This is my first attempt at writing about Damon and Stefan as real brothers so please, don't be too harsh on me. I am dying to hear what you all think.

- M. -

The three names are on constant replay in his mind.

Elena. He is barely familiar with the idea of loving her. He says it a lot, these days; just to make sure he still gets the butterflies in his stomach. She has lit the match. He is lost. Rose. He misses her; she woke up his humanity and rubbed it in his face. His eyes burn every time he pictures her lifeless body in his car. She has fueled the flame. He is in pain. Jessica. He is sick to his stomach with remorse when he thinks about her. He wanted to turn off his human side. He killed her and felt more human than ever. She has not put out the fire. He is helpless.

More than a century and a half of wandering around the world has made Damon Salvatore no ordinary person. Actually, calling him a person is not exactly accurate. He can be called a lot of things, though. He is a monster, a murderer. Yes, he has killed out of boredom more times than he can actually remember. He is a vampire. Every now and then, he lets his supernatural features scare the hell out of some random person just for the fun of it. Those people generally end up in the "killed out of boredom" category. He is quite a handsome man. Women can hardly resist his charm, cerulean eyes and good looks, among other things. It makes life deliciously worth living sometimes. Among other things, Damon Salvatore is a brother.

Stefan has had enough. He will not watch Damon wander around like he's fine, because it is not true. Damon needs someone to talk to. Stefan thinks a stranger's ear would be better than a friend's but knows his brother won't consider it. This "mission" requires someone who won't interrupt with questions or alternative versions of events because Damon needs to do most of the talking. The youngest Salvatore decides he can be this intimate stranger. When he is in denial, Damon becomes a monster again, the worst version of himself. Stefan won't allow it; he just happens to be a skilled listener.

It's half past eleven in the evening and they have had a very long day. Stefan waits until Damon's latest conquest leaves the boarding house and decides it is the right time to set things in motion. He knows he needs an excuse to get inside his brother's room. He hopes the daily ration of vervain will do. He grabs two glasses, a bottle of water and Damon's favorite scotch. He super-speeds upstairs and he can't help laughing when Damon grumbles "Go away." He enters regardless and picks a chair to sit.

"I know you heard me, Stefan. So why are you here?"

"The vervain."

"Need me to hand you a bib or something?" Damon snaps.

"Probably."

Stefan laughs and simply pours the two drinks. Damon doesn't kick him out when he stays afterwards. They wordlessly share the bottle of scotch and Damon reminisces.

When their parents first told him that his mother was pregnant with a boy, it infuriated Damon. He would have tolerated a girl to protect, but a BOY! He enjoyed being an only son. Before he left in the morning, Giuseppe Salvatore would always kiss his son goodbye. Damon would not be awake of course, but he would feel his father's lips linger on his forehead. He also had his favorite moment with his mother: on sunny days, they would spend the afternoon outside, gathering fruits and flowers. Well, she would gather those; he was more of a stone collector himself. He immediately pictured what his life would be like with a brother: his mother wouldn't have as much time for him; his father's lips wouldn't linger on his forehead anymore. It would all be about the other boy.

"No one on this planet that can understand you like I do."

"Don't talk, please." Damon demands, his voice firm but somehow pleading.

It's been three days. Stefan shrugs and pours the drinks. He hands one to Damon and they clink glasses as usual. Stefan drinks his slowly, fully aware that he will choke and drool and all that. Hopefully, the sight of him in pain will earn at least a smirk from Damon. The eldest Salvatore snorts and downs his in one. He smirks and Stefan smiles genuinely. They wordlessly share the bottle of scotch and Damon reminisces.

He couldn't have been more wrong. Stefan's birth had been the best thing that could have happened to him. He had fallen in love with the boy the first time he made his little brother cry, for real. Back then, Stefan was 4 and Damon 9. They had made a habit of sneaking up on the maid to climb apple trees together. Little Stefan loved apples and little Damon loved climbing. Neither had any interest in what the other liked, but they always did it together. One day that their mother was sick and their father absent, the maid was supposed to be watching them but Damon had seen her hiding in the bushes with some guy he didn't know. So, being his usual sneaky self, he had taken his brother to play some more… interesting games. Unfortunately, little Stefan's sense of balance had failed him when climbing that one apple tree. Damon has seen the little boy fall and lay on his back. His face was distorted with pain and Damon's heart skipped a beat. He was going to cry. Of course he was, he was in pain and it was his fault. He had hurt his little brother. When he heard the first cries, an overpowering wave of protectiveness rushed over him and never left. It had been easy like that.

It's been five days. When Stefan knocks and makes his way to his usual spot, Damon rolls his eyes. He is seriously annoyed with his brother, but grateful at the same time. When Stefan enters the room, it's like "Careful, Damon. Your emotions are showing" is written on his forehead. It's true that he has been terrible at hiding his feelings lately. So when Stefan is here, he has to focus on not thinking. He knows it's the closest he can get to peace of mind, so he takes it. Plus, his brother has the decency to remain silent, so it's not that bad.

"Silence is getting old. Let me in, brother."

"You're the hero, Stefan. You wouldn't understand. You can't."

"Try me."

Damon turns the TV's volume up. Stefan accepts that he has lost the battle, once more. They wordlessly share the bottle of scotch and Damon reminisces.

They had had a lot of moments like this, when Damon would do something reckless and drag his brother into it. Those moments usually ended up with Damon thinking "Oh boy, I am so in trouble" and their parents being upset. Looking back now, he could tell that he did that only to impress Stefan. He wanted the little boy to admire him; he wanted him all to himself. Father was too old to do such things; Father could never put Stefan through adventures like he, Damon, could. Mamma was way too sweet. So it was only him. Even if he got told off a lot by his mother, sometimes, when his father would come kiss him goodbye, he would say "I know Mamma wants you boys to keep quiet but make sure Stefan has his fun today, will you?" Damon would nod like crazy with a big grin and his father would mess with his hair. "That's my boy!" Everything was so easy then. Those years were the best he had ever spent with Stefan; they were young and didn't have a care in the world. Every day was an adventure and they were the heroes. Now, every day was Hell; but wasn't that normal since they are creatures of the night?

It's been seven days. Damon has been giving the silence treatment to Stefan for seven freakin' days and it infuriates him how his brother is still so nice and civil and sympathetic. So before Stefan gets a chance to drop a falsely detached comment, Damon turns off the plasma screen and shifts his position on the bed to face the inquisitive green eyes; he spits out the words. That Jessica girl from the news? I compelled her, fed on her and then killed her. I'm sure you understand that, uh? Now, look me in the eye and say you don't mind. Say it, you filthy hypocrite.

Stefan frowns. This is surprising but not unexpected. He can sit and take in his brother's concerns, guilt and sorrows. He can do that and not flinch at the hideous things that will without a doubt be confessed. Denying disruptive emotions is a survival mechanism he has been forced to learn early in life – in death.

"I don't mind."

"You're lying."

"I. Do. Not. Mind. Damon." Stefan repeats.

He is telling the truth, Damon can tell by the look in his eyes. So he talks, carefully avoiding the Elena situation. He talks about how his humanity is killing him; how he can't be what people want him to be; how he killed that girl just to turn off the feelings; how it didn't work. And so much more. Stefan listens and doesn't say a word. He knows what he will say if need be, but he remains quiet. At some point – is it one, two, three hours later? - Damon stops talking. The brothers look at each other; sympathy is written on the youngest face; disbelief on the eldest. Stefan walks out of the room silently. When the door is closed behind him but he knows Damon will hear, he whispers.

"I know you killed that girl and I know you love Elena deeply – you don't have to say it - but I only see how you feel so guilty about Jessica and how you stay away from Elena for my sake. This is your humanity. It's there, Damon. It hurts but it's there. So mark my words now. I don't mind any of it. You are my brother. I got your back. And I don't mind anything else."

"You will, tomorrow."

"Try me?"