AN: This fic kind of just crept up on me- warning, it's quite dark and a bit disturbing. It's set in Season 3, post 3.5. And I am now off to write some non-angst, fluffy S/E story because non-angst S/E is definitely needed at the moment.
At first he doesn't think he could face face or even go near her, not after everything he's done. He couldn't face anyone, could barely stand to be around Damon, turned away when Damon passed him animal blood through the bars. He doesn't deserve this, for Damon to be taking care of him and talking to him, telling him about stuff that's going on around town or what his friends, his former friends, are up to.
Stefan doesn't deserve to be alive.
"Why don't you kill me?" he kept asking listlessly. "Just put both of us out of this misery."
"As much as I respect your death wishes, I respect my right to ignore them more," Damon answered every time. "Plus there's the little fact that a certain person would kill me. Make that several people."
Stefan laughed harshly. "Pretty sure Elena would be better off with you," he said, though the thought made him want to smash a wall or two or five.
"Pretty sure Elena wouldn't agree," Damon shot back. "Pretty sure Elena would say that she's better off with you."
Stefan disagreed. After everything he's done to her in the past months, all he's done is prove to everyone, himself especially, that Elena would be far better off without him. Hell, the world would be better off without him.
"She wants to see you," Damon muttered and Stefan threw him a panicked look, his eyes wide with terror. "Relax, I told her she couldn't see you yet. She tried to sneak inside, but... well, she ended off storming off in a huff. Very dramatic."
Elena never did like anyone telling her what to do.
"She's stubborn, she's going to keep trying to see you."
In the past Elena might have been encouraged by that, but now it just frightened him.
Even when he was a Ripper, Stefan had always had a tiny bit of empathy and compassion for others; it didn't stop him from killing people, but it did lead to him reassembling the drained bodies and keeping track of names and faces, as if to atone or at least try to. Under Klaus's compulsion, though, Stefan didn't feel anything for anyone except how much he wanted their blood. He'd look at a person and not see their features at all, only the blood their human shells contained. He'd forgotten how much fun it was to not care. Plus, it was fun to be around his former friends, to feel how nervous they got whenever he sat next to them, certain they were going to be his next victims only to find that Stefan merely wanted to toy with them and play some "fun" games. Like bringing Vicky up to Matt and talking in vivid detail about her death; Matt had tried to kill him and both Tyler and Caroline had had to intervene.
"What the hell is wrong with you," Caroline hissed. "I know you don't exactly have a choice in all of this, Stefan, but-"
"That's right, I don't have a choice," Stefan shot back. "I'm in this mess because I somehow decided to forfeit my life for my brother's. My brother who's tormented for for years and is now trying to steal my girlfriend. Yeah, it's a pretty fucked-up situation, and I"m just trying to have a little fun."
Caroline had tried to slap him, but got thrown against the lockers instead; still Stefan made it a point to avoid Tyler, if only for the fact that Tyler could kill him and Stefan definitely did not want to die, not when there was so much fun to be had.
He started working his way through town, not killing people (for the most part), but taking blood. Although there was one person's blood he craved above anyone else's. Elena's.
One morning he eluded Damon and crept over to her house, found her fast asleep, clutching her teddy bear and one of his own pillows against her chest. Rather than wake her right away, Stefan sat in the window-seat to wait. Patience, after all, was a virtue.
Maybe it wasn't that big of a virtue. It seemed like hours later when Elena blearily opened her eyes and saw him. She gasped and sat up, dropping the bear and pillow, clutching the blankets around her.
"Stefan... what are you doing here?" she asked, trying not to sound unsettled or worried.
"Not long ago you'd have been happy to see me," Stefan noted and lazily walked over to her. "I missed you," he lounged on the bed, kicking his shoes off. "Huh. Forgot how comfortable your bed is- then again, we mostly stayed at my place, didn't we."
Elena bit her lip, clearly trying to decide whether to yell for someone or not. "We did," she replied evenly, tightening the blanket around her.
Stefan smiled at her. "Now, why was that? Did you think Jenna would catch us and freak out of something?"
"I guess." At the mention of Jenna's name, Elena's eyes had narrowed.
"We never were quiet," he remarked and lightly tugged at the blanket, pulling it so it fell around Elena's waist. "That's better," he murmured, his eyes roaming over her body- what he could see of it, anyways. "You know what I liked, about fucking at my place? How Damon was always skulking around. I'd make you come even harder, make you scream my name a dozen times so he would know exactly what we we were doing, what he was missing, to rub it in his face that I was the one fucking you."
Elena flinched but didn't say anything, her face turning an angry pallor.
"Were you thinking about him?" he asked. "When I was in you were you thinking about him?"
Elena's eyes flashed as she stared coldly at him. "I can guarantee you that Damon was the last thing I was thinking about then."
"And now?" Stefan slowly traced her collarbone, ran his hand up and down her arm.
"Damon and I are trying to help you, to bring you back," Elena spoke quietly, flinching again when Stefan laughed harshly.
"Good luck with that, baby," he jeered. "Cause the only way you get your old Stefan back is if Klaus reverses it, which he won't, or if he dies, which isn't possible."
"Actually..." Elena started and then stopped, as if she didn't want to give away some secret plot. "We're working on it," she finished quietly.
"Good to know," Stefan commented. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Didn't exactly eat much breakfast this morning, if you know what I mean."
Elena closed her eyes and ducked her head, as if she'd known all along this was coming. Stefan brushed her hair off her neck, leaned in to plant small kisses there. "It won't be like last time," he murmured.
"What, you won't try to kill me?" Elena snapped.
"Why would I do that- unless I could be sure of you coming back," he added slyly and Elena just looked at him, the light dying from her eyes. "Oh, don't worry about that, not now."
He started kissing her neck again, dragging his lips down to caress her collarbone, inched the strap of her tank top aside to kiss her shoulder. Elena remained still, barely breathing as he moved back to her neck, his hands grasping her hips. Maybe she thought that if she remained still and kept her eyes closed, this would all disappear like the nightmare it was.
"You're so fucking gorgeous," he whispered before biting her. Every instinct told her to scream, but somehow Elena managed to stop herself, knowing full well that Alaric and Jeremy would rush in with stakes; more likely they would get hurt, but no matter how far gone Stefan is she couldn't risk him dying because- well. Because in spite of everything she still loved him. Which at the moment made her sick and twisted, but, well, she couldn't change that.
Stefan didn't drink that much from her, figuring it was better to savour a little rather than to gorge himself. More pleasure that way. He even cleaned the bite and put a band-aid on her neck, tucked the covers back around her, and offered to compel her to sleep. Elena refused.
He lingered for a moment, stroking her hair, sweeping it through his fingers.
"There's still some part of you that cares," Elena spoke quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe it's hidden, maybe it's buried so deep you can't hear it, but part of you still cares, Stefan."
Stefan shrugged. "Believe what you want, babe," was all he said before leaving through the window.
For a moment, Stefan stood outside the Gilbert house, listening to Elena cry and not doing a single thing about it and, moreover, not caring. Why bother? She would just call Damon for comfort. Let Damon do the comforting and cleaning up for once.
He visited her more frequently after that, and it didn't take long for Damon to discover what was going on; naturally, his first instinct was to kill Stefan. Stefan wasn't sure what frustrated Damon more, the fact that Stefan was drinking Elena's blood (Stefan knew for a fact that Damon was jealous and wanted to drink Elena's blood just as much) or that, despite everything, Elena was still not on board Operation Kill Stefan. Elena and Damon had a rip-roaring argument about love and martyrdom and stupidity that Stefan tuned out, finding the arguments boring and repetitive and wanting it to be over so he could have some private time with Elena.
Damon didn't let that happen, practically forcing Elena out of the house. "The only reason you're not dead is because Elena fucking begged me not to kill you," Damon hissed. "That doesn't mean I can't hurt you, though," he rammed a stake through Stefan's stomach.
Grunting in pain, Stefan pulled the stake out and muttered, "The only reason you're not dead is because I saved your fucking life."
He thrust the stake into Damon's chest and sauntered off before Damon could retaliate.
One afternoon Stefan found Elena alone in the den, a surprise because lately Damon had kept her away from the house and spent most of his time hovering around her like an irritating watchdog.
"Where's Damon?" he asked, more out of formality than any real curiosity.
"Out with Katherine, following a lead," Elena told him, barely glancing up from her book.
Stefan looked at her, studying how Elena had curled herself up into the corner of the couch, looking small and fragile and incredibly young. Suddenly he wanted her more than anything- her, not her blood.
"Come here," he said quietly. She didn't move at first, just watched him silently, her eyes studying him, her eyes locking with his sending an electric charged through him. "Come here," he coaxed again, his voice even softer. This time she got up and slowly walked over to him, too slowly for his liking.
When she looked at him, Stefan saw the pain in her, the hurt and misery and pure exhaustion in her, and he knew he was the reason for all of that. This should have bothered him, should have caused him to feel something, but there was nothing. Nothing except the urge to kiss her and not feed on her.
So he leaned in and kissed her, his lips gently coaxing hers, his hands lightly touching her hips. "I missed you," he murmured, moving to drag his lips along her neck before pressing against her lips again. "Baby..."
"The prelude to the biting," Elena muttered, flipping her hair to the side to reveal more of her neck.
"Not just your blood," Stefan murmured. "You. The way you would always slide your legs between mine when you were sleeping, like you were getting ready to start again. Your pout when we don't go far enough. Your eyes right before you... well, it's not quite as much fun as drinking your blood, but-"
"Fuck you," Elena spat.
At first he thought she was going to slap him, but suddenly her lips slammed against his. They were kissing fiercely, her tongue dueling with his and it was a fight to yank clothes off, clothes ripping as their hips met, their hands groping each other, falling to the rug. Elena pulled his hair and pawed his back and Stefan working his hand between her thighs, dragging his tongue across her breasts and she arched against him.
It was fast and angry, all rough movements at warp speed, Stefan thrusting into her and pawing her, riding her up but not letting her release. At one point he licked her neck and almost bit her, but he didn't, wanting to watch her face as he made her come over and over, her cries echoing throughout the house.
Stefan was the first to try to move from the floor, planning on somehow finding the shards of his clothes, but Elena just grabbed him again, rolling him onto his back while she slid down him, her tongue caressing his skin and it wasn't like he was going to stop her.
that Somehow, much later, they made it up to his room, both panting and sweaty and naked, staring at each other with the same intensity as before. "Lena...I'd forgotten how much I missed this," he told her.
Maybe it was the use of her name that made it different: their movements no longer angry and frantic, no longer rough and harsh. They fell against the bed, slowly pleasuring each other, their hands and lips locked, Elena's legs around Stefan's waist, fucking slowly in the dying afternoon light, coming together with equal fervor again and again.
When it was over they lay there quietly, not touching; it wasn't anything like the old days, when they'd be intertwined and flushed, talking lightly about anything and everything, Elena's head on Stefan's chest, his fingers running through her hair. The quiet aftermath both loved just as much as the moments before. Now they lay there, not speaking, not touching, barely glancing at each other. Two people with so much history, unable to connect.
When it was over, the moment Klaus was killed, it hit Stefan like a lightening bolt. He'd been sitting in the school library, supposedly working on a paper but really trying to figure out whether he wanted Shannon Neal or Mollie Larson to be lunch, and had just decided he'd snack on both of them when it happened. It hit him and all the suppressed emotions came flooding back and he knew he had to die.
"Easy," someone muttered and suddenly Alaric and Tyler were helping him out of his seat. "Easy, Stefan. Calm down."
Someone was screaming. Was it him? Vaguely he was aware of people looking at him, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Alaric's voice sounded very far away as he yelled at them to get back to work.
"What have I done?" Stefan whispered as he was dragged into the hallway.
"A lot of stupid shit," Alaric informed him.
"Oh my god- Elena... the people I've killed... Elena-,"
"Elena's fine, Stefan," Tyler told him. "She's fine. You didn't hurt her."
Stefan knew that was a lie.
Stefan let them take him outside, his mind going into overdrive, replaying the kills, the feeding, all those victims, not just the ones in Mystic Falls but all over, the broken families and scattered remains he's left behind. Elena's face as he fed on her, so terrified and frightened. Over and over again.
"Just kill me," he whispered. "Please, Alaric, just kill me."
"No can do," Alaric answered and they were outside, trudging through the rain. In the parking lot Elena and Caroline waiting by Alaric's car. Elena's eyes latched onto his and he wanted to die because he was the cause of the circles under her eyes and the emptiness in her eyes.
"Stefan," she said, her voice distant. "Are you-?"
"He's him again," Tyler reported.
"Are you sure?" Caroline asked, looking dubious. She stepped in front of Elena, arm held out slightly, ready to fight.
"Alaric, please," Stefan pleaded again, the rain mixing with his tears. "Just kill me."
"Yep, it's Stefan," Caroline commented quickly and Elena face crumbled. She reached towards him but Stefan jerked away, afraid he'd hurt her, break her, knowing that he had to get away from her forever.
Then something slammed into his shoulder and he was falling and Elena caught him, cradled him as the vervain took hold and Stefan drifted into unconsciousness.
Weeks passed and Stefan was still in the cell, hadn't seen anyone except Damon. That wasn't exactly easy on either of them.
"Look," Damon told him, fed up with Stefan's lack of progress on the whole self-forgiveness thing. "I get it. You killed people, you feel bad about it. You hurt Elena, you feel bad about that. I've been there-"
"I didn't just kill people and I didn't just hurt Elena," Stefan shouted back. "I enjoyed it! I liked hurting people, watching them realize that they were about to die. I liked- loved- drinking Elena's blood."
"But you didn't have a choice," Damon argued. "Klaus compelled you..."
"That doesn't excuse what I did!"
"No, it doesn't," Damon agreed. "It just means you have to work harder to forgive yourself."
Damon sighed and unlocked the door. His eyes swept around the small cell, taking in the names Stefan's carved into the walls with his fingernails. The names and locations, because for some places Stefan didn't stop to get a name, covered all the walls of the room, were even carved into the floor and most of the ceiling. Damon found his own name, along with Caroline Forbes, Matt Donovan, Tyler Lockwood, Bonnie Bennett, Jeremy Gilbert, and Elena Gilbert. Elena's name appeared in every column on every wall. A list not just of Stefan's dead victims, but living ones too.
"Atoning's not gonna be easy if you stay locked up here," Damon muttered. "And no, death isn't an option."
"Who put you in charge?" Stefan grumbled and then said, "I should leave."
"Where would you go?"
"Anywhere- I can't be here, I can't be around Elena-,"
"She won't let you-,"
"By the time I get through this, if I ever get through this, it'll be half her life, she'll be better off without me, without this."
"Maybe she would be, but I don't think she'll let you go that easily."
"I should leave-,"
"Without saying goodbye?"
Stefan stopped, Elena's face in his mind, her eyes and her smile. Her voice saying, "You'll be okay. I love you, Stefan. Hold onto that. Never let that go." He raises his eyes to meet Damon's, tears streaming down his face.
"Didn't think so," Damon muttered. "Look. Just... go see Elena. Please."
And somehow Stefan managed to nod.
Damon drove him over to the Gilbert house. They didn't say much on the drive over; maybe they'd already said too much, revealed too much to each other over the past few weeks. The issue of Elena lingered between them, as did the fact that the whole bloodlust thing started because Stefan wanted, needed, to save Damon.
Stefan started panicking the minute they got out of the car and walked to the front door. He couldn't do this, couldn't face Elena-
And then she was there, opening the door and seeing Damon first. "Damon. Is everything okay?" she started to ask when her glance fell beyond Damon's shoulder and landed on Stefan. Silently, she looked at Stefan, then back at Damon, silently asking Damon something.
"Totally back on Bambi blood, totally suicidal," Damon informed her.
Elena looked at Stefan again, her eyes tinged with worry. "Alaric's working on something in the kitchen- why don't you go help him, Damon?"
"You're sending me on kitchen duty?" Damon complained. Elena simply gave him a look and he sighed. "Fine," he grumbled, letting the door slam behind him.
"Want to sit?" Elena offered, gesturing to the porch bench. Slowly, Stefan sat next to her, all too aware of how close she was, her body barely inches away from his. For a long time Elena seemed to study him, finally asking, "How are you?"
"Alive." The word popped out before he could stop it.
"I'm glad," Elena told him softly.
"I'm not," he admitted.
Wincing, Elena whispered, "But you're still alive. You haven't..."
"Not for lack of trying," Stefan replied, then slowly glanced at her. "But you know all this."
Elena nodded. To say that she had been checking in on a regular basis would be an understatement. "But you are... you're drinking again, at least."
"I am," Stefan said, then quickly rushed, "I know I can't- I can't every make up for what I've done. Not to anyone. The people I've killed- I can't bring them back to life, I can't heal the people I've hurt. I can't- I can't make it up to you..." he trailed off. "Elena. I want you- I need you to know that I will never be sorry enough for everything I did to you."
Elena gently touched his hand, lightly covering it with her own. "I can't forget the things you've done to me, to everyone, Stefan, but forgiveness.. I forgive you for what you've done to me."
"How? How can you-?"
Her hand moved to his face, caressing gently. "You have to ask? I love you, Stefan. You've done... you've done horrible things, but the Stefan I know, the Stefan I love, would want to try someone to make up for what he's done- not by running, not by dying, but helping people or fighting to save people... not by giving up."
Stefan's broken down hundreds, thousands of times over the past couple of weeks. He's screamed and cried and pounded the walls until his hands were bloody and sore, his throat raw, and the tears spent. He's relieved the countless kills, the numberless victims, forcing himself to recognize over and over the things he's done, the things he'd done gleefully. Again and again he's told himself how loathsome he is, how much he despises himself.
Hearing her say that, though, made it worse, knowing that despite everything, he can't bear to actually leave. If he could, Stefan would try as hard as possible to push her away- hell, he's done everything to push her away- but he's tried everything and she won't, and he can't let her go no matter how much he should.
"I'm sorry," he whispered "I'm so sorry."
"I know," Elena repeated, "I know."
Stefan stared at her, overwhelmed by love and fear and uncertainty. "Are you- are you saying you want us to start again?"
"No. That would mean erasing the past- I want us to continue," Elena told him. "It won't be easy, it sure as hell won't be simple, but all I know is that I love you. I never stopped loving you, Stefan."
He doesn't deserve her. He doesn't deserve anything. Stefan's eyes, already red and raw from crying, well up again, the tears already falling as he told her, "I love you, Elena."
Stefan collapsed against Elena, falling against her as she began to cry- to let herself cry- and held him close, as close as she possibly could. They stayed on the porch for a long time, melting into each other, neither one letting go.