Jeremy did something different that morning. And Bonnie was forever grateful.

Like so many other days, Bonnie packed up their three small children. Jeremy helped as always. They were always careful to tell each other they loved one another both at the end of the day and before they parted in the morning. They had been through too much to take anything for granted.

But this day he stopped her before she got in the car and pulled her into his arms. "You do know you are the love of my life, don't you?"

She laughed and replied archly, "Why, of course I am Mister Gilbert."

But he didn't respond in kind, just kissed her deeply and then opened the back door and kissed each one of the kids in their car seats again. He closed the car door and said, "My life would mean nothing without you."

She parted her lips to ask him if anything was wrong, but he just turned and walked back to the house. She watched his back for a moment before getting in the driver seat and buckling her seat belt.

She always remembered him standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, smiling as he saluted her with his cup of coffee. She blew him a kiss as she backed the car out of the driveway, and he laughed and pretended to catch it.

The memory would stay with her forever.

The three children were content in the back in their car seats, and she shook off the momentary feeling that something was amiss. It was a bright, beautiful, sunny day and what could possibly be wrong?

She only gave her cell phone half her attention as she watched Jeremy, Jr. the spitting image of his father, go through his gymnastic routine. She couldn't believe the words coming out of the phone. Eyes wide, she turned to look at the screen as if somehow the sight of the phone number would make the words she was hearing make sense.

"There's been a fire at your house. It was destroyed."

"Jeremy?" she asked, voice cracking.

"I'm sorry."

The phone dropped from her numb fingers.

This cannot be happening. This cannot be real. Not now. Not after all we lived through. Not when we have a family. Not when we are so happy.

After that it was like she was swathed in cotton bunting. Like a veil was stretched between her and the rest of the world. A veil that mercifully numbed everything. She knew it was real. Knew that she spoke and reacted and did things, but it was all far away, removed from her.

Her father was informed, of course, and arrived shortly after the call. The mayor in a small town like Mystic Falls was kept abreast of all happenings. The other young mothers in her group banded together and took over the care of her children.

Bonnie looked at her father who walked her aside. "I'll call his sister."

"The children." Those two words expressed her uppermost fears.

Her father understood her concern. "I called Lucy. She'll be here in an hour. Abby's on her way also."

"I'll dri—" His offer was curtly cut off.

"No. Stay with the children. Protect them." Bonnie's voice softened. "Thanks, Dad. I appreciate the offer, but I can take care of myself."

He nodded solemnly acknowledging the truth of her words. He felt compelled to add, "I'm so sorry."

Her face felt frozen, like it would crack if it moved, and she refused to let me mind accept what she was hearing. "Thank you," she said formally. She knew she would break if she allowed emotion in, and she wasn't going to let that happen. She wanted answers.

She drove to the burned out, still smoldering shell of the house and carefully walked around, ignoring the condolences of the local firefighters most of whom she had known her entire life. She pulled in the wind and searched the earth. She closed her eyes and used her power, and she felt it. Felt the trail.

This was no gas explosion. No accident. This was witchcraft.