Takes place after 2x9.

Elena crossed over to her window and shut it, cutting off the cool, clean wind from bringing the rain inside. She had just taken a shower and had dinner—two blood bags, she had Damon to thank for stocking her refrigerator with them—and now she was ready to sleep.

Graduation. It was something Elena hadn't thought much about the past year, something she had barely given any attention to at all. Of course, her mind had been on much more pressing matters like the fact that an original vampire wanted to use her as a human blood-bag and the death of Jenna, Alaric, and—

Elena placed her hands on her dresser, hanging her head. She shook it from side to side and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the darkness would block out her memories. "Just turn it off, Elena." Damon had stroked the side of her face so tenderly and she could feel how much he wanted her to do it. Not selfishly, which she would have expected a couple of months ago. No, he wanted her to do it for herself. He just wanted her to stop hurting.

Falling back onto her pillows, Elena stared at her ceiling. She was exhausted and yet she knew sleep would not come easily to her. There was so much for her to think about. Damon, Bonnie, Caroline, Tyler, Klaus and…

Stefan.

Elena turned over on her side and wiggled farther underneath the covers. She wrapped her arms around herself and pulled her chin down so it rested against her wrist. A dull ache spread across her chest and she felt the tears threaten to come forth, felt them in her throat and in her head and in her heart.

It wasn't right for her to miss him. She was the one who had ended things between them. She was the one who had hurt him. She was the one who had jumped to conclusions and abandoned their relationship the moment it was tested…

She had felt so alone and Damon was there for her. He went to get her, went to help her. It had all been so confusing and now? Now she didn't know what to do. She was no longer sired to Damon and although the physical presence of him still made her skin feel warm and tingly, she felt lost just looking at him. It had felt right being with Damon at the beginning, so right she had denied the sire bond and later tried to convince him that it didn't matter, that it was real, and now?

Now she didn't know what to think.

"Elena."

In less than a split second Elena was on her feet, pressing her body against the wall. He was there, in her doorway, clothes and hair dripping with rain water. She couldn't see his face, just the shadow of him in the dim moonlight.

But she knew his voice. Yes, she would know that voice anywhere.

"Stefan?" She reached over to her nightstand and flicked the light on. The room went up in a warm, orange glow and he stared at her with his head tipped down, his eyebrows furrowed, his gaze so heavy on her that, for a moment, she felt like she was sinking into it. "What are you doing here?"

And then she smelt it—the blood, the blood covering his hands and his jacket and his jeans. She had been so concentrated on his face, on trying to read his expression, that she hadn't taken the rest of him in properly.

Elena took a step toward him, her hand outstretched, longing to go to him, but halted. Stefan didn't fail to take this in. His lips came up for a moment in a sort of sad, amused smile. A second went by and it was gone and Elena cocked her head, puzzled.

"Were you asleep?" he asked, cautious. There was an edge to his voice that hinted that there was something very important that he had to say. In fact, Elena got the feeling that he was barely keeping it inside.

"No," Elena stammered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Not yet, um, I…I've been having trouble sleeping."

"Without Damon, you mean?"

He meant it to hurt, and it did.

Elena flinched. She couldn't say anything for a moment but when she finally did, her voice was cold. "Who's blood is that?"

His lips twitched, but he said nothing.

"Who's blood is it, Stefan?" she repeated, louder this time. She was afraid of what he might say.

"Elena…"

She went to him then until she was so close she could feel the cool air rising off of his skin.

"What is it?"

"Jeremy." Stefan closed his eyes, agony ripping across his face in a moment of fury. Elena saw a tear squeeze out of his eyes, mixing in with the rain droplets that freckled his face.

"What about him?" Her heart was beating so fast.

"He's…dead. He's dead, Elena." Stefan brought his head up and looked her straight in the eyes. His lip trembled. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, and his lip trembled.

Elena shook her head. Her vision went red, blinding her momentarily, and she said, "No, no, no…" Not Jeremy. Not her brother. Not the only person she had left. This wasn't happening. It wasn't. This was a nightmare. She was asleep and any moment now she would wake up, relieved that it was all in her head, not real at all. Jeremy was still alive. He was.

He was alive.

He wasn't dead.

This was a dream. A nightmare.

Stefan wasn't here, she was asleep, everything was okay.

And then something coiled around her body, bringing it against something else, holding it close. She was suddenly cold and wet and sobbing, and she didn't understand—what was happening!?

She need to open her eyes, to focus. She needed to—

It was Stefan. He was holding her to him, embracing her, one hand at the back of her head, the other wrapped around her waist. All at once she realized what was happening and pushed him away from her. This wasn't a dream. How many times had she dreamt of the feeling of him since they had been apart? Too many to count. None of her dreams had ever felt so real though. She had breathed in the scent of him just now, had felt his hair against her cheek. This was real. This was life. Jeremy was dead.

"Get off of me!" She screamed, and her body shivered with a ferocious, animal-like fury. "Did you do it!? DID YOU?"

Before Stefan could even open his mouth to answer, Elena pinned him against the wall.

"Elena—" Stefan gasped, but she put one hand against his neck. At the same moment, his own flew to her wrist, pulling her around. Her pressed his body into hers, gently crushing her against the wall. Elena struggled against him, screaming and kicking and trying to get her arms loose. She cursed him and all the while he spoke in a soothing voice, telling her to wait, to listen, to please stop.

Her angry cries turned to bitter sobs and she let her head fall back against the wall, no longer fighting against him, trying to sink into herself.

"Elena, it wasn't me," he said quickly. "It wasn't me."

She could barely see him through the blur of her tears, but felt his hands release her. She hadn't been using any strength to hold herself up for minutes now and she would have hit the floor if Stefan hadn't caught her in his arms.

He took her over to the bed and laid her across it, wrapping the quilt around her shoulders.

"How can he be dead?" Elena cried. "If it wasn't you, who was it?" With the back of her hand, Elena wiped the tears out of her eyes.

Stefan shook his head. He was crying too. He didn't want to say.

"WHY ARE YOU PROTECTING THEM!?"

"I'm not protecting them, I'm trying to protect you."

Elena's voice softened, but it was raspy and strained. "Please, Stefan."

He gazed down at her miserably and for a moment Elena believed he would try to argue with her again. Instead, he said, "Damon. It was Damon."

A/N: This is my first time writing for TVD to I hope I did okay with the characterization... :) Of course, I'll get better over time! I love reviews and constructive criticism and would love if you took the time to leave a little something.