fanfiction ▬ Powerless [TVD]
Title ▬ Powerless
Type ▬ One-shot
Characters/Pairings ▬ Stefan Salvatore, Stefan/Elena, mentions of Damon/Elena
Genre ▬ Angst
Wordscount ▬ 1160
Summary ▬ Written for likealocket and her jealous Stefan prompt. I'm afraid he isn't violent enough but I couldn't bring myself to more than what is already written.
Rating ▬ PG13 for language
Disclaimer ▬ I sadly do not own anything apart from this combination of words. Also, I was not born English-speaking, pardon the mistakes.
SPOILERS FREE
Stefan contemplates his empty glass but for a few drops of melted ice cubes. He doesn’t remember what it’s like to be drunk as a human; he only knows that as a vampire, it doesn’t feel good at all. Ears whistling, lights diffracted in a halo, the weight of all the years he spent on earth on his bones; he feels vulnerable.
He drinks because he’s alone. He doesn’t have any friends. His brother assassinated his only one. He only has Elena. He threw himself completely in their relationship because it’s the only one he’s got. She’s his only bond to reality. He doesn’t exist without her; he’s only a shadow going silently through centuries. He’s only a pile of diaries. In his hundred and sixty years of existence, what has he accomplished that mattered? What is immortality without someone to care for, without someone who cares if you’re alive? He gave himself away for her. There’s just nothing left of him. In a resigned gesture he lets his head fall on his closed fists.
He hates to know she’s alone with Damon. She knows he does, yet she keeps doing it. But he can’t blame her. There’s always a reason she’s alone with him and he’d rather know her with Damon that completely on her own. Her safety matters more than anything. He trusted Damon with it. And he knows he can finally trust his brother. He can trust him because of Elena. He cannot risk it. He’s getting his brother back.
And he hates himself for feeling like this. Insecure. He hates that his every thoughts are images of Elena and Damon kissing. Fucking, somewhere, sometime he doesn’t know of. He hates that he lets his mind consider the possibility of it ever happening. He hates that he’s supposed to trust Elena, and his brother, and yet he can’t. He should trust her blindly - he loves her, he knows she loves him, that she trusts him - but he knows the story too well. In spite of everything she did to prove him she was his and only his, in spite of the taste of her blood in his mouth, she’s somewhere with Damon now. She always is.
A tear of anger springs to his eye. He feels like smashing something. Possibly himself. He wants to dislocate, better be in unbearable pain than feel like this. He’s nothing but for her. He wants to fall on his knees and beg her. Beg her to never leave him ever again. Please, baby, please don’t leave me like this. Please kill me for I doubt you and I don’t deserve you.
“Stefan?” He jumps on his feet. Her voice, her so sweet voice, penetrating the barrier of his ringing ears.
“You’re back,” he says, like someone’s crazy who enjoys the temporary relief of medication, only forgetting the hours of pain that preceded it and will succeed it.
“Yeah,” She walks to him. She’s his only relief. He can’t wait to touch her. Smell her, taste her, feel her, “I’m happy it’s over. I hate it when you’re not there.”
He stiffens. “Yet you always go.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, surprised. Her innocent, naïve expression is enough to trigger this ball of grudge he’s hold in his heart so deeply.
“You could’ve stayed here. With me.”
“Stefan.”
He should have taken a step back, but he took a step closer. He sees her fight the fear. He could almost hear her think it’s Stefan, he’s not gonna hurt you, calm down, you’re safe. He’s not going to hurt me. “But you hurt me,” he thought. “I waited all day for you. You could have stayed,” he repeats because he doesn’t know what else to say.
“You know I couldn’t. It was important I go with Da-“
“Don’t you dare say my brother’s name.” He grabs her arm. She bites her lips in pain. It’s alright, it’s Stefan, he’s not going to hurt you, it’s alright.
“Stefan, let go of me.”
“No.” It’s the first time he’s ever said no to her. Her lips start to tremble but he tries to ignore it.
“You’re hurting me.”
“Listen to me.” He shakes her stronger than he wants to. She’s obviously scared now. She wants to scream for help. She wants to scream for Damon. “I’m tired of you always apologizing for the time you spend with him. I’m sick with the thought of you two together.” It’s the first time she sees him disgusted at anything else than himself.
“You know there’s nothing between us. You know that.”
“No I don’t!” He tightens his grip on her. She’s fighting the tears. “I don’t know what happens between you two! I can’t read this silent conversation you’re always having when you’re with him, I can’t hear what you confess to him when you’re alone, I can’t fucking see this relationship that you both pretend doesn’t exist, but it does, Elena, the fact that you both deny it just acknowledges its being real. You have something, don’t deny it!”
He finally lets go of her arm, but she’s too numbed to move.
“But you trust me, don’t you?” she whispers after a few seconds of silent, rythmed by his heavy breathing. She can only see his dark silhouette in the obscurity of the library. All that she knows is that she loves him. She reaches for his shoulder. But he cannot let go. She hasn’t touched him that he roughly holds her up again a bookshelf. He hates how frightened she is. He hates how she just lets him brutalize her.
“I don’t want you to see him anymore. Not without me.” He can feel his veins bulging under the skin of his eyes. He can feel her feverish breathing on his face. He can smell her taste.
“I won’t,” she mumbles, “I promise I won’t see him anymore.” She starts crying silently but it isn’t enough. “I love you,” she suffocates because of the tears, “please Stefan…”
He leans towards her. She’s as weak as he is. He isn’t the only one begging. His lips brush her trembling ones. But she doesn’t turn away. Anything, I would do anything for you. He doesn’t loosen his grip. She remains as still as she can. I love you. Please. His lips move away from hers, he goes down her neck, breathes her, inhales her… until he finds the exact spot. That which Damon will never get to. And slowly, with his hands holding her still against the shelf, a frightened bird with fluttering wings prisoner of his forced embrace, he sucks that warm essence of hers, that ruby red liquid that makes her human, that anchors herself to that reality he doesn’t belong to, that defines them in the sense that he lives off her, that he’d disappear without her, that she’s powerless, that she’d be empty and broken if it wasn’t for him.