Mystic Falls, VA October 3, 1864

For three days Stefan had raged. The house was a bloody mess, first from the ill-fated stag party, then from the days he'd spent raging about losing Abigail. Damon took heart that he seemed to believe him when he swore that he'd been asleep upstairs, and had heard and seen nothing.

Damon had had the foresight to rid Abigail's room of any belongings she had left after her planned flight from home. Her shoes, books, vanity set, and other odds and ends were gone. He made sure of it. Only the stack of notes were left. He felt sure that Abigail would have left those behind if she'd fled on her own.

When they had entered her room, Stefan particularly excited, the next morning. Seeing her bed, remade and empty, he'd rushed through the house, certain she was awake and readying herself for him. Delusional didn't begin to cover his brother. Room to room, stepping lightly over the drained bodies of his party favors from the prior night, he alternated between screaming her name and calling to her as a long lost lover might.

Damon followed, seemingly checking each room, and calling out for Abigail as well. He was waiting for the inevitable suggestion. Stefan to say they should go door to door, but it didn't come until the next night. They stalked through the town, checking every house, every storefront, every church, and tomb. Damon would have laughed, at his knowing Stefan's mind so well, had he not seen the fervor of obsession still raging in his eyes.

"Her house," Stefan offered, this very morning. "We haven't gone there, and it's the only place left."

Damon nodded his agreement. "You're right, brother, we haven't. Are you sure she'd bother going there? It's not like it has happy memories." He asked, curious why he'd finally focused his attention there.

His brother let out a hot breath. "No, but she was planning on moving there. Father, promised to allow it." He growled low and dark. "Perhaps she's retreated there to consider the future?"

Always back to his hatred for their father. "Then let's go." He stood up. "We'll check the house, and if she's there, we'll bring her back." He kept eye contact with his insane little brother. "And if she isn't you'll need to think of new places. Because after her house, nowhere in Mystic Falls has been left unchecked." He let the facts settle, and Stefan rose to his feet.

"Then we find out where she was planning on traveling to." He said with firm resignation. "I'll find her if I have to transverse the globe, brother."

Damon's stomach wrenched. Had he been this obsessed with Katherine? Seeing his hands clench around Abigail's throat and then him lightly tossing her body on top of the moldering remains of his ancestor he realized the truth. What had set him free? Her death? According to Emily Bennett, Katherine wasn't dead, she was simply on hold. Out of sight out of mind should be fixing Stefan. Why wasn't it?

As they walked, slowly since it was broad daylight and they were trying to look like regular people on this strange stretch of road, Damon contemplated the difference between his obsession with Katherine and Stefan's with Abigail.

He often bragged that Katherine didn't have to compel him to drink her blood, that he chose to. That was true, as was the fact that he'd killed for her. Not just the attempt on Abigail, but he'd helped her with ruses against multiple victims. He'd told himself they were teaching exercises, for when he'd be her immortal partner, but looking back were they? He'd been so obsessed that he'd promised Emily that he would protect her descendants.

While he was focused on Abigail's plight right now, would that obsession return once he knew she was safe? If he watched the fervor disappear from Stefan's eyes, would he return to making it his life's mission to find her and make her whole again? He'd killed someone he loved for her. He hadn't known it wouldn't be permanent, that by some miracle of nature she'd survive. He had nearly made it a cycle of eternal torture by entombing her. This was the result of his obsessive love for Katherine.

Abigail's house loomed ahead of them. In the brilliance of the morning, the white of the outside was nearly blinding. Columns rose from the porch to the roof and its opulence was humbling. The only color that broke against the white was the deepest black. The front door, the frames of the windows, and shutters were all dark as a night without stars or moonlight. They stepped onto the porch and Stefan pulled out the key that Damon had made sure turned up in their father's desk drawer.

He slipped it into the door and turned the lock. The door swung open on quiet hinges, and they stood waiting. "Abigail?" Stefan asked, his voice loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to be considered yelling. "Are you in there Abigail?"

There were no sounds from within. The brothers on the porch couldn't even hear the sound of breathing. Damon smiled and offered a silent thank you to Emily for that hidden spell effect. For any vampire or human who came to this house, without going room to room, it was empty. Stefan tried to cross the threshold and was blocked. "Dammit. I haven't been invited." He glanced at his brother.

"No," Damon answered the silent question. "I haven't been here before either." He stepped forward and faked the same issue. "See? No invitation. Without Abigail we can't enter."

Stefan stepped away from the door, which thankfully hadn't opened so far that they couldn't reclose it. He walked the perimeter of the house and realized that there were no signs anyone had come or gone from the house in months. It was being kept up, but not as though being lived in. Another false lead.

Growling deep in his throat, Stefan vowed that somehow, someday he would find Abigail Morgan. And she would become his bride.