"Why do you think Elena wrote that for you?" Stefan losing his control over his anger. He knew that Elena did not write the message, it wasn't her hand writing and she would not do something like this to him.
"Well I am the sexier brother and I am not the one who broods over every little thing", Damon flashed a bloody smile at his brother. "And if she didn't write the note and you didn't write the note, who the fuck did? he screamed the last part.
"Maybe it is one of your crazy fans, since you are the hotter brother", Stefan snickered at his brother. The look on Damon's face was worth the next attack from him. If I only had a camera, he thought.
Damon stormed out of the bathroom going into his own room. The gaping hole slowly closing as he walked into the room. He looked in the mirror at his reflection, and admired his physical appearance.
The closet door was open showing all the designer shirts, jackets, and jeans; he reached in for a shirt was surprised by his choice. It was a midnight blue and soft linen. The jeans were actual blue jeans, not the black skinnies he usually wore. "What the hell is wrong with me?", he asked his reflection.
He looked at the mirror again, "oh what the hell," he said to himself. He looked good in anything and he knew it.
He walked to the desk and saw another linen envelope laying there with the same old script lettering as the first two. Inside the envelope was a cd "play me" it said in red letters. The smell of lilacs floating up through the air, tinged with roses. He almost broke the cd in half but thought what the hell and placed it in his in lap top.
He waited for the screen to prompt to say push play, his mind floating back to earlier in the day. The smell, he could almost place it almost see where he first noticed it. But the time, the place, the person would not flash in his memory. He looks back at the computer screen and the prompt was up so he hit the enter button and waited for what he didn't know.
If he needed to breath he would realize he had been holding his breath, but since he was "dead" it was hard to tell sometimes. Music filtered out of the speakers and the screen lit up with images of a mountain ridge. He knew that place, he remembered the view, the lone tree that stood by the edge.
The midnight sky on screen was star filled and the moon light caused shadows to dance from the tree limbs blowing in the wind. It was beautiful and it at the same time it was hauntingly serene.
The speakers played a, believe it or not, sexy blue grass song.
Let's blow out these city lightsLet's just leave it all behindGet up where the air is stillYou can hear the whippoorwillStart a fire, pass the 'shineWon't be home till morning timeShout your name out in the windConfess my love for you againGive you all I got to giveThat's how we live up on the ridge
Hey now honey child We'd be runnin free and wildNo one cares what you doAin't no law to answer toDance around in the dirtListen to them crickets chirpHear old Jake start to howlWhen he hears that old hoot owlGive you all I got to giveThat's how we live up on the ridge
Come on girl, it's almost dawnLet's get it fore the magic's goneTall tall grass all aroundCome on lay that blanket downWildflowers just like youLay on me like morning dewNow take my hand, walk with meSun come up through them tall trees Give you all I got to giveThat's how we live up on the ridge
The lyrics were an invitation and the video was the meeting location.
He could not take his eyes off the screen at the last image. A figure encased in a flowing robe turning around slowly pushing the hood back. Damon stared as red hair, it looked almost like flames flicking off the ends of the wavy strands, escaped from the hood. The bowed head came up to reveal green eyes that shone brightly at him.
The computer screen goes black….