A/N: On Ao3 there is banner art for this chapter, as well as some others. Also I like to direct reply to comments.
"Sometimes we reveal ourselves when we are least like ourselves."
Anaïs Nin
Damon had to blink against the brightness of the sun. The heavy heat was like a warm blanket on top of him. He wasn't sure why it felt so safe taking a nap away from the shade. He thought about taking off his jacket. His father hated all the black anyway. The slick leather and tight jeans would especially piss him off. The mousse holding his tousled just-rolled-out-bed hair in place would probably give Papa Salvatore a fucking aneurism.
Damon smiled.
The grass tickled beneath his fingers, but he felt comfortable for once. He leaned back, reclining on his hands with his feet crossed. Enjoying the sunshine on the wide-open field down the hill from the old boarding house.
The rustle of leaves and beating of feet behind him made him turn enough to spot the bright blond hair of his little brother running to him through taller grass.
Stefan came to stop a few feet away, unable to quiet his breathing but not announcing his presence any other way.
Damon waited patiently as Stefan snuck up behind him. Right before Stefan pounced, Damon turned around and startled him first.
"Hello, brother!"
Stefan fell back onto the ground with a grunt. "No fair!"
Laughing warmly, Damon stood to help Stefan up. He was maybe seven and something about being over three times his age didn't seem right, but Damon couldn't place why exactly. There was something fuzzy about the child standing in front him. Details he didn't quite recognize flickering over the sweet innocent face pouting up at him.
"Since when have I ever played fair?"
"You weren't supposed to know I was here." Stefan whined.
"I always know where you are. You should remember that." Damon smiled at the irked look Stefan shot him. He didn't know when his baby brother started imitating his expressions so well, but it was fun to imagine having a partner in reviling their father.
"I wanted to surprise you."
"Impossible," Damon shook his head. "I know everything about you. The day you successfully surprise me is the day you get away with it. Why did you bring your books?"
In the way that only works with children, Stefan's annoyance was immediately forgotten. He sat down by Damon's feet and picked up his bundle of schoolbooks to unwrap them. Excitedly, he held his hands over the top. "I brought something for you."
His enthusiasm was contagious and Damon joined Stefan on the ground with his legs crossed the same way. Towering over the boy even sitting, he ruffled a hand through the soft bright hair. "You did? Why would you do that?"
"We learned about Saint Valentine this week. We made cards." He grinned and held up a stiff piece of paper with some paint on it. "We're supposed to give them to someone we love."
Damon took the card and inspected it closely. There were small leaves painted in a circle with nice clear script written in the middle that said, 'Damon, I lick you.'
He had to control his expression as he stared at the card. Their father would not appreciate the failings of Stefan's education. He wondered if he'd be the one who would have to tell Stefan it was time to leave primary school and graduate to a proper governess who could give him individual attention.
Stefan grew impatient. He scooted closer to Damon's side and swatted his knee. "What do you think? Do you like it?"
"It's beautiful. Thank you." He finally looked up, heartbroken to be the one to take that smile off his baby brother's face. "But brother, what are you learning in school? This says 'lick,' I think you meant—"
He lost the rest of what he meant to say as Stefan's tongue dragged up his cheek. Stefan was silent a moment, gauging his brothers reaction until Damon turned on him. His eyes glittered but his face contorted to some fake angry thing. Stefan always thought it was a funny impression of their father. "You're dead!" Damon shouted, making Stefan jump up.
Instantly it was a game. Laughing loudly, Stefan tore away; looking back over his shoulder to make sure Damon was right behind him. "But I surprised you! You said I get away with it!"
Damon ran after him, reaching out to grab him but Stefan ran out of reach. The sun grew hazy around them and Stefan stayed beyond Damon's fingertips.
"I can't catch you Stefan, you're too fast!"
Still smiling brightly, Stefan spun around. He was running backwards but didn't lose any speed. "You're a vampire. You run faster than all of us."
It didn't make any sense. They came into this together. "So are you, we run the same!"
Stefan shook his head. "I can't be a vampire. The sun is out and I'm not wearing a ring." Still running, he wiggled his fingers in front of Damon's face. He looked at Damon's hands and stopped so suddenly Damon plowed into him, knocking them both to the ground.
"What was that?" Damon asked, breathing hard and lifting Stefan up to check for injuries. "Are you hurt?"
His little brother's face was solemn. "You aren't wearing a ring. You aren't a vampire here either."
Slowly, Damon sat up, looking at Stefan carefully. "What do you mean 'here'?" He looked around, the sun was so impossibly bright, and warm, and he definitely wasn't wearing his ring. A familiar darkness started creeping around the edges. "Is this a dream? Are you doing this?"
Again, Stefan shook his head. "Not me." He pointed to the trees beyond their little field. "He's doing it."
As Damon followed where the seven year old version of Stefan was pointing, the lights and trees blurred around them until it was the proper aged Stefan, only a few years his junior, sitting on a bar stool beside him.
Damon stood up, the past gone clearing room for his fury. "What the fuck, man?"
"I'm sorry." Flustered, Stefan looked down. "I thought I could be better."
"You're in my head?" Damon snarled as he slammed his fists on the bar.
"I'm projecting, not rummaging." Stefan nervously clarified, "You keep having these awful dreams, I haven't looked at them. I just wanted to help you." It was the truth at least, but it took a few minutes of glaring for Damon to let it sink in.
"And now?" Damon looked around. It looked like the same old Mystic Grille. They were the only occupants in the restaurant.
"I didn't realize how powerful your nightmares were." Stefan said quietly. "You started changing it so I had to do something."
Damon slumped back onto the barstool. He flexed his fingers, eyes glued to where his ring should be. "I'm still dreaming."
"You're still sleeping."
They sat in silence a few more moments.
"Why were you so young?"
Stefan looked up, frowning like he was disappointed. "It wasn't something I made up. You needed something stronger, something more intentional." The corner of Stefan's lip quirked up. "It was a memory."
"I don't remember it happening." Damon shifted forward again, crossing his arms to lean against the bar.
"It wasn't yours." Stefan's smile fell a little. "It's one of my favorites actually. At least, up to the part where you couldn't catch me." He looked up and waited for Damon to look back at him. "You always caught me."
Damon dropped his eyes back to his hands. Something warm flickered inside. There were not a lot of opportunities for him to be proud of something from his childhood. But the way Stefan looked at him made Damon remember what a good brother could be like. He wasn't sure if it was real or something Stefan was pushing on his emotions.
The doubt was starting to freak him out.
He swallowed hard. The edges of the room started to haze again. It was getting harder and harder to tell reality from the world in his head. He put a hand on Stefan's arm. It felt warm, real. The curious eyes searching his were the eyes of his little brother. The boy he chased in the fields near their house when he was young, the teenager who stirred up a myriad of confusing feelings, the man who haunted his dreams.
His white-knuckle grip on Stefan's arm was getting tighter. Stefan's open concern shifted between watching Damon and watching the darkness seep in around the edges.
"Damon, what's happening?"
Damon shook his head, eyeing Stefan carefully. "Just don't… take anything off."
Baffled, Stefan looked around the room again. "What?"
"Nothing, never mind." He hit his hand on the counter. "We have to get out of here."
Stefan moved closer, holding Damon's head between his hands. "Let yourself wake up, Damon. You're the one in control here. Open your eyes. I'm right there. Nothing is going to happen to you."
Damon blinked furiously as the darkness inched closer. Wake up, wake up, wake up...
"You're okay. I'm right here. I'll always be right here."
