So, there's a story behind this story ;o) A few weeks ago while browsing through TVD fanfics, I found this fic where an adult Damon was punishing an adult Stefan by spanking him. Yes, you read that right. Although the writing was good, that scene was really disturbing (not to mention completely OOC). I sent it to my fellow writer and dear friend Honeeym to have her opinion, and she had the same reaction. And that's when she told me : "I dare you to write a spanking scene between the Salvatores and NOT make it creepy." We exchanged a few ideas and the story was born ;o)

It was a nice opportunity to write some brotherly scenes between Damon and Stefan, as in my opinion, THEY are, after all, the greatest love story in TVD ;o)

I hope you enjoy this story and if you do please don't hesitate to review !

Ame ou sœur

Jumeau ou frère
De rien mais qui es-tu
Tu es mon plus grand mystère
Mon seul lien contigu
Tu m'enrubannes et m'embryonnes
Et tu me gardes à vue
Tu es le seul animal de mon arche perdue

It was a lovely pearl necklace.

It belonged to his mother, and Stefan had often imagined her wearing it, the glow of the pink pearls enhancing the paleness of her skin and her green eyes.

The same as his.

He only had one picture of her – a daguerreotype actually, as it was only the beginnings of photography when it was taken. Without this, he wouldn't even know what his mother looked like.

It saddened him sometimes, when he thought about her. It was weird to miss someone you hadn't even known. The only memories he had were the few things Damon had shared with him, but even he had been too young to remember that much. At least he had seen her smile, known her touch, felt her soft lips on his forehead.

Stefan had none of that. All he had was this necklace.

One of his and Damon's worst childhood memories.

Virginia, October 1859.

The day had not really started well anyway.

It was only breakfast time, and Giuseppe Salvatore was already in a foul mood, muttering while reading the newspaper.

"Fools," he uttered, putting the paper back on the table with a sharp movement. Damon sighed. He didn't want to know, but he asked nonetheless.

"What's going on, Father?"

"Those damn abolitionists. Some imbecile named John Brown attacked the US Federal Arsenal at Harper's Ferry, hoping to get weapons and mount a rebellion against slave owners. They got caught, fortunately. I hope they hang him."

Even if he was only 16, Damon had his own opinion on slavery – one he would not share with his father, so he just said, "Hanging? Isn't that a bit radical?"

Giuseppe sent him a condescending look, but Damon was so used to them that it didn't even touch him anymore.

"Certainly not. It's that kind of actions that will lead us straight into civil war."

That got Stefan's attention, who until then had been caught up in his book.

"War?" he asked with a concerned look towards Damon.

"Father is just making assumptions, right?" Damon asked with a pointed look to his father.

"Most definitely not. And who gave you permission to read at the breakfast table?" he asked his youngest son.

"Yo...You did. Yesterday."

"Well, that was yesterday. Put that book down and finish your plate."

Stefan knew better than to argue with his father so he closed the book and half-heartily put his spoon in his oatmeal.

"What are you reading anyway?" Giuseppe asked, picking up the book. "Pride and Prejudice. Isn't that a book for little girls? God, I hope you don't have those unnatural tendencies, do you?"

"Father!" Damon exclaimed, appalled by his old man's remark. "He's only 12 years old."

Over the years he had developed a strong feeling of protectiveness towards his little brother, and it was with relief that he saw that Stefan hadn't understood the question.

Giuseppe sent an exasperated look to his sons. "Learn to be a man, Stefan. And you, Damon, stop mothering him. It's ridiculous. You're not doing him any favor."

But who will, if I don't ? Damon thought.

Giuseppe left the room and the atmosphere immediately brightened.

"Why was Father so mad, Damon? Did I do something wrong?"

Damon smiled reassuringly to the boy. "Of course not. He was just upset about some news."

"Is there really going to be a war?" Stefan asked, worry evident in his green eyes. Damon internally cursed his father.

"We don't know that. Hopefully there won't be."

Was it 'mothering' trying not to scare his little brother with the prospect of a war that would cut the country in half? Damon didn't think so.

There was a silence, and Stefan ate a bit more of his oatmeal before saying, "I don't want you to go to war, Damon."

Damon smiled and leaned over the table, tousling his brother's hair and Stefan pushed his hand away, laughing. The tension caused by his father's careless comment was already forgotten. Sometimes Damon wished he was still as careless as his sibling, and he would do anything to preserve that innocence as long as possible.

"What are your plans for today?" he asked.

"It's Maggie's birthday," Stefan replied, talking about the maid who used to be their governess and was still taking care of Stefan. "Remember her husband Daniel died last year? It's her first birthday without him, and she feels a little sad. I need to find her a gift."

Damon smiled, touched by the young boy's empathy. It was one of his best qualities.

"Do you want to go play some ball first?"

Stefan's face lightened up. "You bet."

It was late afternoon and Damon hadn't seen Stefan in a while. He was not in his room or the nursery, and the young man had a bad feeling about it.

Unfortunately, he was right.

The door to their mother's bedroom was open and Damon walked in, finding his brother kneeling on a chair in front of the drawer's chest, searching through a decorated wooden box.

"Hey Damon, look! I found the perfect gift for Maggie!" he excitedly told his older sibling, showing him a beautiful pearl necklace.

"Stefan, put that back now. If Father finds us here..."

"What's going on?"

Damon winced. Too late.

Giuseppe walked in, obviously returning from a horse ride. He was holding a whip and looked really furious at seeing his sons in his late wife's room.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, directing his furious eyes at Stefan. The young boy slowly climbed down the chair, the pearl necklace in his hand.

"I was...I mean..." he was so petrified by the rage he saw in his father's eyes that his brain froze.

"Were you stealing?" Giuseppe asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of c...course not!" Stefan sputtered, outraged that his father could think such a thing of him. "I was just looking for a gift for Maggie's birthday."

Damon intervened. "He was just trying to be nic..." but a deathly glare silenced him.

"So you thought that you could give a servant one of your dead mother's jewelry?"

Stefan sent a fearful look at Damon, who felt excruciatingly helpless. He could almost feel how infuriated his father was and he was scared for Stefan.

The younger Salvatore's lips trembled slightly but he bravely held back his tears.

"She can't wear it anymore, so I just thought..."

His father took a deep inspiration. "How many times did I specifically tell you not to come in this room without my permission?"

"I...I don't remember! I didn't think I was doing anything wrong, Father, I'm sorry!"

Once again he turned his green eyes towards Damon, imploring for help, help that Damon couldn't give him without risking increasing his father's ire.

It broke his heart into a million pieces.

Meanwhile, Giuseppe went on," I shouldn't be surprised by your lack of respect towards your mother. Your birth was the reason she died after all."

Stefan's eyes grew wide, a look of pain and agonizing shock on his face, and Damon couldn't contain himself.

"Father, that is a horrible thing to say, and you know it's not true!"

Giuseppe ignored him.

"Come here, Stefan. You know what's the punishment, son."

Lowering his head, Stefan walked towards his father, his face now covered with tears. Damon put his hand on Giuseppe's arm.

"Father, no, please. It's too hard a punishment, he didn't mean any..."

Giuseppe pushed his hand away, sending him an incensed glare.

"You are his older brother, Damon, and you should show a good example. I don't see any of that. You are not his mother and you're being way too soft on him. I really don't see how I can trust you to run this estate one day if you can't even discipline your own brother. Here," he told him, handing Damon the whip. "You do it. Ten strikes. Consider this as a favor, my boy."

Damon threw a horrified and incredulous look at his father. "That is out of the question!"

Stefan was now sobbing silently.

Giuseppe handed him the whip once again. "Either you give him ten, Damon, or I'll give him twenty. Your choice."

With a heavy heart, Damon understood that he had, actually, no choice.

Bile rising in his throat, he took the whip and went to Stefan, who sent him a grateful look, which made Damon feel even worse if that was possible. He didn't deserve it. He hated himself for doing this, for not having the courage to throw it in his father's face instead. But the repercussions would be too severe and Stefan would probably be the first victim.

He put his hand on Stefan's shoulder, turning him around, and gave the first strike.

Then another. And another.

Stefan didn't make a sound except for a barely audible gasp here and there, and Damon loved him all the more for it. It lasted barely a minute, but it was the longest of his life.

When it was over, he took a moment to recompose himself, overwhelmed with anger and frustration. He finally turned to his father, throwing the whip at his feet.

"Don't ask me to do that again. Ever."

The scalding rage in his eyes made Giuseppe take a step back.

Damon put a protective arm around his brother's shoulders and ushered him out of the room.

Stefan was still clutching the pearl necklace in his hand.

Damon walked into the boarding house, discarded his jacket on a nearby chair and stopped upon entering the living room.

Stefan was sitting there, holding the necklace in his hand.

Damn.

Over the years, Damon had got used of his brother's mopey faces, and he would usually mock him for it. Whether it was over Elena, or his past as The Ripper, or just because it was a day ending in Y.

But that was not it. That was his little brother missing their mom. And he would never mock that. He knew exactly what Stefan was thinking about. It had been 153 years, but Damon could picture the awful scene as if it were yesterday.

"You didn't kill her," he told Stefan and walked towards the liquor cabinet. It was obviously one of those get-the strong-stuff-out moment.

"I know. You told me several times," Stefan replied.

"And I'll keep telling you as long as I see you with the damn thing. Why don't you get rid of it once and for all?"

"It's the only thing I have left of her, with a picture. And I can't remember where it is."

"It's in my room," Damon said quietly, pouring two glasses. "You can have it back anytime you want. Still, I don't get why you keep taking the bauble out. It embodies one of the worst days of my life...and I've had some shitty ones," he added, shuddering as if suddenly reliving the whole experience.

He brought the glasses to Stefan and sat down next to him.

"Here, you look like you need one too."

The click between the glasses and his brother's familiar smirk were oddly comforting.

"There were a few months between your birth and her death," Damon went on in a neutral voice. "And she was perfectly fine in-between. The most probable reason is that she had an aneurism or something. Back then, those things were hardly diagnosed."

Stefan knew that, of course, as Damon had already told him. But it felt good to hear it again nonetheless.

"Thank you," he told his older brother, and his green eyes met Damon's blue ones, conveying feelings that were not always easy to voice but that he knew were mutual.

Damon finished his drink before turning to his brother. "What are your plans for the day?"

"It's Caroline's birthday this weekend. I have to find her a gift."

"Give her that blasted necklace. Two birds, one stone."

Stefan shook his head and smiled, before catching the teasing glint in his brother's eyes.

"Want to go play some ball first?"

"You bet."

FIN

For those wondering, the lyrics at the beginning are from a french song called "Tu es mon Autre" (You are my Other) by two amazing belgian singers, Maurane & Lara Fabian (*proud*) and it's about that special bond between siblings. Even if you don't understand french it's worth listening to.

Thanks !