5:53 (Damon/Elena) [The Vampire Diaries]
Title: 5:53
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. No profit is being made off this.
Rating: 18+
Pairing: Damon/Elena, Stefan/Elena
Warnings: language, violence, Ripper!Stefan
Notes: Sequel to 3:18. More about Elena coming to terms with the new Stefan.
Never before had the Salvatore mansion seemed so foreboding. Dark and mysterious, yes. Vast and impenetrable, certainly. Typically it was a safe place, a stone fortress meant to isolate and protect.
All that had changed the moment Stefan returned.
Parked at the end of the winding driveway, Elena sat in her car. Her fingers tapped the steering wheel nervously. How long she’d been there she couldn’t precisely say. For what felt like hours she had wrestled with the decision to go inside or not. On one hand, Stefan was more than likely lounging about. Even more likely, he already knew she was there. The old Stefan would have come out to greet her sweetly, kiss her and walk her to the door. New Ripper Stefan was probably enjoying her discomfort from afar.
And what if Rebekah was with him? Were they dining on another bar-hopper? What was the possibility they were snickering over her fear? What if Elena walked in at the wrong moment and one or the other snapped and murdered her?
On the other hand, Damon may be inside, and while he hadn’t precisely been avoiding her, he was brief in their calls and texts. Since the night she failed to capture Stefan (also as Hangover Night, or Getting Carried Away With Damon Night) Elena had seen him in person just often enough she could count their interactions on one hand. Always it was just to drop in on her, make sure she was safe and that she was unhurt or not too distressed by Stefan skulking in her periphery.
Damon never brought up that night. If anything he blatantly ignored it. Elena never found the courage to talk about the kissing, the making out, how his mouth was hot and hungry between her legs, or why he’d suddenly stopped and refused her even after bringing her to multiple orgasms.
Elena shifted in her seat. For weeks nearly every time she thought of Damon, it seemed her entire body would swell and kindle. The only thing that kept her from making a move or demanding an answer the few times she saw him was fear of rejection-something she never thought she’d receive from Damon.
But he had turned her down. While an enormous part of her was wounded, Elena also respected her for his restraint. It was conflicting.
Holding respect for Damon was both elating and strange.
More than just wanting Damon, Elena terribly missed his company. She had Caroline and Bonnie and Jeremy and Ric, but she still felt empty without Damon around to rile her up. Somehow his aggravating, arrogant, brutally honest charm had wormed its way into her heart.
Sighing, Elena started the car. When she glanced up to the rear view mirror, something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. Elena turned and her heart froze.
“Stefan,” she whispered.
Her ex-boyfriend smiled, looking cozy in the passenger seat. Somehow he had gotten in without making a sound. No matter how often she experienced it, Elena could never get used to the phantom act.
“Hello, Elena,” greeted Stefan cordially. It took all Elena’s willpower not to shrink into a ball against the door. He will not break me, she told herself firmly.
Steeling herself, Elena said, “Get out.”
“Of course,” said Stefan with a shadow of his old warmth. Gesturing toward the house, he added, “You are, of course, still welcome to visit. Between you and me, you’re so much more fun than Rebekah or Damon nowadays.”
This new Stefan was icy. Elena’s arms pimpled with gooseflesh. “I’m fine,” she said rigidly.
Stefan’s eyes widened with mock surprise. “Oh-my mistake. Were you waiting for Damon?”
Elena’s lips pressed into a thin white line.
“I’m not certain he realizes you’re here,” said Stefan with a dark glint in his eye. “Though I wouldn’t blame him. Entertaining so many women tends to occupy a man’s time, so-”
Elena slapped him. Or tried to. Stefan caught her forearm with her palm within an inch of his jaw. He slammed her hand to her lap, twisting her wrist in the process. The tremors shaking her body were unmistakable now.
Leaning so close she could feel his breath, Stefan matched her stare and said softly, “You caught me by surprise one too many times.” He tightened his grip until Elena hissed sharply with pain. “It. Will not. Happen again.”
“Is hurting me part of Klaus’s orders?” she asked with a wince.
“You’re the blood bag,” said Stefan emotionlessly. “A carrier. Breaking your wrist doesn’t alter your ability to give what we need. What do you think? Would it be better that way? Would it make you compliant?” He twisted her arm a fraction of an inch. “Do I need to break you, Elena?”
Elena had come prepared in case she decided to enter the house. One stake was in her belt, hidden beneath her jacket. She wore the wrist brace with the twin stakes as well, but that was the arm Stefan was pinching, so he was perfectly aware of it. If she reached back for the stake, he would notice. The space was too small. She may as well have arrived utterly defenseless.
Worse, she had stopped wearing her vervain necklace. It hadn’t occurred to her to ingest it over time, and she hated herself for that lapse in judgment every passing second.
Stefan flashed her a capricious smile. “Do you know what your problem is?”
“Enlighten me,” said Elena stiffly.
He let go of her arm, but Stefan’s patronizing tone stung just as bad. “You still believe I give a damn.”
Raising her chin, Elena replied, “I believe Klaus’s compulsion is thorough.”
A derisive chuckle passed Stefan’s lips. He leaned back in the seat, glancing outside to the colorful autumn evening. The sun was already beginning to set. Right then the fading light cast an orange glow over him, and but for the frosty smile he almost seemed the compassionate, gentle man she once knew.
Abruptly, Stefan opened the door and climbed out. He started to close it. Elena had one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the emergency brake, and her foot ready to hit the gas.
Instead, he surprised her by poking his head back in. “Come inside.”
“No.”
“Come on,” he said exasperatedly. “Damon will be back any minute. Why not relax?” When Elena glared at him, Stefan’s eyes narrowed. “I could just compel you.”
Elena’s hand flew up to the necklace that was no longer there. A knowing look glimmered in her ex-boyfriend’s gaze.
“I won’t hurt you,” he cajoled. “Neither will Rebekah. She’s got other interests right now. I’m only offering my company.”
To go inside would be a mistake. Dread seeped into Elena’s veins. Yet without understanding why, she turned off the engine and stepped out.
As she drew closer, the Salvatore mansion seemed to grow dimmer. Elena’s legs seemed cold and awkward as she forced herself to continue walking, determined to prove Stefan didn’t frighten her as much as he thought. She tried not to overthink his invite, but hundreds of reasons bombarded her imagination, none of them good. Suddenly she wished she’d told someone where she’d be.
Stefan gallantly opened the front door for her. In attempt not to betray her nervousness, Elena strode in and down the hallway.
The smell hit her before she reached the living room.
Bodies littered the area, at least a dozen females and one male. One girl was snuggling with a corpse beside the coffee table, seeming not to notice the blood staining its neck and shoulder. Another dead girl was draped over the couch, slack-jawed and grey with death. The lone man sat on the floor, leaning against the couch as he held yet another dead woman’s hand and sang, “Sweet Child of Mine” off-key. On the furniture, sprawled across the carpet, propped against the wall; all but the man and sleeping girl were drained completely of blood. The air stank of copper and rot.
Horrified, Elena tried to back up but only bumped into Stefan. Her ex-boyfriend took her by the shoulders with his steel hands, forcing her to stay.
Elena covered her mouth with both hands, struggling not to be sick. Where is Damon? she thought desperately. The sickening idea that Damon was taking part in the gruesome festivities crossed her mind, but Elena forced those images away. That was the old Damon. He was impulsive and brutal and thoughtless as ever, but he wouldn’t allow something this deranged.
Would he?
“Go on. Have a seat.” Stefan eyed his living guests with pretend concern. “You guys don’t mind, do you?” When they failed to answer, he put his arm around Elena’s shoulders. “See? They enjoy company.”
Unable to hide her disgust any longer, Elena jerked away. This time Stefan let her go.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to demand where Rebekah’s hand was in this carnage, even though some part of her knew Rebekah had little if anything to do with it. Elena wanted to talk Stefan out of it, to remind him of the love and humanity that must still dwell deep within.
For once, words failed her. Elena could think of nothing to say that would reach him or even make her feel better for trying.
Stefan heaved a sigh and crossed the room, easing languidly into a chair. “You disappoint me, Elena,” he said, nudging the sleeping girl with one foot. The girl stirred and opened her glassy eyes, smiling dazedly. “I thought you loved me.” Clearly misunderstanding, the girl slurred a protest and tried to swipe curly blonde hair from her eyes.
Thickly, Elena replied, “I do. But this isn’t you.”
He shot her an annoyed look. “Blindness isn’t a virtue, you know.”
Elena bit her tongue. She’d had enough. But when she turned to leave, Stefan was in front of her. Boring his eyes down into hers, he said with unnerving quiet, “I’ve been polite, and all I’ve gotten in return is attitude.” He tilted her chin back with a finger. “You’re going to sit down and keep me company. You will not get up until Damon comes home and says hello. Until then, we will be civil. Is that clear?”
To her shock, Elena found herself doing exactly as told. Her limbs moved of their own accord. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t resist walking and taking a seat on the couch adjacent to Stefan. She gingerly shifted away from the singing man and did her best to avoid the corpse behind her.
This is what being compelled feels like, Elena thought dizzily.
Finally satisfied, Stefan took his seat again. The dreamy-eyed blonde left her dead companion’s side and crawled to Stefan, kittenish mewls falling from her plump lips as she reached up to him. Stefan ignored her, watching Elena carefully.
Elena tried to control her breathing, watching the stranger paw at Stefan ineffectually. The blonde seemed incapable of real words. She seemed desperate for Stefan’s attention, even reopening the twin gashes on her neck. Stefan’s nostrils flared, but he continued to stare at Elena.
“So,” he said cavalierly. “How have you been, Elena?” Before she could form a response, the strange girl wailed. Stefan silenced her with a cold look, stating, “Not. You.”
Elena inhaled sharply. She could practically hear her nerves rattling inside. “Fine,” she managed to say evenly. Every snarky comment she could think of was stuck in her throat. At last, she also said, “Ric has been taking good care of us.”
Nodding, Stefan reached out to stroke the whining girl’s hair. That seemed to calm her a little. “I’d be careful, if I were you. All your parental figures seemed doomed to die.”
It’s Klaus’s fault, Elena wanted to yell. The words wouldn’t come. Stefan had ordered her to be civil, and her free will otherwise was weighted down with a stone she couldn’t budge.
“Come on up,” Stefan murmured to the blonde. Eagerly, she clambered into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. Stefan rubbed his fingers on her neck, smearing fresh blood, but his expression remained uninterested. His eyes were clear.
Wracking her brain for other civil topics was difficult. The man had stopped singing “Sweet Child of Mine” and moved on to “Baby Got Back.”
“Your friend has unique taste,” she stated.
“You’re right,” Stefan agreed. Dropping the girl to the chair, he sped over to the singing man. Elena had no time to react before Stefan grabbed the man’s head and twisted it sharply, eliciting a sickening crack. “Much better.”
Violence was not new to Elena, but Stefan’s easy attitude for death was. She couldn’t help herself. With barely enough time to duck her head between her knees, she threw up.
The blonde wailed again. Stefan silenced her with a look, his threat unspoken but clear.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Elena glanced up at her ex-boyfriend. “Sorry,” she whispered, unsure if she meant it.
Stefan shrugged. “Damon’s been the clean-up crew and fun police lately. It’s his problem.” He took the blonde’s hand and pulled her to her feet, crinkling his eyes with mirth. “Dear, why don’t you go fix yourself a snack?”
Her trauma forgotten, the girl emitted a small squeal and staggered off to the kitchen. Either she was drunk or had lost a lot of blood. Elena wouldn’t have doubted either.
With his distraction gone, Stefan honed in on Elena again. He kept his distance. “Looks like Damon is still out.”
Elena shrugged. She had no cordial response.
“Just tell me one thing,” said Stefan. “Now that you’ve had both of us, who’s the better brother in bed?”
The bottom of Elena fell out and plummeted away.
Stefan seemed to take her silence for an answer. “You don’t have to lie,” he said with poisoned sweetness. “If it’s Damon, it makes perfect sense. Though I do hear that having long relationships tends to improve a man’s . . . prowess. And I’m pretty sure I win in that department.”
“I didn’t have sex with Damon,” stammered Elena. Strictly, it was true. He had pleasured her and had taken nothing for himself that night. Nothing had happened since, even though she’d dreamed of it often enough.
“You did enough.” Stefan sauntered closer, stepping over the dead man’s body. He cupped her face with his hands, leaning down to her height. Lowering his voice, he said, “I could smell you on him a mile away.”
Elena shuddered.
“It was a simple question, Elena,” Stefan murmured. The compulsion forced Elena to remain seated even as her mind tried to put her across the room. It probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. She had not been compelled to keep still, but her head remained stationary from Stefan’s hold alone.
He brought his lips close to her ear. “You remind me of Rebekah so much right now. She’s just as fickle. Did you know she’s already moved on to Tyler?”
She tried to squeeze her eyes shut, but it didn’t stop Stefan from talking.
“I wouldn’t get too stuck on my brother. You remember how obsessed he was with Katherine. He can get a little . . . extreme.”
All Elena could do was shake. She couldn’t speak properly; all she wanted to do was scream and run.
And break.
Just like that, Stefan was out of her space. He watched her through lidded eyes, bored. “I think I need a snack, too. Tell Damon I said hi.”
So he left her there, compelled to sit amongst corpses and blood. Elena tried to level her breathing, but she was dangerously close to hyperventilation. The entire scene was too surreal. Stefan-her loving, sweet, endearing Stefan-was all but dead to her. There were days she still thought of how things used to be.
But lately, and especially after this spectacle, Elena couldn’t bring herself to think of a future with Stefan. Maybe when, or if, he could get his humanity back she could entertain the idea.
That meant she would lose . . .
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Elena’s head jerked up to find Damon standing in the entryway. He took a step toward her and then paused, eyeing the décor with mutual anger and disgust, as though Damon didn’t know whether to clean up or help her first. He didn’t do any of this.
In that instant Damon’s eyes flashed with crushing blue resolve. He strode to her, grabbing her by the arm. “Let’s go.” When she remained seated, in spite of his irritated tugging, it took Damon a moment to process the situation. His gaze sharpened on her collar bone. “No vervain?”
Elena shook her head.
“So Stefan finally compelled you.” Damon sighed, releasing her to fold his arms over his chest. “I wish I wasn’t surprised. So. What’s the trick to getting you out of here?”
Trying to explain didn’t work. Again the words tangled in Elena’s throat. She dug her nails into her thighs, struggling to think of a way to explain without explaining. Damon watched her, obviously agitated but barely keeping himself in check.
Then it hit her. Elena slowly raised her hand, waving at him with a wane smile.
Intense blue eyes stared back. Clearly uncomfortable, Damon waved back. When that didn’t work and Elena continued waving, he said uncertainly, “Hi.”
Adrenaline sluiced Elena. She shot to her feet, nearly knocking a startled Damon over when she clung to him. He pulled her protectively close, his chest heaving. Relief was so intense that Elena didn’t notice her tears until they soaked Damon’s dark shirt.
He did it. He broke me.
“All right, all right,” Damon murmured. Elena pulled back just enough to see him glance warily toward the kitchen. Distant whimpering tickled her sense of sound and brought fresh tears. “All right,” Damon repeated, shifting so he was blocking the sound. “Let’s get you home.”
Sniffling, Elena wiped her eyes with her jacket sleeve. “No.”
Damon rolled his eyes. “This isn’t optional, Elena.” His expression softened for a fraction of a second. “You weren’t supposed to come here.”
Because he didn’t want me to see Stefan like this.
Determinedly, Elena kept her voice steady even as she released her hold of his waist. “I came all this way and went through all this to see you. The least you can do is stop ignoring me.”
She’d taken Damon by surprise. A flood of emotions crashed over his face, sweeping one into the other before wiping that one out with yet another. Confusion and rage and tenderness and sorrow. It all made her want to shake him and shout that he was being completely unfair.
Slowly, Damon said, “Of course.” Rather than show her the front door, he steered her toward the stairs. His room was the destination, she knew. It was probably the only relatively safe place left in the Salvatore mansion.
But Damon closing the bedroom door behind him couldn’t block the sudden shriek floating up the stairs. Immediately Elena burst into tears again, and all the while Damon held her while she mourned for the Stefan she’d lost.
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. No profit is being made off this.
Rating: 18+
Pairing: Damon/Elena, Stefan/Elena
Warnings: language, violence, Ripper!Stefan
Notes: Sequel to 3:18. More about Elena coming to terms with the new Stefan.
Never before had the Salvatore mansion seemed so foreboding. Dark and mysterious, yes. Vast and impenetrable, certainly. Typically it was a safe place, a stone fortress meant to isolate and protect.
All that had changed the moment Stefan returned.
Parked at the end of the winding driveway, Elena sat in her car. Her fingers tapped the steering wheel nervously. How long she’d been there she couldn’t precisely say. For what felt like hours she had wrestled with the decision to go inside or not. On one hand, Stefan was more than likely lounging about. Even more likely, he already knew she was there. The old Stefan would have come out to greet her sweetly, kiss her and walk her to the door. New Ripper Stefan was probably enjoying her discomfort from afar.
And what if Rebekah was with him? Were they dining on another bar-hopper? What was the possibility they were snickering over her fear? What if Elena walked in at the wrong moment and one or the other snapped and murdered her?
On the other hand, Damon may be inside, and while he hadn’t precisely been avoiding her, he was brief in their calls and texts. Since the night she failed to capture Stefan (also as Hangover Night, or Getting Carried Away With Damon Night) Elena had seen him in person just often enough she could count their interactions on one hand. Always it was just to drop in on her, make sure she was safe and that she was unhurt or not too distressed by Stefan skulking in her periphery.
Damon never brought up that night. If anything he blatantly ignored it. Elena never found the courage to talk about the kissing, the making out, how his mouth was hot and hungry between her legs, or why he’d suddenly stopped and refused her even after bringing her to multiple orgasms.
Elena shifted in her seat. For weeks nearly every time she thought of Damon, it seemed her entire body would swell and kindle. The only thing that kept her from making a move or demanding an answer the few times she saw him was fear of rejection-something she never thought she’d receive from Damon.
But he had turned her down. While an enormous part of her was wounded, Elena also respected her for his restraint. It was conflicting.
Holding respect for Damon was both elating and strange.
More than just wanting Damon, Elena terribly missed his company. She had Caroline and Bonnie and Jeremy and Ric, but she still felt empty without Damon around to rile her up. Somehow his aggravating, arrogant, brutally honest charm had wormed its way into her heart.
Sighing, Elena started the car. When she glanced up to the rear view mirror, something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. Elena turned and her heart froze.
“Stefan,” she whispered.
Her ex-boyfriend smiled, looking cozy in the passenger seat. Somehow he had gotten in without making a sound. No matter how often she experienced it, Elena could never get used to the phantom act.
“Hello, Elena,” greeted Stefan cordially. It took all Elena’s willpower not to shrink into a ball against the door. He will not break me, she told herself firmly.
Steeling herself, Elena said, “Get out.”
“Of course,” said Stefan with a shadow of his old warmth. Gesturing toward the house, he added, “You are, of course, still welcome to visit. Between you and me, you’re so much more fun than Rebekah or Damon nowadays.”
This new Stefan was icy. Elena’s arms pimpled with gooseflesh. “I’m fine,” she said rigidly.
Stefan’s eyes widened with mock surprise. “Oh-my mistake. Were you waiting for Damon?”
Elena’s lips pressed into a thin white line.
“I’m not certain he realizes you’re here,” said Stefan with a dark glint in his eye. “Though I wouldn’t blame him. Entertaining so many women tends to occupy a man’s time, so-”
Elena slapped him. Or tried to. Stefan caught her forearm with her palm within an inch of his jaw. He slammed her hand to her lap, twisting her wrist in the process. The tremors shaking her body were unmistakable now.
Leaning so close she could feel his breath, Stefan matched her stare and said softly, “You caught me by surprise one too many times.” He tightened his grip until Elena hissed sharply with pain. “It. Will not. Happen again.”
“Is hurting me part of Klaus’s orders?” she asked with a wince.
“You’re the blood bag,” said Stefan emotionlessly. “A carrier. Breaking your wrist doesn’t alter your ability to give what we need. What do you think? Would it be better that way? Would it make you compliant?” He twisted her arm a fraction of an inch. “Do I need to break you, Elena?”
Elena had come prepared in case she decided to enter the house. One stake was in her belt, hidden beneath her jacket. She wore the wrist brace with the twin stakes as well, but that was the arm Stefan was pinching, so he was perfectly aware of it. If she reached back for the stake, he would notice. The space was too small. She may as well have arrived utterly defenseless.
Worse, she had stopped wearing her vervain necklace. It hadn’t occurred to her to ingest it over time, and she hated herself for that lapse in judgment every passing second.
Stefan flashed her a capricious smile. “Do you know what your problem is?”
“Enlighten me,” said Elena stiffly.
He let go of her arm, but Stefan’s patronizing tone stung just as bad. “You still believe I give a damn.”
Raising her chin, Elena replied, “I believe Klaus’s compulsion is thorough.”
A derisive chuckle passed Stefan’s lips. He leaned back in the seat, glancing outside to the colorful autumn evening. The sun was already beginning to set. Right then the fading light cast an orange glow over him, and but for the frosty smile he almost seemed the compassionate, gentle man she once knew.
Abruptly, Stefan opened the door and climbed out. He started to close it. Elena had one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the emergency brake, and her foot ready to hit the gas.
Instead, he surprised her by poking his head back in. “Come inside.”
“No.”
“Come on,” he said exasperatedly. “Damon will be back any minute. Why not relax?” When Elena glared at him, Stefan’s eyes narrowed. “I could just compel you.”
Elena’s hand flew up to the necklace that was no longer there. A knowing look glimmered in her ex-boyfriend’s gaze.
“I won’t hurt you,” he cajoled. “Neither will Rebekah. She’s got other interests right now. I’m only offering my company.”
To go inside would be a mistake. Dread seeped into Elena’s veins. Yet without understanding why, she turned off the engine and stepped out.
As she drew closer, the Salvatore mansion seemed to grow dimmer. Elena’s legs seemed cold and awkward as she forced herself to continue walking, determined to prove Stefan didn’t frighten her as much as he thought. She tried not to overthink his invite, but hundreds of reasons bombarded her imagination, none of them good. Suddenly she wished she’d told someone where she’d be.
Stefan gallantly opened the front door for her. In attempt not to betray her nervousness, Elena strode in and down the hallway.
The smell hit her before she reached the living room.
Bodies littered the area, at least a dozen females and one male. One girl was snuggling with a corpse beside the coffee table, seeming not to notice the blood staining its neck and shoulder. Another dead girl was draped over the couch, slack-jawed and grey with death. The lone man sat on the floor, leaning against the couch as he held yet another dead woman’s hand and sang, “Sweet Child of Mine” off-key. On the furniture, sprawled across the carpet, propped against the wall; all but the man and sleeping girl were drained completely of blood. The air stank of copper and rot.
Horrified, Elena tried to back up but only bumped into Stefan. Her ex-boyfriend took her by the shoulders with his steel hands, forcing her to stay.
Elena covered her mouth with both hands, struggling not to be sick. Where is Damon? she thought desperately. The sickening idea that Damon was taking part in the gruesome festivities crossed her mind, but Elena forced those images away. That was the old Damon. He was impulsive and brutal and thoughtless as ever, but he wouldn’t allow something this deranged.
Would he?
“Go on. Have a seat.” Stefan eyed his living guests with pretend concern. “You guys don’t mind, do you?” When they failed to answer, he put his arm around Elena’s shoulders. “See? They enjoy company.”
Unable to hide her disgust any longer, Elena jerked away. This time Stefan let her go.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to demand where Rebekah’s hand was in this carnage, even though some part of her knew Rebekah had little if anything to do with it. Elena wanted to talk Stefan out of it, to remind him of the love and humanity that must still dwell deep within.
For once, words failed her. Elena could think of nothing to say that would reach him or even make her feel better for trying.
Stefan heaved a sigh and crossed the room, easing languidly into a chair. “You disappoint me, Elena,” he said, nudging the sleeping girl with one foot. The girl stirred and opened her glassy eyes, smiling dazedly. “I thought you loved me.” Clearly misunderstanding, the girl slurred a protest and tried to swipe curly blonde hair from her eyes.
Thickly, Elena replied, “I do. But this isn’t you.”
He shot her an annoyed look. “Blindness isn’t a virtue, you know.”
Elena bit her tongue. She’d had enough. But when she turned to leave, Stefan was in front of her. Boring his eyes down into hers, he said with unnerving quiet, “I’ve been polite, and all I’ve gotten in return is attitude.” He tilted her chin back with a finger. “You’re going to sit down and keep me company. You will not get up until Damon comes home and says hello. Until then, we will be civil. Is that clear?”
To her shock, Elena found herself doing exactly as told. Her limbs moved of their own accord. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t resist walking and taking a seat on the couch adjacent to Stefan. She gingerly shifted away from the singing man and did her best to avoid the corpse behind her.
This is what being compelled feels like, Elena thought dizzily.
Finally satisfied, Stefan took his seat again. The dreamy-eyed blonde left her dead companion’s side and crawled to Stefan, kittenish mewls falling from her plump lips as she reached up to him. Stefan ignored her, watching Elena carefully.
Elena tried to control her breathing, watching the stranger paw at Stefan ineffectually. The blonde seemed incapable of real words. She seemed desperate for Stefan’s attention, even reopening the twin gashes on her neck. Stefan’s nostrils flared, but he continued to stare at Elena.
“So,” he said cavalierly. “How have you been, Elena?” Before she could form a response, the strange girl wailed. Stefan silenced her with a cold look, stating, “Not. You.”
Elena inhaled sharply. She could practically hear her nerves rattling inside. “Fine,” she managed to say evenly. Every snarky comment she could think of was stuck in her throat. At last, she also said, “Ric has been taking good care of us.”
Nodding, Stefan reached out to stroke the whining girl’s hair. That seemed to calm her a little. “I’d be careful, if I were you. All your parental figures seemed doomed to die.”
It’s Klaus’s fault, Elena wanted to yell. The words wouldn’t come. Stefan had ordered her to be civil, and her free will otherwise was weighted down with a stone she couldn’t budge.
“Come on up,” Stefan murmured to the blonde. Eagerly, she clambered into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. Stefan rubbed his fingers on her neck, smearing fresh blood, but his expression remained uninterested. His eyes were clear.
Wracking her brain for other civil topics was difficult. The man had stopped singing “Sweet Child of Mine” and moved on to “Baby Got Back.”
“Your friend has unique taste,” she stated.
“You’re right,” Stefan agreed. Dropping the girl to the chair, he sped over to the singing man. Elena had no time to react before Stefan grabbed the man’s head and twisted it sharply, eliciting a sickening crack. “Much better.”
Violence was not new to Elena, but Stefan’s easy attitude for death was. She couldn’t help herself. With barely enough time to duck her head between her knees, she threw up.
The blonde wailed again. Stefan silenced her with a look, his threat unspoken but clear.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Elena glanced up at her ex-boyfriend. “Sorry,” she whispered, unsure if she meant it.
Stefan shrugged. “Damon’s been the clean-up crew and fun police lately. It’s his problem.” He took the blonde’s hand and pulled her to her feet, crinkling his eyes with mirth. “Dear, why don’t you go fix yourself a snack?”
Her trauma forgotten, the girl emitted a small squeal and staggered off to the kitchen. Either she was drunk or had lost a lot of blood. Elena wouldn’t have doubted either.
With his distraction gone, Stefan honed in on Elena again. He kept his distance. “Looks like Damon is still out.”
Elena shrugged. She had no cordial response.
“Just tell me one thing,” said Stefan. “Now that you’ve had both of us, who’s the better brother in bed?”
The bottom of Elena fell out and plummeted away.
Stefan seemed to take her silence for an answer. “You don’t have to lie,” he said with poisoned sweetness. “If it’s Damon, it makes perfect sense. Though I do hear that having long relationships tends to improve a man’s . . . prowess. And I’m pretty sure I win in that department.”
“I didn’t have sex with Damon,” stammered Elena. Strictly, it was true. He had pleasured her and had taken nothing for himself that night. Nothing had happened since, even though she’d dreamed of it often enough.
“You did enough.” Stefan sauntered closer, stepping over the dead man’s body. He cupped her face with his hands, leaning down to her height. Lowering his voice, he said, “I could smell you on him a mile away.”
Elena shuddered.
“It was a simple question, Elena,” Stefan murmured. The compulsion forced Elena to remain seated even as her mind tried to put her across the room. It probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. She had not been compelled to keep still, but her head remained stationary from Stefan’s hold alone.
He brought his lips close to her ear. “You remind me of Rebekah so much right now. She’s just as fickle. Did you know she’s already moved on to Tyler?”
She tried to squeeze her eyes shut, but it didn’t stop Stefan from talking.
“I wouldn’t get too stuck on my brother. You remember how obsessed he was with Katherine. He can get a little . . . extreme.”
All Elena could do was shake. She couldn’t speak properly; all she wanted to do was scream and run.
And break.
Just like that, Stefan was out of her space. He watched her through lidded eyes, bored. “I think I need a snack, too. Tell Damon I said hi.”
So he left her there, compelled to sit amongst corpses and blood. Elena tried to level her breathing, but she was dangerously close to hyperventilation. The entire scene was too surreal. Stefan-her loving, sweet, endearing Stefan-was all but dead to her. There were days she still thought of how things used to be.
But lately, and especially after this spectacle, Elena couldn’t bring herself to think of a future with Stefan. Maybe when, or if, he could get his humanity back she could entertain the idea.
That meant she would lose . . .
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Elena’s head jerked up to find Damon standing in the entryway. He took a step toward her and then paused, eyeing the décor with mutual anger and disgust, as though Damon didn’t know whether to clean up or help her first. He didn’t do any of this.
In that instant Damon’s eyes flashed with crushing blue resolve. He strode to her, grabbing her by the arm. “Let’s go.” When she remained seated, in spite of his irritated tugging, it took Damon a moment to process the situation. His gaze sharpened on her collar bone. “No vervain?”
Elena shook her head.
“So Stefan finally compelled you.” Damon sighed, releasing her to fold his arms over his chest. “I wish I wasn’t surprised. So. What’s the trick to getting you out of here?”
Trying to explain didn’t work. Again the words tangled in Elena’s throat. She dug her nails into her thighs, struggling to think of a way to explain without explaining. Damon watched her, obviously agitated but barely keeping himself in check.
Then it hit her. Elena slowly raised her hand, waving at him with a wane smile.
Intense blue eyes stared back. Clearly uncomfortable, Damon waved back. When that didn’t work and Elena continued waving, he said uncertainly, “Hi.”
Adrenaline sluiced Elena. She shot to her feet, nearly knocking a startled Damon over when she clung to him. He pulled her protectively close, his chest heaving. Relief was so intense that Elena didn’t notice her tears until they soaked Damon’s dark shirt.
He did it. He broke me.
“All right, all right,” Damon murmured. Elena pulled back just enough to see him glance warily toward the kitchen. Distant whimpering tickled her sense of sound and brought fresh tears. “All right,” Damon repeated, shifting so he was blocking the sound. “Let’s get you home.”
Sniffling, Elena wiped her eyes with her jacket sleeve. “No.”
Damon rolled his eyes. “This isn’t optional, Elena.” His expression softened for a fraction of a second. “You weren’t supposed to come here.”
Because he didn’t want me to see Stefan like this.
Determinedly, Elena kept her voice steady even as she released her hold of his waist. “I came all this way and went through all this to see you. The least you can do is stop ignoring me.”
She’d taken Damon by surprise. A flood of emotions crashed over his face, sweeping one into the other before wiping that one out with yet another. Confusion and rage and tenderness and sorrow. It all made her want to shake him and shout that he was being completely unfair.
Slowly, Damon said, “Of course.” Rather than show her the front door, he steered her toward the stairs. His room was the destination, she knew. It was probably the only relatively safe place left in the Salvatore mansion.
But Damon closing the bedroom door behind him couldn’t block the sudden shriek floating up the stairs. Immediately Elena burst into tears again, and all the while Damon held her while she mourned for the Stefan she’d lost.