A/N: I have no explanation for lateness lmao, aside from my lacking time management skills and my Civil Litigation class xD Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.
By the following morning, Rory had heard nothing from Damon and heard of no attempted break-ins or attacks. He might still lash out later, but she was already cautiously optimistic—and as a result, while Rory grabbed her floral-patterned backpack and denim jacket and headed out into the hallway, she started to think about the Founders' Council again. She had that boxed vervain from Zach, and he was supposed to talk to the Council for her—
Rory clicked her door shut and turned toward the stairs, and almost slammed into Elena. "Oh!" said Rory. "Sorry."
She moved to step around her, but to her surprise and mild alarm Elena moved with her. "Listen," said Elena. Her hair was straightened to perfection and her expression was mostly clear, but there was a little worried crease between her eyebrows. "I thought you weren't interested in Damon, but you went to the Founders' Party with him?"
Ah, shit. Okay, excuses— "I—" Rory started, only to realize she had nothing.
Elena raised her eyebrows and folded her arms, waiting.
"He—asked if I could get him an invite to the party," Rory managed to drag out of nothing. She tried to keep her face as neutral as possible. "When I saw him on Saturday."
"When you were doing historical research," concluded Elena. She studied Rory, her eyes narrowing a little, and Rory blinked innocently back. "What are you two researching that requires our old family journals? Jenna said you were looking through them."
Rory had to offer the only information Damon had kind of dismissed as irrelevant. "The McCulloughs."
Elena furrowed her eyebrows. "What? Why?"
"They were around at the same time as the Founders, but no one mentions them," explained Rory. There certainly weren't any antiques labeled 'McCullough' on display at the party last night. "It's weird."
"But there were a lot of Salvatores around back then," surmised Elena with a nod. She must've been thinking about that town charter she'd skimmed at the Lockwoods'. If only she knew the Salvatores who'd signed it were still around. "I guess I get it." She took a small step backward, toward her open bedroom door, but hesitated to add, "Just—be careful with Damon, okay?"
"Only if you're careful with Stefan."
Elena rolled her eyes and fully faced Rory again, her expression shifting toward an irritation Rory hadn't witnessed since ninth grade, when they were still friends. Back then Elena used to come home from cheer practice and march into Rory's room to fling herself onto the bed and start complaining about whatever thoughtless comment Caroline Forbes had made that afternoon.
"How are you friends with him?" Elena asked presently. "He's given me no information about himself. Everything I think I know is from guesswork."
Rory tried not to fidget with one of the straps of her backpack. "I think he's just quiet."
"I get that, I do," said Elena, pushing one hand through her hair. "But it's really annoying that when I ask any question, he gets vague or changes the subject."
Any question? thought Rory, bemused. Stefan kept up with the conversation fine whenever he sat with her, Mackenzie, and Lauren at lunch. "What questions are you asking?"
Elena lifted her shoulders. "I don't know. Damon mentioned—" Oh Lord, here we go. "—their ex, Katherine, and Stefan won't tell me anything about her, or his fight with Damon."
Rory opened her mouth to answer, closed it uncertainly, and said, "Their ex?"
Elena nodded.
"They—" said Rory, still processing. "Did—one of them date her first or something?"
"I don't know."
That had to be it, right? Rory could see it if it was kind of a Matt Donovan situation. Or Damon could've lied. He'd been intent on sowing discord, after all, and if Stefan never answered any questions, there was no way to know—
Rory reminded herself she didn't care. All that mattered was ensuring neither vampire brother killed anyone else. Whatever feud or relationship drama the vampires were dealing with was none of her business. She couldn't tell Elena that, though. "I'd stop asking," Rory said instead. "He'll come forward with whatever it is when he wants to."
To Rory's mild irritation Elena rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said, and she rounded to march back to her bedroom. Rory watched her swing her door shut behind her with a little too much force and shook her head as she resumed her walk downstairs.
As she grabbed her water bottle from the dishwasher and rinsed any lingering Cascade out of it, Jenna appeared. "Oh, hey!" she chirped when she saw Rory. "You left the box of journals under the stairs, right?"
Rory furrowed her eyebrows and turned back. "Yeah. Why?"
"I found another Christopher Gilbert one you might've missed," said Jenna. She perched on one of the stools at the marble-topped kitchen island and dropped the leather-bound journal on a stray hand towel. Once seated she pulled her strawberry-blonde hair back into a low ponytail. "Is there something specific you're looking for?"
Rory considered for a second as she studied Jenna, who blinked back. Her aunt was a graduate student at Whitmore College—she was in psychology, which was unrelated, but she had to have some research skills. She half-glanced at the hallway and decided to go for it before Elena or Jeremy came down. "Yeah, actually," she said, and Jenna raised her eyebrows. "Emily Bennett and anything about witches. From the Civil War."
"That is specific," remarked Jenna, and Rory shrugged. "But I'd ask Bonnie about any family history, assuming it's the same Bennett, and I'd check the library for their archived newspapers."
Rory had no idea how the hell to bring up 1860s family history with Bonnie. They hadn't spoken since the dinner thing weeks ago, and she couldn't just pop out of nowhere to ask about possible generational trauma. "I already checked the library," said Rory. "I could try it again, though."
"Oh, and how about the Founders' Archives?" Jenna suggested. "They were probably in charge of any witch burnings." She pointed at Rory, who was already startled at the reminder of the Archives. "And figure out which churches were around. Religious fundamentalism had a lot to do with the entire fear-of-witches thing. Maybe there are old minutes from meetings, or lists of parishioners."
That hadn't even occurred to Rory, but it made perfect sense. "Good idea," she said, and she snatched up the offered journal. She flashed a smile at Jenna. "Thanks for the help. And the journal."
"No prob!" said Jenna. As Rory took a step toward the hallway, she added, "Text me your schedule later."
Rory agreed, and she managed to escape the kitchen about two seconds before Jeremy shuffled in, hair messy and zip-up hoodie half-on. She strode straight down the hallway, snagged her car keys, and stepped out into the cool October morning. The sky was clear, still bright with the sunrise, and the air was full of leaves.
And although Rory thought it would probably be smarter to wait, she slowed as she flipped open the leather-bound journal, halfway to the Bronco. To her surprise it picked up in May of 1866, an entire year after the Civil War ended. Interesting, she thought, and she flicked through the old pages. Rory caught a glimpse of another drawing of a hawthorn tree.
She heard the neighbors' kids across the street shouting and glanced up. Right, school, she thought as she watched the kids clamber into their minivan. I can read this during study hall.
Before that, however, Rory met Mackenzie out on Mystic Falls High's front lawn. As soon as Mackenzie caught sight of her, she left the faded bulletin board and the two NHS girls she'd been talking to. "Hey," said Mackenzie as she arrived. Her long, glossy black hair was in a side-braid instead of a ponytail, but her eyeliner was as smudged as ever. "About that crystal or whatever Damon stole. D'you want to go to the Founders' Archives this week? Wednesday?"
Rory gave a startled laugh. Mackenzie leaned back a little with evident skepticism, eyebrows raised. "Jenna reminded me of the Archives this morning," Rory explained. She waved the leather-bound journal she hadn't bothered to shove into her backpack. "And check this out. She found another Christopher journal."
"When's it from?" asked Mackenzie, already taking it to open it up. "This is after the Civil War, right?"
"Yep."
Mackenzie frowned as she turned a few pages. "What the hell was going on with this dude?" she wondered aloud, and Rory leaned forward to see she'd stopped on a page with a few sketches of unfamiliar herbs. "This is—what, Celtic? Like McCullough?"
Before Rory could answer, the bell rang out across the lawn, signaling they had to go in. Mackenzie closed the journal and passed it back to Rory, and they turned to walk toward the navy double-doors together, other students doing the same around them. "Johnathan was into—um, vampires?" said Rory. It's probably fine to say it out of context. We could be talking about Twilight for all anyone knows. "Christopher was into druids, I guess."
"Wild," said Mackenzie with a shake of her head. She tugged at the straps of her black skull-patterned backpack as they strolled into the cold building, and she let the door nearly swing shut on some freshman. "Then again there must not've been much for them to do. Just racism and theater."
"And reading."
Mackenzie snorted. "Right, reading about racism and theater." She swatted Rory's arm. "Wait, oh my God. You have to talk to Matt today."
That was right—Rory had been so distracted by Christopher Gilbert and the research suggestions from Jenna that she'd forgotten their articles were due Friday. She stifled a sigh and glanced around the crowded hall. She couldn't see Matt anywhere, but she caught a glimpse of Tyler with a couple of football jocks. "Um, yep," she confirmed. "I'll find him at lunch." And she changed the subject again, this time to their Film & Media class.
As the morning continued Rory realized Stefan was missing. Considering the incredibly questionable ground the Salvatore brothers were on, it was more than concerning. Rory managed to text him between classes, and he answered during her unintended study hall.
STEFAN: I'm getting the deed of the house from Zach
STEFAN: He's leaving this afternoon
STEFAN: I'll make it for the second half of the day
Rory released a breath of relief and texted back a couple of thumbs-up emojis.
She lowered her phone, intending to reach into her backpack for the journal, but she glanced around the classroom and decided it was too chaotic. Might as well mess around on Pinterest instead. As she opened the app Rory half-glanced around again—Kamaria Johnson was fumigating them all by painting her nails at the back of the room, Jo Newman was flirt-fighting with Pietro Vasari and making everyone within a two-seat radius dodge, and Wyatt Calhoun was flying paper airplanes over to Austin Hayes with little success. As Rory watched he nearly took out Noah Kim's eye.
She snorted and turned to look back at her phone again—but she made eye contact with Tyler, across the room. Rory, thinking about the crystal Damon had taken from the Lockwoods', impulsively waved him over. Tyler studied her for a second, and she thought he might shake his head, but he rose and strolled over to join her.
"What's up?" Tyler asked as he took the desk beside Rory's, which Jordan Hart had abandoned to gossip with Kamaria at the back of the room.
"Do you know anything about a crystal your family might have?" Rory asked back.
Tyler gave her such a strange look, brow furrowed and nose scrunched up, that she almost laughed. "What, like a diamond?"
"No, some sort of amber thing," said Rory, still amused. She vaguely gestured as she tried to describe it. "Maybe in an iron setting?"
Tyler leaned away from her a little, dark gaze flicking over her in apparent calculation. Rory tried not to feel automatically self-conscious. It super does not matter what he thinks about the cuffed jeans with the high-tops. "Does this have to do with you asking about Lockwood journals?" Tyler guessed.
He certainly wasn't classy, but he also wasn't stupid. Rory shrugged her confirmation.
"Did you see it at the thing on Sunday?"
"Yeah," said Rory. "Were you there?"
Tyler nodded. Rory tried to think—she was sure she hadn't seen him anywhere at the party. I guess I was distracted by a vampire trying to destroy his brother's relationship and the other vampire trying to roofie the first one. "Who was the dude?"
It was as if he'd heard her thought. "Um, Stefan's brother," said Rory. She kind of had to go with the explanation she'd given Elena, so she added, "I met him looking into historical stuff and he wanted an invite to the party."
"Wait, do you mean the hot guy you brought to the Founders' Party?" demanded Addison Rutledge, the junior class representative. Both Rory and Tyler glanced back at her in surprise and Rory realized there were also two cheerleaders watching with interest. "Oh my God, he's Stefan's brother?"
"Yeah."
"How did you meet him?" asked Addison.
She, the cheerleaders, and Tyler all glanced at Rory with curiosity. At least she could give the real answer to this one. "At a bookstore. Classic novels section." Talking about Damon at all in Mr. Tanner's old classroom felt irreverent; Rory faced Tyler again. "About the crystal—"
"Where did you see it?" Tyler asked. "How d'you know it was ours and not on loan or something?"
Rory checked to see if Addison and the two cheerleaders were still listening. They weren't—from the sound of it they were discussing Stefan and Damon. "It's kind of a long story," she said, refocusing on Tyler, "but it definitely at least belongs to your dad."
"Oh," said Tyler, expression already becoming dismissive. "Then I don't know anything." He shrugged one shoulder. "You could try the Founders' Archives, though."
We're totally going Wednesday. Rory thanked him, and Tyler returned to his desk on the other side of the room. She lifted her phone again, this time to figure out what the Archives' hours were. It couldn't hurt to plan ahead.
Later, after the bell rang for lunch and everyone poured out of her Physics class and into the busy science hall, Rory headed toward the literature hall. She swung her backpack around to dig through it for her wallet. When she was a few feet out from the usual vending machine, she heard Matt call her name. "Rory!"
Rory drew in a breath, prayed for patience, and glanced back to find him jogging up. Here goes, she thought as she reached the vending machine and automatically started to jam change into it. "Hi," she said, trying to sound chirpy and not apprehensive. "Have you started your article at all?"
"Uh, not really," admitted Matt. His sportily short blond hair was a little scruffy, but in a cute way, and he shoved one hand through it. "Are you gonna talk to Mrs. Henderson? Or Jayla?"
Mrs. Henderson and Jayla Scott were, respectively, the art teacher and the senior in charge of the Art Honor Society. "Both of them," said Rory. She punched the thick plastic button for a Coke Zero and—of course—they were out. She sighed and opted for a root beer. When she'd straightened with it in hand, she faced Matt and moved aside to allow anyone else to access the vending machine. "We can find Mrs. Henderson first."
Matt agreed, and the two followed the maze of hallways back toward the art room. As they walked Rory passed her root beer to Matt for him to hold as she swung her backpack around again, to return her wallet to its usual spot and dig out the catch-all swan-patterned notebook she could take notes in. "So why aren't you in the Art Honor Society?" Matt asked. Rory took her root beer back from him, barely managing not to touch his hand, and yanked her backpack onto both shoulders. "You're drawing all the time."
Rory shrugged. "I didn't get invited." It was still kind of annoying that she hadn't, and she could only guess it was because she hadn't taken an official art class since ninth grade. "So, um. Do you know any questions you want to ask?"
She ended up spending most of her lunch period with Matt—coordinating questions, talking to Mrs. Henderson, and finding Jayla in the cafeteria to ask her questions, too. And it could have been because they had something else to focus on, but Rory couldn't help but notice he didn't bring up Elena at all.
When they were done, Rory left Matt in the cafeteria with Tyler and a few other football players and took the door to the side lawn. She paused to breathe in the fresh air, relief flooding through her. All that was left for the article was to put it together from her notes—and she thought back through her conversations with Matt.
He really didn't mention her once, Rory thought as she half-watched the rustling tops of the oak trees out past the lawn. Maybe—
Before she could go any further, she ordered herself Okay, stop it. Just because he didn't ask about Elena didn't mean he was into Rory. And I shouldn't want Elena's seconds anyway.
Her phone vibrated, and Rory pulled it out as she resumed wandering into the breezy afternoon air.
ZACH: I'm about to head out, but I spoke to Liz about you
ZACH: Try to bring the vervain to her office sometime today
Rory blinked, pleasantly surprised.
RORY: Will do, thanks for everything!
Maybe she could stop by before work, if she left early enough. It's a plan, Rory thought, and she continued toward the usual picnic table with renewed energy. Mackenzie was sitting on one of the benches and Lauren was cross-legged on top of the table for no discernable reason, an industrial-sized bag of Chex Mix with her. We should figure out for sure when we're going to the Archives, too.
Rory was the first out of her Film & Media elective at the end of the day. She jogged to her locker to rummage through it for what she thought she needed, and with that done she strode out to the front lawn, fishing for her keys. She managed to make it to the Bronco and out of the lot in record time.
Downtown, at the square, Rory parallel parked a few shopfronts down from the Mystic Grill. She had about fifteen minutes before her shift started. Here goes, she thought, and she snatched the taped cardboard box of vervain from the passenger's seat. She had to wait for a mud-splattered pickup truck to rumble past before she climbed out of her car.
The sheriff's station wasn't far from the courthouse, and it had the same charming refinished-red-brick aesthetic as most of the other municipal buildings. Rory wondered if there was a surface lot around back for the cop cars as she swung open one of the wooden double-doors into the station.
Inside it smelled like stale coffee and old carpet, and Rory could hear paper being printed somewhere, as well as low voices in what seemed to be an open bullpen on the left. She glanced around and made for the receptionist's desk ahead. The woman was on the phone—Rory paused and asked quietly, "Sheriff Forbes?"
The receptionist glanced up from her Windows Vista desktop monitor and gestured. "To your right."
Rory gave her a thumbs-up and took a few steps to the right, in search of a sign that might help. She noticed a wall of cop photos before she found a plaque outside one of the open office doors several feet in. Sheriff.
She walked to the office and rapped on the wooden door as she ventured in. "Sheriff Forbes?"
Caroline's mother, Liz Forbes, looked up from paperwork she must have been signing. She had the same pale complexion and white-blonde hair as Caroline. "Rory Gilbert," she identified, and Rory nodded as she clicked the office door shut behind her. She stepped in and perched on the upholstered chair before the cluttered desk. "Zach Salvatore called a few hours ago to tell me he was leaving town."
"Yep," said Rory. She set the box she was holding on top of the papers scattered across the desk. "Here's the vervain he wanted me to give you."
Sheriff Forbes studied Rory with a combination of skepticism and suspicion as she cut open the box to check the contents. As soon as she flipped one half of the lid, that already familiar floral smell flooded the office. Half of Rory's clothes already smelled like vervain, since she was growing it in her closet. "He mentioned," said Sheriff Forbes as she closed the box again, "that he passed the task on to you rather than his nephews because he didn't want to involve them."
That seemed to be a fair excuse. "And I—did a research project recently," said Rory, pulling it from nowhere. "I stumbled upon a lot of information about previous, um, animal attacks and put a lot together. My uncle's out of town, so when I met Zach—"
"You decided to talk to him about it," concluded Sheriff Forbes. At Rory's nod, she leaned back in her swivel chair a little, surveying her over the cardboard box of vervain. "I see." She seemed to consider. "Zach has caught you up to speed?"
"He has."
Sheriff Forbes seemed to exhale a little. "I—wouldn't allow anyone under eighteen to join, under most circumstances," she informed Rory. "But I think it might be okay to make an exception in your case, as long as you're aware you won't be joining any—expeditions."
"That's fine," said Rory, holding up her hands. "I can just keep up the stock of vervain." She decided to ask, "Any new thoughts on who it could be?"
Sheriff Forbes shook her head. "We've been searching the woods and caverns, though," she said. "We know it won't be out during the day." Shows what you know, lady. "Oh—and there is one thing you could help us with."
"What is it?"
"Do you know anything about a pocket watch that belonged to your father?"
Rory furrowed her eyebrows. "It sounds familiar." Her dad had kept quite a few antiques around. "Do we need it?"
Sheriff Forbes nodded. "If you could find it and pass it off to another Councilmember, that would be great." Before Rory could ask, she clarified, "Your options would include, aside from myself, the Lockwoods and Logan Fell. I'm not sure you would know any of the others."
Of course the Lockwoods were part of the circle. Rory wondered what the hell was going on there—why Tyler wasn't allowed to look at his family journals and what that crystal Damon had stolen was. "I will," said Rory. She glanced down at her phone to check the time and winced. "And I have to go to work, but could I have your phone number? And could you keep me updated on the next Council meeting?"
Sheriff Forbes agreed, and they exchanged numbers. With that Rory thanked her and left the station to jog back down the sidewalk to the Mystic Grill. She barely made it to her shift, and she didn't have a chance to slow down again until her break that night. She used it to pause on the side hallway and text Damon.
RORY: On the Council, gave them vervain, and they want a pocket watch
RORY: Do you know anything abt that?
The three little dots appeared, disappeared, appeared, disappeared, and appeared again.
DAMON: need to know
Rory rolled her eyes. I guess almost vervaining him doesn't move us past this, huh? She had to admit it was fair.
RORY: Do you want me to actually give it to them?
To her irritation he proceeded to leave her on read for not only the rest of Monday night but Tuesday and Wednesday as well. By the time Rory left her Book Club meeting on Wednesday afternoon and set out to meet her friends at the Founders' Archives, he still hadn't answered.
Rory had to drive through downtown to reach the Archives. She passed the courthouse and the Baptist church, and she spotted Lauren's blue Camry parked at the curb outside the repurposed little one-story house that constituted the Archives. Rory pulled up to park behind her.
Afterward she strode across the grassy lawn toward the wooden front porch, lined with potted plants of varying sizes, and trotted up the steps. She double-checked the sign posted beside the door with the hours—they had until five to find something useful—and let herself in.
She paused a foot inside to look around as the door swung shut behind her. The lobby was wide and open, sunny, and she noticed the Blue Willow-patterned curtains drawn from the windows. There were pamphlets lined up at a desk on one wall, another full of information on the Founding Families and Founders' Day in February, and a couple of wooden chairs set beneath the windows on the right.
Rory approached the receptionist's desk, across from the door and beside a hallway. "Hi," chirped Rory as she stopped before the desk. "Could I look at the Archives? My friends should already be here."
"Oh, sure," said the woman, barely glancing at Rory. "Walk back and take the open door on the left."
Rory thanked her and followed her directions. The Archives consisted of a row of bookshelves, packed with books and neatly labeled bankers boxes, with a couple of faded wooden tables and matching chairs. Mackenzie was already sitting at one of the tables with an open box beside her and Lauren was perusing one of the shelves.
"Our town," said Mackenzie without looking up as Rory strolled over to set her car keys and her phone on the table, "is crazy."
Rory snorted and leaned over to see the label on the box Mackenzie had opened. Salvatore. "I think it has to be built on a source of Power," called Lauren from the shelves. She poked her head around one and beamed at Rory. "Apparently the entire original Lockwood plantation burned down out of nowhere."
"And the Salvatore Boarding House has been surrounded by animal attacks since its opening night," said Mackenzie. "Even before 1864." She set aside the crinkly newspaper she'd been looking through and reached for another file from the Salvatore box. "I think some of them really were animal attacks, too."
"Weird," observed Rory. She glanced back at Lauren. "Who's looking for what?"
"I'm looking for anything related to the Lockwoods and the Bennetts," Lauren provided. "Mack's trying to figure out what the heck Damon could want."
"It can't be to run the town," said Mackenzie. "I doubt he wants access to whatever the hell the Power is, either." Rory had explained his mention of it from the previous weekend. "But—"
Mackenzie stopped as she continued reading whatever she'd found in the latest file. "What?" said Rory, craning her neck to try and see. It must have been a newspaper clipping.
"Check this out," said Mackenzie, and she handed it up to Rory.
Rory accepted it as gingerly as possible, and when Lauren bounded over to see, she held the clipping so both of them could read it.
MYSTIC FALLS WEEKLY
MYSTIC FALLS, VA | FRIDAY MORNING | SEPTEMBER 16TH 1864
DEVASTATING LOSS
As Sherman remains in Atlanta and Hood bravely defends our munitions to the best of his ability, even while under occupation, our own town suffers a great loss. Since our previous publication Giuseppe Salvatore, Stefan and Damon Salvatore, Thomas Fell and his wife, Benjamin and Barnett Lockwood, William Forbes, and a number of unnamed civilians in Fell's Church have been killed, and Fell's Church has been burned to the ground. The culprits behind this destruction are not known but must be assumed to sympathize with the President
The clipping cut off there. "Wow," said Lauren. "This must be when Stefan and Damon were turned."
"Yeah," agreed Rory, studying the excerpt. Some of the old-fashioned printing was faded. It hadn't occurred to her to wonder before, but—she had no idea how either of them had been turned, or who had done it. Actually, I don't even know what the process is. She made a mental note to ask Stefan. "What religion was Fell's Church?"
"Evangelical Protestant, probably," offered Lauren.
"Southern Baptist?" guessed Mackenzie.
That did seem to be the most common variety of church in Mystic Falls. Rory turned and started to pace, turning all the information over in her head. Where had the remaining churchgoers gone after Fell's Church had burned down? What was with all the burning? "Wait," she realized aloud, and she faced Mackenzie and Lauren again. "I bet any records or minutes burned."
Lauren raised her eyebrows. "It totally could've been on purpose."
"But what could someone want to hide that badly?" asked Mackenzie, a hint of frustration in her voice. She glanced down at the Salvatore box and past Lauren to the shelves, overflowing with old information about the Founders. "It had to be a Founder behind it, right?"
Lauren frowned. "I dunno, I still think it has to do with the Power."
"Maybe it's both," Rory mused. Either way they needed answers. "I'm gonna look for the McCulloughs."
Half an hour later, all they'd managed to turn up was a particularly alarming letter in one of the Lockwood boxes that mentioned the McCulloughs had vanished in December of 1926. "We can just add that to the list of 'What the fuck is going on,'" Mackenzie said, throwing her hands up, and Rory snickered.
"That's getting to be one heck of a list!" said Lauren with a laugh as she returned the letter to the Lockwood box.
The trio spent a few more minutes sorting through the boxes at the back, jumbled with unsorted or unsortable clippings and photographs from the 1800s to the 90s. Rory unearthed a particularly fragile yellowed map. When she walked back to the table to spread it out as delicately as possible, mostly using her short pale pink nails to keep it unrolled, she realized it was a map of the properties of Mystic Falls.
Interesting, Rory thought, going from Salvatore to Lockwood to Fell. And the McCulloughs were on here. Where the hell is that? Rory wondered, tilting her head and trying to determine what parts of the McCullough property had been absorbed by the Lockwoods or the town itself. She was sure at least a third of it had turned residential—
In the next second Rory almost tore the map, because Lauren screamed.
"Oh God, is there a spider?" Rory heard Mackenzie ask, and a second later she yelped.
Rory left the map on the table to run back and see what the hell was happening. As she rounded the corner onto the last aisle, Lauren and Mackenzie both looked at her, eyes wide. "You look like you've seen a…" Rory started.
Lauren held up what she'd found—an old article—and Rory, her heart pounding, ventured closer. It had an old photograph from 1864, commemorating some dedication of a monument in the town square, and for a long, apprehensive second Rory couldn't see anything concerning outside the usual, just a bunch of people in Civil War clothes—
Then she found Stefan. And then Damon.
And then—?
"Oh my…God?" said Rory uncertainly. She fumbled the article from Lauren's hands and brought it up as close as possible to her face to examine it further. Stefan and Damon were in the back, only recognizable because Rory already knew them—and almost out of view, standing with them, there was a woman with long, voluminous curls and a face Rory recognized from the mirror.
How? Rory thought desperately, even as she held one hand out for balance, as if the floor had swayed beneath her. What the fuck? What the fuck?
She distantly heard the sound of the receptionist coming in to see if they were okay. Mackenzie assured her they were fine as Rory continued to stare at the photograph from 1864. She couldn't—she wasn't reincarnated, she couldn't be, it wouldn't make any fucking sense. It wouldn't make any sense for Elena, either—
Maybe this woman was some old Gilbert ancestor? Even so, Rory realized, Stefan and Damon having known this woman then and having reappeared now was even more suspicious than it had been before. "Do they think Elena or I are this lady?" Rory asked without looking up.
She didn't have to clarify who she was referring to. "That could definitely be why they're not in Greece," remarked Mackenzie.
"How is it possible that this gets weirder the more we know?" asked Lauren.
"I have no idea," said Rory, and she dug her phone out to take a photo of the article. Afterward she passed it to Mackenzie, who examined it again. Rory opened her texts with that row of angry red emojis and started to type, then stopped, then started, then stopped.
She swapped to her chat with Stefan, but she didn't know what to say to him, either.
"Well," observed Mackenzie as she passed the article back to Lauren. "I guess our next order of business is to look into the Gilberts."
Rory sighed. "We have to get into my dad's office, don't we?"
Both Lauren and Mackenzie nodded.
