A New Stefan Salvatore

Jacob stormed into the Salvatore house, the heavy front door slamming shut behind him with a resounding thud. His leather boots echoed against the wooden floor as he dropped his bag on the nearest chair, his body tense and rigid. His jaw clenched, and his piercing blue eyes darted around the dimly lit living room as if searching for an outlet for the frustration boiling inside him.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair and shaking his head. "Of all places," he muttered to himself. "Why now?"

Before he could take another step, a blur of motion rushed toward him. Within a split second, Jacob found himself pinned against the wall, Damon's hand clamped tightly around his throat. The older vampire's eyes burned with an intensity that bordered on manic, his expression a dangerous mix of fury and suspicion.

Damon leaned in close, his voice a venomous growl. "I don't know what your game is, kid, but if you even think about messing with Elena…" His grip tightened, making Jacob wince slightly. "You'd better make damn sure she's not Katherine."

Jacob's lips curled into a snarl, his piercing eyes meeting Damon's without flinching. He shoved Damon's arm off him with a forceful push, his movements quick and calculated. Damon staggered back slightly but didn't lose his footing, his sharp gaze never leaving Jacob.

"Are you done?" Jacob snapped, his voice laced with irritation and disdain. He adjusted the collar of his jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles Damon had caused. "She's not Katherine. If you're too blind to see that, maybe you should ask your brother."

Damon froze for a fraction of a second, his smirk faltering as Jacob's words sank in. His icy blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, but before he could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps drew both their attention.

The front door opened, and Stefan walked in, his movements measured and deliberate. His presence exuded a quiet authority now that he was no longer in the chaos of the high school halls. His sharp jawline was set, his green eyes steady as they surveyed the scene before him. Aurora followed closely behind, her expression calm but her gaze sharp as she assessed Damon and Jacob with subtle curiosity.

Trailing just behind Aurora was Sarah, her posture uncertain as she lingered near the doorway. Her hazel eyes darted between the two men, and she instinctively pressed closer to Aurora, seeking comfort in her presence.

"Damon," Stefan said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. His tone was low but commanding, carrying a weight that immediately shifted the atmosphere. "What are you doing?"

Damon's lips quirked into a sardonic smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Just introducing myself to the kid once again," he said lightly, though the undercurrent of menace was unmistakable. He turned to Stefan, his expression darkening. "And making sure we don't have a repeat of… her."

Stefan's jaw tightened, and he took a step closer, placing himself between Damon and Jacob. His posture was protective but not aggressive, a silent warning to his brother. "She's not Katherine," Stefan said evenly, his voice steady. "And Jacob's not your punching bag."

Jacob straightened his jacket, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "See? Told you to ask him."

Damon's gaze flickered to Stefan, his sharp features betraying a flicker of doubt. He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. "You better be right about this, Stefan," he muttered, though his tone was less venomous now. His eyes briefly darted to Jacob, narrowing again. "Because if she turns out to be her, I won't hesitate."

Aurora, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke, her voice smooth and laced with amusement. "Oh, Damon, always so dramatic." She stepped further into the room, her movements elegant as she crossed her arms and leaned lightly against the back of a chair. "You do realize you're fighting ghosts, don't you? Katherine's long gone. Let it go."

Damon's gaze snapped to Aurora, his expression hardening. "And what about you?" he shot back, his tone accusatory. "What are you doing here, playing house with him, I thought we were best pals?" He gestured toward Jacob, his smirk returning.

Aurora's eyes glinted with something dangerous, though her smile remained calm. "And I didn't think you were the paranoid type," she replied smoothly. "Guess we're all full of surprises."

"Enough," Stefan said sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. His green eyes locked on Damon's, his expression resolute.

Damon held Stefan's gaze for a long moment, the tension between them palpable. Finally, he scoffed, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine. Have it your way." He turned on his heel and walked toward the liquor cabinet, muttering under his breath. "But don't come crying to me when history repeats itself."

Jacob watched him go, his expression a mixture of irritation and amusement. "Charming guy," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Stefan turned to Jacob, his expression softening slightly. "He's... complicated," he said simply, the weight of years of sibling conflict evident in his voice.

Aurora smirked faintly, her sharp gaze following Damon's retreating figure. "Complicated is one way to put it."

Sarah, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, her voice hesitant. "Is it always like this?" she asked, her wide eyes darting between the brothers.

Aurora let out a soft laugh, her expression turning almost fond. "Oh, darling," she said, her voice teasing. "This is just the warm-up."

Stefan placed a firm hand on Jacob's shoulder and guided him away from the tense atmosphere of the living room. His steps were deliberate as they ascended the stairs, each footfall resonating with purpose. The air between them felt heavy, laced with unspoken tension. Jacob followed reluctantly, his brows furrowed, his jaw tight as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

Stefan pushed open the door to his room with a quiet creak and stepped inside, motioning for Jacob to follow. The room was understated but steeped in history—dark wood furniture, a neatly made bed, and walls adorned with old photographs and trinkets that whispered of a life lived in quiet contemplation.

Once inside, Stefan turned to face his son, his expression carefully composed, though his green eyes held a depth of intensity that betrayed his inner conflict. He leaned back against the edge of a desk, crossing his arms over his chest. His posture was calm, but there was a sharpness to his gaze, like a blade hidden in silk.

Jacob remained near the door, his broad shoulders squared as he regarded Stefan with a mix of defiance and curiosity. His piercing blue eyes, so strikingly similar to Stefan's, bore into his father, searching for answers. Finally, Stefan broke the silence, his voice steady but carrying an unmistakable weight.

"I know why you're here," Stefan said, his tone matter-of-fact. "You want to get close to Elena for Klaus, don't you?"

Jacob's jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn't flinch under Stefan's penetrating gaze, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. After a beat, he nodded, his voice low and firm. "Yeah. That was the plan."

Stefan's expression didn't change, but his shoulders seemed to sag slightly, as though the admission confirmed something he already suspected. "And?" he prompted, his voice calm but with an edge of expectation.

Jacob hesitated, his hands balling into fists inside his pockets. He glanced away, his gaze landing on a framed photograph on the desk. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, then finally met Stefan's gaze again. "Aurora talked me out of it," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "She said… that's not what Mom would want."

A faint, bitter smile tugged at the corner of Stefan's lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. He straightened, taking a step closer to Jacob, his presence calm yet commanding. "Then you don't know your mother as well as you think," Stefan said evenly, his tone cutting but not cruel. "She would've done anything to keep her family intact. And if that meant making sacrifices—" his voice softened slightly, "—she wouldn't have hesitated."

Jacob frowned, his brow furrowing as he processed his father's words. There was a flicker of doubt in his expression, a crack in the armor of his resolve. "So, what? You think I should go through with it?" he asked, his voice tinged with both frustration and disbelief.

Stefan inclined his head slightly, his gaze steady. "If that's what you came here for, then yes," he said. "But be careful. Elena has a way of getting under people's skin. She'll make you question everything—your choices, your loyalties, even your purpose. And with you being a doppelgänger too…" He let the sentence hang, his meaning clear.

Jacob's expression darkened, his jaw clenching. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, though there was a hint of unease in his tone.

Stefan sighed, his features softening just slightly. "The doppelgänger curse is for us doppelgängers," he said. "It's about the pull—an inevitable bond that connects us to each other. I've felt it, and I know how strong it can be. But with you, it might be even stronger. If you're not careful, you'll start to doubt yourself. You'll wonder if saving your mother is worth sacrificing Elena. And once you start asking those questions…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "It's a slippery slope."

Jacob stared at him, his piercing gaze searching for any sign of deceit. "So, what you're saying is, don't fall for her," he said flatly, his tone laced with skepticism.

"Exactly," Stefan replied, his voice firm. "Because once you do, it's over. You won't be able to go through with it. And then Damon—" Stefan's lips tightened as he mentioned his brother. "—will have another reason to believe history's repeating itself. He already thinks Elena is Katherine. If he falls for her too, the cycle starts all over again."

Jacob absorbed Stefan's words in silence, his expression unreadable. His fists tightened at his sides, and his jaw worked as though he were chewing on his thoughts. Finally, he took a deep breath, his voice low but firm. "Why do you care, though? Why do you want her sacrificed?"

Stefan's gaze flickered, and for the first time, his composure faltered. His jaw tightened, and he turned away, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. The room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of unspoken truths hanging heavy in the air.

"That's for my own reasons," Stefan said finally, his voice quiet but laced with finality. He turned back to Jacob, his expression hardening again. "You don't need to know more than that. Just… do what you came here to do. But do it quickly, before it's too late."

Jacob's frown deepened, his piercing blue eyes narrowing as he studied his father. There was a storm of emotions swirling behind his gaze—anger, frustration, doubt—but he said nothing. Instead, he nodded stiffly, his movements tense and deliberate.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice clipped. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, his footsteps heavy as they echoed down the hall.

Stefan watched him go, his expression unreadable. But as the door clicked shut behind Jacob, a shadow crossed his face, and his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, as though the weight of his decisions were finally catching up to him.