A/N:  Sorry for the wait!  Med school leaves little time for anything else.  I'm determined to finish, so just hang in there.  Thank you all for being so patient.  This is the longest chapter I've written yet, so I hope it makes up for my absence.  Enjoy!

Something has left my life

And I don't know where it went to

Somebody caused me strife

And it's not what I was seeking

Didn't you see me?

Didn't you hear me?

Didn't you see me standing there?

Why did you turn out the lights?

Did you know that I was sleeping?

Say a prayer for me

Help me to feel the strength I did

My identity

Has it been taken?

Is my heart breaking?

All my plans fell through my hands

Fell through my hands

All my dreams, it suddenly seems

It suddenly seems

Empty.

THE CRANBERRIES

Chapter 6

"Bonnie, I don't know what's gotten into you, but it'll have to wait."

"But Dad, you don—"

Bonnie's barely voiced protest was silenced by a long-suffering sigh from her mother, a gesture that had never failed to invoke guilt trips from her children, time and again.  "Your father's right, Bonnie.  I don't know why you're behaving like this; we'll be home later tonight—"

"—and we'll have all the time in the world to talk then," her father added as he opened the door to his car, with Bonnie just behind him.  He turned, the door between them, giving his daughter a stoic once over before summoning a reassuring smile.  Bonnie tried her best to mirror his expression, but faltered, her efforts stunted by the eerie chills that radiated from the base of her skull down her spine—a message from her body that was, unfortunately, too vague to be interpreted.

She stiffened as her father reached out, cradling her face in his palm, the gesture echoing with a finality that was too disconcerting for her to benefit from the comfort that was its intent.  Her brow furrowed, chin quivering as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon her cheek, her eyes closed tightly to fight the tears for which she had no explanation.  She couldn't tell her parents what was wrong, because even she didn't know exactly, only that something was.  It frustrated her to tears, and yet, perhaps she wouldn't feel so strongly had she only the courage to just make them listen…

She tilted her face towards the warmth of her father's cheek, his skin roughened by the stubble of an early morning shave, and fought with all her might not to shudder against the sob the caught in her throat.  Why am I acting like this?!  It's just a stupid party…they'll be back in a few hours…It's not like—

Bonnie opened her eyes, afraid to finish that train of thought, blinking to clear her vision as her father sunk behind the driver's seat of the Buick.  She crossed her arms, her movements jerky as she shivered in her sweater and jeans, tilting her head back to squint into the overcast sky and frowning as she noticed the first snowflakes.  She felt the warmth of her mother's arms as she pulled her close for a departing hug, allowing some of the tension to melt away with the myriad of scents that drifted to her…a floral shampoo, the taint of baby powder, spearmint gum, and a whisper of vanilla cologne…all combining to create a more soothing effect than any spoken reassurance could.  And yet…

"Mom, just, please?  I…"  Bonnie pulled back, but hovered close enough to quell the sting of the bitter cold wind.  "There's something that I've been wanting to ask you, and…it's important, and…I j-just don't think I should p-put it off any longer…"  She winced as her voice faded, unable to hinder the shivers that stuttered her speech.  She decided at that moment she couldn't possibly sound any more infantile than she was behaving.

She could sense her mother's hesitation, though her eyes were fixed at a random spot on the ground, too embarrassed by her inability to control the tumult of emotions that had seemingly sprung out of nowhere the moment her parents had readied to leave.  Hope welled up, and she felt the fear that constricted her chest begin to abate at the chance that presented itself.  The harsh sound of a car horn startled them both, and Bonnie knew, in that very instant, that she shouldn't have bothered to hope at all.

It was as if her senses became muddled, a shadow settling over everything, dimming her surroundings.  She was aware of her mother shouting something to her father, who'd started the engine already, before she felt the slight touch of lips pressed against her forehead.  Among a series of dampened mutterings she was certain a quick "good-bye" was thrown in.  The world was spinning, moving along without her, and she stood, statuesque, feeling overwhelmed with hopelessness and futility, a silent audience to the mini-drama playing out before her.  This is important, something whispered to her, and she strained to capture every detail…Remember this.  Cherish it.

The spell was broken with the slam of a car door.  Bonnie blinked, eyes squinting against the daylight that suddenly seemed too harsh, huddling against a cold that bit to the bone.  She shook her head, the last remnants of shadow lifting, and stared sullenly at the smiling face of her mother through the windshield as the car began to back out of the driveway.  At last, as reality came crashing down, she stumbled forward uselessly, her fear returning with a vengeance, along with the knowledge that there was nothing she could do about it.

"Wait—"

Her entreaty was merely a whisper snatched away by the wind, followed by a bitter sob as she watched the Buick drive away, her legs carrying her stiffly down to the curb as she struggled to be heard.  "Wait!  Mom, Dad! I…wait…please…just wait…"

The tears that fell froze upon her reddened cheeks, her pleas dying as her throat no longer obeyed her command, choked with barely suppressed sobs as she watched the car carrying her parents disappear from view.  Through the rear window, she could see the face of her mother, worry marring her features with a pensive frown.  With a jolt that seemed to cease the beat of her heart, the image changed in an instant, her mother's countenance now covered in blood, her blue eyes open yet unstaring and lifeless, her smooth cheek pressed against the cold, menacing surface of solid asphalt that pulsed with a strobe of alternating red and blue.  A glimpse of what was to come?  She began to slowly shake her head, closing her eyes against an afterimage that blurred her vision.

"No…"

What's wrong with you, Bonnie?, a tiny voice taunted in the back of her mind.

It's not like you'll never see them again.

And as the snow began to fall in earnest, she stood transfixed, her chocolate-brown eyes glassy, her posture stiff against the howling wind…her body shaking, but not from the cold.

****

Meredith awoke to the smell of strong coffee and bacon…and Matt.

She became alert instantly, her dark eyes widening in alarm as she sat up.  She was unable to determine exactly where she was at first, the last remnants of slumber slow to regress.  She pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes, blinking rapidly afterwards to clear her vision, then surveyed her surroundings, one corner of her mouth tilting up in a wry smirk as realization settled in.

She was in Matt's bed, wrapped in Matt's sheets and his mother's quilt, in Matt's bedroom.  The previous night's events slowly returned to her, and she slumped forward, her legs crossed beneath her, burying her face in the covers permeated with Matt's scent.  She was certain that she'd fallen asleep on the couch downstairs last night, but then again…Sighing, she shook her head, smirking as she straightened and slid her legs over the edge of the mattress.  She lifted her arms above her head, stretching languidly and giving a wide yawn, then pushed herself to her feet.

Idly smoothing the wrinkles in her clothes, she let her gaze wander aimlessly about the room, nostalgia keeping her from venturing downstairs where she could hear Matt and his mother making casual conversation.  Her stomach growled, but she ignored her hunger, instead tentatively moving towards a bookshelf littered with old trophies and pictures.  She'd only ever been in his room once before, and that had been in the seventh grade, when Elena had made her and Bonnie tag along to welcome "the new kid".  She wasn't surprised to see things hadn't changed much since then.

She poured over the pictures in silent reminiscence, her smile tainted with the sadness of innocence long lost.  Most were of Matt himself, donning various sports uniforms and striking poses.  A senior photo of Elena wearing a velvet sapphire drape was held in an intricate silver frame, with several smaller photos of some of his other high school classmates, including herself, stuck in the edges.  Her hand lightly glided along the shelf, pausing to touch each frame as she examined the picture within:  a candid taken from his high school graduation, his features entirely too sullen for a teenage boy free to take on the world; a faded family portrait, Matt held in his mother's lap with a man who could only be Matt's father standing over them, his warm eyes and carefree smile so like that of the man she now knew.

Beside the family portrait was a picture that she couldn't place, a frown creasing her brow as she studied the smiling baby in the photograph.  For all the similarities—the blonde hair, the bright blue eyes, even the lop-sided grin—the infant could have been Matt's sister.  As far as she knew, however, Matt had been an only child.  Her frown deepened as she leaned forward to study the picture more closely.  A cousin, perhaps?  Or maybe—

"I see you're finally awake."

Had her throat not constricted involuntarily, Meredith was certain she would have let out a scream.  She spun around at the sound of the voice and took a step back reflexively, her back meeting the wall with a soft thump.  There Matt stood in all his glory, a bemused grin plastered on his face, a mischievous gleam in his pale blue eyes.  He slowly slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants, and Meredith noticed then that he had obviously already showered and dressed, the tantalizing smells of soap and cologne teasing her dulled senses.  She decided at that moment that she was fully awake indeed, her heart racing from the scare she'd been given, combined the sight of him looking so put-together…God, was that a tie tack?  Had so much happened in five years…had he changed so drastically from the Matt she'd known?

"Good…good morning," she murmured, somewhat breathlessly.  She fought the urge to grimace, picking a random spot on his immaculately pressed shirt, hoping to avoid a blush that was certain to come about if she had to meet his gaze.  Since when had Matt been able to make her blush?  She decided not to pursue that line of thought, thankful when he broke the silence.

"You plan on coming down for breakfast?"

She nodded dumbly, her brow furrowing as she checked the watch on her wrist.  She did a double-take, dark eyes flickering towards Matt then back to the watch before she crossed her arms over her chest.  "You had me thinking I'd overslept."

He gave her an inquisitive bob of his eyebrows, and she answered with a telling once-over.  "What, are they making you work on Christmas Eve?"

"Oh," he mumbled, giving a short laugh before shrugging.  "I…have an appointment to keep."

She smiled at the tone of his voice, and the hesitance in his choice of words, canting her head to the side as the last of her uneasiness suddenly melted away.  "Really?"  She gave an inward sigh of relief.  He hadn't changed, not really; same old Matt, indeed…just a different, more tailored package.

He bowed his head, the wry grin he wore proof that he knew where this was going.  He seemed to have decided to play along, though, peeking up at her through his lashes.  "Yes, really."

She narrowed her gaze at him, her smile becoming almost devious.  "Is this appointment with a girl, perchance?"

She didn't know why she was gaming him like this, for it was entirely unlike her to be so jovial, especially after having just crawled out of bed at eight in the morning.  Then again, teasing him was an easy way to avoid being serious, and, given her earlier reaction to him, she'd much rather be relatively silly.  She really wasn't expecting an answer from him, having started the thread with the hopes of just easing her way out of a corner, so to speak.  And so she had no way of predicting what he'd say next.  Had she an idea, she might have sat down.

"You could say that," he muttered, his gaze softening as he averted it to the portrait of the baby she'd been studying when he'd startled her earlier.  He gave a sidelong glance in her direction, then nodded at the picture, clearing his throat as his expression sobered.

"That's my daughter."

The pregnant pause that followed his revelation lasted far too long for Meredith's comfort, her thought processes having arrested with the beat of her heart and her breathing.  She was waiting for the somber mask he wore to crack, for him to slap her on the shoulder and tell her it was just a joke, and that the baby really was his cousin…But as the seconds ticked by, with his eyes having never left the portrait, it was obvious he was serious.

"Julia Marienne Honeycutt," he proffered, banishing the silence between them at last.  He scoffed, canting his head slightly and focusing his attentions on Meredith, choosing to ignore the complete and utter shock written on her face.  "Her mother was nice enough to give her my last name, at least."

Meredith was unresponsive to say the least, though he could see her throat working, straining to form whatever words she could gather after having been dealt such a bombshell.  He chuckled, shaking his head as he turned and took a few steps towards the door, one hand slipping from his pocket to rub the back of his neck in a gesture of mild unease.  "I know, I know.  Who'd have thought, right?"

He turned to cast a glance over his shoulder, his smirk fading.  She'd finally moved, having turned away from him, and he could see over her shoulder that she was again looking at the picture of Julie.  Careful hands clutched the frame and brought the portrait for closer inspection, her body shifting to offer him a view of her profile as she studied the photograph.  His brow furrowed slightly when he witnessed her thumb lightly caress the curve of his daughter's cheek, but he held his position, waiting this time instead for her to speak, longing to know her thoughts, yet, at the same time, almost afraid of what she might say.

He didn't have to wait long, her posture straightening suddenly, her movements no longer jerky and hesitant but graceful as she replaced the portrait upon the shelf and turned to face him, smoothing the front of her sweater and leaving one hand upon her abdomen, a gesture that belied the calm façade she wore.  She offered him small smile, her voice soft and wavering when she finally spoke.

"So, you're a father."  She forced her gaze to level with his, uncertain as to the reason for the pressure within her chest that made it hard for her to breathe.  The statement was a redundancy, left hanging in the air as she lowered her gaze and nodded slightly, as though she were still convincing herself.  She sidled up to him, then moved past, halting when she reached the door, raising one hand to rest on the jamb.  She spoke to him over her shoulder, having finally reclaimed the steady monotone that betrayed no emotion, no glimpse into what she might be thinking, and for that, she was thankful.

"It seems I fell asleep too quickly last night.  We still have a lot to talk about, don't we?"

The sound of rapid footfalls upon the carpeted steps at the end of the hallway was a welcome interruption, and Meredith quickly wiped away the wetness that had gathered in the corners of her eyes with a tremulous hand just as Ms. Honeycutt's face came into view.  Donning a quick smile, she moved out into the hall, glancing uneasily back at Matt, still standing where she'd left him, though looking a bit more perplexed than before.

"Good morning, Meredith," Ms. Honeycutt cooed, her ash blonde hair still in curlers and wrapped in a pale pink scarf that matched the color of her cotton robe.  "I hope Matt didn't wake you.  Feeling hungry?"

Meredith clenched her fist, realizing then that her hand had still been hovering over her stomach in a fruitless effort to quell her rising discomfort.  She bowed her head, averting her gaze to the floor as she moved past the older woman with a muttered, "Famished."  She felt her chin trembling, clenching the muscles in her jaw to keep the lump in her throat from becoming anything more, hurriedly descending the steps to the first floor, hoping that Matt's mother mistook her brevity for a ravenous appetite and nothing more.

She heard Matt call after her, but didn't pause, his entreaty lost as she fought to regain her control.  She was being a fool, she knew, and she also knew that she was quite possibly giving Matt the wrong idea, reacting as she was to the news that he had a child.  Yet, she chose to leave the waters muddied, unable to offer up any explanations for her behavior at that moment, unwilling to lay open the secrets she'd kept from him during their talk the night before.

A child…a little girl…

She wondered then if he knew just how lucky he was.

****

To say that he was frustrated would be an understatement.

Damon tilted his head back, narrowing his focus to a window on the third floor of the college dormitory that loomed before him, light from within less of a clue that someone was home than the noisy chatter that drifted out to him through the panes of glass.  He felt his teeth grind together, a low growl growing deep within his throat.

She wasn't there.

He had actually hoped for Bonnie's unintentional assistance is his endeavor to locate her whereabouts, enduring the ten hour flight from Rio de Janeiro, suffering through the exhaustion only to realize that even if she had been putting out any sort of "psychic radar" for him to home in on, picking it up while flying would have been impossible, even for him.  The entire process of crossing oceans and rivers from 35,000 feet simply required too much concentration for anything else.  Having landed in the midst of an entirely different season had thrown him as well, and so, after having taken out some of his rising anger on a pickpocket at the airport and vanquishing his thirst with the bastard's blood, he'd taken the time to gather his bearings.  He'd jumped the flight farthest north that had been available, not entirely sure of the logic behind his choice, but having always trusted his instincts over conscious thought, he had no reason to deny it.

He knew he'd overshot his mark, departing from Montreal within an hour of his arrival, and followed the only trace he could detect south, crossing the international border and arriving at Erie, Pennsylvania by nightfall.  Even then, long before he'd made it to the campus grounds of the university, he knew she'd eluded him.  His burgeoning lack of patience, however, was having its effect on his concentration, and instead of following whatever psychic trail she might have left behind, he decided upon a more traditional technique, regardless of the consequences.

And so there he was, biding his time, awaiting the opportunity to make his move, his calculating obsidian stare never deviating from the window of what he knew to be her dorm room, catching random snips of conversation, and with them, the voices and names of those within.  Two girls, with a third having been sent to run some errands before he'd arrived.  It was the absentee who was to be his next target.  Beyond that, he had no plan.  He'd learned in the past that planning in situations such as this led to disaster far more often than success.

And he would not fail.

The sound of an approaching purring engine forced his attention from the window, and with a malevolent grin, he gathered his Power, blending effortlessly into the shadows.  It suddenly occurred to him then that for the first time in years, he was actually having fun.

****

Melissa drummed her fingers impatiently upon the countertop, eyeing the clock on the microwave for tenth time in as many minutes.  Giving a long-winded sigh, she folded her arms, turning around to give a knowing glance in Rachel's direction.  Her roommate looked up from her magazine, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow before raising her shoulders in a bewildered shrug.  Shifting her weight uneasily upon the wicker pompazon in which she lounged, she finally let the magazine flop to her lap, folding her hands on her middle, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"I told her not to go to the mall," she began defensively.  "I mean, she knows it's Christmas Eve!  She couldn't really be that stupid…could she?"

Melissa slumped forward, her elbows propped against the breakfast bar, her head in her hands.  "I knew this would be a bad idea.  I should have just went home with one of you guys for Christmas instead of making you come here—"

Rachel rolled her eyes, groaning with the effort it took to get to her feet, her fuzzy slippers scuffing upon the floorboards as she crossed the living area and settled onto a stool across from Melissa.  "You didn't make us do anything.  It was Sophie's idea, remember?  Neither one of us likes the idea of you spending the holidays all alone up here.  And," she pressed on, her tone not allowing any room for argument, "everyone needs a family on Christmas.  So you're stuck with us."

Melissa peeked at Rachel through the cracks between her fingers, relinquishing with a round of lazy chuckles that ended in a defeated moan.  "Great…that's…that's just great."

She straightened, laughing at the face that Rachel now wore, waving her hands in front of her defensively.  "I'm just kidding, Rae.  I'm really glad you guys are here.  Well, that you're here, anyway.  I'll be fucking ecstatic if Sophie ever shows up with dinner."

A dull knock on the door made both of them jump, not so much from surprise as from an eagerness borne out of empty stomachs.  Giggling, they battled each other to the door, shoving and pulling like children in a race to reach the doorknob first.  Melissa's hand made purchase, and with a triumphant cry of victory, she gave a final shove to Rachel, releasing the chain and throwing open the door without bothering to get a view through the peephole.  In retrospect, she didn't know if having looked would have made a difference, but she wished she had.

Both girls instantly sobered at the sight of their friend, her green eyes wide with terror, a black, leather-clad hand clamped over her mouth.  "Sophie…" Rachel began, her voice dying as both she and Melissa turned their eyes on the petite blonde's captor, mouths gaping at the countenance that smiled back at them.

"Bongiourno, ladies," Damon purred, seemingly nonplussed by the trembling girl held firmly in his clutches.  "For the sake of your friend here, I suggest you invite me in."

The invitation was silent, but the implication was clear enough to evaporate the invisible barrier that kept him at bay, as both girls simultaneously cleared the doorway, taking several steps back to allow him entrance, their combined fear a heady intoxication that made keeping his focus somewhat difficult as he crossed the threshold.  With his only obstacle now abolished, he kicked the door closed with his heel, a push of his Power sliding the deadbolt into place as he tossed his hostage aside, disregarding her cry of pain as she was sent tumbling to the floor.  He was instantly overwhelmed by the taint left by Bonnie's presence, an unmistakable psychic signature that made him somewhat light-headed.  The sensation was brief, his wits returning to him in an instant, his witnesses completely oblivious to his temporary lapse in self-control.

"What…what do you want?" a voice prompted to his right, and he swung his gaze in that direction.  He didn't hesitate, foregoing his want for a good game of quid-pro-quo and closing the distance between him the girl.  His gloved hand snaked out to grasp her throat, his grip solid enough to raise her off the floor, yet positioned so as to keep her conscious long enough to get the information he desired.

"Hmm…"  His black eyes narrowed, carefully studying her features and cataloguing them for future reference.  "Melissa, is it?"  He didn't give her time to offer up a response, knowing he was right anyway, having matched the name with her voice from his earlier observations.  "I'll tell you what I want.  Plain and simple.  And I expect a precise answer.  Do you understand?"

Melissa held his wrist in both hands, squeezing with what strength she could muster, much of which went into drawing every breath she took.  His grip was unyielding, a vise that threatened to crush her windpipe at the slightest inclination.  She was aware of stifled whimpers, mixed with Sophie's tear-laden apologies

"Please…don't hurt her."  Rachel had been the one to speak this time, her voice surprisingly steady in spite of seeing one of her closest friends dangling like a fish on a hook.  Melissa blinked slowly, ashamed of the hot tears that spilled from her eyes, but unable to stop them from forming.

Damon cocked his head, a sidelong glance tossed towards the dark-haired girl who'd offered up an entreaty, her blue eyes frightened yet unwavering.  He flashed her a brilliant smile, one that might not have been interpreted so maliciously had he been in a different position.  He looked away from her then, returning his attentions to the girl whose pulse beat frantically against his palm.

"No one is going to get hurt, so long as I get what I came for."

A heavy silence descended, Sophie's frantic whimpers coming to an abrupt halt with the hope of coming away unscathed, the other two eagerly awaiting the moment when he would make known his objective, anxious to have him be on his way.

"Now, you've a roommate—a redhead."

Rachel and Melissa exchanged furtive glances, but said nothing, their fear returning, this time for the welfare of their friend.  Melissa's mind began to run in an entirely different tangent as she waited for him to continue, a black ring forming in the periphery of her visual field.  Is it possible…could this guy be part of something Bonnie has forgotten?  She ceased her train of thought, fighting to maintain her frail hold on consciousness as she realized the stranger was talking again.

"…where she is."  His voice was hypnotic, penetrating, commanding the obedience of everyone around him.  When she took too long to respond, he reacted with a subtle shift of his hold, a sharp pain radiating from just beneath her jaw to terminate on the same side of her skull.  She winced, fresh tears leaving wet trails upon her ruddy cheeks, unable to open her mouth or gather the breath necessary to produce a cry of agony.

"Stop it!" Sophie pleaded, now sobbing with a vengeance, a shaking mass huddled in a ball on the floor.  She was silenced with a look, literally, slumping over like a rag doll, her awareness ripped from her with a mere thought.  Again, Damon raised his impossibly black eyes to Melissa, giving a small shake of his head and clicking his tongue.

"You'll find me lacking in the diligence necessary to tolerate impertinence," he warned, his tone having never changed, yet seeming all the more ominous.  Melissa fancied that he sounded almost regal, and wondered vaguely just who the hell this guy was.  She could no longer see at all, her view of the upper half of the room and the ceiling now obscured by encroaching blackness and intermittent flashes of colored light, her hold upon his wrist weakening as a paralyzing numbness began to spread throughout her limbs.

Just as she was about to slip into blessed oblivion, the shrill ringing of the phone called her back to reality.  That, along with the fact that he'd loosened his grip a little.  Involuntarily, she gasped, sucking in as much precious air as his hand would allow, blinking rapidly to try and clear her vision as one hand clawed uselessly at the fingers on her throat.

"Don't move."  His order was nearly a growl, and Melissa subsided in her struggles, only to realize the instruction had been for Rachel.  There a was a slight pause, in which it seemed as though he was concentrating on something, just before a knowing grin spread slowly across his chiseled features, causing a ripple of fear to course through Rachel's already stiff form.  Her eyes mere slits, Melissa glimpsed down, only to see him smiling up at her, one elegant brow raised in amusement.

"It seems," he murmured, releasing his hold to let her crumble to the hardwood floor, overcome by coughing spasms as she was free to breathe again, "that my timing is impeccable."

On the fourth ring, the answering machine clicked on, and Melissa struggled to regain her composure long enough to hear the caller leave a message.  She didn't bother to wonder how this intruder knew who it would be; she only hoped that he was wrong.

"Missy?"

Melissa closed her eyes, choking on a sob as she struggled to push herself to a sitting position, wobbling on her knees with one quivering arm supporting her weight as her other hand was held to her throbbing throat.  Oh, God, Bonnie…

The voice of her best friend was hesitant, an occasional sniffle punctuating the pauses between her words.  Was she crying?

"Missy, dammit…where are you?  Please…please pick up.  I…I think something terrible has happened."

A fit of sobs followed, and Melissa ached with the pain of hearing Bonnie suffering, her injuries forgotten as she jerked reflexively towards the phone.  A heavy black boot suddenly blocked her progress, her red-rimmed eyes trailing the extent of the denim clad calf that peeked from beneath an expensive leather trench coat, to the gloved hand held out, hovering only inches from her face, prohibiting any further attempts to move.  She blinked, tilting her head back painfully, only to see him shaking his head in silent warning.

She watched as he angled his ear towards the sounds coming from the machine on the other side of the room, his expression unreadable as Bonnie continued, her words mangled by a combination of her crying and a lousy connection.  "I…I just really need you to call me.  Please…please call me."

Unexpectedly, the stranger crossed the room, as though he'd only just made up his mind about something, snatching the phone from it's cradle, his motions smooth and graceful in their execution.  Bringing the receiver to his ear, he paused to listen, giving a small shrug after a moment's pause, and returning the phone to its perch, his dark eyes casually scanning the number on the caller ID.

"Pity," he muttered, mock disappoint tainting his words.  "She hung up."

He reacted swiftly, pivoting towards the door, his intentions obvious.  More terrified of what might happen should she let him go than if he were to stay longer, Melissa cried out, her voice raspy and strained from his abuse.  "Wait!  What are you going—"

He paused with his hand on the door, looking over his shoulder at the two girls who stared after him, panic etched in the lines on their faces.  "Sleep," he muttered, a suggestion sent out with a wave of Power that hit Rachel first, causing her to collapse into the pompazon, then Melissa, who merely caved against the smooth surface of the floor with a muffled thump.  "Forget," he added as he slipped out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him with a soft click.

Emerging into the welcome fold of the night's cold embrace, he couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up within him, immersing himself in the thrill of the hunt, with the knowledge that his prey lie in wait only hours away.  In spite of whatever inconveniences the connection with Bonnie had placed upon him, it seemed to have its purposes—at least in this.

I'm coming for you, Bonnie, he thought to himself as his form shifted and he took flight with a powerful flap of obsidian wings, his sense of direction having been honed by a combination of a distraught telephone call and, rather simply, an area code.  Do you see me?

Because I feel you.

****

The silence was deafening, a palpable weight that made every breath strenuous, a white noise that couldn't be quelled with the ambience from the TV, or the passing of the cars outside, or the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall.

She was waiting.  She didn't want to admit to knowing what lie ahead, but denial had fatigued her to the point of numb paralysis, and so she sat, slumped against the wall upon the kitchen floor.  She'd been there for hours, it seemed, the phone held against her chest, her wide eyes glazed and unfocused, averted to some spot on the linoleum.  The air was pregnant with ominous foreboding, and it seemed as though it, too, waited.

The pressure was building, and she knew that any moment now, justification would come in the form of a telephone call.  And then, for a second time that night, her heart would bleed, and her tears would come, but this time, she would be shattered, and the wells would run dry long before she could ever hope to stop crying.

She wanted to be wrong.  She wanted this all to be just some weird dream, perhaps even a drawback of having completely stopped her medication, a withdrawal of some sort.  She wanted the images that assaulted her fragile mind to be nothing more than mere hallucinations, and nothing else.  A symptom, a nuance, a side-effect.

She saw rather than felt the gooseflesh erupt over the visible expanse of skin on her forearms, blinking her eyes into focus, her movements slow and surreal.  She felt removed, disengaged from her own body as alien commands were executed, her left hand fiercely clutching the phone receiver as it fell into her lap, leaving her to stare blankly at the keypad.

3…2…1….

The ringing of the phone shattered the spell, her senses suddenly hyperaware, the looming silence that had dulled her awareness evaporating in an instant.  She could hear the songs from a Christmas special on the TV—was it "The Grinch That Stole Christmas?"  She blinked, as though having been roused too quickly from a dream, her brow furrowing as numbers swam in her vision…

8:46.

She shook her head in the hopes of dispelling some of the confusion, the phone still ringing in her hand as she lifted her eyes to the dimly lit clock on the microwave, her chin trembling.  She did a double-take, her mind working towards a conclusion that she'd known all along, her gaze flickering from the clock to the phone and back again, her breathing shallow and erratic.

It was happening.  No, it had happened.

"Oh, God…"

She didn't want to answer it.  She didn't have to.  She knew…she'd known…she'd knownOh, God…how?!

Bonnie tilted her head back, hands clutching the fabric of her shirt, fresh tears falling…and screamed.

Her parents were dead.