A/N: Long time, no see. Sorry for the excruciatingly long wait. I've had the hardest time trying to pinpoint the sequence of events I wanted to have happen with this, and I'm still not quite happy. Guess you can say this is filler or a cooling off from everything that went down last chapter. I'll let you be the judge. Happy reading!

Pulse beating furiously in his neck, his muscles twitched with rage and helplessness. If anyone in this room truly believed he wouldn't lift a finger to try to save Elena they were fucking idiots. He glared at Bonnie who glared right back.

The hunter in him, every drop of it congealed into a blob that he wished he could force out of his body. Would it manifest into one large dagger, a team of them, or would it be something that would inflict as much pain as he felt cauterizing his heart?

Bonnie tilted her head contemplatively. "You look like you have something you want to get off your chest, Jeremy."

"Plenty," the reply was more growl than a coherent word. "Did you even give her a chance to try to make amends before playing god with her life? You two have been through so much!"

"That didn't stop her from taking a razor to my throat! Did she stop to think about the lengths I've gone through to save her, to save you, to save this town? Did she take into account everything I've lost, the countless sacrifices? No. She plunged a blade into my neck and slashed from ear to ear. You know what?" Bonnie lifted her hands. "I'm done. I'm done explaining myself and I'm done talking about this. You know where the door is."

"This isn't you," Jeremy spat. "You're not cold-blooded."

"You think any of what I had to do to my best friend was easy? You think I wanted to hurt her? No, Jeremy. I simply wanted to live my life and your sister tried to take it. There are consequences when you screw over a Bennett."

"Bonnie…"

"I think," Stefan interjected, "Bonnie's made her point. There's no reversing what's been done and," he sighed tiredly, "Elena made this bed and she…she has to lie in it."

Jeremy rounded on Stefan, "How can you of all people be so cool about this? I know your pathetic ass still loves my sister, that you're still pissed she dumped you for that asshole," he stabbed a finger at Damon. "You're nothing but a pussy, Stefan."

"Hey! This isn't about me, Damon, or you, you dick," Stefan fired back. "Your sister tried to kill her best friend last night. What about that isn't registering in your brain, moron?"

"You're wrong. This is about Damon. Every decision Elena's ever made in the last three years has been about him." Jeremy marched up to the vampire he foolishly wanted approval from once upon a time. He could blame that on lacking having a strong male figure in his life. But he had seen the error of his ways far too late. He and Elena should have left town as soon as their parents died. He regretted sticking around.

"Since day one you've done nothing but rip everyone I know to shreds! How do you always get off scot-free? You turned Vicky, killed me, abused Caroline, attacked Bonnie, turned her mother, made Elena into the worst version of herself, and yet here you stand without a hair out of place." He stepped closer, hissed lowly, "You should be the one drowning in a gotdamn safe."

You could hear a pin drop. Caroline and Stefan traded looks. Matt frowned pensively. Bonnie released a deep breath.

"You're right," Damon agreed solemnly. "I've done a lot of shit I'm not proud of, that still doesn't excuse what your sister did."

"How convenient. Someone conditions their dog to distrust everyone around them and lets the dog off its leash and it attacks, you don't blame the dog. You are the catalyst for this, Damon. You." Jeremy gritted out, "I should have killed you when I had the chance."

"You should have," Damon goaded.

"That an invitation?"

"Can be if you're man enough to accept."

"Damon, Jeremy, knock it the hell off," Stefan ordered.

Jeremy's hand twitched. He always kept a weapon on him. There was a stake strapped to the inside of his ankle. He had the advantage by being taller and bulkier than Damon. Though he lacked the speed, he'd have surprise on his side. Maybe. If he calculated things right. Stefan and Caroline would probably be frozen in shock for a few seconds before thinking about intervening, the former more so than the latter. Then there was Bonnie to consider. One spell and she could stop his heart, or fry his brain, but hell if he took Damon down with him it would be worth it.

Damon read the boy's intent well and just like that he had gone from being sympathetic, to feeling culpable, to being tickled by Jeremy's posturing. "You've wanted me dead for years so here's your chance. Do it."

Caroline chimed in, "I think things have gone far enough."

"Not according to this punk," Damon flicked a hand at Elena's little brother. "His world won't be right or make sense until I'm dead. It still won't save your sister. But have at it, Jeremy," he shoved him and came forward, getting in the hunter's face. "Kill me."

"You think I won't."

"Damon," Stefan put himself between the two males. He addressed them both, "You think any of this is helping? You think tearing each other to shreds is going to reverse the last forty-eight hours or the last three years of our lives? Grow the fuck up! The both of you. We're all we've got and yeah it sucks sometimes…"

"Spare me the fucking 'we are family' lecture, Stefan," Jeremy spat caustically. "This has been a long time coming and you know it."

Matt had grown tired of the nonsense. He shot up from his perch on the sofa, crossed the room, and clapped Jeremy on the shoulder. "Think about what you're doing," he hissed. "You're standing in a house with three vampires; two of which are brothers, and a witch. What do you think your odds are? I'm not burying anymore of my friends, Jer."

"I'm a hunter."

"Was a hunter."

Right before Jeremy could say anything else, a searing pain flared on the back of his right hand and climbed its way up his entire arm, settling on his chest. He gasped and rolled up his shirt sleeve, eyes ballooned and his weren't the only ones.

"What the hell?" someone murmured.

His hunter's tattoo was back and throbbing and with it, Jeremy's conscience corroded like hydrochloric acid dissolving food. His vision became red, he lunged.

"Watch out!"

Stefan shot forward to grab the boy by the arms but Damon's hand instinctually seized Jeremy by the throat, restraining him. The force of Jeremy's larger body being stymied by Damon's sent the vampire skidding across the floor a couple of feet. But he held Jeremy off, stiffening his arm, holding on by a thread not to twitch his hand just a little to either the left or right snapping the little asshole's neck.

Caroline and Matt were stunned and frozen for a tenth of a second before springing into action to separate the two. Bonnie…she felt a surge in her powers. She knew she was going to literally crack skulls. She channeled the rage as it rippled and vibrated through her so forcefully her teeth chattered. When she flung out her arm she aimed for the farthest wall and ripped a massive hole in it. Chunks of plaster and drywall exploded, cracks splintered up to the crown molding of the ceiling, dust rained down. Windows rattled and the ornaments on the tree bobbled like mad.

"Bon…Bonnie?" Caroline raced to her friend who gripped her head, swayed and dropped to the floor. She was beside her in an instant. "What's wrong?"

"Shit," Matt cried as he wrestled to get Jeremy under control. He was like a dog, snapping its jaws and frothing at the mouth.

Matt took an elbow to the stomach and went down.

Stefan noticed his brother was quickly heading to that place where he killed without conscience. He tried once again to break things up and got shoved, legs ramming into the coffee table that miraculously wasn't destroyed.

Jeremy's cheeks were flushed and Damon's were getting there. The latter chuckled when his back was rammed into the adjacent wall. Had he been human the breath may have been knocked out of him. Instead, the impact made the picture frames on the mantel fall like dominos. Two crashed to the floor, glass shattered. Damon saw the punch coming and didn't stop its ascent. His head whipped to the right and was quickly whipped to the left. Pain exploded, blood soon followed.

"Is that the best you can do?" he taunted.

Jeremy lifted up his leg, the one the stake was strapped to, but Damon blocked it thinking the boy was going to knee him in the baby maker. The boy grunted at the hit to his thigh. There would be a bruise by morning.

"That is enough!" Stefan roared, flashed behind Jeremy, and locked Jeremy's arms behind his back.

Things didn't settle. Jeremy bucked and kicked like a toddler unwilling to leave the toy store. He shouted obscenities that had Damon squaring up.

Bonnie looked at the smashed picture frames, groaned, and bared her teeth. "Get him out of my house!"

A good punch to the jaw rendered Jeremy unconscious long enough for Matt to haul him away.

Heavy breathing punctuated the loud silence that followed. Bonnie, with Caroline's help got to her feet and sat on the couch still gripping her head. The latter rushed to the kitchen to get her a cold glass of water. The brothers stood off to the side murmuring. Well, Stefan was doing most of the murmuring while Damon was lost in a trance staring at the spot on the floor where he had laid out Bonnie's blood soaked body.

By the time Caroline returned she found Bonnie picking up one of the smashed picture frames. "Bonnie…?"

"Yeah?"

"I…here's some water. How's your head?"

"It's fine. You can leave the water on the table."

"All right. Is there anything else you need?"

Bonnie studied her reflection in a piece of glass that survived the fall. "I'm good."

Cornflower blue eyes went to the hole in the wall Bonnie's powers had put there to contradict that statement. "Are you…"

"Good night, Caroline."

The blonde made a squeak of protest. Bonnie never dismissed her not even when they had a falling out. Caroline tramped down the flare of hurt, and pressed forward, "A lot's happened today. I think…I think we should talk about it. Especially what just happened in the last ten minutes and I don't mean the fight. You put a hole in your wall. Did something channel you?"

"Maybe. I don't feel anything or anyone controlling my strings now. What happened was probably in response to Jeremy losing his shit. I feel fine."

Caroline nibbled her lip. "Are you sure that's it? Something else could be going on."

"Could be, but I doubt we're going to get any answers about it tonight."

Caroline looked at Damon and Stefan who hovered in the background quiet as church mice. They were of no help. "Well—ah, I guess call if you feel like it."

Bonnie nodded but said nothing else.

Stefan, trading a meaningful look with Damon, took his leave right behind a dejected Caroline.

Damon watched the cars pull away from the house before bolting the door.

The quiet of the room boomed in his ears along with the crack of the logs in the grate. Damon hovered in the foyer for a moment unsure of what to say or do next. As per usual, things went left. He hadn't meant to try to goad Jeremy into a fight. Damon thought he had grown, matured to where he could sit down like a civilized adult and make points A, B, C to succinctly explain his emotions, but he resorted to what he knew best. Violence. More than that, Damon experienced a flutter of anxiety. Jeremy had thrown his dirty laundry right there on the floor, though none of it was a secret. Was Bonnie regretting giving him a chance? Regretting letting him into her bed and possibly her heart because of the poor and evil choices he made in the past?

He reentered the living room with a noticeable lack of confidence. Damon shoved his hands in his pockets, "Do you want me to leave, too?"

Bonnie regarded him over her shoulder, "I'm going to need a new frame for this," she held up the family portrait Jeremy had drawn for her as a Christmas gift. She turned back to it and said after a soft sigh, "Stay if you really want to be here."

Damon lumbered forward, coming to stand beside Bonnie at the fireplace. They gave their attention to everything but each other.

"How are you? Really?" Damon opened up the dialogue.

Bonnie shrugged and placed the broken frame back on the mantel. "I don't know what I feel right now, but I do know I don't ever want to talk about Elena again. I'm going to bed." She made it two steps before Damon grabbed her arm. Green irises bored into him.

"Look, I rarely agree with Caroline but under the circumstances I think you should talk about what's happened, in particular the spike in your powers…how do you know it wasn't Esther's doing?"

"How do I know it wasn't just an adverse response to Jeremy getting violent?"

"His tattoo…"

"Was the gateway to a dangerous form of magic I never should have been taught at my age. That shit could still be lingering in me. You forget, Damon. I'm a walking cocktail of magic…Are you going to stay up and grapple with straws or are you coming to bed?"

Damon inhaled sharply. Shamelessly his pants tightened at that command and the implication. Bonnie sauntered to the stairs. Damon followed.

Deputy Warren's takeout cup of coffee was cooling by the second but he chugged it down hoping the caffeine would burn through his bloodstream and wake him up.

Fifteen hours on patrol looking for missing person Cherise Tomlinson had availed little results. He had gone over her stats so many times he could spit them out by rote. African-American female, twenty-five years of age, standing at five feet five inches, weighing approximately a hundred and thirty pounds with black hair, dark brown eyes, and a discernible tattoo of a pair of woman's lips on her upper back between her shoulder blades. She was last seen at the Blake's holiday party wearing a black cocktail dress, light pink patent leather heels. Being it was December and the Blake's house resided in a secluded spot in the woods, Cherise hadn't been dressed to survive for very long out in the elements.

Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, Deputy Warren sat his cup of Joe into the cup holder and switched off the heat, downed the window a smidgen. He hoped the blast of cold air would chase not only the red out of his eyes, but the fatigue of pulling double shifts for the past few days. He grunted as he slumped a bit in his seat willing his eyes to remain open and vigilant. Right now he was parked a few yards away from a residence on the 2200 block of Ferdinand Avenue where the person or persons inside were slated to be drug dealers and possible human traffickers. Anonymous calls had slowly trickled in once two people had been reported missing hit the news. Each tip revealed the seediness of a quiet town like Mystic Falls if one were to believe half of what was being reported.

Regardless, looked like the citizens finally decided to stop turning a blind eye to everything, he mused bleakly.

Deputy Warren had grown up with the stories and myths of Mystic Falls, but he couldn't really quantify any of it with personal eyewitness accounts. He'd seen mangled bodies, corpses drained of blood, strange symbols charred into the earth, cold spots in the woods that made hair rise, but he'd never had an encounter with the supernatural. That he was aware of. He didn't waste time trying to get his Fox Mulder on to prove little green aliens were real or that Dracula and Wolfman were kicking it at the local pub. He went after the usual criminals, wrote speeding tickets, broke up keggers, escorted drunk underage minors home, and assisted in the occasional crowd control when Mystic Grill inevitably blew up. He was a simple cop who took home simple pay.

But Warren could never play the ignorance card. Strange, unexplainable things happened. Then there was the inescapable truth large masses of people have died and the circumstances, causes of death were barely—if not at all—investigated. Sure he could head to the state's FBI office and rat out suspected corruption that went all the way to the mayor, past mayors as well, but Warren wasn't a snitch, and he wasn't disloyal. Every city had its problems and underbelly. Mystic Falls was no different.

Though it was.

Very different.

He straightened in his seat the second his ears picked up the sound of the front door of the house opening. It was too dark to see who had emerged. Warren had been taking note of features and build of those who wandered in and out of that single family home. So far only three males had come and gone who were possible tenants. The Sheriff was working on getting a warrant to search the premises, but naturally the lone judge was away on vacation and wouldn't be back until after the New Year. That was the other curse of small towns, he grunted. They typically had only one of something or it wasn't available.

He peered through the window as he watched the man hop into a beat up Buick LeSabre. The driver backed out of the driveway and headed north which was the opposite direction of where Warren was parked. But he radioed it in hoping one of the other deputies would tail the Buick.

Another hour passed where nothing happened. Warren detected no alarming sounds coming from the residence. Earlier, around mid-afternoon, two beat cops had knocked on the suspected drug house, flashed a picture of Cherise Tomlinson, and the man who answered denied knowing or seeing Cherise, and pretty much retorted if they wanted to search his spot they'd need a warrant. It was a bit irritating for Warren when citizens knew their rights and applied them.

So until he saw the renters or owners literally dragging someone kicking and screaming into or out of the house, Warren and the rest of the police department were sitting ducks.

Again, sleepiness crept like the boogeyman. Warren blearily checked the time. It was inching closer to one in the morning. It was Christmas Eve. He should be home helping his girlfriend wrap presents for his nieces. He should…

He drifted off to sleep.

For whatever reason Warren jolted awake and cursed softly seeing he'd been knocked out for two hours. His head whipped toward the house. The LeSabre was back.

"Shit," he cursed and wiped at the drool on his chin. His heart pounded with anxiety that he might have missed something important, something damning.

It was then he realized it was freezing in the car. A deathly, biting cold that made his teeth rattle. Each time he exhaled he saw curls of vapor stream from his partially open mouth. It grew colder and colder and Warren instinctively reached for the ignition to turn on the heat but paused.

Someone was sitting in the passenger seat.

Warren slowly looked and what he saw at first made no sense but the longer he gaped the quicker he realized his passenger wasn't alive. No one alive had gray skin. No one alive had mercury-silver eyes. No one alive smelled like rotting, decayed flesh. And no one alive had motherfucking fangs!

"Chri—"

Warren's hand dropped to his semi-automatic. It was too late. He gave a choked scream that went unheard as his throat was crushed and he was violently jerked forward.

Keep fighting, Warren yelled as he tried to batter the man, if it was a man, away. But his blows did nothing. With no air going to his brain or limbs his reflexes were sludge. Teeth clamped on his neck. Blood splattered the window. Tears ran down Warren's mottled face. Life was literally siphoning out of him like sweet juice from an orange. His lids lowered as he accepted his fate.

Dead on Christmas Eve.

Very faint blue light illuminated her room. It was far too early to be up but she was wide awake now. Turning her head, eyes still adjusting she realized she was in bed alone. The third day in a row. Since the night of the blowup things had been quiet and tense between them. Polite but tense. No banter. Barely any touching. She was the incendiary Damon was trying to deactivate, or at the very least that's how he made her feel. Bonnie glared at the ceiling wondering when was it they entered a rocky marriage when they hadn't even declared themselves boyfriend and girlfriend.

Big feet padded into the room. Bonnie propped up on her elbows, took in the sight of Damon half-dressed, hair still wet from the shower. He headed for the closet. She checked the time. It was a little after seven.

"Going somewhere?"

Damon emerged with two button downs, one a dark green the other black, putting one under his chin to examine in the mirror before doing the same to the other. He went with the black. "Yeah, I'm going to follow up on a lead on who had me kidnapped."

Bonnie had quite honestly forgotten about that. It seemed to have happened a million years ago. "This can't wait?"

"Nope."

"Damon, its Christmas Eve. I thought we would…"

"Would what?"

What she wanted to say dried up on the end of Bonnie's tongue. She wasn't going to beg him to stay with her if he had other things to do. Things he deemed much more important. "Nothing."

Damon's stony features softened. He crossed the room to her side of the bed, cupped her by the back of the neck and kissed her forehead. Not the place Bonnie wanted him to kiss. "I won't be gone long. I promise."

"You're the worst at keeping promises."

"Am I? I thought I was pretty good," he pulled away, smirking.

Though he was smirking Bonnie sensed Damon was purposely distancing himself. "I don't like this."

"What?"

"You're avoiding me. I can feel it. You think you have to be careful around me. If not, you think I'm going to turn on you like a snake."

Damon's jaw flexed. "Did I say that?"

"You don't have to say anything because the fact you can barely look me in the eye says it all."

Damon faced her, hands on his hips. For a long time he just looked at her. Usually the longer someone stared at a person eventually that person would begin to squirm. Bonnie didn't move a single muscle. Damon was the one to look away. He pulled on his shirt, rolled the sleeves halfway up his forearms, stepped into his boots.

"I'll try to be back before nightfall. If not, I'll call you."

Scowling, Bonnie said nothing as he left. She loitered in bed for ten minutes before kicking the covers away. She had some calls to make herself.

A few hours later she was curled up on the couch and unloaded everything to her mother via Skype. It was odd for Bonnie confiding in Abby like this. Their relationship she would describe it as being threadbare. But who else did she have to talk to? There was Caroline but Bonnie knew she'd be busy getting the cabin ready for Christmas dinner. Matt? More than likely was working and it would be a conflict of interest for him, and what could he tell her anyways? She wasn't close with Stefan at all and he would just blab to Damon and Caroline. It was the same with Alaric, and she rather not involve the man who had been her teacher and might be her teacher again in the future.

Bonnie had considered reaching out to Ezra, but no. She had so many mixed emotions when it came to him.

So Abby was it.

Abby's facial features changed with each morsel Bonnie dropped, every account. Pride that she escaped the prison world, worry about her encounter with Esther Mikaelson, rage toward her former best friend.

"Are you?" Abby asked once Bonnie was finished.

"Am I what?"

In love with the asshole who turned me. That's what Abby wanted to say, but she went with, "Are you in love with Damon?"

"I unload all this crap and that's the question you want answered?"

"It's a pretty valid question."

Bonnie frowned for a split second. "I don't want to say it's irrelevant but it's irrelevant."

"Translation you are and you hate that you are because you're not sure how he feels about you. I can't tell you how he feels because I don't know him. But if he doesn't, he's a fucking idiot. If there's anything to take away from everything you've been through, Bon it's that time is not promised. We can reset the clock but we're still losing time. Don't waste it on someone you aren't sure can love you the way you need to be loved."

Bonnie toyed with the handle of her mug before sitting it on the table. "You're right but that's not the problem…What if now he feels obligated to be with me? I've been a default before and I made a promise to myself I'd never accept coming in second place again."

"You're going to have to talk to him."

"He won't stick around long enough to talk."

"Then make him stick. It's not hard. Nail him to a chair," Abby attempted humor. "If you care to hear my opinion I think you're still too raw to be in anything that requires you to do a lot of emotional heavy lifting. None of us in this family has had it easy when it comes to love. I don't want you to be with someone who makes you feel bad. Or that he's with you because the one he really wants is no longer around. Okay?"

Bonnie nodded and sniffled.

"This situation with Esther," Abby backtracked. "Why do you need to help in the first place? There are a million other witches Esther could have asked. She's mooched off you and our family enough. She can go to hell."

"I made a deal. I help her and she leaves the body of the woman she's hijacked."

"You really expect her to uphold her end of the bargain? No. She's after something. Maybe she wants her old body back. Maybe she wants more power. Whatever her reasons she's only told you half of the story. The half she knew would spur you into action. I don't trust that woman."

"I don't either," Bonnie sighed. "I'd feel a lot better about this if I could get in contact with Lucy but she's out of the country."

"I wish I could be of more help," Abby gnawed the inside of her cheek. "If I knew any other witches who might be willing to help I'd ask them to consult, but the last time I sent someone…"

They died was the unspoken phrase. Bonnie didn't remember much from her time being under Silas' influence and expression, but she couldn't shake the second-hand knowledge that she inadvertently led twelve witches and warlocks to their deaths. They had been friends of her mother's. Or perhaps the leader of the coven had been an old friend of Abby's. The undeniable truth of the matter was: anytime someone from the outside tried to help or intervened they paid with their life.

That was a tradition Bonnie hoped would end.

"What can you tell me about revenants?" she asked.

Abby shook her head. "Not much. Like with vampires, werewolves, witches there are a million origin stories about them and their numerous abilities. They were no more real than gorgons when I was growing up. You think they're roaming Mystic Falls?"

"Damon had an encounter with one."

"Of course he did," Abby muttered drily.

Bonnie chortled. "I did, too but my encounter wasn't as severe. You should have seen what it nearly did to him. Practically turned him gray, hair, skin, and eyes included. I don't think they pose an immediate threat to humans, but definitely to superaturals."

"Then do what you can to stay away from them."

Some advice, Bonnie thought. "If the other side was acting as their prison now you see why it's imperative it gets rebuilt."

"Again, that's nothing but an unsubstantiated theory."

"And one I don't think I should ignore just because nothing concrete has been written about it."

"I know I can't dissuade you from helping but be careful, Bonnie. Too many times trying to help has ended badly for you. Fatally bad."

"I don't need any reminders about that, but thanks," Bonnie huffed. Soon enough she found herself nervously picking her cuticles. "There's something else I need to tell you and it involves dad."

"What about Rudy? Oh, wait a second, Bon. Someone's at the door."

Abby disappeared from the screen and returned thirty seconds later looking apologetic. "I hate to cut this short but I have to run. I'll call you back. Okay?"

"Yeah, all right," Bonnie muttered dejectedly and hung up before Abby could.

She knew better than to be surprised that she would be hauled to the back burner by her mother. She had life changing shit to deal with and once again it was something she would have to process alone. Maybe in this instance it was better that way.

Bonnie rubbed her temple and tried to silence Jeremy's voice in her head. The things he said about Damon couldn't be written off as spoken in anger. They were true. How could she reconcile that to the way she felt about him now? Were her feelings right or hypocritical? Should she pump the brakes and stop herself from falling any deeper? Was it too late for her?

Slamming her laptop shut, Bonnie rose from the sofa and ventured into the living room, shook her head at the hole in her wall. It would probably cost a small fortune to get it fixed.

Her bell rang. Bonnie frowned, wandered to the door and opened it after seeing who it was. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

Matt stood on her doorstep brandishing a toolbox. He wasn't alone. An older man stood some ways behind him that Bonnie sort of recognized but couldn't think of his name. "We're here to fix your wall."

Bonnie's jaw plopped open a little. "What? You're serious?"

"No, I have my toolbox hoping we can roleplay. Yes, I'm serious. This is John. He's an expert at home repair."

John tipped his imaginary hat.

Moving aside, Bonnie let them in, shut the door, and did her best not to cry.

Pickings were slim until he arrived. Loner maybe, not really an outcast looking for acceptance in a multifaceted society. But he stood out among the roughnecks, college boys, suits, and individuals packed under a theoretical glass ceiling while Hozier droned in the background.

She sipped her glass of top shelf liquor waiting for that perfect lull in the air to hop out of her seat, cross the room, and make an introduction. A snag in the leather pinched her bottom that made her wince and grumble. The ambiance left a ton to be desired, but stepping through the doors of the Skull Bar none came with the expectation of being short-changed.

He made up for the lack of charm. She wondered what was on his mind to make him toss back shots of Jack almost absentmindedly before toying with the huge ring on his left hand. His bright blue eyes were hooded, the corners of his mouth downturned. Bad breakup? Fight with a friend or loved one? No one to celebrate the holidays with? All of the above? That she could relate to and if he were willing, she could provide a solution to both of their problems.

She polished off the rest of her drink and licked droplets of bitter scotch from her ruby red lips. Her moment had arrived once the song switched on the jukebox to something less depressing.

He happened to look her way at that precise moment and she froze like a deer mesmerized by headlights. That one piercing gaze robbed her of confidence and she scrambled back on her seat and flagged down the bartender. Blowing out a breath among a nervous giggle, she chanced a glance and pouted because he no longer sat alone.

Dead ends and dead ex-girlfriends. For days Damon had tried to silence Elena's voice to no avail. When she wasn't appearing in his dreams screaming his name as her lungs flooded with water, he couldn't stop hearing what she said to him when he confronted her. About how he made her into his creation. She was his Frankenstein monster. The last thing he dreamed of happening was the evil and vindictiveness of his personality rubbing off on Bonnie. He feared it was far too late. A gate had been open, a stone rolled downhill, and things would only gain momentum and speed from here on out.

Those feelings warred with how he cared for Bonnie. Couldn't see himself walking away because things between them were delicate and precarious, raw. If he stayed, if they tried to make things work, what would happen?

He honestly had no idea what to do.

"Thanks for meeting me."

Damon was glad he didn't jump at the sound of Liz's voice. Sheriff Forbes had slid on the chair across from him, her entire demeanor forlorn.

"You look like hell. What's going on?"

"This," Liz slapped a file folder on the table. "I lost a deputy last night."

Damon opened the file once he took possession. He flipped through meaningless paperwork, expressionless, but when he came to the first photo his brows raised and he gaped at Liz.

"What the fuck?"

"That was my reaction," she said gravely.

Damon scrutinized the photo in his hand unable to believe what he was seeing. "He's been turned completely into…glass."

"After being drained of blood," Liz scratched her arm, something she had unconsciously been doing for days.

If an ice sculpture was chiseled to resemble a middle aged man, given onyx stones for eyes, diamonds for teeth, a gaping hole in its neck, and dressed in a police uniform it would look exactly like the man in the photo Damon couldn't tear his eyes away from.

"How long had he been dead before he was found?"

"No less than three hours. When he failed to check in another deputy was sent out to investigate. Found him slumped over in his seat. Blood on the windshield, his firearm still in its holster. Throat in ribbons. I have no idea how we're going to explain the condition of Warren's body to his family."

"I could…help with that. If you need me to."

Relief flooded Liz. "That would be helpful. I just need answers, Damon. Caroline explained the best she could on what's happening but I'm hoping you might have more insight."

"I know I'm old but my knowledge is limited. I've never been a good student of anything dealing with what I am and the world I belong to. Did you show this to Alaric?"

"He's looking into it." Liz leaned across the table, voice lowering, "These revenant things…they can possess the dead?"

"Dead supernaturals. One nearly got their claws into me," Damon absently rubbed the spot where the revenant punched through his chest. "They've upped their game to attacking people. I figured they'd get around to it."

"Yeah, and I'm also beginning to believe they might have something to do with those two missing persons."

"Could be. The theory is, these revenants may only be able to possess the dead or living people who share…qualities of their peculiar makeup i.e. travelers."

"You think Cherise Tomlinson and Jayson Fell are travelers?"

"Maybe or they're part of the lineage of a traveler," Damon guessed.

"What's their endgame?"

"To break out of the bubble that keeps them contained to Mystic Falls. If you've been locked away for thousands of years wouldn't that be your goal?"

"They would need a witch, right?"

Damon shrugged. "Being dead has never stopped a witch from being able to cast a spell. These things are half-witch already…If they successfully possess dead supernaturals, how many do you think could end up walking around?"

Liz sighed and made a noncommittal motion with her hands, "The number could vary, because you and I both know the sheer number of vampires that have been buried out in the woods."

"Yeah, not to mention Klaus' hybrids he assassinated all primed and ready to be used as meat suits for these soul sucking bitches," Damon looked down at the picture of the deputy and shook his head.

"There's something else…" Liz hesitated. "One of the victims of a revenant attack survived…She said the person who attacked her was Jenna Sommers."

Damon nearly lost his eyebrows, "Shit."

"Shit indeed."

"Have I mentioned how much I love Mystic Falls lately?"

The two bounced ideas off one another which during that time, Liz ordered a drink breaking another rule. No drinking while on duty. She stared at Damon as he gnawed on his lip studying the file.

"You were lost in thought when I showed up. You all right, Damon?"

"I'm fine."

Liz didn't buy it but left it alone for now.

A blood-curdling scream made Keri Duncan tense. She hated horror films with a passion because one) she wasn't into slasher flicks, two) the hot guy usually ended up being a douche who of course survived or got gutted early on, three) there was never any romance. Keri suffered through it because she was on a date with her latest crush, but he seemed to be far more interested in the gory action taking place on screen than making out with her.

She sighed loudly hoping to garner Holden's attention, but he shushed her. Keri waited a beat before trying a different approach. She raised the arm rest, scooted closer to Holden and laid her head on his shoulder. She felt him tense, but he didn't make a move to draw her any closer. She tilted her head at the right angle and very gently kissed his neck. Holden jerked.

"Come on, cut it out. I'm trying to watch the movie," he stated, the annoyance abundantly clear in his voice.

Mouth agape, Keri shouldered her purse and got up from her seat. Holden stopped her.

"Where are you going? You're gonna miss the best part."

"I need to use the bathroom."

"Oh, can you get me some nachos? I'll pay you back."

Livid he was being such a cheap and inconsiderate date, Keri wasn't willing to make any exceptions because of his pecks, ice-blond curls, or sparkling brown eyes. She flipped him the bird and made the descent down the poorly lit stairs, speed walking to the exit.

Keri rummaged through her purse for her phone ready to rant about her date to her best friend.

Phone in hand, Keri stomped into the ladies room and threw her bag on the sink counter. She realized, belatedly, how cold it was. Cold enough she could see her breath on the air. Keri tapped her foot and listened to the phone ring. Unfortunately her call was routed to voicemail and she barked an irate message for Lila to call her back.

Bracing her hands on the counter, Keri inhaled and exhaled slowly. She was alone, the florescent lighting above flickered, and she warred on whether she should just ditch Holden or see their date out to its end hoping the conclusion might be better than the start.

Suddenly a toilet flushed, scaring Keri who gasped and snapped her head toward the sound. She waited for the person to emerge, but seconds passed. She didn't even hear the woman fixing her clothes, or shuffling her feet.

Okay.

Opting to straighten up her appearance, the young brunette whipped out her hair brush, lip gloss, and mascara.

She had started reconstructing her smoky eye when the toilet flushed again. Keri's skin prickled. Instinct was telling her to get the hell out of dodge, whilst her rationality was telling her she was getting worked up over nothing because she had been watching a scary movie. She was in a public place. Nothing was wrong. Nothing could harm her.

Keri finished primping, repacked her purse, and took two steps towards the door when she heard a lump of something fall to the floor. Like a coat missing the hook and falling to the floor. A very heavy coat with a person still wearing it kind of noise.

Her eyes widened at the noise and she was positive her hair was standing straight up.

"Don't look," she whispered. "Don't look."

She looked.

A hand was poking out from the stall, a line of blood inched its way across the tile flooring. Keri had been a cheerleader since she was three years old and never screamed as loud as she did at seeing a dead body.

A/N: What did we think? I'd love to read what you guys infer from all this. Please leave some feedback. Let's get this muse of mine running like it used to it. Anywho, thank you so much for reading! XOXO.