The Salvatore Sister

Chapter One - Homecoming and Reuniting

Dear Diary,

I decided to keep writing you, after the last entry I feel like I actually have a friend, someone to talk to, that's crazy right? But of course you can't answer.

I paused with the pen in my hand thinking of what to write. What could I write? I arrived in Mystic Falls and it's exactly the same, the horse-and-carriages still roll down the cobbled streets, the people who I'd made friends with still walk down the roads in their 1800s fashion? That wouldn't be the truth would it? That would be something I'd hoped for. A part of me had hoped to find my family home, with my family still inside waiting for me to come home, but of course, that's ridiculous. The hardest part wasn't that there wasn't horse-and-carriages rolling down the cobbled streets, or that my friends weren't there in their 1800s fashion. The hardest part wasn't even finding the home I'd grew up in in ruins. The hardest part was finding that my family weren't still there, waiting for me to come home. I put my pen back to my diary paper and began to scribble down lines.

I came back to Mystic Falls; I gritted my teeth and did it. I don't know what I expected, and I don't know if it met up to those expectations – whatever they were.

I paused again, the end of the pen in my mouth. Never had I been so unsure of what to say. I'm usually good with words - and arguments, I'm one hell of an arguer – but now words just seemed to have escaped me. The speech I had made to my parents grave earlier had been pretty heartbreaking if I do say so myself. I'd walked into the familiar cemetery and found their graves near the back, the inscriptions on the grave were barely legible but I could read one thing on my mother's headstone, the death date: 23rd of June 1855: a month after my disappearance. I don't know whether she had committed suicide or just driven to death's door with the heartbreak but whatever it was I couldn't help but feel guilty. I brought the pen back down to the paper again.

Mystic Falls has changed: everything about it.

I quickly scored out that line, although very lightly as it seemed the lightest touch would rip the fragile, century and a half old paper. That line wasn't true – for the most part. To the eye Mystic Falls had changed drastically. The apothecary I'd grown up around was long gone, as were the stables and the old plantations. There certainly hadn't been a bar in my day. The Mystic Grill it's called, and I'm sitting in it now, it appeared to be some sort of hotspot for the Mystic Falls people, a gathering place. Back to my original point: the thing that hadn't changed about Mystic Falls was the feel of it, the history, and the atmosphere. Even though it was worlds away from the home I'd once known it still felt like home; that was both comforting and terrifying.

In frustration I closed my diary and pushed it away from me. I rested my elbows on the table and leaned forward taking in more of my surroundings. Every time I had stopped to look about I had found myself looking for any obvious Salvatore features. I had found none yet but I had seen a blonde chick earlier who was undoubtedly a Forbes, and there had been a boy who was Johnathan Gilbert's double. It was funny to see the Founding Families still intact. I made a mental note to ask about for any Salvatores before I left – I would like to see my nieces and nephews, to how many "greats". But then again, the Salvatore family could be long gone from this place. After visiting Mother and Father's graves I had searched desperately for my brother's graves, but my attempts had been futile – there was no Damon or Stefan Salvatore inscribed in any of the headstones. I had come to the conclusion they had simply moved away from Mystic Falls before their deaths. I felt lonely knowing that my brother's weren't here – I wished I could feel their presence or something mystical like that, then again, I probably wouldn't recognise them if they came to haunt me, I last seen them one hundred and forty five years ago. Pulling the diary back towards me I began to write:

I miss my brothers, there I said it. I miss them so much it hurts. I try to convince myself that I can live without emotions, that I can shut out all my humanity and just be the predator that I am but the memory of my brothers always breaks that delicately placed wall.

I miss the way Damon and I would laugh and joke, we were as close as any two people can be, like two halves of one whole – I'm sure you'll remember, Diary. Sure, he pissed me off alot and vice versa but y'know, that's what siblings are for. I miss the way he would comfort me and help me whenever I was upset and I miss the way he used to hug me. God, I miss Damon, I never realised how much I do until just there, it feels like my non-beating heart has been ripped out of my body, stabbed multiple times with a wooden stake then shoved back in. Sure, I miss my little brother Stefan too, more than he'd ever have known. I don't know how much he'll have remembered me when he grew up. He'd probably remember the way Damon and I used to tease and terrorise him but like I said before, what are siblings for? I wonder if he remembered the way I called him "Stef", even though he despised it, he used to remind me angrily every time that his name was in fact Stefan, of course I knew that, I helped Mother pick it out. I hope Damon coped alright with my "death", I can't imagine what it would've been like for him because I know he loved me in the same way I loved him. I hope Father was alright too, I was his little princess after all, he used to spoil me bad, now I know he loved me like he would never love my brothers, most of me resented him for neglecting my brothers so but y'know, I'm a bitch so I loved the attention.

I'm not usually a sap, or this emotional but being home brought everything rushing back. I hadn't had the feeling of tears for a little more than a century, but now I could feel them burning in my eyes. I had never felt an emotion as strong as the need to have my Damon with me again. I felt bad for not missing little Stef nearly as much as I miss Damon but he and I have known each other since we were in our Mother's womb – we've been through everything together and I never imagined I'd be able to live without him, well I'd had a century and a half's practice of living without him (well not technically living) so I have no idea why it hurt so bad now. Maybe being back in Mystic Falls – maybe it was the fact I was home.

I sighed, closing my diary again and tucking it away into my brown leather shoulder bag. I leaned back in my chair and instantly caught the eye of a boy staring at me from across the restaurant. Well, not boy but man, he must've been no younger than eighteen, nineteen maybe. I was used to men staring at me but something in this guys stare kept my attention. He looked so familiar. His dark hair was short and stuck up slightly, and his eyes were just as dark. He was a big guy, and not in the way he was fat – quite the opposite. What I meant was that he looked like the tall, muscular type, and indeed, I could see the muscles stretch his shirt. Why did he look so familiar? What is wrong with you, Amelia? He's a human teenager, a harmless, good for nothing, human teenager. I quickly broke the stare we had kept and scooped my back over my shoulder and was up and at the door a little too quickly to be considered normal. I was out of the Mystic Grill and across the street in almost a blink of the eye. Slow down, Amelia. But I couldn't. Something was too familiar about the boy, I had no idea who he was, but it had stirred something deep inside me, the old Amelia. The human Amelia. Why was he so God damn familiar? I could only wonder because I was intent on leaving Mystic Falls now. I know I'm just back but I'm a coward that way. I can't be home. This place is the place that belongs to my old self; I had no right to be back here. After everything I've done, everybody I've killed I don't deserve to be home, I don't deserve to be happy. Being a vampire is your ticket to an eternity of misery, they say you can turn off your emotions – it's a lie. If it was possible I'd have done it years ago.Where do I go now? Where does a person with no home go? I was walking with my head down and my dark hair over my face when I bumped into someone. "Sorry..." I said distracted as I tried to continue walking, my head down. "Oh... It's okay... Just – Amelia?" the person said. My eyes snapped up to see a person I thought I'd never see again..."Henry?" "Yeah, it's me," he chuckled, "I'm surprised you remembered me." "Like I could forget you," I joked. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Y'know, just coming home... See what's happened..." I said, shrugging, "What about you?" "Well it's a long story, but I've never... actually left..." he shrugged. "What? How could you not have left?" I asked. "Why don't you come back to my place and I'll explain it, but it's a long story," he suggested. "Well I have an eternity to hear it..."