"Bitter are the wars between brothers."

Text from; Liz Forbes                                                                                                                                                             I miss her too.

                                                                                                              Text to; Liz Forbes                                                                                                                                                                   I know.

"Did you actually kidnap the werewolf?" Damon is carrying Mason Lockwood over his broad shoulders before he plops him down on one of the expensive wooden chairs.

"Wait, is saying wolfnap funny?" he rolls his eyes at me.

I have been staying at the Salvatore Boarding House since my aunt was locked in the basement until the vervain has passed through her system and she can be compelled.

I have decided that I love the house. I love the dusty furniture which only makes my allergies act up a little bit, I love the abundance of first edition books in the bookcases.

I love feeling safe here, with two people watching over me, making sure I don't get hurt.

My train of thought interrupted by Damon's snarky voice, "do you have a better plan Princess Paloma?" I roll my eyes right back at him.

"It's Queen Paloma to you, my loyal subject." Damon ignores me and sends a look towards the blanket next to me, asking for my help. I sigh but give in, that seems to be the only way with Damon.

"Okay grab that corner." I do what is asked of me, but not without a comment.

"Why are we doing this exactly?" Damon looks at me like everything he does makes sense, sometimes I think he doesn't understand that people can't read his mind.

"Because I don't want to stain the carpet."

Bonnie speaks up from one of the couches, "I knew you were gonna say something like that."

Damon looks at the young witch, feigning shock. "Judging, again."

I pick up the two left corners of the blanket and pull it over the centuries old carpet tightly, covering it from any potential dirt.

Or blood, if we're being honest.

"Lola grab that duffel will you?" I comply with Damon's request and pick up the heavy brown duffel bag. I unzip it carefully and let the contents slide through my small hands.

"Kinky." I am playing with a plethora of heavy silver chains, they are cool against my warm body.

"He's not gonna be out much longer." Bonnie warns us with a worried look on her face. I throw the heavy chains in Damon's direction.

"Looks like this guy is used to being tied up."

Bonnie takes Mason Lockwood's head into her dainty hand and focusses on something that seems to be just out of my reach. If I could just let myself fall in completely I could grab on and hold it, but I am not sure if I would ever be able to find my way back out.

"What are you doing?" Damon questions Bonnie's motives, Bonnie must know this.

"You're looking for a moonstone. I'm trying to help you find it."

"Oh, good, yeah. Find out if he gave it to Katherine, and find out where she is. And find out what they are gonna do with it once they get it."

Damon throws the end of one of the silver chains in my direction, I don't even notice it until it hits the hardwood floors with a dull thud. Damon eyes me up and I sigh.

"Damon, please don't throw things at me. I have the motoric skills of a new born baby."

I bend over to pick up the heavy chain and feel the pressure on my back. There have been way too many close calls already and my whole body hurts from it still. It has been slowly healing, but it takes way too long to be really effective.

I start to wrap the chain around Mas- the werewolf's body. How the hell did I end up here? So deep in the Mystic Falls gang and their supernatural troubles.

There are so many more questions than answers filling my head. But I do feel it somewhere, that this is where I belong, with these people. Wrapping large silver chains around the werewolf I totally just made out with.

Something seems to be getting through to Bonnie, her face crinkles up.

"Somewhere small. Dark. There's water." Damon shakes his head.

"Like a sewer?"

"No. Like a well? That can't be right. Yeah. It's a well."

"Why would it be in a well?" Bonnie lowers her hands from Mason's head and opens her eyes.

"I told you, I only get what I get." Mason grunts from the chair and grabs Bonnie's wrist harshly.

Damon slaps the hand off her with almost no trouble at all, now that the full moon is ways away the werewolf has nothing on the vampire.

"That's it. That's all I got." Bonnie walks toward the door of the house and I think I see her for who she really is for the first time. If I look close enough I can see the blood colleting on her hands and finding a home under her nails. I can see the guilt gnawing away at her.

Damon stops Bonnie before she can leave.

"Hey, Judgey!"

Bonnie looks at him. This is the first time I have really looked at Bonnie's eyes. They are dark in all the ways someone's eyes can be dark. The weight of the world seems to have made itself quite cozy in Bonnie Bennet's eyes.

"Thank you," Damon says earnestly, he isn't soft much, so this is a moment between the two.

Bonnie only nods and walks away, leaving me with Damon and a tied up Mason Lockwood.

"Come on. Wake up, wolf boy." When Damon doesn't get a response he punches Mason in the face, pushing the chair he is tied to back a bit.

I sit down on the parlor couch where I take my phone out of my back pocket and start to play a game on it, the electric sound effects bursting from the small speakers.

"Lola, don't you have anything else to do?"

The question fills my head, Damon's voice fills my head and I try so hard to come up with an answer that isn't just desperate and horribly sad.

My plan fails.

"Damon, I don't have anywhere else to go."

The oldest Salvatore is heating up a fire poker, the ashes fly out of the fireplace like tiny snowflakes. Mason is struggling to get out of the chair but to no avail.

"Someone's feisty."

Mason uses his body to thrust the chair backwards when Damon starts walking in his direction with the fire poker in hand. He spits out a "what" at Damon's face.

Damon sticks the fire poker into his chest, the hot piece of metal sizzling through the flesh on his chest.

"Harsh," I whisper. I'm still getting used to the fact that vampires can hear me at all times.

Damon turn around, the hot fire poker in his hand menacingly. He could be the supervillain in any Stan Lee story.

"I already let you stay Lola, don't harsh my flow with your commentary." I notice that Damon gets so expressive when he talks, his eyebrows raise and he moves his head around. It's sweet.

I swear to god I almost roll my eyes into the back of my head before I get up, leaving a small indentation on the leather couch.

I go for the shelves full of books hanging on the walls and my eyes are immediately drawn to a small leather bound journal. It pulls me in and I don't understand why, but I know that this book is important, at least for today.

"I'll be in your room reading, dickhead!"

"Don't do anything dirty up there, my sheets were just cleaned!" I flip him off without turning around and start to climb the wooden stairs, the hollow beneath the steps fills the large open space.

I can still hear Damon torturing Mason when I have sat down on his giant bed, a scream coming from his mouth ever so often. Damon's deep voice bellowing through the house.

It's weird how fast I got used to these things, like werewolves being tortured right under my feet and it's weird how much I don't care anymore. I have found something more important than the potential of a probably very good one night stand.

On days like these, I think of the night we first met to soothe my ever aching heart. How her red hair had been blowing in the wind all day, and how it didn't look perfect but somehow still exactly how it was supposed to look.

How she got off her white horse so elegantly without trying.

I think about her reverence and how I told her that she shouldn't. How she responded that if she was anything, it was polite. I wanted to tell her that she wasn't anything and she didn't have to bother with silly politeness, she was already everything.

I didn't tell her that.

I regret this now, now that we have buried her deep under the country ground, where the maggots will start eating away at what is left of her body.

I have nightmares of maggots emerging from the sockets of her eyes.

I regret this now that I know I will never see her again, she will be lost forever.

And when I think of her I try to ignore these dark thoughts, instead of that I think of her dancing with me. A rose in her hair, beads of sweat on her forehead.

I think of the moonlight reflecting off the pale skin of her neck, how her freckles looked like constellations that predicted my future, how her giggles echoed through the night sky.

In my heart she dances still, and I know it will be her, forever.

I slam the journal shut, a picture of me, or someone who looks exactly like me, smiling at the camera in front of her falls from in between the withered pages.

There are tears in my eyes. I knew that Stefan knew me, that we had met before. But I didn't know it was this, this genuine unending love that he describes. I can feel scratches digging into my heart when I descend back downstairs. I feel bad for the girl in that picture, I wish she hadn't died, that she had had a future with Stefan. I feel bad for Stefan, that the love of his life is standing right in front of him, is sleeping in his house, but she isn't the same person anymore.

The journal is still in my shaking hands when I get to the parlor and see him, just standing there.

On his right side is the blanket I put down, only now it has been rolled up. Based on the lack of screams I can only assume that Mason Lockwood's body is rotting inside of it.

I look at Stefan, and for a moment I feel like there is a corset around my body, a large skirt falling onto the ground. I feel oddly tempted to reverence.

He looks at me and I know he sees the journal I am clutching, now we both know that the other person knows, ignoring my presence is no longer an option.

"Lol-" I interrupt him before he can continue , I put my hand up.

"We have more important things to do right now, this has to come later."

I see the stone I Damon's hand then, a milky white thing about the size of a hockey puck.

"All this-" I point a Mason Lockwood's body "-for that?" I nod at the small stone.

Stefan replies, "Yep." I see the stone and I feel almost compelled to it, like it is calling for me. I put my hand out to Damon, asking to touch it.

"Only if you don't break it Lola, you did break my poor brother's heart."

"I literally died you asshole-" I stalk in Damon's direction, "- also Lorelei and I aren't the same person, I'm not responsible for her actions."

Damon shrugs and hands me the stone, my curiosity at its highest.

When it touches my skin my hand involuntarily closes around it. My eyes roll into the back of my head and not because I am annoyed, I don't have a choice in the matter. It's almost like I am not in control of my own body, like I am just on a stroll through my brain.

I hear my own voice chanting something, I can feel my hands clutching the stone even tighter.

I can feel Stefan grab me by the shoulders and shake me, I can hear him say my name but I can't respond to him, my brain is somewhere else.

He tries to rip the stone out of my hands but when he touches me his skin burns like my hands are made out of vervain.

My eyes slowly come back to me and I blink.

The chants are still coming out but they are beginning to form a much clearer picture, distinguishable to me. The sentence that escapes my lips predicts nothing positive.

"They are coming," my body collapses and hits the wooden floor.