She's reminded of his absence every single morning. It'll hit her, the lack of Stefan besides her-she'll reach for him, thinking that in the middle of the night he rolled away from her and all she'll find is the empty space he's left behind. His feet aren't curled against her calf, his arm isn't slung protectively around her waist and he's not nuzzling her neck, not kissing her or murmuring her name. He's not there at all. She should be used to it by now, it's been months since he's been besides her in bed, months since he's cared about her, but Elena can't get used to it.
The logical, practical thing would be to let him go. Stefan seems to have done that, he's told her as much before and last night only confirmed it, she reminds herself. He can't care about her, he can't let himself care about anyone, he let her go the moment he left Mystic Falls with Klaus.
The problem is she doesn't believe him.
Maybe she's being silly, behaving like a lovesick girl, maybe she just wants to think he's lying to himself, trying to protect her by pushing her away. It wouldn't be the first time he's done that; she could practically write a book on the subject, "Stefan's Guide to Protecting People by Hurting Them". The title needs work.
Elena delays the moment as long as possible before the sound of the alarm rises and she has to roll over to turn it off. Then she has to force herself to look at the empty space, remind herself that Stefan's gone, remind herself of everything that's happened and the world falls out from under her yet again. Sometimes, when she's still half-asleep, half-dreaming, Elena can pretend that every thing's okay; she remembers the weight of his body pressing against hers, the feel of his skin. She's memorized him and he's memorized her and it hurts to look at him now because she knows him so well and doesn't know him at all.
Stefan hasn't responded to her numerous calls, neither has Damon. It doesn't necessarily mean anything bad, they're probably both avoiding her because of last night and Elena flushes. Last night. Not only did she feel conflicted about the whole condemning an entire family to die just to kill one seriously evil guy (not that the family members were all innocent bystanders), but there's the whole Stefan and Damon situation that she really doesn't want to think about. It's not just that thinking about it when so many other things were happening, more important things, but because she can't think clearly about it; one day Elena thinks she knows exactly what to do and other days she's completely lost.
Maybe that's a lie too. Maybe she just doesn't want to acknowledge what her heart's telling her her.
Stefan's out there. Elena doesn't have to look around to know this; she doesn't look around at all as she walks home, she keeps her head down as if that would somehow stop her tears. He's been following her for a while now, making sure she'll get home safely. It's irritating and part of her just wants to force him out, make him actually talk to her. She's tired of him hiding from her.
It's also reassuring; it makes her feel safe and protected yet capable of protecting herself at the same time. Also, she definitely doesn't feel like talking to anyone right now. She wants to shower and cry and collapse and cry some more.
At the front door Elena pauses and looks around. It could just be her mind playing tricks, but she's found him, hiding in the shadows, their eyes quickly lock.
She always manages to find him.
There are weekly phone calls to Jeremy, short and business-like calls, neither of them trying to make the calls any longer than they have to be. Elena hates them, hates everything about them from the falseness of her voice to the lies she tells him, the distance in his voice, the gulf between them that's growing wider every single day. They used to be close, they used to actually talk to each other. And then her parents died and the lies started and they've never been the same.
Elena cries after every call. Every lie eats at her, but she tells herself they're necessary, that this is the only way to keep Jeremy safe. To keep him human and whole and innocent.
If Jeremy ever finds out she had him compelled, Elena doesn't think he would forgive her. No matter how many times she'd say it was for his own good or cried about not wanting to lose him, Jeremy wouldn't understand and honestly, she probably wouldn't blame him. He'd walk away and never look back, be even more distant than he is now. She thinks about the casual way he killed the hybrid, how it didn't seem to affect him at all; she thinks about how he made such an easy target for Klaus, how even though his ring saved him it was still agony watching his lifeless body, wondering if this was the one time the ring wouldn't work. She remembers how easily he could get hurt and that keeps her from breaking down and pleading with Jeremy to come home. It stops her from reaching out to him, sending him a silly text or email, asking him how he's really doing. It helps her with missing him, but not a lot. She's misses her brother, her real brother.
After the phone call Alaric knocks on her door, armed with mugs of tea. He doesn't have to pretend now that he "accidently" poured a second cup or put on an elaborate show of absent-mindedness; he doesn't have to ignore the way her voice cracks, the tears in her eyes that she's fighting against. At first he did, acting like he didn't know how talking to Jeremy hurts her, like it was a coincidence he had just made tea or thought of a funny story that didn't entirely make sense but made her laugh anyways.
Now it's their own little ritual, Alaric comforting her after Jeremy's call. Elena's grateful and doesn't know how to thank him; when she starts to say "thank you" Alaric brushes them away. They don't talk about Jeremy, they don't talk about Jenna, or anything that's going on around town.
She doesn't tell him how she worries sometimes, about whether sending Jeremy away was for his benefit or hers. So she wouldn't have to watch her little brother die or watch him become someone she was afraid of. She doesn't know how to talk to anyone about Jeremy anymore.
She remembers the first time he told her he loved her. She remembers exactly how his voice sounded, rough and low and gentle, how he whispered in her ear and then looked at her, his forehead pressed against hers, his hand holding hers.
"I love you, Elena."
Elena remembers every detail of that night, sitting in the car and feeling so lost, the look in Stefan's eyes when he told her he had to leave, that it was for her own good. What gave him that right, she thought and then she took a breathe and leapt into the unknown, she said the words, those words, the ones she meant with all her heart, her soul.
"Stefan, I love you."
And then he was rushing towards her and they were kissing, struggling with clothing, clinging to each other. His vampire face appeared and she touched the odd bumps, kisses him even though his fangs were there, sharp and dangerous. She kissed him and she wasn't afraid.
She wasn't afraid of anything. She just knew that, although he was a vampire, she loved him, she was in love with him and didn't want to ever be apart.
Somehow they made it up to his bedroom and his eyes pierced her, she was melting beneath his stare and from his fingers. He told her then, told her, "I love you, Elena" and she thought the world would stop, thought she would never be able to stop kissing him, loving him. They made love and Elena knew that she was in love, that she never wanted to let go of Stefan, ever. She traced his body with her tongue and they began to memorize each other.
Later, when they were nestled together, neither of them could stop smiling.
It's difficult to talk about it with Matt, how she loves Stefan and Damon, why she fell in love with Stefan and not with Matt. It's easier to talk about Damon and how he kept surprising her, it's easier to admit to herself that she loves him. Stefan's a different matter because it hurts to talk about him, it breaks her heart to think of what they had-have-and how they are now, awkward and broken, two people who can't communicate at all; when they try to it doesn't go well. He's like the missing piece of her and yet she can't convey this properly, can't find the words to express how much she misses him.
She's walking Matt to the door, saying goodbye when he says suddenly, "You love him."
Hadn't they just had a long, awkward conversation about that?
"You're in love with Stefan," he says quietly and hearing someone else say the words nearly shatters Elena. It does shatter her, she can't talk and tears fill her eyes and all she can do is nod before shutting the door and sinking down, crying and not knowing why.
The blood scares her.
Granted, it hadn't exactly been ideal, stumbling upon Damon and Stefan and their victim, a woman she didn't even know. Even though Stefan looked at her and it's clear he hadn't wanted this, any of this, the blood or her seeing him, seeing him with human blood coating his mouth made her heart stop. Instantly she thought he had lost control, she flashed back to the night in the gym when he approached her with a sickly smile and drank from her, not hearing her protests, her pleas with him to stop. Hearing them and not caring because nothing mattered except the blood in her veins.
She listens to Damon talk about moderation and doesn't really hear a word he says. In theory it makes sense, it was sensible, practical, smart, because Stefan couldn't (she has to admit) last on animal blood forever. Moderation had worked before, with her blood. Yet part of Elena can't stop thinking, hoping, that it was her blood that had kept him stable, that because it was her blood Stefan hadn't gone crazy with bloodlust. A silly hope, but one she has nonetheless.
Before, when he drank a little bit of human blood every day along with animal blood, Elena had easily noticed the benefits. Stefan would be lighter, more playful, and she loved seeing him like that, confident with himself and no longer afraid of what blood could do to him. Plus, after he drank her blood they always had incredible sex (though, she has to admit, they always had incredible sex). But it was more than the sex, it was the depth of their connection, locking eyes with him while he drank from her and feeling overwhelming love sweep through her. She'd felt so powerful, had been so proud of him for trying.
Now Elena thinks of Stefan drinking human blood and the thought makes her shiver. He's not ready, she thinks, it's too soon, he'll just sink back to where he was before, become the Ripper again. Yet even though Stefan had been drinking only animal blood for weeks he still seemed lost, unable to connect with anyone, unable to let himself care. She had thought the only way to get her Stefan back was if he went back to the all animal blood diet.
Now she's not so sure.
Maybe Damon's right, maybe Stefan had been too extreme before. Maybe moderation is the smart way to go, learning how to balance Stefan's extremes-besides, it would help Stefan keep up his strength, and with Klaus and Rebekah still lurking around he definitely needed his strength. Maybe, in the long run, this is what Stefan needs.
Elena sighs and rolls over, her eyes landing on the pillow Stefan always claimed. She pictures him there, his hand cradling hers as he sleeps, his hair rumpled and messy, his nose twitching just a little bit. Then she thinks of the Stefan she saw earlier, the one with frightened eyes and blood on his face.
He never wanted her to see him like that, Elena knows. Stefan was always so careful to hide things like that from her, his desire for blood, his vampire side. Every time his vampire face appeared in front of her Stefan would turn away, hide his face, ashamed and frightened and she'd coax him back to her. Even when he drank from her he was careful to approach it as non-vampire like as possible; he never bit her, she'd slice her skin open with needles or scissors or letter-openers, whatever was handy and he'd try to hide how much he desired her blood, how drinking from her turned him on so much.
She tries his number again. She just wants to hear his voice, she's not sure if she's capable of a conversation about blood right now. Stefan doesn't answer. He's been avoiding her calls lately, something she can't help but be bothered by; he's trying to push her away and if she let it it might actually work.
Elena doesn't want it to work. She doesn't want Stefan or Damon or anyone making decisions for her.
It's a sleepless night. Human blood, animal blood, she can't stop thinking about Stefan tearing into her neck.
It wouldn't be like that, not if Damon and others coached him through. After all, Stefan wouldn't have switched off his emotions, he'd probably feel incredibly guilty about every blood-bag they stole from the hospital. But sometimes even now Elena's not sure if he cares or not; half the time she thinks he's lying about not caring and other times he's scarily convincing.
He called her a human blood-bag.
He claims not to care about her anymore.
But if he could learn to control it...if he could learn to forgive himself...
Elena bites her nails and closes her eyes; it's unfair of her think about giving up on Stefan-he wouldn't give up on her. He had kept telling her to forget him, to go live a normal life, but she wouldn't listen and if their positions were reversed he wouldn't have listened either.
He claims not to care about her anymore.
Maybe she should stop listening to him now.
Stefan's in the Salvatore kitchen. He's opening a blood-bag and pouring a little bit of it into a mug when Elena walks in, taking off her scarf and setting her bag on the table. Instantly his entire body tenses and his eyes have that skittish, fearful, shameful look in them.
"What are you-" he starts to say.
"Damon's not the only one who can help," Elena says calmly. "And well, last time you tried...moderation I think I was able to help. So I'm here. To help," she finishes lamely.
"I don't think it's a good idea, Elena," Stefan's hand is shaking.
"Stefan," she looks at him. "I'm here."
She thinks he's going to protest more, but she wins the staring contest and he seems to wilt, his body collapsing. Before he had never liked to drink blood in front of her, he'd clean up carefully after hunting, as if by brushing his teeth and changing his shirt the fact that he had just had squirrel's blood would disappear.
They sit at the table, eying the mug of blood, glancing at each other cautiously. Finally, Stefan lifts the mug, hesitating a minute before drinking, his eyes closing and Elena clenches her fists, prepares for the worst. She can hear his face changing and sure enough, when he puts down the empty mug his vampire face is there, extended teeth, red eyes, foreign bumps. He's shaking and without thinking she places her hand on his, weaves their fingers together.
"Elena," Stefan half-growls, half-hisses, but she doesn't pull away. She waits him out, waits for the shaking to stop and he does some deep, yoga breathes that seem to calm him. His face turns human again.
"Elena," he says again, breathing out her name the way he used to, like he loves just saying her name.
She touches his cheek and runs her hand across his lips; there's a tiny spot of blood at the corner of his mouth and she's not disgusted about it, not even a little.
"Don't hide from me," Elena whispers. "Come back to me."
Slowly, she leans in and they kiss, a light, soft one that still leaves them reeling. Stefan's crying and Elena is too, he's falling to the floor and burying his face against her stomach, soaking her shirt. She leans over him, hugging him while her hair curtains around them, she's kissing his hair and crying quietly.
"Why did you come here?" Stefan mumbles. He's holding onto her like he's afraid she'll leave him.
"I couldn't stay away," Elena tells him, her voice high and broken.
It won't be easy, she knows that, but she doesn't care. She's not letting him go.