Recapper: [Pssst Stef: first of all, ixnay on the age thing. Also honey, you in no way look 17. That's not a bad thing. Just look in the mirror; there's no bad there. But there's no 17 there either. And don't get me started on Damon. Really, the writers have to come up with something to explain your appearances. Might I suggest either mild photo-aging as a consequence of the daywalker rings or that you two lied about your ages-at-vamping -- in order to get in Elena's pants.]
Samantha: I'm sorry Mr. Salvatore, what did you say about my grandfather?
Stefan: Ah yes. Um... we crossed paths. Now, not to be gross or anything, but what happened to Zachariah?
Samantha: He was murdered and he wasn't the first.
Samantha: Pshaw. Be careful, Mr. Salvatore. It's not a good time to be a founder in this town.
Stefan: Oh look, a raven! I know what that means.
Recapper: Craven! Oh you were such cheesy good fun. I'm sorry I mocked you, the DIARY-Ahhh and even the fog.
Damon arrives at the cemetery. He's positively wooden. It's been something like 48 years since he was turned and yet he's still ticked at Stefan for manipulating him into completing his transition. He's not impressed that Stefan's on the bunny diet and says he'd like to live out his eternal existence far away from Stefan. As Damon walks off, Stefan suggests they go get a drink and confesses that he's missed Damon. Damon considers and then finally agrees.
Mossy Manse, Present. Damon suggests he and Stefan go out for a drink. Stefan teases that Damon must be bored with his BFF in jail. Damon cops to that, but says he's also hoping Stefan will help him solve a murder. Commercial.
Rebekah is at the Grill, talking to Mayor Lockwood about trees. This story line is so dumb, so mind-numbingly stupid that I'm only going to give you the skinny and then speak of it no more. She is, of course, looking for the descendent of the Original White Oak -- the one with wood capable of killing the Mikaelsons. Carol suggests checking with the Salvatores as, back in the old days, they owned all the logging mills. AND SO WHAT -- DID THEY KEEP A TREE PEDIGREE ON EACH TREE THEY CHOPPED DOWN? I CAN'T WRITE ABOUT THIS SHIT. There. I feel better now. I'll try to keep the yelling and cursing to a minimum. But how I hate this plot point. Oak trees drop thousands of acorns a year. THOUSANDS. If the Original White Oak had one descendent, it could have had a hundred okay? Go out in the forest, Becky. Snap a branch off any old white oak. Stab yourself with it. If it kills you, we all win. Actually, I don't necessarily want Rebekah to die. It's just... she's looking for a damned tree. IN NORTH AMERICA. Oh, I'm yelling again. I'd better just move off this topic.