Damon's POV

I was sitting at the bar at- you guessed it- The Mystic Grill or whatever, the only place to be in town, staring sadly into my alcohol as if it had the secret of life. Matt, the blonde ex-boyfriend who now had a cast via Isobel's minion breaking it, filled it to the top without even being bothered by me asking him to. I sent him a thankful glance and he smiled a bit.

"Hey, Angelface." I turned to the beauty standing behind me, ready to sidle up beside me at my natural place at the bar. I grimaced, and her excited face turned to disappointment. "Not happy to see me?"

I waved a hand and Matt brought over another cup of Scotch. "It's been forever, Briana. Isobel blew into town, looking for another Gilbert piece of crap under Katherine's instruction, made Alaric send a message to Elena that they had to meet, broke poor Matt's arm," the bartender looked over with a cocked brow, one of my favorite tricks, "and used Jeremy as bait..." the entire time Briana just eyed me with a sort of wariness. "But you already knew this, didn't you?"

"How do you think, after Isobel slammed Alaric up against a car, dropped him and broke his hand on the curb after he refused to do her bidding, that he healed before he met up with you?" Briana had been here the whole time? "Her stilettos leave some nasty gashes, but vampire blood always does the trick. I know every secret. I know Isobel secretly told Alaric she regrets becoming a vampire- cough, cough, you're fault- and that she still loves him. I know Stefan pulled the defensive boyfriend shit because it was revealed that you're desperately in love with his girl." I scowled a bit at that last part, and her face darkened in turn. "Guess you have a thing for brunettes."

"Wait a second," I said smugly, "are you jealous?" Her face turned into that attractive, heart-breaking mask and she grabbed my chin like she had on the night that she... threw me into an acre of corn. That so wasn't funny.

"Who couldn't be jealous when eyes like those are looking at another. Gorgeous." I slapped her hand away, not completely hating the constant praise she sent my way. "Did you ever get that pesky little vampire that kept nabbing the lives of your precious townsfolk?"

"Weeks ago, it was just some tomb vampire who refused to skip town. But all's good now except... oh, yeah, why are you here? You are obviously older than me, and the older vampires are smart enough to always have a purpose. They're careful." I pointed my finger at her accusingly, and she smirked.

"Old vampires are. But me? I just stumbled on Mystic Falls by accident." I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

"You say this like you aren't a vamp? Care to explain?" She waved her empty glass around for some more and Matt rolled his eyes a bit. All the supernaturals are running his supply of alcohol into the ground.

I looked at her very closely and, for the millionth time, wondered who the hell she was. I wondered a lot of things about her. Age? Real name? Species? Because apparently she wasn't a vampire, and unless she's, like, a mutant ninja turtle or something, I can't quite place my finger on what she actually is. She was as beautiful as a vampire, there was no doubt about that, and I'd seen her fangs on the night I tried to rip her heart out.

Wait a second... is that a heart I hear? A human heart?

"Briana-"

"Yeeessss?" she droned.

"Do you have a-a pulse?" I snatched her wrist off the counter and pressed it to my ear and sure enough, there was the faint throbbing of blood running through veins, and not at the hummingbird speed of a vampire's; it was steady and slow and mortal. I threw her wrist back at her. "What are you?" That dark expression returned and she pursed her lips angrily.

"There's a reason I always talk to you around people. It's so my pulse will fade into the background and so you won't notice. Too few people, I guess. Can you keep a secret?" she asked conspiratorially, though the look in her eye told me she knew I rarely could. I nodded solemnly. "My pulse is a defense mechanism. Basically, my entire cardiovascular system is a defense mechanism. I don't need my heart, although it's pretty hard to get to considering the ribs- and every other bone in my body- is tougher than steel. So you could've ripped my heart out that night, but all you would've done was make me so pissed I would've gone off the deep end and killed you or something." She took a sip of her drink.

"Then, you seem to be a superhuman... but you have fangs. What's that about?" Honestly, I didn't believe her that much, and the smaller, more bloodthirsty part of me wanted to try and extract her 'defense' heart anyway.

"Go ahead. Try to rip off my head. You'll just watch the bones slinky around until the two ends- my neck and my shoulders- can sew themselves back together. It's happened. Super creepy." She grinned and clicked her poison green nails on the lip of her glass.

"Okay, that has to be a-"

"Lie?" I raised my brow. "No it's not. Anyway, the fangs are part of my," she sighed and weary sigh, as though she'd been keeping this secret for hundreds of years. Hell, maybe she had. "Anti-vampirism. I have fangs and can drink blood. When a real vamp tries to attack me- hearing my pulse and thinking I'm a human- then I can bite him and release and toxin- or a venom, whatever, and kill him. I'm a bloodsucking bloodsucker-killer."

I sat there staring at her for a while. She had the heart and blood of a human. She has the fangs and bloodlust of a vampire. Last, she had the bones of Superman and the venom of a snake that was fatal to vamps like me. She had to be lying. There weren't even legends about her, no myths or fables. According to the books, she was nonexistant, but then again, I was a fairytale. But vampire-killing-vampire? No way. I lifted myself from the seat and began walking towards the door.

"Wait!" she called, sounding impossibly desperate, "Please, wait! I'm not lying." She sighed again, this time more frightened and tired than the last. I turned back and looked at her, and I don't know if I've ever seen someone more lonely. Except me. Wow, that sounded so teen-angsty. "I'll explain you, but not in here." Briana grabbed me by the collar and dragged me towards the women's restroom, glancing around.

"No, I will not go into the... bathroom with you," I played. An old man with a black coffee and a newspaper looked up at us, startled, getting a smile out of me.

"Shut up." The most simple retort known to man kind. Vamp kind. Whatever.

We entered the restroom, a smale tile room with two mint green stalls and a foggy gilded mirror. It smelled faintly of lavender and vanilla. Briana pounded her fist on the stall doors and listened to them swing up with a creak. She turned two eyes towards me, and I thought suddenly of a lion stalking it's prey. They were really pretty.

"So explain this simply, because-"

"You're kind of dense? Yeah, I can tell. You thought that- ah, nevermind. Anyway, the thing is..."

"Spit it out," I urged. I was getting extremely impatient. She punched my arm and I had to resist the urge to clutch it in pain.

"I'm an Original. Don't freak out!" She put a finger to my opening mouth. "I know, you've only ever heard of Elijah, Niklaus, Kol, Finn and Rebekah. Oh, I never liked her. You should know that Klaus was born from a man of another tribe, not Mikael. Well, I was the same. My mom was such a whore. Anyway, Klaus was born from a werewolf, so my mother thought he was special. I was born of a human. A bastard child. She hated me for it; I'm not even in the family history. When I was a teenager, I ran off with a boy named Aaron." There was a point where her eyes became misty and she frowned. "Esther- my mom- never even bothered to go after me. I bet the only regret she had was that no one was around to make her meals and mend her clothing. Bitch.

"When she was convinced by my dad to create the vampires, she linked them to the White Oak tree. I don't think she ever intended to spell me, just her real family. I was praying to any Gods at the moment that my siblings would be okay. I loved my brothers. The spirits of old witches noticed me, praying like a good girl, and mangled the spell to make me what I am, but I was never linked to the tree. When praying for my family, I said 'I would rather they die than be the practise of magic of my mother' and there was this... thing! I dropped dead. They created me to live long enough and be strong enough to kill my siblings because that is exactly what they became: specimens for my mother to play with. My job in life is to murder my siblings." She sat on the edge of counter and dipped her head, flushing at the amount of secrets she'd just shared, fiddling with the faucet.

I couldn't say anything for a long time. I just stood there, staring at her. There were things she'd just told me that I had never known. Every smart vamp had heard of the Originals, the first six: Mikael, Niklaus, Finn, Rebekah, Elijah and Kol. But to actually see them, know them, be related to them- that was just insane. I didn't know Klaus was half wolf. Just like Briana had said, I'd never even heard of a sixth child. The first thing I said?

"That's kinda hot."

She looked at me, horror and violence in her eyes and I blanched. Gaping, I looked around the bathroom as if the soothing answer to what I'd just said was scrawled on the stall's door. There was a resounding crack when she slapped me. I'm sure there was a mark, and when I looked in the mirror I saw the tiniest drop of blood dewing in the scratches.

"No- no, I meant the venom thing. It's just- you- you're a snake and that's sort of cool and your really sexy and the first thing that popped out of my mouth... I was just shocked and so my thoughts were kind of scrambled." That was super-mega-ultimately strange. I never try to explain my mistakes. I just smooth them out with some flirting and- with the right girl- sex.

Briana burst out laughing, her cheeks turning tomato red and I'm sure mine would've if they could. She grabbed her stomach and this tinkling little sound echoed all around the short room, and before I knew it, I was cracking up too. We were leaning on each other, laughing at my idiocy when she'd just dropped the epic bomb that she was an Original Original-killer. I grabbed the edge of the mirror to keep from falling over and put my hand in my face.

"God, that was stupid." She looked at me, bright white teeth showing, and I could see that when she laughed, she did that thing where she stuck her tongue between her teeth a bit. How cute.

"Yeah..." the laughter died down, and I could've sworn we were in a cheesy romance movie. When she slowly moved her face towards mine, I was positive we were in a chick-flick, but there's a reason the directors put those scenes in there. It's because it actually happens.

We were kissing, her mouth moving perfectly on mine, and she backed me up against the flowery wallpaper. My hands twined together behind her thighs, pulling her up to me and she dug her fingers into my shirt. I don't know what was possessing me to do this, but my fingers were working at the buttons of her white blouse, ripping it open. This moment and the several after would've been perfect. I hadn't felt this need for someone in a long time, a deep craving that made me growl over her lips. She giggled. But-there's always a 'but'- something bad had to happen. Something bad being Elena Gilbert walking into the room.