Note from the Author! This is set during season 1, episode 18. !Stelena is still going, and Stefan is struggling to control his blood addiction, but with a few twists!


Elena Gilbert woke up to the soft glow of the morning sun streaming through her bedroom window. She stretched lazily, feeling the warmth of the light on her skin, and blinked her eyes open. Today was the Founder's Day 150th Anniversary Party, an event filled with history, tradition, a mix of excitement and plenty of booze. It was to be hosted at the Lockwoods' Manor in Mystic Falls that evening, which meant multiple preparations, and a black tie dress code. She reached for her phone, still buzzing with incoming messages from Caroline, who'd been helping the Lockwoods plan.

What are you wearing tonight?

Elena?

I don't want us to match.

Elena?!

Elena! Answer me!

Black isn't a good colour on you.

Ugh! Elena, this is important.

"Oh, Caroline. Forever the control freak," Elena muttered, rolling her eyes before moving onto her morning texts from Stefan. Cryptic as always at the moment.

I'll see you tonight.

And he would. They were to meet there for what she hoped would be a normal evening of small town celebrations and an overly lavish Lockwood party.
She needed a bit of normal in her life. It seemed that since Stefan had come into the picture, her life had been anything but. And yet, she didn't resent him for it, somehow. There was a part of her that knew she enjoyed the thrill, and even Damon had his perks.

"Elena, breakfast!" Jenna called from downstairs, there was en edge to her voice that could only be described as the John effect, Elena's irritating overbearing uncle. He knew how to press buttons she didn't realise she had, and his effect on Jenna was multiplied.

Elena rolled over in bed once more, relishing the cool cushion of her pillow, and the way the light washed over her. She felt more tired than usual, head brimming with the many anxieties the loomed over her: her birth mother, Stefan's odd behaviour, Jeremy and even the Miss Mystic competition. "One day at a time" she told herself. Hopping out of bed with a reluctant push.
Today, she was just going to be normal Elena Gilbert. Normal Elena Gilbert with her dashing boyfriend at a normal small town party.

It could be a good distraction for Stefan, she thought. A public scene, a reputation to uphold. Some drinks and maybe even a dance. She had to believe it. She knew Damon would help her keep him in line. Maybe they would even have fun.

As one of the founding families, Elena, Jeremy, Jenna and John were all to attend the party, and naturally, Jenna was driving. After a quick shower and throwing on a casual outfit, Elena made her way downstairs to the kitchen where breakfast awaited. The smell of pancakes filled the air, but so did the palpable tension between Jenna and John. She couldn't wait for him to be gone. He had always had this magical ability to fall in and out of their lives like a persistent dripping tap, never quite fixed, nor off.

"Good morning," Elena greeted, trying to inject some normalcy into the room. Her fake smile was received by a save me look from Jenna.
Jeremy was already at the table, earbuds in, seemingly oblivious to the world.

"So, Elena," John finally spoke, his tone dripping with condescension. "Are you ready for tonight? Big responsibility, you know, representing the Gilbert family."

Elena sighed internally but forced a polite smile. "Yes, Uncle John. I'm ready."


Morning stretched into afternoon, which stretched into evening before Elena found herself at the foot of the Lockwood Manor, the grand doors held open by the hired help.

In front of the staircase, Mrs. Lockwood stood, clad in a beautiful dress that shimmered under the glass chandelier. Her hands were poised neatly in front of her, exuding practiced patience, but Elena noticed the way her eyes focused on John as he came into view, the way an arrow finds its target. Once they had all filed in, they exchanged greetings.

"That's a gorgeous dress," Mrs. Lockwood remarked to Elena, her smile polished. "Enjoy your evening. Drinks are just through there," she spoke to Jenna, and gestured to her right, indicating a large room filled with people. Wait staff circulated with trays of champagne and wine. "John, a word if you please?" Her tone gave no indication of a question, and Elena watched the two file through a separate set of doors on the left, without a backwards glance. She tried to shake off the sinking feeling she felt, and instead focused her efforts on finding Stefan, filing in behind Jenna and Jeremy into the grand room.

Meanwhile, the Salvatore brothers were queued up outside.

"I shouldn't be here." Stefan was fidgeting with his cufflink, eyes straying to the people lining up inside. He could feel the thirst rise up in his throat, despite the copious amounts of alcohol he'd downed to dull the craving.

"Oh, Stefan. Always such a downer. It's a party for the founding families. So let's go found, and be a family." Damon replied lazily, his tone dripping with the usual hints of sarcasm and irony. The two made their way through the grand doors.

"No, Damon. I really shouldn't be here." Stefan's eyes flitted around anxiously, he could feel every glass clink, every heel tapping on the wooden floors. It was an onslaught to the senses.

"We are who we are, Stefan." Damon said in mock understanding, his big eyes frowning in dramatic sympathy. "How's the cravings? You giving up on your vegetarianism for good?" He quirked a smile, casting it lazily around the hallway. A few of the women blushed.

"Let's just get through the evening." Stefan rolled his eyes. "I'm going to find Elena. Don't do anything stupid." Stefan stormed through the grand doors to the right of the staircase, grabbing two drinks from a wait staff as he walked.

"Don't. You. Worry. About. Me." Damon said under his breath, popping each word through his teeth, sarcasm settling in every pause. He was relishing Stefan's anxiety, and Stefan knew it, but he didn't care. Tonight was going to be fun. "Liz, hey." He ran up after her, a charming smile plastered over his chiselled features.


Meanwhile, Elena stood in front of the bar, watching Jenna and Alaric flirt in the corner. She smiled at their obvious chemistry; they seemed good for each other. She moved on, her eyes searching around the room. Jeremy had disappeared, nowhere to be found.

"Hey, beautiful." A familiar voice called behind her. She whirled around.

Stefan stood there, a wide grin on his face, holding two drinks. His eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and intoxication.
Before she could respond, he'd placed the drinks on the bar and pulled her in for a kiss, dipping her in his arms like a scene from an old movie. "How are you?" His voice was light and flirtatious.

"I'm good." She paused, throwing a quick glance around her to see if anyone had noticed the gesture. It seemed everyone was caught up in their own conversations. "You're in good spirits," she added cautiously. "Those both for you?" she eyed the drinks on the bar.

Stefan smirked, his eyes flashing. "Well, you know. It is a party."

Elena's smile wavered as she took in his demeanour. "Stefan, have you been drinking all day?"

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just trying to manage things, you know? Enjoy the night."

Her concern deepened. "Manage what? The cravings?"

He looked away, his playful façade faltering. "Elena, it's Founder's Day. Let's not worry about it tonight. Let's just have fun."

Elena's mouth formed a thin line. Not much she could do now, she supposed. Keep an eye on him and let him ride it out. She hoped that Damon was around somewhere. She felt uneasy being on Stefan duty by herself.

"How about a dance?" Stefan pulled her onto the floor, moving timely to the music. She'd usually have to beg him to dance with her, but seeing him so void of his usual measured personality worried her. It was all very un-stefan-like, and she wasn't sure what to make of it.


"I must say, Liz, you suit a uniform well, but this? I like this look even better," Damon smiled warmly at her, raising his glass in a toast. She met his with a clink.

"Well, thank you, Damon. You're very kind to say so." She blushed, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink.

"Not kind, just honest, Liz. A gorgeous woman deserves to know these things," he replied, his smile turning into a charming smirk. Her blush deepened as she looked away, a small, flustered laugh escaping her lips.

"You know, I had my doubts about you when we first met. But, like the rest of the council, you've won me over," she admitted, turning back to face him. Her eyes held a mixture of curiosity and admiration.

"Ah, well, winning people over is one of my many talents," Damon said, his tone light and teasing. "I'm glad I could change your mind." He said sincerely.

Liz took a sip of her drink, studying him thoughtfully. "You have a way of surprising people, Damon. I never quite know what to expect from you."

"That's the idea," he replied with a wink. "Keeps things interesting."

"On that note, I have something I want to discuss with you." Liz's tone shifted, the warmth of their light-hearted exchange replaced by a more serious demeanour. She gestured to one of the empty rooms beside her, and Damon followed her in. He glanced back around the room behind him, catching Elena and Stefan on the dance floor. He made a mental note to check in on his brother later, but for now, he had more pressing matters.

They entered the room, as grand as the others in the Lockwood Manor, adorned with fine oil paintings and glass chandeliers. Liz shut the door behind them, casting a cautious glance back at the hall. Turning, she took one more sweep of the room.

Damon's playful smirk faded, replaced by a look of attentive curiosity. "What's on your mind, Liz? You're starting to worry me now."

She let out a faux laugh, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. "A few of our deputies have confirmed," she began, lowering her voice slightly to ensure their conversation remained private. "Our local blood banks have reported stock missing."

The corners of Damon's mouth furled into a frown. He gave his best attempt at alarm, and paused for dramatic effect. "Vampires." He said simply, adopting the look of someone confirming grave news.

Liz nodded grimly, relieved at Damon's understanding of the severity of the situation. She paused, before continuing. "It seems the staff were changing the records, although they have no recollection of doing it."

"Which means, we have a problem." Damon said severely. His jaw clenched and unclenched, mind whirling with the realisation. Stefan, he thought.

"Indeed we do, which is why I need your help." Liz's eyes bore into his, the plea of a desperate and determined woman.

"What can I do?" Damon returned her gaze, a mixture of alarm and support coating his eyes. He rested his hand on her arm in a soothing gesture, rubbing his thumb over her bicep in a comforting way. Liz sighed. She was relieved Damon was on her side, as usual.


"Okay, okay. Never thought I'd say this, but I think I'm all danced out," Elena laughed, gently guiding Stefan away from the dance floor. "These heels were definitely not made for this," she added, breathless. They'd attracted a large crowd around them, onlookers dazzled by Stefan's fancy footwork and practised skill.

"Oh, really?" Stefan asked, quirking a smile. "That's a shame, I was just about to show you how to do the Jive." He laughed, letting himself be dragged from the floor.

"Another time, definitely." Elena's eyes sparkled under his gaze, and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. She was caught in his eyes, all worries faded from her.

Suddenly, she was falling. She barely had time to gasp before Stefan scooped her up onto her feet, his strong arms steadying her.

"Watch where you're going, will you?" an angry voice called from behind her. Elena turned and saw a man glaring at her, his dark eyes flashing with irritation. She glanced down and noticed the black shoe she had tripped over.

"Oh, sorry," she responded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I'm a little clumsy today, I think."

The man huffed, crossing his arms. "Well, maybe you shouldn't be on the dance floor, then."

Stefan stepped forward, his expression turning protective. "Hey, it was an accident. No need to be rude."

"Oh, wanting to be the big guy, are you?" the man sneered, shoving Stefan slightly. "These shoes are Italian. A thousand dollars, custom made."

Elena, feeling a mix of guilt and irritation, stepped closer to Stefan. "Look, I'm really sorry about your shoes. I can—"."

Stefan's hand shot up, stopping her mid-sentence. His eyes narrowed, and he took a deep breath, feeling the anger flair up inside him. "Are we going to have a problem here? She said sorry, man. Let it go."

"Whatever," the man muttered, stepping back. "Just keep her off the dance floor. Better yet, get her back to the kitchen where she belongs."

That was the last straw. In an instant, Stefan's calm façade shattered. He grabbed the man by the collar, lifting him slightly off the ground, his rotund belly bursting at the seems of his dress shirt. "Watch your mouth," Stefan growled, his eyes darkening with fury. Elena watched as the veins flared up under his skin, his eyes shifting to a deep red. She felt the pit in her stomach grow, searching wildly around the room for a distraction.