A/N: Hi! I can't believe you're back for my crappy writing…. But I am so thankful that you are! It really means a lot to me :) Thank you to the kind souls who reviewed and favorited: that also means a lot to me. Mericlerson requested that I add in a some grown up Salvatores – which I had already planned on doing if people liked the story. I guess great minds think alike XD Anywho, consider this an early Thanksgiving gift (even though people don't give gifts on Thanksgiving…) WARNING: Un-beta'd. Let me know if you catch any mistakes!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"You honestly don't remember me?"

Stefan laughed but quickly thought better of it as the stake in his gut shifted. "I'm sorry to burst you bubble, but you'd be surprised by the amount of enemies I've made in my 140 years of being on this planet. I can't honestly say that I remember you." Stefan flashed a closed mouth smile. "Sorry."

The man, self-proclaimed Sebastion Belousov, strutted forward to where Stefan sat tied down, grabbed the stake and gave it a firm twist and shove.

Stefan gasped, narrowly avoiding giving Sebastion the pleasure of hearing him scream.

Sebastion thrust his face close to the vampire's. "Krasnodar, Russia, 1953. You killed my wife in the middle of the town's square."

Confusion spread across Stefan's face. 1953? Sebastion didn't look a day over twenty-five. That had to mean… "You're a vampire," he said as he finally connected the dots. He gritted his teeth as Sebastion gave the stake another twist. "I didn't kill your wife!"

"Liar!" Belousov shouted. He pulled a second stake out of back pocket and wasted no time in jamming it into Stefan's left shoulder. Stefan threw his head back and bit down on the howl that was desperate to escape.

"I wasn't… anywhere near… Russia in 1953," he panted through the pain. "I've never seen you or your wife before in my life."

Belousov stared into his captive's pain-filled eyes, scrutinizing, searching for the lie. He found none. "No… no! No! I know it was you!" He jammed an accusing finger into Stefan's chest. "I saw your face. You were covered in my wife's blood but you had this sick smile on your face, like you were enjoying every second of killing her. You enjoyed it, didn't you? You enjoyed it, you sick bastard!"

Belousov produced yet another stake and proceeded to thrust it into Stefan's knee. This time, Stefan did scream.

"Well I am going to enjoy every second of making you pay for what you did," Sebastion said as his mouth transformed into a sadistic smile. Quickly, he inserted two fingers into his mouth and let loose a sharp whistle.

Almost immediately, a man appeared at the doorway. "Sir?"

"Bring me the freezer, Yousef," Sebastion responded without taking his eyes of his captive.

Yousef nodded briskly and disappeared. Within the next minute, Yousef and another man reappeared carrying between them what looked like a large box.

"That's it?" Stefan couldn't help asking. "That's your big torture device?" He scoffed lightly. "Doesn't look like much."

The two men set the box down in the middle of the room and stood by it, waiting for further instruction. Belousov backed away from Stefan and went to open the lid of the box. "See that is where you are wrong, Mr. Salvatore. This used to be an freezer that someone threw out. It doesn't freeze anything anymore but, with a few years of experimental tinkering, I've transformed it into an amazing vampire holding cell." Sebastion smiled over at his captive.

Stefan kept his exterior calm and composed, not revealing anything. Internally, his heart beat picked up and his lungs decided that now would be a good time to tell his brain that they weren't getting enough air. 'Breathe, Stefan,' he commanded himself. 'It's just a box. You'll be fine.'

"Gentlemen, if you'd be so kind." Sebastion gestured grandly at the vampire tied to the chair. Stefan watched apprehensively as the two men approached him, tipped his chair backwards, turned the chair around so that Stefan was facing the wall, and dragged Stefan over to where Belousov was waiting.

"Get the chains, Samuel," came the sound of Sebastion's voice behind the bound vampire.

"You do realize that you're not scaring me, right?" Stefan said in an attempt to show bravery. Belousov laughed deeply. "Your heartbeat says otherwise."

Stefan grunted as he felt the familiar prick of a needle being inserted into his neck. Belousov slowly depressed the plunger, emptying the contents of the syringe into Stefan's bloodstream.

Even before the syringe was empty, Stefan felt the burn of vervain racing through his veins. His eyelids slid shut of their own volition.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Consciousness was slow to return to Stefan. The vampire blinked his eyes open. Were his eyes open? The world was so black around him he couldn't be sure. Where was he?

He could feel that he was laying down and that his legs felt incredibly cramped. There was pain coming his stomach, his shoulder, and his knee. Why? What happened to – the freezer.

Stefan froze. Nononononono…. Stefan squeezed his eyes shut. How long had he been in here? He attempted to sit up, trying to get a feel of how big the box actually was. He immediately stopped trying when the pain in his stomach intensified. Stefan groaned and reached over a hand to explore the area.

It felt as if Sebastion had snapped off the main shaft of the stake but left the pointed head imbedded in his abdomen. Stefan clenched his jaw and stuck his fingers into the wound, desperate to get the wood out of his gut. He groaned in frustration when he couldn't get a solid grip on the fragment. He felt his teeth grinding as he pushed his fingers in farther. He still couldn't get a good enough grip.

He withdrew his fingers and lay gasping. If anything, he had only succeeded in shoving the piece in deeper.

Forgoing the piece in his stomach, he went on to fish out the pieces left in his knee and his shoulder.

Once he felt that he had retrieved most of the splinters he realized that he had nothing to distract him from the fact that he was lying enclosed in a box. There wasn't much distance between his shoulders and the sides of the box and there was no where near enough room for him to stretch out his legs.

Stefan pounded the side of his fist against the side panel. "Hey!" He shouted hoarsely. He coughed to clear his sore throat. It was the kind of sore that came from a constant stream of yelling. Had he woken up once before? If he had, why wasn't his throat healed?

"Hey! Let me out of here!" He pounded the panel again. "Hey!" He began to breathe faster. Could anyone hear him? What if they had forgotten about him? Was he doomed to spend eternity in an old freezer?

"Hey! Let me out! Let. Me. Out!" He emphasized each word with a bang on the panel.

He ran a hand through his hair. He needed to get out. He couldn't stay in here. He couldn't breathe. There wasn't enough air.

Stefan gasped and clawed at his chest.

The blackness was pressing down on him; a weight he wasn't strong enough to lift.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his chest tightening.

The space was too small. His muscles were cramping, begging to be stretched and extended.

Stefan braced his hands against both of the walls and pushed with every ounce of strength he had.

The walls didn't budge. They seemed to be collapsing inwards..

"No, no, no…" He whimpered.

He kept his hands braced against the sides as if they were the only things keeping the sides from falling and smothering him.

"Let me out! Please…I can't breathe. I can't – I can't – I ca–"

His airways felt as though they were shrinking, tightening.

Just as he felt himself going lightheaded, on the verge of passing out, he heard the sound of rattling chains and clicking locks. He opened his eyes just as the lid of the freezer was lifted.

He blinked his eyes rapidly as bright light streamed in. Once his vision cleared he was able to make out the smiling face of Sebastion Belousov.

Belousov cocked his head. "Awake again? How are we this time, Mr. Salvatore?"

Stefan set his jaw and glared up at his captor, not giving any response.

Belousov chuckled. "Are you ready to confess to the murder of my wife?"

Stefan responded by giving Sebastion his best Damon glare, the one where you narrow your eyes and stare at the person like they were spawned by two of the dumbest people on earth.

"I see then," Belousov nodded. "Well allow me to introduce you to a very dear friend of mine."

Sebastion disappeared momentarily. When he returned he was accompanied by a hispanic woman with a long black braid over her shoulder.

"Stefan, this is Mary Beth. Mary Beth, meet Stefan," Sebastion said in an inappropriately chipper voice. "You know what to do, sweetheart."

Mary Beth nodded and raised a closed fist.

"Phasmatos celaverimus ante visio," she whispered gently. She opened her fist so that her palm faced upward. Pursing her lips she blew a pinkish powder onto Stefan. The second the dust hit Stefan's face he knew what it was: vervain.

He screamed as it burned his eyes and skin. He scrubbed furiously at his face, desperate to be rid of the poison.

He was left breathing heavily as the pain receded and his skin healed. He looked around; it was dark again. Did Sebastion shut the lid? He couldn't have. Stefan still felt the cooler air from outside.

"What did you do?" He gasped. He heard Belousov laugh his deep belly laugh.

"Thank you, Mary, darling," he said through his chuckles. Stefan's eyes darted left and right, desperately trying to see around him. What did that witch do to him?

"Enjoy the next few hours. Yelp if you need help," Sebastion added sarcastically as he shut the lid.

"Sebastion! Hey! What did she do to me? Sebastion!"

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"G-Going up to the s-s-spirit in the sk-sky…," Stefan sang softly. "That's w-where I'm gonna g-g-go when I-I-I-I d-die. When I-I die a-and they l-l-lay me to re-rest, I'm g-gonna go t-to the place that's the b-b-best."

Stefan inhaled deeply and breathed out slowly. He didn't know how long he had been lying in the freezer. Sebastion had said he would be back in a few hours but it felt longer than that. It felt like days.

Somewhere in the downtime Stefan's nerves had taken control of his body. It started with his hands. They shook violently enough to the point where he had to stuff them in to his armpits to keep them from quivering. Even then he could still feel them shaking.

The shaking spread to his jaw, as if he were cold – a sensation he hadn't experienced since 1863. Soon the shaking had spread to his entire body until every inch of him was plagued with incessant shuddering. The shaking combined with the point of the stake still buried in his chest was torture.

To distract himself from the panic and pain that was unrelenting, he had resorted to singing – something he never did. He was slowly but surely working his way through each era of music. Right now he was working through the 1960's.

"Hey, y-yourself, you kn-know it's a must: g-g-gotta have a f-fr-friend in Jes-Jesus."

Stefan freed a hand from its prison in his armpit and gave a lethargic whack to the side panel. He went on singing, punctuating the lyrics with hits to the side panels. He felt his knuckles bruising but he didn't care. They would heal soon enough.

"Oh, r-r-recommend you t-to the sp-spirit in the…" Stefan's singing trailed off as his ears picked up what he thought was a scream. He held his breath.

A barely audible scream reached his ears.

"W-W-What the h-hell?" What was going on? He did his best to keep his breathing and his chattering jaw quiet as he listened to the noises happening outside. He could only scarcely make out the sounds of screaming, thumps, and running feet. Then, as soon as it had started, all was quiet.

Had there been fight? Stefan kept straining his ears, desperate to find out what was going on. He heard the faint sound of boots clomping on wooden floorboards above him. What were the odds that this boot-wearing person was coming to look for him? Highly unlikely, but Stefan would give anything to be out of his suffocating makeshift prison.

"H-Hey, down h-h-here!" He yelled as loud as he could, praying he could be heard through the freezer and the floorboards. Whoever was walking around must've heard his voice because the footsteps stopped abruptly.

"D-Down here!"

The footsteps started again, this time they moved much more quickly. There was a bang as what Stefan assumed was a door was thrown open. "Stefan?"

Stefan choked on his breath. It couldn't be…

"Marco!"

Stefan's pulse sped up. "P-P-Polo!"

"Marco!" Damon.

"P-Polo!"

"Marco!" Stefan could hear Damon's voice getting closer.

"Po-P-Polo!"

Stefan gasped as he felt a rush of cool, sweet air bathe his sweaty skin.

"Found you."

Stefan started to laugh, amazed at the impossibleness of the situation, but stopped quickly when the point of the stake re-commanded its presence.

"Damon…," he breathed.

"Good to see you too, little bro. Are you going to take my hand or not?"

"Sure. Where is it?" Stefan had figured it out earlier that the hispanic with had blinded him, whether temporarily or permanently he didn't know.

Stefan could almost sense the frown that was dominating Damon's face. Stefan did his best to quell his shaking and extended a hand up to where he suspected Damon's hand would be. He guessed wrong.

Damon didn't say anything; he simply moved his hand to meet Stefan's and hauled his brother upright. He was quick to wrap an arm around Stefan's middle as Stefan's knees buckled under him.

"S-Sorry," Stefan apologized. "H-Haven't st-st-stood up for a w-while."

Damon's frown deepened. "You're shaking, Stefan." Immediately, he felt Stefan tense in an attempt to stop his shaking. Damon had known his brother was going to be a wreck the second he heard Stefan's voice coming from the metal container circled with chains. "You okay?" Stupid question, Damon. Of course he wasn't okay.

Stefan huffed a shaky laugh. "Fine. H-Help me o-out of h-h-here, w-would you?"

Damon nodded and tightened his arm around the younger Salvatore's middle. Damon was shocked when Stefan yelped unexpectedly.

"Whoa, whoa! What happened? What's wrong?"

Stefan grunted. "There's a piece of stake lodged somewhere in my gut," he answered through gritted teeth. Damon moved his arm and peeled up Stefan's shirt. Sure enough, there was a quarter-sized wound just below Stefan's navel that was still oozing blood. "Nasty," he commented under his breath.

"You t-th-think?" Stefan snipped. Damon rolled his eyes. "All right, come on. Let's get you out of there first and then I'll work on getting that out."

Damon talked Stefan through getting his long legs over the lip of the container and onto the ground. Once Stefan was free, Damon guided him over to wall and instructed him to sit so Damon could fish out the stake fragment.

"What happened, Stefan?" He asked to keep an exhausted looking Stefan engaged. Stefan rested his head back against the brick wall. "He s-s-said I k-killed his wife… in R-Russia… 1953…"

Damon looked up from his task at his brother who's eyes had slipped shut. "So?"

Stefan peeked open one eye. "So w-wh-what?"

Damon grunted as the his fingers slipped on the wood fragment. Stefan grunted also, from the pain of his brother's fingers jostling his insides and from the pain of stake being shoved deeper into his abdomen. "Did you kill her?" Damon asked.

Stefan snorted. "N-No, I didn't k-k-kill h-her, D-Damon."

"Hah!" Damon shouted triumphantly as he pulled the elusive piece of the stake free of his brother's insides. Stefan sighed as he felt his skin start to knit back together.

"T-Thank y-y-you," he said with relief. Damon clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Anytime. All right, let's get you home and figure out this blind problem." He grabbed Stefan's hand and heaved Stefan to his feet.

"D-D-Damon?"

"Yeah, Stef?"

"Th-Thanks for f-finding me."

Damon smiled lightly. "I'll always find you, Stefan."

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Thanks for reading! Drop me a review and let me know what you thought! Happy Thanksgiving!