Though it took a few days, and quite a few sips of blood from now-healed truckers, Dag finally reached Denver.

The air, though the purest she'd breathed since emerging from that fucking coffin, still burned at her lungs as potently as the cigarettes she'd gotten hooked on in the nineties. She didn't really know what the hell humans were doing to the world, but it was clearly taking a toll to good 'ol mother earth. The blood tasted a bit tainted, but that was nothing new. The Industrial Revolution had made the delicious undertone of ashes permeate nearly everyone she'd drank from since she was briefly out and about during the late nineteenth century.

But that was beside the point. She'd made it to Denver, and now stood on the sidewalk just in front of Valstrop, the house she had entrusted to the Monroe bloodline. It truly was a house, albeit a very nice one. She didn't have the craving for luxury that every one of her siblings did, especially when it came to architecture. What was the point of investing in an enormous mansion? Dag lived by herself or with Kol almost all the time when she was animated and she liked it like that – being apart from the stifling feeling of being surrounded by all of her siblings – so she couldn't see why she would require a mansion that would only attract unwanted attention to herself.

She approached the house with a loping stride, excited to scope out any changes that had taken place since the last time in 1976 she had checked in with the family line she had entrusted her home to centuries before. The doorbell was typical, the usual annoying chime, and when the door didn't immediately swing open Dag started bouncing on her heels and rapidly pressed it a few more times.

The woman who answered the door was young, yawning and rubbing her eyes in apparent bewilderment. Oh. She supposed it was a bit late. At two in the morning on what she believed was a Monday she had mostly likely woken the girl from sleep. She had to tilt her head back almost comically at look up at the tall woman and the soft green glow surrounding her was the obvious sign that she was a witch, and her resemblance to Laura queued her in to the fact that this was most likely her daughter.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes actually. Is Laura Monroe in at the mo'?"

The girl's relaxed expression was immediately replaced by a hard look, and the flinch would have been imperceptible to a human.

"My mother passed away six years ago. Can I ask why you're looking for her?"

Dag smiled widely and extended her hand in a typical greeting. If Laura was dead – quite a pity to be honest, she'd been lovely – it meant she had to be re-invited into the house. The young woman narrowed her eyes and slowly extended her own hand. Clever girl. The witch clearly knew that most people looking for her mother would be of the supernatural variety.

The moment their hands met, the girl's eyes widened almost comically and her mouth dropped open, presumably sensing what Dag was.

"Dagmar?"

"Call me Dag. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I assume from your reaction that your mother told you who I am?"

"Yes. Yeah. Come on in."

Dag stepped over the threshold without any problem and took in the interior of the house. The changes were immediately clear to her – everything looked a bit more sleek, but she saw no alterations that were particularly troublesome to her own tastes. It was a relief that the current Monroe witch had learned of who she was. Convincing her to trust a defective vampire ex-witch would not have been the easiest of tasks had the girl not been aware of the circumstances surrounding Dag's unusual relationship with her family. And having trouble getting access to her own home would certainly have put her in a bad mood, which didn't end well for anyone.

The witch seemed a bit nervous, rightfully so, if Dag was being honest with herself. Fidgeting, the witch led her into the kitchen and motioned for her to sit. The girl quickly turned on a foreign machine that she placed a small container in that was on her counter, and it took Dag a moment to recognize the smell of coffee and draw the obvious conclusion that it was a coffee maker.

Shit, she needed to catch up.

The girl held up a mug and tipped her head, silently asking if she would like a cup, but Dag declined. When the girl had made herself a mug, she sat across from her and studied the vampire closely. Dag leaned back in her chair and let the girl finish her little investigation. After a minute or so she finally cocked an eyebrow.

"And you are?"

The girl jumped a bit and quickly tucked a strand of curly, bright red hair behind her ear as she blushed and then extended her hand as an introduction.

"Sorry. Shit. I'm scatter-brained when I've just woken up. I'm Leona Monroe - Leo. I'm twenty seven and the current Monroe witch in the area."

Dag firmly shook her hand and decided at that moment that she liked her. Leona definitely looked younger than her actual age, but her stammering nature reminded her of how Bekah had held herself when they were children and she had not yet developed a sense of confidence. She seemed drastically different than Laura, who had never hesitated to knock her down a peg, but her daughter was endearing so far.

Leona seemed nervous, and that obviously wouldn't do if they were to be living together for however long she chose to stay, most likely until Kol came by in a few years.

"Do you have any questions for me? I knew your mom years before she had you. Condolences on your loss, by the way. She was a grade-A chick."

The witch relaxed a bit, and a sad smile made its way onto her face when she nodded in agreement.

"Well, I was hoping you could clear up or correct any bits of the story I've been told about you if they're wrong. I know the basics, but the full details are in a book in the attic I've never really read. You saved one of my ancestors, let her stay in your home" the red head gestured vaguely with a hand to show that the house they were in now stood where Dag's original home had been, "and in return we keep it up and help you out in any way we can when you come back."

Dag hummed lowly, content with the story that had trickled its way down through the generations. Sure, Laura had known a bit better and could have better educated her daughter, but Laura must also have thought Dag wouldn't come back for quite a few decades, probably after her daughter's lifetime.

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, so here she was.

"You've got the bullet points down. But you should definitely know more than just that. If we're going to be living together - and we will be, for an indefinite amount of time – I'd prefer for you to be a bit better informed.

Your ancestor that I saved was Angelina Monroe, in 1872. She was being assaulted by a few men in an alley, presumably going to be raped, maybe murdered after" ignoring the cringe and sickened look on Leona's face she continued without resting a beat, "so I stepped in. I have a thing about men who try to control women in any way. Typically, it involves decapitation. I took them out and offered her my blood to heal her wounds, and what with being a witch she predictably turned it down."

Dag stopped for a second, giving herself the small luxury of losing herself in the past, even if only for a second. Angelina had been her first new friend in centuries, since Alexia in the seventeenth century. And the first witch to show her any kindness and hear out her story. Of course at first she had been alarmed to discover that a vampire had magic, but it turned to pity once Dag explained that she could not use it. Clearing her throat quietly, she snapped herself out of her reverie and tried to wrap up the story quickly.

"Anyway. She was a young woman, didn't have a place to live, and was in a tight financial situation - so I moved her into my house. Girl bonding ensued, and I explained the whole 'living with dead magic inside of me' thing, which she helped me deal with so I didn't go berserk all the time. When I had to leave I signed the house over to her. Left her my bank account as well. So the closest Monroe around can live here, rebuild to their heart's desire with my funding, and help me out magically when I return. In exchange, I have a blood oath to protect the current Monroe coven leader to a certain degree."

At this all pretense and forced expressions of nonchalance left Leona's face and she gaped openly. Blood oaths, especially among witches, were not to be taken lightly and always involved serious repercussions when the pacts were broken.

"And that's… that's me? That applies to me?"

Dag knew it was a lot to take in, so she remained patient as she winked and said, "Yes, ma'am. Now, do you think you could show me a bedroom I could crash in tonight? And could I wash my clothes as well? They're all I have for tomorrow, but I'll go shopping after I stop by the local high school to enroll."

"I'm sorry, did you say the high school?"