Sincerely Yours [Stefan Salvatore]

[82. Qetsiyah]

[5x03; Original Sin]

It was early in the morning. The crickets still chirped now and then, there were no cars on the highway, the lamp posts still shined on either side of the pavement, and the sun would raise any moment now. His throat burned from thirst and misuse. The man he helped himself to only an hour or so before hadn't helped him combat his bloodlust at all.

Slowly, Stefan kept walking down the middle of Route 29. There was nothing on his mind but blood and he needed it—needed it so badly. Up ahead, he could see a light, shorter than the ones on the side of the highway, and soon, in the darkness, he saw the outline of a building.

It was a one-story building and plain, with a big sign proclaiming itself as a bar. There were no cars in the parking lot in front, but he could see one in the back. It was probably the bartender, cleaning up after a long night shift. That meant blood. He needed blood.

His feet sped up, even if his mind told him to stop and run away, to not harm the innocent bartender. The poor person was probably exhausted and ready to get home and go to sleep, and instead, he was coming for them and with his track record, drinking them dry.

He didn't want that. Stefan could control himself.

As soon as he stepped into the bar, the delicious scent of blood overwhelmed him. His control was already slipping; that didn't last very long. He stumbled over to the bar and saw the bartender; she had her back turned to him and was wiping down her workstation.

"Hey, man," she turned and greeted him cautiously. "Last call was four hours ago. If you want some coffee, I could put some on."

In a blur, Stefan was on her, sinking his fangs deep into her neck. The blood that flowed into his mouth and onto his tongue felt like bliss. He took one, two, three pulls of the thick, crimson liquid and pushed her away from him.

"Run!" he urged her. "Run!"

The woman took off running and exited the bar, Stefan following not long after her. The sun had risen while he was inside, and as soon he stepped off the awning-covered porch, his skin started to blister and smoke from its rays.

He dropped to his knees, waiting for death to come for him.

Lucy gasped as whatever dream or vision she was swept up into ended and she came back to herself. She frantically looked around the room and sighed in relief when she realized that no one had entered her apartment while she was so vulnerable.

The vision she had felt so real, so real that she was sure it was real. The bar that Stefan had entered was real, just off of Route 29 just outside of Grove Hill, and this was the real Stefan—not Silas acting as him. She knew it in the way he carried himself, the way that he warned off the bartender, and the way that he let himself burn in the sun in order not to hurt her.