Elena carried the box carefully over to Damon's bed, and set it down. It was a large box, made of amber hued wood, with a hinged top and the carving of two doves on the lid. Below the doves were the initials 'T.M.M.' It was very old, and had belonged to Damon's mother. Her name had been Teresa Maria Maestri. Elena traced the initials with her finger, before finding the brass latch on the front.

Damon winced. Elena was going to open it. She was going to open it, and the secret he had been keeping from Stefan for over 160 years was going to be revealed.

Elena did open the box. Damon sighed, and sat down beside her on the bed. "Awesome," he said to her. "You know, this is the first time since I've been dead, that I have remembered that you can be annoying sometimes."

There were papers and smaller boxes inside. Elena picked up an envelope on top, marked "Last Will and Testament of Damon Salvatore".

"Okay, if you just open that one, and ignore everything else, we'll be fine," Damon said.

"What did you find there?' Stefan asked, from the doorway.

"This," Elena said, indicating the box. "And this." She held the envelope out to him.

He took the envelope from her, and turned it around in his hands. "I haven't seen this will before, but I know what is in the rest of the box."

"The fuck you do," Damon said, in surprise.

"You do?"

"Yes. Some of my mother's old jewelry. Just a few pieces. And letters from her lover back in Italy. I think there's a an old daguerreotype of him in there."

"Her lover?" Elena shifted through the papers until she found a packet of very old letters, tied with a faded violet ribbon.

"Yes. I don't know anything about him other than the name on the picture and the letters. My mother died when I was born, as you know, so I never knew her at all. Father threw all of her things out of the house, so Damon must have salvaged this without Father knowing. I found it in Damon's room after he left to join the army. I don't think he ever found out that I'd gone through it."

"I didn't think your Italian was good enough for it to matter very much, to be honest," Damon said.

"Your father threw all of her stuff out? Why?"

"They didn't have a very good marriage."

Damon snorted. "Major understatement, Stef."

Elena reached the bottom of the box, where the old daguerreotype was, and pulled it out. "Oh, my." She held it up. "You guys never even talked about this?"

"Pretty obvious when you look at the picture, isn't it?" Damon said. "Yep, I'm a bastard. Not even a Salvatore at all."

"No, we never did. It didn't matter to me, Damon was my brother, regardless. But it did help me understand why my father had a hard time even looking at Damon. Why he favored me, even though I wasn't the eldest. And why I was named after my father's father, and Damon was named after my mother's father. Traditionally in our family, it should have been the other way around."

"I didn't want you to know, Stefan. Didn't want you to know I was only as much of a brother to you as Danny or Mickey. Don't know why I thought it would make a difference. I didn't want you to know that about our mother, either. That kind of thing mattered back then. Doesn't now, I know. But back then, I was afraid you would think of her differently if you knew. And since I was the only one who ever talked to you about her, I thought it was important that you only think of her as a saint. That was silly. She was a real person with real dreams who made real mistakes. I hid that from you, and I'm sorry for that," Damon said to his brother. "Damnit. Why can I only tell you these things when you can't hear me?"

"So you think your father knew?" Elena asked. She opened a small box, and pulled out a garnet and seed pearl ring, turned it this way and that way, and then put it back inside it's cushioned case.

"That's yours, of course," Damon said to her. "All of it is yours. You'd know that if you read the will."

"He must have. It would explain why they left Italy and came here, too. They were both from very wealthy families, there would have been no reason for them to leave. But they arrived here just a couple of months before Damon was born. I suppose they didn't want their families back home to do the math."

Elena picked up the picture again, and gently touched the face of the man portrayed. "Amazing. So much alike. I know exactly the color of this man's eyes even though the picture is just shades of gray." She turned the picture over. "Francis Graziano. I wonder if she loved you very much. I'll bet she did. What do the letters say?"

"My Italian is only so-so, I'm afraid. I wish it was better, but I never had the ear for languages that Damon did. He would have been able to read those even as a kid. My mother spoke Italian to him every day, and she's the one who taught him to read and write. He told me that she never really learned to speak English well. But my father wouldn't allow us to speak Italian at home after she died, so I didn't pick it up."

"So you don't even know what they say?"

Stefan shook his head.

"They speak of a love undying," Damon answered for him. "They speak of a love so vast and so wide that death could not touch it. They were going to run away together, they had made plans. But Francis died falling from his horse a couple of days before they were supposed to leave for France. My mother, already pregnant with me, had to find a sucker to marry her before she began to show. Giuseppe was that sucker. He never forgave her, never forgave me. My mother continued to write letters to Francis even after he was dead. Those are in the box, too. When she was gone, and I was alone in a house with a father who hated me, and a baby brother who wouldn't stop crying, it was those letters that taught me how to love. Those letters showed me what love should look like, how it should feel, what it is worth. Why you should fight for it."

Elena put the letters and the daguerreotype back into the box. She held out her hand. "I'll put his will back in there, too."

Stefan started to hand it to her, and then pulled it back. "You don't think we should open it?"

Elena stared at him, and then shook her head. "Why would we? Damon's not dead, not really. It would be weird to read his will, and then see him again tonight."

"It's okay," Damon said. "A little morbid, but I don't mind. I'd like to see you wear my mother's jewelry, actually. Her hands were like yours, very much so. I'm sure her rings would fit you."

Stefan sat beside her, still holding the envelope in his hand. "He is dead, Elena. Whether he comes back briefly tonight or not, he is dead. Nothing that happens tonight is going to change that."

"You don't know that," Elena said, impatiently. "You can't know that." She shook her head again, and then asked, "Why are you already giving up on him, on this?"

"Yeah, Stef? Why?" Damon asked his brother.

"You've been walking around for the past twenty four hours in some kind of cloud, Elena. Like . . . like a miracle has happened."

"And it has. Why don't you see that?"

"I can't see you go through all of that again. Even Lucy says that no one has ever tried to do what they are attempting. There are no guarantees offered, no promises made. I'm worried for you. Worried that you are going to be crushed by this. That we will have to start all over with letting Damon go."

Elena took the will from his hand, put it in the box and closed the lid. "You are wrong, Stefan. There have been promises made. Damon promised me." She stood up, and lifted the box carefully. "I don't care if I'm the only one standing there tonight with faith in him. It doesn't matter. He's coming back to me, that's what is important. He's coming back to you, too."

Stefan stood, as well, running a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath. "This wasn't how any of this was supposed to be. You were supposed to be my girlfriend, not my brother's widow. You have erased all of our past, Elena, yours and mine."

Elena carried the box into the closet. She closed the door, and then turned to face Stefan. "I haven't. Honestly, I haven't. And I'm sorry if I have made you feel alone in all of this. But the way I feel about Damon? You need to make your peace with it, Stefan. I choose him."

"I know, Elena. You've made it clear."

"Well, that can't be true, because you are not hearing me. I choose Damon. You keep wanting me to put that in past tense, but it's not. It's not past for me. I choose him every day, death or not. Whether he is here where I can see him, touch him, be with him or not. Because even if he is on the Other Side, he still exists. There is still a place where he is. And as long as that is true, then I will keep on choosing him. Every day a conscious act. The same decision every second. There is no letting go, not for me." She looked at Stefan, and Damon could swear there was a glint of steel in her eyes. "So get right with that, Stefan, or get gone. You understand?"

Stefan nodded, his face set and grim. "You leave me little choice, Elena. But then, you always do."

It was a tense car ride.

Damon sat behind Elena and Stefan on the way to the house of the witch spirits, and told them old jokes and riddles, just to fill the empty spaces. His absolute most favorite people on this or any other realm, and it was killing him that they couldn't just be joyful together. They were all about to be reunited. Why did it need to be so grim?

Despite the gloomy atmosphere in the car, Damon felt his own excitement begin to rise. In a couple of hours, he would be able to hold Elena again. He could say all of the things he wanted to say without having smart ass teenagers translate for him. He'd be able to hug his brother. He'd be able to kick his brother's ass from here to Timbuktu for being a conflicted dick to Elena. After everything, after the burning, the fear, the despair, the knives . . . he was coming home.

When they were almost to the house, Damon received a visitor on the seat next to him.

"Hello. Can you tell that one again? The one about the man with a duck on his head?" Tatia giggled. "That was funny."

"Hey there, sweetheart. Just along for the ride?"

"This is an important day for Elena. I try to watch her when things happen that have importance. She is happy, and she is sad at the same time."

"Ah, yes . . . but she's not crying anymore, see? So no need to draw any of your charming grief analogies. She knows I'm coming home."

"Yes. It is beautiful, is it not? To think of coming home? This was once my home, too. I do not remember it like this, of course. But it was my home and it was beautiful. Katherine is coming home, as well, you know."

"She is?"

"Yes. For him," Tatia said, indicating Stefan in front of her. "She was very sad when he told her that you were dead. She cried for you, but she cried even more for him. Because he had lost you."

"Well, what do you know. Our Katherine is a big old softy after all. The Queen of Mean has a weakness."

"She loves him very much, but he never believes her."

"Well, maybe he will someday. Hell, maybe that will solve this eternal triangle that we have going on. To every Salvatore, their own Petrova doppelganger. And they all lived happily ever after."

Tatia just looked at him. "You think you will live happily, or any other way?"

"I know I will."

"I hope you do. I will make wishes for you, wishes that you will be happy, that you will live."

Damon wrapped an arm around Tatia, and then leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek, making her giggle again. "I wish the same for you, pretty girl."

Keeping his arm looped around Tatia's shoulder, Damon followed Stefan and Elena over to the group gathered outside of the witches' house. There was a large circle inscribed in the dirt, and about a hundred candles surrounding it. Jeremy and Leslie were still setting up more candles up for Lucy and Bonnie to set alight with their minds. There were also tiki torches in a pile, waiting for someone to put them together. Grace was sitting in the doorway, studying a notebook with a flashlight. She looked up as they came close, and gave them a wave.

"Hey, who did you bring with you?" Grace asked, pointing at Tatia.

Elena and Stefan both swiveled around.

"What? Where?" Elena asked.

"Walking with Damon. She looks exactly like you, only kind of olden times like a Ren Faire person."

"Damon's here?'

"I've been with you guys the whole way. I was there at the boarding house when you were intent on being miserable to each other. And this," Damon said, pulling Tatia closer, "is Tatia. She's my backup girlfriend just in case you and I don't work out, Elena. Everyone needs a spare Petrova doppelganger."

Tatia laughed, but then said, "I am not a doppelganger. I am the original."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot."

Grace gave Damon a grin. "Damon came with you guys, he's been hanging out with you for awhile. You are in a super good mood, Damon."

"Hell yeah, I am."

Stefan said, quietly, "So Damon has been watching us today."

"Yep, and he brought Tatia with him."

Jeremy looked up. "Who is Tatia?"

"The first girl to ever have vampire brothers fight over her," Damon told him. "Your sister is but a carbon copy of this lady here."

Elena looked at her brother, dumbfounded. "I don't understand. Why did he bring Tatia?"

"Just for the show. This is kind of a big deal in Other Side circles, you know," Damon answered.

Grace shook her head. "He says she just came to watch. This is confusing. Everyone needs to just be quiet for a little while, because I'm trying to read the notes I took when Emily was dictating the spell to me. And when I say everyone, I mean you, too, Damon."

Damon made a zipping motion with his fingers and lips. He and Tatia sat down beside Grace, and Damon tried to peek at the spell notes. Grace glared at him.

"What?"

"Kind of distracting. Why don't you, and your ladyfriend, go over there."

"Fine. C'mon, sweetheart." Damon and Tatia moved to underneath a tree on a slope where they could still see everything going on. When Elena asked, Jeremy pointed in their direction.

Elena came and joined them. She put down the duffel bag of clothes she was carrying, and sat down. Tatia moved over to make more room for Elena.

Elena said, "You probably heard me and Stefan at the boarding house. I'm sorry that I haven't been able to make him understand. I don't know if we just aren't hearing each other, or if we just can't get on the same page about you, but it's frustrating. He thinks you are dead, and I know that you are not. Because our story can't end that way, it just can't."

Stefan looked up, and glanced to where Elena was sitting.

"He can hear you, remember," Damon reminded her. "Of course, you can't hear me, so the advice is kind of moot."

Elena continued, "I am just going to sit here, and know that you are here, and know that we will be together soon."

The three of them sat in a very companionable silence. Damon was especially watching his brother. There was something definitely troubling Stefan. He was putting together the tiki torches and setting them around the circle, but he was clearly distracted. Jeremy, pouring water from a plastic jug into a large bowl spilled some on Stefan's shoes, but he did not even notice. Damon knew what this level of stress meant for his brother. Nothing good, that was for sure. Somebody was wanting blood, and they wanted it fresh and they wanted it human. Damon wondered if Elena had thought to throw a couple of blood bags into that duffel bag.

Lucy called over to Elena, "We're ready. It's time. You need to come, and stand in the circle."

Elena and her ghost companions all rose and walked down the slope to the circle. Tatia remained outside, while Damon and Elena went into the middle.

"I am sending you many wishes for your joy, for your happiness," Tatia called out. "I send them to you as the rose sends her petals into the wind."

"Thanks, that's awesome," Damon responded. He saw Emily striding towards them, and he gave her a little salute. Emily nodded, and then moved to stand right behind Grace. Grace stood on the edge, holding the pendant in one hand, and the notebook in the other. Lucy and Bonnie flanked her.

Grace turned around and acknowledged Emily with a bright and cheery, "Hi!", and then she turned back to her book.

Stefan joined Elena in the middle of the circle. Lucy brought them a cup and a knife. "Only hurt for a little bit," she said. Lucy made a small cut on Stefan's hand and squeezed out some of his blood into the cup before the cut healed. She did the same to Elena. Stefan's nostrils flared and his lips went white when the cut was made on Elena's hand.

"Hang in there, brother," Damon said to him, "Please."

Elena pulled her chain from underneath her shirt, and removed Damon's daylight ring from it. She dropped the ring into the blood in the bottom of the cup. Then she placed the cup on the ground between herself and Stefan. "Like this?" she asked Grace, who nodded.

Elena and Stefan linked hands. "Ouch," Elena said, "Not so tight." She gave Stefan a small smile, but he didn't return it. He was trying very hard not to breathe.

"Easy there, Stef," Damon said. "Easy. No eating my girlfriend. You said you wouldn't, remember?"

"Here we go, guys," Grace took a deep breath, and then said, "Wait - can I just say how absolutely cool this is? I mean this is super super cool for me. My first like, real spell, and this is my first grimoire," she held up her Hello Kitty notebook, "I only wish Mrs. Lee was here to see me."

Damon groaned. "Baby witch, get on with it."

"Well, excuse me, Mr. Grumpy. Just having a moment here." She took a deep breath again, and then said, "Thes mattos statis domine luctis nocte mort vite caenum. Domine luctis nocte mort." She held the notebook out so Bonnie and Lucy could read it. They began to chant along with her.

The candles and torches flickered. Damon started to feel a tingling along his spine. "Something is happening, witch," he called out.

"Be ready, Damon," Emily said to him, underneath the chanting. "My witches here are pushing from this side. You need to transition into your new body as soon as it appears. You will have to push your way inside of it. It might be difficult."

"Oh, I'm ready, Emily Bennett. Although what you just said was kind of kinky, if you don't mind me saying."

Grace stumbled over the words, and so did Lucy and Bonnie. They started over, and then stumbled again. The torches flickered once more. Damon couldn't feel the tingling anymore.

"Emily!" Damon called out, "What is happening? I thought the necklace would keep Esther from blocking us."

Emily shook her head. "It's not Esther. We are too strong, and she cannot stop this. There is something else wrong."

Emily walked into the middle of the circle, and she laid her hands on Elena's head, her eyes closed. "This anchor is working perfectly. All she desires is your return."

She moved to Stefan, and laid her hands on his head as well. "He is resisting."

Grace stopped chanting, and held up a hand to stop the others. "I'm sorry, but Stefan? Could you . . . um . . . could you, like, actually want this to work, maybe? Emily says you are the problem. You need to try harder."

Stefan, stricken, looked at Elena, and then back at the three witches. "I don't understand."

"Well, obviously part of you doesn't want your brother to come back, and hey, I have a younger sister, so I totally get it. But it's sort of screwing things up on this side."

Stefan shook his head. He took a deep breath. "It's not that. I want this to work."

Grace shrugged. "Okay, trying again." She began the chant again, and so did the Bennett cousins.

Emily stayed in the circle, watching Stefan closely.

"Poor Stefan. Always at war with himself," Emily said to Damon. "I'm afraid I will have to resolve his inner battle for him. I believe I can ease the bloodlust long enough."

Emily laid her hands on Stefan's head, and she began a chant of her own. Stefan relaxed into the the touch of her hands, even though he could not actually feel them. Damon watched, fascinated, as a glow of light went from Emily's hands into his brother's head.

The tingling began again up and down Damon's spine. The chanting grew louder, and there was a wind that started to whip around the ones inside the circle.

A column of dirt and dust swirled next to Damon, in between him and Elena. The column swirled higher and higher until it was level with Damon's head. The dust began to take shape. Damon's shape.

Damon wasn't sure when he was supposed to make his move. He looked over at Emily, who shook her head slightly. Okay, he could wait. He looked at Elena, who had her eyes closed tight, wishing for his return with every fiber of her being, her lips actually mouthing the chant along with the witches. And at his brother, who had tears in his eyes, and who was looking up at the sky as though he expected Damon to fall from it like an angel who had been disgraced.

And as the dust cloud became more and more Damon-shaped, Damon suddenly wished the duffel bag holding his change of clothes was a bit closer. Because yep, he was definitely coming back naked.

When the body of dust had finally become a body that was actually a body, Damon closed his eyes and tried to force his way in. It was sticky. And it was heavy. He had not realized just how light and free his ghost self had been. He had become accustomed to a certain element of weightlessness, and now there was nothing but weight.

Once he had eased himself inside the body the witches had made for him, he collapsed under it's solidity to the dirt ground.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," Damon wheezed out of lungs and a throat that definitely did not work properly.

Damon didn't think he could stand. Everything was just so heavy. His limbs were like concrete.

He felt arms underneath him, and he managed to raise his head enough to see that his brother was supporting his weight and lifting him from the ground. "Thanks," Damon croaked.

Stefan nodded, tears forming and running down his face. "You were dead."

"I know, brother," Damon said, a little bit more clearly now. "I was. I am. You were wrong, but you weren't."

Elena wrapped her arms around both of them. "You're home," she sobbed, "you're here."

"I am," Damon said, finally able to lift an arm to circle her as well. He held her close, as his brother held him. "I am."

AN: Fully aware that I'm taking some liberties in regards to Damon's mother having a daguerreotype of her lover in what must have been the late 1830s, or very early 1840s (depending, of course, on how old you want to think Damon is). The daguerreotype was launched officially in 1839, so yeah . . . the odds are not good that two young lovers in Italy, no matter how wealthy, would have been able to exchange them at the time that Teresa Maria would have been planning on running off with Francis Graziano. But let's just pretend, okay?