The evening sky had become grayish with storm clouds predicting a heavy storm. Stefan entered the house and dropped his bag on the couch in time to see Damon emerging from the kitchen with a bottle of bourbon in his hands, whereas the living room was in a horrific messy state with bottles shattered on the floor and everything toppled upside down either in anger or frustration. 

Stefan shook his head in disappointment, "Damon why don't you at least clean up the mess before getting drunk again? By the sight of this you might have finished three to four bottles already."

He gave him a full-blown smirk, "no, actually it's the seventh bottle, Grandma. Besides cleaning up is not my job."

Stefan went to his room not able to tolerate Damon in his cranky attitude any longer. 

"Hey, Stef," he called, "if the doorbell rings I'm not gonna get it. So keep your ears open, brother." 

He yelled down, "what do you think I am? Your slave?" 

Damon winked, "you may call yourself whatever you like. Doesn't make any difference to me."

It was well past midnight and a storm was raging outside. Damon had retreated to his room too and everything was eerily quiet except the occasional noise of the thunder and lightening. Stefan had just plugged up his stereo system when the power supply blew off. 

"Shit!" he mumbled. He was about to switch on the torch when he heard a sound: knocking. He realized that the doorbell had rung twice before and probably Damon hadn't bothered to check it out. 

He descended down the stairs. Thankfully Damon hadn't made any more mess. He opened the door but was surprised to see no one outside. He flashed the torch sideways but saw no one. Wen he stepped down on the porch he bumped into something or rather someone. 

When he flashed the torch down he got a shock. On the stairs was an injured child; unconscious and covered in a bloody mess. He immediately bent down to see if the child was alive and caught a faint pulse. 

"Hey brother, what have you found on the door that is so interesting? A dead bunny? Or a compelled girlfriend?" Damon came up behind him. 

"Just shut up," Stefan cursed under his breath much troubled and irritated at the same time. 

When Damon saw the reason of Stefan's concern, his eyes widened, "Holy Jesus!" 

Stefan hastily elaborated, "I just found her here and I've no idea what happened to this kid." 

Damon lifted the child in his arms and carried her inside, "have you grown insane? You were examining this kid out in the storm and didn't it once cross your mind to at least bring her in?" 

Stefan followed him silently into the living room. Thankfully the power came back on and Damon kicked the useless rubbish on the couch to make room for the injured girl, "well... You're right. I do make a lot of mess." 

He laid her down on the couch while Stefan fetched the first aid kit. Damon went to his room to fetch blankets and pillows. By the time he returned, the kid had been neatly bandaged. He carefully wrapped her up in the blankets. Both the brothers looked down at her. 

"She's so small, probably less than three even," Stefan estimated. 

"I wonder who the hell did that to her," Damon spoke in a low threatening voice while his eyes were blazing with anger. 

Stefan looked over at his brother for a second as if surprised at his sudden anger but he was aware that even though Damon acted like a jerk most of the time still he had enough compassion for kids. 

They waited for the child to wake up. She had light hair that appeared to be of a golden blonde color. Her eyes were shut so the eye color was not yet known. 

Even though she had a fairly pale complexion, her face was badly scratched and scarred. The thin small hands were just as terribly wounded as if mercilessly spanked with a steel rod. 

There was only one thing that came to mind seeing that tiny girl; the peaceful sleeping child seemed so innocent yet so ill used.

***