This might be a little later update than usual, but it also is the longest chapter that I've ever written, so hopefully that makes up for it. This chapter will be pretty Stelena heavy, because that is sort of unavoidable. I do hope that I adequately explain why Elena was forcing herself to stay stuck in a miserable relationship, and why Stefan was so content to let her. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and it took hours upon hours to write, so please take the time, leave a review, and make my day. Reviews=Love. Really they do. It's been mathematically proven. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy.

As a human, I welcomed the morning light streaming into my room. It signaled the start of a new day, a better day than the last, but as a vampire, my eyes flinch from the harsh brightness of its shine. But with every weakness, there is a corresponding strength, so even after drinking mine AND Caroline's weight in alcohol, I don't detect any a hint of a hangover. What is easily detectable is the delicate sound of the hovering vampire outside my door. The uncertainty in his steps tells me the identity of my doorway guardian.

"You can come on in," I invite courteously. After a day and a half of avoidance, it's time to face the music. I expect Stefan to be angry, furious, for once again turning to the elder Salvatore just when things get rough. But instead he's cautious, almost fearful, and it's easy to see the figurative egg shells that he's walking on as he enters my room.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," he apologizes regretfully. "I just didn't know if you were up for training today. We missed it yesterday while you were out with Jeremy." I inwardly shrink a little at the mention of my white lie. Instead of opening the king size can of worms that would come from telling the truth, I brush right past it.

"No training today, but if you're up for a walk, I'd like to go. We should talk," I reply forebodingly.

Stefan's no fool, so he senses the ominous change in my tone, but he accepts my counter-offer graciously, with a false smile that wouldn't convince the village idiot of his sincerity. Five minutes of fretful silence follows us both for the early stretch of our outdoor excursion. Just as I'm summoning the courage to begin my pre-rehearsed speech, Stefan beats me to the punch.

"You can start the breakup speech whenever you're ready," Stefan announces calmly. He sneaks one look at my wide open mouth and my questioning eyes and replies snidely, "Give me a little credit, Elena. My brother carrying you out of my bed is a pretty clear signal. I'd have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to see it." A few sentences are all it takes to set me off balance. I had a speech. It was preplanned and orchestrated, but Stefan has thrown me off kilter by reading my lines before I even had a chance to speak it out loud. After a moment to compose myself, I adapt with a new script in mind.

"This isn't just about Damon," I clarify earnestly, because I won't let him be the scapegoat for all our problems.

"It's about that night on the bridge," Stefan guesses astutely. The telltale furrowing of his brow shows me just how guilt ridden he still is about that night. I'm already leaving him. There's no need to pour more salt on the wound.

"I know that nightmare drudged up some scars for both of us, but you need to know I don't blame you," I claim, unpersuasively.

Stefan sees right through it and scoffs, "Of course you blame me. I blame me," he remarks remorsefully.

"That's not true," I argue fruitlessly, desperate for him to believe the kind lie. "I know why you did all of it. You left Mystic Falls to save Damon's life and everything that happened after was the result of that decision. Damon's alive and so are you, so it's . . ." As I realize what I was about to say, I stop myself, talk about an unfortunate choice of words. But Stefan picks up on my reluctance and pounces on it.

"What were you going to say?" He asks timidly, afraid of hearing the truth.

"Forget it. It's nothing," I attempt to assure him.

"Elena," he says reproachfully. I don't want to say it, but it turns out Damon isn't the only one to have inherited the Salvatore stubbornness, so I relent.

"Its water under the bridge is what I was going to say," I answer hesitantly. If words had the power to punch you in the gut, I'd say those words would have pierced a hole through his stomach. Stefan regains whatever strength that he's clinging to as he seeks to face me down once again.

"But you didn't finish that sentence because of how you thought it might make me feel," Stefan presumes correctly. "I think those words illustrate how not fine things are between us. You're already breaking up with me," Stefan reminds me, heartbroken at the truth in his own words. "If we can't be honest when we're together, then at least can we be honest when we're not?"

"I don't know what you want me to say," I respond tearfully. Does he really want me to drag his heart through the mud and stomp on it? Will that make us even?

"I need the truth," he confesses assuredly. "How do you feel about my actions after I left Mystic Falls?" Stefan asks expectantly. He's hanging on my every word, and it kills me to push harder on the knife already lodged in his heart, but he's right. We spent months lying to each other, protecting each other from a shred of honesty, and look where it's gotten us. Our secrets destroyed the relationship that we worked so tirelessly to build, and I'll be damned if it destroys whatever chance we have of being friends after all this.

"I felt unworthy, unwanted, and all around not good enough," I admit honestly. My own heart lies open, exposed, for all the world to see.

"Elena, what I did it has nothing to do with you," Stefan tries to convince me. He pleads with his eyes for an ounce of understanding. A request I cannot find it within myself to grant.

"No," I reply angrily, "you just did it in spite of me." I bite back fiercely. My open wounds begin to ache, and I can't keep that pain buried any longer. Stefan's face clearly shows his understanding. He's trying to be respectful, careful, not to add to my suffering any more than he already has. Soothing me with his calming voice, he attempts to explain himself, and I try to hear him out.

"I did it because of darkness inside of myself," he confesses with some difficulty, "a darkness that I felt incapable of fighting, not for you, not for anyone."

"Not for anyone except for Damon," I jump in heatedly. "I mean Christ Stefan you fought through an original's compulsion twice to save him, but you refused to even let yourself feel for me. Do you have any idea how it felt for my boyfriend, the one person who was supposed to love me the most, to essentially choose nothingness over me?"

With a tiny loss of my temper, I've revealed my inner turmoil over these last several months. It isn't everything, not by a long shot, but I feel freer not having to lie about my feelings anymore. Stefan stares at me baffled and crushed, by my anger, by his guilt, by the weight of all of it.

"Then why," he asks desperately, "if you felt this way all along, why pick me at all? Why didn't you say that I'd lost you forever like you did with Damon last year? Why not make me earn back your trust?"

Danger, Danger Will Robinson goes off in my head. I was hoping partial honesty would suffice, a tiny nugget of truth that could stave off this conversation. But by the determination present on Stefan's face, he's not leaving without an answer.

"Because I needed you to love me," I reply dramatically. My vulnerability is on full display as I see the pity in Stefan's eyes.

"Why?" He asks sympathetically, which only makes me feel worse.

"Because your rejection made me feel a stronger sense of unworthiness that festered long before you and I started dating," I explain for the first time.

"If this didn't start with me, then when?" Stefan finally asks the million dollar question.

"The night my parents died," I respond mournfully, with a few more tears staining my already puffy face. "They call it survivor's guilt," I recount distantly, "this feeling that you don't deserve to live when others didn't."

"You didn't feel good enough, because your father died saving you," Stefan concludes at last.

"Yes," I acknowledge uneasily, "and ever since that night, I've tried to live up to some ideal that I carried around in my head of the perfect daughter. When you repeatedly rejected me, I couldn't help feeling like if I was better, purer, that maybe I would finally be good enough for you, good enough for them. And after you almost drove me off that bridge, I became desperate for your approval, for your love, as some sort of validation. It's like I needed you to love me to prove that I was still worthy of it, that I was still the good girl that my parents raised. I should have realized that my recent vampirism means that's kind of shot to Hell," I comment cynically.

"You're not the same girl that I rescued from the water," Stefan clearly states what I already know. "And that's okay, because I'm not the same man who saved you. Sooner or later, we've got to stop hating ourselves for that." Stefan talks like it's simple like I can just wake up one day and be fixed, be healed, by simply willing it to be so.

"You don't understand," I argue tiredly.

"Oh I do," he challenges with certainty. "I understand better than you can imagine."

"How?"

"Because I needed you to love me too," Stefan elaborates simply. He runs his fingers through his hair as he paces back and forth. "You spent what a few days feeling like Frankenstein's monster after you turned? I felt that way for 146 years. For so long, I saw myself as a villain, an animal, never truly accepting who I really was. I buried it down so deep that I thought I could escape it. When I met you, when you told me you loved me, I saw my redemption in you. I saw a chance to be someone worthy of love again. If someone as good and pure hearted as you could love me, then maybe I was destined for more than just evil."

Suddenly I see this broken man more clearly than I ever did when we were together. Of course, I recognized the self-loathing, the brooding. It was undeniable, but I never stopped to wonder what being loved could do to a person, or what they would do to keep it.

"But you didn't show me the real you," I mention gently. "For over a year, you hid the worst parts of yourself, because you didn't think anyone could love you for your true self, but they can Stefan. Even with all the bad stuff, you're still a good man. If you would just open yourself up, people would see what I see."

"And what's that?" Stefan asks hopefully, a dull light sparking behind his eyes at my optimistic words.

"A kind heart," I answer plainly, "one that struggles with the same conflicts that we all do, inner flaws like jealousy, anger, and resentment. I'm afraid you're just as screwed up as the rest of us," I add lightly. "But if you let someone love the real you, then maybe you could find a way to love yourself."

Stefan smiles gratefully at the compassion that he doesn't think he deserves. His voice takes on a new strength and acceptance as he speaks again, and I hope that in some way, I played a small part in helping him find that inner might.

"Maybe I could," he concedes thoughtfully, wishfully, "but that doesn't change the outlook for you and me, because the simple fact is we're not right for each other anymore. Those damaged people who met in that water maybe they needed each other, but then we grew up," Stefan proclaims, with a brief smile of contentment flashing across his face. "I can embrace being a vampire, and you, you're stronger, more independent. You don't need me to protect you from the world anymore. You can face it all on your own. He pauses for a moment, apparently needing the dramatic effect. "But that doesn't mean that you should have to," Stefan finishes solemnly.

"Stefan," I call out apologetically.

"No," he interrupts softly. "It's okay. It wasn't anybody's fault. It was fate, destiny, tragedy, and love. We can't forget that there was love too," he states nostalgically. "You need to know that I meant what I said when I told you that I will always love you. I can't keep you anymore." I can tell he's struggling to keep it together and choking on words of regret laced with pain. "For whatever its still worth," Stefan declares humbly, "I'll spend the rest of my eternal life regretting all that I've done to harm yours."

"Please," I beg, "don't do that. You may not be able to forgive yourself, but I can, because I do still love you." Stefan reaches up to lightly wipe the tear cascading down my cheek.

"I don't know if I ever stopped holding on to that," he confesses. "But it's not enough anymore, because that love has changed. And that's alright, because I don't need you to find redemption. It's no secret I wanted this to work. I wanted us to pick right up where we left off, but mostly I wanted that girl that I met the first day of junior year, but you're not her anymore. And I can't spend the rest of eternity loving someone who no longer exists. It might seem like little consolation, but I'm glad, at the end at least, that we can finally see each other for who we truly are." I release a pitiful laugh.

"If only I could see others as clearly," I speak my inner monologue out loud.

"You're being enigmatic and cryptic," Stefan teases. "Am I to assume that you're talking about my brother?"

"I'm that obvious?" I ask, embarrassed at my transparency.

"How about we just agree that I'm super observant and leave it at that," he offers obligingly. "My brother's a tough nut to crack. He's a metaphorical onion trapped in a labyrinth and locked in a safe, that is then buried underground. Not exactly the easiest person to get to know."

"Some days I question whether I ever really knew him," I admit forlornly.

"Of course you did," Stefan disputes. "He opened up to you in ways that he hasn't in over a hundred years, and that's no small thing," Stefan assures me. "You do know him, as much he lets you, as much as he lets any of us." While my profusely polite ex is too kind to ask, I can tell he's wondering what brought all this on.

"He kept something from me, a secret," I profess comfortably. "Most sane people keep secrets about the worst things that they've ever done, but Damon hides . . ."

"The best," Stefan finishes my thought effortlessly.

"He tried to explain it once," I elaborate. "Told me that he didn't want to have to live up to anyone's expectations, but I know what he really meant. He just didn't want to live up to mine," I contend.

"That isn't true," Stefan denies forcefully. I glance appreciatively at him for the effort, but he's wrong.

"I'm grateful for the well intentioned comforting, but Damon all but told me as much." Stefan chuckles to himself, and I've got no clue what's so damn funny about the dire state of my love life.

"I know you think that becoming a vampire has limited your possible future career options," Stefan declares, still amused by some unknown joke. "But please promise me that if you ever do pursue higher education that you never waste your time in psychology, because you're missing what any Psych 101 student would see."

"And what's that?" I question defensively. I consider taking a swing at him, and see if he's still laughing then.

"He's not worried that he'll be forced to live up to your expectations. Damon's afraid of failing to live up to them." Once Stefan is through with his explanation, all traces of humor have vanished; apparently it's not funny anymore.

"Why," is the only word I can think of as silence hangs in the air. "I always believed in him. What would make Damon think that he wasn't enough for me?"

Stefan grows uncharacteristically quiet and unsure. Whatever he's hiding, it isn't something he likes to talk about.

"Please," I beseech him. "I need to know." Stefan sighs in resignation and nods his head in acceptance.

"You had parents who loved you unconditionally," Stefan states candidly. "It's easy to take that for granted." Once the words are out, I know where this conversation is headed. It almost breaks my heart too much for him to continue, but before I can raise an objection, Stefan carries on.

"After our mother died, Damon and I lost any chance of unconditional love," Stefan recounts, struggling with every word. "Our father was a hard man who demanded absolute obedience. Try and imagine Damon conforming to someone else's will. When dear old dad couldn't force Damon to heel on command, he lashed out at him in the only way he could. He withheld love and affection. Time and time again he reminded Damon what a colossal disappointment he was. Would you be so willing to share your heart with the world if the one person who was supposed to love you couldn't? Katherine certainly didn't help, but by the time that she got him, the damage was already done. She was simply the straw that broke the camel's back, and he simply didn't know how to recover from that."

"A situation that was only made worse by me," I conclude hopelessly. Memories flash through my mind of all the times that I've made Damon feel the same way that his father did, the same way Stefan made me feel, unworthy. Before I slip deeply into despair, Stefan throws me a life preserver.

"No," he disagrees confidently. "You were the one person that brought him back from all that."

I don't believe him. Stefan's sure of his position, and I'm sure of mine. Neither of us is likely to budge, so I skirt the issue for the time being.

"Be that as it may," I evade gracefully, "how can I break through his barriers if he won't let me?" If I'm going to fix this, I need to focus on the future, and not dwell on the past.

"He'll let you," Stefan promises certainly. "He might kick yell and scream every step of the way, but I'm not worried. You're just as stubborn as he is, so don't take no or go to Hell for an answer." I smile real big, a genuine smile, probably the first real one that Stefan's seen on my face since he left. It feels good to talk with him like this. I almost believe we really can make it as friends. Hopefully as my friend, he's willing to indulge me one last favor.

"If we're being all transparent now, can I ask a question?"

"Anything," Stefan replies instantly.

"Caroline told me a story about Damon sacrificing himself to protect her. And I was just wondering if you have a story? Was there ever a time when Damon acted like more than the self-involved ass that he pretends to be and you didn't tell me?"

"Yes," Stefan answers immediately, "do you want me to list them chronologically, or in order of importance?" Stefan asks his question with a casual nonchalance that throws me for a loop.

"How many times were there?" I demand, frustrated at how much both Salvatores apparently kept from me.

"Too many," Stefan replies wearily, like he's in need of a stiff drink.

"So why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Because he wouldn't want me to," Stefan responds simply. He was respecting his brother's wishes. Why am I not surprised?

"I once told you that what he would want and what we should do are two different things," I remind him gently. "I'm pretty sure that still holds true. Damon doesn't want people to see his true self, but that's just too damn bad. He might be old enough to have invented stubbornness, but I perfected it, and he's not hiding anymore, not if I can help it."

"Well it's about time," Stefan declares proudly.

"What?"

"I feared the fight in you had died out over the past few weeks," Stefan elaborates. "It's nice to know your lion heart is still in there. I'm happy that Damon can bring it out in you, even if I couldn't." Suddenly pesky reality creeps back in. I'm reminded how unfair this all is.

"Stefan, are you . . . are you going to be okay?" I ask nervously.

"You know me," he replies in good humor. "I'll brood, stare at fireplaces, but I'll survive. I've got Caroline on speed dial. She'll be practically giddy when I finally agree to take her up on her offer to sample the bars on the outskirts of town. Apparently I'm in desperate need of a vampire pub crawl." His joke breaks up the intense melancholy that was threatening to overtake us.

"At least I know you're in capable hands," I reply, relieved that Stefan will have an actual cheerleader to perk him up. "Quick tip though," I caution. "Don't let yourself get drunker than Caroline. She has ways of making you talk." I kid, mysteriously.

"What?" Stefan asks, perplexed.

"Don't ask," I suggest wisely.

Stefan laughs a little before making the trek back to the house. Just as we're approaching the front door, he turns around and faces me. "If you ever do want to hear the stories about Damon, just ask. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. I'm not going to enable Damon's little act anymore. And FYI, I don't think Caroline and I are the only ones with a story. I'm sure we all have at least one."

"I appreciate the gesture," I respond sincerely. "How about we save those stories for another time? I have someplace I need to be, and something tells me it's not going to be easy."

"Another time," Stefan agrees, as he pulls me into a friendly hug. "I'll be around if you need me," he expresses warmly.

"Me too," I return the sentiment, as Stefan heads inside.

Once I'm all alone again, I plan, strategize, and try to hammer out phase two of my plan. I identified my feelings for Damon, and I broke up with Stefan, but a persistent warning in the back of my head tells me that was the easy part. Convincing Damon that I love him and that he should trust me will be infinitely more difficult. But I won't give up on him this time. I owe him more than that. Damon can pitch whatever hissy fit he likes, but one way or another this story is going to have a happy ending. There will be sunshine and rainbows and possibly Florence and the Machine playing in the background. Maybe when I wake up tomorrow morning, the sunshine will be a symbol again, that is the start of something new, something better. I for one can't wait.

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