Blood Will Tell...

Matt

Matt had to find his own way up to Stefan's crow's nest room.
The room was dim, and it was hard to see more of Stefan than a silhouette in profile. He seemed to be looking at the dusty window. It was disconcerting, to say the least, to know that Stefan could see perfectly in this semidarkness. It was even more disconcerting when Stefan spoke.
" Ave, Matt! Morituri te salutant," Stefan said cheerfully.
"Huh?"
"S'joke. A joke," Stefan said, enunciating more carefully. "Latin. Hail, Matt. We who are about to die salute you. Salude!"
Matt stared.
"Mer'dith thought it w's funny."
"Meredith knows Latin?"
"Yeah. Mer'dith"—Stefan held up one finger. It was hard to know whether it meant "don't interrupt" or "let me tell you a few things, starting with . . . " and Matt didn't think he could stand still for a long speech. His heart was already pounding. Damn. Stefan could probably hear that. Probably? What would a vampire be more attuned to hearing than the muscle that pushed around the blood of its prey?
Does he know my mouth is dry, too? And that I want to run? Probably, Matt thought, bitterly. They've got senses that make humans look like those worm things that can only tell light from dark. Does he know what that makes humans feel like doing to vampires?
Vaguely shocked, he thought, how long have I wanted to punch him in the mouth?
Just once. Just once to see a fist and a vampire falling flat on his ass. Because of a real human person. Not me. Any real human. But Matt could feel the tingling in his own fist clenched tightly. Stefan had been talking for a while and Matt's brain helped him catch up by providing echoes of what he'd missed.
"Mer'dith knows a lotta things. Very smart. Bright. Ha. That's a joke, too. Ssee? Because she's dark. You know? You don't wanna know. She's dark 'but comely.' Humanss"—again that exaggerated hiss on the sibilant—"have so many prejudishes. Back in . . . not long ago, you know . . . your basic beautiful woman hadda be fair. Blond. All your lingwy—lingwa—language stuff showss how—"
Matt's hand unclenched. His mind trolled blindly.
"You're drunk!"
"Of coursse not." The silhouette straightened and tipped its chin up aggressively. Stefan spoke with the exaggerated dignity and precision of the truly smashed. "Vampiress don't get drunk. It's just a brief physi—fizzy—fizheo—" The silhouette began shaking with silent laughter.
Amazement and anger gave Matt all the excuses he needed to do what he was already doing. He grabbed Stefan's dim arm and shook him, then bounced him off the dimmer wall.
"What's wrong with you? Are you crazy? You're supposed to be fighting the fight of your life—"
"Stop it."
"How did you even—?"
"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."
Oh hell, oh hell, oh hell. "So now you're reading minds?"
"That's what human blood does—but, no, in fact. Even before you hit me all I was reading was your bodylanguage."
I hit you? Matt squeezed his eyes shut hard. It didn't do any good; he could feel wetness on his eyelids. " I'm sorry."
Silence.
"I'm sorry, all right? I was scared. You used to understand 'scared.'" Before you lost everything. With a sound like letting out breath, Stefan turned. There was another moment or two, as if he were thinking—or listening. "I still understand it, Matt. I still remember everything that happened here. Thank you."
Matt had turned away so he could rub at his eyes angrily—not that it made any difference which way he turned, probably. "Can you understand how humans feel around you people? Is there anything you can't do? Is there anything we're better at?"
"We're not people."
Matt opened his mouth, shut it again. A little while ago we were all ready to fight the monster that's killing the girls I went to school with. Could I have screwed this up any worse if I'd planned it?
He plucked at his Tshirt wearily. "Can we just . . . get this over with?"
"I told you, it was enough."
"If you think I'm gonna let Bonnie do something and then run away from it . . . think again."
"Bonnie wasn't as scared." Before Matt could unfreeze long enough to really hit him, Stefan added, "And I don't care as much about what Bonnie thinks of me. Bonnie was Elena's friend."
"Just suck up my blood, all right?"
"I don't want to hurt you."
"Damn!" Matt waved a hand, his brain stalling. He knew Stefan knew how many times he'd been injured; that was part of the game. "Do I have to tell you about how I broke my arm when I was five and nobody knew for about a week because—"
"You really don't understand, do you? At least, not consciously. Taking somebody's blood when they're resisting hurts. More than anything you can think of."
"I'm not resisting."
"You will be."
"Just quit with the mindreading or the psychoanalysis or whatever. This could've been over by now." Matt's eyes had adjusted enough by now that he could make out some features in the dim figure that faced him. He could see Stefan's mouth twist grimly as well as hear the little sound of exasperation.
"Fine. You don't have to take that off. There's a vein in the wrist that works just as well."
Meredith and Bonnie had both been holding a hand to the side of their necks; Bonnie a trifle absently. Matt looked at his dim arms.
"If there's any kind of fighting tonight I'm going to need these."
"Fine. Sit."
Matt looked at the bed, then the chair. "I have to sit?"
"No. You can fall if you want. Your choice."
"You really are a bastard, you know? You're trying to scare me."
"Yes," Stefan said, with a terrifying lack of expression. He leaned in. "I am trying to scare you because I would rather scare you than hurt you."
"I don't care if you hurt me!" This was crazy. Matt sat on the bed, tipped his chin back, and shut his eyes like someone awaiting lethal injection. He made his mind as blank as possible. It seemed a long time before Stefan said, in that same clipped, expressionless voice,
"Fine. Your funeral."
"You know something? From a vampire, that isn't funny."
"I wasn't trying to be funny."
Matt felt him sit on the bed. And then cool fingertips were gripping his jaw, adjusting the angle of his head with the precision and unemotional professionalism of a surgeon.