AN: So... this happened. I have an unhealthy obsession with these two. Written before 3x10. English is not my first language, sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes.
Disclaimer: I don't own TVD. and I'm not making any profit off of this story. I'm doing this just for fun.
Chasing Shadows
He could kill him. He could kill him right here and now, just to get revenge, to make him pay for every lie and every betrayal. He could destroy whatever bond they have, end this story once and for all.
He should kill him.
It's not quite the reunion he has planned. He's stuck in the weak, vulnerable human body of a history teacher, powerless and at a complete disadvantage, so he doesn't fight back when Stefan pins him against the wall. He merely messes with his head a little, but that's enough to make Stefan lose control.
Upon hearing his enraged yell, he nearly laughs. Stefan hasn't changed – he's immature and brash, overconfident and defiant. Just like he used to be back in the '20s.
.
He hates him. He hates his ridiculous amount of arrogance and his brazen boldness and his cocky grin. He hates how he keeps his composure and seems completely unfazed to be around two Originals, and he hates the way Rebekah looks at him, her bright blue eyes filled with boundless fascination and excitement.
He hates how mesmerizing he is.
He hates everything about Stefan Salvatore.
.
He can feel his presence long before he says a word. And he can't help but smile.
It is fitting that Stefan is there when he breaks the curse. It's the way it should be, because Stefan is the one who used to believe in him more than anyone else ever did, more than he ever dared to believe in himself.
The rational part of him knows that it is impossible for Stefan to remember. But he's never been rational around him, so he ridiculously hopes that Stefan will simply know – feel – that they are no strangers. Feel that they have history together.
It doesn't happen.
.
When he tells him with some sort of sick satisfaction and pride that he's killed almost his entire family, Stefan doesn't look shaken at all. It's not the reaction he expected and he doesn't know whether to be angered or intrigued by his attitude, by the fact that nothing seems to impress him and that even he, an Original, fails to affect him in any way.
He's used to young vampires who fancy themselves almighty gods, but he's just as used to them starting to tremble with fear in front of him. Stefan is different. But not even his reputation as a ripper makes him as special as he believes himself to be and that's something he needs to learn. He'll teach him.
He changes his mind when Stefan confesses that he killed his own father.
Maybe they're not so different after all.
.
He watches him for a few seconds. It's not what he should be doing, but he needs this, needs to take a good look at him for the first time in ninety years.
Of course he looks the same. Wide green eyes and long lashes, full lips and a chiseled jawline. His hair light brown with a touch of gold, a bit shorter than he remembers. Broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Pale skin. He is handsome as ever.
But he's not the same.
Stefan is good now. A hero. Nice and sensitive and caring and willing to sacrifice himself. Not a killer. Not a ripper. Not anymore.
He wants to take Jenna's place and of course he's doing this only for Elena, because of Elena, because he's in love with her. And she's in love with him too, so in love that she can't even choose between him and her innocent aunt who truly is nothing but a victim.
But the choice isn't hers to make. There is no choice.
He stakes Stefan in the back, telling himself that he wants to – has to – punish him for not remembering.
Truth is he's punishing himself, because hearing Stefan cry out in pain hurts like the fire of a thousand suns burning his skin.
.
They laugh. The smell of fear lies heavy in the air and the three of them can't stop laughing.
'I'd like you to join me for a drink.'
Poor Liam Grant, he's terrified. He's shaking with fear and he wants to run away and find his wife, wants to wake up from the nightmare that Stefan is making him live, but he can only do what he's told, so he sits at the table with them and drinks his wife's blood from a champagne glass while Stefan watches him, a devilish glint in his green eyes and a playful smile on his lips.
Rebekah giggles. He laughs because he is absolutely delighted by the extreme cruelty that hides beneath Stefan's baby face.
'Finish it.'
Liam and his wife die a few hours later.
.
Love is a vampire's greatest weakness. And Stefan's love for Damon will be his downfall.
He killed his girlfriend – poor, sweet Elena – less than twelve hours ago, but Stefan is so desperate to save his brother that he's actually here, asking him for help. Asking for a cure and saying he'll do anything for it.
'I want you to join me for a drink.'
It's startling how much Stefan loves his brother – so much that he's willing to give up on everything to save his life. He's willing to sell his soul to the devil, because his brother matters more than anyone else ever has or ever will; because the bond between brothers is unbreakable.
He knows what it's like. He too has had siblings who adored him and chose him over everyone else, siblings who did anything – everything – for him.
They are daggered now.
'Finish it.'
Looking at him with hate-filled eyes, Stefan obeys.
And he smiles, because he knows he's won.
.
They hunt and they feed together. They drink, they tease each other, they laugh. They talk a lot, surprisingly. He's not used to this, opening himself to strangers is something he never does, yet somehow it feels right to do it this time, because this is Stefan and he's different and he's not just anyone. Stefan actually listens, he listens carefully and isn't appalled by what he hears, he accepts him and doesn't judge him, not even once. Stefan has his own sins too.
After a while he gets used to sharing Rebekah with Stefan. It doesn't take him long to realize he doesn't like sharing Stefan with Rebekah.
.
Everything's wrong.
He doesn't want Stefan to kill just because he has to, because he gave him his word, he wants him to do it because he actually wants to. He wants Stefan to enjoy himself, to remember who he truly is, to just give in already.
But Stefan is as stubborn as he's always been and doesn't want to understand that he doesn't have to pretend anymore, that he's free to do anything he wants, free to be himself, because no one will judge him or try to change him. He's already seen him at his worst and that's when he liked him best. He knows Stefan better than anyone.
This should be different. It should be the two of them having the time of their undead lives.
It isn't.
Something is broken and no matter how hard he tries he just can't fix it.
.
Sometimes, when Rebekah stays at the bar and it's just the two of them painting the town red, causing mayhem on the streets of Chicago, he likes to watch Stefan hunt; a different spectacle every time.
Charming through and through, he easily lures his victims into the darkness, young and unsuspecting women fooled by his boyish smile, entranced by the demon with the face of an angel. He seduces them, steals kisses, bites gracefully without wasting any blood. And they moan in pleasure and realize much too late that they've been kissed by death.
But as the ripper who kills with sadistic delight, he's completely ruthless and vicious. He toys with his victims, plays a sick, twisted game, chases and terrifies them, catches them only to set them free and start chasing them again. He lets them think they are finally safe, that the game is over – and that's when he attacks.
He takes his time, relishing the way their hearts are beating painfully fast; he gently strokes their tear-stained cheeks and in a taunting voice he explains what he's about to do to them. He tears them to pieces, slowly ripping them apart, starting with the fingers, one by one, crushing bones and tearing off arms and legs. He starts smirking upon hearing their desperate cries, casually licking the blood, enjoying every single drop of it.
After they die and he rips their head off, he starts putting every little piece back where it belongs; when he's done, he looks up at him and waits.
There's something in his eyes, a spark, an unspoken wish – one that he knows all too well because centuries ago he used to want the same thing.
Stefan's seeking approval, not realizing he already has it. He has his approval and so much more.
.
He doesn't consider Stefan his equal by any means. But he knows he is the closest thing to an equal that he'll ever find.
No one else would dare to talk to him the way Stefan does, all snarky comments and sassy comebacks, but Stefan is not afraid of him, he's never been, and he likes that.
They can collide, crash together, two destructive forces, unbound and untamed. They can drive each other mad and keep each other sane.
It's complicated what they have.
Stefan needs him almost as much as he hates him, and he hates Stefan almost as much as he needs him. They hate each other because they need each other, and that's somehow endearing because it is as fucked up as everything there ever was between them.
They are an odd couple, the two of them. They are anger and frustration, undisclosed desires and unspoken truths, everything hidden just beneath the surface. They are fire, both of them.
And yet, they complete each other. They burn brighter together.
.
He doesn't want to look at the full moon, doesn't want to think about its meaning, so he just watches Stefan who's feeding nearby, his hands roaming over a young woman's lithe body, his bloodstained lips never leaving her delicate neck.
And he can't take his eyes off Stefan.
Suddenly, shadows are turning into flames, white-hot fire overtaking his entire body, overwhelming, consuming him. There's a voice inside his head trying to warn him, telling him to be careful because he's getting much too close to the memory of something all but forgotten, something age-old and forbidden, but the same voice orders him to stay right where he is, to take a risk, to keep playing this game. After all, he's always played with fire.
A few minutes later, when the girl's heart stops beating and her lifeless body hits the ground, Stefan lifts his head up and licks the blood from his lips. The black veins under his bloodshot eyes don't disappear, his fangs don't retract. He's a hunter, a predator, and yet he waits, just like a child, to hear that he's done a good job.
He says nothing, smiles only, the way he always does, but that's enough for Stefan to become the cocky, self-confident ripper once again, his eyes bright green and his smile mischievous.
He shouldn't hesitate, he really shouldn't; after all, he always takes whatever he wants. But he doesn't make the next move, because after centuries of ignoring any feeling and trusting only his survival instinct he can't just admit he actually wants something so badly that he's afraid of getting rejected. It's easier to act like he doesn't care.
But Stefan is bold and fearless and reckless enough to push him against a wall and kiss him until their lips start bleeding.
Stefan smells like danger and all-consuming desire, tastes like sin and innocence, his kisses fervent, rough, eager, but his lips soft, so soft, the lips of a seventeen-year-old boy who has no control over himself.
But neither does he when he's around Stefan.
.
He breaks down.
There's nothing but deafening silence and pain and despair and darkness, so he screams because he's still alone, there's no hybrid army, nothing is the way it's supposed to be and he can't fight Mikael on his own. He breaks down, falls apart, not expecting anyone to come and pick up the pieces and make everything right.
But Stefan is there, pale and sweaty and trembling. Stefan is dying.
And he'll tear the world down before he loses Stefan again, so he pulls himself together and gives him his blood.
He doesn't let Stefan drink from him even though he actually considers it for a second, considers giving in, because he desperately needs this, needs them to have a bond, not to be worlds apart. To have Stefan around obeying his every command for his brother's sake is not enough anymore. He needs his friend. He needs the boy who believed in him and understood him like no one else, the boy who taught him how to feel again, the boy who saved him.
He needs him to save him again because he's about to go insane. He needs the old Stefan back.
It's time to return to Chicago.
.
They are half drunk by the time they arrive at Stefan's apartment, but that doesn't stop them from opening another bottle of whiskey.
The wall with the list of victims intrigues him, but not as much as the fact that Stefan wants to share this secret with him. He knows why he does it, what he expects, what he wants – but humoring Stefan so easily is not something he's willing to do, so he just keeps on drinking and smiling casually when he finds out how some of those poor bastards have met their end.
And then Stefan's right behind him, whispering in his ear, describing how he killed some naive young girl and her equally naive boyfriend, and for once in his lifetime he feels like the prey and not the hunter. When he feels hands on his hips and soft lips on his neck he can't stop himself from turning around, overpowered by want and need and a longing so unfamiliar and intense and uncontrollable.
Stefan pulls him closer until all he can feel is a lean body pressed against his, smooth skin so cold yet somehow burning. It surprises him how well their bodies fit together.
He can barely make out the words 'look at me the way you did the night we met Liam', Stefan's voice low and hoarse and driving him insane, but he doesn't give in.
He tells Stefan he has to deserve it.
At some point, between hungry kisses and desperate touches that mean so much more than they should, he decides he does deserve it, because he has never felt before what he feels every time this boy moans and writhes beneath him.
He feels safe in his arms. He closes his eyes and still feels safe.
.
Stefan remembers. Stefan remembers everything.
And he can finally let out a breath he's been holding for ninety years.
Relief washes over him, overwhelming him, healing him, because Stefan's eyes are filled with tenderness, memories, promises of forever, and he thinks that maybe this is what happiness feels like, pure and genuine and bright. Like a hint of light in the darkness. Like coming home.
Stefan feels like home.
And for a second everything is right in the world. But only for a second.
.
Something changes when Stefan tells him he's a king. And yes, he's very much aware of how he's looking at him, but he's unable to stop, doesn't even want to stop, he wants to remember Stefan like this forever, his touch so soothing and his childlike smile so warm and his green eyes sparkling.
And all of a sudden, it's more. There's something between them, a bond that has nothing to do with sins of the past or brutal murders or secret kisses. A bond that goes beyond all that and is much too strong.
That's when he realizes that no, nothing changed that night – something's been changing since they met.
Now he's in too deep and he knows it, because lately all Stefan has to do is gently touch his shoulder to calm him down whenever he's angry or smile at him and he'll start laughing heartily even when he feels like drowning in hopelessness. Stefan is teaching him how to care, how to feel alive again by simply looking at him with those round, innocent eyes.
He needs him by his side. Together they can conquer the world, rule it. They can set it on fire and destroy it. Together they can do anything they want.
Together they could be invincible. Kings.
.
He doesn't want to do this, not again, not now. He shouldn't have to do this.
But Stefan is giving him no choice, because as long as he holds on to his feelings, to his love for Elena, nothing will ever be the same between them. He has to make those feelings go away.
He knows how wrong this is, knows that he should stop before he makes everything worse, because Stefan remembers and doesn't want things to go back to the way they used to be, Stefan has moved on with his life, and he's the one living in the past, unable to let go.
He's the one who desperately wants something he lost decades ago, something he'll never get back. He's chasing shadows of the past.
But he's addicted and obsessed and weak, and he just can't let go of Stefan.
.
He loses everything because of Mikael. Again.
He knows there will never be a happy ending for someone like him, but he's tired, so tired of running and being all alone, and Mikael is taking the last bit of hope away from him and it's simply not fair. It's not fair to lose Stefan too.
But Stefan can't come with them, Mikael must not find out that both he and Rebekah care about him. And he could ask Stefan to lie and say he never met them, but Mikael would realize he's hiding something. Mikael could force him to tell him the truth. Mikael could hurt him.
Stefan truly not knowing anything is the only solution.
It hurts. He's letting go of the best thing he's ever had and it actually, physically hurts. It crushes him, kills him, but he has to do it, has to protect him. For the first time in over nine hundred years he's putting someone else before himself and his own selfish desires. He's doing the right thing and it hurts like hell.
While he's compelling Stefan to forget everything, he makes a promise to get him back someday.
He swears to get revenge on Mikael.
.
Mikael is dead.
It's over; he killed him. He doesn't have to run and hide, doesn't have to be afraid anymore. After one thousand years he's finally free. He should be ecstatic.
He's not.
Leave it to Stefan Salvatore to turn his world upside down.
He should have expected this, should have known that Stefan will betray him again; after all, that's what Stefan does best. And it's only his fault, because he's the one who put his faith in a friendship that's nothing but a memory.
It's even less than a memory; it's just a desperate desire. And suddenly he realizes how wrong he's been all along.
They never had anything because it's never been them. There was Stefan living for the moment, having fun, while he was thinking about forever, allowing himself to feel again, allowing himself to fall thinking that this boy will catch him.
But Stefan didn't catch him and he never will.
He can't kill him.
It would be so easy, because he's weak and hurt, there's blood coming out of his mouth, dripping down his chin, his wounds heal so very slowly and he can't even fight back anymore. But that doesn't stop him from trying, always the hero, the martyr, the stubborn idiot, never giving up, fighting even if he knows he can't win. He's a beautiful catastrophe.
And he can't kill him, no matter how angry he is or how betrayed he feels. He can't win a fight he lost ninety years ago, and as he's looking into those damned green eyes he knows that he will forgive him again, like he always does, because he needs him. He needs a friend, not another corpse to carry around.
Or maybe he simply needs him to survive. Stefan is the air he needs to breathe and everything that leaves him breathless, he is sunlight amidst shadows and darkness, a soothing whisper that makes the haunting silence disappear. He is the last remaining hope in a world of shattered dreams. Stefan is his greatest weakness and his greatest strength.
He can't kill him.