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answer,” Damon said fiercely. “So I’m answering. Now go away .”
    Damon looked wrecked. Nothing could take away from the elegance of his features, but they were tense and drawn, the skin over his cheekbones white with strain. His lips were pale, his dark eyes bloodshot, and his usually sleek black hair disarranged. Stefan ignored his words and leaned closer, trying to make his brother meet his eyes.
    “Damon,” he said. “I found the girl in the woods last night.”
    Anyone who hadn’t known Damon as long and as well as Stefan had—and so anyone except Stefan—would have missed the split second of stillness before Damon’s face settled into cool disdain. “Have you come to preach to me, baby brother?” he asked. “I’m afraid I don’t have the time just now, but perhaps another day? Next week sometime?”
    He slid his eyes over Stefan, then glanced away dismissively. Just like that, Stefan felt like a child again, back home all those centuries ago, and his daring, charming, despicable, infuriating older brother was putting him in his place.
    “She was still alive,” Stefan said steadily. “I took her home. She’s all right.”
    Damon shrugged. “How nice for you. Always the parfait knight.”
    Stefan’s hand shot out and gripped Damon’s arm. “Dammit, Damon,” he said, frustrated, “stop playing with me. I came to tell you that you have to be careful . If you had killed that girl, it would have caught up with you.”
    Damon blinked at him. “That’s it?” he asked, his voice the smallest bit less hostile. “You want me to be careful? Don’t you have an overwhelming urge to scold me, little brother? Threaten me, maybe?”
    Stefan sighed and slumped against the doorframe, his urgency sucked away. “Would scolding you do any good, Damon?” he asked. “Or threatening you? It’s never worked before. I just don’t want you to kill anyone. You’re my brother, and we need each other.”
    Damon’s face tightened again, and Stefan reconsidered his words. Sometimes talking to Damon was like walking through a minefield. “ I need you , anyway,” he said. “You saved my life. Which, in case you didn’t notice, you’ve done a lot this past year.”
    Damon leaned against the opposite side of the doorframe and studied Stefan, his face thoughtful, but remained silent. Wishing he knew what Damon was thinking, Stefan sent a questing tendril of Power toward his brother, trying to catch his mood, but Damon merely sneered, easily shutting him out.
    Stefan bowed his head and kneaded the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Was it always going to be like this, for the next long centuries together? “Look,” he said. “There’s enough going on with the other vampires on campus without you starting to hunt again. Ethan’s still alive, and he’s planning to try to bring back Klaus tomorrow night.”
    Damon’s frown deepened for a moment, then smoothed out. His face could have been carved from stone.
    “We can’t stop him without you,” Stefan continued, his mouth dry.
    Damon’s night-dark eyes gave nothing away and then he flashed his briefest, most brilliant smile. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not interested.”
    “What?” Stefan felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. He had expected Damon’s defensiveness and sarcasm. But after Damon had saved him from Ethan, the last thing he had expected was indifference.
    Damon shrugged, straightening up and adjusting his clothes, brushing an imagined speck of dust from the front of his black shirt. “I’ve had enough,” he said, his tone casual. “Meddling in the affairs of your pet humans has gone stale for me. If Ethan brings back Klaus, then he can deal with him. I doubt it’ll go well for him.”
    “Klaus will remember that you attacked him,” Stefan said. “He’ll be after you.”
    Cocking one eyebrow, Damon smiled again, a quick, savage baring of his white teeth. “I doubt I’ll be his first priority, little