Waking up chilly was the worst. Being in bed should have allowed her to be in a cocoon of warmth, even if her face was cold the rest of her body should be toasty. But not today. Light was pressing against her eyelids, and it appeared that she had managed to toss out of most of her blankets over the course of the night.

Again.

Oh, she was so not looking forward to finding out how much her hair had been mussed up from a night of poor sleep and stranger dreams. All that Cynthia could really remember was the image of a metal cage closing down on her, adrenaline, and a murmuring about fraulein.Shaking off the already fragmented memory, Cynthia kicked the knotted bed sheets off of her. If she was going to be awake, then she might as well get up and make tea.

The girl was halfway out of bed, one leg dangling over the side and her right hand curling into a pillow for support, when she froze. Her brain had finally caught up enough to register that the setting was unfamiliar. More to the point, her body wasn't quite right either. Accustomed to pink undertones and Irish paleness, the healthy looking tan that crossed her limbs and stomach was horribly wrong.

Her eyes flitted around the room, cataloging things clinically. The furniture was nice, borderline antique but not in the style of her parents' furniture, or her grandmother's. Unless her parents had changed their attitudes drastically in the past few years that they had been out of contact, then this wasn't their home.

And let's face it, a college dropout like her didn't exactly have the funds to afford even renting this room alone. Which, given all of the clothes and belongings she could see looked distinctly feminine, alone was precisely what she was.

This had better just be another dream. It had happened before, she reminded herself as she finally stood up. Pinching herself hard, Cynthia stared at her wrist critically. She had felt that, which just meant this dream was being obnoxiously clever. Reality itself could be considered a figment of the imagination after all.

Or at least, it could be according to TV shows and the occasional (questionable) evolutionary psychologist. Cynthia had read a theory once that the reason humans get so attached to TV characters and celebrities is that to a Stone Age era mind, any face we saw so frequently without being attacked must be friendly. Of course, it could just be fun wish fulfillment and curiousity, but who was she to say?

Seeing as the room was handily equipped with a mirror, Cynthia decided to see what body she was dreaming herself into this time. She could already tell that she was shorter than normal – the bed practically came up to her hips and it wasn't that tall – but too much else was a mystery.

Cynthia stepped up to – her? Her dream self's? Her dream self's kidnapper's? - the dresser and peered at her reflection. She wasn't entirely disappointed with her mind's creativity, but petite brunette was rather bland. Her skin was mostly clear, which was a blessing, but her face also looked rather young. The girl tugged at her hair, surprised to find it more wavy than the curly she was accustomed to and very much preferred.

General wisdom held that those with straight hair wanted curls, and those with curls want straight hair. General wisdom could go dunk itself. Cynthia was more than happy with her curls, thank you very much. The shoulder length waves she had in her dream body were tolerable, she supposed. Moreso given she didn't really need to look at herself too much. After a beat, she noticed another glaring difference, leaning close enough to the mirror that she might have fallen in to verify that, yes, she had at least given herself a body that did not need glasses or contacts. Brown eyes with a ring of gray was all that looked back at her, not a hint of forgotten contact blue in sight.

Freaking SCORE!

Humming now, Cynthia flounced over to the room's closet. Her dreams – the ones she remembered, anyway – often played out like stories. Sometimes they flowed together, as tonight's seemed to be that story was, she did not intend to find out dressed in just a night shirt. Even if it was comfortable. And even if this closet was stocked with Happy Bunny shirts and far too much black.

Ooooh! Lace gloves! She took back her complaint. Dream!Cynthia could be a goth. With brown hair. And little to no make up skills. Dream!Cynthia would be a terrible goth. She'd just have to go for a 'gives no fucks' attitude.

Meh, whatever. Worrying about clothes was so high school, anyway.

Kitted out in a black lace skirt with a shirt that happily printed 'I am Tiger, Hear me Roar' with a purplish tiger that reminded Cynthia of Cheshire, the girl finally left her dream room. Unless she was much mistaken, it was too warm for a jacket. Never mind that she was wearing the pretty elbow length gloves. They were lace. It so didn't count. It was time to see what this dream was about!

Cynthia skipped through an empty house, pausing only to lace up the first pair of sneakers that fit her. She thought about poking around and seeing if there were photos to give her a sneak peek or a note, but in the end, she decided against it. Her dream didn't need to give her foreshadowing. She'd rather dive straight into the heart of things.

Now that she was no longer in danger of walking outdoors shoeless – and thus turning tonight into a very uncomfortable predicament where try as she might, she couldn't just will shoes on – Cynthia stepped out into dusk. There was a crowd out tonight, clumps of people passing by and all headed the same direction. Seeing nothing better to do, Cynthia followed along. She was happy enough to mill through the crowd.

A slight disquiet had bubbled up, but she wasn't able to pin it down until she actually saw the town square. Was she in Covington? Really? After the horror of her last visit, her mind decided she should come back? Dick move, limbic system and hypothalamus and whatever else. Dick move. The fact the crowd was now all holding candles inside cups to catch the wax barely merited a blink. The comet visible in the sky when she never got to see cool sky things because it always happened at 4:58 in the morning and wasn't even visible from her home? That brought her feet to a stop.

Then, of course, Cynthia just had to see the sign for the Mystic Grill.

Ten points from Gryffindor. Not Covington then, she was dreaming about one of the shows her dad and sister watched. One of the many that Tumblr seemed to be obsessed with too, come to think of it. How disappointing, to dream about vampires and not even her favorite sort.

Well, you can't win everything.

Leaving the crowd, because as pretty as the traveling ball of ice was it wasn't plot material, Cynthia decided to check out one of the few restaurants known to be in town. The Grill had a small clientele currently. A few faces at the pool table, some at the bar, and the rest scattered at booths and tables. The brunette took her time to walk the full floor.

"I know you."

And there she went, walking into a conversation. Or at least the start of one. Deciding she wouldn't have heard it if it wasn't important, Cynthia tracked the voice to a dirty blonde girl with curls that she wanted back and an unmistakeable blue eyed casanova.

"Well, that's unfortunate," Damon had replied. Cynthia could swear that he was amused. Maybe that was just her.

"Do you only accept one fan girl at a time, or are we taking turns?" She chirped as the other girl stepped forward towards her eventual murderer. This had to be the Donovan girl, seeing as she had a bandage on her neck and there was a comet overhead. Vicki and Caroline were the two girls that Damon fed on and kept alive, that she had a chance of recognizing anyway. And Caroline definitely only needed scarves, not stitches or bandaging like this girl had.

Just like that, two sets of eyes had swiveled to her. Cynthia grinned and waved. Antagonize a dangerous predator, check. No one could top her bucket list. No sirree.

"And who might you be?" Damon asked, a vaguely polite smile on his face. From memory, Cynthia was pretty sure he wasn't unnecessarily cruel except when hunting. But then again, who knew how accurate her memory of a show she hadn't seen in years was.

At the same time, Vicki had fixed her with a disbelieving stare. "Cynthia?"

Ooookay, awks.

"Look," she whispered, twirling to stand next to Damon. "She knows me too. Should we be worried?"

Cynthia knows she saw a smile this time, but she isn't surprised when the vampire vanishes shortly after Vicki does. He had a younger brother to antagonize. And she, come to think of it, had a phone to find. Also, a newspaper would be great. Was she actually dreaming herself into 2009? Or was she awesome enough to ignore that and still keep her iPhone?

Scratch that. Just like with missing shoes, once she noticed something wasn't right it was fixed that way.

Although, come to think of it, what good was a phone when she had no idea who to call? Speed dials? Those were a thing, so possibly. If nothing else, the cops.

Cynthia snorted at that though. 'Yes, hello officer. I antagonized a vampire, and now I'm pretty sure I'm on his menu for tonight. Yes. No, I swear I'm not high.' Yeah, that'd go over real well. Not that dying here would be the worst necessarily, given that she'd either wake up or find herself in a different scenario. There was a significant difference between 'not the worst' and 'something to actively seek' that Cynthia intended to at least pretend to respect though.

Wait.

She hadn't paid a lick of attention to the route she'd taken here. Given that her sense of direction was almost invariably wrong, and she didn't trust Mystic Falls to make it magically better, Cynthia re-evaluated her plans.

Could she find the boarding house and pester the uncle or whatever vampire was there? Not without GPS or a Scooby to follow.

Well, Vicki (?) Donovan knew who she was. So odds were Matt, Jeremy, or Tyler would, right? Cynthia just needed to find a Donovan or a Jeremy, and then she could figure out what her role here was. At least her name hadn't changed. Given how realistic things were, having to answer to a new one would be aggravating.

Now, if she were a fictional character from a teen drama, where would she be hiding on a night like this?

Answer. In the middle of trouble. Cynthia just needed to look for distressed people. Or pink hair and leather jackets, that's also a main character thing, right?

She should so dye her hair pink.

No, focus. One thing at a time, or she'd never get anything done and just be stuck in the town square.

It took a pleasantly short time to find a bubble of drama, no more than ten or so minutes. Apparently a 'Vicki' had been missing and a 'Stefan' had found her.

Double the awkwardness. Er, or should she even be feeling guilt for what happened in a dream based on a tv show based on a book? Surely it was like telephone at this point?

Anyway, being guilty for what happened in a dream was boring.

Flouncing forward – it was so awesome to finally feel comfortable in skirts, thank you college! - Cynthia greeted the broody vampire and blue eyed blonde boy who had just been looking after his sister.

"Matty! Stefan, we meet at last."

Cynthia was going to ignore all the dark questions about things she couldn't control for now. No matter how obnoxious they were.

"Cyn... did you just call me Matty?"

The brunette shrugged. Was she not supposed to? Vicki only thing? Oh well.

"Hi," Stefan, King of Calm Politeness, said softly as if she was not intruding on his brooding time. "I don't believe we've met."

Seriously, Stefan was so polite Cynthia wondered if he had any acting work in his resume. You can keep take the Southern gentleman from his humanity, but you can't take away his manners. The perpetual seventeen year old had held out his hand towards her.

Cynthia accepted his hand, quickling lifting it to playfully brush a kiss across his knuckles as if he were the fair damsel. "I am not," she retorted playfully. "But it is a pleasure to meet you all the same, Mr. Salvatore. I see good looks run in the family."

Yes, she was very much going to enjoy shocking Stefan while she could. He was currently the 'safe' brother. Certainly one she didn't worry about compelling her. That really did seem to take more energy than the Cullen lite diet he was on provided.

Matt was too nice of a kid to put up with her rudeness (thankfully). Since she wasn't doing the job, he took it upon himself to introduce the girl.

"Stefan, this is Cynthia Gilbert. Elena's twin sister. I guess you already know who Stefan is."

Eyes widening, Cynthia did her best to pretend she was not surprised by this. It wasn't like they looked that much alike, aside from their heights. Ugh, why couldn't she be twins with Moose or something?Staring like a deer in headlights wasn't helping her cause much though, so she tacked on, "And still not high!"

"I didn't know Elena was a twin."

Gosh, Stefan, so freaking calm. Could she borrow his zen? Or would that dull her awake. Well, at least she was still shocking him a little. The vampire's pupils had definitely expanded a little too.

"Neither did I," Cynthia told him cheerfully, twirling again to enjoy her skirt and ignoring the bewildered look Matt was giving her. What was with the Donovan's looking shocked by her? Was she not ever suppose to leave the house? Did they have some sort of grudge?

"Hey Cyndy," stop using that name. "Are you gonna come to school tomorrow?"

Ohhhhh, heck no. She was Elena's twin? That made her a high schooler. Freaking seriously!? Cynthia had one degree and had dropped out of another program, and now she had to account for time in this strangely realistic space for high school?

All she could muster was disgust, but Cynthia dredged up a placid smile. "If I must."

"Alright," Matt said slowly. "I'll see you tomorrow then, I guess. I need to look after Vic."

Cynthia followed Matt's gaze through the Grill's front window and nodded in what she hoped was understanding. New face. She needed to break it in if she was going to communicate nonverbally. Matt had just excused himself and left anyway, so too bad if not.

"Speaking of sisters," Reluctant vampire boy was still around. "You wouldn't happen to know where Elena is, would you?"

He was going to ignore all her attempts at shock value in favor of the main character, wasn't he?

"If I know Elena," which she didn't exactly, "then I would hazard she is either home or headed to visit her beau."

Casually leaving off the fact said beau was him, because Stefan should really know if he wanted to date her not sister.

"Things like comets are romantic and excite her writer heart," Cynthia continued. "Or, y'know, you could ask the dream team of Forbes and Bennett."

Yes, she did like addressing people by their last names. Sue her.

Just as the clever idea of asking Stefan to take her home surfaced, he had vanished, presumably to ask said dream team. It wasn't her fault that Elena didn't talk about her awesome not twin. No need to treat her all suspicious-y. Mystic Falls' troubles were only just beginning, but they had nothing to do with her.

Dude, middle of a conversation. Leaving like that is sooo not cool or attractive. Just you wait until Elena finds out you ditched her favorite not twin. She'd text her now, except for that minor not sure where the house is problem.

Deciding to not let Stefan stop her, Cynthia started skipping down the street. As long as she didn't get eaten alive by bugs, she was good really. Maybe she'd find the house by accident. The brunette froze mid skip, landing gracelessly much to the complaint of her left ankle. But there had been movement just behind her. When Cynthia turned to look, there was no one there.

The further down the street she went, the closer and heavier the gaze on the back of her neck felt, until finally she pivoted instead of continuing to speed up.

An empty street lit by lamps and lined by parked cars was all that greeted her. Cynthia stood that way for a while, crossing her arms as she glared at her invisible shadow before finally turning back around. And promptly choking on air, because Damon had apparently made it his mission to get up into her personal space.

If she was going to die in this dream, at least her murderer was pretty.

That didn't make the squeak any less embarrassing, of course, or the way she knew her pulse had skyrocketed.

"Whoa, you're a wizard." Cynthia pressed a hand to her chest, trying to control her heart and breathing a bit. "Isn't apparition supposed to make sound? You came out of nowhere, I swear. I... sorry. Babbling."

Never mind she'd been facing away so long he could have walked normally up behind her. Logic has no place here.

"I didn't mean to scare you." Damon's smile was pure darkness.

Cynthia almost giggled. Sure he didn't. "Bit of a shame, that. You'd be good at it." She kept eye contact with him, feeling very much like he was an Angel she couldn't lose track of. (Blink and you're dead.) "So, does this mean it's my turn to fangirl over you? Orrrr was there something else I can help you with? I can offer dinner, but that's about it on short notice. Especially since our siblings are proooobably going to be sucking each other's faces. Nowhere is safe."

Yes, yes she was going to use his indulgence with her chatter boxing to give him a reason not to kill her immediately. Even as she somewhat offered to be a blood bag. Because, let's face it, letting people be killed or brainwashed or whatever when she was here and didn't really mind... that didn't sit well. Even if this version of vampire made feeding look almost entirely unpleasant, Cynthia was pretty sure he didn't have to maul her. Really, it was more the 'make it so easy to be compelled' part that wigged the girl out.

That and the way Damon just stared at her, willing her to keep talking and spill all her secrets.

"Ah, the lovely Elena. The awkward exes conversation must have gone well then."

He was still standing in front of her, and Cynthia wondered if he was trying to keep her in place with the unspoken force field of vampire speed. Or he just liked looking 'unintentionally' intimidating.

Tucking a lock of wavy hair behind her ear, Cynthia grinned up at him as if he was not potentially planning on ripping out her throat. "So, what do you say? Take me home and bond over broody siblings. I'm pretty sure I can make decent cookies if nothing else. Or would us hanging out be too weird this soon? It's only been… what, two days or something?"

The monster in front of her smiled with wicked charm as he offered me an arm, calculations flitting and folding away quickly in his eyes.

"You drive a hard bargain, Miss Gilbert." Heh, wonder when he'd ask/learn/use her first name. "But I think you can convince me."

"Excellent." Because she didn't have a freaking clue. Pretty stalker crow boy was actually not vanishing, this was fantastic. Even if her eyes were starting to water from not blinking. "Not too weird, then? Or is this part where I end up dead in an alley for trusting a stranger?" Cynthia's voice was teasing, even if she was a bit serious. "You know, like in the horror films?"

Not the news. The news was more bombings and gun shootings. Although she supposed in Mystic Falls, Damon's animal attacks genuinely were the headlines.

Small town life was going to be weird to get accustomed to. Mostly, she'd lived in the suburbs of larger cities. A few college towns. Even when she lived in areas people rarely moved in or out of, she had always been on the edge of something larger. Never part of something with so much town involvement as she'd even seen tonight with the comet. Much less a town pageant and whatever else she'd long forgotten from this show.

"Now why would you end up dead? I believe you promised me dessert."

Cynthia snorted, wondering how many meanings were behind that statement.

"It will be hilarious to see Elena's reaction," Cynthia grinned instead of directly replying. "Apparently she didn't mention me once in her five hour or whatever conversation with your little brother. I must be chopped liver."

"Nothing wrong with liver if you know how to prepare it well."

Cynthia stuck out her tongue in a decidedly childish way "What, with onions? Nah, it's just Elena obsesses so much over Jer and now Stefan. 'Dear Diary, today I will pursue wanna be Edward'," she mocked, ignoring the fact she had no idea when Damon learned about glitterpires. She could remember him having a line about Eddie boy being whipped, and maybe Caroline explaining? But meh. Making references people didn't understand wasn't entirely new. And who was to say it wouldn't still happen? All Cynthia could really say was that she had Damon's attention for now.

Presumably, that was what she wanted. No time for regrets. Because one thing was for sure, if she was going to play with the Salvatore boys and the Gilberts, the last thing Cynthia planned to do was stick to the script.

A/N: Welcome to my little writing experiment. I'm aiming for this to be fun above all. It's really been way too long since I've written. After coming across a few SI/OC insert fics, I decided to dabble with it myself. Also, in case it wasn't obvious, the bolded dialogue was straight from the episode unaltered. I don't intend for there to be much of this. We'll be sticking close-ish to the TVD plotline at first, but Cynthia (and I) both don't want to regurgitate the same old story.

This story is unbetaed. Fair warning for those who choose to continue. This chapter is fairly short, but each chapter hereafter should get progressively longer. I'm currently averaging around 6 thousand words, but this may increase over time.