I thought Matt would catch me with Vicki, especially when I entered the room with all that blood...

What the hell was Damon thinking?

Attacking Vicki and leaving her alive?!

Why did he come back?

What are his plans?

And how did they involve Elena Gilbert and me?

I crawled into bed, closed my eyes, and was nearly asleep when a weak voice cried out, 'Bella.'

I rushed downstairs, only nearly falling twice. 'Gran!'

I found Gran standing in the doorway; a man stood before her, holding her by the neck.

From the top of the stairs, he looked as if he was kissing her, but as I got closer, I could see the blood.

A guy about 24 or 25 years old: he was very handsome, standing in at 5'11 with a well-built, toned physique.

He had a light complexion with olive undertones, a strong bone structure with high cheekbones, and a solid jawline.

His dark brown hair looked black and hung just over his ears looked disheveled.

His striking blue eyes wonderfully clashed against his dark hair and eyebrows.

He wore a black leather jacket, a John Varvatos original, a dark blue shirt, black boots, and dark jeans.

He wore a large lapis lazuli on his right pinky; it looked familiar to me.

He seemed familiar to me; it was the man from earlier. He let go of Gran, and she dropped like a stone. He stepped over her, and inside the house, a bloody smile spread across his handsome face.

'I've been looking for you.'

I stumbled into the stairs, falling back into them as he crept towards me. His fangs extended as he stood over me, grinning from ear to ear as his bloody hand caressed my ivory skin.

'Hello, Bella.'

My eyes flew open as I heard Gran call, 'Bella, dinner.'

'Coming!'

I sat up and realized I was still at my computer; I looked at the monitor.

I saw the word elenawgfhfhgvbgyjgjbghgdjjjtumhfbvdjngdbfzk Keynesianism was typed in the search bar.

I fell asleep on the keyboard board. I thought as I hit the backspace button.

I stopped at the letters E L E N A.

Elena.

I stared at the word for an eternity, then typed in the word's meaning.

Elena is a Greek form of Helen. Elena means shining light.

Of course, it does; Elena Gilbert lights up every room she's in.

An absolute joy to behold.

I sound bitter and envious of a girl I barely know.

A Greek form of Helen.

Helen Of Troy, the face that launched a thousand ships.

An elegance that inspired war.

Daughter of Zeus and Leda (or Nemesis), the latter was seduced while the former was in the guise of a swan. She laid two eggs, one containing Polydeuces and the other Helen of Troy.

Stupid Swan girl whose loveliness promoted conflict and discord. Isabella Swan doesn't encourage warfare or blood.

Isabella means God is my oath or beauty.

God is my oath swan or beautiful swan.

Confessing your commitment to an omnipotent being in front of a swan or telling a swan it's beautiful; that's what my name means.

No one would go to war for a brilliant swan, but they would for a coruscating, bright swan girl whose face provoked crusade and extinction.

Beautiful Swan incites peace.

I sighed and grabbed my keys.

"Stefan? Stefan?" Elena called out, her voice laced with concern as she whirled around, her gaze landing on me, standing in the doorway. "I... I'm sorry for barging in. The door was' she turned to the now closed door, '... open."

She stood before me, a striking figure who mirrored Katherine in every way—except for her eyes. They sparkled with a youthful innocence that felt almost disarming.

"You must be Elena. I'm Damon, Stefan's brother," I introduced myself, giving a slight smirk.

The surprise washed over her face like a tide.

"Stefan didn't tell me he had a brother."

"Well, Stefan's not one to brag. Please, come in. I'm sure Stefan will be along any second now," I gestured for her to enter.

"Is this your living room?" she asked, taking in the eclectic mix of furnishings.

"Living room, parlor, Sotheby's auction—it's a bit kitschy for my taste," I replied.. "But I can see why my brother's so smitten. It's about time he moved on. I wasn't sure he would ever get over the last one. She nearly destroyed him."

A look of confusion flickered across her features, transforming into concern.

"The last one?"

"Yeah, Katherine, his girlfriend. Oh, you two haven't had the awkward exes conversation yet."

"Nope," she admitted, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Oops. Well, I'm sure it'll come up now. Or maybe he didn't want to tell you because he didn't want you to think he was on the rebound. We all know how those relationships tend to end," I remarked.

"You say it like every relationship is doomed to end," she replied, a touch of defiance in her tone.

"I'm a fatalist," I replied, with a hint of mischief gleaming in my eyes. "Hello, Stefan."

"Elena. I didn't know you were coming over," Stefan said, his voice cutting through the moment.

She flinched slightly, startled by his unexpected presence.

"I know. I should have called; I just..." she faltered.

"Oh, don't be silly. You're welcome anytime. Isn't she, Stefan?" I chimed in, smirking. "You know, I should break out the family photo albums or some home movies. But I have to warn you, he wasn't always such a stunner."

"Thank you for stopping by, Elena. Nice to see you," Stefan said, his tone polite but slightly distant.

Elena took a step back, a hint of awkwardness in the air. "Yeah, I should probably go. It was nice to meet you, Damon."

I flashed her a charming grin. "Great meeting you too, Elena."

"Stefan... Stefan?"

As Elena approached the door, a sudden gust of wind swept through the room, sending a shiver down my spine. I turned to see Elena transfixed, her gaze shifting to another girl—the one I had seen earlier.

I looked over Elena's shoulder and was ensnared by the most captivating chocolate-brown eyes.

I hadn't really taken her in before, but now...

Now I could see how uniquely beautiful she was—far more interesting than perfect. Her features held an unusual allure, a certain asymmetry that made her face all the more captivating. Her narrow chin contrasted with her wide cheekbones, and her complexion held a striking balance of light and dark.

Her eyes brimmed with a mix of unexpressed grief and anxiety, deepening the intrigue of her presence. She moved slightly, her lips full and inviting, framed by long, thick strands of mahogany hair that whipped around her in the wind.

Her scent was intoxicating; it hit me like a freight train, overwhelming my senses. It was a force so powerful that I struggled to process it at that moment.

I had a sudden desire to drain her completely.

I glanced at Stefan; his expression mirrored mine as if he were equally immobilized by her presence.

"Bella," Elena breathed, breaking the spell.

Bella—the name fits her perfectly, like a delicate song.

"I thought that was you," Bella said, biting her lower lip as a flush of warmth spread across her delicate features.

Her heartbeat quickened, and I felt my own pulse race in response.

Her gaze remained locked onto mine, challenging and enigmatic, and I found myself captivated, unable to look away.

"So that's your name," I finally said, intrigued by how it rolled off my tongue.

"You know her?!" Stefan and Elena asked in unison, their voices laced with surprise.

Stefan looked anxious, the concern creasing his brow, while Elena's face contorted into something approaching irritation.

"We met earlier," I stated matter-of-factly as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

"We did not," Bella retorted stubbornly, fire flickering in her eyes. I couldn't help but admire her spunk.

"How?" Stefan asked, glancing between us, clearly distressed. "Do you remember, Isabella?"

Isabella—the name felt pleasantly familiar, rolling over my mind.

"Of course, I remember." She shot Stefan a peeved glance before fixing her gaze back on me. "He was talking to Caroline. He mentioned that he dropped you off."

Elena's eyes darted between Stefan and me, her expression tinged with curiosity.

"What brings you by?" Stefan asked, his voice softer now, as if attempting to lower the tension.

"I came to see you," Elena replied, a shy earnestness in her tone.

Stefan blinked, clearly taken aback; I realized he wasn't speaking to her then. The realization dawned on Elena as she spun around to face Bella impatiently.

"I was driving home when I saw Elena come inside, and then I saw," Bella said, meeting my gaze once more, "you."

This time, I managed to look away, as if the weight of her stare held an electric charge.

"Everything's fine, Isabella," Stefan assured her, his voice steady. I heard Elena scoff slightly, "Nothing to worry about."

I felt her glare intensify as she crossed her arms. "Okay."

"Uh, would you mind giving Elena a ride home for me?" Stefan asked, breaking the lingering silence.

"Alright," Bella replied with a hint of resignation.

"Oh, no. I couldn't—" Elena protested.

"You must," Isabella insisted with a hint of authority. "Safety in numbers."

"I don't want to put you out—"

"You live a house away," Isabella interrupted, her tone firm yet unbothered.

"You probably have to get back to your grandmother," Elena offered, sounding reluctant.

"I do," Bella said, her expression softening slightly.

"I don't want to hold you up—" Elena began again.

"I don't remember how to get back home,"

Elena lamented as she walked toward Isabella. "Fine."

The two girls exited, Isabella glancing back at us, her eyes full of suspicion, as if she were watching for something beneath the surface.

Goodbye, schoolgirl.

"Great gal. Whoo. She's got spunk," I remarked, watching them leave. "You, on the other hand, look utterly exhausted. Did you overexert yourself today? Let me guess... hospital?"

"Someone had to clean up your mess," Stefan shot back.

"Well, were you successful? Did the powers of persuasion work? Remember, if you don't feed properly, none of those little tricks work right," I mused, a teasing lilt in my voice.

"How long was Elena here?" he asked, a note of concern creeping back into his tone.

"Were you worried, Stefan? Scared that we may be condemned to repeat the past? Isn't that why you play your little game, 'I'm a high school human'?" I quipped, enjoying the banter.

"I'm not playing any game," he replied tersely.

"Of course you are," I countered, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "We both know the closest you'll ever get to humanity is when you rip it open and feed on it."

The car glided along the quiet street, enveloped in a heavy silence that seemed to press down on us from every direction. Neither of us dared to meet the other's gaze; the air was so thick with tension that it felt like a blade, sharp and ready to cut through the unspoken words between us. Just when I started to believe the silence might stretch on indefinitely, Elena finally broke it.

"You didn't need my help, did you?" Her voice was laced with curiosity, yet it held an edge of accusation.

"Not at all," I replied, trying to keep my tone casual.

"Then why did you say that?" she shot back, her tone reflective of irritation—as if my lie, however small, was a stain on the pristine fabric of her perfect life.

"That guy is a creep," I said, steering the conversation toward what I hoped was safer ground.

"You can't mean Stefan," she replied incredulously, her eyebrow arched in disbelief. "You've been practically drooling over him since you first laid eyes on him."

Her observation revealed a flicker of awareness about the impact Stefan had on me.

"Not that it's any of your business," I retorted, a hint of defiance creeping into my voice. "But he doesn't even acknowledge my existence. Besides, I had no idea he was already claimed by you."

"Why do you think Damon is a creep?" she scoffed, crossing her arms to shield herself from my insinuations.

"He was flirting with Caroline," I said, my tone firm as I recalled the scene that had bothered me.

"How do you know it wasn't the other way around?" she countered, her gaze narrowing slightly.

"If that's how you think of your friends," I shot back, "then what do you make of your enemies?"

"Caroline can handle herself," she stated defiantly. "What's wrong with innocent flirting?"

"A guy in his 30s flirting with underage girls? You're really not going to defend that?" I asked, incredulous.

"He is not in his 30s," she insisted, her voice rising in protest. "And I don't think Damon is foolish enough to pursue the sheriff's daughter."

But then again, a vampire with the power of compulsion might not care about any of that, I mused silently.

Finally, we reached my street. Elena abruptly unbuckled her seatbelt, flung the door open, and huffed out. She stomped the rest of the way home, her footsteps echoing her anger, and didn't even bother to thank me for the ride. I turned the car around, feeling the weight of the unresolved tension as I headed toward the familiar comforts of the bookstore.