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CHAPTER 10:

THE GODFATHER

Closure (noun): finality; letting go of what once was; complete acceptance of what has happened and an honoring of the transition away from what's finishing to something new

"What was closure if not a clock? Not an end as everyone imagined, but a beginning."

"How dare you! How dare you leave me! How could you go and die and leave me here all alone? Please come back. I need you. Please come back."

"All I wanted was to get a little bit of closure, and every step I took I looked and wasn't any closer."

Standing in the parlor by the window, Damon aimlessly studied the picturesque environs of Mystic Falls, lost in thought, like he had been for almost a day. Damon Salvatore had been standing on the exact spot, unmoving and unresponsive. For a hundred and forty-five years, he possessed a single drive that impelled him to wake up every day and proceed with life as a vampire. He had one focus, one goal, one obsession: free his one and only true love, Katherine Pierce, from the spelled tomb. With Katherine free and by his side, Damon would finally be happy with his eternal life. But now? …Now that Emily Bennett destroyed the crystal along with his hope of unsealing the tomb, Damon needed guidance from a powerful witch.

His back turned and intense eyes focused on the view before him, Damon beat Stefan to the punch with a sarcastic greeting, having heard his unsubtle footsteps descend the stairs, rummage around in the kitchen and then slowly, almost like a terrified gazelle, walk the hall that led to the parlor and ultimately, to him. Not like it was a difficult chore, even without their impeccable senses, the elder Salvatore barely moved from his position.

"So, any ideas where you'll go?" Stefan made an impressive attempt for nonchalance, when really, he was ensuring Damon would skip town with him and relieve Mystic Falls from his killing-spree and leave the death count at its current alarming number.

Back still facing Stefan, a mockery of a smirk painted his lips. Imitating his brother's nonchalance, Damon faked deliberation, "I don't know. London, maybe. See some friends."

Skeptic, brows jumping in unison, Stefan kept his voice even, "You don't have any friends, Damon." He wasn't trying to be mean, simply stating a fact. Damon had no shortage of girls hanging around his arms, yes… but friends? No. He had Stefan. That was it. Grinning widely, not the least bit affected by Stefan's words, Damon finally, for the first time since Emily's departure from Bonnie Bennett, met his eyes, "You're right, Stefan. I only have you. So, where are we goin'?"

Skepticism morphed into a deadpanned stare. "We are not going anywhere. I'm gonna live my life as far away from you as possible," forest-greens hard and unyielding, Stefan didn't wait for any form of his brother's limitless rejoinders, and with one last glance, he left the parlor. He was sick and tired of death and destruction following his wake. Every time he proffered an olive branch, or threw Damon a bone, stupidly believing the colorful promises of brotherhood he spun, he'd turn around and stab him in the back – sometimes literally. Stefan's last bout of blind ignorance in regards to Damon's 'eternal of misery' vow culminated with Lexi's death. Well, no more!

Damon's exterior portrayed a smirk, albeit a weak one, and utter unconcern, his stance unaffected by Stefan's volleyed words. Inwardly however, it was hands down, a punch to the gut, Stefan's desire to remain as far away from him as possible a burgeoning wound that would no doubt, start to fester the moment Stefan begins to create a distance between them. Turning back to the window, Damon slammed his eyelids shut to mask the battle waging in his electric-blue orbs – Stefan's reaction was to be expected. He had promised him an eternity of misery, and when the brothers were just starting to form a passive aggressive relationship, built on a tentative alliance and a lack of trust, he went and killed his best and oldest friend.

Exhaling roughly from his nostrils, Damon abandoned his post by the window and took large strides after his brother. He forced a sparkle of mischief into eyes and playfully retorted, "But we're a team! We could travel the world together. We could try out for 'The Amazing Race'."

And there's that rejoinder; a few seconds late in regards to Damon's usual standards, but there nonetheless. Stefan honestly wondered if Damon lost his touch…. apparently not. "Mmmm, that's funny," Stefan replied blandly. Damon almost flinched at Stefan's blatant show of disinterest as well as the lack of emotion on his face and in his voice. "Seriously, where are you going? Because we are not staying in this town," Stefan probed, snapping the elder Salvatore from his train of thoughts.

However, before Damon's parted lips could eject some form of deflection, the doorbell rang, pervading their surroundings with the shrilly disturbance. The brothers' dissimilar eyes collided, thought they brimmed with identical confusion. They had a pathetic shortage of visitors, and after Stefan's rejection and subsequent termination of their relationship, Elena wasn't about to stop by, ever.

Stefan, eyes narrowing in suspicion, took his time to answer the door. Opening it, surprise hit him like a freight train. Jaw dropping in comical astonishment, Stefan trained his wide, bulging eyes at the smirking man on the other side – a man whose face belonged to somebody who attempted, and failed, to stake him and was therefore, murdered by Damon… two months ago. "Stefan Salvatore. Can I come in? Of course I can," the man's smirk put Damon's to shame. His voice filled with amusement, he patted Stefan on the shoulder, sidestepped his frozen form – as he was trying to process this sudden complication – and entered the Boarding House, "How do you keep unwelcome vampires out?"

It was a rhetoric question. In fact, every single question that sprung from his mouth was rhetoric and laced with a combination of sarcasm and mischief. Tongue-tied, Stefan mechanically closed the door, and thankfully, a curious Damon joined them by the foyer, his expression as flabbergasted as his brother's.

"Awh, come on! I know I look dashing and all, but seriously, you two need to use your words," the intruder grinned, hands interlaced behind his back as his hazel eyes flickering between them expectantly.

Restoring usage of his tongue, Damon took a threatening step forward and snarled, "Logan Fell. I killed you."

"That's an excellent observation. Good to know you've been putting those long years of immortality to good use," Logan quipped, glaring mockingly at the volatile vampire. He was baiting him, and Damon itched to rip his heart off, but his surging curiosity stayed his hand. "That would make me a…" he trailed off, sounding like he was hosting 'The Price Is Right'.

Still going with the motions, Stefan promptly said, "Vampire." Realization belatedly setting in the moment the word escaped him.

Logan brought his hands together in satiric applause, "Ding, ding, ding! And we have a winner."

Assured that he wasn't at risk of getting mutilated or killed by either Salvatore until he revealed the cause behind his return to Mystic Falls after two months of playing dead, he turned his back on them and confidently strolled into the living room, instantly depositing himself on a wingback armchair upholstered in slate-gray linen. No sooner had he made himself comfortable, leisurely leaning into its tufted backrest, did Damon and Stefan materialize in front of him, their demeanors rearranged from bemusement to menacing, and to the former's immense frustration, Logan merely stared back, unflappable.

"How are you a vampire? You have to die with vampire blood in your system," Damon demanded abruptly, the 'answer or else' heavily implied in his tone. Hazel orbs performed a mocking eye roll. "I'm intimately aware with the convoluted process, obviously," he quipped, the final word drawled in glaring sarcasm accompanied by a flourishing gesture toward his form that said 'hello, vampire'.

The sound discharged by teeth grinding together echoed disturbingly in the room, and Stefan immediately cut in before Damon lost the last vestiges of his already thin patience and pursued his unspoken threat. "What about that daylight ring on your finger? You're new to all this… How did you get it?" Stefan demanded, suspicious eyes abandoning the cocky smirk painting his lips to fixate on Logan's left hand where a chunky ring embedded with lapis lazuli adorned its pinky finger.

Intense electric-blue eyes dropped to examine Logan's hand, jaw taut, "Exactly, the Founding Families were clueless." Changing route, Damon snapped, "Why are you here?"

Hands up, palms facing the brothers, Logan let out a huff, "Can you limit your questions to one at a time, I'm not exactly going anywhere." He then rolled his eyes. Suddenly, in the timeframe of an eye blink, Logan's entire demeanor transformed, no longer exuding an air of effrontery and mischief, "I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but first, since between the two of you, Stefan seemingly inherited the trait of patience, I need you-" solemn pair of hazel eyes were intent on Damon, "-to maintain your composure and think before you speak."

Disregarding Logan's demand, his audacity sparking Damon's rage, his vampire face was second's away from emerging and he flexed his fingers. Cool and collected Stefan, on the other hand, having recognized the signs alluding to Damon's infamous temper tantrum before its escalation into mass murder, slapped a hand to his chest, bringing him up short with a meaningful glare. Aggressively rolling his eyes and probably bruising his sockets as a result, Damon sharply inclined his head and none too gently, filled out the second wingback armchair, his glare never leaving their intruder. Shaking his head softly, Stefan took the similarly upholstered loveseat positioned between the two. All the while, Logan stared at their interaction, wholly unruffled.

"There's a reason I stopped by," he prefaced after a brief silence. "I don't quite care about either one of you. Unfortunately, unless you've spoken to someone or a number of someone's about the night I was killed by Mr. Trigger Happy over here-" he absently jutted his chin at a seething Damon's direction, "-then you two dimwits are the only ones in Mystic Falls that'd instantly identify me for what I've become," Logan elucidated, not bothering to mince his words. His inability to stick to one emotion was beginning to give the brothers whiplash – an abrupt, cocksure grin curled on his lips. Abandoning the armchair's comfort, Logan encircled the furniture and folded his arm on its outside back, "Now I gotta be honest here, in the beginning, when I woke up buried in the ground behind a used car dealership on highway 4, I was really pissed off! Then I find out I'm transitioning into a creature I was raised to hate and exterminate… I was furious, consumed by vengeance on you both."

Smirking at the chance to infuriate Logan, Damon flippantly quipped, "Take a number and get in line." His mood was short-lived however, when the Fell vampire responded with a smirk, his attempt to provoke him into a rage having failed. Stefan rolled his eyes and resumed his questioning, "But…?"

"But not anymore," Logan stated laconically.

Doubt in his eyes, Stefan leaned forward, "What changed your mind?"

Expelling a long-drawn-out sigh, Logan retook his seat, hazel orbs concentrating on a point above Damon's head, "As I was resisting the urge to drain a late-night jogger dry, a woman intervened. Told me it'd be in my best interest to listen to what she had to say. She didn't strike me as a threat; a beautiful, young lady walking the streets in the middle of the night, willing to entertain some stranger, I didn't think much of her. I followed her to her car and just as I was about to feed from her, she hit me with a killing aneurysm-"

"Witch," the Salvatore brothers breathed out in unison, now fully engrossed in his story.

The smirk stayed on his lips as a humming sound vibrated from his throat, "Would ya believe my luck? Out of everyone I could've run into. Turns out, our meeting wasn't a coincidence. She specifically came to town looking for me…but I digress." He waved a hand and met the intrigued brothers' stares. Damon made a noise, almost like he were about to contradict Logan and demand for an elaboration, but Stefan silenced him with a look. "She imparted a great deal of interesting information to me, and before leaving town, she performed an impressive bit of magic on the Council, kind of like compulsion, but different."

Strange horror-like realization graced Damon's features, "She erased their memory of your death." He had been wondering why there hasn't been a single mention of Logan Fell's death, at least amidst the Founder's Council. Now he knew why. That lucky weasel!

"Yeah. Unfortunately, Liz managed to send Jenna a text from my cell claiming I left town. That bitch," he grumbled to himself. The only silver lining with the entire ordeal was he now knew where his true loyalties laid – definitely not Liz Forbes who, despite knowing him since he was six years old, didn't have any qualms or reservations with tossing him into a shallow grave and sweeping his sacrifice under the rug. "Anyway…" shaking his head, he quashed the self-denigrating inner musings that's been perturbing him since the realization of what his fate would have been, if it weren't for the vampire blood in his system, settled in. "After intervening on my behalf, we ditched town. She made me a daylight ring and helped me establish self-control so I wouldn't become a Ripper-" he pointedly glanced at an ashamed Stefan who developed a sudden interest in his feet, "-or a psychopathic vampire who could snap at any moment and indulge in mass murder whenever he's angered or feeling emotional," he smiled sardonically at Damon, who responded with a fake grin through gritted teeth, the urge to kill Logan Fell resurfacing.

…So he was still feeling a bit testy over Damon killing him. Sue him.

Stomping those urges, Damon forced a modicum of calmness into his tone, "You mentioned the witch sharing information with you. What did she say?"

Lifting a honey-blonde brow, Logan shook his head, "Sorry, but that's confidential." Contrary to his words, he didn't look apologetic at all. Reflexes quick, Stefan reached out and shoved a snarling and hissing Damon back into the armchair. He then glared at Logan upon hearing the bark of laughter that left him, his devil-may-care attitude not helping. Stefan shook his head – the irony of the situation hadn't escaped him; Damon truly met his match in Logan Fell. Back to the matter at hand, Stefan, brows furrowed, met the pair of amused hazels with his suspicious forest-greens, "A witch wouldn't team up with a vampire. Why should we trust you?"

"And what's witchy's name?" Damon sneered, his sclerae tinged an ominous pink.

Smiling at Damon, Logan cheekily repeated, "Again, confidential, Damon." Huffing, he wiped all signs of levity from his comportment and countenance, "Look, all you need to know, the only reason I came here, is to give you a head's up that I'm a vampire and I'm only interested in peace-" he was interrupted by a disbelieving scoff from Damon. "There're no hard feelings. Honestly. We can coexist peacefully and amicably in Mystic Falls without the constant need to look over our shoulders."

Again, Damon interjected, his tone incredibly hostile and laced with sarcasm, "Listen, pal. Stefan and I, we didn't survive this long by trusting every Bill, Bob and Barry that crossed our paths and preached peace, okay. Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying it."

His comment prompted Stefan's expression to slowly mirror his disbelief. Annoyed, Logan dragged a hand down his face and rubbed his chin, "Despite my absence, I still had eyes on you, all of you." Damon's expression darkened and even Stefan looked menacing. "Elena Gilbert associating with the two of you and endangering Jenna-" he abruptly cut himself off and looked away, inhaling and exhaling sharply as veins appeared on his eyelids and his sclerae turned crimson. "I only care about two people in this town, Jenna and Snow, and I'm here to ensure their safety, no matter the cost. You can take it or leave it, either way, as long as they remain in this vampire-infested town, I'm not going anywhere."

A long and confused silence ensued.

Speechless, the Salvatore brothers exchanged dumfounded looks at the unexpected revelation. Unable to handle his confusion a moment longer, Damon burst into speech, "Snow, why Snow? I mean, Jenna, yeah her I get, you're in love with her etcetera, etcetera, but Snow? I've never seen you make an effort to interact with her or get to know her. Who is she to you?"

Lips pursed, Logan trapped them under his unnerving stare, contemplating on whether or not he should confide in them. However, quickly mulling his decision over, he reached a verdict. During his absence, he heard about Snow's friendship with Stefan and her blossoming one with Damon… and with Elena as one of her best friends, either way, the troublesome vampires would find out eventually. Sighing, he acquiesced. "I grew up with her mother. Selene and I, regardless of the slight age difference between us, we were best friends. So much so, Selene made me her godfather. Snow doesn't know any of this, though I do intend on fixing that," he added in afterthought. It was clear to Logan that both brothers were vehemently taken aback by the disclosure. "Her father, on the other hand, was an acquaintance. Regrettably, I don't know much about him, but the last time I saw him, I promised if anything were to happen to him, that I would take care of his little girl."

Recovering from his shock, Damon turned to the bar, and after pouring himself a short-glass of bourbon, snapped, "Well, one thing's for sure, I wouldn't want you making me any promises. Snow's father's been dead almost eight years, where the hell've you been, huh!?" Stefan blinked at Damon, surprised by the potency of his anger, but all Damon could think about was the abysmal treatment and the constant abuse Snow suffered from Lucille Silverstone.

Eyes narrowed, Logan concealed the fact that Damon's accurate statement hit a sore spot with a sneer, "Isn't it too early for bourbon!"

"You're deflecting," Stefan pointed out, the corner of his lips twitching upward.

Guilt and regret warring together featured heavily on Logan's face, and he carded a hand through his honey-blonde hair, tousling it – a nervous tick. "Look, I was young and stupid, okay? I was selfish and angry with the world for taking Selene away. When Stan died, I was twenty-six, my career was on the rise and… I, I was a bachelor and, as much as I am ashamed to say this, I didn't want a kid ruining that for me. Today, I'm not that guy." He then trained the nonchalant day-drinker with the full force of his glare, "But then I heard about the animal attacks, and I knew Mystic Falls was crawling with vampires again. I couldn't stay away. The thought of Snow in danger and the promise I broke, not to mention Selene trusted me with her daughter. I came back for Snow. It's better late than never."

A noncommittal noise that sounded like a mix of a grunt and a sigh left Damon as he imbibed the last drop of bourbon. "I honestly don't care. I'm leaving town, so it's not my problem. But broody over here with the hero hair might be worried about Elena with a baby vampire out and about," Damon commented airily, eyes cunning and lips sly.

Stefan felt torn… On one hand, him leaving town guaranteed Damon's departure, and Elena's safety was more important than his happiness. On the other hand, Logan Fell was a risk factor – he may have been genuine regarding his desire to keep Snow safe, but the girl had no scent and therefore, unlike the population of Mystic Falls, wasn't likely to become an accidental victim. But then again…. according to Logan, he returned to town because he gained self-control, and from his experiences, no self-proclaimed witch would allow a vampire to run amok if he had trouble controlling his bloodlust.

Reluctantly, Stefan said, "I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt."

"What, that's it?" a pouting Damon whined, looking extremely put out by his little brother's trusting nature. "No exchange of threats. No fighting for Elena's safety. No 'or elses'!? Come on, Stef!"

"Like I said, psychopathic," Logan smirked, emphasizing his claim with the universal hand gesture for 'crazy'. He promptly ducked the short-glass hurled his way courtesy of a glowering Salvatore, and a chuckle left him, "Real mature, Damon. Anyway, you gonna believe anything I say, believe this, you're barking up the wrong tree. I'm not the one you should be worried about."

With a sarcastic smile to match his equally sarcastic tone, Damon snarked, "Oh yeah, and why's that?"

Wholly incapable of turning down the chance to insult and subsequently provoke Damon – his murderer, Hello! – Logan arched a brow, radiating an air of haughtiness. "Since neither one of you dimwits slipped me blood, how exactly do you think I got this way?" Logan asked rhetorically, not really expecting an answer. Stefan and Damon stopped short, their brows furrowed and mouths parted in shock – out of all the questions, the most important one slipped their minds! "Big brother here isn't the only one obsessed with opening that damn Tomb."

Stefan groaned at the renewed light in Damon's eyes. All the doubts, his feelings of a hope forever lost, vanished. Abandoning his position by the bar, he sped in front of Logan, a hunger resonating within, "Who?"

"Couldn't tell you, man. They weren't forthcoming with their names. All I know, is there are three vampires in town, uh…" Pensively, Logan slowly uttered, "One female, two males. The girl though, I got the vibe she's the leader of their little triad. She's short, about yay high-" he demonstrated with his hand and stroked his chin with the other, "-got a baby face. The guys: tall, dark, handsome – the usual cliché; although, the younger of the two looks really familiar, but I can't put my finger on it. They uh, they found me on my way back to town, instructed me to stir up trouble, spy on you and report back." A hateful scoff left him and he sneered, "Like I'd listen to them. I don't take orders from anyone, especially not murderous vampires that could pose a threat to my goddaughter and the girl I love."

Skeptic, Damon stated, his tone of voice resembling one reporting the weather, "I don't believe you."

Eyes twinkling incandescently, Logan responded with a shrug, his mischievous nature restored, "I know you probably don't hear this often, and it may come as a surprise to you, but I don't really care about your opinion of me." A chuckle that couldn't be repressed burst out of Stefan, prompting Damon to glower at him. Smirking, Logan winked at the younger Salvatore. "I only care about Snow. And Jenna. But Snow always comes first." Dusting imaginary lint from the rolled-up sleeve of his button-down shirt, Logan moved toward the front door, "Since I lived alone, I moved to a new place. If you need anything, you'll know where to find me."

And just as sudden as Logan Fell entered the Boarding House, he left. Dumbfounded, the brothers remained rooted in their spot. It was impossible for Stefan to leave Mystic Falls with three unknown vampires on the loose. Turning a member of the Council into a vampire was a risky move, one that spoke volumes about them.

"So, we're not leaving anymore, right," Damon, again, nonchalantly broke the silence, expectant gaze on his brooding brother.

Stefan glared, "I'm not."

Neither was Damon, and not because Stefan chose to remain. No… If three vampires were attempting to get into the Tomb, it meant there must be another way to open it. He just needed a Plan B, and he knew just who he would be paying a visit. His favorite witch…

Winter has always been Snow's favorite season. While physiologically difficult to coax your way out of bed due to the biting wind, the chance of rain, or perhaps the gloomy darkness shrouding your bedroom as the sun's full potential got blocked by countless clouds, Snow adored winter mornings. The moment her alarm went off, the raven-haired beauty would draw back the curtains and open the windows, allowing the weak sunlight and the sharp winter breeze to whip past her face and stream into her bedroom, her ivory complexion already beginning to redden from the cold.

Erroneous assumptions were made in regards to Snow and her love for the coldest season of the year. Some claimed – and lame claims that were wholly unoriginal – her partiality for winter was a side-effect of being named Snow. Others asserted it was because she was born on December.

They couldn't have been farther from the truth. The reason could be summed up to one person: her father, Stanley Silverstone.

All Snow's life, Stanley Silverstone was categorized as an absentee father; a fact she couldn't resent him for. Even when she watched the dynamics between her friends and their parents or overheard the latter murmuring amongst each other of how wrong and disappointing her father's absenteeism was when they wrongly believed they were out of hearing range, Snow still adored him to pieces. Snow's recollection of her first three years of life were tremendously vague, her memory consisting of blurred faces, faraway voices and transient incidents, and despite the momentous passing of Selene Silverstone that left an indelible mark on her daughter and on Mystic Falls, Snow – if she thought hard enough, or flickered through the scant albums she managed to pilfer from storage before Lucille padlocked it – could vaguely recall golden-blonde locks, almond-shaped violet eyes with an incandescent twinkle, and a lovely soprano voice.

Selene's unexpected death marked Stanley's return, him playing a larger role in his daughter's life than a recurring visitor once she became short one parent. Nevertheless, Stanley proceeded to be considered an absentee father, which was the sole reason he married Lucille and allowed her and her spawns' toxic energy into their house. For two years, before Lucille entered their lives, whenever Stanley Silverstone needed to leave town for long periods of time, he would leave his precious daughter in the trusted care of the Gilbert's, the Forbes' or the Lockwood's.

Despite everything, one memory clung to Snow – a cherished tradition that resurfaced whenever Snow felt blue or hopeless, or when she sat sequestered in her room, depressed and in tears, licking her wounds from the constant abuse Lucille and the twins emotionally, psychologically and physically inflicted on her. Every year, without fail, the second the clock struck midnight, signaling Snow's birthday, Stanley would walk through the front door, all teeth and jollity, his drawn and weary visage genuinely happy at the sight of his little girl waiting for him by the unlit fireplace. Bundled up in their winter attire, father and daughter would drive through Mystic Falls, irregardless of the late hour and the cold weather; while Stanley expertly drove through town, Snow exuberantly jumped in the passenger seat, her stunning eyes never leaving her father's face, chattering a mile a minute about everything that occurred in his absence. Nothing she imparted was considered nonsense or unimportant; Stanley was attentive and kind and genuinely interested – and, despite the category he fell under, nobody could contest the profound love and adoration Stanley Silverstone held for his only daughter.

Afterward, they would bundle up in thick sweaters by the roaring fireplace, Snow nestled in her father's strong, burly arms, a mug of hot chocolate cradled between their palms as a thick and wooly comforter enveloped their forms. The fireplace acting as their personal sun for the evening to combat the effects of the cold drive cast dancing shadows around them. The flames curled and swayed, dancing energetically and emitting the most soothing crackling sounds in the Manor's quietude as they burned the dry wood – the best place to receive warmth on a wintry night as decreed by Stanley, thus initiating a yearly tradition. And as the hours passed by, father and daughter would take turns to add more wood and poke it with the fire iron, Snow's joy radiating simultaneously with the fire's merry crackling as they licked at the new logs.

Alas, all good things eventually come to an end.

Closing the front door behind her, Snow tightened her secondhand coat around her willowy form and burrowed her hands deeper into its pockets, lest they freeze. Snow opted walking to school. Her friends didn't push the subject; knowing the significance of the day, the fifteen minute trek would act as a temporary palliative to the gaping hole that's become a constant feature in Snow's anatomy.

No sooner had she crossed the driveway, did a familiar voice call out from behind – a déjà vu-like sensation hitting her, the only difference being the person's identity and method of commute.

"Snow Silverstone. Hi."

Snow pivoted around, her head cocked to the side in confusion. Regardless of the cold weather, she felt her cheeks heat up with a subtle rosy flush upon finding herself on the receiving end of Logan Fell's roguish smile, his pearly whites on full display. He maintained her leisure pace, hands similarly tucked in the pockets of his black Burberry trench coat. Flushed with shame at the contrast between them – her, a trashy dressed pauper, and him, part of the rich, famous and elite, with his casual, confident gait and effortlessly handsome looks – Snow lowered her gaze, "Hello, Mr. Fell."

A small crease materialized between his honey-blonde brows. "Just Logan, kid," he winked.

Her gaze averted, Snow missed Logan's intent scrutiny of her person, his hazel orbs darkening in rage at her piss-poor and downtrodden condition – he didn't need the new and improved vision bestowed on by vampirism to recognize the plethora of signs of her mistreatment. Unseen, his hands balled into bone-white fists in his pockets, self-hatred consuming him for abandoning her, but most of all, fierce loathing bubbled inside him, trained at Lucille Styne. He wouldn't rest, not until he ensured Lucille pay for every bit of suffering she mercilessly doled out to Snow – and nobody knows revenge more than a Fell; in fact, the Fell Family personified the popular expression "revenge is a dish best served cold." There was a reason why the vampires were entombed and purported dead in Fell's Church, after all.

Oh, Lucille shall rue the day she mistreated and abused his goddaughter.

"Look, Honey, there's something important I need to tell you," quelling his rage and batting away the many scenarios of revenge he spontaneously created, Logan offered the teenager his trademark mischievous grin, hoping to alleviate her nerves.

Startled, Snow forgot her embarrassment to meet his kind eyes, nervously tucking an errant strand behind her ear, "O-Okay, what, what is it?"

"I'm gonna be blunt and put it out in the open: I'm a vampire," Logan divulged matter-of-factly, intently examining her reaction. Other than the marginal widening of her eyes, Snow didn't flinch, recoil away from him, or look at him any differently. And seriously, what's with this generation and their tolerance of vampires. "I don't want you to be scared of me. The truth is I'm staying in Mystic Falls to protect you."

Bemused eyes blinked at him. Logan Fell never struck her as someone concerned about her safety. "Protect, protect me? Why would you even care about me?" Snow whispered sadly, wide violet eyes holding his gaze.

"You remember me telling you I knew your father?" Logan gently broke into speech. At Snow's nod, he revealed, "What I neglected to mention growing up, I was best friends with your mother. In fact, she made me your godfather."

"Oh!" realization dawned on just as they stopped short in front of Mystic Falls High's parking lot. "Uncle Richard always mentioned something about a 'weasel' never being around. Was-" belatedly recognizing her unconscious slip of the tongue, she blushed profusely, an apology in her eyes.

More amused than offended, Logan threw his head back and barked out a laugh, eyes shining, "Yeah, I'm that weasel he kept talking about. I don't blame him. I was stupid and irresponsible and very selfish during my youth." He sobered all of a sudden and tentatively placed his hands on her shoulder, steering her until she was facing him, "I'm sorry for not looking out for you. There's absolutely no excuse. All I can do is promise to always be here for you from today onward. I promised Stanley and Selene I'd take care of you and regardless of what I've become I want you to come to me with anything. Anything, big, small, it doesn't matter, Snow. Any problems you have, or if you just want to talk or even a place to crash, you come to me. I'm your godfather and another uncle to you. And-" he looked slightly pained, the desperation and yearning in her beautiful violet eyes – in Selene's eyes – like a knife to the gut, "-if you want, I can tell you stories about your Mom. Got it, kiddo?"

"Thank you so much, Mr.-" Mouth clamped shut, Snow's head did a little shake and she beamed at him, her voice lacking any reserves, "Uncle Logan. So, does this mean, can I, can I see you after school?"

Grinning from ear to ear, Logan recited his new address and pulled her into an embrace, the affection starved girl not hesitating to wrap her arms around him and squeezing, almost as though she were reassuring herself that he was actually there and that their entire interaction wasn't a figment of her imagination. Hazel orbs then fondly watched his goddaughter run to Elena Gilbert and Bonnie Bennett, a new pep in her step.

"I believe you."

Having sensed eyes fixated on him the moment he and Snow entered the boundaries of the school and then heard the subtle approach of a vampire once the teenager parted from him, Logan remained rooted in place, confident that no harm would come to him, especially not in a crowded area. Smirking, hands interlaced behind his back, Logan kept his eyes ahead, and from his peripheral, Stefan stepped beside him. "Good, 'cause I meant what I said before, Stefan. You and your brother can do whatever the Hell you want for all I care. But if Snow gets hurt, or either one of you endangers her life, there will be Hell to pay. While you might be stronger than me, I've got a bunch of powerful witches on my side," Logan's threat was a long time coming; he's been itching to deliver it from the moment he became aware of his goddaughter's entanglement with the Salvatore brothers.

Sincere and solemn, Stefan instantly moved to placate the reporter, "The last thing I want to do is hurt anyone." He then swallowed, taking time to formulate a conjecture he made after much deliberation, "Damon might be volatile and hotheaded. And impulsive…But he genuinely cares about Snow."

A brusque dip of the head met the conjecture, "For your brother's sake, you better hope so." After a short spell of companionable silence, Logan stated, "She doesn't have a scent."

Half-skipping, half-running to her friends, Snow called out, "Elena, Bonnie!" Stopping short, they beamed at the soft-spoken girl, inwardly surprised by her shockingly good mood. Usually, on this day – weekend, really – Snow went through depression, her despondency lasting until her birthday's conclusion. Every year, on the third of December, Snow's birthday, they'd spend the day distracting her from the tradition she had with her late father; Miranda Gilbert would bake a homemade cake and they'd all gather at the Gilbert's or the Lockwood's for a dinner celebration, but as respect to Snow's feelings, they never went overboard.

Unaware of her friends' surprise, Snow linked arms with the witch, "Bonnie, how are you feeling about everything?"

An uncertain smile spread on Bonnie's face and she squeezed the timid girl's arm, "Honestly, I'm freaked out. Damon attacked me. I could be dead right now. But I'm also grateful." Snow nodded in agreement as Bonnie directed her next words to Elena, "To Stefan. He saved my life and… have you seen him?"

Stopping by their lockers and disregarding the milling students in the hallway, Elena sighed, unwinding her scarf from around her neck and tossing it inside. She turned to face her friends, a pout on her face, "Not since he told me he was leaving. For all I know, he's already gone."

"Na-uh! No way, Lena," Snow vigorously shook her head. "Stefan wouldn't leave, not before saying goodbye, at least. Last time he pulled the disappearing act, not only was he grieving, but he planned on returning," Snow sounded confident. Obviously with Snow, Bonnie nodded, "Exactly. Don't worry, Elena. He'll come around."

Releasing another sad sigh, Elena shrugged and grabbed her books with unnecessary force, "He thinks he's protecting me. Clean break and all that."

"So what are you gonna do?" Bonnie asked.

Exasperated, Elena slammed shut her locker door and mixed the padlock combination, "What am I supposed to do? I've already begged him not to go. If I ask again, I'm being selfish. It is what it is."

"Maybe it's for the best," Bonnie blurted out. "I mean, what kind of future could you have had with him if he stayed."

Her forehead furrowed, Snow hated to admit, but Bonnie did make a decent point, her statement a legitimate point for concern. Unless Elena planned on becoming a vampire at some point in her life, their relationship won't be going anywhere. Unless vampires are capable of procreating or Elena's perfectly fine with being the elderly woman dating, or married to, an eternal stud stuck at seventeen. Nevertheless, the romantic in Snow couldn't help but protest and she lightly swatted Bonnie on arm, "Hey. You're forgetting that love prevails all."

Bonnie groaned, "I forgot we had a sappy romantic among us."

Scowling, Snow responded by sticking her tongue out stuck her tongue out. Their conversation reached an abrupt halt when, all of a sudden, a banner emblazoned with 'The Promise of your Future' in large font dropped directly in front of the three teens. Eyebrow arched at the unlikely coincidence, Elena, thinking their witch friend utilized her powers of telekinesis to drive her point home, stuttered, "Did-, did you just…?"

Head shaking wildly, Bonnie quickly vocalized a rebuttal, "No, I swear." Changing the subject, Bonnie awkwardly addressed Snow, whose lips were parted in shock, "By the way, Snow. For your birthday tomorrow, Caroline's on cake duty."

Blinking away the moisture from her eyes, Snow pressed her lips together and sharply inclined her head. Similarly, Elena struggled to keep her tears at bay. Baking Snow's birthday cake used to be Miranda's duty, but this year, she was no longer with them—

"I'm going to class," Snow and Elena unconsciously intoned, the latter grumpily smacking the banner out of her face before they stormed off to history with Mr. Saltzman, leaving a slightly guilty Bonnie to run after them.

Seeing the structure looming closer, an ecstatic Snow quickly jogged down the path. Upon the cessation of classes, Snow made the decision to visit the graves of her parents, Uncle Grayson, and Aunt Miranda at the cemetery, searching for closure. Logan's disclosure and his presence ignited something in Snow and determination resonated through her being.

She didn't want to be the sad girl anymore. She wanted to enjoy life and appreciate the fact that she's alive. To celebrate the day she had been brought into the world without reservations, to remember her parents and not enter a state of depression. Enter Logan Fell – with him a constant figure in her life and a bridge to her dead mother, life was starting to look up. Logan, no! Uncle Logan, her godfather!, promised to take care of her and protect her… he was rich and famous, and a prominent figure in Mystic Falls, which meant Lucille couldn't deliberately anger him or go against his wishes. Neither could she forbid her from seeing him, not only was it legally impossible, but social suicide.

Violet eyes brightened at the sight of Wickery Bridge, glad the pang of sadness upon seeing the structure had numbed. Checking left and right for incoming cars, Snow put a foot forward when suddenly, something large collided into her back and dragged her away from public view. The heavy weight proved too much for her willowy form and she sagged despite her valiant attempt to fend off her attacker. Too fixated was Snow on the stranger that had a tight grip on her from behind, it took her a while to realize a hand twist around her form and make a jabbing motion toward her stomach. The sharp, agonizing pain that blossomed in her abdomen elicited a shrill cry of pain, its crescendo muffled by a larger, gloved hand. Looking down, tears streamed down her face, tracing her cheekbones and coursing down her chin, horrified by the blade embedded in her stomach, its entire spine disappearing inside her, the handle protruding.

As the blade twisted deeper, eliciting immeasurable pain from her, Snow bit down hard on her attacker's hand; unfortunately, the glove's thick fabric was impenetrable and her efforts culminated in a harsh blow across her face. As the blade persistently dug deeper into abdomen, Snow feared it would rip through her spinal cord and subsequently, her back. She screamed and thrashed and attempted a few kicks, to no avail.

Finally, the blade emerged from her abdomen, but by then, the fight had left her.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, the next thing Snow knew, her form was hurled over Wickery Bridge. Plunging headfirst into the murky water may have been a blessing to Snow Silverstone. Unfortunately, her head smashed against the rocky slope, adding more cuts and bruises to her already battered body, and she slumped face first into the ground, the bottom half of her form soaking in the water.

Snow Silverstone lost consciousness, drowning in a puddle of her blood.

The split-second the blade plunged into Snow's abdomen, an alarm got triggered.

A few miles away, a house succumbed to the deafening wails of a caterwauling alarm, notifying its inhabitant of a great tragedy.

An ominous sensation coursing through her veins, she rushed into the living room and grabbed the handset of her landline, her nimble fingers, despite the trembling hand it belonged to, quickly dialing a number. Waiting for the person on the other end to pick up, she tapped her foot impatiently when—

"Hello?"

Inhaling sharply, she frantically stated, "It has happened."

"What has?" a lilt of confusion laced the woman's voice.

Mahogany orbs full of sorrow, she clutched her chest and choked out, "The alarm went off."

His gait swift and visage troubled, Logan strode into Mystic Falls High which was currently holding Career Night. Cloaking his franticness behind an impassive mask, he stalked the hallways, scoping the stands and the throng of students, and when he couldn't locate his target, worried frown lines appeared on his forehead. Emitting a frustrated noise, he redialed Snow's cellphone for probably the hundredth time since school let out.

He waited for her after school, but she never came. Once the hour mark came and went, thinking Snow, thanks to her kind nature, felt she might be intruding on his hospitality and allowed her shyness to consume her, he went to the Grill to confront her, only for Roy Dawson to inform him she had missed her shift.

This left him with only one option: Career Night.

For once, Logan didn't care that Jenna was blatantly avoiding him, disregarding the numerous dirty glares she sent his way. His only concern was his goddaughter and her current whereabouts. Approaching aunt and niece, both of whom were giggling over a pamphlet, the moment his shadow cast over them, Jenna folded her arms together and indignantly growled, "What do you want?"

"Jenna, if the circumstances were different, I'd go down on my knees and beg for forgiveness. Regrettably, I've a more important matter to deal with." Not that he did anything. It wasn't his fault he died, and he sure as Hell didn't send her an email – that was on Liz. Barely sparing Jenna's surprised face a second glance, Logan transferred his attention to her bewildered niece, the intensity of his hazel eyes making her squirm, "Elena, when was the last time you saw Snow?"

"Uh, right after school ended, why?" nervous, Elena gulped, a pit forming in her stomach at the seriousness of the situation. Elena had never seen Logan Fell, the proud bachelor, intrepid reporter, charming seducer and all around bad boy of Mystic Falls who rarely took anything seriously, according to Jenna, look so severe and solemn.

Logan merely responded with an incomplete shake of the head as his gaze landed on Stefan. Leaving the speechless duo, Logan quickly made his way over and dragged the Salvatore brother aside. He struggled to regain his composure, especially with Richard Lockwood and Sheriff Forbes' following stares, gauging on whether or not he was a worthy guardian to Snow. "Snow's missing," he hissed.

Forest green orbs widened, "What!?"

Face grim, he kept his eyes peeled on his surroundings in case the raven-haired beauty made an appearance, hopeful he was simply overreacting and that Snow had chosen to sequester herself in her room. "She was supposed to meet me at my place after school but she never showed. She hasn't picked up any of my calls and when I stopped by the Grill, the manager said she missed her shift. He also said it was troubling because Snow never skips, and if she did, she'd call beforehand to apologize," throughout his hurried speech, hazel orbs scoured every single individual that crossed his line of vision, and, upon hearing approaching footsteps, his unnerving stare promptly fell on Elena.

She faltered, uncomfortable with his piercing scrutiny. However, once Stefan confided in her their current dilemma, she joined Stefan's frantic endeavors and called around, asking for Snow, going through her contact list at an alarming pace and immediately alerting Caroline and Bonnie. Leaving them to it, Logan apprised Sheriff Forbes and Mayor Lockwood of the situation, both of whom instantly swallowed down the impressive tongue-lashing they had planned on giving him about taking responsibility.

Almost immediately, Liz dispatched her deputies to begin the search for Snow Silverstone. After all, Mystic Falls was known for housing a population of vampires in 1864, and therefore, the twenty-four hour rule was nonexistent when it came to reports about missing persons.

A lot can change in one night.

One wrong turn can lead to a series of unfortunate events. Executing the wrong decision could lead to disastrous results.

And in Mystic Falls, everything that could go wrong did go wrong, all in the span of one night.

Worried sick for her best friend, Elena followed Stefan's advice and returned to the Boarding House with him. In part, it was because neither one of them wanted to be alone; the other reason, they hoped Damon would be there, probably going through a bottle of bourbon, licking his wounds, where they would inform him of the situation and have him keep an eye out for her.

Entering the kitchen to make coffee, Stefan left Elena's side for a minute. Just one minute. That minute was all it took for her to discover the tintype photograph of Katherine he kept in his room, enlightening the horrified brunette of her uncanny resemblance to Stefan's vampire ex-girlfriend.

Paralyzed with fear over her friend's fate, heartbroken over the assumption she made, that she was merely a substitute for Katherine, and confused over the freaky resemblance they shared, Elena, unmindful of the consequences and the foolishness of her action, ripped out the vervain-infused necklace from around her neck, placed it atop the picture and left the safety of the Boarding House.

Tears blurring her vision, Elena sped through the deserted roads of Mystic Falls, one hand on the steering wheel and the other repeatedly punching in Snow's cellphone number. Too distressed and out of her mind with worry, fear, confusion, Elena didn't recognize a figure standing in the middle of the road and blocking her path until it was too late. Emitting a shriek, the brunette swerved to avoid him. Her attempt was futile; hitting the figure, the car flipped into the air several times before it crashed on the tarmac, only becoming stationary once it was upside down.

Slowly, the figure's limbs began to move until they stood upright. Elena, her wide chocolate orbs on the approaching hooded figure, let out a shrilly scream as she struggled to eject her seatbelt. Of course it was stuck! Realizing it was a vampire, and that her chances of escaping alive were slim to none, her tears renewed with a vengeance. The sound of boots impacting against the gravelly tarmac stopped right outside her window and she screamed. Suddenly, the man disappeared, replaced by Damon Salvatore.

Sighing, Damon ripped apart the seatbelt with his bare hands and carried her unconscious form to his car. Dumping her inside, he shrugged and proceeded to drive out of Mystic Falls. The added baggage – Elena – wasn't about to put a dent in the plan he formulated; he had an appointment in Georgia.

If Elena were awake, Damon would've been made aware of the missing girl, and as a result, would have used his amplified vision to locate Snow. While Snow's blood didn't have a scent, then maybe, just maybe, the elder Salvatore, knowing she was missing in the first place, would have taken note of the immobile form drenched in a puddle of blood a few feet below him as his car sped over Wickery Bridge.

While the citizens of Mystic Falls frantically searched for their golden girl, around a thousand miles away, a woman, full of trepidation, dialed a number, one she had been entrusted with and ordered to use solely in the case of emergencies concerning one specific person.

The line rang twice before a deep, smooth yet gruff voice picked up, sounding like he had been sleeping and promptly awoken by the call. "'Lo?" he grunted.

"It's me," she stated. Not giving him the cantankerous man a chance to speak, she said, "I know it's late, but you need to get to Mystic Falls, now."

Any and all traces of sleep vanished at her ominous declaration. Jolting into a sitting position, he quickly reached out for his steel-toe boots and blindly shoved them on. Having slept in his clothes, he crossed the room in two large strides, pulled on his jacket and draped his duffle-bag over his shoulder, car keys in hand. It barely took a minute for him to get ready for the ensuing car ride and, slamming the driver door shut, he shouted into the cellphone secured between his ear and shoulder, "What happened?!"

There was only one reason he would make the trip down to Mystic Falls, only one. Starting the car, he simultaneously felt his blood run cold and a chill down his spine, both sensations that wracked his body having nothing to do with the biting cold of winter.

"It's bad. All I know, the Vigilant Spell is blaring crazy mad. You need to get down there immediately. I-I don't think she has much time. A fellow witch cast the spell that'd alert us if she's in danger, and late afternoon, it did. From what she's told me, you're her only hope."

Dropping the phone in his lap, he relentlessly punched the leather wheel with one large fist, its veins bulging. Exhaling harshly through his nose, he forcefully grabbed his discarded phone and barked into it, his words interspersed with menacing growls, "You better hope she survives, Sophie! Otherwise it's your coven's asses on the line." Furious, he hung up on her.

Stepping on the engine, the man proceeded to drive over the required speed limit. Every minute was precious and he couldn't waste the limited time he had… He needed to get to Mystic Falls before Snow died.

"Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'." – Dean Winchester

"I know you. You're always one step from a "maybe", a tiny nudge to "yes"." – Logan Fell

"So, I was thinking, since I know my way around a kitchen better than you, and no way are we letting Snow bake her own cake… the theme's always been homemade. We can't let Mrs. Lockwood order a cake. I'll do Snow's birthday cake." – Caroline Forbes (to Elena and Bonnie)

"I live in fear. It consumes me. In the early evening when I see the sun begin to fade, the fear comes, because I know that the night brings death." – Jeremy Gilbert (reading Johnathan Gilbert's Journal)

"She needs someone nice like him, as opposed to a homicidal vampire like Damon." – Bonnie Bennett

Richard Lockwood: "Dear, don't overdo it. You know how Snow is. Just keep it small and simple." Carol Lockwood: "But she's turning 17, Richard! ...Fine, fine. But I'm doubling her presents."

"Can't help but feel cheated, Soph. All this time, all those training sessions and aneurysms you put me through to increase my immunity and achieve rock-hard self-control… Snow has no scent. At all! Nothing, nada!" – Logan Fell

"For right now, there is nowhere safer than a crowded public place, and for once, Mayor, we actually know where our kids are." – Sheriff Forbes

"Look, Snow didn't show up for her shift. It's not like her. Skipping work and not bothering to let me know, to Snow Silverstone, that's the absolute sin." – Roy Dawson

"You know I wanted to be a doctor before everything happened, but, uh, then I couldn't, 'cause…" – Stefan Salvatore

"I don't wanna talk about my future, Stefan. Because everything you're saying is making it perfectly clear that you're not gonna be in it." – Elena Gilbert

"The scum Fell has landed." – Jenna Sommers

"I told you, it's not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes. Weird dreams." – Sam Winchester

"Dad could be in trouble, we should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean. I mean, this is our family we're talking about." – Sam Winchester

"Career night is the new bowling." – Jenna Sommers

"You don't fight in there like pansies. You take it outside, fight your battles like men, and move on. Best lesson my Dad taught me. So let's settle it. Fight." – Richard Lockwood

"You look like a full grown alpha male douchebag." – Alaric Saltzman

"Look, I like Caroline. She's got this thing…this way about her…and I like her ok? And I'm not gonna defend it or apologize about." – Matt Donovan

"Snow, please, please pick up! Something, something happened with Stefan and… I need you. I need to talk to you. I need my best friend. Please, pick up." – Elena Gilbert

"I want every single corner of this town searched. Bring in hounds, I don't care! I want Snow Silverstone found, and I want her found now!" – Richard Lockwood

"I look like her…" – Elena Gilbert

"My my… Mystic Falls. What a sinister sounding town. What are you doing there…" – Meg

A/N: The plot begins to thicken in this chapter. Bear with me, I know you are all curious as to who all the anonymous people are, but don't worry, you will find out soon. I gotta add some suspense ;)

(1) Did you like how I changed Logan's role? I enjoyed writing his interaction with Stefan and Damon and I hated the fact that they killed him in the show. I root for the underdog most times, LOL! Also, if you refer to the 'CAST', you'd see I changed the actor. Logan Fell's face-claim is Wilson Bethel. To those who watched and are huge fans of 'Hart of Dixie', and lurveee Wade Kinsella, like I do! Then, enjoy the sexiness of Logan. You'd be able to imagine the charm and bad-boy vibe he radiates clearly. Damon Salvatore - you have met your match in Logan!

(2) Also, if it isn't clear, Snow's birthday is December 3rd. This episode takes place December 2nd and the next day is the 3rd. Just to clear up any confusion. I hope you were intrigued by the additional background I provided regarding Snow and her father, Stanley.

(3) Some might be confused about the interchanging surnames I give Lucille. Especially if any of you are actually reading the quotes I insert at the end of every chapter. It will be explained as the story continues. I won't ruin this brilliant piece of plot-twist *wink, wink* I just wanted to let you know it wasn't a typo.

(4) On another note, continuing the timeline of SPN Universe: this chapter coincides with Asylum. However, since Asylum occurred in a span of at least a week, next chapter will occur during Asylum as well. Cheers!

R&R.