Okay, here goes. Tonight, I was on top of the tallest tree I could find, and I just stared out at the city - no, it's actually more of a town - anyway, I just stared at it. It was dark, but still early enough that people were awake; houses and public services lit up the place well enough. The wind blew, and my hair was just flying behind me. The cold didn't bother me, though. Well, it hasn't for quite a while now.

I inhaled deeply, and was overwhelmed by the scents of the area: forest, animals, vehicles, food, people. Death. And that is a scent I'm all too familiar with. And that, was what I was hoping to find.

I leapt from my perch, landing safely on the ground. Of course, I was fine. It was only maybe thirty, thirty-five feet. Such a tiny distance, now.

You know what I realized? I've never described myself. Years of writing in those notebooks, and then talking into these things, and not once do I say who I am. If I want this to be heard someday, better know who is saying these words. Haha. Well, better late than never, right?

Okay. My name, Frances Noreen Abigail Lennon. You can thank my Irish-German heritage for all that.

Height, five foot seven and a half. And I love high heels. Too bad they don't make good travel footwear.

Weight, well, I'd only tell you a lie. Average-looking, anyway.

Hair, blonde and long, usually up; and eyes, blue. Ha. Used to love them, thought they stood out. Now, though... They only remind me.

My birthday is May fifth. When I tell people that I am twenty-two, they look shocked and insist that I seem older. It's funny. I was always told that, ever since I was sixteen. I used to be flattered that I looked so mature. I mean a sixteen year old that looks twenty? As time went on, I guess I understood why I seemed older. You can't go through what I did and not seem aged. Now, though? I just laugh.

Because they're right.

I am older, but there is no way that I will ever look my age again. I think I would die if I ever looked eighty-seven.

Except, I'm already dead.

That is how I became a vampire, after all.

My mission is nearly over. Because I found him tonight, finally tracked him, and I will, at last, make him pay.

And for what he did to me and my family, I am going to get back at Damon Salvatore.

WWW

"Thank you for being honest with me," Elena said in a controlled voice. Damon nearly breathed a sigh of relief, before she continued, "And the answer to your question, about our friendship, is yes. You have lost me forever."

Damon looked at her, the pieces clicking together. "But you knew that already, didn't you? You used me today," he accused.

Elena shifted uncomfortably. "You had information about Katherine that I needed to know," she defended.

"I thought friends don't manipulate friends." He looked at her with a mixture of disgust and hurt. "You and Katherine have a lot more in common than just your looks."

He walked off her porch, leaving her speechless.

"Wow. She doesn't look happy."

Damon spun around. A young woman, maybe late twenties, was leaning against a lamppost ahead of him. Her hair was blonde and in a high ponytail, her blue eyes were sharp in her pale, pointed face. She was wearing a denim jacket, dark purple shirt, and a really gaudy necklace. Worn sneakers peeked out under the cuffs of her faded loose jeans.

"For that matter," she added, "neither do you. You break up, or something?"

Damon chuckled wryly. "Sweetheart, I am not in a very good mood right now, so, if you know what is good for you, you'd leave. Right. Now."

"Oh wow, scary voice," she responded in a mock scared tone, straightening and walking towards him. "Don't take your bad mood out on me, all I did was make an observation. You gonna be okay?"

Would Bonnie still kill him if he killed her? "I don't see how that's any of your business." He began walking past her.

"You're right, it's not. However, speaking of business..." She began following him. Seriously, he did not want to deal with this right now. "You and I have some."

"Kid, I don't know you," he said, turning around. "Nor do I want to." He looked at her dead in the eye. "What you need to do, is run away. Right now. Get away from me, and never try to see me again."

She stared right back at him. "You owe me one hundred fifty bucks."

'Ah, dammit, she must have vervain or something. Wait, what?'

He stepped back. "What? Who are you?" She was certainly new in town. God, with Katherine, and the Lockwoods, and Blondie, and now Elena... This could not be worse timing.

"You mean you don't remember?" She scoffed. "Typical. I suppose we could say that it was a long time ago, but in my experience, you probably forgot by the next morning."

Now, he was curious. Besides, this made an interesting distraction. At least he was not killing anyone. Yet.

"Why would I owe you money? I happen to have very good credit."

The stranger put on a thoughtful face. "Ah, but back then, I only dealt in cash. Fork it over, Blue Eyes."

"Blue...? What?" Why did that sound familiar?

She stared at him, as if looking for a sense of recognition. "Ugh, I hoped that would help you remember." She grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him close. "Look, buddy, I've got a few things to say to you, but first, I want what you owe me when you stiffed me."

"And when would that have been?" Now, he was getting slightly pissed.

"Chicago. In 1945."

What?

A very speechless Damon stared at the blonde, eyes wide, as the blue of her eyes were suddenly surrounded by a dark red and the veins on her face became very dark and prominent.

He quickly pushed her off. She rolled her neck as she allowed her eyes to clear.

"What do you want?"

She smiled. "I just want my money. Then I wanna talk."

He tried a different tactic. "Who are you?"

"Frances Lennon. We met at a club. And you left without paying."

"Did I...?"

"Turn me into this?" She smiled wider. "Pay up and then we can talk."

God, he was not going to get any answers this way. "Or, I can kill you, 'cause I don't really need to know anyways."

Miss Lennon looked a bit scared. "Please don't?"

Wow, no backbone at all. Maybe just a bit of violence would get her off. "Yeah, see, like you noticed, you caught me in a bad mood, and telling me to fork over money? Not a good way to introduce yourself."

Now, fire lit in her eyes. "Back then, I really needed the money. You're lucky I'm not charging interest." Huh. Okay, maybe a little bit of backbone. Did not mean he could not kill her, though. "Look, just think of it as... unfinished business on my end. Because you stiffed me, I had to go through a lot of shit the next day."

"Not my problem," he whispered before turning away. She appeared right in front of him.

"I'm making it your problem. I really needed the money then, and because you didn't pay, a lot of people got hurt."

"Really? Why is that?"

She gave him a hard look. "Because my father was a raging drunk who couldn't hold down a job, so it was up to me to pay the bills. And when the bills couldn't get paid, he got violent towards his children."

Damon paused. Okay, so it sounded tough. But this happened over sixty years ago. "And I care, why?"

Her face hardened even more. Within a second, she had his throat in her hand. "He abused my eleven year old sister. Beat her up real bad, because you. Didn't. Pay me."

He grabbed her hand, and pulled it away from his throat. "Don't try that again," he warned. "I've had the day from hell, and you're not making it better." He twisted his wrist, and her arm snapped.

She didn't make a sound though. Her breathing became erratic and heavy, but not even a whimper escaped her lips.

"Oh, tough girl? Stay away from me." He resumed his walk home.

She chuckled, though it sounded forced. "You still owe me one fifty, and I'm not going to leave you alone until I get it."

"And why is that?" he asked, turning. "Why only now, after sixty-five years?"

She grunted in pain as her arm bent itself back into shape. After shaking off a bit, she faced him, saying, "My baby brother died last year."

He shook his head and put on his well-practiced, 'so?' face.

"My sister's the only one left from that night. And at Mikey's funeral, she asked me, why was our father so mad that day?" She nonchalantly began walking toward him again. This time was different, she looked more like a feline, stalking its prey. "I told her the truth, I didn't bring home enough money that morning. She asked if I remembered why? And suddenly, I did. I assume it was only because I never really thought about it before, but all of sudden, those memories came pouring back in." She was back in his face. She shoved a finger at him. "You, Blue Eyes, fed on me, and mind controlled me to forget. Effect? I came home empty handed the next morning, and Pop popped. Meggie and I both thought, it'd be nice to get what we were owed."

"Except," he sighed, "I, don't, care. Especially since it happened so long ago."

"I will get what is owed to my family, and then, and only then, will you get what I owe you."

Damon laughed. "What you owe me? That sounds like a death threat."

"Does it?" she replied lightly. "I'm gonna stalk you until you pay up. I take cash, check, or credit now. And it has to come from you, not your brother. He isn't the one who slept with me."

And she disappeared. Damon spun around, searching for a sign of her whereabouts.

"Damn. This is really bad timing."