Damon's POV

The second I stepped in the door, sodden and waterlogged and with a major wound in my pride, I grabbed a glass of bourbon and blood. I downed the majority of it in seconds. Stefan, without his Katherine look-a-like, noticed immediately.

"Is something wrong? Not that you don't drink even when you don't have a problem, but..." the frown-lines on his forehead disappeared, and a hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

"Haha." I rolled my eyes. "But, yes, something is wrong. The vampire chick I thought was trashing the town?" Stefan nodded, his usual frown back. "It couldn't have been her. She was old enough to know who I was back in 1864, and seemed way to... practiced to have left those bodies.

My eyebrows knit, and my lips pressed together. I told him, "I just can't shake the feeling I've seen her. It's vague."

"Well, what did she look like?" he said thoughtfully. That kiss she gave me, one that felt like some sort of greeting, popped into my head.

"Hot." My brother rolled his eyes. "She was tall with long legs, and really red lips. Not in the lipstick way, or the just-drank-blood way, but she just... did. Her hair was the deepest shade of auburn I've ever seen, and her eyes were amber, pretty things, like a good glass of alcohol." I swirled the remains of my glass in his face, smirking as usual.

"Doesn't sound familiar to me. Are you sure you haven't slept with her?"

I scowled and poured myself another glass. "Yes, I'm sure I'd remember someone like her. She looked pretty flexible."

The doorbell sounded, and Stefan went to grab the door with a faint look of disgust on his face. A chuckle bubbled out of me. I guess the statement was a little intimate to a prude like him. Soon, Elena walked in, her fine chocolate hair falling over her brown eyes. I felt my gaze soften the slightest bit, and smiled my most snobby smile, trying to hide it. I'd avoided her ever since she hugged me nights ago. We'd searched the tomb, and Katherine wasn't in it. For some ungodly reason, Elena thought to comfort me, after all I'd done. And I didn't want her to be able to get to me, to get inside my head.

"Hey, Elena," I said, doing that flirty eye thing she hated. A heavy sigh fell from her mouth, but her eyes held no awkwardness. She didn't even seem to be thinking about the hug.

"Hi, Damon. Drowning your sorrows in bourbon, I presume?"

She wasn't presuming.

"You are giving the distinct impression of your judgy little witch friend." She rolled her eyes and sat next to Stefan on the couch farther from me. Bonnie, I thought, that lying little Bennett.

"You can call her by her name, Bonnie, you know."

"I know, but then I can't put all the irritation and hatred I feel about her towards her when I say it." I looked at the once-again empty glass in my hand, wondering when I'd finished it. I pouted, then poured one last glass for good measure.

"Oh, we can tell you hate her because you hate everybody, you psychotic-" Stefan put a hand on her arm and she melted a bit, which annoyed me.

Elena: She would comfort you in the worst of times, but don't say a thing about her dear friends.

"It's okay, he's just playing, and he's stressed."

I looked at my broher warily. "I don't get stressed, I'm just... curious about the new vamp in town. Who is murdering the townspeople if not the ginger-girl.? Simple."

Elena looked from me to Stefan and back, eyes bugging. She was gaping like a fish, and I turned away with a grin, knowing I'd distressed her just as I intended to. Stefan frowned at my direct call for panic.

"N-new.. ginger... what?" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. I took the break to intercede.

"Right, you don't know. On top of the idiotic vampire leaving a trail of bodies for the Council, there's a red-head in the old windmill by the edge of town who apparently knew me but not Stefan back in 1864. What do you think? Got any theories?"

After that statement, her confusion dissipated completely. I didn't catch why until she asked a question.

"Are you sure you didn't sleep with her, say, before you knew Katherine?" she asked, serious but with the threat of laughter in her tone.

Without the weight of a drink in my hand, I was free to throw my arms up in exasperation at the smile tugging at the corner's of Stefan's lips.

"It's a genuine question, Damon." But he was laughing at me anyway.

"Yeah, and if somebody else asks it, I'm gonna snap their neck. I realize I have a bit more fun than you two goody-goods, but I haven't slept with every woman in the world!" I ranted, walking towards the steps.

"Which this," Elena started, "woman is glad about."

I was about to throw the small table next to me at her, but settled for a hostile glare. She grinned evilly. I walked to my bedroom muttering profanities under my breath, ready to go feed off a living human instead of the blood bags. But I can't because of the damn Council and enough leeches already leaving bodies and... to my dismay, I did not want to get in more hot water with Elena. I was torn between my desire to be better for her and my complete apathy on anything to do with her and her group or Mystic Fall-ers.

Upstairs on my soft black comforters, I pondered. Who is this girl? She had honestly seemed familiar, but like she was hidden in the shadows. I knew from whatever wispy memory was floating around in my head that I hadn't known her well or long. There was a faint glimpse of trees, thick branches and, in the shadows where the glittering sun didn't reach the ground, one amber eye shone in dark. The second it linked with mine, it widened and disappeared.

The memory struck me like lightning.

Now I remembered. I'd known a girl with deep red hair and eyes like jewels, skin softer than fresh snow, and paler yet. Her name wasn't Briana, though, the name I'd found carved sloppily into the windmill's door.

Her name was Anne.

I had just left a battle, one we had won this time. I had turned to Gerard and Jack to tell them I needed some air that didn't have the scent of blood lingering upon it. I was in the woods now, inhaling the sweet smell of leaves and grass, earthy, refreshing. My muddy boots dragged over the roots and rocks, but I had always been light on my feet, and I navigated through them easily. I stopped and simply reveled in the serenity, knowing that the moment I left the dense forest, I would once again return to the babble and hustle of the Confederates, something I never enjoyed participating in.

There was a rustle in the trees behind me, too heavy for a squirrel or a bird, and I turned. There, in the shadows, was one amber eye, staring down at me with something like interest and curiosity. It popped open upon me seeing it, and then blinked from my sight.

"Hello? Who's out there?" I shouted.

I tightened my grasp on the gun hanging heavily on my shoulder when a voice like an angel's rang out in the thick silence.

"Don't be alarmed," it cooed, "my dear soldier. I am just a woman strolling in the woods, looking for peace."

A figure fell from the trees with the utmost grace, and though I started forward to catch her, she landed quietly in the grass with laughter like the peal of a bell. She wore a white dress dripping with lace and pearls and things, and it fell past feet I could've sworn were bare. She giggled, though she did not blush, when she caught me staring at her. Her hair was like an appealing fire in its hearth, the deepest ruby red. Her skin was fair enough to reflect the little sunlight that could filter through the branches.

"M--ma'am? What on earth were you doing in a tree?"

Well that was straightforward, nearly rude, I thought. But she was sitting in a tree near a battleground.

"Can a woman not sit contently in nature without being questioned?" It took me a moment to find my voice, the one I mostly used on beautiful women, sweet and demure, paired with my signature smirk.

"Wouldn't your husband be missing you?" That laugh simply kept filling the air. "You look to be a girl the men would fight over."

"I love, but I do not marry."

She was a curious thing, and I took a few steps to get closer. She looked at me square in the eyes, almost as tall as me, and then down to my uniform, seemingly just noticing it.

"A soldier?" she scoffed. "How morbid, I've always hated war. It is a terrible thing to experience, and even worse to participate in."

My eyebrows knit together. "How would you know the horrors of a soldier?"

With a grin, she whispered secretively, "I know a lot of things. Although, I have a feeling you won't be in this war for much longer."

"You think this wars ending soon?" I marveled, in wonder at whatever this woman knew of the war that had barely began. She shook her head.

"No, no, you won't be in this war much longer." My smile faltered. She was calling me a deserter? "It is nothing to be ashamed of. If you have no interest in slaughter, then you don't! I think it would be best if you left. In case you're wondering, I'm Anne."

She curtsied a small bit as I took a step back. This was a strange, strange woman. Suddenly, I heard Jack calling my name, nearly blocking her voice. "Think about my proposition of leaving. I have a feeling it will lead to many important things, but I suppose I should leave with a token of my gratitude for talking with me. I don't get to talk to people often."

Before I knew what was happening, she had grabbed me by the nape of my neck and pulled my face down to meet hers. Our lips connected, I realized she tasted of sweet things, and her lips were downy soft. I grabbed her by the waist, not completely aware of what I was doing, and kissed her back. The smooth skin of a woman was something I had missed for too long. Jack's calls became louder and I pulled away to see if he had found me. When I turned back, sure my friends weren't there, my arms were empty.

In a sliver of a second, I decided that--no matter how proud my father was--I simply was not made for killing, and saw how much I despised being a Confederate soldier. I didn't much care for war. I don't know why it took so long to realize it. So in that moment, I dropped my heavy gun on the ground and ran off, gone before Jack or Gerard or anyone else could find me.

I had nearly forgotten why I had originally left the Confederacy, knowing only that I was never built for murder (which is fairly ironic, considering my present personality). I had nearly the memory of the fair girl in a slim white dress that had convinced me to do it. It was so odd that I never accepted my desire to leave the war until she told me to, and I had the slight suspicion she had compelled me--if only a little. I have no idea how a vampire could compell another, but I'm glad. If I hadn't gone back, Stefan would've been with Katherine forever, and not I. I wouldn't have even been here, and instead I would be in the ground next to my ashamed father. And Elena--Elena would probably be dead with no Bambi-killing Superman hanging around Mystic Falls to save her from that car wreck in the river. Stefan would be Katherine's little bitch, and he would never have known to save the girl he now called "his true love," or whatever.

That last thought felt like a punch to the stomach. A lot of things would be different if it weren't for that strange, strange woman. All because of a kiss and a few instructions.

I quickly decided, as I rose and began to get ready for bed, I would figure out just who she was. Something told me that she was much more than she seemed, and since I hadnothing better going on--one more silent death wish to Katherine Pierce--I was determined to figure out the truth.