Mystic Falls, VA September 30, 1864

Emily had figured out how to create a small world within their own. It would, she hoped, give Abigail some measure of peace. At least until Damon or someone could figure out what made Stefan Salvatore's mind go from a deep soulful man, to a raging monster. Emily understood the monstrosity that vampire blood lust could cause, but nothing like this.

Usually when a vampire was turned, all the traits that they had as a human were amplified. If that vampire had been kind and thoughtful, then those traits passed on at a greater pitch. The same could be said for pettiness, cruelty, and manipulation. Just look at Katherine Pierce.

Nothing had warned them that this part existed within Stefan Salvatore. It caught them unawares. And because of that, no one had been prepared for his savagery, or his obsessions, or his complete disregard for human life. Now they were trying desperately to cauterized the wounds.

As Emily had worked to perform the most difficult spell work of her life, Damon was working just as hard to find a place to hide Abigail when the time came. He knew that Mystic Falls had to do, but where within the town borders would suffice? His brother knew the land as well as he did. Aside from another crypt, which having used it once before, he didn't dare try again, Damon wasn't sure he knew of another place.

He was in Abigail's bedroom, with his damnable brother keeping vigil again, this time walking around taking stock of how right Emily was in the lack of possessions visible. That's when he came across a stack of papers on her vanity. Glancing down, he realized it was a list of household goods, things needed to set up house. And that's when he knew that the place he could keep her and his brother would never look for her had been easily accessible all along. Her house. Of course.

When Abigail's body disappeared, which would happen very soon, Stefan's rage would be terrible. Terrible, but impotent to find her, because Damon was absolutely certain that while he may consider her being hidden in the new house, he'd quickly dismiss it. Nothing tied her to it, and nothing tied Damon or anyone else to it either. And, if Damon recalled correctly, there were very deep cellars in that house. Not a permanent space to keep her, but temporarily it would do.

Emily was waiting in the copse of trees for him that evening. They couldn't wait for midnight. They had to get everything taken care of so Abigail would be moved and safe before morning. In Emily's hand she held a slim silver chain, so thin it looked like thread and from it dangled a single pale bluish-green bead. Both were very simple, yet very powerful.

She explained to Damon that she wouldn't enter his house, and that he would have to do the rest alone. She'd heard the family she'd taken refuge with muttering. Someone was making noise about dark magic and it was making those who trusted her look twice. Emily was growing fearful, but she had nowhere to go. Entering the Salvatore home was a certain death sentence, however, and she refused.

"Put this around her neck, or even wrapping it around her wrist will work. That will allow her to find the room I've created." She was saying. "The peace will make moving her easier. You will not be bogged down by the pain that you felt radiating from her before." She smiled, hopeful. "Get her to the place you've planned and by this time tomorrow, she'll have the peace that is so removed from her."

Damon held the chain in his hand and prayed as he never had before. Even as a monster, he felt like he needed more faith now than ever. Getting her out of the house, even with Stefan out on a hunting and gathering mission, would take a miracle.

He nodded to her, letting her know he understood. "Thank you, Emily." He looked up at her and vowed to give her anything she ever wanted.

"Keep Abigail Morgan safe." She said, surprising them both. "I don't know what she is, or who she becomes, but she needs to be kept away from your brother. At least until you find what has made him contrary to his natural state." They stared at each other for a beat. "Promise me."

"With my life." He said, and then he was gone.

Stefan was having a party when he returned. Closing his eyes, Damon swore under his breath. Of course Stefan would choose tonight to revel in debauchery. Entering the front door, he noticed that his brother appeared to be holding back from killing anyone thus far. Restraint was a new trait for Stefan, he thought.

"Welcome home, brother!" Stefan bellowed from his position between two buxom women seated upon the settee that Abigail had used to recline and read during days with weather too cold to enjoy the garden. It was jarring how often these memories of days gone by were coming to him, and he had to pull himself from the image to answer.

"And what a welcome it is," Damon responded, taking in the bodies in various stages of undress, and the telltale signs of his brother's feedings. "I see you've decided to have a celebration."

Stefan smiled and untangled himself from his companions. "I am. Consider this my stag night." He wagged his eyebrows suggestively and Damon's stomach twisted. "After tonight, I'll focus on waking my beautiful bride and we'll be planning our wedding." The blood on his lips was still wet, and he licked it with relish. "Come have a drink to celebrate the end of being a single man."

Damon hoped that his face was doing a better job of hiding his disgust than his internal thoughts were. Did his brother know of the plans he'd made with Emily? Is that what brought this grotesque show?

"Are you feeling alright, brother?" Stefan asked, feigning a look of concern in his eyes. "You don't look like you want to celebrate." His lips drooped into a pout.

"I think I'll pass, brother." Damon answered, sidestepping a grasping human, clearly compelled to want to be a feeder. "All I want is an early night. And I can't believe that my absence will make your celebration less enjoyable." He turned from the sight that greeted him upon his return. "Goodnight."

"Sweet dreams, Damon." Stefan mocked, pulling another woman to him as he fell back on the settee. "I'll see you in the morning, when we wake up Abigail." The laughter and squeals followed him up the stairs.