A/N: I have never attempted this genre before, partly because I'm a really new TVD watcher. I binge watched and had so many thoughts for missing scenes or explanations I wanted, but it's a mess when I try to set them to paper. This was the first one that took hold, really. I have probably three more parts (one more Damon/Stefan, a Damon/Ric, and a Damon/Elena) in mind if anyone would be interested in reading it. I know there are going to be several stories that cover similar material though, I admit, I haven't looked through the board yet. I'm not trying to copy anyone, just trying to put my own spin on things because these moments are really dynamic. Anyway, please do take a moment to let me know if I suck at this or if I should continue.

Disclaimer: I don't own TVD or these characters. The title was taken from and this was inspired, in part, by From the Ruins by Nick Thomas (who you may or may not recognize if you're a fan of The Spill Canvas.) I don't own that or the lyrics, either.

It isn't like he got a choice. First of all, whatever soul-and-body sucking force had been thrust upon him didn't take time to ask him where he wanted to land before it jerked him backwards, out of the nineties, and drops him into the middle of… well, the place it drops him. Again, no choice.

He stands there for a minute. Or two or twelve or whatever because if one thing will mess with your sense of time, it's time travel. Coming back from the dead. The not-dead. From the Kai-hell. He knows the cold, hard facts of where he's been but he is still a little short on details. Like choices about where you end up, or if you get to take anyone with you or who you get to take with you, details don't come around all too often.

So anyway, it's a little disorienting and a lot not optional, so the first thing he does is stand there, trying to figure out what the next step should be. It's a question that usually transcends time and culture and whatever the hell else. Life or afterlife, doesn't matter, is divided by clear lines. People always want to know the first thing you did when. When you came back. When you got another chance. They want to know how you started your do-over.

Seriously, that's gonna be his answer, because it's the God's honest truth and he has to tell that sometime doesn't he?

Look, the first time he was recycled, he held onto Bonnie because he was just doing it and objects in motion tend to keep right on doing what they're doing until something makes them undo. Like a realization that you're clinging to a witch and neither one of you are dead. Worked like a charm last time.

This time, there's no hand to hold. There's no company, no solace but… well he still has that hearing so he can hear something. He still has, you know, eyes in his head, so he looks around.

He stands around, looking around. He's badass like that. What was the first thing you did when.

He's in the same spot he'd been standing when life or afterlife or whatever sucked. Or blew. He isn't all that clear on the directionals. He does a three-sixty and yep, it's the same place. It looks the same. It feels the same, as far as he can remember and he has a vampire memory. Still. That sucker's one step above an elephant. Anyhow.

The second thing he does is focus his sharp sense of hearing. Now that he knows where he is, and based on recent previous experience, his next goal is figuring out when he is. Just to get it out of the way, he does a quick glance down just to make sure who he is. He's getting through basic questions. He could figure out how is, too so… yeah. The 'when' seems important, so he figures he'll solve that one next and then maybe he could say the first thing he's done isn't just stand in place.

He can hear something, and he dials his hearing in on the… it's a voice. A human one.

An extremely familiar one.

Bonnie clued in easily on him missing Elena and, honestly, he didn't make it hard for her. That guilt and all those promises have been echoing through his headon a loop like his head is Talladega. Apparently guilt doesn't transform with time or life travel. That was good to know and really annoying all at once, and he'd held tightly to his missing and guilt for the girl – loud and clear. Like he did a lot of things.

Not all things, though.

The thing was, that wasn't the only guilt he was holding onto. The quieter feelings he'd held had been the guilt for leaving his brother as the Singularo Salvatore. They fought and snarked and whatever – because they were brothers and forever was a really long freaking time. All the crap they said about getting married, where the things you loved about someone became the things you hated sometimes over time – it held true a thousand times over for family because you were stuck together by blood and blood was their most powerful currency so family was sort of a thing. Yeah, there were a lot of things that made Stefan the less fun brother and they drove each other nuts half the time and they honestly didn't make a lot of promises to one another. Over the last long time, though, it had all been implied and Damon had allowed himself, mostly when he was solo (which wasn't a lot because Bonnie wasn't great about leaving him alone. Is he right or is he right? Or… actually, he has perfected the art of being so right it's wrong and he isn't gonna have this debate happening in his head when he needs to make that all important 'first thing' decision.)

So guilt, yeah, it was a thing. He isn't saying that out loud. It doesn't totally matter, because he can hear all sorts of other things—but the net total is the voice belongs to his brother and it brings all that guilt and missing right to the surface.

Cause wherever you are, Damon, you're not here.

He opens his mouth. Words don't come out, but his mouth opens so hey—progress. He wants to call out, wants to say that yes, he is, in fact, here. It seems like that won't really work, though. Is that how you spring something on someone who sounds totally ripped up? Not really. They'd probably think they were insane.

The halting words, though, the low tone and the grief… this sounds like the first time Stefan's had this conversation with thin air. The knowledge comes with all the other fun stuff that's part of being blood-tied to another person. (And not blood-tied like that sire bond bullshit.)

Tied as in tied. As in the quiet guilt that never went away.

Neither did the constant desire to try, to help, to take the pain away or take the hits for the person you were tied to. It doesn't change, it doesn't transform, and it's still just as present for him as he hears Stefan's rambling confession as it's ever been. It sucks.

I gotta say, I'm not doing so great without you. I keep trying to start over but… can't get anywhere because I'm lost, brother.

As soon as he hears those words mixed in with the rest, he knows the first thing he's doing when.

I'm lost.

Speed is still a factor and it feels good, for the first time in a while, to be in control of motion. He zips through the leaves that, swear to God, smell the same and into the family mausoleum in the blink of an eye.

There are words coming out of his mouth before he processes them, and there's a hesitant touch, disbelief, and just… a hug. He isn't even gonna asshole-it up in the retelling. He isn't going to tell anyone about it because it's between them. Brothers. Brothers bound by blood and moments no one else quite understands.

The first thing he did when isn't go to his girl. The first thing he does isn't save himself or have a drink. (Okay, he hadn't realized Stefan was going to throw a bottle. The drink would have to keep its rightful number two spot and, in the interest of preserving privacy, he may bump that up to number one later when someone inevitably asks.)

The first thing he does is find his brother and pull him from the ruins. He'd gone back to get Stefan from the other side in the first place, so the first thing he did was finish what he started however long ago it was. He knows without a doubt as they stand there, Stefan would have done the same for him.

I'll be your bravery when you're too afraid to be
The least I could do is pull you from the ruins, 'cause you'd do the same for me
I'll be your innocent bloom when your wilting guilt tilts the room
I'll resuscitate all the messes I made while home in my clumsy tomb
I'll be your bravery when you're too afraid to be
The least I could do is pull you from the ruins, 'cause you'd do the same for me