Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm back to writing after basically dropping off the end of the Earth for the summer. I just got done watching all four seasons of TVD, and I needed to let off some steam through writing - so that's where this story comes in. As a reminder, everyone in this story is human. I did change a few things (artistic license and all), but I wouldn't call it AU because it still follows the basic principles of the story, just minus the vampires. ;-) Hopefully you enjoy this first chapter!
CHAPTER ONE | UNRECOGNIZABLE
"Jeremy?"
The autumn air gusting behind the school picked up as Elena Gilbert found herself in the stoner pit, located around the corner from the wheelchair ramp and hidden from view of cameras stationed all along the school's roof.
She hadn't meant to find Jeremy there – rather, it was more of an attempt to find Vicki who could then tell her where to find her brother. But instead of finding Vicki, she had found Jer, sitting amongst kids breathing smoke and sipping from brown paper bags. His hood was pulled up over his head, so when she first saw him, she couldn't be sure it was her brother.
The boy's eyes grew wide, and as he moved to hide his face, a lock of his shaggy chestnut hair peeked out from the hood.
Elena's breath caught in her throat. "Jeremy," she said shakily. "What the hell are you doing?"
The look on his face changed from startled to furious as he yanked his hood off, standing from the corner in which he sat and making his way toward his sister.
"You shouldn't be here." His voice was gruff.
"I shouldn't be here?" she asked incredulously, and when she couldn't think of anything else to say, she looked down at the joint planted firmly between his fingers. Her mouth dropped open a fraction and she found his eyes again – but there was nothing there she could recognize. No remorse. No shame.
This was not her brother.
He licked his lips and looked past her. "You're going to miss the bus."
"I don't care," she said firmly, then lowered her voice. "When did you start smoking weed?"
Jeremy shrugged. "Whenever."
Elena couldn't believe what she was hearing, but even more what she was seeing. He didn't look anything like the boy he was a year ago.
"I don't recognize you," she said, her brown eyes boring holes in his. "Where did my little brother go?"
Jeremy was quiet a moment before finally replying, kicking the dirt near his feet as he took a hit from the joint and blew it into the breeze. "He's gone," he said. "Left town the night you got mom and dad killed on that bridge."
It was too soon – it would always be too soon. And with that, Elena's eyes grew glassy and her right hand trembled, longing to slap Jeremy right across the face. But as she felt that rage building up inside her like a riot, she noticed how much of it she wished she could release on herself.
Because Jeremy was right: it was all her fault.
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"Thanks, Matt." Her voice was soft as she slid the strap of her book bag over her shoulder, preparing herself for the excuse just waiting to come out of her mouth. "I didn't feel like taking the bus again today."
He shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Elena. I get it, your Aunt Jenna's busy, but that doesn't mean you have to resort to taking the bus." Matt paused, glancing over at her as his palms began to clam up on the wheel. "Anytime you need a ride, don't hesitate to ask – you know I'll be there."
Matt didn't say anything about the fact that she was the only senior still taking the bus because she couldn't afford a car. He didn't even remind her that he had to drive twenty minutes out of his way to get her home because she missed the bus. That was just his way – selfless.
Elena shifted in her seat and offered him a smile, even though things were awkward; she had broken up with Matt almost a year ago, right after the accident, and he wasn't over it.
If Elena dug deep down, through all the guilt that clouded her subconscious, she was certain that she was over it. However, her guilt for breaking Matt's heart always made what happened between them seem unresolved.
She walked out from the street, up the long and winding dirt road that led to the front door. The property Elena's family lived on had been passed down from generation to generation. Where the vast expansion of their front yard went empty and unused, a fenced in pasture for horses had once been. Her parents tore it down years ago after seeing no use for the fence – there hadn't been horses on the Gilbert property in decades.
On the front porch, a bouquet of flowers – lilies, daises, and petunias – was placed in a glass vase beside the rickety, white rocking chair.
Elena's hand found the doorknob and she walked inside, where the sunlight streamed through open windows and scattered across the hardwood floors.
"Aunt Jenna," she called, "I'm home from school."
"I'm in here." The familiar voice of Jenna came from the kitchen. Elena strode down the long hallway, framed with pictures hanging off the walls of memories she wished she could forget. A head of red hair faced an open window as steam rose from the sink beneath it, fogging the glass that reached toward the sun's golden rays.
With a sigh, Elena slid her book bag off her shoulder and took a seat at the granite countertop.
"How was school?" Jenna asked, still facing away from her niece as she scrubbed a plate in the hot, bubbling water.
Lying was easy, especially to Jenna who didn't seem to really pay attention to whatever Elena had to say.
"Oh, you know," she said as she leaned forward, "boring as usual. Too many faces look the same this year." Elena paused, shutting her eyes briefly. "They all kind of blend together after a while, you know?"
"Well, I kind of have a sharp name-to-face memory, so that might be more of a personal problem." Elena laughed. "Have you seen Jer?"
Elena twisted a strand of long brown hair around her finger, then bit down on her lower lip. Her eyes opened and she looked away from where Jenna was standing. "I didn't see him after school, I just got a ride home with Matt."
"Oh." Jenna's tone said it all – she wasn't surprised. Jeremy, Elena's brother, had not been home much lately, but now Elena knew why and couldn't even speak up about it.
If her parents had been here, they would be disappointed in them both.
Getting down from off the barstool, she grabbed her bag and announced she was heading upstairs. Jenna didn't turn around, and when Elena left the room, a weight that had been pressing down on her shoulders seemed to give way, releasing its full pressure. It became hard to walk up the stairs without breaking.
She dragged her feet to her room and collapsed on the bed. Her hair sprawled out around her head and she stared blankly up at the ceiling.
It was hard pretending not to feel anything when it seemed like everything around her was urging her to crack.
With a sigh, she reached down under the lip of her bed, between the frame and the mattress. There, she thought as her fingertips found the leather-bound journal she had been keeping for the past year. Elena tugged it out and rested it on her lap, sitting up a little in bed before grabbing the ink pen on her bedside table.
September 14, she started. This afternoon, I realized that one of the only people in my life I could really rely on doesn't want me in theirs. I should have known better – it's been almost a year now. I can't stop feeling like every smile I fake is bringing me one step closer to diving off the edge...
And it's terrifying.
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The Salvatore Estate sat nestled amongst tall pine trees and thick blades of grass, which the man zooming up the driveway on his motorcycle made note of. He was crouched, helmet pressed forward and outright as he screeched to a halt at the front entrance.
He killed the engine and tucked the keys in his pocket, then sat upright and cracked his shoulder blades.
Suddenly, the front door burst open. There stood Stefan Salvatore, who was stuck somewhere between a boy and a man with his childlike eyes wide in surprise, but his forehead creased as though he had lived a lifetime within the past month.
"What are you doing back here?" he bellowed, slamming the door shut behind him as he bolted toward the edge of the porch.
The man still stationed on the motorcycle reached up, lifted the helmet from their head and met the sky with their eyes. Some things never changed.
"Nice to see you again, too, little brother."
Damon Salvatore lifted one leg off the bike and stood firmly on the ground, holding the helmet beneath his left arm.
"You're not welcome here," Stefan said coldly. "Father doesn't want you here, and I certainly don't – so head back to New York, or wherever you went off to."
Damon smirked, then started up the steps, much to the fury of his brother. "Good memory," he stated. "But, whether you like it or not, you and Pops need my help, so you could pretty much throw any flimsy insult you can come up with at me, and still not get me to leave." Damon paused, looking down into the eyes of Stefan as he stood on the top step of the porch.
"You need me," he said again, this time with a more serious tone in his voice.
Stefan didn't even blink. "We don't need anything from you."
Wind whistled through the branches of trees surrounding the estate. Chilly air nipped at the back of Damon's neck, biting, a reminder that although he needed to come back to town, he wasn't welcome. He took a deep breath, looking down at his helmet, then back at his bike, and then to Stefan.
"We'll see," he said, brushing past him into the house.
He doesn't want me here, Damon thought sarcastically. Like I so want to be here.
But if there was one thing he knew, as much as he hated to admit it – even to himself – he would never really leave his family. Even if that meant dropping out of college, if it meant leaving behind his new life in New York where he could be accepted and ignored at his own leisure, if it meant coming back to the place he had spent so many years imprisoned in...
Even if they didn't want him, he would be there.
And they couldn't stop him if they tried.