———

"If it is true that there are as many minds as there are heads, then there are as many kinds of love as there are hearts."

—Leo Tolstoy

———

Chapter Two:

Ignorance Is Bliss

———

Have you ever been knocked out?

It's a hell of a sensation when it begins, and when it ends.

In fact, I can recall a handful of times where I've been put out like a light, and let me tell you— it's not something you want to experience first hand.

It's not an enjoyable sensation to wake up in pain.

This is what I began to recall as the first vestiges of consciousness started to ebb in from the corners of the darkness. The disorientation is always similar when you wake up. My body subconsciously clenches my teeth in preparation for an explosion of pain that it expects to hit my brain at any moment— only for it not to come.

Instead, I wake up slowly, as if I had awakened from a deep sleep in my own bed.

In fact, the realization that the stiff boarding underneath my back is not my queen size mattress is even more jarring than the sensation of waking up from such a deep sleep.

Dizzily sitting up in a bout of panic, my eyes are still not adjusted to the 'fuzzy-everything' brown room. Broadly overestimating my poorly maintained body's ability to maintain core strength at the moment, I collapse back over on my side, landing on something firm, but, definitely not wood.

Lifting my face off of the warm surface, my eyes struggle to focus as I look to my right and see the dream boy's unconscious face. I've somehow managed to drape myself over his torso in my haze.

Awareness lights my brain like a firecracker.

I went to find the dream boy.

I found the dream boy.

The dream boy was a vampire.

The woman.

Oh, fuck.

While I'm fully awake now and panicking at why the hell I'm not dead, my body is just as sluggish as before; me reaching up to slap Stefan awake—only to lightly pat his face as the blurry room continues to spin.

"S-Stefan," I murmur through fuzzy lips, trying to call out to him.

Feeling a slight shift under me, I can't tell for sure if he's beginning to stir or if I'm slipping off of him, my arms feeling tingly and numb. My vision starts to expand and shrink between a fish-eye lens and a normal perspective— barely able to focus my vision on his face as my head slumps tiredly once again back onto his torso.

Stefan's forest green eyes flutter open, and within this weird blur, the different shades of green in them warp like a kaleidoscope.

It's so pretty it makes me want to cry.

Is this what it's like to be roofied?

His voice rumbles from deep within his chest, tiredly asking, "Olive?" before blinking awake— concern flooding his gaze when he sees just how out of it I look.

He sits up, and it makes my world quake tremendously.

Large hands grip my shoulders, and they're so firm that I just want to melt into them. Anything to go back to feeling boneless. I am so tired from moving so much already.

"Olive?" Stefan asks again firmly, shaking me slightly to get my attention, but only succeeding in making my head feel like a balloon.

My head lolls back, and if I didn't have my neck holding it, my head could've rolled straight off.

"Stefan," I sigh dreamily as he cups my face and pulls it back down to where he can look at it, peering deeply into my eyes in an almost analytical way, "Something's.. wrong."

There's the sudden smack of plastic behind my head, and Stefan's gaze snaps to something behind me— green eyes narrowing at whoever has tossed whatever behind my head. Veins descending under his forest green eyes, I find myself tossed and forgotten back on the hardwood as Stefan wrestles with the plastic bag in his ravenous mouth— blood dripping down his cheeks in artful streams.

Really— if the 'drinking-blood' thing wasn't slightly terrifying— I'd consider it nearly-artistic, the way the red drips down such a statuesque face. If it was a painting, it'd probably be trying to capture the emotion of the brutality and beauty that encapsulates the human race.

Man, my head is dizzy.

Lolling my head back to see where the blood bag came from, in my upside-down vision I see the woman from the woods. Eyes widening, the high I've been feeling quickly becomes a nearly asphyxiating anxiety, heart beginning to pound like a snare drum.

Her cold, brown gaze doesn't even acknowledge my form— only watching Stefan. The stranger is also eerily pretty; a sort of powerful aura leaking from her poreless, bronzed skin.

She smiles at Stefan— something akin to awe in her gaze as she watches him siphon down the scarlet liquid like an animal.

"A vampire doppelgänger who's burdened by a conscience. Now, I've seen everything."

A what?!

My brain has concocted a very overly-convoluted plot line for me to sink into insanity alongside— but, alright. I'll go with it.

Stefan's forest green eyes narrow on the woman standing above us as he finishes gulping down the blood bag.

"You.. knocked me out?" He asks, clearly looking to see if she was a threat. Which she obviously was.

"And I pulled you from the quarry before that," the beautiful stranger responds cryptically, "That is, I figured out where you were and told the former owner of this cabin to pull your lockbox from the river. It was daylight then— but, I tossed him in with you as a 'wake-up' snack for when I let you out last night. But, then.. we had an unexpected guest."

I already know she's looking pointedly at me, but Stefan looks like he just remembered I'm here in the first place.

"... Stefan.," I dreamily sigh once again, panicking that I'm in this drugged state and can't move properly.

His green eyes worriedly scan my form before snapping back suspiciously to the strange woman.

"What did you do to her?"

The woman rolls her eyes, and the motion in my already-spinning vision is nauseating as she says, "Relax. It's just a little sensory dampening spell to keep her complacent."

Oh my god, she's a witch!

And a bitch. Pretty much magically drugging me with her witchy roofies— the witch bitch.

Bitch Witch? Which 'Wich?

I notice that Stefan has sweat pooling at the top of his forehead, and I briefly wonder if he's had a nightmare. Maybe this was all a nightmare. I really hoped it was.

"How do you know I'm a doppelgänger?" Stefan asks, caught off guard apparently by the stranger's level of information.

"Because I've seen your face before," she answers, "On someone who wasn't you."

Oh, wow. The drama of it all.

"Who are you?" Stefan questions yet again, and I wonder for a moment if that's all that pretty mouth of his can do— ask questions.

"How much do you know about Silas?" The mysterious witch rapid fires back, dark eyes intense on Stefan's.

Who the hell is Silas?

I finally get my tingly noodle of an arm to move, and it slaps listlessly against Stefan's leg, catching his attention once again. I try to tell him with my eyes that I can't move, and that I'm honestly about to have a PTSD-level freak out over here if I can't start moving properly, and soon.

His warm green eyes are compassionate as he looks down at me briefly, trying to tell me to hang in there for just a bit longer— and, I hate him for it.

Turning back to the witch, the handsome dream boy answers, "I know that he's a bloodthirsty immortal who's killed more people than I can count. And that was before he stole my identity, locked me in a safe, and dropped me in the bottom of a quarry."

Oh, my god. That's absolutely awful.

And his evil twin-doppelgänger-thing did it to him— so, I bet none of his friends even know.

This is a whole fucking soap opera.

I didn't know how my brain was churning out this dense plot so quickly, and I was definitely panicking at the thought of my crumbling mental state/newfound supernatural awareness— but, I'd be lying if I didn't think that this was incredible, in a way.

Completely illogical, but incredible.

That must've been hard for him. To be alone, in the dark for so long.

The thought alone is tragic.

"You made it through," the witch insensitively states, and I feel a roll of protective anger deep in my stomach.

Stefan's trauma deserved way more sensitivity than that, and he just got out of the damn safe.

Why am I defending the cop-killer? My therapist is teaching me too much empathy.

"Barely," Stefan scoffs, almost trying to make it seem as if it hadn't bothered him at all while he was verbalizing otherwise. "I came very close to flipping off my humanity switch— but, I didn't. Because I knew if I ever got out, I wanted to be myself when I killed him."

There's a switch for humanity?

Remembering a snippet from my mythology course, I'm reminded that a doppelgänger was technically supposed to ruin their alternate version's lives. I guess that part is fairly accurate.

"Strong words," the woman subtly tears down.

"More than that," he assures her, and I suddenly feel myself being lifted up by strong arms off of the hardwood floor. My head lolls once more, but once my vision adjusts, I see I'm nestled firmly against Stefan's shoulder.

Oh, phew.

He's not gonna leave me with the scary witch.

Oddly enough, I feel the gnawing anxiety in my stomach retreat away as my head lays on his muscled shoulder, my body relaxing into his protective hold as he continues to speak to the woman.

"He's a monster. And I'm going after him," Stefan finishes, and something in the pit of my stomach settles as he takes sure steps away from the woman. We wouldn't die from the crazy witch— this is all good news.

The uncomfortable anxiety of it all spikes again though when the witch speaks.

"Except, you'll burn to death in the sun without your daylight ring."

Ugh, of course there's a stupid daylight ring. Why can't he just be like a Twilight vampire so we could disco ball our way out the door?

Stefan looks down at me, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he's deeply sorry as he turns us both back around slowly. If my lips didn't feel like they were static air, I'd probably mouth off about this— but, lucky for everyone, they still feel like Jello.

"Silas wasn't always a monster," the witch sighs, earnestly looking at the clone of said dude— and once again, ignoring me.

"He used to be a simple man in love with a simple girl," the beautiful witch continues, and I can already tell that this is going to be a long story.

I suddenly feel the slow creeping feeling of unconsciousness starting to creep back in, and I start panicking, not wanting to fall back asleep during such a dangerous situation. With all my strength, I move my limp arm up, clenching as tightly as possible to Stefan the Vampire Boy's shirt, feeling the beginnings of a panic attack coming on.

"Stefan..!" I gasp out, feeling my arms losing their strength again as my body starts to succumb to the sleepy depths.

I don't have control over my body. I don't have control over my body. I don't have control over my body.

My brain is going DEF-CON 5 at the forceful nature of the sleep, not hearing a word that the witch is saying as Stefan looks down at me, pretty green eyes filled with immediate concern.

It's oddly fascinating to see the way the frown lines mar his handsome face.

I can't remember the last time someone looked at me like that without a fraction of either pity or a lie in their gaze as well. But, no. His eyes are honest in their concern for me, no extra frills.

It's soothing on it's own to know that he's not lying to me by promising everything's gonna be okay.

And like that, I sink once again.

———

It's all too dark in the white room.

The only light that shines here now is the glow of the wild mass of strings above me, each glowing separate colors.

I'm once again lying back on the water, held up by something ancient deep below. My heart leaps as my eyes frantically stare at the individual strings, realizing that not one strand is quite the same shade as another.

There's obviously certain colors that are frequent and simplistic: reds, blues, purples. But, once you look closer, you can see that there's no red strand that looked quite the same— instead finding scarlets, rubies, and vermillions— and the more you looked, the more you could find.

My eyes focus on a strand that stands out amongst the intertwined mess, one that shines a brilliant white above the rest. A range of emotions rushes through me at the sight of it.

Affection, compassion, guilt, loyalty, heartache.

It's almost all encompassing, and it brings tears to my eyes as my arm reaches out to the warmth of it, stretching towards the comfort it brings in this terrifying place. I try to stretch out further, seeing that it's almost within my fingertips— but the water suddenly sticks to me like tar, making me start to sink further into the depths and further away from the string.

I don't even get a chance to hold my breath before an unseen force drags me under the water, further and further into the dark abyss.

———

My eyes slowly blink open— but it's much easier this time, no weight dragging my body down outside of what was normal. Pushing myself up, I realize that I have been placed on a bed in the same cabin as before.

I glance around the room quickly for any sign of the witch or the boy, nearly gasping when I find that an unconscious Stefan has been tied to a wooden chair by the fireplace, surrounded by a circle of herbs.

Moving to go and help him, I freeze when I hear the front door suddenly swing open.

Snapping to look at whoever it is, I'm surprised to see a handsome black-haired dude in a gray t-shirt enter. His pretty blue gaze quickly locks on Stefan, approaching quietly with worry evident in his gaze.

"Stefan," the stranger whispers, seemingly not noticing me. Stefan's head lifts up, revealing that he hasn't been unconscious like I thought.

"You couldn't call a brother?" The black-haired brother asks snarkily, making Stefan roll his eyes.

"Nice to see you, too, Damon."

Damon? So dream boy actually has a brother.

I don't know why I automatically assumed that his entire family was dead. That's just how it was in all the other vampire movies.

Moving now that I know the only chance I have of getting out of here actually knows this guy, Stefan's gaze snaps to mine at the shift in his peripheral.

"What the hell is going on here?" Damon asks as I stand from the bed, making the vampire's blue eyes turn to me at the sound. "And who the hell are you?"

Stefan helps with answering his brother's questions as I move to the two man-eaters, wanting to get Stefan out of that stupid chair so we could get the fuck out of here.

"Well, Silas' ex-girlfriend decided to come back from the other side. And, that's Olive. A friend."

A friend? Aw. Adorable.

Damon's dark brows furrowed as he attempted to tear at the strange vines wrapped around the dream boy.

"Uh huh. Qetsi- whatever?"

"It's Qetsiyah," a terrifyingly familiar voice states from behind us, causing both me and Damon to turn, revealing the beautiful witch.

"Do you see why I want to change it?" She asks Stefan in particular.

I'm able to see much more clearly in this well-lit room without any witchy woo fucking with my mind, and I can get a much closer look at Qetsiyah, the crazy witch.

She's obviously stunning, but there's a certain coldness in her deep brown eyes that I don't trust. She wasn't trustworthy. The witch struts over to the fireplace, bowl in hand as she brushes past my shoulder, and once again I'm hit with a disturbing tremble in the center of my chest.

.

This bitch was bad news and nothing less. We needed to get out of here.

Pulling out my pocket knife from my back pocket when she has her back turned towards the fire, I kneel in front of Stefan, quickly trying to saw through the thick vines wrapped around his arms and torso.

"You won't be able to break those vines," Qetsiyah states as she looks into the fireplace, but I feel in my bones that she's talking to me.

"The spell won't release him until I get what I want."

God fucking dammit.

I can feel myself getting frustrated as I glance up at the dream boy, hazel meeting green once again.

I don't like what I see.

His forehead is soaked in sweat; forest green eyes tired, and slightly out of it. The vampire boy was already exhausted, and I had no idea what the witch had planned for him. But I did know that I was extremely not okay with what I was seeing thus far.

The feelings that seeing him like that evokes in me is a very intense response towards a stranger, but it's nonetheless honest.

Stefan needs help. Stefan's not safe. The hero needs to be safe. It isn't time—

Wait what?

I'm snapped out of my stupor by Damon moving suddenly towards the witch, menace in his icy blue eyes. As he steps further towards Stefan's right.

"Did you plant those dreams?" He asks the witch sharply, and I can see the anger in just the stiffness of his shoulders. "What is it? Some kind of witch party trick?"

Planting dreams? Maybe I actually do have Alice in Wonderland syndrome.

Either way, my gut is telling me that Stefan needs to get far away from this woman, otherwise she'd hurt him— and crazy or not, I wasn't gonna let that happen after all the work I put in to come here and save his ass.

Qetsiyah skillfully dodges the question with one of her own, "So, where is she?"

"We ran into a little snag."

Damon's answer is concerning to say the least.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is she going to hurt Stefan because 'whoever' isn't here?

Thankfully, Qetsiyah seems nonplussed at Damon's reply, a low hum leaving her throat. But, that in and of itself is worrying. My hand reaches Stefan's arm nearly unconsciously, me trying to communicate with just a look that he'd be fine.

It's obvious that he doesn't believe me, but he gives me a weak, small smile; as if he appreciates that I made the effort.

Fair enough. I'm a fighter, but I'm no witch.

"Then I'll get started without her," the witch amends, and now I wish I hadn't gotten so distracted by Stefan. Maybe I'd know what the fuck she was talking about.

Either way, I didn't like anything about this.

The witch began chanting in a foreign language, and instantly my guard is up.

Not realizing that I had tensed significantly, I suddenly feel a reassuring grip on my arm. I glance down to find Stefan's still secured hand is on my forearm, his concerned gaze on me. The dream vampire boy's eyes are tired and pleading with mine, as if asking me not to do anything that could get me killed.

The sentiment is nice— but unnecessary.

I wouldn't move till the witch did.

A few moments of slightly awkward silence pass between me and the two vampire brothers as she continues to chant, and I once again have to really focus so I don't dwell on how insane this scenario is.

Vampires are a thing; witches are a thing; I'm gonna guess that werewolves are a thing, too.

Joy.

Glancing at Stefan once more with a furrowed brow, I fight off the sudden urge to at least clean the sweat off his forehead— but, I'm gonna guess that Stefan could tell I was deeply bothered by the situation we were in. A dramatic eye roll appears across his tired face at the continued chanting, and it makes a small disbelieving smile crack on my face.

He was bored.

What kind of danger does this guy get into on a regular basis to make this seem annoying to him?

Damon glances over, spotting said eye roll, and once again moves to speak to Qetsiyah.

"Okay, well, thanks for the hospitality— but, we need to get going if we're gonna beat traffic."

Stefan asserts as his brother's hand leaves his shoulder, "Yep. Yep. He's right."

I really hope he's better at talking when he's not hungry or tired, because right now— he looks like a shit conversationalist.

Qetsiyah's sharp black eyes turn back to Damon, the coldness in her gaze sendimg chills down my spine as she hums, "Probably don't want to get on my bad side."

This apparently pisses off Damon, making him step away from Stefan as he fiercely glares at the witch bitch.

"You realize that you're not the only one with a bad side, right?" He threatens right back, and I quickly remove my arm from Stefan's grip, eyes focused on the real threat in the room.

"Aren't you brave?" Qetsiyah scoffs, gaze hardening further, "Without Silas' powers, he's an immortal nobody. We can defeat him. Isn't that what you want?"

Standing, I glare at the woman as she turns to dip her fingers into a bowl.

"Stay. The fuck. Back," I threaten lowly as she steps towards Stefan, feeling an unprecedented amount of protective anger surging through me as I place myself between her and the boy.

I might not be a good person— but, something told me that Stefan was. He didn't deserve whatever this bitch was gonna do to him to get back at her clone ex.

If that meant that shitty, lil ol' me had to take the hit for him— so be it.

Stefan needed to be protected.

At least, that was the plan until Stefan inserted, "Just do it, alright?"

I swiftly turn back to look at him, making sure that this craziness was actually okay with him. His green eyes are genuine on mine, and I quickly feel the anger deflate at the sight, worry taking its place.

He looks ill.

"Just get it over with. Do it," he emphasizes with an exhausted flutter of his eyes, giving me a look.

Fine. Only because he wants to.

God, this has been such a fucking weird day. I'm registering for a mental hospital the second I snap out of this— if this isn't actually happening.

I wasn't sure exactly where my head was at, but I was leaning towards the latter; as insane as it was.

Stepping away from Stefan hesitantly, I step outside the herb circle. I can't help but feel a gnawing at my gut as Qetsiyah scoffs at me, moving towards Stefan with goop-covered fingers. Everything about this just felt bad. And that feeling only grew when she stood behind him and placed her gross fingers on either side of Stefan's handsome head, continuing her chanting.

Suddenly— I'm struck by a blinding pain in my head, as if someone's drilling into it.

I don't even really feel when I collapse on the floor, but I can hear Stefan's grunts of pain mix with mine. An almost-melting sensation increases in the back of my head, completely blurring my vision with red as the pain intensifies. I know I'm screaming, feeling the stark vibrations of my throat; but, there's nothing to hear, my sole focus being on the acid dripping into my brain.

Funny enough, the strongest emotion I feel before passing out yet again is not only an intense rage, but a sort of annoyance. An 'I told you so.'

This is the third goddamn time in twenty-four hours.

Back into the nightmare I go.

———

There's— to my relief— no such nightmare.

Instead, I awake to a shrill voice calling Stefan's name over and over.

It's not a pleasing sound to wake up to.

Pushing myself off of the harsh wood floors for the second time again today, I try to open my eyes, but feel that weird crusty eye stuff on me. I shove the large mass of dark hair out of my face, determined to take in the damage, when I'm stopped as I try to open my eyes.

Attempting to rub them so that I can see for myself that Stefan's okay, my hands pull back in horror when I see dried chips of blood on my fingers.

Jesus CHRIST.

Rapidly snapping my gaze around the room, I see Stefan's lolling head being cradled by a nearly crying girl in front of him. The witch is gone, and Damon's on the other side of the room also on the floor.

So, something has gone horribly wrong.

My worried gaze snaps back to Stefan's face in the girl's hands, noting the obvious bloody streaks under his closed eyes. My body moves before I even get a chance to tell it to, standing to get a closer look at him.

The girl in front of Stefan snaps her head in surprise to me, brown doe eyes widening.

"Who are you?"

———

Well, introductions had been short and sweet.

And by that, I mean I got to be a third wheel in the backseat of the dickhead vampire's car with Stefan's unconscious body; because apparently, I can't be compelled— or whatever the fuck.

But, I wasn't too upset.

A very deep part of me needed to make sure that Stefan would be okay. I couldn't explain it, but I couldn't explain this craziness either— so I did what I always do. I ignored it and just went with my gut.

Now, I was back in my childhood neighborhood; the small town of Mystic Falls, Virginia.

Not exactly a place I wanted to go back to, but fate seemed decided that I wasn't getting anything I wanted today.

Found out a few interesting things though, the foremost interesting being that the vampire brothers were Salvatores. There was a guy who was a Salvatore that tutored me in middle school for a herbology essay.

Small world.

Sitting on the luxurious lounger across from Stefan's unconscious body, I wait for the sixth hour for him to wake up. There was something deeply upsetting about seeing him like this, something that served hot a steaming bowl of guilt. I felt awful. It felt like the first time my father told me he was disappointed in me, and I had no explanation for it.

No explanation for anything, really.

It was maddening.

And of course, there was Elena Gilbert.

Had to say, I wasn't a fan.

I'm a judgmental bitch by nature, so my opinion is biased; however, my gut has never steered me wrong. My initial instinct told me that she wasn't to be trusted.

She hadn't really proven me wrong either, having shown a lot of compassion towards Stefan's situation earlier, but having been gone in the other room with Damon for the last couple of hours. There had been no indication that Stefan was going to be okay, but they were goofing off elsewhere, leaving the very supernaturally ignorant human to monitor the knocked out vampire.

They weren't going to protect Stefan, so I would. After all, he didn't try to eat me before when he was starving, and I doubted he would now.

I'm not tasty enough— thank god.

The ornate fireplace gives a golden glow to the room, and I will be the first to admit that I have never been anywhere this nice in my life. It was the kind of room Home and Garden would salivate over: Persian rugs, rich brown wood furniture, super fancy upholstery, the works. It felt empty, though. No warmth really resonated here, and it was odd to feel that way in someone else's house.

I snap out of my analysis of the home when I see Stefan twitch slightly on the couch, the first sign of movement all night. Quickly moving over to him, I see his eyes move under his eyelids and feel a small bit of relief flood my bones, kneeling beside him.

"Stefan?" I ask, finding the amount of genuine worry in my voice still somewhat surprising.

Footsteps ring out behind me, but I keep my focus on Stefan, smiling when his forest green eyes blearily open once again. Thank god.

The hero is safe.

He blinks at me wildly, suddenly sitting up just as Damon and Elena enter the room.

Something's wrong, I hear a voice whisper in my mind.

"Welcome back, brother," Damon greets with a tight smile, and I can tell that a part of him doesn't mean it.

Stefan's wide green gaze snaps back to my dirt-caked self briefly, before looking at the couple in front of us once again in confusion.

Just how long has Stefan been in that safe?

"Stefan... We missed you," Elena sighs happily, broad pretty smile appearing on her face at seeing the dream boy upright again.

Stefan's gaze doesn't change at all, no glimmer of recognition to be found, and I feel my anxiety building up.

Oh, no.

"Uh, I'm sorry," Stefan Salvatore apologizes sincerely, stating back and forth between Elena and his brother before turning back to look at me curiously.

"I... I have no idea who you people are."

———

A/n: I know, I know, it's been forever since I updated the first chapter! I'm sorry, it's just that the inspiration has been elsewhere lately.

Thanks for the comments, guys! I love them all, dearly.

Hope this distracted you from the craziness outside.

———