((Sorry this is so short, but it was really a stand-alone scene))

It was almost 3 am before Klaus, Kol and Rebekah convinced Damon to let them take Stefan's body upstairs and another hour before they convinced him to leave his dead brother's body.

After watching Damon retreat to his own bedroom, Klaus slowly made his way down the upstairs hall to Stefan's bedroom.

Swallowing back his emotions, he quietly opened the door and crossed the threshold, stopping immediately as he took in the sight of Stefan's body lying on his bed.

Kol had removed the stake and they had respectfully rested Stefan's hands on his chest and closed his eye lids.

Klaus took in a trembled breath as he turned and closed the door.

It had been hours since he had learned of Stefan Salvatore's death and he was still surprised by how it all made him feel.

After his own brothers left him, even for the briefest moment, Stefan had been a brother to him…a comrade when he needed one.

He may have despised Klaus, but Stefan was the only one in Mystic Falls who had never judged the original.

Really, he was the only other person, besides Elijah, who really understood him.

Klaus sniffed, scratching his chin as he pulled a chair from the corner of the room, placing it next to Stefan's bed and sitting down slowly.

He rubbed his hands over his thighs nervously as his eyes scanned Stefan's still body, unsure what to do.

All he knew was that he owed Stefan a proper goodbye…But even a murderous vampire can have issues with death.

He closed his eyes, cursing himself as he thought of how he could have stopped this all from happening.

It wasn't right that Stefan had paid for their past sins.

Finally, the anger turned to tears, and as Klaus opened his eyes again, a single drop fell down his right cheek as he focused his gaze on Stefan's placid face.

Then, remembering something he could do, and flashing back to the funeral rituals of his childhood, Klaus wiped quickly under his eyes and turned on his side, reaching into his pants pocket.

Pulling out a handful of change, he sifted through it in his hand before pulling out two quarters.

Normally, one would use higher denomination coins, but he would have to make do with what he had.

Klaus took the two quarters in between his fingers and placed the rest of his change back into his pocket.

Then taking in a breath, he leaned stood up and placed the two quarters gently on each of Stefan's closed eyelids.

Suddenly, he found himself bowing his head and singing in a low melodic voice, trying to remember the words to the old folksong now in the forefront of his mind.

"Of all the money, that e'er I had…" he sang, his voice breaking slightly as he pulled his hand back and rested it gently over Stefan's own hands folded on his chest, "I spent it in good company…"

Absentmindedly, he sat back down in the chair, his hand still over Stefan's as he wiped under his eyes and continued singing, "And all the harm that e'er I've done, alas it was to none but me… And all I've done for want of wit, to memory now I can't recall… So fill to me the parting glass, good night and joy be will you all."

# ## # #

Downstairs, Misha and Kol sat quietly at the table in the Salvatore kitchen, twirling glasses of whiskey in their hands, the half empty bottle sitting between them as they listened to Klaus' voice echoing through the silence of the house.

"Of all the comrades that e'er I had, they are sorry for my going away…."

# # # # #

In the back parlor, Rebekah sat, curled up in the one of the leather arm chairs in the dark, the fire in the fireplace the only light illuminating her as she sobbed quietly into one of the throw pillows.

"And all the sweethearts that e'er I had, they would wish me one more day to stay…"

# # # # #

"But since it falls unto my lot, that I should rise and you should not…" Klaus continued to sing, smirking sadly as he looked to Stefan's bedside table and Stefan's personal effects in a silver tray next to a small clock—a money clip, his cell phone, and his watch.

And a few inches away, a picture of him and Lexi taken in the 1990's with their arms around each other.

"I'll gently rise and I'll softly call, good night and joy be with you all…"

# # # # #

"A man may drink and not be drunk, a man may fight and not be slain…"

Damon closed his eyes as he took a swig from his tumbler with one hand and, carrying the bottle of scotch in the other, crossed the room to his vanity dresser.

He looked himself up and down in the mirror, taking in the pathetic sight—what grief had done to him—in the glass before pouring himself another drink, setting the bottle on the dresser and throwing back the scotch, closing his eyes hard as if the drink burned his throat.

Then Damon sniffed and wiped under his eyes as he opened them, unable to will away the tears that just kept coming as he sat down his glass and his hand moved shakily to his possessions sitting on the dresser—his keys, his wallet, his Rolex and a very old cigarette case.

Bypassing the other items, he immediately picked up the cigarette case. He had carried it for years…centuries if one was really keeping track…but, if someone opened it, they wouldn't find cigarettes.

Taking it into his hands and turning it over, he pushed the clasp and the black case popped open, revealing its contents.

First, he took out a portrait of Katherine, one she had given him when he had been sent back to the Confederate front lines.

"A man may court pretty girl and perhaps be welcomed back again…"

He studied it for a moment before setting it aside on the dresser.

Then, his face crumbled as he took out the other portrait and tossed the case over his shoulder, hearing it fall with a thud on the wooden floor.

It was photograph of a young boy—Damon— holding Stefan as a baby on his lap.

"But since it has, and so ought to be, by a time to rise and a time to fall…"

Damon's lip trembled as he brushed a thumb over his baby brother's face.

All those years, he had carried this photograph of his brother with him to remind himself of the Stefan he knew before they became demons…to remind himself that he didn't always hate his little brother.

Damon took a deep breath as grabbed the bottle of scotch with his free hand, then moved back to his bed, taking a seat on the edge as he continued to study the photograph.

After a few moments, he gave a sad smile and, holding out the picture, saluted it with the bottle before taking the final swig and tossing the empty bottle aside.

Then, he closed his eyes, and bringing the photograph to chest over his heart, fell back on the bed.

"Come fill to me the parting glass, goodnight and joy be with you all…"