I own nothing. I hope you enjoy the new chapter, also, FYI, there are only about 2 more chapters left ;)

-Chapter 10-

Once inside their room, Damon couldn't stop himself from asking her what had her so frightened throughout the meal, he had been able to ignore it enough as it was, yet even now, in the safety of their private room and in his presence, Caroline kept shaking and jumping at every little noise, the question was why. She wasn't the type to get scared easily, even as a human she had had the guts to throw a lamp at his head. It must have been something bad.

"Blondie?! What the hell is wrong with you? Have you forgotten to pack your hair-straightener?" He says, but his attempt at comedy flies past her with little to no effect that it's almost saddening. He sighs, sits on the bed besides her and takes hold of her hand. The reaction she give off, though … it is almost as if all the healing and the miraculous comeback to the land of the sane was just a fluke. Caroline pulls her hand away from his so fast he wonders if she's pulled a muscle or twisted a bone or two. What's going on here?

"Sorry, Damon, I… I just…" she says nothing more, her eyes unfocused and glazed, her voice fading and her body going lax. He breathes in once, hard and long, holds it in a few seconds with his eyes closed, then he lets it out in one go. He relaxes then, knowing that she's remembering something important and that no matter what he may be doing there's no snapping her out of it. He had seen this happening more and more lately, despite being unsure whether it's a good or bad thing. He searches inside his jeans pocket for the phone, skimming down the contacts, stopping momentarily at his brother's name, glaring and scowling, then further away to Liz's number. He should really change it from 'The sheriff' to 'Liz', but he just hasn't had the time yet. He dials.

"Yes? Damon? What are you doing calling at this hour?! Is something wrong?" he contemplates telling her the truth, but he'd rather not deal with an emotional woman this late at night so he says 'no, I just want to talk' to her.

"About?" her voice is full of irritation and exhaustion and he wonders just what has she been up to today.

"Bonnie. How is our resident comatose Sabrina?" his own voice gives off a nasty tone, but they know each other well enough to know it's just for show. He secretly cares about Bonnie and he's worried. This train of thought stuns Liz a little as she questions again how many people does she actually mother, realizing not for the first time that she thinks of them all like that, even him, who's God knows how much older than her. Though they really are much like overgrown kids, sometimes.

"She's… not good, Damon. She almost died today. Neither the doctor nor Klaus, who was with her, know what happened. She just stopped breathing, her heart giving out soon after. Klaus mentioned her yelling Care's name just before that, but we haven't found the connection yet. It's been a bit terrifying really. Exhausting too. How are you? Any luck with those witches? Found them already?" her voice trembles and he hears the tears slowly sliding down her cheeks and Damon can only imagine how hard it must be to be in her shoes now. Ever since Abby, Bonnie's mother, left the girl Liz has been closer to the young witch, adding the fact that she's her own daughter's best friend, well Liz was never too far away from Bonnie.

"Not yet, we're going sight seeing tomorrow. Did she … uhm, was this somewhere around 9 tonight, by any chance?" Damon tries, but there is still a little underlying curiosity and perplex beneath, so the sheriff becomes suspicious. Something did happen tonight, then.

"Yes. Damon, why are you asking this? How did you know?"

"I didn't know, I was just … guessing. Glad I got it right though. And Klaus was there when this happened? Why was he there anyways?" sneaking a look at the blonde on the bed, Damon sees she's finally gotten over whatever she'd been revisiting. He gives her a smile, to reassure her everything is fine, and returns to his conversation to her mother. He ignores the frown on Caroline's face as she can hear the conversation perfectly, he also brushes aside the furious signs she keeps sending his way with a roll of his eyes. Calm, Blondie.

"If you're sure. And yes, he was because I asked him to. Damon, I'm going to hang up now, I'm tired enough as it is. Talk more later." And just like that, she hangs up. He throws the phone on the bed, fixes his eyes upon Caroline, who's looking up at him as if she's seconds away from tearing him apart with her mind unless he tells her what he's been talking about, and he sits down on his own bed.

"Well, Judgy is not so good. She had a creepy near death experience that I think is related to whatever went on downstairs at dinner earlier. Maybe she had a vision about it, or things like that since she screamed out your name, unless you two have been a lot closer than anyone thought. If it's the latter, then, by all means, details." She makes a disgusted face when she finally understands what he means, though the eyes things he likes doing so much should have given it away, flicks him the finger and mimes throwing up a bit for more drama, before she sobers up and fixes him with a stare that shakes him to his core. Whatever she saw, whatever happened, it was bad and intense.

"Tell me." And she does.

.~.~.~.~.

That night, as they lay in their beds, Damon can't find sleep. He turns his head to the right, gazing to the blonde, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, hearing the soft noises she makes while sleeping and he is jealous. The story had been simple enough, yet terrifying, despite it lasting mere seconds. From what he'd got, she was waiting for him to return. When she blinked she found herself stabbed by three knifes lace with vervain, then she was being hoisted up from her chair by Trotter. That's when the story got blurry. She said she remembers screaming, from her or not, she doesn't know, intelligible and impossibly loud, then the scent of blood spilling onto the floor, that she knows was hers, then … nothing. He was confused and not so disturbed when she had finished, but then she just had to mention what she saw when he was talking with Liz.

The scene she described was simple enough as well, for a while. It was of Trotter, the bastard, chanting in a clearing, in Autumn if she were to be specific, at his feet was drawn in black color a hexagram, surrounded by a circle. Inside each tip of the six-pointed star, a rune –or at least what she thought was runes- that glowed bright as he said the foreign words at a fast pace. When he finished, he let out an anguished yell towards the sky, falling to his knees and ripping his shirt open. She said she watched as the skin on his back rippled and exploded open, blood spilling on the ground and then high-lighting the hexagram. She saw his spinal cord bowing and breaking, mutating, and she saw his face melting away into something else. She knew not what his final form was, yet she did recognize the claws that his hands attained. She wasn't sure from where though. She also mentioned that the places where her scars had been, were itching and hurting by the end of this… whatever it was.

Damon isn't sure if his own imagination is over active or if her describing skills are at fault, it doesn't really matter. He can't shake the scene from his mind, his eyes close and he sees it, as real as he sees her now sleeping. He regrets asking, yet he's grateful for the trust she showed. He eventually falls asleep, however it is plagued by nightmares.

.~.~.~.~.

The next morning, they are both up early. Neither goes to eat breakfast in the diner, deciding to drink a blood bog instead and head out. They vamp-speed to the edge of the village, talking to the locals wouldn't have worked any way considering their attitude last night, and start searching for signs, any at all, about the weird town. The snow makes it difficult to really see anything on the ground yet they manage just fine for the first few hours. It's 1 pm when the trail of clues they've found vanishes and they are left alone in a white, desolate field, the harsh cold wind in their backs and the never-ending snow up front. A headache crawls and settle over Caroline, loud, pounding and overwhelming, nothing like she ever felt before and she clutches her head in pain. She barely feels Damon holding her up, when a shriek, clear and piercing, stabs her through the headache. She doubles over, falling into soft snow.

Worried Damon kneels next to her, holding out his hand to shake her out of it. He doesn't get the chance though, not when her eyes snap open, vibrant green focused ahead and she begins crawling through the snow. He follows, silent and with half a mind wondering if she's gone mad, finally, when he receives the answer. A circle of black snow. As black as coal and as soft as any other snow he's come across.

"What the fuck?!" Caroline is up and stumbling on her feet as he mutters this. One look at her face and he knows that she is just as clueless as he right now. Just what is wrong with this town?!