Damon stretched and reached over to Emma without opening his eyes, but her side of the crappy motel room bed was cold. He buried his face in his pillow for a moment, something in the pillow poked him and he pulled his face up, he looked at the pillow confused. It was a feather filled pillow. The price he paid for the room definitely didn't allow for them to be able to afford feathered pillows. For that matter, he didn't remember going to bed at all.
He rolled over more and started looking around, his eyes grew wide as he realized he was home; but not at the boarding house. He was in the Salvatore mansion he grew up in. It looked the same way it had in the 1860s. The same wallpaper, the same dresser, even his bed covers were the same he had when he lived there.
"Em?" Damon called out as he swung his legs over the bed and stood up, he noticed even what he had gone to bed in was changed, he now wore slacks instead of the briefs he normally wore to bed, "Emma?"
Damon looked around the room in awe, he was sure this was a dream. He opened the bedroom door and stuck his head out, a maid spotted him.
"Are you all right Mr. Salvatore?" A young lady asked, he recognized her and his eyes widened, he knew for a fact she died over one hundred years ago, because he had killed her.
Damon nodded his head and stepped back inside his room, he closed the door. He tried to make a dash over to his dresser, but he only moved at a human speed.
"What the hell?" Damon said softly to himself.
He walked over to his writing desk in the corner and pulled out the letter opener, carefully, he made a small slice on his hand, it didn't heal; he ran over to the mirror and tried to bare his fangs, but those were missing as well.
Damon grabbed a shirt and a fresh pair of slacks. Dressed and ready he rushed downstairs to find Emma, he hoped that she could explain this craziness he had managed to find himself in.
As he rounded the corner into the lounge he saw Emma in a way he never thought he would see her. Her routine jeans and leather were replaced with a long flowing victorian emerald green dress, her normally long flowing velvet red hair was pinned back in a perfect bun. She laughed at something his father had said before taking a small sip from the teacup she was holding.
"Emma!" Damon could barely contain his relief and excitement.
"Hello to you too Mr. Salvatore," Emma smiled gently.
"Son," his father began speaking to him, Damon got chills as he heard the voice of a man he never expected to see again, "have you seen your brother? We were just going over some last minute wedding details."
"What wedding?" Damon raised his eyebrow.
Giuseppe Salvatore rolled his eyes, "Did you hit your head boy?"
"No, I just-" Damon was interrupted by Stefan entering the room.
Stefan wore a similar clothing style to what Damon was wearing, his normally slicked back hair was set to the side. He walked over to Emma's side and kissed her cheek.
"Good morning darling," he sat down next to Emma and held her hands in his.
Damon shook his head, trying to wake himself up.
"Are you all right brother?" Stefan asked concerned.
"Not even a little bit," Damon said quietly.
The eldest Salvatore decided to ignore his eldest son's antics and continued the conversation with Emma and Stefan.
"So tomorrow is the big day," he said almost proudly, "miss Peters, have you packed everything?"
Emma nodded eagerly, "My chamber maid will be helping to make sure everything gets moved during the ceremony."
"Lovely," Giuseppe clasped his hands together, "it will be amazing to have a woman in the house again. Not to mention our families finally united."
At the mention of the families uniting, Giuseppe glared at Damon, leaving Damon to wonder what he did wrong. The old feeling of guilt of disappointing his father crept into Damon's mind. He shook it off, all of this was just a dream he reminded himself, he had sealed himself off from that feeling even before he died.
"Damon, you are going to be in charge of making sure the servants get all the tables set up in the courtyard, I trust you won't mess that up," Damon's father looked at him threateningly.
Damon just shook his head, still in awe as he watched everything unfolding. He just kept begging his brain to let him wake up in the crappy motel room in Vermont that he had rented with Emma. He slowly backed out of the room without anyone noticing and made his way outside to the gardens.
The lush green of the area was just as he had remembered, everything was kept neatly trimmed and pristine, just like the image his father demanded be upheld by both of his sons. Damon sat on one of the iron benches and put his head in his hands.
"Damon?" Emma's voice called out to him, he desperately hoped that it was the sound of her calling him back to reality, but then he saw his nightmare version of her come around the corner.
Damon sat up slightly, hopeful that maybe she knew something, "Em, what in the hell is going on? Is this like the Djinn thing you told me about?"
"A what?" Emma looked at him like he was crazy and started to sit down.
Damon realized that she was about to unknowingly touch iron and he pushed her up and away, Emma lost her balance and fell to the ground; something he was shocked to see from someone he had always known as graceful.
"What on Earth was that for?" Emma asked angrily.
"The bench, it's iron."
"So?"
"So it...never mind, I'm sorry," he held out his hand and helped Emma back to her feet.
"Will you please explain to me what has gotten into your head today?" Emma asked.
"Everything is very wrong."
"Why? Because I'm marrying your brother?" Emma sounded offended, "You had your chance Damon, and you left me."
"Why in the hell would I have left?"
Emma's brow furrowed, "The war...you broke everything off before you left."
"The war," Damon rubbed his face as if he were trying to snap out of his dream again, "what year is it?"
"1864..." Emma was dumbfounded by Damon's confusion.
"Ugh," Damon groaned frustrated before he hid his face back in his hands, "I am either dead and in hell or I've lost my damn mind."
"I'm voting for the latter, brother," Stefan joined them in the garden.
Damon stood up and stormed off, determined to put things back the way they were supposed to be.
————
Emma sat across the table in the motel room from Sam and Dean Winchester, fidgeting with her bracelet that Damon had given her months ago. She had her nose shoved in a grimoire, trying to find anything that would help her locate Damon.
"Maybe he went home?" Dean suggested hopefully.
Emma looked up annoyed, "He wouldn't do that, it's like he vanished into thin friggin' air."
Emma was confident in her answer, since Alaric had died she was in a constant state of fear of abandonment, and Damon was all too aware of that.
Sam was at least being as helpful as he could, "So he went around the corner and before you could follow him he was gone? What are you tracking?"
"A ghost, maybe; everyone in Warren has kept having this vision anytime they were on this old wooden bridge, of the headless horseman," Emma turned the page of her book.
"Did you see Ichabod?" Dean joked.
Sam elbowed him in the ribs before speaking, "Mass hallucination?"
"We weren't even near the damn bridge," Emma explained, "we were walking back to the motel from the bar."
"What was the linking thing between all of the people that saw the horseman?" Sam asked, "Maybe Damon fits in with that?"
"There wasn't anything, just the bridge," Emma scooted down in her chair defeated, "it was like some teenage prank. Honestly, if I hadn't seen the thing myself I would have left already."
"Prank?" Sam looked up from his computer.
"It chased us down the bridge but once I was on the other side it just disappeared, just like the story," Emma explained.
Dean groaned in frustration, "Son of a bitch."
"What?" Emma asked.
"Remember the trickster?" Dean asked.
"Yeah...I read about it in my dad's' journal," Emma clicked into Dean's thought process.
"Did your dad or Bobby ever teach you about angels?" Dean asked.
Emma raised her eyebrow, "Angels? No, I can't say I recall Uncle Bobby going over that one."
"So you believe in demons but not angels?" Sam raised his eyebrow.
Emma crossed her arms, "Belief has nothing to do with it. I've fought demons, I've never even seen an angel."
Dean smirked and looked up, "Hey Cas!"
He continued smirking as he looked at Emma as he waited, she kept her eyes on him as he stared at her, as if waiting for her to react to something.
"Yes?" Castiel appeared behind Dean as if he came out of thin air.
Emma jumped back in her seat, tumbling backwards and onto the floor, the flames of a candle burned brighter and roared to life momentarily as she lost control of her emotions.
"Please don't burn down the motel Emmy," Dean said sarcastically.
Castiel turned his attention to Emma and looked at her curiously, "You are a Phoenix."
Sam got up to help Emma, her hand was small in his as she took it and he pulled her back up to her feet.
Emma eyed Castiel up and down, "And you're an angel."
Castiel simply shrugged and looked at Dean, "What do you want Dean?"
"Have you heard from your brother Gabe lately?" Dean asked.
"You've got to be kidding me," Emma's mind raced, "Gabriel was the Gabriel, as in the archangel Gabriel."
"Yup," Dean smirked, proud of himself, "he's a chaotically evil dick."
Sam looked at his brother annoyed, "So what? You think he got bored or something?"
Castiel spoke up, "More than likely, he became curious about a Phoenix reappearing."
"And you think he set up the horseman to lure me to Vermont? Why take Damon?" Emma asked.