"Well," I cock my eyebrow at him, placing my hand on my hip. "If I knew that this was a no shirt party, I wouldn't have brought mine either," I tease him.

He's sitting on his bed in a Buddha pose with a determined look on his face, his laptop placed in the middle of his lap, his fingertips hovering over the keyboard. He's wearing gray sweatpants, but nothing above, and the drops of water from his wet hair are sliding down his neck, onto his chest, following the perfectly deep lines of his muscles. He's obviously fresh out of the shower. I bite my lower lip hungrily, as if I might devour him any second now.

He doesn't look at me, he keeps his eyes plastered to his laptop screen, his look hardening with interest, which is how I know he's not doing his homework. I can see his lips forming into a light smile, "It's okay, I don't mind. You can take it off now."

Even though I'm the one who had started this game, his words make me blush. And when I say blush, I mean set my cheeks ablaze with a burning fire equivalent to that of thousand suns.

I should be at home now, studying for my Chemistry exam, which is next week. But I can't seem to concentrate on my studies, just like last night I couldn't concentrate enough to put my brain back to sleep after waking up from my dream. After seeing that thing through my kitchen window. I was haunted by a horrifying thought that something was watching me. Not someone, but something, and I guess that's what made this whole experience ten times worse.

So I called Stefan to inform him that I'm coming over, leaving my notes scattered all over my bedroom floor.

"What are you doing?" I ask, a bit offended at the fact that he hasn't looked at me even once since I came in.

"Playing a game," he furrows his brows, bringing them closer to one another and leaving no space between them.

"Nerd," I snort. It has became our thing, a catchphrase of sorts - nerd. We're both nerds, in our own way, but both of us feel inclined to calling the other one by that word. Not in a derogatory sense, of course. "I stopped for smoothies."

I dangle a strawberry kiss smoothie in front of his screen, and he grabs it. "Thanks," he says, trying to put the straw in his mouth, but keeps missing it. I raise my eyebrow, amused by the sight in front of me, but I help him before the straw ends up in his nostril and he lobotomizes himself. "Thanks," he says again, his look darkening. "Why won't this centaur move? What does it want from me?"

"Hey, Stef, can I ask you something?" I sit on the bed next to him, curious about which game he's playing. It's the same one Jeremy plays, and while I might not know its name, I know that my brother gets angry at a centaur a lot as well. Out of some reason, that puts a smile on my face.

"Sure," he nods.

"Were you at my house this morning?"

"You mean, after I dropped you off?" he asks, confusion audible in his tone of voice.

"Yes."

"No," he says, pausing the game to look at me. "Why do you ask?"

I don't want to sound crazy, so I wager on should I tell him the truth or not. I don't have time to come up with a good lie, but there's another thing as well - I really don't want to lie to him.

"I thought I saw something across the street, hiding in the bushes," I say carefully, with a calm and undisturbed tone of voice, not to offend him. "So I remembered what you said before you left, not to change my clothes in front of my window because I never know who's watching, so I thought it's you trying to be funny.." I sound almost apologetic as I tell him this.

He doesn't take offense, but his expression doesn't change either. "Elena, if I wanted to see you, I wouldn't spy you from the bushes," he says flatly.

"I know," I exhale, realizing those words sound crazier out loud than they did in my head. "I just couldn't shake the feeling that someone's watching me."

He wiggles his brows, obviously trying to light up the mood. "Maybe you have a secret admirer."

I force a smile so his best intentions don't go to waste.

But he knows my smile well, he knows the way my lips curve into a smile when it's truthful, so he obviously knows when it's not. His expression changes, and so does the tone of his voice - it becomes deeper, more serious, more concerned.

"This really worries you?" he alters his entire demeanor, sense of protection pumping through his veins and making his muscles go rigid. I watch his chest rise and fall with every breath he takes, and for a moment there I almost forget about my problem.

"Yes," I say uneasy.

"You say you think you saw something across the street," he points out, helping me turning into a number one priority of his. "Not someone?"

I bite my lower lip. "I know this is going to sound crazy, like, crazier than the stuff I usually say," I try to explain by using extensive hand gestures. "But I thought I saw a tip of a giant, white wing."

I can still see it clearly inside of my mind. It had to bi giant, because the square shaped bush in Mr. Miller's front yard almost reaches the first floor of his house, and the wing was protruding out of it. It was snow white, clearly visible in the dark, glowing under the faint light of the moon.

Stefan continues looking me in the eyes, but his look changes.. all I can see in his eyes is pity. "You were probably fatigued," he says. He's not judging me, nor does he think I'm going insane, but he knows what I'm saying is impossible.

I pull my lips into a thin line, trying to keep all the thoughts inside. "I still am. And this thing is not helping," I shake my half empty cup of smoothie in front of my face. "I need coffee," I push myself off of his bed, heading towards the door. "I know where the kitchen is."

"Can you please bring me some orange juice?" he yells after me, and I raise my arm into the air, bringing one thumb up.

As I walk down the hallway, towards the kitchen, a door swings open and Damon appears in the doorway.

"Oh," I say, surprised upon seeing him, even though I shouldn't be surprised since this is where he lives.

He doesn't look surprised when he sees me standing in front of him, he looks mortified. I frown at his reaction. Damon might not be the most pleasant person I've ever met, but I thought I've filled all of the criteria he has for his brothers girlfriend.

Before he closes his door, in a haste, I manage to sneak a peek over his shoulder. There's a naked female figure on his bed. Well, not exactly naked, her body is covered with a sheet, but I'm pretty sure she's naked underneath.

"What are you doing, walking these halls all alone, little girl?" his usual snark comes back as the horrified face expression from a moment ago slips away.

"I'm in a pursuit for coffee."

"Ah, how lovely. Have fun," he says blatantly, and walks in the other direction. I watch him as he goes into the bathroom, not looking back, not even once.

My eyes glaze over his bedroom door, and curiosity tickles my brain, wondering why did he look so horrified upon seeing me. Is it because I saw that he has a girl in his bed? Judging by Stefan's words, girls often take residency in his brothers bed, so him having one there on a lazy Sunday afternoon shouldn't be treated as an abnormality.

I shake my head, deciding that Damon's sex life is not my concern nor something I would like to think about, and I continue towards the kitchen. My nerves are tingling, awaiting to be drenched in caffeine.

I start the water, and while it's boiling I take out the cup from which I usually drink coffee when I'm at Stefan's. The kitchen is tiny, barely big enough for two people to simultaneously move around comfortably, so by now I know it by memory. But when I reach for the fridge to get milk, I notice something that hasn't been there before. The doors have always been covered with some postcards, magnets and stickers, but in the middle of that mess now lies a picture. It's evidently old picture, its edges worn off, probably taken by a disposable camera, lights all messed up and blurry. A young woman with long honey hair is sitting on an armchair, her smile as wide as her face, holding two boys in her lap. I don't know who the woman is, but I recognize the boys immediately - Damon's piercing eyes and Stefan's shy smile, revealing the lack of teeth.

I smile at it, mainly because I've never seen a picture of Stefan as a child, but I don't put much thought to it. Their mother, the one I've never met or seen or heard, probably found it in some old photo album or a shoe box or wherever she keeps her memories and decided to place it in a visible place, feeling nostalgic because her two little boys are all grown up now.

The water finally boils and I pour it into the cup, stirring it with a tea spoon, when two arms come around me, fingers of two hands meeting at my stomach, intertwining, sinking into my flesh.

"Thumbs up meant I would bring you orange juice, you know?" I say as he places his chin against my shoulder, watching me stir my coffee. The sweet scent of his skin and cheap shampoo erases all existence of the coffee scent in the air, and I don't complain about it, not even internally.

"I know," his breath is hot against the right side of my face, "But I've missed you. Being in the same house as you, but not being with you, seemed unnatural."

I've often read books where girls claimed their hearts skipped a beat, which I never understood, because I claimed it impossible. But it's very much possible - your heart can skip a beat as much as your foot can skip a step. Someone can say something so wonderful and make you forget how to breathe. Those words can engulf your brain and make it forget how to do anything else but process those words, and your whole organism shuts down. Like a poorly oiled machine.

"Your teeth got better," I say, trying to be funny. But out of context, that sentence sounds plain weird.

I can basically hear his facial lines rearranging into a confused frown. "Excuse me?"

"Since you were a kid," I explain, embarrassed. "I saw the picture on the fridge."

He stays silent, as if he has no idea what I'm talking about. And once he detaches himself from me, I realize that he doesn't. He moves towards the fridge, and I know the exact moment in which he notices the picture, because his eyes go wide, and his look deepens with inexplicable sadness. His face cover emotions I'm not even invited to understanding, and for a moment he gets trapped in a memory he didn't even know he still possess.

And then, his jaw tightens. "Damon must have put it here," he says, and I'm not sure if he's telling me, or himself.

"Oh. I thought maybe your mom did." His words catch me off guard since Damon doesn't seem that sentimental to me.

He tightens his jaw even harder that for a moment I think his bones might break. "That's impossible," he says, the tone of his voice a mix of anger and sadness. "My mom's dead."

My eyes go wide, and my brain freezes, refusing to produce any coherent thoughts or words. My mind is buzzing, like a light bulb before it goes off. I don't know what to say, but my lips part, my lower jaw falling down, maybe out of habit, and maybe out of shock.

How did I not know this? Why didn't he tell me sooner? He never talks about his parents, and I've never seen them, so I thought they're one of those distant, always on the business trip kind of parents, so he doesn't really have anything to say about them. And no child likes to admit their parents rather spend their time at work than at home, with them.

I don't know what to do or say in this kind of a situation, because I know that whatever I say, it's never going to be enough.

"Stefan," I whisper his name sympathetically.

But before I'm able to say another word, he takes over. "She got sick when I was five, and died soon after. Pancreatic cancer. I didn't even know what that means back then, nor did I understand why she had to go because of it." When he finally looks at me, his eyes are two big, black orbs, void of every lightness and emotion they usually possess. Is this what Caroline sees when she looks at him? "My father took it hard, when she died. He started drinking, and he never stopped. He was never mean to us, or violent, but ever since she died he was never good to us either. He was never anything to us, except a source of income. Half of his paycheck went to us, and half of it went to his booze. Until he got fired, of course," he smiles, as if what he had said is actually funny. He shifts his attention from me back to the picture, which is when I realize he didn't smile because it's funny, he smiled to hide the pain. "Damon found a job at 16, but forbid me from doing the same because.. I don't know why. They're Damon's reasons, unknown to me," he shrugs. He stopped trying to understand his brother a long time ago, it seems. "After he lost his job, our father started disappearing. The first time he didn't come home for two days, but as time went by days grew into weeks, and weeks into months. We haven't seen him for more than four months now. Damon thinks he's not coming back this time, that's why he hanged this picture here. Our father can barely stand the memory of our mother, which means that pictures are out of the question."

He looks back at me, this time less grim. "You don't have to say anything," he swallows. "I wanted to tell you, a lot of times. But you make me happy, and talking about my parents makes me sad, and those two things don't mix well together."

I want to say something, anything, but I forgot how to.

So I walk over to him, my body falling gently against his instead of crushing into it like it usually does, and I give him a hug.

I can feel his arms around me - he's hugging me back. He buries his face into my hair. His eyes are wet, but I don't say anything. I don't say anything at all.

I guess I was wrong.

Not everyone has parents.


"Well, that was awful," I groan as we make our way out of the classroom, bumping against other lost and disappointed students. "A train wreck. No respected University is going to accept me now. I can kiss my future goodbye and start preparing for a career of serving tables at The Grill."

Caroline rolls her eyes, completely unaffected by the exam we all just walked out of. "Elena, one exam won't minimize your chances of getting into a college. Plus, I'm sure you won't fail."

"Fail?" I roar, making several other students turn their heads in our direction. "I was talking about getting a B. Or worse, a B+! Failing is one thing, but getting a B is being just one step away from success!"

"You're crazier than I thought," she shakes her head, a soft smile visible on her lips. I guess both of us are a different kind of crazy, and those kinds accidentally play well with one another.

"Listen, guys," I say, the tone of my voice turning serious, "I have to talk to you about something. Well, actually, I have to tell you something," I try to be precise.

"Oh God," Caroline cries out, while Bonnie stays calm and collected. Actually, Bonnie's been pretty quiet the whole day today, like she's trying to be invisible. "Are you thinking about getting a perm?"

"What?" I furrow my brows out of confusion. "No!"

Caroline puts her palm over her heart, exhaling with relief. "Oh. Okay. Carry on then."

I look around. There are people all around us. People who would die to get their ears on this kind of a thing. And I can't count on Caroline not making a scene once I tell her.

"Not here. Can we go somewhere.. to The Grill, maybe?"

Business lunch is long over, and students are going home after school, so The Grill is going to be empty for another hour at least.

"Sure," Caroline agrees, not questioning my motives.

Bonnie nods, keeping her look down, trying not to meet my eyes. I make a mental note to ask her what's wrong later.


Luckily, I was right, The Grill is basically empty. There are only few tables occupied, by people I don't recognize, but I'm still careful enough to pick a table far away from them. I wave at my dad who's standing by the bar, doing his crossword, and he smiles in our direction.

"Can we get three sodas?" I ask, yelling across the place, something he had told me not to do at least hundred times.

"Sure," he nods, motioning for Millie, the waitress, to bring us our drinks. Millie is a student at Whitmore and I've never seen her smile or convey any other facial expression than the one she usually wears, which is grumpiness. I think she's a robot.

"So, what did you want to talk to us about?" Caroline gets right down to business. "I mean, tell us."

"Right," I say. When I've told Stefan I'm going to tell them today, I've also asked him to help me write an essay on what to tell them, but he had called me an insane nerd and told me that I don't need an essay to tell my friends that I have a boyfriend. Nevertheless, I've tried to write one on my own but, of course, that didn't work.

Millie comes over, lowers three glasses of soda on the table, and saunters away without a word.

"Are you in a cult? Did you lose your virginity to a married man who remembers how the 80's have been? Are you joining the circus? Are you taking a lap year to find yourself, and you want our advice on should you tell your parents the truth that you're actually experimenting with a girl?" she says in one breath, and Bonnie's eyes go wide as soon as she starts babbling, listing all of these ridiculous things.

"Are you okay?" I try to reach for her hand, but she pulls it away and jumps on her chair like a hyperactive child on too much sugar.

"No, I'm not! You told us you have something to tell us 15 minutes ago, and I've tried to stay calm, but you very well know that curiosity gives me that weird rash!" she raises her voice, so I glance at my father, worried that he might have heard her. He didn't, all of his attention is still on his crossword. "Do you know how many scenarios I've created in my head? At least two hundred!" Bonnie and I continue to stare at her as she lets all of her crazy out.

"Okay, okay," I say, trying to calm her down before she disturbs my dad and/or scares all of the customers away. "First of all, you have to know that I didn't lie to you. Well, technically, I did, but.. I was simply not telling you the truth while I figure out how to tell you."

Caroline calms down, but pulls her lips into a tight line. "Well, this story has a lovely beginning," she says dryly.

"And you've figured out how to tell us?" Bonnie asks.

"No," I say firmly. "But I can't stand it anymore. Lying to you. Not telling the truth. Hiding the truth. Whatever you want to call it."

"Lying sounds perfectly fine to me." Caroline again. I knew she would be angry. She hates lies as much as Bonnie hates injustice.

I inhale deeply, like I'm trying to inhale courage instead of air. "Remember when you asked me did I find anyone at camp, and I said no? Well, I wasn't being truthful," I try to avoid the word lie. I try not to remind them that I've been lying to them all this time. "I did find someone. Not a summer fling, not someone.." I don't know how to explain it without using the word that's only meant for him. At least the first time. "I found someone I really, really like. A lot. More than a lot. More than cheese," I try to emphasize.

"Why would you keep something like that a secret?" Caroline asks, completely and utterly confused. But when I look at Bonnie, I come to find that she's not. As if she already knows. But how? Who could have told her? The only other person who knows is Jeremy, and my brother doesn't really interact with either of my friends. "Did he turn out not to be who you thought he is? Did it end badly?" her curiosity morphs into concern.

"No, he actually turned out to be more than I thought," I smile as his face pops into my mind, but sobers up before I say the next sentence. "And you know him."

She cheers up. "That's great. Still doesn't explain why you didn't tell us."

I look at her pointedly, hoping that my look is conveying my point, rather successfully. "Because you know him."

I let her think on it. I can see the wheels in her brain turning. Bonnie sits next to her, calm, already with a name sewn to her lips. She knows; how how how? Caroline's eyes light up with knowledge.

"No," she gasps. "No, no, no," she continues, more audibly. "You're not doing this. You're not dating Stefan Salvatore."

I let the silence fall between us.

"Do you hear me, Elena?" she asks authoritatively. "You can't date him. He's weird. His family is all whacked up." I flinch. How does she know about his family? Bonnie's eyes travel to Caroline, asking the same. How come you know so much about the Salvatore family?

Then I remember her mom's a town sheriff. When their dad started disappearing, they've probably reported it. Did they report his last disappearance as well? I try to will my cheeks not to blush, because I don't want Caroline mixing my shame of her knowing his secret before me with her made up shame of me dating him. I'm not ashamed of being with him. I'm not, and I could never be.

"He's a nobody," she continues. "He's a joke. He's dark. We joke about him murdering puppies for fun. He never speaks, he has no friends, he has all marks of a psychopath. And you're Elena Gilbert, you're a cheerleader, the whole town knows you, every guy in the school would kill to be with you. With your brains and your looks you could have anyone, and you choose Stefan Salvatore?" She waves a finger in front of my face, "No, I'm not letting you. You have a bright future in front of you, and I'm not letting you waste it on someone who doesn't deserve you."

My brain starts boiling with fury. Her words are like a poison my body has a tough time fighting, but it fights, it protects, and it boils.

"Deserve me? Is there a price on my head? How is he less deserving of me than any of those other guys you speak of?"

At first, she's taken back by my words. Well, actually, she's taken back by me saying anything at all. I usually don't defend myself, or stand up for myself, especially not against her. Her word is a law, not because she's right, but because we know we could never win a match against her, let alone a war.

But this is something I'm not letting go.

"Are you really asking me that question?" she bowels. "Do you even know him?"

"I do!" I raise my voice, my face getting red with anger. "And that's the point! I know him, you don't! The only thing you know about him are the rumors you've made up about him," I point my finger at her, "And the rumors you've heard about him. And guess what? That's all they are - rumors! He's not a serial killer. There are no bodies buried in his back yard. He doesn't murder puppies, especially not for fun. And that extra spicy rumor about him murdering his own parents? If you knew how his mom actually died, you would cover yourself with your own ears!" I can see her flinch at the last part, because that rumor has been uglier than all the other rumors circling around. But no one felt bad about it, because everyone knew it's not true, so they continued spreading it. Because it was, I don't know.. fun? "You want to know the scary truth? He's human. He plays video games and laughs at my jokes, even the ones no one else laughs to. Especially those. He reads comic books and drinks crazy amounts of orange juice. And do you know why he has no friends, Caroline? Because of you. Because of me. Because of everyone who ever took part in making him into a monster everyone believe he is. Because it's easier to shed all of your monstrosity onto someone else than to look yourself into the mirror. Because of us, he was afraid of making friends, because he knew he would mark that person for life."

She stays quiet for a while, but then, as if I haven't said anything at all, she proceeds. "And what, he thought you can handle being ridiculed for being with him?"

I freeze, because her words sound a lot like a threat. Her words sound like she would actually be capable of making my life a living hell if I proceed dating him. And I didn't think that one through, because I didn't think it possible. That my friend would do that to me.

"Actually, no. He didn't want me telling you. I wanted to tell you. Because I don't care what other people think, I only care what you think, and I thought my friends would support me no matter what," I say, almost fearfully. "Please tell me that I thought right," my voice shakes.

Silence falls all around us, heavy and stuffy, choking all the life out of me. My eyes start filling with tears, out of fear, something I wasn't prepared for. I didn't think they would accept this lightly, but I didn't think we would come to here either - to the point where I'm afraid of losing them.

And in the next moment, I do, because Caroline stands up. "I'm sorry Elena, but you don't have my support, not in this. I can't support something that has a power to harm you, one way or another." And she walks away.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and when I open them, the first tear rolls down my cheek.

I look at Bonnie. "What, you won't leave?" I say with a snappy tone, which I instantly regret. With one friend gone, and one left, I don't have the luxury of being snappy.

"Do you want me to?" she asks, too calm. Irritatingly calm.

"No," I respond. "But I thought you would be angry with me for not telling you."

She frowns. "I would never be angry with you for dating anyone. Except maybe a married man who remembers the 80's," she tries to lighten the situation, but I'm in no mood for jokes.

"Yeah, I didn't think you would be. I thought you would be angry with me for keeping it a secret from you for this long."

She exhales. "Well, I am, a little. But I guess I understand you. If I were dating a Salvatore, I also wouldn't know how to tell people. And Caroline, she'll come around."

"Yeah," I say, even though I don't think she will. Not this time, not when it comes to this.

Bonnie reaches for a napkin and hands it to me. "Now," she smiles, "You're going to tell me everything about how the frick frack the two of you got together."


AN: Was Caroline's reaction surprising? Or did you expect it?

1. No, Stefan and Elena have not done it yet. Them "doing it" is really not relevant for the story.

2. I said they're mortal, I've never said that they're human. Mortal doesn't equal human. For instance, Achilles was a Demigod, but he was a mortal, despite his mothers efforts.

3. Yes, Elena's dreams are memories of the lives her and Stefan shared, but the storyline is nowhere similar to that of the episode of TVD. It has more to do with reincarnation than with an alternate universe. The story is called Multiverse because of another reason.

4. I'm sorry I couldn't update on Monday 24th, but I'm updating on Thursday 25th. Happy Birthday to you anon, may all of your wishes come true.