AN: Hello again! And welcome back! I'd hoped to update last Saturday or Sunday, but there were some inconsistencies in this chapter I had to take care of first. Now before you skip this A/N and plow on to the chapter, I want to warn you all of some blood and gore. I don't think it was too graphic (not graphic enough to warrant the change to an 'M' rating) but blood and gore will be mentioned and horrible dead will be implied.

Now, I don't want to spoil any more of the story, so I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter. Like always, let me know what you think.

Cheers,

Anna

o.O.o

Chapter Forty-Seven, Radiance

I woke up to a grey darkness. Thick, dark clouds, that promised rain for hours, crowded above Mystic Falls, soaking it in shadow, and a drizzle pattered against the hospital windows. We'd been visiting Jeremy and I must have fallen asleep, my head lolling against the wall and my neck pinched at a painful angle. Groaning, I tried loosening the tight tendons with a few pinches and sat up. The numbers and lines on the ominously beeping heart monitor were still constant and steady, so I assumed Jeremy was doing well. Stretching my legs out in front of me, I let my eyes glide through the room, flitting over Jenna's sleeping form, sprawled out on the scratchy sofa, head pillowed by her rolled-up jacket and over to John, sitting at the plastic table, chin cradled in entangled hands, asleep as well.

It had been a rough day and night for everyone it seemed.

"Why won't you wake up?" I whispered as my eyes flitted over to Jeremy.

He looked less gaunt than he had before.

The hospital chard Klaus so easily read hung from the bed frame, but so far nothing scribbled on it, meant anything to me, and tired of the strange evasive answers, I stood. Leaning down, I tucked my bag under my right arm, and licking my lips, I made my way out of Jeremy's room, in search of one of the nurses. The hospital was darker and quieter than it had been earlier that afternoon and the soles of my feet squeaked on the linoleum floor.

With the last ordeal still fresh on my mind, I adjusted my bag, hooking the straps around my neck, and fisted the taser I'd gotten from Liz Forbes tightly into my hand. Hidden behind the leather of my bag, I thought the device was hidden well from anyone's view and I moved down the long corridor, towards the nurses' station.

"Ah—" my breath churned in my throat and I whirled around, coming eye-to-eye with a young, boyish nurse, holding an unwrapped, half-eaten sandwich in his hand. He was lean, slightly tanned and his hair was dark and curly. I thought he must be only in his early twenties and I licked my clapped lips. "Miss Gilbert, right? Jeremy Gilbert's sister?"

"Yeah," I agreed, my fingers turning stiff around the taser.

"You guys are still here?" He remarked and the lights above us flickered.

"Yeah," I agreed again and pursed my lips. "Medically speaking, how well is Jeremy doing, really?"

"He's doing better," the boy answered quickly, reminding me of a student about to answer a well-prepared question and my lips quirked, "the swelling in his brain has gone down and his bodily functions remain stable. Doctor Mose said he's healing quickly."

"Well, that's good, right?"

"It is," he agreed, "but while the body heals, we can't exactly assess if there is brain damage or not."

"I see," I mumbled. That was what Klaus had said and I let go of the taser, dropped it back in my bag, and raked my fingers through my hair. "What about the other guy? The one who was hurt too? There was another guy wasn't there?"

"Yes," the man agreed. "He's doing better." He peered around, looking as if he was worried a supervisor would emerge from the shadows, and when he found none, leaned forward. As if sharing a secret, his lips curled up. "The police even think he will be able to make a statement tomorrow."

My eyes widened, "Really?"

"Hm, hm!"

"Well, that's good," I sighed and wetted my lips.

"It's weird you know," the man continued, he really was just a student, "The cops treat him as a protected witness."

"How's that weird?"

"They check everyone. Only approved medical staff is allowed to enter. And there's always a cop in front of his room. I mean, I get it, of course, but it's not great for the atmosphere."

"Who was he anyway?"

"The medical examiner," the man whispered and he leaned forward again. "They say someone tried to stake him. Like a vampire, you know? It's just— weird."

"This town is weird," I muttered and he nodded. He was flirting with me.

"My name is Brian by the way."

"Elena," I replied and we shook hands.

"I was just on my way to the cafeteria. Having lunch," he decided, "you want to come? We can talk."

Definitely, boldly flirting with me. God, and he looked nice too, but, then again, Damon looked nice. As did Klaus and Elijah. Most Supernaturals looked good and charming. However, Brian was turning pink, thinking I was about to reject him. And I really liked the idea of connecting with someone again. Someone normal. Someone my age.

"Okay, sure." I nodded and his grin was so wide, it almost split his face. "Which way to go?"

"Oh, the cafeteria is on the floor above us,"

"Okay," I agreed and followed him down the corridor.

Brian slowed his speed when we'd almost neared the archway to the stairs, "that's the room of vampire-guy."

He hadn't needed to say. Easily identifiable, it was the room with a chair out in front and a uniformed cop stationed on it. The curtains in front of the bed were drawn, so I couldn't see much of the patient. I couldn't either, when the police officer met my curious gaze, wordlessly ordering me to move along. I did.

The cafeteria was faintly simple. It was a large room, with all kinds of foods served, although mostly junk food, and it was busy. We crossed the cafeteria, both selecting a tray, and we followed the queue along the dishes. Even with the smell of overcooked food, I felt hungry.

I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning and selected a mozzarella-and-tomato sandwich with tired shreds of lettuce trailing from it. For a drink I went with a strong cup of herbal tea — I didn't trust the murky coffee they served — and followed Brian to the register.

"So are you a student?"

"Yes," he agreed and led me to a table next to the window. "Second-year med student."

I nodded, flopping down on the chair and dropping the tray before me. "Hm, sounds interesting. Why med school?" And I really wanted to know. I never quite understood why you'd want to work with sick people. Sure, curing and healing people sounded not too bad, but the bad news conversations? The amount of death that was woven into your everyday work? No, thank you.

"I always wanted to make a difference." A quick grin slipped across his lips. "Finding cures, solving problems coming from medication shortage? That kind of thing."

"So you don't want to be a surgeon or something?"

"Nah, I like the science of it all. You?"

"Oh I study— not yet," I remarked, laughing boisterously. "I was just looking at colleges actually."

"Just finished high school?"

I nodded, the plastic chair beneath me biting into my upper legs. "Yep."

"I should have figured. You look young too."

"Thanks— I guess," I muttered, and picked up a tomato slice, popping it in my mouth. "Is this like an internship?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "And here I was, thinking a small town would be easy."

"And it isn't?"

"It's where the weirdos reside," he remarked drolly.

I let out a laugh. I could only imagine how things would seem to a perfect stranger who hadn't grown up in Mystic Falls. Who hadn't lived in a town where people were killed every blue moon I took a sip from my tea. "I suppose it is."

"Oh, I didn't mean you were weird."

"Nah," I shrugged, "I don't mind. I'm sure some of the weirdness must have rubbed off on me."

He laughed softly and we chatted some more. It was strangely entertaining and I licked my lips. "So the medical examiner? I've been kept out of the loop by my family, but what happened?"

"Can't say I know," Brian answered and stared outside over the grounds below. The drizzle had hardened into rain and everything looked cold and grey. Almost washed-out. "The police found them both near the hospital actually."

"I wonder why someone would go after Jeremy. He's just a child."

"It seems weird to do so just because of a name," he agreed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

And it was weird. Jeremy had been pretty anti-vampire, so why someone would go after him? I had no idea. I licked my lips. Something niggled at the back of my mind like a learned answer for an essay, but just out of reach. Like I should know something, and yet, for the life of me, I couldn't think of what it was.

"I'm just curious why he changed the MO." Brian decided, pausing as if taking a bite from his egg-and-bacon sandwich. "I mean it's because of the other deaths that the police started to have doubts about the suicide."

"Suicide?"

"Your parents really like to smother you, don't they?"

"I know there was a suspicious death. I didn't know it was supposed to be a suicide."

"Yeah, well referent Fell. He was depressed. I overheard Sheriff Forbes when I was in the town's hall." He whispered and I scooted to the edge of my seat. "Something about the gunshot residue being on his clothes and not on his hands."

I'd seen enough police series to know that was impossible and my eyebrows furrowed. "Don't they always start an investigation if someone is found shot?"

"Apparently not," Brian shrugged, "especially not when the victim tried to off himself before."

"Makes you wonder how many more murders were classed as suicides," I said.

"I never considered it like that." He whispered, eyes glancing at the clock on the wall. "I have to go. Duty calls. Perhaps we could do this again?"

"Sure," I smiled. "I'll be here a lot anyway."

I knew we wouldn't. I couldn't bring someone so normal into my world where everything was warped and wrong. At least, I couldn't right now. I watched him jerk to his feet, perhaps it was later than it should have been and waved at him as he quickly crossed the cafeteria. For a while, I just sat there, finished my sandwich, and finally I went from the cafeteria to the corridor where Jeremy's room was.

The police officer in front of the medical examiner's room was gone, the stool empty, and the curtains around the bed still drawn. I was almost tempted to go inside. Almost. The police officer was coming back from what I assumed was his round and I quickly continued on, returning to Jeremy's room.

"Elena!" John greeted me, the door fell closed behind me.

"Oh, hi—" I started, already wondering how well John had taken my absence but he looked lighter, happier and my heart leaped. "Is he—"

"Awake?" A third voice piped up and I turned to Jeremy, propped up against the headboard.

"Oh, my God!" I whispered. Relief flooded through my body with such force I felt lightheaded.

He was staring at his phone screen — god, could he be more of a teenager right now — scrolling through what I thought must be messages or perhaps Facebook posts. He must have felt my eyes on me and I nervously rolled on the balls of my feet. "How are you feeling?"

He was silent for a moment, his eyes flitting over me and finally a small genuine smile quirked his lips up. "I don't know, I feel— weird."

"Well, I guess that's normal," I mumbled. "Do you remember who we are?"

The slash of a smirk on his face was almost normal and I sat next to his bed. "I wish I didn't, Elena, but yeah, I know who you are." His eyes flitted to my neck, to the scar that was still slightly visible. I couldn't help the slight shiver that ran down my spine, the scar begging to be scratched. Sometimes there still was a fizzy sting of pain, a phantom ache, and I fidgeted. Jeremy's eyes moved to John and Jenna. "I know who all of you are."

"I'm glad!" John croaked, sitting up straight and Jenna nodded, unable to get a word out.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Jeremy blinked several times, reminding me of a confused spaniel, before shaking his head. "No, I don't."

"Oh," I mumbled, crossing my legs at the ankles.

"I'm sorry— I just don't remember." He mumbled. "I remember crossing the street. There is a guy in front of me, holding— I think he was holding a cardboard folder, and then someone jumping me, and then— everything is blank. I think I hit the ground, or perhaps I was stabbed then? I'm actually quite glad I don't remember exactly. "

I shifted in my chair and tried to sit up straighter, "Well, that's okay. The other man that got hurt, they think he's doing well enough to actually be of some help. The police will interrogate the medical examiner. He might know more."

"What other man?" Jeremy asked. "Was there someone else hurt?"

"Oh," I leaned forward, elbows balancing precariously on the arms of the plastic chair. "Yeah."

"We're not sure who the killer was after," John said. "Both you and him are founding members."

"I don't get why they still haven't got a clue who has done this." Jenna tried.

"What if he comes after me again?" Jeremy whispered, he turned away from us and something cold fluttered through my bloodstream. He really was just a child and I crossed my arms over my chest.

"He won't."

"What if he—"

"Because if he does, I'll kill him," I muttered. And I meant it. It seemed Jeremy realized it too and he looked at me as if he'd never really given me a good look. Then again, I wasn't surprised. He'd been angry with me. I doubted he'd consciously given me the time of day after I'd let Elijah compel him. Jeremy was good at that, holding grudges that is. Especially during the first two seasons, there had been a somberness in Jeremy Gilbert that didn't seem to exist in Elena. However, that didn't mean Elena had been perfect. Nor had I been perfect, in all honesty. I guessed we all worked differently with the cards we'd been dealt with.

A blonde nurse came in with a small basin and a cloth, telling us we had to leave. She had to clean Jeremy up and the fifteen-year-old nodded in embarrassed agreement. The woman smiled uncomfortably at Uncle John, who looked annoyed to have been told to leave. He had no choice though. Nor did we.

It was still raining outside, and there was a cold bite to the air, the wind blowing loose tendrils of my hair back from my face. My cheeks felt taut and stiff and I rubbed my hands together, turning to John. "So what are we going to do now?"

"I'll take you two home," John remarked tiredly, and I pursed my lips.

"Why? You've got an appointment?"

"Founders' meeting," he sighed, looking as if he'd rather choose lobotomy, instead of meeting some old-timers, talking about vampire business. And damn, did they have things to talk about.

"What do they make from all of this?" I asked.

"They don't know, Elena," John admitted, "Liz doesn't have any real suspects."

"So no old grudges, or some bad blood between the council and some third party?"

He leaned back against the outer wall of the hospital, steeping his fingers together. "Not as far as I know." He caught my eyes then. "Doesn't this make you think it could've been Klaus?"

"I suppose," I drew in a shallow breath, "but I don't think so. This wasn't Klaus' style."

"What is Klaus' style, exactly?"

"Theatrical," I tried to look totally unaffected and knew immediately I was failing. "A bloodbath."

"Well," Jenna whispered, looking pale, "Grayson's—"

"That's not—" I whispered and then shook my head, "—Klaus likes to make an impression. Staging someone's suicide— yeah, I know about that one, thank you for the heads up— stabbing people in broad daylight. Not his style."

John let out a long, low breath. "It was a human."

"Then why?"

"But a vampire could still have compelled someone to do this."

He wasn't wrong. I didn't argue and when John dropped me off at home, I went to my bedroom without a second glance. Unsure of what to do, I sat on the edge of the bed. A vampire could indeed have compelled a human to do all of this, but I besides the tomb vampires I couldn't think of anyone who would've wanted to. Sucking my lower lip between my teeth, I sat there, my gaze tracking across the walls, the bookcase, and the window seat, until finally, I remembered what Caroline had told me only a day ago. Abby was in town, and she wanted to talk to us.

Reaching for my cellphone, I dialed Caroline's number (now known by heart) and only had to wait two ringtones, before her cheerful voice sounded from the other end.

"Hi, El!"

"Hello Caroline," I answered, "Yesterday you said something about visiting Abby?"

"Ah!" Her voice was high-pitched. "You're game?"

"I'm not sure what you think Abby can do for any of us, but yeah, sure. Where do I go?"

"Do you know Miller Lane?"

No, but I was sure I would be able to find it. Caroline seemed to rethink that question and I heard her mutter something under her breath. "It's behind the old Cemetery."

"I know where that is. I'll meet you there."

It took me about fifteen minutes to get from the Hospital to the parking lot adjoining the cemetery. The sky had cleared, the drizzle lessening, framing an array of colors as a rainbow curled above my head. The car door clunked closed behind me and I crossed the lot towards the large, towering iron fence, surrounding the cemetery. Caroline was already there, waiting, hands clasped behind her back. I half-expected Bonnie to be there too, but instead, it was Stefan, leaning against the bonnet of his car.

The glare I sent Caroline should have made more of an impression than the slight smile she offered in return. "He wanted to come with us."

"And you didn't tell me because?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "You get defensive whenever he's around."

I thought I had good reason too. Instead, I just rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. "Whatever, let's go."

Caroline gave me a quick nod and led us along the cemetery, past a small park. Despite the dreary start of the day, it was busy. Filled with cyclists, runners, and the occasional dog walker. Soon, we took a shortcut down the slope of grass, along a creek, and passed under what looked like a wildlife crossing, but where I heard the rumble of overhead mopeds and motorbikes. Soon, we found ourselves in a long narrow street with terraced houses and immaculate gardens.

"There it is," Caroline grinned, pointing at a simple, flat, one-story home. It didn't seem to fit with the expensive ooze the rest of the street held, even if it was a bit secluded and I frowned.

"Okay," I mumbled and pushed the squeaky gate open.

A watery sun had broken through the clouds and the gravel crunched beneath my feet, cutting through the front yard to the porch. The porch could use some cleaning, moss covering the little stones, and a tiny sort of garden was planted on either side of the stairs with blooming daisies, poppies, and buttercups. I moved my hand to the door, planning on knocking when I noticed the front door standing slightly ajar.

"That's weird—" Caroline started, a strange expression settling into her features, "—I smell blood."

"What?"

"Yeah," Stefan agreed, stepping up at my other side, black spider veins form around his eyes and he averted his gaze, clutching his throat, "There's a lot of it. Excuse me!" He stumbled off the porch and I pushed open the front door. It swung inward, creaking loudly, and I carefully stepped into a small entryway.

"What are you doing?"

"What if she's in need of help?" I asked. I thought of Bonnie and how hurt she'd been when Abby left in the third — fourth — season and moved down the hallway. Caroline followed slowly, her breathing stopped. The house appeared empty and I watched a spider slowly sink down a thread from the ceiling, spinning and moving almost like an acrobat and I ducked out beneath it. The walls were cream-colored, covered with photos of animals and presumably family members, and from straight ahead, muffled sounds escaped.

We stepped inside a bright living room, with an old grey couch, facing a richly detailed fireplace. The television next to it was on, a sitcom filtering through the room. No one was there, no shapes moved in the half-light and I frowned. I crossed the room towards the door across. The living room was attached to the dining room and I toed the door further open. It was simple and clean, with no kitchenware truly odd or out of place, except for the books and papers scattered over the kitchen table and on the counter. I moved closer, a frown furrowing my eyebrows as I peered at the open books. The pages were curled and their edges flecked with something brownish. Tiny hairs rose on my body as a shiver of awareness danced over my skin.

"Caroline?"

"Yes?" She mumbled, her voice muffled, odd and I realized she was still holding her breath.

"Is this blood?"

The blonde moved closer, and her head cocked to the side, eyes flashing. Ice drenched my veins, and I already knew the answer.

"Yeah, that's blood." And her head turned to the glass sliding doors.

There was blood there too and I crossed the kitchen. Caroline was faster, she'd already pushed the sliding doors open and stepped outside by the time I reached them. I inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of dirt and yes, I could smell it now too. Iron, metallic, like when you sucked on a penny. Blood. And a lot of it.

My fingers slid to the light switch, trembling, and I flicked on the veranda light, illuminating a scene worthy of a gory horror movie. Two bodies, one male and one female, lay sprawled half on the wooden veranda, half on the grass field backyard. The woman was headless, a lot of blood, already thickened and congealed, splattered and pooled around them, and a spray of it splattered over white garden seats and the wall.

"Oh my—" I gasped and took a shocked step back.

"It's Abby!"

"And that man?" I asked, forcing my nerves down, and stepped outside, evading the blood. He was Elena's age, head still attached, stabbed, and— I thought he might have been disemboweled. I vaguely recognized Jamie and I met Caroline's gaze. "It's her adoptive son."

Caroline nodded, her nose scrunched up. "What do we do?"

"Call your mom?" I asked. "What else can we do? Does— do you think this is supernatural related?"

"Perhaps Mikael?"

"Why such a mess?" I mumbled and frowned. "And why would Abby have invited him in? It looks more like they tried to escape."

"I don't—" she started and raked a hand through her blonde hair, taking out her phone.

"We have to get out of here though, I don't know much about CSI, but I'm pretty sure intruding on a crime scene is bad."

"Do you think it's the founding killer?" Caroline squeaked, and she glanced over her shoulder, looking as if she expected the murder to materialize out of nothing besides us, axe-wielding and all.

"I don't know."

She had gone so very pale, pressing her cell phone between her shoulder and her ear, nervously rolling on the balls of her feet. I too, had no idea what I should say or do. I knew we had to get out of here, away from the coppery tang of human blood and I turned around when the floorboards behind me creaked noisily. Stefan had appeared, looking gaunt and horrified, but in control of himself.

"Does this look like the work of a vampire?" I asked.

"I don't know?" He whispered. "It looks psychopathic."

"It could be Mikael," I answered, cold logic having hooked into me again. "He had a motive."

"Yeah."

"Or—" I started and frowned. It didn't make much sense to be another vampire. What had Damon said once? He would have had a dinner party? My eyes flitted over the blood again and a shudder bore through me. If a vampire had done this, wouldn't there be less blood? On the other hand, beheading people? That was something the Founding killer had done before — and ripper Stefan — and I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Mom is coming," Caroline said. "We have to get away from here and wait for her at the front door."

"Okay."

We waited, Stefan quickly getting out of there (I wasn't too sure why), while I and Caroline sat on the curb in front of Abby's house. It took under twenty minutes before our faces were starkly white in the blue glare of the police lights. Liz Forbes quickly led me and Caroline to her car, putting us in the back of her car, while more police cars pulled into the street. Soon uniformed police officers were settled around the house and people dressed in white forensic clothes came in and out.

We waited as a deputy, Caroline seemed to know, took our statements, and soon two white vans with large satellite dishes on their roofs, pulled up. The news had already been picked up and I listened with rapt attention as the newsreader explained how the police was doing door-to-door interviewing with every resident in the street. They too drew the connection between the Founding Killer and the murder of two newcomers, although, they did that because of the suspected gruesomeness. I averted my eyes. It wasn't like serial killers only happened in large cities, but this town truly was peculiar in every way. If I was honest, I was surprised there were still town's people left and I stared wide-eyed at the medical personnel carting the bodies away.

"What should we do?" Caroline asked, picking at her cubicles and I shrugged.

"I don't know."

"But you always know."

That made me pause, froze me in my tracks and I frowned. "Since when?"

"You've had this idea, this road stippled out in front of you. I mean I don't always agree but—"

"That's not the same as knowing what we should do," I muttered, my heart beating painfully against my ribcage. "That was just—" My stomach turned unpleasantly, "—a way to survive and not be the one responsible for mass genocide."

"Was there a crazy serial killer when you learned about us?" She asked. "You know from the other reality?" She added as if somehow I might have forgotten that I hadn't been originally born as Elena nor in this timeline.

"Yes, there was." I agreed, "But, I don't think it is him now. Alaric is teaching at Whitmore College and at Mystic Falls, but I don't think he's involved with the council this time around, or is he?"

"You think it's Alaric?" Caroline quaffed. "But he's so nice."

"I'm not saying it's him. I don't think it's him. But it was him in— the original timeline."

"We have to tell Mom."

"And then what?" I asked. "How were you supposed to know? Will you tell her I had a vision?"

The awkward silence that followed was thick enough to hear a pin drop and I pinched the bridge of my nose. Of course, it wasn't a bad idea, going to Alaric and trying to exclude him from the list of suspects. I had considered John as well, wearing his tacky ring the way he did, but he didn't act differently, nor had I heard something about lost time. And I certainly wasn't sure why he would attack Jeremy. Again, Jeremy hated vampires. Acted like I had been person non grata after my little stunt of siding with them, so it made no sense. After all, John knew that.

"What?"

"Well, John has that ring too."

She frowned, nose scrunched up in a confused expression. "What ring?"

"Erm, it's a Gilbert family heirloom. It turns the wearer crazy though." I explained. Not entirely true, but it was close enough. I licked my lips. "They are special, you see. The rings were spelled by Bonnie's great-great-whatever-grandmother to protect against supernatural death."

"I don't—"

"If you or Stefan or some jumped-up werewolf were to snap John's neck, he'd come back to life."

"Oh."

"Yeah," I agreed, I could hardly believe I was having this conversation. "And it's great, but the ring whispers to your dark side or something? Whenever you're killed and come back, it whispers at you. It can make someone go crazy."

"Oh, my God!"

"But for all I know it could be someone entirely different, who has nothing to do with the ring story."

"I don't know how we should— We could say we heard from Bonnie." She suddenly explained. "Mom knows she was a witch. I told her about witches and werewolves. I thought I had to."

"Okay," I agreed. "But— that still doesn't explain the DNA relation to Mayor Lockwood."

"What DNA?"

I frowned, "They found foreign DNA at one of the crime scenes. I can't remember which— but they tested it. They don't know whose DNA exactly it is, but apparently, it's related to Mayor Lockwood. Did your mom not tell you that?"

"Dit I not tell you what?" Liz Forbes asked. She'd opened the door silently and was heaving herself behind the wheel, staring at us with a frown.

"That you have DNA of the suspect," Caroline muttered, arms crossing over her chest.

"Oh, Caroline I can't go divulging information from a crime scene to you."

"John told Elena."

"Yeah," she looked at me pensively. "He shouldn't have."

And with that, she adjusted the mirrors, buckled up, then backed out onto the road. I averted my face as mother and daughter argued, and gazed out of the window, watching the shadows lengthen and the setting sun burnished the roofs and tops of the trees around me. Soon we'd left the rows of identical, flat one-story homes behind us and merged with the surprisingly busy traffic of Mystic Falls.
The street was glittering with car lights and puddles, and the engine purred as Liz Forbes parked her car alongside the curb of the police station. It wasn't remarkable. Somehow, you expected a police station to be designed to give off some respect or authority. This one didn't. The street lamps were already lit, though our surroundings and the sky were not yet fully dark, dappling over two other police cars, parked on the side street. I scratched at my neck and released my seatbelt catch, sitting up straight.

Liz Forbes sat still, fingers curled tightly around the wheel and I angled my body to look her full in the face. The wash of light from the lanterns and the haze of passing traffic was enough for me to see her expression. She looked— upset.

Liz turned to us, "Come on, I'll get you something hot to drink and we will put your statement on paper."

"Okay," I agreed slowly.

Caroline and I were separated, led in two different interrogation rooms and I sat on the world's most uncomfortable plastic chair, clutching a styrofoam cup between white fingers. I'd never been in an interrogation room — of course, I hadn't — and I stared almost unblinkingly at the double mirror wall opposite of me. The officer, whose name I had already forgotten but who'd been very gentle with me when taking my fingerprints, was diligently taking notes of my statement.

"So why were you and Caroline Forbes going there?"

"I don't know. I believe she wanted to discuss something with me." I answered diplomatically.

"So Miss Forbes asked you to come along?"

"Yeah, we agreed to go together."

In the distance, I could still hear the traffic rumbling past. and the bustle of pedestrians outside. By now, I expected that John and Jenna were informed and at any second would come to my aid. Scrunching my nose up, I wondered if this was all that legal, to begin with. Elena was a minor. Shouldn't there be a trusted adult with her? Then again, I wasn't sure if I was a person of interest. Scooting to the edge of my chair, that way the plastic didn't cut into my bones so much, I let go of my cup. Smudges of ink decorated the rim and I ignored the urge to wipe my hands on my trousers.

"Can I go now?"

"Almost," the man mumbled. "Did you notice someone when you came?"

"No, but I didn't think their deaths were— recent," I answered awkwardly.

He nodded, I wasn't sure if it was to himself or to what I had said, and he pushed his chair back. "Okay, come on, I'll let you wait with Caroline." Switching off the tape — because this interview was recorded — he led me out of the room and into another. This one was much larger with rows of desks to either side. Most desks were occupied, officers staring at their computer monitors or bending over police files and the man (I thought his name was Derek) led me to the back. I was allowed to sit on an empty desk with a discolored apple core lying next to the keyboard, and I felt somewhat lighter when he left me alone.

I wasn't sure how long I sat there, hands clasped between my knees, feet swaying. I wasn't sure where Caroline was either, or Liz Forbes for that matter, but I expected she might be in her office. Talking Vampire business, no doubt and I wondered. I wondered how many of Liz Forbes' deputies knew about vampires. I supposed it didn't matter and when I was about to get to my feet, police sirens loudly screamed closer, and harsh arguing followed.

"This is outrageous," John's voice blared loudly, clearly understandable even from outside.

I sat up straighter. A moment later, the double doors opened and two uniformed officers walked in, dragging a sullen-looking, pale-faced boy behind them, John in tow. The air sucked from me, the sounds gone from the world. His face was white with a tinge of green but his eyes were dark in anger and— he met my gaze unblinkingly.

"Jeremy?"

To be continued…

A/N: Dun. Dun. DUN! Okay, it was so hard not to spoil this little twist. And of course, I enjoyed those of you who wondered and guessed. I don't think I enjoy anything more than reading everyone's thoughts and beliefs. As for the A/N in the last chapter, I mentioned a SI story in Avatar the Last Airbender. I quite like that idea, so I will be dabbling with that in the upcoming few weeks. However, this story will take priority, as I want the first part out and ready. So stay tuned, for the next chapter is almost done, and I expect the next update out here upcoming Saturday.

Now, as to answer some guest comments, since I can't reply to your comment another way, to Joyce: thank you for sharing your thoughts. Non-Elena can be judgy and jump the gun sometimes, but bear in mind that she's never really forgiven him for getting both Caroline and Bonnie turned into vampires. This Elena and Damon have never become friends, which also meant that this Damon would not be much inclined to try and make up with her. However, she was wrong about him being responsible for Grayson's murder (and I don't think she cares so much that he died, as for the way he died), and Grayson definitely deserved it. He was a terrible character and I think many of you were smiling reading about his demise just as much as I was when I was writing it. I'm not sure if Non-Elena is pretending to be something, to be honest. But you only get to see the world through her point of view, which might not always be completely correct. Just like every flawed individual, Non-Elena is not always a reliable narrator.

For me, that's what I like about stories. The ones that are about emotionally sensitive but also resilient, survivors, that can be more than a little unreliable and grow to be people that make understandable, but not always popular decisions. In a way, I hope to make her more real that way. And of course, I hope her character grows, from a scared little wallflower to a girl that can kick ass (let's admit upfront that that is what I'm working toward).

However, yes, Damon will get a more active role in the story as it progresses, but it will go slowly. To be honest, I like the idea of them getting to a place where they can snark at each other. Non-Elena might not ever be interested to pursue a relationship with the town's psycopath, they might be able to become something akin to friends. But, that's definitely not going to happen soon. I'm sorry.

To DBZFAN4, thank you for your comment again. I always enjoy your comments! We will find out how things worked out with the Original family next chapter. Till then, I bid you all a good day.

Lots of Love,

Anna