The next morning, Stefan woke up, went downstairs, and started his oatmeal, like every morning. Half way through breakfast, he realized Damon hadn't come down yet as he usually does. Thinking he slept in, Sefan offered to wake him up.

"Oh, Damon woke up hours ago." Clara told him.

Much to their surprise, the eldest Salvatore threw down his paper and looked at the cook angrily, "Where did he go?"

"He's right outside, sir. He missed his lessons Friday and is doing the work now." Clara responded meekly, she was never comfortable when addresses directly by Mr. Salvatore.

"Stefan, make sure he's there! I do not want him leaving these grounds until at least after noon."

Stefan complied with his father's wishes, not entirely sure why Damon had a backwards curfew. Damon usually had to return before midnight, now he couldn't leave until noon. When he walked out onto the back yard, his brother was leaning against a large tree with his books around him, deeply engrossed something he was writing.

"Are you finishing your song?" Stefan asked excitedly, Damon had been working on the same song for the entire school year, when it was done, so would his formal training be. He would be a musician.

"I was supposed to have it finished and perform it on Friday, I forgot until now. I'm almost done, though." Damon seemed completely ecstatic about his song finally being complete. The top of it read, "To My C"

"Is it about Celia?"

"Yep, the whole thing is our story!"

"I wanna hear it. Can you play it for me when you're done?"

"You can hear it tomorrow with everyone else."

Stefan wanted to hear it then but took the fact that Damon would let him listen in the first place as a win. He sat down next to his brother and lifted one of the schoolbooks onto his lap. He had no idea what the symbols in the math problems meant but slowly turned one page after another, using it as an excuse to be near the coolest person he knew.

It could have been hours, it probably was. Damon finished his song with a huge grin and then, they hung out. Damon explained this or that while Stefan asked questions or just listened to one of Damon's stories. They always found time in their week to do this, to just be brothers.

Eventually, Stefan got hungry and stood up saying he was going to finish his breakfast. Damon admitted to not even having breakfast in his rush to get his work done. So, they picked up is books and papers and made their way into the house, where their father was still at the table, his breakfast already eaten, coffee gone, newspaper read. The two men stared at each other in silence. The awkward angry atmosphere of post argument hung around them. Damon only looked away from his father when a messenger came in, bearing news that Damon's music teacher would be there this afternoon to finish Damon's training.

"Tell him to arrive at six," Damon ordered the young man.

"Three, Damon will be ready for him at three." Countered Giuseppe.

Damon gave his father his best smirk, "I'll be home at six." Then, he left the dinning room to eat in the kitchen like he always did when he didn't want to be around his father.

"He'll be ready at three. Tell your master to be here at three," Giuseppe sounded extremely confident.

"How do you know he's come home early?" Stefan asked when the messenger left.

"He will, you'll see." Stefan left it at that, knowing better than to ask again.

A little while later, the brother set out into town looking to waste time before Damon was to meet up with Celia. They wandered the market and visited the shops. Damon charmed his way into getting free freshly baked bread from the baker's daughter. The ate it as they walked. They ended up outside f Celia's tavern. Stefan was told to wait in the store next to it so he could check in on her.

In the store, filled with women's clothes, Stefan heard the women by the counter talking.

"Did you hear about the poor girl?"

"Everyone's heard by now. It's just tragic!"

"How will that poor Salvatore boy take the news?"

"Do you think it was because of-"

"Shhh. There's Giuseppe's boy now."

Stefan turned around to see a frantic Damon walking as quickly as he could to the other side of town. Stefan had to run to catch up and when Damon noticed his follower he turned around and gave him an apologetic look, "Go home. I have to do something."

"What's going on?" Stefan tried to follow him again

"Go!" Damon shouted and broke into a sprint.

Stefan walked home, wondering what happened.

Stefan was sitting on the couch in his father's office doing some work for school that wouldn't be due for until Tuesday. He had tried asking his father what happened but Giuseppe easily avoided his questions. Damon's arrival was announced by the slamming of the front door and loud steps approaching the office. The door blasted open revealing a broken looking Damon. Tear streaks down his face, hair a wreck, panting, but his eyes, cruel and betrayed, are what gave Stefan the chills. They held the look of pure hatred in them.

"YOU DID THIS!" Damon's voice was filled with rage and agony.

"Stefan, I think you should leave now." Giuseppe's demeanor was cool and calm but his voice was tight and almost frightened.

Stefan walked out the door and immediately ran to the room above it, threw aside the carpet and looked through a hole in the wood floor that he once caught Damon spying through. Damon was able to open it up more to give a good view of the room.

"Damon, have a seat." Giuseppe motioned to the couch and went to pour himself a drink. After finishing it in one gulp, he poured a second one then another glass. He offered the glass to his son.

Damon threw the glass at the wall and continues to glare at his father. His breathing slowed a bit but he still looked murderous.

"I can see you're angry with me, Damon, but you should know I did it for you."

"For me? You murdered an innocent girl for me? No, you did it to save yourself the humiliation of your son stooping so low as to love a low-class woman!" Damon yelled

"Son," Giuseppe warned.

"NO! I'll talk this time! I now you're used to having your way all the time, but this wasn't up to you! This was my life…. her life," He had to stop to compose himself but began before Giuseppe could talk. "The one time I didn't back down. The only time I ever didn't let you have you're way, you throw a tantrum and murder a sixteen year old girl in cold blood!"

"I never murdered anybody!"

"No, you just gave a man money for no reason and he just happened to kill her the next day! How convenient for you!"

"She was destroying you! You were about to throw away everything! For a girl! I did her a kindness; She would have never married. She was impure; you soiled her! She would have died an old single woman if I let you continue."

"I loved her!"

"You couldn't control yourself around her. "

"You talk about my control! What about your women?"

Giuseppe looked at him in shock.

"You think I didn't notice? Women not even older than Celia was showing up and leaving at ungodly hours. You speak to me of lust and self-control when I only acted out of love! How many mistresses did you have after Mother died? How many before she died?"

"No son of mine will speak to me like that!"

"No son of yours is in the room!"

The two stared at each other for a very long time. Once again the household stayed still. Every worker in the house was listening to the argument. Stefan was pretty sure the neighbors were listening too. No argument they ever had went this far. Damon has never claimed Giuseppe wasn't his father. They never talked about Giuseppe's many mistresses. Both of them were boiling with rage. The rancor in their glared would have been enough to shrink anyone but the two of them.

Eventually, Giuseppe sighed, "So, that is how it will be from now on." His voice business like now, it was back to the appropriate speaking level.

"It was your choice." Damon told him coldly.

The elder only nodded. "Mr. Gilbert will not be happy with-"

"In the eyes of the public, I will be your son. To save us all the shame of this getting out."

"In the eyes of the public? Even after my death?" Mr. Salvatore raised an eyebrow.

Damon laughed humorlessly, "You really do think that little of me?" He chuckled again, disappointed. "Keep me out of your will. By the reading, I'll be gone, after ensuring Stefan can handle the company alone."

"Stefan…"

"Will never now about this. I will remain his brother and you his father."

Giuseppe nodded, "At least you've always had the right priorities when it came to him."

"My priorities have always been family. Yours have always been the family name."

At that point, there came a terrified knock at the office door.

"Yes?" Giuseppe asked.

"Sir, Master Salvatore, Master O'Connell is here for the two of you."

"Thank you, we will be down shortly." Mr. Salvatore replied and waited until the door was closed to look at Damon, "Good luck on your performance, Damon." He said coolly.

"Thank you, Giuseppe."

They left the room together.

"Mr. O'Connell, I have to ask for a little more time on my music. Just an hour."

"Damon, you've had a very long time to do it."

"I know, sir. I have finished it but the story has ended differently, I need to amend it before I play it. I will not play a lie."

Mr. O'Connell seemed to consider his answer, "You have thirty minutes."

"Thank you, sir." Damon immediately set to work on his music. He took the last sheet of paper out and ripped it in half. He started a new sheet and worked furiously for the whole thirty minutes, not shedding a single tear but looking completely broken. After his time was up, he had two new sheets in front of him. He nodded his approval of them. He, then, changed the name on the top of the first page and brought the complete piece to the piano.

All of the workers in the houses showed up, not even trying to hide the fact that they were curious to see the finished product of his last eleven years as a piano student.

Since this was a memory, the song couldn't be heard, Stefan had long since forgotten the melody. He remembered it was beautiful and sweet, bittersweet.

What he did remember was the faces. Mr. O'Connell had a solemn look, pensive and sad. Clara and some other kitchen workers were sobbing openly. His father's face was cold, unsympathetic but his eyes were confused.

And then there was Damon. His eyes were closed from the emotion pouring from his fingers. He opened them every once in a while to check his spot on the sheet. The pain and remembered joy painted themselves freely on his face and a small stream of tears fell from his closed eyes. Stefan felt helpless as he watched the misery in his brother and heard the agony in his soul.

When the song ended on a stormy, angry, mournful note. The room was silent. Damon stood, gathered his papers, placed them in his folder and turned to face his teacher.

"Full marks, there is nothing left to teach you."

"Thank you, sir." Damon shook the man's hand and them swiftly left the room.

Elena was crying. She hadn't even noticed she was until Stefan let go of her hand and placed his on her shoulder for comfort.

"He was different ever since then. More quiet, reserved. He never blamed me for telling my father but I blamed myself. And then, after Katherine, I didn't think he could ever love again."

"Then there was me." She finished for him. "Can I see the paper?"

Stefan led her to the attic, where there was a box labeled "Damon"

Under a haphazardly folded confederate uniform was a black leather folder, worn from time. Stefan left her there to look at it alone. Inside were a few pieces, some by Damon, some by unknown composers meant for practice. The last piece in the left pocket, right where she had witnessed him put it over 150 years before, was a stack of yellowed composition papers. The music was written skillfully. She didn't know how to read music but noticed when he changed the tempo or added a crescendo. It was passionate. She looked at the name and teared up again.

"To(crossed out) For my C"

"Stefan told you about her." Damon's voice startled her she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Yeah," was all she could think to reply. She turned around to see the Damon she remembered. Tall, guarded. But now she could see that same young man she saw in the memory in him. In his eyes and in the way he let his hair grow naturally curly again.

"It was a long time ago." She nodded at his words.

"Can I hear it?"

His eyes were pained and confused. She nervously shuffled her feet awaiting his response.

"Okay."

Last chapter coming soon!

Again, any mistakes or suggestions, I'm all ears!

Thank you for reading!