Disclaimers: Elena Gilbert, Stefan Salvatore and friends, along with the Vampire Diaries I - IV belong to L.J. Smith. Everything else is mine. No harm intended or money made from this fic.
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
Author's note: This chapter underwent some significant changes on 20 October.
~ Four ~
"Stefan Salvatore."
Stefan turned, surprised, his expression going instantly wary. He did not acknowledge the salutation, merely looked at the person who had addressed him. The other looked like a drug addict, with slumberous eyes and a gaunt frame.
"So you are the Crow's baby brother," the man – vampire, Stefan realized – went on and slipped casually into the seat beside him. At Stefan's narrowed eyes, he elaborated, "Damon. That's what we used to call him."
"What of it?" the younger Salvatore said noncommittally. He looked away, afraid that his eyes would betray the interest that kindled in his heart.
"Oh, nothing. I knew him way back when. Learned a lot from watching him – I was fairly new back then – and I've always wondered about the brother. Whether you two were anything alike. Seems not; if I hadn't been looking, I would have mistaken you for a human, your aura's that weak."
Stefan ignored the last statement. "You were looking for _me_?" A touch of self-deprecation mixed with suspicion in his tone.
"Not in particular, just keeping an eye out for any brother undead," the stranger said easily. Stefan's lip curled – vampires were not social creatures by nature, unless someone wanted something – and he made to get up.
A hand clamped on his arm, vise-like. "Stay awhile." The stranger's tone was mild. Stefan was stronger than a human, but this one was obviously well fed and maintained his grip effortlessly. Anger and distrust sparking in his forest-green eyes, Stefan settled back down. The hand retreated and the man, who had not lost his affable air, leaned towards him.
"You should know that chaos is brewing in our world. A rumor – a prophecy – of a Power that will wipe out all vampires. It is a threat to us all and you can bet that a lot of us are not taking it sitting down. We're on the hunt of our lives – or _for_ our lives, as the case may be." The stranger's eyes glittered with anticipation, his expression a clear invitation for Stefan to join in the fun.
"Sounds like you have more than enough people on the lookout. Why are you telling me any of this?" His tone made it clear that he wanted no part in this 'hunt'.
The other vampire leaned back. "Your brother gave me some help when I was in a tight spot once. Call this a little payback, looking out for you."
Stefan nearly said bitterly that he doubted Damon would thank his old acquaintance for his gesture, then caught himself. A year was too short at time for five-hundred-year-old habits to die and Stefan had to remind himself that his old hatreds with Damon had been put to rest. Instead, he calmly pulled out a bill that covered both his and the other's drink, dropped it on the table and left. This time, the other let him go.
Outside, Stefan stuffed his hands into his jacket pocket, thoughtlessly imitating the humans hurrying along home after an evening out. He had spent most of the day attending to his business affairs and had stopped by the café – ostensibly for a cup of coffee, but really to wait for dusk and its concealing cloak of darkness to fall before he hunted. He wished now, fervently, that he had gone home instead.
Why was he so disturbed? By what the unknown vampire had told him? It was not as if he reveled in being a vampire or even particularly cared about the fate of vampires as a race. It was pure, instinctive survival instinct, he supposed. The defensive fear of a creature whose existence was threatened.
Or perhaps it was being reminded of Damon and all the regrets and emotional turmoil he inspired. He knew Elena still thought of him from time to time. Stefan himself sometimes wondered where he was, what he was doing. He could almost hear Damon's cutting, ::I'm a big boy, little brother. I can take care of myself.::
His mind turned to the months between Elena's death as a vampire and his return to Fell's Church, when he had dogged Damon's steps from Virginia to – and across – Europe. Eventually, Damon had switched tactics from running away to flaunting his un-Stefanlike principles: feeding off unsuspecting humans being one of them.
Thinking of feeding reminded Stefan of his errand. It was harder to feed in the city, with fewer animals to hunt. Fortunately, Elena agreed with his decision not to drink human blood.
::She's changed,:: something inside him suddenly said. ::Once upon a time, she might have held that drug traffickers, pimps, rapists and murderers were ideal prey. Her time on the Other Side has marked her, subtly but deeply.:: She spoke little of the afterlife and he did not ask, but he gathered that she remembered quite a bit.
That was neither here nor there and Stefan headed towards a nearby park. He almost heard Damon in his head, sneering at the thought of squirrel. He sighed and it was almost wistful.
* * *
Leon Morris watched as the younger Salvatore brother made short work of the squirrel. He trailed him from the park back to the apartment building; he never once needed to shield or hide; Stefan didn't check to see if he was followed. Leon saw the blonde human girl who greeted him and went, "Ah. Figures." A looker, to be sure, but still...
Leon shrugged and left.
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
Author's note: This chapter underwent some significant changes on 20 October.
~ Four ~
"Stefan Salvatore."
Stefan turned, surprised, his expression going instantly wary. He did not acknowledge the salutation, merely looked at the person who had addressed him. The other looked like a drug addict, with slumberous eyes and a gaunt frame.
"So you are the Crow's baby brother," the man – vampire, Stefan realized – went on and slipped casually into the seat beside him. At Stefan's narrowed eyes, he elaborated, "Damon. That's what we used to call him."
"What of it?" the younger Salvatore said noncommittally. He looked away, afraid that his eyes would betray the interest that kindled in his heart.
"Oh, nothing. I knew him way back when. Learned a lot from watching him – I was fairly new back then – and I've always wondered about the brother. Whether you two were anything alike. Seems not; if I hadn't been looking, I would have mistaken you for a human, your aura's that weak."
Stefan ignored the last statement. "You were looking for _me_?" A touch of self-deprecation mixed with suspicion in his tone.
"Not in particular, just keeping an eye out for any brother undead," the stranger said easily. Stefan's lip curled – vampires were not social creatures by nature, unless someone wanted something – and he made to get up.
A hand clamped on his arm, vise-like. "Stay awhile." The stranger's tone was mild. Stefan was stronger than a human, but this one was obviously well fed and maintained his grip effortlessly. Anger and distrust sparking in his forest-green eyes, Stefan settled back down. The hand retreated and the man, who had not lost his affable air, leaned towards him.
"You should know that chaos is brewing in our world. A rumor – a prophecy – of a Power that will wipe out all vampires. It is a threat to us all and you can bet that a lot of us are not taking it sitting down. We're on the hunt of our lives – or _for_ our lives, as the case may be." The stranger's eyes glittered with anticipation, his expression a clear invitation for Stefan to join in the fun.
"Sounds like you have more than enough people on the lookout. Why are you telling me any of this?" His tone made it clear that he wanted no part in this 'hunt'.
The other vampire leaned back. "Your brother gave me some help when I was in a tight spot once. Call this a little payback, looking out for you."
Stefan nearly said bitterly that he doubted Damon would thank his old acquaintance for his gesture, then caught himself. A year was too short at time for five-hundred-year-old habits to die and Stefan had to remind himself that his old hatreds with Damon had been put to rest. Instead, he calmly pulled out a bill that covered both his and the other's drink, dropped it on the table and left. This time, the other let him go.
Outside, Stefan stuffed his hands into his jacket pocket, thoughtlessly imitating the humans hurrying along home after an evening out. He had spent most of the day attending to his business affairs and had stopped by the café – ostensibly for a cup of coffee, but really to wait for dusk and its concealing cloak of darkness to fall before he hunted. He wished now, fervently, that he had gone home instead.
Why was he so disturbed? By what the unknown vampire had told him? It was not as if he reveled in being a vampire or even particularly cared about the fate of vampires as a race. It was pure, instinctive survival instinct, he supposed. The defensive fear of a creature whose existence was threatened.
Or perhaps it was being reminded of Damon and all the regrets and emotional turmoil he inspired. He knew Elena still thought of him from time to time. Stefan himself sometimes wondered where he was, what he was doing. He could almost hear Damon's cutting, ::I'm a big boy, little brother. I can take care of myself.::
His mind turned to the months between Elena's death as a vampire and his return to Fell's Church, when he had dogged Damon's steps from Virginia to – and across – Europe. Eventually, Damon had switched tactics from running away to flaunting his un-Stefanlike principles: feeding off unsuspecting humans being one of them.
Thinking of feeding reminded Stefan of his errand. It was harder to feed in the city, with fewer animals to hunt. Fortunately, Elena agreed with his decision not to drink human blood.
::She's changed,:: something inside him suddenly said. ::Once upon a time, she might have held that drug traffickers, pimps, rapists and murderers were ideal prey. Her time on the Other Side has marked her, subtly but deeply.:: She spoke little of the afterlife and he did not ask, but he gathered that she remembered quite a bit.
That was neither here nor there and Stefan headed towards a nearby park. He almost heard Damon in his head, sneering at the thought of squirrel. He sighed and it was almost wistful.
* * *
Leon Morris watched as the younger Salvatore brother made short work of the squirrel. He trailed him from the park back to the apartment building; he never once needed to shield or hide; Stefan didn't check to see if he was followed. Leon saw the blonde human girl who greeted him and went, "Ah. Figures." A looker, to be sure, but still...
Leon shrugged and left.