It was strange being back in a small town. Where the streets were scrupulously cleaned, the parks manicured and demons lurked in every shadow. It wasn't Sunnydale but the night air held a similar, eerie chill. A blonde woman strode the streets in an almost nonchalant fashion. Nobody would have suspected how far her senses reached or how keen her instincts were. A stake sat comfortably in the back of her jeans, hidden by the folds of her billowing, leather jacket.
She missed Rome. She'd left her sister there, under protest. But she had insisted that she would not be away for long. In the years that had followed the First's defeat Buffy Summer's had been trekking the globe, seeking out the potential Slayer's Willow had woken. She had assembled a small, powerful army of them. Girls. Soldiers. Slayers. Small bands of them had been assigned to various problem areas. These were slowly becoming prominent authority figures across the seven continents (unbeknownst to human law enforcement) and the demon realm were paying attention.

Still, a trip to the states was inevitable. Angel still had his agency in L.A. and despite the Hell Mouth being obliterated, demons and magical creatures were like cockroaches. And that made them, in much the same way, like humans. For no matter how difficult life became, people always found a way to survive.

The click of her boots echoed innocently on the pavement. For the next few days she was just another "typical" resident of Mystic Falls - she figured whatever problems they had been having couldn't possibly be worse than what she had faced in her decade of service. But she hadn't just come to Mystic Falls to assess the level of demonic distress the town suffered. Willow had been busy in Rome as well. She had founded her own witches' coven, a few members had gravitated from the coven in London and others she'd merely attracted from her own travels. Not only had the magical upheavals of the small town drawn their notice, but the town could now boast it's very own slayer. It was up to Buffy to find the girl and bring her into the fold.

She'd arrived late that afternoon, the clerk at the hotel had been friendly and helpful and particularly eager to disclose all kinds of information about the most notable town inhabitants. That was the great thing about small towns. Everyone knew everyone and everyone's business. What had most interested her, were the reverent tones in which he'd disclosed the town's newest residents. A family in fact, The Mikaelsons, quite sprung from thin air and come to reside in a newly built mansion. The skinny concierge beamed brighter than the canary yellow of his uniform as he described the beautiful and mysterious lot of them. They didn't care for the inconspicuous and were always seen around town. But it had always been her understanding that vampires did not come out during the day…

Elena Gilbert regarded herself in the bathroom mirror. Sunlight streamed in through the window in a display of what was to be, a beautiful day. But nothing seemed all that beautiful today. She had been training herself hard for weeks. Hours were spent at the gym, drilling with Alaric. And she found that she could run for miles and not feel a thing. Her progress was startling. But even as she looked into her own brown eyes. So hopeful and ready to take on anything, there was the smallest twinge in the depths of her fiery heart that begged the question, Would things ever be right again? She yanked her raven hair into a ponytail and dressed. Downstairs the doorbell rang and she heard Alaric's voice as he answered it.

Buffy smiled politely at the anonymous man who answered the Gilbert's door. He was tall but then again she'd never drawn strength from her height. His grey eyes were suspicious but he returned the smile. She couldn't read his thoughts and hardly knew how much trouble beautiful, blondes caused in Mystic Falls already.

"Good Morning," she began.

"Well, Good Morning. Can I help you?"

"I hope so, I'm looking for…"

The short dialogue quickly broke off when a beautiful brunette jogged down the staircase and into view. Buffy locked eyes with the girl who had now halted and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Who's this, Ric?"

"Hadn't quite gotten there yet," he chuckled good naturedly. But she felt the tension rise immediately and rushed to dispel it.

"Oh, I'm Anne." She had always used the pseudonym when travelling, thinking it the least dishonest of choices and well, she didn't care for undesirables tracking her whereabouts. "I need to speak to you." Her eyes locked on the girl's again. Alaric cleared his throat.

"Anne, I'm Ric."

He stood back and extended his hand. She would have to cross the threshold to take it. So, they were already informed. She didn't bat an eyelash and accepted the handshake. The pair of them relaxed visibly. Somewhere in the house a phone rang and Elena nodded that Alaric should answer it. Finally left alone Buffy could take Elena's hand.

"I'm Elena Gilbert. Do we know each other?" She seemed a sweet tempered girl. But tough. The sweats she was dressed in indicated she was on her way out for a gym session and Buffy wondered if Elena knew the true extent of her physical strength.

"Yes and No. It's a long story and it's an unbelievable one. But something tells me you'll be more understanding of it than others who've heard it."

Elena nodded slowly. A frown steadily made it's way onto her face but she didn't say anything for a long time.

"Are you a witch?"

Buffy laughed. "No, but my best friend is."

"Mine too."

Klaus was bored. Which was terribly unfortunate for anyone who crossed his path. When he was bored he was perhaps at his most dangerous. There was a beautiful woman who consumed his thoughts and since he couldn't have her, at the moment (There was no doubt in his mind he'd have her eventually) Mystic Falls seemed an utterly dull place. He was staring up at the ceiling, his long, muscled body barely fit onto the sofa. He might have looked like an angel with his golden halo of hair, but his ravaged eyes betrayed the comparison.

It was perhaps the first time in a thousand years that he and his siblings were living together. Consciously. A chilling smirk crossed his face. He was such a bastard.

"And what do you find so amusing?" Rebekah pouted at her older brother. She was lazily arranged on a sofa opposite him, scrutinising the fashions of the twenty-first century in some magazine. She didn't share the masses love of fluorescent colour schemes. Perhaps Niklaus would store her away until the hideous trend was over.

"You. Nothing better to do? No Salvatore brothers to screw?"

She fumed. "Like you can talk, Nik, Are you hiding Caroline in here somewhere?" She laughed in his face. "You have all but rolled over. And for a child! A common, vampire brat."

Rebekah turned back to her magazine, with a triumphant toss of her platinum locks. She wasn't quite fast enough when he toppled the sofa, with her on it and threw it into the neighbouring wall. The brickwork crumbled and dust enveloped the room for a few moments. Elijah looked up at Klaus through the gaping hole once it had settled. He had closed the book he was reading to give him a typical bemused expression.

"I didn't like that wall there either," He murmured.

"That's why you're my favourite, Elijah. You're unfailingly agreeable."

There was a second, resounding thud from behind them. Klaus looked up, mystified as the house shook. All three of them turned, Rebekah glared over the sofa and at Kol. He still had his fist poised over the similarly large hole he'd punched in the living room wall.

"Kol?" Klaus spoke up. The disapproving tone in his voice had Kol questioning his actions.

"Aren't we re-decorating?"