The sentiment is still there, ghosting beneath Stefan's plea. There is no one else who can do this for him; there's no one else who could hold Stefan back. Elena isn't here. It's too much to set on Caroline's shoulders. And what Damon offers is the best that Stefan can hope for. The Salvatores have always been this way. There is nothing they wouldn't sacrifice for each other. Even in their darkest moments, neither of them had ever been capable of striking a killing blow.
Stefan watches Damon's face for a long moment, trying to decide to push harder, drag a more binding promise out of him. But what else can he draw out of Damon? This is who they are. Stefan can't ask any more of him.
His brother, who he made into a monster. His brother, who would bleed and kill to keep Stefan alive. He breathes out shakily. He takes the cup. The blood is warm. Stefan wants to stall, wants to throw the cup onto the floor, but he understands the pact they're making in this moment. Damon will keep Stefan in check. And Stefan won't leave his brother.
He lifts the cup to his mouth, and drinks.
He feels his face twist, feels his mouth grow full and heavy with fangs. It's just a cup. If he weren't so hungry, he'd have been able to handle drinking from it without any change at all, but it's been too long. He comes up gasping, mouth wet, shuddering through the immediate, ravenous need for more. (And shame. He's ashamed of that reaction; it cuts even more deeply than the kneejerk hunger.) The cup crumples in his hand as he raises his eyes back to Damon. ]
cw: the salvatores etc.
The sentiment is still there, ghosting beneath Stefan's plea. There is no one else who can do this for him; there's no one else who could hold Stefan back. Elena isn't here. It's too much to set on Caroline's shoulders. And what Damon offers is the best that Stefan can hope for. The Salvatores have always been this way. There is nothing they wouldn't sacrifice for each other. Even in their darkest moments, neither of them had ever been capable of striking a killing blow.
Stefan watches Damon's face for a long moment, trying to decide to push harder, drag a more binding promise out of him. But what else can he draw out of Damon? This is who they are. Stefan can't ask any more of him.
His brother, who he made into a monster. His brother, who would bleed and kill to keep Stefan alive. He breathes out shakily. He takes the cup. The blood is warm. Stefan wants to stall, wants to throw the cup onto the floor, but he understands the pact they're making in this moment. Damon will keep Stefan in check. And Stefan won't leave his brother.
He lifts the cup to his mouth, and drinks.
He feels his face twist, feels his mouth grow full and heavy with fangs. It's just a cup. If he weren't so hungry, he'd have been able to handle drinking from it without any change at all, but it's been too long. He comes up gasping, mouth wet, shuddering through the immediate, ravenous need for more. (And shame. He's ashamed of that reaction; it cuts even more deeply than the kneejerk hunger.) The cup crumples in his hand as he raises his eyes back to Damon. ]