Hey! As promised this is a flashback chapter. The next chapter will also be a flashback one, because I didn't want to keep people waiting even longer, so I decided to divide this into two.

I also want to apologize first, for I messed up with the history, but I couldn't change much without making changes to preceding chapters, and that would have made things confusing to me and to the readers, and would have interfered with what I had planned. I hope you understand that this is still fiction, not real life.

And all grammar/spelling mistakes are mine.

Stefan

The Salvatore brothers – best friends. That's how we were called among our family and friends. Damon and I were inseparable when we were children and even when we were both grown up, our bond never once weakened. Damon and I were different like day and night. He was bad-tempered, defiant towards our parents and their rules, and some may even say selfish. I, on the other hand, was described by people as calm, compassionate, the better brother. But it is said that the opposites attract and in a way we both worshipped the ground the other walked on. I admired Damon's confidence, how he had the courage to say what he thought, how he never gave up. And Damon told me one time that he wished he had the patient and caring nature that I possessed.

A maid in our family once said that nothing but death could separate Damon and Stefan Salvatore. I guess she was right.

500 years ago my family moved from renaissance Italy to America – a recently discovered land which in our father's eyes was a land of great opportunity. Our family never had any financial troubles, being one of the noblest families in Italy, but father thought that moving would help us to get even wealthier. I was only thirteen years old when I first set foot on the piece of land which was supposed to be our new home and fifteen when our house was finally finished. For me, it was hard to get used to our new life, but my brother, Damon, being the older sibling, was always there for me and helped me through everything that happened.

When I turned nineteen our mother died suddenly – one morning she never opened her eyes. It was a hard blow for everyone in the family, but no one suffered as much as our father. He closed himself in his room for days and neither I nor Damon could get through to him. Days, weeks, months passed and nothing seemed to get better, on the contrary, things got even worse. He started to be resentful towards Damon, blaming him for every problem we encountered, he was a little gentler towards me, but not kind. My brother and I had no idea how to deal with him, so together we decided to just take the yelling in silence, trying not to be affected by his cruel words.

The toughest times were when he blamed us for our mother's death. Damon, being the volatile, hot-tempered brother, usually got so angry at him that when he started to go on about how we were the reason of her death almost came to blows with him, but I was able to calm him down, so nothing terrible did happen.

Our father had a crypt built for our mother, he said that his wife should never be satisfied with only a headstone. He also had coffins made out of stone, big and regal, for each family member and had names engraved on each one – Giuseppe, Isabella, Damon and Stefan. At first we thought that for him it was a way of mourning and accepted his strange behaviour. Father only visited our mother's grave once, when the funeral was held. He never set foot into the crypt again. I and Damon visited the mausoleum every day, bringing flowers to her. Damon's favourites were white lilies. I have no idea where he got them, but every day he brought a white lily for our mother, setting it on her coffin. I asked him why white lilies, but he never gave me an exact answer, so in time I got used to it.

A year after our mother's death, everything changed. I was twenty years old at that time, Damon twenty-four. Father had, as usual, closed himself in his room after a strained breakfast with us. It seemed to me that he behaved even more erratic that day than he had before. I had already discussed with my brother the possibility of getting help for him, because the state he was in was clearly starting to get the best of him. Damon suspected that he had gone mad with grief, and I had no choice to agree with him. We decided that I should go to him and talk with father, since it seemed that I was able to get through to him better than Damon.

I went to father's after our daily visit to the family crypt. I felt my palms getting sweatier with every step I took. I could feel Damon's eyes on my back as he watched me go upstairs and somehow it was reassuring. When I opened the door, he was sitting behind his desk, holding a glass of alcohol in his hands. He never looked up to see who was entering the room. I cleared my throat to get his attention, and then his eyes – blue like Damon's – met mine. But those were not the familiar eyes my father had – those eyes were wary and suspicious, it seemed to me that he didn't recognize me at all.

"Father... Damon and I were thinking..." I started to say when he cut me off.

"Who the hell are you?" he barked angrily. And I felt bile rise up my throat.

"You don't know who I am?" I croaked, taking a step closer. "I'm Stefan. Your son."

"You're not my son!" he shouted, rising up from the chair. "My sons are dead!"

My mouth almost fell open as I registered his words - "What?" I barely managed to get out.

"You're here to kill me, like you killed my wife and my children!" With that sentence I realized that he had completely lost his mind.

"Father, it's me," I started to plead, fear creeping on my back as he took the letter opener from the table. I took a step back as he took a step towards me.

Suddenly the door burst open as Damon barged in - "I heard shouting, what's going on?"

"Damon," I warned, "father thinks we're dead."

Damon shot a confused glance at me, then at father, registering the sharp object in his hand. He stepped right in front of me, trying to protect me.

"Giuseppe," he rarely called him father, "put that thing down."

"So you could kill me? I don't think so." And with that last word he jumped forward with speed I never thought he had, and stabbed Damon right in the stomach. I watched with horror as my brother fell down on his knees, looking our father straight in the eyes, the letter opener was still in Giuseppe's hand, dripping with blood, Damon's shirt was getting redder and redder with blood. I felt panicked; I didn't know what to do, should I run or should I stay? I saw blood starting to pour from Damon's mouth and that was the moment I snapped. I lunged at father, hoping to wrench the bloody object from his hands. I knocked him on the floor, but I was unable to get a hold of his hand as it was slippery with blood, and father resisting me with all his strength didn't make the task any easier. We were struggling on the floor, both trying to get the upper hand.

"Brother, don't," I heard Damon grunt behind me, his voice only a whisper. I looked back for a second and saw Damon clutching his stomach with his hands, blood trickling down from his jaw, he was barely alive. For a moment I was so overwhelmed by anger and worry that I forgot that father still had the letter opener and that was what cost me my life. I looked straight into Damon's blue eyes, so much like our mother's as I felt the cold spreading all over my body. I felt something in my back, twisting, causing immense pain and the last thing I remember is my father saying in my ear – "That's for my sons."

I woke up with a sharp intake of cold air, it hit my lungs as painfully as someone was punching me in the face with a fist. I started coughing terribly, unable to pull myself together. Suddenly I felt someone's hands on my shoulders and then a familiar voice was saying – "Stefan, it's okay, try to breathe."

I looked up, and I was greeted by my brother's face. He was looking worriedly at me.

"Damon?" I managed to get out in between the violent coughs that were racking my body.

"Take a deep breath, Stefan. Listen to my voice. Try to concentrate on your breathing," his voice was soothing and soon I felt my body starting to relax, my breathing got easier and the coughing got better.

"I saw you get stabbed," I remembered.

"And I saw you die," Damon responded, making a grimace, "yet, here we are."

"What?" I couldn't believe what he was saying. "I died?"

"Yep," he made a popping sound on the P, "I guess I did too, as I don't remember anything after seeing you fall cold on the floor."

It was then I noticed Damon was still wearing the same shirt, a patch of red colouring a big part of it. My hands automatically went to my back, but I couldn't feel anything there, only a small hole in my shirt.

"Giuseppe stabbed you in the back," his voice was grave, "I am going to murder him."

"Where the hell are we?" I looked around, but I couldn't recognize the place as it was the middle of night.

"Somewhere in the forest near the house. The bastard probably dropped our bodies here, hoping on the wild animals to finish his job," Damon stood up.

"Dammit, I should've known that he was not right in his head. I never should've let you go there alone," he kicked a stone with his boot.

"It's not your fault, Damon..." I started to say.

"Of course it's my fault, Stefan!" he shouted. "I suspected a long time ago that the old man was not sane, but I choose to ignore it! Look where it got us!" he started frantically walking in a circle.

"How are we even alive?" I asked, deciding to stand up.

"How should I know? One minute you're dead, the next I am lying in a pool of my own blood, the third I wake up here," Damon snapped, still pacing nervously around.

"You don't find it strange that we're actually alive and breathing instead of being cold and dead?"

"What? Stefan, do you think me for a fool?" irritation was clear on his face, "Of course I find it strange..." he stopped in the middle of the sentence. "Do you hear that?" his head was going back and forth as he was hearing something I clearly didn't.

"Hear what? It's middle of night, Damon, there's probably animals roaming around."

"No, no, it's not animals."

I looked around, my eyes had adjusted already to the darkness, and the moon was dimly lighting the forest around us, but I couldn't see or hear anything out of the ordinary.

"Damon..." I started, but he shushed me and suddenly dragged me behind a tree with unimaginable speed.

"What the..." I started to say, startled by his abrupt movements, but he shot me look which told me to be quiet, although his eyes betrayed the same question as I had in mind – how was he able to move that fast?

That was when I was able to hear that too. Footsteps. Approaching us, and fast. I could feel my heart starting to beat frantically, thinking that maybe father had come back. I looked my brother straight into eyes and mouthed – "There's someone here." He only gave me a curt nod and then he stepped out from behind the tree we were hiding.

"Well, hello there," he greeted the newcomer, giving his signature smirk, "I wasn't expecting company."

The footsteps had ceased by now, indicating that the person had stopped. I was still behind the tree, while Damon was facing whoever was there. I decided that I couldn't leave my brother alone, so I stepped out too. Damon cast me an angry glance when he heard me; he probably had wanted to deal with this alone.

A man was standing right in front of us, his shoulders covered by a black cape. He was a bit shorter than I and had curly, light brown hair. Behind him, a woman was standing, but I couldn't make out her features, because her face was shaded with the hood of her cape.

"Ah, the Salvatore brothers in flesh. We've been waiting for you." The man spoke first, with a strong accent.

"I'm sorry, what?" Damon asked, "You've been waiting for us?"

I took a step closer to see the man's face better.

"Yes," he responded simply, "My name is Niklaus and this lovely lady here is Rebekah. We're here for you."

"You've got to be kidding me," Damon rolled his eyes. "Look, Niklaus," he sneered his name, "We've had a fair share of crazy today, so let's just all go on our own way." He turned his back and started walking away, beckoning me to follow him.

"You aren't curious of why you are still alive?" Niklaus called.

"You know something about this?" I asked, before Damon could stop me.

"Stefan, let's go," Damon urged, pulling my arm.

"No, I want to hear what he has to say."

I took another step closer and saw the woman, Rebekah, looking at us with amusement. The man's face was a blank page.

"You were saying..." I indicated the man to start speaking.

"To make things simple and not to drag this on any longer, I'll just say that it was I who gave you two new lives." He looked both of us, still not showing any emotion. "As it was destined all along."

"Stefan, don't listen to him," Damon was getting agitated beside me, but I stayed still, somehow believing the man.

"What do you mean by it was destined?" I asked.

Niklaus started to open his mouth, but Damon cut him to the chase – "Who the hell are you?"

That was the first time the man showed any emotion at all – he smiled. "Damon Salvatore, always so rash and unpredictable. But if you must know, then you shall. I am an archangel as is my dear sister behind me. You, Stefan and Damon, are meant to be angels too. It's quite fascinating in fact, as you are, or I can now say, were, human. There was a prediction of two human boys, destined to be the first angels of your race. We've been waiting for you over thousand years."

That was the beginning of our new lives. Me as a guardian angel, because of my compassion and ability of helping people, Damon as an angel of death, carrying people to the afterlife. The truth was hard to accept, at first, especially for Damon, but in time we both adjusted and learned to live our new lives.

It turned out that Damon and I were truly the first humans to become angels. We tried to get to know more about the prediction, as it seemed there was more to it, but everyone we asked always kept their silence, so eventually we stopped asking.

To be continued...

So here it is. Please let me know what you think! :) And I promise that there's going to be a lot of Stelena in the future, but for the sake of this story I have to clear some things up with Stefan and Damon.

And here's a little preview of the next chapter:

350 years later

Stefan

Katherine Pierce was a radiant woman, full of life. I first saw her when I was keeping an eye on one of my charges – her father's betrothed. It was the day that her father introduced Katherine to the woman who was going to be her stepmother. Katherine was only nineteen years old that time and already she reminded me a lot of Damon. Her mannerisms, the way she spoke, her sense of humour. One day I found myself thinking that if she had lived during the time Damon and I were still human, she would have been the perfect match for him.