AN: So this one covers 3.11 and 3.12. Again, and I really cannot state this enough, thank you so much for all your reviews and comments, as they really are helpful/lovely. I wish had time to reply to all of them, but unfortuanately I simply don't. Hope you enjoy, and hopefully I'll have other stuff posted before the next episode.

He thought he could do it. He told himself it was the only way of really getting Klaus to agree to his demands, that Elena's reaction shouldn't, couldn't matter to him, that nothing mattered as much as weakening and defeating Klaus.

Yet standing on the bridge with Elena proved him wrong. Staring at her tear-stained face and listening to her ragged breathing, Stefan knew that what he's just done to her is nothing short of despicable. He hadn't just become a villain, he's become a monster. But then, ever since 1864 he's been a monster, and telling himself otherwise was a lie he could no longer keep up; trying to apologize now won't turn him into any less of one. Trying to comfort Elena now wouldn't help either of them, it would just make things harder.

So he drove away from her, barely making it around the corner before he started crying. He left her there, along on Wickery Bridge, and as much as he wanted to go back and beg her to forgive him, Stefan couldn't do that because he doesn't deserve her forgiveness, doesn't deserve to even be around her, certainly doesn't deserve her love ever again.

He doesn't deserve anything now.

Stefan couldn't stop crying and he jerked the car off to the side of the road, nearly crashing into a tree and annihilating some bushes in the process. Story of his life. He got out of the car, crying and shaking; he sounded like a wounded animal and couldn't stop thinking about Elena's face, the complete terror and devastation.

"Do you want me to hate you?"

It would be so much easier if she did.

Stefan picked up a broken branch and jammed it into his hand, hoping, praying for searing pain that would take his mind off of Elena's tears. If it weren't for the fact that he had to kill Klaus, Stefan knew that he would already be gone, simply take off his ring one morning and walk into the sunlight.

That could only happen after Klaus had been finished.

It should have been easy to hate him and still Elena couldn't hate Stefan. She sat in the kitchen drinking yet another cup of tea, telling herself she wasn't tired because even though she's exhausted she knew that if she went to sleep there would only be nightmares; worse than those would be memories of that awful night, her mom lecturing her and Elena rolling her eyes and telling her mom to calm down, she hadn't had that much to drink, her dad looking at her in the rearview mirror and shaking his head. A typical family argument, followed by blurry darkness and screams that were all too clear and then she'd wake up, crying and terrified. Even now she knew she'd end up reaching for her phone (her old one now) and call Stefan, that even as his recent words and actions would rush into her mind she wouldn't hang up.

It would be so much easier if she didn't love him. It would be easier if she could actually let him go instead of just saying the words.

Stefan had quickly lost hope when he was with Klaus. Sure, he'd been able to hold onto it for maybe the first hour, somehow believing that he'd get through this and return to Elena, be able to lie in her arms again; even as he consumed blood-bag after blood-bag and felt his thirst for human blood come alive, Stefan clung to the possibility that he'd be able to kiss Elena again without feeling guilty. Then he killed the girl, the girl without a name, then he left town, the bodies began to pile up and Stefan knew he had to let go of his old life. He had to let that life fade away, let go of Elena because he couldn't go back after everything.

Elena, apparently, wasn't willing to be let go of that easily. Every single time he went to sleep she was there, telling him she loved him, telling him he-they-would get through everything. The birthday phone call had been eerie because her words were so similar to the ones in his dreams. Sometimes he'd think of her, sink back into memories and be able to feel the smallest glimmer of hope, at least for a little while. Then he'd kill another person, drink their blood and rip them to pieces and that brief glimmer of hope would be gone as quickly as it came. He would put the bodies back together and think bitterly that Elena deserved someone better.

He's even more sure of that now. While Damon gestured dramatically and talked about elaborate Klaus-killing plans, Stefan just sat and stared, really not paying attention to Damon at all. It's odd how they've changed places in the past months, odd how it's so similar to the first day after their "death"-Damon as the good and noble one, Stefan reckless and dangerous, uncaring about pretty much everything.

He thought he could handle it if Damon fell in love with Elena, even thought he could handle it if she fell in love with him. Maybe it would even be for the best.

Sometimes at night Stefan would go to the Gilbert house and sit on the porch, watching over the house and the people inside it. He could hear what was going on inside, the TV shows Alaric had on while he graded papers, the movies Elena sometimes watched (he suspected she wasn't really watching them, that they're an attempt at distraction). The house was a lot quieter now that Jeremy's gone, taking his music with him. Lately neither Rick or Elena seem to sleep well-they're often up long past midnight in their respective rooms, pacing or reading or playing endless rounds of Solitaire on their laptops.

The night of Wickery Bridge Stefan sat on the porch, listening to Alaric's snores and Elena heat water for approximately her twelfth cup of tea. It wasn't that he expected Klaus to attack them, it wasn't even comfortable to be there, but he couldn't seem to stay away no matter how hard he tried.

Elena told herself she didn't feel guilty about the kiss, but she did feel guilty because she's in love with Stefan. She kissed Damon, true, she loved him in a way, but she's love with Stefan in spite of the fact that she shouldn't love him, not after everything.

Watching him walk away from her after telling him about the kiss didn't make things any less confusing either. It just made her heart ache even more.

Stefan thought he'd be okay with it, his brother and Elena, but he'd been wrong about that too. Actually hearing her say the words made Stefan long for the wooden bullets because those weren't anywhere near as painful as the words "I kissed Damon". Being in a vervain-filled well wasn't as painful as hearing Elena say those words.

Damon cared about Elena, Stefan knew that, and yes, she needed someone to care about her, to love her the way she deserved to be loved. But Stefan couldn't stop thinking of everything Damon's done, a Greatest Hits of Damon's Bad Moments-feeding from Elena's friends, attacking her friends, killing Vicky, biting and threatening Elena, killing Alaric, killing Jeremy.

Elena deserved someone who wouldn't sentence her to a life of lies and deaths.

Later, he said as much. "You're better than him, Elena," Stefan told her, his voice betraying his exhaustion. "You're better than both of us."

Elena watched him get into the car and drive away, something that's happened a few too many times lately. She's tired of Stefan turning away from her, tired of him seeming to give up on everything except fighting Klaus-now that seems to be the only thing he's living for and that worried her, because either way it didn't seem like it could end well. She didn't know how to tell him that, didn't know how to convince him that fighting Klaus didn't have to be everything.

She didn't know how to tell him that despite everything she still loved him. "You're better than both of us." She's not. She's never been better than either of them.

It probably shouldn't have felt as good as it did to hit Damon.

Damon coughed and sat up, rubbing his head. "I take it you're mad."

Stefan just looked at him, fists still clenched; imagining Damon's lips on Elena's was probably not the best idea at the moment, all things considered. Slowly, Damon sat up, straightening his shirt, a certain gleam in his eyes. "So you're angry about the kiss, fine. But at least I care about Elena-,"

Surely Damon knew the effect his words would have. Stefan flew at him, fighting as hard as he could, punching, kicking, throwing his brother at the wall again and again, grabbing a poker and stabbing Damon in the stomach. By the time he stopped, suddenly exhausted and drained, the room was in complete shambles; the wall was damaged and several chairs had been completely ruined. Damon didn't look any better and Stefan didn't give a damn. He didn't want his brother to die, would completely go ballistic if Klaus attacked Damon, but he sure as hell hoped that Damon was in a lot of pain.

It was only as he was on his way to the Gilbert house that it hit Stefan-Damon hadn't fought back. He hadn't even tried.

For once Stefan stayed on the porch when Elena came out of the house for her early morning run. Normally he left the moment he heard her footsteps on the stairs, not wanting her to know he'd been there. It was easier to avoid her because every time he saw her the memories came flooding back and it became that much harder to remain the villain.

Elena didn't look surprised to seem him. "Hi," she offered, somewhat uneasy. There was blood on his shirt and hands, and she took in his shaking frame, realizing how thin and tormented he looked.

"I hit Damon," Stefan said suddenly, not knowing why. He hadn't planned on telling her that. He hadn't planned on staying.

"Ah." Elena fiddled with her iPod. "Because of what I told you?"

"Yes," Stefan answered, hanging his head.

For some reason that actually made Elena relieved in a way because despite being a little twisted and weird it showed that Stefan wasn't entirely gone.

She sat besides him on the porch swing. "After Chicago I was furious with you-I couldn't figure out why you weren't fighting, why you seemed so resistant to us rescuing you."

"Because I wanted you to give up on me," Stefan muttered. "You were too close and I couldn't have Klaus find out that you were alive."

"I figured that out," Elena told him dryly. She hesitantly took his hand and began tracing the bloodstains, and Stefan didn't pull away.

"I wanted you to let me go," Stefan said suddenly. "I want you to have a normal life, to fall in love with someone, someone who's not broken and Ripper, someone who will make you happy. If that's Damon, please, Elena, love him and don't look back. Don't think of me, forget me. Move on."

Elena took his head in her hands, forced him to look at her. "Do you have any idea how hard I tried to do that? I know it would be easier if I didn't love you because it wouldn't hurt so much to see you like this. But I love you, Stefan, and it makes me fucking crazy to watch you give up on everything."

She let one of her hands move to his hair, grasping it lightly as she spoke. "I've tried to let you go, but I'm still in love with you, you Stefan. Not Damon, not anyone else."

They're both crying now, both of their already-broken hearts breaking yet again.

Elena began kissing his face and hands, light gentle kisses. "Come back to me, Stefan."

Somehow Stefan's arms were around her body and he didn't remember moving them there, and despite everything he couldn't let go of her even though he should. He closed his eyes, memorizing the feel of her lips on his skin, hugging her close and trying to ignore the whisper in his head that told him to pull away, to run as fast as he could. Opening his eyes he met Elena's and that just made the tears come faster.

Before she kissed him again Elena looked at him, like she was asking permission to continue and when he didn't pull away her lips met his, her hands lightly touching his chin. Part of her felt guilty, kissing Stefan when days ago she'd kissed Damon, guilty because she kissed Damon even when she's in love with Stefan. More of her just focused on the kiss, marveling at how it could be so familiar and so different to kiss Stefan.

For once he didn't think of consequences, he just gave in and kissed her hard because they had so much time to make up for. It's like the kisses he used to dream about, passionate and hungry and filled with so much love and heat it almost terrified him. His arms tightened around her and it's all sloppy kisses and dueling tongues, Elena pressing her body against his and tugging his hair, leaning back against the swing and not caring that it was uncomfortable, her legs sliding around his waist.

Then Stefan remembered. The fear in her eyes as he approached her, the look on her face when he told her he didn't care about Klaus threatening Jeremy. Elena standing on Wickery Bridge crying and trembling.

He tore away from her, stumbling as he fled the porch. "I can't."

"Stefan," Elena followed him.

"No, Elena, I-just let me go," he pleaded and Elena looked at him, that look that told him that she wasn't going to do that.

She watched him run, let him leave and hated herself for it because now he would just be more certain than ever that his decision was the right one. She watched him walk away from her and hated that.

Later Stefan stared at the locked coffin, terrified because he can't go back to her, can't because Elena deserved so much more and yet when he kissed her it had felt so fucking good; if he hadn't remembered he's not sure he would have been able to stop.

It's getting harder to walk away from her, and that scared him most of all.