Elena's POV

So, I was standing here in the women's restroom of the Mystic Grill while Stefan lounged by the pool table and Damon leaned against the wall with the new vampire held by the ass in his arms, giggling into the collar of his shirt, trying to hide her face.

"Damon, what the hell?" I stuffed my phone into my leathery purse and ran my hand through my hair, stressed. If there was any bright side to this, it was the shocked expression on his face, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. I raised my brows expectantly.

"Well... Briana and I were just having a private conversation," I didn't want to know what it was about if it led to a make-out session, "and one thing led to another thing and... loveliness! Elena, I've woken you a Stefan up in his bed while you were shirtless and threatened to throw a dollar at anything I hadn't seen yet. I think we both know how things can get out of hand." There he goes, trying to smooth something out with his casual flirty-arrogant-douchebag quality. He set the girl down gently. "C'mon, I can tell where we're not wanted."

"You're in a PUBLIC WOMEN'S RESTROOM!" I thumped him with the base of my palm. 'And when has not being wanted stopped you?" I felt his smirk as he sauntered around me in the limited space with his booty call. There was a reason we assumed he'd slept with every vaguely familiar girl.

"Good point. I'll see you tomorrow in Stefan's bedroom. This time I'll bring bills." I rolled my eyes, feeling more irritated than I had in a while.

"Dick."

"I love you, too, Elena." And he walked out with his new toy. I cringed when the door slammed shut, knowing that what he just said was the cause if my stress.

Supposedly, according to my Isobel Flemming and my mother, Damon Salvatore was in love with me, and it's not like the theory lacked proof. Although I was reluctant to believe anything Isobel told me, Damon considered me his good and only friend. He'd given up the Gilbert Device- even if it didn't work anymore- because of me. I'd saved his life and played shots with him down in Georgia, a memory that I surprisingly found made me happy. Sure, Damon was a friend (even if he's still a psychopath) and sure, he'd just realized the woman he'd looked for for over a hundred years didn't want him and he needed someone to console him, know that someone loved him if Katherine didn't. But in all honesty, as bitchy as it sounds, if Damon's love was true, it would be an inconvenience to me.

I know, it sounds horrible, but Isobel was gone, whatever John's plan was, it wouldn't work because the Gilbert device was despelled and Stefan was off his blood craving and not suicidal. Everything was fine... except Damon. If I would refuse him when he tried to warm up to me, he would be hurt, and he would get drunk, snap, and kill somebody. It was the Damon way. At risk of being as emotionless and cold as he was when I first met him, Damon couldn't love me. I'm putting all my hope into the idea that Isobel was wrong.

He just couldn't.

Briana's POV

Well, Damon knows.

Nobody's known about me for... centuries. I don't remember if anybody has ever really known this much about me. And now Damon knows because I was too idiotic to remember to cover my pulse. As long as regular vampires maintain a healthy diet of blood, they function as humans, but their pulse is different. A human's pulse is steady, beating, like a drum; a vampire's is quick as a bird's and fluttery, light. Vampire's do a lot, are faster, stronger, more powerful, and their heart pumps fast to keep that up.

But I would keep going. I can keep this under control.

As we walked out of the ladies restroom, I noticed Stefan glaring at me from across the room, probably hearing every word of that mega-awkward conversation and remembering me tackle him and tear him off his victim at the Miss Mystic Falls pageant. I winked and waved my fingers in a girly way. His endless frown- one he hadn't had in 1864 when I'd started stalking him and his brother- deepened.

We were just out the door into the comfortably warm air when he asked, "Hey, what were you gonna say back there after you said I was dense. You said 'You thought...'" and I felt my face pale even further.

"Ask me tomorrow." I was going to say something low, something I knew Damon couldn't bear to hear unless I wanted him to try and kill me again, though he would fail again. His brows knit, but he didn't push it.

"Back to the Original thing-"

"Shush!" I looked around worriedly, but the streets were empty. Better safe than sorry.

"Anyway, if you just fell over dead and were stuck with your... anti-vampirism, how did you know everything about your powers and such?" I smiled a bit.

"Spirits talk; I listen. I'd known plenty of witches to help over the centuries, but the spirits didn't leave me completely in the dark. An ended line of witches named the Flaems whispered things here and there, being particularly interested in me." There was a distinct menace in her voice, the never-ending anger of being ended by a man with a torch. It had frightened me at first, but become more natural over time. I hadn't heard their voices in a little over a half a millennium.

"Hmm. Has your windmill been fixed yet? A very inconspicuous home, by the way." I grinned, fingering the pocket of his leather jacket. It was soft.

"What?" I wailed defensively, "Nobody- including the Council- is going to suspect I was living in a windmill. Nothing they have could kill me anyway. I'm amazing." He looked contemplative.

"Why don't you come live with us? You can stay in my room," he nudged in that low voice of his, implying endless joys. I ran my tongue over my teeth.

"That sounds nice, but I'm pretty sure you have guest rooms. After all, it is a boarding house." His face fell mockingly but I nodded anyway. "Yes, thank you for the invitation. Farmer Allen can finally have his home and land back to himself without the trouble of people trespassing to, maybe, rip out his guest's heart." We laughed, and my day seemed ten times brighter than it had half an hour ago, even with Elena Gilbert walking in. That was more funny than anything.

"Well then, let us go grab your things and sweep you off your feet," he picked me up to a chorus of my cries and protests, "over to the boarding house." We were off to grab my purple things, as purple was my favorite color, and the world as he carried me impossibly fast was blurring around me. "Are you going to the Founders Day Parade today? Elena's probably leaving soon to get ready for her roll as runner up."

I smiled. "Sure."

* * * * *

Stefan's POV

"Elena is not Katherine," I finished, scolding Damon for whatever love he had for Elena, and I meant it.

When I'd asked Damon what he was planning to do, he'd simply replied, "To eat cotton candy and steal your girl." I knew I'd started it with the jealous boyfriend act, but I can't let Damon believe he had any chance with Elena. She was not the type to cart around a man on each arm. I knew that, but I'm not sure my brother did. I heard the call of my name to my right and I turned, seeing her at the same time Damon did. Katherine.

She wore a golden dress, perfectly preserved with folds of soft green and a satin ribbon as a sash around her waist. But of course, it was not Katherine, but Elena who looked just as Katherine did in 1864. The way she curtsied with fine grace, and a dastardly smile lit up her face, eyes glinting. I glanced at Damon, and I could see him trying to hide everything he was feeling under an intense gaze, drinking her up as though she really was her vampire look-a-like. Everything he felt for her, betrayal, anger, hatred, attraction, lust, love, made my blood boil, my muscles coil and curl. I tried to steal him from his nostalgia, memories of nights spent with her.

"Where's Briana?" He started minutely, and turned his gaze back to me, the corners of his mouth tightening.

"Probably getting ready back at the boarding house." I felt another frown line encroaching.

"Why is she at the boarding house?" Damon smirked evilly and adjusted his leather jacket, which I would rather be wearing. Not that I didn't feel... at home in this outfit, I had grown accustomed to the jeans and leather.

"The poor thing, she was staying in some Farmer Brown's house on the outskirts of town. In a windmill. I felt so terrible I offered her a room. You got a problem, brother?" I groaned and massaged my temples.

"Damon. What are you doing? In case you haven't noticed, we all have enemies and you never know what she is or might be thinking-"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Nothing. She already explained her... odd situation to me." I saw the way he avoided my eye, flexed his fingers compulsively, and I bit my lip.

"What are you planning?" He pressed his hand to his chest, playing offended. "Don't even fake it, I can tell you're just putting together your own little-"

"What's going on?" said Elena, finally maneuvering her way across the sea of southern belles, gentlemen in faded vests and musicians in stiff red band uniforms. I sighed and smiled at her, wrapping her in my arms and pecking her cheek. Damon's' shoulders stiffened.

"Damon's just being himself." She nodded as if she understood completely what I meant.

"What? Sexy, cunning and irresistible?"

"No, annoying, self-absorbed and thinking of no one but yourself, probably," Elena commented, and the two stared each other down angrily, Elena's gaze stubborn and unflinching, Damon's strong and intimidating. I pulled her away.

"Just remember what I told you." She looked between us, curious, and he smiled at me.

"Oh, I will. I don't want to ruin you pretty face with yet another frown line. I'll see you in the parade." And he disappeared into the mesh of Founders Day enthusiasts.

"What did you tell him?" She had that invasive Gilbert look, the one I had often seen on John or Jeremy. I gave her my softest smile.

"Nothing important. What's more important is the fact that Damon just invited Briana the new girl to stay at our house, which means you can't stay over tonight. I don't know what she might do. I don't even know who she is! I have a feeling Damon does, though."

"That's just something we can settle later, when we don't have to stand on a float and look pretty. So far- besides finding Damon getting it on in the women's restroom- my day has been going well. Let's go find Caroline and our spots before Carol Lockwood has a heart attack." I laughed. As long as the Gilbert device didn't work and Isobel was gone (and hopefully my brother wasn't making any advances), this day should be going well. Everything is fine.

Briana's POV

I was walking through streets in a white sundress and these wonderful soft pink strappy heels. I had felt at home in the boarding house when I delicately arranged my comforter and things in the worn, wooden room. Damon had said he'd meet me by the park on the bench with the petunias by it. Although I was slightly worried on how Damon even knew what a petunia was, I walked there anyway. A gentle breeze blew the hem of my dress around my knees and the sun warmed my skin.

When he finally did arrive, we went and watched the parade as it crawled by. I could've walked faster than it proceeded, but it was fun anyway. When a barrage of clowns threw candy here and there, Damon snatched a Lollipop out of the air and handed it to me. It tasted like cherry. The sun began to sink low into the sky and a Monarch butterfly flew over me. Briefly, he went off to talk to Elena after she'd changed in the grill, and then- from what I saw- entered a heated conversation with Jeremy. I didn't care. He could be what he liked, but I just really wanted an ice cream cone. At the stand, I heard him thanking Bonnie Bennett for something. Interesting, he'd finally shown some appreciation. From what I knew of him- which was a lot- that probably took a ton of force, reluctance and irritation to push out a 'thank you'.

"Wanna go watch the fireworks?" I said happily. It had been a long while since I'd participated in public activities like this. I noticed the sun finally sinking over the horizon, sending up blurs of orange and hot pink, the sweet, lovely colors of a sunset.

"Sure, just let me go talk to John for a second." I thought he wouldn't want to willingly spend his time talking to John Gilbert, but whatever. I shrugged.

"Yeah, go ahead. I'll be right here." He walked into one of the old buildings across the street, a place I'd seen the mayor walking anxiously out of a few minutes ago. They thought they were going to bring the tomb vampires down, but I'd seen the Bennett witch despell it a while ago through a window. That sounded a bit weird.

I just had a really bad feeling something terrible was going to happen.

Five minutes passed, and then ten. From my place on the curb, sitting daintily with my legs crossed, I saw the tomb vamps converging around the crowd of founding families. I wouldn't get involved; this wasn't my war. Mayor Lockwood was saying something moderately inspirational behind me, but I didn't bother to listen. When he speech ended, he hurriedly rushed his wife out. But it wasn't soon enough. Bright, blooming flowers of color exploded above me, the sound delightfully numbing, but there was something in the undercurrent of it, a high-pitched squeal, something I recognized. Frantic, I saw a number of people go down, clutching their heads and crying out in pain, including the mayor. Well, of course he did; he was a werewolf, and the device affected them just the same. I'd noticed Matt and Caroline get in a car with Tyler earlier and I hoped they'd gotten wherever they were going. Then I thought: Damon.

Bonnie had never despelled the device, and Damon was with the man who had more reason than anybody else here to kill him. "Shit!" I scream-whispered.

He was being hauled out the glass doors, head lolling between the two officers dragging him towards the alley where a doorway to an even more antique building was located. My lips started trembling, and not knowing at all what I was getting myself into, I tipped over, wailing horrifically in pain. A man in a stiff blue uniform jabbed me with a needle of vervain and lifted me up, not even knowing who I was or the fact that the device didn't affect me. Men and women alike were being carted off towards the building, and I knew what was going to happen. They were going to mass murder us in the only way they knew how: fire. They could pass it off as bad wiring, an accident, and it was the only thing I wasn't impervious to. It didn't kill me, but my skin would keep regenerating and searing off until I was out. The Great Chicago Fire had shown me that.

Nearing the door, I noticed Bonnie standing near, looking positively crushed and hopeless, but determined. I know she'd had to do this. I was honestly curious why she'd despelled the thing in the first place when the vamps could cause harm to innocent humans. Despite the act I was pulling, I reached out and grabbed her shirt, startling her.

"Keep Stefan safe. I'll get Damon out. Just douse the fire a bit on the steps." She nodded the slightest bit and the corner of her mouth hitched up in a smile. The guard, not hearing a thing, pulled on me once more and I let him. I saw several being inconspicuously shoved down into the door and through a hall. Momentarily, my eyes locked with Damon and he opened his eyes as much as he could while his lids were weighed down with that wicked weed, vervain. I winked.

Through the door, a brief hallway, and a flight of creaking steps, I was tossed unceremoniously onto a concrete floor next to an unconscious woman with honey-colored hair and dirt smudged on her cheek. I almost felt bad for her, about to be burnt to a crisp, but then I thought of how she was just about to murder a bunch of poor parading families. I did my best to look weak and feeble. There was a conversation on the other side of the room, and I noticed John stooped over Anna with a look of disgust, raising a stake above his head. I closed my eyes, knowing Anna hadn't done much wrong since she got and lost her mother, but I heard it anyway.

"...No, please, no!" There was a sound like a child slurping the last bit of milk from his cup, and I knew there was an array of sickly blackish veins crawling up from her heart, stretching into her soft ebony hair, around her caring dark eyes.

I couldn't have helped her without hurting or killing John, exposing my lack of weaknesses when he tried to kill me too, and the officers wouldn't have started the fire and left unless John was with him. Then I'd have to end them as well, and things would get out of hand. One undead life, or several human ones, I couldn't tip the scales like that. He walked up the stairs, trailing gasoline from a red tank behind him, and I saw the whipping yellow flame of a candle whirl through the air and light the line of gas at the top of steps. I took a deep breath. This was it.

"Mayor Lockwood?" Damon said across the floor, writhing orange flames curling around the edge of the room, licking the walls with heat. I crawled slowly towards him.

"Damon Salvatore? What are you doing here?" he replied, looking like he was ready to scream, shout for help, and possibly wet his two hundred dollar pants. Damon looked up at him, dazed and tired.

"I'm a vampire."

Of course the mayor wouldn't notice this, as his wife Carol and the Sheriff both considered Damon top notch vamp-hunting material. The notion was laughable. The mayor recoiled, looking horrified, and accidentally shot himself back into the arms of a vengeful tomb leech, and the man smiled.

"Mayor Lockwood?" he jerked the mayor's neck rapidly to the side, and the snap was heard all throughout the room. My lip curled.

I saw the fire, though raging around me, dim on the staircase, so it was only a small danger flickering around the bottoms of each step. I grabbed the lapel of Damon's jacket and pulled him up into my arm's knowing he could barely walk and not wanting to spend too much time on the stairs anyway. The fire could resume at any time, or another vampire would get the gall to follow us up and then a lot of people would be screwed.

"Briana? What're you doing? Won't you get burnt?" He didn't have enough strength to uphold his dignity and try to walk.

"Nah, I'll be fine. I struck up a deal with the witch."

Screams were reverberating in my ears, horrid, bloodcurdling screams, and I saw men and women alike twitching and flailing, skin going up in flames and the acrid smell of burnt flesh and hair. I propelled my self up, turning the doorknob at the second floor, ignoring the sizzling burn of the metal and quickly shoved Damon and I through the doorway and closed it. My hair smelled of smoke, and my dress was sooty.

Out in the cool air, Bonnie was standing there, looking as though she'd just ran around the block eight times with Stefan and Elena behind her, looking flustered and worried out of their minds. Their relief was almost palpable when I carefully set the limp man in my arms on the ground. I looked to Bonnie.

"Thank you," I said, "so much. I know you're not exactly fond of him, but-"

"I did it for Elena," she snapped quietly. I dipped my head, knowing the doppelganger would be wanting her boyfriend's brother safe. She was caring like that.

"Of course."