breaths all the way out. And I'm sure you're rubbing your stomach for no particular reason."

Damon gave a hollow laugh, "and perhaps the medical signs of alcohol poisoning are exactly the same of those of a very hungry vampire."

Meredith gave him a defiant look, then checked round them and opened her handbag to hold a bloodbag in front of his nose. Damon started back, "what do you carry those around for?"

"I'm a doctor and I take my profession very seriously. A vampire might need my help too."

Damon shook his head at her, "you. One of a kind." He pushed himself away from the wall and took towards the parking lot.

"Are you gonna take it or what?" Meredith pulled the item she held closer to her chest in case somebody could spot it.

Damon waved back at her, not turning, "thanks for the offer darling but not tonight."

"What. Why?" Meredith trailered after him bewildered.

"Because I'm not in the mood to get sobered up," Damon made it to his car where he lifted the trunk and pulled a bottle from its depth, bumping his head on the hatch on his way up.

"I don't know why you insist so much on things that aren't meant to be. If you were a patient of mine I'd send you to psychiatric consult for your obsessive and addictive behaviour. And even if what you want was going to happen, have you heard of some virtue called patience?" Meredith gave her piece of mind as usual.

"You don't know what it's like to be me." Damon countered eventually once he took the mouth of the bottle away from his lips. "Have you heard of how people end up with their personality traits based on their previous personal history doctor?" He sneered sarcastically.

"So what would you think of therapy?" Meredith tilted her head contemplatively, "would you be willing to attend?"

"If neither Carl Jung not Freud could make me happy, you think you can? Besides, I ate all the others," Damon shrugged, then had a chug from his bottle.

"You talked to Freud and Carl Jung?"

"He was a bit of a pervert, the old doctor. And Carl wanted me to stop drinking, so we didn't click," Damon winked at her and drank again.

Meredith sighed, "well, it was obvious anyway that I cannot send you to any mainstream psychologist anyway. I was just wondering whether if we set up certain times at my office, you would like to discuss the triggers and reasons of your behavioural patterns or even if you just wanted to vent, I could give some of my time? I'm not a specialised psychiatrist of course, but I did have some psychology training."

Damon stood staring at her, swaying and rubbing his stomach abstractedly, "you want to be my shrink? But that's hilarious." He made no attempt to laugh.

Meredith watched him concerned, "how long have you not have blood?" She had taken aboard what he had been saying about what his symptoms meant. "Do you have stomach pains?"

"What is it to you?" He held himself upright by leaning on the side of his car.

"Can it not become dangerous?"

"Not if you're not sweet bunny ripper," he swayed, bottle finished and tossed to the ground.

"I meant dangerous for you, not others. You'd be weak and liable to any attack," Meredith stepped forward, ready to catch him.

"What you doing?" He pulled back, away from her touch.

"Damon, look I promise you I will not try to stop you drinking or make you have blood. I just want to help. Please let me, I hate to see this, you're obviously in pain."

"And how are you going to help doctor?"

"A friend. I could be a friend. And a friend would take you home right now and stay with you till you felt better."

The vampire snorted, "you'd have to become a vampire cause it could take a few centuries."

"I'm sure I can think of something to make you feel better earlier," she opened the car door for him.

The drunken man scrutinized her. Neither her serious tone or her concerned expression suggested she was intending to make him feel better the usual way sometimes women tried. Damon blinked at her, hesitant, "are you sure you're not Rick?" He squinted at her, but let the doctor bundle him into the car.

Tbc