DEJA VU!

CHAPTER ONE

The Glorious Return of Charlotte Pierce

" help, i lost myself again... but i remember you "

TOTAL WORDS: 4128

Past: 1490, April 19th   17.27 EST

England

She walked nervously around the Mikaelson Manor wondering where her sister could be. Ever since their father kicked his elder daughter out for having a child out of wedlock, she had been wherever the older sister had, as she hoped to remain a form of comfort for her. After all, Katerina was her sister.

"Good Evening, Elijah," Charlotte greeted when she recognized the nobleman. He was handsome— like a star and thus in the girl's eyes he was far beyond her merry reach. Nonetheless, she had grown to cherish him like a big brother. Anyways, her beloved sister seemed to harbor some romantic feelings for him and the girl would under no circumstances do anything to sadden her.

"Stanislava," Elijah greeted her enthusiastically using her birth name which signified 'the one who achieves glory.' The girl was never extremely fond of it and when she arrived in England with Katerina, an old woman solemnly told her she looked like her dead daughter Charlotte and so, Stanislava promptly adopted the name as soon as she could. Her birth name asked her to do something— be someone who she was not. As Stanislava, she was impatiently expected to bring glory home but as Charlotte, she was just an independent woman who was capable to achieve whatever she desired.

"Have you seen my darling sister?" she queried him, "She has been a little secretive and jumpy lately—needless to say, I am concerned about her."

Elijah smiles fondly at her, "She must be missing home or something similar to that. If I happen to come across her, I will let her know that you request her presence."

The kind-hearted human girl bowed slightly, "Thank you, my lord."

She walked uneasily into her familiar room and suddenly someone was covering her mouth with their frail hands. Their hands were petite— likely female and soon, Charlotte came to the foregone conclusion that it correctly was her previously missing sister. She turned merely to be proved right when she saw Katerina looking anxiously at her, face full of personal woe.

"Сестра!" Charlotte yelped in bewildering surprise as her sister motioned her to speak softly with an eye roll, "I have been frighteningly worried sick, Katerina! Where have you been?"

"Calm down, Sestra," she advised her and silently escorted her to the luxurious bed, "I need to talk to you."

She looked frantically at her sister, genuinely worried. Katerina had been comprehending the tragic loss of her child really badly before they met the Mikaelson family  and the girl was afraid that the pain had not yet left her withering heart. "Are you alright?"

Katerina sighed, and Charlotte distinctly remembered her mother bearing the same expression on her face when she told the younger Petrova that her grandmother had died. She possessed a face of grief.

"You do know that I love you, right?" Katerina sought her, "You are my little sister and I swore to protect you."

"What is wrong, Katerina?" she asked again, her hands smoothening over the gorgeous gown that Rebekah had generously gifted her. Charlotte desperately needed to keep a handle on her excessive anxiety.

"I can't protect you anymore, my dearest Stanislava," Katerina suffered burning tears in her eyes but her ghastly face was cold— no possible ounce of love seeping through her rosy lips. She had never been terrified of her sister before.

"Wh— what's wrong? It is possible I can perhaps aid you."

"You can," Katerina merely smiled and nodded, but it never indeed struck her fierce eyes. It's the kind of smile that Charlotte would associate with the villains in the stories Elijah had requested her to read.

The eyes remained cold, despite the tears that fell from them before Charlotte suddenly felt agonizing pain.

She could barely see Katerina's face, sorrowful, maybe even filled with regret, as her hand let go of the knife that had recently been stabbed into the girl's stomach, dripping with her crimson blood.

Charlotte couldn't speak, she couldn't cry— all she could manage to do was uneasily watch as the woman who she willingly gave up her entire life for, stabbed her and let her fall on the floor like a discarded piece of clothing,

"I am sorry, Charlotte," Katerina gathered her voice bitterly as her mind registered what had happened, what she had done and the younger Petrova's horrified eyes closed— the dying woman was suddenly too tired to keep fighting, "But I desperately want to live. Klaus will be too occupied by your death... perhaps even enough time for me to run. I want to stay alive, sastra, even if it means you have to die."

Heathen darkness overtook her and the last thing her conscious mind registered was Niklaus and Elijah's shrill cries.

Past: 1862, November 23rd 15.37 EST

Mystic Falls VA

She felt content as she walked next to her most beloved friend Margaret. It was an exquisite day in Mystic Falls and somehow this felt like home— a pleasant place where Katerina wasn't.

Margaret Forbes was the eldest daughter in the noble Forbes family, a family that graciously supported and took Charlotte in when she told them of her woeful story of living on her own without any aid. She had learnt a few things from her sister over the passing years.

The Petrova had been in Mystic Falls for no more than what she assumed was two weeks but this place was definitely something. It was calm and at the precise moment, that was all she was looking benevolently for.

The last place Charlotte settled in before here had been in New Orleans with the Mikaelson Family. Rebekah had insisted she rejoin them and though she did for a while, she left when Klaus daggered the blonde woman because of Marcellus. An extraordinary story for another time.

The woman had been around a lot of places since then before finally coming here to Mystic Falls and deciding to stay.

"Are you even listening to me?" Margaret asked. Charlotte appreciated Maggie like a sister she wished she had— she was a pure soul.

"Yes, I am," The woman answered her with a smile, "You were talking about the Benedict Bridgeton."

Margaret grinned, "I just wish he would propose me to the ball this year!"

"And he will," Charlotte assured her and she was reasonably sure her words were right; she had overheard Benedict notify his wealthy friend Thomas Gilbert that he was planning to.

"I hope so," Margaret smilingly replied with a faraway dreamy look on her radiant face, "Who are you going to go with?"

"Oh, Maggie," Charlotte gently shook her head, "You know me— I heartily despise things like these! And wherever will I track down a nobleman to escort me?"

Margaret suddenly stopped walking.

"Nonsense, Charlotte!" The golden-haired girl said instantly, "You must go. Dear mother has already put in your name for participating in the pageant."

Charlotte was taken aback— a pageant? she did not know that those were held here.

She smiled at Margaret, "I will only go if you are also participating. On that occasion I may have a chance to show off the fact that I am best friend's with the winner."

Margaret grinned delightedly ear to ear, "I will obviously be there silly! Who else will make fun of other love-stricken girls with you?"

They laughed merrily and then started to walk again with a smile.

"Oh Charlie! This flower—" Margaret said as Charlotte turned in her place to diligently look at her only to bump in to someone and fall down. It seemed that when she was engaged talking to Margaret, the girl had unintentionally missed the two boys who were fooling around and the older one crashed into her.

"Charlotte!" she heard Margaret yell but for the moment, she didn't care about that.

The girl was staring at the most attractive and enchanting blue eyes in the world. As a vampire, his weight on her did not injure her much as Charlotte's eyes became bewildered in his. Hers were just a dull brown and she suddenly felt envy when she looked admiringly into his.

Charlotte wanted to know who this man was.

He naturally got off her, pulling Charlotte also up as his face flushed with evident embarrassment. He was extremely nice-looking. Along with his blue eyes, there was his charming curly hair that Charlotte suddenly caressed the urge to run her caressing hands through. The younger Petrova could only compare him to a Greek God.

"Oh Charlotte, honey!" Margaret's voice was the one that delivered them back to reality.

"I am so sorry, Ma'am," the man sincerely apologized and she felt her own face turning red— his gentle voice a soothing melody that Charlotte never knew she yearned to naturally hear.

Margaret elbowing her side nudged her that she had to at least state something to him.

"It's no trouble, kind sir," Charlotte smiled gratefully, suddenly self-conscious of how she looked.

"I am Damon Salvatore," he properly introduced himself with a smile and then pointed at the active teenager behind him, "And that's my little brother Stefan."

The woman nodded, "I am Charlotte Petrova," she introduced herself.

He smiled and Charlotte naturally wondered if her face looked like a tomato already. Damon looked down at her dress and so did she— only to see mud all over it now. The girl absolutely didn't mind— she had plenty others but it seemed like it bore the gorgeous man in front of her unutterable woe.

"I am so grieved about your dress, Miss Petrova," he apologized as Margaret walked around her to undoubtedly go and talk to the little brother.

"Oh it's fine, I do not mind Mr. Salvatore!" she earnestly assured him.

"Please call me Damon," he insisted, and she felt faint on her legs. She had never felt this way before.

She delivered Damon her best smile, "Only if you consider me Charlotte."

Present: 2010, October 22nd 13:12 EST

Mystic Falls VA

Charlotte couldn't fathom why she accepted the invitation.

She was fine— perfectly happy in her little apartment in Queens as she bathed with the precious blood of her helpless victims, day and night, whenever she desired it because it was the closest thing she still had that felt like home. Sure she didn't need to suck the blood of half of the population of New York City, but it helped with the deafening silence— oh don't worry, they are all alive.

Well, most of them.

Now, the woman was regretting leaving all of her comfort and happiness to be in this horrible place. The one place on earth that had brought nothing for her but betrayal and heartbreak. Mystic Falls had always called out to her— enchanting and begging her to come back to the quiet little town that was anything but. Mystic Falls held secrets and a history of those who tried to hide it.

Charlotte was exactly what this town hated the most and yet it called out to her like an overbearing mother called out to her child. It desperately wanted to conclude her a part of it again and for some reason, she found herself accepting as she could not control the hands that drove past the sign she had seen way too many times before.

She remembered bitterly when it was still newly made — 'WELCOME BACK TO MYSTIC FALLS' a controversial drug that she, with difficulty kept trying so hard to leave but still needed, very much like her husband— she couldn't indeed find a lawyer who would help break a hundred and twenty-seven-year-old marriage. Charlotte had broken away from the man she formerly declared hers but not for long enough, she supposed.

Not long, because he was right here in this dull town where nothing ever good seemed to happen.

When Charlotte received Rebekah's urgent invitation to the ball, she was surprised. The Mikaelson Family had not been together at once in almost a thousand-odd years and if they were, it was only because Klaus placed them in boxes near each other.

A note on the back of the invitation indicated the fact that her dear best friend sorely needed the Petrova in Mystic Falls.

Why did Charlotte have to go ahead and ruin her perfectly idle life by making friends? She loved Bekah— she absolutely did, but seriously... why?

Charlotte had gathered a lot about what had been happening in this gritty town. Her sister was over here and therefore so was her husband and his little brother. As I have hitherto mentioned, the Mikaelson family had already made their gracious arrival to this town and there had been vicious rumors' of one Elena Gilbert— the doppelgänger of Crazy Katherine.

There was going to be terrible drama, Charlotte knew it and she could smell the heartbreak that she was condemned to go through again from where she stopped her car in front of the Salvatore Boarding House.

The moment she walked through those doors, everything will forcibly change.

She merely perceives it.

The woman knows damned how she might be seeing her back-stabbing bitch of a wicked sister again. She will undoubtedly be seeing Damon again— something she had successfully been preventing from happening since 1987 when they last saw each other.

For more than one hundred years, Mystic Falls had been what Charlotte would call a faint distant memory— a home that she long ago had. It was the first place where she was genuinely contented, and it was sadly, in addition, the place where she died a second time.

When the girl was younger, her mother used to solemnly tell her that all lost things eventually returned home. Her home was no longer the hallowed walls in Bulgaria where she ran after her sister from or where Klaus held her in his arms as she cried uncontrollably over the slain bodies of her family.

It was no longer that apartment in Chicago where Damon carried her in his arms with a charming smile as he addressed her as his wife— no, that's all gone, nothing but a photograph from an album she wished she possessed the strength to burn.

She could incinerate it, but that would merely mean getting rid of all of the other memories etched in her mind and polaroid paper where she smiled joyously like there was no tomorrow because she was happy with the one man she truly loved.

She cherished him, but there was indubitably in the fact that they destroyed each other.

He detests her now, and though it brutally kills her to admit it, even though a part of her will forever be his, Charlotte can't help but be bitter.

She stood in front of the big brown door and seemed sure that if her heart could still beat, it would be running faster by the minute. Every so often she wished her heart still beat— at that moment she could perhaps take comfort in the rhythm of it but now she is abandoned with the sound of birds chirping and the fire inside the house burning.

She wants terribly to cry, but the woman stood her ground as she awkwardly held her dress in her hand for tonight's ball. Charlotte did not bring much in hope of the wish that she could escape this terrible place before it hopelessly ruins her all over again.

The door opened and the most beautiful pair of blue eyes stared right back at her.

The Petrova remembered when those eyes held more than the stinging pain they carried now— when they carried youthful innocence and passionate love that only she could decipher.

He seemed to be the same— tangled hair, leather jacket, and alive. Her mind instantly flashed back to the days in the 1860s when his curly hair caused her to want to swoon like a madwoman and he was only but an honorable gentleman.

Most people couldn't recognize the good in him, but Charlotte always could.

And yet she loathes him even though everything that happened between them was mostly all her fault.

"Hello, Damon," She said as he stared stupidly at her— probably wondering if this was some kind of a joke. His mouth was gaping as if waiting for words that did not form in his head.

"Charlotte," falls from his lips like a whisper and she shudders at it— she hates how she wants to hear him announce her name again.

Charlotte could overhear voices behind him as Stefan appeared, shock evident on his face. The woman pondered how the town hadn't burnt down to ashes since both the Salvatore Brothers were back. It is possible the bond of blood is much more unbreakable than what everyone thought.

She smiled even though she felt nothing like the emotions that portray on her face. She wants to go back to New York because she is not quite sure if she can make it through the ball with Damon there but she promised faithfully her best friend that she would be there with and for her.

"Heard there was a family reunion," Charlotte shrugged like it wasn't much of a big deal, "Seems like you forgot to extend my invitation but glad to know I could still make it."

Mystic Falls was not her home, and yet it's the only place where she had ever belonged.

***

Charlotte walked into the charming house and she was glad that she did not start crying when she saw her husband again. That would have been utterly embarrassing for her fearsome reputation.

"Why are you here?" Damon interrogated her and she turned around only to smirk at him.

"Oh good to see you too, Damon! How long has it been since you walked out on me for the second time?"

"Charlotte," he growled impatiently, "Why the hell are you here?"

"Why am I in Mystic Falls or why am I in your house?" she inquired him.

The woman walked past Stefan, barely sparing him a careless glance. She absolutely didn't possess the energy to deal with him. She walked stealthily past the brothers and as she allegedly planned to acquire herself some bourbon, she stopped when she saw a nervous girl sitting on the couch. She knew that face... it's the one face that she could never really forget.

"I am assuming you are Elena Gilbert," Charlotte raise her elevated eyebrows at the girl who she nodded fast and there's indubitably in the Petrova's mind that she was terribly scared.

That's adequate.

"Who— who are you?" Elena asked Charlotte but she ignored her as she saw an opened bottle just waiting for her to claim as her.

It was presumably Damon's but she really was way past caring about things like that.

"I want to know both!" Damon said as he made his way over to her, "And that's my bourbon."

"The bourbon is mine now," Charlotte informed him with what she supposed should look like a bittersweet smile. She didn't want him to know she still needed him sometimes. They inadvertently hurt each other so there was no point dwelling on past feelings. "And as for your burning questions, Rebekah demanded me to drop by and I didn't want to stay at some puny human's house when I can stay at a place that I helped make."

Damon narrowed his eyes in annoyance as Stefan made his way over to them. Oh, how much the Petrova woman wanted to punch his perfect teeth.

"Rebekah? Rebekah Mikaelson?" The younger Salvatore spoke in utter confusion, "How do you know her?"

She rolled her eyes, "If you would have attended my wedding, Stefan —" out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Damon wince at the word 'wedding', "— you would know that Rebekah is my best friend and was my bridesmaid."

The wedding had been a touch topic for Damon for the longest time, and Charlotte knew she shouldn't have brought it up, even though she simply loved the idea of torturing Damon, because there are so many unresolved feelings connected to it.

It had been the most exquisite day of her life, but she couldn't say the same for Damon because no matter how much he had begged for his brother to come and be his best man, Stefan had been hopelessly a no-show in the end.

"Really? Again?" Stefan was saying but she quickly dismissed him. she didn't maintain time for blithering idiots.

"Wait, does that mean that Damon already knew Rebekah?"

The gorgeous woman groaned dismally. "Can we let this go?"

"So, doppelgänger," Charlotte turned to Elena, sitting on the opposite sofa and started marvel in her head over how similar she looked to her elder sister, "How the hell did you manage to survive when the entire Original family is walking out in the sun?"

A peculiar look passed over Elena, one that Charlotte understood well enough— excessive and raw grief. It looked piteously like this little human's life was undeniably not that magnificent.

"Who the hell are you?" She reluctantly asked, and Charlotte grinned maliciously at her. Elena had some guts.

"Charlotte, darling," The woman introduced herself and felt pleased when she detected a look of recognition pass Elena's face. Charlotte was unsure who she was recognized as though— Damon's wife, Katerina's sister or something else entirely.

"You are Katherine's sister," Elena said merely to receive a nod.

"Charlotte Pierce or Petrova... whatever you prefer," she smiled condescendingly. "A pleasure I am certain."

The doppelganger merely nodded and Charlotte once again thought over the young girl's fear. She had no reason to be scared— at least not yet. The used-to-be Salvatore wife was not here to irreparably harm little Miss Elena Gilbert... but then, the woman didn't thoroughly grasp why she was here.

There was a knock on the door, and she turned to see the seventeen-year-old girl she had compelled.

"Come in, Alice," Charlotte said placing her feet on the table, "And transport my accessories to the room on the left."

She recalled this place, after all it was —by marriage— her family home (constructed way after her presumed death and no one in the Salvatore family really knew she was actually married to Damon except Stefan).

"That's my room, Charlotte," Damon groaned, but he knew that there was no way he could win this and so he wasn't even trying hard.

"And now it's mine," she shrugged, "You can stay in, I don't mind— decidedly since it won't be the first time we shared a bed."

Elena looked startled. She really had no idea about who the Salvatore brothers really were.

"Be gone now, Salvatores," Charlotte said as she turned impatiently to the anxious Gilbert girl, "I want to ask the doppelgänger some urgent questions— like which one of you she is sleeping with."

"Charlotte," Damon snapped and that explained everything.  The tension in the room was easy to read. After all, she had read this book before, in 1864.

The Petrova stood up from her seat and walked uneasily towards Damon's room.

"Oh don't lose your temper, dear husband," she whispered mockingly when she passed near him, "I am certain you will get Elena soon enough."

Charlotte walked off as she saw Elena also get up too, she must also be going to the ball.

She turned barely as she reached the staircase— a bland smile on her glossy lips that didn't quite reach her luminous eyes, "Oh and Damon? Sincerely hoping you leave a dance for me."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

For those who are re-reading this book, thank you for sticking with me and those who just found this....Welcome to Deja Vu! I actually wrote in the first person for the first time but here you are with the rewritten version! I am actually quite happy with what came out  and I hope you like it too because i am planning a lot for this book :)

Also, any ship names for Charlotte and Damon?

Please don't forget to vote and comment what you think because I am doing this for you :)) I love you guys!