Not Worth Saving
I lived much longer than I had ever intended.
Forgot life's lessons; they no longer mattered.
I screamed and raged and hit and burned,
It was just too late for me to turn.
And as I fall and push you down,
I hope you remember that…
I'm just not worth it.
Anonymous
This will be a two-shot. Occurs during Season 3 Episode 10. Might be a little (or a lot) OOC. I just had this idea and couldn't get it out of my head. What if Damon really became so frustrated with Stefan for saving him again and again (not that I'm complaining)? Especially when there are consequences to that?
Do read and review!
P.S. I will update my other fic 'The Edge' soon!
Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Diaries or any of its characters.
"When are you are going to get it through your head?" Damon shoves the wooden branch into his brother's chest. His face twists as he pushes himself to his feet. "Stop saving me."
Stefan falls back to the ground, groaning.
After everything that they had gone through, after all those screams and fights and anger…that pain, how can his little brother ruin it all? How can he save him? Brittle, raw anger explodes in his mind.
The older Salvatore doesn't look back as he walks away. Frankly, he doesn't think Stefan deserves it.
"Even in his darkest place my brother still can't let me die."
[June 24, 1860]
"You shouldn't have to join the army, Damon." Stefan tenses, his hands fisting by his sides when Damon shrugs. How could he take this so lightly? Doesn't he understand what being in the service meant? He could… His forehead knits, and he is suddenly hit with the notion that his brother may well and truly die. "I don't want you to go," he rushes out.
Damon glances at the tightened grip on his arm before his gaze levels steadily with Stefan's. His sharp blue eyes seem to soften. "I know, brother." A small grin plays on his lips. "Trust me, I know."
"Then don't go. You don't even believe in the ideals the Confederate Army has been preaching about." Stefan's forest green eyes turn imploring. "You don't have to fight for nothing, Damon."
"You'll be fine, Stefan. You don't need your older brother here anymore."
A mixture of shock and indignation flits across the fourteen-year-old's features. "The only one who can decide that is me."
Damon appraises his brother for a moment, etching his image in his mind. His hair has only just turned from a light blonde to a lighter brown. He is certainly growing taller, and the older Salvatore even anticipates his little brother may even surpass him in height one day. His eyes are bright, reminiscent of the fields he used to visit with their late mother. He misses her, he realizes. Misses that she is no longer there to guide them. Regrets that Stefan could not be graced with the years that he had had with a loving mother by his side.
It is with a start that he sees that Stefan is no longer the little boy who used to follow him around blindly. This Stefan can make his own decisions now. This Stefan doesn't need him anymore. Damon allows himself to feel that tender wave of affection for a moment, before coating it with a fierce sense of duty.
If only his brother knew how much he reminds him of their mother. Even though Damon was the one who took after her with his ebony dark hair, pale skin and clear blue eyes.
He turns his head away and stares off into the distance. They were just a few miles off the Salvatore Estate, away from the servants and their father; their neighbors and the Council; their few friends and the ladies. No, today is just the two brothers on a small trip together. Damon thinks he smiles.
The fields seem to stretch into more green until they are stopped at the base of a small hill. They are surrounded by tall oak trees with pink lavender flowers littering its bases. Placing a hard calloused hand above his eyes, Damon can't quite recall the last time he saw anything so…peaceful.
Can't quite reconcile that he is going to war soon.
War is squelching crimson-soaked mud beneath your feet as you stumble to rejoice another day done; a day of murder and desperate screams as life passes some by. And those are only the beginnings, he knows. He heard the stories.
Not many return; if they do, they are no longer the same.
And as of yet, he still can never see himself staring someone in the eye and pulling the trigger.
"Damon?"
Warmth touches his exposed neck and he flinches.
"Are you okay?" Stefan's eyes are pinched with worry.
A smooth smile falls into place easily. "Yeah. Just anxious about the days that await me."
Something flickers and lurches in his brother's gaze. Moving away, he drops himself a few yards from his brother onto the dirt-caked ground.
Damon frowns at this. Is something wrong with Stefan? Is he falling sick? He wonders briefly if asking for his brother's company that day is a mistake. "Are you alright, Stefan? Do you need me to take you back?"
Stefan doesn't answer immediately and older man can't deny the increasing concern that creeps into his veins. "You're wrong, you know."
Damon almost pulls back, surprised. He waits for Stefan to elaborate, knowing that his brother never needs prodding to explain his little insecurities. At least, not to him. He is suddenly overwhelmed with the inexplicable feeling of possessiveness and gratitude. His brother's faith and trust in him…it is something that belongs only to him.
He will never let it go.
"I do need you." The younger of the two pulls his knees up to his chest and hugs them. "What am I to do with you gone on the battlefield while I read books all day to please our dear father?"
Damon doesn't hesitate. "Do your best to uphold the family name. I shall carry out my duty by doing what is expected of me."
"Which is to place bullets in those who do not believe in the adult's so-called ideals?" Stefan glares at the grass beneath his feet, his fingers tugging at their roots. "I know you don't believe in any of that 'carrying of the names that we hold' nonsense, Damon. I know you better than that. So don't you try to pull that on me and expect me to throw you colored confetti to send you off on your journey." He shifts his hardened gaze to his brother. "I won't hear of it."
If the older's gaze falters, neither brother acknowledges it. "I know, Stef. I just hoped that it would be easier for you that way."
Stefan lets out a huff. "That's impossible."
"Stefan-"
"Of all things, you just had to volunteer your service when so many others could easily take your place. This isn't your job!"
The beginnings of anger stir in his chest at this but Damon closes his eyes. His brother doesn't understand. Any other time and he would have given Stefan a good telling off for showing such disrespect. "It doesn't matter what you say. I have to do this. Don't let us argue when I have to leave in a few days, Stefan."
Stefan doesn't back down. "What about after, brother? That one day I might receive news that my brother have died for a cause he doesn't believe in, and that I had willingly sent him off to his death?"
Something in Damon snap and his eyes turn fierce. "No! That I fulfilled my duty as your older brother by stopping you from having to go when you're older!"
The fire in the younger's eyes vanish. He reels back in shock. "W-what?"
Damon's shoulders slump. "I just…I have to do it, okay?"
It takes Stefan a few stunned seconds to digest his words. His brother's words echoes in his ears. Understanding dawns on his features. Their father had so nicely put together a string of words to pacify him that Damon would be okay. That he has no need to worry.
His hair wisps in the wind, a telling that a storm may be due.
War isn't as scary as people make it out to be, Stefan. All he has to do is pick up the gun and shoot.
His eyes flash in anger. It had all been planned from the start. It is no wonder his father had seemed overly pleased and less surprised at Damon's quiet obedience; going so far as to allow him to do as he wishes until he leaves for the battlefield.
You brother will be fine.
His eyes flash in anger. "I will talk to father."
"Don't. I cannot go back on my word."
"He is threatening you by using me. Don't let him do this!"
"I already have, Stefan."
He growls and moves away. He feels like a coward. Not brave enough to go to war himself, too afraid to provoke any deep-rooted anger, too pathetic to leave the place he calls home, and too selfish to let his brother go. His shoulders slump in defeat. "I'm not worth it, Damon," he whispers.
Damon shakes his head in calmed acceptance. "No, I'm the one who's not."
The older Salvatore only smiles as his younger brother protests.
"So what have you bought me for my birthday, little brother? It's only in a few days."
…
As the months fade into years, he can never deny the warm feeling that sneaks into his heart whenever Stefan welcomes him home.
It's the same feeling that helps him pull through every time he stands on the blood splattered ground, when he wakes from the screams of the fallen and those left behind…
…and especially when he pulls the trigger.
"Because you have so much to live for, so much going for you. I…I can't take that away from you."
The hardest battle is to keep on living.
Anonymous
"You know what I can't figure out?" It's the first question that comes to mind. "Why save me? Is it brotherly love?" His voices turn mocking. "Guilty conscience? Is the switch on, is the switch off?"
Stefan stands leaning against a pillar, a smirk firmly etched on his features. He doesn't hesitate to interrupt. "Don't you have somewhere to be, Damon?"
"Ah, deflection." It's not hard, this game of shooting and being shot back. He's played it for so long it's become second nature to him. "It's not going to work on me. I invented that."
"We're done. So why don't you just go away?"
"Not until you tell me why you saved me. You owe me that."
Stefan grips the branch of the tree. His gaze focuses on his brother, calculating. "I don't owe you anything."
Damon nods and quirks his eyebrows in mock understanding. "So you went behind my back to stop my plans to kill Klaus to save me. I should think you owe me an answer. Brother."
"I said I don't owe you anything."
He narrows his eyes at this. "Do you realize the consequences of what you've done?"
Stefan blinks. "I know Klaus has to be punished in every way possible."
"He could have already been dead," Damon snaps. "There was only one way to kill him and you blew it."
The younger Salvatore doesn't answer for a moment. "You would have died."
"I never said I wanted to be saved."
Anger crowned with the bitterness of guilt seeps into his mind and his stomach convulses. Klaus should have died. It didn't matter what happened to him after. All the drama, all those nights of endless worry and planning, all those fight or flight situations…it shouldn't have to happen anymore.
Damon still remembers that moment of adrenaline that pumped through his veins as the stake hovered over the Original's heart. The latter's eyes had widened in plain disbelief, a grimace tearing at his lips; his supposed last breaths smelled of liquor and something between mint and caffeine. It is how the Salvatore had thought it would end. Klaus Michaelson just had to die.
So Elena could live the life she wanted.
So his brother could finally be free.
…everyone could be free.
"Damon?" The word drops heavily, questioning.
"You don't get it, do you, Stefan?"
Stefan lifts his chin as those ever familiar creases hints on his forehead. He doesn't respond.
Damon almost has to choke back a hysterical laugh. Eyes intense with a taunting sneer in their depths, he backs away from his brother, the soft sound of his footsteps against the grass the only noise around them. He notices a flicker of…anxiety? Confusion? Worry? He can no longer tell. Where is the brother that beamed at him at a joke? Where is the one who would believe and do anything that he says?
The ebony-haired vampire can still recall a much younger Stefan presenting him with his first hunt. Stefan hadn't wanted to hunt. He had protested that it was considered animal cruelty since the furry little ones are defenseless against attacks. But Damon had insisted.
Father will not be happy if he learns of your lack of knowledge on something as basic as hunting as a member of the Salvatores.
It had been a rabbit, smaller than the average, but his brother had been so proud. Just as the older brother instincts kicked in and he had smiled and ruffled those brown locks.
Yet who is he kidding? The human Stefan and the human Damon died the day they had been shot in 1864. He himself is far from the one he had been.
Stefan speaks up. "If you have nothing else to do, you can leave now." That flicker seems more prominent.
"It seems," Damon murmurs and this time his brother tenses, alert to the strange undercurrent in his voice. It's the kind he uses when he is about to do something noble. Or something especially stupid. "It seems that I am the reason that all of this happened."
His back finally meets the trunk of a tree and he stops. Tilts his head.
I've heard about you.
Stefan is rigid in his posture, eyes never leaving Damon's.
The crazy, impulsive vampire.
His mouth seems to work to say something but he doesn't.
In love with his brother's girl.
"Maybe we miscalculated," the older vampire goes on, vaguely remembering Klaus' words.
Stefan sighs. "Just what do you want, Damon? If you're that unhappy that I saved you, you can go hunt down Klaus, go on a suicide mission."
What he wanted? Damon wants to scoff. He wants many things. Hell, he wanted Katherine. He didn't get her. Not really. Elena is the girl that his brother is in love with, the girl that was never his and never will be. And his brother is basically just a real bastard.
He doesn't know what he really expected. For Stefan to fall on his feet and spill all his innermost feelings and secrets to him? He lets out a resigned sigh.
Damon Salvatore never gets what he really wants.
…
But this time, he will.
"We did it all wrong, Stefan." He can feel the familiar fury and determination thrumming through his veins and he knew with a newfound certainty what he has to do – what he wants to do. The corners of his well-defined lips curl into an unsettling smile. "To kill Klaus and get rid of your Klaus-vendetta, there's one big obvious –" he drags the word "- thing that we missed."
Stefan asks warily, "What's that?"
Damon accentuates his answer with a 'pop' sound."Me."
The younger frowns at this and his gaze follows his brother in startling clarity as Damon blurs to snap off a branch of a lone tree.
His voice is barely above a whisper, a small ripple in a vast expanse of water. "This, little brother, is what I want."
Half-hidden in the shadows, there is a deadly elegance in the vampire as he steps forward, smile firmly in place and the stake pointed right at his heart.
"What are you doing?"
That same smile morphs into a smirk.
"Goodbye, Stefan."
Stefan blurs to his brother, hand reaching for the stake. He misses and almost slams into a tree as the dark-haired vampire disappears and less than a moment later, he hears a soft gasp.
He turns and is just in time to see Damon fall to the floor in a heap.
How was that? Were they too OOC? Too confusing? Do leave a review! :D