DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything that you recognise. All rights go to the CW, and the amazing L. J. Smith, and all others who contributed to the creation of this brilliant saga. Please, oh please, do not sue me.

SPOILERS AHOY. YE BE WARNED. (to avoid, skip to the NB.)

Did you see it? DID YOU ALL SEE IT? OMFG, mates, OMFG. DELENA IS ON! Just as a little rant to everyone who's already on my back for being such a fan of the end on 3.10, I GET that Stefan is the one who dated Elena first, and I GET that he was sacrificing himself for Damon both times and Damon owes him for that.

BUT DON'T YOU THINK, that after Stefan has shown that he clearly couldn't care less about Elena or her family or her friends, Elena has a right to move on? She can't be expected to remain in some sort of stasis while Stefan goes through his little 'bad ass' phase can she?

And AS FOR DAMON—doesn't Stefan owe Damon? I'm not saying that Elena is some sort of bartering tool between them, but—Stefan was the one who outed Katherine and messed that up (even if it was messed up to begin with). Stefan was the one who made Damon drink human blood and TURN INTO A VAMPIRE people, and the way I see it, Damon was totally justified in making Stefan's eternal life hell for a bit. It's called payback, and it's exactly what I would have done. But as for the Elena thing, Stefan knows that Damon loves her just as much. Why is it that just because Stefan got there first, Elena's suddenly 'his'. Who Elena ultimately decides shouldn't be about 'right' or 'wrong' or 'who got there first'. It should be about who Elena wants to be with, and who she thinks is best for her. And even if it does end up being Stefan then so be it.

But, by god I hope it's Damon. Because damn, that kiss was HOT.

(Sorry. I got ranted at on youtube because I made a positive comment and there's a chance I'm feeling a little resentmentness).

OKAY. SPOILERS BE IN THE PARST (I thought that sounded pirate-y. I'm having a good day movie wise. Yesterday, I watched Pirates of the Caribbean, then this morning (after being pushed in a lake, by the way, and then showering) I went to the movies and saw the latest Sherlock Holmes movie (Robert Downey Junior is babing) and then I came home and watched the vampire diaires. Good day, yes?)

NB. This is the third time I'm going to be working from Damon's 3rd POV. Feedback on THAT would be awesome, since (SPOILER) Emma and Damon are going to go in different directions some more and I need to be good and writing Damon without Emma being around :S Cheersies.

PLUS: Six reviews, guys. Six. For the last chapter. And I get that it was a filler, but come on. SIX? Really?

Thanks to those six who reviewed: Marina164509, ThisLooksLikeAJobForMe, Rae, Veni Vidi Vichi, SomebodyWhoCares and shippolove844.

.:.

Damon

Damon could tell almost instantly that Stefan was on guard. As soon as they both recognised Emma's scent once again in the mansion, Stefan had tensed his muscles to fight. His little brother was of the opinion that Damon couldn't control himself.

Around Emma.

Puh-lease.

Simply smirking at Stefan, Damon strolled casually past him. He could still hear Elena on the webcam to Bonnie and in a moment of sympathy (that he wouldn't ever consciously acknowledge) he decided that he would have this talk with Emma downstairs. Elena didn't need to think that he was going to be killing another human tonight (and he'd been slapped around enough—to be honest, Klaus's metaphorical bitch slap smarted a little more than Elena's weak human attempt).

He moved down the stairs with his hands clenched. He was still angry, he reminded himself, but it seemed that his gratuitous violence towards his own inanimate possessions had calmed him a little. Plus, the look of stupefied shock on Stefan's voice reminded him that Stef knew even less than Damon did and that had made him feel a little better.

When he rounded the corner to see Emma the first thing he noticed was that she had dyed her hair again. Still not the natural colour, the dark brown suited her better than the unnatural blonde. The next thing Damon noticed was the grocery bag in her hand. She'd obviously gone out on an errand run after letting her psycho vampire-hunter out of their cage, and forgotten to leave a note on where she was going.

Not that she should have been going anywhere.

Another thought occurred to him. "You better have not touched my car," he threatened coldly.

Emma, who had been smiling brightly at him until that point, frowned. Poking out her lower lip in that way that every girl could do effortlessly, her eyebrows came together. "I didn't." She said with a scowl. "Not that that would be so bad."

Damon scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "Don't forget I gave you your first driving lesson, Emma." He said. "I feared for my life." He kept his voice quiet and cold, the best way he knew to shield his emotions. Whatever he said about the switch, it wasn't that cut and dry. But still, he could make it look that way.

Emma seemed to have noticed that something was up. She didn't move forward—and instead shifted her weight onto her back leg, leaning away from him instead. She seemed to know him well enough to recognise when he was angry. Still, she smiled slightly (guarded, Damon noted) and nodded. "I'll bet you did, vampire." She said.

Damon had often enjoyed the way people likened vampires to cats, he thought errantly. If he thoughts about it, the mannerisms were roughly the same. It wasn't as though he purred, or licked himself, for Christ's sake. No, instead the similarities lay in the way that he moved. He was still, his muscles tense—like a cat, ready to pounce—and Emma had definitely noticed.

She tried to keep casual, nonetheless. "So," she said breezily—even though her body was as tense as his. "What's going on?"

He knew from experience (he'd killed a lot of people, you know) that the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. He could see the goose bumps that had crept across her lower arms—having nothing to do with the cold air that she'd just been out in. Every part of her body was telling her to get out and away from him, but (because she was as much of an idiot as he was) she was standing her ground.

"Everything went as planned," Damon said, as though she'd been in on the plan. "We did have a little run in with Klaus though."

That seemingly distracted her for a moment. "Is Elena okay?" she asked quickly, displaying the sort of compassion that she usually kept to herself (or forgot to display). "The others?—hey, that reminds me—is Caroline a vampire? Because I mean, Matt was talking to me and he said that she'd always with us and I figured as long as you're over your 'she's convenient' phase, why else would she be here?"

Damon ignored her and kept talking. "He was in Rick's body," Damon said errantly. "Klaus, I mean." Emma frowned as he ignored her, but didn't interrupt. Instead, she paled slightly. "So he met you, I guess, when you were introduced."

Emma's frown deepened at that. "So?" she said quickly. "Why does it matter if he met me?"

Damon tilted his head to the side and smiled. "Well—"

But Emma interrupted. "Oh no." She said loudly and quickly. "That's not happening, buddy." She lifted an accusatory finger and jabbed it in his face, stepping close to him and scowling. "Don't do your tilt head-ey thing. That's what you do when you're pissed with Cameron for sleeping over, or when you were angry with Tara and Alex. You don't use that face with me."

Evidentially, she knew him well in some areas.

Although, in others?

Damon stepped forward. She was close to him already, so when he stepped forward, she instinctively stepped backwards. He continued to move, until her back thudded into the solid wall of the hall. Even then, he was close enough to feel her breath on his face.

She swallowed. "What are you—?"

"I'll use whatever face I want, Emma." Damon snarled angrily. His fists had clenched again, and in an effort to not get violent (not that he'd ever hit a girl. Or really, Emma or Elena) he pressed one of his fists up against the wall, beside Emma's head. Her bag of groceries fell to the ground with a thump.

There was a moment of silence during which Damon stared at Emma. He could see in her eyes that she had no idea what to do in this situation. There was anger that he was trying to intimidate her, there was the slightest hint of fear and then, hidden behind everything else, Damon could see the look that Emma always looked at him with.

It was a look that, until now, Damon had never thought much of. It wasn't as though he'd read book on kids or anything—but he knew that it was common for young girls to have crushes on the older men in their life. And in Emma's—until last year—there was really just the Cameron kid, and him. It was only expected.

Still, at that point, all Damon had thought of was Katherine. Getting her out of that tomb was his only intention and he was happy to ignore it. He usually ignored it—until the rare moments when she frustrated him to the point when his crueller side would throw it in her face. It had only happened once—at that Lockwood party when she'd been pissed about Caroline—but he'd watched as the delicate flush of her warm blood spread across his cheeks and had been proud with how she'd handled him. Angry and indignant she'd told him with her glare and a vicious 'Go to hell, Damon', that he could ignore her all he wanted—but she would not allow him to mock her.

In a moment that both annoyed Damon and filled him with pride, Emma glowered at him and lifted both of her (now free) hands, and pressed them firmly on his chest. Pushing hard on him (even if the force was barely even enough to move a normal person), Damon moved back a little, giving Emma enough room to breathe. Once he was a normal distance away (well, maybe for Damon,) she took a deep breath.

"What's going on?" She said.

Infuriatingly, her voice wasn't the calm that Damon had grown accustomed to from Elena whenever he went through a bad day (except when he killed her little brother. Or Vicki). No. Instead, Emma was just as furious as he was. It appeared that maybe parts of his temper had rubbed off on his selfish ward.

"I couldn't help but notice that your boy had gone—did you wanna tell me how that happened."

Emma couched slightly before nodding. "I was going to tell you—he, I mean—I let him—"

"You let him go?" Damon had sounded angry enough anyway—but he didn't bother holding back as he let his fist sail through the air and collide with the wall. Smashing through the plaster instantly, and denting the brick behind it only because he pulled back. And, if Stefan was downstairs, he would have been given his answer. Emma certainly flinched—more than that, she let out a little yelp and cowered away from the wall.

"Jesus—Damon, I'm sorry—"

"Klaus met you." He said, smiling with terrifying, wide eyes as he pulled his hand from the wall, and shook of the white powder that was left on his skin.

She faltered. "So?"

Damon's smirk fell, to be replaced by the cold, unaffected features that intimidated so many. "So, Emma, he reminded me that there is a reason Katherine had me look after you." He said.

Emma paled, but said nothing.

"And now he knows." Damon continued. "And he's fascinated by you, Emma. Isn't that great?" He didn't give her time to respond. "Now, I don't care about your inflated sense of self importance. You're going to tell me what the hell is going on with you—and you're damn well going to tell me now."

.:.

Emma

The question should have filled me with fear.

And, trust me when I say that it really, really did.

Fear drenched me like someone had just poured a bowl of freezing water over the top of my head. With a side dish of dread, dropped like an egg. As much as it should have made me want to run away as far as I could be Damon was angry, it did. And he certainly didn't seem willing to let me brush the question off this time.

I cleared my throat.

"Damon, it's complicated—I mean, I need—I just—oh god." As I spluttered into my own hands, tears in my eyes and hands shaking, Damon didn't move. Instead, he stayed still, and just watched me for a moment, before throwing his hands into the air with frustration.

"It's complicated?" he echoed furiously. "Oh, right, because that's something you and I are completely unfamiliar with, right?"

I swallowed slightly, still shaking. My own reaction was kind of freaking me out.

Damon was angry. He was furious even. Whatever it was, it wasn't an environment I should have been feeling calm. And I didn't feel calm, per say. But the fear that I was feeling? The fear and the dread? It had nothing to do with Damon's actions.

Sure, I hadn't ever seen him as angry as this—but I'd seen him in any other place. I'd seen him sad and happy and all the other obscure emotions that he apparently thought I couldn't see. So, he was angry. That didn't mean that I didn't trust him.

Oh no. I still trusted Damon. I still loved Damon.

But, goddamn, I was terrified of what he was going to say when I told him. I was shaking because this was it. This was the information that, when Damon found out, could spell the end of any relationship that I thought we had. Whatever it was—me and him, best friends, guardian and guarded, that other thing that I wasn't going to give a name to.

"It is!" I shouted at him, cringing when I heard how pathetic I sounded. "I mean—you'll hate me. You'll hate me."

Humiliatingly, I followed that particular declaration with a loud, hysterical sob. I wasn't crying, either. I was just incredibly pathetic.

Damon stilled.

Then the only noise was my hysterical, loud, mouth breathing. Which was just exactly what I wanted, you know.

To my surprise, I didn't hear Damon scoff incredibly, or notice him roll his eyes (not that I would have seen much, since I had buried my hand in my hands and wasn't looking anywhere but down at my own feet). Instead, I felt his arms, stretch around me before pulling me into one of his hugs.

I let my hands fall when my head was pressed against his black t-shirt (another designer one that he wouldn't be happy to see tear stained). Clutching at the shirt—the same place where I'd pushed him away from me earlier, I noticed randomly—I let myself stop my stupid sobbing and calm myself down. Deep breaths, I told myself.

Damon seemed to have calmed as well. Now, his gentle hand was stroking through my newly dyed hair and I was slightly disturbed to notice that it was the same hand that had smashed through the wall. The other was holding me close to his body, resting around my waist, making me feel small and protected.

"I won't hate you, you moron." Damon said, letting his chin rest on the crown of my head. I chuckled slightly, into his shirt at the phrase. I could practically hear his smirk—but I could tell when he fell more serious. Pulling away slightly, he made sure I was looking right at him—his hands on both of my cheeks—and sighed. "I won't ever hate you."

I swallowed and nodded, but he wasn't done.

"I need to know, Em." He said.

I nodded silently.

Still with his arms around me, he led me further into the house and into the living room. I couldn't really tell, from the small amount I could see, but once we stopped, Damon was happy to pull me down on the couch—and sit next to me. He didn't move one of his arms, keeping it around my shoulders, but he pulled back and looked at me more closely.

"Em, Klaus knows. Whatever it is, Katherine and now Klaus know all about it—and Klaus isn't just going to let it go."

I nodded, making sure that my breathing didn't get out of control all over again.

One, big deep breath, I told myself.

One, big, deep breath.

"Katherine killed my parents," I began with, flinching slightly as I said it out loud. I never liked to think about them—even if my Dad was becoming more worrying every time he was mentioned. "Katherine said that we had gone to see a movie, or something."

Damon nodded. "Dracula." He said. "It had just come out in the nineties. I remember asking around—trying to see what happened. I knew it was a vampire—and when I found out Katherine was still alive, I kind of assumed."

I nodded, and sighed. "Well, apparently—"

For someone who had been so furious about getting the truth just moment ago, Damon seemed fine with waiting for the answers. I was surprised when he interrupted me with a hand. "Hang on," he said. Then he stood from the couch.

I was alone for a mere moment as he blurred out of the room, before he was back. In his hand, he was holding out a worn piece of paper—that looked old, but well kept.

"She sent it to me." Damon said, as he thrust the paper in my face. "This is why I found you—and looked after you.

I snatched it from his grasp and hastily unfolded it—making a point not to fold it.

To my Damon,

It has been less than a day since we have spoken, but I am sure you are to enquire as to my absence from the church this morning. While I know that you know my secret, and my motives, you should make my apology clear to your father and brother at your earliest convenience. I meant no offence by not being there.

I have been to see a seer. She has told me troubling news about the future, yours and mine, as well as the fate of your brother. I will tell you everything when I return home this evening. Otherwise, you will receive this letter sometime in the future, can I not give it to you myself.

The seer has told me of a girl of the future—one who will be a relation of mine should everything go well. Unfortunatley, it seems that I will be unable to look after the child myself, as should be my duty. The seer refused to tell me what would happen, but I spared her life for the information she could give me. You will be like me, my love. You will be in my future—you will be my saviour.

It is because of this that I ask you now. Find the child that I speak of. If I am unable to bring you the letter myself, I will give it to someone else—someone who will find you.

Look after the child. Nurture her. Never drink from her. Do not try to kill her. She is far too important.

I know that it is too much to ask of you, my love, but I find that there is no one else I trust as implicitly as yourself. If you truly love me, you will do this for me.

I will be with you in no time, but until then,

All my love,

Katherine.

The first thing that bothered me was the pretentious way that she had scrawled the 'K' of her name. It was like calligraphy. In fact, most of the letter was written in perfect cursive that bothered me.

Obviously, it wasn't the only thing.

When it actually hit me that this letter was about me, I read it another time. I could plainly see the instructions that Katherine had used to make sure that Damon never figures out exactly why Katherine thought I was so important.

"I didn't know it then," Damon was saying. "But she obviously hadn't been to see a seer or sent this from the past—I don't even know if seers exist..." he mused. "Still, I did what she asked." He paused for a moment. "I thought you might need to read it."

I didn't say anything.

Clearly, it unnerved Damon. "Emma?" He asked nervously.

Finally I found my words.

"God, she was a bitch in the eighteenth century." I said slowly. My mind entertained thoughts of every single group of girls who would have bitched about her behind her back and I sniggered to myself—before I realised she would have probably killed them all and I sobered up.

Damon chuckled slightly. He lowered himself back onto the couch, watching me carefully.

No putting it off anymore, I guess.

"I have vervain in my blood."

There was a moment of silence during which Damon just stared at me, before he frowned. "Seriously?" he said quickly. "That's it?"

I suddenly got the distinct feeling that he didn't quite understand what I was saying. Before I could clear it up, however, he was on his feet.

"That's what Klaus was talking about?" he sounded incredulous. "What the hell? Elena has vervain in her system—nearly everyone in this town has it. Hell, Katherine even drinks it. It doesn't do anything to Originals anyway, so what would—?"

I interrupted him.

"Damon. I'm not saying I have vervain in my system." I tried to clarify. "I'm saying I have it in my blood."

Once again, Damon didn't understand.

"If you knew about vervain, why didn't you make your scooby gang take it as well? I mean, you're more selfish than me at points—"

"Hey!"

"—but I would have thought that you would at least tell them how to protect themselves from draining, or compulsion."

This time, I stood up as well—stomping my foot a little, which seemed to amuse Damon to silence, rather than make my point. I didn't blush though. I was going to make him understand.

"Damon. I don't do anything—or eat anything, or wear anything. Vervain occurs in my blood."

Damon fell still, but I continued. "Naturally, Damon. It's there all by itself."

.:.

I spent the next hour trying to explain to Damon, Stefan and Elena the technical realities of what was going on with me. Damon had decided, after I'd given him a preliminary explanation that it was probably better than Stefan and Elena come down, so that I didn't have to explain in detail, three times.

They'd both come down the stairs confused—Stefan looking cautious and Elena looking obliviously happy, even though I could see distinct tear stains on her cheeks.

But once I started talking, all they looked like was interested. And willing to listen.

"Lachlan was the one who told me about it first," I told them. "He didn't know anything about vervain—more than it was an herb that really shouldn't have been in my blood. They used to joke about how I was flavoured for the vampires—but I guess that's not how it works."

Damon snorted. He was far calmer now that he had his answers. "Try flavouring your strawberry milkshakes with arsenic, Em."

I smiled at that, but made sure I kept my mind on the right things. "So, once I was in the city, Lachie had Connor do some tests on my blood and we found some things. First," he said, "we found out that it was the result of genetic sequencing—it's actually in my DNA. It occurs there naturally. Lachie did some digging and found that his dad and my dad—who used to own the company we were working for—injected it into the amniotic fluid while my mother was pregnant and it sort of went from there."

Despite the fact that they were both ages old, both Stefan and Damon reacted the same way any boy would to the word 'amniotic fluid'. Damon looked at his hands, while Stefan coughed awkwardly. I caught a smirk from Elena before I continued. I suppose they had been born in the eighteenth century.

As I explained, I noted glumly that the headache I'd complained about to Matt had returned full force. I would have to grab one of those pills from the grocery bag on the floor in the hall, I reminded myself, before I made myself keep talking. This time, it was accompanied by a queasy feeling in my stomach.

Excellent, I thought. Just what I needed right now.

"So after we'd looked at where it came from, we decided to look at what it was doing. Obviously, since we didn't know anything about vervain and vampires... we looked at what it was doing to me."

Damon's eyebrows shot up.

"Nothing bad, at the moment." I said. "I mean, I haven't gotten sick in a long time—but you knew that Damon. Other than that, all we know is it's doing something."

Damon looked distinctly alarmed, I noted with an inner shiver of glee. Not that I should have been thinking about that at this point.

"So then we started looking at how to get rid of it, if I needed to. So far, everything we've tried hasn't worked—but that's one of the reasons Lachie went back—to talk to his dad and see if they knew more than we did this whole time—which we think that they really did."

I finished on that, and only then did I decide that it was probably not the strongest ending. Still, the others seemed to be deep in thought.

It was silent for a few more minutes, during which I twiddled my thumbs and awkwardly tried not to look at people. Finally, it was Stefan who broke the silence.

"If Klaus is interested in this it makes it more complicated. But, for the moment, Emma is safe in here." He said, speaking more to Damon than the other two of us. Then he stood, and turned to help Elena up. "We're just going back to Elena's for a second—to grab some of her things—but once that's sorted, we'll be back."

Damon nodded but didn't move, more than to press a firm hand down on my knee.

I ignored the tingle (or frission, as I had been told to call it) and tried to make sure that Damon didn't notice.

Oh, who was I kidding?

Still, we remained silent until the door had shut, the noise echoing around the large house. We were silent for another second, before Damon spoke.

"You thought I would hate you?"

The way he had said it sounded different, in a way. I had only heard him sound like this that night—when he'd looked frailer than an old man and had told me to go get some blood for him from the butcher because he was a vampire.

I shifted on the couch so that I was facing him, pulling my knees up onto the couch and tucking them under my butt. Then I sighed.

"I wasn't going to take the chance, no."

Damon sighed, and I felt compelled to continue to explain myself.

"Lachlan told me I had to wait until I trusted you." I said quietly. I felt Damon tense slightly and again, was explaining the statement before I'd even really thought about it. "I do, I mean," I stammered. "He doesn't, though..."

"Why?" Damon asked.

I frowned.

"Well," I said, confused, "it probably has something to do with you breaking his nose and stuff."

Damon looked at me funny for a minute before smirking.

"I meant you, Em. Why do you trust me?"

I flushed almost instantly, even though I didn't really know why. My neck felt hot almost instantly and the room felt warmer than it had a couple of minutes ago. (Plus, Damon's hand was still resting on my knee, and that was just a BIT distracting).

Still, in my usual eloquent fashion, I shrugged. "I dunno," I mumbled, looking at my own hands in my lap. "I just do, you know...you're you..."

That should have been where it stopped. That should have been all the questions that Damon had for me. I mean, my answer was good enough, right?

Apparently not.

Damon leant forward and reached for my shoulders, moving me so that I couldn't look away from his damn pretty eyes. He looked like he was about to ask something but I was' going to wait for a question. Instead, it looked like I was going to babble my mouth off.

"Look, Damon, I trust you because I trust you." I said quickly and loud. "I trust you now because I was able to trust you when you told me you were a vampire. Because you've always been there for me. And the only time you really hurt me, it turned out that it wasn't you anyway. And if that was the only factor, I would have told you as soon as I found out. But it wasn't—and you leaving me would be the worst thing I can think of in my entire life—and that wasn't an option."

He continued to stare at me. I read his eyes again—the question was asked again: why?

"Because," I said quickly. "Aside from the whole bitchy vampire that killed my parents dig, I'm really glad that you came into my life. And I've been away from you for like a year, and it's all I can do to not cry every time I see that you're here and your email was a fake. And, it's weird and pathetic and embarrassing but I need you. I mean, I really need you to be around—and no one else fits that Damon shaped hole—it's you, Damon. It'll always be you."

After I finished saying it, I realised exactly what I'd just said.

My cheeks flamed a shade that could only be puce, or purple.

"And by that, I mean, in a completely platonic, non-weird kind of way, you kno—"

I was then silenced by my head exploding.

And by that, I mean, that was legitimately what I thought it was when Damon ducked his head forward and pressed his very, soft lips to mine.

It was no wonder my head didn't explode.

It didn't happen slowly, like everyone said it did. Faster than I had really noticed, Damon had his hands on my hips, and his lips softly brushing across mine. Kissing him was better than I'd ever imagined—I'd never thought about the smell of him or the taste of him and how it was intensified tenfold because he was just right here.

It took me about a second to realise what was happening, and once I had, I couldn't really help myself. Reaching up with my own hands, I pushed one hand to the back of his head, finally playing with the hair that I'd been admiring since I'd gotten back here—it was so much longer. My other hand pulled softly at his neck as he deepened the kiss.

Quicker than I could even think, Damon was away again. Pulling back, I opened my eyes to catch his hooded gaze. I stared at him for a second, and then swallowed slightly. My lips were still tingling.

Damon licked his lips quickly, before he too, swallowed. Then he blinked a couple of times and pulled back further. His hands remained where they were.

"You should..." he started. "Um... we should."

The door slammed open and Stefan stumbled in, muttering loudly to himself about how Elena didn't have bags enough for all of the things she wanted to bring with her.

"Damon," he called into the house. "Can you please come and help? Elena's having a hard time with Jenna and, well, you know."

Damon lingered for another moment before taking a deep breath. "Sure thing," he said. Then he and his brother were gone again.

I fell backwards into the couch with a loud sigh.

.:.

A/N: YEAH. A SECOND UPDATE. GOOD AUTHOR POINTS? I reckon so...

You know what else gets me author points?

KISSSIIINNNNNGG. SMOOOCHIE SMOOOOCHIE TIMME. BOW CHICA WOW WOW! (I figured in honour of the I'd publish it tonight :P)

Now. REVIEW. That is an order, my friends, because this is a rare moment when I am a GOOD AUTHOR on this site, and have UPDATED PROMPTLY. (With that in mind, it'll probably be about a week for the next chapter! Sorry! Still, you have been forewarned.)

PEACE, MA WATSONS (Sherlock Holmes reference, wadddup?)

PS. I was gunna ask this last chapter but I forgot. So, in the show, a lot of the characters call Caroline 'Care' or 'Car' but I don't know how to spell it. So what do you think? She'll be making her reappearance next chapter, guys, so I need that in review.

REVIEW! xxx

PPS. Colossal apologies for my colossal rant, earlier. *Smiles nervously and then shuffles out of the room awkwardly*

KISSES AGAIN.