Hello everybody, last week has been quite a busy one. My brother and his wife came to visit us, I've been studying for my exams and my mom was taken to the hospital.

Other than that, I would like to express my astonishment to the response this fic is getting. It's way more than I expected when I decided to write it. Thanks to everybody who reviewed, favorited and alerted. Your support is invaluable.

Edited: 03/07/15

Reedited: 25/03/18

Chapter 2

After a long day of listening to boring lessons that he had already learnt before, Stefan could be found heading to the Grill to meet with Elena and their friends.

Sometimes – just sometimes – he wondered about his decision of going through high school again... If there was one thing that he would never disagree with Damon about, it had to be the thought that being surrounded by hormonal teenagers with great propensity to drama and competitiveness while some adult droned on and on about things he already knew about was not the way to spend his eternity. He wasn't sure he would be doing it again if it wasn't for Elena. Damon, though, was sure it was one of the ways he picked to punish himself while in his eternal search for redemption. Had even mused on it, once. Stefan wonders sometimes…

Anyway, speaking about Damon, his older brother had been a little out of sorts since they had been told about Zach's cousin…

…And an upset Damon didn't bode well for anyone.

Elena couldn't tell them if this Isabella was from the Salvatore line or not. The only thing she could say was that, a few years ago, she and a friend had appeared in Mystic Falls looking for Zach Salvatore. Next thing everyone had known, he had been telling everyone about the cousin he had found (or that had found him, as was the case). She had also told them about the talks and commentaries, and how Caroline had once come to her and asked if the 'new girl' was Elena's long-lost sister or something like that.

He entered the Grill and looked around in search of the group. It didn't take him long to find them, what with the noise they were making. At a table in the corner, close to the bar, were Elena, Caroline, Bonnie and Jeremy. Matt was away serving another table, but he didn't doubt that the blond had already stopped at their table to have a little chat, nor that he would be back to have another one later, even if his relationship with Caroline was still awkward.

Apparently, someone said something funny, because they were all laughing rather loudly. Stefan focused on them and listened. It seemed they were reminiscing, trying to speak over each other to complete the story or to correct the facts. Stefan thought that, while it was a heartening sight – and certainly one that brought him great amusement – it also invoked great sadness in his heart, for it brought forth all the memories of the good times he had spent with Lexi and of his and Damon's friendship when they had still been humans.

Walking towards their table, he noticed a brunette sitting at the bar. He stopped briefly to study her. She wasn't doing anything special, just drinking something or another, but she seemed awfully familiar, though he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why. He knew he had never seen her before – he would have never forgotten someone who smelled that good… Perhaps this was what was drawing his attention. Her smell.

Ignoring it for the moment, he arrived at the table and greeted his girlfriend and friends. They paused in their conversation long enough to return his greeting before going back to it, clearly thinking it to be more interesting than him, though he received a kiss from Elena before she snuggled up to him.

"You know," said Matt, approaching them, probably so he could take Stefan's order, "no matter how many times she comes around here, it never ceases to amaze me how alike the two of you look." His attention was divided between Elena and the woman at the bar. The one who had drawn Stefan's attention.

"I know it seems kind of weird—" Elena started, only to be interrupted by Caroline.

"Weird? No. When Bonnie started to develop her powers, that was weird." She shot an apologetic look to the witch, who just shrugged, way too used to the blonde's antics to take offense. Stefan absolutely loved to study their dynamics. It was fascinating. "Seeing Katherine, who can pass for your twin, is creepy. But you're related to her, and whatever makes you two look identical can be explained…" She paused, searching for a word, but couldn't find it. "Somehow," she finished lamely. "But you and her," she pointed at the same brunette at the bar, "that is just freaky because, as far as we know, she has no relation to you!"

And that comment right there was enough to make Stefan stop wondering when they had started to say things in front of Matt (not that he had anything against the blond. Particularly, Stefan thought him to be a good friend) and really focus on the woman, and he finally realized why she had looked so familiar. She resembled Elena. No wonder Damon had stared at Elena and was trying to figure out what was going on. Though, there were obvious differences he could easily pick up from where he was seated: her hair, for one, was longer than Elena's, coming to her waist, and his enhanced sight could pick shades of red and gold in the brown locks; her skin was pale, for other – paler than his. She shared Elena's slender build, though. More importantly, she looked like she was trying to drown herself in alcohol.

At 4 p.m.

"Is that…?" He asked Elena softly, not tearing his eyes away. He felt rather than saw when Elena nodded her head in answer before realizing he was not looking at her.

"Yeah, that's her."

Their exchange drew Caroline's attention, and she looked inquisitively at the two of them before realization colored her features and she turned to Stefan.

"That's right!" Her exclamation made Bonnie, Jeremy and Matt, who were all looking at the bar, turn to them. "She is your cousin or something like that, isn't she?"

"We're not really sure," Stefan answered. His attention hadn't wavered, and his gaze was still fixed in his possible cousin's figure. She had tensed, and he wondered if she was feeling all of their gazes on her. "We only know that she is Zach's cousin, but we don't know if she came from a Salvatore line or if they are related through another family."

Caroline hummed. A moment later, she spoke. "I wonder what happened to her."

"What do you mean, Care?"

"All those times she's come here," the blonde answered, "I've never seen her drinking that much. Or this early." He tore his eyes away from the somewhat sorry scene to look at the blonde, his brow furrowed. Caroline had a pensive face, her blue-green eyes focusing on the drinking brunette.

"She does seem kind of depressed." Bonnie's soft voice reached his ears. "And she has this aura of sorrow surrounding her." Her voice took on a hesitant tone, as if she wasn't really sure if what she perceived was right, or how to explain it.

"Yeah…" Matt was still at their table. "She said something about grieving for someone."

"Why the hell would she tell you about it?" Jeremy asked, surprised. "No offense, man, but I don't think you're that close to her."

Stefan wanted to know that too, he thought, green eyes narrowing and focusing on the busboy. Usually, he didn't have anything against Matt, but instincts were a hard thing to beat. And even the possibility of Isabella being a family member had his protective side emerging.

"Well, it's a small town," Matt replied. "Which means that every time she visits, she comes to the Grill. Sometimes we talk," he shrugged.

It was a sound explanation, and Stefan's instinct settled. He wouldn't need to compel the poor quarterback to behave. From the corner of his eyes he could see Caroline relaxing. It would seem that she had no reason to feel jealous, after all.

"Damon said she knew about him." He blurted and saw the alarm taking over the faces of his friends, their bodies tensing, with the exception of Matt, who looked slightly confused, no doubt wondering why her knowing about Damon would cause their reactions. "Called him the bad brother."

"It's not as if she is wrong about him," Caroline shrugged, but he could see that her posture was still stiff.

Stefan looked around him and made a split-second decision. He stood up. The others looked at him curiously. "Well, I'm gonna go introduce myself," he said. The others nodded. "I'll see if I can discover anything else". And even though it was a sound excuse, he wasn't sure they had bought it. He knew for certain that he hadn't been able to fool Elena, nor Caroline (the blonde could be quite perceptive when she felt like it); they knew he just wanted an excuse to go and finally meet the brunette. He wasn't sure about the others.

He went towards the bar, feeling more nervous than he ever remembered feeling, even if he didn't let it show on his face. Meeting knew relatives was always a hassle; he never knew how they would react to him or Damon.

Now that he was closer, he could see what the girls were talking about. Despite the stiff way she was sitting, there was an almost imperceptible slump to the brunette's shoulders – you had to really be paying attention to notice it – her long hair curtained her face, hiding her from his view, and the way she was going through her shots would have made Damon proud.

He took a deep, calming breath before approaching her. "Excuse me, are you Isabella Swan?"

She turned to look at him. Brown met green.

Stefan could finally understand what his friends were so freaked out about. She looked like what he imagined Elena would turn out to be when she reached her twenties. Not that different from now, but still slightly more mature; a woman. But despite their similarities, it was easy to see the differences as well; pale skin, heart-shaped face, eyes that were weary and wise. And full of pain.

"Who's asking?" She asked with an arched eyebrow and tilted head, and he realized he had been staring. He felt his cheeks heating up and looked away, his inner gentleman ashamed.

Once he was sure his face looked normal again, he returned his gaze to her. Her eyes had a spark of amusement in them. He felt himself smiling, somehow glad his bout of embarrassment distracted her from her pain. Even if for a moment.

Yes, he had a bleeding heart. Sue him!

He extended his hand. "I'm Stefan Salvatore."

:::

When Isabella entered the Grill that afternoon, she had every intention of getting herself to the bar, sitting on a stool and drink herself to oblivion. It was a simple plan. One that every cell in her body was focused on. She was so intent on it, that, at first, she didn't notice the tingle going up her arm, originating from her scar.

It took a while before she realized what was happening, but once aware, she couldn't ignore it, it was so annoying.

It took her a while to pinpoint it, but she managed to find the ones that made the little venom that rested on her scar react. There was a table where four teenagers were sitting talking and laughing at one thing or another. Would you look at that, now I'm a supernatural identifier. No doubt a result of James' tracking ability. She didn't know if she ought to feel amused, horrified or anything really. She decided to settle on the first; anything else would surely make her have a mental breakdown. Again.

She decided to ignore them and went straight to the bar, getting back to her plan. She would drink until she passed out, she had decided. She just wanted to forget.

She was in her fifth glass of bourbon when Matt approached her.

"Hey there," he said smiling. She had always liked him; he was such a sweet boy. "It's been a while since you last came here. How are you doing?"

"Mattie!" She managed to draw a laugh from him with her enthusiastic greeting and felt the smile tugging at her lips, his joy at seeing her was so genuine she couldn't help it. She looked at him, allowing her eyes to rake him from head to toe. "Don't you look dashing now?" She saw the blush on his cheeks and allowed her lips to stretch and form a grin.

"And you're looking beautiful," he said, and she laughed, charmed despite herself. His smile fell, though, when he looked at the glass in her hand. "Are you okay?" At her raised brow, his cheeks reddened again. Isabella resisted the urge to coo; Matt was so adorable! (And no, she wasn't drunk! Yet.) "I-it's just that I've never seen you drink this much before," he stammered, concern clear on his face.

Her expression softened. He was sincerely concerned for her, and she was grateful. "I'm grieving for someone who was very dear to me," she offered him a sad smile.

This time it was his expression that softened, his eyes filling up with understanding. Not pity, for which she was thankful. She doubted she would be able to stand it if someone were to pity her (she had had her fill of pity-filled gazes back in Forks). "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

She looked into his honest blue eyes and felt herself tearing up. She hugged him, knowing from his eyes that he knew what it was like to lose someone. This was not some empty platitude. "Thank you, Mattie!" She let him go. He shot her another glance before going back to work. She kept her gaze on him a while longer, then turned and raised the glass to her lips.

After a while, the tingle in her arm shot up in intensity. She paused momentarily to look at her arm. She hated it when it got too intense, since the sensation tended to spread. That was why she had spent so little time at La Push, especially after the pack started to expand.

She ignored it once again in order to go back to her drink.

It didn't take long for the signal the venom was sending her to change a little. Oh, it was still a pain in the ass, but she knew that there was a supernatural being approaching her location. She had never questioned how it worked before, but now that her brain had made the connection to James' skill, she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before – it was that obvious.

She felt the eyes on her, staring at her back. They had been doing this for a while now. She almost rolled her eyes; was this about the Gilbert chick again? Since she had first set foot in this town she had been hearing comments about how she and this Elena could have been sisters and 'are you sure you aren't a Gilbert?'. It got tiring after a while.

"Excuse me," said a low, masculine voice. "Are you Isabella Swan?"

Whatever supernatural being he turned out to be, at least he was polite. She could work with that.

Anyway, Isabella turned around, ready to politely ask him to please, leave her alone, and found her gaze locking up with forest green eyes. Old and weary green eyes in a young man's face. He appeared to be 17 or 18 and was pale, with a broad forehead, angular jawline and a straight nose. His short brown hair was straight and gelled in a spiky way. He was also taller than her, and the casual clothes did nothing to hide his athletic body.

Finished with her inspection, she returned her gaze to his face, only to realize that he wasn't finished. Cocking her head to the side, she raised an eyebrow, amused, and drew his attention. "Who's asking?"

Isabella was delighted to see the pink tint on his cheeks when he realized he was caught staring and averted his eyes. Ever since she had found out a way to make others blush, she could finally see why everyone used to do everything they could to make her blush. It was such an amusing and adorable thing to see. She was, understandably, very sad to see it gone when he turned back to her (she had never been capable of regaining control of her burning cheeks that fast, she mused, pouting). He was clearly able to sense her amusement because he gave her a small smile and extended his hand.

"I'm Stefan Salvatore."

…

Oh!

Her mind went blank for a moment. Once it came back online, she started to berate herself for not having realized that he was Damon's brother. For fuck's sake, the shape of their eyes, nose and jaw was exactly the same! They even shared the olive undertones!

Once she was finished rebuking herself, she turned her complaints upwards because it would seem that God really hated her. She so did not need this shit right now; she was fucking grieving! Couldn't she have a moment to drink herself to a stupor, alone? She did not want to meet Stefan Salvatore, nor get to know him. He was one of Zach's possible murderers!

She wasn't sure if it had been him or his brother (or both of them working together), but looking at him right now, she was almost certain that it had been Damon. Stefan simply lacked that aura that screamed danger. He also looked to be more reserved while Damon was clearly a charmer. To be honest, they seemed to be complete opposites, personality-wise.

But she didn't let her inner turmoil show on her face. Like previously stated, she knew better than to argue with vampires. So, she just smiled and accepted his hand (and kissed her goal for the night goodbye). It was colder than her own, but not as cold as the Cullens', nor as hard. In fact, his skin was soft and he could simply pose as a human with a bad blood circulation problem. "The good brother."

:::

Isabella's hand was petite compared to Stefan's, which dwarfed hers. Her skin was soft, though he could feel some small differences on the surface of the skin. He looked down briefly and saw they were scars left by cuts and scrapes. But what surprised him the most was her firm handshake. It was something that didn't happen often, especially when people realized the slight difference in temperatures. Due to his diet, his skin was a little colder to the touch compared to other vampires who fed on human blood. She didn't seem to mind, though, as she offered him a smile.

Her comment almost shocked him. If he hadn't had that conversation with Damon, it would have. Sadly, he couldn't agree with her (or Zach) about it. He was not good; he just did his best after he hit rock bottom. Even when compared to Damon, he couldn't say which one was the better or worse brother. The both of them had done too much, both good and bad.

But it was not something that they ever told the family. They could only assume the things that the brothers had done since their transition. And for some reason, Damon was the one that they feared, even if he was the one with better control.

"I'm not good," he said, shaking his head. Isabella just regarded him curiously.

"And yet, your brother is the one who has the dangerous aura."

"I never said he was good." He found himself sitting on the stool beside her. And though it was easy to see the discomfort beyond the flash of interest in her eyes, she didn't shy away from him, for which he was thankful.

"Neither did I." She tilted her head, observing him. He stared back.

"You don't think I'm dangerous?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, no. I'm quite sure that you are," she answered, gesturing with her hand dismissively. "Especially to someone like me."

"Someone like you?" He asked with narrowed eyes. Isabella's only response was a smirk half-hidden behind her glass. She knows. "Why stay then... here, talking to me?" He felt defensive. She knew and she might possibly be a threat – just like John and Isobel, his mind supplied. He tensed at this last thought, mind instantly turning to his very human girlfriend, who seemed to attract trouble just by existing. Was Isabella interested in her, too?

"It's not like I can outrun you, can I?" Her voice was disinterested, as if she was stating the weather, taking him by surprise. For the first time in God knew how long, Stefan felt like gaping.

"Then, why stay in the town?" He didn't know what to make of her. He had never met someone quite like her (not even Elena, who professed her love for him, had been unafraid when she had discovered what he was). She knew what he was and what he could do, yet, she wasn't afraid of him. Was it because she had known beforehand? Who was this woman?

"It would make people suspicious if I were to go away without at least pretending to get to know Zach's nephews." The emphasis she put on the word 'nephews' showed the amusement she felt at the designation. Then again, she was aware they were a century too old to be anything other than Zach's ancestors.

This last statement, more than anything, told him how she was not happy with the situation. He felt a pang in his chest when he realized that if it wasn't for the fact that people in small towns could be so very close-minded, she would have already packed her bags, and he would never have had the opportunity to sit down and talk to her. To someone like Stefan, to whom family was everything (he was still trying to redeem Damon even after all these years, wasn't he?), having a relative wishing to run away from him was a painful experience – because he was now sure that she was a Salvatore, even if they didn't share the name.

They spent a while in silence, each lost in their thoughts. He chanced a glance at his friends and saw they were all watching him with a mix of curiosity and concern. It seemed they hadn't missed the tension between the two of them. He returned his gaze to the bar, for once in a long while, unsure of what to do. After a few moments, he heard her sigh and raised his eyes to look at her. Isabella had lowered her glass and was looking at its contents as if searching for answers. He remained quiet.

"What did you think of Zach?" The question caught Stefan off-guard – it seemed it was going to be a common occurrence with her – and he stared at her, searching for words. The fact that the question was in the past tense didn't escape his notice.

"He was a good man," he told her. She nodded her head and turned to him. Her chocolate eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"Then why is he gone?" Stefan sighed, running his finger through his hair. It was not a question he would like to answer. But looking into her tear-filled eyes, it was made clear to him that she loved him. He remembered Matt's words, about her grieving for someone, and held back a wince. Isabella had come into town looking for her beloved, human cousin, only to find out he had been murdered by her unknown vampire cousins. He decided to tell her the truth, then. He owed her that much.

He stood up and offered her his arm. "Walk with me?" What Stefan was going to tell her wasn't something that should be talked about in the Grill.

Isabella looked at his hand, uncertain. Her common sense was clearly at war with her need to know what had happened. In the end, curiosity won out and she took his hand. "Okay."

He nodded and escorted her out. His mind going through the words he would use to tell her everything from the beginning.