Hi, so I have a really bad cold and I'm pretty shattered this week so please excuse any spelling mistakes and/or grammatical errors. I hope you like this chapter enjoy

We pulled up outside of the huge mansion, and then Matt cut the engine. He went for the door but when I didn't move he paused, "Are you okay?" The past 150 years had vanished and I was suddenly eighteen years old again, suddenly my palms felt sweaty and my heart beat harder. This suddenly seemed like a horrendous idea and if Matt wasn't staring at me I would have driven off, just like it done all of those times before, but he was here so that wasn't an option. I didn't want him to think I was weak. "Rowan?"

Matt's voice pulled me back to reality. "Shit sorry I just zoned out for a second there. It's been so long."

Their estate was triple the size of the old one. I stood up and just shoved all my emotional trauma to the back of my mind; now really wasn't the time. I swaggered forward towards the big oaks doors; throwing a backwards glance over my shoulder at Matt, "You can take the car, bring him back tomorrow. And remember what I said about scratching him." Then before he could reply I was knocking on the door.

After a couple of seconds it creaked open and Stefan appeared in the entrance. I got the feeling I'd interrupted something, he wasn't wearing a shirt. He hadn't aged a day. He still looked eighteen, it was crazy. I don't know why because I still looked eighteen. His hair was still the colour of milky tea and his eyes still a blurred hazel colour. But he'd gotten a tattoo; it was nice, a black rose. I smiled grimly at the thought that crossed my mind. Stefan hadn't said anything; he was just staring at me shell-shocked.

"Long time no see." I grinned and then sauntered past him into the hall. The house was huge, even on the inside. The ceilings were held by wooden beans and the whole house had a Tudor theme to it. The floor was a dark mahogany colour but mostly covered in all sorts of decorative rugs. It was obvious it'd been furnished before they'd moved in.

Stefan was still standing there just gawking at me. I stood there awkwardly and fought the urge to scratch my forearms or to fiddle with the cuff my sleeve. This wasn't the reaction I'd expected from my old friend. I didn't know what to do. Breath, I told myself, act natural, calm, cool, sophisticated. "You got anything to eat? I'm starving-" I'd barely finished my sentence and Stefan barrelled into me with vampire force. He locked me in a bear hug. Had he always been this Hench? I hugged him back awkwardly at first but then I relaxed against him. "What the hell?" He asked stepping back. He's voice bounced with excitement, "Rowan what are you doing here?" Then something clicked and his face clouded over. He said darkly: "Where have you been for the last hundred and fifty years?"

I shrugged it off gingerly, trying to seem cool and collected. Even after one hundred and fifty years I was still trying to imitate Damon. "Around."

That made him even madder. I felt guilty but at the same time I was to confused to converse with him. I wondered where Damon was and why he hadn't come to see what the commotion was about. Then I began to think about Katherine and a shudder ran down my spine. Stefan started to yell, his face creasing in anger. "Don't just brush me off Rowan! Where have you been for the last one hundred and fifty years? And why the hell are you turning up now? And when did you become- I can't deal this right now. Have you seen Damon yet?"

"Stefan?" time froze for a second and the air took on a cold chill. I knew that voice. A memory flickered in my mind, one I'd repressed years and years ago.

1864

It was the 17th and I'd just returned home from the hospital. I felt awful. In the past week it felt as though I'd lost all traces of innocence. The two people I was closest to in the world had been killed, and although everyone was saying they'd been shot when they went out with the confederacy something's just didn't add up, like the way their father seemed disgusted instead of sorrowful or proud at their funeral. Stefan had been his pride and joy. Then only a few days later I'd been mugged and had my jewellery taken and god knows what done to me. Suddenly the safe little haven of a town I'd grown up in seemed like cruel hateful town filled with ghosts. I decided to do what Damon had taught me to do when I felt down: drink. The wine cellar was dark and lit only by the faint flicker of a candle and it smelt of damp and wine and fathers whiskey. I heard faint rattle in one of the corners and tried to tell myself it was just rats but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had company. That was when she spoke up, her voice as smooth and as soft as silk, "Hello Rowan." She purred.

I squeezed shut my eyes and prayed I was still in the hospital. That this was a really, really bad dream that I'd wake up from at any moment. Her cold palm settled onto my shoulder, resting like a feather. "Look at me Rowan."

Katherine Pierce was dead. I was utterly terrified and confused, I couldn't understand how she was here, alive and healthy, beautiful and deadly. Something about Katherine had always unsettled me; there'd been mutual dislike between us since she first arrived in Mystic Falls. I hated the way she'd played the Salvatore's off against each other and I hadn't kept my opinion to myself either. Stefan had just tried to defend her and justify her behaviour and Damon and I had had a massive fight. The next time I spoke to him he was a corpse in a casket. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "You're dead." The words barely made it through my lips, which were suddenly dry and cracked.

"No." Slowly she spun me around to face her, slowly, slowly. She brushed my cheek with the back of her palm, as soft as a feather. The candle light only illuminated her pale and dainty face. I wanted to punch it. But Katherine scared me, more than she ever had before and I didn't know why. There was some sort of predatory grace about her. Maybe it was the fact she was supposed to be dead or maybe it was the way her eyes glinted in the light, they had a savage glean to them. Katherine continued to hypnotically trace gently shapes and patterns on my face. A small whimper escaped my lips. I had some primeval survival instinct pushing me to run, fast and far but I couldn't make my shaking legs move.

"You were meant to die in that alley you know. I sent a man to kill you and if he had killed you and then mugged you well we wouldn't be in this situation now. But the idiot mugged you first and Damon showed up." Katherine began to pout, "He ruined everything!"

My eyes shot open, she'd said Damon… but he was dead. Then again Katherine was meant to be dead and she wasn't. As I opened my mouth to demand she tell me what she knew Katherine shrugged, "Oh well." She said. Then she snapped my neck.

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