(A/N: this is set after season 2 when Stefan leaves with Klaus in the present day, but it goes back and forth from the 1800s to the present day, and switches POV'S a lot. The Isobel in this story is NOT Isobel Flemming; she is my own original character, Isobel Lokra. Quick thanks to my best friend georgiamelody; the inspiration for Georgia Lokra, and my best friend shonajain915, who co-wrote this story with me. Enjoy)

Prologue

DAMON'S POV

Her eyes. Golden. The same, strikingly familiar and unique eyes I was sure I'd seen before. They were beautiful, like orbs of liquid topaz, flecked with specks of hazel. Where the hell had I seen them before? Behind her golden eyes I could see deep fear and curiosity. Who was she to me?

DAMON'S POV – 1863

I gazed at her from across the room, as I was hugged and wished good luck. Tomorrow I left to join the Confederates States Army, and my family had thrown me a small good luck/leaving party. She watched me, smiling slightly; her beautiful eyes filled with tears. I could see she was obviously pretending to look happy for me; but behind her golden eyes I could see sadness. She turned abruptly; her silky black hair billowing behind her. I was about to follow, when Stefan stepped in front of me; beaming, as he handed me a small crystal glass of whisky.

"Let's drink to my brother, Damon Salvatore, who will go out and defend our country tomorrow," he called, putting his arm around me.

I smiled, pretending I hadn't noticed Isobel run away. Especially when I needed her the most right now.

"Cheers," everyone chorused, as they drank to me.

Stefan hugged me, clapping my back. "Congratulations, Damon."

"Thanks, brother," I grinned, pulling away. "Will you excuse me? I just need to go and talk to someone."

He nodded. "Of course, Damon. Tonight's all about you."

I smiled and slipped away, following Isobel. I knew where she would be. I ran up the stairs and down the hall to my bedroom. I smiled, and tapped gently on her door.

"Isobel? You in there?" I asked softly.

I could hear her sobbing quietly to herself, and my heart seemed to ache.

"One minute, Damon," she said thickly, and I listened as she blew her nose delicately into a tissue.

"Not one minute," I murmured, and pushed the door open. She was sitting on my bed, crying softly to herself. Her thick, silky black curls tumbled from her head and fell over her face, like a curtain. Her perfect, olive-toned skin was flawless and smooth as usual, and as she glanced up at me, our eyes met. My heart skipped a beat when I gazed at her dark honey gold eyes, flecked with spots of hazel, and glistening with tears. She hid her face in embarrassment and stood up.

"I – I'm sorry, Damon," she began to hurry past me, but I stopped her, holding her hands in mine and carefully kicking my door closed.

"Isobel, talk to me," I said, tentatively touching her cheek. "What's the matter?"

"No, it's ridiculous," she replied, flustered. "I – I shouldn't be crying."

"Please," I breathed, leaning closer.

Isobel stared at me, leaning closer too. She brushed her lips tantalizingly across mine, closing her eyes and sighing. I cupped her cheeks in my hands and deepened the kiss. She pulled herself closer to me, clutching my shirt in her hands. I broke my lips away from hers to breathe.

"Please tell me," I whispered.

A dry sob escaped her lips. "I'm worried about you."

"You shouldn't be," I told her, stroking her hair. "I will return to you as soon as I can. You know that."

"But – but what if? What if something happens and you –?" she broke off, unable to finish her sentence. I silenced her with another kiss, tangling my hands in her soft hair, and stroking the nape of her warm neck with my fingertips.

"Please," she whispered. "Please be careful out there, Damon. Promise me you'll come back to me."

"I promise," I said firmly, before pushing her gently onto the bed and kissing her again. She kissed me desperately, as if she were afraid it would be the last time. I let a low moan escape my lips as her kisses became more fervent. Soon she was tearing off my shirt; keeping her lips locked on mine. I helped her out of her clothes, and we pulled the covers over us. Our bodies moulded together; like two halves in a whole, all passion, desire, love and lust.

"I love you, Isobel," I whispered, intertwining my hands with hers.

"I love you, Damon," was her immediate response.

PRESENT DAY – Georgia's POV

I watched as the world blurred by in a haze of green, blue and grey. I was in the backseat of a taxi on my way from the airport to my new life in Mystic Falls. My gaze fell from the window and down to the locket I wore around my neck. The locket my mother had given me when I was thirteen. It was silver, and the pendant was a heart locket, with ivy and flowers engraved on it. Making sure the taxi driver wasn't watching me, I held the pendant to my nose and inhaled the familiar scent. It smelled just like the perfume my mother wore – she told me it was an extract of an herb called vervain. I felt the usual empty ache stab at my stomach, and the tears sting in my eyes as I recalled for the fiftieth time why I was moving here. I closed my eyes as I remembered.

Two weeks ago

I could hear shouting and panicked screams as I neared my street. My eyes widened in surprise when I saw the great, fiery flames that billowed up into the night sky. Someone's house was on fire! Shocked, I broke into a run. I ran down the road and turned around the corner. My heart jumped hysterically. That was my house. Fear bled through me, as I pushed my way through my frantic neighbours as they watched my house burn down.

"Mom!" I yelled. "Dad!"

I pushed my way through, and watched with frightened eyes. The great, orange flames devoured my house, and thick, smoky black smoke wafted into the air. The fire brigade were here, firemen swarming the house with their hoses and gas masks. Our next-door neighbour, Mrs Figguns, turned to me, her face streaked with tears.

"Georgia," she sobbed. "Your – your parents."

"What about them?" I demanded, terror seeping into the pit of my stomach.

"They...oh, Georgia, they didn't make it out," she whispered.

I felt my life as I knew it crumble and fall around me.

"What?" I gasped, just about whispering the words. It couldn't be possible. I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe it.

But it was true. My parents died on that night. The fire had started upstairs; meaning the whole top floor and roof had been destroyed. My bedroom had been downstairs; so most of my possessions had survived it. But every single memory of my parents I had was gone. Burned. I had no other relatives in Ohio, so I had to move to Mystic Falls to live with Aunt Sara (my mother's sister) and my cousin, Zayn, who was the same age as me. I hardly ever saw them; they usually sent money at Christmas and birthdays, but that was it, really. Mystic Falls was such a small town, that I was sure everyone would know about my parents and the fire. Sighing with apprehension, I sat up straighter in my seat as the taxi pulled over outside Aunt Sara's house.

"Here you are," the driver said, turning around in his seat. "Do you need a hand with your bags?"

"No, thank you," I replied. "How much do I owe you?"

Aunt Sara opened the door and came out of the house. As soon as I saw her I thought of my mother. They had the same, caramel coloured hair and porcelain skin. However, whereas my mother's eyes had been a gentle blue, Aunt Sara's were fierce green. Accompanying her was my cousin. The last time I'd seen him he'd been short and scrawny, with a mop of shaggy dark hair. Now he was tall and masculine, with a lean and muscular figure. His dark hair was casually, but handsomely tousled, and I watched as he shook his hands through it. His eyes were also the same fierce green, but I could also see a hint of blue in them, making them a teal colour. He opened up the trunk of the car, and pulled out my luggage. Aunt Sara smiled and handed the taxi driver some money through the open window.

"Will that be enough?" she asked.

"Yes," he nodded. "Have a nice day."

"Thanks," I muttered, getting out of the car. Aunt Sara hugged me as the taxi drove away. I breathed in her scent, which surprisingly enough was vervain. Why did everyone wear vervain?

"How are you, Georgia?" she asked, tears glistening in her emerald eyes. "I've been so worried about you."

"I'm okay," I lied, forcing a smile.

"What would you prefer to drink? Iced tea or lemonade?" she asked, putting an arm around me and leading me into the house. Zayn followed, dragging my suitcase with him.

"Um, iced tea, please," I said, as we stepped into the entrance hall.

"Good choice," she beamed. "Zayn, show Georgia to her room."

"Sure," he nodded, ruffling his hair yet again. I privately rolled my eyes, wondering how many times he would do that. "Come on," he added to me, and I followed him upstairs. All the way up the stairs on the wall were pictures of Aunt Sara, Zayn, my parents, and even me. I paused to glance at some of them. Zayn, oblivious to the fact I wasn't following him anymore, continued on up the stairs. When he reached the top, he called back to me.

"You coming?" he called.

"Yeah," I said quickly, tearing my gaze from the photos and hurrying up the rest of the stairs. Zayn rolled my suitcase along the landing before halting to a stop in front of a door at the end.

"'S your room," he muttered, pushing the door open.

"Thanks," I said, awkwardly taking my suitcase from him.

"The bathroom's down the hall," he told me. "We'll be downstairs when you're ready to come down."

"Thanks," I repeated.

"Yeah," he began to walk back to the stairs, then paused and turned back to me. "Hey, I'm sorry about your parents," he mumbled.

My heart ached like it always did when someone mentioned it. "Thank you," I murmured.

Zayn nodded and disappeared down the stairs, leaving me alone. I'd never felt so alone in my life.

Isobel's POV – 1863

I awoke in my own bed; all wrapped up in my covers. Memories of last night flooded my mind, and I smiled. But I was also confused...hadn't I been in Damon's bed? I turned over on my pillow, and felt something crackling next to me. Confused, I let my hands feel around the sheets, until they clasped a piece of paper. Tugging it out, I opened it and smoothed out the creases. I immediately recognised Damon's handwriting, and smiling, I read through it.

Isobel, I thought I might bring you home, to avoid any suspicion. Last night was the best night of my life. I love you, Isobel Lokra, and I swear I'm coming back to you.

Damon Salvatore

I smiled, feeling tears well in my eyes. I folded the note and then opened my heart locket. It was silver, and engraved with ivy and flowers. And spiked with vervain. I folded the small piece of paper as many times as I could, before pressing it inside the locket. Now it would remain with me forever. A knock on my bedroom door distracted me, and I quickly closed my locket.

"Yes?" I called.

"It's Hannah," she called back.

Hannah Rowan was my best friend, and a witch. She lived in a little town in Georgia called Sky Valley, but she stayed with my family as she was our maid. I'd met her four years ago, and ever since we'd been best friends. My family was very rich, considering along with the Salvatores, Lockwoods, Forbes and Gilberts, the Lokras had founded this town. Hannah was descended from the Salem witches, which meant she was extremely powerful. I was the only one, along with her family, who knew that she was a witch.

"Just a minute," I said, grabbing my dressing gown and yanking it over me. "Alright, come in."

Hannah opened the door, smiling at me. "Good morning."

"Good morning," I replied. "Is everything alright, Hannah?"

"Of course," she crossed the room and sat on the bed next to me. Hannah had long, chestnut coloured hair, and she was quite tall and slim. Her eyes were gentle hazel. She was my best friend, and I told her everything.

"Where were you last night? You know Mr Salvatore left this morning, don't you?" she enquired.

"Of course," I nodded. "We were together last night."

"You were?" she asked.

"Yes, he came to say goodbye," I told her. I didn't need to say anything else. The blush that crept to my cheeks said it all.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she grabbed my arm.

"Hannah? What are you doing?" I asked, trying to pull back.

She released me, shock etched into her face. "Isobel...you're pregnant."

I stared at her, my mouth falling open in surprise. "What are you saying, Hannah? How can you -? How can you even know such a thing?"

"I felt it," she whispered, her eyes becoming rounder and rounder. "When I touched you I sensed the baby; like when I touch vampires I can sense them."

"It's Damon's," I whispered. "No one can find out. We have to leave Mystic Falls."