It had been a long day. Elena and Meredith had forced Bonnie to go shopping. They had bought so much that Bonnie's arms were aching from carrying all her bag around all day. She sat in front of her mirror and began to brush her hair. Her mind began to drift, and she fantasied about her dark angel. She imagined him stood behind her. He pulled the hairbrush from her hand and began to gently brush her hair. His touch was so gentle, that she squirmed delightedly. He looked at her through the mirror. What are we going to do tonight, red? What dream do you have stored in that little head of yours, just waiting to come alive? His eyes held hers and she began to fall into the dark emptiness of his eyes.

I don't know… What do you want to do? Bonnie thought in response.

I want to show you the world. He replied gently. Will you trust me?

Yes.

I wish you wouldn't. There was a sadness in his eyes, an unrelenting despair. Will you follow me?

Yes. She didn't have to think. She knew her answer would always be yes.

Oh dear, I wish you wouldn't. Would you die for me?

She grew confused at his question but her answer remained the same. Yes.

I wish you wouldn't.

He lent down, gently pulling her hair away from her neck. It was a soft, porcelain white. He kissed it softly, before biting hard. He began to suck her blood. Her blood was divine. He'd never tasted an angel's blood but this was what he imagined it to taste like. Her blood was like heaven's elixir. He continued to drink until she grew faint. Then he quickly picked her up and placed her on the bed. He bit his own wrist and allowed her to drink from him. She tasted his blood; pure, unadulterated ecstasy. She continued to drink, her thirst seemed unquenchable. She could never have enough of him. He lay beside her, watching her drink. He relished in her thoughts, her desire oozing from her. She wanted him, only him.

Finally, he began to pull her away. You've had enough. He kissed her gently. Bonnie's response, however, was anything but soft. She wove herself around him and dug her nails into his clothes. His tongue delved into her mouth and his hands found her throat. He held her tightly. She began to struggle for breath but he didn't release her. He held her tighter and tighter. Not noticing when she began to struggle away from him or when she stopped. She died.

He sat there with her corpse in his arms and tears in his eyes; waiting. She would wake up; his red bird. He always knew he'd be the death of her.