A/N: Hello All. I know. I'm finally back and I am SO SORRY for keeping you all waiting. I had some massive writer's block and combined with very real life…I just got nowhere. But I'm back now with a few chapters written so hopefully we'll be back to weekly updates.

I highly recommend you reread at least the last chapter to get yourself back up to speed.

I'm quite proud of this chapter and I'd like to thank my brand spanking new beta, the amazing Dutchtreat. You're so great! I'd also like to thank everyone old and new for the reviews I received for last chapter. You're all amazing and I'm so happy you're enjoying this so much.

Lastly I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Dana Sto. Thank you for caring enough about this story to remind me that people are reading still reading it.

Without further ado, here is Ch 8 of GYMW.


Jeremy sat on the frayed, floral couch in his living room. He remembered how Elena had gotten it secondhand for twelve dollars right after they moved into their apartment, just weeks after she got out of the hospital. It was strange, the things he had been remembering these last few days. Even then, covered in bruises, with a cast on her arm, she was doing everything she could to take care of him.

Now it was his turn to take care of her.

He rubbed his thighs nervously as he watched Alaric put their "Save Elena" kits together. There was a veritable armory of equipment crammed on their tiny coffee table, running the gamut from rope and zip ties to four intimidating black handguns. Two black backpacks sat at Ric's feet each already filled with everything and anything they might need.

Ric picked up one of the guns and pressed it into Jeremy's hand, his expression focused and intense.

"Alright." He began. "I know we've been through this all before, but think of this like a last minute cram session before the final exam. Now, take the clip out."

Jeremy easily found the catch and flipped it, the clip sliding easily into his palm. The bullets were long, with thin tips and some sort of liquid sloshing around in the body.

"Now, these are tranquilizer darts." Alaric said, reaching out and tapping a fingernail on the liquid-filled cavity. "They'll put anybody you hit out for a good hour at least. Plenty of time for you to get in and get out with your sister."

"You mean for us to get in and get out with my sister, right?" Jeremy asked nervously.

Alaric paused as he zipped up his pack.

"…Right."

He took gun and ammunition from Jeremy and drove the clip home with a heavy click, grabbing another gun and shoving them both in the side pouches of Jeremy's bag. He stood, taking two more guns and strapping one into a holster on his ankle, the other in the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back.

He picked up a box that jangled with the sound of metal, pausing for a second to stare at it intently.

Jeremy watched the intense emotions flit across his new friend's face, a niggling feeling that something was off tapping at the nape of his neck.

"Your clips filled with tranquilizers too?" He asked suddenly.

Ric's fist tightened around the box, his eyes flicking up to Jeremy's. They were cold with a deep, old hurt peeking out from their depths. Jeremy had never seen this expression on his normally easygoing teacher's face.

Ric quickly slipped the box into his pocket and scooped up Jeremy's backpack, tossing it to him. Jeremy caught it with a grunt.

"Let's go."


Damon slouched in his office chair, twirling a glass of bourbon and glaring at the reports sitting in front of him. They were always filled with such inane minutiae, usually from his more wretched, sniveling clients trying to get an out from their contract. Putrid ground dwellers. He hated dealing with them. Most of them weren't worthy enough to breathe his air let alone ask him for help. There was really only one client he could stand to be around for more than a minute.

Speaking of Elena.

She was really something. She continued to surprise him, and for someone as jaded as himself, anything new and different quickly became intoxicating.

She had listened to his story last night in the kitchen and not been disgusted by his weakness with Katherine. Why wasn't she disgusted by him? God knows he disgusted himself. Instead, she had comforted him. Had thanked him for telling her. And now, this morning she had come out and agreed to play the part of bait for Klaus. Who did that?

Lately he'd had to consciously scold himself for thinking about her. He often found ways to bring her up with Stefan or Caroline or Elijah. When he was alone he found himself wanting to go and seek her out, to be with her. He hardly recognized himself.

And when he was around her, he had all these feelings, stronger and more distracting than anything he had felt since Katherine.

The lust he understood. She was stunningly sexy and deliciously innocent at the same time, all sensuous curves and tanned limbs. That baser part of him roared for her whenever she walked into a room. He found himself imagining her specifically, blissfully naked and writhing wild under him, with increasing frequency when he had his 'me' time.

The anger he also got. She argued with him. No one argued with him. No one dared to talk back to him when he was in a rage, so it was understandable that he got a little…fired up around her.

But the other feelings, the protectiveness, the concern, those had been foreign to him for a long time. To have them flaring to life with such vivre after such an extended dormancy was not only disorienting, but frustrating. Especially when he had worked so hard to bury anything close to a warm-fuzzy years ago. Somehow, inexplicably, she brought them all out in him without seeming to try at all.

Even worse, the more he felt for her, the less he wanted it to stop. God was he screwed.


Caroline Forbes was confused. Granted, that happened pretty frequently, what with her tendency (bordering on ADD) to be distracted. Not to say that she was stupid, because she wasn't, but she was confused.

She and Bonnie were sitting in the kitchen chatting. Stefan had joined them not long ago, something that had been happening more and more often lately. And each time he joined them, he somehow managed to get a seat closest to her, his concerned, attentive, puppy dog eyes focused on her every word.

And he always seemed to pop up when she needed help, holding doors, carrying bags, just being there when she needed to vent. He was everywhere and she found herself beginning to look forward to seeing him.

Nothing wrong with that right?

Nothing except that she didn't know what to do about it…and it didn't seem like he would be making any kind of a move anytime soon. She snorted. Like that was a real shocker.

She guessed she would just have to be patient, but if he didn't do something soon she would give him a good, old-fashioned Forbes talking-to. Maybe that would teach him to grow a pair. She sighed, trying to focus on the topic at hand.

Tonight the topic was - unsurprisingly - Klaus. It's all anyone had been talking about since Damon dropped that bombshell.

"I just don't understand what his problem is. This happened forever ago and, well, Katherine is dead now. Why can't he just let it go already?" She whined.

"Real sensitive Care." Bonnie said disapprovingly.

"Well, it's true!" She exclaimed. "It's not like Damon can bring her back. What good will all this 'I'm the biggest bad, I'm going to take over the world' nonsense do?"

"I don't really think Klaus is the type to drop things Caroline." Stefan responded in that gentle, placating tone he seemed to prefer, his brow typically furrowed.

Caroline huffed, crossing her arms. "Well he should be. It's time he grew up and got used to disappointment. It would be good for his character."

"Forget Klaus. I'm worried about Elena." Bonnie griped. "Does nobody else think that this hair-brained plan of Damon's is putting way too much pressure on her? There's so much that could go wrong."

"I know right?! But there's no talking to Damon. Or Elena for that matter. She's completely determined to go through with it." Caroline added.

"Elena?" A voice piped up, interrupting them. "Elena Gilbert? You know where she is? Tell me!"

The three of them looked up in surprise.

"What? Who are…"

Fffpt! Fffpt! Fffpt!

Three bodies slumped to the floor.


Damon had just resigned himself to trying to get some work done that night, forcibly shoving thoughts of his beautiful, brunette maid to the back of his mind, when his office door swung open.

"What?" He drawled, not bothering to look up. It was probably just Andie with some more tedious paperwork or Elijah with another depressing update about Klaus' impending arrival.

The click of a gun being cocked had him quickly revising this assumption.

His head snapped up, azure eyes flashing dangerously at whoever was so brave, and stupid, to challenge him on his home turf.

In the door stood a man, not short but not tall either, with cropped brown hair and dressed in simple cargo pants and a gray thermal t-shirt. A loaded pack was slung across his back. His ensemble was completed by determined brown eyes. The nozzle of a sleek black gun with a silencer held in a trembling hand stared Damon down.

"Who the fuck are you?" Damon growled.

The man stepped into the room, his eyes flashing. "That's perfect! You don't even know." His eyes narrowed, his index finger teasing the trigger.

Damon kept calm his mind flying fast. He quickly understood this man was here to kill him.

Duh.

He would have to do some quick talking to keep from getting a bullet in the chest. He had weapons stashed all over the room, all over the manor actually. The closest one right now was strapped right underneath his desk. He just needed to distract this idiot long enough…

"Look whoever-you-are, I know you probably think you're brave, coming and facing down the big bad Damon Salvatore, rescuing good old Mystic Falls, but you're making a huge mistake."

The man snorted, stepping further into the room and nudging the door shut with his foot, keeping the gun trained on Damon and cutting them off from the rest of the house.

Damon's hand crept toward the shotgun under his desk, his fingers straining for the straps holding it in place, keeping his eyes focused on his attacker and his lips moving all the while.

"You'll never get away with this. My men will be here any moment and they will take you down."

The man smirked. "Not likely. No one will be coming for you. This time you're alone. Just like she was."

Damon's eyes narrowed. So, this man had somehow incapacitated his forces. That was unfortunate, but not particularly problematic. He was more than capable of taking care of himself. More important was this 'she' that Sergeant Douchebucket (for lack of a better name) mentioned. Who was 'she' and what did she have to do with Damon?

"Okay, even supposing that is true and you do manage to escape with your life, there is nowhere you can go that we won't find you, believe me." Damon drawled, trying to plant doubt, playing for more time. There! His fingers brushed the catch that separated him from his weapon. One buckle…two buckle…

Clink!

Damon froze, trying to keep his face from betraying him. The man's eyebrows snapped down. He must have realized Damon was up to something. Dammit.

"Put your hands where I can see them! Stand up!" The man ordered, fist tightening on the gun.

Damon slowly brought his hands up to hover in front of him, palms turned towards his attacker, eyes wary. He had to calm things down…and quick.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot. Why don't you tell me your name?" Damon suggested, his charm coming out in all its glory.

Unfortunately, it didn't have quite the same mind numbing effect on a straight (vengeful) male that it did on the sum and total of the female population.

"My name isn't important. I said get up!"

"Sure, no problem. I'll get up." Damon replied, not moving. "Just tell me your name."

The sound of a gunshot made Damon flinch and he felt a puff of air whiz right past his eye.

"FUCK!"


Elena practically skipped down the hall. She had finished cleaning the windows early this evening, which meant she could go take a long soak in the big tub in the luxurious bathroom across from her new bedroom before having the rest of the evening to herself. She was almost fully healed from the events of the last few days and she knew an extra hot bath would solidify her recovery.

She froze when a thud and a muted expletive echoed down the empty hall. Where was everyone? This hallway shouldn't be this empty this time of day.

Come to think of it, she hadn't seen anyone in a few hours, which hadn't happened since the Lockwood debacle. She'd had a nearly constant string of baby sitters. Things are quiet. Too quiet. She thought, with a mental slap for her own clichéd-ness.

She made her way cautiously down the hall, drawing level with Damon's 'forbidden' office. The door was open a crack. With a secret thrill at breaking the house rules, she carefully put her eye to the crack.

She wasn't sure what she had expected (or feared) to see…maybe a cowering client kneeling before Damon's cold brilliance or the beginnings of a wild orgy…but what she actually saw caused her to pull back sharply, swiftly clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp.

There was a strange man holding Damon hostage, pointing a very real gun at him. Who was he? Why was he here?

She froze.

Could it be Klaus?

She trembled. Despite agreeing to help distract Klaus at the ball, the thought of him terrified her. Her resemblance to Katherine was dangerous and she did not want to become the new obsession of a psychotic killer. What should she do?

She looked through the crack again, her eyes seeking Damon. He looked so stoic, like he had the whole situation in control. But there was nothing she could see that would help him out of this.

And she couldn't leave him to fend for himself.

She backed away from the door, straightening up and giving herself a little shake.

She stepped forward, resting her palm on the door, and pushed it open.


Damon yelped as the bullet whizzed by him, standing and spinning around to see it embedded in his wall.

The man cocked the gun again, Damon whirling to face him at the click it made.

"Now that I've got your attention, why don't you move into the center of the room?"

Damon's eyes flicked incredulously from the wall to his attacker.

"Why not indeed." He muttered, slowly pacing out into the room.

Away from his desk…and his weapons.

The man's eyes flashed smugly. "There's a good boy."

Damon growled, bristling at his condescending tone and taking an unconscious step forward.

"Ah, ah, ah." The man warned, waving a finger.

Damon snarled and took another step forward. No way was he gonna listen to this idiot.

The gun fired again, the bullet embedding itself in the floor inches from his foot, leaving a smoking ring in his carpet.

"What the hell?!" Damon yelled, jumping back. He fumed. "That was hand-woven from Indonesia. They don't make rugs like that anymore!"

He was quickly distracted from his consternation over his carpet when the door swung open and Elena rushed into the room, breathless and clearly frightened.

"Damon!" She cried, stepping worriedly forward. Her eyes raked over him, searching for any sign of injury. If he was hurt…she didn't know what she might do. She relaxed minutely when she saw that he was still standing proud and perfect.

The man's eyes narrowed and he trained his gun on her, making her freeze in her tracks, tension coming right back to the lines of her body.

Damon's eyes flashed dangerously when the man aimed his gun at Elena. His hands fisted and he took a menacing step forward, instantly forgetting about the hole in his floor. The same red haze from when the Lockwood brothers attacked her began to cloud his mind. If this man so much as looked like he would hurt Elena…Damon would rip his throat out.

The gun immediately swung away from Elena and back to Damon, training on his chest, right over his heart.

"Don't even think about it." The man warned, eyes cold and index finger once again teasing the trigger.

Elena had to do something. Clearly this man (maybe Klaus?) was insane. She couldn't let him hurt Damon.

"Who are you?" She asked breathlessly. "Why are you here?"

The man rolled his eyes. "None of your business little maid. Now just pipe down. There's no reason for you to get hurt over this monster. Soon you'll be free. We all will."

"N…no! You can't hurt him. You won't."

"Watch me." He replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Elena, what are you doing?" Damon muttered. "Get out of here." He commanded, gesturing with his eyes toward the door. Even if he couldn't escape, she could still get away.

The man's eyes trained on her with new interest. "You must be Elena Gilbert. Your brother is looking for you."

Elena gasped. "Jeremy? How do you know Jeremy?"

"My name is Alaric." He explained.

Elena frowned. Why did that name sound familiar? She gasped. Jeremy's class schedule. She remembered how excited they were when he chose his classes, how things had finally felt like they were coming together. Alaric Saltzman had been one of his teachers. Well, at least he wasn't Klaus.

"Y…you're Jeremy's history teacher?" She asked, her confusion growing.

Alaric grinned darkly. "Ding ding ding! Gold star for Miss Gilbert."

"A teacher? Really?" Damon scoffed, insulted that an untrained layman had gotten the drop on him.

"Shut up." Alaric snarled. "As for you Miss Gilbert, Mr. Salvatore is right for once in his miserable life. You should leave."

Elena shook her head stubbornly, her chin coming up proudly. "No."

"Goddammit Elena, don't be stupid, just leave!" Damon hissed.

"No!" She yelled back, her brown eyes glistening as they locked on his concerned blues.

"I won't leave you." She promised, her voice dripping sincerity. "I won't."

Damon stared at her, uncomprehending. Why? Why would she stay for him? He had brought her nothing but trouble and yet here she was, willingly putting herself in the crosshairs of a dangerous and unstable gunman…for him.

He stared at her, his eyes raking hungrily over her figure. Her eyes glistened, a smudge of dirt marred her cheek, and yet, if he was about to die right now, there was nothing he'd rather be looking at. His breath caught in his throat at the thought that this might be the last time he saw her and all he wanted to do was bundle her in his arms and spirit her away somewhere that she would be safe. Somewhere they would never be found.

Elena watched Damon as a stunning array of emotions flittered across his beautiful features lightning fast. His eyes radiated heat, begging her to escape, to leave him. But she couldn't. All she wanted to do was run to him, to find a way to keep Alaric from doing what he had clearly come here to do. Two weeks ago she would have gladly taken this opportunity to escape the nefarious clutches of the Salvatore Group…but now…

Damn Alaric for putting her in this situation. Damn Damon for making her feel this way when she shouldn't. Damn men in general!

"Fine!" Alaric growled, breaking the spell. He rushed over and grabbed Elena roughly by the arm.

"Don't touch her!" Damon snarled, seeing red. No one touched Elena. Especially not delusional history teachers.

"I said, DON'T MOVE!" Alaric screamed, eyes wide and frantic, blood vessels popping as he swung the gun wildly, trying to maintain control.

He shoved Elena into the corner opposite Damon, making her stumble and whimper.

"If you must stay, stay put and stay out of my way. And remember, you asked to see this." He ordered, glaring at her.

"Now then, where were we?" Alaric asked, face once again turning cold and controlled.

Alaric strode back until he was once again facing Damon, extending his arm with an air of finality until the gun pointed right between Damon's eyes.

Damon flinched imperceptibly. Really? Was this really how it would end? It just seemed so mundane. The great Damon Salvatore, scourge of the east coast, driving terror and lust in equal measure into the hearts of Mystic Falls…brought down by a history teacher with a grudge.

"No…" Elena gasped, seeing the determination in Alaric's eyes. "No, please…please don't hurt him!"

"Shut up goddammit! I'm doing you a favor!"

"No, please, no…why are you doing this?!" Elena cried, her eyes begging him for an answer.

"Because he killed my wife!"


Jeremy trotted quickly down the hallways of the Salvatore Boarding House, searching frantically for Elena. He was running out of time and this place was ridiculously huge. How was he ever going to find her? And who really needed this much space? Seriously?

I guess it makes sense that a total douche like Damon Salvatore would have the ultimate douchebag –sized house.

As he hurried along, the muffled sounds of an argument reached his ears. It seemed to be coming from a room just down the hall. Arguments meant people, and people might know where Elena was.

He pulled his gun out of his pocket, just in case they didn't.

He drew abreast of the doorway, which was wide open. You'd think these Salvatore people would want more privacy if they were going to argue.

He peeked around the edge of the opening, hoping to get an idea of how many Salvatore flunkies he was dealing with.

What he didn't expect to see was Alaric, pointing a gun at a raven-haired man who glared back at him, and his sister standing off to the side, a worried expression contorting her face.

"Elena!" Jeremy cried, abandoning all stealth and rushing into the room, ignoring the startled stares of the two men.

He barreled into his sister, his arms crushing her in a bear hug. His eyes brimmed with joyful tears. "I found you!"

"Jeremy? What are you doing here?" Elena asked, struggling under her brother's ecstatic weight.

He pulled back, resting his hands on her shoulders. "We came to rescue you!" He pulled her in for another hug. "I can't believe we found you!"

"Jeremy. Shut the door." Alaric ordered.

Jeremy looked up, surprised at the interruption.

Elena looked between her brother and Alaric. "Wait. You came here with Jer? Why would you do that?"

Jeremy looked at Elena incredulously. "To save you of course. And to get back at Damon Salvatore for taking you and for hurting Ric's wife."

He looked at the raven-haired man, his eyes narrowing to a glare.

"You must be Damon."

Damon smirked. "Guilty."

If he had to go out, he might as well go out with flair right?

"Jeremy!" Alaric interrupted again. "Shut. The. Door."

Jeremy looked between Alaric and Damon, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"No Jeremy, don't shut the door." Damon drawled blandly. Jeremy's face smoothed out with understanding and he immediately marched over to the door, slamming it shut with a bang.

Jeremy spun to smirk petulantly at Damon. "Oops. My bad."

"Jer!" Elena scolded. Damon rolled his eyes. Stupid kid. He wasn't nearly so interesting as his sister. Apparently copious awesomeness didn't run in the family.

"What?!" Jeremy cried, glowering around the room. "Elena, this asshole kidnapped you! He took you away from me! Why are you defending him?!" He yelled, throwing his arms wide. "He's done so many horrible things. He deserves whatever's coming to him!"

"No Jer! No he doesn't! There's so much about him you don't know okay…" Elena began.

"Elena, he killed Ric's wife Isobel…over a gambling debt. What more proof do you need?!"

The siblings glared at each other from opposite sides of the room, brown eyes blazing and chests heaving. Elena's gaze begged her brother to be on her side but he just frowned stubbornly. The silence stretched on longer and longer.

Until Damon just had to chime in.

"Well…it's true…I did kill her…"

"Damon!" Elena hissed.

"But…" He began, raising an index finger, his eyebrows and lips drawing up simultaneously. "…technically speaking…she's not dead."

"What?!" Three voices yelled with varying levels of shock and incredulity.

"You heard me. She's. Not. Dead." Damon repeated, enunciating each word slowly, like they were hard of hearing.

"But…you said you killed her…how can she not be dead?" Jeremy asked, clearly struggling to comprehend the situation.

"Well now, that is an interesting story."

"Damon…"Elena warned, saying his name in that tone only she could manage.

"Geez, don't get your panties in a twist." Damon drawled. "In fact, I'd much rather you didn't wear panties at all if it's all the same." He continued, eyebrows dancing.

"Damon," Elena sighed, rolling her eyes. "So not the time."

"Ugh, fine, you're no fun." Damon whined. He took a deep breath, confident he had at least earned a short reprieve from impending death.

"Ah Isobel, I remember her well. However, as little Gilbert mistakenly implied, Isobel's gambling debt wasn't to me. It was to…drumroll please…The Originals."

"Klaus…" Elena breathed.

"DUN, Dun, dun!" Damon crowed, pleased at having successfully shocked his audience. "That's right. Klaus. What a super coincidence huh?"

"Wait though, if her debt was to Klaus…how did you end up killing her?" Elena asked.

"Ah, ah, ah…not killing her, remember?"

"Yeah, fine, whatever, not killing her." She replied frustratedly. Did he really have to be so difficult right now? There was a frickin' gun pointed at him and he wanted to clown around?

"Well, as luck would have it, Isobel realized that Klaus and his band of miscreants had lost patience with her. She was behind on her payments, abysmally so. And they aren't nearly as generous as I am with lateness."

Elena snorted at this, making Damon smirk.

"So anyway, she came to me to strike a new deal. She would tell me everything she knew about Klaus' movements and plots in the last few years and I would help her fake her death and start up a new life far away from Mystic Falls." Damon explained, actually managing to sound proud. "And boy did she have a lot to tell. If Isobel was good at anything it was research. Well…that and gambling all her money away…and betraying the people closest to her, but hey, we all have talents right?"

"B…but Ric saw you. He saw you standing over her. He heard the gun shot. You must've killed her." Jeremy insisted.

"Nooope. Wrong again baby Gilbert. The only way it would work was if Klaus thought she was dead. He had to believe it." Damon shrugged. "Hence, her husband had to believe it. We staged the whooole thing."

"So…Isobel's not dead." Elena replied. She couldn't believe it. It was so…wrong. But the sheer simplicity of their plan was rather…brilliant. Sick. But brilliant.

"Nope. Conniving little bitch was living somewhere in Guatemala last I heard. But I could be wrong. She moves around a lot. Keeps me posted on Klaus when she can."

The whole time Damon was explaining, Alaric hadn't said a word, instead staring at Damon with a numb sort of horror on his face. But finally he spoke.

"No…" He whispered, his wide eyes staring blankly at the floor. "No…no…it can't be true. She wouldn't do that."

"Oh it's true. Seems like old Isobel just wasn't getting what she needed at home eh Ricky?" Damon taunted.

"NO!" Alaric screamed, holding the gun in both trembling hands, struggling to keep it pointed at Damon, eyes pained and wild, voice cracking. "YOU'RE LYING! YOU KILLED HER! ISOBEL LOVED ME AND YOU KILLED HER!"

Damon stared back at him unflinchingly, a flicker of compassion showing behind his eyes. "It's the truth Ric. Isobel is alive. She left because she had no choice and she left without asking to take you with her. In fact, having you walk in on us was her idea. She knew you'd never let her go if you thought she was still alive. I didn't take her from you. She left you all on her own."

All the fury and determination seemed to drain out of Alaric's body at this. He dropped his arms, the gun hanging limply from his fingers as he just shook his head, whispering "no" over and over again.

"If it makes you feel better, it saved her life. My spies had it on good authority that Klaus was just about to come after her himself. If I hadn't 'killed' her…he definitely would've."

A strange sort of shocked silence permeated the room as they all waited for Alaric's reaction to this bombshell. He was clearly unstable right now and there was no telling what he would do when the bubble burst.

Damon was just about to step forward and try to get the gun away from him when the door burst open, bodies stumbling haphazardly into the room.

Alaric's eyes widened, becoming frenzied again, and his head snapped up. He whipped around, his attention flying to the door.

"No!" Damon yelled, reaching forward a moment too late.

The gun rang out.

An anguished cry of pain echoed throughout the manor, fading slowly with a grim finality.

All sound disappeared as every eye was inexorably drawn to the young blonde, her face contorted in an expression of shocked agony, as she slumped to the floor, her hands clutching her abdomen as blood pooled between her fingers.


A/N: Yes, I have become just a little bit evil. I hope the wait was worth it everyone. I can't wait to hear what you all think. And I can't wait for the season premiere this THURSDAY! AHHHH!