Vampire Diaries 1. Kiss my arse insta-love!

**Wake up in TVD wonderland...**

_**This is my new fic about waking up in The Vampire Diaries world. I was inspired to write it by another fic that has a similar premise. It might end up being crap. Who knows? I certainly don't. But I'm gonna give it my best shot, and I hope you will too. Please. Pretty please. Damon and Stefan think you should read it. They told me so.**_

_**I do not own The Vampire Diaries. At all. Not even a little bit. Which is a shame. For everyone. Especially me. Because then I'd be rich. Plus I'd get to meet Ian Somerhalder. And by 'meet', I really mean kidnap. Well, I could kidnap him NOW, I suppose. But if I owned the vampire diaries then it would most likely be WAY easier. And more ironic. Love me some irony folks! It's like crack, but better, because it's free.**_

_**My main characters will be a little wacky and snarky and weird at times, if you've read my other story 'Ever Gilbert and Sinbad Salvatore', then you'll probably know what I mean. They'll also be British, so, if there's some lingo in there that you don't understand, then let me know. Or, alternatively, Google that motherfraker.**_

_**Right then, here we go...**_

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><p><span><strong>Pilot-Kiss my arse insta-love!<strong>

**Bridie's P.O.V**

Ow-shit, my head! Aspirin! I need aspirin!

Or Calpol. Yeah, lets go with Calpol, I love that sweet crap.

Maybe my Grandma won't notice I'm hung over if I throw myself down the stairs and pretend to have brain damage. Wait...hung over? I never get hung over. Not like this anyway.

Last night must have been a wild one. I can't even remember it, and that really rarely happens. In fact I don't think I've forgotten a night out on the piss since I first started drinking when I was fourteen. That was only four years ago though.

I turned eighteen last month, and, well, I honestly wish I was five again.

Everything's fine when you're five, even when everything is actually shit. Five is good, five is safe, at five years old, when someone asks you what you want to be when you grow up, it is perfectly acceptable to answer 'a fairy princess ninja'. At five, that's cute shit, at eighteen, that kind of answer just earns you weird looks from relatives you only see once every few years when someone gets married or dies.

I prefer it when someone dies.

Not because I'm some psycho goth who likes death or anything, it's just that funerals mean less talking, and also far less giving me _'that look'_. You know, the look older relatives give you at weddings right before they say something like 'it'll be your turn next, sweetie'. What, like, am I mean to be disappointed that I'm not married by the age of eighteen? Apparently so.

Sometimes I like to get back at those old crones by giving _them_ the same look and saying the same exact thing to them, at funerals. They don't talk to me as much any more. I call that a major win.

Never underestimate the power of being a creepy teenager.

I wriggle around under the covers for a moment, trying to feel my way towards Sam so I can poke him awake, or just push him out of bed. I usually always end up either back at my house with my boyfriend, the before mentioned Sam, or back at his. I prefer waking up at home, so I really hope that's where we are right now.

When I can't feel Sam next to me, I try cracking my eyes open again, hoping the sunlight won't attack my cornea's this time quite as fiercely.

Ahha, SUCCESS! No pain!

Is there such thing as a momentary hang over?

That's when I take note of the fact that I DO NOT KNOW WHERE I AM.

Seriously, I've never seen this room before in my life. I sit up far too quickly, and my head starts to screech out for some kind of medication. Or Cadbury's chocolate. They both work the same way, even Remus Lupin from Harry Potter says so. I honestly don't know why the NHS don't give it a go, people would fall for it, I can guarantee that.

Anyway, back to the point in hand-it appears that I have been kidnapped. Or teenagenapped.

I really hope I don't get sold as a sex slave, I don't think I'd be very good at it.

Ssshhh, brain, shut up, this is serious, be normal for once.

I push back the covers on the bed and look all around the bedroom. It's nice enough, pretty basic and homey, with blue walls and white furniture. A full length mirror on the wall. Harry potter posters and pin ups of advertisements for my favourite books, along with drawn pictures, mostly just dawdles, and a few posters of quotes from films and books that I love. A lovely window seat. A soft looking grey carpet. Books piled high on every surface and shelf.

Huh, it looks like my dream bedroom. If I had a dream bedroom. Which I don't. Well, apparently I do, because I'm fucking looking at it.

Maybe this is a dream then?

I much prefer that idea to having been teenagenapped by a creepy stalker who apparently knows exactly what I'd want my bedroom to look like. I don't know why I just said 'creepy' stalker, there really isn't any other kind of stalker, despite what books like 'Twilight' and 'Hush, Hush' might want you to believe.

I almost jump right out of my skin when I hear a succinctly American voice shout,

"Bridie, are you up? You're gonna be late for school!"

American?

School?

Humidity?

In September?

What the _fuck_ is this?

I rush to the mirror, half afraid that my appearance will have changed along with everything else. But no. I calm down considerably when I see that I look exactly the same.

I have the same dark blond/light brown long curvy hair, pale blue-grey eyes, roundish face and pale skin. I have the same boobs that are way too big for the rest of my now slim body. I used to be fat you see, and then I lost a lot of weight from everywhere except my chest. Yeah, that sounds great in theory, but trust me, it's a pain in the arse. I envy girls with teeny tiny boobs that never get in the way of anything they do.

Skinny bitches bring me down when I see them walking freely around town on their way to Primark or River Island. Able to just waltz through the crowd without a care in the world. It makes me want to trip them. But, I'm mean like that.

"Bridie!" there goes that American voice again.

I don't know what possess me, but I find myself shouting back on instinct from my old secondary school days,

"I'm coming! Wait a sec!"

Wait a sec? Wait a sec for what, brain? You got a plan you're not telling me about? Huh? Well, do you?

Um, _no,_ is the answer to that.

Ok, for now, I'm gonna say this is a dream. An awful, awful dream.

I mean, all signs indicate that I'm in America so far. Which is bad enough.

Ugh, America.

Look, I don't hate America, but, I've been, and...I'm English through and through, I like weird contrary weather, sarcasm, British accents and the English view that everything is crap. It means I don't have to pretend to like things, or be, God forbid, 'bubbly' or 'peppy' about anything.

What even is pep? I believe this is a question for Google, Yahoo can fuck off.

But, I don't have time for that right now.

I yank open the cupboards and drawers that are oddly full of clothes I really like. Then I yank off my underwear (I never sleep in clothes-it's way too uncomfortable) and pull on some black demin shorts, a blue vest top with the words 'Uncorns cannot fly. I cannot fly. Therefore, I am a unicorn' printed on it in thick black lettering. Then I pull on some scuffed up boots with buckles on the side and the picture of a fish wearing a top hat drawn on it in black white board pen.

That is my signature picture.

Weird. Or actually, not that weird is my point. This dream is very specific and normal-ish. I usually dream like I'm being chased by fishes with hats whilst riding a dinosaur named Bob as I save the world from evil mind controlling toasters.

That's what dreams are supposed to be like. Not this. This is just plain wackadoodle.

I run a brush through my long hair, trying to get it to not look shit. Hey, there's a first time for everything. I spray on some of the perfume from 'my' dresser and apply a few bits of make up. I've never been much of a make up person to be honest, and by that I mean I don't wear that much of it, mostly because I'm too lazy to apply all the crap some of my more chavy mates wear.

Foundation is not meant to be a replacement for skin, ok.

When I find myself looking half way presentable I grab the bag that looks like one I'd use for school and slowly make my way downstairs. The rest of the house sparks something in me, some recognition, but it's not until I walk into the kitchen and see two people I very much recognise from TV, that I really realise where my dream world has dropped me in.

The Vampire Diaries.

Now, I've seen the show, because my step sister loves that sort of stuff, and I'll admit I didn't hate it either. But I haven't watched it in a while. I do remember most of the first season though.

Ish.

I remember enough to know that this is Elena Gilbert's house and that the woman in front of me right now is her 'Aunt Jenna', _and_ that the broody looking teenage boy is her brother, Jeremy.

Woah, this dream is strange as fuck.

"Toast. I can make you toast" 'Aunt Jenna' says to someone.

Oh crap, she's looking at me. I think she's talking to me. Uhhhh

"No, no, I'm good" I mumble.

I'm good? No! No I am not _good_! There is nothing good about this!

Jenna nods frantically and starts bustling around, throwing stuff into bags and watnot. She seems so stressed out.

"Um, are you ok?" I ask gently.

I have no idea why.

Jenna smiles distractedly at me,

"Of course, I'm just...late. I'm meeting with my faculty advisor..." she trails off and starts packing manically again.

I decide to leave her to it, I mean, I shouldn't feel bad, this is just a dream. It's not real.

I move towards 'Jeremy', Elena's brother. He's even more emo than I remember him from the show. Great.

"So, Jeremy...where's Elena?" Again, I have no idea why I'm asking these questions. I just need to say _something_.

Jeremy gives me a teenage WTF look,

"Who's Elena?"

Who's Elena? Elena's your sister, you moron!

"You know, your sister, Elena"

There goes that look again.

"Bridie, I only have one sister. You. Remember."

Oh. So no Elena in this dream. That's fine actually, I never really liked her character very much.

Wait, did he just say _I'm_ his sister?

**Jackson's P.O.V**

What the ever living fuck? Did I get run over? Bloody hell, my head hurts!

"Jackson? Are you alright, brother?" A bloke I've never seen before asks me. He's hovering. I don't like it when people hover. Especially when the person they're hovering over is me.

Besides, nobody calls me Jackson.

I was named after my father, Jack Storm. But everyone kept on calling me 'Jack's son'. Eventually my dad decided to be funny and change my name officially to 'Jackson'. That must have been before he decided drugs were more fun than raising his children.

I do _have_ a brother. A younger one, Jesse, named after our mum, since she died in childbirth. Because apparently my brother was born in the 1800's where shit like that actually happened. Most people call us the stormbringers. Because we have bad luck. Like, really, we have some serious bad luck. Storm men always do. It's a family curse that goes back a very long time and more than a few generations.

But anyway, everybody who I'm actually close to calls me Jack.

"Who the hell are you?" I snap, once I'm fully awake and aware of my surroundings.

Actually...better question, _where_ the hell am I?

I'm lying down on a fancy-arse sofa in a house I've never seen before. A big house at that too.

I've been kidnapped by a rich teenager. Great. Maybe he was driving the car that hit me.

Random bloke begins to look pensive, and I groan inwardly. Sometimes Jesse makes that face, it usually means he's brooding over something. Or more likely some**_one_**. That someone is usually Bridie Jones. My brother's got a thing a mile wide for Bridie. His ex. My best mate. Now she's going out with that wanker, Sam. I really want to hurt him.

But it's not my life, it's hers. And I can't say that I actually liked her going out with my little brother either to be honest. Because now I have to deal with him brooding over how he's lost the love of his life. My brother is a sentimental idiot.

"How long have you been asleep?" Broody teen number one asks me.

I narrow my eyes at him,

"I've been asleep? Not unconscious?"

Broody teen shakes his head, his forehead creasing with worry,

"Why would you have been unconscious?"

"Uh, because you hit me with your car, mate" I mean, why else would I be here?

Broody teen sighs,

"I don't have time for games, Jackson. I'm gonna be late"

Again with this 'Jackson' bullshit. How does he even know my name? Did I tell him it before I passed out?

I run a hand through my dark blond hair, my headache now slowly dimming to a light buzz inside my skull,

"Late? Late for what?"

As if it matters. I need to get out of here.

Broody teen frowns at me annoyingly, and I stare right back,

"School. High school. You know I'm going to see that girl, the one who looks like Katherine"

Katherine? Who the frik frak is he talking about? I've been kidnapped by a mental patient.

Wait a second...High school?

"Where am I?" I ask, looking around at the expensively decorated living room once more.

Broody teen is still frowning at me as he replies,

"The boarding house, in Mystic Falls, Virginia"

Virginia? Oh, he really is insane.

Just because broody teen has an American accent doesn't mean I'm actually in America right now. It doesn't. Please, God, say it doesn't.

"Right, ok then." I say slowly, not wanting to spook the crazy, "So...can I...leave?"

Broody teen stares at me like _**I'm**_ the insane one,

"Jackson, seriously, I'm not in the mood for this. I'm going, ok, you do whatever you want"

Broody teen moves away from me and heads towards the front door, pulling on a leather jacket as he goes. I sit there dumfounded for a few seconds. Then I mentally slap myself over the head. I get up and attempt to follow after broody teen.

I look down at myself to see that I'm wearing different clothes to the ones I put on this morning. Black jeans, dark blue t-shirt, a similar colour to my eyes, and simple army boots. My usual style, I guess. Although these clothes feel more expensive than anything I've ever been able to afford before.

"Hold on, mate, seriously where am I?" I call after broody teen, this just keeps getting weirder. And why is it so bloody hot?

Broody teen stops midway through opening the front door, he fixes me with a hard look,

"Why are you speaking in an English accent?"

Um, I would have thought that'd be obvious.

I snort dismissively,

"Don't change the subject brood boy"

Broody teen rolls his eyes at my acknowledgement of his broodiness, almost like I've done it countless times before.

"I've had enough of this shit Jackson, you're worse than Damon sometimes"

Damon? Who the fuck is Damon? His therapist?

"What are you on about?" I ask in exasperation, none of this makes any sense.

Broody teen arches a thin eyebrow at me,

"Forget it, Jackson, I'm going to the High school, so that I can meet her. I need to know her, Jackson" he answers before practically storming out.

Oh for the love of marbles, I chase after him like a knob, asking,

"_Who?"_

"_Bridie_" Stefan snaps impatiently over his shoulder as he strides towards a very posh looking car.

Bridie? Bridie's here? _My_ Bridie? In...Mystic Falls.

"Take me with you" the words come flying out of my mouth before I can even think about it properly.

Maybe this is some elaborate joke that Bridie and Jesse have come up with. Yeah, _**right**_. If this bloke knows where Bridie is, then that's good enough for me right now. Jesus Christ, maybe _I'm_ the one who needs a therapist.

**Jesse's P.O.V**

"J, wake up! Did you hear what I just said?" a young blond man snaps at me, sounding annoyed, for a moment I think it's my older brother, Jack, but once I blink away the headache fogging up my brain, I see that it's someone I vaguely recognise from TV.

TV? Why would someone from TV be in my car?

Wait...this isn't my car. This is a truck. Why am I sitting in a random truck?

I get flicked on the forehead by TV man and semi-glared at,

"J, what's wrong, you fell asleep on the spot just then. How much pot have you been smoking lately?" he asks the question with a certain amount of resignation.

Which I am extremely offended by. I haven't taken drugs in ages thank you very much TV man.

There is something seriously wrong with me.

I look around me, trying to get my bearings, my eyes widen when I catch sight of a big sign that reads, 'Mystic Falls High School'. Oh crap.

Now I know where I've seen this person before. The Vampire Diaries, my cousins love that stupid show, I had to watch it all day once when I was babysitting with Bridie. Oh, God, _Bridie_. Just thinking about her makes my heart thump in my chest like mental. I miss her so much. It's completely sad. Or so my older brother says.

But he doesn't understand how amazing she is. Bridie makes my world feel like it's been turned on it's head, in a good way. I've never felt like that about anyone. I want her back, even though we've been broken up for months.

"Mate...what was your name again?" I ask, whatever this is, I'm starting to get a bad feeling.

TV man frowns harshly at me and shakes his head,

"For God's sake J, this is our first day back at school and already your brain is fried"

I lean back in my seat and groan. This is all so weird...HA! I remember his name now,

"Matt!" I exclaim excitedly, proud of myself for remembering.

Matt rolls his eyes,

"Well done J, yeah, I'm Matt, your younger brother. Congratulations."

Matt gets out of the truck then, not looking back as he makes his way towards the school. Jesus, Matt really needs to lighten up. What am I talking about? Matt isn't real. I mean, he is, as an actor, but he's not actually _Matt._

But apparently in whatever whacked out world I'm in right now, he is Matt. He's also very rude, with a chip on his shoulder the size of an elephant.

I must be on drugs, high as a kite or something.

Wait, wait...did he say he's my brother? Yep, definitely on drugs.

I suppose it's not completely unbelievable. Matt and I do look somewhat similar I guess. My hair's a much lighter blond though, and my eyes are the same dark azure blue as my real brother's. I'm a little taller than Jack, but Jack is definitely broader. My body type is more lithe and compact, whereas Jack's is muscled and hard. Jackson's face shows his age, he has high cheek bones and a constantly stubbled jaw.

Jack's...handsome. There, I said it. But it's never coming out of my mouth to his face.

My face is more...pretty, I guess. Not bad looking, just less serious. Let's put it this way, I look like I've actually smiled once or twice this century, whereas Jack resembles a pissed of roman statue.

Jack would probably argue that he's just not a childish idiot like me, but he's not here, so he can't say that.

Just then someone knocks on the car window and I just about shit myself. My head whips round to glare at the prick who just almost scared me to death. I almost die from shock all over again when I see the two faces peering in at me.

Speak of the two devils and up they shall rise...Bridie and Jack. My brother and my ex? What are they doing in my drugged up dreams?

I raise a hand slowly to wave at them awkwardly. Jack rolls his eyes in response and pinches the bridge of his nose, him and Bridie share a look of mutual annoyance (they do that a lot when I'm around).

"Jesse, you twat, get out here and talk to us" Bridie says to me, her bluish-grey eyes sparking with that fiery passion I was always drawn to.

Wait a second...I am not a twat.

"I am not a twat" I say needlessly.

My brother gives me a withering stare and Bridie just smirks playfully.

"We have to talk, Jesse, you might have noticed that we're not exactly at our flat in England. Or in England. Or in the real _world" _Jack snaps, his own blue eyes looking calm and cool as ever, despite the situation.

Yeah, what is the situation again?

I do as they say and I get out of the car, just then realising what I'm actually wearing. What the hell? Bridie looks me up and down and presses a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Jack snorts like he means it, after eyeing me, and says,

"Those clothes tight enough for you, gay boy"

I glare openly at him and flip him the finger,

"Fuck off, you moody git"

He is right though, fucking hell, who dressed me like this?

My body is encased in a pair of the tightest jeans known to man and an even tighter dark purple t-shirt. My hair is all gelled up too and I'm pretty sure those are earings in both my ears, eyebrow, and my tongue. I feel naked and I look like a slut. A gay slut. Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.

"What is going _on_?" I practically whine.

"Alirght, alright, keep your panties on" Bridie teases, "Are you wearing panties by any chance?"

"Don't start" I complain irritably, "Just tell me what's going on"

Jack scoffs,

"How the fuck should we know? We both just woke up here"

"Inside a TV show?" I mutter to myself, but loud enough for them to hear.

"Apparently" Bridie agrees with a shrug, "I thought I was dreaming, but after Jack found me..."

"We both figured out that this isn't some sort of weird dream or hallucination" Jack supplies with a sigh.

"Then what is it?" I ask, and they both stare back at me blankly, looking as confused as I feel right now.

"I've taken the place of Elena Gilbert, the show's main female character" Bridie explains, "Jack says Stefan Salvatore, one of the main male characters of the show called him brother..."

"So...he's taken the place of Damon?" I reason, but Bridie shakes her head.

"Nope, Stefan mentioned Damon, so that means Jackson is another brother A third brother"

I frown in thought,

"But there's only two Salvatore brothers on the show"

Jack narrow his eyes at me speculatively and mutters dryly,

"I don't even want to know how you know that, Jesse"

"Oh, shut up" I snap at my brother.

"Who are you meant to be then?" Bridie asks me.

I shrug,

"Well, Matt told me I'm his older brother"

"Who the hell is _Matt? _Your new boyfriend?"

"Shut _up_!" both Bridie and I snap at my brother.

Jack holds his hands up in a defensive gesture,

"Bloody hell, calm down you two"

"Oh yeah, because this is really a time to be calm, we're inside a fucking TV show...hold on...does that mean you're a vampire, Jack?"

"Yep" Jack replies flippantly.

"What do you mean 'yep'?"

"I mean, yes, I am a vampire"

"How do you know?"

Jack gives me another withering stare,

"Well, a lot of things really. But mostly it's this strange need to rip out your throat and drain you dry of blood. That kind of helped."

"Oh"

"Yeah, 'oh', you prat"

"This isn't helping" Bridie interrupts, "So...it sounds like you've replaced Vicki, Matt's sister-" Bridie smacks Jack over the head when he goes to take the piss out of my sexual identity again, "Stop being a tosser, Jacksy, we've got more important shit to deal with, if you hadn't noticed"

I about to say something when suddenly two girls I recognise as Bonnie and Caroline from the show start waving to Bridie, and Caroline calls,

"Bridie, come over here and introduce us to your new friend" I see that she's eyeing my brother. I supress the urge to roll my eyes. All the girls stare and pant after Jack like he's God gift to women, and the worst part is that Jack doesn't even notice, or care. Such a waste.

"Uh...be there in a sec" Bridie shouts back.

Oh, no, she did not just say that.

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><p><em><strong>Hey, my peoples, please let me know what you thought of my story, it was inspired by one of my own amazing readers! This is for you ZahraAhmedxx! xxx<strong>_


	2. All the tossers is house say 'hey'

_**I do not own The Vampire Diaries. At all. Not even a little bit. Which is a shame. For everyone. Especially me.**_

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><p><strong><span>All the tossers is house say 'hey'<span>**

**Bridie's P.O.V**

"_Be there in a sec?_ Are you bonkers? We are not going over there!" Jesse hisses at me.

I roll my eyes right back. Even though I'm thinking the exact same thing. There's no way we can pretend to know these people, why would we? It's completely illogical. Barmey actually.

I mean, this is not some story or TV show, well, it is, but not for us. We come from the real world. And in the real world, you don't pretend to know people for no reason whatsoever. Unless you're at a funeral, then you have to pretend to know family members you swear you've never met before. Which is true for all people of all ages, I was once at a funeral for my great great nan, and I asked my dad if we were related to the people there. My dad's reply was 'we might be'.

So, yeah.

Caroline and Bonnie are frowning over at us, and I can't exactly be pissed at them for it, all things considered. Wait, yes I bloody can!

I march over to them, Jack and Jesse at my back, most likely following me out of worry that I'll attack someone. I may have gotten into a few fights back home. And I may have been arrested a couple times for my 'anger issues'.

Let's get one thing straight here, I do not have 'issues'. I just don't like people. And not in the teenager emo way either. I just don't like most of 'em. They're all pretty crap, and I say that as a person myself.

I like Jack, we've been best mates for ages. He's a cool bloke, and he's not afraid to be real, which is something I respect. And I care for Jesse, even though _sleeping_ with him, and I put emphasis of 'sleeping' NOT 'dating' for a reason, was a huge mistake.

Now Jesse fancies himself in love with me. Which is stupid, and completely not true. Jesse is far too fickle to love anyone, he's like a puppy, constantly getting excited about something new and annoying everyone else. He is sweet though, and kind, there aren't many people in this world with a good heart, and J is one of them, so I'd kick anyone's arse who was mean to him.

I stop suddenly in front of Elena's best friends from the show and Jesse crashes into me. I just about manage not to fall over like a knob. Lucky me.

Jesse let's out a squeaked 'sorry!', and Jack snorts derisively in J's direction. Jack is a bit of an impatient fucker when it comes to his younger brother. But then, aren't we all impatient fuckers when it comes to our younger siblings, something about them just seems to spark our tempers faster than anyone else ever could. Personally I think it's some kind of evolutionary thing, where we are all finely tuned to want to kill our siblings so we can get the most food.

Just saying. Not pretending I'm an expert...Can you even _be_ an expert at that? Bet you there's a University course for it somewhere. Probably in the North. Most people in the south still believe that witches cause all their problems.

I'm from the West. We believe in forced politeness, sarcasm, cows...And a public transport system that makes you want to kill yourself on a daily basis.

I cross my arms and attempt not to glare at Mrs. Sacrifice herself for everyone and Smiley. If you don't know which is which, then you've never watched the show before and should piss off out of my metaphorical classroom.

"How do you know us?" I demand.

Smiley and Mrs. SHE (short for the above nickname), both looked shocked at my outburst. I clear my throat in annoyance and try again,

"Well, don't just stand there, tell us what you know"

Jack starts snickering up a storm at my right shoulder, although I can tell he's trying to conceal it, Jack doesn't do overt emotion often, clearly he's feeling a little off balance. And who could blame him for that? We're in a fucking TV show!

Jesse nudges me on the arm and I all but growl at him in response. J flinches back a little and glances away from me. His massive blue eyes look sad and hurt. Great, now I feel bad. Bloody feelings!

J focuses his attention on Smiley and Mrs. SHE, his open doe eyed expression reeling them in just like it does everyone else. Although Smiley keeps 'checking out' Jack, a bit too obviously if you ask me, but hey, Jack's never been into mysterious anyway, so maybe she'll get lucky.

"We're sorry, what Bridie meant to say was, do you mind telling us _how_ you know us"

There's a long pause where nobody says anything. J is looking at Smiley and Mrs. SHE earnestly and patiently like the special little snowflake he is. Jack doesn't waver in his tall, blond and rough edged bad boy-ness, as always. I, however, am neither stoic nor patient,

"Before we all die of old age would be great" I mutter.

Can we die here? I kinda want to test it. Is there a cliff I can shove someone off of? I know there's definitely a bridge. Flipping death trap of a bridge apparently. I swear people only ever die by falling or driving off of bridges in films or TV shows.

Think about it, how many reports have you heard about of someone dying by driving off of a bridge. In this town it happens three times. To the same girl. Now that's just lazy plot-work right there.

Smiley narrows her eyes at me, and Mrs. SHE frowns at Jesse, she says,

"J, are you alright, do you need us to get Matt?" she talks to him like he's mentally deficient. I want to laugh so hard right now.

Jesse huffs at her and shakes his head,

"No, I'm fine, I just want to know what's going on" he's whining again.

Smiley and exchange worried looks. Smiley looks at me and asks,

"What the hell is going on, Bridie? Why have you always got to be such a freak? This is why we stopped hanging out with you, you know"

Freak? Well...yeah, I'm weird, but, so? And 'stopped hanging out'? That's not part of the script!

"Wait, we're not friends?" I make slow down gestures with my hands.

Mrs. SHE and Smiley exchange another look,

"You stopped being friends with us in freshman year, Bridie, remember?" Mrs. SHE says in confusion, giving me a sideways glance like I'm mad. Or dangerous. Yeah, they both look a little afraid of me. Why?

"Why'd we stop being friends?" I don't even know why I care, this is ridiculous.

"Because" Smiley says a bit nastily, "You got sent to Juvie for a year for smashing up and setting on fire car ' car"

Oh, right, yeah, that does sound like something I would do.

I nod mutely for a moment,

"Do I have a prison tattoo?" I ask suddenly, excited, I really hope so. Maybe it's on my back and that's why I didn't see it this morning. I already have some tattoo's anyway. I have two feather tattoo's on my upper arm and wrist, a black rose on my ankle, an open book on my lower arm, the words "Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light" on my shoulder blade and the numbers '666'on the back of my neck (because that shits funny). But no prison ones. I don't like that this world me is more badass than I am. It's just sad.

Jack reaches out and pets my head,

"Calm down jail bait, you can inspect yourself later, I think we have other things to worry about right now"

I poke my tongue out at Jack and punch him hard on his thick muscled arm. God that hurt.

"You're only saying that because you already have a prison tattoo Jack"

Jack has even more tattoo's than me, including a pair of amazing angel wings on his back, which I LOVE. He's also got a feather tattoo like me, some barbed wire wrapped around a lily, and at least four quotes in various places all over his body, my favorite is the quote over his heart, "_Our one true salvation: Freedom_". And technically Jack did do time a few years ago. He swore he'd never go back.

Jack flicks my hair,

"Shut it, jail bait, or I'll bite you"

"Bring it on, vampy" I hold my fists up and mock threaten Jack, who laughs and holds up his hands so I can punch them.

By this point and Smiley are staring at us like we've properly gone off our rockers. Which brings me back to,

"If we're not friends, then why did you call me over?"

Mrs. SHE smiles nervously,

"We wanted to see how you were after...you know..."

"My parents went over a bridge and drowned" I supply dryly.

Mrs. SHE swallows hard and nods, even Smiley looks a little ashen. Good, now we all feel bad.

I smirk at Smiley and Smiley quickly returns to glaring at me. She sniff prettily and grabs's Mrs. SHE's arm,

"Come on, Bonnie, we should get inside before the bell" Smiley gives me another dirty look, and slides another 'flirty' look at Jack, which to my horror he actually **returns.** Traitor!

I just smirk wider though and say sweetly,

"Yep, you do that Smiley, you _do_ that. And try not to exert yourself, all that desperation must be exhausting to carry around, I can smell it from here"

I'm so mean, and I can't help it! Being bitchy is fun over here in TVDland. That's what I've decided to call it by the way. Like wonderland, but with vampires instead of drugged up caterpillars. I think i'd prefer the drugged up caterpillars to be honest.

Before Smiley can carry away Mrs. SHE's , Bonnie smiles uncomfortably at Jesse and says,

"Are you sure you don't want me to get Matt for you, I know how..._stressed._..you've been, and-"

Jesse throws his hands up in the air and shouts in exasperation,

"I AM NOT ON DRUGS!"

Mrs. SHE's eyes widen comically as Smiley drags her off. I fall about laughing. At Jesse. At myself. At this whole fucked up situation. What is going on?!

"Well, thanks for that, Bridie, you've just chased off two girls who could have helped us figure this shit out" Jack says, shaking his head at me, although I can tell he's not actually annoyed, more frustrated. Yeah, well, me too Jackattack, me too.

**Jesse's P.O.V**

"What are we going to do?" I ask, thumping my head back against the wall. Of the bloody boarding house. All of us are sitting on the floor leaning against a wall. Drinking straight from a bottle of bourbon Jack found. How pathetic is that? Very. But it's all we got.

We came back here because it was unanimously decided that we weren't going to attend High school. We aren't quite that desperate yet.

"Uh, live here forever" Bridie says with a finality that scares the shite out of me.

"What?" I sputter helplessly.

Bride gives me a solemn look and nods,

"Yeah, well, we have to stay here now and get Jack ready for his future marriage to Smiley"

Jack rolls his eyes at Bridie,

"Oh, get over it. I smiled at her, like, once."

Bridie wrinkles her nose up,

"Yeah, but, _why_?"

Jack shrugs,

"She's pretty. I'm a bloke. Two plus two equals..."

"A boner?" Bridie supplies with a smirk.

I almost spit out a mouthful of bourbon at that, coughing out huffs of laughter through my bloody nose.

"Ah, shut up, Bridie" Jack grumbles, taking another drink from the bottle.

"God, this is all so weird" Bridie says with a sigh.

I nod in agreement,

"Well yeah. Do you think you'll have to fall in _wuv_ with Stefan, since you're Elena"

Bridie snorts and Jack groans something like 'for fucks sake'.

"I don't think so, J. I'm not actually Elena. We're nothing alike. Smiley and Mrs. SHE are proof of that. Stefan won't fall for _me_"

"I don't know, he seemed pretty mental to me when I met him" Jack comments drolly.

Bridie whacks Jack over the head,

"I could so pull Stefan Salvatore if I pretended to be nice. And he's not mental. He's just broody"

"You know pretending to be nice would actually involve acts of kindness, Bird" Jack says.

"I can do that" Bridie argues, "I have skills"

"Oh, we don't doubt that" Jack murmurs with a wide eyed look at her.

Bridie flips Jack the middle finger and turns to me,

"So, Jesse, are you enjoying those jeans?"

Jack bursts into laughter and I feel myself start to go red. Bloody tight jeans, it feels like I'm just wearing an extra layer of skin, you can see everything through these, it's insane. What was other me thinking? Other than 'how can I look as gay as possible'.

Just as Jack and Bridie's laughter is calming down, the sound of the door opening hits us in the face like a cold bucket of water. Shit, shit, shit!

It's then that Damon effing Salvatore walks in to the living room.

He takes one look at us, and smirks that classic 'Damon smirk' and says to Jack, although his eyes are fastened on Bridie,

"Leave some bourbon for me, brother. And introduce me to your new friends"

Bridie salutes him and gets to her feet,

"My name's Bridie Jones, nice to meet you. We're all from an alternative reality where this world is a show on TV called the vampire diaries" she holds out the bottle of boubon to Damon, "Want some?"

Damon stares at Bridie for another long minute before taking the bottle, drinking from it, and replying,

"Tell me more"

"Only if you share the bourbon, vamp boy" Bridie fires back, holding out her hand, her eyebrow raised in a silent challnge.

Damon's smirk gets wider, and his pale blue eyes seem to almost spark with interest,

"I think I like you" and he hands Bridie the bourbon.

Oh, Jesus, here we go.

* * *

><p><strong><em>ZahraAhmedxx- So sorry for taking so long to update, i've been majorly busy as of late. Really hope you like it so far.<em>**

**_Lady Shagging Godiva-Thanks for the review, and yes weird and wonderful was what I was going for ;)_**

**_Yukari99-Yes, I have da skills, thank you._**

**_Alyce DreamEater-Your review was amazing, and so are you!_**

**_'Do not go gentle' quote is from a poem by Dylan Thomas._**

**_Ok, so, this is my authors note. Just so you all know. This story may appear crazy, and that's because it is. I really am just throwing anything I want into this story, and I am really, really open to suggestions, so if you want anything to happen, let me know and I'll try to incorporate it. You know, for kicks. xxx_**


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Vampire Diaries, Humor, Romance