His fingers itched. They trembled against the steering wheel, as if no matter how much they movement the itch was still there. It was the nerves, he had told himself over and over again. They were getting close to the bar, close to Freya, and he felt every bit of him burst into so many emotions. There was a kaleidoscope, like when you look into the hole and see so many colours and shapes and it was all overwhelming. To him, he felt as if he could throw up at any moment. 

   The streets of New Orleans were filled with people. It began with crowds here and there, until they stopped at the corner of Bourbon and Orleans Street where throngs full of people covered the street, pints of alcohols in their hands as laughter and screams echoed from their throats. From there, they had to walk. He pushed by people, his brother and best friend behind him. 

   "What the hell is this?" Damon asked, stopping in the centre of the street. "It's not Mardi Gras, right?"

   "It's Oktoberfest," Bonnie said, pointing at a sign. "Apparently, they have it every weekend for the month of October."

   "We came at the right time," Stefan chuckled, crossing his arms. "Anyway, what was the name of the bar she works in?"

   "Saint Agatha's," Bonnie replied, pushing her phone into her back pocket. "It's a famous bar around here; five stars on Yelp."

   "So, what, look for the bar with the most people?" Damon asked, turning to the witch with pursed lips. "Great. It's not like the street is full with people coming in and out of bars."

   Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Or, you know, we can just go to the bar that says Saint Agatha's on the sign." She pointed at a wooden sign that said Saint Agatha's in bright red painting, and gave a big grin to Damon before strutting in front them.

   The vampire took in a breath and let it out in a sigh, then followed behind the witch to the bar. It wasn't raunchy or classy, but a mixture of both that created a nice atmosphere. Guys that were just off work from the bank next door sat next to punks with rings on their faces and tattoos covering their arms, and they got along well. There was a jukebox in the far corner, with automated music and also lined up with costumer requests. It was a long bar that wasn't as crowded as the tables, but still full. A full bar of beer, wine, and spirits with juice, soda, and water that seemed to call to everyone around. 

   "You know, I was expecting her to work somewhere like The Ground," Damon uttered, laying his hands on his waist as he continued to glance around. "This is nothing like that."

   "How did The Ground look?" Stefan asked, taking a stand besides his brother.

   "Well, for one thing, it had way less lighting," the vampire answered with a smile. "The walls were covered with posters and signed pictures of the musicians that had played there, from Miles Davis and Ella Fitzgerald to Talking Heads and The Ramones." His eyes glazed over as the image of The Ground overtook Saint Agatha's. "The bar was always full, and always sticky because someone kept spilling the drinks. The bar stools were red, leather, slightly ripped at the edges. The Ground always had two faces, the weekdays and the weekends. My favourite, although it will sound very surprising, was the weekdays. It was the opposite of the weekends, much more quiet than the punks that moshed to rock music."

   "Romantic," Bonnie hummed, giving him a grin. "Okay, why are you still standing here? Go, Damon! You've waited years to see Freya, and now you're just standing here and talking about the past?"

   "He's reminiscing," Stefan jokes, pushing his brother with his shoulder. "But, I agree with Bonnie. How many years have you been waiting for Freya?"

   "Too many," Damon answered with a soft chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. His fingers tingled against his waist, and his heart hammered on his throat. 

   "Exactly," Stefan nodded. "So, what's keeping you back?"

   "What if she doesn't remember?" the vampire uttered, glancing down at his brother. "She won't remember me, Stefan, that I know."

   "Is that keeping you back?"

   "What's keeping me back is knowing the woman I love has no recollection of our relationship," he explained. "She doesn't love me."

   "Then make her fall in love with you all over again," Bonnie said. "Damon, honestly, this is the first time I've seen you like this and I am speechless."

   Damon glanced down at her and smiled, giving her a wink. "Don't tell anyone," he said. "Fine, I'm going to get a drink. Anyone want anything?"

   "We're good," chuckled Stefan. "Just shut up and go get her."

   The eldest Salvatore brother rolled his eyes, turned his head, and immediately stopped when his eyes located the figure he had longed to see for so long. Her hair was just as before, a dark brown that appeared almost black and curled. Her eyes were the same colour of green, watercolour green that appeared as if a child had put too much water on their painting. She had a grin on her lips as she moved around the bar, as she laughed and spoke to the patrons. Just like before, her smile seemed to be a bit forced.

   At that moment, Damon's breath hitched in his throat. He couldn't breath, he couldn't move, like all of his senses had been paralysed at the simple sight of her. Never did he imagine seeing her with a smile on her lips again, not after seeing her swinging on a tree with a necklace made of rope. It made his fingers itch, his stomach tighten, his breath hitch, and his heart to accelerate its beat just a bit more. 

   He cleared his throat and took a seat in one of the empty stools, waiting for her to arrive. She served several other patrons, each with a smile and a soft giggle. When she reached him, she had the same smile on her lips. His heart slowed down at that, realisation hitting him with that simple look. Freya Beauchene didn't remember him. 

   "What can I get you, Cool Cat?" she asked, just like she did all those many years ago. Cool Cat, it was what she called him when they fist met, and he thought it was some kind of stupid Seventies lingo bullshit.

   "Uh, surprise me," he said, giving her a small smirk. He thought that maybe, if he acted almost the same way, there was something that would help her remember him. 

   Freya tapped her fingers against the counter, biting her lower lip at him, then nodded. She turned, grabbed a bottle and a glass and laid it in front of him. "Bourbon," she said, putting two ice cubes on the glass. "You look like a man that prefers bourbon."

   Damon smiled and nodded. "You got that right." He began to push his hands in his pockets. "How much will that be?"

   She glanced around and leaned closer to him. "It's on me," she said, sending him a wink.

   "I can't," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Really, how much is it?"

   "How about paying me back some other time?" she asked, arching her brows high. "That means you have to come back another time, and then you can pay for the drink." She tapped her hand on the counter once, grinned, and began to walk away."

   "I'm Damon," he stopped her. He hoped she would remember him when he told her his name, that she would magically run to his arms and kiss him hard and tell him those three little words he had longed to hear from her lips for so long. By the look on her face, he knew that it didn't work. So, he gave her a soft smirk. "Damon Salvatore."

   She stared at him for a couple of seconds, as if she were contemplating to share her name or not. Then, a smile appeared around her lips. "I'm Freya," she said. It was just that, her first name and a smile. He was hoping for her to tell him that her name was Freya Beauchene, not just Freya, but she didn't.

   "Freya," he repeated with a nod, his heart breaking. He hoped she didn't hear that. "Well, it was a pleasure meeting you. I'll get you back for that drink sometime." He stood from the bar, his smile fading, and made his way to the table Bonnie and Stefan were sitting at. 

   "She doesn't remember," Bonnie uttered, staring at Freya. The vampire took it as Stefan listened to the conversation and kept her informed. "It must have been the spell they used on her."

   "She's been dead for almost fifty years," Damon said with a sigh, taking a seat. "I wasn't really expecting her to remember me."

   "This magic is weird," Stefan said as he shook his head. "Why would they resurrect her?"

   "Freya's powerful," Damon reminded his brother. "She was a natural at creating spells and brewing potions. From what she told me, she said every witch's power is ruled by something. Like, Helena's powers are ruled by her instincts." He stopped speaking as soon as he saw the stare they were giving him.

   "Yeah," Bonnie nodded. "Yeah, you're right. A witch's powers are ruled by something. Do you know Freya's?"

   "Her emotions," he answered immediately. "Her powers are ruled by her emotions."

   "Exactly!" Bonnie groaned, snapping her fingers. "Damon, think about it. If her powers are ruled by her emotions, the witches who brought her back would obviously not want her to remember who you are or what you meant to her. Why? Because she loves you, and love is a strong emotion."

   "So, what, I need to make her fall in love with me again?" he asked, almost letting out a scoff.

   "That," she nodded, "or we can figure out a way to bring her memories back." She turned to Stefan. "Maybe you can help me with this since you had your memory erased by Qetsiyah."

    Stefan let out a chuckle, but nodded. "Yeah, okay."

   Bonnie turned back to the eldest vampire and nodded. "You, you go call Frederick," she said, pushing a napkin towards him. "I found his phone number."