Salvatore Garden~ Time Uncertain, Still, Forevermore

As the sun comfortably warmed her, Abigail took a moment to take stock of what she'd learned from her shadow visitors so far.

From Damon she'd learned that keeping her feelings for him buried; the good, the bad, the unrequited, had done nothing aside from piling up her already heavy emotional baggage to critical levels. Even her papa's trick for leveraging off heavy burdens wouldn't help with this load.

Sallie's appearance brought her guilt to the forefront. Her belief that she had the power to control anyone's destiny, even her own , with or without the shadow visions that plagued her outside this realm was laughable. Hadn't she read the poets and their warnings against such hubris? Seeing Sallie and having her release Abi from the strain of all that guilt and pain she had retained from every death she couldn't prevent.

Lily had given her the first confirmation to her own realization about keeping silent. Reigning in her emotions and reactions to all the stress and grief she'd been through was acting as a stopper. Having her mother figure give her permission to do that, after already been forced to release it, helped. And seeing Lily healthy and at peace was a balm to her soul.

Waiting for the next to step forward, Abigail felt she knew who it might be. She'd miss him so much, only Lily's more recent death would have ever put her to the forefront of her mind. When she opened her eyes to the vision of him, she was prepared for his admonishment.

"Really, my angel," her papa scolded, "a beautiful day and you haven't brought a book?"

Her choked sob was laced with a chuckle. "Sorry, papa." She answered standing and throwing herself into his waiting arms.

As he embraced her, they stood a moment clutching one another. She felt his hands running down the length of her hair, checking it seemed for how long it had grown since he'd gone. She was the same height, fitting perfectly under his chin, her head pressed against his chest.

"You're a woman now, Abigail." His voice filled with wonder. "Have I been gone so long?"

She sniffled and came under enough control to answer. "Five years, papa." She pulled back to look into eyes that matched her own. "Five very long years."

He pulled her back to the bench and kept her in his embrace. "In these long five years, Abigail, have you found the man to replace me in your heart?" His tone was light, and she knew he should know already, but realized that this must be a piece of the puzzle to leave her prison.

Abigail stiffened. Even with the knowledge that this was entirely in her own mind, it was something she had never said out loud.

She felt herself blush. "I would think that you'd be watching me, Papa." She still found it difficult to admit to. "I was in love with someone, but it ended badly." Understatement of the decade.

"Badly?" He asked, disbelief coloring his voice. "Tell me, Abigail."

"I loved Damon, Papa." Her voice was barely above a breath. She'd never said it plainly. Never given it credence. "And he broke my heart." Her tears came rushing back. The pain of knowing what everyone could see, but one they could feel was torn from her. "He broke me."

The story tumbled from her lips as her pain burst free. She'd thought raging at Damon had been enough. Clearly it hadn't been. As she told her papa, the good, the bad, and the most painful, she felt herself lighten.

"And now he's like HER." She hissed, feeling anger rush to replace the loss. "He chose to die for her then he chose to become exactly what she was, Papa." The anger and pain mingled, taking her breath.

"Did he, Abigail?" Her papa asked, like he would have once questioned her about the heroes in her books. "Did he come back for HER?"

Abigail looked into her father's eyes through her tears. "Why else, Papa?" A question for a question, not always welcome in their discussions.

"He didn't transition alone," her papa offered. "Did he have a choice, or was his choice made for him?"

"He wanted to turn for her, Papa." She replied, returning to her original ire.

Papa, wisdom shining in those green eyes. "And yet, she was gone, and he still turned." He studied her. "Don't allow the things men, or women, do during the heat of lust and obsession compel you to forget what made you fall in love with him." Before she could speak he continued. "He did make you safe, my love."

"After trying to kill me, burying me in the family crypt, and don't forget leaving me alone with my thoughts." She was feeling petulant and holding on to her grudge with both hands.

Her papa's laughter startled her. "That fire, Abigail. The feeling of anger and frustration, what you imagine is hatred, it proves you and Damon have more to your story." She glared at him and he gave another chuckle. "Hatred isn't the opposite of love, jenta mi, indifference is."

Hearing the term of endearment "jenta mi" from her father's lips sparked a long buried memory of the night of the fire. Pulling her away from the garden, she remembered confessing to him the vision that raged from the darkness and he'd said, "De har funnet oss, jenta mi." She didn't recall him ever speaking another language before that night, but she when she asked what he said, he lied. Because now she knew he said, "They found us, my girl." Even as he'd told her not to worry and it was time for bed, he knew it was coming.

"You knew," she said, pulling away from the memory and sitting back to fully look at her father. "That night, you knew you were going to die." The accusation was thick, her pain almost palpable.

Her papa, the solemn Eric Morgan, looked abashed. "I did, my darling girl." He looked down at his hands. "Death had stalked us through the ages. Coming here, having you, I always felt that we were baiting the bear." Tears were flowing down his face now. "Your mother and I made a terrible choice that night. We faced death willingly, but made certain you were hidden. Keeping you safe from the monster that stalked us was our only concern." He offered his hand and she took it, needing his strength. "Leaving you, even knowing that you were safe among mortals and would be loved by Lily, felt more painful than the act of dying ever could be."

"Mortals?" She knew she was different, but how different was still a mystery. "Papa, what am I?"

"It's almost time for me to go, jenta mi," he stated, seeming to hear a sound she couldn't. "Promise me, when you leave here, that you will return to where we last said goodbye. You'll find answers there, and that is my promise to you." Kissing Abigail on her forehead, in a warm rush of air he was gone.

She screamed, letting all of her pain and confusion free in a burst of angst. Leaving was coming closer, but she knew she would retain her turmoil, at least in part. The frustration of not knowing what she really was, nor what had hunted her parents being slid into a small compartment inside her.

Mystic Falls, VA~ Mid-Late December 2009

Damon hadn't expected help in his quest to free Katherine, but he sure as hell didn't expect a second group side-questing toward the same goal. Well, technically Anna only wanted her mother, Pearl, but their goals being so similar it irked him when he realized she was pulling the rug from under him.

Turning moronic Logan Fell, abducting Elena and Bonnie all the attempts to find the same puzzle pieces to do what he planned. Jesus, would it hurt to work together? Or better plan, stay out of his damn way.

Opening the tomb sucked, because all of his work, all of his push through came to nothing. Katherine wasn't even inside. His hero haired brother and his one far too sexy self nearly became entombed by two very uppity Bennett witches. All in all, irritating. It did not break his heart when he learned that dear old Grams Bennett died. Good, naturally caused death meant the technically kept his vow to Emily.

So as Christmas bore, heavy on the 'dom', down on him for another year, he wondered how well he had actually known Katherine Pierce?