AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow, you guys! Thank you so much for all of your reviews – they're greatly, greatly appreciated, I cannot stress that to you enough. I particularly find dark fics hardest to write, which weirdly is the fun part for me. It just causes me to expand my mind and really dive into the darkest, coldest parts of our dearly beloved characters and help get a better understanding of them, which is always useful in the world of fanfic, so I'm glad you guys liked the first part. Here's another for ya! :)


2 – WRATH
The feeling of extreme anger; a boiling point.

Hell hath no fury like a powerful witch scorned.

Fuck this.

Bonnie Bennett was through showing mercy to the same creature that continued to kill off her family members and carelessly harm her friends. She was done playing nice, negotiating, keeping her instincts in control.

She knew going after the whole race of vampires would be a tiring, pointless idea. While she was a supernatural being herself, she was still a human being. Her heart still pumped, fresh, hot blood every moment she spent breathing. She was alive. And she knew better than anyone that death followed life, for everything that thrived on the planet it walked upon.

She wasn't going after all of them. No. Tonight she had one very specific dead motherfucker she wanted to permanently erase from existence.


She didn't even bother to knock as she summoned all she had in her to vigorously swing open the front door to the Salvatore home, the wood nearly breaking in half as it unnaturally clashed with the wall beside it. She jumped a little, realizing her anger had gotten the better of her. She'd planned to execute that a little less forcefully.

Oh well. She wasn't here to sell any cookies.

Her boots crunched against the hard tiles of the floor. She noticed the wood made an odd creaking noise, as if it were going to cave any second. She gracefully stepped around the loose board, her green eyes blazing ahead.

The house was eerily silent. The only sounds that passed her ears were the hollow whispers of the October wind, the rustling of the fallen leaves outside. Her eyes swept across the study, eyeing the shelves and shelves of books and journals, giving a slight disgusted scoff at the fact that while the bastard wasn't out slaughtering babies for sport, he was actually reading.

Bonnie tried to remember what that "favorite" book of his was – Call of The Wild by Jack London? Bonnie scoffed again.

Fucking load of shit.

A sudden burst of wind behind her and a quick whooshing sound alerted her ears. Her dark locks flew into her face at the sudden quick movement of the beast, covering her eyes until she instinctively jerked her head, causing them to fall over her shoulders once more. She was not alone.

Good.

She needed this over with, out of her head.

Bonnie slipped her hand inside the inside pocket of her jacket, gripping the wooden stake she'd sharpened earlier that night. She tightened the wood around her dainty fingers, the magic yearning to spill from the tips of them.

While she could not see Damon, she could feel him. Her stomach churned with disgust and a twinge of longing. Longing to see the smug creature before she ended him.

He was playing games. He was toying with her the way all arrogant, barbarous vampires did. If she'd learned anything from her unfortunate experience of the abnormal, it was that creatures who wielded extreme, out-of-this-world power, loved to fuck around with their enemies. Always putting on a show, wasting time, wasting energy.

Bonnie had no time for that, no desire to spend any more time on Damon Salvatore than required.

She didn't have to turn around to know he was behind her. With her wicked powers came useful kinks such as an overwhelming sense of feeling. Just as she could feel the raw beauty of nature, she could feel the presence of death, the darkness.

It had almost pulled her under once before, and she swore to herself that she would not allow that to happen again.

She would not get so foolishly sucked into the charisma of Damon Salvatore.

But as she turned around, planning to be as defiant as ever, as strong as she felt in her bones, peering into the most beautiful of blues she'd ever had the opportunity to gaze in, she felt her hand loosen less and less on the weapon in her now shaky hands.

The look in his eyes was something deep, unrecognizable. He was either excruciatingly pissed, or excruciatingly impressed. Bonnie felt frustration creep immensely into her being, swelling up in her chest, her jaw clenching and unclenching.

That was the thing with vampires. You never knew their real emotions, if they had any at all. Bonnie suddenly wanted to be inside his head, violate it – snoop around every part of his mind, manipulating it the way he did to everyone else.

She wanted to make him hurt, as angry and riled up as she was.

She closed her eyes and silently chanted a quick deos inimicos voco te lacatare hoc vile creatura ad locum no ponere, which caused Damon to fly six feet across the room. Bonnie let out a breath she did not realize she had been holding.

Damon was quick on his feet, and in one quick movement, he was on her, throwing her six feet across the room. She was lucky her head didn't collide with anything solid; though the force of the blow caused her to feel lightheaded and she was sure her ass would be sore for days, a week, tops.

If she made it out alive, that was.

"Came here to kill me, huh, Bon?" Damon snarled, dark veins creeping around his eyes, fangs gleaming in the dim lighting. He was approaching her, smirk plastered on his face, looking down on Bonnie as he began to form a shadow over her.

Bonnie's hand instinctively went to her jacket, the sudden comfort of the stake there was gone and her heart rate sped up as she slowly looked up at Damon.

"Looking for this?" he taunted, twirling the sharp wood around in his hand, pacing around her. Bonnie gritted her teeth and mentally cursed herself for not being on her p's and q's around him.

She eyed his daylight ring as he passed her fallen form.

Bonnie managed to get herself up before he was on her again, this time; her back was up against the wall, just near the fireplace. Her breath caught as her head slammed into the hard surface, Damon's indescribable, intoxicating scent fired up her nose, her mind beginning to slow.

His face blurred suddenly as the stake he held came into vision, pointed side up, mocking her failure. With an applied pressure of his fingers, the wood snapped in half, almost into a million little splints as he threw it to the floor, barely making a noise.

Bonnie then felt the oddly soft and gentle fingertips of his hands slowly caressing the skin where her jugular vein lived, goosebumps quickly prickling her tender flesh. His fingers went back and forth across her hammering pulse, teasing her, reminding her.

He let out a short breath of approval at her fear, a small grin masking his lips as the veins in his face vanished. When his eyes met hers, the white of them were no longer red, covering his irises. But they were still terrifying.

They were still Damon.

"What is it..." he began, suddenly breaking the heavy silence that stung in the air between them, "What is it about you Bennetts that gives you the courage and the stupidity to try and take on a vampire?"

He breathed all of these words out, voice husky and taunting, rendering Bonnie silent. She just stared and listened as he lightly caressed her jaw with his fingers, sharp sensations of unwanted longing sparking beneath her. She had to restrain herself from bucking underneath him. She just did what she did best; locking eyes with him she lifted her chin defiantly and let the pain flow out of her head to his. One by one she was popping his blood vessels. She hoped it hurt worse than it ever did before. She could feel a satisfied grin pull at her lips as the oldest Salvatore suddenly was on his knees, both hands on his head, his face twisted in agony, giving her one of the coldest stares he could muster with the amount of discomfort he was in.

She looked down on him, suddenly remembering why she was here in the first place. She embraced her power, getting down to his level, dangerously close as she spat the words: "It's not courage, and it's not stupidity, Damon. It's power. Something I have and you don't. You never have."

She broke heated eye contact with him and picked up what was left of the stake he had broken in half. She slowly felt the weapon up; examining it as if it were the first time she'd seen one. She then looked at him; he was on his back now, still gripping his head, turning redder and redder by the second.

She held the pointed part of the half-stake down, with both hands, ready to use all her power and all her force to drive it through the sorry excuse for a heart he owned. She found herself lifting the stake higher and higher, eyes set to kill.

She quickly brought the object down, only to stop halfway there. She released her hold over him; slowly removing the aneurysm from his boiling brain, swallowing what she assumed was her pride. She quickly shook off whatever she was feeling and went for the gusto again, failing. She did this several times, earning confused looks from the enemy and eventually threw the broken thing back to the floor.

Damon slowly sat up, eyes blazing, trying to recover as Bonnie sat stock still, trying to see past him, trying to think of everything but why she could not, would not kill him.

"You can't do it, can you?" Damon ground out, breathing heavily, eyes holding hers. "Wonder what that means."

She was beginning to wonder herself.