AN: This one takes place after 3.15. Any comments,reviews, prompts would be most welcome. I hope to have something lighter/better/possibly smutty up fairly soon (if the loathsome writer's block would just go away).

He shouldn't be here. She won't want him here, not now, especially not here, but there's no way in hell Stefan's leaving, no way he's gonna flee without knowing she'll get home safely, not when she's already been threatened and nearly killed today. So he lingers in the shadows, his heart aching for both Bonnie and Elena as Caroline tells Elena, gently but firmly, to go home, that she's not wanted there. It's too easy to imagine Elena's face, the devastation and barely contained tears as she nods, her shoulders crumbling under the weight of yet another death that's not her fault and all her fault.

She's shaking as she walks towards the sidewalk and Stefan's frozen, unable to fully hide from her-it would be easy to duck further back into the shadows and conceal himself from her but he can't. Elena doesn't seem that surprised to see him there.

"Who did it?" she demands.

He's not sure he should tell her, but he says quietly, "Damon. I was supposed to, but..." He trails off, not knowing how to explain what he doesn't even understand himself.

She nods quickly. "What, lost your appetite for killing people?" she blurts out and then doubles over, gasping and retching, her voice a thin cry. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I just, I-why do you have to keep saving me?"

His arms are around her before he could think that this might not be the best idea, and maybe it's not a good idea, but he can't just watch her fall apart and not do anything. A few weeks ago that would have been easy for him. Not now, not even as he tells himself it's better for her, for everyone, if he just walks away from her. Instead, Stefan crushes Elena against his chest and her arms snake around him, her face buried against him, her tears soaking through his shirt. She's panicking now, gasping for breath, and Stefan gently lifts her chin, whispers, "Elena, you have to breathe."

He speaks quickly, trying to calm her, to help her. "Baby, it's not your fault, just breathe baby, in and out."

Elena looks at him as they breathe together, and she slowly regains control; as soon as she's breathing normally again she buries her face once more against his chest. Her tears continue to burn his skin, reminding him yet again of all she's been through. "Honey," he says desperately. "It's gonna be okay, Elena-love, it's gonna be okay."

But it's not and it never will be again.

They cling together for what seems like hours, Elena eventually running out of tears and for the briefest of moments Stefan closes his eyes and breathes her in, relishing in the scent of her shampoo, the feel of her body against his. It almost seems like they could be okay again; that's how natural it is to hold her again, to hear her heartbeat and not panic from the sound and the temptation of her blood. Strange how Elena's arms around his neck could make him feel this way, whole and complete, safe and confident, more alive than he's felt in ages.

I love you, Stefan thinks and almost tells her that, the words are almost out of his mouth before he stops himself. He's too much of a coward to tell her, too afraid of dragging her back into his broken life. Instead he just thinks the words again, I love you Elena, so much.

She stopped crying a while ago, but Elena doesn't pull away from him; she lightly sighs and warmth spreads throughout Stefan as her fingers lightly rub the back of his neck, movement that makes his heart leap. He tells himself that it's automatic on her part, that she doesn't even realize she's doing it. Like him calling her honey, baby (yet those words aren't automatic for him, he made sure to use them only when they're alone and intertwined, when he was cradling her close). There's a battle raging inside Stefan, and whatever the outcome he'll still end up losing. He wants her to move on, with Damon or Matt or better yet, some boy who's never been to Mystic Falls and believes that vampires are simply creatures from books and movies; someone who can give Elena a normal life, one with happiness and children instead of death and tragedy. A normal life, because that's what she wants, what she deserves, or at least he thinks that's what she wants.

Pathetically, selfishly, he also wants her, wants to be inside her, wants to be the one to make her face light up and her eyes dance. He wants her, needs her, loves her.

Thinking about the choices makes Stefan's heart ache.

"Cold?" he asks as she begins to shiver.

"I'm just tired," she tells him, her lips brushing against the collar of his shirt.

"I'll take you home," he murmurs. Home. Before he left the word could refer to either his house or hers, their houses blending together and becoming their home. It's different now.

"Thanks," she sighs against him, still not moving.

When they do draw apart it's only an inch or two, Stefan's hands remaining on her hips, Elena gripping his shirt. They're so close, her lips and eyes are all he can see, and every cell in his body screams at him to kiss her, press his lips against hers, kiss her tearstained face, not stop until he's kissed every inch of her body.

Instead Stefan pulls completely away from her and offers her his jacket.

At her door they can't look at each other, memories of the other night hitting both of them hard, but it's more than that. Memories of Stefan walking away, but other memories too, sharing endless kisses, staging loud goodbyes for Jenna's benefit because they'd meet again moments later in her bedroom where they'd eagerly kiss like it had been hours since they last saw each other. Lighter, happier days, like when Elena pressed Stefan against the front door, her hands unbuttoning his shirt only for Jenna to pull the door open, the two of them sprawling on the floor at Alaric's feet. The next history class had been extremely awkward.

The house is dark now, no signs of life at all, and they both realize what that means.

"Stefan," Elena says quietly. "Would you mind waiting here? Until Rick comes back?"

Stefan hesitates, but he can't stop himself from nodding

He waits in the living room while Elena showers, pacing restlessly, nervously, he's no longer comfortable in Elena's house. It's not like it's changed much (it hasn't changed at all, apart from some new, non-bloodstained rugs), but Stefan has. He's not the guy who curled up with Elena on the couch, stroking her bare legs while they watched some movie. Instead he's the guy who forced blood down her throat and threatened to kill her simply to threaten Klaus. Yeah, he shouldn't stay tonight, he should leave as soon as possible, leave her as soon as possible.

Alaric foils that. Typical.

"Rick's not going anywhere," Meredith Fell informs him in a rather irritated whisper. "He's sleeping and injured and I'm certainly not moving him tonight."

"He's definitely going to be all right?" Stefan double, triple-checks.

"Yeah, somehow. He should be completely fine in the morning. I wish all my patients had his miraculous healing powers."

Stefan wishes there were more magical life-saving rings because they could definitely use them now.

The smart move would be to wait downstairs, wait for Elena to come back, but even as he's telling himself that his feet carry him upstairs to her room. He knocks lightly and sees Elena in her sweatpants and tank top brushing her hair; sometimes, a lot of times, he thinks it's moments like these when she's at her most beautiful, bare and plain and completely stunning. Shifting uneasily, Stefan stands in the doorway, too nervous to even lean against the wall, way too anxious to set foot inside her room. Elena's room, like his own, contains countless memories, their bodies imprinted on every inch of it. Her bed where they spent so many illicit nights, trying to be quiet and not even slightly succeeding, moans rising as they fell apart together. The teddy bear she usually can't sleep without rests in the same place on her pillow, the photo of them together still sits on her desk.

Elena's looking at him quizzically, so Stefan says awkwardly, "Alaric's okay, but he's sleeping and Dr. Fell doesn't want to move him tonight."

"Do I even want to know-" Elena stops mid-sentence. "Of course. Trying to get me back."

She sighs and puts her hairbrush down, her hair swinging and Stefan's caught in memories of running his hand through it, fisting it and letting it slide through his fingers.

"You know Damon's thing about Dr. Fell, right?" she looks at him carefully. Just hearing his brother's name makes Stefan's hands curl into light fists; his brother's constantly coming between them these days, always lurking around even when he's far away.

"That she's a crazy serial killer?" Stefan nods. "Yeah, he's ranted about it. A lot."

"Do you think he's right?" Elena looks anxiously at him. "I mean, she seems perfectly nice-"

"Honestly, I don't know. Damon's probably just overreacting about her taking his blood..." he trails off, shrugging. "But I suppose anything is possible.

Elena's pale and nervous now. "Alaric was attacked here, a few nights ago. I...I had to kill him so he'd come back."

"Because you're the doppleganger," Stefan says softly. "Because you're supernatural." He closes his eyes, wishing he could somehow magically fix all this, fix everything for her.

She nods and the words come pouring out. "He looked so pale, like he was already dead, and there was so much blood, he was practically coated in it. And I-I stabbed him, Stefan, I stabbed Alaric." She's shaking now, her voice tight and choked-up. In an instant Stefan's there, easing her onto the bed and murmuring quietly that Rick is okay, that she saved him.

"Matt helped me clean up the blood," Elena says. "He stayed with us, just in case... I don't know, if something else happened, if the attacker came back."

"I'm sorry," Stefan murmurs. "So sorry."

She's calmer now, her heartbeat's mostly back to normal and Stefan shifts slightly, uncomfortable with how close they are, where they are.

"Why did you save me?" Elena whispers. "You had a chance to get rid of Klaus for good, why the hell didn't you take it?"

Stefan doesn't answer at first. He could shy away, shrug that Damon had threatened him and forced him to go along with it, say that saving her hadn't been part of his plan. After a long moment he simply looks at her, all his emotions laid bare in his eyes, his face telling her what she wants-needs-to know.

"I thought you couldn't let yourself care," Elena says slowly. "That it just made everything too painful."

"It does," he tells her, his voice light and shaking. "When it comes to you I don't have a choice, because I can't stop caring about you."

As soon as the words are out Stefan wants to take them back. He can't do this to her, can't pull her back to his life no matter how much he wants her, loves her; it's because he loves her that he can't do this to her anymore.

"I should go." He stands quickly and tries to move away but Elena holds him back, tugging the hem of his thin t-shirt.

"Stefan," Elena whispers. "Don't."

She's hesitant at first, hovering behind him and then she seems to make a decision, her body presses against his back as her hand slowly moves to touch his face. Her fingers move lightly across his skin, gently exploring his face as she brushes against his lips, lingering there for ages before skipping to his jaw and coming to rest against his cheek. He feels her other hand curling against his back and despite everything, just about every logical instinct fighting against this, Stefan closes his eyes and leans into her touch. This is what he's been craving all these months, her touch, her hands, her lips, her voice whispering his name.

Don't do this, part of him urges, you'll only hurt her more; the other part, though, is practically shouting at him to kiss her. Wouldn't that be lovely and simple, kissing her and forgetting about what he's done to her, kissing her and loving her like before. He wants that, wants to fast forward through all the time it would take to rebuild their relationship (if that was even possible, which he doubts) and just fucking kiss her.

He turns around and Elena moves with him, her fingers lightly caressing his cheek, the look in her eyes hesitant and certain all at once; Stefan can't look away from her, doesn't want to be apart from her ever again. Even the teddy bear seems to be silently encouraging them, telling them to just kiss already.

Then he sees her face the night of Wickery Bridge and he can't kiss her, not now.

Stefan pulls himself away from Elena, muttering, "I can't, I'm sorry," his eyes wild and filled with panic, he can't leave her room fast enough, tripping on the stairs. He's at the front door when her voice stops him again.

"Stefan."

He's frozen at the door, listening to her quiet footsteps.

"Why do you keep walking away?"

I'm doing this for you, he thinks, realizing that maybe that's not true at all.

"I'm sick of people getting hurt because of me. I'm sick of people dying because of me."

She sounds like she's aged a hundred years, like she's completely drained and exhausted, and that's how she looks, so tired that he wants to carry her up the stairs and fall onto the bed embracing her. He has to hold onto the doorknob to stop himself from doing just that.

"Not because of you, Elena," Stefan manages to say.

Her eyes are dull as she stares at him. "Don't lie to me, we both know the truth. My parents-"

"An accident-"

"Jenna."

"That was Klaus, that was not you, that wasn't your fault."

"John."

"Because of Klaus, it's all because of Klaus-"

"Alaric-I killed him, Stefan."

"You saved his life."

"Bonnie's mom?" she nearly choked on the words. "She's dead because of me, she'll be a vampire or she'll die because of me."

"She is dead because of Elijah and Rebekah. Don't do this to yourself, baby, please-"

"Stefan," Elena says flatly. "I may not have intentionally killed any of them, I may not have broken their necks or driven the car off the bridge, but I am the reason why they're dead. Not Klaus. Me."

"Love," Stefan spoke quietly. "None of this is your fault."

Elena looks at him like she wants to believe him and can't bring herself to. He knows the feeling.

"Can you stay here tonight?" she asks in a low voice. "I just- I can't be alone in this house tonight."

How much does it hurt her to ask this?

"Besides," she adds, her eyes growing less dull. "I was almost set on fire today. Who knows when Rebekah could decide to resume the torture games."

He doesn't want to picture that, his baby, his love, going up in flames. "I'll stay," Stefan mutters.

He waits uneasily by the couch as Elena gets him a pillow and blanket, neither of which he needs but he takes them gratefully anyways. Both of them jump slightly when their fingers touch. Every-thing's a million times more confusing and awkward now.

In the middle of the night he hears her crying in her sleep and quietly goes to her room, unable to stay away. Sobbing would be a more accurate description, she's kicked away most of the covers, knocked a pillow and her bear to the floor. Oh love, he thinks, his heart breaking for her, hating what she's going through, what's she suffered, some of-most of-is all because of him. Because he didn't walk away, because he wasn't strong enough to leave her completely.

Stefan fixes her bed as best he can without waking her, slipping her bear into her arms and pulling the blankets over her; he waits for her to calm before going back downstairs because he's sick of walking away from her when she's crying.

He's sick of walking away from her altogether.

Early morning Stefan steps out into the chilly air, gazing at the backyard and searching for signs of life because he has to eat something. The squirrel hanging out by the oak tree would do.

When he's almost done the backdoor opens and Elena's there, staring at him and Stefan freezes, his mouth full of blood, the body of the squirrel quivering in his hands. Panic flashes through his mind because he's caught, caught in a horrible, cruel act and he can't hide; before he never fed in front of her, ashamed of what he was doing and now it's even worse. All he can do is hurriedly finish and bury the body just as quickly before standing slowly, unable to really meet her gaze.

Elena simply looks at him, taking him in without a hint of disgust. "You're drinking animal blood again," she states. "Human blood...?"

"None," he replies.

"How long has that been going on?" she asks.

He can barely look at her. "Since the night I forced my blood down your throat," he admits and something flashes across her face, pain at the bitter memory.

"Why?" she steps closer to him, her bare feet hitting the grass.

"Because I went too far," Stefan tells her. "Because I hurt you, because..." Honestly, there are a million reasons why he went back to animal blood, why he should have gone back sooner.

"Is is difficult?" Elena steps even closer. "Going back to animal blood?"

"It is," Stefan admits. "But it's necessary."

"To go off human blood completely..." Elena trails off, looking at the spot behind him, the tiny spots of blood on the grass. "Is that, um..."

"Smart?" Stefan quirks an eyebrow. "I honestly don't know."

Elena nods and shivers slightly. "Come inside."

They stand awkwardly in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to be ready. They keep glancing at each other, looking away when the other catches them; it's too quiet in the kitchen, too quiet in the house, but it's been that way for a while, since Jeremy left.

"Does Damon know?" Elena suddenly asks and Stefan nods. "If you... if you have problems or need to talk about it, would you talk to me?"

She means the lingering bloodlust, the thirst for human blood that would never really die. "You shouldn't have to hear about that," Stefan says quietly.

Elena shakes her head. "Stefan, I can handle it and more than that, I want to know."

She holds his gaze and Stefan hesitates for a moment before saying, whispering really, "Okay."

Something in Elena relaxes and she stretches up to get a mug, but stops, closing the cupboard door again. "You called me baby," she says.

It's not a name he used for her frequently, but sometimes, late at night when they were curled together he'd call her that and she didn't mind at all.

"You called me love," she says and Stefan can barely look at her now because there's so much hope in her eyes.

"Do you still love me?" she whispered. She's digging her nails into the counter because she doesn't trust herself if she's not holding on to something.

"I never stopped," he whispers back, something inside of him breaking. "Loving you, wanting you, always. It never went away, I don't think I could ever stop being in love with you."

"Stefan," she's stepping towards him and he has to move away from her; even now he sees her face and it's the night of Wickery Bridge and she's staring at him in horror and fear, unable to believe what he's just done. What's he's done to her.

"But I can't be with you," Stefan begins to back away from her. "You... you deserve more. So much more, Elena."

More than anything he wants to take the words back and stay, surrender himself to her, but Stefan doesn't, he forces himself to walk away from her. This time he doesn't stay when she calls after him, instead running through the streets until he finally stops, standing at the edge of a cemetery. There he stands, tears streaming down his face, unable to leave, unable to stay, lost and alone and wanting more than anything to be in Elena's arms and believing that's the last thing he deserves.