Last Gifts
PG-13. 08/15/2005.

Stefan's last gift to his brother was a sword. "When this is finished," he said to Damon, "Keep it. Who knows when you might need it again?"

"I don't need it now, little brother," Damon said, carefully running his fingers over the polished wood of the blade. "You don't need it either."

Stefan didn't meet his eyes, but looked away into the unfocused distance. "That's not for you to decide."

*********

Damon met him at the appointed place, high on a hill where only the stars could witness. He looked at the sword in his hand, then looked at Stefan, where he knelt on the grass. "What if I refused, brother?"

"You wouldn't."

"I am."

"I'd tell you it's your fault I'm still here. You owe me this, Damon. You've threatened for years to do it, and now you have your chance. And I'm asking you for it."

Damon took a step closer, then halted. "You would leave me alone?"

"We're used to being alone, you and I. They say everyone dies alone, and we've been dead a long, long time."

"Except we were alone together. That's how it's always been."

Stefan bowed his head, and a single tear dripped off his chin. "I'm sorry, brother. There's nothing left for me."

"Nothing?"

"I can't explain it. Maybe one day you'll understand."

"I hope not. It wasn't meant to be this way, not for us."

"Not for you, maybe." Stefan sat up straight and deftly removed his own shirt. "Damon, I'm ready."

"No you're not. You'll never be ready. You just don't know it yet."

"It's time. Please."

Damon didn't say anything, as he moved to stand before him, and positioned the blade. "Goodbye, Stefan."

Stefan's flesh parted like the Red Sea. He didn't answer, but he smiled, looking at the stars.



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