Day 53: Sun Room, Morning

[scarefaux]

With breakfast finished and a new acquaintance made, the Scarecrow's mind turned to his other friends. The disappearance of Depth Charge's friend had brought back memories of how he'd felt when Kaiji went missing: helpless, useless, as though he should have and could have done something more to find him. If only he had his brain, then maybe he

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[broodings]

Once again, the nurses insisted that Elena (or "Samantha," as they called her) was fine, and playfully chided Stefan about how sometimes women needed their beauty sleep, although he didn't miss how she looked over his shoulder to a pair of orderlies standing by the door of the Sun Room. Once again, he was certain he could've fought past them, even killed them, weakened or not. For a whole three seconds, the temptation to kill rose high (-if he was fast enough, he could snap her neck, then drag her away from-) but he couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't become that person again. Stefan had all but fled from the exit, and circled around the room a few times before finally realizing that there was no getting away from people here. He settled into a vacant chair instead, and buried his head in his hands.

What was wrong with him? His control was better than this, at least it had been before he'd been captured by the tomb vampires. And he'd gone this long before without drinking a drop of blood, usually when he was at his most self-pitying, wanting to die. It could be that his recent binge on human blood had broken something in him - as much as Stefan had come very close to returning to normal by Founder's Day, he'd known deep inside that he was never again going to be (as Lexi had once called him) the Miss Universe of vampire self-control. Perhaps he'd been fooling himself in thinking he'd even been that much.

No, it wasn't just that. Hunger, he might have been able to cope with, if it was a matter of hunger alone. Even hunger plus compelling and attacking an innocent girl, that had been surmountable. But hunger, plus hurting Elena? Hurting Elena and having no idea if she was truly alright, or if...

He had to control himself. He knew how to control himself. The main pitfall of being a vampire was that ultimately everything came back to blood - love, desire, anger, despair, all those human emotions spiralling into hunger. That was what he was feeling right now. He was stronger than that. He had to be, for Elena's sake.

And anyway, if he was feeling on edge, then what about Damon? His brother had to be here somewhere, from their brief conversation on the bulletin board. Stefan checked that first, seeing how someone (likely Damon) had taken down a few notes in another bulletin conversation about blood... and a new note, with familiar feminine handwriting...

He turned from the board to search for her again, and found instead Damon in the far corner of the room, sprawled on a couch with a book in his hands and seemingly not a care in the world. Stefan might have envied him for his apparent ease, if he didn't know all too well how his brother functioned. And was he reading...? For a second, Stefan stared at the cover of Dracula, trying to figure out where this featured on the incomprehensible map of Damon humour, but it wasn't worth it. Neither were polite greetings. "What happened to you last night?"

[saviored]

Stefan was hard to miss when he was circling around the room like a crow with a broken wing. Damon peered at him out of the corner of his eye. Something was up. Something beyond the usual.

Well, of course something was. That much was only natural. He was perfectly aware that it wasn't just his comment on the board that had made Stefan feel the need to talk. That would never happen, especially not about at topic he knew for a fact Stefan despised.

No, whatever this was, it'd been on Stefan's mind for at least a couple of hours and considering it didn't seem to have been on his mind the last time they'd seen each other, it must've been fairly recent. Last night, likely, given the strange lights and wacky fun broadcast over the intercom. Unless something had happened at breakfast. A combination of both?

Who knew.

He returned to his book, though he wasn't really reading it. It was a distraction, nothing more. He could either stare at a page or stare at people's throats, and only one was going to prevent a blood bath. Which, come to think of it, why did he care about preventing a blood bath?

But of course, he knew the answer. It always came back to her. Elena. Where was she, anyway? He assumed she was okay simply because he knew Stefan would've told him otherwise immediately. There were few things he trusted Stefan to do (be self-righteous, contribute to forest animal population control) but this, he did. So he didn't actually think something had happened to her. It was just curious since she was usually glued to Stefan's hip. Or rather, Stefan was glued to hers.

Speak of the devil. Took him long enough. Thank God, too; Mina was an incredibly dull character.

Damon let Stefan's question linger for a beat or two, as if unheard, before he snapped the book shut and tossed it aside. "I stayed in. Thought you could use some alone time with Elena." He watched his brother for a second, blinking slowly. A not-quite smile surfaced, curious for once rather than mocking. "Though from the look on your face, I think the better question is, what happened to you last night?"

[broodings]

Damon... stayed in. Somehow, Stefan wasn't inclined to believe that his brother had voluntarily kept himself out of trouble - to give him and Elena some time alone, sure, as shockingly unselfish that might seem; but give them time alone as his primary motivation? Most likely Damon had tried to find blood and failed, and didn't want to admit to it. Which was fine, if Damon's failure meant Claire or someone like Claire was walking around vampire-bite-free this morning. And it wasn't as if Stefan had gotten any further last night, so he let it go.

Stefan sighed and crouched down in front of the couch so he could speak without being overheard. He still didn't know what to think of the nurses - whether or not they knew about the true nature of this workplace, whether or not they knew what he was - but discretion was second nature to him, and he wouldn't be careless with that many doubts on his mind.

"Did you see the shadows? After the messages from the Head Doctor last night." Even Claire and her uncle hadn't missed the intercom announcements, despite not seeing anything like what Stefan and Elena had experienced. He'll make you see things you don't want to see, look at things you've never wanted to face, she'd said. Fleetingly, he wondered how differently things might've gone had Damon been with them. Damon wouldn't have batted an eyelash at the things his shadow was saying, having said much of it before. Damon wouldn't have hesitated.

Damon wouldn't have let Elena get hurt.

Or maybe it would've ended up the same - or worse. Damon was no saint or saviour either, and a shadow could have appeared for him too. Four vampires, one human girl... Stefan's eyes closed for a moment before he could continue: "The shadow I saw was me... in 1864, I think right after I... turned." His brother was the only person in the world who'd been around him long enough to truly know what that meant. "It went after Elena. She left a message on the board saying she was fine, but I haven't seen her yet."

[saviored]

Ah, that long suffering sigh. Damon inched his feet just the slightest to the left when Stefan crouched down. He could tell Stefan was edging towards a big confession. Any minute now...

There it was. He tipped his head, surprised.

That was a fascinating tidbit of news. He'd seen the weird shadow magic thing last night, obviously. It was kinda hard to miss. But Stefan was describing something completely different. Well, all right, maybe not completely different, but his own shadow hadn't done a whole lot of talking, never mind attacking. Apparently, Stefan's had more pent-up aggression. How so not unexpected.

Perhaps Damon's just hadn't had much to power itself on. His brother had been near Elena at the time. Plus, Stefan was always just in a perpetual state of having a lot of feelings. The way his shadow had manifested couldn't be a coincidence.

"I saw something," he replied mildly. "Nothing special, though, it just sort of...moved on its own. Very X-Files." He crossed one ankle over the other. "But this isn't about me, is it. In fact, I would say it's not really even about Elena. It's about you."

Because Elena was fine, of course. Stefan didn't look entirely out of his mind, so the attack must've been more of a scare than near-death danger. And they both knew that she wouldn't let herself be bothered by what she'd seen. She had this faith in Stefan, one that Damon would've called misplaced once upon a time. In some ways, it still was. She could never really know him, not the way Damon knew him. Not even with what'd happened not too long ago, not even with the confessions that barely scratched the surface no matter how much Stefan wanted to pretend he was giving her insight into his deepest secrets.

Yeah. This was about his brother, pure and simple. Whatever. Nothing new there.

"Is that what you're worried about, then, Stef? Your evil alter-ego surfacing again, loose upon the world to rip apart innocent young girls, only this time it'll actually be, well." He shrugged a shoulder and flashed a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You."

[broodings]

Stefan didn't miss that look of surprise, and mirrored it with one of his own. Last night, he'd seen his shadow do what Damon described, it was what happened just before it stepped out from the wall and started talking to them. Why didn't the same happen to Damon? Why didn't the same happen to Claire, for that matter? Before, he'd wondered if Claire and Elena's shadows had stayed normal because they had no dark sides to them - but how did that same logic apply to Damon, of all people? Unless... it was as that woman had said. Things you don't want to see. Things you've never wanted to face. The only thing his brother ever tried to hide was his humanity.

But the subject was abruptly changed before Stefan could figure it out, and he stiffened, his face losing the openness of confession. Trust Damon to know exactly where to twist the knife. Normally, he could just brush it off - this kind of talk had been their metaphorical dinnertime topic for over a hundred years, and not even that incident during the Miss Mystic Falls pageant had made much of a dent in his ability to brush off Damon. But this... this was different. This was Elena, and the sting of the remark was clear in Stefan's eyes.

But then, in other ways, it wasn't that different at all. "That's not going to happen," he answered firmly, and leaned back in his crouch so he could look more clearly at Damon's face. He allowed no room for doubt in his expression, not in front of his brother. "As long as I have blood, I can control myself. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

It wasn't, but somehow having Damon voice the exact fears going through Stefan's head made him all the more determined to deny them, to fight against them, to believe they weren't- couldn't be true. Maybe this was the real reason he'd thought telling Damon would be a good idea. Ignoring the obvious point that Stefan didn't have anyone else to talk to, but even settling for Damon as a confidante was admittedly a step up in their relationship.

"I'm going hunting tonight." That was a conversation he'd yet to have with Elena, but he knew she'd understand the need at least. Stefan raised his eyebrows at his brother. "What about you? Following that tip from the bulletin board?"

[saviored]

Something flickered across his features-amusement or a knowing look or a little of both-that implied Stefan's reaction was only all too typical.

"Mm-hmm." Damon swung his legs off the table and sat up a bit, slow and lazy. He let the non-committal reply hang in the air with all of its unspoken skepticism attached. Can you, Stefan? What kind of blood? How many people did you think about tearing into this morning alone?

Because they both knew better. Certainly Stefan did, or he wouldn't be acting so holier-than-thou over it. The only time his brother carried that kind of confidence was out of denial or when he was riding high on human blood, neither of which was very becoming of him. But it didn't need to be said, either. Stefan knew it, and better than that, Stefan knew that Damon knew it. And that was more than enough to hammer his point home with barely a brush over it. So if his little brother wanted to pretend they were here to talk about his decision to go find a bunny tonight, which was a bit like finding it necessary to announce that he planned on being Elena's eternal love forever, then Damon was all right with playing along. For now.

For now being maybe the next...oh, twenty seconds or so. Thirty if he were feeling generous.

He waved a dismissive hand, though the darkening of his expression at the reminder that Stefan wasn't the only one here who needed blood belied his casual ease. "Might as well. I'm finding something to eat, at any rate." His gaze drifted a little over the people in the room. It wouldn't be difficult to isolate someone. There was always at least one human stupid enough to not peer over their shoulder. He might've decided to leave his town alone, but that was different. He owed these people nothing.

Oh, well. He'd try the tip first. He didn't much believe in it, but he doubted it would take very long to check out for sure. It'd be nice if it were true. Taking someone down without his usual...assets could prove more trouble than it was worth. Which was the only reason why he wasn't going to bother if he could help it.

Anyway, they weren't talking about him right now. They were talking about Stefan. It'd been twenty seconds, and he wasn't feeling generous.

With some effort, he tore his eyes away from the others and returned them to his brother. "You know, you can dodge the subject all you want. It won't change what you are. We eat, Stefan, that's practically our eternal purpose. Please tell me you're not seriously planning on making it with a few squirrels a night."

Feeding only staved off the desire to chew on everything with a pulse, that was it. That was as far as it went. He couldn't remember what it even felt like to not have that need humming away underneath. Gorging yourself 24/7 got inconvenient though, obviously, which was where the sex and alcohol came in. This was with a steady diet of human blood. If Stefan thought he could control himself on a couple of woodland creatures per night in a place with no easy distractions and where injuries apparently ran rampant, he was even more deluded than usual.

Besides, it wasn't just about his brother being liable to snack on the next blonde thing to cross his path. They were trapped in some weird Twilight Zone building. The last thing he needed was Stefan getting distracted or deliberately hindering what little of his full strength remained. It was the last thing Elena needed, too.

[broodings]

Stefan knew exactly what Damon was saying with that pointed silence, but ignored it with the experienced ease of a younger sibling. There were no doubts his brother could voice which Stefan hadn't already agonized over this morning - possibly Damon already knew that, possibly he even thought he knew the reason for Stefan's stubbornness. He didn't care. Elena believed in him, and for that reason alone, he was determined to find a way through this without hurting anyone.

When Damon straightened, so did Stefan, rising to his feet just long enough to reseat himself on the edge of the table. His gaze followed when Damon looked out at the rest of the room, and he didn't have to reach far to guess what was on his brother's mind. Hunger gnawed at him as well, but it occurred to Stefan that, unlike Damon of the Nonexistent Impulse Control, he was at least used to going hungry. Even gorging on a diet of animal blood had taken at least ten years to not feel like voluntary malnutrition, never mind all those times he'd simply given into despair and tried to commit suicide by starvation. (It never worked, and afterwards he was always left with the foolish reminder that, if he really wanted to kill himself, there were easier ways to do it.) The only reason the hunger was so bad for him right now was because his emotions were running high. Elena was fine. He had to control himself.

"If I have to," Stefan answered mildly. A few squirrels a night sounded manageable. Damon would no doubt sneer in derision at this, but Stefan had learned that just because they could drink three people dry in one go, they only really needed a couple pints to get by. If it had to be squirrels, then Stefan could cope, but he wasn't entirely resigned to small mammals just yet.

Stefan crossed his arms as he regarded his brother. "But from the rumours going around, it sounds like there are plenty of bigger animals in the area." Of course, from what Castiel had said, at least one of the animals appeared to be severely diseased, but... it wasn't as if vampires were capable of catching rabies. "And I don't feel that weak yet either, at least not as weak as I should be feeling after three days without blood. You had to have noticed that too."

[saviored]

As always, Damon contemplated pressing the matter further. Stefan's promise to "do what he had to" was hardly an end to the discussion. But in the end, he decided he'd grant his brother the favour of dropping it. Nothing between them was ever truly finished, anyway. They'd danced around this for a hundred years, they could easily go for another hundred.

So instead, he turned his attention to something Stefan wanted to talk about for once.

"Of course I've noticed, Stefan. I do remember how it feels to starve for a few days." He didn't spare his brother the pointed look. He reserved the right to remain a little pissed over that episode, thank you very much. At the time, he'd always figured Stefan would have another go at staking him somewhere down the road; he hadn't foreseen that. In hindsight he should've.

Although it was more the presumptuousness that he was to be fixed that had always grated. Really, he'd have had an easier time letting it go if Stefan had just owned up to doing it out of his own personal issues. It was hardly a secret Stefan hated him. Well, had. Probably still did. Whatever. Who knew these days? He didn't much care either way.

There was a split second pause before he shed the tension, letting it pass as quickly as it'd come. He didn't mention that clearly, whoever had them wanted them alive (ergo, no dried up corpse) and that he had no idea how the hell they were pulling this off, but that he was still leaning towards the witch theory. The implications were self-evident enough, even to Stefan, he was sure.

"You know, what I also don't get is why we-" Damon gestured vaguely between him and Stefan, "-are the only two vampires here. As far as I can tell, anyway. Though there's apparently something up with some of the others."

Well, one other. That girl he'd met, the very first one. He hadn't gotten her name, but he knew her face. The one who'd known, almost without even a second thought, what he was. She'd sounded pretty damn confident when she said the humans were outnumbered, and he couldn't help thinking of the Lockwoods who were neither vampire nor human. If they existed, then what about the people here? How many fell into that category of "something else"? The girl, at least, was abnormal. He wasn't ready to take her word about the rest of the patients, but he'd be an idiot to dismiss it. She hadn't been wrong about him, after all.

He frowned, thinking. Seriously, there was too much doom and mystery going on right now. He didn't appreciate feeling as if he were suddenly sucked into a Stephen King novel.

[broodings]

Although his arms were still crossed semi-defensively over his chest, Stefan's stance relaxed a little when Damon moved on from talking about his diet. He held no illusions that the matter was truly dropped - the cabinet full of journals in his room practically documented the unfinished business between them down to the day, year and amount of blood shed. Like... that, for instance. Stefan met his brother's pointed look with two raised eyebrows of his own, no more likely to apologize for that incident than Damon was likely to let it go. At most, he could admit to underestimating his brother, but it wasn't as if Damon hadn't done anything to deserve getting poisoned with vervain and locked in the basement. Of course, if Stefan's plan had worked, then Damon would never have had the chance to show himself to still be capable of compassion. Maybe it had been worth it, everything that had happened since-

Stefan suddenly thought of Zach, Vicki... Lexi... and dozens of others who'd lost their lives in the past year, and felt guilt well up in him for even letting himself think that far. And yet... if he honestly asked himself if he would put Damon - his brother, the one who was sitting with him right now and trying to infuriate him - back in there for fifty years just to reverse those deaths, Stefan found himself unable to answer.

Over a century, and he hadn't changed at all.

Stefan was only starting to drop his gaze when Damon called his attention back to the present. "You're right," he said after a moment, frowning slightly. "And they had to have known we're vampires in order to... alter us like this. John and the Council wouldn't have bothered." Not that he was still seriously thinking that this was the fault of the Founders Council, but the same held true for any normal vampire hunter. He and Damon should be dead. Even their father had been uncompromising on this point. "It's not that they want to keep us from harming anyone either, or else why put humans here with us?"

Were the rumours right, then? Were they in fact here to be experimented upon and studied? But then why choose someone like Elena? There was nothing vaguely supernatural about her at all... nothing except her mirror resemblance to Katherine.

He searched for her again reflexively, but if she was around, it wasn't in the Sun Room with them. Stefan looked back to his brother. "Who else have you met here?"

[saviored]

Yes, the whys of it all was a question that continued to plague. He knew what Stefan meant: they were used to people treating them as a threat because that was precisely what they were. If that was what was going on here, it would've made sense. But it wasn't.

Stefan changed the topic before Damon could say much on it, though. Was his brother worried he might feed on one of his new acquaintances? How Stefan of...Stefan.

For a moment, he toyed with how much he wanted to say. It wasn't some big secret-there was no one he'd met yet that he cared for, definitely not enough to consider going out of his way to hide it-but he wasn't good with volunteering information, no matter how minor. A habit of decades; he'd been screwed over way too many times.

Still, it was Stefan. He wouldn't admit to trusting his brother, exactly, but he couldn't deny that compared to the rest of the people here, he did trust him more. It was on a purely relative scale, that was all.

"Well, there's your sweet new friend Claire." He ticked off a lazy finger. "Blonde, cute. Probably a cheerleader. I like her," he added thoughtfully. An absent footnote. Did Stefan already know Damon had met her? Probably not, unless she'd caught up to him afterwards in which case she must've mentioned it, no doubt as a way to keep a lagging conversation going. People were predictable.

"Couple of others not worth mentioning. And this one girl, who I'd really like to know what the hell she is. She made me as a vampire with one look. Probably should've killed her right there." He slid his eyes to his brother, half-playful and half deadly serious. "Don't worry, I haven't touched her. Yet. She's...interesting."

As soon the threat level she represented outweighed his interest in her, she would be taken care of. That went without saying. But there was something about her, when he'd spoken to her. The way she hadn't seemed bothered by much of anything. It was odd and more than a little familiar. She had a dismissive arrogance that reminded him of those who lived untouched by the pesky details of mortal life that bogged down most humans. Vampires, in other words. Ones who didn't bother with feelings like Stefan. She clearly wasn't a vampire, though. What was she?

Maybe if they were going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future-something which, as much as he hated it admit, seemed more and more likely as time passed-he should check back in with her. Maybe. Depending on if it would be worth it. She did know what he was and while she evidently had no interest in exposing him-well. That could still change. He'd have to play it with more caution. Otherwise, he'd just end up having to kill her after all and getting sent back to square one would be a waste.