Damon heard his name, kind of foggy in his head. It was foggy enough to be a little confused. It could have been Enzo, Kol, Alex, Stefan, or even Sammy. The last one wasn't possible. His eyes opened to slits. He felt terrible, sick from the blood. He had felt it in the dreams, and the werewolf blood had nearly killed him. Stefan had come with an 11th hour save. The wasn't werewolf blood though. Alex's bags had helped before.
He heard his name again. "Yeah," he squawked back through the fog in his brain. He needed to get up. How long had he been here. His brain cooperated, but his body was still in heavy protest. The voice was deep - Alex, possibly.
"Here," he repeated, moving stiffly. He didn't get far, only a slight shift in body position. His skin looked ashen, and there was still blood splattered across his face and torn shirt. Wounds were open and unattended. He just couldn't manage to attend to the damage yet.