She's standing in the middle of the street, in a place that's eerily like Mystic Falls - Small Town America, the program's called.

It's the middle of the night, and she's standing on the double yellow, the fog from the creek that's close enough to hear making it harder to see more than a couple of hundred feet, but he didn't need to see that far, because she's standing there, and the smell of blood's nearly overpowering, and she's not exactly alone. There's somebody - a body, alive but barely, at her feet as she just... stands there, her communicator in her hand.