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"Stop it."
"What kind of—"
"Matt. Stop it."
There was something in the voice that spoke directly to the human brainstem, like a dark shadow overhead telling a baby chick to freeze.
Vaguely, Matt looked down at his hands. He had Stefan by the shirt and upper arm and he'd been banging him against the wall. His right hand was gripping Stefan's bicep. It practically went all the way around it. Vampire muscles were flat and lean, their strength was of the slight and wiry sort. It gave the illusion almost of delicacy, sometimes, but now that Stefan had decided not to be bounced against a wall anymore, he was as still as a marble statue and Matt knew that a human would have about as much luck trying to move him.
Hazily, he made his fists unclench and dropped his arms. His brain was trying to process too many things at once, but on the top level was shame that made his face burn.
That was panic, he thought. I just attacked a vampire because I was scared. And while another part of his mind said, "A vampire? Your friend," a bigger part was asking, "Am I dead now?"
"It's a—physiological reaction." Stefan was making an effort, but he still didn't sound quite right. "It hits right after feeding, and it goes away, but the energy stays."
Matt stared at the floor. His eyes were adjusting a little.
"It happens more often when different types of blood are mixed. Every human has a different kind of lifeenergy. Sometimes vampires do it deliberately just for the buzz."
"Yeah? Oh. Humans do that with alcohol."
"Yeah."
He's trying to not embarrass me. Matt's teeth were clenched. He still couldn't look up from the floor.
"But I probably should have warned you about it. I wasn't thinking. And it's been . . . a long time since . . . "
Matt looked up, and then down again. A long time—since Elena basically, in other words. Stefan sounded normal now. Normal for Stefan, anyway, especially these days when every sentence echoed as if it were coming from miles away, from somewhere where Stefan was alone in a white room with nothing but his memories.
And he was practically giggling before. How many times have I ever heard him laugh? In my whole life?
"Matt." Stefan just sounded tired now. "I told you before. This isn't a good idea."
"I remember." Matt made an effort. "Yeah? It's not just your fight, you know. It's everybody's."
"I do actually realize that." The edge to Stefan's voice was a little promising. "I'm breaking . . . a promise, you know, by taking human blood at all. It wasn't my idea. And the girls are both strong."
Matt's head jerked up. "What?"
"Meredith has a strong personality, a very strong lifeenergy. And Bonnie's psychic abilities give her—"
"No. I know that. But you're saying what?"
"I'm saying it's enough. As you pointed out, I'm already . . . affected."
"You're telling me to fuck off?"
"Don't try to make me angry, Matt. I'm tired—"
"That proves you're not strong enough—"
"I am tired of dealing with human emotions," Stefan said raggedly. "I've got enough of my own to deal with, especially here. In this town. With her friends." He turned away, leaning against the wall and added almost inaudibly. "I'm tired of having people wonder if I'm going to rip their throats out."
Her friends. People. No mention of the fact that Elena's friends had once been his friends, that he and Matt had been friends. That once he'd asked favors of Matt, things that didn't make any sense at the time, like "Can you drive me to find this particular kind of flower?" That Matt had risked his own life to help Stefan when everyone else thought he was a monster.
And Stefan was still trying to be kind; Matt could hear it. The way you're kind to a kid.
"I didn't know," Stefan went on, even more indistinctly, "how much you hated me."
