"You haven't seen some of it yet. In the 1940's Stefan was getting out of a ripper stage, and decided to go off to WWII to help drive an ambulance. He asked me to go along and I agreed. When I got to the platform, Lexi stepped in and told me that Stefan would be better without me, so I didn't go. I watched him go, and he was looking for me, but I would have been bad for him. He thought I left him, but I didn't." He looked down at their hands. "I should have went, or told him I was there. Lexi told me to just let him go."
There was more - much more. "In the 50's, I was captured by some scientists, or really sold by family. I was in a basement for 5 years, given just enough blood for survival. They experimented on Enzo and I, cut into us testing our healing. They dug into my eyes, my organs - whatever. You know who got me out - ME. No one came looking." He had needed his brother then, and nothing happened. There were reasons his dream self had this resentment.
But wait, there was another story behind the first. "In the 70's I was on a rage. My humanity was off, and I didn't care. I was in New York, tearing the city up, and Stefan found out. Instead of coming down, he sent Lexi." He rolled his eyes. Leaving her up on a roof in the sun was somewhat satisfying. "I took dad's punishments when we were young so he wouldn't touch Stefan. I showed up when I was needed, and where the fuck was he? Nowhere." He had never really told that story from his perspective before. He knew they were dreams, but some of those feelings were hard to separate.