Authors Note: I'm new to writing, so reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated. I'm also new to TVD so please excuse any non-canon elements. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or its characters.

Mystic Falls 1863

Stefan's heart sped up as the sun hit the glimmering metal. It was truly a work of art. Each of the delicate pieces was so perfectly manufactured that the little weapon was a marvel to see. The wooden handle felt smooth and delicious in his grip.

With shaking hands, he carefully slid the pistol into the rucksack hanging over his shoulder. The wide, plank floors of the mansion creaked as he hurried out of his brother's bedroom.

He used the stair rail to steady his shaking hand as he took a deep breath and headed towards the kitchen. Luck was on his side until Damon stepped out of the study.

"And where exactly are you scurrying off to little red riding hood?" asked Damon as he eyed the rucksack.

"I'm going to find a quiet spot in the woods to read. Somewhere without the sound of older brothers making tired literary references."

Damon's eyes narrowed and he arched an eyebrow. "You were lot cuter before you grew up and got sassy. Watch your tone."

Stefan's grip tightened on the strap of his bag as he lowered his eyes to the ground. Every fiber of his body screamed with the desire to snap back at Damon, but he knew that his older brother had been growing tired of the younger boy's recent attitude. A full on confrontation might result in Damon gabbing the bag and finding out about the gun. He desperately needed to make to the clearing to meet Henry if he wanted this act of rebellion to be worth it.

Damon sighed and opened his mouth as if to say something but then closed it again quickly. He gave his brother a tight-lipped smirk and walked off towards the stairs.

Stefan took the opportunity and hastened to the kitchen. He ignored the cooks as he stomped out the back door. With a frustrated growl, the boy marched towards woods and down an old path. Damon had been getting on his nerves a lot lately.

Normally the two brothers were thick as thieves, but Stefan had started wishing that Damon would be a little less overbearing. Stefan wasn't a little kid anymore and he didn't need someone watching him and constantly telling him what to do. He was secretly glad that Damon had been talking about joining the army. Maybe the separation would give Stefan the chance to prove that he was all grown up to Damon.

Sort of like how using Damon's impressive new pistol to best Henry at target practice would prove to the local boys that Stefan worthy of respect. Last week, several of the town's boys had been discreetly practicing their shooting skills in clearing a couple miles from town when Henry had made a comment about Stefan being "too young" to have a real weapon.

"Why else would one of the richest boys in town still be playing with an old hunting rifle?" inquired Henry in that arrogant, grating tone of voice that he seemed to have perfected. All the men were gathering their best guns and joining the war against the Northern aggression. Henry had announced at the secret target practice that he was soon to be one of them.

Stefan seethed in indignation as he continued tromping along the wooded trail. Before long, he arrived at the clearing and approached the other boys with an air of pride that would have made Damon look humble.

Henry grinned and crossed his arms over his chest as he sensed their little party was about to get a lot more interesting.

"Well Salvatore, you're looking mighty pleased today. To what do we do owe this pleasure?"

"Just enjoying a beautiful day of sunshine and sporting," Stefan nonchalantly replied.

"It is a nice day. Charlie has been so kind and brought us something to drink as we relax," said Henry nodding to a dark haired boy a few feet away.

Charlie grinned and held up a bottle of whiskey. Stefan heart skipped a beat. Growing up in the Virginia countryside without much to occupy his time, he had experimented with his fair share of alcohol but never at the same time as hunting or shooting. Sneaking sips from Damon's personal collection of alcohol was about as risky as Stefan's behavior ever got.

Stefan tried to school his face into looking unperturbed as he replied, "Aren't you afraid that your already abysmal aim will get even worse?"

"Scared that you'll need the assistance?" teased the older boy as his eyes darkened in anger.

"Nonsense. In fact, I'll drink twice as much as you just to prove who the better shot is."

Stefan timed his last comment to coincide with pulling Damon's new pistol out of his rucksack. The handful of other boys gathered around immediately took notice of Stefan's new possession.

John whistled as he eyed the pistol. "That's a pretty thing. When did you get that?"

"A few weeks ago. Father said every man should have a gun."

Father had said that. He just hadn't said to Stefan. It wasn't fair. Damon got to do everything first.

Stefan clicked the safety off and aimed at the tin can that another boy had strung from a tree with a piece of twine. The first bullet made a pinging noise as it sliced through the makeshift target.

The second bullet resulted in an inhuman scream piercing the air.

Stefan's heart stopped as he let the gun fall to his side.

Dead silence filled the clearing as no one dared to breathe. Stefan was sure that he saw time stop.

Suddenly, the small band of boys started running in different directions in a desperate attempt to get away from the scene of the crime. Stefan grabbed his rucksack and ran back down the wooded trail as fast as his legs would carry him. Blood pounded in his ears as he stumbled over limbs and tried to block out the thought of what he had done.

He came to stop near the edges of the woods and put his hands on his knees while his lungs gasped in air. His mind was racing. What had he shot? What if he had shot a person? Was he going to be hung for murder? But surely a human couldn't make that sort of noise? Stefan had never been shot nor seen someone shot. He supposed he wasn't the best judge of what sounds humans made when shot. The thought of being a convicted murderer almost made him throw up.

With shaking hands, he stashed the pistol back in his rucksack and started walking towards the Salvatore mansion. Stefan tried to calm his breathing and look as normal as possible as he made his way through the house.

He climbed the stairs and very carefully peered into Damon's room. Ears straining to listen for his older brother's voice or footsteps, he glanced around the hallway. Damon could walk by at any moment, but this might be Stefan's only chance to return the gun without anyone noticing.

He briefly considered telling his brother what had happened. Damon always knew how to fix everything. Nothing bad ever happened when his big brother was around to protect him.

"Are you insane?!" his inner voice asked. "What could Damon possibly do to help right now? You just potentially killed someone! Nothing will ever fix that."

He rushed into Damon's room and threw the gun back in the bedside drawer. On shaky legs, he staggered out and went to his own room. A sense of relief washed over Stefan as he quietly shut his door and sank down onto floor. Sobs racked through his body as he contemplated what had just happened.

"This is bad", he thought. "So bad. I'm a heartless murderer. It's only a matter of time before the other boys snitch and the whole town finds out what a terrible excuse for a human being I am."

It wasn't until latter that evening that anyone showed up at the front door looking for Stefan. Stefan was stressed and tired after spending the entire afternoon worrying about his impeding doom. His exhaustion almost caused him to miss the sound of someone at the front door.

He discreetly cracked his door open as he pressed his ear up against the opening to listen. Henry's father, Mr. Smith, and the town sheriff stood in the foyer as they regaled Mr. Salvatore with the tale of how Stefan had been drinking whiskey and firing his pistol haphazardly. The boy felt a sense of indignation break through his fear as he listened to Henry's father exaggerate Stefan's behavior.

Stefan felt a heavy weight lift off his shoulders when the Sheriff revealed that a horse had escaped its pasture and been wandering through the woods when it was shot. The farmer finally found his missing horse when it stumbled out of the woods with a gunshot wound. It didn't take long for him to ask around and find out who had been in the woods that day.

"That's ridiculous," said Giuseppe in a slightly offended yet calm voice. "I was working in my study all day. I can assure you, Sheriff, Stefan never came in and took one of my guns. Besides," he sneered, "My son doesn't associate with such riff raff."

Mr. Smith's face turned a brilliant shade of red. The sheriff's hand on his shoulder was the only thing that kept him from punching the other man in the face.

"Perhaps we could talk to the boy. The other children were quite insistent that Stefan was involved," said the Sheriff.

Stefan was sure he was going to die of a heart attack if his heart kept stopping like this. He quickly tried to school his face when he heard Father call for him. "Yes, Father?" he asked as he slowly descended the stairs.

The eldest Salvatore reached out and yanked Stefan to him as his grabbed the boy's jaw. Strong fingers squeezed forcing Stefan to open his mouth. Giuseppe leaned in and took a deep sniff of his youngest son's breath.

Stefan frantically looked to Damon, but his brother just watched with narrowed eyes.

Giuseppe released Stefan with a smirk on his face. "No alcohol on his breath," he said to Mr. Smith with a cruel smirk. "I distinctly remember you saying that the boys were drinking."

For the second time that day, Stefan felt relief wash over him as he silently said a prayer of thanks for not having had time to touch the whiskey that Charlie had brought. Henry must have claimed that Stefan was drinking in order to get Stefan into even more trouble.

"Stefan," inquired Giuseppe, "These men are saying that you were in the woods with some other boys drinking alcohol and shooting guns. They're also saying that you managed to shoot Mr. Evan's horse. Is this true?"

Despite being rather sensitive, Stefan could be a master manipulator and liar when he wanted to be. The kid would do almost anything if he thought it would get him out of trouble. Damon had been around his little brother for enough years to usually recognize when Stefan was putting on a show. Their father, however, had primarily left nannies to raise his youngest son and wasn't accustomed to Stefan's "lying face" as Damon called it.

He noticed his older brother biting his lip as Stefan gave his best innocent look towards their father. Crocodile tears welled up in the young boy's eyes as his lower lip trembled a bit.

"No sir! I spent the afternoon reading, Father."

Father of course bought the little performance from his favorite son hook, line, and sinker as he patted Stefan's cheek.

Damon resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Giuseppe gave the men a stern warning about falsely accusing his son ever again. He watched silently as their father squeezed Stefan's shoulder and dismissed the younger brother.

A couple days after the gun incident, a knock sounded on Stefan's door.

"Come in," replied Stefan from his perch on the bed.

Damon opened the door and sighed as he let it click shut. He crossed his arms and stared down at the younger boy.

Stefan looked nervously up at his brother as he put his journal to the side. "Is everything alright, Damon? You don't look well."

Damon began to pace the floor as he talked.

"Imagine my surprise a few days ago when I discovered that my new pistol was missing only to mysteriously return to its usual place by supper time."

Stefan kept his eyes glued to his shoes as picked at the quilt on his bed.

"And even more astonishingly, several young boys in the area managed to shoot a horse with a bullet exactly matching the type of bullets missing from my pistol. And yet… none of those boys even had a gun with that type of bullet in it. Such a mystery is it not?" mocked Damon.

Damn. Damon had apparently done his homework.

Stefan started when his older brother leaned down into his personal space. Blue eyes bored into green as Damon raised an eyebrow.

"Would you like to tell me why exactly you thought stealing my gun and taking it to a drunken gathering of children was a good idea?" asked Damon.

"I'm not a child!" Stefan shot back.

"Oh really? Then please enlighten me as to what was going through your thick head when you made the adult decision to steal from me and then get drunk while playing with a gun."

"I didn't drink!" Stefan fumed in embarrassment.

"But you were there," Damon replied with a smirk as he straightened up. "Do you have any idea just how serious this situation is? That could have been a person you shot. That is if one of your drunken friends didn't shoot you first!"

Damon took a deep breath as he visibly tried to calm himself. Stefan, for his part, just continued to find the floor incredibly interesting. The elder brother sighed as he opened the bedroom door and retreated from the room.

Stefan raised his head in astonishment. Surely that wasn't the end of the discussion?

Damon soon walked back into the room carrying a leather strap in his right hand.

Stefan felt his stomach turn as he realized what his brother was going to do. It had been almost a year since the last time. Stefan had assumed that he had become too old for that.

"Father may fall for your theatrics, but I certainly won't. Stand up little boy."

"N…no! You can't!," he stuttered. "I'm too old."

"Hardly," said Damon derisively. "Now, let's get this over with while Father's in town. Unless you would prefer to tell Father that you lied to him…"

Stefan cringed as Damon grabbed his arm and pulled him off the bed. His older brother took the vacated spot on the bed and pulled Stefan to stand between his legs.

"You would have said no if I had asked to borrow your new gun," Stefan pouted.

Damon snorted and grabbed the boy's wrist.

"And obviously my judgment would have been correct when it told me that you're too young to be trusted by yourself with a weapon."

"Henry has his own gun," Stefan grumbled.

"That little Smith brat should have never been handed a gun either. I've heard what that kid gets up to. What he needs is a good whipping. And on that note, I don't want you hanging out with him any more."

Stefan raged, "You can't tell me what to do!" He struggled futilely to free his wrist from his brother's grasp.

"Clearly it's been too long since you've been in this position as well. I've been putting up with your attitude lately because I remember what it's like to be sixteen. Apparently, that was a mistake. I'll be sure remedy that from now on."

The younger boy growled in frustration. For a few incredibly stupid seconds, his anger took over his mind as he tried to knee Damon in the groin. Damon blocked the blow at the last second. Then he turned his younger brother to the side and swatted as hard as he could.

"Ah!' cried Stefan.

"Don't you ever try that again," fumed Damon. Stefan's breath hitched as he realized just how much worse he had made the situation. His backside ached as he watched to see how Damon would react.

Tired of battling the boy, the elder Salvatore made short work of turning Stefan back towards him and undoing Stefan's trousers. He pulled the suspenders off the boy's shoulders and then yanked the trousers down, pausing only smack Stefan's thigh when he resisted. Next, Damon stuck his fingers inside the waistband of Stefan's flannel drawers and pulled them down to his ankles.

"Damon," Stefan whimpered as his face turned red. "At least let me bend over the bed instead of your knee. I'm too old to go over your knee."

His older brother ignored him as he was yanked over Damon's knee. He pressed his face into the bed quilt as his shirt was yanked up onto his lower back. Damon didn't waste any time before raining stinging smacks down on Stefan's bare bottom.

Stefan tried his best to bite his lip and keep from crying, but a couple minutes into the spanking he felt tears start to leak out of his eyes. The humiliation of being over his brother's knee at sixteen and the pain in his backside were quickly wearing through his defenses.

"First of all, you do not steal from me and you do not lie to me," lectured Damon. "We've had this discussion before. Do it again and I'll make sure you don't sit for a week. Secondly, you do not mix alcohol and guns. I can't believe I'm even having to tell you that."

"I'm sorry!" cried Stefan. "I won't do it again! Please!"

His backside was on fire as Damon methodically covered every inch. He was sure that he was going to be stuck in that position forever when he felt his brother pause. Stefan tried to stand up, but a firm hand on his lower back kept him in place.

"Oh, we're not done yet little one!"

A moment later he squealed as he felt a fire on his bottom that made his brother's hand look soft. He had forgotten about the strap. There was no way he could stay stoic in the face of that dreadful instrument. Stefan screamed with every hit. Thankfully, Damon only brought it down ten times before tossing it to the side.

He gently rubbed his hand up and down Stefan's back as his little brother sobbed over his knee. "Hush piccolo, you're alright."

The tender caress did nothing to heal Stefan's wounded pride. "Am not," he mumbled into the bed.

Damon chuckled as he brought the two of them to a standing position. The younger brother groaned at the movement and pressed his face into Damon's chest. He was allowed to cry it out for a few minutes before Damon pulled back. He looked up through teary eyes as his big brother sighed.

"It's still not fair," Stefan pouted.

"What's not fair?"

"The fact that Father won't let me have my own gun. You had one at sixteen," he whined.

Damon paused as if debating what to say to that accusation. He took a deep breath as he looked Stefan in the eye.

"Father wants to me to join the confederates. That's why he got me the new pistol. However, he's worried that if you have your own gun, you'll try to run away and join the army as well."

"Why?" Stefan sniffled as he rubbed at his backside.

"You've spent your entire life following me around and there's been lots of reports of boys younger than eighteen lying their way into the army lately."

He blushed a bit at his brother's remark while Damon smiled knowingly.

"When I was sixteen, there was no war for me to join and therefore no danger in letting me have a gun. Not that Father would have cared…" Damon trailed off bitterly.

"I wouldn't run away," Stefan pleaded.

Damon's face darkened as he grabbed the boy's chin. "If I ever catch you running away to the army, I will spank you bare bottom over my knee right there in the middle of camp and then drag you home by your ear."

Stefan felt his face turn red for the millionth time that day. "I said I wouldn't," he muttered.

Damon ran a hand through his little brother's hair and then placed a kiss on his forehead. "Fix your clothes and go lie down for a bit. I'll bring you up some supper later."

Stefan quickly pulled his drawers up in chagrin. "Damon?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm sorry for stealing from you and lying to you. And for trying to kick you."

Damon gave him a soft smile as he responded, "You're forgiven little brother. Get some rest."

Stefan was a bit nervous when he was called into the study. Surely Father hadn't found out the truth about Mr. Evan's horse? He steeled himself for the worst as he walked into the room, but stopped short as he noticed a pistol lying on his father's desk. He glanced over at Damon who was staring out the window in his own little world.

Giuseppe looked up from the newspaper and ran his gaze over Stefan. After a moment he picked the gun and grunted, "this is for you," before turning his focus back to the paper.

Stefan's mouth fell open as he gave his father an incredulous look. He briefly glanced at Damon again, but his older brother was acting as if the other two Salvatores didn't exist. Stefan turned back toward Giuseppe and hesitantly took the gun from his father's hand.

"Thank you, Father," he said breathlessly.

Giuseppe merely grunted while continuing to read. Stefan grinned and withdrew from the room. He paused a few feet from the door to listen in on his father and brother. Being the youngest meant taking every opportunity to find out any information that the elder members of his family tried to hide from him.

"If he dies, I'm blaming you," he heard Giuseppe snarl.

"He won't," said Damon. "I made it clear that he can't follow me to war. Besides, I'd die before I ever let anything happen to Stefan."

Stefan trudged towards the garden as he gripped the shiny pistol in his hand. Suddenly, the gun and the opinions of the other boys didn't matter so much. Now, he just wanted Damon to come home safely.