Chapter 47

The sun was peeking through the partially closed curtains, and shone gently onto Damon's face, causing him to crack open his eyes and squint a little. Looking around, he noticed the fine sheet of blonde hair strewn across the pillow next to him, and a sleeping Lexi lying comfortably beside him. Falling back softly into this own pillow, he allowed himself to smile, revelling in the moment, the quiet, and the sheer perfection of the woman lying next to him.

She started to stir and he bent over her, softly kissing up her arm, to her neck, and finally to her cheek. "Morning, princess," he said, as her eyes fluttered open and he lost himself in the pools of hazel-green.

"Damon," she whispered, rolling over and snuggling into him, closing her eyes in pleasure as he kissed the top of her head.

"Remind me to never try avoiding celebrating my birthday again," he smirked, speaking in a low, husky voice that made Lexi's stomach so somersaults.

"Morning," greeted Stefan, as Lexi and Damon walked into the kitchen. Caroline had her back to them, focusing hard on making some toast.

"Morning," replied Damon. "Caroline, you stayed over?"

She didn't turn around, but he could almost feel the blush spreading across her face as she buttered the toast vigorously.

Stefan rolled his eyes at his brother, annoyed at him for trying to embarrass Caroline.

"Let's just say, it's a good thing that Ottilie doesn't have vamp hearing…" smirked Damon, watching his brother turn red and Lexi scoff.

"And the rest of Mystic Falls…" she added, playfully.

"Stefan will pick you up at 5, okay?" said Caroline, as Ottilie climbed out of her car. She'd given the girl a lift to see her friend as she was on her way home from the boarding house anyway. She'd been relieved that Ottilie hadn't questioned her still being there in the morning after the party; she seemed to have taken everything in her stride, simply accepting that Stefan and Caroline were an item now.

"Sure, thanks for the lift!" replied the girl, waving off the older vampire.

"Hey, Otti!" she heard Greg call from behind her, and she turned to grin at her friend, sat in the park, before walking over to him.

"So where are we walking?" she asked, slinging her rucksack over her shoulders into a more comfortable position.

"There's some old standing stones I wanted to show you. My mum always talks about them being magic, and with you being a witch and all…" he pulled a face at her, teasingly and she punched him playfully on the arm.

"Hey, be nice to me, or I'll turn you into a frog!" she joked, and they set off into the woods.

"They should be somewhere around here," said Greg, pausing to look at the quickly drawn map his mum had given him, and turning it around in confusion, trying to get his bearings.

"I feel them," said Ottilie quietly, suddenly noticing the pull she felt towards a clearing in the woods, about 200m in front of them. "They're this way." She took his arm and pulled him after her, and he replaced the map in his pocket, trying to keep up with her as she took off.

"Slow down, Otti, they're not going anywhere!" he said, trying to keep up with her as she sped over the uneven ground. Suddenly, his ankle caught in a small hole in ground, and he fell awkwardly to the ground. "Argh!" he cried out in pain, and he lost contact with Ottilie.

She stopped running, looking back at her friend on the floor, his face crunched up in pain as he clutched his ankle in both hands. He caught her eye for a second, and swore he saw something flash through them, their normal vivid green turning momentarily black.

"Otti…" he said, weakly, watching as her eyes turned back to normal and she shook her head, seemingly clearing any trace of the trance she had been from it.

"Greg, are you okay?" She ran over to her friend and knelt down before him, one hand on his shoulder as she peered at him in worry.

He shook his head, shakily, "I've twisted my ankle, it really hurts," he said, trying his best to keep the tears from springing into his eyes.

"Let me see." She gently prised his fingers from around his ankle, and scrunched her nose in concern as she saw that it was already swelling and bruising. "Ouch, Greg," she said gently, rubbing his arm comfortingly. "I can try and heal it? I've managed to with Damon, Stefan and Lexi before, but obviously they're all supernatural. I've never tried to heal a human."

He looked a bit worried, "you think it'll work?"

She shrugged, "I don't see why not. Do you want me to try?"

He nodded, somewhat hesitantly, unsure as to what to expect, and she took his hands in hers, shutting her eyes and concentrating hard. Greg felt his hands start to tingle, and noticed the pain in his ankle diminishing, the swelling already going down. Bringing his eyes back up to Ottilie, he was concerned to see a trickle of blood coming from her nose.

"Tillie," he said softly, wondering for an instant why he used that name for her. She'd always been Otti, or Ottilie, but just then he felt the need for something more… different… something that only he called her.

"Tillie, stop now, you don't look good." The pain in his ankle was gone, and she opened her eyes, smiling in relief at him.

"Hey, it worked!" she said, before slumping forwards in a dead faint, straight into his arms.

"Woah!" he exclaimed, quickly cradling her light body in his arms, before tapping her face gently. "Can you hear me? Otti, wake up!"

Her eyes fluttered open just a moment later, and Greg let out a sigh of relief.

"Are you okay?" she asked, wiping her bloody nose with a tissue she'd fished from a pocket, and he almost laughed at the absurdity of the girl who'd just collapsed into his arms asking him if he was okay.

"Yes, my ankles all better. Thanks Otti," he said, smiling down at her.

"Sorry about that," she said, trying to sit up, but he held her down gently, not wanting her to get dizzy from getting up too quickly. "So dramatic, I know…" she rolled her eyes in fake exasperation, and he laughed.

"It's fine, promise you're okay?"

"Promise, it happens all the time."

"Well that makes me feel much better…" he retorted, gently helping her sit down before standing up himself, gingerly testing out his ankle. "All fixed!" he said, relieved, before lending Ottilie a hand to stand up.

"You know, for a minute, I didn't think you were going to come back for me," he said, suddenly serious. "What happened?"

She frowned. "I'm not sure, Greg. I'm sorry. I just felt like a really intense need to go to the standing stones, like it was the only important thing in the world."

"Well I guess we'd better go then," he said, smiling at her, and holding out his hand, which she took a little shyly.

They set off again, and finally arrived at the clearing in the forest. The stones were tall – perhaps 10ft, all positioned in a circle. Ottilie walked around them cautiously, stopping to look at each on, but staying a couple of feet away from them. Greg hung back, feeling uneasy all of a sudden.

"Do you hear that?" asked Ottilie, breaking the eerie silence.

"Hear what?" he replied, confused as to what she was getting at.

She didn't respond, focusing instead on the whispers she was hearing, the hushed voices swirling around her head, making her look around for their creators, the wind carrying sounds around her. "Touch meee…" she heard, behind her, and she snapped her head around to look for where the voice had come from. "Touch meeeee….." it insisted, now from a different place altogether.

She walked slowly towards the biggest standing stone, towering over her 5ft height, and she placed a tentative hand on it, feeling as though the breath was knocked out of her as she did so. Her vision swirled and she blinked, trying to clear it, but when she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the clearing in the forest.

"Ottilie..." she heard a gentle voice from behind her, and she turned to see a beautiful woman, with long, softly curling brown hair and bright green eyes. She had a kind face, and she smiled at the frightened girl in front of her.

"Do not fear me, Ottilie, for I am you, and you are me, and one as pure as you cannot truly fear oneself. We are the Adfectus Witch, and you are the current manifestation while my time passed many moons ago."

Ottilie remained still, shocked into stunned silence. The woman continued speaking, her choice of language strange and cryptic.

"We do not serve nature, Ottilie, yet there is great imbalance. We were created to restore what the natural witches could not. And that is what you must do. Restore the balance."

Ottilie's eyes widened, understanding what the woman was saying. "Marcel…" she breathed, as the woman nodded.

"Yes, child. Marcellus Gerard has defied the rules of nature, forging a creature with too great a power. Only the Adfectus Witch is entrusted with enough power to overcome it, and even with such power, it will not be easy."

Ottilie's shoulders slumped. "I can't even access all of my power – I almost die every time I try…" She broke off, suddenly realising what was required of her.

"It is a great burden to bear, Ottilie," said the woman, sorrowfully, "but it is a burden that we were created to carry. Should you fail in your task, the Adfectus Witch line will be broken, and all hope gone. You must prevail. You will have only one shot at defeating Marcel, and you must make it catch."

Ottilie nodded, soberly, feeling her heart rate start to pick up as the information sunk in. In order to defeat Marcel, she had to access her full power. And to access her full power, she had to die.

She looked up at the woman. "I understand," she said, and the woman smiled kindly at her again, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I know, and you are not alone, Ottilie. I am here. Always." Ottilie nodded, and closed her eyes, feeling her vision swirling once again before everything went black.

Greg watched as Ottilie stood, staring up at the stone on which she had laid her hand. She hadn't moved for some time now, and he walked cautiously over to her, noticing her eyes were shut. "You okay?" he asked, wondering what she was doing.

She didn't respond and he moved closer, placing an arm on her shoulder, still getting no response. He shook her a little, calling her name, panic starting to build as her eyes remained firmly shut.

"Otti, you're scaring me," he said, quietly, before looking around for her rucksack that she'd taken off and lent against a tree stump. "If you don't answer me, I'm going to call Damon," he threatened, giving her shoulders one more shake.

Sighing as she remained unresponsive, he ran over to her rucksack, feeling in the pocket where he knew she kept her phone. With relief, he noticed that it didn't have a password and he opened her contacts to call her dad, who picked up after just a few rings.

"Otti…"

"Mr Salvatore, it's Greg,"

Damon's attention suddenly snapped to the voice on the other side of the phone. "What's happened? Why are you using Ottilie's phone? Where is she?"

"She's with me in the woods, by the old standing stones. She's been staring at one for ages and I can't get her to talk to me. I didn't know what to do… Oh my God, Otti!"

"What?! What's happened?" Damon almost shouted down the phone at the terrified boy.

"She's just dropped to the floor, oh my God, I don't know what to do, I think she's having one of her attacks…" Greg's voice was frantic and terrified, and Damon found himself needing to keep him calm.

"Okay, Greg, I need you do what I say. I'm on my way, but you need to help her. Okay?" He grabbed the kit that they kept by the door for emergencies.

"Yes, sir," came the frightened reply.

"Roll her onto her back and tilt her head back. Check her pulse, you know how to do that?"

"Yes," confirmed the boy, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he rolled his friend onto her back, wincing at the limp movements of her limbs. "She's got a pulse, it's really fast."

"Okay, is she breathing?"

Greg sat still, watching Ottilie's torso for any movement, grimacing as he saw her straining for air. "Yeah, but I don't think she's finding it easy."

"Okay, you're doing great," Damon surprised himself with how calm he sounded, "make sure her head is tilted back, that'll make it easier for her to breathe. I'm almost with you."

Greg gently held the girls forehead to keep her head back, his other hand clutching at hers, willing her to be okay. "Wake up, Tillie, please…"

He felt a whoosh of air and saw Damon crouching beside him. "Well done, Greg, now I need you to give me some room, and call Stefan, okay? If you can't get hold of him, try Elijah." Greg nodded and scrambled away from them, already looking through the contacts on Ottilie's phone for Stefan.

Damon still knelt by his daughter, took hold of her petite shoulders and shook her gently, listening as her heart raced. "Okay, Otti, time to snap out of it," he said firmly, before setting a hand over her heart, feeling it thud under his palm, as if it were trying to break out of her body.

"Have you got hold of Stefan?" he called over to Greg, who shook his head. "Try Elijah…" He broke off as the little girl started to seize in front of him. "Oh shit…" he swore, cradling her head to stop it hitting the ground and causing her further injury.

"Mr Elijah, hi, I'm Ottilie Salvatore's friend. Damon said to call you, we are at the standing stones, Ottilie is having an attack…"

Damon heard Greg stuttering down the phone to Elijah and sighed, knowing that help was on its way. Keeping his focus on his daughter, he watched as tremors left her body, and she slumped limply back to the ground, all trace of the seizure gone as quickly as it arrived.

Once, Damon would have felt relief. Now he felt only panic as he knew what was likely to happen next. Sure enough, leaning in to hover his cheek over her mouth and nose, he realised she'd stopped breathing.

Positioning himself at the side of her head, he tilted it back once again, pinched her nose, and took a deep breath before pushing it forcefully into her lungs, repeating the action every few seconds. Greg watched in horror for a minute or so, before noticing a second whoosh of air as yet another vampire arrived, one he recognised from Damon's birthday party.

Elijah crouched next to Ottilie's side, his face full of concern as he watched his friend trying to revive his daughter. "How long has she been down?" he asked, taking her dainty wrist in his hand, checking her pulse, frowning as he found it racing.

"About 8 minutes," said Damon, between breaths. "Kit is…" he gave her another breath, "behind me."

Elijah grabbed the canvas bag and pulled the defibrillator from it, taking out the pads and putting them carefully under Ottilie's t shirt before switching it on.

Pinching the top of his nose, Elijah waited for the machine to try and read Ottilie's heart rhythm, whilst Damon kept breathing for her. "Shock advised" said the machine.

"Clear," instructed Elijah, and waited for Damon to stop his contact with Ottilie before pressing the button, wincing as her body flinched from the shock. Damon immediately continued breathing for her.

"Do you need to swap?" asked Elijah. Damon shook his head, continuing the grim task with fervour.

"Shock advised" said the machine again.

"Clear."

Again, Ottilie's tiny body jolted painfully, landing back on the hard earth. She still wasn't breathing and Damon could feel the panic he'd repressed starting to build.

"Come on, Ottilie!" he said, his voice slightly raised in desperation. He bunched up his fist and rubbed it aggressively over her sternum, just as Stefan had shown him, in a bid to get her to respond.

"Shock advised."

"Clear."

For the third time, her chest jerked, but still, she remained motionless.

"Shit, what the hell is going on?" shouted Damon, completely losing his cool now. Elijah, realising that Damon was about to have a break down, pushed him out the way and kept breathing for Ottilie, knowing it was her only hope of surviving this.

"Come on, Miss Ottilie," he whispered to her, between breaths. "Come on!"

He suddenly noticed her chest quivering, as if she were trying to take a breath, and he gave her another one, trying to coax her to breathe for herself. "That's it," he said encouragingly, still breathing for her occasionally when she was taking too long to take a breathe herself.

Damon was hovering over her, hope replacing the horror on his face. He grabbed her hand, stroking it gently, whispering to her to come back to him. Suddenly remembering Greg, he turned to look at the boy who was crouched by the tree stump with Ottilie's rucksack, his face stained with tears.

"She'll be okay, Greg," he said, as much to reassure himself as to reassure the young man who obviously cared so much for his daughter.

"Damon, we need to get her to a hospital," said Elijah, after a few minutes of coaxing Ottilie to breathe. "You carry her, I'll bring Mr Blythe and call Dr Laughlin. She should be stable enough for you to move her now," he added, disconnecting the girl from the defibrillator.

Damon nodded, and scooping his daughter gently into his arms, he sped off in the direction of town, leaving a distraught Greg and exhausted Elijah to follow.