Abrasion (Mikaelson)

Chapter 23: 170 Years of History

Evangeline POV:

Damon gestured me to follow him into the house where I found nearly everything as it had been. Stefan was sitting on the couch across from Elena who was just staring at him. I ignored Elena's presence entirely and ran to my brother. I pulled him into a hug but pulled back when he didn't return it.

"What's wrong, Stefan?" I asked, studying him closely for any signs he was injured. There was none so I looked to Damon for answers. "What did you do to him?"

Damon pressed his lips together with a sigh. "Well sister, that's a bit of a long story so I'm going to give you the most condensed version I can." He put emphasis on 'sister' and glanced over at Stefan as if to say 'this is our sister'. "Basically some prehistoric which gave him a magic lobotomy and he has no idea who any of us are."

"What?" How is it that it only took a few months of me not seeing them for their lives to go to shit? Damon just looked at me, rubbing the back of his neck. I turned to look back at Stefan. "I'm Evangeline Salvatore, your big sister." I introduced myself and held my hand out for him to shake, which he did. "Don't worry, I won't let the scary looking guy over there get to you."

Stefan looked over at Damon with a smile, Damon simply glared at me. "Scary looking?" Damon scoffed. "I think it's been too long since you looked in a mirror, dear sister."

-

We were speeding down a deserted street in a vehicle Damon had so graciously stolen from the driveway of what I assumed to be innocent people. Stefan was sitting in the passenger seat reading through 150 years of journals, which Damon had decided to use as tools to help our brother regain his memory. It didn't seem to be working.

"March 12, 1922. I blacked out for days and wake up in a stranger's blood, in places I don't recognize, with women I don't remember. I feel alive again." Stefan read from the journal as Damon mouthed along with his words, proving just how much time he spent reading through those journals. With a scoff, Stefan closed the journal and put it aside. "Alright, I think I've read enough."

Damon looked over at Stefan. "Nada?"

"I know nada means nothing, I know what day it is, I know what year it is, I know this car has a V8 engine," Stefan replied, "and yet, I'm two journals deep and I have absolutely no memory of who the hell I am."

Stefan took a sip from the bloodbag Damon had given him. "Brutal."

"Is this supposed to fill me up?" Stefan asked as he took the bloodbag away from his lips.

Damon glanced over as I leaned forward so my head was between the two front seats. "Well yes and no, technically yes because you're a vampire."

"Weird."

"Realistically, no." Damon added and I know where this was going. "Because you're, you know, you."

"Ah yes." Stefan sighed as if he was recalling a happy memory. "The insatiable and blood-lusting vampire ripper of Monterrey."

"And we're only in the 1920s baby."

Stefan rolled down his window to throw the bloodbag out. "Well sorry this is a lot to process." He muttered as Damon snatched the empty bloodbag.

"You're a vampire," he reminded, "not a caveman."

Damon tossed the bloodbag back, effectively hitting me. "Excuse you." I scoffed, chucking the bag back at him.

"So let me get this straight," Stefan spoke up as he rolled up the window, "I helped you steal this car, found out I'm a vampire who killed his own father, and yet I don't litter?"