Author's Note:

I've been holding off on this idea for a while, and I can only hope that I do it some justice! Ever since they revealed Silas's connection to Damon and Stefan, I've been wanting to do a role reversal AU, and this just seemed like the perfect way to do it! Let me know what you think, and I hope y'all enjoy it!

Disclaimer:

The Vampire Diaries belongs to LJ Smith (and the lovely people at the CW, as I'm basing this off the TV show). I'm just borrowing their characters - and some of their mythology - for a story or two.

Life should've been far, far more exciting than this. Damon had always envisioned ditching school and living halfway across the country from his stifling parents, just as he had envisioned a life that wasn't continuing the grand Salvatore legacy. Yet, against his better judgment, he had enrolled in Whitmore College's prestigious Masters program for Cognitive Psychology two years ago. Against his better judgment, he had agreed to his parents' half-baked idea of acting as Stefan's legal guardian. Against his better judgment, he had even encouraged his parents to pursue their dreams: his mother had finally earned the opportunity to work at her dream dig site in Tuscany, while his father would accompany her and teach archeology alongside her. While Damon didn't have the strongest relationship with his father, he knew their work mattered in the archaeological community. Problem was, parents weren't supposed to ditch their children for their careers. Stefan was supposed to come home to two parents who loved him unconditionally, rather than the stupid older brother who'd been nothing but trouble.

While Stefan wasn't the most rebellious teenager, he craved his father's affection – and of course, Dad far favored Stefan's hobbies and interests to Damon's. They bonded over meaningless philosophical novels and had the same stupid taste in comedies, while Damon and Mom would just shake their heads at them the whole time. Maybe if Dad and Mom were still home, Damon wouldn't constantly feel as if he were walking on eggshells, just waiting for everything to explode on him at once. The whole point of being home, after all, was to ensure that Stef still had a normal high school experience. The experience that Damon had craved, to be more precise. While Mason Lockwood and Jenna Sommers had made classes bearable (and okay, maybe he'd made out with Jenna a couple of times), and he knew he couldn't have asked for better friends, Stefan deserved a far greater life.

Damon's high school experience had been colored by self-taught alchemy lessons, where Damon learned to synthesize alcohol from old, dusty books his father had kept under lock and key in the basement. (It was a hell of a lot easier than using a fake ID.) Those same books taught him how to manipulate time and space to find old keys, mismatched socks, and even the answer to the meaning of life (42). Those same books made him feel like even more of an ostracized freak because of all the weird events that surrounded him. Even Mason noticed after a while, and Damon was pretty sure that Mason was high most of the time.

So far, normalcy surrounded Stefan, and Damon was determined to keep it that way. Every morning, Damon would wake up early and serve his brother scrambled eggs before Stefan headed off for school. Sometimes, Stefan would have time for lengthy conversations – usually about his extracurriculars or his girlfriend Elena – but other mornings, Damon had to toss the keys and hope to dear God that Stef was awake enough to drive to school. It wasn't Damon's ideal life, but it wasn't a nightmare either. After Stefan left (he'd overslept this morning), Damon grabbed his car keys and headed into town.

He didn't have a seminar at Whitmore, so he could afford to run errands at this hour. Mystic Falls was a sleepy little town, about two hours away from Whitmore, a small, liberal arts college that specialized in the social sciences – anthropology, psychology, sociology, etc. Most of his parents' friends were university professors or faculty, so Damon had been raised by the ivory towers he disdained so much. Maybe it was his homing instinct, to stay in the confines of the tower, or maybe it was his increasing inability to "face the real world," but Mystic Falls had become home again, for better or for worse.

As he passed through town square, he could overhear women giggling and gossiping, gesturing towards him as he slouched forward. As a teenager, he would've ignored them, told them that they really weren't thinking straight – but now? Now he pretended that everything was alright, because it honestly wasn't the end of the world if they found him attractive. It just meant that they'd forgotten his awkward years, buried in yearbooks and basement archives and maybe MySpace, if it was still functioning. To someone who wanted to escape his past, their selective amnesia was a blessing.

Damon had just finished running errands - grabbing groceries, getting the dry cleaning, and so forth - when he saw an unfamiliar face just outside the Mystic Grille. Her green eyes caught his attention first. She was about high school age, dressed in the mainstream uniform of a high school sweatshirt and jeans, but the second their eyes met, Damon had to turn his head. There was no mistaking her aura. Behind that innocent smile was someone who wielded immense power, and Damon knew she was in town for a reason.

So he stood straighter as he walked up to her, pretending that he hadn't just gazed into her soul, with a charming smile that charmed the church ladies. "I don't think I've seen you around before."

She blinked, glancing around for anyone else he might've been talking to, before slowly pointing towards herself. "Me?"

"Yes, you." Damon's smile faded slightly, with the realization that she might actually be as young as she looked. (Dateline had better not be in his near future. He didn't want to be a registered sex offender before he finished grad school.) "I hear school's a pretty great place to be at this hour."

She rolled her eyes, not trying to hide them behind her curly hair. "I just moved here. My Grams and I are getting the paperwork sorted out."

Oh. Well, that explained absolutely nothing. Damon studied her more intently now, trying to figure out who she might be related to... "Aunt Sheila?" He ventured, squinting to determine the resemblance better. "Is she your grandma?"

She blinked back surprise. "Uh, yeah. How'd you know?"

"You have the same glare." He laughed, not unkindly, as he folded his arms. He remembered many an evening where Mrs. Bennett would interfere, just because he happened to look at her funny. "Plus I kind of grew up with her. Funny how she never mentioned a granddaughter before now..."

He would've liked to know her, considering that she might be Stefan's peer. They could've gone on play dates! Heck, they still could, considering that Damon called all of Stef's extracurriculars "play dates."

Her uneasiness gave way to the first genuine smile he'd seen on her face. "It kind of happens."

"Kind of," Damon repeated, even gesturing with air quotes.

"Yes!" She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand in a feigned, polite manner. "Oh, um, I'm Bonnie. It's nice to meet you, Mr...?"

"Damon - and don't you think of calling me Mister again. I'm too young for that." He grinned wryly, knowing well that it might've just been the Southern Belle in Bonnie. As much as he hated Mystic Falls and all it represented, the South knew how to raise a kid with manners. Yet, he didn't hold out his hand to her.

When their eyes met again, it was she who winced - and Damon almost felt bad for the pain he inflicted on her. Almost.

"Next time you're in school, Bonbon," he said casually, turning to face the door, "You'd better not play that innocent game again-"

She shrieked silently, clutching her forehead as she collapsed to the ground. "Warlock."

"Actually, I prefer the term wizard. You're welcome, by the way," he said with a slight flourish, bowing mockingly to her before he grabbed his keys out of his pocket and headed back to his car.

If it weren't for the multiple aneurisms, she would've ripped his throat out. He knew that bloodthirsty look better than anyone else, considering it had almost happened to him before. The second he revved the engine up, he released his metaphorical hold on her - and watched from his rear-view mirror as she bitterly rubbed her temples. Mystic Falls may have been a sleepy little haven, but this girl's arrival could only be the start of something interesting.

The last time supernatural creatures - ones other than the Salvatores - had taken up residence, Dad had driven them away with magic. Real, honest-to-goodness magic. He'd solemnly promised Damon that under no circumstances should he reveal the "grand legacy" to Stefan. At the time, Damon was in high school, and Mason Lockwood had just narrowly avoided killing someone.

"Your brother deserves a normal life," Dad had said, shaking to his knees as he released the last ward. While Dad had never been sickly, the sight had almost brought Damon to tears. "Promise me that much."

Damon had never seen eye to eye with his father, but he couldn't help thinking, as he stared at this strong man who'd raised him, that his dad was worthy of respect. So Damon had locked up the old, dusty volumes after scanning them into his tablet; he'd created code words to hide his recipes; and he'd even cut off contact with the Cult Studies program Mom had run at Whitmore. Mom hadn't verbally expressed Dad's wish, but Damon could see it in her eyes. She wanted a normal life for them both - it was just a shame that Damon had gotten wrapped up in it so early.

With Bonnie's arrival, Damon could sense that Stefan would become entangled in this crazy life too. Damon needed to prepare for that moment and ensure that he could fight. Problem was, Stefan was taking forever to get home.

Damon stared up impatiently at the clock, hissing at it to tick faster because dammit, he didn't want to burst that bubble too late in the evening. Stefan would accuse him of being drunk! Damon didn't fancy a conversation that ended with yet another recommendation for Alcoholics Anonymous, and frankly, the normal life Dad desired wasn't going to happen if Miss Bonnie stayed in town with her supposed grandma! Was she even related to Aunt Sheila, or did she just compel the poor old lady into the deal? (If it was the latter, Bonnie would be answering to a lot more than popped brain vessels.)

About half an hour later than expected, Stefan walked through the back door. Damon could sense him before he saw him - which wasn't hard, even with Stefan's wild mane of blond hair.

Damon slammed down his tea mug so hard it almost broke. "Where were you?"

Stefan stared blankly, just as his girlfriend walked in after him. "Um..."

Elena glanced up, from the bewildered Stefan to the furious Damon, before she jumped between them. Holding out her arms defensively, she elaborated, "He was with me, okay? I promise, we weren't even making out or anything. We got held up with school stuff."

"School stuff...?" Damon tried to recall Stefan's school clubs again. The kid was a member of Mock Trial, did some stuff with Student Government, and tutored English to underclassmen. Maybe they had a meeting? That was plausible. Stefan never could say no to other people. "Like club stuff?"

Damon's confusion must've been obvious, because Stefan's furrowed brow had melted into one sickeningly large grin. "Yes, like club stuff. You know, the activities that'll help me get into a good college?"

Elena stifled a giggle, hiding her amusement behind her long, chestnut-brown hair. "We were planning the annual car wash. Caroline wanted us to-"

Damon held up a hand in defeat. "I don't want to know. Not after the Cuddlebuddies."

Stefan snorted softly. "You asked, might I remind you."

Okay, so Bonnie hadn't quite infected them yet. This was a good start. "Speaking of reminders..." Damon rummaged through their tea cabinet before fishing out an envelope of vervain tea. He'd synthesized it while waiting for Stefan: it was a blend of vervain, blackberries, black currants, and rooibus - all flavors Elena enjoyed on a regular basis. While he could just blend extra vervain in Stefan's coffee, he had to be craftier when it came to Stefan's girlfriend. "I came across this the other day. Figured you might enjoy some."

Elena cautiously accepted the bag of tea and stuffed it into her purse. "Thanks, but my birthday was three months ago."

Stefan gave Damon a confused look. "Since when were you interested in herbal tea? I thought Earl Grey and Chai were about it."

"Siiiince one of my classmates brought it back for me, and I figured I should spread the wealth." Damon took another sip of his vervain-spiked tea. Sometimes, it sucked to have a muggle for a kid brother. "It'd just go to waste in our house, right?"

"Eh." Stefan shrugged. Damon wasn't exactly lying - Stefan didn't drink much tea either, and what he did drink was mostly limited to the green varieties. "Happy late birthday, El."

"Thanks." She lightly squeezed Damon's hand. "Next thing I know, you'll be signing us up for a Tea of the Month club or something."

"Don't give him ideas," Stefan called, turning towards the staircase. "You name it, he's probably gotten it for a present..."

"Hey!" Damon pointed an accusatory finger at them. "I'll have you know, that Fruit of the Month club was genius, even if you still owe me for all those kiwis you devoured."

Elena couldn't hide her laughter anymore, even as she was dashing up the staircase with her boyfriend. "We sent you an IOU! Jeremy did too, when you bought those cookies over."

Damon rolled his eyes. "It's Jeremy. The kid could conquer the world and I probably wouldn't care." Plus, the kid was an honest taste-tester. If a recipe didn't work, Jeremy would always be vocal about it, compared to Stefan's feigned politeness. Honesty always won points in Damon's (meager) book.

Stefan scowled. "So when I eat your kiwis, you suddenly start to care?"

"Love you too, baby bro."

Elena waved, dragging Stefan into his room. The door slammed shut behind them, and for the first time that day, Damon relaxed his guard. While he wasn't exactly envious of his kid brother's love life, he also knew it was probably what kept Stef sane.

He stared down at his to-do list. 'Visit Uncle Grayson's and Aunt Miranda's graves' was highlighted in yellow, and even though he'd planned on asking the Gilbert kids to join them... part of him selfishly wanted to visit them on his own. Uncle Grayson had helped him with his grad school proposal, and Aunt Miranda had guided him when the world felt crazy and confusing. A world without them sucked, and he had no clue how to even begin to navigate it.

It only felt like yesterday that Damon got that fateful, tearful phone call from Jenna. Jenna had been hysterically sobbing, with an urgency in her voice that she had never expressed before, when she asked Damon to pick her up from the airport.

"What? Why?" He'd remembered asking her, glancing up at the clock and wondering why she was up at this hour.

"Grayson and Miranda..." She'd hiccuped, unable to finish that sentence. "G-Grayson and sis... they... the bridge..."

His heart had sunk. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"They're dead, Damon."

He'd almost hung up on her, because she had to be joking, because he would just call them on the phone and Uncle Grayson would laugh at him for being so stupid, and because the idea was so preposterous that it couldn't possibly be true.

"They're..." He swallowed an incoming breath. "I-I'll do it. What time does your flight come in?"

The rest of their conversation had been eerily robotic, about times and flights and terminals, and Damon would laugh at its surreal nature later. How they had managed to keep their voices even, he wasn't sure. Whatever he was feeling, Damon knew Elena and Jeremy had been hit by it a hundred times harder. With Elena, he felt as if he were walking on eggshells with her. It got easier every month, with the jokes and the bags of tea and so forth. With Jeremy, Damon wasn't sure if they'd ever regain their former dynamic. He just wanted to protect Jeremy from the world, which was getting pretty hard when Baby Gilbert started dealing drugs.

No matter how many times Damon burned that stash - or synthesized it into something harmless - the kid just found more. Damon took one last look at his to-do list, and then scribbled one last item.

□ Go check up on Jeremy.

Tucking it away in his pocket, he glanced up towards the staircase. Elena and Stefan were old enough to be left home alone for a couple of hours. Damon knew full well what they were up to - anyone with half a brain did - but he would be a terrible brother if he interrupted them.

Which, of course, was why he casually knocked on their door and called, "I'm gonna check up on Jeremy! Do you lovebirds need anything?"

Stefan moaned. Loudly. "GO AWAY, DAMON."

"Aw, love you too," he cooed at Stefan, wishing that his kid brother could see the smirk on his face. "I'll be back in an hour or so - and no, Elena can't spend the night over. I mean, unless she wants to miss Taco Night with Jenna."

He heard very audible groans from the bed ("nooooo, not Taco Night!" "Elena, do you even LIKE Tacos?") as he headed downstairs. Some nights, he swore to God, his family was more entertaining than network television.

The Gilbert house was about a fifteen minute drive from the Salvatore Manor. Some nights - like the night he drove Jenna from the airport - he wished they lived closer. It would've made their lives a lot easier, but at least they were in the same town. Plus, checking up on Jeremy was a great excuse for not working on his thesis. There was only so many ways he could rewrite something before it looked like complete and utter gibberish.

Casually parking in the driveway, he got out and knocked on the front door. He could hear the sound of someone stampeding down the staircase - Jeremy, no doubt - and a "Coming! Hang on a minute!"

He could wait. It wasn't as if he had anywhere to be at this hour, and if Jeremy didn't answer, he could count on Jenna (and a trusty bottle of whiskey).

Then the door swung open, leaving Damon to stare straight at Miss Bonnie Bennett.

"Good evening, Mr. Salvatore," she greeted, giving him the same mocking bow he'd given only hours ago. "It's so good to see you again."