Chapter One

Night time is almost ours

– 2009 –

It had been one hundred and forty eight years since I had been in Mystic Falls, but now, here I stood in the middle of the town square. Today was the day after the Founders Day Celebration and the place was still raided with decorations from the events.

The town so much different, but hauntingly the same. The leftovers of the floats and décor of the earlier events were almost paining to see – it looked just like the eighteen sixties. But there were also the things that were very different: the town was modernized. The houses were for the most part small and less extravagant, also there was not a horse and chariot in sight; just the various cars zooming by. I wasn't here for the memories and nostalgic feelings though; I was here because of a certain Katerina Petrova or better known as: Katherine Pierce. I'd been hunting that girl down since I had transitioned in 1862, I'd always been once step behind. Not now, though, my sources had told me Katherine was back in Mystic Fall and so I now was too. That woman had to die. She had ruined my life in an instant and never even looked back in remorse.

"Are you lost or something?" A teenage boy stands in front of me.

"No, I was just looking for a nice place to eat." I pause and give him a crooked smile. "Know anywhere good?"

Other than yourself, I joked to myself in my head. But it was true, the boy smelled like fresh pines and spices, a very tempting combination. He grins at me toothily. "Yeah, just right around the corner. It's call the Mystic Bar & Grill."

"Thanks," I say and give him a flirty smirk. I really loved the twenty first century; everybody was allowed to be so openly flirtatious and sensual. It wasn't like that when I was growing up, everything was hidden behind closed doors.

The Mystic Bar & Grill is just what it sounds like; a bar and grill. It's dimly lit, and has booths and tables scattered around the middle. On the opposite side there's a pool table, and a huge bar takes up most of the space. It seemed to be a hotspot for teenagers, at least at this time of day, the bar was almost rid of any customers while booths were mostly occupied. I, myself, made my way to the bar.

"Jack and Coke please." I tell the blonde bartender.

"ID?"

I almost laugh. Instead I stare at him intensely. "You won't be needing that."

"Oh, you're right." He chuckles sheepishly and begins to get the drink ready. "Sorry."

I grin and take a sip. "So, what's your name Mr. Bartender?"

He smiles up at me and the corners of his eyes crinkle in an all too familiar way. "Matt," He tells me. "Matt Donovan. And yours?"

No matter how spaced they were in the family tree, the resemblance between him and Wilfred was blatantly there once you made the connection. There smiles and eyes were exactly the same. "Elle Whitlock."

"Whitlock?" He questions me once he recognizes the name. "That's one of the founding families but I don't remember you at all."

"I lived here when I was young; my parents passed away and I was sent to live with my grandparents in Atlanta." I lie perfectly. "I've got an Aunt here but that's about it of the Whitlock's."

He nods. "Yeah, I think it's the only name on the registry that doesn't have a whole pack of people still here today."

"Yeah…" I feel the conversation dropping at a rapid pace. But I don't really need – or want to save it. I just want to find out what I need. "Um, can you tell me where Stefan Salvatore lives?"

Stefan was the only blast from my past I had actually ever run into. Detroit in 1967 I had coincidently banged into him at a local bar. It was playing a Rolling Stones song and I poured my whiskey all over his black leather jacket. Since then, we'd checked in on each other every once and again. The last I heard he was back in this dreadful town, too. I had a feeling if Katherine was here, he'd have some information for me.

Matt explained exactly how to get to the Salvatore Boarding house and I quickly finished up my glass and got out of there, following his directions as told. I didn't really know what to expect arriving at the boarding house, but I didn't think I'd see this. It was actually pretty charming looking; nothing dark or Vampiric about it. Not that I was expecting the castle of darkness because obviously, I wasn't. It's just the place reminded me of a house your grandmother would own, not a place where Stefan Salvatore resided.

The next dilemma came as I walked up to the doorstep; to knock or make an entrance. If I was barging in on someone I wasn't all too familiar with, just going in and going for the reaction of surprise would be my choice. But when these people used to be like family, I wasn't sure exactly what the protocol was. I didn't have re-ins like this much. Knocking seemed too formal, I decided to just fling about the door and waltz in. Thankfully, there were no human residents and the barrier was not put up.

"Stefan!" I call walking down the hallway. "Stef!"

My reply is soft footsteps padding down onto the wooden floor behind me. "Elena, god, can't you be quiet? Your yelling creates this horrible ringing in my ears."

Everything happening around me seemed to stop as I processed his distinct voice. I hadn't heard it in almost a century and a half. I had half a mind to turn around and the other told me to just stay where I was. Turning around seemed like such a hard thing to do, I didn't even know how to face him after so long. But I forced myself to do it, I spun on my heel and came face to face with Damon Salvatore.

"Elena?" I quirked up my left brow. "Who's that?"

Damon's face turns to shock; but only for a mere second until it conforms back into an indifferent expression. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Hmm…no, actually, I really don't care." I don't know where all this confidence is coming from, but it's quite obviously fake. "So how long has it been Damon? I think a century and a half sounds about right?"

"This is impossible," He mutters, staring at me. As if he expects me to suddenly dissipate into nothing. "You're dead."

I shake my head. "No, I think the correct term in undead."

Damon watches me in disbelief. "You're not Eleanor," he tells me. "You can't be. If you were her, you would've visited be before now. Elle wouldn't just leave me."

"Isn't that what you thought about Katherine?" I counter and his eyes are suddenly angry. "That's what I thought, buddy boy."

That's all it took for me to be pushed into the wooden wall. The wood seemed to shatter under my weight and the pressure he was providing. But in the rush of adrenaline I didn't feel the pain I should've.

"Damon," It was hard to talk, a strong arm pressed itself against my throat. I didn't let myself falter, I should have been afraid, but fear didn't come. "I see you still let your emotions get the best of you."

"I still see…" He stops and pretends to think about the answer, "No, I still don't see anything. You're a bitch."

"It's been 148 years, did you expect me to be the same?"

"No," He chuckles humourlessly. "I expected you to be turned into soil; six feet under."

"Harsh."

"I've never been one for sensitivity." He smirks and my lips curl because it's true. But my smile only lasts a second, before I'm scowling once again. He's not supposed to make me smile anymore; he loved Katherine, the woman who ruined my life. He was unknowingly a traitor but I still held it strongly against him. That woman was nothing but cruel mind games and wicked tricks, how he fell for such a person was unknown and over the years, I had grown to hate him for it. Albeit, that wasn't he something knew, he thought I was dead – but it was still something I was going to express now.

"Can you let go of me now?" I ask realizing his strong arm is still crushing my throat. He slowly releases me and backs away, but not by much. He still stands near me; towering over my inferior frame, and almost sneering. I ignore his dangerous expression. "But I have to admit, that was pretty hot."

Damon's signature smirk hadn't changed at all since 1861. It was still just as arrogant and cocky. "Eleanor, I appreciate your good taste – but it's been a century and a half, you need to stop pining over me." His voice is laced with faux-comfort and I want to point out the irony of it: he had pined over Katherine for almost a century and a half. But tired of the bitter start to the reunion I just laugh.

"Okay, Damon," I glance around the parlour for any sign of Stefan's presence. "Is Stefan here? I was told he was."

He shrugs. "He's around this place somewhere. Should I expect an overemotional tear-filled greeting alongside a warm overdue hug?"

I shake my head and slowly walk over to the couch and plop down. "Nah, Stefan knows I'm immortal; has since '67."

There's a split second of shown emotion in his blue eyes before they turn to ice once again. "Sixty-seven?" He looks at me sceptically. "The nineteenth or twentieth century?"

"I still can't get used to questions like that," I chuckle. "The twentieth century."

His previous pacing stops and he stares at me intensely. "So, Stef knew you were alive for forty-two years and you knew I was alive for the same amount – and you never even bothered to drop in for 'Hey, best friend, how's it goin' the past… I don't a hundred years?'"

I look to the ground. "I couldn't."

He looks at me with disbelief and makes a scoffing noise, "You couldn't? And can I ask why?"

"I didn't want to."

Lie. I wanted to, it was Damon. But I couldn't bring myself to come see him. Stefan was hard enough to deal with, Damon would just bring more of my past back. I couldn't have that. I could hardly believe I had actually come to Mystic Falls, but Katherine needed to die. I was supposed to live a normal Victorian era life. Get married to a wealthy suitor, carry my husband's name respectively and raise a large family. This was her fault. Everything traced back to her. But God, why did she have to come here.

Hurt flashed across his face before he was full on glaring. "You didn't want to?"

Faking nonchalance, I shrugged. "I didn't care enough to track you down."

"You're lying," He says lowly; almost in a growl.

"No-" I began to lie again, but the front door swung open.

"Dam-" Stefan's voice rung through my ears. "Elle?"

I turned on my heel, forcing a smile onto my face. "Stefan!"

There was a huff behind me and I felt Damon's presence evaporate. A part of me wanted to go back and restart our meeting; be nicer and more honest. But that wasn't me anymore. I was a monster. Or at least faking one.

UNEDITED. I just wanted to update because you guys are so lovely! This story may be hard to follow, so quick reminder: always read the top, it'll state the date/year which will bounce back and forth A LOT.