A rewrite of The Hunters: Destiny Rising. By LJ. SMITH.
LJ.SMITH created Klaus.
A stand alone monster.
No family.
No redeeming qualities.
"I'm one of the Old Ones! An Original! Do you know what that means? I've never died. Every one of you has di...
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When Stefan knocked on the door of Damon's apartment, Damon opened it almost immediately, glared at Stefan, and tried to slam the door shut in his face.
"Stop," Stefan said, inserting his shoulder in the doorway. "You must have been able to sense that it was me."
"I knew you'd keep knocking or find a way in if I didn't 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 cheek bones white with strain. His lips were pale, his blue 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 bitless 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."
