AN: Hope you are enjoying the story thus far. I've been swamped with work so unfortunately posting slower than planned but I will keep writing. I promise :) If anyone wants to check out my other story, it's called Clueless and is a Sherlock/Hermione Xover. Shameless plug.

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Chapter 4: Confrontation

The morning sunlight filtered through the trees as Bonnie and Caroline made their way up the path to Elena's house. The quiet of the neighborhood contrasted sharply with the events of the previous evening, and it felt wrong.

While the exact circumstances surrounding Damon and Stefan's involvement remained unclear, the memory of Elena's vacant eyes and trembling body haunted them. Whatever had happened, it was bad enough to shake their usually brave to a fault best friend, and Caroline and Bonnie both hoped that Elena might be able to fill in the gaps now that she'd had time to rest.

Caroline knocked gently, her fingers curling nervously at her side. She glanced at Bonnie, who seemed just as on edge. Neither of them spoke, the tension between them thick as the door opened to reveal Jenna.

Jenna looked tired, but not alarmed. "Oh, hey girls," she greeted them, her tone casual. "Elena's still asleep. She's staying home from school today."

Bonnie and Caroline exchanged a brief glance, concern flickering between them. "We just wanted to check on her," Caroline said, her voice carefully neutral. "Is she okay?"

Jenna smiled, waving her hand as if brushing off the concern. "Oh sure, she'll be fine. I told the school she'd be staying home to rest. She seemed pretty out of it last night, but it didn't look like anything too serious."

Caroline's hand twitched at her side. Every instinct screamed to do more—to see Elena for herself—but before she could speak, Bonnie laid a gentle hand on her arm, silently reminding her not to push.

"Thanks, Jenna," Bonnie said softly.

"Of course. I'm heading to work, but if you girls want to come by after school, maybe she'll be up for visitors."

They left the house with a heavy sense of unease.

Caroline's jaw clenched as they reached the car. "Is she blind?" she snapped, slamming the car door behind her. "How can she think this is nothing serious?"

Bonnie sighed, settling into the passenger seat. "It's not her fault. Jenna doesn't know what's really going on—she's just out of the loop." She shook her head. "Besides, Elena needs her space right now. We'll check on her later. Right now, we need answers from Stefan and Damon."

Without another word, Caroline started the car, and the engine growled to life.

The drive to the Salvatore Boarding House was a quiet one, tension simmering between them as they both processed the events of the night before. The house loomed in front of them when they arrived, its dark windows and heavy doors foreboding.

Bonnie didn't waste any time. She marched up to the front door and knocked firmly, the sound echoing in the stillness. When no one answered, Caroline folded her arms, her frustration mounting. "He's in there. I can hear him."

Bonnie banged her closed fist against the door, harder this time. "Open up, Damon. We know you're in there," she commanded, her voice sharp with impatience.

A few moments later, the door cracked open, revealing Damon. He stood in the doorway, dressed in all black, looking as dishevelled as the night before but without the blood. His usual snark was absent, replaced with an expression of confusion and concern.

"Is she okay? Where is she?" he asked immediately, his voice strained with genuine worry.

Bonnie and Caroline exchanged a glance, suspicion fuelling their frustration. "You're not the one asking questions, Damon," Bonnie snapped, stepping forward. "What happened to Elena?"

Damon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, his frustration evident. "She didn't tell you? Look, I know what you think, but I didn't hurt her. Stefan, he—"

Before he could finish, Bonnie's magic surged. Damon's eyes widened in pain as he dropped to his knees, clutching his head, gasping for breath.

"Bonnie, stop!" he groaned, his voice strained. "I can't... when you're... frying... my brain…"

Caroline stepped forward, her voice steady but tight with anger. "Where is Stefan?"

Bonnie released her magic, and Damon slumped against the stone floor, panting heavily. "He's in the basement," he growled between breaths.

"What do you mean?" Caroline demanded, her fists clenched at her sides.

Damon's blue eyes flicked up to meet hers, dark and filled with something close to regret. "Stefan lost control. He's… not himself right now."

Caroline and Bonnie exchanged a look, the tension between them thickening. "We're not leaving until we see him," Caroline stated firmly, her voice hard as steel.

Damon dragged himself to his feet, his body still tense from the effects of Bonnie's magic. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."

--

Inside Elena's house, the silence felt suffocating.

Elena lay curled in bed, her eyes squeezed shut, her fingers gripping the duvet as though it could protect her from the memories assaulting her. She'd heard Jenna leaving the house, but it barely registered. Now, alone, she felt the weight of everything she'd been holding back crash down around her.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, the dull ache in her head pulsing with her heartbeat. Every part of her body hurt—her wrists throbbed, dark bruises encircling them, and a sharp pain was shooting up her leg, radiating from her ankle. But none of that compared to the ache in her chest, the weight of shame and confusion pressing down on her like a vice.

Elena sat up slowly, pulling her knees to her chest, tears welling in her eyes. The events of the previous night replayed relentlessly in her mind—Freddy's hands, Stefan's mouth. She could barely separate the two in her memory.

She wrapped Caroline's sweater tighter around her, but the familiar scent brought no comfort. Her clothes reeked of blood and fear. Her mouth tasted of copper and bile. She felt like a stranger in her own skin.

She limped to the bathroom, staring at her reflection under the harsh light, her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes. Her eyes were swollen from endless tears, the bruise on her temple had deepened, and her skin was ashen, lifeless. She tore off the Band-Aid, her fingers trembling as she touched the tender skin beneath. Her throat constricted, and she had to force herself to breathe.

Elena stripped off her clothes in frantic motions, the blood-stained fabric clinging to her skin like a second layer of horror. She struggled, wincing as the fabric scraped against her bruises. Every movement sent a jolt of pain through her body.

As Elena stood now fully exposed to the trauma she had endured, she couldn't bear to look. Without removing her underwear, she stepped into the shower, cranking the knob to its hottest setting.

The scalding heat hit her, but she barely felt it. She needed this, needed to feel something other than the numb cold that had settled into her bones. As she stood under the spray, shaking, her skin reddened and steam filled the room.

Goosebumps prickled her arms as the scalding water poured over her, but she didn't adjust the temperature. The contrast between the heat and the cold inside her was jarring, but she let it wash over her, scrubbing at her skin until it was raw, until her tears mixed with the water and disappeared down the drain.

Bonnie and Caroline followed Damon down the dimly lit staircase to the cellar. The air was thick with tension. Caroline's heart pounded in her chest, dread creeping in with every step.

When they reached the basement, Damon hesitated, his expression grim. "I wasn't kidding when I said it wasn't pretty."

Caroline swallowed, her stomach twisting in knots, but she steeled herself as Damon pushed the door to one of the cells open.

Inside, the room was cold, and in the corner, Stefan sat slumped against the wall. Caroline's breath caught in her throat. His face was streaked with dried blood, his hair matted, and his eyes wild, darting around the room like he was searching for something that wasn't there. Tear tracks cut through the blood on his cheeks, and his hands trembled in his lap.

"Stefan…" Caroline's voice cracked, barely a whisper.

Stefan didn't respond. He stared ahead, his chest rising and falling in erratic, shallow breaths, his eyes distant and haunted.

Caroline's voice strengthened, anger rising with her dread, "What happened to him?"

Damon scoffed, leaning against the doorframe, "What do you think happened? Stefan's been off human blood for weeks. He attacked Elena."

Caroline's breath hitched, fury flashing across her face. "How long have you known?" she demanded, her voice sharp and accusatory. "How long have you just sat by and done nothing? You wanted a murder buddy, didn't you? Happy to drive him to blood when you know how hard he works to keep the Ripper at bay?"

Damon's expression darkened. "Are you serious?" His voice was low, dangerous. "The Ripper isn't some separate thing, Caroline. Stefan is the Ripper—whether he's drinking human blood or not. And I didn't drive him to anything. How is it that Saint Stefan relapses, attacks your best friend, and I'm still the bad guy? That's rich. Even for you."

Caroline felt a flicker of guilt, her anger deflating slightly. She didn't apologize, but the awkward shuffle of her feet betrayed her uncertainty.

She crouched down beside Stefan, her heart aching at the sight of him. Gently, she placed her hands on his trembling ones. "Stefan, it's me," she whispered, her voice calm but pleading. "We're going to help you. It's going to be okay. You can come back from this. I won't leave you."

Stefan's eyes flickered toward Caroline, a faint spark of recognition breaking through the haze in his gaze. His lips parted, but no words came out— just a shaky breath that felt like a plea for something he couldn't put into words.

Caroline squeezed his hands gently. "It's okay Stefan. We're here and we're going to help."

Behind her, Bonnie's voice cut through the emotional stillness with characteristic pragmatism. "So, it was Stefan who attacked Elena?" she said, turning to Damon with a sharp look. "And what— you stopped him?"

Damon folded his arms, leaning against the wall, "He didn't stop himself." His expression was unreadable, though his voice carried an edge of bitterness and incredulity. "He would've killed her and if I'd let that happen, well he would never forgive himself. Hell, I wouldn't have forgiven myself."

Bonnie crossed her arms, her suspicion not entirely quelled. "You actually expect us to believe that you had no involvement? That you are just a good Samaritan"

Damon raised an eyebrow, clearly tired of defending himself. "Believe what you want, Bonnie. I didn't let him kill her, and that's what matters. Stefan lost control. God, just look at him."

Caroline glanced between Damon and Stefan, the weight of their history pulling at her thoughts. She couldn't deny the truth in Damon's words—Stefan was a vampire, a Ripper, and this wasn't something new. It was something they'd all known could happen. Still, it didn't erase the anger she felt toward Damon at keeping Stefan's struggles a secret. She could have helped.

Bonnie, however, wasn't ready to move past it. She stepped toward Damon, her eyes narrowing. "So what now? You lock him up until he's back to normal? You said so yourself— he's a Ripper. He's dangerous."

Damon shrugged and Bonnie's jaw tightened. "That's it?"

"Got a better idea?" Damon shot back, his irritation flaring. "Because last time I checked, it's not like there's a cure. Keeping him secure is the best we can do right now."

Bonnie let out an exasperated breath and turned toward the door, her frustration palpable. "We'll see how long that holds up," she muttered before striding toward the exit.

Caroline rose quickly from Stefan's side, calling after her. "Bonnie, wait!" She hurried to follow, her voice urgent. "We can't just leave him like this—we have to help Stefan."

Bonnie stopped at the door, her shoulders tense. She turned slowly, her expression hard. "Help him?" she repeated, incredulous. "What about Elena? You really think helping the guy who almost killed her is the priority right now?"

Caroline opened her mouth to respond, but Bonnie cut her off, her voice cold and sharp. "No wonder Elena's shaken up. The man she loves just tried to drain her. I don't know if you've lost your mind, Caroline, but Elena needs us more than Stefan does right now."

Caroline's words faltered as she recognised the truth in Bonnie's anger. She couldn't argue—Elena was her best friend, and Stefan's attack had shattered something vital between them. But standing here, looking at Stefan, broken and consumed by guilt, she couldn't abandon him either.

Before Caroline could say more, Damon pulled the heavy cell door shut behind him with a solid clang. He locked it with a smooth twist of the key and turned back to face the two women, his eyes flicking briefly between them.

"Bonnie. You can use your magic to keep him secure until we know what we're dealing with," Damon said with finality, sliding the key into his pocket.

Bonnie glared at him, but Damon ignored it, his attention already moving elsewhere. Without another word, he strode past them, heading for the front door.

Caroline called after him, frustration bubbling up again. "Where are you going?"

Damon didn't break stride. "To check on Elena," he tossed over his shoulder.

As the heavy door slammed behind him, Caroline and Bonnie were left standing in the basement, the tension between them thick and unresolved.

Bonnie shook her head, her voice quiet but seething. "I can't believe this. I can't believe we're even arguing about this."

Caroline felt the weight of it all pressing down on her—the fractured loyalty between Elena and Stefan, the anger boiling between her and Damon, the helplessness settling in her chest. She turned to look at Stefan through the hole in the cell door. Stefan remained motionless, his once vibrant and comforting presence gone.

"I don't know what to do," Caroline admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hung heavy in the air, a quiet confession of the uncertainty that gripped them both.

Bonnie looked at her, her expression softening ever so slightly. "Neither do I," she said quietly, before turning and walking out.