A/N – Special thanks to JWAB for inspiring all the best parts of this chapter. This one is as much yours as mine.
10. Lullabies
September 24 ,2010
I found Damon at the piano tonight picking out a few notes. I remember the raucous tunes he'd bang out on the out-of-tune upright at the town dance hall before he would turn his attention to the whiskey and the girls. I can still hum the lullabies he played so reverently on our mother's grand piano in the parlor. I sat beside him as a young boy, watching his fingers with awe. I realize now that he was barely more than a child himself. I begged for another song, then another, before the nanny ushered me to my room. She would admonish him to stop, saying the noise would keep me awake, but he always continued to play. And I knew it was for me, the soft notes quieting my little boy fears.
He's playing again tonight, playing for me, a reminder of a time when all we had was each other. He selects hopeful, strong pieces from the great masters, trying to get a message through where he thinks his words and actions have failed. His playing is beautiful. He will never share this with the world, but he shares it with me. A gift.
1852
"Can't catch me!" A five year old Stefan scrambled through the trees and over the low masonry wall at the southern rim of the Salvatore property. In his excitement he ventured further than he ever had before, not realizing he had left his friends far behind. Stefan roamed, not yet concerned, through the unfamiliar woods, exploring the new territory. He eventually stopped and leaned against a large tree, looking around to get his bearings. His eyes caught a shaft of bright sunlight streaming through the trees, signifying a clearing ahead.
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Damon approached a pack of young boys playing in the woods just past the Salvatores' garden. "Where's Stefan?" he asked.
"Hiding," one of the boys replied. "We can't find him." The boy pointed deeper into the woods. "He went that way." With a flicker of concern in his eyes, Damon trudged into the trees.
"Stefan! Olly Olly Oxen Free!" Damon called out, striding deeper into the forest.
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Stefan came to the edge of the woods and stood, half hidden behind a tree, peeking out before venturing into the unfamiliar field. Hundreds of field hands were scattered through the rows, harvesting wheat. One man, lashed to a pole, sagged in the middle of the field. The others continued to work, their heads down as the overseer stalked past them, a rifle in one hand and a whip in the other. The overseer stopped when he reached the pole. He raised the heavy whip high and swung it hard at the bound man's back. Stefan stood rooted in place. He cringed, tears streaming down his face, as the whip cracked against the man's skin, leaving bloody welts. The victim screamed in agony as the blows kept coming, his cries growing weaker, until they eventually faded away.
The overseer reached up and released the slave's bindings. Stefan let out a terrified gasp as the lifeless body dropped to the ground. The overseer turned a murderous glare toward the sound, meeting Stefan's eyes. He aimed his rifle at a still frozen Stefan. The gun went off with a piercing ricochet, sending a bullet into the tree beside him. Stefan screamed and ran blindly into the woods, tripping over roots and rocks, bloodying his knees.
"Stefan!" Damon's panicked voice echoed through the trees.
"Damon!" Stefan called out frantically, as he picked himself up and ran toward his brother's voice. When Damon slipped quietly into his path, Stefan flung himself at his brother.
"He's going to kill me, Damon!" Stefan whispered in terror.
"Shh, I've got you," Damon hushed Stefan.
"Come out here boy, before I flay the skin from your bones!" the overseer roared, his boots crashing through the underbrush.
They froze for a moment behind a large oak. Damon wiped Stefan's tear streaked face, squeezed his shoulder, and then led him out from behind the tree. The overseer towered over the boys, enraged. Damon drew himself up to his full height. Although his slender twelve year old frame only reached the man's shoulder, he stepped forward with all the authority of a plantation owner's son.
"Sands, " he said, leaving out the respectful 'Mr.'. "God help you, if my father learns that you threatened his sons."
"I have complete authority here," Sands bellowed, his face red with fury. Damon didn't flinch. Sands hissed a slow, menacing breath . "You stay away from my fields, or it won't matter who your father is," he said. He turned and stormed back through the woods. His voice, roaring again at the field hands, carried back through the trees.
Damon flashed a smug smile at Stefan. He knelt down to look his little brother square in the eyes. "He has no power over us. Remember that." Stefan nodded in awe. "Now, let's see those knees," Damon said gently. He led Stefan a few paces to a trickling stream and sat him on a rock. "Nothing a little water can't take care of," he said reassuringly as he washed the wounds clean. A few fresh tears rolled down Stefan's cheeks at the sting of the scrapes. Damon ripped his own shirt and tied a makeshift bandage around the worst of the cuts. Stefan looked up at him, his face pale with shock.
"He kept whipping him and whipping him. He wouldn't stop," Stefan said in horror. "He killed him."
"I'm so sorry you saw that." Damon's face crumbled in dismay.
"It can't be right." Stefan said fiercely.
"It's not," Damon agreed.
"Why does Mr. Lockwood let such a bad man watch over his slaves?" Stefan asked.
"I don't know," Damon confessed, then broke into a reassuring smile. "But I know the best person in the world."
"Who?" Stefan asked, mystified.
"You!" Damon grinned, tussling Stefan's hair and making him giggle. "What do you say we go home and clean ourselves up, then see what Cook has on the stove? I'll even play you a few songs."
"Okay." Stefan smiled up at his brother. Damon took Stefan's hand and stood him up. Stefan teetered a bit on his feet, still looking pale.
"How 'bout a piggy back?" Damon offered. Stefan clambered onto his back.
"Will you play Ode to Joy?" Stefan asked from his perch.
"I might even teach you how to play it yourself," Damon laughed.
After supper, Stefan sat beside Damon at their mother's piano. Damon ran a reverent hand across the lid before setting up the sheet music. He smoothed the pages out gently, then began to play. Stefan watched, mesmerized, as Damon's hands ran across the keys. He played a couple of fugues to warm up, then pulled out the music for Ode to Joy. He played the melody through once.
"Do you remember where middle C is?" Damon asked. Stefan pressed the key confidently. "Good!" Damon smiled. "Now put your fingers here." He guided Stefan's hands onto the keyboard. He played the first bar slowly. Stefan's little fingers followed the pattern awkwardly. They played together for several minutes until Stefan tired. "That was great," Damon smiled. "Would you like to hear Mother's lullaby now?" At Stefan's enthusiastic nod Damon began the familiar lullaby their mother used to sing, playing from memory. Stefan leaned exhausted against Damon's side, but his eyes were wide open as he listened to the familiar, comforting music.
"Play it again please," Stefan asked more than once.
The nanny entered the parlor and approached the piano. "Stefan, time for bed."
"Just two more, Miss Mabel," he pleaded.
"Go ahead. You can hear me from your room," Damon reassured him.
"Stefan will never be able to sleep if you continue playing all hours," Mabel said with concern. "What will your father say if he returns home to find your brother still awake?"
"I'll be playing for a while longer, Miss Mabel," Damon said, with a quiet conviction that thwarted any argument.
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Stefan climbed onto his bed, but balked at lying down.
"Did something scare you today?" Miss Mabel asked.
Stefan huddled against his headboard. "I think I saw Mr. Lockwood's overseer whip a man to death today," he said, his eyes enormous.
Mabel sucked in her breath sharply. "Did he see you there?" she asked, real fear in her eyes.
Stefan placed his small hand over hers. "Don't worry Miss Mabel. Damon saved me," he said with a brave smile.
Mabel smiled back. "You are a lucky young man to have such a good brother."
"I know."
They both fell silent, listening to the soothing strains of music filling the house, Mabel pulled back the covers and tucked Stefan in. Once Stefan's breathing deepened, she quietly returned to the parlor. Damon looked up at her as she approached, a question in his eyes. She nodded and flashed a grateful smile.
"You're welcome," Damon mouthed, and continued to play, the music filling the house long into the night.
September 24, 2010
Damon is playing our mother's lullaby, painting endless variations in beautiful arrangements he's written himself. He begins with his right hand only, picking out just the clear notes our mother would sing. Then he adds his own accompaniment, blending it seamlessly, filling the house with a rich sound, but always the unmistakable theme remains. I thought I had lost my brother, when I forced him to become a vampire, but I realize now that he never left me. He remembers what he meant to me then, just as clearly as he remembers the music he played for me. His music eased the horror of the first death I witnessed. He chased the nightmares away that night, and many nights thereafter. He was strong, reassuring, reliable. He gave me the courage to grow into a good, strong man.
I trusted Damon with my life when I was young. Maybe if I do so now, he can protect me from the nightmare I've become. If I take the leap toward humanity, maybe he can help me find the person I need to be.