Anyone ever come to a point in these dreams where you don't know whether to feel guilty because you inflicted so much damage to the people around you to save your own ass - or to applaud your own twisted, manipulative ingenuity on faking your own death? Starting witch hunts, making deals with a werewolf, coming between two brothers again--
Mystic Falls. 1864. What a ride. I'll drink to that while taking advantage of this hotel room's bubble jets.