Disclaimer 1: Hello beautiful readers. I wrote this story a long time ago and stopped because, frankly life got in the way. As, I thought about going back and finishing this off I started to see way in which I can make it better than before. So, I'll be re-uploading revised chapters and finishing this story once and for all. I do apologize if there are any more discrepancies, I stopped watching TVD when Elena had died (Nina Dobrev deciding to leave the series so season 4?), so correct me if something is wrong based on the series. I will be doing this how I want it to be, so it might not be exactly how it been in the series. I'm a bit rusty but please bear with me. I started this story when I was 13 years old. I am now 22….woah.

Disclaimer 2: There is a discrepancy between the ages and the dates. For example, if indeed Damon (born 1839 wiki) fought in the civil war he would have been 22 instead of 17, but for the purpose of this story, I want him to be a teenager. I hope it doesn't bother someone out there!

Come Home

Chapter 1: Routine

The day was going to be like any other young Stefan Salvatore thinks, waking up from his sleep. He stretches out on his bed thinking slowly this stretch as become part of his routine. He liked normalcy—felt comfortable to know everything will be the same as yesterday. Of course, with some variations presented by his older brother.

Nevertheless, he is looking forward to this day, the beginning of spring and their recess from school. Not that he didn't enjoy school, he loves learning about anything he can get his hands on, but he also just a young lad craving fun.

He wiggles free from his covers with a grin on his boyish face, prepared for whatever adventure his older brother will eventually drag him into. He smiles wholeheartedly at his reflection, trying to accommodate his wild light brown hair, setting up his trousers putting on lastly his silk shirt. He always sleeps in cotton brown trouser, its warm but not suffocating material. If he could, he would wear them all day, he did once until Father saw him coming back from town and scolded him for being "indecent."

Stefan slowly creeps out of his room making sure his door does not do that annoying squeaks and looks through the long hallway for any signs of life.

Once securing that the area was clear, he steps out turning slightly then walks gingerly to his brother's bedroom. Damon, the older and the craziest of the Salvatore's, never likes getting up early. He just turned seventeen and as any teenager, he's fast asleep early eight o'clock in the morning. The perfect opportunity for Stefan to get back at him (Damon suddenly made a habit of disturbing his sleep at least twice a week, yesterday he woke him up at 6am).

He slowly turns the knob to his brother's room, biting his bottom lip to keep himself bursting out laughing already. He lets the door open itself just a bit for him to slide through, cringing to every crackling sound the old wooden floors make against his bare feet and makes his way to the bed. He could make out a lump resembling that of a sack of potatoes and instantly grins. He slowly made his way; hands in from of him ready to pounce.

Once he is a few inches from the lump, he springs on top, "Gotcha now!" he cries, fighting with the covers. He tears the covers from his brother's body only there is nothing but a stack of pillows. Stefan stops, frowning and in an instant, his own face connects to the pillows.

"Thought you can get me huh, Stef?" laughs a soft, velvet voice from behind that sends a wave of calmness through Stefan's young body, and he couldn't help but crack on a smile.

He laughs, "Well I tried, Danny." The weight disappears and Stefan straightens himself bounces to a turn so that he is still lying on his brother's bed on his back.

Damon stares down on him, grinning. His dark locks seem to have a mind of its own and his sky-blue eye always have a hint of mischief in them. He has grown over the winter, now almost as tall as their father, small hints of acne appear on his forehead and his voice has gotten deeper. He is, what father had said to Stefan earlier, become a man.

He chuckles ruffling his brother's hair, earning him a cold stare and a stick-out tongue, "Come on, we have lots of adventures today, lieutenant Salvatore and the first stop is the kitchen. I am starving."

Damon slides down his bed, putting out his boots from under and slips them on. He then begins walking towards the door, looks back at his brother grinning, "Well, aren't you comin'?"

Stefan smiles back, "Of course!"

"Then, onward Lieutenant Stefie!

"Hey! Don't call me that!"

"Whatever you say…Stefie!"

Stefan laughs as he follows him but suddenly conscious, he is barefooted, so he quickly steps into his own room grabbing his leather boots. They jog down the stairs into the kitchen. Emma, their assigned nanny, already has the table set.

"Good mornin' Master Damon, Master Stefan." she greets them.

Damon huffs, waving lazily his hand, "Please, dear Emma do not call me master, I do not like such titles…well, I suppose you do have to call me master around Father but please not when it just me." Emma chuckles, she places a plate full of pancakes and eggs with bacon in front of him. Damon eyes them hungrily. "'lright then Damon, as you say. Eat up, you've got'en quite an appetite lately."

She gives the other plate fill with simple Sunnyside up eggs and toast to Stefan, "Thank you Emma, and please do not call me master either, I don't like it." She smiles and bends forward to plant a kiss on his head, "'lright then, my dear. Eat up, I want you to be as big and strong as you brother."

Damon head shoots up, a mouthful of pancakes, "Wahfth."

Emma and Stefan giggle lightly, "But with more manners and less craziness." Damon swallows down his food, cracks a grin, "What is life without a little risk?"

"Safe." answers Emma straighfowardly, re-arranging the plates.

Damon opens him mouth to retaliate but closes it quickly, "Touche."

Stefan grins, these are the mornings he always desires, wishing it can always be this way, no matter how the clock seems to run faster these past few months. Then, as cold and compose he has always been and more so since his wife's passing years ago, Giuseppe Salvatore strides into the room.

Damon quickly stands up and Stefan joins him wiping his mouth with back of his hand, bowing respectfully to their Father. Emma retreats from the boys, placing her hands in front and lowers her head.

"Father." They all greeted, solemnly.

"Boys," he returns to them. His green eyes locking against Damon's own blue orbs. "Damon, once you are done, come into the studio I need to speak to you privately." He retreats gracefully into the common room through the hallway, another servant steps aside as Mr. Salvatore goes through. Damon sinks back into his seat once their father's presence is no longer felt in the room and Stefan eyes him worryingly, "What did you do now, Damon?"

He raises a brow and shakes his head, "Nothing...at least nothing I can remember. And besides if a bird were to take a sh*t on his coat, Father would find a way to blame it on me. Father never liked me, anyway."

"Damon!" Emma gasps, "your language!" Damon rolls his eyes looking at his baby brother, "You did not hear that, alright." Stefan nods though secretly in the privacy of his own mind, he has already stored that word into his vocabulary of naughty words.

You never know when you might need such an insult.

Stefan looks down on his half-eaten plate. It is true, Giuseppe and Damon never gotten along, Stefan never really quite understand why. Damon is his firstborn son, heir to the Estate, lands and possessions of the Salvatore family and yet to what Stefan has learn through the town's gossipy ladies is that Giuseppe treats Stefan has if he was born first already planned to leave all his possession to him instead. They've also said other nonsense that he decides were just that—nonsense. Nevertheless, Stefan never enjoyed the tension when they fought.

Damon sighs again and gives Stefan a small smile, "Well, I better see what the old man wants, see you later brother. And thank you Emma as always."

He stands up, stretching so much Stefan can hear bones cracking, and heads out the kitchen, whistling as he disappears down the hallway after their father.

Stefan stares at his retreating figure for a moment until he feels a small, firm hand on his shoulder. He looks up at Emma, "Relax, child. I am sure your brother will be fine it is in his nature."

Stefan smiles, she is right I should not worry, it is not the first time Father and Damon talk alone anyway.

"Yeah, you are right, Emma. I am going outside to the gardens. When Damon comes back, can you tell him where I am?"

" Course, Stefan. You go on, child. Go with the wind.

That is more in Damon's nature, Stefan thinks tying his boots before heading out the door. I hope whatever it is that it does not end badly.

"You wanted to see me, Father?" Damon whispers cautiously, stepping into the beautiful studio. Giuseppe de Salvatore sits professionally on the leather-bound chair, his eyes practically drilling a hole into Damon's face. "Sit down, Damon" he replies indicating with a wave the seat opposite from him. Damon sighs stepping closer and takes a seat, his eyes staring back, challengingly. Giuseppe leans back against his chair, hands folding neatly in front of his stomach. "Damon, I am sure you are aware of our society is at war, correct?"

Damon nods once, a clear bored expression plasters his face. It has been the talk of Mystic Falls for months now. Tension between estate holders and their slaves have been very high. And for good reasons, Damon thinks. But the estate holders, a bunch of old coons including his father absolutely have the idea of losing their men.

Damon smirks.

"Well," Giuseppe continues. "I have decided, since you are the eldest and, for whatever reason you did not want to inherit the Salvatore Estate nor making a honest life, I had the pleasure to enroll you into the Confederacy."

Damon's smirk completely disappears, he leans forward, "P-pardon?"

His Father nods, no expression of worry or apologetic nor regret for enrolling his son to Death's grip. "You heard me correctly, boy. You are heading to the Confederacy Training Camp on Wednesday morning, five o' clock sharp."

Damon shakes his head trying to process the information. "Y-you just sign me up just like that? Without discussing it with me! What if I do not want to go, Father? Have you thought what I wanted!"

Giuseppe abruptly stands up, smacks his hands against the table. The booming noise of the oak desk would have made anyone else jolt back, but Damon is used to it. "Exactly as to why I had enrolled you! You would not do anything productive in your life, Damon! All you do is get drunk and chase after young maidens and create ruckus wherever you set foot but no more! Your brother, on the other hand, will do something with his life. I can already see a spark of intelligence in his young eyes. Responsibility and Duty reigns in his veins. Yes, Stefan is young but in time he will learn how to run the Estate."

He sighs heavily, "Why could you not be more like him?"

"Because I am not, Father!" Damon yells back, moving out of the chair very fast it almost caught Giuseppe off guard-almost. "I am not Stefan! I am not your perfect son, I am nothing to you, I understand it, but I also live, I too bleed and dream and love—I am human, Father. I-I do not want to lose my life this way...I-I do not want to leave my little brother alone." Damon whispers the last part more to himself than his father, Stefan is too important.

More than his own life, if he's being honest.

"Gah!" Giuseppe, throws his arms. He starts pacing around his eldest son, Damon's eyes follow him, but his body is rooted on one spot, "Stefan is a child, Damon. He has a lot to learn about life and how it works. He has to know, this age, his brother will not always be there for him." Damon looks down, biting his inner lip.

"And furthermore, he does not need a bad example like you, Damon. He must be far away from you as possible."

Oh no.

Damon growls closing the gap between them. He has grown much taller so, Giuseppe and himself are almost stare directly into each other's eyes. "I might not show a good example for him, Father." He said seething, pointing his finger at him, "But for sure he needs me better, if not more, than he needs you as his parent."

Damon stares at him for a few more seconds before moving towards the door.

He yanks open the door Giuseppe's voice rings out, "I might not be the best father for him-for both of you but I know what is right for Stefan, the right decisions, the right choices for his life. Do you, Damon?"

Damon stares coldly in front of him stepping forward and bangs the door close, cutting himself from the man he has to call his father.

He manages to get a good distance from the studio before stopping against the wall. His heart is heavy, and tears begin to swell in his eyes. He is scared, so scared but not quite about his own life, now at risk of meeting Death too early but the impact the news will have on Stefan's.

How do one tell their young brother they might never come back?

Damon has to admit, a long time ago when he was young, he had disliked Stefan. How his father preferred him right after he was born and left Damon out in the dust. His younger self wanted nothing more for the witches in Emma's fairytales to grab his baby brother and take him away.

It was a stormy night, as Stefan wail for hours, annoying Damon every second, until he went into the baby's room with the intention to shut him up only to find himself staring into the little boy's face. His heart suddenly surged with love and protectiveness as he picked the crying baby crooning him against his chest. Feeling the warmth of another body made Stefan stop crying, he tightly clinged to Damon' silk night shirt and Damon knew then he has to protect him. That it how, moments later, their mother, Emma and another wet nurse found the Salvatore brothers.

Seventeen-year-old Damon growls again twisting the material of his trousers inside his pockets. He stalks off into the kitchen, scarring the daylights out of Stefan's permanent nanny. How dare he thinks he knows what Stefan wants? When was the last time he sat down and actually listen to his youngest son? When was the last time he did that for me? Damon does not remember.

"Mas—Damon, child are you okay?" Emma whispers clutching to a small white towel. "'xcuse me for it is not my place but how was your conversation with your father?"

Damon shakes his head letting his hair settle on his eyes, "You know how those conversations end up Emma but this one was the worst! Do you know what that bastard did? I cannot believe him, that bootlicker."

Noticing his distress, Emma rushes towards him wrapping her arms around him. "Oh, child. What has your father done to you now?"

It has been ages since Damon felt the motherly, warm concern Emma radiates. It reminds him of his mother, and under the comfort of love, he allows is guard to come down, "Oh, Damon, oh" Emma coons hugging the teenager tightly. Damon sobs, "It's not fair, Emma. It's j-just not fair." For once he felt as his age entitles, a young scared boy in between losing his childhood and becoming a man.

She kisses him lightly on his head, hugging him closely for a moment until his sobs transformed into small whimpers and into silence. Damon lifts his head up, wiping his face on his shirt. His eyes are glossy and slightly red.

His lips tremble slightly, "He-He has sign me for the Confederacy, Emma. I am leaving Wednesday morning to training camp up North."

Emma gasps, her small firm hands clap violently over her mouth, "No, oh no, my child, my baby." She hugs him tightly again pouring her love for this boy who did not come out of her own womb.

"I do not want to go, Emma" Damon whispers softly against her arms, "I do not want to leave and risk my life in an ideal I do not believe and most importantly I do not want to leave Stefan alone."

Emma sniffs, "I know, my child, I know yet there is nothin' you can do to defy your father. You must go, child."

Damon pulls out of the embrace once again, straighten up, smoothing his shirt out. He then runs a hand over his hair, frustrated. "...what if I leave? I can run away with Stefan. I am old enough not to cause suspicion. We can go somewhere far from Virginia maybe you can come along with us, and-"

Once again, Emma wraps her arms around Damon, "Oh my sweet how I love your imagination! You cannot...we cannot do that. I am just a slave, my sweet and you are a noble. It is bad enough other nobles seeing us talking. Now, my child, when are you going to tell Master Stefan about this?"

Damon's blue eyes widen, "Oh I cannot Emma! It will crush Stefan! It will crush him!"

Emma nods, sneaking a peak at the hallway making sure her Master was not lurking there already, listening to them. He has spoken to her once about having conversation with his boys. It was not pleasant.

"Child, you have too. This will crush young Stefan but you must do this. As an older brother, you have responsibilities with him. And one of them, Master Damon, is to tell him everything-the good and the bad. You must."

Damon lowers his head, he does not want to do this too Stefan, but she is right. He is the older brother; his bests of friend and those titles comes with telling the truth...no matter how bad it may be.

He looks back at Emma and smiles, "You are right. I should tell him."

"Yes, child. Go now. Stefan is in the garden, go and talk to him."

The older Salvatore nods, giving Emma one more tight hug before jogging out the door into the warm day. She is absolutely right, Damon thought over and over again, hoping the words might give him strength to do this. Stefan must know about their Father sentencing him to death, but how does one tell their nine-year-old brother you are leaving to war and possible may not coming back home?

And how will Stefan react?