entrancelogs | + Your imagination can't hurt you! +

[They did? Here Stefan thought they just brooded and moaned and hated each others' guts from the moment he left their mother's womb. Maybe there had been some good, before everything went to ashes and ruin.]

Yeah, I've been through three. Succeeded two, failed one, which by the way, makes me really hope fourth time's the charm.

[Look, as much as these tasks challenge his brain and test his willpower, he just wants to flop face first into his bed and catch some zz's. This shouldn't be so hard.

Even if Damon's the second-to-last person he wants to talk to.]

Wonderland knows our memories, right? Makes sense that it would exploit them for whatever hellish challenge awaits us. [He pauses.] Think that maybe if we keep talking, I don't know, we'll get the sky to clear?

Three? Oh, fuck.

[Damon grimaces at the very thought, because the first one with Klaus? It was hard enough. If the purpose is to do so many tests in order to get free from all this, he's going to tear something apart.

He breathes in deeply, and then shakes his head, trembling. He hates the cold.]

Think we're gonna have to acknowledge the elephant in the room if we have any hope in finding each other and getting the hell out of the cold.

You're angry at me.

[Better hope these challenges flex his muscles and not his brain!!

Stefan stops in his tracks. He can't afford to stand still - the cold's going to catch up to them, and they're going to freeze in the middle of the worst blizzard - but Damon's telling him a truth he doesn't want to hear.]

I was hoping we wouldn't have to.

[Thanks, Wonderland. Thanks for giving him ample opportunity to discuss the one area of conversation that makes his blood boil, and thanks for making him wish that he were back in a chemical lab with dozens of test tubes and periodic tables. At least Barry liked him.]

You're not - you're not the same Damon I left back home, but yeah. I am.

[It's the admittance which has the wind calming down. It means Damon can see a bit easier even if he still can't see his little brother anywhere.]

Well, the last challenge I had involved being very open and vulnerable so I'm afraid we don't have a choice unless you'd rather freeze to death... in which case we'll just continuously reappear until we get it right.

[Damon died a lot with Klaus but none of it stuck so he is hoping none of this counts as mansion deaths or he's gone way past five. It means he would have lost something huge by now. He shivers, shudders, trudging through the piles of snow. He trips over a rock, pushing himself out of the hill again with a sigh. Snow now exists in his hair.]

Okay, enlighten me and Wonderland on exactly the reasons why you're so mad at me. At other me. Wait, are you mad at me and the me that does whatever the hell I do? Because I feel like I should point out I've been nothing but nice here. ...or my version of nice.

[Hm, freeze to death or spill the truth...

It's not a particularly hard choice. Stefan forces himself to trudge through the snow, even though, logically, he should stand still. That's what they tell lost children: stay where you are and your parents will come back and find you. Except this is a blizzard, and he'd die if he waited for Damon to find him behind a giant snow pile.

He stifles a sigh, instead focusing on his breath and the shape it takes in the air.]

I don't know. I'm mad at the Damon Salvatore in Mystic Falls, the one who didn't care to look for me all summer, the one who didn't give me a choice on resuming my old life - and you weren't that Damon.

You let me choose, and you didn't once... you didn't leave me behind. [He caves into the urge to sigh, clutching a little harder to that walkie-talkie.] I don't - I'm mad at the brother I used to know. Wonderland's changed you. A lot.

Stefan, if I knew you were in trouble, I would look for you all summer unless I was no humanity dick me. [And even then, he can't say he wouldn't show up to try to bring him back from the brink if only to... then bring more misery to him.] I literally spent a summer looking for you when you didn't want to be found. I don't know the details, but...

[He grimaces then, thinking back to his own unfair bitterness when- when for five years, he sucks in a breath. Now he understands.] Something terrible was happening to you, wasn't it?

[He'll let Stefan keep his anger there.]

Well- [Damon shivers even though the storm has started to clear up at Stefan's admission. It's nearly on time, and Damon is starting to get frustrated at this place's version of therapy.] A lot's happened in Wonderland. Forces growth on you. I can see a house up ahead but I can't see you.

[The weird thing is, Stefan believes him.

He shouldn't, because the last thing he remembers from home is pain and blacking out and Damon's stupid, smug face. His brother hadn't exactly ushered in good things, not since they evaded Death's door. Maybe it had been them against the world once, but right now? It feels like the world's winning.

His voice grows quieter:] Yeah, but... that's not important right now.

[He can see that house too - more like a cabin, really - but he'll take what he can get as he slowly, carefully steps forward.]

I see it too. Hang on, I'm heading over. [He hesitates, as he glances down at that walkie-talkie:] You said your other trial was about - about opening up, and I don't remember what I've done. But remembering isn't an excuse for being a dick, so if I've done anything... now's the time.

It's important, Stefan. [Damon tries to think of what Stefan would most want to hear, what would help him most, ~~what Damon would have wanted to hear whether or not he can ever admit it~~] I should've found you and stopped it.

[He does hang on. Damon doesn't continue walking toward the house, but he searches the snow instead for any sight of his little brother. He grimaces a bit, because he still doesn't see him. If he sees the house too, he should be near-ish, right? Fuck, this cold is the worst. He trudges a few steps to one direction and then the other.

Wait, is that sluggish movement on the horizon, Stefan?]

I already told you the main reason I was pissed at you. You have this habit of laying down your life for me all the time, but I don't really feel mad about it anymore. It feels like it happened a long time ago.

You're free to do things without your memory to piss me off though if we want to get even here.

[That was the opposite of what he expected to hear.

Stefan coughs, trying to hold back tears because this guy is nowhere near the big brother he remembers. There doesn't feel like misery or pain or betrayal. This stupid snow's making them talk, and for the first time in a long, long time, he feels... at peace.

But because he's at peace, he's stopped once again, and the snow's piling around him. At least his jacket's a blinding (and probably not-very-flattering) shade of green.]

It's a stupid habit. If I had to guess - and this is an educated one, because you sat me down with all of my journals - I thought I was protecting you too.

[He coughs.]

Nah. I think we're already even.

I don't need you to protect me especially since I usually get myself into those messes, Stefan, and then you pay for it and it ends up being a spiral, which ends in your life ruined. So.

[Damon would continue on to explain all the reasons why it's bad, but- He stares out into the distance, but now he just sees snow instead of his brother, and he's moving in the direction where he last saw him, trudging through all the snow.]

Stefan? Sort of thought you'd be closer by now...

I'm - [another cough.] I'm kinda stuck.

[Still clutching the walkie-talkie, he forces himself out of that giant snow pile. It's anything but graceful: snow flies in every direction as he throws it as far aside as possible. Each attempt's weaker than the one before it, and by the time he's out completely, he's stumbling over empty air.

Or, well, the snow he'd just tossed aside. He's gonna feel this in the morning, he can already tell.

God, is this what it means to be human? To trip over thin air and blow snow out of your mouth? He's starting to take every single word back: vampirism may not be that bad.]

Sorry, I... I thought I'd be closer too.

You're- what?

[Damon picks up the pace then, because if they are susceptible to the cold now, he really doesn't want Stefan dying of hypothermia. He's not allowed. He picks up his pace through the snow, trudging through the drifts of it, picking up speed along the way.

He's close now.]

Don't apologize. I mean if you wanted to apologize for something, you could apologize for your hero hair or your broody eyebrows or your very annoying guilt complex. Just do some jumping jacks. Think warm thoughts. Think about how the me back home pissed you off because maybe that will get your blood boiling again and you want to stay awake long enough to punch me. [He finally makes it to his brother's side, stumbling over his way.]

Stefan?

[That very annoying guilt complex is also the only thing keeping him alive right now. He has to take responsibility for this because he is a grown boy, and grown boys take responsibility for their actions!!

He's gotta hold on a little longer and - and there's his brother. Letting go of the walkie-talkie (and ignoring how it's buried under way too many feet of snow), Stefan rushes straight into his brother's arms.

He's colder to the touch than usual. Much colder, as if he's human again, rather than the immortal kid who'd never, ever reach adulthood, and he's shivering as he curls up closer.]

H-hi. [He laughs, though it's strained.] You - you really didn't have to.

Fuck.

[Damon mutters the word lowly because he can feel how cold he is, and yeah, they are definitely not vampires right now. Or at least, he's not taking the chance, because his brother should not be this cold.]

Shut up.

You really think I was going to leave you out in a snowpile to freeze to death? [He hauls him over his shoulder with a grimace before he starts to trudge back through the snow. He's brought back abruptly to a time this Stefan can't remember. They were children, and Damon knew nothing else but how to take care of Stefan whatever that meant and whatever it took.]

N-no, but...

[Technically, big bro already left him to drown in a safe.

After that, everything else seems very small and minuscule in comparison. Stefan tries his best to lessen the load, or at least try not to feel so heavy, but honestly, his eyelids feel heavier.

He wants sleep so, so badly right now... Or maybe a fireplace... ]

I just keep holding you back.

What?

[Damon stares back at him even as he hauls him, faster now, because he doesn't sound like he's really with it here. He shoves past the snow. The house is right ahead, and he doesn't care much about what Stefan says as long as he keeps talking at the moment. Sometimes he wants to smack the guilt right out of him. There's a trail of hell that Damon's left behind, necks snapped, all the rest.

Bitterness and anger at- at his brother, because it was easier than feeling or admitting to the rest.

It should have been you there, he said, making it clear he wanted to hurt. His emotions were off, and he wanted to hurt his brother.]

I know you're still collecting your head from it being screwed with, Stefan, but I remember, and you've got the two of us switched around.

I'm the bad brother.

I know.

[He knows it with his whole heart: as long as Damon's around, he has to play his role. His big brother pries everything good and decent away, and the more Stefan thinks about it, the more furious he feels.

(Stefan's gonna be mad about Elena for a long, long while. How can someone so pure be attracted to someone so dark?)

This dichotomy makes everything seem so simple, though. For all their talk about good brother and bad brother . . .]

And I'm the good brother, as it always goes. [He leans a little more on his brother.] What if - what if we're both? Not really good, not really bad? Just, I don't know, somewhere in the middle?

What if that's crazy, dying-of-hypothermia talk?

[Damon kicks in the door of the cabin, ushering his brother inside. There's a fireplace, which is of course not going, but he at least shoves the couch up near to it before he sets Stefan down in it, gathering blankets to wrap around him. Before he heads to the fireplace to get the fire started as if taking care of someone else comes second nature to him.

As if taking care of his brother comes as second nature to him (and it does).]

I mean, how will we know what roles to take on if people aren't slapping me and looking to you for advice? Do you know the kind of advice I give?

The obvious kind? "Try not to die of hypothermia, Stefano?"

[He shivers, rubbing his elbows together and trying to focus on his brother's actions. He can't fall asleep now. Not here, in the middle of a dumb mindscape - he's already failed a complete stranger.

Stefan can't fail his older brother too. He refuses to fail him.

He curls up under those blankets and listens to the rhythm of his breath. Deep breaths, Stef. In and out, in and out... His eyelids feel so, so droopy but he can't.

So he forces himself to say:] It wouldn't be wrong.

No.

[Damon's voice is sharp. Anger is easier than fear. It's easier for Damon to be hated than to be loved, than to accept that someone might care about him. Accepting such a thing requires vulnerability. It requires him to ignore all the shit he's done.

Pretend like it doesn't make him incapable of being loved. His voice is sharp because he can see how close Stefan is to passing out, which is worrying despite himself. He went through this with Klaus. He died multiple times and came right back which means these deaths can't be mansion deaths, but he still can't handle his brother dying regardless. He pushes up to his feet after he manages to get a fire starting in the fireplace, moving over to the couch until he's pressed up close to his brother.]

My advice would be, You're not allowed to die of hypothermia, Stefan, or you will regret it.

People don't like my advice, but it is right a lot of the time. Point is you need someone delivering the softer advice and someone being an asshole about it.

[The second he can feel Damon near, Stefan rests his head on Damon's shoulders. He feels warmer to the touch, and the blue tint's mostly gone, but he sure doesn't feel normal.]

So... good cop, bad cop?

[His laugh is small and quiet as he curls right up to his brother. Between the roar of the fire, the blankets, and his brother, Stefan feels like he'll be okay. A nap wouldn't do him much harm at this point, right?

(Of course it would.) He stifles another yawn, reaching out for Damon's arm and clutching it a little more tightly than usual.]

The truth's hard to hear, you know. Maybe that's why it's easier to swallow when it's broken up into black and white.

Something like that.

[Damon smirks softly at the small, quiet laugh, winding his arm around him further to try to keep the warmth going. He looks over at him with a worried, angry kind of frown.

And then he whaps him on the shoulder when he yawns like that will... keep him awake, because yes, falling asleep would absolutely be bad.]

Stay awake with me, Stefan. The truth's always hard to swallow. There's either getting whacked over the head with it or there's slowly sinking into a much too deep pool. Either way, you're gonna be choking on it.

Ow! I'm trying.

[Stefan should've been all cozy and warm by now, and while he's no longer shivering, he's not back to normal either. Nor is he letting go of Damon's arm.

Stefan can't remember much, but a small part of him hopes that this cuddling - this closeness - had been a much larger part of their lives than the strife and the rage that had colored his journals. They're all each other has.

So, reluctantly, he lets go of Damon's hand, if only so he can press one hand against Damon's forehead. The other, naturally, is on Stefan's own forehead.

His brother's warmer than he is.]

... Or maybe I'm not trying hard enough.

[No, Stefan is not back to normal. Damon can tell. His gaze darts over to his face as he moves in closer to him even as Stefan's hand falls away from Damon's forehead. Worry crosses his features, and he suddenly feels like he's that little kid that raised his little brother again, the one who watched out for him and took care of him regardless of how terrible their parents were.

He needs to pull his brother out.]

So?

Why aren't you trying harder, Stefan?

I don't know.

[It's the truth.

On his end, he has hurt and betrayal settling into his bones, and he knows one challenge won't erase it overnight. He also knows that it'll do them zero good, when the hurt's about way more than a girl. It's old, worn pain, attached to memories and places he can barely recall.]

I don't think I can, without everything that makes me... well, me.

+ Your imagination can't hurt you! +

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