Stefan didn't allow himself the luxury of disappearing at vampire speed; more precisely, he refused to use his speed to get back home.
He forced himself to walk.
The night was strangely calm, the kind of quiet that would normally have relaxed him… but not tonight. Tonight, the silence only made everything louder inside his own head.
His jaw remained clenched so tightly that his teeth nearly ground together. The pain Bonnie had caused still throbbed behind his eyes. It wasn't debilitating—far from it—but it was persistent enough to serve as a constant, unpleasant reminder.
He had completely underestimated the situation.
Meeting a witch had not been part of his plans for the evening.
In fact, almost nothing about that night had gone the way he expected.
When he finally reached the entrance of the Salvatore Boarding House, Stefan pushed the door open with more force than necessary, the sharp sound of wood echoing through the interior of the house.
The ancient silence of the place enveloped him immediately, familiar and oppressive at the same time.
He paused in the middle of the foyer for a second.
Took a deep breath.
Frustration still burned low in his chest, stubborn, thick… too alive.
He hadn't managed to talk to Elena.
Again.
The thought landed heavily, sinking into his stomach like a stone.
It had been almost a month since everything spiraled out of control—a month since his life, already complicated enough, had decided to get worse in ways he honestly wouldn't have predicted even on his worst day. A month since he had lost something that, whether he liked admitting it or not, had been part of how he saw himself as a man.
Since then, everything felt… off-kilter.
Deep down, he wasn't okay, and he knew it. The loss he had suffered wasn't merely physical; it left him with a constant sense of emptiness, as though something essential had been ripped away and nothing had filled the void. There was a silent shame he couldn't name out loud, much less face head-on. Whenever he thought of Elena, that feeling grew worse, squeezing his chest in an uncomfortable, persistent way. Part of him tried to act as though nothing had changed, as though he were still the same person he'd been before… but deep down, Stefan felt that something inside him had broken irreversibly.
It made him more tense, more angry with himself, and dangerously sensitive to anything involving Elena. It wasn't just jealousy—it was fear, frustration, and an insecurity he hated feeling. He still tried to stay in control, still clung to the image of someone calm and rational, but now that control demanded far more effort than it ever had before.
Stefan's eyes closed for a brief moment, and Elena's image appeared in his mind with almost cruel clarity…
His chest tightened almost imperceptibly.
He knew perfectly well that she was dating someone.
And that was exactly what made everything worse.
Because it wasn't just jealousy.
It wasn't just wounded pride.
It was that uncomfortable, persistent gnawing in his mind day after day—the near-instinctive certainty that Elena was in danger by getting involved with that monster. It wasn't a fleeting thought or disguised jealousy; it was a constant weight on his chest, an unease that never left him alone for even a second. To Stefan, it had become simple and absolute: if he did nothing, something terrible would inevitably happen to her. And that idea… he simply couldn't accept it.
Because he couldn't stop loving her.
That was exactly what had kept him going for the past month.
Ryan needed to die.
One way or another.
Fortunately, that monster wouldn't make it past Founders' Day.
The plan was already set, every detail aligned between him and Damon. Now all that remained was to wait… and make sure that this time, nothing went wrong.
Even so, he couldn't shake the worry he felt for Elena from his heart. Because of it, he had tried to talk to her—even though he was a complete stranger to her now, even knowing that approaching her that way was risky and would almost certainly be misinterpreted. He had tried… but it hadn't worked.
Stefan stood motionless in the foyer for a few more seconds, as though hoping the bad feeling would simply… pass.
It didn't.
With a low, weary sigh, he turned and walked down the hallway toward the cellar. The movement was automatic, too familiar—the kind of habit he didn't need to think about to perform. He opened the dark wooden cabinet, grabbed some random bottle of bourbon and a clean glass.
He didn't bother choosing.
He poured without hurry, the amber liquid swirling in the glass before he brought it to his lips. The burn in his throat was almost welcome. Stefan exhaled slowly through his nose and walked into the living room, sinking onto the couch with a heaviness that wasn't purely physical.
The glass hung loosely between his fingers as his thoughts returned.
He brought the glass to his mouth again…
And then…
A sudden movement.
A presence too fast.
A hand grabbed the back of his neck, and in the same motion, someone practically vaulted over the back of the couch, landing half on top of him.
Stefan reacted on pure instinct, his body tensing violently—
But he froze mid-motion.
Eyes wide.
Pure shock crossing his face.
"—Lexi?!"
Right in front of him stood his best friend, Lexi Branson—someone he had been trying to reach for the entire past month, finally managing to make contact just a few days earlier.
She had barely changed since the last time he saw her. Her blonde hair fell loose to just below mid-back, carrying that naturally carefree air that had always suited her. Her large, expressive brown eyes still held that intelligent, slightly sarcastic glint that managed to be both welcoming and dangerously perceptive at the same time. She was smiling at him in that moment, and the soft dimples that appeared on her cheeks brought an almost comforting familiarity, as though nothing in the world had truly changed.
As a vampire, time had left no marks on her. Her body remained exactly as he remembered: athletic and curved in just the right way, balancing strength and femininity with an effortless naturalness that was hard to ignore. She wasn't too thin, nor overly voluptuous—there was a harmony to her that drew attention. Her fair skin contrasted softly with the dark top she wore, while her well-defined waist and rounded hips created a fluid, confident silhouette. Her long, toned legs were accentuated by tight jeans, and the small details completed the picture: a simple silver necklace resting against her collarbone, leather bracelets on her wrist, and dark nail polish already slightly chipped.
She tilted her head, as though assessing his reaction, then flashed an even more teasing smile.
"Wow…" Lexi said, her tone light and far too amused for the tension hanging in the air. "What a warm welcome. When you called me saying you needed help, I kinda expected a welcome party, big guy…"
The shock on Stefan's face lasted only a second.
In the next instant, he ended up smiling—albeit faintly—despite the emotional rollercoaster of the past month and the fact that this reunion, given the circumstances, was far from peaceful.
"Lexi…" he breathed, his voice lower than he intended, while the tension he'd been carrying in his shoulders finally eased a little.
Without much ceremony, Stefan reached forward and grabbed her wrist, pulling her into a quick, tight hug.
Lexi laughed against his shoulder, clearly pleased with the reaction, her arms wrapping around him naturally, as though this kind of reception was exactly what she'd expected from the moment she arrived.
"Missed me, huh?" she teased.
"You have no idea." His voice came out lower, more honest than he'd meant it to.
They pulled apart, but Stefan still watched her as though confirming she was really there.
"I had no way of knowing when you'd arrive…" he added, running a hand through his hair in a tired gesture.
Lexi crossed her arms, pulling an exaggerated face.
"Hey, don't pin that on me." She threw herself more comfortably onto the couch, snatching the bourbon glass from his hand without asking and taking a sip. "I even tried to get here sooner."
She paused dramatically.
Then rolled her eyes hard.
"But someone decided today was the perfect day to start a three-hour existential fight."
Stefan raised an eyebrow.
"…That boyfriend of yours…? Lee was his name, right?"
"Your boyfriend?"
Lexi let out a long, theatrical sigh, throwing her head back against the couch.
"Ex-boyfriend," she corrected, pointing a finger in the air, irritated. "Men. Seriously. What's so hard about not being dramatic for five minutes? I just told him I had to come here because it was urgent, but he got way too upset to see my side… well, considering it was supposed to be our couples' trip, I get it a little… but still… he was so dramatic!"
Stefan couldn't help it—a short huff of laughter escaped him.
Lexi shot him a sideways glance, narrowing her eyes as that perceptive glint returned full force.
"But okay…" she said more slowly, leaning her body slightly toward him. The lightness in her tone faded. "I complained about my day. Now it's your turn."
Her brown eyes studied him carefully.
"You called me with that 'I'm about to do something monumentally stupid' voice." She tilted her head. "So…"
A short pause.
"What the hell is going on with you, Stefan?"
The faint smile still lingering on Stefan's face gradually disappeared. He looked away from Lexi for a moment, his jaw tensing again, as though the words simply… didn't want to come out. The bourbon glass turned slowly between his fingers, the amber catching the low light of the room.
When he finally began to explain, Stefan didn't dramatize.
He told her everything straightforwardly, the way Lexi had always preferred. He spoke about the night on the bridge, about saving Elena from drowning, about how he started watching her afterward… and eventually about the impulsive—and probably stupid—decision to go back to high school just to get closer to her. At another time, he might have felt ridiculous saying it out loud, but now it just sounded… tired.
Then his tone grew heavier.
Stefan explained about Ryan. About their first encounter. About how things spiraled out of control faster than he'd anticipated. And finally, he reached the part that really mattered: how he and Damon had ended up as eunuchs.
When he finished, the silence that settled between them was thick enough to feel in the air.
Lexi hadn't interrupted once.
Not once.
But her body language had completely changed.
The relaxed posture vanished.
Her shoulders stiffened.
Her fingers, resting on the back of the couch, were far too tense.
And her eyes…
Her brown eyes had gone dark.
Very dark.
The playful expression she'd worn when she arrived had vanished entirely, replaced by something much colder and much older: fury. Lexi's jaw clenched slowly, and for a full second she said nothing, as though she were processing… or perhaps trying not to tear through the entire town right then and there.
The silence lasted exactly two seconds longer than it should have.
That was how long it took for Lexi's anger to overflow.
The bourbon glass flew from her hand.
Glass shattered against the wall with a sharp, violent CRASH, amber liquid running down the wood like diluted blood.
But even that wasn't enough.
In the next instant, Lexi simply vanished from the couch.
Vampire speed.
A blond blur streaked across the room and BAM!
The side table exploded into splinters as she struck it with brutal force, wood splintering under the impact. A second later she was already on the other side of the room, breathing unnecessarily hard, her eyes completely overtaken by dark veins.
She was furious.
When she turned back to Stefan, there was something far too dangerous in the way her eyes gleamed.
"What did he do to you?" Her voice came out low, vibrating with restrained rage.
Before Stefan could answer, she was already pacing back and forth, too much energy trapped in her body.
"No. No—no—no." She ran a hand through her hair, laughing without humor. "You're telling me some bastard in Mystic Falls thought he could—"
She stopped abruptly.
Turned to face him.
Eyes burning.
"Where is he?" The question sliced out like a blade. "Because I swear to God, Stefan, I'm going to rip that son of a—"
"Not yet."
Stefan's voice cut through firmly.
Lexi froze mid-motion.
Her eyes narrowed slowly.
Stefan was already on his feet now, expression weary… but resolute.
"It's not the right moment yet…" he repeated, calmer, though the tension was still visible in the line of his shoulders. "Damon and I already have a plan. It's in motion."
The mention of Damon made a vein pulse at her temple.
Lexi crossed her arms tightly.
"You have a plan…" she corrected, still dangerously angry. "Because if you think I'm going to just sit—"
"I need your help."
That made her stop.
Really stop.
The silence that fell was different from the previous one.
Her brown eyes studied Stefan's face with surgical precision, searching for hesitation… doubt… suicidal impulse.
She found none.
After a few seconds, the tension in her shoulders eased by one degree. Just one.
But the fury didn't leave.
Not even close.
"…Fine…" Lexi said at last, exhaling slowly through her nose. "You have two minutes to convince me this plan isn't a stupid idea."
A pause.
Then, quieter:
"Because if it is… I'll handle it myself."
Stefan nodded once.
That was the most he was going to get from her right now.
But before he could begin to explain—
The front door burst open.
Uneven footsteps.
An audible stumble.
And then a slurred voice echoed through the foyer:
"Steeefaaaan… you're not gonna believe the fantastic night I had…"
Damon Salvatore appeared in the doorway of the living room… visibly drunk, hair slightly mussed, an almost-empty bottle dangling from his hand.
He took two more steps inside, stopped, and blinked.
Looked at the destroyed table.
Then at the shattered glass.
Then at Lexi.
Silence.
"…Okay," Damon murmured slowly, pointing the bottle in her direction. "Either I drank way more than I remember…"
His eyes narrowed.
"…or the party started without me."
Lexi didn't even bother hiding her irritation as she turned to face Damon.
She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms in that classic pose of silent judgment.
"Wow…" she said dryly. "You still show up places like you lost a bet."
Damon flashed a crooked grin immediately—the kind that usually preceded trouble.
"Lexi Branson." He tilted the bottle slightly toward her in a mock formal greeting. "Always a pleasure to be welcomed with so much affection by you…"
His eyes quickly swept the destroyed room again.
"Although I have to say… you've been redecorating." A dramatic pause. "Minimalist. Violent. I like it…"
Lexi let out a sigh through her nose, clearly out of patience for his tone.
"You're drunk."
"I'm functional," Damon corrected smoothly, taking another swig from the bottle. "There's an important difference."
His gaze then slid to Stefan and lingered there a second longer.
"…Okay…" he murmured, the lightness in his voice fading slightly. "Why exactly is Murder Barbie breaking my furniture?"
Before Lexi could reply with something undiplomatic—
Stefan spoke.
"Because now that Lexi is here…"
He took a step forward.
Green eyes cold.
Resolute.
"…the plan can begin."
The effect was immediate.
Damon's lazy smile diminished a degree.
Lexi stopped pacing.
The air in the room shifted.
Damon tilted his head slowly, studying his brother more closely now, as though recalculating something.
"…Ah…" he murmured, the bottle turning slowly between his fingers. The corner of his mouth lifted again, but now there was something sharper in it. "So we've finally reached the fun part of the night."
Lexi turned back to Stefan, her eyes still dark with barely contained fury, but focused.
Ready.
"…Talk," she said, low and direct. "What exactly is this plan of yours?"
____________________
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