—
~ The Vampire Diaries ~
One Thing
— [CHAPTER 13] —
~ T V D ~
Sunday, Alaric went back home to his apartment for what felt like the first time in weeks, taking a duffle full of blood bags from the freezer with him. Because of his first death, his own stake to the lung thanks to Damon, the threshold barrier on his apartment was null despite him coming back to life. So now that he was a vampire, he wouldn't have a problem getting into his own apartment.
Monday morning Stefan didn't have to wake up earlier than a normal teenager to go out into the woods to hunt for animal blood because he was actually a 145 year old vampire who couldn't handle his human blood. He was a normal teenager now, albeit a 162 year old one thanks to the forces of magic. But a normal teenager nonetheless who woke to the alarm, fed his comet goldfish named Salvatore, showered and shaved and styled his hair, dressed and put on a belt filled with vervain. A normal teenager who went downstairs and ate a eggs and bacon breakfast sandwich as his 168 year old vampire older brother dined on a glass of warm, donated blood. A normal teenager who packed his own lunch for the first time in the previous 16 times he'd attended high school, packed his school bag and waited on the front porch to be picked up by his friend who was a witch and his ex-girlfriend who was the doppelganger of his previous ex-girlfriend—but, you know, it was all relative.
High school was high school, Stefan decided, no matter if you were a true regular 17 year old teenager who didn't know of the true preternatural that lived out there, or 17 year old vampire who had was obsessed at being as human as possible, or a 162 year old 17 year old finally attending high school for the 17th and final time who was also obsessed with becoming a damned vampire again.
To an outside onlooker, you couldn't pick him out of the crowd of teenagers. He was dime a dozen. Sitting at his desk near the back, among the students, Alaric up front at the chalkboard, teaching. Had Stefan never met, never lied about who he was in North Carolina; if he just hadn't made that detour to Duke... that day, rushing into history class and expecting just another substitute—Mr Saltzman would never have given him a second look. When Alaric had realized the truth (not the supernatural part of it), he'd made his position very clear. It wasn't until the figuring of Stefan being a vampire that they got together. He needed to stop being the naive 17 year old who was turned, and back to the 145 year old vampire that somehow managed to convince Alaric to be with him.
He was human now and the only true difference now, instead of denying the compulsive urge to rip into his fellow students' precious jugular vein and drink all that delicious, consuming life-force (a curse now bestowed upon Alaric)—he was forced to endure a different but truly all the same growing, grumbling emptiness in his stomach as he waited impatiently for the period to end, instead day dreaming of the lunch in his locker like he was some ravenous creature foaming at the mouth.
The 2nd period bell rang and the students quickly packed up their books and scattered, all eager to escape for the hour lunch allotted. Stefan wished he could converge with the stream, but he purposefully dawdled until the class emptied. Center and control the urge, he'd been doing it successfully for the past 74 years, he could do it now. Elena stopped and looked at him, her class books held to her chest. Stefan gave her a go-ahead-I'm-fine head jerk and she left, leaving the classroom empty but for the teacher and student.
Stefan took his bag from the back of his chair and collected his books under his arm as he approached the history teacher's desk at the front of the classroom. Both cast a gaze out the open door into the busy hall, but the passing students paid them no mind, having better things to do.
"You okay?" Alaric looked at him carefully. "You look as jittery as I feel,"
Stefan felt an almost manic laugh well in his chest that he quickly forced back. He was fast learning what a terrible person he was because all he could think right now was: I'm starving. I'm so fucking hungry right now. I just want to eat and never stop! when he knew that was exactly what was going through Alaric's head right now in stereo and on repeat and because Stefan could eat and never stop and it wouldn't matter because he wasn't murdering a person now when he ate to his body's satisfaction. His was a hunger that could be sated, if only for a short time before it returned, just as strong as ever, growing as he tried to deny and control. He was a vampire still, just another parasite after a different substance to gratify himself with, if temporarily. But Alaric could never be truly have that same satisfaction and not have death on his hands, coating his skin.
"Well, you look very stable," Stefan agreed. He set his books down on an empty corner of the desk and opened his bag. He cast another glance out the door, his body angled so if anyone did happen to look in, they would only see his back and not the blood-filled thermos he pulled out of his bag that took up most of the room. "Brought you a refill, thought you might need it."
Alaric exhaled. "Thank you. I really didn't think this whole thing through. Somehow, this is harder than the hospital; there, I didn't have to do anything but focus on not giving into the sweet scent, but here..." he scratched a hand through his hair, "I have to actually function and act like a normal person who isn't being bombarded by the sound of heartbeats and blood flow." He shook his head. "It's exhausting and it just makes me more hungry. I can hear each page turn, scrape of pen, cleared throat—you bouncing your leg like crazy."
"Sorry," he ducked his head as he stuffed his books back into his now empty messenger bag. "My lunch bell literally just rang a few minutes ago."
Alaric gave a light chuckle. "I get it. Go. And thanks for the extra blood, Stef." He murmured a little more quietly, leaning in a little.
"I'll see you later," he adjusted the strap on his shoulder and left the classroom. As soon as he hit the scattered flow of students in the hall, he blended easily and hastened his pace back towards his locker, his mind now prominently back onto his own hunger and the delicious solution the resided temptingly in a paper bag on the top shelf of his locker.
He threw himself on the chair next to Elena at the table in the cafeteria, Bonnie seated on her other side and didn't have the patience so he simply tore open the paper bag to get at the contents.
"Are you going to actually eat that or inhale it?" Bonnie muttered, impressed.
"I'm starving!" Stefan explained, pausing long enough at the halfway marker of his sandwich to take a couple swallows of water. "Like, all the time!" he complained, dividing his attention between the rest of his sandwich and the container of chopped veggies and dip he'd packed with it.
"You're a growing boy now, Stefan." Elena mused. "You need all those calories." Stefan just grumbled to their amusement, his cheek protruded like a cute little chipmunk as they finished their own lunch at a more controled pace.
The warning bell rang and the lunch room slowly packed up and cleared, and Stefan's hunger was sated once more for the moment. The following 2 periods were uneventful and passed fast enough until the end of the day bell rung. Stefan managed to fit the day's current assigned homework, and the accumulated stuff he'd missed the past week into his bag and pulled the strap over his head to rest on his jacket-covered shoulder. He told Bonnie and Elena he'd meet them at the car and quickly made his way to the cafeteria, fishing some $1 bills from his wallet—when Matt and Tyler found him with an interesting offer.
"Just think about it, man." Tyler handed him the jersey and Matt clapped him on the shoulder before they left.
Stefan quirked his brow and stuffed the shirt under the flap of his bag as he turned his eager attention back to the snack machine, before he caught up with the girls in the student parking lot where they were waiting by Bonnie's blue Prius.
"Got what you needed?" the driver smirked at his snack laden arms.
"You don't mind if I eat in the car, do you?" he climbed into the backseat, pulling his seatbelt on.
"As long as you don't get crumbs everywhere," she chuckled, pulling from the lot and turning toward town.
"Thanks for being my temporary chauffeurs, it's only for the week, I promise." Stefan told them. "I have a car, but I can't risk being pulled over without a licence now that I can't compel my way out of it. I managed to get an appointment for the driver's test at the DMV Thursday after school."
"It's not a problem, Stefan."
"So where do you need to go?" Elena wondered, twisting around in the passenger seat, watching him pull open a bag of salt 'n' vinegar crisps.
"Home Depot," Stefan said, mouth watering from the chips. "And then the electronics' store for a new phone."
"What do you need at the Home Depot?" Elena questioned, straightening back in her seat.
Stefan gave a little snort. "I need to replace a key."
The two teens exchanged confused looks and Stefan opened his second bag of crisps.
"We're here," Bonnie eventually announced, parked in a curb space.
They followed Stefan into the store and through a maze of aisles, but the teen knew where he was going. This wasn't the first time he'd paid a visit to the store since Damon had made his return; starting from broken windows to bookshelves. He found the aisle that displayed the doorknobs and carefully started to inspect the brass selection; he'd always had a keen eye for detail, even before he was turned into a vampire, so he remembered the type.
"Found it." He picked up the boxed product and made his way to the register.
"What do you need a doorknob for?" Elena asked.
"I just need the key," Stefan told them as they left. "Damon changed the knobs on my balcony doors while I was in the hospital and refuses to give me the key, so..." he gestured the bag.
Instead of getting in the car again, the trio just had to cross the street to get to the electronics store and Stefan simply purchased the same cell phone as the previous 2 times and put it on his account and plan, under the same number.
"You sure you ladies don't want to stay?" Stefan asked when they dropped him back at the Boarding House, but they had to get home themselves. "Thanks again for the ride."
"Same time tomorrow," Bonnie smiled and drove back down the winding drive.
Stefan didn't see Damon's Camaro in the drive and was happy no 1 else was home. He opened the package and stowed the knobs in the chest in his closet but locked the attached keys in the drawer in his dresser. He went down to the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee, pouring himself a large mug and set up at the dining room table. He took his phone out of the package and powered it on, setting it up and filling up Contacts from memory, before he plugged it into the wall to charge the low battery.
Sipping his coffee, Stefan emptied out his bag and started his missed worked. History first, which was the easiest (no offence to Mr Saltzman, but if you lived through it...), then English Lit II, Math, and Economics; getting up periodically for refills, bathroom breaks, an apple and to stretch out the very human aches and kinks in his back and shoulders from being hunched over for hours. Until finally, he threw down his pen and answered the call of his hunger; a couple pork chops, caramelized onions, mashed potatoes, gravy and collared greens. A scan through the wine fridge and he found the perfect pairing. He pushed all his books and papers aside and dined at the table. His plate cleared, he was just finishing off the last sip of wine when Damon finally returned home, a glance at the numeral antique clock on the mantle dictated that it was 12 minutes to 8.
Damon easily tracked his heartbeat to the dining room at a human crawl. "How was your very first day of ordinary high school?" he mocked, flopping into an adjacent dining chair, fingers flicking over the brunette's notes.
"How was your millionth day of day drinking?" Stefan returned with a raised brow, turning the stem on his glass with his fingertips.
"I see you're still not funny!" Damon remarked.
"The sentiment's returned," Stefan flashed back the same fake smile he received. They gazed at each other with humoured flickering eyes.
"So I take it to mean that Teacher held it together," he couldn't help but be somewhat impressed with the man. Stefan's green eyes flashed with silent pride for the dirty-blond. "I guess having a proper vampire as a teacher has it's advantages," Stefan flashed him a frown which garnered a little smirk in return. "So what's this, then?" the vampire changed the subject, picking the jersey up from where it hung over the back of his chair.
"My old Timber Wolves jersey." Stefan told him. "Matt and Tyler found me after school today and asked if I would reconsider joining the team, you know, since I quit when you killed Mr Tanner for no other reason than to get back at me for saying you actually have feelings. I t-"
"No," Damon said instantly and with finality.
Stefan stared at his brother for a moment, annoyance flaring in his expression. If his brother had just let him finish the sentence, he would have known that Stefan was in agreement. He'd told the guys he'd think about it, even though he intended to say no from the beginning. He needed to stay as safe as possible until his next birthday, when he would officially turn 18; and he couldn't take the chance that he wouldn't get some spinal injury from a hard tackle or something else. Not when he remembered what it was like when he tried out and Tyler tackled him, he'd been a vampire back then and it was still a struggle to get up after, not to mention the broken wrist and 2 of his fingers bending a way they weren't supposed to. No, he couldn't take the risk.
"You're a human now, Stefan." Damon continued, misreading the meaning behind his expression. "You're fragile. It's a contact sport and the answer is no."
But he refused to let Damon think he could continue this controlling shit. "It's a contact sport—played by other humans." Stefan told him slowly. "And oh, look, I'm a human now, too, as you never fail to keep reminding me!" he snapped.
"Uh-huh." Damon just nodded, his arms crossed. "I'm not stupid, Stefan."
Stefan blinked at him. "I never said you were," he said genuinely.
Damon ignore him. "The school won't let you play—you're underage. You need a permission slip sighed by a parent or guardian and I don't plan on signing on any dotted line."
Stefan gave a short chuckle, giving his brother a smug look. "All my records say I'm 18."
"Smug looks ugly on you, little brother, especially when it's out of season." Damon smirked and Stefan's expression slowly shrunk as his brother continued, "I told you I didn't just mope around your sickbed all week."
"What did you do, Damon?" he asked lowly.
"I made you real." Damon clapped him on the shoulder. "In the eyes of the law, in the eyes of God himself... you're a minor and I am your guardian. I have control of all major aspects of your life and I fully intend to watch it bloom. All the records at school have been fully update along with others, all bearing your new birthday... November 5th, 1992." He announced with pleasure.
Stefan shoved to his feet, outraged. "You can't do that!"
"Really? 'Cause that's exactly what I did."
"No! I need to be 18!" he said desperately.
Damon mirrored his standing stance. "I'm not going to let you blow this once in a lifetime chance because you're scared Ric's going to break up with you because he wants you to live, have a normal life, get a wife, have kids and grow old."
It was the inevitable truth. With a roar, Stefan picked up his empty wineglass and threw it, the thin glassware shattered into particles at the impact against the frame of an old water painting hanging on the wall. Damon looked unimpressed by his outburst. The brunette looked back at him, his face vacant, his empathetic green eyes empty. "I hate you." Stefan told him, his tone flat without fluctuation. "All you ever do is ruin my life."
Pain flared in Damon's blue-eyes which he quickly covered in a cracked mask of indifference, internally shuddering at his brother's expression. This was more unnerving than staring into the eyes of the full Ripper, no humanity and all because Stefan no longer had that switch inside of him so to see him like this was beyond disconcerting. "I know you're angry right now, Stefan, so I know you don't mean that."
"Get out." Damon didn't move. "I don't want you here!" Stefan voice didn't raise but the force behind it was almost like a physical punch to the gut. Damon stared at him for a second longer before he dropped the jersey clenched in his hand to the tabletop and left the dining room.
Stefan was still for a moment, such pain clawing inside his chest, such helplessness that it felt like he was suffocating with it, his lungs seizing and his throat closing up—since the moment he felt his heart beat in his chest for the first time in the past 145 years; since he had Damon under him, stake in his chest; since he held Alaric dead in his arms for the first time, since even longer before that in 1942 when he stood on the platform waiting for a big brother who never came; standing on the shore of the quarry, helpless but to stare after his brother's retreating back, able to do nothing but drown it out in the roar of blood!
There was no switch to make it quiet, there was no longer a box strong enough to pack it away, no swath big enough to suffocate it and he couldn't suppress it anymore, no barrier—so he let it out. Smashing, tearing, screaming. Powerless, despair, terror, isolation. His dinner plate met the same fate as the wineglass. He tore the jersey, shredded it. He snapped every candle in sight and there were many. He used the holders like a bat, smashing the antique clock on the mantle. He tore the paintings from the wall, smashing the old frames over his knee and shredding the painted canvas—destroying historical works of art that held great monetary value and had been passed through the family for decades. Wordless roars and screams of anguish leaving his throat raw, tears feeling like hot lava down his already flushed and hot cheeks.
Stefan wavered, bracing himself heavily on the cherry wood tabletop, virtually unscathed no matter what he'd thrown at it; his breaths short and chest heaving, heart thumping in his throat. His face tingled. His gaze was blurry but he couldn't tell if it was from tears or the light-headedness as such pain radiated from the center of his brain it made him feel ill.
Alaric hadn't done it yet, but it was only a matter of time. He wasn't selfish like Stefan, who knew the danger, the contamination his vampirism would cause to the human's life. A pollution, a poison. He'd infected Alaric and found himself cured. Alaric was a better man than Stefan ever could be; he would 'free' Stefan, 'let him go' like Stefan should have from the beginning.
The brunette cocked his head as he stared at the drop of dark blood on the table, wondering idly when it had gotten there when another drop joined beside it. He felt the burn in his sinuses and the drops dripped faster, until it created a small pool. With a trembling hand, Stefan pressed his finger into it, drawing his finger across the polished cherry surface, before going back and repeating. It was an old routine, one imbedded inside of him, one he could never forget—he wrote their names so he would never forget the monster that he was.
Damon had left, but he hadn't gone far. He didn't need vampire hearing for the ruckus Stefan was making, his wordless screams cutting him deep, every crash making him flinch. It hadn't gone on more than half an hour and there was silence, silence but his brother's breath and his brother's heartbeat which he had cause to never be able to hear, and yet was listening to it now. It took a few minutes for the scent to permeate the air and the vampire smelled it instantly. Blood! Fear tore through him as he blurred into the dining room; he took in the destruction of the room in an instant, his brother leaning against the table, with jerky movements of his arm.
"Stefan!" Damon jerked him around. "Where-?" The bleeding had already slowed, just a sluggish haemorrhage that coated his upper lip. "What did you do?" Stefan was languorous in his hands as Damon tore the sleeve from his shirt and pressed it to his nose. "Hey!" the vampire snapped, giving his brother a little shake but the teen was only like a doll. He noticed the blood on his hand and remembered the odd movements of Stefan's arm when he'd come in and turned his attention to the tabletop as the teen shivered—and there written in blood: Alaric Saltzman.
He knew of his brother proclivity to ask the name of his victims before he killed them when he was the Ripper, and then write them down. He knew of the apartment his brother had in Chicago in 1922 and the hidden wall crowded with names written in blood. Stefan was worse than he realized.
"Let's get you warmed up, huh?" Damon turned his attention back to his brother. "A nice hot bath to calm you right down."
Stefan let his brother lead him upstairs and into his bedroom, sitting him at the foot of his king sized bed and went into his bathroom, turning on the faucet to his large plunge bath, big enough to fit himself and pretty company comfortably, sprinkling bath salts in.
Unlike Stefan's bedroom, which was crowded with bookshelves, dressers, wardrobes, reading chairs and tables, with a closed off en suite; Damon's bedroom was filled with space and had an open concept, it designed for comfort and pleasure with his king bed and large bath, unlike Stefan's. Here, he could easily keep his eye on the brunette.
"Talk to me, little brother." Damon murmured as he returned to the bed, where Stefan hadn't moved at all. He would have thought he was staring at a mannequin if he couldn't see the slight rise of his shoulders or hear his heartbeat.
"A doppelganger is born to bear the punishment of the one who can't be harmed, the one who cannot be killed." Stefan mumbled quietly, his head bowed, but Damon heard him clearly. "From the day we are born, we are made to suffer the sins of the one's appearance we bore."
Damon stared at the crown of his head. "Where did you hear that from?"
"Huh?" Stefan looked up, eyes blinking rapidly to clear his head and rubbed his forehead.
"Come on," Damon pulled him into the bathroom, turning the faucet off, the water steaming beneath the layer of scented bath bubbles. "Get in. Let's go." He turned his back.
Stefan stared at the bubbles for a moment before he pulled his shirt off overhead and dropped it to the floor. He unbuckled the vervain filled clasp of his belt and undid his zipper, he pushed his jeans and underwear down, his socks coming off as he stepped out of them. He lifted his leg over the tub, stepping into the hot water, the line reaching his knees, the bubbles above that. He lowered himself, giving a shaky exhale as his chilly skin was enveloped by toasty velvet. He sat and he waited, looking up at his brother listlessly.
Damon gathered his discarded clothes, fingering the belt clasp buckle he didn't recognize for a moment before he looked back at his brother. He forced back the shudder, it was like staring into the blank eyes of Stefan's dead body. A shell, and empty home; Stefan's compassion and intelligence and humour and hope checked out. "I'll be back," he quickly left, throwing Stefan's clothes in his own hamper without thinking about it, before he blurred to the kitchen and put the kettle on, his super-hearing trained on any and all sound coming from his bedroom.
Stefan slumped back against the gentle slope at the end of the tub, his chin to his chest as he stared with half-lidded eyes at the gentle peaks of bubbles, little tiny rainbows reflecting off the oil surface from the dim lighting overhead. He felt cold and numb but the water was so soft and warm, like a gentle caress on a sore bruise. He just wanted to feel it like a blanket, like when he was a baby, swaddled in a soft blanket, held securely and safely and he had no concept of pain or heartbreak, just love. He wanted to go back to that, to sooth the agony that cut into his soul.
He laid his head back, his eyes closed and slowly slid down into the water. Bubbles coated his face and hair and then where washed away as he lay fully submerged in the bathwater. His heartbeat skipped and went a little erratic as he was first fully immersed, but it wasn't cold, hard, and metallic tasting; he wasn't drowning, he was balming. And he calmed right back down. He was warmed; like he was being bathed in warm honey on his skin and not cold ill-intentioned fingers that gripped his heart. A few bubbles leaving his nostrils, he relaxed at the bottom of the bath.
The kettle whistled as it boiled and Damon turned off the flame and took it off the burner and the sound died. He pored the water over the tea bag in the mug; it was some herbal nonsense that Elena had put into the cart with a comment of: "We have it in my house, Stefan likes to drink it when he's over." And that settled the purchase. He cocked his head and automatically looked up and beyond through the walls and ceiling to where his bathroom lay as he heard the stutter of Stefan's heartbeat.
Not willing to take any chances, even if it seemed to calm a few seconds later, Damon abandoned the seeping tea and sped up stairs. At first glance the tub was empty of his brother, but he didn't see any wet footprints on the tile and his eyes widened in terrible realization. Water bubbled and dribbled from his lips-
"Stefan!" Damon's hands plunged through the cover of bubbles and into the water beneath, fingers clawing into the first flesh they came into contact with, wrenching his brother out of the water.
Stefan jolted in surprise as hands grabbed him roughly, choking on water and soap as he was jerked upright, gasping and coughing as his eyes and sinuses stung.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Damon screamed, his vamp-face out as he was ratcheted with emotion, shaking him roughly. "Drowning yourself in my fucking tub while I'm trying to make you tea! Goddamn it, Stefan! I told you! I told you-"
Stefan clawed at his brother's own slippery forearms. "Stop," he croaked. "Damon!"
After a moment, the vampire stopped shaking him, breathing heavily, nails biting into soft skin, his sclera at least returning to normal. "Explain to me, Stefan." He demanded in a growl.
"I wasn't trying to drown myself-"
"I don't believe you. I can't trust a word you fucking say."
Stefan exhaled slowly, staring at his brother and realized that the tremor he was feeling wasn't him, but Damon. "Compel me, if you don't believe me." He said quietly. "I don't have vervain. Compel me, if you don't believe me."
Damon looked severely taken aback by the suggestion, that Stefan was actually offering it; to leave him open to one of the biggest vulnerabilities, to let the vampire essentially manipulate him, even after all that had happened with Katherine. "Alright." His fangs retracted and he stilled, caught Stefan's gaze, who didn't fight and stared straight back, completely trusting. Damon's pupils contracted...
Stefan could feel Damon's influences curl and flutter around his mind; it felt completely different than the Power of dream manipulation. This was like a catch and pull, drawing on the conscious, to implant into the subconscious.
As a human, he never remembered Katherine's compulsion; and as a vampire he was unable to be compelled like witches, so why could he feel this? It couldn't be because he was a doppelganger, he was born 1 so he would have felt Katherine's compulsion but hadn't. The only difference he could think of between then and now was that he was brought back from the Other Side with powerful Bennett magic. Stefan attempted to pull away, just to see what would happen and he was pulled back like it was magnetism.
"Were you trying to drown yourself?"
He didn't feel compelled to spew out the answer to Damon's question without thought or regard; it more felt like a strong impulse to do it, a very convincing suggestion. But he didn't fight it, he was telling the truth. "No."
"Then what were you doing?"
"It was comforting. Safe. I was holding my breath. I wasn't even down there a minute before you pulled me out. I just needed for it all to stop for a minute, the pain..."
Damon stared at his little brother a long moment. That was it, that was what he had wanted, but... "Stefan... you don't want to be a vampire." He could do this and make Stefan forget and no one would ever know but him.
"Damon, no. What are you-" Stefan started to try and pull away again, but he was pulled right back as the vampire intensified his Power.
"You hated it, what it turned you into, what it made you. It really was a curse for you, not like for me." Damon told him. "You don't want to be a vampire right now, you want to live and you want to grow. You get to be human again, Stef. You don't have to pretend to be human anymore because you actually are human now. By some miracle this happened and throwing that away would be the biggest mistake you could ever make. And I know you, baby brother. You better than anyone knows that there is always hope, Stefan. Otherwise, you would have given up on me a long time ago. Well, here it is, that hope coming back to pay you ten-fold for all the shit it's put you through. You finally have the chance to live the life you always wanted but was stolen from you; finally graduate high school for the last time, age passed 18, be a doctor like you always dreamed in our former lives…
"I'd ask you if you could ever forgive me for doing this, but you won't remember."
Stefan looked back at his brother, his green gaze teary as he let the soft words his brother spoke swim through his conscious and take hold in his subconscious. He wasn't quiet sure when exactly he'd stopped resisting, but he had. He knew he'd hopped right back of that despairing, spiralling horse; that one that had him taking off his daylight ring and putting it in Salvatore's fishbowl with no apprehension and he couldn't allow himself to go down that path anymore. So maybe this, here, his brother's half-compulsion would tamp that down spiralling, self-destructive nature, the depression.
I will, Stefan knew. "I forgive you," he whispered, a tear escaping down his cheek.
"I'm sorry, brother, I just want you to be happy and live." Damon compelled. "You won't remember all this, this past hour. You came home, we had a brief, unimportant chat, you-" he stopped. "What were you going to tell those 2 idiots about rejoining the team, Stef?"
"I told them I would think about it, but I was just going to tell them no anyways tomorrow. I couldn't take the risk of getting injured again. Not like this."
"What do you mean again?" he growled, catching the operative word.
"During tryouts when I was tackled, I broke my wrist and 2 fingers."
Damon gritted his teeth, taking a deep breath. "No football, Stefan. Got it?"
"Okay."
"Good. So home, brief chat, no to football, a little nosebleed that's nothing to worry about, then you asked if you could use mine to take a relaxing bath, wrote in your little diary, then laid your pretty little head on a pillow and fell asleep. Nice and boring, just like you."
"Really boring," Stefan gave a little smile. "Sounds nice." He just hoped that's what this would give him.
"And avoid the dining room for a while; I've got some redecorating plans and I want it to be a surprise." Damon finally released him physically and broke the compulsion, standing on his feet and stepping away, his v-neck and jeans wet with damp patches. He carefully watched his brother as he rubbed his eyes, bubbles dried in his damp hair.
Stefan looked up at the vampire, his thick brows twitching. He wondered if telling Damon that he still remembered would make his feel more or less guilty, but in the end, stuck to Damon's truth. "This bath may be big enough for 2... but that's never going to happen, Damon. I just don't love you that way,"
A surprised look crossed his face. "That was almost funny, Stefan."
"The water's getting cold, do you mind or do you want a show?"
"Tempting as that is..." Damon tossed him a towel and Stefan caught it before it could go in the water. "Guy is your type, not mine." He went back into his room.
Stefan pulled the plug and stood, rubbing himself dry before wrapping the towel around his waist and stepped from the tub. He found Damon sprawled on his king flipping through a magazine. "I thought you were making me tea?"
"What am I, your servant now?" the vampire didn't seem to realize the discrepancy.
"Thanks for letting me use your bath," he paused at the door.
Damon didn't look up. "Don't mention it."
He looked at his brother a second longer, a gentle curve on his lips and headed for his room. He was optimistic this would work, could testify that Damon's compulsion was taking a loose root. He didn't want to turn into a vampire right now but live life as a human. I can do this. He slipped on a pair of sleep pants and a shirt, sitting in his bed against a pile of pillows against the headboard, legs crossed, he wrote in his journal in the lamplight.
"Mm," he grunted, waking in discomfort, his arm going around his stomach at the hunger pains. He didn't remember falling asleep, but he obviously had, his journal and pen tumbled on the bed beside him, his lamp still on. His alarm clock said it was a quarter passed 2 a.m.
Disgruntled, he climbed from bed and walked down the dark hall, his bare feet quiet on the rug-lined floor, hand rubbing at his aching stomach. Down the stairs and into the kitchen. He switched on the overhead light for the exhaust fan above the gas stove and dug into the freezer; he wanted something quick to make with little preparation. He put 4 frozen Belgium waffles in the toaster, 2 chocolate chip, 2 blueberry. He sat on a stool at the breakfast counter, chin pillowed on his folded arms as he waited for it to pop. He stared at the lone tea mug on the counter by the stove, the cup Damon had been making earlier, abandoned. The teakettle sat on the hotplate at the center; he thought about making a cup to wash down the waffles, but discarded it, the noise would wake Damon if he wasn't already. To Stefan's now dull human hearing, he had sounded stealthy, but from past experience he knew that not to be true. What took a vampire's efforts was not hearing every creak and settling groan that went through the old house; figuring out what was just an innocuous bird setting on the sill outside the window to a modern-day marauder looking to break in.
The toaster popped and Stefan set to work on filling a checker board on each piece with butter from the dish, putting them on a short stake on his plate. He was already taking a bite from one before he even made it back to the stool with the lot. He made quick work of the hot buttered waffles, sighing in satisfaction as he rubbed his temporarily sated stomach; it would hold 'till morning. He put his plate in the sink, along with the dumped tea and shut off the stove light, heading back upstairs. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, turned off the lamp and crawled back into his bed under the covers.
Stefan easily fell asleep with his mollified appetite.
~ T V D ~
Stefan was awoken by the alarm with a grumble, wishing he could hit snooze but knew he was going to have an inconsiderably busy morning despite not have to go out and hunt for his meal. So he rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of black jeans, thick socks, and his light, tan long sleeve with the brown patches at the elbows and a thin hood; and coifed his hair just-so. He didn't immediately head to the kitchen like his hunger dictated, but passed the stairs and down the hall towards Damon's bedroom as he was missing a pretty important accessory.
He paused only briefly at his brother's cracked door; Damon just waltzed into his bedroom without knocking or as was now known, without his presence all the time, so he figured he'd give his big brother the same treatment.
"Entry without knocking," Damon looked at him, mock aghast as he came from the bathroom, buttoning his black button up. "And you haven't broken out into a sweat, I'm surprised, Stefan."
"I'm just learning from watching your example, big brother."
"Haven't you ever heard of the saying: do as I say not as I do?"
"Yeah, but what you say and what you do are kind of equal in part so it's a matter of interpretation on how insane I feel like being at the given moment."
Damon looked at him. "Can I help you with something?"
"My belt. Do you-?"
"Hamper."
Stefan found it in the bathroom by the entrance next to the stretch of grey marble counter. His clothes were easily found on top. "You owe me a shirt,"
"How do you figure that?"
Stefan held up the shirt in view. "You ripped my sleeve off."
"Yeah, but you're the one that bled all over it. Blood trumps rip, little brother. Every time." Stefan glowered as Damon gave him an arrogant smirk.
"I'll remember that," Stefan hung it over the side of the hamper.
"Do, brother, do." Damon said. "What do you need it for anyway? It looks like a cheap piece of junk."
Stefan found his jeans and pulled the belt from his loops. "Lexi won it for me at a fair in New York for a birthday, the strong-man booth." He smirked, thumb tracing the worn spiral design on the clasp. "And cheap is right, it was a trick belt but it broke after I used it a couple times. But I took out the mechanism and filled it with vervain." He looked up.
Damon stilled so briefly at the mention of vervain that Stefan would even have missed it had he still been a vampire, and only saw it because he remembered the compulsion from last night, not that the vampire knew that. "Smart move. You're a human now, susceptible to the whims of vampires like all the other suckers walking around."
Stefan tossed his shirt and jeans onto his shoulder and pulled his belt through his belt loops as he left, buckling the clasp. He threw his clothes in his own hamper, fed Salvatore and headed for his most desired destination—the kitchen. A bowl of oatmeal, cut fruit, and coffee. When he packed his lunch, after his experiences of yesterday, he packed extra snacks that he could sneak into class without going noticed or for him to eat at break during class switch. But when he was finished, he realized he didn't have his bag or anything else because it was still in the...
Stefan stood in front of the closed dining room's sliding double doors. And it was here, now, that he realized some of Damon's compulsion did take a foothold in his subconscious. He had a very serious impulse to NOT GO IN THERE AVOID. He knew under normal circumstances he would be reluctant to go back into the eyes of destruction, just like he had after that nightin his bedroom, but this was like an outside force tugging in his brain, instructing him clearly. DO NOT GO IN THERE AVOID. It was Damon's compulsion working on his magically reworked human subconscious.
And when he tried to focus, remember what had happened in the room beyond the closed doors, it was like he was remembering through a thick veil. He knew what happened, but it was like he couldn't rehash it. If this compulsion had taken root, Stefan had hope that some of his brother's other compulsion had as well.
"Damon?" he called, knowing the vampire would hear no matter where in the house, even if he didn't shout it from the rafters. A minute later he appeared.
"What are you doing?" Damon eyed him then the door.
"I left my backpack, homework, and cell phone in there last night. But I'm not supposed to go in there."
"Fine." He said like it wasn't his doing. "I'll get them. You... go do something somewhere else."
Damon only slipped into the closed off room once he was down the hall. Stefan made a trip into the basement and the blood freezer. Alaric probably learned the same lesson as Stefan had at the trial of yesterday and would find a way to smuggle blood unconsciously at school, but Stefan prepared a travel mug to slip to the bampi anyway. He's just trashed the empty blood bag when Damon mad an appearance with all his gathered things.
"All the spinal issues in the teenage population are now explained," he said.
"Did you get it all?" Stefan questioned, sorting through the papers, ignoring torn or smeared states.
"You get what I give you, be grateful." Damon poured himself a glass of blood from his stash in the drawer in the bottom of the freezer that Stefan knew better than to mess with, putting it into the microwave. "Bagged blood is so boring." He blinked dully as the glass went around on the rotating plate.
Stefan snickered. "The price of convenience," his words came out a little mumbled due to the granola bar hanging out of his mouth as he packed up his bag. It was like a jigsaw puzzle to make sure everything fit now that he was packing lunches. He could probably cheat a few days himself by buying from the cafeteria.
The microwave beeped and Damon sipped from his breakfast, lip rising as he watched Stefan gulp down the snack bar like he was ravenous. "I'm definitely paying that price—2 fold."
Stefan gave him a face as he trashed the wrapper. "As long as it's not the innocence of Mystic Falls." He slid his cell in his pocket and the strap over his shoulder. "I'm going; Bonnie and Elena are going to be here soon." He grabbed the travel mug on the way out.
"Nobody's really innocent," Damon called to his brother's back.
...
"Hey," Stefan climbed into the back of Bonnie's Prius, buckling up. Damon had not been kidding about the spinal injuries in teenage population; he didn't even notice when he was a vampire, but he sure did now.
"Got you a present," Elena told him as Bonnie drove.
"Elena, you didn't-" Stefan started, both surprised and a bit pleased at the notion.
"Don't worry," she flashed him back a smirk, "Didn't cost me a cent." Bonnie snickered. The brunette passed back a handbook. "You said you were taking the driver's test, no compulsion available. I thought you might want to brush up on your modern day road rules. I dug that up from last year,"
"Thanks," Stefan stuck the travel mug between his knees and flipped through the pages of the driver's manual, scanning the dog-eared and highlighted pages. "I'll admit, it's been a while since I actually drove, it would be good to brush up on the finer things for the written and refresh myself for the practical." Stefan spent the drive reading and Bonnie and Elena spent it chatting about the Winter Formal that Caroline was already foaming at the mouth about.
They split up in the teaming hall to their differentially located lockers, Stefan already digging into his snack-stash, pointed canines tearing into the fruit leather. He hung up his bag, unloaded his books, took what he needed for first period, kept the mug and locked his locker. He made his way through the shoal of fellow students, taking the path that was most likely to cross with Alaric's and he was right. He spotted Alaric coming from the Teacher's Lounge down the hall and through the intervening students, managed to lock gazes. 'Blood' Stefan mouthed as they closed the distance casually without looking it. Alaric's brows stitched a little but Stefan jerked his chin down to indicate the travel mug he held low at his side and the wrinkles smoothed in realization. And, as they finally met at the nexus point, like a well choreographed dance, brushed shoulders as they passed in the throng of students and from view, fingers brushing, the mug cleanly changed ownership and no one was the wiser as the pair continued on their ways without a backward glance.
End of 2nd period had him lingering behind again, this time with his missed homework as an excuse. Elena had learned her lesson from yesterday and didn't need to be told twice, telling the other teen to meet them inside the cafeteria again before leaving, subtly pulling the classroom door behind her.
Stefan set his binder on a desk in the front row and handed Alaric his missed homework.
Alaric took it without looking at it, tucking the papers in a folder, his gaze trained on the brunette. "Hey, is everything okay? Bonnie said that you got a new phone; I tried calling and texting last night but you never responded."
"Yeah, sorry. I kind of lost track of it last night and didn't get it back until this morning."
Alaric stepped out from behind his desk. "Another fight with Damon?"
'I'm not going to let you blow this once in a lifetime chance because you're scared Ric's going to break up with you because he wants you to live, have a normal life, get a wife, have kids and grow old.'
His brother's seethe came back to him, garbled and sounding like it was shouted underwater, but it was there. He gave an unconscious grimace as this sort of ache that arose in his brain and he rubbed at his forehead with rough fingers.
"Hey," Alaric grasped his wrist, pulling his hand away in concern. "Stefan?"
Stefan looked up, emotional pain flaring in his forest green eyes before he snuffed it out. The pressure on his wrist grew marginally, Alaric's disquiet growing at the caught expression. Though the vampire's slightly taller frame blocked the intimate gesture and expression on the dirty-blond's face, threw an illusion on just how close they really where standing through the view in the window on the door, all Stefan could think of was the last time they were in a similar position in a classroom setting. Alaric realized what a terrible mistake he made and broke things off with Stefan, setting the then-vampire into one of the worse spirals of his 162 year long life.
"You might have been alive for over 145 years, Stefan, but it doesn't change the fact that you're still just a 17 year old kid. I'm 33 years old, I'm the adult and I never should have let last night go on as it did."
Stefan pulled from the vampire's hold like he'd been burned, stepping back. Hurt and confusion flashed in the teacher's blue eyes for a moment, before a slamming locker out in the hall seemed to bring back the clamour of school life and understanding took its place; all his heightened senses had a tendency to zero in on the teen—his heartbeat was such a distracting and captivating instrument. He went back behind his desk, it was probably best to keep some physical distance between them in their current environment.
"It was a bit brutal at the beginning. Things were said... things were broken," Stefan swallowed. "But we talked and-and it really helped." He nodded as if to assure himself; it will work. It was probably better that he didn't tell Alaric about the compulsion, not if he hadn't Damon, and he didn't think Damon would be telling the others about it either; it was just between them. He looked back at the teacher, "What, um... what did you want to talk about?"
"Oh..." he sat. "All the occult material of Isobel's I sent for arrived yesterday. It's all sitting in my car right now. I thought I'd bring it over the Boarding House."
"Yeah. It's probably the safest place to keep it, too, anyway. I'm sure Elena will be glad to finally get some answers."
"But not you?" he wondered.
Stefan leaned back against the desk that held his books. "I don' know. I think I just have other," more important and pressing "things on the my mind right now." He stared at the blackboard behind the teacher, the familiar dashed lines of Alaric's writing collapsing in on each other until it was all just a big blur. "It's not like I can doing anything to change it. Just hope that whoever he is, if there even is a he, that he's a luckier bastard than I've been and gets to be some average Joe who's only experience of vampires is Robert Pattinson sparkling in stripper glitter on the big screen." Alaric attempted to stifle the bark of laughter and Stefan refocused his gaze on the vampire with a ghost smile. "Lexi thought it was hilarious when she saw the advertisement on the side of a bus and sprung a surprise visit on me to drag me to a night-showing. Lexi thought they were all idiots and I couldn't decide if I was relieved or disappointed at how off base the world is about vampires." He sighed. "My point, it's probably better if we never cross paths—not if Elena's encounter indicates anything." No, I'm probably the bad doppelganger.
"It's your decision, Stefan." Alaric told him quietly, watching him carefully.
Stefan's snort of derision was overpowered by the growl of his stomach. He cleared his throat. "I better go; lunch is almost over." He grabbed his binder from the desk. "I'll see you later at home!" he left, quickly treading down the hall to his locker, resisting the urge to break out a snack bar to ease his hunger until he could put his teeth into his lunch because that was all they had been doing, easing the hunger just enough so it wasn't a loud roar in his ears that was way to similar of when he went Rippy and he was able to focus on things outside that yawning emptiness. But his resistance didn't last long enough to actually wait until getting to the cafeteria to eat; he was already half finished by the time he found Elena and Bonnie with Caroline, who, surprise not really a surprise, was talking about plans for Winter Formal that was still weeks away.
...
This time, when Bonnie and Elena dropped him at the Boarding House, they stayed, Stefan having shared the news of Alaric's delivery. He dropped his bag, boots and jacket in the front hall like a typical teenager and headed straight down the hall. The girls' things joining, they shared a look and had to quicken their steps to keep up with the boy. When they made it to the kitchen, Stefan was already digging into a chocolate pudding cup from the fridge. "Mmm,"
"Weren't you just eating before the drive?" Elena asked.
Stefan just shrugged, lips around the spoon. It had only been a fruit leather. Cup in 1 hand, spoon turned upside-down still in his mouth like a placeholder, he delved into the freezer and came out with ground beef that he set to thaw.
"What's that?" Bonnie said.
Stefan scraped the little snack cup clean, licking the spoon. "Supper. You 2 are staying for a bit, right? Alaric's coming over. And I'm starving," that was the most pressing thing, drowning out his own words as he rinsed the pudding container and discarded his spoon in the sink.
"And what delicious meal are you making us tonight?" Elena sat on a breakfast stool on her knees, leaning forward on the counter on her forearms.
Stefan started to pull ingredients from the fridge and onto the island counter. "Tacos." He went to the cupboard and took out bowls.
"Need help with anything?" Bonnie offered.
"Thanks, but I got it." Stefan organised the crowded area around the cutting board. "I'd usually make the salsa by scratch but there isn't all the ingredients here," he pulled a large knife from the butcher's block and winked, "but I saw a jar of salsa in the cupboard."
"Well, if I'd know you like to make things from scratch, Chef Salvatore," Elena mocked lightly, "That you actually could make things from scratch, I would have gotten the proper ingredients when I went shopping with Damon."
"So, are you just a really good cook or are you an actual chef?" the witch mused.
"It was, uhm... early 1940's," Stefan took a moment to recall, as he cut open the avocadoes, removed the seed and scooped out the centers into a bowl, "Lexi was still helping me into rehabilitating me into the world after a Ripper-binge and demanded my getting a hobby that wasn't brooding into my journal, so I attended Culinary College for a year or so before I decided to join the war effort."
"You know, I bet you have dozens of stories like this and we know that you're a nice guy, Salvatore, but you really could just be a big fat liar!" she challenged.
"You've seen all my journals, right?" Stefan returned. "What do you think the attic's like? There's boxes up there," he pointed at the ceiling with the knife, "filled with certificates and diplomas alone."
Bonnie held up her hands playfully. "Alright, I concede."
Stefan smirked a little as he started chopping tomato. "You're just too lazy to actually go and check."
"Hey, I'm using my tingling witch senses and feeling the trust, I'm going with it."
"Aka, lazy butt!" Elena laughed.
Bonnie elbowed her. "I don't see you getting up." Elena stuck her tongue out.
"Heat the pan?" the male requested, the witch complying. Stefan quickly shredded the lettuce before he diced the onion; his eyes not the only ones stinging from the pungency of the bulb vegetable. He scrapped them off into the hot pain and washed the oils from his hands before putting the beef in the microwave to finish defrosting.
"Can I do the cheese?" Elena questioned, drumming the edge of the counter.
"If you can handle it," Stefan mused, taking the beef from the microwave and over to the stove.
"Opening a bag and dumping it into a bowl." Elena deadpanned, "I think I can handle that." She stretched across the counter for her items.
"Then I get to do the salsa and sour cream!" Bonnie declared, already searching the cupboard for the jar of salsa, then the fridge for the sour cream.
"Might as well take out the pitcher," Stefan added, breaking up the frying meat as it cooked, turning on the exhaust fan overhead.
"See?" Elena announced, holding the heaping bowl aloft like it was Simba. "I'm already a better cook than Aunt Jenna by a huge leap." She nibbled on a strand of cheese.
"Jeremy is a better cook than Jenna," Bonnie drawled, spooning salsa and sour cream into their respective clear glass bowls. "And that's saying something."
"Well, not all of us can go to some fancy culinary school."
"It was 60 years ago, Elena." Stefan joked. "Time to let it go."
"It should be weird that that's not weird anymore, right?" Elena questioned.
"That's not the weirdest thing about this whole situation," the former vampire muttered. He scrutinized the spice rack next the sink, slowly rotating it and taking the ones he wanted. He may not have been able to make the salsa, but he could the seasoning of the meat.
Bonnie returned the sour cream and salsa containers to the fridge and took out the pitcher of lemon ice tea and a stack of tall plastic cups from the cupboard along with plates.
"I'll start taking these to the dining room," Elena offered, grabbing the tomato and cheese and tucked the cups under her arm.
"Oh," Stefan stopped her. "Not the dining room. The table in the library's big enough."
"Why not the dining room?"
"Under construction. Damon's locked it up,"
"Alright, library it is." She left the kitchen.
"Here," Stefan briefly left the stove and got the teen the tray.
"Thanks. Speaking of vampires with a very shoddy moral compass," Bonnie carefully arranged the filled bowls on the tray to maximum effect. "What misfortune is Damon out bestowing onto innocents today?"
Stefan chuckled. "Your guess is as good as mine."
"That's not a comfort, you know how rainbow friendly my thoughts are when it comes to him."
"Come one, Bon, you know he's changed since you first met him."
"Yeah, he's definitely been different since we got you back," Bonnie noted quietly, leaving with the filled tray.
Stefan turned his attention back to the pan, a tight frown on his lips. Yeah, life was going great. He wished everything could be as it was, with the little thing of him being human now changed. In his thoughts, he didn't notice when Elena came back for the pitcher and plates, snatching the napkin holder as an afterthought. Stefan sighed, giving his head a little shake. With the beef browned and cooked, he drained out the grease and put half a cup of water in, and started to sprinkle in the spices. The scent made his stomach growl eagerly as he put the flame on low.
He looked over at movement in his peripheral. "Oh, hey." He smiled.
"Hey," Alaric returned it. "Thought I'd find you here even if Bonnie hadn't said anything."
"Was I being loud or just predictable?" he stirred the beef.
"Guy's gotta eat," he teased as he approached and placed a hand on the brunette's chest. "But I just listened and followed the sound of that beautifully pumping thing in your chest."
Stefan looked up. "You could distinguish which was mine, even with Bonnie and Elena in the house?"
"I'd know your heartbeat anywhere," he whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair.
"Yeah," He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment as he listened to Alaric grab a blood bag from the fridge freezer. Stefan understood completely. As long as he could listen to Ric's heartbeat, he somehow knew that in the end everything was going to be alright—now he was just waiting for his life to come crashing down around him, piece by piece. 'I now pronounce you... separated forever!' Stefan glared at the ring on his hand holding the frying pan handle. Shut up! he shouted at her as she giggled. He took a breath and shoved it away. He turned off the burner and scraped the spiced meet into a insulated serving bowl, putting the cover on it and placing the bowl on the still-warm burner.
He still had to get out the tortillas and shells out, and put the shells in the oven to crisp and warm like he should have while the meat was simmering but he'd been distracted. Stefan turned from the stove to go to the cupboard to do just that, but bumped into Alaric who was just behind him without a sound. Alaric cupped his face and kissed him before he could say anything.
It had been 72 hours since they had last kissed, a press of lips to Alaric's forehead in parting. It had been a week since that desperate kiss when they made it home safe from Katherine's fangs, alive in their different ways, but together.
Stefan gave a slightly shaky exhale through his nose. It was slow and it was loving and firm and it was thorough, and Stefan could feel the prickle of Alaric's stubble and the breath he didn't really need curl out his nose with his own. And that ball of emotion that had been residing in his chest, the top layer of anger which he had expended last night in the dining room, now started a slow climb up his throat.
Stefan clutched at Alaric's slate blue button-up over his chest, fists tight and desperate, tried to force away the tremble with the sob that was attempting to force its way out along with the burn behind his closed eyes, but as long as these lips were against his... or maybe it was the frantic release of finally feeling Alaric again as a few tears escaped his eyes and something a cross between a gasp and sob escaped his throat as Alaric released his mouth and rested their foreheads together.
Stefan clenched and unclenched his fists in the material, wrinkling it as Alaric's thumbs brushed away his wet cheeks. "What brought that on?" he managed, trying to make light even as his breath still trembled.
"Looked like you needed it," Alaric murmured. "And I needed it. It was just something that needed to happen."
"I did need it," Stefan confessed in a quiet whisper, their lips brushing, "I really needed it."
"I love you," the vampire gave him a peck. He pulled his face back, but not far. "And I know how things are right now isn't easy, both our lives have been changed dramatically and we both need to make adjustment. It's okay to be afraid, I am too, but I want you to know that I'm not going anywhere. Somewhere along the line we'll get through this—together. Are you with me, Stefan?"
Stefan met his beautiful, searching blue eyes. "Yes, I am. I love you and I have no plan to go anywhere that is without you." He pressed a kiss to the vampire's smile.
"Ahem. The tables set," Bonnie said from the doorway. "Whenever you guys are done making our or whatever," she grinned.
"Everything okay in here?" Elena asked.
Stefan gave a small, genuine smile. "Yeah,"
[...tbc...]
~ The Vampire Diaries ~