Mystic Falls, VA September 25, 1864

"Katherine!" Damon's voice broke, as he watched the love of his life drug away from him.

"Katherine." Stefan's voice was quiet, knowing the battle lost.

Shots rang out and Damon dropped, blood blossoming on his chest. Another shot, and Stefan joined him.

Looking toward the trajectory of the shots, holding the gun was their father, Giuseppe Salvatore.

Washington, DC July 10, 2010

"Sheriff Forbes, I'm not completely sure what I'm supposed to do?" Jessica Warren asked from the café where she sat drinking her tea and checking email on her laptop.

"Jessica, you know you're the last in your line of a founding family." Sheriff Forbes sounded tired and annoyed. Jessica wished she felt helpful. Unfortunately what she was asking was too much.

"Yes, I'm aware. You guys have called often enough for donations." Jessica agreed, as she clicked open her latest book from her editor's email and began the changes required for publication.

"And you also know that's not all that comes from being a founder." The sheriff reminded her, again. These people, Jessica thought, rolling her eyes. "We haven't asked you to come back before, and you know we could have."

"Are you threatening me, Sheriff?" Jessica asked, allowing her own annoyance to shine through. "Because let me tell you, that's a bad idea."

"Of course not, we know you're one of us, even if you aren't exactly…" The sheriff was having some issues making her thoughts work.

"It's fine, Sheriff, if you really want me to show up for the first time in like 70 years, I'll be there." Jessica sighed, giving in too easily, but she was intrigued. They hadn't asked her to come home, even though she knew they could have at any point. Ugh, she thought, drive or fly? "Although, honestly, I can't fight any of the threats that we know are drawn to Mystic Falls considering my only 'power' is not dying."

"Jessica, we just really need you. Maybe you'll know what the hell is going on." The sheriff hung up on that note, having won the best assurance she could offer. Jessica, however, fought the urge to growl.

Mystic Falls. UGH. I truly hate that fucking town. She moaned, and took a drink of her tea before packing up her laptop and research material. Her first call was to Henry, asking him to have the house aired out.

Mystic Falls, VA July 13, 2010

Jessica looked around her and considered a plan of attack. The one that got her vote was to return to the rental car, drive back to the airport, and get the fuck away from this horror show. Hating Mystic Falls came as natural to her as breathing and unfortunately for her, she had actually felt the need to let the founding families in on her little secret. That particular day was just another nail in the coffin of her responsibilities to this town. She told them only of her immortality, and they tested it, but that one nugget was enough for them to feel she was bound to them.

This town, looking around she realized the council had worked to make it more quaint ,was gross. It grated on her. She hated every part of it, including the vampire in residence currently. Damon Salvatore. Of course.

She came back once, in the '40s. After learning that Stefan and Damon weren't dead of old age, she'd contemplated warning the council of their danger, but decided against it. She'd bolted. She didn't want to see either of them, regardless of their angst. They can both go hack up a hairball as far as she's concerned. Although, that dream she had the other night was annoying. To see the way they left their mortal coils was unsettling and she'd never had that dream before.

I hate this place, was on repeat in her head. However, she did need groceries, since the couple she'd hired as caretakers didn't know what she liked to eat. So as the mantra played over and over, she walked toward the grocery store and ignored the frolicking townsfolk. She'd let the council know she was here soon enough, acclimating to this hellhole was more important.

She gathered the essentials. Bread, cheese, crackers, tea, and so on. It was rhythmic and almost lulled her into believing she was back in DC gathering her weekly needs. Checking out, she made her way to the rental car, checking her phone for messages from her publisher and editor. Colliding head on with a broad chest was not on her list, but it happened.

"Damn it." She said, shaking off the collusion. She looked up into blue eyes that she swore she'd never see again. "Fuck."

"Jessa?" He blinked with a whisper. She could clearly see that he'd assumed she'd died of old age by now. Well, surprise to you too.

"JESSICA." She said, checking to see if her eggs were broken. "Now, if you'll excuse me." She stepped around his shocked body and walked to the car. Before she could open the door, he was there. Fucking vampire speed. "Yes?" She asked rudely.

"How are you…" He struggled for the word.

"Alive?" She supplied. "Why do you care?" She asked, feeling it was the better question.

"Jessa," He started. She corrected him again, with her full name. "Fine, Jessica. You aren't a vampire." It wasn't a question, but she could see him attempting to puzzle out her species, just as she continued to do.

She laughed. "Um, no." She opened the door and started to get in. "I'm not a vampire, or a werewolf, or god knows what else breeds in the shadows. You'd know that if you gave an inkling of a care back in 1864. Now excuse me, but my milk needs to be refrigerated." She got in and slammed the door as he gaped at her.

She drove carefully to the house. She still couldn't think of it as her house, not really. I mean, opening the door and staying one or two nights in the 1940s doesn't constitute ownership. Besides it acts better as a historical site. The house was huge, two stories and blindingly white. Tara comes to mind, she thought. Nothing like the apartments and flats she was used to. The lawns and gardens look kept up, as they should considering the cost she undertook to keep it that way. As she got out, Henry her caretaker came up and welcomed her.

"Hello, Ms. Warren." He grinned handing her the keys. "I hope you have a great stay."

"Thank you, Henry." She smiled graciously, it wasn't his fault she was forced back. As he walked toward his own vehicle, she muttered, "I hope it's a short stay." Picking up her groceries and grabbing the handle of her luggage she walked inside. Shutting the door, she sighed. And again, "I hate this fucking town," crossed her lips.

It was barely two hours later that she let the sheriff know she was in town. Two hours to acclimate to the climate of a house she didn't feel comfortable in. Two hours to try to decide whether staying was a great idea or leaving hellbent out of town was a better one. Sadly civic duty won that battle.

"Hello, Sheriff Forbes," she said, as the sheriff came to her front door. She stepped aside to let her pass and groaned as she saw her plus one.

"Hello, Jessa." He said, innuendo on his lips. She smirked and looked at the sheriff.

"I wasn't aware you were bringing a guest." She glared at Damon and held him up from entering her house.

"Damon told me you two knew each other." The sheriff looked between the two of them and realized that Jessica wasn't inviting him in. "Jessica, we have to work together."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Wow, in that case, please Damon, won't you come in." She let the sarcasm drip from her lips.

A mocking grin was plastered on his face as he walked through the threshold. "Ass." Jessica said, only loud enough for him to hear. He chuckled and kept walking, looking around as though this historical piece of crap would tell him something about her that he didn't already know.

"So, Sheriff Forbes," Jessica began, hoping they could get to the point and she could fight the urge to play hostess. Her past was not completely wiped away, after all.

"Liz," Damon said, still looking around at the furnishings. "Her name is Liz."

Glaring at Damon, she looked back at the sheriff. "Liz, what precisely is the issue?"

"Damon actually knows more," she looked apologetic, "perhaps he should fill you in."

Jessica looked over at Damon who was manhandling something antique. "Do you mind?" She asked, getting up and taking the knickknack from him.

"Not at all," he said, grabbing something else to juggle. "Anyway, as Liz said, I know more about the issue. So, since you've been running around pretending you don't belong in Mystic Falls. This has become stomping ground for some pretty weird crap. For example, apparently there are Original vampires."

"Did you really think Katherine Pierce started the craze?" She snapped. Sitting back down, resigned to him juggling probably priceless antiques.

He looked at her when she snapped, confused. "Right, so anyway, Klaus and Elijah, two Originals showed up a couple months ago and they focused their interest on Elena."

"Elena?" Jessica interrupted, confused now too. "Who's Elena?"

"Katherine Pierce's doppelgänger." Damon said, barely above a whisper.

Jessica sighed. Of course, one more reason to hate this fucking town. "Katherine has a look-a-like?" She sounded resigned to her own ears, so she hoped her rage was evident on her face. "And what? I'm supposed to protect it by sacrificing my unkillable self?"

"Her," Liz said, watching Jessica's face carefully. For a moment the anger was evident and a sadness she'd never heard in the young woman's voice. "Elena Gilbert, she's my daughter's best friend."

"Great," Jessica said, tempted again to get to the rental and leave. "So there are Original vampires, which doesn't surprise me, two of which came looking for Katherine's twin, and here I am. Explain."

She listened as Damon explained how Klaus became a hybrid and how Stefan was now indebted to him because Damon had been in danger of truly dying, he attempted to downplay the fact that Katherine was still running amok, but came to the point of the whole reason she was called back. Elena and Damon wanted her to help them figure out Stefan's whereabouts. She was patient until the end.

"Why would I know?" She asked, looking from Liz to Damon.

They, in turn, looked confused. "Because you were going to get married?"

She looked at their confused faces and began laughing, so hard that they looked worried. "I'm sorry. Who the hell told you that we were going to be married?"

Damon looked at her carefully, knowing Jessa better than he knew his own brother. What he saw was truth. His confusion grew. He remembered the night of his transition better than he cared to, and he also remember leaving Stefan with Lexi. Both conversations replayed in his head, hearing his brother lament Jessa's fate, and their unfulfilled future.

"Stefan told me, the night we died." Daman whispered.

Mystic Falls, VA September 26, 1864

Damon sat by the quarry's water supply, trying futilely to wash the blood from his shirt. He was wrapping his mind around everything. Losing Katherine. Watching his own father shoot the bullet that killed him. And knowing, when he woke up, that all the plans he made with Katherine were for naught.

He heard his brother come to, and heard Emily Bennett tell him the same things she told Damon. The daylight right, sitting on his finger for now, and the process to transition to a new never-ending life without Katherine. He wasn't going to do it. The whole point was her. The whole plan revolved around her. Without Katherine, death was better.

"Damon, we have to transition." Stefan said, looking at his older brother with hope. "She tricked us, but we could live together. We wouldn't be alone."

Damon glared at him and raged about his loss. He confessed that he never needed the compulsion to drink her blood and he was fully aware of his choice with her.

"If we die, then we'll never see Jessa again." Stefan said, barely above a whisper.

Her name cut him. He tried desperately not to see her face behind his eyelids. To hear her laughter. His best friend. And he hadn't noticed that she'd slipped out of Mystic Falls the night of the Founders' Party. Not until he walked past her room that night and noticed her door was open. That was so out of character for her, she valued privacy. When he walked in, he knew something horrific was wrong. The only thing that could be said to be hers was a dress laid carefully on the bed. A dress he'd never seen before. Katherine popped into his memory, laughing that Jessa had left, and conceded to her the supremacy for the town. He didn't understand, but seeing Katherine's joy at the loss of Jessa, at that moment he hadn't cared. But, hearing his brother speak of her so casually, cut him deep.

A fear he'd never acknowledged hit him hard and sudden. What if Jessa wasn't alive? What if Katherine had killed her? She could have, so easily, and she had all the means to get rid of her body and all her belongings. Another cut, a knife turning in his gut.

"I'd never show myself to her. She'd be unsafe. And I'd be a monster." Damon said, knowing that Jessa deserved so much more, if she was alive. He couldn't articulate his fear that she was dead. He had a start when he realized he'd never used the term "monster" to describe what Katherine was, not before comparing her to Jessa.

"We were to be married." Stefan said, startling him. "Father told me. It was something her parents wanted."

If hearing her name spoken after his treachery hurt, and the fear that she had died at the hands of the woman he loved beyond all others was a sharp knife to him, then knowing that his brother was to be her companion in life cut to the very bone. He sat still, thinking that neither of them ever deserved her. And hoping that she was alive to mourn him, because at that moment, he mourned her.

Mystic Falls, VA July 13, 2010

Jessica had stopped laughing and was offering refreshments. Her upbringing came easily, as she was still internally hysterical at the two of them making such assumptions. The very thought, she stopped a chuckle from escaping, of her and Stefan being end game. And the fact that this idiot across from her believed it. She shook her head and poured the iced tea.

"So, you have no idea where Stefan may be?" Liz asked, worried about the town should the Ripper version of Stefan and an unknown element of a hybrid should return.

"Sorry, Liz, bad information in relation to me." Jessica said, sipping her drink. "I'd think his own brother would know, but then again, neither of them, nor their father were all that great at communication. Hell, none of them noticed that I slipped away."

"You left," Damon said, with a glare. "No note, only a damn dress on the bed. One I'd never even seen before."

Jessica stared back. He looked mad, but honestly she couldn't care less. "Did you really give a damn, Damon?" She watched his eyes, trying to see if he could even fathom what she'd been through. "I mean Katherine was basically all you could see from the very moment you came home. You didn't even say hello to me. So forgive me if I doubt your sudden care about my person and my location."

Damon thought back, urging his memory to prove her wrong, but he was left wanting. He hadn't even had a casual conversation when he returned. He didn't see her at all. He glared at his glass and asked harshly, "Do you have anything a little stronger?"

She pointed at the decanters behind him. He stood and poured some very expensive bourbon in his glass.

"Now, seeing as I'm a Stefan finding dud, can I leave and go back to my happy existence that isn't in Mystic Falls?" She said, smiling in a very un-Jessa way. "I can't state enough, I fucking hate it here."

Liz looked back and forth, wondering just what their relationship was prior to Katherine Pierce. Shaking her head she was about to agree, but Damon glared at her.

"Sorry, nope." He answered, popping the "p" "You need to be here, because hybrids can't kill you. According to Liz, nothing can." It was partially a lie, she could see it on his face. A face that she could still read, even if he had lost the ability with her. She was still curious, so she decided to not put up a fight. He was playing at something, and she was very interested to see what game Damon was playing.

Looking up at him, she pursed her lips. "I find it hilarious, in a fairly not funny way, that you're acting like a petulant child about being ignorant about my immortality. I can still feel her teeth ripping out my jugular, Damon, and I can still feel her hands clutching at my throat to snap it." She could see his discomfort. "Katherine Pierce tried to murder me, in a house that I was supposed to be safe in, while surrounded by the very people who professed to care for me. And yet, you feel like somehow you've been wronged." She thought for a moment, collecting the pain she'd felt in the past. "So excuse me if I don't feel like I owe you any explanation for keeping a secret. Her presence erased me from the family that swore I was a part of, and so, I felt no compunction at doing the exact same thing to you, Stefan, and your father."

If a vampire could pale, he would have. He hadn't known, obviously. She smiled and offered Liz a plate of cookies. Taking one, she waited for him to say anything at all.

"I'll stay." She said, as his silence continued. Not because I owe you or Stefan a damn thing. I'll stay, because my name is the very first one on the founders roll. And for that, I will offer my services or a better phrase, my bodily sacrifice to protect others from a hybrid." She stopped, looking down to gather her thoughts. "If you'd care to repay the favor, keep Katherine's -look-a-like firmly away." She said, picking up her glass and walking away. "You can let yourselves out. And Damon? Don't think the invitation stands."

Jessica watched as Liz drove Damon away from the house. She considered leaving. This place, not just the house itself, but the town held no more happy memories. Those left as soon as that horrid bitch Katherine was welcomed with open arms. And where did that get the "innocent" townspeople? Cursed, whether real or imagined. This town bred darkness.

She cleaned up the minimal mess that she and her guests caused, thinking that she'd rather Henry's wife didn't have to perform her cleaning duties while she stayed in town. She'd rather clean up after herself, and she'd also rather not get anyone unnecessarily involved in founders' business.

She sighed and decided that a hot bubble bath, and a very early night was just what the misery of the day called for. Sleep, she hoped, that would be untroubled.

Jessica was walking noiselessly through the overgrowth. The path seemed familiar, but she was unsure, it had been a lifetime since she'd seen the destruction firsthand. 150 years was an extremely long time to recall a place that no longer existed.

She knew she needed to find the ruins of the house she was born in. The house no longer stood, but she had to find where it had been. The urge, the need to see it was overwhelming. It had to be here, somewhere. She searched, begging her memory to find it. It held the answers, to who she really was, of that she was certain. She tripped, and her body dropped harshly to the ground. Unable to get up.

Damon watched from the shadows as his former best friend stumbled silently through the overgrowth, curious about her search. She must be sleepwalking, he mussed, watching as she continued to look for whatever it was that brought her out into the night. She let out a soft groan of defeat, whatever she was looking for couldn't be found.

He glanced around himself, trying to find his bearings. With a start he realized they were very near the ruins of her former home. The home that burned to the ground without explanation. His curiosity peaked, he stood rooted trying to hear if she spoke. Nothing was said, but when she fell to the ground, he tried to rush forward to comfort and help her, and couldn't move

Damon jerked awake, sweat beading his brow. He looked around the familiar room, his room, in the boarding house and tried to make sense of his dream.

Across town, down a tree lined lane, void of other houses, Jessica woke with a start at the same moment. Without knowing that Damon witnessed her dream wanderings, she turned on the bedside lamp and pulled the journal she kept next to the bed to her, and sat up. After adjusting the pillows to sit more comfortably, she wrote the dream down fully detailed. One of the few things she found, from years of travel and research, was that her dreams were rarely just dreams. This was a dream that told her she needed to search for something.

She groaned and fell back, her head hitting the headboard. If only her dreams could be less vague, and more "you need to turn right at the acorn and left at the pine cone". Unfortunately, she knew it didn't work that way. Completely vague puzzles, that was how her dreams played out. So the journal, an annoying necessity, helped her figure out just what the inner workings of her brain was attempting to tell her. To be fair this dream appeared simple enough. She needed to go to the wreckage of her birthplace, and search, for what she hadn't a clue.

She turned off the light, settling back into the bed and tried to sleep peacefully.