"Flora! Flora!" The voice was slightly hoarse, but feminine and lovely. Her tone was of worry, the weather wasn't at it's best, with strong and ice-cold winds, the rain was heavy and almost horizontal.

She heard the pit, pat, pit, pat of the rain on her ceramic roof and soon enough the wooden half-door of the kitchen was wide open and banging on the wall. It was of a forest green, not too dark, not too bright. A bit chipped and a bit scratched, but it matched their little home, their little hideout perfectly.

The little girl in her red rubber boots, a little too tight and her messy brown curls sticking on her face, shut the door behind her and leaned on it. She sighed in dramatic relief. She engulfed her in the warmest of hugs. She was reminded of her mother... the one that loved and raised her, not Isobel.

…

She opened her eyes and was in her room again, light gray walls with paintings and eclectic picture frames sprinkled here and about, taxidermed little birds, colorful, shiny feathers on my nightstand. It was a pleasant kind of cold, but still she sweat. She turned around and didn't see him, the man she'd been with last night and several other nights before—the man she quite possibly loved. In his place was this small little thing, fair, but with red puffy cheeks and rosy lips, slightly agape. She snored lightly as her chest rose and fell. Soft yellow giraffe pijamas and soft auburn curls spread over the unmatching floral pillow. She had no idea how this little one got there, here exactly, but she was identical to the one her dream. Looking down on the floor next to her, a small pair of red rubber boots.

…

There were trees ruffling outside, birds chirping and cars passing by every few minutes, not too many. She couldn't hear as well as before, couldn't perceive the sound of her neighbor doing the laundry across the street like she did every Tuesday. She couldn't identify the scent that floated from downstairs above, invading her room and her senses. That thirst that she felt every morning, for the human blood, it wasn't there. The only thirst that throbbed in her throat was that for water... and perhaps a different type of thirst in her heart. Crazy dreams had dominated her conscious this night. She turned over lazily, only to be spooked by the huge blue eyes gazing deep into hers.

"Mamma, I gotta go to school."

…

Her head hurt from all of the confusion, for the home that was hers but wasn't exactly. It hurt from the toys scattered about. From the half knit scarf still attached to the needles and thread sitting on top of her coffee table. Confused about the chilly autumn sun that poured in, when her body had been prepared for perpetual lukewarmness. The scents were different, vanilla candles that she couldn't recall buying, recently unlit over the fireplace. Coffee. Warm milk. That man she'd been dying to see again's scent. She was certain.

And there he was as she stopped bewildered in the middle of the kitchen. The small child had pushed her all the way over here with a deep look of confusion on her own little face.

He stared at him with those bright blue eyes, cool, infinite, pure, yet deceiving. They softened as he saw her. Did she look that bad? Was her hair too messy or her clothes too worn? He smiled tenderly, he had dark hair that contrasted beautifully with his features. He was Adonis in person and who was she?

"Elena, I said good morning."

"Y-you were s'pposed to be dead!" She cried out, but her voice was weak and groggy from sleep. Hoarse, but feminine. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest at the sound of his voice. How she'd missed him, wanted so badly to see him.

"I really hope you're wrong..." he said with an uneasy grin. No smirk, no sarcasm. He took off his apron and set it on the counter, walking smoothly around it and stopping in front of her, placing a soft kiss on her lips. She was too shocked to kiss him back. It burned though, in a good way. She hoped he'd do it again.

"Damon, what's going on?" Her eyebrows were knit together and her chest burned in frustration. She tried not to cry like a baby in front of him. In front of the real baby.

"Elena, nothing's going on. It's Tuesday morning, it's autumn. We're at home, we're in Rome and our daughter has school, while you—," He cradled her frowning face in his hands. "You and I have the entire morning off." he kissed her forhead gently and she held in her breath.

He was seducing her—but her mind was too busy trying to digest all these things. They had a child, which for them, vampires, was completely impossible. They lived in Rome, but he was dead, disappeared along with Bonnie deep into oblivion. She had the morning off, which meant she probably worked—with something. He didn't wear his sunlight ring, she just realized the moment he removed his hands from her. In it's place was a golden band—and suddenly she saw nothing else.