Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries is the property of the CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

This is a kind of gloat fest for me. I don't ship ?elena and I feel the brothers are way too good for her. Rah Rah Stefan for dumping her butt! Sorry to see Damon will soon be in servitude to her. My apologies to people who do ship ?elena.

~ X ~

They sat next to each other on the gray steps of the old white porch. The distance between them spoke volumes. Stefan, hands loosely hanging between his legs; Elena, arms folded and cradled protectively against her chest, both looking straight ahead.

"Goodbye," was all he softly said as he stood, reflexively brushing off his jeans, and stepped off the stairs onto the walk leading to the street.

Something in his voice roused her from her reflective semi trance and she half reached a tentative hand out to him. "Stefan!"

He stopped and partially turned his upper body back towards her. "Yes?"

"We're . . . " She hesitated, not quite understanding what distressed her, unsure what to say. She fumbled for words and finally settled for something she considered kinda lame. "We're still friends, right?"

He fully faced her now and kindly urged her, "Go inside Elena and get some sleep. You're still worn out."

She nodded and rose, feeling totally drained. It was only when she had closed the door behind her and started up the stairs that she realized he had never answered her question.

~ X ~

Stefan was inside his bedroom quietly and efficiently packing a couple of bags when he felt eyes watching him. He looked over briefly to see Damon leaning against the door frame, studying him. He continued thumbing through a drawer, picking only what he really needed.

Damon moved inside the room, bracing his butt against a desk. "What's going on?"

Stefan, without interrupting his packing, calmly replied, "Elena and I broke up."

Damon cautiously moved close, his hesitant wary tread reminding Stefan of someone approaching a wounded animal that might snap. "I'm sorry." Damon responded sincerely. He was subdued, lacking his usual cocky bravado.

Stefan stopped then and deliberately walked over to face up to his brother. "Don't pretend this isn't the happiest day of your life." His voice held a tinge of bitterness.

Damon shifted uncomfortably, while slowly searching the challenging green eyes, noting the taut jaw, before admitting, "Not everything about this is great." Damon was not quite shamefaced, but there was definitely no sense of victory in his demeanor. If anything, he appeared regretful. He then repeated, "What are you doing?"

Stefan turned away to resume rifling through shirts before bluntly replying, "We had an agreement. The one she doesn't want goes away. I plan to stick to it."

Damon, concerned, thought carefully before he tried to respond. He tried for a huge light hearted breezy smile. "Nah, I blew that deal up. Remember when she chose you? I didn't leave." Damon tried a different tactic when a silent Stefan methodically started on another drawer. "I thought you were going to fight to get her the cure, make her human. Are you just giving up?" he demanded from his brother, trying to get him to rally, to not give up.

"Not my battle anymore. She's not who she was." Stefan looked up and reminded him, "And you don't care. Makes no difference to you that's she's a vampire."

Damon opened his mouth and uncharacteristically flapped his hand helplessly. He didn't want to and wouldn't lie. His brother was right. He was fine with her the way she was. "We need you to protect her." Damon switched gears again.

"You've got Klaus," Stefan wearily countered. "You don't need anyone else."

Again Damon was stumped. He tried to salvage something from his brother and used another bright cheery smile. "So, we'll see you in fifty years?"

Silence greeted his question. Damon hopefully repeated. "Only for fifty years right? That's what we agreed on."

Stefan stood lifeless, head hanging, hands on hip. His voice when he responded was so drained that Damon was now seriously worried.

"Fifty years was what we expected her to live as a human. She'll live an eternity now." He raised his head, tilting it so he faced his brother. "I think eternity is appropriate now."

"We're still brothers, Stefan. Still friends." Damon spoke softly and gently as if addressing a confused child.

Stefan grimaced and shrugged. "She told me she wasn't the person she used to be." He flopped down on the edge of his bed as if standing required too much energy. Damon watched him intently.

"It made me think. It's true for us too. I know it's true for me." Stefan thought for a moment. "We were brothers and friends when we were human. I think that ended the night we died." His smile was sad. "I've tried to keep it going. Just like I tried to prolong it with Elena even when I knew it was ending." A little bubble of humorless laughter escaped him. "At least I've learned something. Don't plan on wasting over hundred plus years trying with Elena."

"Stefan that's not tr—." Damon stopped when Stefan held up an admonitory hand, but Damon insisted. "We had rough patches, but we got over them."

Stefan just sighed and rose, closing and latching the bags. "Really? Are you the same brother who taught me how to swim? Climb trees? Use a slingshot? Rob a bird's nest?" He shook his head regretfully. "Neither one of us is who he was. I would have done everything in my power to bring down a ripper. I became what I was brought up to abhor." He faced his brother hefting a bag in each hand. Damon wondered if it was deliberate so there could be no hand shake, no physical contact.

"You don't need to shadow me anymore. You got what you wanted. Let's just let it go now. Bury the hatchet. Bury the brothers and friends. Let's just pretend we died that night and end it. It's time for a new start for everyone." He slowly walked out, sidestepping his brother. Damon helplessly listened to his steps down the stairs.

As his anxious eyes swept the room they landed on a cell phone left on the bed. He grabbed it and ran downstairs after his brother. "Hey!" he yelled at him. "You forgot your phone."

Stefan finished strapping his bags in the cycle's saddlebags. He flung a leg over the seat and turned the key. Only then, after he revved the engine, did he turn to his brother. "No. No, I didn't. New beginning."

Damon, hand still held out foolishly, argued. "It shouldn't be this way." His words were lost in the raucous noise from the motorcycle as Stefan drove away.

When the true implication of the abandoned phone hit him, he angrily threw it after the vanishing bike. "Be that way you dumb arse." He hollered as loud as he could. I won't beg you to stay.

He stormed back into the house instinctively heading for the liquor cabinet. He poured and downed three glasses; the liquor fueling his anger to a red hot rage. He shakily poured a fourth glass, but as he brought it to his lips he suddenly turned and viciously threw it at the stone fireplace; liquid and shattered glass spraying everywhere.

He raced up to Stefan's room and started mindlessly smashing and ripping and destroying anything that caught his attention. His rampage continued until it was suddenly stopped by the discovery of an old hand whittled slingshot. He stared at it, body frozen, eyes burning. "Oh, Stefan."

He held the slingshot he had fashioned while a hero worshipping eight year old tow-headed brother watched utterly enthralled. The image doused his frenzy as effectively as cold water thrown on flames. As the anger drained, its place was filled with remorse. Not this way. I never wanted it to end this way.

He considered racing to his car to try and catch up with his brother, but abandoned the idea immediately, recognizing the futility of it. What am I going to do? Lock him in the cellar?

Desperate now he racked his brains doing a silent roll call searching for someone to help him. It was times like these when he missed Ric's comforting presence. Who? Caroline? Matt? Jeremy? Bonnie? Klaus? As he reviewed and rejected each one he silently begged for inspiration.

It suddenly dawned on him who he could turn to for help. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number he had the foresight to save in case it was needed. He squeezed it tightly muttering—"Please . . . . Please . . . . Please . . . ."—as it could make the number still be active through sheer willpower.

As soon as the phone was answered, he blurted without any preamble. "They broke up, and he left." I'm acting like a scared idiot.

But the person on the other end simply said, "Thank you. I'll keep an eye on him. Always have. Always will."

The connection was cut before Damon could even thank her. Please. Just let me have a chance to fix this.

~ FIN ~