Author's note: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for the ever-delightful responses to the previous chapter, yaaaaay! It was great seeing some old and familiar faces (names?). Aaah, thank you all for being so decidedly supportive and lovely. :D Words can't properly express my gratitude for your existence and our super-lovely interactions. :)

Please accept my apologies for the massive - massive - delays. I'm a lot more active on AO3, but stuff will absolutely get updated here, too - albeit later.

Thank you all for being so delightful. I appreciate your kindness and support so very much.

In the hours since the group left Tessa's cabin and returned to the Boarding House, Stefan found himself continuously bewildered. No matter how much he tried to shake the idea that something was wrong, he felt a distinctly ravenous hunger – in particular, around that girl who claimed to be a witch and that guy who hung around her a lot.

But no one else – even the man who claimed to be his brother.

He checked himself for decaying skin again - for what felt like the tenth time in the last hour. It looked a little dry, if he had to be perfectly honest. Tessa said that she'd been making him a special brew ever since he awoke, but never actually told him the ingredients. Maybe she'd been surreptitiously feeding him liquified brains – too worried to tell him about his new undead status, for fear that he'd react terribly?

He sighed miserably. It was strange. He couldn't remember any individual people, but he remembered movies and books pretty well – and he distinctly recalled loving both The Walking Dead and Evil Dead. Sam Raimi was a genius – he didn't care what Spiderman fans said! Oh, and that's not even touching the incomparable, allegorical brilliance of George Romero's Night of the Living Dead – and the hilarious Shaun of the Dead.

If there was one thing Stefan was certain of in his selectively amnesiac status, it was that he absolutely loved zombies!

Wait, how did he remember that? Oh, the irony of him being able to actually recall the details of zombie media so well while himself becoming a member of the undead was certainly not lost on him. Maybe he manifested it during some college zombie movie marathon – or a zombie-themed Halloween party at his frat house?

Did he even go to college?

He looked fairly young. How old was he, exactly?

He heard approaching footsteps and looked up to see that blue-eyed man again, who'd by then crouched next to him on the floor. His brother. Damon, was it?

"Hey, buddy," Damon greeted in that entirely-too-serene, slightly-patronizing tone generally reserved for deescalating the tantrums of teens and pre-teens who'd just been told by their parents that, no, they couldn't attend that Taylor Swift concert – because, no, using his father's prized bourbon to set his Founders display on fire wasn't appropriate behavior. Or was that his brother? He was definitely mixing some memories up. Memories? Some of those couldn't be his, could they? He probably needed a brain re-up, stat! Wait, did he like Taylor Swift? He distinctly recalled going to Bon Jovi concerts with – someone – and secretly dancing to Shake it Off in his room, with someone. Someone bossy and hyper-organized and very opinionated? "What are you doing over there?"

"Does my skin look dry to you?" Stefan asked. "I haven't eaten, erm, Tessa's special concoction in a while, and I think I might be starting to decay."

The truth was that inspecting his skin helped take his mind off his other dilemma – which was mostly those two girls harassing him – the bossy blonde one and the haughty brunette. He didn't feel a hunger for either of their brains, so he quickly deduced that they must not be very bright – and for some reason, Stefan also distinctly recalled being attracted to smart women.

"You're in luck!" Damon beamed, producing a water bottle containing a rich, dark, red liquid. "I've got just the thing. Drained it from Bambi's mom myself while she was delivering this dirge-y swan song. Her kids are probably composing the requiem of a lifetime in the forest, all thanks to you," he quipped. "I think you might have just inspired the coming of stag Mozart."

Stefan looked horrified. "I like to kill animals and make them orphans? Am I a monster?"

Damon winced. This was not at all going like he expected. "Just a joke! No, this is," he paused trying to think his way out of this mess, "completely synthetic. Has all the nutrients a young vamp needs to function. Made in a lab. Completely sustainable and cruelty-free. Bambi's mom is actually the mascot – she gets three spa vacations a year, though her union's trying to push for four."

Stefan frowned, sensing that Damon wasn't being entirely sincere, especially since that smirk made its way back onto to his face, but he elected to let it go for the time being. After all, he didn't feel any hunger around him, either. He sighed regretfully. Poor guy. He had no idea what an idiot he was, clearly. And Stefan certainly couldn't be the one to tell him. What kind of brother would that make him? Instead, he just patted the poor, dumb dolt on the shoulder. "Yeah, I'm sure her union's going to help her get that fourth spa trip. If anyone can make that happen, it's you, bro." Did Damon seriously just admit to being a grown man who believed in vampires? This was so much worse than he initially thought.

"I see you're hiding out from Fangy Boss Barbie and Undead Milady de Winter," Damon prompted, hoping to jog some memories without Tessa's intervention. He wasn't particularly keen on being dependent on her to get his brother back.

"Yeah, I barely got away," Stefan admitted. "Which is weird, considering I don't feel any hunger for their brains, so I'm guessing there's not a whole lot going on up there." His eyes widened in alarm as soon as he realized what he said. "Unlike you, Damon! I want to eat your brain so badly! I can barely control myself. Must be all that intelligence."

"... Right," Damon replied dubiously. "Why do you think you're a zombie, exactly?"

"Because Tessa reanimated me." Stefan thought the answer was pretty obvious, though he supposed not to someone as brainless as his poor brother.

"Well, you are undead – I'll give you that," Damon allowed. "But you've got the species wrong. You're not a zombie – they don't exist," he leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. "You're a vampire. You don't feel hungry around me, or Elena, or Caroline because we're also vampires. Katherine's an annoying poltergeist, so that's her excuse."

Stefan burst into uncontrollable laughter before fighting to control himself. "Vampires don't exist, Damon."

"No, vampires definitely exist. Zombies don't exist." Damon considered flashing some fang as proof, but decided it might be too much for Stefan's psyche to handle, in its present, fragile state.

Stefan stared at the man who was apparently his brother dubiously for several seconds, doing his utmost to keep that pitying look from his gaze. He could arguably see the family resemblance. They were both obviously good-looking – each had a chiseled jaw line and impressive physique. Sadly, only one of them inherited the intelligence in the family. He suppressed a sigh. Maybe he could try a gentle approach.

"All the good fiction – both literature and cinema – happens to be about zombies. We've an entire culture centered around us. George Romero used our existence as an allegory for consumerism and a herd instinct –" Stefan began.

"Wow, herd instinct? Take it down a notch there, Nietzsche," Damon drawled.

"I'm just saying that the most famous vampire literature revolves around them just sparkling in the Sun and harassing bland high school girls in Seattle," Stefan attempted diplomatically.

"Really? You're going with Twilight? Not Bram Stoker? Anne Rice?" Damon offered, incredulous at Stefan's stubbornly unimpressed reaction. "Buffy?"

"Yeah, she's all right, I guess," Stefan grudgingly allowed, barely shrugging half a shoulder in response, then tilted his head to the side shrewdly. "If you're a vampire, then how come I can hear your heartbeat?"

"Because Buffy the Vampire Slayer is not a documentary?" Damon deadpanned.

"So, in other vampire literature, then - ?"

"Fine, fine," Damon interrupted. "A lot of the folklore got that part wrong. You happy, Stef? Besides, we couldn't let them into all of our secrets, not could we?" he continued with a grin and a subtle wiggle of his eyebrows, and fingers on his hand to showcase his ring. "They also don't know that certain magical artifacts allow us to walk in the Sun."

Stefan stared at him skeptically. His brother sure was into vampire fiction. Well, good for him. Reading is good for the brain, and if perusing Stoker and Rice forced his bro to develop his intelligence, then Stefan certainly wouldn't stand in his way. Deep down, he felt an intuitive certainty that he absolutely loved his brother, complicated as the relationship could be. On a slightly more disturbing note, there was something about vampirism that seemed to cause him acute distress, anxiety, and agony – though he couldn't be quite sure why. It was probably because he saw Damon struggle so hard with it. Maybe he got really bad grades in school and cried a lot? He certainly didn't seem like a crier, but looks could be deceiving. So, instead of a verbal response, he simply threw his arms around his brother. "I love you, Damon. And you could do anything you set your mind to. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise, okay?"

"… Okay, Stef," a decidedly bewildered Damon finally answered after a few long seconds. "You, too."

Elena was a whirlwind of energy – partly because entirely too many things happened within the last few days, and she'd yet to process most of it. She reached out to Emma through her bond, delighted that she, Praxis, and Poiesis were still enjoying a long hunt in the woods, like happy, carefree corvids – blissfully unaware of the utter chaos that was happening within the walls of the Salvatore Boarding House.

She overheard Damon's really weird conversation with Stefan – and with the overrepresentation of vampires in the household, it was safe to say that so did most of the inhabitants. So, Stefan was apparently convinced he was a zombie. Wow.

She started looking through some of the grimoires Bonnie started to accumulate in the parlor when Damon walked into the room, looking positively perturbed.

"My little brother just lied to me about wanting to eat my brains to spare my feelings, because he didn't want me to realize that he thinks I'm brainless. I don't know whether to feel touched or offended," he muttered, pouring himself a dram of bourbon from the wet cart, and then another.

Elena grinned, the cheeky expression on her face transforming Damon's anxiety into a flutter of affection. "So, he thinks that all of us – you, me, Katherine, Caroline – that we're all brainless? How are they taking it?"

Damon's grin almost immediately matched Elena's. "I can practically hear Blondie's teeth grinding from here. I'm just glad she took up residence in Stef's room. Maybe all the violent 'stress cleaning' she's doing," he sassed, air quotes at the ready, "will finally clear out some of his hoarder's trove."

"We need to tell him," Elena sobered, biting her lip. "Or find a way to reverse it, or something. I've been looking through some of Bonnie's grimoires, but I've come up empty."

"Do we?" Damon asked helplessly. "I mean – I haven't seen him this happy in ages. He's so carefree. If he wants to think he's a zombie for a bit longer, let him. I don't know about you, but I can't even remember what a non-mopey Stefan looks like with his humanity on."

"What if he kills someone? What if being a ripper is hard-wired into his brain?" Elena countered.

"You take one Philosophy class, and suddenly you're the queen of nature versus nurture?" Damon teased. "He's inside – at least for now – where we can watch him. His bunny diet makes him so weak that he can't even hear us, so let him just enjoy this for a bit. If he tries to go after Jer or Bon, we'll stop him."

"Bonnie?" Stefan asked nervously, letting his gaze fall upon the gorgeous witch, who was bent over several grimoires, completely lost in the haze of study. He closed his eyes, doing his best to fight down this overwhelming hunger he fought. Wow, she must be a genius. He could admit that he was drawn to those two twins – Katherine and Elena? Were those their names? But he just assumed that it was his lizard brain talking, since he felt nothing resembling hunger around them.

But around Bonnie – wow! It was overwhelming.

Was he in love?

How did Bonnie feel about him? Were they together?

"Yes, Stefan?" Bonnie looked up from the books. "Are you feeling okay?" She frowned with genuine concern at the expression on his face, and Stefan couldn't help but be touched. Beautiful, intelligent, and kind? He hoped so badly that they were together – that she was his.

"Are you and I … are we… friends?" He finally asked, wincing at the description. Coward.

Bonnie smiled warmly, though he could tell that the expression was at least partly supplicating. "Of course, we are! You, me, Jeremy, Caroline, Damon, Elena – we're all friends! Even Katherine," she sighed, battling with herself before grudgingly speaking again. "Even Katherine's trying. We're becoming friendlier."

"I just meant…" he trailed off, taking a deep breath. He could do this. "Are we – perhaps more?"

Wait, was he also attracted to Jeremy? So much of himself to recall and discover!

"Why would you think that?"

"I don't know if you heard, back when we were in Tessa's cabin – but I'm reanimated – undead. I'm a zombie," he expressed shamefully. Bonnie looked like she was on the verge of exploding with laughter, so he barreled through, deciding that this was just how she coped with anxiety. "I feel this enormous hunger around you, like – it's barely controllable –"

"Stefan, that's just –"

"It's like you're my personal brand of heroin!" Stefan exclaimed, feeling desperate.

"Seriously!?" The bossy blonde seemed to materialize out of nowhere, glaring at Stefan with an expression reflecting utmost betrayal. "A vampire finally quotes Edward and it's at Bonnie!?"

"I'm sorry – Caroline, was it? Bonnie and I were in the middle of a conversation," Stefan said politely, but firmly.

Caroline looked utterly scandalized, the rage coming off her in waves. "We need to get him back! I don't care what it takes," she snapped at Bonnie, and promptly vacated the room.

Bonnie frowned, studying him for a few moments. "You really don't feel any attraction to anyone else?"

Stefan shrugged helplessly. "I'll admit, there's something unusual drawing me to both Katherine and Elena, but it's probably just base instinct. I vividly recall being attracted to intelligence, and well …" he trailed off, desperate to avoid having to spell out what he felt was obvious.

Bonnie looked troubled, on the other hand.

After stifling laughter at Stefan's apparent 'love confession' to Bonnie, Elena settled on Damon's lap, trailing lazy fingers through his hair, while she fought to keep herself awake, which was becoming increasingly difficult. When did his shoulder turn into such a comfortable pillow? She felt several kisses peppering her eyelids, cheeks, lips, and giggled herself awake from the tickling sensation. The sight that greeted her – a deeply cerulean gaze on perfectly almond eyes, framed by midnight lashes – lodged her breath in her chest, and she was immediately helpless, lost in them. A charming smirk curved his lips, though it didn't quite seem to reach the eyes that held her breathless. She frowned. "Is everything okay – I mean aside from Stefan's condition?"

He just looked at her but refused to speak.

Elena wracked her brain for any potential source of consternation, when she suddenly recalled the onslaught that he'd faced over the last few days. First with Katherine's outburst, then her shared dreams with Katherine, then Tessa claiming that the Universe intended for the doppelgängers to be together – and now Stefan admitting that he was drawn to both her and Katherine. "Damon… is it the dreams?"

"Do you mean whether or not I believe Miss Crazy Pants that destiny is trying to get you and my brother together, and that I'm the obstacle standing in the way of perfect bliss?"

"No, Katherine and I both had dreams about him. Don't you think that's weird?"

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Maybe not."

"Please don't tell me you took her seriously," she urged, starting to become genuinely worried. "Screw her! I'm not going to let her come between us," she insisted hotly.

"And you think I am?" He exclaimed passionately, sitting up to wrap his arms around her. Within seconds, their faces were within millimeters, caught in the electricity of near touch, of mingling breath. "Hey, no one tells me how I live my life. No one tells me who I love – especially some vindictive prehistoric witch, and definitely not the Universe! And I'm not going to let someone's idea of destiny stop me from loving you, or being with you, or building a future with you, because – you are my life!"

Everything within her melted, and of their own volition, her lips found his, ensconced in the bliss of passion.

Stefan watched the exchange with a smile on his face, having walked into the room just a moment ago to ask where they kept the ingredients for the hot cocoa. So, his dumb brother just declared passionate love for his dumb girlfriend. He was so happy those two dummies found each other.

Perhaps it was best to leave them to it. Maybe Bonnie knew where they kept it?

Maybe she'd even agree to share a cup with him? Maybe both Bonnie and Jeremy?

"This is getting ridiculous!" Caroline hissed, pacing back and forth in Stefan's room. "He thinks I'm an idiot!? Me! Her, I understand!" She disdainfully pointed to Katherine.

"Please, you wish," Katherine shot back coolly. "All you need is some empty validation, a Gucci bag, and a hottie-of-the-week to vaguely smile in your direction, and you've got the perfect, infallible Caroline trap."

"That hasn't been true in years!?" Caroline screeched, then calmed herself. "We have to get him back."

Jeremy looked like he was on the verge of a tension headache.

"I agree," Bonnie concurred, entering the room. "And we have to go after Silas. There's definitely something going on with the doppelgängers. I may not believe Tessa, but she's not completely lying."

Seconds later, Damon and Elena both blurred into the room, having evidently overheard the proceedings.

"So, what'll it be? We pretend to take her red pill, drink the crazy Kool Aid, and follow her to track down Stefan Super Senior?" Damon quipped.

"Some of us," Bonnie confirmed reluctantly. When it was obvious that the group's occupants expected her to elaborate, she continued. "I can't come with you," she said. "When I was a ghost, I saw a vampire in the basement of Whitmore Hall."

Damon visibly paled, struggling to find his voice for several whole moments. "What did you say?"

"They're experimenting on him, and keeping him in some cells in Whitmore Hall's basement," Bonnie ground out, trying her best to keep her voice even, though she immediately felt herself on the verge of tears. "I don't even know his name – just that his tormentor refers to him by number – one two one four four." She looked up at the group, thrusting her chin up defiantly. "You can all go after Silas if you like, but I'm going to save him."

Sorry, y'all. I had way too much fun with "zombie" Stefan, so I wanted to run with it while I could. :D He's apparently a zombie and secret Taylor Swift fan? Sure, why not? She's a global sensation, right? (Not a Swiftie, personally, but I don't see why some of the MF gang can't be.) Damon referenced her in S1 – YMMV how much that distance was genuine, or whether he "doth protest too much." Maybe the group will compel their way to a concert one of these days. :D

Much love, all! :D