Disclaimer- I do not own the rights to The Vampire Diaries or any of its character.

A Brother's Love

The fireflies floated into the cemetery, illuminating the cold head stones. Those lifeless carvings represented the final footnote in a mortal life. Damon had found refuge on his usual bench with Alaric, well his grave at least. Usually pitiful for the fragile human lives that rested beneath him, tonight Damon began to envy them. Unlike him they had reached the end of their duty, rewarded with an eternal rest. As the evening sank into night, his whiskey bottle gradually emptied, and his compassion soon snowballed into anger. No matter how much he knew Alaric wasn't going to materialise he rejected this certainty, and continued to drink. He guzzled down more of his medicine with some hope and unjustified optimism that his old friend would reappear.

"Well buddy. The Bro to my mance, I've reached that level of drunk where I no longer care if anyone hears me speaking to this dumb ass rock. No offence. In light of your recent departure, with the vial back up and all the other supernatural crap that lands on my lap, let me give you a little update. Seen as I'm guessing there's no facebook in that shadow world of yours. Ah well your boy Stefan has vanished...again."

He reached down for his bottle, the oversized baby he was, and then continued his slurred speech,

"I've searched and searched. There's' no blood trail all the local banks, well stocked. I mean at least there's no wide scale human harvesting, so we know he's not gone full blown ripper. Yet. I've tried calling his past good time girls. I think you can guess how than ended. I can't find him Alaric. He's too lost for even these expert eyes to unearth."

Panic was laced his weary voice, showing this was the first break he'd had in weeks from the hunt.

"..And I know, I wanted him out of the picture. I wanted the girl. Finally I win one. No more, weird, somewhat incestuous love triangle. It's all coming up roses in my life. YEHHH Damon, cue the cheer leaders,"

Damon found the strength to take on Alaric's role of mockery giver, but a shallow sense of sadness clung to his drunken words. A couple more inhalations of his poison and soon his melancholy would manifest into tears.

"But you know. You know he's my only family. Tormenting and torturing each other for all these years might have seemed cruel but we're a brother that's what we do."

His head fell with a whimper; he seemed motionless, too distraught to continue his tale to an inanimate head stone. After a moment's rest he began again,

"If I couldn't be in his life, I forced myself in, unwanted, unwelcome but present. I could always watch by and protect him to some extent,"

Cracking a smile he seemed amused by his own idea,

"Look at me talk. Brother of the year. AH. Yeh right. I protected shit." at with that he rose from his seat. Impassioned by his own shortcomings, as if he was Stefan himself, and suddenly could hardly tolerate his own company.

"All I did was push and push until he cracked. Until he wasn't perfect little Stefan anymore. It wasn't enough I hated my own life, oh no, I had to screw his up as well. That was the goal, destroy all in sight, like the selfish lowly screw up I am. I knew that's what I was doing." A sting ripped across his un-dead heart, as his chest tightened with guilt and regret. Damon's voice rang aloud, beckoning attention. It was as if he wanted just that, for someone to gaze down with an almighty judgment over his life. He yearned for his own eternal rest, the forgiveness or punishment to settle the score between himself and his now distant brother. That's why he still needed Alaric, his moral compass.

Once more Damon sank to his perch, but now his demeanour shifted into one of misery. In a low tone he concluded his rant,

"Now I've pushed too hard, for too long. He's gone. I took his girl. No. I stole her." He raised the mouth of the bottle to his lips and reclined with his liquor in hand. A soft breezed passed over him, with little comfort. Glistening tears welled in his eye, as his throat dried up.

"Ummmmm honey child, a pretty face like yours should know no troubles." A strange voice cut into the grave yards, loud and confident, ignorant to or disinterested in Damons suffering. A man strode up to the bench where Damon sat bewildered. The stranger continued to address, a now somewhat disgruntled, Damon.

"The name is Lafayette. Now pardon me for intruding but a handsome man like you should not hanging around graveyards at night. No sir. Didn't yo momma teach you not to tempt the un-dead or about the bogey man that can crawl up into your soul. hahaha" Lafayette took no notice of Damon's annoyance but he wasn't to die just yet. After all Damon enjoyed entertainment with a meal. This effeminate male that had approached, in a low cut v-neck top and a scarf around his head, could prove interesting,

"I'd have to have one first, a soul that is." Damon countered. The man looked directly at him, almost stunned. Damon quickly bared his teeth; veins gathered around his eye and projected a look of murderous intent onto his victim. He lurched forward but the burning pain of a stake pierced his thigh, rendering him defeated.

Lafayette maintains his place next to Damon on the bench.

"Now, now you vampers always ready to kill before you've even see what mamma has to offer. Fool." He left Damon to writhe in pain, while he stood behind Alaric's headstone.

"Honey you're gonna wonna listen to be for the next five. Can you're booze soaked drunken ass manage that, or shall I'll slap a bitch?" Lafayette instructed with his smile, his friendly conduct, mixed with harsh words made for a confusing cocktail. Damon nodded with trepidation.

"Good. Now sugar there's three things about me you most definitely do not know. Firstly this beautiful, majestic, fine figure of a man makes his way in this world as a cook in a rundown bar. I know, that's a shocker, model maybe but cook? What a waste. Secondly there ain't a pill in the world that I cannot find, buy and sell. Not always legal but always good. ahah"

Damon began to lose interested and was now sober enough to pull out the stake them impelled him with ease. His impulsive nature wanted so much to snap this obnoxious man neck, just to shut him up. But then Lafayette then went on, which stopped Damon in his tracks,

"And finally my mournful friend, I can speak to the dead! I am the most powerful psychic in whole of Louisiana, if not the universe."

Lafayette waited for Damon to calculate the value of this final fact. He knew he could get anything he wanted from Damon now, as well as keeping his own life. Damon pulled free the stake but didn't move; now it was his turn to be shocked.

"Alaric?"

"I can hear him boy, crystal clear. As well as see him the incredible hot, yet boring old history teacher that he is." Lafayette dropped his head, "Sorry history teacher/Vampire hunter he his. He also assure me he's not boring but that's debatable"

Damon just stared for a while unable to move. The opportunity to hear the wisdom of his old comrade once more, and better yet be able to put aside his guilt and find his brother, was overwhelming. Lafayette leaned nervously closer to Damon.

"Well you gonna make me an offer or what?"

"I might be drunk, but do you expect me to believe you, just like that?"

Damon played down his excitement. He'd been crossed before and would be damned for it to happen again.

"I ain't dead, so you must believe in something I said. I'll take a wild guess and say you're not interested in a free burger or some crack. We'll one crack you might wanna see but patience," Lafayette teased, as if all of this was nothing to him. This only enraged an already wound up Damon. The exposed nerve that he was could take no more of this fools stupidity. He swiftly grabbed Lafayette by the neck and hoisted him high off the ground.

"True I allow you to live, but for how long is down to the amount of bullshit you can cut out of your performance," Damon released his malice grip, letting Lafayette crumple to the ground.