Sebastian never knew his father for he had died when he was only two months old. When he was five years old his mother told him that daddy's in heaven and for a five year old it was enough at that time. Knowing that daddy's with angels gave joy to the little boy who resembled his father that much that his mother sometimes just stared at him with tears in her eyes.

On Sebastian's tenth birthday, his mother gave him a picture of his father.

"But I already have pictures of him," the little boy had said to his mom. He couldn't hide the disappointment from his voice, because he had hoped for a new toy car for his birthday.

"I know." Her mother had answered. "You see, Sebastian, this picture is special for me. It's the very last picture taken of him." She had smiled sadly and handed over the picture to her son, her hands slightly trembling.

Years passed and Sebastian started to understand what death really meant. He learned to cherish that one picture, considering it his most prized possession. He also noticed that he resembled his father so much that sometimes even his uncle called him by his father's name. He didn't mind it, though.

On his 16th birthday his mother walked up to him with a small box in her hands and handed it to him.

"What's this?" he asked, eyeing the box curiously.

"I thought it's time for you to know everything there is to know about your father and me." His mother's voice was a whisper; he could see how she was barely holding herself together.

"Oh, mom..." he sighed. He knew how painful it was for her to talk about his father. That was why he had never really asked about him, because he knew that talking about him brought back too many painful memories for her. "You don't have to do this."

Her eyes shot up – "I do, Sebastian, I have to. You have never asked about him and I am so grateful for that, but I know that you do want to know, you deserve to know about him. I owe this to you." She grabbed his hand and beckoned him to sit next to her.

"What's in this box?" he asked, stroking the delicate pattern carved into the metallic lid.

"It's everything I have left of your Father." She said, twisting her hands nervously. "Open it."

Sebastian opened the box slowly and peered inside. There were many things inside it – some photos, a handkerchief, even a diary, but what caught his eye was a ring. Sebastian picked it up and examined the oval-shaped blue stone with a silvery symbol in the middle.

"What's this?" he asked, turning the ring around. He noticed that it had the letter S right in the middle.

"Try it on." His mother urged and when he slid the ring on his finger and it fit perfectly he could hear his mother sucking her breath in.

"It fits." She breathed, admiring his hand.

"Yeah, I guess it does." He said with a small smile, a bubble of happiness starting to swell in his stomach. It was his father's ring after all.

"I thought that it might be a bit big for you..." she said. "Fortunately I was wrong." Her voice trembled a bit and Sebastian looked up from his hands to his mother. He could see that she was crying.

"Mom?" his voice was worried, urgent.

"I'm alright." She inhaled deeply and wiped away the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I'm ready." She finally said.

Sebastian looked at her and saw determination wash over her features, "Ready for what?"

"To tell you the story of your father, Stefan Salvatore."