Jeremy's POV

When Bonnie had stopped crying, she picked up her bag, seemingly shamed for weeping in front of me, but empty. She seemed hollow, like a ghost. Her magic was a part of her and that had just been taken away. I knew the feeling.

I walked up to my room, wondering how the night had gotten so insanely out of control, and laid down on my bad. Well, more of fell flat onto it. I had been laying there for about five minutes when I noticed something strange.

My room was... cleaner.

I looked to the writing desk. There was no longer any small clips of makeup or a smooth bone-white brush that had once been there. I looked at that space between the chair and the closet. There was no longer any trunk there. When I peeked in the closet, there was no small, sectioned off piece of carpet where her clothes had been stacked.

Annice wasn't here.

Her scent still lingered, that haughty mix of foreign spices and a sweet floral scent, an unlikely combination. She had left so quickly, I could practically see her grabbing her trunk and throwing herself out the window. Which only left one question. Where had she gone?

To the Salvatore's, probably. I guess she made up with Damon. Typical.

The one last thing that caught my attention was the stray piece of paper on the writing desk. It was too heavy and thick to be mine. In fact, it seemed like actual parchment. When I scanned the contents of it, I was dismayed to find that it started with my name and ended with hers. This could not be good.

Dear Jer-Bear,

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for invading your home, watching you kiss your iffy girlfriend, then turn around and kiss you. I shouldn't have done that.

But most of all I'm sorry for leaving.

I know that the way things turned out might have made you thought I would still be around to make sure things go down like they should. But I can't be. I've upset the balance too much already. I was raised by a witch, and like a witch, I believe that all things should go without an unknown abomination of an outside force disrupting that balance.

But because I've already done so much, I figured I can tell one more person the truth. That's right, I've been lying to you, which I'm also very sorry for.

You know I'm an Original. Damon knows that, but the way I explained things to him... it just wasn't very clear. So I'm going to write it down in the simplist way I can, and if you feel like telling Damon, go ahead. I don't know if my compulsion will keep you from telling him things that I wrote down in a letter. But anyway, I was born of Esther, the Original witch, and some pointless, local man. Niklaus was born of Esther and a man from another tribe. A werewolf tribe. My mom pretended not to show favoritism towards him for being so... powerful, but it was hard to mask. Her hatreds towards me was unmasked utterly and completely. I spent most of my time at the witch's house, a bit down the pathway, which is where I learned what I did. When I was a teenager, I ran off with a boy named Aaron. One night, I was praying for my siblings, even that wretched Rebekah. Bitch.

Little did I know my mother was casting a spell.

She was casting a spell that would create that vampires. She did this because my youngest brother was killed by werewolves, and she didn't want her children to ever be so weak again. She didn't intend to spell me. Which is why it didn't go correctly. My siblings drank the blood of a girl- your sister's ancestor- during the spell, which makes you sister the doppelganger. And now the curse. I'll get back to my epic story later.

Niklaus was, obviously, a werewolf. However, when my mother created the vampire spell, she feared his power, and therfore bound his werewolf side to a curse. When my mother did her spell, she bound my family to a White Oak tree, an incredibly old one, for longevity. Though my father burnt it down, for the wood from the tree can indeed kill every Original but me, you know the ashes can still be paired with a witch-made dagger. The plants around the tree, vervain, became weapons. And as the spell was bound by the moon and night, the sun hurts all lesser vampires. Which brings me back to the curse. The Sun and the Moon curse is... fake! That's right. Fake. Niklaus was so enraged by my mother's werewolf-side-binding-spell-thingy that he ripped out her heart and lied to cover it up (though I didn't really mind) and searched endlessly for the keys to breaking the curse. The moonstone, the doppelganger, a vampire, a werewolf, a lion, a witch, a wardrobe... you get where this is heading.

He planted the idea of the Sun and the Moon curse in countless religions, mythology and culturally historical events to make sure that both werewolves and vampires would be on the lookout for items for a curse that they thought they wanted to break, but really didn't. A werewolf hybrid. Too powerful.

And then there's me. The story I know you wanna hear. Old witches and spirits- including my witchy old teacher- didn't believe in the vampire curse. Thought it was wrong. The tree could be burned down. Vervain wouldn't kill. They needed an indestructable backup plan. This is where I come in. While I was praying, alone with my Aaron, I prayed desperately for my siblings. I prayed that they would be okay. The old spirits stretched the vampire curse that was being cast so that it would cover me. I didn't drink the doppelganger blood, and therefore I didn't need to have blood to survive, but I could drink it. i was never bound to the White Oak tree, so niether it's branches nor it's ashes can hurt me. Vervain- nope! I was stronger, smarter, and better. No questions about it. I was, in basic, half vampire, half human. The half human part allowed me to get into houses- read, your house- without being invited in.

Over the years (Aaron was killed by means I won't mention) I learned things. The spirits didn't want to leave me completely in the dark. They told me a lot of things. Like that when I killed my siblings, if all else failed, which it did, I would slowly but surely return to how I should be. Which means, in basic, that I would die. That's what I gathered. My purpose is only to kill my siblings- and my dreaded father Mikael, who killed the werewolf man and his family who had slept with my mother, which started the whole fued between vamps and weres.

So you see why I cannot stay? You should've figured this out by your lonesome, and I hope you won't spread the word. I can't have you sis and her loverboy figure out my secrets. We'll see if you can tell Damon. I'm still not sure.

So, as I cram this into the bottom of the back of this page, I still think that I am utterly, truly and indescribably sorry. I hope Bonnie forgives you. And from now on, I'm going to stay out of things. I don't know if you'll ever literally see me again, but I'll keep an eye on you. If you ever need help, whisper to the necklace that I put in the place where you got your 'throat lozenge' for Bonnie from. That's right, I left it in your house. You'll find it that inside the item that I first looked through when I entered your room, days and days ago. Don't question my vagueness. I don't know who's reading this. Hopefully it's you. If it is, burn this letter after you read it. For help, I've even left the potions in that 'thing', labeled in case you need them.

I'll miss you, Jer-Bear. Sweet Pea. Love Monkey. Honey Muffin. Those are pretty good names. I might see you around, though don't expect to see me any time soon. You are my friend. Forever, even if you don't want to be mine.

Love, Annice... or, as when you first met me, Briana

* * * * *

I stared at the letter for a long time. Read it. Reread it. And then I picked out the lighter and lit it on fire. Slowly, ever so slowly, the fire crawled up the edges of the paper, licking up any white-yellow piece of parchment with it's heat. Near the top corner, where she had written larger, thinking she'd actually have space to write all that without cramming words in, the fire died out, and I was left with the corner of a very valuable letter and a pile of ashes. I didn't bother burning that bit.

Sure, I was angry. I thought we'd be there for each other, but from what she said, Annice had pulled through and not only left me with the throat lozenge and her poisons and potions, but also with some necklace that I was dying to see. And I understood her plight. I knew what she meant. So, dying as I was, I went to the item she spoke of.

She's picked up my sketchbook and flipped through it. Confused, I'd snatched it back.

When I picked it up from it's place on the nightstand, a worn, slim wooden box fell out and landed on the stand with a dull thud. It had been so thin, hidden in the sketchpad, that I hadn't even noticed it when I laid on my bed.

Cautiously, I snapped the little latch that held it closed and tipped the lid open. Inside, there was that assortment of concotions that came in so many colors and arrangments, it looked like a perfume kit or a paint set. In one special place, one I now realized had been empty the last time I saw her open the box, was a stone. It was absolutely round and smooth and white, but not regular white, like a piece of printer paper. It was a pearlescent white that thrummed and pulsed with an unearthly glow. Feeling idiotic, I picked it up by the braided leather strap that hung out beside it and pressed the stone to my lips.

"Annice, I got your message," I whispered. I wasn't expecting anything, but the sound seemed to disappear from my lips, like all the noise had been sucked away into the stone.

She didn't respond, but somehow I knew she'd heard me.

I slung the strap around my head and tucked the small stone into my shirt, glad that the darkness of the cloth masked the strange glow of the pebble. I closed the box once more, for I could read the labels and study their purposes later, and tucked the box away in that hidden slot underneath the base of the drawer in my desk. I had first discovered the hiding place when I was eight. And then, when I was done, I sat down at the chair, and stared at the letter. Just stared at it.

Dear Jer-Bear,

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for invading your home, watching you kiss your iffy girlfriend, then turn around and kiss you. I shouldn't have done that.

But most of all I'm sorry for leaving.

I know that the way things turned out might have made you thought I would still be around to make sure things go down like they should. But I can't be. I've upset the balance too much already. I was raised by a witch, and like a witch, I believe that all things should go without an unknown abomination of an outside force disrupting that balance.

But because I've already done so much, I figured I can tell one more person the truth.

The letter cut off after that, the last few words almost illegible due to the smoky, crisp black burns from the flames. I figure I can tell one more person the truth. I don't begin to understand Annice. She promised me the truth and told me a lie, just so she could stay here, but when she left, she finally did confess the truth. So, no, I don't understand Annice. Because you must see somebody in their best and worst moments to truly understand them... truly and indescribably sorry... and there is no doubt in my mind that I have seen Annice in her worst moments, screaming for a savior, crying "Why?" to the heavens, but I am even more positive that I hadn't witnessed her at her best. It was a rare occurance that she could bank on happy. If I want to understand Annice, I will need to see her at her best. I wonder if Damon has seen her at that.

But in all honesty, I was just waiting for a bright moment.

* * * * *

I'm not sure if it was seconds or hours later, but Elena threw open the door and smiled at me.

I hadn't even heard the front door open. She had a hole in her shirt, rimmed with dried blood. Odd, how I had come to immediately know what dried blood looked like. I shouldn't know that.

"We're home!" she said, as though it wasn't obvious. I put on something that might have been a smile. Her grin faltered. "Just wanted to tell you. G'night, Jer."

As her shoulders slumped, my heart clenched just a bit. I hated making her feel like I didn't want to see her, but at the moment I didn't. As she was walking out, I saw Stefan in the space between her and the person who was now walking into the room. Damon. He didn't look at me, but around my room, probably noticing the emptiness of the room quicker than I did. Finally, when he had stopped glancing around, his gaze fell on me. It looked rather tortured. I knew the feeling.

In a barely noticable way, I shook my head, to the right, to the left. The corners of his mouth tightened, and he nodded, showing me he understood. She just wasn't here. Even the scent of her was dissapating until my room would just smell like... me again. I liked the smell of Annice. Damon's eyes cast downwards, his forehead scrunching like his brother's often did. Now I understood why Stefan frowned. Because he was just as in love, so frequently in fact, as Damon was now. I guess love made you frown. Worry. Fear.

Love gave us all a reason to fear something. We feared who might hurt what we love, and overall, we feared what our loves might do. We fear our loves might leave us, and in turn, we fear to ever love again. My loves have left me again and again, and that was what Annice was supposed to be for me. She was supposed to catch me when I fall down. She says she'll be there for me, if I call, but I fear that she won't. I don't love her like Anna or Vicky. But I do fear what this love might do.

Damon looked back up again, his eyes locking on the scrap of letter I had pinched between my thumb and my index finger, and his eyes widened, like saying You got one? I glanced at it, then back to him, nodding my head towards the door. Go get yours I implied. He left.

In that moment, I felt that I knew Damon a thousand times better than I had before I met Annice. I'd always hated Damon Salvatore, the man that killed me because he could never have my sister. He was a murderer and a liar and a cheat. But he loved Annice, too, though differently than me. I wondered what would happen to him. Did he still love my sister? I'm pretty sure he did. He would still do anything for her. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't turn around and do the same for Annice. She had a strange way of charming us, as if that witch woman she used to know had given her some of her supernatural powers.

But the way she made us love her didn't seem like magic. We loved her because of how real she was. You don't find reality in a world of vampires and werewolves and warlocks. You don't find the ugly truth in a world where people are raised lying and betraying. And Annice did lie to us. But then again, she always ended up telling the truth. Because she was too good not to. She was always better than this, better than me and better than Damon. She couldn't stay here and lie to us. It would go against her perfect nature.

Which is why she had to leave.