Damon Salvatore: You're not going in the house.
Elena Gilbert: You can't stop me. It's Stefan we're talking about here. You don't understand.
Damon Salvatore: Oh, I understand, I understand. He's the reason you live. His love lifts you up where you belong. I get it.
Elena Gilbert: Can you just not joke around for two seconds?
Damon Salvatore: I can't protect you, Elena. I don't know how many vampires are in there. That's how long (snaps his fingers) it takes to get your head ripped off. I have to get in and get out. I can't be distracted with your safety. Or this will end up a bloodbath that none of us walk away from... including Stefan. I know. I get it. I understand.
Stefan Salvatore: Doing okay?
Elena Gilbert: Is it weird if I say yes?
Stefan Salvatore: Is it true?
Elena Gilbert: I should feel more upset... or scared or something, but I feel kind of exhilarated.
Stefan Salvatore: It's the adrenaline. You'll crash soon enough.
Elena Gilbert: Yeah, I guess. I fought back tonight. It felt good.
Elena Gilbert: What was it like? The '50s. Because in my mind I have this picture of somewhere between... American Bandstand, Grease. It's all varsity sweaters and milkshakes.
Stefan Salvatore: Well, that and, you know, McCarthyism and segregation, the nuclear arms race...
Elena Gilbert: Okay, but there were poodle skirts.
Stefan Salvatore: There were poodle skirts.
Elena Gilbert: So why did you bring me with you?
Damon Salvatore: Well, you're not the worst company in the world, Elena. You should give yourself more credit.
Elena Gilbert: Seriously?
Damon Salvatore: I don't know, you were there in the road... all damsel-in-distress-like. And I knew it would piss off Stefan. And you're not the worst company in the world, Elena.
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