AN: So here it is, finally! I've been finished with this for a while but I wanted to carry on with the next chapter before posting, and I've been super busy with university but the next chapter wont be far behind!

Three

Two hours later, Elena was stood at Caroline's side with her fourth glass of champagne in hand. Caroline, she assumed, was on more than double that.

She snorted. "I can't believe you said he was 'acceptable'."

Elena gave her friend a sideways glance, said nothing and buried her nose in the glass of champagne.

Caroline whipped her head to regard Elena. "You don't truthfully think that do you? That he is just acceptable to look at?"

Elena paused to consider her answer. "He's not God's gift to women, Caroline."

Not even you believe that.

"He's much more enjoyable to look at than any God I've ever seen. Including the Greek."

Elena forced a scoff.

What was it with every woman coming into contact with Damon that suddenly turned them into putty in his hands?

Alright, so he was gorgeous, and sexy, so much that it could be named sinful. But he knew it. And that annoyed her, almost as much as it annoyed her to watch him dance and flirt with every woman at the party.

He was almost as bad as Katherine.

Where was Katherine?

Elena peered around the hall once more, and again, found no sign of the thick flow of brown curls mirroring her own. She'd been gone for hours, Elena realized.

"Where is Stefan?" she asked without prior thought.

The last thing she would hope for is Katherine getting her claws in Stefan. He was much too good and pure.

"Dancing," Caroline used a long index finger to point where Stefan was gracefully and expertly leading a woman around the dance floor. "With my mother,"

Elena broke out into quiet laughter. And then came to an abrupt halt when an interruption arrived at her side.

"Damon." Caroline greeted him. To which he gave a subtle nod before shifting his gaze to Elena. She turned her head to meet it and almost squirmed. On the back of his heels, he rotated, and found the sight of his brother in the crowd on dancers.

"My brother; good with women of any age," He smiled.

"He must get that from you." Elena returned dryly, lifting the glass to her lips, tilting it, and relishing in the cool liquid sliding down her throat.

"It's probable." His eyes lit with pleasure and mischief, and it put Elena on edge. He leaned down. "I believe you owe me a dance, Miss Pierce."

She swallowed down a tremble along with the rest of her champagne, handed the empty glass to Caroline and turned her body entirely to face Damon.

"Then a dance you shall have." She would pretend she had to a force a smile because of her utter dislike towards him. But truthfully, it was because she was so completely nervous, she feared if she hadn't painted on a smile, her face would've been one of terror. How did he do this? She was supposed to not like him, not in the slightest. So then why did he make her so nervous? Why did he make her tremble? She didn't understand at all.

A few hours ago she had sworn she would find a way to not have to allow him a dance, but for the entire time, she had wished he would come and ask her, and wondered why he hadn't. She was furious with herself for it.

She had so much she had to think about, to worry of, and he was with great inconvenience, clouding her mind. She hated that she allowed it to be so.

Therefore she would act as if it begrudged her to provide him with a dance, that it was just a form of an inconvenient chore. Even though when his hand took to her waist and his hand clasped hers tightly, it set her alight. And though his bare hands only touched upon the silk of her gown and gloves, it felt like it was her own bare skin he was touching, caressing.

You need to get in control. The witch inside chanted to her.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes. When her heartbeat had evened, she opened them.

A gasp threatened to betray her. The clear, ice blue of Damon's eyes were dark, seductive. Through heat, desire, the ice had melted and transformed into a dark, enticing pool of water.

The music swelled and he began to move, his eyes never leaving hers. Seemingly refusing to.

She matched his movement, allowing him to lead her just the way her father used to, and when he spun them wildly, gracefully, terrifically, around, Elena found herself smiling.

"A smile," Damon mused. "I don't recall ever causing one, not on that perfect mouth anyway."

"Are you trying to be charming?"

"I don't have to try."

"Of course not." She agreed, resentful. "You have the entire village hoping to eat from the palm of your hand."

"People enjoy my company."

"Because you're beautiful." His eyes widened and she inwardly cursed herself for blurting such a thing out.

"Is that your excuse?"

Elena flushed red. And after a few beats, managed to reach composure once again. "You perplex me."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"It seems you have so many personalities, all in one body."

"You may be right." He agreed and with the strength of the hand on her waist, pulled her tight to him. An almost unreadable gasp escaped her, but she knew by his smirk, he'd heard it. "Do I make you nervous?" he asked once they began dancing again.

She gulped, painfully. "You..." she racked her brain for the right words. "Confuse me." She kept up the stronger barrier.

"I know," said Damon. "I see it. Every time I'm near, you frown; you play with your cuticles. At first I was sure it was because you didn't like me, but now, I think it's because you don't understand what I cause you to feel."

"You make me angry."

"I make you feel things you haven't felt with any other man."

No, this is dangerous. Flashes of danger were going off in her head. This is getting to personal. He's no good for you. You know this. He's the perfect match for Katherine, not you.

"Hate, self-loathing."

Surprise blanketed his features. Hurt flashed in his once again ice blue eyes. He released her, although the music still rang throughout the hall. "Thank you for the dance." He said without emotion, turned and left her.

She stood frozen. Hurt? She'd hurt him? That wasn't what she'd meant to do. She just grasped for some kind of safe distance, steady ground. And pushing him away was the best form of action. He was wriggling his way under her skin, and she'd only known him a little less than a week.

But hurt? That she couldn't stand. Her being the reason for someone else's feelings being hurt, she didn't know how to deal with that. He wasn't supposed to get hurt, he was supposed to be arrogant and not care in the slightest of what she thought or felt towards him. But he did. He cared. Why?

"Elena?" Caroline called.

Elena turned to acknowledge her.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded before speaking. "Yes. Yes, I'm wonderful."

"What happened? He just left." Caroline said with a bafflement that almost matched her own.

"I don't know." She murmured, dazed. She stared off to where he had only minutes ago disappeared then abruptly turned back to her closest friend. "I should go. My grandmother… I should check on her before she retires to bed."

"Of course," Caroline agreed and fell into step beside Elena as she approached the still open arched doors that led into the foyer.

Just as they reached the final exit from the mansion, the young man from earlier reappeared, her coat folded neatly over his forearm. No matter how many of these parties she attended, never would she understand how they did that. Retrieving her coat and slipping into it, she relished quickly in the warmth it provided as she stood on the threshold between the warm and the chilling cold outside.

"The party was wonderful, Caroline. Everything, the decorations, the music, it was beautiful."

Caroline blushed. "Thank you. Are you sure you won't wait for Stefan?"

"No, I don't want to disturb him. He's having fun."

Caroline leaned over and provided her with a kiss to her cheek. "Return home safely."

"I shall." Elena turned and hurried down the large sum of white marble steps. Her heels met the ground and she set off through the village, keeping an eye on her surroundings as she did. She reached the start of the trail, and her thoughts wandered to what or who could be responsible for the murders. Was it one of the villagers? Was it a wild animal? The bodies were drained of blood, just like her parents had been. But what could do that? A bat?

Burying her hands in the pockets of her coat, she eyed the forest, experiencing no fear of it. She never had. And she was confident she never would.

Her uncle expected her to find the guilty party but she had no clue where to begin. Would she go out after dark? Search the forest for clues?

On a blood moon, is that when she would begin her search?

She crossed into the clearing, the cottage now in sight, her lips lifting into a small smile. A crunch of the snow under a step too light to be human caused Elena to whirl around on quick reflexives, and there stood a few yards away was a wolf. It refrained from moving any closer. It only stared.

"Hi there,"

She leaned down and offered her hand with the palm open for it to come and return the greeting. It did so, darting out its tongue to lick her skin.

It sat down and Elena lowered herself into a crouch, not caring if the entirety of her dress skirt got wet.

Blue eyes.

"I haven't seen you for a while." She realized. Her hand reached across to stroke the soft fur between its ears, causing them to lower in reaction. "Were you making sure I got home safe?"

It whimpered and scooted closer. Elena made a sound of equal weariness. "I know things are hard for you guys, but it won't be for much longer." Her fingers rounded its face then fell away. "I promise."

The wolf turned, gracefully returned to the shadows where its small pack awaited. Elena rose up from her knees, dusted off her dress then continued towards her grandmother's cottage. She slipped through the front door with her dress dragging behind her, closed it softly to ensure it made no sound, and then pulled off her coat. Hanging it on the hook next to that that held her long red cloak, she turned. The front room was lit.

"Grandmama?" she called. She took a step into the spacious, yet cosily furnished room and scanned its empty contents. Was it late? She had thought it was barely ten and been certain she would be greeted by her grandmother.

She sighed into the silence as she made her way to the kitchen.

She was still haunted by the speculation that she'd hurt Damon's feelings. With one hand she lifted the curtain that hung down over the window of the back door and peered out.

Had she meant to? She could recall having the desperate need for safety, for space, to stop him from getting under her skin, into her blood. And without cruel intent, that was how she got it. She'd hurt him, and he had pulled back, in every possible way. It's what she wanted wasn't it? She didn't want him open to her, unguarded. Then why did it matter?

She heard a combination of voices followed by steps on the front steps of the porch. Lifting the hem of her dress, she hurried through to her bedroom and quickly shut the door. With a flick of her gaze around the room, each lantern lit. She pulled the string loose from the perfectly tied bow then yanked at it further and further up until she could slither out of the dress and under-skirts. Folding the dress and skirts neatly over the back of the armchair, she ran her hands over the silk then moved to the bed. Absent-mindedly, her hand reached up to fiddle with the necklace that had once belonged to her mother. Clad in only a white chemise and stockings she climbed under the duvet and nestled down until the back of her head hit the pillow. The lanterns went out and she slept.

She stood in the pitch dark of the forest. Her hair whipped up into the soft flow of the wind as she gazed around. There was movement and she swung around to meet it. Dwelling in the shadows was a set of piercing blue eyes. They gazed out at her, but made no move to reveal their owner.

Then there was a growl. But it didn't come from the blue eyed creature, it came from behind her. She spun around and watched the figure emerge from the dark shadows between the trees.

It was her, dressed in a white satin and lace dress that traced the floor as she moved closer. A deep red stained the low neckline of the dress along with the olive skin of her chest, neck and chin. It was blood. She could smell it, taste it on her own tongue, somehow. Her fingers lifted, pressed to her chin and found nothing. Then a sharp twinge of pain in the side of her neck called out. The tips of her fingers found it and when she pulled them back to view, a gleam of fresh blood coated them. She peered over to the creature wearing her image. It was smiling at her now, the glistening white fangs coated with her blood apparent. With the natural instinct to protect herself, she silently willed her powers to create a barrier of fire between them. Nothing came.

"I don't understand."

"You won't," it replied. "Not yet."

Elena jolted awake. The duvet covers clung to the sweat of her skin. She sat up and scooped her hair from her face. Never had she had a dream so vivid, so clear. It was almost as if it was real. Then her gaze dropped. She picked up the pendant, held it between her fingertips. It was hot.

Suddenly catching her attention was slightly raised voices coming from another part of the cottage. Slipping out of bed and approaching the door, she listened.

"You're letting them stay here?" her uncle exclaimed.

"What did you expect me to do, leave them out in the cold?" her grandmother returned.

"Yes!"

"They're hunters; they could be of some use. They could protect her."

"Protect her? She doesn't need protecting. She's getting stronger,"

"It's the necklace."

"Yes, I felt it the moment she approached me this evening. It's her they should be worried about."

"She isn't as strong as she would have been, if they were combined, we'd have no worries."

"They aren't going to be combined." Her uncle said fiercely. "Those... creatures made sure of that."

"The hunters stay." Her grandmother said with finality.

"They're hunting-

There was a beat of silence.

"The wolves," he finished in a whisper. "For crimes they haven't committed." A frustrated sigh tumbled from her uncle's mouth. "We are treading thin ice here, mama."

"Then you found nothing?"

"I found nothing." He confirmed.

Elena listened for a further ten minutes. When there was nothing but silence, she turned, gave the clock on her bedside table a glance to find it was a little after two. She rounded her bed and approached the window. The dream, it meant something. They always meant something.

And so did the conversation between Uncle John and her grandmother. She could ask for an explanation in the morning, but she doubted either would give her the truth. Everything was connected, she was sure. And she would find out how. Deciding there was nothing she could do tonight; she climbed back into bed and hoped for answers in her dreams.

The cold winter air enveloped Elena as she stepped out onto the back porch. She had purposely risen just before dawn to slip from the cottage without having a barrel of questions to answer as to where she was going at this hour. And she feared if she came face to face with her grandmother, she would have no choice but to ask the meaning of her late conversation with Uncle John. Nor did she particularly want to witness the more than satisfied smile on Katherine's face at breakfast because of the night she no doubt shared with Damon. No, she would begin her investigation now.

She sucked in the fresh smell of snow-covered nature then set off towards the trees. She pulled the material of her deep red cloak tighter around her as the chill of the air snuck inside. She lifted the hood to rest on the crown of her head and strolled through the gaps between the large trees. The complete silence at dawn was peaceful. It still soothed her, just like it had when she tagged along on her father's morning walks through the forest in winter. Somehow, the snow always made things quiet. He'd tell her stories of England, of his travels with John and William Forbes, of the shady and dangerous residents occupying the house much deeper into the forest than her grandmother's cottage. It was made up, of course. No one could make any recollection of the large, unsettling house, or the occupants that apparently lived within.

Her head whipped around the moment she caught the sound of movement nearby. And before her heart could take another beat, she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise up and the warmth of a presence had her witch senses burning.

She turned. There stood Damon and Stefan, their weapons in hand. Damon blew out an annoyed breath, settled his knife back into the belt around his hips, then asked with narrowed eyes, "What are you doing?"

Stefan also tucked the small axe behind his back. He didn't look annoyed to see her.

"Going for a walk." She said with indifference. He wasn't going to intimidate her with his threatening blue eyes. She took a step of continuation bit he swooped in front of her, putting their bodies' mere inches apart and her neck craned in order for her to look at him.

"You shouldn't be out here." he said gruffly.

Her teeth clenched. "I didn't know it was a crime to go out for a walk."

"Oh, it's not. But I'd say you are the perfect meal for the wolves. You certainly look delicious, I bet you smell even better." He leaned forward and she could practically taste him. The seduction, the masculinity, it made her clench. She wished to keep her stance, show him he had not the least bit of effect on her, but she feared if she did remain so dangerously close, she'd drown in him. Why did he have to be so alluring? She regained the distance she needed and he chuckled.

"Find someplace else to take your morning walk."

"Or what?" she challenged.

"Or I'll throw you over my shoulder and take you myself."

They continued to glare, daggers shooting from the contrast of blue and brown while Stefan watched with interest. A spark, every living creature witnessing realised.

"You wouldn't dare."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge, Miss Pierce?" the formality rolled off his tongue and was anything but when it ran through her system. She was much too angry to bother with that.

"Alright," Stefan cut in. "Shall we all just… relax," He put a hand to his brothers' shoulder and Damon allowed it to force him backwards a little. His eyes didn't leave Elena. Comfortable with the distance he'd put between them, Stefan turned to Elena. "Elena, I have to agree with my brother. You shouldn't be out here."

Elena frowned. "Why, because I'm a woman?" she said with barely controlled irritation.

"Of course not," Stefan replied. "It isn't safe for you."

"I can take care of myself." She returned, stubbornly. She didn't want to be awkward with Stefan, not since she'd realised the potential of them sharing a pleasant and comforting friendship. But she'd be damned if she let a man tell her she wasn't allowed to walk the forest. Her mother never took orders from a man, nor would she. Besides, she had work to do.

She tugged up her full-skirted dress, keeping the hem from grazing the snow. "If you'll excuse me, I'll continue my walk."

She strode past them, ensuring to shoot a glare at Damon in the process. His hand snagged her arm, stopping her.

"Take your hand off me."

Stefan approached again, ready to intercept. Damon held up his free hand, effectively putting his younger brother on halt. Damon gazed down at her, frustration, and something she couldn't, or refused to recognized, radiating from him.

"You're a fool."

"Maybe," she kept her chin up in defiance. Then with a surge of power, he let go, hissing from the burn of the fire she'd forced from within. Satisfied, she calmed. "But I can move you if I have to."

Damon was livid.

"Brother, perhaps we should consider…" Stefan's eyes were curious and startled as they watched Elena from a few feet away at Damon's side, "going along with her on her walk."

"I don't need an escort." She argued.

"It would be more for our benefit than yours, of course. I do enjoy the fresh air." Stefan said with a warm smile that made her icy exterior melt, at least in regards to him.

"But weren't you hunting?"

"We can do it with you along."

"Can I be honest?" she said once they were strolling in the direction she'd been headed before their interruption. Damon was a small way behind, his eyes ahead, still heated and angry.

"Of course,"

"I'm not taking a walk, I'm… searching," she paused, "for clues."

"Clues to what murdered those girls?" Stefan asked without a hint of surprise or disapproval.

"Yes,"

Stefan nodded once with understanding then took a moment before asking, "Why?"

"Well, you and your brother… the whole village… are trying to prove the wolves are guilty, don't you think it is fair they have someone working on proving their innocence?"

"Of course," He replied easily. "But, what makes you so sure they are in fact innocent?"

"Because she was told fairy tales of them being unable to do any harm," Damon cut in from behind with a mocking and bitter tone. His hand grasped Stefan's shoulder. "But we know better don't we, Brother?"

Stefan shot him a look of warning. "That's not something to be discussed when in company."

Damon feigned surprise. "Really?" he cast a look past Stefan and towards Elena. "That is a shame."

"Damon," Stefan nearly growled, whilst Damon gave out a mere chuckle.

"Because if we were allowed to discuss what we clearly are not permitted to, under any circumstances, you would know exactly the reason you shouldn't trust those wolves."

"Then why don't you tell me," Elena snapped.

"Oh no, that is quite impossible. Right, Stef?"

"It isn't our place." Stefan said, his voice still yielding an edge of darkness as his eyes remained narrowed on his older brother.

"Right," Damon said. "Of course," His hand gave Stefan's shoulder one last squeeze then returned to hang at his side before taking a few large steps in front of them.

Elena eyed them both curiously. What was it Stefan felt she didn't need to know? Deciding she'd leave it until after to query Stefan on it, she followed on.

After a few yards, Damon stopped, scanned the ground then turned back to Elena. "The first victim, who was she?"

She eyed the ground, wondering why this was the spot they chose to stop at. Then it hit her, the nausea. She groaned, long and painful, and clutched her stomach. Both brothers moved to aid her, concern running their instincts. Stefan reached her first, and Damon held back.

"She can feel it, the death that's happened here." she heard Damon say. She opened her eyes, locked them with the scorching ice blue of his.

"I feel it, the-

She was cut short. A piercing pain rushed at the side of her neck and her hand went to it. Her eyes bugged out and a frightening gasp dragged from her mouth. Her grip tightened until it could go no further. She felt as though she was bleeding. Fast and deadly it was pouring from her.

She sank to the floor. Both brothers followed her down. Stefan took her hand from her neck, placed his own where it had been. "There's no wound, there's no wound!" he turned to Damon. Then she saw it, the blood dripping from her hand and his. Her body fell limp and slumped to the ground. The life was being drained from her.

"Damon, what do we do?"

"We get her back to the cottage," Damon ordered. "Rose will know what to do."

A hand slipped under her knees and around her back. She was lifted from the ground and cradled against a hard body. It smelt of sweetness and spice. Of sins and of virtue, it made her feel safe. She fell out of consciousness with the assumption of it being Stefan carrying her back through the forest.

"What happened?" her grandmothers hysterical voice echoed through Elena's subconscious, rousing her. She tried to lift her head but found it useless. Carefully, she was placed on something soft, something comforting. But her hand remained clasped on the shirt of her carrier. A warm hand covered hers then pried it off to lay it at her side.

She made a slow journey into consciousness. Forcing her eyes to focus and clear, she spied around the room. It was her room. She lifted her head, found no pain in her neck. She dragged herself up into a sitting position with a faded memory.

"How did I…" her fingers flew to her neck. Nothing, there was nothing.

"Are you alright?" a voice asked from the armchair in the shadowed corner of the room. Her eyes squinted and discovered it to be Damon.

"I'm… fine." She replied, unsure. "I'm alive…" she looked down at herself, baffled to how she could be alive when she had clearly been bleeding out from a non-existent wound in her neck.

He got up, approached the bed. His eyes searched her, and despite her chemise and duvet, she felt naked under the penetration. "You're alive." He said.

"How? I was dying, I felt it."

"And you did. But then your body… it started to heal, to come back to life. Your heart started beating again." there was a light in his eyes, excitement and wonderment. But his face showed no emotion. "Your powers are unlike anything I've ever come across. They're truly remarkable."

Elena frowned. "I don't-

Her bedroom door opened and in walked Stefan. Immediately, his tense posture dropped with relief when he saw her conscious state.

"Thank God." Stefan was at her side in two strides.

"I don't think God had anything to do with this." Damon added with impatience only Elena seemed to notice. Stefan was too preoccupied with his investigation of her neck.

Shying away, she gathered the bed covers tighter to her. "Then what did?"

"You did." Damon answered without pause.

"I didn't do anything." she looked from one brother to the other, settled on Stefan.

"Right, you didn't," Stefan got up off his knees and took a seat on the edge of the chair that had obviously been relocated to her bedside whilst she was unconscious. "But your powers… they, healed you."

Unfazed, Elena nodded once.

"And that doesn't surprise you." Stefan stated, confusion underlying.

"Well, no. I mean, yes, of course, but no."

Both brothers looked at her with bafflement. Their brows were furrowed and their eyes remained on her. Damon folded his arms across his chest, forcing Elena to catch the slight shift of his hard muscles under the creased white shirt that teased her with everything that was underneath.

"Specify?" Damon asked, snapping her focus back.

"My body has always been self-healing. I didn't know it could bring me back from the dead of course, but it's always healed."

"So you can never be hurt?"

"Not permanently no."

They were looking at her with confusion no more. Now, all that was plastered on their face was amazement. Elena couldn't understand it.

"You're indestructible." Damon pointed out.

"No, I'm not-

"You clearly are." He cut her off, moved closer to the bed but left his arms crossed.

"No, I'm not some magical piece of armour. I bleed, I get sick. I just heal twice as quickly as a normal person would."

"You brought yourself back from the dead." Damon returned.

"Yes, but I didn't die under normal circumstances." She shot back with unrestrained frustration. "The echo of what happened there latched onto me, forced me to experience what happened first hand."

"And that's normal?"

"Of course, isn't it for all witches?"

Stefan and Damon looked to each other, and then back at her. "No." they revealed in unison.

"Neither is being able to heal yourself." Damon added.

"What?"

"A witch is a human being, with the gift of magic. They can die like any human. But you, you're something else entirely. We were surrounded by all kinds of witches growing up; old, young, powerful, and not so powerful. And we have never come across anything like you."

"Don't talk about me like I'm some… creature." Elena retorted fiercely. "I am human, I was born. I wasn't hatched or made."

"Your mother, could she self-heal?" Stefan jumped in.

"No." Elena answered. Her discomfort with having not one, but two men in her room while she wore only her small nightgown hit a new level and she clutched the bedclothes tighter to her chest. "My father, he could."

"Was he a witch?"

"It's warlock." She corrected. "And no, he wasn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because I would have remembered my father using magic, he never did. He was human."

"No human can heal itself within an hour of being harmed."

"How do you know?" Elena fired back, pinning Damon with a look. He remained unaffected.

"It's basic facts."

"Made by who?" she continued to glare up at him.

"Any person with a brain,"

That stung in her chest. Is that what they thought of her? That she was some silly girl with no clue to the power she possessed? Is that what everyone thought of her?

Biting back anger that threatened to explode, she spoke. "You can leave."

Surprise compromised his features but quick reflexes concealed it after only a quarter of a beat. He left the room without another word or look in her direction, Stefan on his tail. She sank back into her pillow with a loud huff.

Her father was human; it wouldn't make sense that he would be anything extraordinary and hide it from herself and Katherine. After-all, their mother had been honest from the start about her abilities, why would their father have reason to lie? He wouldn't. They wouldn't have lied to her. Damon was just trying to get under her skin.

The problem was she could swear it was working.