It's a sad thing, to be a brother without your siblings. Brother . Hmph. Was he even still worthy of that word?

It had been terrible enough when June died. Silas and him were always so fiercely protective of her, as older brothers often are. She was forever asking to be carried or to be included in things. Begging Eliot to please oh please read to her or demanding Silas play the cop to her robber in her silly games. She was a bossy little thing, but the Stokes boys were happy to be bossed about. Jump, June would demand! And the Stokes brothers would ask how high and how far for their little taskmaster.

She was learning to climb trees, eager to conquer the skies and the birds. Eliot much preferred to lay under them and read. Silas, on the other hand was the adventurer. Their father, the original Timothy Stokes, had declared him half squirrel and forever lectured him whenever he came back inside with scraped knees or a torn sweater. June wanted to climb too and demanded she learn from the best. So Silas had begun the task of teaching her.

He'd never let her get too high, or do it without him watching. These things took time to learn. But June Stokes was an impatient little girl. She stomped her feet and said she wanted to climb up higher than the birds, high above the clouds. Eliot assured her that she would, in time.

He was reading Dickens for the 13th time under that tree, gazing over every so often to Silas giving instructions to a fussy June. But she was getting the hang on it. To the point where on this day, Silas allowed her to climb a foot and half higher than she had before. She did so with ease, and triumphantly called for her eldest brother to gaze upon her victory. Elliot did so and clapped.

Perhaps he shouldn't have.

Because June had boosted her ego enough to begin to climb, even more. Silas called for her to stop, but she stuck her tongue out at him and climbed some more. He yelled this time, demanding she get down or else he'd come up and get her. To which she responded by climbing further. Eliot discarded his book and yelled at her too. It wasn't safe up there! The branches aren't sturdy! She hadn't practiced!

But little June gave the orders, not her big brothers.

Silas quickly began to scurry up on the tree, quicker than he ever had before. Demanding his sister stop, shortening the gap between them. But she laughed. She had a sweet little laugh, haughty but sweet. And as she laughed, she reached up for her next branch, eager to take hold of it and it

Snapped

And down she plummeted.

Eliot had screamed and desperately tried to catch his sister but he wasn't quick enough, and she landed in a lace covered heap on the grass below. Silas screamed too, for their father, their mother, anyone. Screamed for help.

But all the towns doctors, and all the towns men couldn't put June back together again. Big brothers that would do anything for their precious little sister, couldn't bring her back to life.

And now Silas too. Was gone. Another accident. A car on a slick wet road and a driver too drunk to care. Silas and his wife Ruth, in an instant were lost to him.

Could he still say that he was an older brother now? Dare he say he still had siblings when they had left this mortal world for a different one? Stokes had seen and studied too much to say he knew for sure if there was life after death or give a good answer on what it looked like. But he knew many-a-culture believed that there was one, and it would be a pleasant thing. At least Silas would be there to be June's playmate again.

As awful as it was, it didn't hurt to talk about June. Years had softened that. It didn't even hurt to think about Silas at the moment; but perhaps that was due to his concern over his niece Hallie at the moment. Even though he didn't mind to speak on his siblings, rarely did they ever come up in conversation.

In fact, among his friends in Collinsport perhaps it was only Elizabeth Stoddard who knew. But that was due to an off-handed comment he had made one day. Something that really just slipped out. Of course, then explanations were in order and he had to recall the whole tragic thing again.

It wasn't exactly "need to know" knowledge that had to be spread, after all. . Until it came to Barnabas Collins. A strange man, a man out of time and place with a past as dark and tragic as any novel Eliot had read in his life. There were many things he did not know about Barnabas, many things he doubted he ever would, but what he did know was intriguing to say the least.

But the day he learned about Sarah Collins was an interesting one. The little sister of...erm... "the original" Barnabas. Age 10. Died of illness. The Barnabas he knew did not like anyone to speak about her, and in fact would get quite angry when anyone did.

But Stokes wasn't afraid of the wrath of Barnabas Collins.

They had been engaging in checkers, Barnabas was losing but only by a thin margin. All the better for Eliot; it had been ages since he had a proper challenge. It was the Collins cousin's move, rather late in their game, when Stokes cleared his throat. "Barnabas as I'm sure you've realized I've asked everyone not to talk to Hallie about her parents too much. No matter what time has passed I don't think she's quite ready to talk to anyone outside the family yet."

Barnabas nodded, a smile tinged with sadness. "Of course, Eliot. The last thing any of us want is to upset her."

Stokes watched as Barnabas jumped one of his pieces, almost mesmerized by it. "...her father was a good man, you know. A good brother. Even if we didn't talk as much as we should have, anytime we got together it was like we were thick as thieves again."

Barnabas took the stolen piece and added it to his stack of other spoils of war. "I can imagine. I am sorry for your loss, Professor. It's a difficult thing to deal with; the loss of a sibling."

"It's a pain I'm familiar with."

Barnabas looked up, puzzled, now watching as Stokes moved a piece to his side of the board be kinged. "I beg your pardon?"

"Silas was one of my siblings. I had another; a little sister named June. She died when she was very young, you see," Eliot said smoothly, his voice even though his eyes must have betrayed some hint of pain.

"I am—I'm so sorry, Eliot. That's a burden I don't wish anyone to bear," Barnabas patted the top of Stokes hand, a strange sign of comfort.

"...and yet you've endured it yourself," Barnabas opened his mouth then, to deny it, to rage perhaps but Stokes didn't give him the chance. "And don't lie to me Barnabas or try and dismiss me. You lose your sister too. Young Sarah."

Barnabas instantly stiffened, and pulled his hand away. "I think our game is over.," he said briskly, moving to stand when Eliot grabbed his arm and held it tight

" If anyone here understands where you're coming from when it comes to Sarah, it's me. You can say whatever you like to the others, but you can be open with me. I understand you better than anyone."

Barnabas stared a moment, daggers in his eyes. But the sharp blades dulled rapidly, and he returned to his seat. "Time doesn't heal it completely. Does it?"

"No, no I'm afraid it never does. But, a little comfort and shared pain can go a long way."

Eliot Stokes and Barnabas Collins still didn't know if they could still be called siblings by the end of their chat. But they had a new sort of kinship to ease the pain of that loss, however fragile it may be.