Mystic Falls, VA September 26, 1864

Damon was still lying beside the pool of water at Steven's Quarry when Stefan returned. He didn't bother sitting up, but did notice that his brother was carrying a small figure in his arms and a young woman obediently walked behind him. Clearly compelled, which meant that Stefan had transitioned.

He listened as his brother lay the burden he carried carefully down on the other side of the pool of water. Was he imagining the whispered words his brother was saying? Did he just hear him call the bundle Abigail?

Sitting up he glared across the water. The other figure still stood meekly nearby, waiting instructions. And Stefan, his blood doused brother, was stroking the long golden brown hair of the prone figure lying still beneath him.

"Did you call that thing Abigail?" Damon snarled. He didn't trust himself to move closer, if she were here, and his brother had done what neither Damon, nor Katherine had managed, then he didn't trust himself not to kill him. Or try to, seeing as Stefan was a vampire and Damon was adamant he wouldn't turn.

Stefan looked up from the small frame he was hovering over and met Damon's eyes. He was covered in gore. His face, his clothes, not a part of him didn't show a hint of blood. Damon resumed glaring. "Yes, brother, I called her Abigail. It is her name, after all." He moved so the light of the sun glowed across the face of the prone form.

Damon schooled his features to obscure his shock. It was Abigail. She was completely unconscious, Damon could hear her heartbeat, and see the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. "What did you do, Stefan?" His voice came out as a low whisper, but he knew the monster that wore his brother's face heard him. He fought his anger at watching him stroke her hair out of her face, and straighten her blouse.

"I simply paid our father a visit, Damon." Stefan answered, conversationally. "We had a disagreement about the future, and then I realized that, after using his blood to transition; a poetic note, if I do say so, I should offer Abigail a gift to show that I meant to pay court to her." He smiled down at her pale face, ignoring that she was clearly so traumatized by this gift that she'd shut down. "I painted Father's room red, just for her. And then she came to me. And here we are." He said, as if that was all there could be. And disturbingly it seemed to be.

He wanted to yank Abigail's body away from his brother, and the touch of his bloodstained hand, but knew that he didn't have the strength for it. "And the other, your tag along?" He asked, gesturing to the young woman who still stood patiently waiting for some order of what she needed to do next.

Stefan gave his brother a roguish smile. "She's for you, brother." He stood up, stepping carefully away from Abigail and opening a hand to the young woman waiting. She stepped forward and took the offered hand. "You need to turn. Our new family needs you." He walked calmly around the pool of water toward his brother, the young woman in thralled tow. "I thought if I brought your drink to you, then this would be the easiest way to begin our new life."

Damon stood perfectly still. As Stefan and the young woman came ever closer, he knew that his brother was planning on taking the choice of transition away from him. He knew that waiting by the pool and mourning what could have been and what he should not have done had made him weak with thirst. It weakened his reservations, and now, as temptation crept ever closer, he knew that he wouldn't be able to say no. Or fight against what was coming.

Stopping in front of Damon, Stefan tilted the young woman's head, and presented her neck. When Damon made no move, he took a small knife from his pocket and cut her, just deep enough to make the flow begin, but enough to force Damon's thirst into action. He had her in his arms before the thought had taken root in his mind and he was drinking long and deep. The taste, so different from when he'd tasted Katherine's blood, urged him to drink on.

And as he drank, he watched his younger brother's eyes alight with pleasure, knowing he'd won. Seeing the confirmation that Stefan had gotten him to go against his own wishes, and that he had a powerless Abigail at his mercy, Damon made a vow to himself. He vowed to make Stefan pay for these sins. And if misery loves company, then he'd be sure that Stefan had more company than he could contend with.

The Salvatore House September 27, 1864

After Damon insisted on taking Abigail back to their former home and putting her to bed himself, the brothers began cleaning up Stefan's gift to the young woman. Damon was shocked at the amount of blood and gore that managed to coat every inch of the room his father had once called his own.

While Stefan took care of the larger body parts, removing them to the garden for a late evening bonfire, Damon found buckets and rags to clean up the more liquid damage. As they cleaned, Damon used the time to ask his brother of the plans he had for their 'family'.

"How exactly," Damon asked, pulling what he felt were intestines from a chandelier and placing them in a bucket, "does this new life work, brother? You marry Abigail and I do what exactly?"

Stefan was wiping down the surfaces that were skin, flesh, and organ free. As he worked he answered. "Yes, we marry, and you are our brother. As you've been all these years, Damon." He had found a piece of flesh he'd missed before, tossing it in a bucket, he glanced up at his brother. "Unless you have a problem or another plan?"

There was a challenge in the question that Damon did not answer. Instead he moved on, "And we stay here, in Mystic Falls? Word must be out that we're dead, Stefan." He had picked up a rag and was trying to remove more gore. It seemed like a never ending battle. "Unless part of your plan for vengeance includes Mystic Falls becoming a ghost town, Population: 3."

Stefan sighed, and looked around the room. "No, it doesn't. I think that eventually, after Abigail awakens, and we're married, then we can leave." He said. "I do mean that you are a vital part of our family, Damon." He meant it, Damon realized, as warped as he was he meant it when he said they'd all live happily together.

"What if she doesn't wake up?" Damon asked, the thought scared him, but he was curious as to whether Stefan had a plan for that inevitably.

Stefan glared at the mere conjecture that he'd be denied his desire. "Then I find a way to make her wake up." He said, and a chill ran down Damon's back.