SEASON ONE — EPISODE NINE
"𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮 𝙖 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩"

‧˚꒰🍷꒱༘‧—

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'✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ IN THE MORNING, Brooke opened her eyes and she immediately knew two things. One, that her pain had disappeared as if she'd never been shot, along with the bandage she'd usually feel uncomfortably on her upper stomach. And two, that this wasn't her house, nor was it her single bed.

And despite the fact that the bed was extremely bouncy and that she never wanted to leave it, she stood up nonetheless, looking around the room in complete and utter confusion, "What the—" As she strolled around, she noticed the way she was able to move about without even an inch of difficulty.

Brooke's eyes trailed down, and when she saw she was still wearing her top and jeans, she let out a relieved sigh, glad nobody had undressed her.

On a nightstand nearby sat a small picture, and she rushed over, picking it up. It was a picture of Elena, but not Elena. It looked like Elena, thought it definitely wasn't Elena. At the bottom of the picture was a label, "Katherine, 1864." She read aloud, her brows knitted together like an old person attempting to read something on a screen without glasses.

"Doppelgängers." Stefan Salvatore's voice caused the picture to fly back onto the table and she jumped, almost falling back into the bookshelf.

"What the hell, Stefan? Are you trying to murder me, again?" She huffed, strolling over to the edge of the bed to sit down and he chuckled, a small humorous smile on his lips, somehow finding the whole situation hilarious.

"For your information, I never tried to murder you the first time, that was Logan Fell." He strolled forwards, placing a cup of coffee on the ottoman beside her legs and she scrunched up her nose, wincing in disgust.

"Thanks, but not a big fan of coffee." She smiled apologetically up at him and he picked it back up, downing the entire thing in one go like an animal. When he finished, he looked back at her, bursting out laughing at the sight of her face, "Vampires are rabid, I swear." She rolled her eyes and glanced down to her stomach, lifting up her shirt ever so slightly to see where her wound was supposed to be, only to see a fully developed scar shaped into a heart.

Stefan noticed, and placed the mug down, sitting down beside her, "I fed you my blood, it was enough to heal the halfway healed wound but if I fed you it when you were actually shot, it would've done nothing." He explained, and she dropped her shirt, slouching her shoulders with a huff.

"Well thanks, it was killing me, literally." She joked, laughing lightly and she watched him as he stood up, reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out her cell phone and her eyes lit up, immediately taking the device from his hands.

"You might want to call a few people, your brother, Matt." He nodded and she smiled up at him before dialling numbers into the phone, pressing the device to her ear. Gladly, Caroline had told Nathan that Brooke had slept over at her house, so she was saved there, she just wasn't sure how to explain it to Matt.

She dialled his number and placed her free hand between her thighs, blowing all of the air in her mouth to her lips tiredly. Eventually, the line clicked and Matt's voice sounded in her ears, "Hey, Brooke, are you okay?" He asked and she nodded in response, despite the fact he couldn't see her.

"I'm actually feeling pretty good, I was gonna come into school today." She spoke with energy, an energy Matt hadn't heard in a hot minute and he never noticed how much he needed to hear her laugh, her happiness, to see her smile.

"Are you sure? Did the doctor say that was okay?" He was concerned, she knew that yet her eyebrows furrowed in an odd sense of irritation, an emotion she hardly ever felt towards Matt, her best—friend.

"Does it matter?" She snapped accidentally, immediately realising how she had spoken to him afterwards, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. Would you mind picking me up?"

"Sure, I'll be there in twenty." Matt ended the call and she huffed loudly in defeat, standing up from the ottoman as she placed her cell into the back pocket of her jeans. That was when she realised she hadn't changed out of Caroline's clothes, still clad in party attire.

Suddenly, as if the man had read her mind, Damon entered, chucking a loose black t—shirt at her face, causing her to not only jump but grimace too, "Ew, is this your shirt? It stinks." She teased, holding the shirt with two fingers, a few centimetres away from her face.

"No, it's Stefan's." He told her and Brooke's grimace softened, she turned around, pulling off her cropped top. Damon squealed, immediately spinning around and she rolled her eyes, picking up Stefan's shirt to put it on, "Do you have zero self—respect?"

"Well, considering the amount of times you've changed my clothes without consent, I thought you wouldn't care." Her words shut him up, his mouth glued shut like a zip tie and she sighed heavily, picking up her own shirt as she strolled out of the bedroom, brushing past Damon's shoulder on her way out, "Stefan! Where'd you transport to?" She called out for the younger Salvatore brother, poking her head into every room and Damon trailed behind her, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"In here!" He called from a room at the end of the hall and Brooke pushed the door open, smiling at the teenage boy who'd just pulled a black shirt on.

"Hey, we're twinning." She pointed at the black shirt she was wearing and he chuckled, his brows furrowed ever so slightly.

"Is that my shirt?" Stefan questioned and she shook her head in denial, clearly lying but before he could interrogate further, Damon stepped around Brooke — who grimaced at the sight of him —, holding out the cup of coffee.

"Peace offering." He smiled, hoping Stefan would comply but the aforementioned vampire was still annoyed with him.

"No, thanks." He shook his head and turned around, grabbing his leather jacket from his closet. Brooke stepped to the side due to being cut from Stefan's sight, Damon having stepped directly in front of her. Discreetly, she kicked the side of his leg, snickering when he huffed out in slight pain.

"I know I deserve it, but you have to stop. I could snap your tiny little neck with two fingers." He narrowed his eyes down at her and she narrowed them back, though her look was filled with heaps more rage, he'd hurt her more. That was a fact.

"Touch her and I'll make sure I aim for your heart next time." Stefan warned, referencing to the night before where he staked Damon in the stomach and he pointed a threatening finger towards him yet his expression was calm, psychopathic.

"Oh, whatever." Damon rolled his eyes, sipping on the semi—warm coffee as a beep of a car horn sounded in all three of their ears, informing them that Matt was there.

"I gotta go." Brooke smiled over at Stefan, who grinned back in response, watching her rush out of the room, the sound of her light footsteps thudding against the staircase before the front door opened and closed.

"That girl has spite for someone so short. Damn." Damon smirked, swirling around to snoop through his brother's bookcase, setting the cup of coffee down on a nightstand, "And the threat? Wow, Stefan, I didn't know you had a thing for annoying little bitches."

"If anybody's an annoying little bitch, it's you." Stefan muttered, rolling his eyes as he pulled his leather jacket on, feeling a buzz from his back jeans pocket but he didn't check the notification, knowing it was Elena.

"Ouch, I'm defeated." Damon replied sarcastically, whizzing back around to face his little brother with a guilty look, "I got the town off our back. It was for the greater good. But I'm sorry. And to prove it, I'm not gonna be mean to Brooke for at least a... week, I won't retaliate, I'll be nice."

Stefan strolled up to him, an irritated expression smacked on his face, "Kill another one of my best—friends and I won't forgive you next time." He brushed past his brother, heading out of the room, leaving Damon with his thoughts.

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"YOU SLEPT WITH CARE BEAR?" Brooke's jaw was agape, shock overtaking her soft features as she stared at Matt Donovan, who rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his head in disbelief.

"No, I didn't sleep with her. I just... comforted her." He shrugged, acting as if it was the most simple situation in the entire world but Brooke felt the opposite, her eyes wide with shock.

"Matty slept with Care Bear." She trailed off, staring out her window in confusion, her eyebrows knitted together for a short moment before she smiled, happy for her friends.

"For the last time, I didn't sleep with her." He replied, now annoyed yet still playful in a way.

"But you snuck out in the middle of the night." She pointed out, leaning her head back on the head as she watched his drive.

"Yeah, so that her Mom, the Sheriff, didn't catch us cuddling." Matt clarified, a pointed look on his face and Brooke chuckled, finding it hilarious that she managed to get him so rattled over something so ridiculous, "What? She would've shot me!"

His words made Brooke freeze in place, her smile immediately dropping as pain shot through her body again, only this time it wasn't real yet it felt like it. It felt like she was being pierced with large needles in her stomach continuously, a never—ending pain until the vehicle coming to a halt caused her pain to stop.

"Hey, I'm sorry. Are you okay? Brooke?" Matt placed his cold hand on her shoulder, a shiver running up Brooke's spine at the sudden change in temperate and she nodded, brushing some of her hair behind her ear.

"I'm fine, just a tad traumatised." She attempted to joke and a grin spread across Matt's lips, shaking his head in playful disbelief.

"A tad?" He asked rhetorically and a snort escaped Brooke, her ptsd long gone as Matt pulled away from the pathway, back onto the road towards the school.

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IN HISTORY, Brooke quickly noticed that two of her friends weren't there — Stefan and Bonnie, the two were running late, which was unusual but she brushed it aside nonetheless. Mr. Tanner was dead, thanks to Damon, so it would be no surprise to anyone if they had a brand new face teaching them and Brooke could only hope they weren't as much as an ass as Tanner was.

Brooke strolled into the classroom, taking a seat beside Elena with furrowed brows but before she could ask any questions about their friends, Elena beat her to the pulp with a different topic, "Why are you at school? Shouldn't you be recovering?"

"I have recovered, I'm fine." Brooke shrugged, tapping her fingers on the books she placed on the desk in front of her and the bell rang, Bonnie rushing in shortly after with her own books hugged to her chest, an exhausted expression on her face.

"Good morning, everyone." A dark—haired man walked into directly after Bonnie, and Brooke could only assume he was the new teacher yet she couldn't care less about him, spinning around in her seat to speak to her friend, "Alrighty..."

"Are you okay?" Brooke whispered to the brown—eyed girl, who shrugged, visibly miserable. She reached out her hand, placing it on top of Bonnie's, rubbing the back of her hand comfortingly when a cleared throat caught her attention. She turned her head to the teacher, her hand still clutched onto Bonnies and the man stepped aside, shaking his hands towards the name he'd written on the board reading 'ALARIC SALTZMAN' in terrible handwriting.

"I'm Alaric Saltzman, a little bit of a handful and I'm far from professional, so call me Ric if it's too tough to pronounce." He smiled brightly towards all of the student, spinning a rather bulky ring on his middle finger out of habit, "Saltzman is of German origin, as much as I don't look it. My family immigrated here in 1755 to Texas. I, however, was born and raised in Boston. Now, the name Alaric belongs to a very dead great—grandfather I will never be able to thank enough."

"Get to the point, Ricky." Brooke mumbled jokingly with a smirk playing on her lips and surprisingly, he heard her words, a chuckle escaping him.

"I'm your new history teacher, nice to meet you all." He nodded at them all, Brooke in particular. He was never one for smart—mouthed students but she had a spirit he couldn't ignore, a very familiar spirit. She'd spoken all of five words, yet her use of a sudden nickname and her humorous nature gave him a sense of nostalgia he'd never expected to experience in Mystic Falls.

She reminded him all too much of a woman in his past...

Mary Elliot.

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