Author's Note:

Hey guys! This is the sequel to Who Said Anything About Love. If you haven't read that, you should read it first.

Hope you guys enjoy! It's only the Prologue, so it's shorter, but if you guys review, I'll be sure to have the next chapter out soon... And it will be long, too...

One Month Later:

It's the little choices that ultimately screw people over.

She was driving back to her apartment at two o'clock in the morning, trying her hardest not to fall asleep at the wheel. It had been a long day working on her investigation, and after fourteen hours of pouring all of her energy into reading the dusty tomes with the Doctor, she needed a good night's rest. Thankfully her Chicago apartment had wooden shutters over the windows to allow her to sleep peacefully well into the afternoon, a new habit she'd developed since she started living in the outskirts of the city.

The part of the city she lived in housed mostly retired couples that went to bed early, so it was surprising to see the girl sitting on the side of the road at that time. A part of her wanted to keep driving so she could get home and go to sleep, but she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep with herself just leaving the girl there. So, heaving a sigh, she slowed down the car and pulled over in front of her.

"Are you alright?" she called, leaning towards the open passenger window. The girl looked up with surprise, but didn't respond. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks were red as if she'd been crying, her green irises standing out brightly against the lightly tanned skin of her face. She gave her a suspicious look and stood up, grabbing a worn backpack that was on the sidewalk next to her.

"Fine," she answered shortly, walking in the opposite direction.

"Hey, wait!" she called, putting the car into reverse. "What's your name?"

"None of your business, lady," the girl shot back rudely, quickening her pace.

"'Lady'?" she repeated disbelievingly. Shaking her head, she parked the car and got out. "Hey, kid!"

"What?" the girl exclaimed exasperatedly. It was everything to not go over and beat the attitude out of the girl.

"Do you even know where you're going?" she asked doubtfully. The girl rolled her eyes.

"The bus station," the girl answered, if only to shut her up. "I'm going to stay with family."

"And what were you doing sitting on the side of the road like some hoodlum?" she pressed. The girl all but killed her with her glare.

"I was resting for a second! Geez lady, back off!"

The girl shook her head and turned around again, this time with more purpose. She couldn't be older than eighteen, most likely a runaway living on the street. Her dust-covered backpack, tattered sneakers and uneven hair cut only strengthened the possibility. She had all but decided to wash her hands of responsibility and leave the girl alone when she saw it: a silver cross hanging from her neck.

At that point, she gave up any and all hope of getting back home.

"Look, the name's Elizabeth," she said tiredly, holding up her hands in a gesture of peace. "How about I at least give you a lift?"

That, finally, seemed to spark a less hostile reaction from the girl. The girl looked even more tired than Elizabeth felt, and when she looked back at her, there was still suspicion in her eyes, but it was backed with hopefulness, too. "It's only ten minutes away," she said carefully, offering Elizabeth an out. Elizabeth smiled and nodded at the car.

"I'll get you there in four."

Elizabeth was surprised that the girl didn't smell. From her experiences with the homeless, they normally smelled. The runaway sat silently in her seat, hands tightly clasped in her lap and eyes glued to the window. Hoping to break the tension, Elizabeth turned on the radio to a random station. The girl looked at the radio curiously, then at Elizabeth.

"Frank Sinatra fan?" she asked. Elizabeth nodded, though she had no idea who the girl was talking about. There were too many music icons for her to keep track of. "Do you know who he is?" the girl asked, catching on to her lie.

"How about you tell me your name?" she suggested, not wanting to give away her lack of musical knowledge. The girl looked out the window again. Feeling awkward, she leaned towards idle conversation tactics that Elijah and the Doctor had taught her. "That's a nice necklace you have. Where did you-?"

"No offense, but you remind me of somebody I don't trust," she said flatly, not bothering to hide the resentment. Elizabeth raised her brows, surprised by how straightforward the girl was. "She didn't use glasses, though."

Elizabeth self-consciously adjusted her wire-framed glasses on her nose, still not used to the lenses in front of her green eyes. "Why do I remind you of her?" she asked, not certain she wanted to know the answer. The girl shrugged.

"She didn't know when to take a hint, either." If anything could have closed the topic, it was that. "Can you tell me why you're giving me a ride?" she asked after a moment of tense silence. "I haven't been at all nice to you, and you're clearly tired from..." She trailed off, taking in Elizabeth's ankle-length skirt and t-shirt with a calculating eye. "... Well, from doing whatever it is that hippies do."

"I'm not a hippie." That image she was familiar with, and she most certainly did not resemble one of those individuals. She simply couldn't bring herself to use jeans like most of the women of the century. The girl shrugged.

"Either way, why?"

"Would you believe me if I told you that you remind me of someone?" she asked honestly. The girl lowered her face and shook her head. Sensing that she'd gotten past the girl's defenses, she went on. "You remind me of my brother. He has green eyes, and you both have the same color hair. He went missing recently, and it hasn't been easy."

"I know what you mean," the girl whispered, barely loud enough for Elizabeth to hear. Catching Elizabeth's questioning look, she grudgingly elaborated. "Uncle. Dead."

"Got it."

The bus station came into sight, and she heard the girl breathe a sigh of relief. Elizabeth pulled up in front of the station and parked the car. "Do you have enough to pay for your ticket?" she asked. Elijah made sure her bank account was taken care of, so she had no qualm with giving the girl some money to help her get home. The girl shook her head.

"Thanks, but I've got it," she assured her, picking up her backpack and opening the door. "Thanks for the ride. Next time I see you on the side of the road, I'll be sure to give you a lift."

"Sounds like a plan," Elizabeth agreed, happy that she'd gotten the girl to make a joke. "Take care of yourself." The girl closed the door and stopped, deliberating something. After a minute, she lowered her head so that she could see Elizabeth and gave her a half-smile.

"The name's Kayla," she said, extending her hand. Elizabeth put her hand in hers and shook it politely. "Kayla Knight."

And just like that, she froze. Kayla gave her an even stare as she pulled her hand out of Elizabeth's suddenly tight grip and stepped back, clearly aware that her name had had some sort of effect on her. Elizabeth ran her eyes over the girl, searching for some indication that the impossible was true, but it couldn't be. She had green eyes, for one, and she was almost as tan as Elizabeth herself was. Her badly-cut hair just reached past her shoulders, and it was brown, not jet black...!

"K-Kayla?" Elizabeth repeated, stammering from shock. "Is that short for anything?" Kayla smiled slowly and stepped away.

"You ask too many questions," Kayla stated, shaking her head. "Has anyone ever told you that?" Elizabeth could only see the glinting of the girl's silver cross before a bus stopped in front of her, blocking her from view. She waited for the bus to move, but when it did, all she was faced with was an empty station, and left with more questions than answers.

He'd been avoiding coffee shops for the past month and a half, but as three o' clock rolled around and Alaric wasn't any closer to choosing a car than he'd been when they'd arrived, Damon would have done anything for a distraction. So, he'd settled with crossing the street to purchase a coffee that would do no more than make him less cold to the touch for when he decided to flirt with the receptionist at the car dealership.

The shop was quaint with cushioned seats and wooden tables organized into small alcoves, giving the whole place a cozy feel. A section of the bar had stools pushed up against it, so, spotting a pretty blonde sitting at the bar with a frozen coffee, he put on his standard game face and made his way to sit next to her.

He'd barely sat himself on the stool next to her when she held up a hand, stopping him. "Don't even think about it," she warned, turning to give him an irritated glance. "The name's Sydney. I was Benji's girlfriend. Piss off."

He could only gape at her before sitting down with an embarrassed chuckle. "Okay then, I can take a hint," he surrendered, holding up his hands. Even so, she got to her feet. "Have we met before? He never mentioned having a-"

"I've heard enough to not want to hear you speak anymore," she interrupted, picking up her purse. She turned to the girl who was sitting next to her. "So, see you in an hour, Kayla?"

"Sure thing. Thanks, Sydney."

The name had him looking at the girl with wide, unbelieving eyes. Surely enough, the girl couldn't have looked more different from his Mikaela/Kaela with the pale skin and long, black hair. Sydney's friend was slightly darker than Mikaela had been and she had bright green eyes, making her better resemble Sydney's ex-boyfriend, Benji, than the Kaela he had been in love with. Even so, there was something eerily familiar about her.

The girl kept her eyes focused on her hot coffee and didn't acknowledge him as he sat down in the stool Sydney had abandoned. "Nice haircut," he commented. Her hair was unevenly chopped as if she'd cut it herself, with a kitchen knife, and without a mirror in a windy place. She rolled her eyes at his attempt at a joke.

"Go to hell," she muttered. She was avoiding looking at him, which, of course, had to mean she was ridiculously attracted to him. Her insult did nothing to discourage him.

"So, Kayla," he began, smiling friendlily at her. "You live here in Richmond?"

"Passing through," she answered shortly. She was clearly trying to make him feel unwelcome, but he'd already been brushed off by one woman, and wasn't going to be denied at least a simple conversation. Cheating with his vampire abilities, he sniffed and smiled.

"A large espresso," he noted, referring to the coffee she was drinking. "Somebody likes 'em strong."

She froze for a second and looked at him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "...Yeah. Coffee," she agreed slowly. "Everything else can be whatever the hell it wants to be."

A red flag went off in his head as her words jogged a memory of the last time he'd been in a coffee shop. The girl he'd spoken to had called herself Caroline, come back to life after he'd killed her in the parking lot, and then made him fall in love with her, only to go ahead and die after saving him from a fiery death. Kayla stared evenly at him as she stepped off of her stool, picking up a bag from the floor.

"I'll see you around, Damon."

It wasn't until she was out of the shop and he'd been served a coffee that he realized he hadn't introduced himself to her.

"Babe, I had a vision."

"No," she said sarcastically. "One of the most powerful psychics in the world, and you had a vision? Someone call the FBI."

"It's important."

"Uh huh..."

Diane shrieked as Joseph playfully bit her side, demanding that her attention be directed at him instead of the latest medical journal. "Joseph, stop it!" she exclaimed, swatting at him with the journal. After a couple of swats he released her and dropped back onto his side of the bed in a huff. She opened the journal with exaggerated flourish, smiling victoriously.

"Don't act so smug."

"Don't be glum."

"Spoil sport," he grumbled. She groaned and dropped the journal on the bedside table, knowing he wasn't going to leave her be.

"What did you see?" she asked tiredly. He crossed his arms and looked away, ignoring her. She groaned, but smiled as she crawled over to him, nuzzling his neck. "Come on, Joseph. Tell me."

"I'm not sure you're interested," he said, pretending to be offended. She kissed his neck and giggled when he groaned. "Woman, you'll be the end of me."

"Do I win?"

He rolled her over with a grin. "Fine," he surrendered. "I suppose I could let you in on the news..." She looked at him expectantly, and his playful smile melted into a genuine one. "I'm so happy you burned the divorce papers in my face."

It was her turn to smile as she locked her hands behind his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. "Being without you for so long helped me realize you were being dumb," she reasoned, shrugging a shoulder. "You were considering leaving, and look: you went and got yourself stuck in a coma for almost a year."

"What would I do without your charm and sensitivity?"

She smiled and ran a hand over his cheek lovingly. His jet colored hair had been shaved into a military buzz cut after having grown out so long during the coma. His dark eyes still shined the way they always had, and though he looked older after all that he'd been through, his smile made her feel as young as ever.

He pecked her lips softly and rested his forehead against hers. "Well, if you must know, there's a surprise on our doorstep," he said conspiratorially. She raised her thin blonde brows.

"Is there?" She looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table and gave him a doubtful look. "At four o'clock in the morning?" He nodded.

"Yup. You'll believe me in..." He looked at the clock on the wall and held up a finger. "Three, two, one..."

The doorbell ringing earned him a gratifyingly surprised look from his wife. "You're good," she praised as he laid down again. "You want to get that?"

He considered it for a second and shook his head. "You get it. I want to bask in the feeling of having the house to ourselves for loud sex for a couple more seconds." She shook her head, not even bothering to question what he meant as she wrapped herself in a robe.

"If I get robbed, I'm blaming you," she informed him. He barked a laugh.

"Whoever would dare try and rob our house would be very stupid," he reasoned. "The house of a witch and a psychic? Not a smart move." She shrugged a shoulder.

"You're probably right."

The doorbell rang again and she briskly made her way to the front door. When she pulled it open, she frowned in confusion. She'd been secretly hoping that Benji would be standing at the door, and even so had expected it to be one of the Salvatore's or Alaric. But she was fairly certain that she'd never seen the girl standing on the doorstep before.

She had a surfer tan and bright green eyes framed by thick bangs, reminding Diane distantly of Benji. Her smooth hair was a rich brown color and hung just past her shoulders in a way that made it look like it had been freshly cut. Her clothes were tattered and covered in dust as if she'd walked along a dirt road all day, but that didn't seem to make much sense. The girl looked at her with tear-filled eyes and dropped her backpack on the floor.

"Sorry I'm late," she said quietly, looking down at the floor as she fought back the urge to cry. "It... was hard, coming back after everything." Diane frowned and looked down at the bag, swearing there was something familiar about it. It was just a normal black backpack, save for the Richmond EMT patch ironed on.

EMT...

She looked at the girl more carefully. The shape of her face, her height, her body... It couldn't be. The silver cross hanging at the girl's neck sparkled in the light, and with a gasp, she looked at her again, covering her mouth. It didn't make sense, she didn't even look like her, and how could-?

A sob broke free from her and she gripped the door frame as tears rolled down the girl's face, confirming what she was too scared to dare hope was true. "No, it can't be," Diane choked out, shaking her head. The girl nodded, stepped forward with outstretched arms and held the woman tightly. Diane started to shake, but wrapped her arms around the girl for dear life.

Joseph emerged from the hall then, smiling warmly as the girl buried her nose in the doctor's hair and whispered what the woman had been longing to hear with every fiber in her being, more than anything in her whole life.

"I'm home, Mom."

Post-Chapter Note:

What happened will be explained in the next chapter, promise ;)

There's a reason she acted the way she did with Damon- what do you think?

And yes, the Elizabeth in the beginning is Elizabeth Knight.

Are you guys excited :D? I am! Please review with your input!