Author's Note:

Okay, even if it's the second entry, this is kinda the first chapter because it introduces the other characters from the show. The details from the attack and how Mikaela survived are intentionally held back, but they'll be cleared up quickly. As for Damon, there will be a lot of him next chapter, but I won't even begin to write it until I get a review, okay? Okay.

Special thanks to RachelRox08 for being the first to review the story!

On with it!

From several feet above, she saw the body being pulled out of the open car and onto a mat. An EMT pressed two fingers against the left side of the young woman's neck, carefully avoiding the mess of blood and matted hair that covered the right side. Her empty black eyes stared into space and her mouth hung open as if mildly surprised. The EMT withdrew his hand after several seconds and shook his head, a silent signal to his coworkers. He pulled back the sleeve of his uniform and pressed a button to light up his digital watch.

"Time of death, 3:24 AM," he stated for the record. "Jane Doe's body will be transferred to…"

They can't even figure out my name, can they? she thought with disappointment, and turned around. It's not like my driver's license isn't somewhere in the car.

Even if she was disappointed, she didn't care for what happened to her body anymore: she was dead, and such things hardly seemed to matter. Everything she had ever wondered about before, everything that had burdened her while she was alive, seemed so clear, and at the same time, so meaningless. Life had been taken away, but then again, she had been longing for a rest, and she would live on elsewhere.

Maybe it was just her time?

She smiled contentedly and started to drift away, but a pair of hands gripped her from behind, stopping her from moving any further. Confused, she tried to jerk out of the person's grasp, but there was no comparison in strength: if the person wanted to pull her down, she was going to go down. A glance back as she fell confirmed where she was going, and she desperately reached up, hoping something, anything would save her from the pain her body would give her. Instead, it felt as if she were being pushed down as well, down into the restricting cadaver, and with a final yell of frustration, she gave up and settled into it.

Two Weeks Later:

"So, when am I going to meet her?"

Stefan and Elena sat side by side on a bench outside of school, watching students walk by as they waited for the bell to ring. For the past two weeks, Elena had been commuting between the hospital and school, spending the greater part of her free time visiting her neighbor in recovery. She had explained everything to Stefan and he (being the considerate boyfriend he was) had understood her need to watch over her childhood friend. It meant them spending time apart so early in their relationship, but how could he even think to complain when she already had so much to worry about?

"She said she might be coming back today," Elena answered, looping her arm with his. "She looked a lot better last night."

"But?" he pressed, sensing the worry in her voice. She shook her head lightly.

"It's probably nothing," she said dismissively, forcing a smile.

"It can't be nothing if you're worried," he reasoned, giving her an encouraging nudge. "You can tell me." She sighed and looked down at their intertwined hands.

"It's just… According to the doctors, she actually died," she said carefully. "They aren't sure for how long she was gone, but it's a miracle she's even alive, much less coming to school."

"Shouldn't that be a good thing?"

"It should be, but… there's something different about her." She looked up suddenly and got to her feet, a cautious smile lighting her face. "There she is. Act natural," she whispered out the side of her mouth. Stefan got to his feet and quickly spotted the girl in question.

With black hair that reached her lower back and an olive complexion comparable to Elena's, the girl was a person of contrasts. Despite being short in comparison to the other students at 5-feet 3-inches, she held herself with the air of one who was very self-assured. She wore dark gray jeans, black ankle boots and a solid gray long-sleeve, and around her neck she wore a silver cross and a long black scarf. She caught sight of Elena and made her way towards them, a soft smile on her face.

"'Morning," she greeted. Elena's fake smile melted into a sincere one and she pulled the girl into a hug. Mikaela laughed lightly and hugged her back. "Wow, I feel pretty special."

"It's good to see you out of bed," Elena said with feeling, holding both of the girl's hands. Barely suppressing her excitement, Elena turned to Stephan. "Mikaela, this is my boyfriend, Stefan. Stefan, this is Mikaela."

"Nice to meet you." Mikaela extended her hand and Stefan gripped it firmly, smiling politely.

"It's a pleasure. Elena's told me a lot about you," he said, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. Mikaela chuckled in embarrassment and ran a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, my mom's in South America for a couple of months, so Elena's been babysitting me ever since the incident," she said apologetically. "I tried to get her to take a break, but she can be stubborn when she wants to be."

"South America?" he repeated. "Elena mentioned your mother's a doctor. Is she there on business?"

"Yeah, she specializes in internal medicine," she explained. Judging by the way she said it, she'd given the same explanation several times before. "She's down there with the American Red Cross. I was on my way back from the airport when the whole mess happened."

"They still haven't caught--?"

A light shadow crossed her face, but as quickly as he saw it, it disappeared. "No, they haven't. Chances are they won't."

Elena cleared her throat before the awkward silence could ensue: she knew better than to bring up the attacker, but had forgotten to mention it to Stefan. "Hey, Mikaela, you're still coming tonight, right?" Mikaela nodded, grateful for the distraction, and waved a hand as if it were obvious.

"Hell yeah, Operation Make the Best Friend Love the Boyfriend is on. I've got my spell book ready and everything," she answered. She grinned at Stefan's confused expression. "It's a joke: Bonnie and I both come from lines of witches, sister clans, apparent--" Her black eyes flashed to something behind Stefan and coming fast. She opened her mouth to warn him, but there was no need. Without even looking beforehand, he turned around and caught the football with unnatural ease.

"Wow, nice catch, Stefan!" Elena praised, an excited grin lighting her face. She turned to see Mikaela's reaction, but was surprised to see her scowling. With a growl, Mikaela took the football from Stefan and marched in the football player's direction. Elena and Stefan stared after her.

"Um, did I do something wrong?" Stefan asked. Elena sighed and shook her head.

"No, it's not you, it's Tyler Lockwood," she replied, nodding in the football player's direction. "They were a couple in freshman year. He was tolerable back then and she swears he's still the same person, so it bothers her when he acts like an asshole." He nodded in understanding.

"You know, I really like her," he mused, laughing as Elena raised her eyebrows. "She looks like someone who could knock my brother down a couple of notches. I mean, look: Tyler's terrified." She laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning up for a quick peck on the lips.

"Well, I'm glad you like her," she murmured. "I'm sure she likes you, too. Now we just have to convince Bonnie…"

Third period, Draw III, she was able to stop pretending.

As she sat next to the window in the art classroom, she looked around at the other students. Most were drawing, some texted while they thought the teacher wasn't looking, and others talked amongst themselves. It was a specialty class, so they had all taken the previous courses together and knew each other well. As she observed them, however, Mikaela felt like a separate species entirely.

She was a species that knew more than was healthy for it.

Her official statement to the detective had been than she didn't remember much: she ran out of the café, he sneaked up on her, knocked her out, and she woke up just as she was being sealed into a body bag. She couldn't identify him because she'd been too tired to pay much attention when they'd been talking, and unfortunately, she couldn't remember anything after he'd knocked her out.

She looked down at the paper she'd been aimlessly doodling on. A crow stared up at her, its form somewhat lopsided and sloppy, but clearly distinguishable. She flipped the page and continued with the doodling, keeping her eyes focused on the trees outside and allowing her hand to draw whatever the hell it wanted.

Yes, she'd told the detective that she couldn't remember anything after being knocked out, but that was a lie: she had woken up only seconds after he'd rendered her unconscious.

No, the memories weren't clear, but they were there: the wild look he gave her right before he bit down on her wrist, the possessive way he'd gripped her waist before attacking her neck, the struggle to get away… Everything was hazy what with the blood loss, the pain and, yes, the dying, but she wasn't stupid enough to think she'd imagined everything.

No, she was just crazy enough to figure out the truth: Vampire.

There were plenty of sick fanatics who got their rocks off on drinking blood, but that couldn't explain the speed, the strength, or the horrible change on his face. It wasn't human nature to be so sadistic, but it made sense for him to be because he wasn't actually a human. She wasn't sure why he hadn't been able to enter the car, but a human wouldn't have had any trouble.

She tore her eyes away from the window and looked at the person sitting across from her. Tyler quickly looked back down at his drawing, not wanting her to know he'd been watching her. She smiled softly: his pride was one of his biggest weaknesses. She turned back to the glass.

The sick part about knowing the truth? It didn't make a difference. Life would go on, and even if she knew something that many people could only theorize about, things had to go back to normal, and nothing would change. She had been killed and survived by sheer luck, the police would never catch the killer and she'd never be able to tell anyone what really happened that night because chances were nobody would believe her anyways. To the world she'd just be the girl who'd been attacked and raped, and that was that. Never mind that the "rape" part wasn't true, she'd heard enough comments already to certify that it was a bona fide rumor.

Wasn't high school the greatest?

She pulled her hand away from the paper and froze when she saw what her hand had written. In bold, Gothic letters, was one word over a large circle with random scribbles inside. She slammed the book shut, catching the attention of those closest to her. Ignoring them, she gathered her things together and stuffed them into her backpack before excusing herself to the nurse's office.

She got an early dismissal slip and made her way through the parking lot to her car. After throwing her bag in the trunk, she jumped into the driver's seat. The new seat covers bunched uncomfortably, the price she had to pay to cover up the blood stains she hadn't been able to wash out.

Dismissing how unsafe it was for her to be driving in such a panic, Mikaela drove all the way to her house and didn't stop moving until she had locked all of the doors and stuck herself into a cold shower. Fully clothed and barefoot, Mikaela held her face directly against the water, bracing her hands against the cold tile walls and forcing herself to calm down. Her heartbeat slowed to a reasonable pace and the panic washed away down the drain, leaving only thoughts behind.

Demon.

That had been the word she'd written. It wasn't even a sentence, but all it had taken was the word to let her know it couldn't mean anything good. Déjà vu was a regular occurrence for her, but even more familiar to her were predictions. Dreams, signs, gut feelings-- they always had their purposes, and she had learned from an early age that ignoring them wasn't a good idea. This sign, however insignificant it seemed, had an important message.

Demon: it could mean Damon, the one who had attacked her, or it could literally mean a demon. She'd assumed she'd never have to encounter him again, but if that were true, then she wouldn't have gotten this sign. What did the circle and the scribbles even mean? And if it were a demon, what was she supposed to do? She groaned and turned off the water. With a bit of difficulty she peeled off her wet clothing and left it hanging to dry. A towel was neatly folded next to the sink, so she took it and wrapped it around herself.

Yes, there was an important message. Did she understand it? No.

The ground seemed to rock underneath her as she stumbled to her bedroom. The doctor had warned that pushing herself could cause dizzy spells: going to school a week earlier than advised had been pushing herself. She saw her bed and collapsed face-first onto the purple comforter, allowing the dizziness to consume her.

There was a message she had to figure out, but at that moment, she needed to rest. Later on she'd help Elena with the dinner party she was having, and after all of that, once she could be alone with her thoughts without unwillingly falling asleep, she could figure out the message. It may have been important, but really, it couldn't have been that urgent, even if it did have to do with demons (or Damon, same difference).

Actually, what the hell did it matter? If Damon decided to go back and finish the job, he'd have a surprise or two waiting for him, the first one being she wasn't as easy to kill as he thought.

"Thanks so much for picking that stuff up," Elena said as she held open the front door. "Just put it in the kitchen. I'm setting up the dining room and will be there in a minute!" Mikaela stumbled inside with several large plastic bags and hurried to the kitchen before she could fall over. Everything along the way was spotless for the visitors, and Bonnie was already in the kitchen tossing a salad, an upset look on her face.

"What's up with the frown?" she asked, dumping the bags on the island. "Did somebody die? Besides me, of course."

Bonnie shrugged, but her displeasure was beyond obvious. After being stared at for several seconds, she gave in. "I just don't think this is a good idea," she admitted. "I have a bad feeling."

"About Stefan?" Mikaela pressed, trying to clarify. Bonnie nodded.

"I mean, I touched his hand and just got this horrible..." she trailed off, and shook her head. "It's probably nothing, but I still don't want to spend time with him."

"Have you talked to your Grams about it?" she asked. She began pulling the containers of take-out Italian food and placing them on the counter. "Get me the serving dishes, will you?"

"Yeah, but she keeps saying the same thing: 'You're a witch, Bonnie'." Without asking where they were, Bonnie walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled the stack of ceramic serving plates from the topmost shelf. She seemed surprised at first, but Mikaela didn't notice and started pouring the food into them.

"Hey, if I picked this stuff up, does that mean I can say that I made dinner?"

"... I've never seen those before."

"Just one of the many quirks that come with the package," Mikaela said with a shrug, smiling to herself. When Bonnie didn't say anything, she stopped what she was doing and silently cursed herself. Sometimes Mikaela forgot that the youngest Bennett still hadn't come to terms with her powers. She sighed and leaned against the counter, trying to figure out the best approach to what she had to say. "You know, Bonnie, not everything your Grams says isn't true," she said carefully. "She was right about my nightmares being predictions, and you remember how crazy that was for me. We do both come from lines of witches as well, and it's supposed to hit our generation this time around."

"So what are you saying, that I'm a witch?" she asked, her disbelief only partially genuine. "You sound like Grams now."

Mikaela smiled softly. "Thanks," she said. Horror crossed Bonnie's face and she began to apologize, but Mikaela held up a hand. "I mean it, Bonnie. Don't worry: she's a very powerful witch, and it's a compliment."

"I didn't think you really believed in that stuff," she insisted apologetically. "If I had known--"

"Don't worry about it, Bonnie," Mikaela repeated, cutting her off. The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the boyfriend. "Ah, so it begins," she announced, grinning at the other girl. "You ready for this?"

Bonnie groaned and rolled her eyes, the argument pretty much forgotten. "I'd rather grow a third eye in the middle of my forehead than do this."

"You know, we actually do have a third eye, the psychic eye in the middle of the forehead..."

If there was anything about Stefan that Mikaela learned over dinner, it was that he was actually much more likable than she had originally thought. She stayed quiet and observed for most of the awkward dinner, but surprisingly, Stefan found his way onto Bonnie's (and Mikaela's) good sides via the one thing they had in common: their ancestry. Just as she was going to contribute to the conversation, the doorbell rang.

Elena got to her feet to answer the door, and so did Stefan. When it was just the two girls left, Mikaela started to pick up the used dishes. "Did you invite anyone?" Bonnie asked. Mikaela shook her head.

"I got home and collapsed. You know I would've just loved to invite Tyler, but..." she trailed off and winked at Bonnie, who suppressed a laugh as a pair of voices drift

ed from the foyer. Mikaela carried the pile of dishes to the kitchen, but realized she'd accidentally taken Stefan's plate when he hadn't even finished his food. Sure, all that was left were a few stray noodles, but it was still his food. Everybody was back in the dining room, so she went straight back with an apologetic look on her face.

"My bad Stefan, I swore this was one of the serving--!" Her foot caught on a rug. She stumbled to regain her footing, but she had been caught completely unawares and the ground was coming at her much too fast. A pair of arms wrapped around her chest, stopping her from falling and helping her up straight again: Stefan, most likely. He held an arm tightly around her shoulders (maybe a little bit too tightly) and held her elbow in case she swayed anymore. She laughed nervously and made sure the plate was still in her hands, only to freeze.

"You okay there?"

A circle with random scribbles... The noodles in the plate looked exactly like the drawing from earlier. Her ears started to ring, but she only one word crossed her mind: demon. Even if the smell had already hit her and she knew, a part of her needed confirmation, so Mikaela slowly looked up.

Dark shirt, leather jacket, pronounced jawline, unforgettable smirk, and finally, pale blue eyes. His brows furrowed in confusion, quickly followed by suspicion. His hand on her arm tightened, but she didn't make a sound and held her stare. His eyes seemed to darken ever so slightly, and in response she stood up straighter and set her jaw.

"Damon," she greeted, her voice controlled and curt. He didn't say anything for a moment and she took the opportunity to pull away. Everyone in the room was staring at the two, Stefan with more suspicion than anybody else, so he pulled himself together and struck that flirtatious poker face that had literally led her to her death.

"Caroline. Did you miss me?"

Thanks for reading! Now make my week and review ^_^