A/N: I decided to go ahead and put up another chapter. I like the first chapter as a stand alone, but I'm curious to see where this takes me.

Jessica awoke with a shuddering breath, sitting up and crying out as though it were the first breath she'd ever taken. Her heart pounded wildly with new life. Sweat covered her skin as her eyes whipped around the room, disoriented, before finally focusing on her bedroom window.

She was at home, in bed. It had all been a nightmare.

'But it felt so real.'

Still shaking in the aftermath of the feelings she had experienced in the dream world, she sunk deeper into her pillow, feeling the gravity while she imagined that the fear, anger, and disappointed acceptance were seeping out of her skin. It was as if she'd gone through the Kübler-Ross stages of dying in her sleep.

She peeked at the red numbers of the digital clock on her bedside table and groaned. It was five in the morning and she felt like she hadn't slept at all. 'that's what you get for staying out so late.'

She had volunteer work in three hours at Mystic Meadows Nursing Home. She didn't know why she did it. She didn't like old people or their bodily fluids, plus she wasn't getting paid. If nothing else though, it was a boon to her resume. Her prospective future employer would take it as an interest in developmental psychology. Not that she wasn't learning.

Jessica was a psychology major at Longwood University in Farmsville, just down the road from Mystic Falls. She wanted to become a Psychiatrist upon graduating. This was her second year, putting her at a ripe old age of 20. She lived off campus with her roommate, Leslie, who was always at her boyfriend's so it was kind of like living alone.

The anxiety had gone away. In spite of terrifying her, she was curious if that dream had had some deeper meaning, though she had no idea why she'd see herself killed by a vampire. Vampires tended to symbolize an attractive figure that was ultimately bad for you. 'Well he fit that perfectly, didn't he?'

She could still see the tears streaming down his beautiful face.

She shivered. She should be glad her murderer wasn't real, but she couldn't help but feel a little regretful. He'd been so sad. 'And hot.'

The blood draining represented stress and exhaustion. She looked forlornly to the unsympathetic clock again. 'Bingo.'

She settled into bed, trying to find that elusive comfortable position. At some point she drifted off to sleep. She dreamt that all her eyelashes had fallen out and were being held out for her to blow away. A wish for each. A masculine voice overlaid the imagery.

"Everything that happened tonight was a dream."

She found her dream self repeating whatever the voice said.

"You won't remember my name."

Again, she obediently repeated his words.

"Do you have anyone waiting at home for you?"

"No."

"Good, then just remember that there was an accident and you had to take a detour to get home. You got lost."

"It was such a pain, thought I'd never get home."

"But you will. Then you will take all the clothes you are wearing tonight and bury them where no one will look. You will not remember doing this, you didn't like them anymore and gave them away. You will then clean yourself and go to bed."

"I better get home. I am awfully tired."

"Good, just one more thing-"

Her alarm startled her from sleep and she hit the snooze button with irritation. Maybe tonight was the night of weird dreams. A part of her nagged, wondering what the voice was going to say.

She reluctantly flipped on the light and swept her feet onto the cold floor. She hated the feeling of getting up early on a Saturday more than anything, but the residents weren't going to talk to themselves. 'Well, most of them anyways.'

Super speed, lightning reflexes, communication with animals, and to top it all off, immortality, but even after 170 years, Damon wasn't sure what to do about a hangover.

Stefan stepped into his room and Damon groaned sarcastically between throbs of pain, "Please ma, please just five more minutes."

Stefan said nothing, but held out a blood bag for his brother. Damon shot him a suspicious look.

"B+ …brother knows best." He drank it down in moments. It wasn't so much the blood as the hydration, but it eased the pain. Stefan was still standing there, looking like his typical conflicted, brooding self. However, he didn't usually direct that pensive energy towards Damon. Damon responded with a sigh of annoyance. "Hovering is a bad color on you, baby brother, so just spit it out."

"I'm sorry about what happened to Rose. I know you two were close." He said, looking sincere and deep. Damon rolled his eyes.

"Water under the bridge. We were going to kill her when she kidnapped Elena anyways… just think of it as a delay." He responded coldly.

Stefan saw right through the macho act. Damon knew it and Stefan knew he knew it, but as long as neither one of them acknowledged it, they would be fine. God, why did he have to be on the receiving end of those pitying eyes? "Look, I'm fine! Just go. I'm fine!"

Stefan gave him a long hard look and then nodded, leaving his room.

"…I'll be fine."