All I Need (Vampire Diaries/Captain America Fanfic)

45. The Avengers Know What You Are

1863.

We sat in silence around the dinner table; Father, Damon, Stefan and I. Mama (Lily Salvatore) had died back in 1858, and since then the house was a lot quieter. A lot sadder.

"How's the fish?" Father asked.

"Good," I said quickly, before Damon could comment. The fish he'd cooked tasted like salt-covered cardboard, and I knew that Damon wouldn't hesitate to tell Father that. They had always butted heads, but things had gotten considerably worse since Mama's death. Stefan and I tried to keep them away from each other as much as possible, but after 5 years, our efforts were becoming exhausting.

"I was thinking," Father said. "Maybe we should take a trip? Somewhere nice and sunny, while we get over the worst of the war."

"Am I included in this trip?" Damon asked, keeping his eyes on his plate.

Father put his cutlery down. "Why would I reward you for ignoring your responsibilities?"

"I wasn't aware that risking my life by fighting a senseless war was something that you considered an obligation, Father," Damon said.

Stefan and I caught each other's eye. We knew how these arguments started, and they usually ended with someone getting hurt.

"Risking your life for your country, for your family, is something that I consider an obligation," Father responded.

"For my family?" Damon asked, finally looking up at him. "Are you under the impression that Stefan and Serena would be better off if I left?"

"I think we all would," Father answered. It wasn't true, of course, he was just trying to hurt my oldest brother. He always did, and I could never understand why.

"Well then, maybe I should just go right now?" Damon stood up abruptly, his chair falling to the ground with a loud 'thump'.

"Sit down!" Father shouted, also standing abruptly.

"Make me!" Damon countered. In response, for his insolence, Father slapped Damon across the face, his ring causing a jagged cut in Damon's cheek. Stefan and I sat still. At 16 years old, we were no match for Father, no matter how much we hated him for the way he treated Damon.

Damon walked quickly from the room. I stood up to follow him.

"Sit down and finish your meal," Father said, sitting down.

"I'll sit when we're all eating together," I responded, leaving the room before I got the same treatment. Not that Father had ever laid a finger on me, but there was a first time for everything.

"Damon," I called when I saw him walking on the grass outside. He turned his face from me, which meant that he was either crying, or the tears were about to start. I took his arm and ushered him into the bathroom.

"Are you OK?" he asked once I had shut the door. His bright blue eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"Me?" I asked. "I'm not the one with blood running down my cheek." I grabbed some tissue to mop up the wound.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know I shouldn't stand up to Father, but I couldn't help it. He makes me so mad."

"He makes everyone mad," I admitted. "You're just the only one to call him on it. I wish I was braver, like you."

"Don't be braver," he warned me. "I don't want Father to ever hit you, or Stefan. I can take it."

"Yeah, until you push him too hard and he kills you," I said. That was one of my biggest fears. What if Father got angry enough to really hurt Damon, and I couldn't do anything about it?