So, this chapter is dedicated to The Brother's Unite three reviewers: Death'sAngel18, Taylor LaRue, Aslan is love! Thanks you guys, I love hearing from people. This chapter is a flashback to a made up time, therefore no spoilers. Vamcest warning.


Standing beside him, so close, staring into those quiet, intense eyes, my thoughts wandered from the present. I could tell he was also lost in the past, yet I wasn't sure I wanted to know where his memories had taken him.

Saint Stefan. My formerly beloved younger brother. Who had renounced his vampire nature, striving to cling to his humanity for decades. To what end, I used to think. Mortals die. They live a prosaic existence, focusing on day-to-day struggles that, at the moment of their death, amount to nothing.

The longer I existed, the greater the disdain I felt for these pitiful creatures. The world is a shit place, where humans strive in vain for things they can never achieve. Things like love, peace, happiness.

I had trouble in those days understanding why my brother would want to be a part of humankind. We had been freed from the toil of earthly pursuits, from the ceaseless quest for achievement and inner tranquility. Once I left Stefan's side and Mystic Falls, I turned off the switch and stopped giving a shit.

In the dawning light, with Stefan's cool shoulder pressed against mine, I was drawn back to a time when my brother had "fallen off the wagon". I had been up north, in Canada, escaping prohibition. I mean, seriously, what was that about? A country that banned the production and drinking of alcohol was not my idea of a civilized nation.

It was a dreary November night and I was imbibing home brewed liquor in a dark, smoky Montreal tavern. I had recently discovered the allure of French women. It was late, I was drunk, and, despite the excess of alcohol, I was craving blood. So the party continued upstairs, above the bar, avec Monique, Danielle et Anne. All of us naked, screwing on the bedbug ridden, musty mattress.

I was about to sink my teeth into Monique's pale, swan-like neck when I heard it. An insistent tapping at the cracked windowpane. Trying to ignore what I already knew was coming; I unsheathed my fangs and bit down. Bliss. Annoying tapping. Sucked in blood as the other women sucked on my flesh.

Only to be denied my climax by the continual, persistent knocking. Sighing loudly, I tossed the women across the room and left the bed to open the window. Beheld Noel. An oldish vampire known to both Stefan and myself. Liked by neither.

"Fuck off Noel" I greeted him. "Your timing sucks, and not in a good way. What could possibly be so important that you felt the need to interrupt ma petite fete? This had better be tres important or I'll rip your worthless throat out."

"Your brother." He answered. "Your brother is going to get himself killed. He's on a rampage. Ever heard of Al Capone?" I shook my head in affirmation. "Well, Stefan has taken up with him in Chicago. He's ripping, Damon. Bodies everywhere. I think you need to stop him. Before he draws any more attention to himself. And to us. He's been shot half a dozen times and those gangsters can't figure out how he keeps getting up. It's bad, Damon."

I found him in a seedy, rundown hotel. Stinking of cheap perfume, unwashed human, and tainted blood. He looked like shit, sitting there slumped on the disgustingly dirty bed. His eyes were glazed, his hands unsteady. He regarded me with a mixture of hostility and relief. And something else. Another emotion that I didn't want to see, didn't want to acknowledge.

"Damon" he said woodenly, "What the hell are you doing here?" I couldn't respond. Seeing him like this, I felt something stir deep within me. Regret? Guilt? Affection? Whatever. I told myself that I was only there to set him straight. To get him away from Chicago. Away from a dangerous situation that was drawing unnecessary attention to us, to the vampires wandering the world.

I swore I didn't care that he looked so adrift, so forlorn. That he was staring at me with longing, with…..love. He reached out his hand. And I was lost. I swiftly crossed the small room and took him in my arms. The stench of him was overpowering. Gently I undressed him. Managed to find an urn with stale water on the rickety dresser.

Removing my shirt, I dampened it and began to wash him. Tenderly. This was my younger brother and I was responsible for him. Like old times. As I bent down to wipe away the grit from his neck, his lips were suddenly upon mine. Searching, pleading. I felt myself responding. Unwillingly at first. My resolve vanishing as he tangled his tongue with mine, drew me down onto the bed, pulled me close.

In that moment, the years spent estranged from my brother were forgotten. My ever-present anger quelled. There was only Stefan. Kissing him, feeling his desolation fade, his passion grow, I felt alive again.

Growling, I flipped Stefan onto his stomach. Reached around with one hand to stroke his erection. Enjoying his moans of pleasure, I used my damp shirt to moisten that puckered muscle. Pulling Stefan to his knees, I swiftly entered him from behind.

Both of us were soon panting, unable to hold back. There was no need for words, our shared rhythm fast and furious. The years of separation obliterated with each driving thrust, with each stroke. Our movements became almost frantic, each driven to climax through the other's movements, urged on by cries of pleasure. He came before I did, muscles spasming in ecstasy, crying out my name. That drawing-in sensation around my cock pushed me over the edge. I spilled into him, shuddering as I collapsed, pushing him down into the mattress.

We lay there quietly for a time, each lost in our own thoughts. Rolling off, I lay on my back, staring up at the peeling, moldy ceiling. "What the hell are you doing here, Stefan?" I asked softly. "Missing you," he whispered, the sound of a sob in his voice.


Shaking my head, I returned to the present. Bumped Stefan's shoulder with mine, trying to draw him back from wherever he had escaped to. We were facing a turning point. We had to take a stand. I knew what had to be done to save Elena. But I had to get my brother to agree to my plan. To stand together. United. To save Elena, I would need to risk everything. Including the new-found peace Stefan and I had forged. Last night. After Elijah had demanded his stupid apology. After Andi had left, forced out by my anger. After Stefan had found me, broken and hurting. Last night. It had meant everything. And standing there, staring into each other's eyes, we both knew it.