If you recognize it, I don't own it! OCs are mine, but you wouldn't want those A-holes anyway.
TW: mentions of sexual assault. Doesn't happen, but it is talked about in non-graphic detail.
Miriam was incandescently, firmly, justifiably angry. She wanted to listen to the Hamilton soundtrack, but couldn't. Her 2021 phone had died the day after she had appeared in the new world she found herself in. She had a sneaking suspicion that even if she could get it to turn on everything would be wiped clean. This, she decided, was the worst part of being in the past. She couldn't listen to her favorite songs, or watch her favorite TV shows, or talk about her favorite movies. She had forgotten the correct lyrics to a song from her era a couple weeks ago had broken down in tears over it, because there was no way for her to know the correct words. Now she was craving Hamilton music, but there was no way for her to listen to it.
"Why couldn't I have been dropped into that world, huh?" she demanded at the Powers That Be (or, more accurately, her living room ceiling). "I'd love that! Those pretty dresses, men in tight pants, and no need for a social security number to live a good life!"
Her money situation was still a clear and present problem. Cleaning didn't exactly rake in the cash. How could it? Other people who cleaned houses, buildings, or schools for a living were minorities. Most of them were immigrants from various countries. Some of them were undocumented and trying to fly under the radar, like Miriam. A good portion of the workers were women trying to provide for their families. All these different kinds of people were easily exploitable. They were less likely to form a union. They were more likely to go missing under mysterious circumstances.
A lot of people Miriam cleaned for looked down at her and the other cleaners. Many homeowners would talk to her slowly and patronizingly. They didn't seem to notice that Miriam spoke perfect English. Her dark skin tone and last name spoke for her. Miriam needed her job, so she let the racial profiling happen. What else was she supposed to do?
Baahir sent her money, when he could. He was still saving up to get her the documentation she needed, but it had been put on hold when he moved to New Orleans. The city was a warzone, and between helping Marcel wage war on the witches and working at the docks, Baahir was extremely busy. But his life wasn't all bad.
He called her late one night in June. She had been working extra shifts, partially to make more money, and partially due to guilt. Miranda and Grayson Gilbert had died from a tragic car accident on May 23rd, leaving behind an orphaned Elena and Jeremy. The town had held a candlelight vigil for the deceased parents, and the tragedy was the only thing the townspeople were talking about. The guilt was festering inside of her chest like an infected wound. She had barely managed to eat a peanut butter sandwich before flopping down on her bed fully clothed. She almost didn't answer her phone when it rang, but she knew it was Baahir, so she pulled her catatonic body upright and picked up her phone.
"What's up, Baahir?"
"I found my mate!"
"What?!" Miriam was suddenly incredibly focused.
"Yes! Miriam, he's wonderful, and perfect, and amazing, and…" Baahir praised his mate's attributes for several minutes before Miriam could speak a word.
"Baahir, what's his name?" Miriam grinned.
"Oh! My love's name is Philip Smythe. He is a vampire. He was turned in the year 1800, so he is a little young, but he's very mature for his age…"
That night Baahir talked for hours about his soulmate. He was completely enthralled by the new vampire, and couldn't stop talking about him. Miriam listened happily. Her best friend and brother had finally found the other half of his soul after spending 800 years searching.
She didn't recognize Baahir's soulmate's name from any of the TV shows in the universe she now lived in, and she hoped that unrecognition was a good thing. Hopefully he wouldn't die, and he and Baahir would live the rest of their immortal lives together.
Miriam was only a little jealous of Baahir's newfound love. Truthfully, she didn't feel ready to date. What would she even say to the poor sucker who agreed to go out with her? Yeah, I was born in Arizona, but I live in Virginia now because the gods or whatever threw me into an alternate reality. Wanna order dessert? Yeah, no. Her love-life was going to have to be put on hold indefinitely. She could barely afford to feed herself, let alone go on dates. And who would she go on dates with? Rural Virginia was filled with families and vampires, not single men. It wasn't exactly a deep dating pool. And call her stupid, but she didn't want to get involved with any of the Mystic Falls gang. Not only were they all still teenagers and she'd feel like a predator if she started dating Matt or Jeremy, but the significant others of main characters didn't tend to live long. Miriam had realized a long time ago that she probably wouldn't live long in this world, but she didn't want to tempt fate: it would be like deliberately putting on a red shirt if she had landed in the Star Trek universe.
Summer of 2009 passed quickly. Virginia was humid and muggy during the summer months, and Miriam hated it. She never thought she'd admit it, but she missed summers in Arizona. The only highlight in the humid, boring summer was Baahir and Philip visiting in mid-August.
"I missed you!" Miriam barely waited for Baahir to get out of the car before running up to him and hugging him.
"Oof! I am pleased to see you, too!" He picked her up like she weighed nothing. Something in her soul settled as she felt the pressure of his arms around her. She hadn't believed him when he called them platonic soulmates, but over the past year she had become convinced. She didn't know how she had lived her life without him.
"Y'all are adorable," a sly voice said.
"Sorry, I'm being rude!" Miriam pulled away and faced her brother's mate. Philip was tall and slim. He looked like he was close to 6 feet tall, making him the tallest of their trio. His dreadlocks were pulled back into a ponytail. The light glinted off his gold glasses. He was African-American. According to Baahir, he had been one of the few freed black men of that time. He had made his living in shoe-making in the North, before a vampire had turned him. His hands had permanent calluses on them; Miriam could feel them as she shook his hand. His smile was warm and kind.
"It's completely understandable," he said sincerely. "It's nice to meet the woman with whom I'm sharing space with in Baahir's heart."
"Pff, we both you're number one," she laughed and waved away his words.
"Baahir was right, we have to work on your self-confidence," he linked their arms. "Now, where in this god-forsaken back-water town is the best place to eat?"
"Two hours away," Miriam giggled. "We found a great Italian place by fluke one night last year. It's expensive, but totally worth it."
"Then let's go! Baahir will drive while we talk," Philip decided.
"I am going to regret letting you two meet, aren't I?" Baahir drawled.
"Of course, Baby Baahir," Miriam patted his cheek as she walked by him. "Let's go. I'm hungry, and I've got a lot of good stories to tell you, Philip!"
Later that night, Philip went back to the bed-and-breakfast the couple was staying at. Baahir went back to Miriam's apartment so they could discuss the future. They talked for a couple of hours, committing their plan to memory. Miriam confessed her guilt to Baahir about letting innocent people die for the good of the plot. While he couldn't fully understand her dilemma, he could at least reassure her that her choice of inaction now would save more lives in the future. She didn't fully agree, but having someone else tell her that she was correct in letting the Gilbert parents die dispelled some of her fears.
"Think of it this way," Baahir said after a couple minutes of silence, "I am from Elijah's line, and Philip is from Kol's line. We need to keep them alive if we want to stay alive."
Miriam sighed. "I know. It's just hard, playing god… er, goddess."
He looked at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry that you were put in this place, sweeting. You can always come back to New Orleans with us, or you can leave and go somewhere else. Philip and I can handle keeping the Mikaelsons alive."
"I don't think I could live with myself if I just sat back and did nothing," she admitted. Maybe if she had been found by humans when she first arrived, everything would be different. Maybe then she could walk away and let events play themselves out. But she loved Baahir, and couldn't just watch him die.
"I know, sweeting. It's not in your nature," he put his arm around her.
It could be, a dark part of her whispered. She ignored it, and burrowed deeper in Baahir's arms.
September arrived quietly. The earth didn't shift on its axis once the show's events began. Miriam wished a gong would sound, or the colors around her would become sharper, something to show that important things were happening. The lack of ceremony freaked Miriam out.
She hovers in the town center, listening to older people gossip. When she hears two middle aged women discussing "poor Vicki Donovan", she knew it was time to make her move.
It was still early in the morning as she walked up the driveway to the Salvatore Boarding House. She knew all the teens would be at school, and Stefan would be at the hospital. Hopefully Damon was at the house, otherwise Miriam would have made the trip for nothing. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the impressive door.
"Who are you?"
Miriam turned around slowly.
Damon Salvatore stood in the middle of the driveway. He looked… different (different wasn't the right word, but it was the closest word that came to mind) from his TV counterpart. The closest comparison Miriam could think of was if the man in front of her was cosplaying as Damon. He was similar enough to the TV character that she could place him, but there was still a disconnect. She wasn't sure if the disconnect was because she was seeing them in real life, not through a TV screen, or if it was because the man in front of her was actually a vampire. Either way, Miriam was bewildered at the difference.
There were similarities, though. He was tall, wore all black, had jet black hair, and was pale. His jaw was impressively sharp, but it was his piercing blue eyes that made Miriam's inner-fangirl stutter. She had never seen eyes that blue before. They were truly stunning.
Realizing she needed to say something before she spent too much time gawking at him, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "Do you only wear black?"
"I tried a dark grey shirt once. It was too colorful." He flashed forward until he was scarcely two inches from her. "Who are you?" he repeated.
"Miriam. Can we go inside and talk?"
"About what, Mysterious Miriam?"
"The future. I'm a seer," she lied. She knew she couldn't tell the truth, so she figured that a seer would be the closest descriptor to call herself.
"Hmm," he looked her up and down. "Come on."
Once inside he led her to the living room with the huge fireplace. Miriam tried not to gawp at the room like a tourist. She sat down delicately on one sofa, with him on the sofa across from her.
"Talk to me about my future, Miriam the seer," his tone and body language was clearly mocking.
"You don't believe I'm a seer?" she asked.
"No," he snorted. "I've met seers, and no offense, but you aren't really the type."
"Then maybe I used the wrong word," Miriam countered, thinking quickly. "I'm a knower. I know all things past, present, and future."
"Yeah, sure," Damon didn't look convinced.
"Lorenzo St. John," Miriam hoped she was playing the right card. "You were both prisoners of the Augustine Society in the 1950s. You escaped, but turned off your humanity and left Enzo for dead."
Watching Damon's face transform from sly to seriously pissed off was jarring. He snarled, the sound low and intimidating. "What else do you know?"
"Everything, but that isn't what I wanted to talk about. I know why you're in Mystic Falls. I know your plans."
"Are you here to stop me, little Knower?" he snapped.
"No," he blinked, obviously not expecting Miriam's answer. She forged ahead: "I'm not going to interfere with anything. Keep toying with your brother, keep trying to get Katherine free. I won't be monitoring your behavior, or outing you to the town."
"Then what are you doing here?" Damon demanded.
"Believe it or not, I'm actually trying to save your life, and Stefan's, and Caroline's, and Elena's, and Katherine's, and many others. I just ask for one thing in return: you leave Caroline alone, sexually. Feed on her, scare her, use her as the pawn she currently is, just don't actually cross that line. She's a seventeen-year-old girl, Damon. You're over a hundred years old. It's predatory and borderline assault." Depending on whether or not you believed compulsion was fundamentally messed up in areas that concerned sex, Miriam added in her head. She knew she was being slightly hypocritical, letting Demon kill other people but protecting Caroline from an assault that may or may not have happened. But everyone had their line in the sand, and Miriam wouldn't budge.
"What are you going to do if I don't stay away from Blondie?" he challenged.
She sighed. "Nothing. But someday soon you might want an answer to a question you have, and if you don't do as I say, I'm not going to answer that question. I can be a great ally to have, but only if you don't compel Caroline to have sex with you."
"I don't like being threatened," Damon warned.
"I'm not threatening you, I'm warning you. In fact, I'm promising you. Hurt Caroline in any other way besides feeding on her, and I won't help you in the future."
Miriam left quickly. As she walked away from the mansion, her body began to shiver as the adrenaline started to fade out of her system. She had just met one of the main characters! She just tried to alter the storyline! She hadn't died! Shaking her limbs out as she walked, Miriam picked up her pace. She knew Elena was going to arrive at the Salvatore house later, and didn't want the girl seeing her. As she rode the bus back into town, she pondered her meeting with Damon. She hoped Damon didn't get too worked up; she knew he was going to see Elena later. Their first meeting had gone relatively smoothly in the show, but now that Miriam had upset him, she hoped he wouldn't do anything rash...
Miriam had had a long day. First she had confronted Damon, and then she had gone to work, which had its own issues. One of the families she cleaned for, the Schmitts, had a fifteen-year-old son who continuously clogged the toilet. When she would start cleaning the bathroom and trying to unclog the toilet the greasy teen would stand in the doorway, watching her work with a hungry look in his eyes and an uncomfortable bulge in the front of his pants. He made her feel gross, but it wasn't as bad as his father, who would unnecessarily touch her. If she was in the kitchen, he would move around her, but always made sure to put his hands on her hips or butt while doing so. His leer was as gross as his son's, but there was more malice behind it. Miriam was sure he had actually propositioned other cleaning women before, and she was worried she would be next. She didn't know what Mr. Schmitt would do if she turned him down, but she was afraid he would turn violent. He seemed the type.
She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she barely managed to get off the bus when it was her stop. She was still deep in thought as she walked the five blocks to her apartment building. A loud siren broke through the fog of her mind, and she looked up in time to see a bright red firetruck pass her.
It turned where Miriam would usually turn. Her interest piqued, she wondered if Mr. Clinton from down the hall finally had the heart attack he swore to Mrs. Clinton was coming any day.
She rounded the corner, and her jaw dropped.
Her apartment building was on fire!
AN: We've finally caught up to the show's timeline! I'm not going to focus heavily on season 1, because let's be honest, we're all here for the Original brothers.
SO, I realized that my moral compass is somewhat skewed, as I couldn't fully forgive Damon for compelling women to have sex with him, but I am 100% a Hannibal Lecter apologist. BUT this isn't going to be a story where characters are needlessly bashed. I do have favorites (and least favorites), but my goal is to do them all justice.
ALSO, I went back and changed some formatting issues in the first 3 chapters. It took me 4 chapters to figure out how to do those line breaks, lol
Thanks to everyone who reads this fic! It really means a lot. You guys are great! - Whitney
