Fourth Evening


The following evening, Bonnie sat down at the window and waited for the crow to emerge from the forests across the front yard, but was unpleasantly surprised when he didn't come. And to her disappointment, he didn't appear the evening after that either.

As a feeling of dread settled in her stomach, Bonnie sat down at the window every night, fruitlessly waiting for the crow to show up. Every night, she crumbled a biscuit, put it on the windowsill and left it there, hoping that the crow would return at another moment, but he never did. She even tried to whistle, but to no avail.

Her hesitantly lifted spirits lowered dramatically again and it became painfully clear to Bonnie how important the crow's visits during twilight had become to her. Somehow, the bird's silent attention had made her feel as if he were listening to her and comforting her. With his disappearance another feeling of loss was added to the one she already had been burdened with and she cried herself to sleep at night again.

The pile of crumbs on the windowsill kept growing and decayed in a grimy mud mixed with rain, until one Sunday evening Bonnie threw open the window and with one furious movement wiped it all away, tears running down her cheeks as she closed her window. Enough was enough.


While the crow had abandoned her, Bonnie started to notice that Damon Salvatore suddenly had developed a habit of showing up unexpectedly and looking at her from the parking lot at school or from across the street when she entered the supermarket. The first time she had frozen to the ground, but he had made no attempt to approach her as he only watched her thoughtfully, his eyes intense in his otherwise impassive features. Most of the time she stared back at him, her face contorted in a scowl that didn't seem to impress him. The moment she would turn around, he disappeared.

He was there again, when she left school after a, thankfully, uneventful Monday. She saw him standing in a far corner of the parking lot, gaze fixed on the young witch and on their own accord, Bonnie's feet changed direction, marching right up to him.

Damon raised his eyebrow, but didn't move as Bonnie came to stand in front of him, a little breathlessly from her sudden action.

"Why won't you just leave me alone?" She growled accusingly, her gaze fierce in her chocolate eyes.

A melancholy expression for a moment ghosted over his sarcastic features before he smirked indulgently. "You wouldn't want that, little witch."

Bonnie opened her mouth for a heated retort, when she realized in shock that some unclear part of her actually acknowledged truth in his words.

"Oh, won't I?" She countered rather pointlessly but Damon simply looked at her, then with a swiftness indiscernible to the human eye, grabbed her hand and unfolded it, revealing the partly healed cut.

"Paper cut?" He asked innocently, while trailing a surprisingly soft finger along the ridges of the scab, surrounded by new, paler skin.

Bonnie was thunderstruck. All she could do was look down, her gaze fixed on the almost tender caress of the cut. Her intuition warned her that there was something to his question, as if he knew something she failed to see, but the sound of his voice pulled her from her thoughts and she quickly snatched back her hand.

"Splinter," she responded softly, thinking back of her crow in sadness.

"You might be more careful, little witch." He lifted his hand to her temple and his gaze thoughtfully trailed to the strand of black hair slipping through his fingers."Your magical blood is very sweet to certain creatures and we don't want Emily's descendent to be attacked again, now would we?"

His ice blue eyes momentarily filled with longing as his hand brushed the caramel skin of her neck when letting go of the soft curl. Then he stepped back, patiently, if not a little amusedly, to watch her struggle with a fierce anger flaring up.

Bonnie balled her fists and looked away. "Then you might get started with protecting me against yourself, Damon," she retorted through clenched teeth.

Damon smiled joylessly. "Believe me, I am."

His dark words made a shiver run down Bonnie's spine. They revealed to her the restrain he had to put himself under at this very moment as he looked down on her with an unreadable face. He'd tasted her blood, her sweet, magical blood... and he wanted more.

Bonnie involuntarily swallowed, before she bravely raised her eyes to meet his gaze and was taken aback by the intense, melancholy look with which he captured hers. Gone were his usual sarcasm and bravura and suddenly he reminded her strongly of his younger brother Stefan.

"How you're doing nowadays, little witch?" He determinedly changed the subject. An urgency she couldn't pinpoint laced his voice. Did he actually care?

Confusion replaced the feelings of anger and fright she'd felt before as she watched something flash in his eyes that took her a moment to recognize. Then her heart skipped a beat.

It was understanding. Actual, genuine understanding that made her eyes fill with tears. Her defences crumbled.

"Not too well," she replied softly and honestly, before she could hold back the words.

"I'm sorry to hear that." His resigned words sounded surprisingly sincere and Bonnie bowed her head, nodding wordlessly. Once again, her heart wrenched at the thought of her crow's disappearance.

As she took a ragged breath, Bonnie hugged her bag close to her chest. "I.. I'm sorry about Katherine," she mumbled, looking at a point near his shoulder.

For a moment there was only silence, then he said something she didn't expect. "I know."

Looking up in surprise, she saw the lost, empty expression in his eyes. She gasped. This expression she'd seen twice with him before, and had stirred her sympathy for him, even after what all he'd done to her. But another, more powerful feeling of recognition unexpectedly surged through her as she looked at him.

A recognition that made her take a step closer to the older Salvatore brother, driven by an urge that made her reach out to him with a far more overwhelming strength than just heartfelt sympathy. It was an inexplicable need to prevent him from… leaving her?

A fearful look for a moment appeared in Damon's ice blue eyes as he watched Bonnie's face suddenly going blank, before he was pulled in helplessly by the mysterious yet benevolent power that now engulfed him. He was mesmerized by her soft, brown eyes brilliantly shining up at him as his gaze lay bare his pain to the young witch before him.

"No," he then said huskily, responding to a question Bonnie couldn't remember, but felt she'd asked him once.

At hearing his voice, Bonnie blinked and was pulled from her concentration. She stepped back, immediately dissolving whatever power she had been maintaining between them.

Damon stumbled a little when she suddenly released him and shook his head to clear it. Then a smirk curled up the corners of his mouth.

"That was interesting," he commented, scrutinizing the young witch's face, before his gaze flickered toward a point behind her. He leaned in and lay a protective hand against her neck before he brought his mouth to her ear.

"It's time for you to go now, little witch. My little brother wants a word with you and I would advise you to pay close attention because…" he cast a glance over her shoulder, "I think it's important," he concluded in a sing-song voice, amusement lacing his words.

Despite herself, a grin appeared on Bonnie's features and she whispered, "Isn't that always the case with Stefan?"

Damon let out a dry chuckle. "You're absolutely right, little witch. Now off you go," he agreed and suddenly placed a light kiss on her cheek, before he disappeared the following moment.

Bonnie carefully turned around and slowly started to walk toward Stefan who stood next to her Prius, hands in his pockets as he studied her with a worried expression.

Feeling her headache already coming up, Bonnie sighed and walked up to him, pointedly rummaging through her backpack.

"Hey," Stefan said gently and from the corner of her eye she clearly saw several emotions passing over his face, ranging from worry to irritation to curiosity.

She struggled to put on a false smile. "Hey Stefan. Nice to see you." She ducked her head when the smile faltered, hoping that he wouldn't ask her to explain her little encounter with Damon he'd just witnessed, which she barely understood herself. The place where his lips had touched her cheek still tingled and her heart raced against her chest. "Look, I'm sorry but I have to go, so…"

"Did you already look into that book I gave you?"

Bonnie froze, keys in her hands, completely caught off guard. Book? What book? Then it slowly dawned to her. The book Elena had given to her. She had completely forgotten about it.

Stefan seemed to guess her train of thoughts. "You definitely should, Bonnie. It's very important."

She looked up and brown eyes met worried bluish grey ones and an involuntary sigh escaped her. "I will, Stefan. I promise."

Nodding once, he smiled his melancholy smile. "Good."

When she turned around, he had already disappeared.


At home Bonnie went straight upstairs, not bothering with taking an aspirin against her headache, and started to search through her textbooks. Finally she pulled an unfamiliar one from underneath her Economy book and sitting down her bed, she studied the black leather cover. A frown appeared between her delicate eyebrows as she ran a hand through her curly black hair. The book was inconspicuous with the unexciting word "notes" printed in golden letters in the corner on the right. Then her heart skipped a beat. She recognized the book. It was her grandmother's grimoire. In the grief following her death, it hadn't even occurred to her to look for it, but through Stefan and Elena it had found its way to her. Bonnie's hand flew toward her mouth as tears brimmed in her eyes.

With trembling fingers she opened the book and turned the tightly written pages. Her grandmother had been using the grimoire when teaching her, but not until now Bonnie could freely read the text full of spells, directions and thoughts on the life and loved ones of her Grams. The blood pounded in her ears as she leafed through the grimoire, pausing on a particular date in 1997, when she had been about five years old. Next to a direction for a spell, her Grams had scribbled a short remark.

I think she has the gift.

Silent tears started to stream down Bonnie's cheeks as she let the rest of the pages run through her fingers, ending with the blank ones at the end of the book, silent witnesses of an abruptly ended life.

A sob broke through Bonnie's restraint and she closed her eyes, grabbing her painfully throbbing chest. When the moment of overwhelming grief had passed, Bonnie got a hold on herself and wanted to close the book, when her eye fell on the last of the written pages. It was dated on the day before she and her Grams would be opening the tomb and her eyes traveled to the first line.

My dearest Bonnie, it read.

Bonnie's breath caught. It was a letter. From Grams to her. A hot feeling started spread from her stomach through her body as she bowed over the text with eyes that were widened in shock.

She didn't see the crow that stared at her from the closed window, then flapped its wings and flew away.


Fifth Evening


Bonnie hadn't had much sleep and therefore had trouble making it through the next school day, but she had been more cheerful than she had been in weeks. The letter her Grams had written her, had encouraged her to continue her training by herself and, being the college professor she had been, Sheila had created a study route for her through her own grimoire with references to Emily's cookbook. It had felt as if, from the grave, Bonnie finally had received the sign she'd craved from her grandmother. A new clearance had been brought now into the pool of blackness drowning her, giving her a new direction as she determinedly started to practice the first spell Grams had pointed out for her to learn.

She even forgot about her strange encounter with Damon Salvatore.

In the afternoon she quickly left for the parking lot, telling an astonished Elena to thank Stefan from her and sped home.

Ignoring her ordinary homework she quickly grabbed a quilt from the house and sat down on the front lawn to repeat the spell she had learned previous night, then started on the next one. Healing broken objects and controlling her ability to create fire.

She was so engulfed in the grimoire, she didn't notice the soundless footsteps approaching her from the woods.

"How was school today?"

Bonnie's head jerked up when she heard the familiar voice and her eyes widened in shock. Damon Salvatore hovered over her as he looked down on her with a pleasant smile. She gasped.

"What are you doing here?" There was only astonishment in her voice, as she looked up at him in honest surprise. But, then the memory of their encounter the day before came rushing back. A deep blush spread across her cheeks when she remembered the kiss on her cheek, following the intimate moment they'd shared together.

"Surprised?" He amusedly countered her question, seeming to guess her thoughts and cocked his head as he studied her. "I thought I would pay my favorite little witch a visit."

This pulled Bonnie from her embarrassment and a displeased frown appeared on her features. She'd never liked being toyed with. "I think you'd better leave, Damon, or..."

He squatted on his haunches before her, his hand touching the ground beneath him as he looked her sharply in the eye. "Or what, Bonnie? What does the Witch of the West have in mind? Change me into a frog?"

She froze at his choice of words, as once again the inexplicable feeling stole over her that there was something he was hiding from her. Blinking furiously, she tried to hide her confusion as he patiently waited for her answer. "Well?"

Her eyes narrowed. "No, I won't do that," she said finally, "I can't have a frog trying to protect me."

An initial expression of pleasant surprise passed over his face before it was replaced by mock hurt and he raised his eyebrows at her. Then his gaze traveled toward the grimoire lying opened on the grass. He glanced at Bonnie from the corner of his eye.

"What have you been studying?" He changed the subject.

She followed his gaze and answered before she thought about it. Somehow it felt right to talk to him, as if his presence filled the void the crow had left upon his disappearance. "To control my ability to set things on fire every time I'm upset." She fidgeted with her hands. "It's difficult, though. There's not much at home that could make me upset, so it stays with learning the theory."

"Hmm," Damon nodded in agreement, then caught her gaze. "You know, I do have a knack for upsetting people. Maybe you could practice on me."

Bonnie's eyes widened. "What? No! I mean... If I would accidentally set you on fire, you might not recover."

But Damon merely shrugged and energetically took position in front of her.

"My problem, my loss," he responded lightly. "Come on. What are you waiting for? It's not like we're going to talk heavy things today, anyway."

His gaze lingered on the scar marring her hand, then he nodded encouragingly at her. After a moment of hesitation, Bonnie frowned and ducked for her book. "Fine," she grumbled.

"See? I've already upset you," Damon commented smilingly. "You make it too easy."

Bonnie rolled her eyes and scrambled up from the grass, cursing the way he scrutinized the inelegant movement. With an inaudible sigh, she shook her curls, not noticing his appreciative expression.

"Ok. So basically, you must try to get under my skin and I have to control my anger, my sadness, or whatever nasty emotion it is that I'm feeling."

Damon smiled a teasing half-smile. "Easy enough. You're just as righteous as your precious friend Elena, so whatever I'm about to say to you it will work like a red rag to a bull."

Bonnie's eyebrows slightly furrowed under his slightly challenging, ice blue stare.

"You've just compared me to a bull," she established evenly, trying to hide her irritation. She wasn't planning on letting him get to her so quickly. "It's not true, though. I'm not as righteous as you think. In the end we all only protect our own."

The lighthearted tease disappeared from his eyes as his gaze bore into hers. "This is Sheila speaking," he remarked and Bonnie nodded, remembering the moment in the tomb when her Grams had said something similar to Stefan. But, when Damon didn't react the way she'd expected him to she suddenly realized something.

"Stefan didn't tell you," she said hesitantly.

"Stefan tends to do that," he responded without averting his eyes. "What did he not tell me?"

"The door to the tomb was opened, but that didn't lift the seal to keep the vampires in. You would have been trapped inside the tomb. Stefan and Elena saved you that night." Her voice trailed off and she lowered her eyes, not being able to escape his penetrating gaze.

For a long, painful moment they silently stood across from each other, then Damon said, "So, this conversation has turned into heavy stuff talk, after all." He took a few steps closer and as Bonnie's breath caught, he lifted his hand and took a black curl between his fingers. "And the worst thing is... You're nowhere near being upset to the point where you want to set me on fire."

Bonnie blinked as she processed his unexpected words, then she caught his actually regretful gaze and a giggle involuntarily escaped her.

The tense atmosphere immediately relaxed and as the sound of her laughter died away, they merely stood there, watching each other with a slight smile gracing their lips. In the strangely content moment, Bonnie allowed herself to study the vampire standing before her. Her gaze searched the lines of his memorable features and the light blue, slightly almond eyes set in a pale face, framed by messy, dark hair. The characteristic, mocking expression had disappeared, leaving only a powerful attractiveness that made her heart involuntarily speed up for him.

As she looked at him, Bonnie felt that Damon once again had lowered his guard to her for her to see the tenderness, the melancholy, even some kind of... innocence hidden behind his calculating gaze, that had now softened considerably.

A blush colored her cheeks as she asked herself why - why would he lower his guard to her of all people? To the young witch his unfortunate fate had bound him to and the only one to become a real threat to him when her powers would increase?

She watched with bated breath as Damon, unaware of her confused thoughts, lifted his hand and caressed her hair, his long fingers lacing through the soft curls. Smiling slightly, he followed the strands slipping through his fingers. Subconsciously, Bonnie closed her eyes, savoring the feeling.

Suddenly, Damon's head snapped up and he took a step back as he cast a glance at the drive. "Your father is coming," he established. "I have to go."

Then, before Bonnie could register what happened and be alarmed by his casual remark, he had bowed forward and placed his lips on hers. Completely caught off guard, she froze under the tender touch as a corner in her frantic mind marvelled at the softness of his lips.

He brought his hand behind the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. As the blood started to thunder through her veins, she closed her eyes and parted her lips, granting him the access he sought. Automatically, she placed her hands on his chest as she tasted his mouth and took in his scent. Passion flared up between them and he drew her closer, making her arms reach up and wrap around his neck. A faint sound escaped him when her hands buried themselves in his hair.

But, as suddenly as the kiss had started, he let go of her again. The next moment, he appeared on the drive as his tongue licked the trickle of her blood from his lips. Bonnie brought her hand to her mouth, while staring at him. She hadn't even noticed the small sting in her bottom lip. His blackened eyes slowly turned ice blue again. Then he grinned. "A last try to upset my little witch."

Her eyes widened in horror and she flushed a deep crimson as she took a few steps forward, but all she was left with was an extinguishing fire on the front lawn.

In the woods a crow croaked amusedly.


A/N: Wow... really wow. That's the only thing coming to my mind when I received all these positive, often lengthy reviews for this story's first chapter. This truly is a very enthusiastic fandom and I'm glad I'm able to make a fanon contribution to the beautiful pairing that is Bamon.

I noticed that there's some confusion about last chapter being a prologue and that's probably because the story begins with the prologue, but then continues with three evenings in which the crow appears before Bonnie's window. The chapter above contains two evenings (the fourth and the fifth) and next chapter will be consisting of the sixth and seventh evening.

To Lalaith Quetzalli I would like to say: it's really in the size. Crows are generally smaller than ravens. I also hope that this chapter has answered IloveRomances' question about Grams' grimoire. And I would like to thank RockerChick08 and Shannara810 for their enthusiastic and lengthy reviews and of course all of you who loved the plot and the writing. I hope you liked the second chapter too.

So, next chapter will be the last one in which the crow will show up before Bonnie's window again. Will his true identity be revealed?

Thank you very much for reading!