The Lost One

by Jewelz1642

There was another girl who Elijah and Klaus fought over, their best friend and the twin sister of Tatia. She was supposedly gone forever, until they find not only Tatia's doppelganger, Elena, but her twin sister and also doppelganger, Emilia. Season 1-4 OC rewrite. Full summary inside. Officially rewritten and now updating regularly(ish)

26. Chapter 26

Ch. 26 – 3x01 The Birthday

A/N: Season 3! Here we go! So, (half of) this is basically one long omake, rewriting the first episode of season 3. We get to see snapshots of how everyone is coping after the sacrifice and without Emilia... But don't worry, she's here too.

Posted: 11/7/22

---

Elena blinks, waking up in a pleasant fog, a smile still on her lips. She blinks a few more times and she sits up, her smile falling.

"Oh," she sighs, realizing it was a dream. She takes another moment and a deep breath before she gets up. She lumbers over to her curtains, taking another deep breath before she whips them open. Sunlight hits her skin, but she doesn't feel it. It doesn't burn her, so she doesn't care. And then she sighs and hates herself for a moment for even wanting the sun to burn her skin. She turns away from the window, stopping to look at the pictures on her vanity.

Her parents. And their siblings. And hers.

"Happy Birthday, Emilia," she whispers to herself, running a finger gently over the picture of her twin.

She breaks off contact and clears her throat, trying to push away any sadness. 'She wouldn't want this. Not on our birthday,' Elena thinks to herself. She takes a moment and sits on her bed to silently grieve and to prepare herself for the day. One that is already shaping up to be rather terrible.

She never anticipated that her 18th birthday would feel like this.

She drags herself into her bathroom. Not even chancing a glance at the locked door on the other side, Elena starts her morning routine. She uses only the products on the left side of the bathroom, the ones on the right gathering dust. She washes her face and gets ready, never looking her reflection in the eye.

With another deep breath, and a quick glance to the mirror, Elena deems herself ready for the day. She walks out and into her brother's room. Pulling open the curtains, shining light directly onto her sleeping brother.

"Ugh, early. Bad," Jeremy mumbles.

Elena sighs, walking over to him, "It's not early." She starts pulling the covers off of Jeremy and pushing him upright and out the door. "You're late for work. Matt just called."

Jeremy sits up, grabbing his phone, and checking the time. He sighs, realizing she's right. He is late. "Maybe they'll fire me," he suggests.

Elena pauses in the doorway for just a second, "Aim high," she tries to say sarcastically. But her tone hints at the sadness hidden right behind.

Jeremy sighs and pulls himself to sitting at the edge of his bed. He knows why Elena is sad. He may not be able to feel it to the same level, but he misses his sister too. 'And it's all my fault,' he thinks to himself. He angrily pulls himself up and gets ready as quick as he can. 'Emmy wouldn't want me to waste a job opportunity like this. She'd be pissed at me if I lost my job because I was late.' He pauses as he grabs his stuff. 'Happy Birthday, Emilia. I hope you are happier wherever you are, because we all miss you so much here.' And he walks out.

Elena, missing all of Jeremy's internal monologue, just continued down the stairs. Her phone starts to ring, it's Caroline.

She picks it up with, "What are you doing?"

Caroline answers brightly on the other side of the phone, "Just shopping for the party you're trying to bail out on."

Elena rolls her eyes. The gesture falls a little flat as she's on the phone, "I never said yes in the first place."

"You were never going to," Caroline replies, a little sing-songy. "Which is why I planned it anyway." Caroline, feeling a little guilty at her selfish reasons for planning a party, immediately changes the subject, quickly bringing up, "And my mom wants you to call her."

Elena stops in the middle of her kitchen, "Did she find something?"

Caroline sighs quietly, "An animal attack in Memphis. It's the third one this week in Tennessee."

"And you're sure it's a vampire?" Elena asks to confirm, leaning against the kitchen island as she watches Alaric fiddle with the coffee maker. He looks up and she makes eye contact. They both know what her question means.

As does Caroline, as she elaborates, "Yes, but it doesn't mean that it's Klaus."

Elena sighs, "It doesn't mean it's not. I'll call her." She pushes Alaric to the side, quickly inserting the coffee pot in the correct way and starting the machine.

"Well, call her on her cell," Caroline says.

"Tell her thank you for her help," Elena replies. She pauses for a moment, wondering if it's even worth asking. "Did she mention anything about…"

Caroline's smile falls. She stops in the middle of her path through to town courtyard. Tyler, having just spotted her, slows when he sees her smile fall. Caroline interrupts Elena unfinished question, "No."

Elena sighs, blinking away tears as she stares at the filling coffee pot, "Yeah, no. That's fine. No news is good news, right?" she asks rhetorically.

"It'll be okay, Elena," Caroline answers. "She's fine, wherever she is. I genuinely believe that." All participants of the conversation know who the 'she' is, but only Tyler has a hint to why Caroline won't say her name. Tyler comes up to Caroline and places a hand on her shoulder. She gives him a small, sad smile before she turns back to the phone.

"Well, thank you both for all of your help," Elena says, trying to fake some polite cheer.

It doesn't work, but Caroline is willing to fake it like the best of them, "Alright, well, I've got to go. I'll see you in a bit," she says.

Caroline is about to hang up her Bluetooth when Elena interrupts, "Oh, wait! Just…keep tonight small…please."

"Wear something pretty," is all Caroline says in reply as she immediately hangs up.

Elena pulls the phone away from her ear and sighs.

Alaric, from the living room where he is clearing the blankets off the couch, asks, "Was that, uh, Stefan news?"

"Could be more Klaus victims," Elena answers as she pulls a mug out of the cabinet.

"You're certain Stefan's still with him?" Alaric asks.

"Easy to be certain when the alternative is that he's dead," Elena answers sadly, pouring herself come coffee. She looks up and pauses, "Are you sure you're still okay on the couch?"

"Yeah," Alaric sighs.

She sets the coffee pot down as she continues, "Look, you've been bouncing between Jenna's room and the couch all summer. You can have your own bedroom."

"I'm never quite comfortable being in my dead girlfriend's room," Alaric shrugs, looking away. She sighs and walks back to the kitchen. He focuses back on her and calls before he can stop himself, "Hey, Elena."

She turns, "Yeah?"

Alaric swallows the sudden catch in his throat. He knows this day is painful and it sucks that this message can't be a positive as it can be, considering the circumstances. But he wishes her well anyways, so he sighs and wishes her a "Happy Birthday".

Elena scoffs sadly, and quietly replies, "Thanks", before walking away, trying to escape the feelings of this day.

---

Damon, after his conversation with Elena, stares at the map and the different pins on his wall. He looks to the new lead that Elena had given him. The one for Stefan. He sighs and rubs his finger against the page.

"God, this would be so much easier if Emilia was here," he comments.

And then his cold, shriveled heart falls to his stomach.

Emilia is gone because of him.

He got bit. Jeremy followed after him and got shot. Emilia left because of that. And so did Stefan.

Too bad he couldn't find Emilia as well as Stefan.

Too bad that the one who would be of most help in finding Stefan and Emilia… is Emilia.

He runs his finger along the map again before he forces himself to turn away and close the closet door.

He stops and looks at the map one more time, memorizing the details he had on his brother and the new location to visit with Ric.

"Happy Birthday, Buffy," he whispers to the room. "I really do hope you are safe, Emilia."

Before he closes the door, takes a sip of his drink, and forces all kinds of pitying emotions out of his mind.

---

Damon's cell rings as they step out of the SUV in front of a house in Tennessee, the site of latest animal attack. Likely, the site of Stefan's latest attack. Damon looks at the house and then denies the call.

Alaric comes from the driver's side of the car. "Elena?" he asks, referring to the phone call.

"Yeah," Damon replies.

Alaric stars walking to the house, "I don't know why you just don't come clean and tell her where we are," he admits.

"Cause Andie said this was a half-lead and I don't want to get her hopes up," Damon points out.

"Yeah, well, they're all half-leads," Alaric replies. He looks back to the car, "and I'm your accomplice." He turns back to Damon, "What do you want me to say to her?" he asks. "I'm basically living there," he finishes a bit sardonically.

"Still sleeping on the couch?" Damon asks, looking around.

"You know, I keep waiting for them to kick me out. But they don't. I don't know why," Alaric comments. "It's not like I'm helping or anything."

"Hmm," is all Damon can reply.

They both know that their minds have gone to Emilia. While Alaric may not be helping much, but it's because they both know how deeply the loss of Emilia and Jenna is felt by the two remaining Gilbert's. Especially because they have begun to understand just how much she did for the family. From any cooking that was done at home, to dealing with some of the bills, to supporting her siblings and protecting them and everyone from supernatural threats, and on top of that retaining her impossibly high GPA, it's amazing how Emilia got any sleep. Alaric has started to realize that she probably didn't. Still, Alaric feels ridiculously inadequate compared to a teenaged girl. But even with his minimal help, and his bouncing between the couch and Jenna's room, he feels the loss of Jenna and Emilia along with Jeremy and Elena, and he can't help but stay and help, even if it is as little as he does. He just wish he felt better about it.

After a few minutes of silence, he finally points out the atmosphere of this house, "It's quiet."

And from there, the focus remains on finding Stefan, the one they at least have some hope of finding.

---

A few hours later, the party has started in Mystic Falls. Elena Gilbert's 18th Birthday Bash is up and rolling. Every teenager in town has shown up to drink themselves stupid and try to forget the awkwardness over the fact that there should be two names on the invitation. It's done with a depressing amount of ease.

Caroline is wandering around the house, making sure the party is lively and plastering a fake smile to hide the tightness in her chest and the lump in her throat. So, she throws herself into organizing the event to be the best party of the year to try to forget how at any other party, she would be dancing with her best friend. The girl who would be complaining in the corner about the stupidity of their classmates or would be mocking Caroline and Bonnie for drinking so much. The girl who would hate this party as much as her twin, the one whose party this is and who has yet to appear.

Elena is upstairs, finishing getting ready in Stefan's room. She runs her hands along her flowy, white lace dress and sighs when she sees her single reflection in the mirror. She looks down and brushes off some invisible lint and fixes the fitting of the dress. When she looks back up at the mirror, she sees Damon behind her, chilling against the doorway.

She sighs sadly, "Don't worry. I'm not going to lose it." She turns to face him, "At least not before the cake."

Her tone is a little too sad for a sentence that is supposed to be reassuring, so Damon points out, "It's your party, you can cry if you want to." She smiles at his small joke. He stands up and moves into the room. "Ah, Stefan," he starts. Elena starts looking around the room as he does. "Such a pack rat," Damon points out. He walks over and picks up a framed picture of Stefan and Elena. He hums as he rubs his finger over Elena's necklace in the picture. He turns back to the girl at hand, "I got you something." Elena starts to shake her head, but Damon continues, walking towards her, "I know you said not to buy you anything, so don't worry, I didn't pay for it."

"You stole it?" Elena asks, surprised.

"No," Damon defends. He opens the box he had pulled out from his pocket, "Found it."

Elena looks down and gasps, "My necklace." She looks up at Damon and then back down to lift her necklace out of the box, "I thought I'd never see it again."

"Alaric found it in his loft. I figured you'd be happy to get it back," Damon explains.

Elena smiles gently at Damon, "I am happy." Damon smiles back. "Thank you," Elena says quietly.

"You're welcome," Damon replies even quieter.

Elena flounders for a second under his stare, but then asks politely, "Can you…can you help me?"

"Sure," Damon answers as Elena turns and lifts her hair.

After the necklace rests on her chest, Elena feels another weight settle on her chest. It feels good to have her necklace again. It feels like having a part of Stefan with her. But with the reminder of Stefan, she feels the loss of her sister more heavily. Emilia should be here. Emilia would understand the feelings she gets from this necklace and what it means to Stefan and her relationship. Elena wants to be sharing this whole day with her sister and she can't believe that she is separated from her twin on their 18th birthday.

"You ready?" Damon asks.

"Not yet," Elena says sadly. Damon takes a step closer to Elena who is staring at her reflection.

She turns her head to him slightly, just enough to glance at him through the corner of her eyes, "You know Emilia and I don't technically share a birthday. I was born first, but late at night, close to but before midnight. Emilia was born a few minutes later, after midnight. We were born less than 10 minutes apart, but my birthday is today and hers is technically tomorrow. According to my mom, we used to celebrate both days, but when we turned 7, Emilia decided that it was easier to celebrate on my birthday." Elena gives a watery chuckle as she explains, "She always says that the only reason I was first was because she pushed me out. And for our seventh birthday, she sat up super tall and said 'Daddy, we're gonna celebrate Lena's birthday, because I did the work and pushed her out. That's more important.' And from then on, we would officially celebrate together on my birthday." Elena wipes under her eyes, trying to keep the tears from ruining her makeup. "But once we were old enough to secretly stay awake for our actual birth moments, that's when we would have our own party and I would get to celebrate her too."

She takes a shuddering breath, looking up and trying to stop the tears. "I thought last year would be our hardest birthday. I didn't want to wake up and not have our parents there to celebrate. But Emilia had already woken up and prepared every single birthday tradition that we had done with and without our parents, from blueberry pancakes in the morning to making a really simply decorated cake - because our mom wasn't good at decorating cakes and would always mess up the frosting – and she took the time to get me the same kind of presents that our parents would have, because she didn't want us to feel that they were gone from us forever, not on our day. She kept me laughing the whole day, and when our birth time finally came, we sat silently and for the first time that whole summer, I could mourn our parents without feeling guilty and upset. It was the first time I felt like I could accept living without them. And it was all because of Emilia."

Her hands come up to her chest as if she rub the pain in her chest away, "And now, Emilia isn't here. And I just… I don't know how to live without her today."

Damon looks at her sadly, trying to find something to say to make things better. "I know I'm not the best at healthy coping mechanisms, but it seems like you are living fine enough without her."

Elena's head whips at him in anger.

Damon holds his hands up in a surrender position, "I'm not saying that today doesn't hurt and that you don't miss her. I get that. I'm just saying that you are standing just fine. Now, I don't know Emilia as well as you do, but based on that whole 'charming childhood' story, I would wager some of my best bourbon that Emilia wouldn't want you to be sad today. She wasted a lot of time trying to keep you alive and happy, and getting you to this day. It seems like she wouldn't want you to be upset that you are here. Aannd, there is a party downstairs just ready for you to distract yourself with some fun. So, let's go downstairs, you know, drink a lot of cheap booze, dance a bit, eat some actually good cake, and just keep living."

Elena sighs and takes a few moments to think it over before she nods sadly.

Damon looks at her for one moment, "I mean I'll wait, because right now you are gonna kill a lot of buzzes with that frowny face."

Elena elbows him in the stomach before throwing a fake, polite smile at him. He nods before standing straight and offering her his arm. She grab his arm gently and he leads her out of the room and downstairs to a large party all over the ground floor of the Boarding House.

Elena looks around in confusion and surprise and a bit horrified. Caroline spots them and immediately prepares her apology and defense. Luckily, Elena takes a deep breath, plasters a smile and asks her blonde friend, "What are we drinking?"

---

In another room, Jeremy is rolling a blunt and sealing the ends, when Matt plops down on the couch next to Jeremy and asks, "Where did you get that?"

"Uh, Henry, from the kitchen, sold me a dime," Jeremy replies.

Matt takes the blunt and picks up a lighter from the coffee table, "So, what's got you on your spiral downward?" He starts lighting the end of the blunt, "I'm sure it's a lot more interesting than mine."

The visions of ghosts appear in Jeremy's mind as he answers, "You do not want to know."

"How bad can it be?" Matt asks brightly.

Jeremy just sighs, even he doesn't understand everything that happened in May.

"I already know everything else," Matt says, his tone softer and sadder. "Go for it."

Jeremy takes the now smoking blunt from Matt's hand. He holds it up, about to lift it to his mouth when he sighs, "You know I died right? And Bonnie used magic to bring me back." He pauses for a second, looking unfocused down at the table. "Actually, now that I think about it, everyone left in my family has died and came back to life with magic."

"Yeah," Matt sighs. "Elena told me when I asked about my letter from Emilia."

Jeremy flinches at his missing sister's name. He shakes his head a bit and focuses on the conversation at hand, "Well, ever since I came back, I've been seeing…things."

"What things?" Matt asks.

"Just…things I shouldn't be seeing," Jeremy tries to shrug off. Best not to tell people about seeing ghosts. Although that would be easier to explain than whatever he is feeling now about being at this party.

"What's Bonnie say about it?"

Jeremy scoffs, "I haven't told her. I haven't told anybody." He falls back in the chair, "It's just messing with my head is all. You know I just need to chill out. So... this," Jeremy holds up the blunt. Maybe this will help…something.

Matt chuckles drunkenly and slaps Jeremy's knee, "Yeah."

---

Elena, after finding Jeremy smoking and sending Alaric after him, heads back upstairs to be somewhere quiet. She walks into Damon's room and hears a voice call from the bathroom, "This room's off limits!"

Elena walks further inside to see Caroline pop out from the bathroom.

"Sorry," Caroline sighs. She holds up her blood bag, "I just needed to take a beat." Elena huff out a laugh. Caroline puts the blood bag down and walks closer to her friend. "Are you hiding?" she asks.

"I was just looking for Damon," Elena answers.

Caroline crosses her arms, "Well, he'd better be here somewhere, because we haven't even done the cake yet."

Elena sighs and shifts her weight on her feet, "I think I'm going to skip the whole cake thing."

"No!" Caroline exclaims, "No way, no! It's your birthday." Elena looks down and sighs, but Caroline continues to try to convince her, "It's the dawn of a new day, and you can't get on with your life until you've made a wish and blown out some candles."

Elena blinks, "Is that what you all want me to do? Just get on with my life?"

"No," Caroline sighs. Elena gives her a look. "Maybe," she acquiesces. Caroline sighs and admits, "I just don't think anyone wants to see you like this." Caroline mumbles, "I don't think Emilia would want to see you like this."

Elena flinches back and turns her head away for a second, gritting her teeth. She turns back to her friend in front of her, "I'm not just going to give up on finding Stefan, Caroline."

Caroline just barely manages to keep from rolling her eyes, but her tone still bleeds her sarcasm, "Of course not." She takes a quick breath before fixing her tone to be more sincere, "And you shouldn't." Elena tries to leave, but Caroline stops her, "But you have to admit that you're kinda just letting your life pass you by. And isn't Emilia the one who sacrificed herself to make sure you live it?" She takes a moment and adds, "And Stefan as well. They both wanted you to live your life."

Elena scoffs, "You want me to make a wish?" She sighs, "I just want to know that he's alive." She swallows, "That's it. That's my wish."

Elena steps away in the direction of Damon's open closet, but Caroline frowns at her back. "That's your wish!"

Elena turns back to Caroline, ignoring the open door for now, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that your sister literally died for you. Your twin! She died and came back, for you, and then, she sacrificed herself again so you could come back when her first plan didn't work! She did all that, and your birthday wish, on the day that you share, is for you to know that Stefan is safe?!"

Elena reels back in defense, and suddenly all her anger and frustration at her sister's disappearance comes out on Caroline, "She didn't sacrifice herself for me! She just left! She got upset and scared when Jeremy was shot, and she left! She had no idea that leaving would wake me up! It was a stupid coincidence and it meant that I lost her! She's gone, Caroline! And no one has heard a thing from her!"

"That doesn't mean that she isn't out there!" Caroline defends her friend. "She had just singlehandedly lost every single remaining member of her family in a matter of days - all of them if you include your parents' death a year ago – and she was the only one left. You weren't waking up! She had to deal with the funerals for John and Jenna all by herself! Of course, she was emotional and upset! She didn't leave your bedside for that entire week, planning a funeral and researching how to fix you from right next to you! And the only time she left, Jeremy wound up shot!" Caroline flinches as she's reminded of her best friend's explosion and subsequent breakdown over her single remaining family member's dead body. Caroline's voice lowers, "You didn't see her when she saw Jeremy's body, Elena. I can't even explain the devastation that was on her face. She did so much for us, and she just got completely screwed over by some kind of fucked up karma! And so, she left!"

Caroline takes a moment to pant a bit, calming her breath after that angry rant. She lowers her volume again and rubs her face, "And so, yeah! I'm angry that you are basically spitting on what she went through by moping over Stefan. She's out there and you're wasting the summer being sullen over Stefan's sacrifice for his brother, rather than your own twin's sacrifices for you."

Elena's anger comes back, not at full force, but still present, "You think I don't know that! You think that I'm not upset over the fact that she died! I am! The whole thing with Klaus, I thought she would be safe! But she kept her doppelganger secret from me! And I couldn't do anything until it was too late." Elena's anger fades to the sadness it really is, her heart rate calming and her heart dropping to her stomach, "So, yes! I'm upset that she died. And that Jeremy died. And that Stefan left, all when I was still asleep. Or before I came back to life, whatever." Her stomach starts to hurt over the guilt of her words. "I'm sorry that she had to go through that. But that doesn't change that she left, and we have no idea where she is. Or if she is even still alive."

"She left us letters. She said she'd be back. She even told me herself," Caroline admits.

"But we haven't heard anything since then," Elena exclaims, frustrated.

"That doesn't mean that she isn't okay," Caroline points out.

"If she was okay, why wouldn't she be contacting us?!"

Caroline sighs. She knows how she could comfort Elena, but she doesn't want to admit what she last saw Emilia doing. Something she doesn't fully understand to begin with. And with how Tyler took it earlier this summer when she tried to explain, (she broke down drunk over her guilt, hating how she compelled her friend to leave, and Tyler found her. She revealed some of the details during their hangover brunch the next day) she doesn't think she has the words at all to explain. But she can try. "Look, she asked me to compel her," Caroline admits.

"What?" Elena asks, shocked.

Caroline takes a deep breath before she divulges some of Emilia's final moments from May. "She was all over the place after Jeremy died. She was throwing things into a bag one moment, and the next she was scribbling things on different sheets of paper and murmuring all kinds of things. I couldn't get her to look at me and it was terrifying." Caroline shivers remembering the dead, yet distraught, look on her face. "Then, she changed. She looked me dead in the eye and commanded me to follow the instructions on the paper. I didn't know what to do, until suddenly I see her go under some kind of spell. I don't know what kind of spell it was, I didn't have time to figure out or memorize any of the words, because suddenly, she goes completely still in front of me. So, in shock, I did what she asked. And she had given me instructions to compel her with an exact message that she had included."

"What…what did it say?" Elena asks quietly.

Caroline rubs in between her eyebrows, "She asked me to compel her to only remember that her family is dead. To forget that you had been halfway revived after the sacrifice. You and Jeremy are dead in her mind. The reason she hasn't contacted you is because she thinks that there isn't a reason to."

"She thinks I'm dead?" Elena breathes out sadly. She falls onto Damon's bed, shocked.

"Yeah, but that's not all," Caroline tries.

"What else is there? My sister has disappeared because she thinks that her entire family is dead." Elena looks down at her hands sadly.

Caroline contemplates telling her the whole compelled message but decides to keep some things to herself. Elena is sad enough. Caroline sits on the bed at her friend's side. "Part of the compulsion was that she would come back."

Elena's head shoots up to look at her friend, "Really?"

"Look, I'm not saying that she gave me a date or anything, but she will be compelled to come back, eventually. You haven't lost her forever." Elena nods sadly, her eyes unfocused. Caroline, feeling guilty for having dumped all this new information and emotions onto her already upset friend, apologizes. "I'm sorry for not telling you earlier, and ruining your party with this information tonight, but I'm drunk and upset. And that meant that I threw all of my messy feelings at you. And you don't deserve that. I know you miss Emmy. I do, and I'm sorry that I contributed to you being sad on your birthday."

Elena sighs, "It's our birthday and she's not here. I've been missing her all day, all summer. But she hasn't left any clues behind and it's easier for me to focus on the person that I can possibly find rather than the one I can't."

"I'm still sorry for getting upset at you."

"I forgive you Caroline. It's been a really hard year for everyone, and an even tougher summer." Elena crosses her arms over her stomach, "And besides, maybe I needed to get my feelings out a bit."

"We both did," Caroline says as she leans on Elena's shoulder.

"Friends?" Elena asks, turning to her left to look at her friend.

"Always," Caroline smiles back.

Elena gives her friend a small smile, which drops as she notices the open closet door again. From this angle, she can see a map of some kind, so she stands to investigate.

"What are you doing?" Caroline asks, but Elena has already pulled open the closet door to find the entire room filled with maps and information. Caroline joins Elena at the closet door, "What is that?"

Elena, reading the different animal attack articles, replies, "It's Klaus." She realizes, "Damon's been tracking him without me."

"Why wouldn't he just tell you?" Caroline asks.

Elena lifts her hand to an article about a body found at a drive-in, with a post-it that reads, 'Stefan?'. "I don't know," Elena breathes out.

Elena rushes downstairs to find Damon, while also calling him on the phone. Caroline tries to follow but stays behind. With her emotions already so turbulent, she needs to finish her blood bag first before she can confront anyone.

---

Jeremy is at home with a very intoxicated Matt, who is shoveling ice cream into his mouth. Jeremy tries to give him some coffee as well, but Matt focuses on drinking water, each time a bit sad as Emilia's voice rings in his head about how to avoid a hangover by drinking water. She was always the one to take care of everyone during other parties. But in front of Jeremy, he keeps his happy stoned demeanor.

"Alright, I should probably go before Elena and Mr. Saltzman come home and see what a bad example I am," Matt says.

"You sure you can walk?" Jeremy asks.

Matt gets stumped for a minute as Jeremy's tone reminds him of his missing friend. Duh, cause she's Jeremy's sister. "We'll find out," he replies. "Can I take the ice cream with me?"

Jeremy laughs and waves him off.

Matt grabs the carton of ice cream and walks out, but the thought of Vicki and Jeremy's weird answers all night has him worried enough to stop and turn around. "What happened in the car, man?" Matt asks.

"Nothing," Jeremy replies, keeping his back to Matt.

"Come on, man," Matt responds. "You said, 'Vicki'. You said my sister's name. Why?"

Jeremy turns and sighs. He is about to lie but Matt stops him.

"You said you were seeing things?" Matt asks.

Jeremy panics, but answers anyways, needing to get something off his chest, "I've been seeing her."

Matt is confused, "I mean, I think I see her all the time too." Jeremy blinks astounded at the lack of understanding. "It's cause I miss her so much, though. You know, like, I want to see her, so I do." Jeremy sighs and looks away, rolling his eyes in his head. "Look, I know we've got our hands full with all this supernatural stuff in this town, but…ghosts." Matt shakes his head in disbelief.

Jeremy shakes his disappointment off, "Like I said, my head's all messed up."

Matt sighs, "Look, Jeremy. I get it. You lost your aunt, and then Elena wouldn't wake up, and then you got shot and revived, and Emilia left. It's a lot. Your head should be messed up."

Jeremy sighs, "Yeah."

"Look, Emilia's not even dead and I hear her voice in my head all the time. Reminding me to drink water when I party or eat something other than Grille food at least once a week." Matt chuckles softly at Emilia's common complaint at his diet. He becomes solemn as he refocuses on Jeremy, "I miss her too. She's my friend and I miss her like crazy."

Jeremy crosses his arms and rubs his face, "You know every day that I get up to go to work, I think of what Emmy would say if she saw me dismissing my responsibilities. You know how she can reprimand. I used to hate it. First, because she was my older sister and not my mom, and then when our mom died, I hated it because our mom wasn't here. And then, I got used to her taking care of me. Used to her being the one yelling at me when I did something stupid. She took care of me and Elena more than Jenna did. Even though Jenna tried her best, Jenna just didn't know about the supernatural and couldn't keep up. But Emilia, she was always on top of everything. And I miss Jenna, I really do. I want her here, but I want her here because Emmy is gone."

"I get it. You know what my mom's like. I miss her being around, but I don't really want her here. You know, Vicki used to take care of me when we were really little, and Kelly had run off somewhere. Vicki was as much my caretaker as Emilia was yours."

"I never thought Vicki as much of a caretaker," Jeremy comments.

"Yeah, I mean she wasn't Martha Stewart or anything. And she especially wasn't much of a cook. We ate a lot of Chef Boyardee and Kraft Mac'n'Cheese in those days. But she was what I had; you know?"

"Yeah, I got you," Jeremy replies.

"I always kind of thought that I lost her before she died. She had been spiraling out for years, with the drugs and the guys, turning into our mom, and just when she started to turn things around and settle, she died. Anyways, I'm just trying to say that I understand missing your sister. And if you ever want to talk, I'm here."

"Yeah," Jeremy sighs. "Thanks."

"I'll see you at work," Matt waves as he leaves, his hand coming to pat the melting ice cream carton.

---

Elena comes home in time to see Alaric packing his stuff. "What are you doing?" Elena asks.

Alaric sighs, keeping his back to her and answers, "I'm not going to stay here anymore."

"What?" Elena asks, "Why?"

Alaric turns, "I'm not a role model. You know, I drink too much, I say the wrong things, I encourage bad behavior." He turns back to his bag to zip the last couple of things in, "At school, I can pull it together, but in my own life…" he sighs and turns, pulling his duffel bag onto his shoulder, "the way I miss Jenna, it's just, I'm really not good to anyone right now." He walks to the door and just before he reaches it, he turns and sighs. "I'm sorry, Elena. You're eighteen. You can do all this alone now. You can do it better without me."

Elena is silent as she processes and it's only when she sees Alaric closing the door behind him that she tries to call to him, "Wait! Alaric, please!" She rushes to the door to see him already in his car and driving away, "I can't do this alone," she cries.

Elena cries silently as she washes the makeup off her face and changes into pajamas. She washes her face and takes a few moments to breathe and calm down while staring at the sink. She glances to the closed door on the other side of the bathroom and sighs. She then moves to her room. Picking up a birthday card drawn by Jeremy off her bed, she smiles as she moves it to her vanity.

She moves to sit on her bed when her phone on her vanity begins to buzz. She picks up the phone to see CALLER UKNOWN on the screen. She sighs and answers the call, "Hello?" The other side is quiet, and she hazards a guess as to who is on the other end, "Stefan?" she calls. The caller is silent, but the call continues, so she continues as well, "Stefan, if this is you…you'll be okay. You can survive this. Whatever you do, just hold on. I love you, Stefan. Hold on to that, never let that go." There's another moment of silence before the call ends.

Elena sighs, placing her phone back down on her vanity. She turns to her bed and she sits on it, curling herself tight around her knees. She looks to her clock to count the time. When it hits a few minutes before midnight, she shuts her eyes tight before she unravels her body and stands. She grabs a couple of small things before she walks into the bathroom. Once there, she takes a few deep breaths and swallows the lump in her throat before she moves to slowly open the door on the other side.

Her breath leaves her in a gasp as she sees her sister's darkened room for the first time all summer. She stares into the room as she lets her eyes adjust to the darkness, too afraid to turn on a light. As if turning on the light would break the silence and peace of the moment. There's plenty of stuff left behind, but as she looks over the room, she can see most of the important stuff missing. Emilia's laptop is gone, some of her emptier sketchbooks and art supplies, clothes and a few pictures. Elena moves to sit on Emilia's bed, running her hand over the slightly musty comforter. She crosses her legs as she sets down the stuff she brought. She opens a container to pull out a small cupcake. It's a simple chocolate cake with vanilla frosting and decorated with a few purple sprinkles, Emilia's childhood favorite. Elena pulls out a single candle and after a few minutes, she checks the time and she lights the candle. She spends a few moments staring into the candle's flames, trying to keep her tears at bay.

One more check of the time and Elena softly says, "Happy Birthday, Lia."

She can almost hear her twin whispering back, "Happy Birthday, Lena."

Elena sobs silently as she blows out the candle on her own. She removes the candle, eating the frosting off the bottom. She brings the cupcake to her mouth, but instead of biting, she puts the cupcake back in its container, and brings her legs back to her chest. She spends minutes with her head against her knees just trying to keep breathing through the pain in her chest. She's run out of tears at this point. She eventually calms down enough to stand and grab the things she brought in. With one last look into the darkened room, she closes the door again. She replaces the candles and lighter and she debates for a second before she throws the cupcake in the trash. She throws herself down on the bed, clutching her bedspread to her chest as she sobs without tears. She gets up to turn off her bedside lamp, plug her cell phone, and get back in the bed to draw herself under the covers.

Her hand hits something on the pillow

She sits up, turns on her lamp, and looks over her bed. She finds a small, pale yellow gift-wrapped box with a pink ribbon on her pillow. Elena grabs the box, slowly pulling it towards her. She hesitantly unwraps the ribbon and wrapping paper. She opens the cube cardboard box slowly, wary of whatever might be inside.

There are only two things inside the box. One is a velvet jewelry box, which Elena pulls out. She opens the velvet box to find a silver bracelet with a charm hanging from it. She flips the bracelet around and lies it on her hands. The silver band is decorated with simple vine-like structures wrapping around it. The charm is a ruby or some kind of red gemstone in the center. Elena gasps as she recognizes the pattern as matching her necklace. She puts the bracelet to the side as she pulls out the other item.

A rolled-up piece of parchment.

Elena unravels the piece of paper and sobs when she sees the picture. She brings her hand to her mouth as she studies the image drawn on the paper. It's a beautifully hand-drawn image of a birthday party, theirs. The Gilbert twins are smiling front and center - Elena on the left and Emilia on the right - behind a large, but simple two-layer cake with eighteen birthday candles. Jeremy is laughing on the left side of the page (he's sitting on the image of Elena's right side), trying to steal some frosting as he often did during the 'Happy birthday' song. Jenna is above him and to the right, trying to knock his hand away from the cake. Alaric is on her right, at the left edge of the page, his arm around her, pulling her back and trying to hug her to his side. Jenna's image is to the left of Miranda, her sister and the twins' adoptive mom. She is leaning against Grayson, the twins' adoptive father, with her right hand on her chest. Grayson's right arm is wrapped around Miranda, pulling her in, with his head resting on hers. His other hand sits on Emilia's chair. Both of them smiling down at their daughters. John stands to Grayson's left, his right hand looks to be slapping his brother on the back, smiling brighter than Elena had ever seen him. John's left hand seems to be clutched in the hands of Isobel, their biological mother, who is smiling gently at the girls from the far right of the page. The background has the banner that was part of every single birthday party from their childhood, including Jeremy's. It's their family, altogether and happy on their birthday, just as they would be had things worked out differently.

And in the empty space on the right side of the page is the message, 'Happy 18th Birthday, Elena!' and in the bottom right corner, the drawing is signed, 'Love, Emilia'.

Elena cries, tears dripping down her face, as she runs her finger along the penciled signature.

---

Meanwhile, in a city far away from her sister, a girl, one who looks different from the picture she drew, wakes up on the day of their birthday.

No! No, no, no!

STOP!

I gasp awake and immediately regret opening my eyes.

Ugh, it must be sunrise, cause that fucking light is shining inside my room and on my eyes again. Every single day, I'm somehow awake at sunrise. Even on cloudy days, I'm awake far too early. Ugh.

I groan out-loud as I roll over and get out of bed. I stretch a bit and check the time. Jesus, 5:23 am. AKA too fucking early. At least this gives me a lot of time to get ready. Speaking of, I head to the shower and turn it to just above ice. I am feeling too hot this morning. After a few minutes of washing, and more minutes of just resting my head against the tile, I step out and head back to my room to grab my clothes. Then back to the bathroom for makeup.

Why does makeup take forever? So much concealer, so little time.

Ok, quick glance to the mirror. I can do that.

Just go in 3, 2, 1. Go! … Look! … Just do it! … Look at the mirror … I can do this … Ok…

Woo, I did it.

So… I didn't actually see anything but at least I tried.

I finish my routine, looking over my clothes to make sure I have no stains or messes, and I can leave the bathroom.

6:04 am. Just enough time to make breakfast.

I walk through the apartment to the kitchen as quietly as I can. It's okay, Em. It's just another day. Just make some eggs and be done with it. Maybe boil a pot of water for some tea, and then just chill. It's just another day. Nothing special. So, toast and a fried egg it is.

A groan and some shuffling sounds from behind me. I guess I need to make coffee.

"Morning, Nell" I say without looking behind me. A groan is all I hear back as my roommate shuffles to sit at the tiny kitchen counter. She's not a morning person.

"Early," she mumbles, her face resting on the countertop, her super curly, fire engine red dyed hair covering most of her face. "Woke up to my alarm for once," she comments. Surprising. I thought I woke her up again.

"Do you want breakfast?" I ask politely.

"Coffee," is all she murmurs.

"Ok, then," I mumble under my breath. I have to fight my instinct to lecture about the importance of breakfast, but Nell isn't Jeremy or Elena. My heart drops to my stomach and I now have to fight tears. Just focus on making coffee. I glance to my snoozing roommate, her pale skin and bright hair a reminder of my current life here. I pour the coffee into one giant mug, Nell's, and I hand it to her on my way out, taking my plate with me back to my room. I eat my breakfast silently on my bed, just trying to focus on my schedule for this very average, nothing special day. Opening shift at the coffeehouse, then lunch rush at Hot Doug's, and night shift at the bar. A busy, but otherwise normal day.

One last look at the clock and it's time for me to grab my stuff and head out. I leave my plate in the sink, stepping past Nell who looks more awake.

"Hey, you're looking nice today," Nell comments. Another one of her attempts to bond with me. But I'm not in the mood.

"Sorry, gotta go," is all I reply as I grab my keys and leave. As the door closes behind me, I take a moment to take a deep breath and shove down any negative feelings before I start walking to my first shift of the day.

It's nice enough of a day, sunny but not boiling hot, and I left early enough that I can walk the 20 minutes from my apartment in Ukrainian Village to the coffeehouse in Wicker Park instead of taking the 12-minute trip if I use the bus (Damen & Iowa Stop to Damen & Milwaukee/North Ave via the 50 Ashland/Clark bus plus walking to and from the stops). I make it in time to help finalize setting up for the 7am open. I usually start my weekdays working here, The Wormhole. It's an 80s themed coffeehouse, all full of rustic era-specific furniture but with all the fun of a contemporary coffeehouse. The fancy coffee, pretty pastries, and internet connection for the people who want to chill and write papers. It's actually kind of fun, full of 80's pop culture references, like a full-sized DeLorean in the back, a hanging miniature Millennium Falcon, a Ghostbuster's and a Goonies' poster, and an 80's tv set where you can play old arcade games. It's new and just starting their regular client base, but we get a decent enough morning rush. I man the back, making drinks with the pretty coffee art. I can work the register if needed, but even with all my Miss Mystic practice, my people skills don't hold up for long periods of time. I usually work from 6:45 until 10 am, with occasional double shifts until 3pm. Today is a single shift, so after the morning rush dies down, I pack my apron in my bag and head out.

By the time I leave, I have enough time to take the train route to my next job, waitressing at a local lunch spot in Avondale. First, I have to walk to the Damen train stop (Yes, I did notice the similarity of the name) and take the blue line to Belmont. From that stop, I go downstairs to the Belmont & Kimball bus stop. I take the 77 Diversey/Lake Shore to Belmont & California (where I would end up if I went the 2-bus-route that takes the 56 Jefferson Park Blue Line to Milwaukee & California, and the 94 Addison/Rockwell here).

From there I walk to Hot Doug's, the famous local hot dog spot. It's a really popular spot and lunch is its busiest time, cause it's the only time the restaurant is open, but that's what I like. I like being so busy that I can't think. That my uniform gets super dirty and I don't have time to change it because I have eight orders to fill and deliver. And today is no different. Usually Saturday rushes are busier than weekdays, but summer makes everything busy, because tourists. I'm running as soon as I am changed and out on the floor. But that's just how this restaurant works. I can be delivering vegan hot dogs to a group of college kids one second, then taking the order of a tourist family with young kids who want bagel dogs and the famous fries cooked in duck fat special (only on Friday's and Saturday's) the next. It's fatty and delicious food and I always wind up smelling like grease, but I enjoy my shifts when I have them.

After Hot Doug's I head to my least favorite job, because it's the most work. A local historical bar. Famous in different circles for different reasons. If you ask a local off the street, they'll tell you something about speakeasies and Prohibition, but if you ask someone who knows, you'll get a different answer. Well, not entirely. There is still talk of speakeasies, but this time with the knowledge of someone who lived through it and remembers the bar in its heyday. It's two bars in one, really. Or a bar and a speakeasy, actually. A bar for the humans, one where you can sit in the same booth that Al Capone sat in and marvel over the history of the city. All while there's another world hidden behind a few walls, where the jazz and blood never stopped. And while on my resume and checks, it reads "The Green Mill", I work at Gloria's, under the very witch herself.

I sigh as I change back into my clothes, slinging my bag over my shoulder again and head back to the bus stop, this time Addison & California for the 152 Lake Shore, which I take to the Red Line, Addison stop to be specific. I take the Red Line heading towards Howard for 3 stops to Lawrence, where I get off and walk to the Green Mill. It's only 5pm, so it's quiet as I walk in the hidden front door.

Gloria greets me as I walk in, already working with her herbs, "Hello, child." I drop my bag behind the bar before I join her on the other side. "How was work?" she asks, grinding the herbs into a small stone bowl.

"Busy as always," I reply.

"Anything special today?" she asks, holding out her hand.

I sigh, used to this routine but it's never enjoyable. "No," I answer. She doesn't need to know of the meaning of this date. The less she knows the better.

She glances to me, "Good, let's keep it that way. Now, let's begin." And she holds her hand out closer to me.

I sigh again as I give her what she wants. My hand, palm up, is placed on hers. She starts chanting and I ignore the feeling of magic as I pull one of the many grimoires open on the bar towards me. I flinch as she gets what she needs from me and I pull my hand immediately after she is done. I keep my eyes focused downwards on the book, trying to translate the words in front of me, even as blurry as they are. Normally, our routine doesn't bring tears to my eyes, but my emotions have been building all day, despite how my busy schedule kept me from thinking too much. But something bubbled up as she took what she needed, and I have to work harder to push down the emotions.

Gloria hums as she mixes her herbs. Casually whispering words of voodoo over her old jazz tunes.

I just try to continue reading and blink away tears as I flip to a new page.

With a few last whispered words, Gloria sets down her herbs and lifts her head, taking a deep breath. The air hums with the energy of her spell. She chuckles when the spell finalizes, and she gets the result she wants. She takes a few more easy breaths, smiling brightly.

I close the grimoire and turn to face Gloria, who is now cleaning up on the other side of the bar. "If that's all you need, it's been a long day. I should head back."

Gloria peaks at me from the corner of her eye. "This isn't like you. Something going on that you want to tell me?"

I raise my eyebrows at her lame attempt to dig into my life. She may not know me well, but she knows that I'm not just going to give up information like that. "Nothing. Just a long day. And I have an early start tomorrow as well. I'd love a night of decent sleep." I finish by mumbling, "for once".

Gloria hums as she looks me over, squinting her eyes at me. "Alright," she acquiesces.

I look up at her in surprise, "Really?"

"You have to do more work for me when you get back," she starts. I am closing the grimoires I used and picking up the rest of my stuff as she continues, "including bar shifts and inventory next week."

I groan, my arms falling a bit, my shoulders dropping and my head lolling backwards. I mean I typically do some bar shifts, mostly on busier nights when they need backup in either bar. So busy to the point that no one asks questions about my age. Well, some people ask, but mostly for the purpose of getting in my pants rather than checking that it's legal for me to be tending bar. But inventory?! Inventory sucks! And that's on top of doing my usual tasks for Gloria. Ugh!

If I weren't already so drained, I would stay to avoid all that.

"Fine," I sigh. I hold out my arms and ask, "Top me off before I go?"

Gloria nods her acceptance and I nod back in acknowledgement as she takes a hold of my forearms. There's a few familiar whispers I memorize and a wave of warmth over my skin, like a thin blanket. Then, I grab my stuff and leave.

The walk to and the ride on the Red Line is quiet. I don't even bother to take out my iPod to make the ride easier. My brain is too clouded for music to help. The 8 stops on the 95th/Dan Ryan train are louder than they typically are. I'm leaving a lot earlier than I typically do. The bus ride from Chicago/State to Chicago & Hoyne is the same. My feet are dragging by the time I make the walk up to my apartment.

And surprise, surprise, just in time to be the cherry on top of the crap sundae, Nell is awake when I get back in the apartment. I sigh when I notice her smiling at me in shock.

"Wow, you're back early!" she chirps excitedly as she gets up from the couch. "This is so fun! Usually, you're home way after I'm asleep." She continues chatting as she washes the bowl in her hands. "I mean I don't know how you do it. I mean, you're always up before I am, and you come back after I'm asleep. And I think I'm tired, I don't know how you live." She's chatty like Caroline was as a human. They are both bubbly, but Nell is less neurotic than Care. Nell is more chill, a sociology student. She's working on research into racial profiles of socioeconomic status, studying the disparities in the city between the North Side and South Side. Not something human Caroline would've cared much about, and certainly not something Caroline would've left our small town to study, unlike Nell who comes from some small farm town in bumfuck, Illinois. Like I said, Nell is chatty, especially when we were introduced.

"Practice," I tersely reply from the doorway.

"Still you're here early. Which means we can hang out! I mean, we've been living together for almost two months and I know nothing about you," Nell says.

"We can easily keep it that way," I respond. Her face falls, and I sigh. "Look, it's been a long day and I'm really tired. I'm not in the best mood for company."

"I get it. It's cool," Nell replies, looking down in the sink.

I want to say something else. Comfort her somehow. But it's better for her if she stays away. She shouldn't be ruined by someone like me.

I drag my things into my room and flop onto my bed. I lay flat for a few minutes before it feels like the walls that have been keeping my emotions behind all day collapse in one big swoop. Maybe not collapse, more like explode in a way of complete and total obliteration. Basically, all my emotions come rushing in at once. Just one look at the date and I'm sobbing silently, curled tightly on the bed.

Everything just pools in my gut and it hurts. It hurts to a level I never imagined. I guess I never thought this day would be like this. In my wildest dreams, in my worst nightmares, I never pictured that I would spend my birthday, Elena's birthday, alone. States away from any of my friends. And the graves of all of my family.

I'm the only one left.

And nothing hurts more than that.

---

A/N: All the restaurants and bars used in this chapter are real life places in Chicago. Hot Doug's closed in 2014, but there's another hot dog restaurant in its place (different neighborhood and owner, but hot dog focused lunch spot all the same). But the Wormhole is a real life 80's themed coffeehouse with apparently delicious vegan donuts. It's super cool if you want to check out the pictures on google. The Green Mill is also a real place. And while it's not attached to Gloria's in real life, it is an actual bar where Al Capone had a booth and has its own secret speakeasy. I was inspired to do all this research because I wanted to figure out somewhere for Gloria's to be. I also considered having her bar be in the historically black neighborhood of Chicago, because accuracy is important, but I decided it would be fun to have it be attached to a genuine place. And the Green Mill was known for jazz music performances as well, so I found it appropriate. The directions and neighborhoods I mentioned are also accurate. I know that these details aren't integral to the story, but I thought it would be fun to include the research I did on Chicago, including finding an actual apartment available (or it was when I was writing this chapter) in the city.

---

I don't know how long I lay in my bed. At one point, I grab my laptop to look at the photos from a year ago, but I let the computer fall asleep and my emotions fall numb. Time still passes as I go stagnant in my pain and my brain goes empty. But some point after dark, Nell knocks on my door, calling my name softly.

Or what she thinks is my name.

"Grace?" she calls softly. "I know you aren't in the mood for company, but you came home at like 5, and you didn't eat anything. I know it's not much, but I made you a ham and cheese sandwich."

I let out a wet chuckle.

Which is enough of a response that Nell opens my door and comes in. She gasps when she sees me curled on the bed. I'm too wiped to care at this point.

"Grace?" she questions softly.

I don't want to answer. I don't want to explain. I want to keep my distance. But the walls around my emotions are gone and the words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. "I had a twin sister. She died. It's our birthday today."

"Oh my god," Nell breathes out. She sits on the corner of my bed, her hand floating over my legs as if she's debating whether or not she can touch me to comfort me. "How long ago did she die?"

Again, my words spill out, "May 27th. Our younger brother died 4 days later."

"Oh, Grace," she whispers.

"Our parents died last year. Our aunt was our guardian and she died with my sister. My uncle, -my father's brother, not related to my aunt – he died with them too. They were all killed. My brother died in an accidental shooting a few days after the funeral."

"That's…" Nell starts, but she goes silent. There's no words to describe my situation.

"Unimaginably tragic," I answer, finishing her sentence.

"And today is your first birthday alone," Nell summarizes.

My eyes fill with tears again, something I thought would be impossible, so I just nod in response.

"I'm so sorry, Grace," she says.

I pull my legs closer to my chest, and say quietly, "You can see why I'm not good company." Nell nods slowly. "You should go. Getting close to me leads nowhere good."

"I don't believe that," Nell states softly, rubbing my leg.

I pull away from her touch, "You should." I lost more this summer than just my family. Not that I can explain that to her.

Nell sighs, "Look, I get the desire to wallow in your misery and I now get that you have a lot of it. But, it doesn't seem like the best thing in the world to be spending your birthday either working or wallowing on your bed. I know it's sad but it's still your birthday and you deserve to celebrate, even if your family is gone. You are still here."

My mind flashes back to something similar I said to Elena last year. When she was doing the same thing that I'm doing now. I sigh, realizes I'm right. Well, Nell's right. We're both right.

I can't spend my birthday like this.

I sit up and take the sandwich from her. I take a bite and chew as I think.

"What would you have me do?" I ask.

Nell sits up excited and claps her hands. But then she stops and thinks for a moment. "I don't know," she breathes out. I just take another bite of my sandwich. I just realized how hungry I am. I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast this morning. I was too focused on trying not to break down all day that I forgot.

"We can go out!" Nell suggests. "Get drinks!"

"I work as a bartender," I point out. "I don't need more drinks. Or to spend any more time in a bar." Also, I don't need to explain why my ID is fake. Even if it's a really good fake, it's better to not risk it.

"What about dancing? We can go to a club!" Nell then suggests.

Isn't that the same thing? Well, it's my same problem. "Not my scene," I explain. I don't like to be surrounded by people.

"I could call Jo and invite some people over," Nell proposes.

"I don't want to be a third wheel for you and your girlfriend," I interject.

"That's why I'm suggesting we invite other people. You'll like my friends. I know you haven't really had the chance to meet them, but we can do something tonight. Like I know you all would get along. I mean, you are super smart. Who knew, right? You totally saved me on that paper a few weeks ago. My friend, Ian – you know Ian; my sociology buddy – he was so impressed with that article you found. I have no idea how you found that primary source. I mean, it was pretty ancient, but it really helped my research. Anyways, I'm sure Ian would be happy to come over if we invited him. You guys could talk more. I'm sure he would like that."

"Nell," I try to interrupt. I need to nip this party idea in the bud.

But she just keeps on talking, "I mean he's a good guy. Plus, some of my friends are into artsy stuff and you could talk with them about your drawings!"

I tense in shock, but Nell just continues, "I know, I know. I snooped when I wasn't supposed to. But I just caught a peek when you left your door open that day that you were running late – you remember that day – and I know you don't want me in your room, but I was just so curious and the glimpse I caught was just so good, that I had to look a little more. And I swear, I only really saw a couple of sketches, but I was so impressed! Who was that guy anyways? The really hot one. I mean you know that I'm not into the whole" she makes a few lewd gestures "thing, but even I can see how attractive that guy is. I mean, wow. You know, you two would make a gorgeous couple, if that's what you're into. Although, both of you are just so broody and intense that you might just sit on opposite corners and sulk. Which means that Ian, happy nerdy Ian, would be great for you to talk to. He's really sweet and shy, and you know some people are really into that. I mean, I'm not. Jo - love of my life that she is - might be quiet, which I know is why you two get along, but she certainly isn't shy. Especially not in the bedroom."

"NELL!" I cry out. I did not need to know that. Also, she is on a roll that I need to get her off of.

"Ok, so we invite Jo and Ian. Oh! Kat is really cool, and Nina! Plus, Nina always brings her friend, Kayla. And she could bring her roommate, Paul. I think he and Ian know each other. If I remember correctly, they were in the same freshman hall. Anyways, Paul has that new girlfriend. C-something. Claire… Callie… Candice… maybe. I don't know; I haven't met her yet, but I've heard good things about her. And this way, you aren't the only new person. So, us plus Jo and Ian makes four. Plus," she starts counting on her fingers, "Kat, Nina, Kayla, Paul, and his girlfriend makes nine. That's perfect! We can fit everyone. I mean, we can't all be watching a movie at the same time. Our living room is way too small for that, but we can definitely host them all. Ok, it's settled. I'm going to call Jo and Ian and get things set up. Maybe someone should bring Matt, he gets weird when we leave him out."

And I've had enough. She reaches for her phone and I grab her hands, stopping her, and I yell, "PENELOPE!"

She pauses, and then she realizes what I called her, "Hey! You know I hate my full first name." She pulls her hand away and starts rubbing her wrist. "Wow, you've got a really strong grip. I can't believe you are that strong. I mean, when do you have the time to work out?"

"Penelope Callahan!" I call out, frustrated. "Would you please just stop and listen to me?" Nell turns to face me and nods. "Look, I appreciate the thought that you have put into planning this party for me. But I don't want a party."

"But it's your birthday. You need a party," Nell starts.

"Hush," I interrupt her, holding a hand up. She pulls back a bit and quiets. "I know it's my birthday. But my birthdays have always been a family thing. And no matter what, it's just not going to feel right for me to have a party without them."

"Oh," she says.

"Again, I appreciate your effort, but I should just get a cupcake or ice cream or something and just chill here."

"No," she whines. "You can't waste your birthday like that."

"I'm not going to throw a party. Just let me mourn my family in peace, Nell," I say. I give her the empty sandwich plate before I lie down and curl up on the bed again. I am about to pull the covers over me when Nell stops me, pulling the covers away from my grip.

"Grace," she whines. "Come on. You can't just lie here all night."

"Watch me," I mumble.

"Grace," she whines again. But I just flip over to face away from her. She sighs, dropping my blanket from her grip. Which I immediately pull over me again. She sighs again, moving towards the door. She is about to close my door behind her when she stops. I groan silently as she shifts by the door. I thought we were done with this. Nell comes rushing back in and pulls the covers off me again.

I groan out loud, "Nell."

"Wait, hear me out," she says. "I have an idea of something you can do that lets you mourn your family while being out of this room, but without a ton of other people."

This ought to be good. "What?" I ask.

"How do you feel about tattoos?"

---

With a little more convincing, Nell drags me out of the apartment. I try to persuade her to go to the Henna place across the street, but she is unperturbed. I haven't done henna before, but I'm sure I would like it. It's natural and spiritual in ways that I can appreciate, even if it's not my native culture. Plus, I feel connection to it in ways that I can't explain to Nell. But she is unconvinced by my short arguments. She pushes me onto the bus anyways.

She also has to pull me into the tattoo place.

Of course, she greets all the employees with a smile, "Hey guys!"

Most of them wave politely back, but two people greet her with her name.

A tall, tattooed man with a large beard standing behind the front desk asks, "It's getting late, Nell, and we were about to start closing chairs in 30 minutes."

"I know, I know. But it's a special occasion," Nell replies. The guy sighs, but she ignores it and pulls me further into the shop. "This is my roommate Grace. Grace, welcome to Metamorph Tattoo Studios." I wave at the couple of people in the front of the shop before I start looking around.

The walls are decorated in different paintings, some of which are for sale, some are previous tattoo clients. On the right side of the room, there are these glass gated cubicles with tattoo chairs in each. There's also a door leading further into the store with a darkened waiting room and I assume more private tattoo chairs in the back. It's an overall friendly and open atmosphere and the people seem cool from my very brief introduction.

"It's Grace's birthday today," Nell says. The group starts giving shouts of well wishes and 'Happy Birthdays'. I try to back away from the commotion, but Nell wraps her arm around my shoulders and brings me closer. "I thought it would be a great time for her to get her first tattoo."

There are again a few cheers and I pull my arms and my sketchbook – which Nell made me bring - close to my chest.

Nell, being the chatty person that she is, immediately jumps into introducing me to people, most of whom I immediately forget the names of. She also starts detailing her previous experiences with getting a tattoo here. She talks about how open they were and how cool they were about getting matching tattoos with Jo, her girlfriend. It's a rainbow pride flag on their biceps. She keeps talking about how cool everyone was and how open and honest they were during the whole experience. The employees and artists really work to make the clients comfortable. Which is great, but I'm not the 'open and honest' type.

Someone finally asks me, "So what are you thinking of getting, Grace?"

"Something that reminds me of my family," I try to answer as succinctly as possible.

"Oh, really?" a female employee, one with blunt dark bangs across her forehead and a full sleeve on her left arm, leaning against the front desk asks, "that's sweet. I have a couple of those. Your mom okay with you getting a tattoo? Cause mine wasn't at first. Took a few years and a couple pieces dedicated to her for her to come around. What about you?"

Nell, who is standing next to me flinches, and tries to gesture to the others to stop, but it goes unnoticed.

Especially as I sigh before I answer, "Well, my mom is dead, so I don't think she'll care all that much." And everyone goes silent. I continue, "Actually if we're being specific, my whole family is dead. They died in May and I'm all alone now. And this…this was a mistake."

Again, I try to leave, but Nell pulls me back with, "Wait, wait, wait. Grace, look. The people here are cool and if you just give them a chance, they'll give you something really nice. Just, show them what you want."

I sigh and turn back to the still group, but instead of shock (or even worse, pity), the faces there are understanding.

The bearded man nods solemnly, "So, Grace, you want a memorial tattoo for your family?"

I shrug, "If that's what you want to call it."

He nods, "It is. And we can do that for you. Got any ideas for what you want?"

I nod and shift my weight as I pull my sketchbook a bit away from my chest, "Something like that," I answer.

"Yeah?" one of the other girls, one with a sweet face, dark hair, glasses and a tattoo of a hummingbird on her neck, "You an artist?" she asks, nodding her head to my sketchbook.

"Yeah, she is," Nell answers for me. "She has some amazing sketches in here." She nudges me, "Show them the one of that guy. The really hot one."

"I'm not going to do that," I say, pulling my sketchbook back to my chest. "Plus, there are a lot of different people drawn in here. I don't know what guy you are talking about."

"Sure, you do," Nell replies. "The gorgeous one in the suit. I know you know which one. He's in there a few times."

I groan and drop my head to the top of the book, "This sketchbook was supposed to be private, Nell."

"Oh, interesting. Who is this guy?" The first girl, with the bangs, asks.

"It's nothing. He's no one," I say, lifting my head again.

"That means he's someone," the second girl jokes.

"Look, it's nothing. Leave it alone. Aren't you guys supposed to be closing or something?" I point out.

"Yes, they are," the bearded guy says loudly. The girls immediately stop chatting and start cleaning up chairs, their utensils, and the floor. He turns to me, "You have an image of what you want?"

I nod, "Yeah." And I lower my sketchbook so I can flip to the page with the image I want. "It's a sketch I originally did for my sister's tombstone. But it turns out that it would be too expensive to actually put it on there, so I just kinda messed with it to have it be for my whole family." I hand over the sketchbook to the guy. I watch him silently look over the image.

It's a stack of books, each one to represent a member of my family who I lost. At the bottom is one of my dad's medical textbooks. Something that I always saw out in his office on late nights. He liked to reread the familiar words when he couldn't sleep. And the information would bore me to sleep on days when I couldn't either. Above his book is my mom, Miranda, represented by a History of Mystic Falls book. We don't have an official book for the town's history, but mom was thinking of writing one before she died. She talked about it a lot in her final days; she was really excited. Above her is Isobel with a book on South American folklore, the same design as the book we found the Sun and Moon curse in. A hint to what she once was. Above her is Jenna, with a trashy romance book I saw in her room once. Some weird twist on Little Red Riding Hood with the girl being in a love triangle with the Big Bad Wolf and the Hunter. The second to last book in the pile is a Johnathan Gilbert journal for John. And at the top is Elena's journal, pen inside. Leaning against the right side of the pile of books is Jeremy's copy of his favorite Goosebumps novel, unbelievably broken spine and ripped cover included. It was his favorite series as a kid, which inspired his spooky drawings. The pile of books is decorated with a butterfly on top, resting on the pages of Elena's journal and surrounded by the words, 'Though the story may have ended, the pages still remain'.

The manager man nods, "We don't normally do walk-ins this late, but for this, it's mostly line work, so it should only need the one session." He nods to the room behind him, "Why don't you head back, look through the books and pick out who you want to do your tat?"

I nod and head over, with Nell walking behind me, chatting with the employee girls. They are discussing some of the stories of their previous tattoos. I stay silent in the corner, flipping through art books and trying to hide myself and my sketchbook as much as possible. But even wedging myself as far as I can into the corner of this large black couch, someone still spots me.

One of the biggest men I've ever seen comes up to me. And I mean big like wide. This dude has huge shoulders and arms. But despite his size, he walks silently and gracefully. He stands in front of me, blocking me from the view of others, and crosses his arms. His large, dark tree trunk arms. If I judged him purely based on his size, I would be terrified. But I just know somehow that he isn't a threat. I look up and study him. He has tan skin, the kind that is hereditary instead of from the sun, and long dark hair pulled back in a bun at the top of his head. He has tattoos swirled across his arms, but they aren't typical American sleeve tattoos. These are cultural tattoos, but it's more than that. There is something…special about them. Something I think he knows.

He takes a look down at the picture I stopped flipping on. It's a quote, but it's not in English. I stopped because I recognized these words. And it's definitely not something that just anyone would get tattooed on their body.

"Who did this?" I ask him. I flip the book to show him the picture.

"I did," his voice rumbles deep in his chest.

I flip the book to face myself again, "You know what these words mean?" I ask.

But the man knows it's more of a statement than a question, so he responds in the same way, "So do you." He smirks in surprise as he states, "You're like me."

I look down at my pale skin and then back at his dark skin and to his eyes that look of Asian descent, "Uh, no."

"Not like that," he laughs. A deep, warm laugh that comes from his chest. "I've got some things in the back that I think you'll be interested in."

I shake my head. "I'm here for a-"

"A memorial tattoo," he finishes. "I know. I still think you might want to check this stuff out." I stare at him for a few moments, contemplating his offer. There is just something that drew me to his book and is encouraging me to follow him. And I know I can trust this feeling.

I nod and stand, taking my book and his with me.

Nell, noticing my movement, stands up with me, intent on joining me while I get my tattoo.

"No, Nell, stay. It's fine. I can do this by myself," I tell her.

"Aww, Grace. I thought this was something we could do together," she whines.

"Um, why don't you get a tattoo also," I suggest. "You know that way we still did something together." While also staying completely separate.

She seems to like the idea because she immediately brightens up and she turns back to the female employees excitedly. They immediately grab her hands and take her to one of the nearby, more open chairs in the front. I turn and nod my head to the guy, and we head the opposite direction, to the back.

He leads me to the back hallway, past more chairs and stations and into a back room. It looks completely normal, with the same kind of artwork on the walls and a regular chair in the middle. At least it does until he closes the door behind me, whispers some foreign words, and the walls shift. Suddenly, the room fills with energy and it feels like I drank a shot of espresso. The artwork turns to feature different kinds of spells and ritual artwork and the room just feels brighter and more comfortable.

I turn to him, "What did you do? What are you?"

He turns to me, "I'm Māori," he replies.

"Is that some kind of warlock?" I ask.

He chuckles, "It's an indigenous culture from the Polynesian Islands, specifically New Zealand."

Oh right, I nod. I'm so stupid. I've heard a bit about their culture before. "Your people do the haka, right?" I clarify.

"Yes," he smiles. "We're one of a few cultures that performs rituals through dance, guided by spiritual leaders with special gifts. The people who were born with power were seen as being blessed children of the gods. Here, they are known by the word, 'witch'. Or 'warlock' for a man. So, I am not technically a warlock, but you and I were both blessed with magic."

I breathe out in surprise and my body tenses up in preparation for an attack. "How?" I ask. It's the only word I can let out.

"Peace, Grace," he says, holding his hands up. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just thought since you recognized the words in my book, that you would understand."

"I do," I start, "But I'm not," I attempt to explain. But I stop, because there is no way to explain my situation. So, I have to let it slide.

"Good. Let me show you some of the other designs I've done for fellow friends of the supernatural," he says. I start looking around at the various spells people have inscribed on their bodies. Most of the time they are done with words in the plain foreign script, some of them have pictures of the ritual space, or the effect that the spell can do. Like I see an ice spell with icicles growing on the words. I see a Spanish séance spell tattooed with a picture of the deceased above it. There's also some other supernatural symbols scattered around. I see phases of the moon that I believe are tattooed on a werewolf. Or a series of photos of the process of tattooing a vampire (often tattoos will heal due to supernatural healing, so it takes a longer process including mixing vervain into the ink to help the pigments stay in the skin). I also see a lot of family mottos and clan/coven symbols. It's amazing to see how the supernatural infiltrates the modern world.

I'm drawn to one image in particular.

A runic array. A Norse runic array in particular.

"Aegishjalmur," I whisper. It's like an eight-point snowflake drawing. Or eight tridents arranged in a circle with three perpendicular lines on each line going into a small circle close to the center and futhark runes going around the edge. The previous client who got the tattoo kept it pretty basic, but it feels slightly off to me, like a music note that's slightly sharp. Just a little wrong.

The Maori man walks up behind me, "The Norse Shield of Awe. Some really old vampire asked me to do that on him. He was maybe 700 years old. Not one of the first ones, but pretty damn old, if I say so."

"700 sounds about right, he asked for Younger Futhark runes," I point out.

"Really?" the man asks.

"Yeah, I can tell. I've been researching runes and Viking magic for the past couple of months. He made some choice differences in the runes he put along the outer rim. Here, I'll show you if you give me a pen." He grabs a marker from the side table and hands it to me, while I flip to an empty page. I quickly draw the eight lines, almost like a compass that points to NE, SE, SW, and NW, along with the standard points of direction. Then I add the circle in the center, then three perpendicular lines, and the final points on the end. I draw a circle around the compass part and start writing the runes that create the feeling of a perfect note. When I finish inscribing the runes, I draw another circle around the runes, and I show the man (I should learn his name) the picture. "See the difference."

He nods, "Yeah. Yeah, I see it now." He moves to sit on his stool, "So where do you want this?"

My head whips to face him, "What? No. No, I'm getting a memorial tattoo."

"This isn't that?" he asks, squinting at the image and then at me.

"No, that's a symbol of protection," I explain. Then it hits me, "that's a symbol of protection," I whisper again.

"You said that twice," the man says.

"Yeah, it's cause it just hit me why I could draw this," I say distractedly, because I'm still a bit shocked.

"Ok, why could you draw this," he asks.

"It's because…" I trail off. I don't know how to explain this. Like, yes, I have been researching runes, but I shouldn't know this. I finish in a rush, "It doesn't matter actually. But I need you to tattoo this on me.". I need this done.

"Ok, tell me where you want it and how big, and we can get started."

Oh, it's going to take more than just that for this to happen. I really hope I don't have to explain too much.

---

(A/N: the following depicts an image of cultures that I am not a representative of. I am just trying to expand the world beyond what we see in the show. I am not trying to appropriate or misrepresent the cultures of these characters. These are real life cultures and I do not want to portray them with anything other than respect, but there's only so much that I can get from research. If you are part of either of these cultures and feel the need to correct me, go ahead. But I am trying my best. I also don't know much about tattoos and the process so I'm taking creative liberties with this scene.)

The man, as I learned as he does my tattoos, is named Mateo. He and his mom moved from New Zealand when he was young, following his white New Zealander father. His mother's family was magical but his father wasn't, so his parents split, and he and his mom went back to New Zealand when he was 10. He learned magic from his grandmother, trying to become the tattoo artist for their tribe. But the tradition is very male-dominated, and after growing up with younger sisters all raised by proud and powerful mother and grandmother, he didn't feel comfortable following in the slightly sexist tradition. But he just did become inspired to do more art and so he came back to the US. He met his wife, a Mexican American bruja (a culturally specific witch, often focused on magic pertaining to communicating with family spirits) in the city and now they have three kids. Two older boys and a 4-year-old girl. He tells me about their different magical prowess; how the older boys reacted to seeing their first haka ritual versus the girl's strong connection to her mother's magic.

"Oh, you can already tell that she's going to be powerful. Her reaction to our last Dia de los Muertos celebration was something else. She's already started planning for this upcoming one. My wife is so excited."

It's nice to think about something other than the tattoo needle going into my skin, (not that the pain really bothers me) or what he is marking my skin with.

It takes longer than I expected to get the tattoos done. He did the Helm of Awe first as the stencil is simpler. He also kept the ritual for the magic simple enough to get it over with quicker. By the time Mateo's boss, the bearded guy (Gordon), comes in, the magic is done, and the room goes back to normal. Mateo is already setting up the stencil for my memorial tattoo (simplified to different sized books with titles only in black and white for time) when Gordon walks in, completely unaware of anything outside of the ordinary.

Luckily, Gordon is cool about me keeping them open a little late and even lets Nell in when she's done. She keeps the conversation lively and the time moves quickly as my memorial tattoo is completed. She chats about her new art, also a tribute to her family. She got a Goldfinch bird leaving the nest on the right side of her chest and collarbone. It was a flash tattoo that was done by her friend here. She tells the story of her being the first child to leave the house. She lightly complains about the pain for a while, with Mateo telling her stories of the pain of traditional Māori tattoos, which stops her complaints in their tracks. Their polite chatter continues until my tattoo is done.

Mateo gives me some care instructions that I listen to before I'm being dragged out of the store as soon as we finish paying. It was way more expensive than I would normally be comfortable with spending, but I couldn't just say no, especially with Nell excitedly chatting in my ear and the employees all staring at me. So, my last couple paychecks are drained paying for the tattoos.

Nell holds me so we walk arm linked all the way back to the apartment. It's late when we get back, but despite the time, I feel energized.

I look over at my alarm clock just in time to grab a small box I left hidden inside my box, a small scroll of paper, and stand by the window. After reading what's on the paper a few times, I leave the box on the windowsill, and look up at the moon.

Gently, I whisper, "Happy Birthday, Elena."

I turn and go back to bed.

I don't notice that the box isn't there anymore.

---

Back in Mystic Falls:

Elena wakes up early, clutching the drawing in her hand. She gives a soft smile when she sees the picture again. Then the thought hits her, and she sits up rapidly.

She drops the drawing on her bed and starts running around her room, getting dressed. She grabs her keys and the drawing before she goes running out of her room and the house.

Elena drives rapidly through town, her heart racing.

When she gets to her destination, she barely takes the time to put her car in park and turn off the engine, before she is running again. She slows down a bit on the stairs, but she keeps trying to move as fast as she can. By the time she makes it to the door, she is completely winded. She pants heavily as she knocks on the apartment door.

A groggy, rumpled Alaric opens the door. "Elena?" he asks.

She just pants. She tries to slow her breathing down enough to explain, but she can't catch her breath. So, she just hands Alaric the piece of parchment.

He stares at it uncomprehendingly for a few minutes before he recognizes the scene of the drawing and the significance of his own face being there. "But…this…this never happened. I…uh…I've never been at your birthday."

Elena takes a deep breath before she gasps out, "Birthdays… are for family…You are family."

"But…I-" Alaric tries. And then he takes another deep look at the drawing. He sees himself happy, with Jenna at his side. Flashes of memories pop into his head. Other times he had seen that same smile. Directed at him, directed at the girls or Jeremy. And then he remembers the last time he saw Jenna. And the promise that he made to her.

His stomach drops and he looks up at Elena. The girl who was still half dead at the time. And then he looks back down at the sketch in his hands. At the rendered image of the girl who made the last moments possible. He looks back at her sister, "I'm so sorry, Elena. I…I should've stayed. I made a promise to Jenna," he covers up with, "On her grave. That I would keep you guys safe. And I didn't. I haven't been there for you. Not as I promised that I would be."

"It's okay," Elena tries.

"It's not. I've been so caught up in missing Jenna. And failing to measure up to Emilia. That I haven't been supporting the two of you that are left. I'll move my stuff back today. I'll sleep in Jenna's room and I'll be better. I won't drink as much, and I'll keep Jeremy on time."

Elena chuckles breathily, "That's great, Alaric. But that's not all." Alaric lowers his eyebrows at her, so she continues, "Look at the cake."

Alaric follows her instructions, "It's a cake."

"With eighteen candles," Elena explains.

"Ok, so it's an 18th birthday gift," he questions.

"Now look at the bottom right corner," Elena says, getting more excited.

Alaric glances at Elena before he looks down. He squints at the signature, "Is that…Emilia's signature?" he asks.

"It is! Do you see what this means?"

Alaric hesitates before answering, "No."

"It means that Emilia's alive!"

Alaric rubs the back of his neck, "Elena, I don't really think-"

She interrupts, "I know it doesn't seem like anything. But this is Emilia's signature. And this is her drawing. I'd know it anywhere."

"Ok, so she drew the photo. That doesn't mean that she's still alive. Or really give us any clue as to where she is."

"Look, you can still smell the fixative. It's this spray she uses to keep the pencil marks from smudging. It was applied recently. She had to have drawn this picture after she disappeared. She's alive."

Alaric smells the chemical scent. But he still hesitates.

Elena tries one more time, "This just appeared in my room. I don't know how but I'm sure she's responsible for getting it to me. That plus the fixative, it has to mean something!"

Alaric stares at the flushed Elena. Her eyes have brightened with the hope and frankly, they both could use this. "I believe you. She's alive."

---

Chicago:

Ugh, again with the sunlight! Come on! I went to bed late!

I sit up and stretch. And when I stand up, I realize how good I feel.

I'm not tired. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I wake up feeling great.

I mean there's a limit to that greatness. I mean I still have to use a lot of concealer and I don't confront the mirrors in my life, but it's okay. It's not something that I'm mad at myself about. For once, I don't start the day angry and disappointed in myself.

I just feel lighter.

I wonder why that is.

Nell trudges in after hitting snooze on all of her six alarms at least 3 times each. I chuckle at her sleepy groans, already brewing coffee for her and making an extra breakfast. It may not be birthday blueberry pancakes with Elena, but it is a delicious breakfast and a nice peace offering. I actually stay in the kitchen to eat and I watch as Nell wakes up slowly as she sips her coffee.

"How are you awake? We got home so late," she groans.

"I don't know, I just woke up right," I answer, smiling into my cup of coffee.

"It's probably because you didn't have any nightmares," she points out.

I almost dropped my mug in shock as I realize. "What?" I ask her breathily.

"Your nightmares? You have them a lot," Nell comments.

I take another sip of coffee before I reply, "Oh, sorry. Do I wake you that often?"

"I mean not as often as you would think. My siblings were absolute terrors when it came to nighttime routines, so I'm used to noises at night."

"Again, sorry," I say before I turn to the sink and drain my coffee. I didn't realize that my nightmares were that bad. I thought I kept it pretty contained.

"So, you didn't have one last night? That's really good."

"Uh, yeah. I think it's cause we got home so late. It was such a busy day, I just passed out by the time we got back." That sounds like a good excuse, right? I mean, I'm not going to tell her that I typically get home from Gloria's later than that on the regular. Nor am I going to explain why I most likely got some sleep. I can't believe that I didn't have a nightmare.

"Yeah, the pain from my tattoo kept me from sleeping. And good luck today, because the second day sucks. I'm so sore. What about you?"

I touch the bandage on the back of my neck, the one covering my memorial tattoo. I press on the now unnecessary bandage and say, "You know it's not so bad." With a secret smile and a check at the time, I grab my stuff and head to the door. I stop in the open doorway and turn back to my roommate who is now munching on the food I made for her. "Hey Nell," I call.

"Yeah," she mumbles back through a mouth of food.

"Thanks for yesterday. For dragging me there," I answer.

She smiles, cheeks full like a chipmunk. "Hey, thanks for breakfast." And she turns back to eating, flashing me another smile.

I close the door behind me and take a breath, leaning my back against the door. I stand back up and look to my right shoulder, pulling the bandage off. The Shield of Awe is fully healed and it feels great on my skin.

But it can't stay that way.

With a flash of my knife, a press of my hand left hand against my skin, and a few whispered words, the red-tinted black ink disappears from view.

Perfect.

Things are finally starting to work my way.

---

A/N: Oh My GOD! Over 17,000 words! Wow, I never anticipated that this chapter would be this long. I hope you enjoyed a look at life in Mystic Falls without Emilia (Keep in mind that these people are mourning her, so it's not a perfect look at who she is) and a look into life in Chicago with Emilia. Now, if you think that you know where this story is going because of where Emilia is, you would be wrong. The twists are just beginning and I'm so excited for you all to read it!

As always, tell me what you think!