title: home is where the heart is
summary: "-and that's when he sees her, dancing under the moonlight before a canopy of flowers with a golden halo, looking like she belongs there all along." Or, the five times he tries to bring his old self back, and the one time he does. Stefan/Caroline future-fic
notes: I guess, this is going off-canon now. (Well, semi-canon, I suppose.) I'm trying my best to keep them in character and all – thank you so much for all the positive feedback! I was literally grinning from ear to ear. Suddenly, opening my email makes me feel so much better. Thanks! I'm really doing my best to keep this story as good as I could. Anyway, I love stefan/caroline no matter what happens in TVD. Oh, and this one happens before the first chapter.

I hope you'd all enjoy this. I've been thinking about some sort of scene like this for some time, and yeah, it just popped out – bam! For now, if you guys are wondering why I update late, please just check my profile out. The reason's there. I'm writing some novels in wattpad, and occasionally blogging in my tumblr account.

Thanks! Have a good day!

two
if all our life is but a dream, fantastic posing greed,
then we should feed our jewelry to the sea.
(Panic! At The Disco; Northern Downpour)

They've been on the road for three days and two nights.

He sneaks a glance at Damon who's busy grabbing some set of album perched at the back of the car. Frowning, he leans to his right, letting the cool surface of the window graze his forehead in a soothing manner. So far, he knows only a little of what he used to be – before the "two-thousand year old psycho witch wiped his memories out" stage, as what Damon has been calling it. Maybe, if he knows enough…

"So…" Damon's voice drifts off. From his position, Stefan could feel his brother's gaze planted on face. "You wanna know more?"

He shrugs, considering the offer for a few minutes. "Yeah," he replies after a couple of minutes, " I guess I do. It's not like I'd have any choice anyway. Might as well know what I was like – what?" He frowns at Damon's expression. Furrowing his eyebrows, he watches Damon laugh uneasily on his seat.

"That's a…" Damon starts, "stupid idea."

What? Okay, so maybe his-so called brother isn't as useful as Stefan thought he is. He shifts on his seat and nearly laughs. He should've expected that type of response. Guessing correctly, he doesn't really have that close bond with his brother unperturbed by problems.

"So what do you suggest then?" he says, mockingly. "I'd take a trip down memory lane and end up getting hit by a car and draining the passenger's sweet, warm blood?" He watches with satisfaction as Damon's eyes darken, though for what reason was something he's yet to figure out. Surely, the thought of blood has done a great deal to him. "Is that what I should do?"

"No, no," Damon mutters under his breath. Stefan has to strain a little to hear the next words – they're so going to kill me. He hides a satisfied smirk before looking straight ahead. "Actually," Damon says again, "I have a better idea. I brought" – he lifts the photo album, from the looks of it, and starts to wave it around – "this."

"A photo album?"

"Unless you're blind – which I was sure you are not – well yeah it is." Damon shrugs before he steps on the brake and parks on a nearby convenient store.

A pause.

"We appear on pictures?"

Damon blinks – once, twice – before he starts to guffaw. For a while, Stefan sees Damon as a brother – rather than as a person constantly hovering like a helicopter. "You forget everything else, but you remember that myth?"

"I don't know," Stefan replies, shrugging, "I do burn in the sunlight. Wait, so we appear in pictures?"

Damon, finally getting over it, nods before he flips the first page of the thick paper. It's a little worn-out; despite that, everything inside is neat and organized, almost as if someone spent an eternity making everything look so prim and perfect. He furrows his eyebrows. Noticing the questioning look on his face, Damon replies, "It's sort of your hobby – pictures, journals, whatever."

Ah. He wrinkles his nose; he was sentimental? Never really pegged his old self as… an old man.

"Hmph."

He stares at the first picture – it's around two to three years ago, judging from the measly writing on the lower left corner. The picture is that of a female with straight blonde hair and sort of dark eyes. Leaning forward, he knits his eyebrows together. She's dancing to some sort of music with her arms raised, looking a little tipsy, oblivious to the bright background.

November 5.

"Wait," Stefan says, pointing to the girl, "who's she?"

"Her? That's Lexi, your sort of savior when you were off running Ripper mode," Damon replies, sounding a little detached. Squinting, Stefan could see guilt lingering on his eyes. "You always celebrate together during your birthday, November 5."

November? He glances at the side mirror. He has never really though of himself as some sort of November person. March, yeah, but definitely not the Christmas-y type. He nods and watches as Damon turns the page again. Occasionally, he asks questions and wonders – yeah, this is how it feels to be the fun brother, he thinks victoriously.

There's a brunette – pretty, charming, he supposes. "Who's she?" he asked, pointing to her.

To his side, Damon stiffens, but he replies either ways, "That's Elena Gilbert – the one from the house, you remember? She's our friend for a couple of years now."

"She's pretty," he comments.

Damon shifts uncomfortably, but Stefan's too busy scanning the pictures to notice. "Yeah," he starts slowly, "I guess so, she's attractive. Been noticing that."

Stefan pretends not to hear.

There's another guy – his name's Alaric Saltzman, there's also their father. Then a few more people whose names don't really stick to his brain. Curling his fists at his sides, he realizes how much of an information overload this is. No matter how much he tries, none of his memories seem to come back. There's this large wall blocking him from remembering. It's frustrating and annoying, and he doesn't understand how he can last this any longer. The flashes of hair and eyes, a few muffled words and screams, scent of blood, a few of animals and humans – that's all he can make out. An occasional name of a witch – definitely not Qetsiyah or Tess, whatsoever – would pop up, along with someone named Matt something-Caravan.

"Sorry, I really can't remember," he admits. Running his hand through his hair, he fumbles with the last ten pages or so, before glancing at Damon and continuing, "I really thought this'd work."

Damon sighs and leans back on his seat before glancing outside at the fully-risen moon, saying, "Yeah, we can't force you to go remember everything. I'll just tell Elena plan-album didn't work out so well. Just finish browsing that."

Stefan nods wordlessly as he stares at the remaining pages. There's a repetitive pattern occurring in the pictures – Elena, then the witch Damon called Bonnie, Matt, Lexi, then some other people. He's halfway in shutting the book close, groaning a little in frustration when he catches sight of the newly printed photograph sitting neatly on the last page, and that's when-

And that's when he sees her, dancing under the moonlight before a canopy of flowers with a golden halo, looking like she belongs there all along.

He stops, and his breath catches short – well, duh, he's not going to admit that anytime soon. Pursing his lips, he racks through his brain for some sort of memory – anything will do – just so he can remember her. It's going to be a sin not to. Looking closely, she's a little like Elena and Lexi – whereas Lexi is all smiles and happy, and Elena is feminine and gently and caring, this person – whoever she is – manages to balance all those together.

He furrows his eyes before he closes them. For a brief while, he can remember clear soprano laughter, accompanied by jokes and teases. Focusing, he can even imagine soft blonde curls and the faint trace of an enticing scent. Is she a vampire like him, he wonders, or perhaps, is she just like some of the humans he had killed?

"Who's she?" he asks, opening his eyes before glancing at Damon.

"-you looking at?" Damon asks, shifting to get a better look at the album Stefan's been staring at for the past minute. "Oh," he says, and that's all he needs to say to get Stefan's attention. Raising an eyebrow, Damon shrugs, explaining, "That's Caroline Forbes." He pauses as if he's contemplating the next thing he'd say. He glances at Stefan and at the picture before grinning widely. "Your best friend, actually."

"Hm… I don't remember her."

"Well duh, you just got your memory wiped out." Damon squints. He shifts his gaze again to Stefan. "That's not shocking." Then, he he grins wider. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"Nothing," Stefan replies, snapping the album close before collapsing on the chair. The lie glides out of his mouth easily. "Anyway, what's next on this 'agenda' of yours?"

Damon grins as if he's been waiting for that all along before he slung his arm over the side of his chair and starting the car. He pats Stefan's arm. "Have you ever thought of a trip by the falls?"

And they speed of to the night.

(He holds on to the faint memory, he hasn't remembered, not yet anyway, of his best friend –Caroline Caroline Caroline – for the rest of the night, and he figures, things are starting to look brighter than they used to.)

.

.

[to be continued.]