Response to a comment fic meme prompt based off the speech that Dean of Supernatural gives at the end of "All Hell Breaks Loose, Part I."

The Cruelest Irony

Stefan didn't see it coming. Damon didn't see it coming. No one saw it coming.

One minute, Stefan's walking towards him, blood-streaked but assuredly alive (or undead, or whatever), saying Katherine's got vervain running through her system—more than even she can handle—and that he'll need a bottle of whiskey but then they can kill her for good. The next, there's an "I'm sorry, Stefan, really. But if I can't have you, then no one can," and a wooden stake straight through his chest.

Alaric, formerly standing by Damon's side, runs after her cackling form (or maybe stays there, he doesn't know, nor gives much of a shit) but Damon knows it's pointless. If he were in any other state of mind, he himself would want to go after her, tear her head right from her body, mutilate her heart.

But he doesn't. Because—and he doesn't even stop to consider that it should surprise him—the only thought that's running through his mind is this:

Brother.

He sprints to Stefan's body, lying there in the street broken and bleeding, holds him up, stares him in the eyes, searching, begging, for life.

I promised you an eternity of misery, he remembers saying once. I'm just keeping my word.

To no one, not even himself, would he admit the translation. At least, not until now.

"Hey, look at me. It's not even that bad," Damon says, gripping onto Stefan's face so tightly his fingers are white. "Listen to me. We're gonna patch you up, okay? You're gonna be good as new. I'm gonna take care of you, I've got you. That's my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother?"

Stefan doesn't answer, and all Damon can do is watch as Stefan's skin starts to gray, veins slithering up as the stake's splinters continue to slice through his heart. Damon feels like he has a stake of his own buried deep in his chest. He's spent a century and a half hating Stefan, but…this is too much.

"Stefan!" he exclaims, as if the louder and with more vehemence he says his brother's name, the faster it'll make him open his eyes, shove Damon away in a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness, say that it didn't actually pierce my heart, Damon. God, get off me. "Stefan?"

There's no answer, just Stefan's blank gaze somewhere over Damon's left shoulder, blood that's not healing slipping out his mouth. His skin starts to decay further, looking less and less like the Stefan of not but two minutes ago.

"No," declares Damon, continuing to search his brother's face, grip his shoulders. "No…no, no, no…"

Stefan's long gone, he knows that. Intellectually, he knows that. Elsewhere, deep down in a part of his soul he didn't know he had, he feels entirely different. This feels…wrong.

This isn't supposed to happen, he despairs to himself. Not to you, not yet. Whose life am I going to make a living hell now?

He won't deny he's wanted Stefan out of the picture more times than he can count, has wanted to kill him, but not this way. But then, fate is an evil bitch.

And isn't that the cruelest irony? His little brother, the one who always tried to do good, is the one that perished. Damon wishes it'd been he who died. After all the awful things he's done, he feels it's only fair.

In a faraway part of his brain, he realizes he's going to have to craft some way to break the news to Elena. What way that might be, he has no idea. Although…

"I'll find a way to fix this," Damon finds himself saying, determination replacing the despair. "I'll fix this. Katherine will pay, and you'll be back to pissing me off in no time."

He doesn't know how, but he will. He doesn't care how; he just has to. Short of killing Elena, he's willing to do anything.

"I promise, Stefan."