This is just a drabble that popped out of my mind.

Say, what if Klaus let Stefan go? And had not insisted that Stefan give up everything to save Damon? Of course Klaus would be back; we don't want the show to end too early now, do we? Just a thought of what might have happened if that was the case. (Seriously, I could hardly stand the thought of the brothers separating again.)

Well, a story of two to four chapters. Depends on reviews.

This is my first story in which I write in third person. Honestly, I prefer first person much more but I guessed I might as well try. So, do tell me where I need improvement? I'd appreciate it very much!

Last but not least, before I cease my rambling, this story is dedicated to an awesome friend of mine, Sherry. It's her birthday today.

Happy Birthday, Sherry! Stay happy always. ;)

Okay, on with the story!

He had eyes the color of the sky, two great sapphire lakes that were more often than not as cold and piercing as dry ice. He could cast a mere glance and that alone could call for one's impending death. He was a person who knew no boundaries and, as he once said, he didn't do feelings either.

Feelings were obstacles shooting out of nowhere to obstruct one's path. Feelings only got in the way. So, if one had the choice, why let them get in the way?

Damon Salvatore was a vampire, but he wasn't any vampire.

He was a vampire with a reputation.

Which was one reason why he still couldn't comprehend his current situation.

He was lying against his mattress, his head settled deeply into his pillow, sending his soaked midnight black tresses sticking out in clumps in a messy disarray. His eyes were shut, concealing the now dull blue orbs from the world, as if shielding another from witnessing the pain within.

Despite his lack of activity, anyone could tell that he was anything but well. His complexion still left traces of sweat no matter how many times one would grab a towel and wipe them off. He was breathing too erratically, his chest rising and falling at an inconsistent rate as if, at any time, it could simply stop. His fingers twitched by his side once in a while, his body seemingly wanting to toss and turn, but unable to find the energy to.

This wasn't the Damon Salvatore anyone was used to. The Damon they knew didn't need help, and would never ask for help. The Damon they knew was strong and insufferably annoying. They never had worried before for him; he had never needed it.

Until now.

No one said it out loud, but no one denied it either. Damon could have died, and he still could die. He had been given the cure about two and a half hours earlier by a panicked, panting Stefan who had then uncharacteristically fallen to the floor in his haste, almost spilling the blood as a result. All of them who knew of Damon's plight – Stefan, Elena, Alaric, Bonnie, Jeremy and Caroline – had quickly gathered in his room in hushed tension, hoping that the cure would work. As for Katherine, she had resigned herself into disappearing into thin air.

It was already a known knowledge among them that Klaus' blood was indeed the cure. But whether the dosage to completely rid the venom in Damon's system was enough was still a mystery – Damon had to suffer the aftereffects longer than Katherine had to. It was a mystery that they couldn't help but hope would soon be solved positively.

Damon, who had clearly been uncomfortable with being the center of their attention, had typically rolled his eyes at his audience, demanding their immediate leave.

I'm absolutely flattered that all of you are here, but...

Nevertheless, his younger brother didn't know if he should worry that Damon still had it in him for his sick sense of humor.

...door's that way. I won't see you out if you don't mind.

Or that Damon might not have been joking when he said the one sentence that jolted Stefan like nothing else did.

Because, no matter how much Stefan had denied it, the deep acceptance in his brother's voice had rang all too clearly.

I just can't lie on my death bed in peace, can I?

Damon glared at his room occupants half-heartedly, narrowing his eyes in what he hoped to be obvious irritation.

"Don't say that, Damon. I told you, you're not dying today." Stefan was bent on his left knee, his head hovering right next to his older brother's worriedly.

The said person riveted his attention to Stefan and growled softly. "Shut up, Stef."

Stefan quirked an eyebrow at the nickname but otherwise remained silent when Damon plowed on breathlessly.

"Fine, I won't die today, alright? Come back when it's midnight," he snapped.

Stefan let out a soft sigh and gave Damon a chastising glance, which the latter completely ignored.

"Well?" Damon rasped roughly. "I don't know how long I've been out of it but do tell me-" he let out a loud, racking cough "–if the rules of courtesy had somehow changed during that amount of time."

Elena arched an eyebrow. "Rules of courtesy?" She repeated, and would have had to stifle a snicker of irony had Damon not been so fatally sick.

Damon graced her with another glower, albeit weak, of his. "Yes!" he snapped. "I can call this trespassing since I have already asked you to leave. So leave!" His voice strained a slight pitch higher near the end.

Elena folded her arms, shaking her head. She gave him a worried glance before motioning the others to leave the older Salvatore's room.

Stefan, who still lingered behind, watched silently as the rest departed, some of them such as Alaric and Jeremy offering the subject of their worries small smiles of assurances.

Damon rolled his eyes.

"You don't have to act so indifferent, you know."

Damon tilted his head to the left to stare at Stefan. His eyes, weary and worn, locked onto his younger brother's.

"You're going to be okay." Stefan smiled softly and patted Damon's shoulder.

Confusion welled in Damon's eyes before disappearing amidst a wave of nihility.

A long-drawn out silence crept between them.

Damon's eyelids suddenly slammed shut as a grimace contorted his facial features. He scrunched his forehead, making it crinkle as he squeezed his fists tightly.

"Damon?" Stefan murmured, his voice imbued with worry. He straightened his posture, his shadow towering over his sibling's countenance.

After what seemed like eternity, a soft sigh escaped Damon's dry lips as he visibly relaxed. "I'm fine, Stefan."

Stefan swallowed the lump in his throat and was about to speak when Damon asked, "Where's Katherine?"

Stefan started. "Now that you mention it…" Stefan tilted his head, listening. "I think she left. I can't hear her anywhere."

"That, or she's being unusually quiet. I would have thought she'd take this chance to gloat at my condition," Damon winced.

"Go to sleep, Damon. You need to rest."

Surprisingly to both brothers, Damon settled deeper into his pillow, his shoulders slightly losing that tense position. He blinked wearily as Stefan stood up and squeezed his shoulder. It wasn't long before Damon's eyelids slipped over his blue orbs and remained shut.

Without another word, the younger Salvatore turned to exit the room, but not before he heard a whispered thank you.

Once in a while, someone would climb the stairs into Damon's room, meaning to check if all was fine: whether the vampire was awake, if he was still in pain, if he needed help or even someone to talk to.

And, every time, each would come down and simply shake his/her head and say 'Still the same'. And every time that happened, the worry that had gnawed at their hearts would strengthen and continue to grow.

Stefan, who had been pacing restlessly, cast his head in the direction of his brother's room. His stance was tense and rigid.

"He's going to be okay, Stefan." Elena came up behind him and slowly wrapped her arms around his waist tentatively.

Stefan didn't resist, though Elena wondered if he would. He had seen her kiss with Damon after all but had completely overlooked it after a moment's hesitation. Guilt, alongside with her worry, nearly incapacitated her.

"Yeah," he whispered softly. "He will."

The six of them – Stefan, Elena, Alaric, Bonnie, Jeremy and Caroline – standing roughly in a circle, stared at each other, some at nothing.

"Well, he's Damon, right?" Bonnie spoke up. "He'll be fine."

"Damon is not Damon when he tried to kill himself," Stefan muttered quietly, too soft for any human within range to hear.

One head, however, immediately jerked towards Stefan.

"He tried to what?" Caroline repeated, disbelief lacing her words.

Stefan looked at her, realization quickly catching up to him. He feigned surprise at her question. "He tried to what?"

Caroline shook her head slowly, eyeing Stefan suspiciously. "I thought you said…" She paused, noticing the alarmed expression flitting through Stefan's complexion. Her lips thinned. "I guess I heard wrong."

Stefan nearly sighed in relief and internally cringed at the thought of Damon's wrath should he discover that his little brother had leaked what would no doubt be a sensitive issue when Damon was up and about again. Well, Stefan hoped that Caroline would have that much decency to keep it under wraps.

He had hoped that maybe…just maybe their relationship could be salvaged now that Stefan had tried to save him.

Maybe Damon would help him pick up the pieces again.

Stefan sighed.

Why did he only realize things when it was almost too late? When his brother had nearly died in a fire during Founders' Day; when his brother was dying again because of some wolf bite. How could Damon be so careless anyway?

But Stefan couldn't do anything about it, even if he realized it earlier. If Damon had seriously asked them to reconcile as brothers, he wouldn't hesitate to try, though he would always be wary. He could still recall his brother playing the fool again, asking him to start all over, and then ending off with that infamous, insensitive smirk of his.

It hurt, though he never wanted to admit it. Hope had risen in Stefan despite his attempts to suppress it. He wanted to believe Damon. He was actually willing, but reality had been quick to slap him in the face for even thinking of such an impossibility.

But is it really impossible? Now?

The stray thought crossed Stefan's mind. He frowned, his forehead creasing into tangible lines. The wall he had built to hold a series of piled-up thoughts in a corner of his mind started to crumble loose, slowly giving Stefan the optimism that perhaps it would work out. As impossible as it was, he knew the gap between Damon and himself had narrowed. Little, but still worth rejoicing.

Stefan couldn't help but remember how close they had been. Once.

He exhaled loudly. "I'm going to go check up on him."

"Perhaps all of us should go too. I mean, what's the point of constantly sending someone up there. Might as well send him a permanent 'guard'." Caroline stared at Stefan pointedly.

Stefan almost smiled. "And risk him sending him off into another tantrum?"

Caroline frowned. "Maybe not."

This time, the corners of Stefan's mouth lifted faintly. "Maybe not," he echoed.

If only…if only Damon would be okay, with no doubt whatsoever. That was the one thought which accompanied the Salvatore as he made his way upstairs.

Damon moaned softly, a soft hiss escaping his cracked lips. He clutched his left arm carefully, hoping to ease the throbbing pain. His eyelids slipped shut for a moment, shutting out the blinding light.

Despite the recent gaps in his memory, he could still remember with mild amusement the over-dramatic entrance of his little brother when he was brought the cure. Damon thanked his rare lucky stars that the blood hadn't spilled. He had the nagging suspicion that nothing would have stopped Stefan from forcing him lick the floor clean if that was what it took to save his life. Stefan then had proceeded to shoot up to his feet, this time carefully moving over to Damon and practically shoving the bottle's contents down his throat.

Damon winced as sharp burst of pain shot through his left arm. If he had not been used to pain, one mere throb would have been as unbearable as to send him into a frenzy. Alas, it did not. Unfortunately, as often as life liked to make a fool out of people, Damon was used to pain.

"Someone's alive and well."

Damon's eyes cracked open in aggravation and he had to bite back a groan.

Katherine was standing near the open doorway, an unreadable expression on her features. Her gaze traveled to the arm Damon was clutching. "Still hurts?" she asked, her tone indifferent.

Damon's eyes narrowed slightly. "What do you want, Katherine?"

Katherine shrugged. "Nothing. Just bored. Klaus won't bother me for some time, especially since he'll be occupied with all the changes in his...body. So," she eyed Damon almost curiously, the corners of her lips twitching, "no one to run from. Not yet, anyway. Thought I'd check up on you."

Damon snorted derisively. "That, or is everyone ignoring you? Including your precious Stefan?"

Katherine strolled across the room and flopped herself beside Damon, ignoring his sudden wince of pain. She tossed her hair back and tilted her head towards the Salvatore, as if searching for something.

"After all that he did for you, you still hate him?" Katherine mused aloud.

Damon shifted slightly and their eyes met, two cold blue eyes searing their frozen depths into hers. "Whatever feelings lie between Stefan and me has nothing to do with you, Katherine," he replied dangerously. "I'd appreciate it if you stay out of our affairs."

She lifted an eyebrow almost condescendingly. "No need to be so agitated, Damon. It was only a question."

"Well, stop harassing me and get out. I'm in no mood to deal with you right now," Damon muttered.

"You know," she continued, taking no notice of Damon's words as she fingered the end of his shirt, "I prefer you this way. Weak, helpless, but also defiant." Katherine propped herself up, a hand supporting her head as she gently moved her wandering hands to his neck.

A flash of anger gleamed in Damon's eyes, a hoarse growl emanating from his throat. "Get your hands off me," he snapped.

"Why, you have hands too, Damon. Why not stop me yourself?" A small smile crept into Katherine's countenance, her eyes glinting.

Damon's lips parted again but stopped when Katherine placed her finger across his mouth. "Shhh. No one's going to come up here. All of them are too busy celebrating Klaus'...parting. Don't you see?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The moment they knew you'd live, they left, didn't they, Damon?"

The said vampire displayed his usual mask of indifference, despite a slight furrowing of his brows, but for the first time, there was more than a hint of feeling than the situation actually demanded. Hard, cold anger. "Shut your mouth, Katherine. At the very least they wanted me alive."

Katherine let out a small laugh. She pressed the palm of her hand on his cheek, hardly shifting when Damon's hand jerked up to grab her wrist. She leaned forward slightly, the curls of her hair tickling his jaw. "Being alone really sucks, I know. But it's going to be okay, Damon. I won't hurt you," she whispered.

"You already have."

Both vampires looked up towards the door. An expression of relief flitted through Damon's facial features as he growled, "Where were you? It's hurting like hell."

Stefan walked into the room briskly and eyed the hand on Damon's cheek warningly. "Katherine... Get your hands off of him."

Katherine flicked her gaze to him and smiled. "Why, you're not jealous, are you?" she asked playfully.

Stefan's eyes narrowed. "Get your hands off," he repeated slowly.

"Before he makes you," Damon added helpfully. Stefan glanced at Damon and gradually nodded.

Katherine rolled her eyes. "You guys are no fun." Pulling her hand back, she stood up from the bed and faced Stefan. "Happy now?"

Stefan hardly paid her any glance as he moved himself to stand beside his brother. "Are you alright?" he asked awkwardly after a moment.

Damon moved his arms to sit up but was quickly supported by Stefan's strong ones. Stefan guided him up carefully, allowing Damon to lean against the headboard. A look of frustration crossed the older Salvatore's complexion.

"You'll get better," Stefan soothed gently.

"I'm not a child," Damon snapped.

A small, sad smile graced Stefan's features in response. Damon stared at him, but looked away just as quickly.

"Well," he began, nonchalance creeping into his tone. "I'll feel much better when she leaves."

There was a pause.

"Why don't you leave, Katherine? No one wants you here. You've done your part, and Klaus is 'gone'. There's nothing to hold you back from your freedom." Stefan tucked his hands into the pockets of the front of his jeans, his oak green eyes trailing from his brother to Katherine.

Katherine let out an annoyed huff. "How about a 'thank you' instead of chasing me out? Is that how you thank someone who risked her life to save your lives?"

This time, it was Damon who arched an eyebrow contemptuously. "No, but that's how we thank someone who risked her life to save her life," he retorted, accentuating the last word with his trademark smirk.

A small scowl crept into the 500+ year old vampire. "I said I was sorry. About Jenna. What else do you want?"

"She's fucking dead, Katherine."

"It was either her or me. Do you expect me to die for someone I barely know? Would you have done something like that, Damon? Given up your life for a stranger?"

Damon shot her a patented death glare but seemed to simmer down. Stefan watched the two of them carefully. It must have been his imagination but Stefan could have sworn he caught faint traces of understanding in his brother's eyes. Did facing death change him that much?

"Hey, now's not a good time to fight. Katherine," Stefan glanced at her. "Please leave. Damon needs his rest."

"Yes, he does," Damon muttered.

Katherine rolled her eyes and mouthed a 'whatever' before turning to strut out the room. The moment she left his field of vision, Damon let out a small sigh.

"What did she tell you? You seemed rather agitated."

Damon glanced at the younger vampire out of his peripheral field of vision. "Nothing much," he answered curtly.

Stefan nodded in response, lapsing into silence. He surveyed the neat room, not knowing what else to do. A small part of his mind absent-mindedly registered the fact that, however much a psychopath Damon was known to be, not a speck in Damon's room even hinted that its owner was a tad bit crazy.

"So," Stefan began uncertainly.

"I'm fine, Stefan," Damon interrupted. "You don't need to go all emotional-" he stuck out his tongue "-with me. I can't take it."

The wry quirk of a half-smile crossed Stefan's complexion as he caught faint hints of mirth in his brother's tone.

"How long do you think it'll take?" Damon asked, readjusting his position carefully.

"How long will what?" Stefan tilted his head to the side to face Damon.

Damon held his head high as he riveted his attention to the ceiling, the water from his sweat-soaked hair dripping onto his pillow. His jaw stiffened slightly.

"How long will I be like-" he gestured to his body "-this?"

Stefan bit his lip. "I'm not really sure."

Damon sat up quickly and wasted no time in plowing on with his question. "What do you mean you're not sure? Didn't you say Katherine was cured in seconds? And it's been..." he trailed off, eyeing his brother suspiciously.

Stefan offered Damon soothing glance, nodding in affirmative. "She was. It's been almost 3 hours."

The Salvatore's blue eyes widened fractionally. "3 hours?" He cursed under his breath. "Tyler Lockwood is so 'gonna owe me."

Damon watched his little brother in annoyance. "What are you laughing at?"

"I'm not laughing."

"Fine, you're smiling. Is there something absurdly amusing about my plight?"

Stefan's smile widened. "No. I just...it's just... How are you feeling?"

Damon rolled his eyes. "Fantastically fabulous." His smirk widened at Stefan's chastising look. "Much better, thank you very much," he amended.

The two brothers fell into silence again. A comfortable silence.

"Sit down, will you? You're distracting me with you standing there like a dumb statue."

Black eyebrows lifted at the statement, but Stefan complied nonetheless, carefully settling down on the edge of the bed.

"Much better. I've no need to be reminded how short I am, little bro."

Stefan chuckled softly.

"Hey, can't you talk or something?" Damon grumbled, his annoyance clear. "What are you, my guard or something?"

Damon's pleasant aura melted away. He turned and glared at Stefan. "Are you?"

Stefan shrugged. "Someone needs to check up on you."

Damon groaned. "Get out." His eyes flashed. "I mean it."

"Oh, come on, Damon. You said so yourself that we should come again."

"I said to come at midnight."

"It's past 1 in the morning."

There was a pause.

"I take back what I said. Now, get out."

"No can do brother. You're sick. It's my responsibility to stay and look after you."

A growl rumbled from Damon's throat. He did not need looking after. "On the account that I've never been nice to you, won't you please go away?"

Stefan shrugged, his shoulders lifting slightly before falling into his somewhat hunched position. "Well, take it this way, Damon. If I left, I would be nice by following what you said."

"Oh, when did you become so annoying?"

Stefan smiled in mild amusement. He could already see it, how Damon's eyes were regaining their glow, still cold and piercing, but still... Damon was going to be okay. He wasn't going to die.

But a small part still nagged at Stefan's mind, tugging at his very thoughts.

Damon could leave.

Damon could simply get up and follow up on his promise that he would leave the moment Klaus' problem was solved. Stefan couldn't help but feel a little weak at the thought. If Damon wanted something, not many could stop him. And especially not him.

But how can I be so selfish as to want him to stay? ...

"Damon, what do you think of going on a vacation?" The words trickled out of Stefan's lips in a disordered manner so quickly that he was unable to catch and replace them before the object of his worries could hear.

Damon stared at Stefan, incredulous, almost as if Stefan had just pointed out that the Sun was green. And layered with red dots. Stefan almost laughed.

"What?"

Stefan hardened his nerves. "Do you want to...uh go on a vacation?" he repeated slowly. Damn it, he was so going to kill himself for this later on. The incredulity on Damon's face had quickly morphed into nothingness as Damon covered his ambiguity with a blank stare.

"You want to go on a vacation with me?" Damon asked, uncharacteristic skepticism etched in his voice.

Stefan nodded silently, unable to find the words to speak.

A thoughtful look took over Damon's complexion. "Sure. Why not? Who's going? Where are we going? I don't care. That place has to be fun and amazing. Or you can go without me."

Stefan's jaw nearly dropped. "You said yes?"

"Technically, I said sure, little brother. Now, why don't you go off to your little friends and discuss, no? I want to rest." He gave Stefan his best wink.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go on, shoo. Your big brother wants to sleep." Damon grabbed the drenched pillow beneath his head and, after throwing it to the floor, dragged another to replace it.

He smoothly settled back with a thinly disguised smugness about him as Stefan slowly got up to exit the room.

"Oh, and Stefan? Bring Katherine along."

Well, boring I know, but please review! Constructive criticism very much appreciated.