Angel Petrova

Reunited

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3rd P.O.V.

The blonde beauty with guarded eyes sat in her room, while gazing at the window. She watched as the town's children laughed and played with each other, while the parents sat on the picture perfect porches, pouring tea and chatting. They were all so...stupid, completely unaware of the horrors the danced in the shadows. She assumed that that's what childhood was about: graceful naivety and gullibility that many label as innocence, but she had watched her so-called innocence turn to ash in the flames of her past, and refused to go back to that state of immaturity ever since. Amara always told her that everything happened for a reason, and Angel chose to believe her first twin's words. She turned here hollow gaze away from the sickly sweet scene and towards her room. The walls were a dull gray, scarred with scratches and old thumb nail holes. Her bed was a plain white comforter, with matching pillow laying perfectly in the center at the head of the bed. The paint of her vanity was withering off, chipped to the point of being perfectly imperfect. A tired sigh escaped her lips, as her ring tone interrupted her musings. An unknown number flashed across her dimmed screen, while she rolled her eyes.

"Hello, Stefan. It's about time you called." Her voice was even, smooth. She was obviously unsurprised by his call.  

"Angel," was all he said. They stayed in silence.

"Well, get it over with, hero hair. You're wasting my time."

He let out a quiet chuckle, amused by her bluntness. "We need to talk."

Angel huffed, "We do? Why?"

"Of course, we do! You appear out of no where! Not to mention you're alive and going to high school!"

"What can I say, my education is super important to me," she chirped, sarcasm staining her voice.

"Angel," Stefan groaned.

"How was the family reunion, Stef? I heard about the nasty fall out between you and blue eyes." 

"Wha-How did you know about that? How did you know Damon was back? Why didn't you tell me?" He sounded shocked, almost hurt, and that made her angry.

"Now, my darling Salvatore, what in the actual fuck gives you the right to question me? Let alone expect anything from me?"   

Guilt seeped into the Ripper's  tone. "I-I don't, I'm sorry, just...come over."

"Fine, whatever. There better be cupcakes, though. Chocolate."

 Stefan chuckled. "Okay, see you soon." Without another word, Angel hung up the phone and glanced in the mirror. Pushing a platinum lock out of her face, she glared tiredly at her reflection, then turned away.

"Why must you relive the past, Angeliah," she mumbled to herself, before tossing a bag over her shoulder and heading to the car. After a few minutes of driving, she pulled into the Salvatore driveway.

"Hello, boys," she greeted, while strutting into the living room. Stefan and Damon stared at her, one holding a glass of bourbon, while the other crossed his arms. She flung herself down on the sofa and grinned lazily, her smile not reaching her eyes.