Chapter 10: Lying With The Best Intentions

PRESENT DAY

The three second silence that follows feels like an eternity as every variation of every possible excuse or logical explanation shoots through Damon's mind. His first reaction is to laugh it off, say it's an old girlfriend and pretend that he doesn't see that the person sitting in his lap on the photograph is Elena's double. He could turn it on them, make them look like the crazy ones and downplay the resemblance to Elena as being nothing but a coincidence.

"What-Is that-? Is that...me?" Elena squeaks from over Stefan's shoulder.

Elena's voice reminds Damon of the reality of this situation. It's not just his brother he has to try and explain this to, it's Elena too. But how? How?

Stefan swallows the lump in his throat and rips his eyes away from Damon to shift in his seat and look to Elena. "You tell me, Elena," he spits venomously. "Because it sure as hell looks like you now, doesn't it?"

Elena blinks rapidly as though trying to awake from a nightmare. Damon knows the feeling.

"I...I...I...", Elena stammers, her mouth agape and her dark eyes flitting from side to side in her head as she desperately tries to make sense of what she's seeing before her. "I've...I've never seen that before," Elena insists through gasps, her hand on her hand. "Stefan, I swear to you. Stefan, I...", she trails off, exhaling sharply and shaking her head from side to side.

"How can you have never seen it before, Elena?" Stefan shouts. "This is you. Right there," Stefan thrashes the photograph in Elena's face pointing at Katherine. "Are you telling me that's not you?"

With Stefan's attention on Elena, Damon reaches forward to try and tries to grab the photograph from Stefan's hands. Stefan anticipates it and violently shifts his hand away, hitting the window as he does. The adrenaline in his body has peaked so high that he doesn't even feel the pain and his penetrating stare falls back to Damon. Damon has known Stefan since the day he was born and never has he seen his face so contorted by fury or his eyes so ferocious. It actually makes Damon tremble.

Damon glances over at Elena, her anxious stare fixed on him. She's just as confused as Stefan, but unlike Stefan her the strange nature of her first encounter with Damon gives her a sense that he can explain this bizarre situation.

Stefan noticing Elena and Damon's eyes on each other explodes with, "Will someone explain what the fuck is going on here!?"

Damon and Elena jerk their heads to Stefan in surprise. His breathing jagged, veins are bursting out of the side of his neck as he grinds his teeth together so hard Damon's surprised they aren't crumbling away.

"Stefan...I promise there's an explanation."

"Yeah?" Stefan spits. "Then what is it?"

"Please...just not...not here. Let's go back home where we can sit down and talk properly."

"No! I need to know now! Are you two...are you together? Have you been going behind my back? My own brother and my girlfriend? How...? How can this be happening? I don't..." Stefan is muttering to himself, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts circulating inside him that are all intermingled into one.

"No!" Elena exclaims reaching over and placing her hand on Stefan's shoulder. "Stefan, no. I...I would never do that. I can't explain, but whoever that is in the picture...it isn't me. It's not me, Stefan."

"How can you say that?" Stefan asks her, his voice cracked.

"Because I met Damon for the first time two days ago! I know that isn't me, it's not possible."

"She's telling the truth, Stef," Damon sighs. "It's not her."

Stefan jerks his head to Damon. "And why should I believe you?"

"Because does it look like Elena?"

"Yes!" Stefan exclaims waving the photograph in Damon's face.

"Look closer."

With a puzzled frown Stefan does as Damon says and lifts the photo up to his face. Through squinted eyes, Stefan examines every square inch of the image and slowly his expression softens, as recognition comes across his face. He can see the same things Damon has seen - the different styled hair, clothes, the body shape and size, the make-up, the facial expressions. Even on a photograph, anyone that has met Elena would know that the girl in the photograph is not her.

When he feels satisfied that he's seen all he needs to see, Stefan's grip loosens on the picture and he lets his hands sink into his lap. Elena, who has been squeezed in the center of the driver and passenger seats, reaches over and takes the photograph from Stefan, wanting a closer look too. Already knowing with absolute certainty that is isn't her, Elena only stares at the photograph for a minute or so before looking up to Stefan and Damon.

Damon looks to Elena and then to Stefan as he says, "I promise, I'll tell you everything. But first, let's go home. Please."

PAST - 10 YEARS AGO

Having not managed even a wink of sleep in the 6 hours he's laid in bed staring up at the ceiling, Damon accepts defeat, climbs down from his bed. Creeping towards the door, he's careful not to wake Stefan, who is wrapped up in his duvet like a caterpillar and snoring softly from the bottom bunk. It's barely gone 6am and it's still pitch black outside. But it doesn't bother Damon, he's used to being up this early. Starting his mornings with seeing the pink and orange hues in the sky from the sun rise was part of his routine, as was making a slap up breakfast for his family. The stereotypical picture perfect family that instantly pops into people's heads when they imagine that is likely one of two parents - a mother and a father - with their two sons; the four of them perched around the table, sun streaming through the window; father umming and ahhing as he reads the paper, mother making packed lunches for her boys. That of course is not the reality of Damon's life, nor is it a life that Damon is even aware exists amongst other families.

He approaches the kitchen table and begins to tidy away the empty cans of cider and cigarette packets. He tips the contents of the ashtray into the trash and with a damp cloth, he wipes away the ash and collects the nub ends that didn't find their way to the ashtray. It's a routine he's so accustomed to that it takes him only 10 minutes to have it spotless. When he's finished he wanders over to the fridge to grab a glass of orange juice. As he pours the juice into his glass, he notices white spores on the surface of the liquid. Lifting the bottle to his nose, it takes only a second for him to groan in disgust at the repugnant and sour smell of the two week out of date juice.

Any child of 15 in this situation would possibly throw a tantrum and place the blame on their mother or their father, but not Damon. Instead the only thought that enters his mind is, "Damn it. I knew it was out of date yesterday and was supposed to get more. How could I have forgot? I'll go to the store before Stefan wakes up. He'll need some juice with his breakfast."

As he shuts the fridge, he tosses the rotten juice into the trash and decides to watch TV since it's an hour before any store will be open. Proceeding to the living room, Damon suddenly trips over a pair of black heels near the front door. Damon kicks the shoes in frustration as he grunts in pain, then he looks up his eyes wide. Those heels... If they're here that must mean...

"Mom," Damon says aloud, his face lighting up with a smile.

Dashing across to her bedroom, not caring that it's still only just past 6am, Damon carefully opens the door. The overwhelming smell of stale cigarette smoke and alcohol hits Damon, but strangely he finds it comforting since it is her smell, his mothers. The room is cloaked in darkness and all Damon can make out is vague outlines of the furniture.

"Mom?" Damon whispers into the darkness. "Mom, are you here? Are you sleeping?"

He knows that waking her before she's ready to arise is pretty much always guaranteed to result in her waking up in a foul mood, but it's been days since he's seen her so he really couldn't care. Stumbling clumsily across the room, Damon trips over various items strewn across the floor and reaches his hand out to the bed. When his hand falls upon a cold, hard and empty bed, his heart sinks with disappointment and he manages to switch on a light on the nightstand.

Though the light is dim and meek due to the foul shade of yellow-brown the lightshade is from the years of smoke, Damon can clearly see that his mother's not here. He's surprised by the overwhelming urge to cry that takes him over and when he turns and notices the door of her closet open, the contents from inside it missing, the tears come before he even has time to process what it is he's seeing.

He's known his mother for 15 years, she's always come and gone as she pleased, but never, never has she taken anything with her. At least nothing more than the clothes on her back, a few bucks from Damon's piggybank and a six pack of Strongbow. Damon knows in his heart what it means, but he can't understand why. It's been four days since he last saw his mother, where she'd been in that time he had no clue and honestly, he didn't want to know. He recalled the last time he saw her, strained himself to remember any minuscule detail. Something about her that was different, something she might've said or done that indicated she was thinking of leaving, but he could think of nothing. She was her usual, drunken, chaotic self. Dragging Damon and Stefan about by their hands, as Bon Jovi's Livin' on a Prayer blared in the background. She only stopped when Mr. Branson called around and told her to stop. (Lucky it was him who asked really, since Lily Salvatore never did anything anyone told her to do. Except, Mr Branson.)

Damon tries to convince himself that it'll all be okay. That she'll come back, just like she always does, but there's a gut feeling that he can't shake that he's never going to see her again. With all of the destruction and turbulence she creates, Damon should be relieved for her to be gone and admittedly there have often been times in the past when he's been so relieved to see the back of her for a couple of days or a week. It always was so much more peaceful with just him and Stefan. And Mr Branson and Lexi, of course. But now that the reality was that Damon may truly never see her again...all he wanted more than anything was for her to walk through the front door and never leave again. Despite her faults, she's his mother and there's an unflinching loyalty and love he feels for her that he has never been able to shake, no matter how toxic it might be.

Damon wanders out of the front door and crossing over to next door's porch - the place he always found himself in times of turmoil and distress. Lexi, just like Stefan, will no doubt still be cosy and fast asleep, but Damon knows Mr Branson will be out making his rounds. Since Damon has known him - which is since the day he was born - Mr Branson has worked as a mailman and maintained the same routine. He wakes at 4am, makes his deliveries and returns for 7am to wake Lexi for school and at 8am he drops her and Stefan at school. Damon's desire for strict routine and structure no doubt come from Mr Branson, since he has been the main adult influence in Damon's life.

Usually Damon would wake Stefan at 7am, but given what he's just found out, he needs some advice. When he sees Mr Branson pull up in his van 10 or so minutes later, relief shoots through him.

"Damon," Mr Branson calls out, a warm grin on his face as he climbs the steps of the porch.

"Morning, Mr Branson."

Damon stands from the bench and Mr Branson embraces him.

"I'm sorry to come round so early, I know that it's-"

"Nonsense. Now, you tell me what is it that's on your mind, son?"

Damon loved that he knew him well enough to know something was troubling him. It's the reason Damon found it so incredibly easy to open up to him.

"Well, it's...it's my mom."

Mr Branson nods, hardly surprised. His mother has been nothing but trouble ever since he's known her and as much as he is fond of her in some way, he believes with his whole heart that she doesn't deserve either of her sons.

"I...I saw her shoes by the door and I thought she must've come back home, so I went to her room you know to see her and..."

"Go on," Mr Branson encourages.

"She wasn't there and all of her things were gone."

"Her things?"

"You know, her things. Her clothes, her personal possessions."

"And you're worried about that?"

"Well...yeah. You know what she's like, Mr Branson. She comes and she goes, but she never takes anything with her. Not all of her things."

"And you are afraid that she may not be coming back?"

Damon hangs his head and nods.

"We have been afraid of this in the past, but she has always come back, hasn't she?" Mr Branson smiles.

Mr Branson had been neighbors with Lily for over 20 years, since her mother died and she inherited the house. Mr Branson and his wife had been good friends with Lily's mother, Marion and that friendship extended to Lily and her two grandsons. He knew Lily well enough that he was used to Lily's disappearing act, just as Damon and Stefan were. Over the years, he has become much more than just a family friend. After all, he's the one that takes on the parenting role whenever Lily's absent, which is most of the time. He's lost track of the amount of hot meals he's cooked for the boys over the years, the nights he's had them stop over at his place, the mornings he's listened to Damon's innermost thoughts, the wounds he's bathed, bedtime stories he's read, imaginative games he's played. He's done it all. And he'll do it this time, too. Even if Damon's right and Lily never comes back, he will still be here for them. Nothing will ever make him turn his back on Damon and Stefan. In the years he has known them, raised them and loved them they have become as much a part of him as his own daughter, Lexi.

"This time is different, I know it," Damon insists.

"Don't you worry, she'll be back when the time is right."

"What if I don't want her to come back this time?" Damon retorts

"Oh, now, I'm sure you don't mean that."

"Yes, I do. All she does is cause trouble. She disappears for days and weeks, then she comes back and messes the house, she steals my money and then she leaves us again. She doesn't care about nobody and nothing but herself."

"That may be true, but she is still your mother."

Damon scoffs. "She doesn't act like it."

Mr Branson sighs deeply. "I know, son, I know. Unfortunately, alcoholism leaves no room for anything else but alcohol. Your mother loves you, I know she does, but-"

"But she loves booze more," Damon finishes.

"That's not what I said nor was it what I was going to say."

"But it's true. It's always been true. I've never understood why, but I know that's the way it is, the way it'll always be. Anyways, I don't care about that, I care about Stefan. Since she left last time he's been so upset, he asks me about her everyday, asks when she's going to come back and I always tell him soon. What do I tell him now, Mr Branson?"

"Maybe it's time you tell him the truth."

"The truth?" The words stammer out of Damon's mouth as though they are poison. As the older sibling, he has always assumed responsiblity and protecting Stefan is his number one priority. The only way he does that is by lying.

"Mom will be back soon, I promise."

"Mom loves us more than anything."

"Everything will be okay."

Lies, all lies that Damon told Stefan every day. It was the only way to soothe him off to sleep at night. A bedtime story only got him halfway, it was the reassurance of those lies that placated him enough to allow him to drift off to sleep. How could Damon take that from him? Damon may have to suffer the harsh truths of the world, but there was no way he was going to succumb his sweet, innocent 8 year old brother to the same.

"I can't tell him the truth." Damon shakes his head violently. "It would kill him if I did."

"You're a good boy, Damon. Strong, loyal, protective, loving and I know you lie to Stefan with the best intentions, but it is lying all the same."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that lying, no matter the circumstances, is often worse than simply telling the truth."

"Not if you're doing it to protect someone you love, to save their feelings. Like I'm doing for Stefan."

"Ah, but you see, you may be protecting him now, but all you are doing is prolonging the pain. Take it from an old man that's been around for a while," he chuckles lightly. "The truth with always comes out. If you lie, when that truth does come out, it brings with it, not just the pain of the truth, but also the pain of the betrayal."

"What does that mean?" Damon asks again through raised eyebrows.

Mr Branson leans in closer to Damon. "It means, my boy, that when Stefan learns the truth about your mom, it will hurt him, but when he finds out his brother lied to him about it, betrayed him, it will hurt him even more."

It takes a few moments for the words to sink in and resonate with Damon.

"So you're saying if I tell Stefan the truth now, it will cause him pain, but less pain than if I lied to him?"

Mr Branson nods. "The truth is rarely easy to hear, but it is necessary to know."

"If that's true why does everyone lie?"

"Because it is human nature to lie, son, but love...love demands that we must always be honest about the bigger matters, ones concerning the heart. For hidden truths only bring with them more pain. You understand?"

"I think so," Damon nods. "Don't lie to the people you love about important things."

Mr Branson puts his hand to his mouth to stifle his hearty laugh.

"What?" Damon asks self consciously.

"Nothing, nothing, my boy. It's just...I never was good at explaining things in simple terms. You on the other hand...spot on."

Damon laughs lightly at that.

"Now, you get back round there and wake your brother. I'm making breakfast for all of us this morning," Mr Branson says, squeezing Damon's shoulder.

Damon instantly perks up and gets up from the bench. "Thanks, Mr Branson," he gushes before taking off down the steps of the porch.

"Oh and son?"

Damon whisks back around to him.

"No matter what happens, you have a family here. You always will. Don't you forget that."

PRESENT DAY

The memory of that day flashes through Damon's mind the entire journey back to the apartment. Mr Branson's words about the importance of honesty and truth, especially with those you love, echoing in his ears. Later that day Damon did as Mr Branson advised him to and told Stefan the truth about their mother. He cried for two weeks straight, which broke Damon's heart, but he saw clearly that the pain telling the truth caused early on was less than the pain of the truth and lie later on. And from that day forward Damon never lied to Stefan again. Never. Not about the important things. Well, at least not until three months ago...

Just as he convinced himself at 15 that he was lying to Stefan with the best intentions, he's been convincing himself of that these last three months. Each time Stefan visited and he hid Katherine away in a hotel or made her stay silent when Stefan called or lied to Stefan about how he'd spent his day, Damon justified it all by convincing himself he was protecting Stefan. Katherine was too complicated, too messy and it was bad enough that Damon was caught up in it, he didn't want Stefan to be too. Now, doesn't that sound familiar? Even 10 years on Damon can't help but try and protect his baby brother.

But that stops today. It stops now. Mr Branson was right. Lies only prolong the hurt and deliver a double dosage of it. Stefan not only has to deal with the mystery that is Katherine Pierce (and apparently Elena Gilbert too), but he has to come to terms with Damon lying to him about everything for the last three months. Damon knows Stefan well enough to know the latter will probably be harder for him to accept. When it comes to being betrayed by the person he trusts most in the world, Stefan's naturally forgiving and fair nature is compromised.

Today Damon has already seen a side to Stefan he has never seen before and he hates that his lies are what has caused that. Mr Branson was right about that too - there is no such thing as lying with the best intentions. This proves it, because if he would have told Stefan the truth about Katherine three months ago none of this would be happening now.

When they finally pull into the parking lot of the apartment building, Damon feels his heart rate spike. For the entire journey, he has kept his eyes locked on the road ahead and avoided even making eye contact with Stefan or Elena, but now they're back Damon is aware of the weighty truth he is expected to reveal. He considers jumping out of the car and running and never stopping, but the thought is nothing more than a whim that he would never dream of acting on. But there is one question that keeps eating away at him - where the hell is he even going to start?

As the engine purrs to a stop, Stefan throws the door open aggressively and climbs out of the car, marching up to the apartment without a word or even a backward glance to Damon or Elena. Damon sighs deeply and follows. Elena meets his eyes and the anxiety, uncertainty and fear Damon sees in her chocolate eyes overwhelms him with guilt. He's focused so much on how this impacts Stefan, but in reality, it probably impacts Elena more. She's the one that is personally connected to this somehow. She's the Jane Doe 2.0.

The second Damon steps into the apartment, he pours himself a glass of water and gulps it down to replenish his throat which is as dry his mouth has attached itself to the roof of his mouth.

"So?" Stefan hollers, arms folded. "Don't you think we've waited long enough? It's time for some goddamn answers, Damon."

"Alright, alright," Damon replies holding his hands up. "I told you I'd tell you everything, didn't I?"

"So then tell us," Elena says her voice soft and pleading.

"You best sit down first." Damon gestures to the sofa and Elena obliges, but Stefan remains standing. "Stef, please. Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

He fixes his eyes on Stefan's and with a heavy sigh, Stefan relents. Unfolding his arms, he stomps his way around the couch and sits beside Elena. Damon sits in the armchair across from them. Taking a large gulp from the glass of water he refilled, he takes a deep breath.

"I don't...I don't even know where to start."

Stefan throws his hands up in frustration and Elena reaches out for him, taking his hands in hers. Stefan doesn't attempt to shift away from her and seems to calm at her touch. Elena turns her gaze to Damon and suggests, "You start at the beginning."

Scratching his head, Damon inhales deeply. Two pairs of anxious and intense eyes fixated on him - one emerald, the other chocolate - Damon prepares himself to divulge the deepest and most mangled web of lies and secrets he has ever carried in his life, knowing that it will change everything.

"Well... It...it all started three months ago..."