summary: Stefan doesn't know how to live without Damon. "And when he touched his arm, squeezed, he knew that it was his brother's goodbye."

title: "I told you to be balanced, and I told you to be kind. Now all your love is wasted, and who the hell was I?" ~Skinny Love by Bon Iver

Hell.

They had all gone through hell. Each and every person in that graveyard, standing in front of the graves of Jenna Sommers, John Gilbert, and Grayson and Miranda Gilbert. They'd undergone experiences too painful to name, too many to count. They were a band of the injured, and they'd all gone through hell.

Elena had lost every parent she'd ever known. She had lost countless others, suffered for years because she had that beautiful, significant face. And it made it a thousand times worse to be cursed (blessed) with that heart of an angel.

Jeremy had lost his parents as well. Twice. He'd also lost two women he'd loved deeply. He'd died twice. And honestly, he had no choice in the matter either. His last name rendered him incapable of turning his back on the supernatural.

Bonnie had faked her own death. Her best friends were in constant danger. She had risked her life to kill the unstoppable Klaus, and yet he was still alive. She had failed. She had the power of hundreds of witches, and still she failed. And she had so many lives on her shoulders. So many ended lives.

Alaric had lost his wife and then his lover to vampires. To a world he never should have been involved in. To a world that hated him. He, too, had died and come back to life, battled with beings he'd only read about. And yet he was powerless to change anything. Impotent. Unhelpful. Useless. In the way.

Caroline had lost her mother and the boy she loved to prejudices. She was alone, surrounded but so alone now. She was a victim of the endless revenge and mind games vampires played with one another. She was never meant for a life of a bloodthirsty monster, and yet there she was, tears in her eyes because it should have been her grave they were standing over. It should have been her who had died. And she was still alive, for some inexplicable reason. She ached because she knew, without a doubt, that she was not worth saving.

Stefan was a vampire. That was hell enough, for him. The worst kind of hell imaginable. He was a vampire who was head over heels in love with a human who could not have known who she loved if her life depended on it. He was a dirty, vicious, soul-sucking vampire, and he did not deserve her love.

And Damon. Damon, the monster, Damon, the devil, Damon, the bad brother. Damon had a werewolf bite on his arm, and he had days to live.

Stefan did not know if he was angrier at himself or at Damon (this was a question he experienced often) when Damon showed him the gash, the red wound that would eat him alive. He did not know if he could stand to see his brother, endlessly strong and endlessly in control, finish his life. He did not know if he could stand to watch him, delirious and sweating, as he laid in his bed and gasped with the pain.

Actually, he knew. He knew very well that his brother could not die. He would not let it happen. He couldn't watch his brother die, so he'd have to save him.

"Tyler Lockwood bit me," Damon sneered out, his voice purposefully hard, impossible to read. And he wrenched his sleeve up and showed the proof, so that the seconds of incomprehension Stefan had just experienced, the seconds of blissful ignorance, were torn away.

He stared in disbelief, unsure whether to scream or cry or punch something. Instead, he just stayed silent. The roaring in his ears blocked out the rest of Damon's words, which were probably something sarcastic and glib, knowing his older brother. (Which he did. Very, very, very well, which was why he knew he could not lose him.)

"We'll find something," he said, and his voice came out squeaky. "A cure."

The pain in his brother's eyes, the pain he was trying desperately to block, came to the surface as he said, "There's no cure, Stefan."

He tried to look away, but Stefan would not let him. He'd be damned if his brother went out in any way but with flying colors and twenty sorority girls hanging on to him. "We kept Elena human, right? We found a way when there was no way." And his voice got stronger with each word. He leaned forward intently. "Hey. I will do this."

But Damon did not look convinced when he met Stefan's eyes again. "You want to do something for me?" he asked, and his voice was so flat that it hurt to listen to. "Keep this from Elena. Last thing she needs is another grave to mourn."

And when he touched his arm, squeezed, he knew that it was his brother's goodbye.

The tears threatened to come, then, as he watched Damon walk away from him, towards death's open arms. He knew that the elder Salvatore had resigned himself to death. Had accepted that his time on earth was over.

But that was something that his little brother would never accept. Would never resign himself to. He would not let Damon die, not if it cost him a life that was finally worth living.

He would find the cure or die trying.

note: Two little notes: 1. The song that inspired the title is from 2x21, during Jenna's funeral. I thought it was so perfect, so I figured why not use it? 2. "You'll be in the way," is what Damon said to Alaric in 1x17 when they're trying to sneak into the tomb vampires' house to rescue Stefan. That line just totally niggles at my muse, so I added it in here.

I'm not so sure about this fic(let) but I really wanted to write something for those beautiful Salvatores, and this is what happened, so...eh. I hope it's not totally awful :)

That's all. Thanks for reading!