What it do, Bennett Fandom? Sorry it took me sooo long to update (A whole 24+ hours). Francesca and I had a disagreement about an edit, but we're all good now. Edit posted, crisis averted. Any whooo…Thanks to everyone for the follows, favorites, and reviews. It's nice to see our crazy is catching, but enough of the cray talk. Disclaimer is making a go for the mic and he's legit got crazy eyes. So without further ado…

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me. And to add unfairness to poetic injustice, neither does the shows or the books. However, I still intend to pull the characters' strings and make them dance, all while having a ball upsetting canon plot lines!

Kol discerned every expression which skittered across the tiny seductress' face as she claimed her end for the third time that eve. He pressed kisses to her inner thighs as her moans settled to faint whimpers.

Her stamina staggered him. Witches from the Bennett line in centuries gone by had often pled exhaustion after a single encounter. Bonnie's sexual appetites, however, spun in the realm of insatiable. His John Thomas dipped and bowed for an opportunity to tame her avid wild flower.

"Will doing this," she lowered her eyes to his mouth before recapturing his gaze, "with you make me a vampire?"

"Would you like to be a vampire, darling?" He inched up her body dropping chaste kisses as he ascended.

She cradled his face in the palms of her hands when he attempted to ensnare her lips. "I don't know. Do you sparkle?"

He snorted. "Surely you jest."

"You snatched the words right out of my mouth. For the last twenty-four hours I've held my breath while I've waited for you people to tell me the punchline," she shoved him off of her to wiggle into a sitting position, "and finally when you all open the lines of communication you tell me you're a family of original vampires."

"Not all of us." He pressed a kiss to her collar bone. "Mother's a witch."

With an absence of mind, she threaded her fingers through the short locks of his hair. "And according to her, so am I. Supposedly, a powerful one. Which is a fucking joke, by the way. The closest I've ever come to magic was when I binged watch all eight seasons of charmed."

"Charmed?" He questioned as his fingers sought the treasure buried between her thighs. "You abso-fucking-lutely are charmed, Sweetness."

"Never mind," she muttered and then pushed him away to take leave of the bed. The sight of her bare body incited another violent bout of lust to tear through him. Unsteady on her feet, she rocked from side to side as she stooped to retrieve his button shirt from the pile of clothing on the floor.

After she donned the shirt and effectively concealed her curvaceous person from sight, she regarded him. "Look I'm not sure why, but I feel like you'll be straight with me. Maybe it's because I've allowed you to round first and second base or because it's Thursday." Her shoulders rose and fell. "Who the fuck knows? I just feel out of all the monsters that reside in Mikaelson House, you're the one I can trust."

"Many would implore you have your senses examined for arriving at such a reckless conclusion," he said as he moved to sit on the edge of the full sized mattress. She took a step back even as her ravenous emerald eyes devoured their fill of him. "Doing as I please—whether it be sinfully wicked or repulsively saintly—is in my nature. Nevertheless the outcome or consequence." He stood and began to stalk her. Each step purposeful and beyond deliberate. "Are you aware of what this makes me, darling?"

When her back met the wall he placed a clenched hand at either side of her head. He caged her between him, cheap sheet rock, and plaster. "Yeah." She gazed up at him with wide conflicted eyes. A gulp disturbed the stillness of her beautiful throat. "A badass."

"It makes me the most dangerous of the sodding lot." His fangs burst from his gums. A fraction of a second later the sharp enamel daggers punctured her carotid.

A pitchy shriek collided with his ears followed by a breathy little moan. Like all the others who came before her, she fell victim to the pleasurable side-effects of the anesthetic which coated his fangs and saturated his saliva. If he had a mind to, he could make a bloody mess of her. She'd happily meet her end donning a smile.

Her life cavorted within the palm of his hand. Such power over the little temptress filled his cock. Thoughtless of anything other than his own release, he grabbed her wrist and guided her hand to her mouth.

He released her neck. Blood dripped from his fangs onto his chin. "Fill your palm with your slaver," he murmured before reclaiming her neck.

Several moments after he issued the demand, she complied. Once she filled her cupped palm with saliva, he recaptured her wrist and steered her hand to his John Thomas. Her fingers encircled the enflamed muscle. The sopping grip beseeched his hips rock forward. Squeezing his arse cheeks together drove his deceiving serpent into the loose grasp of her hold. Displeasure forced a low growl from the depths of his throat. Sometimes innocence could tamper the most wildest of passion.

A chit who lacked experience in the most rudimentary ways of pleasure annoyed him beyond inconceivable limits, yet her naïveté in regards to carnal fulfillment communed with the educationalist in him. He not only wanted to tutor her on the more deplorably taboo side of coupling, he also desired to edify her on the entire sodding spectrum of sexual gratification. Rendering his redundant siblings obsolete.

After swallowing another gulp full of her delectable essence, he removed his fangs from her throat. He then tore into his wrist and pressed the gushing tear to her mouth. Firstly, she attempted to resist his offer.

"Drink," he murmured next to her ear. "It'll heal the puncture wounds at your throat. You'll bleed out otherwise."

A formidable scowl crossed her face. Upon second deliberation however, she opened her mouth and welcomed his life force into her enticing slim frame. The euphoric effects of his vampire essence lulled her into an extreme state of arousal. Her hips bucked. Repeatedly, she slammed her lower half into his thigh as she searched out a hard rigid surface to assuage her desperate need of friction. All while drawing his wrist deeper into her mouth with her free hand. She slurped him down without any further insistence on his part. Moments into the bloodletting, the suckling sounds and deep throated moans once again incited his lust rage.

Kol slid his fingers into the dampened folds of her undercarriage. The slick warmth of her aimed and took shots at his sanity. Determined not to drain her, he leaned forward to capture her earlobe between his teeth to occupy his mouth. He suckled the soft flesh for a moment, before whispering, "Stroke me, darling. Be sure to tighten your grip as well this time."

Once again she began to caress him. Gone was the hesitancy of inexperience. Her delicate hands squeezed, pulled, and twisted his knob so, she nearly forced him to meet his end before he had the opportunity to even embrace his beginning. Had he been an infantile vampire or a hormonal human, she'd be doused from waist to thighs in his baby batter.

As he gathered his wits, he found himself questioning his preliminary assessment of her being inexperienced. She had to have pleasured another before him. Her exceptional technique rivaled that of his most skilled courtesan.

When her mound ground against the heel of his hand, he recalled himself. He began to rub tight little circles over the sensitive nub which crowned her oozing opening. Even as he took care to keep pace with her strokes. Deathlessly dying in unison with her without the benefit of penetration would likely torment him to the doorstep of Bedlams.

The scent of her arousal thickened, and the prelude of his conclusion seeped from the slit of his bell head. An exquisite tightening in his ball sack foretold the initiation of his end. He was close, and if the slight contracting of her feminine walls were any indication so was she.

She tore her mouth from his wrist. Dark crimson dripped from her radiant white incisors. "I need you to make me…fuck make me…Kol, please fucking make me!" her whispered pleas, snatched him from the precipice and flung him into the arms of his waiting finale. Her grip upon his cock constricted into a vise clench. He hissed as he continued to pump himself into her hand, allowing her to wrench every drop from him.

Refusing to perish alone, he shoved two fingers inside of her and pressed the spongy softness hidden in the deep crevices of her convulsing walls. She mewled and her full lips formed a perfect O. The slight quiver in the fleshier bottom one ushered forth an invitation he accepted by taking possession of her upturned mouth. A mixture of his and her blood flirted with his taste buds, tempting his barely restrained monster to taste her once more. To lick the most blistering part of her blazing flame. Without warning the world fractured, and then shattered before his eyes.

A century worth of seed shot from his John Thomas, making a sticky mess of her hand and the tops of her thighs. Barely noticing, she continued to stroke his cock as she wailed a fragmented sonata into his mouth, while jockeying the beast of her own climax. Near the end of her release, her knees buckled. However, instead of lifting her into his arms, he guided them to the carpeted floor. There, he placed his back against the wall as he covetously clutched her to his chest.

After several moments of heavy breathing on her part she managed to whisper, "this floor is fucking bad news. We should move this good look to the bed."

"Shh." He brought his fingers to his lips and shoved them in his mouth.

The little witch's honeyed nectar wrapped itself about his tongue and demanded submission. More than willing to oblige, he utilized original speed to reverse their positions. When Bonnie lay sprawled on her back staring up at him, he slipped in the open space between her legs, and then began to slowly descend.

She laughed. "This carpet is going to give me rug burns in tell-all places. You sure I can't interest you in the comforts of a full size mattress?"

"Fear not, sweetness. We'll get there…eventually." he licked the liquid proof of her deathless end from the crease at the top of her thigh. "You have my word."

As Kol took her hand to help her out of the car—that refused to fucking go away—all she could think of was where his hands had been forty-five minutes ago. Tiny sparks of static electricity pricked at the pads of her fingertips and intensified as the flat of his cool palm found the small of her back.

After the night and morning they'd had she should've been worn the hell out and lacking the most technical part of her virginity. Neither, however, held true. It stunned. How the fuck could she still be a virgin? How the fuck could she still be in possession of her spine after he'd blown her back out? Her brain refused to compute.

Several times Bonnie attempted to give Kol the green light that penetration was indeed a go, but each time he swerved her. Instead, he either slayed her with his brains or distracted her with sloppy wet grinding sessions. Each play session always provoked her toes to curl and she'd even discovered a higher falsetto key she never believed herself capable of achieving.

Pleasured denied she was not, but he'd turned her into a raging—sell myself on the corner for another hit of him—junky in just under forty-eight hours. And in true addict fashion, she had to have every single drop of him until she was scrounging around on her hands and knees hoping to find even a few crumbs of him.

"I'm afraid pleasuring you this morning has left me quite ravenous, darling," he whispered in her ear, before pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Run along and I'll meet you in our first period discussion after breakfast."

Before she had the chance to embrace her inner Sydney Bristow and hammer him with a shit load of third degree questions he'd already zipped away. She rolled her eyes. Vampires were no better than human guys. Once those undead bastards bit the cookie they were back to sniffing the air to see what else was baking.

As Bonnie approached her locker, her mood further plummeted. Elena Gilbert waited for her with a determined expression that clearly conveyed she had ton of shit to fork lift off her chest.

Not wasting time on enabling fakeness, she began spinning the combination on her lock before reluctantly acknowledging her. "What?"

"Wow, you look…um…" Her brown gaze skimmed her from head to toe, and then snapped back to eye stalk her profile. "Look, I wanted to invite you to dinner tonight," she said, while clutching her books tighter to her chest.

Of all the fuckery… "Why the fuck would you wanna do that?" She speared the brunette with an up and down side-eye before yanking a couple of books from her locker.

"We used to be best friends, Bonnie," Elena snapped.

Bonnie scoffed. "In the fifth grade, Elena. That's like what…a million years ago?"

"It's just dinner, Bon-," she started off heated, and then broke off to exhale, "what the hell happened to us?"

"Girl, if you don't get the fuck away from my locker acting like you just stepped into an alternate universe." She slammed her locker. "What happened to us didn't just happen, Elena. We are what the hell we are and we've been this way for a minute. So you can just take your lame ass dinner offers, big brown pound puppy eyes, and go Brooke yourself!"

"Wow that's real mature, Bon—wait," said pound puppy eyes flared, "did you really just tell me to go Brooke myself?" Laughter shook her chest and gurgled from her mouth.

"What's so got damned funny?" She clutched her books in one arm, while using the other to drive her fist in her hip.

She just shook her head as a chortle inspired tears brimmed her lower lids. "I'm just remembering the time when we were eleven and Caroline lost Mr. Cuddles. You screamed at her to go Brooke herself. Your mom flipped! She made you sit on your front porch with a bar of soap stuffed in your mouth until you apologized to Care. Who would've known Abby was a One Tree Hill fan?"

"Me," she muttered as she glared at the ground, "It's the first grown up program she allowed me to watch with her."

"I'm sorry, Bonnie," Elena whispered.

She waved away her apology with a snap of the wrist. "Forget it! That bitch has been MIA for a minute too. So if we're done…"

"Bonnie, please come to dinner," she pleaded. "We really need to talk."

"How many times do I have-,"

A cool hand clasped hers. "We'd love to attend dinner at your home this eve."

"We would?" Bonnie's face scrunched as she turned to consider Rebekah.

"Of course, Dove," she insisted, before leveling Elena with a glare that would've made Medusa avert her gaze. "What time will you expect us?"

"Wow…us?" Elena's bulging brown stare darted from Bonnie to Rebekah, and then down at their clasped hands. "Um yeah, seven will be good. Jenna leaves for class around seven."

"We'll be around at eight," Rebekah said, before a closed lip half smile took custody of her winning mouth.

Bonnie inhaled and exhaled way more air than necessary. She tugged Rebekah away. Not caring if they still remained within hearing distance or nah, she went in on the blonde. "Why in the holy fuckery would you agree to break bread with Elena Gilbert of all people? I'd rather go sit down and swallow air with Gandhi!"

"Well, Dove! I don't trust that little doppeltwit. She seems like the sort to stab a girl in the back," her tone sharpened over the word dove. "And had you bothered to hear mother out instead of scampering off into the evening with my fiendish older brother you would've learned vampires can't enter a place of residence without an invitation from the person who resides there."

"Please." Her brows puckered as the corner of her mouth hitched. "I didn't scamper off-,"

"No use in denying it. You reek of him," she said with a slight wrinkle of her nose. "Now I'll have to draw you a bath and give you a thorough washing before we meet little miss bland for dinner this evening."

The rest of the day passed uneventfully slow, while both Mikaelson's stalked every step she took. By the time fourth period history rolled around she'd begun to think about making a sneaktastic dash for the exit. Before she could craft the, Shaw shank redemption, of escapes a student office worker informed Mr. Tanner the principle wanted to see her. When she started to gather her things, she noticed Rebekah and Kol do the same. A thorough eye roll that prompted a long drawn out sigh spoke a dictionary worth of words about her irritation on their stalk worthy companionship.

"Hey." Blue and brown gazes collided with her and burst to flames on impact. Lust blazed her ass. For a full five seconds she burned until she rediscovered her words. "I'm good without an escort. Stay here and I'll find you both later." With that said, she stuffed her books into her bag, and then hot stepped it to the door.

She needed some alone time to absorb and come to a conclusion about Rebekah and Kol. They both liked her, but that wasn't the problem. Her issue was that she liked them both too. Yet, it still wasn't just them.

Finn jacked the temperature up on her inner—DTF—meter as well. The silent suffering thing he did was fucking hot and reminded her of Vito Corleone. Sure he appeared to be a mama's boy, but something told her there was a shit ton more to him than just a man tangled in his mother's apron strings. Fire burned beneath all of that indulgent tolerance, and she'd gladly brave his flames to touch the very center of him.

Then there also was the recent arrival of yet another Mikaelson sibling. Elijah. He may have gnawed on her hand like an extra from—Night of the Living Dead—but had he only asked, she would've fed him something with a nasty girl twist—she gave her mind a mental shake. What the fuck was wrong with her? She was with Kol for fuck sakes…or was it Rebekah? At this point who the hell could keep track? Well, fuck it all! She'd gone and twisted her shit into a major dilemma.

Halfway to the Principal's office, Elijah Mikaelson stepped into her path. Her less than purposeful stride skittered to a stop. Not sure on whether to run away or run her mouth, she stood her ground. He walked a few more steps to close the distance between them. Watching him move, thrilled and terrified her all at the same damn time. The graceful sureness of his movements made her think of a jungle cat. Majestic to behold, but just as fatally dangerous to be beheld by.

Once he towered over her, she couldn't stop her gaze from travelling over him in a slow perusal. She took in the berry blue suit he wore, which probably cost more than her entire wardrobe of, hoodies, t-shirts, jeans, wife beaters, and yoga pants. The straight lines and superior angles his erect posture inspired, lent him a runway model vibe that intimidated the hell out of her. Even the trivial details (nails, hair, brows, and shoes) most men overlooked, he nailed them like he'd swung a hammer at those inconsequential things. Damn, he made her want to get her shit together.

"Miss Bennett-," he began in the same calm measured tone he'd utilized the night before.

"It's Bonnie, Mr. Mikaelson. Please…just call me Bonnie," she said doing her best not fidget under the weight of his attention.

He inclined his head in an elegant nod. "Only if in turn you call me Elijah."

She bobbed her head and shuffled her feet as tried not to lose herself in the turbulent intensity of his soul distressing stare. "If you're looking for Kol and Rebekah they're down the hall in room 577," she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.

"No, Miss-," he raised a hand as just a hint of a smile pushed at the corners of his mouth. "Bonnie, I've come to ask your forgiveness. My actions the night before were deplorable and rather out of character for me."

She leveled him with what she hoped was a no nonsense stare. "Were you intentionally trying to take off my hand, Elijah?"

"Never would such an affront be my intent in regards to you," he assured with a squaring of his jaw.

"Then my forgiveness is unnecessary. Look," she cast her gaze to the ground before retraining it back on him. "I felt it too, the surge of energy. You know, right before you accidentally stabbed me with your fang. It took you by surprise just like you…I get it."

She placed a reassuring hand on his arm. The pleasure spasm that pierced her fingertips and catapulted up her extremity knocked her off balance. When she swayed, he took hold of her elbow to steady her.

"Your kindness is greatly appreciated, Bonnie. Yet, misplaced." His hand lingered on her elbow. "There's not an excuse worthy enough to pardon my lapse in decency. So I'm here to attempt to make amends by presenting you with an invitation for lunch."

His request snatched her off guard. Why the hell would he want to have lunch with her? She was a filthy mouth anti-social teenage girl who was about as interesting as a number two pencil. He should be off, taking down supermodels or giving face time to princesses. The very last place he should be is standing in the middle of Mystic Falls High offering her an invitation to lunch.

"Um, I would," her run at politeness crumpled and her twitchy ways took the wheel, "but I have this thing in the principal's office so-,"

A genuine smile blossomed on his mouth. "Again, I'm afraid I must plead for you forgiveness. You see, there's no…thing, in your principal's office which requires your attention. It was nothing more than a ploy on my part to lure you from your lessons."

"Suppose I should thank you, then. Tanner's an ass and I still had forty-five minutes left in the class period. So once again, save your apologies, Elijah. I'm sure you have a ton of exes out there holding broken hearts who can use them more than me." A frown yanked her eyebrows together and rumpled her forehead. Why the fuck would she say that? Did she actually just make a lame attempt at flirting?

"Noted." The smug turn of his smile confirmed her fears. "Well, if you're so adverse to me verbalizing my contrition, then you must permit me to demonstrate my remorse through an act of altruism." When she reluctantly nodded her assent, a pleased expression settled on his face. He extended a hand that gestured towards the exit at the end of the hall. "After you, Bonnie."

Elijah Mikaelson watched Bonnie Bennett through his lashes as he filled her glass with champagne. She cast her gaze around the old witches' property. Confusion and interest manipulated each expression that flickered across her bewitching face.

"I've lived in Mystic Falls all my life," she said, her gaze returning to his. "How have I not seen this place?" The recently renovated plantation house gleamed as a faultless back drop for their luncheon picnic on the lush professionally manicured lawn.

"Cloaking spell," he answered as he replaced the champagne in the ice filled wooden chiller basket.

One of her brows inched higher. "Cloaking spell?"

"It's a spell which can conceal the location of any person, place, or thing," he explained, while moving to occupy the space across from her on the fleece blanket.

She scoffed. "So the spell's specialty is nouns."

"So it seems," another smile found his lips unawares. The third one that day. She amused him without even endeavoring to do so.

"Why would you need to cloak this place? Mikaelson House has gone B&E free for years." She wrinkled her nose as she poked her oyster fork into the dish of Beluga.

Hmm, it would appear he may have over-estimated her taste buds. "When I acquired a witch to spell the property, theft was not a concern." He leaned forward and removed a leaf from her rich brunet tresses. His fingertips grazed her cheek bone. Minute whips of ecstasy wrapped around his digits. She gasped and it ruined him. "A little over three hundred years ago one hundred Bennett witches died on this property. In the early eighties I was led here for the sole purpose of safeguarding the property."

"Bennett witches," she whispered, catching his hand in hers before he could pull it away. "They were my ancestors. How'd they die?"

"They were burned."

"The f-fuck? Burned?" She sputtered, and then snatched up the champagne flute and drained the glass. "Like the got damned witches of Salem?"

He shook his head. "Unlike the women in Salem who were accused without cause and executed, your ancestors sacrificed themselves to literal hell fires to save the town." He took the empty flute from her and replaced the glass in the basket. "And when a witch perishes by the means of violence, an explosion of her magic is released at the site of her death and there it lingers, indefinitely."

"Okay, so if one witch is a magical explosion, then one hundred witches must be the equivalent of a fucking nuclear holocaust." Her phrasing was colorful but accurate.

"Now you understand why the property must be protected," He stated as he catalogued every twitch, pucker, and furrow that happened across her asymmetrical features.

"It's the same reason why world leaders have lunch codes for missiles and implement a multiple person protocol. No one person should have access to all of that power," she murmured, before grabbing his flute and downing the contents in it too.

He frowned at her lack of impulse control. Her uncouthness provoked him to contemplate her upbringing. "On the contrary," he took the empty glass from her hand. "There's a single witch who is in fact destined to absorb the residual power floating about the estate. And once she does, even Nature will bend to her will."

"It's the prophecy Finn spoke about last night." She giggled a bit, while giving her head a slight shake. "Let me speculate…you and your family believe I'm the witch meant to take in all of this magic."

Elijah moved to sit next to her and cover her hands with his. "It's imperative you complete the conversation you began with my mother the night before."

"Shit," she muttered. "If only I'd limped my happy ass home that night." A sigh rush from her mouth, and then she angled her head to consider him with a slanted stare. "I'll speak with Mrs. Mikaelson, but I'd like to put this out there for you first."

Unable to summon even a smidgen of restraint he leaned into her until a mere centimeter separated their lips. "Consider me your confessor. Profess your truth."

"I'm not her, Elijah," she whispered. "I'm not the witch meant to harness the powers of one hundred dead witches. I know this because I've never been what anybody has ever thought to need. And that's Gucci." She lifted and dropped her shoulders in an effortless shrug. "I'm okay with riding the bench. In fact, I prefer watching other players take hard knocks while trying to win the game. It's kind of what I do. Besides, I've never wanted to be needed anyway."

"And you're telling me this why?" He questioned as he visually traced the fascinating curve of her bottom lip. "Why not my siblings. You and Kol appear to be rather…close."

"I'm telling you this because you're the only one who's looking at me like I'm the answer," she said as she shifted a bit closer to him as well.

"Yet, you are the answer. To what question? I'm still uncertain," he said, while raising his hand to cradle her neck in his palm as his fingers massaged the base of her skull.

Surrendering the last of his control, he closed the distance between them to take possession of her appealing plump lower lip. The entire color spectrum of lights exploded behind his eyes. As he ran the tip if his tongue over the seam of her lips, tantalizing energy pricked his mouth. The obscene deviltry then proceeded to dance across the inner lining of his oral cavity.

Moments later, the lid on the treasure box lifted. She'd permitted him sole right to the riches within. He explored every inch of her delicious offering in deliberate detail. When her heart threatened to be its way out of her chest and into his, he relinquished his claim on her mouth. Soft breathy pants fell from her lips as she considered him through low hanging lids.

After several seconds of rapid respirations, she attempted to speak, "Y-you should know I'm seeing your brother and maybe even your sister too. I'm not entirely sure."

"I'll be sure to inform my baby brother and sister on my intentions regarding you," he whispered before he pressed another kiss to her lips. Then and there Elijah decided he didn't care whether Bonnie was the prophesized Bennett. He intended to possess her regardless the outcome.

Esther paced around her study. She donned all of her squirmy troublesome nerves on her sleeves. Oh what she wouldn't give for bit of chewing tobacco or maybe a smidgen of opium. She shoved another stick of gum into her mouth. Hopefully, it would help her to resist the urge to claw off her skin. How the devil could Elijah go and bungle it so astoundingly? She'd expected such nonsense from Kol. Not Elijah! Never Elijah, he was the noble one!

What other recourse was there for them now? Niklaus would arrive in less than a fortnight! If Bonnie was still unwilling to accept her birthright by the allotted time, he'd most assuredly go the way of that abominable doppelganger. Though one would've assumed he'd learned after the Katerina debacle. What an utter night terror she turned out to be. To this very day, he still searched for the conniving little deceiver.

A knock sounded on the opposite side of the door. She turned halfway to regard the wooden partition as her cheeks bulged from multiple pieces of gum. "Yes?" She garbled over, at the very least, three packs of chewing gum.

"Mother, I have Miss Bennett here. She wishes to have a word with you," Finn called out, before he muttered something too low for her to here. "Is now an acceptable time for a visit?"

Her head bobbed as if he could see her. She then spit the wad of gum into the rubbish bin. Patting her hair into place, she took a seat in her favorite Victorian wing chair. She then said, "You may enter."

Seconds later, the door opened. Finn entered first, his scrutiny darted over her then swung to assess the room. Hand in hand, Elijah and Bonnie followed—interesting. They crossed the expanse, closing the distance between them. When they towered above, her noble child stooped to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. He then settled Bonnie onto the love seat and appropriated the cushion next to her.

"Bonnie, it's always a pleasure to see you," she gushed, while her pointed stare plied Elijah with silent questions. Her noble boy had once again proven himself, the ever capable corrector.

"Thanks, Mrs. Mikaelson. Sorry for running out last night. I needed some time to wrap my head around everything," she explained, while casting an unsure gaze at Elijah who in turn inclined his head in what appeared to be reassurance. "But I'm back, because I'm ready to hear everything. Even about the prophecy."

"Of course," she shifted in her seat. "Your birthright entitles you to unrestricted access on the subject. Where would you like me to begin?"

"Um," again the younger witch's stare found Elijah's thoroughly besotted one. "Tell me about the prophecy."

Finn placed a calming hand on Esther's shoulder. The expression of support calmed her enough to still the quaver of anxiety inside. "As I said the night before, over a thousand years ago I attempted to turn my children into immortal creatures and nature retaliated by making them into what the world has come to perceive as monsters."

"To everything there is a season," Bonnie murmured. "That must've been what Stefan meant. He said my kind is supposed to maintain the balance, meaning nature right."

Sorrow overwhelmed her, because there was a time when nothing mattered more than balancing the scales for the mother all. "Stefan?"

"Are you referring to Stefan Salvatore?" Elijah queried as he stared down at the tiny fairy with eyes that burned hell fire bright from a rather complacent expression. His contradicting countenance appeared quite foreign upon his usual corresponding features.

"Yeah," she regarded him as if she beheld the face of god. Well, these events unfolded with haste. The younger witch's hold over her children was by far the greatest she'd ever witnessed. Niklaus would be a damned fool if he squandered such an opportunity. "He was waiting for me on my porch when I made it home last night."

"Was he," Elijah questioned, his voice disarming and calm, while his eyes took a calculating turn. He shifted in his seat to look upon Bonnie. "Did he reveal the reason why he called on you?"

Bonnie rolled her eyes and produced a smacking sound with her lips to emphasize her annoyance. "To tell me to stay away from the Gilberts."

"The Gilberts?" Finn questioned from behind her.

"It is the human doppelganger's family name," the chilly dispassion in Elijah's voice on the subject of another Petrova counterfeit warmed her heart. If Bonnie could induce Elijah to set aside his regrets for Tatia, then she'd had to be the Bennett of the prophecy.

"Doppelganger, who Elena?" Bonnie questioned. "How in the hell? That bitch doesn't have a twin."

"Not a sibling no, but once every five hundred years a human replica of the first woman I ever presented my heart to, is born," Elijah explained. His gaze dedicated itself to the magical fairy's face. "Katerina Petrova was the first and has since become a vampire. The Gilbert girl is the second."

"Get the fuck out! You mean there's more than one of her nosy ass snooping around?" Bonnie shook her head as she glared at the ceiling. "And if that's not bad enough, she's a supernatural reboot of your first love. That must be," she retched, and then made a gagging noise, "hard for you."

"Surprisingly, no." Either Elijah had greatly increased his aptitude for spinning seamless falsehoods are he'd indeed spoken the truth. "When I encountered her yesterday at your place of learning, I found her wanting. Her character lacked depth and facets. She had the personality of untouched parchment. In my opinion, she was rather one dimensional."

"Well, I'm inclined to agree with this Stefan Salvatore chap," Esther interjected, while crossing her legs at the ankles. "Petrovas have a rather extensive history of luring Bennett witches into a premature demise. Another one of Nature's retaliations against your family."

"Nature's retaliation?" Bonnie's brows migrated within the vicinity of her widow's peak. "What the shit break does Nature have against a Bennett? I've never littered a day in my life and Grams recycled for fucks sake!"

Finn tsked. His disapproval over Bonnie's dreadful tongue undoubtedly matched her own. "No, dear. The feud between the Bennetts and Nature predates you and even your grandmother. If verity is to have its way, the discourse between your family and Nature travels back three thousand years. To your ancestor Qetsiyah. She was the first witch to ever create an immortal. A being ungoverned by anything, including Nature."

"And this all involves the prophecy?" Bonnie asked as she moved to the edge of the loveseat. Elijah placed a palm between her shoulder blades, and then began rubbing circles into her spine. She wondered if the young witch even noticed her children's forwardness anymore.

"Yes," she answered, while clasping her hands together to cease the fidgeting of her fingers. "After Qetsiyah cast the immortal spell, nature proceeded to try and annihilate the Bennett line in an attempt to offset the prophecy."

Bonnie waved her hand in a deliberate circular motion. "The prophecy being?"

"To sever Nature's absolute jurisdiction over supernatural affairs." She sighed. They'd now reached the crag, either they leaped from the ledge into the unknown or leave numerous years of planning to the rubbish pile by opting to walk away. "The foretelling states, there will be a witch born of the first line of magic. The prophesized sorceress will unite the original linage of mystical power with the second most powerful ancestry of sorcery by absorbing the magic of one hundred martyred witches during her quickening."

"What's a quickening?" Bonnie questioned.

Esther's glance found Elijah's. A slight shake of his head conveyed his thoughts on revealing too much at once. So she circumvented as best as her wits would allow. "It's the moment a witch of powerful means comes into her magic. Not every witch experience a quickening, obviously."

"Think this quickening thing will happen to me?" Bonnie asked, looking highly inconvenienced.

She beamed. "Sweet girl, your quickening will be herald as a celestial event. It will facilitate a revolutionary war-,"

"Uhp, let me stop you right there," Bonnie raised a hand with a firm shake of the head. "Now, I know you've got the wrong girl. First of all, it's not in my nature to be confrontational—so war is definitely out of the question and second, I don't have a magical bone in my body."

"She's sorely misinformed on both accounts," Finn murmured low enough that only she and Elijah actually heard.

"You're mistaken, Bonnie," Elijah corrected. He gathered both the girl's hands in his. "Your magic may not have manifested in its entirety, but you're brimming with mystical energy. It's literally seeping from your pores. And I'm certain you're made aware of its presence every time we touch."

Bonnie's shoulders appeared to droop under the weight of her foretold destiny. "I guess it's also how I knew Stefan was a fucking vampire. Which is crazy as shit, since none of you have ever made me feel the way he did."

"You sensed his ill intent and the depths of his depravity. It's a witch's command over that which she has created," she assured even as she made a mental note to discover all she could of this Stefan Salvatore. "If you allow me, I can educate you in all things witch craft and assist you in learning to master your skill."

"This is a shit ton of info to deal with in one sitting. Besides, I couldn't possibly…," Her words trickled to nothing, and then her gaze found Elijah's. "Can I have some time to think about it?"

Time?! There was no bloody time! "Of course, Dear. Take all the time you need." Now what the devil did she do with that spare pack of chewing gum?

Bonnie walked a step behind Finn. She followed him to the entrance of Mikaelson House. So caught up in her thoughts she didn't even realize when he stopped almost one hundred feet shy of the exit. She face planted right in the center of his broad back, her forehead bouncing off the muscles of it all.

"Holy fucking hell!" The slippery words bounced from her tongue before she could stop them.

A loud hiss penetrated her ear canals. Finn spun on his heel to glare down at her with a face full of tension. "Miss Bennett, might I have a word?"

Before she could answer, he turned and entered a room to the left of them. Not knowing what else to do, she gave one last longing look at the door, and then followed. Inside the small sitting room, Finn stood at the window gazing out at the west side of the property with his back to her. She moved to sit in an armchair, prepared to give him time to gather his thoughts.

When her bottom almost connected with the cushion, he spoke. "You may kneel."

"What?" She couldn't have heard him right.

Without turning he said, "If you discover yourself unable to persevere on your feet, then you may kneel." His tone descended from his lips curt and clipped.

"And if you find yourself unable to be polite, you may feel free to kiss my ass," she said, claiming the seat he thought to deny her.

"I SAID KNEEL!" He roared. When he whirled around, he rocked his full fledge original vampire face.

Without even a fucking thought two stepping across her brain, she slid from the chair. Her knees smacked the carpeted floor. For several minutes he circled her. Not uttering even hiss, tsk, or grunt of displeasure. When her heart finally removed itself from her wind pipe and returned to an acceptable rate, she cleared her throat. To the right of her something smacked the glass topped coffee table. Her glare shot to Finn and her eyes popped several inches from their sockets. Where the hell did he get a riding crop?

"You are wild and undisciplined. Your mouth is a cesspool of vile and detestable phrases," he said, in a seething tone, "Rest assured, however. I mean to rid you of your rather unfortunate disposition.

"Wait a damn minute-,"

He placed the wired length of the crop vertically on her lips, cutting her the hell off. "You will not utter a sound unless I request it of you." A hot flood of freak juice drenched the crotch of her panties. "Do you understand, Miss Bennett?" He slid the crop from her mouth to rest on her shoulder.

"I understand, Finn," her voice met her ears as a breathy rasp.

"You will not address me by my forename," he lightly slapped her shoulder with the crop. More hot liquid rushed from her pop rocker. Seriously, she'd have to start carrying around an extra pair of tightey-whiteys. "You will refer to me as Master Mikaelson or merely master. The option is yours to deliberate over." After he finished speaking, he then hoisted a brow and watched her with an intolerant expectancy glinting his eyes.

She swallowed. "I understand, Master Mikaelson."

"Outstanding," he murmured as he caressed her cheek with the tasseled end of the crop. "We will meet twice a week, no exceptions."

Bonnie raised her hand. He inclined his head for her to speak. "This is unnecessary. I have a swear jar my Grams made to help me-,"

"You and I shall convene here again Sunday after lunch," he said. She raised her hand again. "You are dismissed, Miss Bennett." His tone left no room for further argument.