Stefan paced around the room,  his arms crossed and a brooding stare in his eyes. He was debating on whether to drink blood from a blood bag or go back to cold turkey, which to him meant absolutely no feeding. If it were up to me, I would have pushed the blood bag down his throat the moment after he got home last night. Damon tempted him with the blood of an innocent girl, and since he hadn't fed in days, he drank from her. Stefan didn't like drinking from people, which I understood and Damon didn't. Damon wasn't a ripper, he didn't know how horrible it was to go on a feeding frenzy because one is simply hungry. He didn't how it felt to drink blood and feel like bathing in it, as if one's insides were eating themselves because our appetite was voracious. There was no control except the hunger, and that meant no control.

  "Drink it," I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Stefan, please, just drink the blood and stop pacing. You're gonna mark the floor."

   "That's not the only reason why I'm worried," he said, shaking his head. He stopped, turned to me, and ran his hand down his chin. "Clara, I'm pacing because you told me that you're actually thinking of leaving."

   I rolled my eyes. "I said that I was thinking about it, not that I would." I took the blood bag he had thrown at me when he walked into the room and poured it into a glass. "I told you that I wasn't leaving; you should stop freaking out about something that won't happen." I took a drink of the blood, smacking my lips together in enjoyment. After drinking more than half, I laid the glass down and licked my lips, letting out a sigh of enjoyment.

   "That's what you say now," Stefan continued, beginning to pace again. "But what happens after everything, huh? You're going to leave, just like you wanted when you turned seventeen."

   I stopped moving and stared at him, surprised. Never had I thought that he would remember something that happened when I was young and naive, when all I wanted was to escape the clutches of my father and be free like the girls in the books I read. I was too scared to tell Damon, and he didn't care that much about my problems, so I told Stefan, who was fifteen at the time yet he looked and acted as if he were twenty. He told me that he would run away with me, that we would both grab the first train to Chicago, but that my reason of leaving was just a temporary thing that would soon disappear. It was then that I realised that it was him that kept me grounded in Mystic Falls, he was the reason why I didn't leave when I was sixteen, and maybe I should have paid more attention to that.

   I stood and my made my way to him. "Stefan," I softly said, "I'm not going to leave." I took his hand and smiled, tilting my head to the side. "And, if I do decide to leave, you'll be the first person to know." I began to pull him out of the boarding house, looking up at the bright blue sky with a soft smile. I felt like we needed to get out of the house, to take some control of the little things that bothered us.

   "Where are you taking me?" Stefan asked, both annoyed and curious.

   "Home," I answered, turning back to look at him. 

   By the look on his face, it was noticeable that he had no idea what I was talking about. When we arrived, he immediately recognized. When I said home, I meant the ruins of what used to be our homes. They were covered in dirt and trees and wild flowers in the places where we used to leave our footsteps after a rainy day. My formal home, the one I grew up in was just dirt, pieces of rotten wood, and broken pieces of brick. With time, almost everything that I had touched when I was human would disappear with its only place of existence being on paper.

   I stood in the middle of what used to be my home and spread my arms, smiling at Stefan. He stood outside the broken walls, hands deep in his pockets and his brows raised in both curiosity and amusement. "So, this is where you brought me?" he asked, looking around. "Your old house?"

   "It's not just my old house," I said, rolling my eyes. "It's home. It's where I grew up, where I danced, where I fell in love, when I cried and laughed and dreamed." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the scents all around me. I could smell the damp earth, the leaves, the sun warming everything around us, the old pieces of house, and Stefan. He smelt like berries and pine, like his cologne. When I inhaled once again, I opened my eyes and looked at him with a big smile. "Come on, Stefan! This is where you and I met."

   "No," he shook his head and crossed his arms. "We didn't meet here. I remember. We met by the quarry when you were playing with sticks with Abraham and Charlotte."

   I rolled my eyes. "No, Stefan, it was here," I repeated. "It was when I was about thirteen, and you were twelve, and your mother had just died from consumption. My father invited your father over after her funeral, and he brought you along. You sat in the corner of the hallway, and cried because you missed her. I sat next to you, and took your hand." I walked over to him and took his hand, just like I did back then. "And said that it would all be okay. I told you that she'd be watching over you, and to think of her whenever you look up at the sky, that she would send you some form of signal to tell you that she was there with you. And you stopped crying." I looked down at our hands, smiling softly as I recalled the memory. "Our fathers wanted us to become a couple, to love each other like they had done to their wives."

   "In the end, you ended up falling for Damon," Stefan finished.

   "I ended up falling for Damon," I repeated, nodding. "What a mistake that was, right?"

   "I don't think it was a mistake," he said. "I think it was part of your human experience. The whole falling in love thing was just part of life, even if it was with the wrong man, as you're putting it." He smiled at me, wide, almost as if he were amusing himself.

   I rolled my eyes and took a seat on the ground, pulling him down along with me. He let out a laugh, which rang all over the woods and caused birds to fly from their perched branches. I let out a small laugh, which sounded strangely as a giggle, and kept his hand in mine. "Human experience," I repeated, looking at his hand in mine. It was warm, soft, his thumb softly rubbing against my skin. "You know, I never imagined human experience ending with me turning into a vampire."

   "Then what do you consider human experience, Clara?"

   I looked up to the sky and closed my eyes. "I imagined me being married to a nice husband who kissed me when he came home," I began, feeling the breeze around me. "A family of my own. After being married for a year, we would have a son. A beautiful little boy with dimples and curly black hair, and he would stare up at me with these brilliant blue eyes that would resemble the winter sky in the morning..." I trailed off, ending in a sigh. I opened my eyes, immediately colliding with Stefan's stare. He had a small smile around his lips, small and pleasant. 

   "Sorry," I apologized, pulling my hand away from his. "I rambled on, didn't I?"

   "Just a bit," he laughed. "No, uh, it gave me a good image of what your life would have been like if we had never met Katherine."

   "Okay, so what's yours?" I asked, changing the subject to something other than me. "What would be your human experience, Stefan?"

   "Well," he began.

   "No!" I cut him off, laughing. "You have to do it like I did; you have to close your eyes and let yourself wonder."

   He laughed, but did what I told him to. Stefan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Uh, I would have probably been married to Rosalie Cartwright," he said, sounding more annoyed than calm. I slapped his arm, causing him to open his eyes suddenly and stare at me with surprise and amusement in his eyes. "What?" he laughed. "I did just like you told me!"

   "No," I pointed out, slapping his arm again. "Don't think of it what would have happened, think of that you wanted to happen. We both know that you didn't want to marry Rosalie, so what would have happened? What would you have done, Stefan?"

   Instead of closing his eyes, Stefan stared at me with his head slightly tilted to the side. It was as if he were deeply thinking about it, wondering whether he would have chosen his own path or followed the one his father had chosen for him. He nodded and said, "I would have married Rosalie Cartwright, and we would have taken over the logging mill from my father. We would have had children, which would continue the Salvatore name and take over the business when I became too old."

   I stared at him and shook my head. "Wow," I muttered, shaking my head. "That was the most depressing thing I've heard today."

   "What do you want me to say, Clara?" he asked asked, swiftly throwing on of his arms in the air before it rested over his raised knee. "Do you want me to lie and say that I would marry the woman that I loved? That I would have disregarded my father's wishes just so I could be with her and make her happy, and be happy?"

   "Yes!" I exclaimed. "Because you would have done what is right for your happiness."

   "No," he corrected me. "Clara, I wouldn't have done what is right for my happiness! I would have followed what my father told me to do, because I was not Damon." He looked around and bit his bottom lip hard, drawing only a bit of blood. He turned his sight back to me "Why did you bring me here, Clara? To reminiscence about our human life?"

   I took a deep breath and laid down, laying my head on his leg. I looked up at him, meeting his confused eyes that glimmered with a bit of anger. "I brought you here because you need to see that we're not human anymore," I said, looking at the sky behind his head. "No matter how much we want to be, we will never be human again. We are vampires, Stefan, a predatory species that lives on blood." I looked back at Stefan. "You cutting it out of your diet is like wanting to actually be a ripper. I'm not saying drink from the first human you see, but I am telling you to drink. Hell, a blood bag would be better than some inedible deer!"

   He laughed above me. The glimmer of anger he had in his eyes faded, replaced by amusement and another thing I could not place. His fingers played with the lose strands of my hair that weren't pinned by my head on his leg, gently, almost making me sleepy. Stefan's touch was soft, warm, loving. It was the first time in decades that I had honestly felt calm and warm. That moment, the one where it was just Stefan and I and the ruins of our old home, it felt like I was human. I knew that I shouldn't have felt like that because it was Stefan. The man that played with my hair with gentle touches was Stefan Salvatore, and he shouldn't have made me feel so... 

   He shouldn't have made me feel so human.

   I sat up and looked down at my hands, swallowing hard. I felt my racing heart, my cheeks picking up heat from the rushing blood. For the first time in decades, I was actually blushing. I felt flushed, like those cheesy 90's movie where the girl's crush would walk in front of her and winks or smile, and she would turn as red as strawberries. That was how I felt. I felt like a damn 90's movie.

   "Do you want to head back to the boarding house?" I asked, still not looking back at Stefan.

   "We should head back," he answered after a few seconds. 

   "Yeah..." I stood up and dusted myself off before lending my hand to him. As soon as his hand touched mine, electricity ran through us. It wasn't like the cheesy electricity where it is defined by emotions, but an actual shock. Well, it was static shock.

   We went back to the boarding house, and separated as soon as we arrived. I went upstairs while he stayed in the parlour. As soon as my feet touched the bedroom I called mine, I took off my clothes and headed to take a shower. I felt as if I needed to calm myself, to ignore the fact that Stefan made me blush. I felt like a movie, and I knew that I really wasn't supposed to feel like that. 

   For God's sake, Clara! I thought to myself, covering my face with my hands and the water felt over me. Stop it! This is Stefan that we're talking about, Damon's brother!

   "Have you seen my dear brother?"

   I jumped from the sudden voice that joined the sound of the water. I pulled my hands away from my face and gasped when I saw Damon standing in front of the glass shower with his arms crossed. I tried to look for something to cover myself with, but since there was nothing I covered myself with my hands. "Damon!" I yelled, irritated. "Can't you see I'm naked?"

   "I see," he said, shrugging. "It's not like I haven't seen it all."

   "Damon!"

   "What?"

   "Damon!" I yelled once again, glaring in his direction.

   "If you keep yelling like that, someone will think something's happening between us."

   "Get out!" I groaned. "Get out, Damon!"

   "I'll be in the bedroom waiting for you," he said, smirking softly.

   "No!" I called out as he walked away. When he closed the door behind him, I groaned and looked up at the falling water, hoping for it to calm both my anger and my embarrassment. After I got out of the shower and dressed myself, I walked out to the bedroom expecting to see Damon there. When he wasn't there, I marched to his bedroom, where he wasn't. Then, I marched downstairs to see him serving himself a glass of bourbon. "You are the worst!" I yelled as I marched to him.

   He turned to me, a small smirk around his lips. I wanted to punch that smirk from his face. "What?" he asked, amusement laced in his voice. "Clara, I've seen every inch of you."

   "Same here," I decided to tease, crossing my arms. "And I wasn't impressed with any of it."

   "Ouch," he sarcastically gasped, grabbing his shirt over his heart. "That hurt."

   "Whatever." I rolled my eyes. I moved to him and grabbed the glass of bourbon from his hand, taking a large gulp before handing it back. "Why did you walk in, anyway?"

   "Have you seen Stefan?" he asked, serving himself more bourbon.

   "No," I answered. "Last time I saw him, he was here..." I trailed off when I caught a sweet scent. My mouth began to salivate, causing my breathing to speed up. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, hoping to calm down the hunger that suddenly arrived. "Did you feed?" I asked Damon. "Did you drink blood?"

   "What?" He was confused with my sudden question. "No, I'm clean."

   "I..." I licked my lip."I think I know where Stefan is." Without waiting for his answer, I followed the scent. It led me to the basement, where with each step it got stronger. I ended up finding Stefan on the ground, drinking a blood bag from the freezer. Around him there were other bags, all of them empty of blood. 

   "Oh, come on," Damon groaned behind me. I imagined him rolling his eyes in annoyance. "Slow down, brother." He walked up to Stefan and took the blood bag from his hands. "Whoa. Control, remember? Doesn't matter whether it's blondes or blood bags, some principals apply."

   "What did you say to Elena this morning?" Stefan suddenly asked, looking up at us.

   "Oh, you're stress eating," Damon deducted. "Sublimating. You two deserve each other with all your pining and moping."

   Stefan moved towards his brother, annoyed. "I asked you a question, Damon."

   "I told her what she already knows," he answered. "You're a vampire, and you drink human blood. Get over it."

   "Exactly what I told him," I muttered lowly, obviously knowing that Stefan and Damon heard me. 

   Damon moved to the freezer and closed it. "Which is the same thing I'm telling you," he continued, quickly glancing at me. "What we're telling you. Own it, live it, love it. Stop being ashamed of who you are." He began to leave, but Stefan grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

   "Do me a favour, Damon," he began, almost glaring at his brother. "Next time you talk to Elena, keep me out of it, okay?"

   "Gladly," he answered after a few seconds. "Now, unless you two are interested in a Sage-Rebekah sex sandwich, I suggest you get yourselves scarce." He pulled his arm away from Stefan's and marched back upstairs with a smug look on his face.

   I turned to Stefan, who's face was almost full of blood. "Let's get you cleaned up," I softly said, taking his hand. "You're like a child." He didn't speak or move as I cleaned his mouth with a wet towel. I tried to not breath as I cleaned the blood, stopping every once in a while to control myself. He only moved when I stopped for what seemed the tenth time.

   "I'll do it," he said, grabbing the towel from my hand. "Clara, hey, can you, uh, wait for me in the car?"

   "In the car?" I asked, crossing my arms. "Why?"

   "I need to get out of this house," he responded, taking off his shirt. "I need your help."

   "With?"

   "This Alaric thing," he sighed.

   Alaric had been blamed for the murders of Bill Forbes and Brian Walters, and was now in jail. The victims were found with his weapons, which was a strong indication that he was the murderer, but he didn't remember it. That made Meredith Fell come with a conclusion with the help of Samantha Gilbert's journal, who also wore the infamous Gilbert ring. Alaric had blackouts, instances of lost time, the same thing that Samantha Gilbert wrote about in her journal. The theory was that it was Alaric that did murder those people, but it was under the influence of the ring. They had taken the ring away as soon as the theory came up, laid it as far away as possible.

   "I did a little more digging," he continued to tell me as he drove. "After she was sent to the insane asylum, she killed two people, a nurse and a guard."

   "Psychopath," I said, shrugging. "So?"

   "She was under suicide watch. No personal effects, no jewellery."

   My eyes widened as I began to realize. "So, you're saying that whatever is happening to Rick can still happen even if he isn't wearing the ring?" He nodded. "We need to tell Elena!"

   He drove to Elena's house, but Alaric told us that she went to his apartment to pick something up. That was when Stefan decided that it would be best to drive over one hundred miles in order to hurry to the apartment. We arrived early, minutes before Elena arrived. She looked surprised when she saw us by the door. 

   "Missed you at the house," Stefan broke the silence. "Alaric told us you'd be here."

   "You made yourself perfectly clear this morning, Stefan," Elena said, rolling her eyes. "You don't want to be around me."

   I rolled my eyes and turned her, watching as she unlocked it. "This isn't about you, Elena," I said.

   "I'm not trying to hurt you, Elena," Stefan said, taking a stand behind me. "I just can't be who you want me to be right now. I'm not in control."

   "So, then, what are you doing here?" she asked as she opened the door and walked in.

   Stefan and I followed behind her. He cleared his throat and answered her, "I, uh, I did a little more digging on Samantha Gilbert." He closed the door behind him and turned on the lights. "Founding families were always pretty good about destroying their records, but I found a couple of newspaper articles. It seemed she killed two people while she was in the institution. A nurse and a guard."

   "So, she was a psychopath. I get it." Elena rolled her eyes.

   "That's what I thought as well," I said. "But, she was under suicide watch. No personal effects, no jewellery."

   She stopped moving and turned back to us. "Wait, so you two are saying that the violent behaviour can still happen even if the person isn't wearing the ring?"

   "That's exactly what we're saying," I said, nodding.

   She shook her head in disbelief. "No, no, no!" she said, shaking her head. "Bonnie's gonna do a spell, and that will fix him." She turned and began to look for something in Alaric's drawers.

   "What if Bonnie's spell doesn't work?" Stefan asked. "What are you gonna do with him?"

   "I'm not gonna do anything, Stefan," she answered. "I'm gonna keep looking until we find something that'll help him."

   "You don't know how long this has been going on. Might be too late."

   "It's my family's ring that's doing this to him. It's my responsibility to fix it."

   "You can't put that on yourself. Not everyone is your responsibility. Not everyone can be saved."

   "Are we talking about Alaric here or are we talking about you?" Elena suddenly snapped. "Because I wasn't planning on giving up on either of you."

   "Oh my god, will you two please shut up?" I groaned as I opened the last drawer. "I feel like I'm watching a telenovela." I looked down at the drawer and let out a small gasp. Inside, there were photos of the dead bodies of Bill Forbes and Brian Walters, newspaper clippings, and other stuff about the murders.

   "What is it?" Elena asked, peering from over my shoulder. 

   I picked one of the pictures up and stared at it before turning to her. "Pictures of his victims." I pulled out the rest of the drawer. 

   Elena immediately began to look through everything, hurt clear in her eyes. With each passing picture, she swallowed hard and her heart began to beat faster. It was clear that she was hurt, scared, afraid of Alaric's life. Her heart beat rapidly when she picked up an envelope with Jeremy's name. She opened it and read it aloud, "Jeremy, if anything happens to me, carry on my work. You have the other ring, the the ring make you strong. The council must be cleansed before the work can begin."

   Stefan took the rest of the papers from her hand. "It's the Founders Council roster. Looks like some sort of hit list."

   "No," Elena said, shaking her head. "Alaric wouldn't write this."

   "Who else would have written it, Elena?" I asked her, frowning. Just like her, I didn't want to believe that Alaric was the murderer. 

   Elena tore the note that Alaric wrote for Jeremy, then continued to search for something in the drawer. She found an aspirin bottle, opened it, and tipped whatever was inside to her hand. "I need to get back," she said. 

   "Stefan, go with her," I said after Elena ran out of the apartment.

   "What?" he asked, confused.

   "Go with her," I repeated. "I'll take your car back to the boarding house."

   "Clara, I–"

   "If Alaric's behaviour is still there even when the ring is not, that means Elena might be in danger when she's in the same house as him," I began to explain as I walked out. "Go with her, and do what you always do—be the hero."

   As I watched him walk away, walk towards Elena, I felt something hurt inside of me. I let it pass as some bad indigestion, but there was something deep inside that warned me that it wasn't indigestion. Deep inside, I knew the reason of the pain that appeared in my chest as I watched him walk towards Elena, and I didn't like it one bit.