Sorry this took a few more days than I thought. I was finishing up all the stuff I needed to do for school so that I wouldn't have to worry about any of it over Spring Break. (Which, hooray! Spring Break!) But here you go now.

Friday, June 26

Jeremy didn't have many close friends at school—sometimes he hung out with a couple of the guys in his art class, and before the breakup, Matt had usually been cool with Jeremy hanging around with him and Elena. Generally, though, Jeremy preferred to be a loner. During the summer break, being a loner meant that he had plenty of time to obsess over what his family was up to, because something was definitely going on, and he wanted to find out what it was.

At first, it had just been a series of little things: Aunt Jenna glancing out the windows about fifty times a minute whenever she was the only adult home with him and Elena (particularly at night), his dad telling him not to invite anyone he didn't know into the house (but especially not Damon Salvatore's little brother Stefan, who had brown hair, green eyes, and looked a little older than Elena), and his mom forcing him to drink at least one cup of this gross tea every day (even though he'd never liked tea in his life).

If the weirdness had been limited to minor stuff like that, Jeremy might have ignored it, but then there was the bizarre phone call his dad had made in Michigan and all the tension with Mayor Lockwood, and just the previous day, Damon had showed up to talk to his parents instead of Elena. Yeah. Something was definitely going on, and it seemed that he was the only one not in the loop.

Perhaps if Jeremy had been a few years older, it would have occurred to him to simply ask his parents about the whole thing, but he was still a month and a half shy of fifteen, and the obvious solution was too boring to even consider. He didn't need their help to figure out what they were up to. So far, however, his sleuthing skills had been somewhat hindered by the fact that Elena kept her phone and diary with her almost twenty-four seven, and either his mom or aunt was always working on something in view of the door to his dad's office whenever the man himself was away at work. Worse still, Jeremy was still a year and a month and a half shy of his driver's license, so he couldn't drive anywhere else in search of clues.

In the end, staying put was actually what served him best. While he was curled up on the window seat in the dining room not long after his dad got home from work, venting his frustrations on his sketchbook, a car pulled into the drive and Mayor Lockwood climbed out. He looked angry as he strode up the path to the porch, his jaw set and fists clenched. When the doorbell rang, Jeremy stayed very still, not wanting to get sent upstairs like yesterday. He'd left the dining room light off, preferring to sketch by the natural afternoon light from the window, which made the window seat an ideal position for eavesdropping on anyone in either the kitchen or the entryway.

His dad was the one who came to the door. Through the mirror in the dining room, Jeremy watched his mild expression turn glacial the moment he opened it. "What are you doing here, Lockwood?"

"You know damn well what I'm doing here, Gilbert," said the Mayor. Jeremy pressed himself even harder against the north wall of the window seat, his eyes wide.

"Actually, I don't," said Grayson, his reflection still looking calmly unwelcoming. "I've told you several times that I'll give you the watch as soon as John sends it back to me, so unless you've come to personally report another development in the investigation, I have no idea what you thought coming to my home would accomplish."

Investigation? Jeremy thought excitedly. What kind of investigation? Why was his dad involved? And why did the Mayor want a watch?

There was a pause. Jeremy saw his dad raise an eyebrow while the Mayor appeared to struggle with getting his temper in check. "I just thought you might need a little more incentive to hurry up, that's all," said the Mayor eventually.

"Then your time would be better spent calling in a complaint with the U.S. Postal Service, because there's not actually anything I can do to make it get here any faster."

"What I don't understand is how you can treat this matter so lightly. Lives could be at stake here."

"'Could' being the operative word. We still have no proof that any of them are actually in Mystic Falls."

"Last time, eleven people died before we even knew one was in town. If we wait for proof, it could be too late. We have the strong suspicions of Zach Salvatore, a Council member, which should be good enough."

"Right, Zach, who skipped town instead of sticking around to follow up on his own claims, leaving his two nephews to fend for themselves," Grayson scoffed. "Either he's a coward who doesn't give a crap what happens to those boys with him gone or he's not really all that convinced that there's anything to worry about."

"You understand the concept of a preemptive strike, don't you?" The Mayor sounded like he was angry enough to start throwing punches by now, but Grayson hadn't so much as blinked.

"Completely. I also understand the concepts of paranoid delusion, mass hysteria, and collateral damage. I won't join in a witch hunt unless there's evidence of actual witches."

"Clever," said the Mayor. "But witches aren't what we're hunting this time."

What on earth did he mean by that? Jeremy wondered.

"If Zach is right, and your stalling prevents me from securing my town before the attacks start, then any victims will be on you." The Mayor punctuated this by jabbing his index finger towards Grayson's chest.

"Of course," said Grayson, "because there's simply nothing else we could possibly be doing to secure the town before the watch gets here. We're obviously completely out of options."

At this point, Jeremy thought he heard the Mayor actually growl at his dad, and he had moved in so close that their noses were mere centimeters apart. However, if the Mayor thought proximity would be intimidating, he should have taken into account that Grayson was a solid three inches taller than him.

After the most tension-filled twenty seconds Jeremy had ever experienced, the Mayor took a step backward. "Liz should be in touch if anything turns up," he said. He sounded almost resentful.

"Have a safe drive home," said Grayson, barely giving the Mayor time to clear the threshold before slamming the door shut. Jeremy could hear the Mayor swearing furiously out on the porch. Grayson ran a hand through his hair. Then, in a move that nearly gave Jeremy a heart attack, he walked through the dining room towards the kitchen, but he still didn't see him sitting there.

As soon as his dad was safely in the kitchen, Jeremy hopped out of the window seat and crept towards the stairs. He had barely reached them when Elena emerged from her room, purse over her shoulder and car keys in hand. "Mom, Dad, I'm going to the Grill to meet Bonnie and Caroline!" she called loudly.

"Okay, sweetie!" they chorused from the kitchen.

"Hey, can I come?" said Jeremy eagerly. "It's Friday, right?"

Elena rolled her eyes. "Why, does a certain waitress work Friday nights?"

"Shut up," said Jeremy. "I'm coming with you. Let me just go get my shoes on." He ran past her up the stairs.

"You know she's dating Tyler, right?" Elena yelled after him.

"Shut up, Elena!"

X

When they arrived at the Grill, Jeremy didn't even let Elena finish asking him if he wanted to go find Bonnie and Caroline with her, he just headed straight for the smaller booth in the shadowy back corner of the restaurant. This booth had the dual advantage of giving him an excellent view of the kitchen door and being in Vicki's section. As a bonus, Elena and her friends were practically on the other side of the dining room, so he wouldn't have to put up with them teasing him about his "adorable puppy love crush" on a girl two grades above him.

He pulled out his sketchbook and resumed working on the drawing he'd started at home. Over the past few weeks, he'd been working on making more convincing action poses; in the past, he had mainly drawn people in static poses, but he'd learned a thing or two about proportions and foreshortening since then. The current figure was based on a photo of Bruce Lee in the middle of kicking through several inches of wooden board.

As Jeremy drew, he thought about the conversation he'd overheard between his dad and the Mayor. He wanted to find out more about this "investigation." Who were these people they feared might be in Mystic Falls, why did the Mayor need a watch to find them, and why might there be victims? Also, why had his dad talked about the Salvatore brothers like they were a couple of vulnerable kids after telling him to never let Stefan into the house?

"Wow, Jeremy, that's really cool," said a voice near his shoulder.

He jumped and looked around. It was Vicki. His stomach jolted horribly. "Thanks," he said, feeling his face turning red.

"I can barely draw a stick figure," she said. "What can I get you to drink?"

Jeremy opened his mouth to answer, but she said, "No, wait, I remember this one. You always get the raspberry lemonade, right? And then endless cheesy fries and a burger with avocado but no lettuce or onions?"

"That's me," said Jeremy, smiling broadly at her.

"It'll be right out," she said, smiling back and touching his shoulder before turning and walking to the kitchen. Jeremy watched her go, the knot in his stomach loosening slightly. As soon as she disappeared through the door, he flipped his sketchbook to a fresh page and started drawing something else.

Over the course of the next two hours, he alternated between working on the new drawing, checking that Elena didn't look ready to leave yet, and exchanging a few hopefully flirtatious words with Vicki whenever she swung by to refill his drink or his fries or take away the basket his burger came in.

To his irritation, Tyler showed up at about the hour and a half mark, and he seemed much more interested in copping a feel from Vicki than actually ordering food. Jeremy ground his teeth together and went back to drawing. Just when he was adding the finishing touches, his phone vibrated on the table next to him. He picked it up. Elena had sent him a text. "You ready to go? I'm about ready to head out."

Jeremy slid out of the booth and looked over at her across the restaurant. Bonnie and Caroline were both pulling dollar bills out of their purses. He caught Elena's eye, then pointed to the bathrooms. She nodded.

He had already paid the bill, but he set a couple of dollars down under his empty glass, then carefully removed the new drawing from his sketchbook and placed it upright between the napkin holder and the dessert menu, going red again at the thought that maybe someone other than Vicki would find it, then going even redder at the thought that Vicki would. He looked around the restaurant. He couldn't see Vicki, so there was a good chance he could get away before she found it. And he also couldn't see Tyler, so he wouldn't have to fight the urge to punch him in the face on the way out. He hurried off towards the bathroom before he could second-guess himself about the drawing.

On the way back out about two minutes later, he froze halfway through the door. Tyler and Vicki were making out in the hallway, his hands going up the back of her blue work shirt. Jeremy must've made some kind of noise of surprise, because Tyler broke away from Vicki and looked at him. "Run along, Gilbert," he said coolly.

"Tyler, stop, I have to go back to work," said Vicki, but she said it in a tone of reluctance that felt like a knife in Jeremy's gut.

"Yeah, wouldn't want someone else to take any of your tips," Jeremy muttered, then left before Tyler or Vicki could say anything else.

X

Vicki watched Jeremy go. She knew he had a crush on her; he'd had one for at least a couple of years now. She didn't feel the same way, but he was always so sweet, unlike most of the guys who wanted her. Maybe if he was her age, or even just one year younger instead of almost three… Regardless, she didn't want to rub his face in it that she was with Tyler now.

Tyler tried to resume their make-out session, but she reminded him again that she was supposed to be doing her job, and he reluctantly let go of her. She ducked into the girls' bathroom to check her hair and makeup, then headed back out into the dining room. Jeremy had left her a very nice tip on his table. She was about to just take it and leave the rest for the bus boy, but then she spotted the sheet of paper wedged between the napkin dispenser and the dessert menu. It was a drawing. She picked it up and looked at it. Her breath caught and a silly grin spread over her face.

The drawing was of her. Tyler had told her she looked hot, sexy, and pretty at various points, but Jeremy's drawing was different. That girl looked fun, happy, and beautiful.

If he kept this up, she might stop caring that he was three grades below her.

X

Sunday, June 28

Damon was happy, if puzzled, to see Elena's car sitting in the drive when he returned to the boarding house after having dinner at a seedy little bar a couple of miles out of town. He pulled in next to her car, suddenly very glad that he'd made sure not to get any blood on his clothes. Still, he couldn't stop himself from using the rearview mirror to double check that he'd gotten all of it off his face before he climbed out and headed up the front path.

He listened closely, but no sound was coming from inside the house. His curiosity increasing with every step, he walked inside. As he approached the parlor, he heard the hushed voices of his brother and Elena.

"Do I really have to do this?" said Stefan. He sounded grumpy and reluctant.

"Yes!" Elena hissed. "It's the most important part!"

Damon suppressed a snicker. So apparently the two of them had resolved their differences. That would explain why Stefan had been looking marginally less broody for the past few days.

He looked over to where the voices were coming from and saw two colorful points sticking up from behind one of the couches by the fireplace. What on earth…? The next second, Stefan and Elena jumped up into view (it turned out that the colorful points were the tips of striped party hats). "Happy birthday!" they chorused rather lopsidedly—Elena with great enthusiasm, her arms in the air, but Stefan very half-heartedly, looking self-conscious.

Damon stared at them both. "What are you doing?" he said.

"Giving you a birthday party!" said Elena, smiling. "We have presents and," she turned around and picked up a chocolate cupcake with a blue striped candle in it off the coffee table, "cupcakes!"

"How did you convince him to put that on his head?" said Damon, pointing at Stefan.

"He owes me," said Elena. Stefan swiped the hat off and ran a hand over his hair to smooth out the dent, scowling. Elena stifled a giggle and walked around the furniture to Damon. He hadn't moved from where he'd been standing when they first popped out. He wasn't really sure how to react to any of this, but Elena was just so delighted about all of it that he decided to indulge her. She grabbed his hand, and he let her pull him back over towards Stefan so they could all sit on the couches. Once they were seated, Elena gave him his cupcake.

"You have to blow out the candle," she explained. "And make a wish."

Damon's gaze kept being drawn to his brother's face. It was like Stefan couldn't decide whether he wanted to grimace or smile, so in the end he just looked constipated. Damon bit back his laughter and forced himself to look away, facing Elena instead and accepting the proffered cupcake. She picked up one of the other two cupcakes and poked the third closer to Stefan until he got the hint and took it. Still watching Elena, Damon blew out the candle.

X

"You got me a football?" said Damon, looking both amused and perplexed as the wrapping paper fell away. The three empty cupcake wrappers sat on the coffee table with the remaining inch and a half of the candle, and now the party had moved on to the present opening stage.

"It was, uh, it was what you got me in 1864 when you came back on leave," said Stefan. "The last time either of us actually bought the other a gift. Elena told me to get you something, but we've seen so little of each other for so long, and I realized that I have no idea what you like anymore."

Elena watched Stefan ramble on in obvious embarrassment and felt a surge of sympathy for him. He might not want to admit it—he might not even be aware of it on a conscious level—, but he definitely missed having a big brother.

Damon held the ball up, rotating it in one hand. "Real leather, good air pressure, nice grip." He lowered it and smirked at Stefan. "You know you won't stand a chance against me as long as you're eating nothing but Bambis and Thumpers, right?"

Stefan actually smiled. "We'll see about that."

"I bet you could get onto the high school field to play," said Elena, trying not to apply too much pressure. "The varsity and JV teams practice there a lot during the summer, but not at night."

"Ooh, good idea," said Damon. "Tomorrow, then? And would a retired cheerleader mind acting as referee?"

"Sounds like fun to me," said Elena.

"Okay," said Stefan. "You're on."

"Great!" said Elena happily. "Now open mine," she added, picking up the smaller package and handing it to Damon. "And be careful. It's kinda delicate."

Damon raised an eyebrow and began to remove the brightly colored wrapping paper. Inside was an ordinary envelope on which she had written "Happy birthday, Damon!" He tore off a thin strip along one of the narrow sides and pulled out the single aged piece of paper she'd found in that journal.

"Stefan, come here," said Elena, her excitement building. "You need to see it too." She moved closer to Damon on the couch and Stefan got up and came around the coffee table to sit on his other side, and they all began to read.

August 21, 1844

Dear Agatha,

I know you must be enjoying yourself immensely, visiting your sister and her family in Savannah, but you can hardly blame me for missing you. My son certainly misses Johnathan and Alexander. He is so full of life, always wanting to play and explore. Giuseppe has too many demands on his time from his businesses to play with him and I'm afraid I lack the energy to keep up with him most of the time.

I know any mother would probably say the same of her own child, but Damon is truly the dearest and most handsome boy there ever was. Just yesterday, he brought me a bouquet of flowers. Of course, they were from the flowerbed in the front of the house, and he ruined the new trousers I sewed him for his birthday to get them. Giuseppe would have been furious, but I couldn't stop laughing. To hide the evidence, I cut up the trousers into washrags and put the bouquet in a jug in the servants' quarters (they do work so hard; giving them a bit of bright color for those drab rooms seemed the least I could do). As far as Giuseppe knows, a stray dog is to blame for the ruined flowerbed. You will not give Damon and me away when you return, will you Agatha? Oh, I must tell you again how much I miss you!

Whenever I watch Damon playing, particularly when he has no Gilbert boys to run after, I can't help imagining how it would be if he, like your Johnathan, had a little brother. The two of them would have such adventures together. Again, I must risk offending all other mothers, but I don't think any boy could be a better elder brother than my sweet child. Perhaps soon God will grant us a second son. What do you think, my friend—shall I make a good mother twice?

All my love,

Lily Salvatore

P.S. Damon has just found me writing this, and he wants to sign his name too. I've been teaching him his letters. He wants Johnathan and Alexander to know that he found a raccoon all by himself, and when will they be back home?

DAMON SALVATORE

Good Morning Miss Agatha

Elena's gaze lingered affectionately on the uneven scrawl of the four-year-old boy. Then she glanced at present-day Damon, who looked like he'd frozen in place.

"Where did you find this?" said Stefan, his voice faint. He reached up to touch Lily's signature with reverent awe. "I thought everything Mother wrote burned with the old mansion."

"It was inside Agatha Gilbert's journal," said Elena. "It looks like my great-great-great-great-grandmother was best friends with your mom." She looked at Damon again. His brow was furrowed and the muscles in his jaw kept flexing. "Damon?" she asked, reaching out to touch his arm. Her fingers had barely made contact with his skin when he simply vanished. The letter fluttered down towards the floor and Stefan seized it out of the air, cradling it gently in his hands.

"What—" said Elena.

"Let him go," said Stefan.

"But where did he go?" she said, standing up and looking all around. Just then, she heard the distant sound of a door slamming on the second floor.

"His room," said Stefan.

Elena turned and headed straight for the stairs, only to find Stefan blocking her path.

"What are you doing?" he said.

"I'm going after him," said Elena.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Stefan, you said it yourself: I'm safe with him," she said, taking off her party hat. "Now let me go talk to him." She stared at him stubbornly until he lowered his gaze and turned to the side to let her pass.

Somehow, she managed to remember the way to Damon's bedroom even though the only time she'd been up there before had been in the middle of the day when she was in a panicked rush. The door wasn't locked, so she opened it and slipped inside. Damon was standing by the window at the far side of the room, his back to her.

"It's getting late," he said without turning around. "You should go home."

"Not until I know you're okay," said Elena.

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're upset, and it's my fault. I was so excited when I saw the names at the bottom of that letter that I didn't think how painful it could be for you."

"I'm not upset with you, Elena. It's just…it's been a long time since I thought about her."

"From the letter, she seems like she was a wonderful mother."

"She was."

"Did something—I mean, what happened to her?"

"Consumption. I was seventeen. Stefan was ten."

Elena had been moving slowly forward as they talked. At last, she reached him, and she tentatively stretched out her hand towards his, intertwining their fingers in a silent display of sympathy. He'd been barely older than her when he lost his mother. She couldn't even imagine what that would be like. If he'd been as close to her as she was with her mom, he must have been so devastated and lost.

"I'm okay, Elena," he said, squeezing her hand a little, as though doing so would prove his okayness. "You don't need to stay here."

"I want to," she said. "Will you tell me about her?"

"I'm not really one for nostalgia."

"Please?"

Damon looked at her, but she refused to back down, meeting his gaze with a softly encouraging one. He groaned. "Fine, fine. But if you're gonna make me do this, then I need a drink. Let's go back downstairs."

"Okay," she said, smiling in relief.

"I look a lot like her," he said as they made their way back out of the room, fingers still woven together. "I got my eyes and hair from her, and a lot of the shape of my features."

"She must've been really beautiful, then," said Elena without thinking. When she realized what she'd said, she felt her face go bright red.

Damon chuckled. "She was," he said.

X

Richard Lockwood was livid. Somewhere in the rational part of his mind, he knew that Grayson Gilbert might be right; whatever Zach had said, there hadn't been any dead or missing people in the area lately, so they were really only chasing a rumor, not actual evidence. But Grayson had made him feel like a fool. They'd been rivals since grade school, and Grayson had always been better at everything they'd tried and gotten everything Richard wanted. Miranda Sommers, for example. And even though Grayson had never run for any kind of office, there had been plenty of write-in votes for him to be mayor. No matter how many Lockwoods had been mayor before Richard, if Grayson had actually run, he would have won.

This was one thing Richard simply could not allow Grayson to win.

However, he couldn't prove him wrong without that pocket watch. The piece left by his own ancestors wouldn't work without it. The more he thought about it, the more convinced Richard was that Grayson was lying to him. He did have the watch, he just didn't want Richard to have it. Well, Richard wasn't going to put up with it anymore. He was on his way to the Gilberts' house—he didn't even care that it was late on a Sunday evening; he would put that smug bastard in his place.

X

"Where did you go?" said Elena.

"Well, I was fed up with my full brother and his moronic, half-cocked revenge plans against the Founders, so I went in search of my half-brother." They were sitting in the parlor again, Damon's empty bourbon glass on the coffee table with all the party stuff. It was very cozy with the fire going. Stefan had disappeared somewhere.

"Half-brother?"

"Yeah. The one Zach's line of Salvatores is descended from. See, a few years after Stefan's and my mother died, dear old Dad had a fling with Sarah Thomas, the only white maid in the household. Instead of doing the decent thing and marrying her when he found out he'd knocked her up, he fired her and sent her packing. I was away at college when it happened, but I pieced it together when I came home and saw that we had a new maid. I found some letters she'd tried to send my father. He always threw them away unopened, which naturally made me curious. I started intercepting them and managed to send her some money to support the baby. I wanted to arrange to meet him, but by then, the war had been going for a couple of years, and Sarah and the kid ended up on the opposite side of it when West Virginia broke off and rejoined the Union. They were in Charleston."

"How old was he?"

"By the time I tracked him and Sarah down after I turned, he was five. His name was Joseph, and lucky for him, he looked nothing like Father. Stefan's the only of us one who got the short end of that stick."

Elena laughed, but she still wanted to know more. "What did you do after you found him?"

"I made a deal with Sarah," said Damon. "I'd pull some strings to make Joseph a proper Salvatore. He'd become our father's heir as long as I retained control of all the monies, businesses, and properties. That way everything stayed in the family through Joseph in all the official documents, but I had access to whatever I needed. That deal is still in place today, though the actual family relations have become much more strained in the past few generations."

There was a bitter, tense undercurrent to his voice on this last sentence. It was enough to convince Elena that her initial suspicions had been correct; whatever had happened between Damon and his nephews, it had nothing to do with Stefan. She wanted to ask Damon about it, but felt like it might not be the best idea just now. "How involved were you with Joseph's life after you made that deal with Sarah?"

"Well, for a while I had my hands full keeping Emily Bennett's children out of harm's way. Not long after Stefan left town with his new best friend, the remaining Founders burned Emily and her brother at the stake. I made a promise to Emily. In exchange for her keeping Katherine safe from the Founders, I would keep Emily's kids safe if anything happened to her. I smuggled them out of town and got them to their father. He'd been a Union soldier, and I gave him a little extra money so they could live comfortably until the kids were old enough to work."

"Bonnie said her family owes you their lives," said Elena. She felt a warm glow of admiration towards him. He'd spent the first few years of his life as a vampire playing guardian angel to some kids he barely knew.

"Don't make more of it than it is," said Damon, suddenly sounding irritable.

"Make more of it than it is?" said Elena. "How could anyone make less of it? Your half-brother and Emily's kids might not have survived if not for you. Two whole family lines would've ended a hundred and fifty years ago without you."

"I didn't do it out of the goodness of my heart, Elena. With Joseph, I was protecting what was already mine, and with Emily's kids, it was part of my deal with her. I wouldn't have done it for nothing."

"I don't believe that. You cared about your brother and you did more than you needed to do for Emily's kids. Why can't you accept credit for something good you did?"

"Because I'm not that guy, Elena! Even if I was back then, I haven't been him for a long time."

"I think more of that guy is left than you realize," said Elena stubbornly.

"Then maybe you're delusional," said Damon, his tone growing more aggravated with every word.

"Okay, then I must've imagined all the times you've saved me," Elena snapped.

"Saving you was the most selfish thing I've done in a long time!" Damon shot back.

"What are you talking about?" Elena asked. She felt confused and frustrated, and she was actually starting to tear up.

At this question, all the fight seemed to go out of him. "You're one of the best friends I've ever had, and I can count all of them on one hand and still have fingers to spare. If I'd let you die, that would be gone. There was no way in hell I was letting that happen."

Elena stared at him for a few seconds, her vision blurring, then clearing, as the tears built up and escaped down her cheeks. Then, before she could think better of it, she scooted closer to him, kissed him on the cheek, and curled up at his side, leaning her head against his shoulder. "If that's really what you think it means to be selfish, then I guess I'm selfish too."

Damon said nothing, but after a few seconds, he wrapped his arm around her. She stared at the fire, feeling incredibly content.

"What was it like living back then?"

Damon chuckled. "I've lived through a lot of 'back then'," he said. His voice was softer than before. "You've got to be more specific than that. Give me a decade."

"Okay, how about the twenties? Ooh!" She turned to face him. "If I take off my vervain bracelet, could you show me, like when you gave me that swing ball dream?"

"Why would you want to see that?"

"Are you kidding?" said Elena incredulously. "Aside from it being the next best thing to actual time travel, I'm a writer. I could capture the feel of eras before my lifetime. I could write stories set in those eras more convincingly than most experienced writers can, without even having to do a ton of research!"

"Well, I've never really tried something like that before, but I'll see what I can do," said Damon.

Elena beamed, slipped the bracelet off, and tossed it onto the coffee table, then looked back at him expectantly. He, however, seemed hesitant.

"You really trust me enough to let me do this?" he said. "Go inside your mind and make you see things that aren't real?"

"Of course I do," said Elena. "I'm almost seventeen and I've never been anywhere outside this county except the lake house. I want to explore, Damon. I want to see all the things you've seen."

"Maybe someday I can take you on a real adventure." He stared directly into her eyes and reached up to cup the side of her face in his hand. The intimate feel of the gesture set Elena's heart pounding. She hoped he couldn't hear it.

Just like when he'd reached her mind through Edgar, she soon felt as though she was being drawn into his eyes. The next thing she knew, she was standing in a speakeasy, the air hazy with cigarette smoke and pulsing with smooth jazz music, and she was wearing a gorgeous red flapper style dress. Damon materialized beside her, looking like an especially dapper gangster in his pinstripe three-piece and black fedora.

"Did you really have a mustache in the twenties?" she asked him, giggling.

"Only for a few months," he said. "It wasn't worth the hassle of cleaning blood out of it every night after dinner."

"Ew, gross," said Elena, wrinkling her nose.

"What?" said Damon. "I was just being practical."

"Come on," she said, tugging on his hand, "show me more stuff about the twenties."

X

As he was driving down the stretch of forest road about halfway between his property and the Gilberts' neighborhood, Richard passed a black car parked off the side of the asphalt, its windows fogged up. He slammed on the brakes. He knew that car well; it was the one he and Carol had bought Tyler for his sixteenth birthday last year. Was the boy honestly stupid enough to bring a girl out here and park where anyone could see the car and guess what was going on inside it? Bragging rights were one thing; setting up a peep show was another.

Richard backed up until he could pull off across the road from Tyler, parked, and got out, slamming the door shut behind him. He strode straight up to the back driver's side door of Tyler's car and threw it open. "You didn't even lock the door?" he growled.

"Dad! What the hell?" said Tyler, while the girl beneath him shrieked and frantically tugged her clothing back into place. It didn't seem like they'd gotten far enough for Tyler to unzip his pants, which was lucky. Richard seized Tyler around the neck and shoulders and pulled him bodily out of the back seat, then slammed him up against the side of the car.

"What do you think you're doing here? Do what you've gotta do, but for god's sake, find somewhere more discreet than right next to the road!"

"There wasn't anyone else out here when we stopped," Tyler protested.

Richard smacked him hard across the face with the back of his hand. "You idiot! All it takes is for one smartass with a camera phone to drive past, and then the whole town will know what the Mayor's son was doing on a Sunday night. Now get back in the car and drive home. We'll finish this conversation when I get back." He shoved Tyler towards the driver's door and looked in the back seat. "Who the hell are you?" he asked the girl, who had managed to make herself somewhat presentable. She was staring at him with wide eyes.

"I'm…I'm Vicki Donovan," she said.

"Matt's sister," said Tyler, touching his cheek where Richard had hit him.

"I wasn't asking you," Richard snapped at his son, who flinched. "Get out of the car, Miss Donovan. I'll drive you home."

"Can't Tyler just take me, Mr. Lockwood?" she asked, her eyes flickering repeatedly between him and Tyler.

"Maybe if Tyler could keep it in his pants, but how can I trust him to do that now?"

"Dad," said Tyler imploringly, "come on, I can take her."

"Don't backtalk me!" Richard barked. "Shut up and go home or the next time I hit you I'll use my fist."

X

Stefan had been in his room ever since Elena went to pull Damon out of his. At first, he listened to make sure Damon didn't snap and hurt her for intruding, but as soon as Damon had started telling Elena about their mother, Stefan had strained his ears for a different reason, clinging desperately to every word. Damon had so many more memories of her than he did, but he never talked about her. Stefan felt an irrational surge of jealousy that he wasn't the one Damon was sharing these things with. He was Lily's son too, damn it. He looked down at the letter still clutched in his hand and read the words again and again, trying to recall the exact sound of his mother's voice, but it eluded him.

Eventually, he noticed that all was silent downstairs, so he got up and went to investigate. When he reached the parlor, he saw Damon sitting on one of the couches, a look of deep concentration on his face, and Elena curled up against him, apparently asleep. Stefan spotted Elena's vervain bracelet sitting on the coffee table amongst all the party stuff and frowned.

"What are you doing?" he asked quietly.

"She wanted me to show her the twenties," said Damon, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "We're at a Louis Armstrong gig now. Don't distract me."

Stefan nodded and retreated to the staircase. He stopped there and looked back. He couldn't identify the emotion welling inside him, but it was both powerful and painful. Elena was bringing out a side of his brother he'd never seen before, and he was terrified that it wouldn't last. In three months, Damon would have Katherine back, they would leave Mystic Falls, she would undo anything good Elena had awakened in him, and he, Stefan, would be alone again.

X

"Mr. Lockwood, I really think it would be better if I just walked home from here," said Vicki. The evening had started out so well. Tyler had actually been semi-romantic, buying her ice cream and taking her out to watch the sunset, and things had been getting really good in the back seat. But now, sitting in the passenger side of Mayor Lockwood's car, she actually felt scared.

"Oh, no, Miss Donovan. I'm going to drive you. I want to," said Mr. Lockwood. The words were polite, but the tone had a silvery sharp edge to it that only ratcheted Vicki's anxiety up another notch. "So tell me, did my son pay you for your services?"

"What are you talking about?" she said. She thought she already knew, except he couldn't possibly really mean that.

"You heard me."

"Tyler took me on a date. We had ice cream and we went to the quarry to watch the sun set. Maybe we should've found a better spot afterward, but—"

"Oh, so it was a date?"

"Yeah," said Vicki. "I'm his girlfriend."

Mayor Lockwood chuckled. The sound had no mirth in it at all, and she saw that his knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "You will never be my son's girlfriend," he said. "From what I saw back there, you take after your mother. Tyler might use you for a while, but that's all you're good for. You'll never be more than that. You're beneath him."

"Are you kidding me?" said Vicki. Frightened though she was, she'd never been the type to sit back and take it, and he was far from the first person to trash talk her. "I don't have to listen to this. Stop the car. I'm walking."

"Don't be stupid, we're still three miles away."

"Then I'll call my brother to pick me up."

"I don't think so. I'd like to have a word with your mother when we get to your house," said Mayor Lockwood.

"Why, so you can insult her to her face like you just insulted me to mine? No thanks. Stop the car."

He said nothing, but accelerated. They were already going faster than the fifty-five miles per hour speed limit.

"Stop the car!" she said again, raising her voice. He still didn't make a move to do as she asked. "I'm calling my brother!" She pulled out her phone to call Matt, seriously considering telling him to bring a baseball bat with him, but Mr. Lockwood snatched the phone away from her.

"Not so fast," he said, "You're not getting off the hook so easily."

"What hook?" she demanded. "You're not my father! You have no freaking right to make me go anywhere with you! Give me back my phone and let me out of this car!" She made a grab for the phone. He held it out of the way, baring his teeth in anger. She launched herself across the car, trying to get it back, but he caught her by the throat and shoved her back into her seat so hard that her head collided with the window with a loud crack.

Vicki's vision blurred and her head felt like it had been split in half. Her right ear felt hot and wet all of a sudden. She couldn't think straight. All she knew was she had to get out of the car. She had to get away from him. She fumbled for her seat belt buckle. "You can't keep me here," she said, but the words seemed to get scrambled on the way to her mouth. The sound that came out didn't make sense to her, and if he was saying something, she couldn't make it out. She pulled the door handle, and it opened. His hand closed around her upper arm, but she fought against it hard. The grip tightened. She pulled even harder. At last, she tore herself free, but she had used so much force that she didn't stop moving there, and she tumbled right out of the open door.

I have never hated a character more than writing Richard Lockwood from his POV and from the POV of someone who is terrified of him has made me hate him. I thought it would be really interesting if one of the changes to come out of this butterfly effect AU was that Richard ended up triggering his wolf gene, but actually writing the last couple of scenes with him nearly made me sick. I did enjoy writing the scene with him and Grayson, and I'm looking forward to more of that kind of stuff in upcoming chapters. In case any of you don't understand how this whole situation with Tyler, Richard, and Vicki could happen when it didn't in the show, my thinking is that because Jeremy wasn't in a grief-induced downward spiral, he never ended up doing drugs with Vicki, which gave her more time with Tyler (although based on her reaction to the drawing Jeremy did, they might still have ended up together eventually). Also, Grayson being alive to be a thorn in Richard's side made Richard more volatile. When those two things collide, badness ensues. Poor Vicki. I never really liked her on the show, but this might actually have been a more horrible way to go than getting turned and later staked. Anyway, how about Damon's birthday party? Normally I don't really like Stefan that much, but that last scene with him listening to Damon and Elena actually made me cry when I was writing it. And the letter! I know there isn't any canon basis for Elena's ancestor and Damon and Stefan's mom being best friends, but why not? It seemed like the easiest way for Elena to find something like that letter. And now she's getting a lot more of Damon and Stefan's backstory. I used the same name for their half-brother that AnglcDmn1986 and I used in "All This Time" (Joseph, the English version of Giuseppe).