"Pack your bags," Damon said quickly.

Elena looked up, her knitting needles poised in mid thread. She had taken up many hobbies since her transformation—knitting being one of them. Why she did it, she wasn't exacty sure. It's not like she could knit booties for her children or a sweater for her husband. In fact, if she knitted anything for Damon, she imagined him laughing. So she knitted for no one, only herself.

"Pack your bags," he repeated.

"Why? Where are we going?"

"Italy," he said. He walked to her closet and pulled down several shirts, pants, and dresses. He tossed them on her bed and walked towards her dresser. He pulled out silk chemises, bras, panties, and socks. He tossed them in a heap.

"Italy," she said, startled. "Wh—I don't even have a passport."

"Leave that to me."

Elena put down her ball of yarn and stood weakly, her head tilted.

"What's wrong?"

"Does something ALWAYS have to be wrong," he snapped.

Elena paused, "No…"

"Well then just do as I ask."

"I can't go out in the sun," she said slowly.

"Red eye, my dear," His teeth were clenched. "We'll wait 'til sundown and then we're out the door. Call it a vacation."

"…okay."

Damon reached under her bed and yanked out a pale vintage suitcase. He tossed it over the clothes. He pulled out a small bag of blood from the inside of his jacket pocket. He grabbed Elena's hand and put it in her palm.

"Drink this now. I don't want you pulling any funny stuff on the plane."

Before she could protest, Damon left the room to pack his belongings. She knew something was wrong but she wasn't sure what it could be. She had thought she heard voices earlier but she was half asleep and the voices drifted away. She slowly folded her clothes and packed them in the case. Chanel…Hermes…Valentino. If she could say one thing, she enjoyed purchasing ridiculously expensive dresses, sweaters, skirts and shirts. It was a dream to shimmy into such loveliness that had she not been Damon's, she probably wouldn't have ever obtained them. She clicked the suitcase closed and pushed it to the side of the bed. She curled into the bed and closed her eyes. Sleep claimed her almost instantly.

She dreamt. She was standing in the sunlight and Damon was holding her hand. She looked down at their linked fingers and looked back up. And now it was Stefan. She looked down at his hand and it was bleeding. She looked back up and she was looking at herself.

Elena gasped and sat up in bed. If her heart could beat, it would be beating out of her chest. She looked up and found Damon lounging in her chair.

"Hi," she said, still overwhelmed.

"Good morning," he drawled. "The sun just set. We need to move. We have a flight to Richmond, then a connector to New York. And from New York we'll be flying across the pond."

Elena smiled softly.

"I've never been out of the country before."

"Yeah well, there's a first time for everything."

He grabbed Elena's suitcase and kissed her. It was a soft, undemanding kiss. Like a comfortable kiss between lovers. Elena smiled to herself. It felt…nice.

"You know, I only have to look at you to know what you're thinking," he smiled.

Elena said nothing but her smile deepened. They descended the stairs and walked towards the door. Damon stopped suddenly and Elena, who wasn't paying attention, slammed into his back.

"Nice," she said dryly.

She moved beside Damon and looked up at him. His eyes were on the door, alert as a cat.

"What?" She followed his gaze to the door and back again.

"Go wait in the living room," he said softly.

"Damon?"

He turned and looked at her.

"Do as I say," his words were even softer.

She grabbed a catalog from the mail that was sitting in the foyer and walked into the living room, dragging her feet.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Damon walked towards the door. He waited.

The door opened with the force of familiarity.

Stefan Salvatore stood in the doorway, his eyes looking into his brothers. He wore a smoky button up shirt tucked into a pair of black fitted slacks.

"You're here," he said.

Damon threw up his hands and shrugged.

"It's my house. Where else would I be?"

"Why haven't you returned my letters? My emails," Stefan asked quickly. "I was getting worried…"

Stefan trailed off. That scent. He caught it on the breeze. And then his heart was in his throat. He looked past Damon and into the living room. Damon shut his eyes for a moment.

"Elena," Stefan called softly.

Elena was standing behind the couch. Her arms were at her side, weighed down like lead. Her tiny fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were pale. Elena. His Elena. His love, his pain. She was standing like the vision of Aphrodite before him. She stared at him, wide eyed, but did nothing.

Stefan took one step towards her and stopped cold. That scent. Elena's scent. The scent that captivated and entranced him. It was different. There was death in it. He didn't have to be any closer to Elena to know.

"Stefan," she said finally. Her smile was in her eyes.

Stefan took a cautionary step back.

"What have you done," his voice gained strength.

He looked from Elena and to Damon behind him. Damon said nothing as he picked at his fingernails.

Elena's face fell. She could see that he knew. He could taste it in the air. Elena looked helplessly at Damon.

"I did what you couldn't," Damon said casually.

Stefan's face contorted into a mask of anger. He grabbed at Damon, yanking him by the collar and shoving him against the wall. Damon's back slammed into a mirror behind him and it shattered, bits of glass stabbing at his back like angry thorns. He didn't attempt to fight back. He rolled his eyes.

"What have you done," Stefan repeated.

"Don't be so dense. You feel it. She's one of us now. She's a vampire," he paused. "You're welcome."

Stefan roared. He grabbed the wooden frame of the mirror and broke it over his knee. He swung the wooden stake towards Damon. Elena's scream was deafening.

"Stefan, no!"

Stefan stopped mid-air and looked at Elena, getting lost in her frightened gaze. The stake clattered to the ground and he stood there, shaking with anger.

Stefan covered his face in his hands for a moment before meeting her gaze again.

"Why," he sputtered.

"Because she had cancer," Damon interrupted.

Stefan swung around to look at Damon.

"Cancer?" he asked. He looked back at Elena and then back to Damon.

"Why…why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm not your messenger boy. And for what? You wouldn't have had the balls to do what I did. You would have toyed the idea of immortality and made her miserable when you decided you couldn't bend your morality bone. You should have kept tabs on her."

Stefan walked towards Elena, the couch separating them.

"I would have come…" He said. "If I had known…"

"I tried to find you," Elena began.

"The point is you didn't know, Baby Brother," Damon chided. He walked towards Elena. He took her hand and pulled her against his chest possessively.

"And," he continued, "that's your cross to bear."

Damon watched Stefan. He could pinpoint the exact moment when his brother realized that Elena no longer belonged to him. Damon beamed inside. He kissed Elena's temple with deliberation.

"Well," Damon said calmly. "I'm sure you two have a lot to catch up on. We were on our way out buuuuut…it can be postponed."

He poured himself a glass of scotch filled to the brim. And walked out of the room.

Elena switched her weight from one foot to the other. Stefan said nothing, instead he drunk her in with his eyes. He slowly moved around the couch. Elena stilled and felt herself began to shake. Stefan walked until he was in front of Elena. His moved his hand towards her, his fingers lifted her face softly to look at him.

"I'm so sorry I failed you. I had no idea…"

Elena blinked and looked away.

"No one really knew. I did want to find you, Stefan; I just didn't know where I was supposed to look."

"This is all my fault…"

Elena shook her head slowly.

"All your fault? No, Stefan. You aren't God. You didn't cause my cancer. It's just…everything happened the way it was supposed to."

"I should have been here. To comfort you or…"

Elena smiled sadly.

"It's okay, Stefan."

"I never," his voice broke, "I didn't want this for you, Elena. I wanted more for you than this."

"So did I," she whispered. A tear snaked slowly down her face. Stefan reached up, cupping her face as his thumb slide across her cheek and wiped away her tear. His face bent to hers, their foreheads touching. His nose brushed against hers and she could feel that his mouth was a breath away. She backed away suddenly.

"I can't," she said shortly. "I can't."

She turned from him and ran upstairs.

Stefan watched her, his mouth slightly agape and he bowed his head.

"Bravo," Damon drawled, coming into the room.

Stefan turned to him slowly.

"Why," he managed to ask.

"Why not?"

"You knew how much I loved her..."

"You knew how much I loved Katherine," Damon said bitingly, "That didn't stop you, did it?"

"This isn't Katherine, Damon."

"Do you think I'm an idiot? I know who she is. You can't handle yourself with anyone you love. You don't know how. Am I dreaming things or didn't you try to kill her a year ago?"

Stefan froze.

"It was an accident."

"Right. Right. Right. An accident."

Stefan had nearly been killed in a brutal confrontation with a hostile vampire. He'd been beaten, tortured, and left for vultures until Elena found him. Stefan was writhing in pain on the ground, so pale that he was nearly grey. She gave him her wrist and begged him to drink. And he did. He drank from her like a thirsting dog. He gulped down her blood so thoroughly that before he realized it, Elena had passed out on top of him. And that was when his hunger surfaced.

It was like when a person went on a diet. They could be content with the food they chose to eat day in and day out. But if presented with a cheeseburger or something equally bad, surrendering to your weakness was fulfilling and wonderful. He tried to hide it. But his lust for human blood grew out of control. And before he knew it, he was stealing from blood banks. He was taking drinks off of pedestrians and compelling them to forget. He killed a vagrant who was hitchhiking out of town and he had reveled in it. He forgot his ethical responsibility. He tried to keep of pretenses with Elena but he knew she could sense something was wrong. And then one day, everything went so wrong…

Elena knocked on door of the Salvatore house.

Stefan looked up. It was Elena. He could feel her. He continued dragging the body down into the basement. He gripped the black leather heel of a women. Every step he took, her head knocked into the stone as he descended. Thump. Thump. It was like hitting a watermelon into pavement. Her heel came loose and Stefan lost his balance, falling the remaining few steps into the basement. He swore, frustrated. He stood quickly and grabbed the dead woman's ankle. He yanked her forcefully into the basement. Her head slammed against the bottom step before resting at his feet. He tilted his head and looked at her. Much like a watermelon. Blood oozed from her scalp like juice. The woman moaned. She was still alive. Stefan smiled.

"Stefan?" Elena's voice echoed from above.

Stefan dragged the woman into an empty cell and quickly ascended the stairs and walked into the living room. Elena's back was to him. He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her neck passionately.

"There you are," she smiled. She turned into him and kissed him quickly on the mouth.

"Where were you? I was starting to think you weren't here."

"Sorry, I was in the garage."

Elena pulled on Stefan's hand. Her fingers slipped on the blood that was fresh on his palm.

Elena looked down at her hand slowly and then back up at Stefan.

"Are you okay," she asked hesitantly.

Stefan snatched her hand and wiped it on her shirt. He bowed his head, attempting to look ashamed.

"Sorry…rabbit…" he mumbled.

Elena's heart went out to him.

"It's okay. You don't have to be ashamed, Stefan…you have to eat somehow."

Stefan turned away.

"Yeah, well…I am ashamed."

Elena touched his face and kissed him. She could taste the iron-y flavor of blood in his mouth and inwardly shuddered.

"Don't be," she whispered.

Stefan wrapped his arms around her.

"Hey," she changed the subject, "Go get your history books. We need to cram for the final. Well…I need to cram. You know just about everything. Do you have my notecards?"

"They're in my room, I'll go get them," he smiled. "Hey Elena?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"You know."

Elena smiled and said nothing as he walked slowly upstairs. And not a moment after he disappeared did she hear the sound of a cat meowing. Elena tilted her head and stood. There it was again. She looked around and cautiously clicked her tongue.

"Here kitty," she said softly.

She walked out of the living room and found herself at the door to the basement. She paused and heard the meow again. Yes…it was most definitely coming from in there. She opened the door and immediately saw puddles of blood on the steps. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She could feel her heart beating in her ears and she walked to the bottom. With horror, she realized it wasn't a cat at all. A dark smear of blood led into a cell. She opened the large oak door…

Elena shook her head. Memories did nothing but cause pain. There was no use in remembering that night. There was no use in remembering anything about Stefan. She waited for Damon to come into her room. She waited for him to take her fuck her until she was mindless. She waited.

He did not come.