A/N: Yes, I know. It's been entirely too long since an update. My most profound apologies. Life intervened. However, here's the latest installment! I hope you all enjoy it. Please, even though it's been a while, please review! Let me know what you think. Life is about to get interesting for everyone. Thanks and love to all!

Disclaimer: I do not own or operate "The Vampire Diaries."


Chapter 7: The Winds of Change

August 2016

Lindsey applied a clear coat of lip gloss as Damon lounged on the bed in the hotel room in Whitmore. She was giving her presentation to the Board of Trustees and she was nervous. Damon could see it in her agitated motions and could feel it through the bond.

"You'll be fine," he reassured her. "Just go through the program and it'll all work out."

"I guess," she said, and looked over to him. "How can you be so cool? It frustrates me that I'm all tied up in knots about this, and there you are, chilled out and completely relaxed. It's worse than frustrating. It's disgusting." She brushed her hair as Damon fought to hide a grin. "Stop smirking at me, you wart," she snapped. It had the opposite effect as his grin widened and he chuckled. She glared at him.

Damon stood and went to his wife. He folded her in his arms and stroked her hair. "You faced down George Neville with a broken wooden pointer. This is a cakewalk. No worries." He kissed her temple, knowing she'd hurt him if he messed up her lipstick.

She sighed. "I hope you're right."

"Your car's probably here by now. Get your stuff and go get 'em babe. Wish I could be there to see it." He badly wanted to be there, but knew he might not be able to control himself.

"Me too, but if you'll hold down the fort here, I can do this knowing you're waiting on me."

"You know it. Got plenty of blood on board?"

"Yeah. I had an extra bag. I want to go in there full so I won't be tempted."

"Good thinking. But I wouldn't worry about you, anyway. You're not apt to lose it like that." Damon handed Lindsey her bag containing her laptop and other papers. "Give 'em hell," he said.

"I'll do my best," she said, giving him a brief kiss.


"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm Lindsey Hargrove. My purpose in meeting with you this morning is to discuss the support Whitmore University has been giving to the Brotherhood of the Sun, also known as the Augustines. Members of this organization have been conducting illegal research using Whitmore money and facilities. In fact, it's come to light that private funds donated to support various scholarships have been diverted to this endeavor. I don't think I have to elaborate on how serious that is. That kind of funds misappropriation could get Whitmore's accreditation revoked, and their state monies cut off." She looked at each of them, and once again, felt her fangs itch at the sight of Clinton Foley IV. He was looking oh-so-distinguished in his designer suit - Armani, if she didn't miss her guess. Living with a man who loved designer clothing gave her an education in menswear.

Foley, for his part, looked at the woman and something about her made him extremely uncomfortable. Her black slacks and blazer were strictly off the rack, as was her magenta top, but her diamond drop earrings and circle pendant were quality, as was her watch. Her sapphire ring was antique, he was sure. Her whole demeanor spoke of the kind of assurance old money gives, but he couldn't place her in any of the region's wealthy families. She was a reporter, and that was all he'd been able to find out about her. Several years before, she'd covered a daycare center in Birmingham where children were being abused. Her stories, and those of her colleagues helped get the place shut down. Clearly, she knew what she was doing. She was a dangerous woman, he was certain. And she knew his connection to the Brotherhood, he was equally sure. She looked at him as if she could see into his innermost being. He wasn't accustomed to being so thoroughly analyzed so quickly. Normally, people didn't catch on to what he was, but he could tell Lindsey Hargrove knew he was a psychopath - Foley knew it himself. Very, very dangerous, he thought.

Lindsey continued her presentation, well aware Foley was assessing her. Occasionally, she met his eyes and had to suppress a shudder. She'd never seen a snake with blue eyes, but Foley's eyes were as saurian as a human's eyes could be.

One of the trustees said, "Ms. Hargrove, not to disrespect your work, but honestly, do you really expect us to accept the idea of vampires, werewolves and the like?"

Lindsey gave the man a half-smile. "Mr. Toland, it doesn't really matter whether you, or I, or anyone believe in supernatural beings. The point is that these 'scientists' do believe in these beings, and they're dedicated to researching them. Whether these creatures actually exist is beside the point. I have sworn depositions from no fewer than 50 women who swear they were abducted, drugged and used in experiments with men they were told were vampires. Were they actual vampires? I don't know. I don't care. But these women lost months of their lives in research labs right here on the Whitmore campus, and this university, either deliberately or inadvertently, funded and supported that very illegal research. Some of these women were Whitmore employees! They say they were found suitable for the research because of their lack of close family ties. These women were interviewed separately, and without knowledge of the others. But their stories all have a disturbing similarity. They were all single women without close family. Their stories correlate very closely." She stole a glance at Foley. He looked like he was about to come out of his skin.

"Why are you telling us all this?" Foley finally spoke. "You're not an attorney. It's not like you have any legal standing. What's your stake in all this? Just being a good Samaritan and helping these women? I find that difficult to believe." His tone was oily and condescending.

Lindsey's fangs itched again. For a nickel, she'd jump the table, tear his throat out and enjoy it. But she had a larger agenda than personal satisfaction. "Mr. Foley, I'm a reporter. You know that. You also know the kind of damage it could do to this school if any of this made the papers. One story - and I wouldn't even have to be the one to write it - would close this place down. Parents would pull their children out of school, all the ethical faculty members would quit, and the state would likely step in to investigate on the financial charges, alone. Every member of this board could be up for ethics violations. This is a state school and you're paid trustees, making you state employees, and responsible for the financial situation at the school. It would be a shame if a school that has contributed so much legitimately to the community and academic world were closed because the Trustees refused to shut down an illegal program. And then, of course, there's the legal ramifications. The civil suits would be rampant, and there would probably be criminal charges, too, and probable cause wouldn't be hard to find."

Her statement sank in for a moment, and the chairman of the Trustees looked like he was going to be sick all over the table. He finally cleared his throat and said, "So what do you suggest we do?"

"Shut down the program. Re-allocate all the funds to make sure they go where they're supposed to go. Hand the researchers their pink slips, and re-organize the Trustees. Anyone with even a tenuous connection to the program needs to go," she answered. Foley's eyes blazed with hatred, Lindsey could see, and she knew she'd made a real enemy.

"And if we don't?" the chairman said.

She shrugged. "How do you think the Virginia Commission on Higher Education would feel about these allegations? The proof is there. The records are there. I think the Virginia taxpayers deserve better allocation of their hard-earned tax dollars than spending it all on illegal research, don't you?" She gathered her things together. "I'll just leave you to discuss it. But people, I'd really make sure it was shut down. You'll be better off. Have a good day." She left the room.

Outside in the hall, Lindsey stood, listening to the commotion inside the meeting room. She could easily hear the arguing going on. Clinton Foley, not surprisingly, was saying she was just a "rabble-rouser" who'd believe any sob story, and thought these women were serious. It was sad, he said, when someone who had such good reporting credentials would follow a wild goose chase like this. Vampires, indeed. What hogwash! Lindsey shook her head and chuckled silently. He talked a good game, for certain. If only they could find a direct link from Foley to the Augustines, but so far, nothing. But Lindsey knew there was a connection. She could feel it to her core.


"So how did it go?" Damon asked when she walked into the hotel room.

"About like I thought it would. They gave me shocked looks, said all the appropriate things, and then proceeded to talk each other out of doing anything about it," she answered drily and grimaced.

Damon rolled his eyes. "Sounds about right. Now what?"

"I keep my appointment with the Commission on Higher Education in Richmond tomorrow afternoon."

He nodded. "How do you think they'll react?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. But I have a suspicion that, with all these sworn statements, they'll take it seriously. Even if they think the women were too drugged out of their minds to be rational, they'll have to admit the victims were abducted and held against their will. And the fact that half of them were Whitmore employees just adds to the issue. There's just so much wrong here that I don't think the commission can ignore it."

"Foley?"

"In it up to his armpits, but I can't make the direct connection. But it's there, sure as I'm standing here. It's there.

"You'll find the connection. And when you do, it's all over for his kind," Damon assured her.

"You sound pretty sure about that," Lindsey answered.

He shrugged one shoulder. "Sometimes, I get funny feelings, too," he said.

"Hope they're right about this. I just can't believe those idiots on the Board of Trustees managed to talk themselves out of this, like all those women lied about their experiences. Well, Foley talked them out of it. I've rarely seen such indiscriminate narcissism." She stopped and chuckled. "Well, maybe Klaus. He's pretty close. Kol, too. But you know," she began and sat down, "Klaus and Kol are the way they are, I think, because of outside circumstances. They had to become what they are to survive - or felt like they did, anyway. They weren't born to be killers. But Foley's a different kind of evil. He's just evil because he gets off on it. I didn't get close enough to smell him, thank goodness, but I'm betting when he was telling me I was pretty much off my rocker, and had no credibility, and when he was convincing the Board to take no action, he had a hard-on." She shuddered. "Yuck. I don't even like to think about that psycho being able to procreate. Gives me the heebie-jeebies."

"I could take care of that worry for you, at least," Damon answered, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"I don't want you within half a mile of that nut," Lindsey answered. "You don't know how difficult it was for me to stand there and listen to him spew his venom. My fangs were aching to drop. The only thing that stopped me was the idea of drinking his putrid blood. Bleccchh." She made a face and her husband laughed out loud.

"Not if you were starving, huh?" Damon teased her.

"Not if he was the LAST immigrant grocer on earth!" she shot back, borrowing a line from some 80s music video, making Damon laugh again.

"Leave it to you to remember that video," he said. He patted the space next to him on the bed. "C'mere."

Grinning, Lindsey went to sit down next to her husband on the bed. "What?"

"I just like to see you when you're all business and being my sexy reporter girl."

"So how many reporters have you dated, anyway?" she asked.

An odd look crossed Damon's face. "Quite a few, believe it or not. I've always been attracted to smart women who could keep up with me. Reporters always seemed to be able to do it. Some of them even manage to stay a step or two ahead," he said with an arch smile.

"Is that so?" Lindsey said.

"Absolutely." He turned and was suddenly on top of her, his knee between her thighs, his mouth on her neck. "And that reeeaally turns me on."

Lindsey gave him a quick kiss. "I think I've mentioned everything turns you on - even reading the phone book."

"Who has phone books anymore?" he said.

"There's probably one from 1976 at the house, somewhere," she answered.

"Yeah, probably." He nuzzled in her neck again, nipping the tender skin. "I never get tired of this," he murmured.

"Me either."

"That's good, because you're going to be in this position a lot over the next several decades, centuries… you know."

"I'm counting on it," Lindsey answered him, laughter in her voice. She pulled his mouth to hers for a searing kiss. "And as much as I'd love to continue doing what we're doing, I have to put together my presentation for the state people tomorrow. We may be vampires, but we can't do much about the passage of time. And I'll need it to get ready."

Damon's sigh was long and pitiful. "O.K. Do what you need to do." He rolled away from her and she sat up. She patted his knee.

"We'll continue this. Just not right this minute. I've got to get those affidavits collated. That's how I'm going to get them. The Commission on Higher Education won't dismiss them like the Trustees did. That and the financial records. I gave the Whitmore people a chance to do the right thing, but they dismissed me. So, off to Richmond I go." Lindsey shrugged. "I have no sympathy for any of them. If they lose their jobs and reputations, good enough for them. They did it to themselves."

Damon grinned at his wife. He wanted the Augustines brought down, too - for what they did to him, to Enzo, to countless others, vampire and human. They made him turn off his emotions when the guilt over Enzo became too much to handle. He was a relatively decent guy until then - no angel, by any means - but the Augustines turned him into a monster, and he would be satisfied to see them brought down. "Kick ass and take names," he said.

Lindsey nodded. "I intend to," she answered.


"Ms. Hargrove, do you believe these women?" Sonya Stafford, chairman of the Commission on Higher Education, was clearly disturbed by the testimony of the Augustines' victims.

"I believe they were abducted and drugged. The records support that. Their accounts are consistent," Lindsey answered.

"Granted, but vampires? You're asking this Commission to believe in the existence of vampires?" Stafford pressed.

"You're looking at one," Lindsey thought, but said, "Not at all. All I'm asking is you believe these women when they say they were abducted and used as research subjects without their consent, using taxpayer dollars. Maybe this was actually for some kind of 'Manchurian Candidate' type of psychological experiment. Who knows? But I do believe these women were kidnapped, and used as human guinea pigs. Ultimately, it doesn't matter what they were told. Only that it happened and they were too afraid to go to law enforcement. And you can't blame them. They'd have been turned over for psychiatric evaluation. Who'd have believed them?"

"You obviously believed one of them," Stafford pointed out.

"I believed something happened to them. It didn't feel like one of those alien abduction stories. And when I started digging, I found other women with similar stories. There were too many to dismiss, so I started checking them out, and what I found shocked me. I was appalled that this kind of thing goes on in this country in the twenty-first century. It's beyond appalling."

"Well, I have to agree with that," Stafford said. "So, could you arrange for any of these women to speak with us personally?"

Lindsey nodded. "Of course. Three of them now live in the Richmond area. They'll be glad to talk with you - answer any questions you have. I have my laptop and we can Skype with one of the women right now, if you want to."

Stafford's eyes widened. "Really? Yes, I think that would be very helpful. How long will it take to set up?

"Just a few minutes. I just need to get my laptop up and running. I'll text her now and she can be ready when we are." Lindsey tapped out a message on her phone. The response wasn't long in coming. "She's glad to talk with you. Her name is Vivian Russell. She was a secretary for the Whitmore science department."

"All right," Stafford said. "I'm sure we're all interested in her story."

Lindsey had the computer ready and the Skype program running. A woman's face appeared on the screen and she smiled at Lindsey. "Hey. I was wondering if you'd need to talk to me," she said.

"Absolutely. Vivian, this is Sonya Stafford, chairman of the Commission on Higher Education, and the rest of the commissioners. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Vivian Russell. I'll just step out of the room so you can ask her whatever you want, and so you'll know her answers aren't influenced by my presence." Lindsey walked out, but of course, could hear what went on. Stafford questioned Vivian in detail about her abduction and experience while in captivity. A commissioner came out and motioned for Lindsey to return to the room. She said goodbye to Vivian and ended the session, then turned to look at the commission members. They were somber, some pale with shock. Lindsey knew Vivian would tell her story well, and felt she would be the most effective witness for the prosecution, as it were.

Stafford cleared her throat. "Ms. Hargrove, I'm sure you know how shocking Ms. Russell's story is. But she certainly confirms your assertions. Apparently, we have an illegal program running at Whitmore University. And it needs to be shut down immediately." She turned to the commission. "Recommendations?"

"We'll have to dissolve the Board of Trustees and elect new members. I'd also recommend we terminate the president's contract and I don't know who all," said one of the commissioners. "It's the only way to keep this from continuing. We'll have to fire the dean of the science department too, since he would have to know something's going on. If he's deaf, dumb and blind to something like this going on in his department, then he doesn't deserve the job, anyway."

Murmurs of agreement greeted this statement and Stafford turned to Lindsey. "Ms. Hargrove, as difficult as it is to believe this is going on in 2016, apparently it is. The financial records are clear and the statements are credible. Thank you for bringing this to us."

"I wish I didn't have to, but I couldn't stand by once I found out."

"I'm glad you didn't." Sonya Stafford extended her hand and Lindsey shook it, then the other members in turn. "We'll be in touch about our decision. Are you available for testimony if we end up in court?"

"Definitely," Lindsey answered. "Here's my card with all my contact information. Keep me updated."

"We will. Thank you again."

Lindsey nodded and smiled at the commissioners and left, feeling like she had done a good day's work.


"Well?" Damon pounced on Lindsey the minute she walked into their hotel room.

Lindsey grinned. "Commission on Higher Ed is about to clean house at Whitmore. They were talking about dissolving the Board of Trustees and electing all new members, canceling the president's contract, getting rid of the provost, and the dean of the science department! I told them, of course, I'd be glad to testify in court if it came to that. But I knew they wouldn't dismiss this. I left them copies of all the relevant records that are safe for them to see. The financial records are enough all by themselves to shut it all down. Add the abductions, and that's just the cherry on top. I need to call Elijah. He'll be tickled."

Damon put his hands on her shoulders and fairly beamed at her. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, and then shook his head.

"What?" Lindsey said. But she could feel warmth and his pride radiating through the bond.

"You." His voice was low, intense. "You're the most incredible, beautiful woman I've ever met and you agreed to take me on. You love me. You even turned for me. And now, you've done what no one else has managed to do. You've brought down the Augustines. Klaus couldn't do it. Elijah couldn't do it. I couldn't do it. But you - you and that brilliant mind of yours. You took them out." A look of bemused wonder crossed his handsome face and he folded Lindsey into his arms, his cheek on her head, one hand stroking her hair. "My fearless warrior angel. I'm so proud to be your husband." He tightened his embrace. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

She pulled back and smiled into his eyes. "You loved me. Just as I am, as I stand. You loved me."

Damon's sigh was soul-deep and heartfelt. "For once in my miserable life, I did something right. And I can't screw it up. You won't let me."

"Stop that. You're not miserable. Never have been." Her tone was firm.

"OK. I won't argue with a kick-ass steel magnolia like you. It never ends well." He tipped her chin up and the kiss he gave her was beyond tender, beyond sweet. Lindsey threaded her fingers through his hair and returned the kiss, which abruptly turned hot. Suddenly, her back was against the wall and Damon had her pinned there, holding her up by her thighs, her weight no burden to him. "Have we ever done it up against the wall?" he growled in her ear, following his question with burning kisses down her neck.

"No, and no need to when there's a perfectly comfortable bed five feet away," she answered, laughing.

"Five feet too far," he groused, but turned with her in his arms and in a flash, had her on the bed, with his deft, wicked fingers slipping the buttons from their moorings. He softly bit the flesh underneath her bra, then that too was gone, as were her slacks and underwear. Lindsey unbuttoned Damon's shirt, but didn't get any farther before he shucked his jeans and shorts and had entered her. She gasped with the suddenness of his body inside hers, but he just chuckled, albeit a little breathlessly. "I swear, I'm investing in a kilt. They're easier to get off. Or maybe," he said as he thrust into her body, "we'll just become nudists."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Lindsey gasped.

"Damn right, I would. You'd come around, eventually." He increased his pace and as Lindsey met every stroke, she felt herself nearing her climax, and knew Damon was close too, when she saw his fangs drop and his eyes change. He struck for her neck, which pushed her over the edge, and she returned the bite, spurring his release.

As they relaxed into each other, Lindsey said, "Needed a quickie, huh?" But her tone was teasing.

"I needed you," he answered, which Lindsey knew was Damon telling her with his body what he couldn't always say out loud.

"I hope you'll always need me, just like I need you," she murmured in his ear.

"Don't you ever doubt it," he answered.


September 2016

A month or so had gone by since Lindsey made her presentations at Whitmore and in Richmond. She hadn't heard anything since, but read the excited email from the Sanguinem editor with interest. She followed the link in the email and as she scanned the page, her eyes widened. "Damon! Come here. You've got to see this," she called.

He appeared in the office doorway, tea glass in hand. "What is it?"

"The editor at Sanguinem sent me this link. Check out this page," she said.

He peered at it over her shoulder. "I'll be damned. Where did all this come from?"

"I have no idea. Neither do the Sanguinem people, which is unusual. I'm not sure if it's generated within the community, or where," Lindsey answered.

Damon thought about it. "Slater would have loved this. Could be Alice, his girlfriend. Looks like something he'd do."

"Yeah," Lindsey said. She knew about Slater, the vampire who researched vampires. His files and history were exhaustive. In the rare instance where Lindsey was irritated about something Elijah did, she was irked with him for killing the geeky vampire. His knowledge could have come in handy.

The page in question was on a website called "The U.S. Supernatural Index," and listed the known vampires, werewolves and witches in the United States. By far the most extensive page was for vampires, and most useful of all, traced back their sire line to the Original who started it.

"Here's you and Stefan," she said. She was glad to see their line traced back to Elijah. Well, it was her line, too, since it was Damon's blood in her system when she turned. And that answered one question she knew Damon had, since Klaus had always maintained Damon and Stefan came from his line. She clicked on Damon's name. His picture popped up, along with his date of birth, approximate turning date, a brief bio sketch and the names of those vampires known to be sired by him. Then, there were the chilling statistics under the header "Kills." It was divided into humans, and then other supernaturals. The number under humans had a question mark beside it. It was "10,000-plus." The numbers of other supernaturals were much smaller. "Is that accurate?" Lindsey asked.

"I hope not," he answered. Seeing that number wasn't healthy for a vamp who wanted to keep the switch on. "Look. It also names me as an Augustine captive."

"I see that."

"Well, there you are, below my name. Under my sire line."

"Oh, crap. Might as well see what it has to say." Lindsey clicked on her name. Her picture appeared. "That's interesting. That picture was made at the conference in Atlanta. And it says the entry was created two weeks afterward."

"They must not have known about you until then."

"Apparently not. But it also means they were probably at the conference, which I would hope means they're not interested in eradicating vampires. There's been a ton of work done on this site. I wonder if anyone ever takes it seriously." The tone of the site was more comic-con than factual, which she hoped would throw unaltered humans off the scent.

Damon pointed to the screen. "Look at the bottom. It says, 'For entertainment purposes only.'"

Lindsey nodded. "Standard legalese to keep them from getting sued in case someone decides something is slander. Probably a witch, since a vampire likely wouldn't bother. Too risky." She kept reading. "They don't have much on me. Turning date is a question mark. Not even my birthday. My birth year is listed as 1975, with a question mark."

"Little late on that one," Damon smirked.

"Just a tad. Humm. They know I was a reporter, and that we're married. Oh. Listen to this." She read aloud, "'Salvatore has no known kills to her record.' Well, that's accurate, thank goodness. 'Although sired by - as well as married to - one of the more notorious vampires of the past 100 years,'" and here she grinned at Damon, who just rolled his eyes, "'she keeps a low profile and seems uninterested in mimicking her sire's/husband's history, preferring to live with him in their country home in Alabama.'"

"Jeez," Damon muttered. But at least the author knew Lindsey wasn't a killer vamp. "Click on Stefan's name."

Lindsey did and the page popped up. "Wow. Someone is really interested in your brother," she said. There was a wealth of information on Stefan, primarily focused on his history as a Ripper, calling him one of the most prolific serial killers of the 20th century. She didn't know what it did to Damon, but seeing Stefan portrayed like that hurt Lindsey's heart. Yes, she knew that side of her brother-in-law existed, but he was doing his very best to keep it under control, with the help of Caroline and those who loved him. Damon had finally come to the conclusion that it wasn't so much that Stefan couldn't accept what he was, but that he simply couldn't handle straight human blood. It was too much for him. As Lindsey said long ago, Damon just wasn't the type of vampire who became a Ripper. As usual, she was right. She sighed and shook her head. "Poor Stefan, to be reduced only to the worst things he ever did. You can't deny these things happened, but he's better than this."

"'The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones,'" Damon quoted.

Lindsey gave him a sidelong glance. "Better watch it. Someone will catch on that you had an excellent classical education." His fluency in Latin came in handy occasionally, he grew up speaking Italian with Giuseppe and was conversant in French and Spanish. He could have been a noted linguist.

"Don't spread it around," he said. Lindsey snickered. Although she didn't see how it was possible if you talked to the man for five minutes, Damon preferred it when people thought he was simply a pretty face. They tended to underestimate him because of it, which gave him a tactical advantage.

Damon's thoughts ran along the same lines, only he was thinking it took Lindsey about 30 seconds to see right past the face. She looked into his eyes one time and had him nailed to the wall, character-wise. It took him much longer to get a bead on her, strange as that was. He wasn't sure he'd ever get to the total depths of his beautiful mate. Having a centuries-long lifespan seemed much more pleasant now that he had Lindsey. He reached to stroke her hair and she smiled at him.

"What are the Sanguinem people saying about the site?" he asked.

"They're concerned. I mean, for those of us who are supernaturals, it's a great resource, but if someone actually took it seriously, it could be a disaster."

"Yeah, and someone probably will take it seriously. That worries me," Damon answered.

"Me too. Oh, look - here's Jakob. They got most of his information correct. Look at the photo. That was made at the conference, too. See, there's that weird painting on the wall of the ballroom. Caroline, too. Of course, she and Elena both are under your sire line. And here in the witches' section is Bonnie. And that werewolf you know, Tyler Lockwood. He's here, too. Whoever put this together is tolerably well informed."

"Too well informed for my comfort," Damon said darkly.

"Mmm-hmm. I just hope most people wouldn't believe anything on the page if they did read it. It's not the average person I'm worried about. It's the ones who are a little ga-ga in the head anyway. They're very susceptible to this stuff. I'm just glad Bonnie put the protection wards around the house the last time she was here. We might need them if this page gets any kind of widespread notice." Lindsey looked up at her husband, concerned.

"Really. I need to email Vampire Barbie too, so she can tell Stefan about this, before he sees it on his own. It'll go down a lot easier if she tells him." He sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket to email Caroline. He didn't text or call unless he had to.


"Caroline was pretty upset about that page," Damon said.

"I know. I heard when she called you. I don't blame her. She loves Stefan. I'm glad he has someone like her who does," Lindsey answered. It was late, they were in bed, and she was snuggled to Damon's side.

"I am too. She said he was pitiful and got this hangdog look when she told him." Damon's voice was sad.

"That's terrible. Call him tomorrow. I know he'd like to hear from you," Lindsey said.

Damon smiled in the darkness. Lindsey was always promoting better brotherly relations. And usually, she was right. "I will." He turned and gave her a deep kiss. "Good night, love."

Lindsey returned the kiss. "Good night," she said. She slept, but in the back of her mind was the little, nagging worry that someone with evil intentions might see that website.


Well? Does it merit a review? Please? :)