Prologue
Death is an Embrace for Most
Some people say that death is really a blessing. It's a release from the pain of all the burdens that you were given in your living moments. But when it that you really understand that? Is it before your last breath or when the memories are playing out in front of your eyes like a old time movie reel?
Stefan Salvatore never really knew if that was true. When he died, he simply woke up to see people standing over his body. A young woman with long brown hair who was wailing for him to wake up, tears and snort dripping from her face. Beside her was a man with raven colored hair. He looked like his entire world had gone black as he stared down at the wide glassy eyes of a deceased Stefan. Blood had pooled from behind his head, he was dressed in his pajamas and his hand was out stretched as if trying to grab someone's hand.
Who were they and why were they so sad for him? He could guess the man was a relative, he had the same jawline as him. But he couldn't see much else about him. Soon there were paramedics, a corner and an elderly man who stood off to the side, watching as they carted off Stefan's body.
He turned towards the raven haired man, his eyes cold. "I lost my only good son."
The raven haired man winched but watched as the corners took away the body.
"Damon," whimpered the woman, her doe eyes still wet with tears. "Why would someone do this!? Why would someone kill Stefan?" she choked out in hysterics. Stefan had to guess she was rather close to him once. A girlfriend maybe? He wasn't sure.
A few days later, he got his answer.
The dark haired man, Damon, was his older brother. While his relationship with Stefan wasn't great, there was an underline understanding that they were family. Brothers who watched out for each other when they could. They weren't as close now, but Stefan guessed it had to with the brunette girl. Elena was her name and she had been Stefan's fiancée of six months and his girlfriend since their junior year of high school.
Stefan felt a bit sad for her. Seven years of a relationship thrown out the window because he died. He was still trying to figure out how. He remembered he was in his pajamas. Even as a ghost, he wore the grey sweatpants and white tank top. It had been fall, so it wasn't too cold and it wasn't too hot. He knew he had gone to bed next to Elena cause when he awoke in the afterlife, she was wearing pajamas as well. Damon apparently lived with them as well. Well he was staying there for a few weeks.
The older man was his father. Giuseppe made various remarking during Stefan's memorial service. How he was the last good thing he had. Even in death, Stefan could see he was a drunkard. Damon drank too but at the moment, he was sober. Damon stood off to the side, next to a blonde woman. Elena was still in hysterics. She was holding her left hand close to her chest, twirling the engagement ring she wore.
They were crying. They were all crying for him, for his memory. For the life that was stolen from him.
Stefan Salvatore, at age twenty four, had been robbed of a life he couldn't even remember; and even he felt sad.