A long time ago, we used to be friends,
But I haven't thought of you lately at all.
If ever again, a greeting I send to you,
Short and sweet, to the soul I intend.

We Used to be Friends by The Dandy Warhols

Elena watched Damon from across the Boarding House's 'Parlour' (As Damon himself once called it.) while he searched through endless amounts of dusty things Elena couldn't understand the value of, then suddenly Damon's trademark smirk stretched across his pale lips and he flashed upstairs leaving Elena to furrow her brows in pure curiousty. They had been a vampire couple for a while now, when Stefan ran-away with Klaus... Things just kind of happened, Bonnie and the others weren't exactly happy with it. But Elena didn't care, she loved him. For all his many reckless yet passionate behaviors.

Elena followed him to his room and stood in the doorway, just watching as Damon carelessly pulled the painting of ugly old man in a top-hat out of it's elegant carved wooden frame and threw it over his shoulder like garbage, instantly replacing it with an old color-faded sketch.

Whomever the artist, they were definitely talented.

It was of a himself in Confederate uniform hugging shoulders with another handsome young man whom also dressed in the same war-garb, the sketch was perfect to Damon's many angles and you could tell the blue of his eyes was just right, even when the color was slightly faded... Except they were gentle and fresh, unlike the serene cyan pools of malice he had now. The other young man had blonde hair and with a pair of much darker hue of blue, eyes. They were serious but calm, completely at ease with a smile ghosting his lips contrasting against the silly smirk Damon had in the sketch.

The sketch was yellowed with age, and crinkled almost like it had been folded and re-folded again and again.

She frowned, her lips making a side-ways confused pout and she spoke, "Who is he?" she asked.

Damon placed the frame and sketch on the wall, "We used to be friends, a long time ago." he grew somber and Elena placed her hand in his comfortingly and squeezed.

Elena knew Damon, and when he was being cryptic... He didn't want to talk about it.

It was dry and hot sunny day in September, the wind blew solemn a breeze through the dry brown leaves. Which just barely quivered and rattled almost soundlessly.

Damon Salvatore and Jasper Fell sat under the dying shade of an oak tree clad in a dusty gray Confederate uniform, Damon napped his head cradled by his elbows while Jasper sketched in boredom.

Jasper drew two rolling interconnected circles which he decided suddenly to morph into faces.

"Jazz." Damon repeated for the 5th time.

Jasper finally gave in this time, giving his raven-haired an icy-glare fit for a king, "Call me that again." he dared Damon.

Damon smirked daringly, his cyan eyes shut under pale lids and spoke again, "Jazz." he said.

Jasper threw down both the drawing pad and his dull pencil in the same toss and tackled Damon, whom rolled over with Jasper on top of him.

They wrestled a bit before Jasper won. "Loser." Jasper teased pulling Damon up off the ground by his fore-arm.

"Rematch." Damon growled back.

"Nope." Jasper said smugly popping the P, giving Damon the same smirk his friend usually gave him.

"Fine. Jazz." Damon said.

Jasper's left eye visibly twitched, his fists tightened. "You're a dead man Salvatore." Jasper tackled Damon again.

Damon looked over Jasper's shoulder, just as he completed a sketch he had started a few hours ago. "Excellent." Damon quipped in boredom.

He wasn't surprised at the sketching skills his friend showed. Jasper had always been the artistic one, "You may as well have it." Jasper said with a sigh.

"Really, why?" Damon frowned.

"It's not right." Jasper pursed his lips and scowled, "You're teeth are much too sharp, they almost look like fangs." he poked a sharp finger at Damon's even sharper teeth.

Damon chuckled, "Then make me without teeth."

Jasper rolled his cobalt orbs, "S'not that simple Damon." he crossed his arms.

Damon mimicked Jasper's eye roll, took up Jasper's abandoned pencil and erased his fang-smile... Replacing it with a much simpler drawn silly smirk. "There. Happy?"

Jasper yanked the writing tool from Damon's hand, "Joyful." he replied sarcastically, "Now stop leaning over me, you're irritating me." he waved his hand towards Damon's face in a shooing manner.

Damon laughed and huffed on his friends pale but freckled neck, causing Jasper to shiver and twitch in discomfort.

"Ass." Jasper mumbled and shook his head.

"Blondie." Damon shot back.

Damon's jaw tightened as he crouched at the base of a lone gravestone, the stone was falling apart cracks etched into the weathered stone, small chunks had fallen off.

Jasper Lionel Fell 1841-1884

Beloved; Husband, Father, and Brother. May his soul rest in heaven forevermore.