Damon woke slowly... It was dark, thankfully. He knew that the light would hurt him. He contemplated going back to sleep, but no. The pain was too much. He reached out with his mind.

There were two presences in the house, one was old and kind, but unfamiliar. And one he recognized as his brother.

The memories were patchy at best. He remembered a child with green eyes that laughed, but that conflicted with the memory of a young man and the same green eyes glaring at him. The child's mouth forming the words "I hate you." He cringed away from that. Why did his brother -his younger brother, as his mind told him- hate him?

He decided to wake him up, if only because he felt terribly alone at that moment. So he mentally prodded until he felt his brother rouse. Quicker than he would have believed, Stefan stood in the doorway. "What's wrong?" he whispered anxiously.

Damon shook his head. Sorry to wake you. I just needed someone to be here. He knew this sounded childish, but he was so tired... and everything hurt. Stefan nodded understandingly. He sat next to his brother without comment. Damon gripped his shoulder to pull himself into a seated position.

I don't remember hardly anything. He confessed tiredly. There are a few things that are clear, but everything else is foggy. And much of what I do remember I don't particularly like. He took a deep breath, then looked into his brother's eyes. Everyone hates me, don't they?

Stefan sighed. "Well... You didn't give anyone much of a reason not to, at least not until the end."

Damon blinked, troubled. The end?

Stefan looked shocked. "You don't remember? Honestly?" Damon shook his head. "Damon... you died six months ago. You got staked in the heart by a demonic tree." Damon's eyes widened and he suddenly felt dizzy. Stefan gently reached out and gripped his brother by the arm, obviously afraid he would fall over.

I still don't remember that... Why would that make everyone not hate me?

Stefan sighed. "You died saving Bonnie. She's felt guilty about it. You pushed her out of the way so she wouldn't die, but you died yourself." His grip tightened on Damon's arm. But Damon just nodded.

That makes sense. Only... if I died, how am I here?

"That was what I was hoping you could tell me."

How? I don't remember. I woke up... and before that I remember nothing. I only remembered my own name at first. Well, my name and images of Elena and Bonnie. I could remember them.

Stefan shrugged. "I don't know what happened. You did die though. I was there."

Damon's eyes widened again. What?

Stefan shrugged again. "Yes. I-I had to watch. Elena was angry at first, thought you were faking... But I knew."

I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to see. When Stefan looked puzzled though, he realized. Oh. But you hated me as much as everyone else. He leaned away from Stefan. He closed his eyes and shivered. So I suppose you didn't care all that much.

Stefan frowned at him. "Of course I cared. And don't blame me for hating you. You hated me just as much."

Damon felt a stab of anguish, and before he could stop it a word was torn from his mouth. "No."

His voice was raspy and faint, and his throat throbbed painfully. But he continued. "I never did. I can remember that much. I tried..." He was interrupted by a coughing fit which bent him double, his forehead going to his knees while both hands pressed to his chest. He could feel his lung flutter as the air left uselessly. He wheezed, his breath impossible to catch. He reached out to his brother, who grabbed him by the hand and gently shifted him so he was laying down. His breath came slightly easier, though he was still in pain. It still hurt unbearably.

When the coughing finally stopped, he closed his eyes. His lids had suddnely felt so heavy... He managed to tighten his grip on his brother's hand slightly, and then he began to lose consciousness, feeling greatful that his exhaustion had caught up with him. He wouldn't have been able to rest otherwise.


Stefan looked at his brother for a moment. He didn't hate you at all. A voice whispered in the back of his head. And you hurt him, more than once. And what did he try to do? He sighed and tightened his grip on his brother's hand for a moment. He remembered what he had told Elena that first night: that Damon had used to defend Stefan from their father. He closed his eyes and moved to the chair by the window. Damon stirred slightly, and the coughing started again. Stefan hurried over. He forced himself to channel power to his ears as he leaned his head close to his brother's chest. He heard almost a hissing sound, as of air escaping. Oh no. He thought. Stifling his horror and reassuring himself that everything would be fine, Stefan tugged the blanket up around his brother's shoulders and then went back to the chair, falling alseep in minutes.