Hey guys, thank you so much for all of the truly kind words. I've got a big list of people to give shout outs to, so bear with me.

DiorNicole, thank you so much for the very detailed review. I am a huge fan of properly written dialogue that accurately reflects the character in question. The fact that you enjoyed it so much means that I did something right and that thrills me. Thank you! IfYouFindThis, I'm so glad you're enjoying the prophecy storyline. It is a central theme throughout this story and just so you know, our characters will be taking a little trip abroad at some point soon. Look out for that! fanficfan84, I'm so glad you're digging the character portrayals. etgoddess, I love Stefan and Damon's bromance too. They're a pleasure to write! Haha, and I had to throw in something about Twihards - just couldn't resist! RockerChick08, first of all, I love your work. Second of all, I love Sheila, so she will continue to be featured throughout as much of my story as possible. Can't say who will or will not die, but there will be bloodshed down the line. hardygirl21, thank you so much. You won't have to wait - here's the update! babyshan211, thank you for recommending my story! Lots more magic to come! ILoveRomances, "Wuthering Heights" was a connection I made a while back, but what can I say. Great minds think alike ;). Thank you so much for that awesome review. sky samuelle, your work is fantastic, so I was really stoked to see your comment. Thank you.

So this week's Coldplay song/chapter title is "You Only Live Twice." Check it out on YouTube and enjoy this story. I'll be updating as often as possible to get everyone caught up. Then I'll unleash chapters 11 and 12!

Chapter 3: You Only Live Twice

Beware The Fior

For hundreds of years, they have lurked beneath the earth. The Fior is filled with power and consumed by intolerance. Their disdain for "the others" is deep and they will do absolutely anything to protect the purity of their kind.

The chosen three are the Lords of the clan. They are the descendants of pure blood witching families.

Most powerful among their people, they were appointed as rulers at the age of 19, when a warlock truly comes into his own. Each Lord is cloaked in a robe of slate grey, reminiscent of what the monks wear.

They gather around the Intuitive Waters, a fountain made of cold, damp, hard rock in order to communicate with their spies or cast spells. Tonight they seek the warlock, Rudyard Duke.

His assignment: Kill the witch; destroy the prophecy.

"We call on him!" they chanted repeatedly in perfect unison. "We call on he who seeks the witch!"

As the fluid stirred and squelched within the stone vessel, a thick cloud of smoke rose toward the ceiling of the cave. They had cast their spirits out into the night sky in search of him.

Finally found, his devious face appeared in the make-shift cauldron, beady eyes that were essentially sinister little slits with violet orbs contained within.

His nose was long with a decidedly pointy tip and his smile was downright revolting. Salt and pepper shoulder length hair fell in one thick, wavy mass.

"Masters," he greeted them in a thick Irish accent. "You summoned me?"

"We did," confirmed the oldest warlock, Lord Everett. "Have you reached the town yet?"

"Indeed," he replied with a reluctant nod. "I am among the inferior specimens of Mystic Falls. How it disgusts me!"

"Patience, Rudyard," Lord Atwater chimed in. Second in command, the lithe man towered over the others. "You must find the witch and put an end to the prophecy."

"The hybrid must never be born," added a pale, bald fellow with a devious green gaze. He was called Lord Davies.

"Never fear," Rudyard declared confidently. "It will not come to pass. I will find the witch and bring her to you, my Lords. She will parish in flames."

Smiles of satisfaction spread across the faces of each warlock. They would see to it that the 'Prophecy of Tabitha Bellwain' was transformed into a meaningless, trivial piece of fiction, as opposed to a reality they were most certainly not willing to wake up to.

"Go now, Rudyard. But hurry!" Everett declared. "You must not allow the witch to reach her magical peak."

With that last bit of motivation, he offered the three a nod of his head and disappeared.

***

Bonnie stood in the tiny jewelry shop admiring a set of cream colored pearl drop earrings. They were the perfect accessory for her azure dress. Matt Donovan wasn't too bad either.

She bit down on her lower lip and fiddled with the small white price tag. To a more privileged teen, $250 would have seemed like virtual chump change. Bonnie was not privileged that way.

Her father made a decent living as a middle school math teacher, but there were still bills to pay at the end of every month. They came like clock work and spending inordinate amounts of cash on items she didn't really need, but only wanted seemed wrong to her.

Even so, she continued to stand there, transfixed by the pearls.

Her plum camisole with lace trim and dark wash skinny jeans hugged her curves deliciously. It was a simple, yet polished look. Certainly, it wasn't "Caroline Forbes appropriate," but it was cute and comfy.

"Why hello there, darling," beamed a short and plump woman in her early 50s.

Maya McCullough was the owner of Georgiana's, a small jewelry shop in town. She and Bonnie's grandmother had become fast friends when they were kids.

They regarded each other as "sisters without the blood tie, but everything else that truly mattered." At least that's how Tituba often described their relationship.

The women never squabbled over the opposite sex, never argued to the point of tears and to her knowledge, they hadn't once forgotten one another's birthday. It was the perfect friendship.

Perfect enough for a discount? Bonnie thought momentarily. Then again, it wasn't like Georgiana's was some big chain store that might not miss the value of a full price sale. Businesses in Mystic Falls depended on them to keep their mostly family run doors open.

The tiny shop looked like a miniature Victorian house gone pastel paint happy on the outside and treasure trunk cozy on the inside. Delicate purples, pinks and blues on the exterior gave it a certain Easter egg feel.

On the other hand, Bonnie appreciated it for the quiet. Technically she was on her lunch break, but instead of scarfing down her tuna on rye, she opted for a quick trip into town.

"Auntie My," Bonnie beamed, wrapping her arms affectionately around her.

"So I see you've stumbled upon the Elizas," she exclaimed, pointing at the pearls.

"The Elizas?" the witch questioned.

'Auntie My' also just happened to be a tad on the eccentric side. "Oh, it's just my pet name for those two beauties."

"Why?" Bonnie inquired, an eyebrow arched in wonderment.

"They just remind me so much of my mother," Maya admitted softly with a smile. "She used to have a pair just like 'em. You wanna try 'em on?"

On the one hand, trying on the earrings didn't mean she had to buy them. But what if she liked them so much she couldn't bring herself to put them back down again?

"I really shouldn't," she responded sadly.

"But they'd look gorgeous on you. You're such a pretty girl, Bonnie Bennett. Really, I-I demand that you try on these earrings." Poor Auntie My. Even when she was trying to sound strong and authoritative, she came off soft and squeaky - like a mouse.

"Really Auntie My, I shouldn't."

"And why not?" the shorter woman asked.

"Honestly? I'm just scared. Scared that I'm going to love them so much that I'll never be able to put them back down again."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Maya returned.

"If your bank account can handle a dent the size of 250 bucks," she answered. "They're beautiful. They may be the most gorgeous earrings I've ever seen in my life. But I just can't afford them."

Maya placed a supportive arm around Bonnie and gave her a kiss on the cheek. It reminded her of those moments when she was a child.

Once she had come home from school crying her little six-year-old eyes out. A little boy who she had a crush on had accused her of having "cooties," the most widely feared affliction this side of the nearest jungle gym.

Little did she know, that dreadful little boy was actually the Mayor's son. Tyler Lockwood had since apologized on numerous occasions.

Auntie My had comforted her, placing her hand reassuringly on her back, just as she was doing now. She gave her a kiss on the cheek, made her a nice cup of hot cocoa and watched "The Wizard of Oz" with her.

So many bad witch stereotypes, she thought. At least there was Glinda.

Bonnie left the store empty-handed, but slightly less heartbroken. That was mainly thanks to Maya's gentle refrain of "Don't worry. One day you'll be unimaginably wealthy! You'll be able to buy all the pearls, Ferraris and Manolo Blahniks your little heart desires."

It was purely superficial, but it managed to lift her out of her temporary funk.

Bonnie reached into her chocolate brown bag and began one of the hardest tasks for big bag offenders the world over - finding one's car keys. "Come on, where are ya? You can't be that far?"

In her rush to get to the store, Bonnie had chucked a clumsily stapled handout into her bag. Unfortunately the tip of her finger met with the sharp end of the shiny object and now a small dot of blood sat on her skin.

Bonnie sucked on the tiny wound. The saltiness of the blood left an unpleasant aftertaste in her mouth, causing her lovely features to contort into a disgusted expression.

"Ah, success!" she beamed, finally grasping her keys.

She opened the door and was about to get in when the incessant cawing of a crow caught her attention. It instantly reminded her of passing out in the bathroom.

That was the last sound she had heard before blacking out and tumbling onto the unsanitary, strange disease-harboring, high school girl's bathroom floor.

Ugh. Must wash face. Again.

Bonnie looked around, still hearing the distinct sound of the bird. Her eyes were drawn to a telephone wire directly above the Prius.

There it stood, a mysterious black feathered creature. If she didn't know any better, it was cawing specifically at her.

Creepy bird. She swiftly got into her vehicle and drove back to school.

***

By the time Bonnie had managed to reach Robert E. Lee High, rumors had already begun to swirl about Alaric Saltzman. It seemed the resident hot history teacher had elected to take a sudden sabbatical.

No one knew where he was heading or with whom. Needless to say, the mood was pretty sullen among the girls Bonnie shared class with.

"Hey," Elena called out, coming to sit beside her. "You hear about Saltzman?"

"Yup," Bonnie sighed disappointed. "Wonder who's gonna be subbing in for him."

They didn't have to wait long for that answer.

"Hello class," exclaimed a short, balding man with one of the worst comb overs Bonnie had ever seen.

Royston DeWitt's unfortunate hairstyle had been a longstanding topic of discussion at Robert E. Lee. For the past fifteen years, both teachers and students had been perplexed and fascinated by the thin streaks of hair that criss crossed over his pale skin.

He was a soft-spoken man with a slight stutter when he spoke. "A-As I'm sure you've all been hearing, Mr. Saltzman will be away from school for the next little while."

Caroline couldn't be silenced. She had to know where her "future husband" and "all that was sacred about Robert E. Lee" had run off to and how much longer it might be before she got the chance to feast her eyes upon him again.

"And what exactly constitutes a 'little while?'" she asked without raising her hand first.

The older man gulped loudly. "Well I'm not really at liberty to say. Anyway, I'm sure Principal Rogers will let you know the minute there's anything new to report."

"What a drag," Caroline wailed, forgetting to turn the volume down on her voice box.

Mr. DeWitt's shoulders immediately fell, as he instructed the class to open their textbooks.

So much for sensitivity, Bonnie thought, reaching for a pen.

She whipped open her notebook and began filling in the date at the top right corner of a blank page. Guess Mr. Saltzman has somewhere else he needs to be.

The teenage witch suddenly began to feel a searing pain coursing through every nerve. She began to cradle her head in her hands, causing Stefan, Elena and Caroline to lean forward at once.

"Ahhh!" she yelped, feeling the pangs grow even more intense.

"Bonnie!" Elena cried.

There it was again - the violent onslaught of thoughts that clearly didn't belong to her:

What the hell is wrong with her?

Um, yeah. Can we please be any more dramatic?

Miss-us Al-ahh-ric Saltzman...okay no. Miss-us Caro-line Saltz-man. Perfection! Eeeee!

"Caroline!" Bonnie screamed, momentarily forgetting the cute blond hadn't actually flapped her lips.

No, Bonnie thought. She's just thinking about her impending marriage to a man twice her age when I'm practically dying here!

Both Caroline and Elena looked confused and slightly horrified. Stefan, on the other hand...she caught the most peculiar smile form on his face for about a millisecond.

"Mr. DeWitt, she needs to see the nurse," Elena declared in a take-charge tone of voice.

The frazzled history teacher simply nodded quickly and pointed in the direction of the door. Stefan and Elena held onto her as they moved in the direction of Nurse Yvette's office.

"Wait for me!" Caroline called, running after them like a teenage girl in hot pursuit of a Beatle, circa 1964.

"Caroline, we've got it," Elena exclaimed trying not to frown.

It was pretty obvious the blond wasn't keen on sticking around for History class. A trip to the nurse's office was like a walk in the park versus a lecture with the "master of monotone" himself.

"Well excuse me," she bit back. "Forgive me for being concerned about my best friend."

Caroline, Stefan and Elena sat around Bonnie as she waited to be seen by the nurse. Her head was still throbbing uncontrollably, but at least now there were only three voices inside of it; not twenty-six hormonal ones.

"How's your head feeling?" Stefan inquired with genuine concern in his eyes.

"Want. To. Die." Those were the only words she could string together in that moment.

Elena and her boyfriend exchanged worried glances. They didn't know how to help Bonnie. She looked so helpless, with her head in her lap and their arms wound around her waist.

Finally the nurse emerged and the trio helped Bonnie to her feet. Giving them a nod and a hand signal that she was a-okay to stand alone, she attempted her first independent step.

Bonnie Bennett fell flat on her face.

***

She woke up twenty minutes later in a cold sweat. Bonnie slowly attempted to open her eyes. The few images she could see were still fuzzy thanks to her drowsiness.

Feeling the soft cotton beneath her fingertips, she realized she was now lying on the bed in the nurse's station with the curtains drawn fully around her.

Squinting hard, she noted the familiar silhouettes behind. Stefan and Elena looked like they were in the midst of an intense discussion.

"What's wrong with her, Stefan?" Elena asked in desperation. "This has been happening way too often lately. It's not like Bonnie."

Softening her voice a touch, she leaned in closer to the vampire. "Do you think this has anything to do with...well you know who?"

"Damon?" he replied softly, causing Bonnie's ears to perk up immediately.

Grasping her hand, he led the pretty brunette to a corner farther from the bed, just out of earshot. "If anything, I was wondering what kind of effect drinking so much of a witch's blood would have on him."

"What do you mean?" she questioned him.

"He nearly killed her, Elena."

Grimacing at the memory, she sighed. "You don't have to remind me. I was there. I watched that son-of-a-bitch attack and maul my best friend. If it wasn't for you..."

"Don't think like that," Stefan soothed, rubbing his hands on her back in a comforting circular motion. "There's more to Bonnie than I think a lot of us realize."

Elena broke free from his embrace and stared curiously into his eyes. "More to her than we realize - what does that even mean? Stefan, do you know something that I don't about Bonnie?"

If the little witch hadn't been fully awake before, her eyes were now wide and her ears fully alert.

"Maybe you should sit," he suggested, scooting down so she would follow suit.

"Fine. I'm sitting. Now tell me. This is my best friend we're talking about, so I wanna know everything you know."

Stefan nodded and smiled at her loyalty. It was one of the things he loved most about Elena.

"I went to see Tituba Bennett yesterday," he began.

"Why would you need to see Grams?" she asked, leaning in closer.

"Because Grams paid Damon a visit...and she called me."

Elena couldn't believe what she was hearing. She sure hoped Tituba put a hex on Damon. "Please tell me she turned him into an insect before squishing him with her shoe."

She could hear the uneasiness in Stefan's laughter. It instantly reminded her that she had issued a death wish on his brother's head. "Oh Stefan, I'm sorry. It's just-"

"I know what he's like," he replied, weaving his fingers through hers.

He never ceased to amaze her; so full of understanding, he was grace under fire when the occasion called for it and her fierce protector when she needed him to be.

"So tell me. Why did Grams go see Damon?"

Yeah. Why the hell did she?!

Immediately, Stefan's eyes shot over to the white curtains. Bonnie was awake and listening in on their entire conversion. He could hear her thoughts so clearly.

"Alright, where is she?" Tituba Bennett asked loudly, stepping through the door frame.

"Grams," Elena exclaimed, hugging the older woman like she was her own mother.

The truth was, she had spent so much time as a child with Bonnie and her grandmother that she may as well have been a blood relative.

"Hello sweetie," she smiled warmly. "Stefan."

"Ms. Bennett," he said with a grin. It was strange not calling her by her first name, since he was really so much older than she was.

"Behind the curtain," Elena told her, pointing a finger in the direction of the bed.

Bonnie pretended to still be asleep, hoping no one would be the wiser. She couldn't have Stefan and Elena thinking she had been eavesdropping - even though she had been.

Deep down, she was also hoping that the three of them would wind up discussing Grams' visit with Damon. Then maybe she'd finally learn the secret they were all (with the obvious exception of Elena) trying to keep from her.

Tituba whipped open the curtain and found her granddaughter in supposed slumber. Smiling knowingly to herself, she could hear the onslaught of thoughts and questions flowing actively through Bonnie's mind.

"Time to wake up, sweetie." She placed the palm of her hand against her cheek and waited for her to stop the act.

Smiling at the two teens beside her, she placed her purse on the ground and began tickling the young witch on the stomach. It may not have been magic, but it was just as effective, if not more so.

Instantly, she sprung forth from the bed in an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"So nice of you to join the living," she began, before looking over at Stefan. "...and him."

***

That night the dinner table at Grams' was particularly crowded. She made her famous meatloaf with sweet tomato sauce on top and crispy fried onions with buttery garlic mashed potatoes on the side.

The women devoured every course in lightspeed, as Stefan looked on in amusement. He, of course, had already excused himself for a light snack in the woods nearby.

"Now I know you've got that whole eternal youth thing going for you," Bonnie began. "But there is no way I'm givin' up real food for a 24/7 fluid diet."

"Ditto!" Elena exclaimed, her mouth still stuffed to the max with potatoes.

"Ahem," Grams skillfully interrupted. "I was thinking that after you girls are done scarfing down the remaining contents of my kitchen, we could go for a little late night walk."

"Okay," Bonnie replied, inhaling her final slab of meatloaf.

As soon as the two girls felt slightly less bloated from their evening feast, the foursome took to the sidewalks.

"Exactly what the doctor ordered," Tituba breathed. "A nice stretch of the legs after a satisfying meal."

They walked for nearly an hour before reaching the small cluster of elm trees that led to the woods. The branches were swooped gracefully outward.

In the day, they were tall, picturesque Virgina natives. At night, they were startlingly beautiful giants in the dark.

Bonnie and Elena exchanged curious glances as Grams continued walking into the secluded stretch of land. "Uh, Grams," Bonnie called out. "Maybe we should be heading back now. We've been walking for a while now. My legs feel stretched."

"Yeah. Totally stretched," Elena threw in for good measure.

"Come on, you lazy bones," she replied, still walking deeper into the woods.

Stefan simply smiled to himself and continued to walk beside them. There was a greater purpose for their trek. The girls would find that out soon enough.

"Here we go," Tituba exclaimed, stretching out her arms.

"What's Grams doing?" Elena asked, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

She had stopped in a circular patch of grass, surrounding by even taller trees. There was something more haunting about the way their branches stretched into the night sky.

Stars were out in every direction as far as the eye could see. There were few sounds, save for the occasional hoot of owls or chirping of nearby crickets.

"Incendia!" Roaring flames suddenly surrounded the older woman. Bonnie and Elena watched in horror as they grew taller and more ferocious.

"Grams!" the little witch screamed. "What are you doing?"

"Watch and learn," she smiled, never flinching from the heat in such close proximity.

Whipping her arms into a straight, firm line, she shouted from the top of her lungs: "Stad!"

The fire ceased, leaving behind faint smoke as the only indication it had ever burned there. Jaws dropped in shock and awe, the girls ran to Tituba.

"Why did you do that?" Bonnie asked frantically. "You could have been killed."

"Not if you know what you're doing," she replied.

"Well I recognize the first part of what you said," the young witch acknowledged, her mind drifting back to the night Damon attacked her.

"I figured you might. 'Incendia' is the command those of our kind use to inflame or ignite objects."

"Like the amulet," Elena supplied. "But how did you make it stop. What was that you screamed?"

"You girls know any Gaelic?" she smirked.

"It means 'stop.' Stad - it's Gaelic for 'stop,'" Stefan inserted.

"You speak Gaelic?" Elena asked, eyes wide with surprise and intrigue.

"A little," he admitted. "Lexi's ex-boyfriend was proficient in it."

"You learn something new everyday," Tituba beamed. "So kiddo, you ready to give this a try or what?"

Grabbing her granddaughter by the hips, she placed her in the center of the circle and leaped to Stefan and Elena's side. "Loud and clear," she began. "Say it firmly. Say it with confidence. Most of all, believe it."

"Believe what?" she queried, looking utterly baffled.

"That you can do this," Tituba answered. "I believe you can."

"So do I," Stefan smiled.

"Why?" Bonnie asked. "Why do you believe? I'm just a teenager. I couldn't even do half the stuff I did that night in the woods without Emily. I was possessed. Remember?"

"And?" her grandmother responded harshly. "You think the only reason Emily chose to possess you was because you were related to her?"

"Why else would she do it?"

"Maybe because she knows you're destined for greatness," Stefan exclaimed, coming to meet her within the circle. "You're from one of the most powerful witching families Mystic Falls has ever seen. Magic chose you. We only want to help you."

"So this was a set up?" She looked from her grandmother to the vampire who now stood beside her.

"Now hold up there," Tituba feistily threw in. "We've already been delving into the craft together...there are just some things I'll need help showing you how to do."

"That's where you come in," she exclaimed, looking to Stefan. He nodded his confirmation.

"We're doing this because we care about you, Bonnie," her grandmother said softly.

Turning her attention to Elena, she could clearly see she wasn't the only one caught off guard by this impromptu magic lesson. "Wait. How come I didn't know about this, Stefan?" Elena asked softly.

"I didn't have time. I wanted to explain everything to you today, but everytime I tried to, something always got in the way."

Stefan grasped Elena's hand and apologized once more. "I promise, I'll tell you everything you want to know when we're done here."

The young witch was hoping she'd be clued into the full story as well and not the abbreviated Coles' Notes version of just how much more to her there really was.

Bonnie's eyes locked with her best friend's. "I believe in you too, Bonnie. Always have, always will," she encouraged her.

Gathering all the courage and strength in her heart, she leaped into the air and shouted her command. The fire burned brightly, casting a bewitching glow on her caramel skin.

"Now remember Bonnie, you can use the fire to destroy objects, obliterate your enemies. The burning will cease after that. But without an object to inflame, you must will it to stop using your mind. Concentrate."

She nodded her head, while her body remained unmoved in the center. She had to keep the heat at bay. Recollecting her grandmother's Gaelic call, she echoed it: "Stad!"

The flames continued to burn. If anything, they had grown in height.

"Stad!" she repeated.

Still nothing happened.

"Stad!"

No change.

"Now! Stad!"

The smoke was beginning to seep into her lungs.

Was this how she would die? Young and alone in a ring of fire?

"Grams!" she shouted. "Please! Help me!"

Her vision continued to become even more blurry. She could see running figures between the flames. Elena, Stefan and Grams were frantic - and she was dying.

She felt her body weaken and her legs begin to give out. It was getting harder to breathe and whenever she tried to, all that seemed to rise forth were dry, strained coughs.

"Help me! Sta-" She collapsed onto the soft mat of grass and felt everything begin to slow down.

Bonnie's eyes began to shut, as a weightlessness overtook her. She used every last ounce of strength she had left to will her eyes open and there, staring back at her was the one person she feared the most.

"Damo-" She couldn't muster the strength to finish his name. It came out in a hush, barely audible to the human ear, but completely noticeable to him.

"Yes. I know, little witch."

He moved through the air with a speed she had never seen, much less felt before. Damon carried her in his arms, his leather jacket getting singed by the flames and yet, he didn't seem to care.

"I'm ruining a perfectly good Italian leather jacket for you," he remarked with furrowed brows.

So much for selfless gestures... Then again, this was Damon Salvatore; he never did anything without an ulterior motive.

The jacket was draped over him like a hooded cape, as he kept her tightly pressed against his chest. The unpleasant odour of charred earth hung heavily in the air.

"You saved m-" Her vocal chords just weren't cooperating. Then again, given the amount of smoke she had just inhaled, they couldn't be held accountable for their inability to function right.

"You could have died," she managed to finish before succumbing to exhaustion.

She passed out in his embrace, head hanging to the side. "No need to remind me," the blue-eyed vampire remarked saucily.

He landed with his own particular brand of grace on the grass. Placing her into Stefan's arms, he began to walk away.

The three of them stood taken completely aback by the scene that had just unfolded before their eyes. Damon had saved a life, but not just anyone's life. He had saved Bonnie Bennett from perishing in the flames.

"By the way, Tituba" he started, turning to face the group again. "I'd try starting with something a little simpler than a fire spell. Things usually tend to get out of hand with those," he finished, pointing at the orange bursts of heat.

He began to walk further from them, but stopped. "Oh and I'd see if the unconscious witch needs a little Stefan juice," he said pointing to the thick vein along his wrist. "She inhaled a lot of smoke. Should be fine after a little juice."

Everyone's mouths were still agape. "Might have a sore throat though. Could end up sounding like the Godfather," he smirked.

Damon placed a hand over his chest and began to mimic the trademark husky tones of the movie mob boss. There it was - a sliver of the sly, cheeky bastard he really was.

"Oh and Elena," he continued. "Call the fire department."