Thanks to everyone who has commented in various places to say they liked the first part. I hope this part doesn't disappoint. :)

Notes: Stefan's POV. Next stop, Emo Central!


I stood at edge of the woods to the north of the university campus. It was nearing dawn, and the sky to the east was starting to lighten. I'd hoped that I'd be able to spend one last evening with Matt, to hear him laugh, to see him smile at me again, but I hadn't been able to go through with it. Probably because I knew he might well be able to talk me out of my plan to bathe one final time in sunlight. Instead I'd settled for watching him through his dorm room window as he slept, imprinting his peaceful image in my mind to take with me. At least it would be a happy image. Thinking of Elena just hurt too damn much.

She blamed me, because she couldn't go back to Fell's Church, to her family. That life was lost to her as surely as if she were still dead. She watched Margaret grow from a distance, hidden in the shadows, behind dark glasses so no one would recognise her. It physically hurt her not to be able to reach out, to embrace her sister and hold her for even a brief second. She'd seen Judith at her grave over the years, watched her suffer the stages of grief, from her weeping to her sad resignation and eventual acceptance. These days she spoke to Elena when she visited the grave (the fact that it wasn't even empty was another stress on Elena's grip on sanity), telling her about her family, how Margaret was doing in school, how happy she was to be married to Robert, and how she wished Elena could be there to share the joy with her. Elena longed to reach out, to respond to the questions that Judith posed, to connect with her life once more. But it could never be, and she had to leave before the desire grew to strong to resist.

As long as I remained with Elena, she would continue to live in a half-life. Bad enough that she was unable to return to her old life, to prevent her from having any life at all was cruel. All I did was hold her back, keep her in a half-life, a constant reminder of what she no longer had. It would only grow worse as she grew older, as her body aged while mine stayed as perfect as it had for the past five centuries. If she didn't hate me now, then her resentment would have only built up, and in the next decade, maybe two, her life would come crumbling down around her.

No, if Elena couldn't have her old life, then she needed to be able to move on, forge new connections in the world, find love, happiness, have children, grandchildren. Elena deserved to live, and how could she do that with one who had been dead for as long as I had?

I had resolved to leave, to stay out of her way while she moved on. Home to Italy had seemed the best idea, back where things were familiar, despite the inevitable changes wrought by time's passing. To be honest, I knew I didn't have the strength to stay away for long, knew that I'd probably be back to watch her from a distance, just as she spied on her old life now. I'd want to make sure she was safe and happy. I could live with that, though. Knowing that she loved me, and that she was happy, it would have been enough.

But then her heated words, brutally honest for all her anger, cut me to the quick. Love was already turning into resentment, and she didn't want me in her life. Oh, she probably regretted saying it, didn't want me gone really. But the seed had been sown, the glimpse of an ugly future if we were to stay on our current path seared into my mind.

Idly twisting the lapis ring on my finger, I consoled myself with the fact that the sun was rising. It would all be over soon.

I wasn't really surprised when Damon was suddenly by my side. "Come to gloat?" I asked spitefully, "Going to dance on my ashes when I'm gone?"

"No, I'm here to stop you," he responded calmly.

I barked out a laugh. "Short of chaining me in a cave, there's nothing you can do to stop me. Even if you prevented me killing myself today, there are more sunrises to come. If not today, I'd try tomorrow, and the next day. Soon enough, I would succeed, because even you would lose your patience with me eventually."

"I've already lost my patience with you," he snapped. "Doing this is selfish, damn you, and hardly productive. Do you have any idea what this would do to me? Elena? To Matt?"

"Elena has made her feelings about me clear. I couldn't go back to her now, not after what she's said, what I know. I've forgiven her for her words, Damon, but it's proof that I'm bad for her, that she needs to move on somehow, as best she can, and put the supernatural behind her. She doesn't need me, all I do is cause her pain, better she be able to live her life... but I can't live without her, Damon. What is the point in continuing to exist when I have nothing?"

"You're an idiot, Stefan." His lip curled up in contempt. "Elena isn't the be-all and end-all of everything. The universe doesn't revolve around Elena Gilbert, as much as it may seem to for those of us trapped in her orbit. You don't seem to understand how important you are to the people in your life... and no, they damn well wouldn't be better off without you, before you get it in your thick skull to say it."

I snorted. "They'd get over me, move on, live normal lives. None of them need me, not now, and I only ever brought them trouble and heartbreak." It was true. None of them would have ever been in the whole stupid mess with Katherine and Klaus if it weren't for me. If I'd stayed away, if I'd ignored Elena like I'd meant to... if, if, if. I'd failed, and people were hurt and killed because if that. "Besides, I'm tired Damon. I was ready to give up years ago. I gave it a last shot at fitting in, to try and find some kind of peace in the world, and it failed spectacularly." The sun was shining over the horizon now, and I could feel they first rays tickling my skin. It was time. "I need this, Damon. I need the pain to stop, so please, just let me go!" I implored desperately.

I made to move away and yank my ring off, to hurl it as far away from me as possible, but Damon's hands shot out, grasping my wrist and wrapping around my fingers, over my ring. "Oh, no you don't," he growled.

I let out an anguished cry, "Let me go!"

"No!"

"Why, Damon? Why are you insisting on prolonging my agony? Do you even have a single good reason beyond tormenting me?" I worked to release myself from his grip, but his next words were enough to give me pause for a moment.

"You can't leave Matt, not when he needs you the more than he ever did before."

That had to be one of the flimsiest excuses that had ever graced Damon's lips. "Matt is in college, doing just fine. The worst he's got on his plate right now is working too many hours and his neurotic roommate."

"Wrong," Damon bit off viciously. "At some point today he's going to wake up from a very long, deep sleep confused as hell and a strong desire for blood. In fact, his roommate could well end up being his first meal."

I stared at him in horror. No, please, no. "You... turned him?" My voice was barely a whisper. I couldn't believe that Damon would do something as unbelievably evil as this. Not to Matt, of all people.

"Last night."

"How could you?" I screamed, pulling out of his grip. "What possessed you, Damon? What is this... need you have to destroy anything that I love and hold dear? Do you hate me that much?"

Overcome with anger, I lunged at him with a wordless roar, my fist swiping out in a punch that – amazingly – connected solidly with his chin. His head snapped back, but that was as far as I got before he overwhelmed me with his superior speed and strength, manhandling me into a position from which he could better control me.

He had me pinned against the tree, and I didn't have enough strength to fight him and release myself. I hadn't even bothered feeding on animal blood for the past few days; Damon's steady diet of human blood ensured I was no match for him right now. I snarled in his face, frustrated that he only stared passively back. No spark of triumph, no smirking at my pitiful attempts. His eyes were devoid of any cruel emotion.

"I don't hate you, Stefan. I don't hate Matt. I'm sorry that it came to this, but I will do anything – anything! – to keep you alive. I need you, but I'm not enough to keep you here. Matt is. He's the one person left who holds any kind of emotional sway over you. I know you, and you would never leave him if he needed you."

"But turning him?!"

"It was the only way! Anything less would only be temporary! You'd stay long enough to see him well, but you'd still be determined to end your life as soon as it was possible. By turning him, you live as long as he lives!"

He was right. Damn him, but every word was true. I wouldn't leave Matt to deal with this alone, especially not when I was the cause. I wanted to die to prevent my friends suffering because of my actions, and yet Matt was now paying the price for my desire. I was chained to life for as long as Matt lived, and my love for my friend meant that I would ensure that was for as long as he needed. Damon had manipulated me in a most expert and unspeakably thorough manner, and I was livid that he'd managed to exert that kind of control over me. But that anger paled in comparison to the white-hot fury I felt when I thought about what he'd done to Matt. Even turning Elena again against my wishes would be more acceptable than damning Matt in this way. Damon had crossed the line by bringing Matt into this. Dear god, I hadn't felt this depth of violent emotion since the day Elena had first died at Wickery Bridge, and I'd attacked my classmates in order to take Damon out, or die trying. Right now I wanted to rip his throat out with my bare hands and feed his entrails to a pack of rabid dogs. Death was too good for him.

"I hate you," I spat at him.

His eyes flashed with emotion, then. I'd have said sadness or remorse if I didn't know better. "I know," he said simply, his voice betraying no surprise, only weary resignation.

"I can't ever trust you again." That knowledge hurt more than I thought possible. We'd had so little time to try and build a relationship, and it was shattering to pieces around us.

"I don't expect you to," Damon said softly, and I was shocked to realise that his voice was filled with genuine sadness. His lips brushed my forehead in a wistful kiss, then he pulled away quickly, vanishing faster than even my eyes could track. His final words carried on the breeze. "I just need you to live."

Shocked, I sank down against the tree, my fingers brushing the cool spot where his lips had touched my skin. I hadn't had any idea that I'd meant that much to him. I was appalled by what he'd done, I couldn't understand why he felt such a desperate need for me to live. That last display of emotion left me with no doubt that it wasn't a desire to cause me pain. For some unfathomable reason, my brother didn't want to lose me, and he was willing to risk our precarious relationship to make sure that he didn't.

But Matt... oh, god, Matt. I shook myself out of my stupor and ran for Matt's dorm. There was no way in hell I was going to let him wake up alone, to deal with this on his own like Damon and I had been forced to.

He was on his bed when I got to his room mere minutes later, curled on his side, blanket carefully over him. Damon had made the effort to clean the blood from his mouth and – judging from the twin gashes still visible – his neck.

He was also, quite clearly, dead. A part of me hoped that Damon had been lying, that he'd not shared his blood with Matt, that this was some final cruel, goodbye joke. At least then I could take a final walk in the sun without feeling guilty about leaving Matt behind. But there was a bigger part of me that hoped Damon had been telling the truth, and that Matt would wake up in a few hours, confused, but alive. He was too young to die, still had too much to do, so many things left to experience and explore. I'd never have wished this on him, but now it was done I at least hoped he'd have a chance to make the best of the situation and carry on with his life.

And yes, I admit it, I just didn't want my best friend to die.

Later, when Matt was safe, and my own fury and hate had been dampened, I would allow myself to think that – despite the whole affair being unethical and immoral on so many levels – Damon had been almost kind in the way he'd done it. If he'd bore me any malice, any desire to see me truly suffer, he could have attacked Matt and forced me to turn him. I would never have done it if there was a choice in the matter, but if a situation arose where Matt's life was in danger, where turning him would be the only way to save him... I think I would have done it. I'd have spent eternity feeling wretched and guilty about it, but Matt's life was too important to me. Damon had taken that burden from me. I still felt guilty about it all (I suspect Damon was counting on that in order to make sure I stood by Matt, not matter what), but at least I wasn't the only one to blame for this. My guilt was lessened by the sharing.

For now, I simply seethed at Damon's actions in the back of my mind while desperately trying to think about where exactly Matt and I went from here. I'd have to deal with the problem of telling Matt that he was no longer human, then there was the fact that Matt would have to decide what to do with his life no he had the potential to live forever. It was overwhelming enough for me to think about; I didn't like to imagine what Matt was going to make of it all.

I decided it was better to concentrate on the immediate problems, the things that would need to be organised before Matt even woke up. Manuel was the first concern, as the last thing we needed was him to walk in on Matt being dead, or – worse still – Matt overcome with thirst. For what seemed like the first time that day, it was as if Fate had decided to give me a break; the obsessively noted and colour-coded planner on his wall told me that he was away for the entire week. It was a weight off my mind, though I was going to put serious thought into making Matt move out of the dorms before his roommate returned. Manuel could try the patience of a saint, and a newly-turned vampire might not be able to stop themselves biting him just to shut him up. For Manuel's safety, as well as Matt's sanity, moving out would be for the best. I could get an apartment close enough to campus, Matt could have his own room, rent-free. His pride be damned, I'd find a way to twist his arm.

The next problem was easy enough to solve. Checking my friend's timetable, I set about contacting people to let them know that Matt wouldn't be around for a few days due to a bout of stomach flu. It seemed like a safe option; it was a university campus, and there was always some kind of stomach complaint doing the rounds. Given Matt's impeccable attendance and the fact that he was so well liked, neither his professors or his employers were put out when they heard the news. I was asked to pass on sympathies and get well wishes, and to tell him that notes for missed lectures could be picked up when he was feeling better.

It seemed somehow silly to be phoning him in sick to a mundane job when he'd died, and his future was full of all kinds of impossibilities. In a hundred years he could be running free under starlight; serving coffee and cake seemed mundane and a little unreal in comparison. But I knew his job was important to him, that he relied on it to help support his family, and for that reason he'd want to keep it. He was too proud to accept my help on that count, even though I have more money than I know what to do with and would have gladly given it to him.

The final concern was how to deal with the thirst when Matt eventually woke up. The easiest thing to do would be to find a source of blood and have it on hand. Of course, I didn't know how long that would take, and the last thing I wanted was Matt waking up while I was gone; memories of Elena's less-than-spectacular turning were burned into my mind. I wasn't sure what state of mind he'd be in. I decided that I needed to have faith that my brother had done the job properly, that he'd given Matt enough blood to get through the change and come out at the other end in a rational state of mind. Once Matt was awake and aware, I could take him out hunting, or at the very least have him sit tight while I sourced him some blood. Not an optimal solution, but it would have to do.

With everything arranged that needed to be, and my course of action decided, I settled into the chair at his desk and watched him for signs of consciousness. Despite what people say about the dead looking like they were sleeping, Matt most certainly didn't. The lack of movement was unnerving. He'd been a deep sleeper for as long as I'd known him, but even so he was never still as he slumbered, stirring frequently, flinging his long limbs out in all directions. I'd often wondered if he'd ever be able to share a bed with a partner without accidentally kicking them out in the middle of the night.

My gaze rested on his face; his eyes were too still; I was used to them moving restlessly, lashes fluttering as he dreamed. Now they simply rested against his cheeks. I noticed his neck wound had healed now, his skin pale and smooth, no scar to prove that Damon had even been there.

Despite knowing what was happening, I kept expecting him to fling an arm out, for his lips to murmur sleepy nonsense that only my ears were sensitive enough to pick up. My chest tightened in pain, and I had to look away. Seeing Matt so dead and still like this hurt too much. In an effort to distract myself, my fingers fiddled restlessly with the items on Matt's desk. A photograph of Elena, Bonnie and Meredith (I placed that one face down, not wanting to be reminded of Elena quite yet), another of his mother and siblings, the chewed-up mess that was his lucky pen (it had gotten him through those last, hellish exams in high school). Small items that were of little consequence, yet important to Matt, to who he was. I glumly wondered how badly this would change him, and if he'd blame me for the things he'd lost, just like Elena did. I didn't dare hope that things would turn out fine, better to be prepared for the worst.

A thud of a heartbeat startled me out of my thoughts. Slowly, Matt's body began to wake up from its death-sleep. His heart settled into a steady rhythm, slower than it had been when he was human, but regular, healthy and reassuring nonetheless. He began to breathe, shallowly at first, breaths becoming deeper as the minutes ticked by. Weeks from now his breathing rate would gradually slow down to only a few breaths each minute, but for now his body remembered what it needed from when he was human.

I knelt by the bed and waited patiently as he stirred towards consciousness.