Author's Note: Hey guys! Upon the request of a lovely person, I thought I'd begin to write this story and get Stefan & Elena a whole different twist than the show provided, starting with 8x11.
Let me forewarn you that this is my vision and it might come across as a dark one.
Important thing to keep in mind: I do not like the evolution of Elena's character after the 3rd season of TVD. I will try to maintain her personality from the earlier seasons.
Please review and tell me what you think about the first chapter! c;
I don't own The Vampire Diaries.
Damon swerved the car around abruptly, making the wheels protest with a loud noise. He took his phone and dialed Bonnie, anxiety gnawing at his heart while he waited for her to answer. He was in a state of extreme distress, not knowing what news to expect from his friend. He had been sure that Stefan would never kill Elena, with or without his humanity. But after hearing his brother's careless words towards the subject, he couldn't do anything but pray that Enzo and Bonnie would do everything to keep Elena safe.
"Bonnie, hey." He said once she picked up, his voice giving away his nervousness.
All he got back were sobs. And not Bonnie's.
"Enzo?" he called doubtfully, his forehead creasing into a frown. "Enzo, what happened? Where's Bonnie? Is Elena okay?" he bombarded the other with questions, his heartbeat racing by the second.
"She's…she's gone." Enzo muttered weakly, as if he was shaken by tears.
The older Salvatore pressed on the brakes suddenly, so fast he was propelled into the windshield. He raised his palm in the last second to prevent his head colliding with the glass.
"Elena…Elena's dead?" he quavered, feeling the blood in his veins turn to ice.
"No!" Enzo exclaimed with such agony it made Damon's heart miss a beat. "Bonnie is. Your brother killed her." He uttered, emphasizing the word brother with hatred and disgust.
Damon's mouth gaped open in shock. His icy blue eyes widened and he stared into the horizon, his vision covered by an ephemeral black veil. He held the phone to his ear speechless, not being able to articulate a sound. As he processed the information, a bottomless crevasse carved itself into his heart. Bonnie was dead. Bonnie. The strongest person he had ever met.
But Enzo's following sentence was just another lightning striking him:
"…- and he abducted Elena."
He couldn't do it.
Stefan hurled a chair into the wall with a moderate force, so it wouldn't break. In case she woke up any soon, he wouldn't want to offer her the perfect weapon to neutralize him and escape. He started to pace impatiently through the room, sometimes darting a furtive glance towards her as if she could vanish into pure air.
He felt nothing for her, absolutely nothing ( or so he kept repeating to himself) – so why couldn't he garner the necessary ruthlessness to kill her? He ripped Bonnie's heart out without flinching.
But with her, it was different.
Every time he looked at her, he felt a strange spark of warmth permeate his soul, despite the hundreds of iron shields and walls that protected him from humanity. And that was just another reason why he should end her meaningless life. Nevertheless, he couldn't do it. She made him weak.
Elena was going to hate him for the rest of her life if Damon or someone else failed to bring Bonnie back to life. At the moment, that thought didn't affect him at all. Maybe if she hated him with all her heart, it would become easier and easier to kill her someday. To kill his weakness.
The younger Salvatore took the fallen chair and placed it by the bed, sitting on it. He grabbed the diary from the bed stand and started reading it without any interest. It was Caroline's journal, which explained almost everything that had happened while Elena was asleep. He brought it with him intentionally, so he wouldn't have to summarize two years to her. When he grew bored, he flipped the pages until he found a blank one and began writing himself. Just as he finished the last sentence, he heard her shift slightly. Stefan riveted his emerald hues to her. She was breathing calmly, her chest rising and falling down rhythmically. Chocolate strands veiled the right side of her face and he inhibited the urge to move them away. She looked like the sculpture of a goddess…
Elena opened her eyes. She swiftly explored the surroundings, her sight landing on him and freezing. She supported herself on one elbow as they exchanged a long, intensive gaze. He strived to keep his look impassible, but her eyes were lustrous, full of kindness and a timid glimmer that lightened up her face. She seemed so young and small, buried in the blankets.
"Stefan." She greeted him warmly, a soft smile forming on her lips.
"Ah, Sleeping Beauty's up. And she didn't even need a kiss. Thank God. You know, your prince is very irritating. Even when he's not here." He said bleakly despite the tumult of mixed emotions inside him, maintaining eye contact defiantly. Don't feel, he mentally ordered to himself, scrutinizing her carelessly. She was just another human.
Maybe if he repeated that enough to himself he would truly believe it.
Her countenance immediately changed upon hearing his glacial tone. She rose to a seated position, her smile faltering after studying him once more. The curve of his lips was turned upwards into the shadow of a malicious smirk and his eyes, usually so gentle, were devoid of emotion. His mere presence emanated coldness and a feeling of foreboding overwhelmed her. The realization dawned upon her like a cold shower.
"Why did you turn it off?" she asked worryingly.
"The devil made me do it." He replied simply, with no trace of derision to her surprise.
She furrowed her eyebrows, confused by his answer. She decided to abandon the topic momentarily, inhaling deeply.
"O…okay." She uttered cautiously, frowning. "Why am I here? What year is it?"
"It's - uh – two thousand seventy five." He asserted with a straight face, watching her gravelly.
She parted her lips dejected, scanning his expression to detect a sign of bluffing. She didn't have to wait long; Stefan's figure shook with a mischievous mirth that presaged danger.
"It's not funny." She sighed with a tinge of relief, running her fingers through her hair. "Will you answer my questions or are you going to keep making fun of me?"
Elena was in an emotional impasse. On one hand, she was really glad to see him, although she didn't expect him to be that way when she woke up. Regardless of his state, he was still Stefan. And she knew that deep down was the man she loved, imprisoned by his own mind in an adamantine cage. On the other hand, she had no idea how to react and what to do. Her friends weren't there. She was alone with him and if she had presumed correctly, no one even knew where they were. It was the Gilbert lake house; she recognized it the minute she opened her eyes. She had both good and terrible memories here. She just hoped the terrible list of memories wouldn't expand.
And while she had no idea why he brought her here and what he was about to do, the younger Salvatore seemed to enjoy her bafflement greatly. Every word he spoke, every gesture of his was controlled, like a predator patiently waiting for the mouse to take the bait. And the predator was rarely patient, which only scared her more. She hated how vulnerable she felt at the moment, how ignorant of everything that had happened.
"The second option is much more entertaining. But it's only fair if I tell you." He started, rising up from the chair and placing the diary on it. His eyes shone menacingly, blazing into hers.
The brunette tried to keep her composure. Her sight travelled from his face to his hands and her stance petrified. They were stained with blood. She stood still, not daring to move. And then, as if a cold gust of wind whipped her body, she jumped from the bed out of a sudden, broadening the distance between them.
"Actually, it's fine. You don't have to tell me anything. Just let me go, okay?" she requested with a gentle, but firm timbre.
To her distress, he shook his head slowly, stepping closer to her with determined steps until he was close enough she could see rings of fire in his emerald irises. He could touch her if he just extended his arm a bit. Elena didn't let the fear that was creeping in her bones show on her face. She looked him in the eyes defiantly, trying to find a spark of humanity and hold onto it. But there was none.
"I ripped Bonnie's heart from her chest." He admitted blandly. "And I intended to do the same thing to you." He went on cruelly, inching closer to her. Elena instinctively distanced herself from him, but her back touched the wall, depriving her from a way out. She shook her head, refusing to believe him.
"Please stop. You're lying." She pleaded him, directing her gaze on the floor. "You're only saying this to hurt me."
He placed two fingers under her chin, forcing her to raise her head and look him in the eye.
"I don't want to hurt you. I want to break your heart the way you broke mine. And I'm just getting started."