Let the Right One In
It was the smell that alerted him first. The empty casualties of Damon's stash of blood packets lay scattered across the study like so many victims from his own murderous past, each one drained and empty.
There was a brief moment of unease. His eyes scanned the room, at first looking for signs of intrusion until the rest of his supernatural senses finally reviled the truth.
And there it was. For the first time in more than a hundred years, Stefan, his perfectly self controlled, morally infallible saint of a brother was drinking human blood.
It was almost completely inconceivable. He had spent so many years with Mr Abstinence that Damon couldn't quite get his head around it. It was like coming home and finding your anorexic housemate stuffing their face with chocolate. He couldn't even remember the last time he had even seen Stefan feed.
It was only many decades of practice that prevented his feelings from showing on his face as Stefan's eyes met his. The expression of defeat and complete renegade hunger hunted his brother's face. Somehow out of all the people in the world only Damon knows the significance of this.
And surprisingly, there was no joy to be had at his brother's failure. This was not a victory to be celebrated.
And so he said nothing as he left the room, part of him knowing that things would only get a lot worse before they got better.
It would be a downward spiral of self-loathing form here for Stefan. He would be a complete killjoy for at least a week and he, Damon, would have to put up with it.
At least the squirrels were happy.