Chapter 4

Damon Salvatore waited what felt like an eternity for him, but it was only a few hours of waiting for the entire house to become tranquil into the dead of night. He had heard the grandfather clock again tolling, telling him it was midnight. Damon tried as quietly as he could to make no sound as he crawled out of his bed and, grabbing his candle to lead the way, opened the door. He looked to see their father's entry to the bedroom sealed shut, which meant Giuseppe Salvatore had retired to bed. Damon closed his door softly behind him, walking to his brother's room with trepidation and determination, making sure to tiptoe the entire way. To Damon, the sound of Stefan's door sounded so loud as he began opening it. He did not want anyone hearing him go into his brother's room, and also, if Stefan happened to be asleep, he did not want to awaken him from his slumber.

Damon found that his little brother was not peacefully dreaming what little young boys fancy at that age but was very much awake and looking at the door to see who was coming in the dead of night. Giving his baby brother a soft smile, he closed the door behind him and made his way to Stefan's bed. A candle had already been lit and cast their shadows onto the walls, making them look like giant monsters. A chair was close to the bedside, probably where either their father or Miss Charlotte kept a vigil over Stefan when his fever would spike. A bowl with water and a washcloth sat on the nightstand.

This was the first time he had seen his brother since earlier in the morning at breakfast, and to say he looked worse was an understatement. If that was even possible, Stefan looked paler, and his normal vibrant green eyes looked glassy from the fever. He looked like he lacked even the energy even to talk.

"It's okay, Stefan. I'm here if you want to sleep."

Stefan looked up at his brother, and though his body was craving more rest to fight off the sickness plaguing his body, he was so tired of sleeping. He wondered if that was even possible. Too tired to sleep? It felt like that's all he had been doing the last few days. He just wanted to get out of bed and go on more adventures with his older brother. Yet, the very idea of throwing the covers off of him and getting up just took his energy thinking about it.

"Damon." Stefan found his strength to be able to talk.

"Yes, Stefan?" Damon's eyes locked onto his Stefan's.

"You think I'm going to die like Momma?" Stefan's eyes were penetrating the depth of Damon's soul. What was he going to say? 'LIE!' Damon's internal voice told him. Do not show any doubt. Stefan would be able to read him instantly. Yet apparently, his brother could read him like an open book. Stefan had seen the sudden doubt in Damon's eyes that there was a possibility Stefan could lose this battle. Tears started to well up in Stefan's eyes, and they started falling across his cheek into the pillow.

"No, ssssh Stefan, no, God no. You're going to live for a very long time. You just have the flu. Don't think like that. You'll be fine, Stefan, don't think like that." Finding himself repeating his words.

Stefan was getting himself so upset that he started not even to get the words out; he was almost doing a hiccup with every breathe, panicking at the prospect of dying. "Why…then…," he stopped to catch his breath again, "does Father have that look on his face." Tears kept rolling down his cheek. "Same look," intake of breath, "he gave us when mother died."

Damon, now feeling like this, had been such a bad idea even to enter the room. Maybe his father had been right; he should have never come in here. He was clearly upsetting Stefan and how vulnerable Stefan was right now; anything could set his baby brother off.

"I don't wanna die, Damon."

Damon got out of his chair and sat down on the bed, and grabbed Stefan's face into his hands. "It's okay, Stef, you're not going to die. You are fine. Just take a deep breath." Stefan kept his eyes locked on Damon. His breathing was starting to slow down, and only a few tears escaped as he was able to calm down as he took in each breath.

"Good. How about you shut those eyes, and I'll see you in the morning."

Stefan nodded his head in agreement. After crying, it seemed to zap him of any lasting strength he had left at the moment, and he closed his eyes. It didn't take long for Stefan to fall into a deep sleep. Damon, however, waited till he was sure Stefan would not stir before he moved off the bed and into the uncomfortable chair. Damon would sit here and watch over his brother. He was not going to have Stefan wake up alone again. Damon knew his brother well enough that Stefan's little mind was thinking of all the worse things. Not to mention, Damon was pretty sure no one had told the younger Salvatore what he had gotten and why he felt so ill. Though Damon wanted to give him that knowledge, he dreaded how Stefan would react. Not to mention, yellow fever could go two ways. Either Stefan could either get over the illness like some people he had known, or he could take a turn for the worse, and his fate would be sealed for him. Only time would tell in the next day or two. His eyes feeling droopy, he decided to close them, and before Damon even knew it, he dozed off into a restless slumber.

(Morning)

Damon suddenly was awake. His entire back was screaming at him from the odd angle from falling asleep in the chair sitting next to Stefan's bed. His deep blue eyes blinked away the remaining sleep, and he stretched, trying to get the kinks out of his back. Stefan's back was turned, facing the wall, so he could not see his little brother's face. Damon glanced around and tried to figure out what had alerted him and had awakened him so suddenly from his sleep. That's when Damon's heart leapt into his throat when he heard his father's door opening and then closing. His father was about to come into Stefan's room. Damon knew his father would be furious if he caught Damon in the room when he had strictly had forbidden and told him not to disturb Stefan. To go against the word of Giluseppe Salvatore was as though you were going against the word of God.

Without even a second thought of his action, Damon dropped hard to the ground and crawled under Stefan's bed. He had just turned his body around to peer out from under the bottom as he heard and saw his father enter the room of his baby brother. Damon was convinced their father would overhear his heartbeat because it was pounding so unyielding he could hear within his own ears. He took a slow breath in and a breath out.

His father sat down in the chair that Damon had only occupied a few minutes before. It seemed like endless time to Damon, but a few minutes passed, and he could hear a soft sobbing from their father. Thinking about it, he couldn't recall a time his father had cried or seen a tear of sadness fall down the man's cheek. Even when their mother had died, no tears were shed that Damon recalled. It was as though no love was lost. Yet, here the man here was grieving for his ill-stricken youngest son. Then Gilsuepee spoke.

"Stefan, why? Why did it have to be you? Anyone but you, my precious boy."

Damon felt the tears before he felt the complete sadness and anger that swelled up within his body at hearing those words. He always suspected and knew his father loathed him for not thinking like him or going against the grain. Yet, now Damon had overheard the words from the man's mouth. His father wished it to be him lying on the bed, dying instead of Stefan. A swell of different emotions hit Damon all at once as he laid there stewing in what his father had said. Jealousy, resentment. Why was he not good enough? What did Stefan do that Damon didn't deserve the same love? Why was it always Stefan? Denial and anger. Good, he didn't need his father's love anyway. Who needs love from a man like their father? Sadness and shame. Stefan didn't deserve Damon's anger or thoughts in such a negative thought. Not when he struggled for every breath of life to take into his lungs. Yet, Damon still couldn't stop the flow of tears that had consumed him as he laid there waiting for his father to depart. One of the most challenging things Damon had to do was to cry silently up to this point in his eighteen years. He angrily wiped away any remaining tears as he heard his father whisper soft words to his younger brother and then left the room. He didn't come out of his hiding spot until he heard his father go down the stairs, and silence filled the house for few minutes.

Damon kept his back to Stefan as he climbed out from his hideout under the bed, not sure if he even wanted to look at his younger brother. He could feel himself blaming Stefan for the love that their father showed Stefan. The love deep down Damon craved for, the type of love he wanted his father to say to him. Yet Damon would rather die than admit such a deep repressed feeling. Finally, he turned around to see Stefan lying on his back, but his entire features and body had taken on a sickly yellow tint.

Stefan was not getting better. He was getting worse. It was only going to be so long before Stefan's body failed him, giving up the fight and the will to live.

Something snapped in Damon Salvatore. He couldn't be there anymore. He couldn't bear witness to seeing his baby brother so sick and then hearing his own father's words still rolling in his head in that very same room. He had to get some air. Had to think. Allowing his legs to carry him from the house and to the horse stable, he was on his favored horse and away from all the misfortune that was weighing his very soul down. He found himself by the rock quarry. The same quarry that himself and Stefan had only been playing a week ago. Not having any idea what laid before them and how quickly life would kick them both down. Damon's mind was spinning questions and trying to answer them all at the same time. How could this happen to his family? How could his baby brother get so sick so quickly? Why didn't it befall him? He deserved all the pain and suffering. Why couldn't he just get ill and die and be done with having to look at the disappointment in his father's eyes one more time? He looked around, trying to find something to allow his anger to come out. He grabbed a rock and kicked it as hard as he could, making it sail across the quarry until it hit the water submerged under the water, never to be seen again.

"What's with the rock kicking young Master? Something troubling you?"

Damon spun around to hear the voice behind him. How in the hell this guy was able to appear out of know where it seemed and make not one single sound of his coming and goings were beyond eerie. Damon didn't know how to make this man leave. He didn't want to be around this guy. He didn't want to be around anyone, for that matter, especially this person. Everything in his body told him to run. Yet, his feet stayed planted in the ground. Finding his voice finally, Damon responded with the bravest voice he had, yet it came out weaker than he wanted and a little whinier than he wished to, "I do not mean to be rude, but could you please leave? I want to be alone."

A soft smile came to the man's lips. As though Damon's distress and the mere act of bravo amused him. Changing tactics, he asked with a wave of his hand, "I see it your younger brother is still sick, or he'd be with you."

Damon just stared at the man, not giving a response. Again, with Stefan. Why was it always Stefan? Why did this man care where his younger brother was or if he was still unwell? He only met his brother once. Why did he seem to have this weird fascination with Stefan and himself? Anger started to fuel his soul again.

Catching the heat coming from Damon's eyes, another soft smile came to his lips as though he was reading Damon's mind. Knowing his thoughts and why he was so upset at life itself, "Look, I mean no disrespect. I understand how younger brothers can be. I'm a younger brother to an honorable good doer that loves to keep his word. I think us younger brothers keep you older brothers on their toes on purpose. It's what we do best. I have a younger brother as well, and half the time I just want to," looking around to find the right words, "stab him."

He could relate to what this man was saying. There were a few times he wished he could just knock Stefan on his ass. Not a brother squabble, no really put this kid in his place. It was just the age difference between the two brothers that made it difficult. Nobody could get in their way when they got along, but when they fought, it was as the world was going to be brought to its knees. Or maybe, that's just how Damon felt like and probably every other brother in this godforsaken world. It just felt that Stefan could be such a pest at times and be a little shit and get away with everything and anything he did. That didn't mean he wanted to see his baby brother die or be so sick that he was bedridden. Watching as the sickness takes Stefan inch by inch and see the very light taken from his baby brother's eyes. No, he just couldn't watch that happen to him. He loved him way too much.

"Brotherhood is complex, believe me, I know. But, anyway, I wanted to give you this," the man pulled something out of his pocket and outstretched his hand with a smile vile, "it should help Stefan. Europe had some bad dealings with some sickness, and let's just say we have perfected some cures."

Damon was not sure what to think of this man now, and the vile he was holding in his hand outstretched to him. It's not like this man would travel the world and give viles that would kill people, right? Maybe this man just wanted to be a good townsman and help out one of the local boys? Knowing somewhere deep down that if he didn't take the vile, Stefan would die regardless. What else did he have to lose? Damon took a few steps and took the glass vile out of the man's hand. He looked at it and saw that it looked red. 'Wonder what was so special about it?' Damon thought.

"Thank you. How can I repay you?" Damon knew that nothing came free; everything came with a price.

"Right now." A slight pause, "Nothing." The man said with a reassuring smile. "Now, get and go take care of that little brother of yours."

Damon didn't say a word as he quickly walked to his house and mounted it. He kicked it into a gallop and never looked back. Another man came from the woodline, having watched the whole transaction.

"Nicholas, you know better than to toy with these humans' lives." Elijah's silky voice came from as he walked up to stand next to his younger brother.

Klaus didn't even give his brother a response. Rolling his eyes in response to Elijah's voice. Klaus didn't need someone telling him what he should and shouldn't do. He'd do whatever the hell he felt like doing and for whatever damn reason. He did not have to answer to know one or offer any explanation. Let Elijah pick up the pieces behind him. Besides, for whatever reason to Klaus, he couldn't understand himself really; he had a strong pull towards the Salvatore brothers, especially young Stefan. Klaus being someone that usually went on senses and feelings, would not dare go against them now. He'd never expect his older brother to understand this, and quite frankly, he didn't want to explain it to him either. Elijah would bore Klaus to death. Deciding not to say a word to his older brother, he walked away with a slight smile on his lips; Elijah was not going to ruin his mood. Elijah Mikaelson had no other choice but to follow his younger brother as he had been doing begrudgingly for centuries and would continue till either one of them died or both of them finally got sick of it. Whichever came first.

The End

Author Notes: I can't believe I was able to finish a story. I feel like lately, I leave stories undone and just fall out of love with the fandom and never come back. I was bored today and clicked this open and set out to finish this damn thing and be done with it! So hope you like the silly happy ending. I honestly thought about only having one Mikaelson showing up, but then I just couldn't resist, and Elijah had to pop in for a cameo. I kept thinking, well, their blood can't solve sickness, I.E., Momma Salvatore trying to treat Enzo, but then I figured screw it, they are Originals. They are masters of the universe, and it's my story, and that's that, lol. Anyways hope you enjoyed my first and probably only Vampire Dairies story; thank you, everyone, for those who did leave me a kind review or was poking me to continue or who favored it or put it on alert. It means a lot to think that someone finds my writing substandard enough to keep reading, lol. Anyways, till next time, peace out.

P.S. I'm debating about changing the name of this story; I just can't think of anything good. Every time I updated this story, I couldn't get freaking Kai Parker out of my head singing the song and Stefan's bewildered look at Kai's high pitch vocals…(dead)