Hey guys! Thank you so much for all of the incredible comments and in depth analysis of this story. I appreciate the time that each one of you has taken to weigh in on this story from the bottom of my fan fic consuming/writing heart.
Now another chapter begins and so does another element of this story. From here, I started compiling a soundtrack of sorts for "Something Supernatural." Here are my song picks for chapter 7:
Amber & Green by David Hopkins
Little Bit by Lykke Li
Just Say Yes by Snow Patrol
I have a list of people to thank, so here goes:
Wateva, lilly, shiree022000, fanficfan84, Impress, etgoddess, ILoveRomances, doodlechick12, cherry9021, sandra, TriGemini, saderia, babyshan211, Lily, Raqual
Get ready to take a little trip, lovlies. Destination: ??? Read on, board the plane and enjoy. Also, to any readers who happen to live in the region I am sending our Scooby Gang, your history is rich, intriguing and has been a source of great inspiration. ;) I don't have a beta and I have been using Google Translator for a lot of the translations you see. Apologies in advance if I happen to make a teeny error.
Alright, shutting up now. Have fun and as always, let me know what you think!
Chapter 7: To The Skies
It was midnight and the fab four now stood at three. Two handsome vampires and a petite witch breezed past traffic and pedestrians in a blue retro convertible.
They were en route to the home of Tituba Bennett, the one person who could probably shed some light on The Fior. It was the only way they could bring Elena Gilbert back home to Mystic Falls.
Stefan Salvatore sat anxiously in the backseat, while his older brother maintained a solid grip on the steering wheel. For the most part, Damon kept his eyes on the road, save for the few discreet glances he directed at the maiden beside him.
Bonnie could still feel the discomfort in her ankle. She was sure she had sprained it. Her eyes were still red and highly irritated from the tears she had been silently shedding in the passenger seat.
Guilt had set in completely. It was all her fault that Elena had been taken. Whoever he was, that violet-eyed stranger had been seeking out the witch. Yet in the most dramatic twist she could have ever imagined, he had kidnapped her best friend.
Shifting her body into a fetal position, Bonnie allowed her hurt ankle to dangle from the seat. She could feel his eyes on her right now.
In the midst of all the madness, there hadn't been a moment to recollect every delicious facet of their kiss in the quad...until now.
His hands around her waist. Their lips pressed so intimately against one another. The way his raven hair felt beneath her fingertips.
That cool breath against her mouth.
She looked up at him from beneath a set of dark lashes and saw him deep in concentration. Whatever road they were on now, they were all on it together.
Damon pulled up in front of Tituba's house and brought the vehicle to a halt. He leaped out of the car and was instantly beside Bonnie, scooping her up out of her seat and into his arms.
"You really don't have to carry me," she began softly.
"I know," he replied, moving with her toward the door.
Stefan had already bolted from the car toward the indigo hued wooden barrier. He slammed his fist repeatedly against it.
Damon had already found his way onto the front porch, having moved with his own brand of supernatural quickness and grace. Bonnie's warm body was pressed against his chest as he tuned into his brother's frantic thoughts.
I have to get her back, I have to get her back, I have to get her back. Hang on Elena! I love you so much.
Moments later, a groggy, massively irritated Tituba Bennett appeared at the door. Her expression changed completely as soon as she noticed her granddaughter in the arms of the older vampire. "Bring her in."
"Right," Damon scoffed. "Easier said than done, Tituba."
She had two choices. Get Stefan to carry Bonnie inside or allow his brother in her house. Then again, he would one day be the father of her great grandchild. And then there was the almighty Prophecy.
Rolling her eyes, the witch grudgingly invited him in. "Put her on the sofa."
"Really, I'm okay, Grams." Bonnie lay on the beige piece of furniture, while her grandmother was immediately drawn to her ankle.
"You sprained it?" she inquired.
"I think so," she replied. "Damon and me - we were attacked by a werewolf in the quad."
"I thought your dance was in the gymnasium," Tituba offered.
Bonnie felt her face grow warm, as her brain hit the replay button on the mini movie of she and Damon locked in an embrace. "It was."
Her grandmother's gaze swung from her to the blue-eyed vampire who was standing beside her. "I don't get it," the older witch sighed.
"We were...talking," Bonnie began to explain, feeling slightly embarrassed.
"It's not that," Tituba exclaimed with a slight smirk. "I gave you a protection serum to drink earlier on tonight. Maya brewed it herself. There shouldn't even be a scratch on you."
The young woman's features contorted in confusion. "Whoa, what does Auntie My have to do with this? She brews potions?" She observed the guilty look on her grandmother's face. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Let me make a quick phone call and when I get back, I'll explain." Tituba was about to leave the room when she heard Stefan's voice cry out.
"The Fior - they have Elena."
She stopped in her tracks and sighed distressingly. Turning on her heels, she approached Stefan and offered him a lingering look of sympathy and condolence. "How do you know it was them?"
The younger vampire retrieved a silver coin from his right pocket and placed it in the waiting palm of the witch. He watched as she analyzed the piece, taking in every etched in detail. She closed her eyes and made a fist with the object still inside.
Damon, Bonnie and Stefan watched as her eyebrows twitched, rose and fell. When her eyelids finally flew open, she watched the eternally teenaged man with a look of regret.
"She's no longer in Mystic Falls," Tituba began. "We'll have to scribe for her."
Leaving them alone for a moment, the witch went to her study and selected a map. She laid it out on the coffee table when she returned and began to explain.
"I'll need an object that belongs to Elena."
Stefan reached into his pocket and gave her a gem encrusted hairpin. "She wore it tonight. It must've slipped off in the struggle."
"This will do," Tituba replied.
She then reached for a bracelet she had brought back with her. An beautiful amethyst crystal was attached to it. Dangling it over the map, she closed her eyes and spoke an incantation: "Ó bandia Elora, treoir dom. Dom Glac leis an cail *n."
Stefan and Damon knew immediately what she had just asked for. Tituba had reached out to the Witch Goddess Elora for guidance to help find Elena.
They waited for seconds in silence until finally the crystal began to move. It guided the witches hand from left to right, down then up.
Ireland.
***
Mind compulsion was an art form Damon Salvatore had mastered well over a century ago. Just ask his many blessed acquaintances throughout the years. Oh that's right, they wouldn't have remembered a thing.
Bonnie, Damon and Stefan were now seated side by side in first class on an Air Canada flight en route to Dublin. It was the only international airline flying out of Richmond that morning.
Thanks to his powers of persuasion, the elder vampire had managed to convince a trio of businessmen that their company's annual shareholder meeting wasn't really where they needed to be. Upon his insistence, they opted for a nice light lunch at T.G.I. Friday's and an afternoon of playing hookie instead. Poor suckers.
The petite red haired flight attendant was a shameless flirt, Bonnie thought, nestled between the Salvatore brothers. 'Becky,' as it said on her name tag, had given Damon enough refills of champagne to render a mortal man drunk - and the plane hadn't even left the runway yet.
Not that he discouraged the rosy cheeked young woman's enthusiasm and giggly demeanor. If anything, his side swept smirks and arsenal of jokes kept her annoying sing-song laughter floating through the air.
Bonnie felt a tiny monster creeping up on her. It was green, slightly irritated and incredibly tempted to toss 'Becky' out of the nearest emergency exit.
The young witch mentally talked herself out of that plan. Just one kiss and already he was beginning to rub off on her. For the sake of her sanity, Bonnie decided to look away.
She began to fiddle with the jewel her grandmother had given her before leaving for their journey. It was a red stone in a bronze setting, similar to the one Emily had worn.
Grams said it would help protect her. Hopefully it would be more effective than the serum she had consumed before the dance.
Stefan sat to her right, a handsome bundle of nerves. Lines of concern were etched deeply into his eternally 17-year-old forehead.
His eyes were an intense blend of greens and browns. At the moment, they were staring straight ahead. He was mentally willing himself to stay strong for Elena amidst the current turmoil they had found themselves in.
He felt like he was stuck in a bad dream, the ones you can never wake up from no matter how hard you try. The only woman he had ever honestly loved had been torn from his arms and was currently God knows where.
The warlock had appeared from out of nowhere and lassoed Elena from his embrace with some invisible magnetic force. No matter how desperately he tried to maintain his hold on her, the sinister stranger only grew stronger, more fierce.
She shouted. "Don't let go of me, Stefan!" He promised he wouldn't.
Then the shots rang out and by the time he looked down, his chest and abdomen were covered in a thick coating of his own blood. It seeped from every small hole and he felt as though his entire body were on fire, burned by the wooden rounds now encased by his immortal flesh.
By far, the most painful memory was the blood curdling scream that came from her lips before disappearing into a plume of smoke. "Help me!"
Stefan shut his eyes tightly and tried to focus on a vision of her smiling face. It was the only thing giving him the strength and ammunition he needed to bring her home safely and to exact his sweet revenge upon The Fior.
His mind drifted back to their conversation with Tituba. According to the witch, The Fior was a group of pure blood warlocks descended from the great witching families of the Emerald Isle.
Their mandate: Maintain the purity sanctity of their kind. Therefore The Prophecy was in direct violation of what they were sworn to protect.
They were among the most powerful witching clans the world over. Somewhere in Ireland, The Chosen Three dwell in mist and darkness.
Each was regarded as a 'Lord.' If ever one of the three was unable to continue his reign, they would consult the Intuitive Waters inside the stone cauldron. It would always name a boy of 19 with the exact same number of letters in his first and last names combined.
These were the chosen few. Destroying them would involve several truly extraordinary measures. Stefan was fully prepared to do whatever it took to protect Elena from their wrath.
Tituba had mentioned that each of The Three carried his own sacred silver dagger. It was an object used in rituals, blood spells and the only blade by which they could perish. Getting a hold of them would be the biggest challenge of all.
Their lair was guarded by a supernatural forcefield, he remembered. That's what had made scribing for Elena's exact whereabouts so difficult. A thorough investigation would have to take place if they were going to figure out where The Fior lived.
Stefan sighed faintly and looked down to his left. Bonnie stared up at him with a look of mild fear, great sympathy and extreme guilt. He hated seeing her like this.
After all, it wasn't her decision. She had no say in being thrust into some phenomenal prophecy. The seeds of her fate had been sewn by two desperate women and one powerful spell over 145 years ago.
He offered the witch a look of reassurance. "We'll find her," he whispered gently.
She smiled sweetly at him and nodded. "We will."
The night had been filled with so much upheaval and collossal revelations. For one thing, Bonnie still couldn't wrap her brain around the fact that sweet, old Auntie My was actually a fairy.
What ever happened to little pixie-like creatures dressed in green, wielding wands and sprinkling magic dust? So much for the Disney interpretation of the supernatural underworld.
By now, 'Becky' and her rosy cheeks had gone back to gossiping with the other flight attendents. No doubt the "uber cute guy in first class who could pass for a young Rob Lowe" was the hot topic.
The seatbelt light came on and within half an hour, the aircraft ascended into the clouds.
They had now been in the air for the past two hours and Bonnie was sound asleep. Their seats had been readjusted since and she now lay beneath the warmth of a thin blanket.
Stefan's eyes were shut as well, but Damon couldn't be bothered with rest. He didn't really need it. Being undead meant all nighters and crazy party hours would never take their toll.
He lay with his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. The sound of mortal heartbeats surrounded him and lulled him into a state of sublime pleasure.
Damon had always been fascinated by the fist-sized organ. Of course, some people believed it housed feelings and emotions. 'Stupid people,' as he so ineloquently referred to them.
They just couldn't understand the feelings of lust and hunger that could be ignited by the sounds of sweet red nectar pulsating through each part of the human body. Right now he was basking in the sound of the little witch's heart.
Her head was tilted slightly in his direction, offering him the perfect view of her angelic face. He drank in every delicate feature before settling on her delectable, full pout.
He could still taste the rich berry infusion of her lip gloss. Beneath his fingertips, he could feel the warmth of her bare skin in such stark contrast to his own chilly touch.
Clutching the top of the blue blanket, he tugged gently until it reached her chin. She looked warm and deep in slumberous bliss.
There it was again; the familiar sensation burning in the pit of his stomach, rising higher and higher. Passion.
Unbeknown to him, his younger brother had opened his eyes several minutes ago. Stefan observed him carefully in wonderment. Had he just witnessed Damon committing an act of kindness and caring?
Ahem. Stefan's mock throat clearing immediately caught his brother off-guard.
Damon looked up defensively. Can I help you with something?
No. Momentary silence. I suppose it's safe to say you two have been bonding.
Rolling his eyes, Damon smirked. Hardly...unless of course what you mean by "bonding" is me better acquainting myself with my meal. Bonnie - she's what's for dinner.
Which would explain why you've already saved her life twice and healed her sprained ankle with your blood? Oh and let's not forget how much you seem to care about her staying warm.
The older vampire watched his brother with a mix of annoyance and amusement. She's a pitiable mortal. That's all.
Right. Stefan paused before flashing him an 'a-ha!' expression. So what exactly were you two doing before the werewolf attack?
Time to lie like a rug. Nothing. Damon concentrated all of his energy on shielding his thoughts.
You can shield all you want to, big brother. There's just one problem with that.
Quirking an eyebrow at him, Damon watched him curiously. Which is?
The younger Salvatore flashed him a knowing grin. Bonnie hasn't learned how to shield yet. I already heard what popped into her head when Tituba asked about you two in the quad last night.
It took a great deal of restraint for the blue-eyed vampire not to slap the smile off his brother's face. It was a one time deal.
Stefan chuckled lightly. And the Earth is flat.
Damon scowled. Shut up.
***
Bonnie couldn't help the sudden wave of forlornness that overcame her. There she stood, alone amidst the ruins of an old grey cathedral. She could see rows of arches overhead and the remains of an entrance way.
The air was still. Nothing and no one lingered here.
To her left there were fields of green and sprawling woods. To her right there was a brick wall with a sliver of space just wide enough to move through.
From where she stood, building tops and a church steeple were all that remained visible. Bonnie nervously approached the barrier and stared into the tiny space.
Curiosity killed the cat, not the witch, right?
There beyond the wall was an empty road that ran through the centre of a lonely town. With a tinge of reluctance and an overwhelming desire to know more, Bonnie stepped over the threshold and onto a patch of grass.
It was almost as though she had gotten straight off the plane and landed in this strange and unfamiliar place. She wore the same dark brown corduroy mini with the same purple cowl neck sweater and the chocolate hued riding boots she had zipped up before the journey to the airport.
The only question she had was where on Earth were Stefan and Damon? Had they found Elena? Had they already gone home to Mystic Falls without her?
For that matter, where the heck had the rest of the world run off too? There wasn't even a single car parked along the sidewalk. If her witchy senses were right, something magical was at play here.
Bonnie walked along the pavement until she glimpsed a sign off in the distance: Ken----. The rest of the letters were a complete blur.
There were colourful buildings on either side of her. Orange, blue, cream and red. They continued in one vibrant stream of architecture.
Her eyes were drawn to an emerald sign with gold lettering on it: Murphy's Pub.
Bonnie pressed her face against the stained glass. The lights were all off, not a customer or bartender in sight.
A sudden fog began to sweep through the town. Above her the sky had begun to take on an angry hue. She continued to stare as the clouds came together and a great breeze began to blow.
By the time she was looking forward again, a dark form confronted her. He was shrouded in a hooded robe. Two identical forms emerged from behind him.
Bonnie felt her heart begin to race. She blinked rapidly, hoping it was just an illusion. Much to her dismay, it was not.
The witch turned to run in the opposite direction, but there they were again. This time the figure in the centre lifted an arm and pointed one pale, accusing finger in her direction.
"The end is nigh!" it hissed maniacally.
Both strangers on either side of him began to chant vigorously in a language she couldn't understand.
"Caithfidh an cailleach feasa bás. Caithfidh an cailleach feasa bás. Caithfidh an cailleach feasa bás..."
They began to advance slowly toward her. Bonnie clutched her necklace tightly and began to shout frantically the only spell she could remember at that point.
"Imeacht créatúir ar an oíche, as mo radharc! Imeacht créatúir ar an oíche, as mo radharc! Imeacht créatúir ar an oíche, as mo radharc! Imeacht créatúir ar an oíche, as mo radharc!
She shut her eyes as tightly as she could and poured every ounce of power and passion into the incantation. By the time she opened them again, they were gone.
"Bonnie." Damon had his hands on her shoulders, shaking her back to reality.
"Damon?" she replied softly, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "Did I just-"
"Scream an incantation in Gaelic? Yup," he replied, flashing her a weary expression.
She felt the brush of his chilly fingertips as they adjusted a lock of her hair behind her ear. It made her shudder slightly. Bonnie stared into his ice blue eyes and found herself feeling strangely comforted...and safe.
Stefan's body was turned toward her. His brows were furrowed and his forehead was...well, brooding. "Creatures of the night, depart from my sight. That's what you were shouting."
"I-I was trying to make them go away," she stammered.
"Who?" Damon inquired.
"There were three of them. Men in hooded robes," she explained.
"The Lords of The Fior," Stefan exclaimed.
***
Dublin had to be the single most picturesque city Bonnie had ever set foot in. The buildings were closely situated to one another and the atmosphere was just rife with the most remarkable energy.
She and the Salvatore brothers were on a mission, but first they needed to find a place to stay for the night. The O'Riordan Inn seemed like a cozy enough little find.
As they approached the front desk, a flamboyantly attired man in his late twenties looked up from the novel he was clutching. "Hello there. How can I help you?"
"We were hoping you might have two rooms available," Damon exclaimed.
"Two?" the witch asked, quirking an eyebrow in his direction. The blond young man observed them curiously.
The blue-eyed vampire tipped his head to the side and winked. "Yes pookie. Two."
Pookie? Bonnie suddenly felt like she had just entered the twilight zone. She turned to face Stefan, hoping he might speak up on her behalf.
"Uh yes. Two rooms will be fine," the younger vampire chimed in.
The trio were given their keys and hopped the lone elevator to the third floor. By the time they arrived, Bonnie brought her carry-on to a halt and stood with her hands on her hips.
"Why do I need a roommate?"
"Because we promised your grandmother we'd bring you home safe and sound," Stefan offered.
He hoped the mere mention of Tituba would convince Bonnie that rooming with his older brother wasn't such a bad idea. The reticent expression on her face told him it wasn't working.
"If I promise to stay on my best behaviour like a good little boyscout, will it make you feel any better?" Damon smirked mischievously.
"Are you even capable of that?" she shot back.
"You wound me, little witch." He placed his hand over his chest and feigned innocence.
"Bonnie," Stefan continued. "We're in Ireland now. You're on The Fior's home territory. Leaving you alone in the middle of the night would be stupid and reckless."
"Kind of like your decision to come on this little trip in the first place," Damon inserted.
"I came here for Elena!" she fired back. "There was no way I was gonna let you two get on that plane without me."
"Guys, this isn't the time to be arguing," Stefan reminded them. "Let's just get changed, head down for dinner and try to work out a plan."
Of course for one Salvatore brother, supper was a sure bet in the woods just beyond town. Thumper and his other rabbit friends proved to be the perfect sustenance.
Damon waited until his brother was done dining, so Bonnie wouldn't be alone, in order to scower the streets for his own late night delicacy. Her name was Rose. Poor girl didn't have a clue what she was getting herself into when she looked into those hypnotic blue eyes.
The three then gathered at Mahoney's, a quaint restaurant specializing in traditional Irish fare. Bonnie was eagerly digging into a hearty stew, accompanied by soda bread and juice.
Stefan clutched a small glass of brandy and Damon opted for a shot of Bourbon. They both donned their trademark black leather jackets and smouldering good looks.
The little witch opted for a laid back ensemble that included dark washed skinny jeans, a cream coloured camisole and blue wrap sweater. It wasn't nearly as warm here as it was back in Mystic Falls, so she was grateful she had remembered to toss a light brown jacket into her luggage.
"Ken-something," Stefan began, referencing the sign from Bonnie's dream. "You said there were four missing letters behind that, right?"
"From what I could tell," she answered, taking a sip of her apple juice.
"And Murphy's - that was the name of the pub you saw?" he continued. Bonnie nodded her confirmation.
"Well that doesn't really help much, now does it?" Damon chimed in. "In case you haven't noticed yet, Murphys aren't exactly uncommon around here. We passed by a Murphy's Tavern, a Murphy's Grill and even a Murphy's Hunting Lodge on our way here."
"There was a church too," Bonnie recalled. "And a wall separating the town from some old ruins. It looked like the remains of a cathedral with great big arches."
Twirling her spoon absentmindedly in the stew, Bonnie began to feel a searing pain at her temples. Not again, she thought dismally. Lurching forward, she narrowly missed the bowl of food in front of her.
A stone cottage with a dark thatched roof appeared. The two story home was surrounded by trees and hills. Then in mere seconds, everything blurred.
Her mind went blank. Then came the hiss. "Draíocht saol anseo."
Bonnie whipped her head back and opened her eyes again. Damon was beside her with both of his hands pressed gently against the sides of her face.
"You okay?" he inquired, with a genuine concern that astonished her.
"Draíocht saol anseo," she repeated in a whisper.
She didn't need to communicate loudly in order to have the Salvatore brothers hear. Their hypersensitive ears picked up on every pin drop or hush chatter.
"Magic lives here," Damon translated.
"Where? Where does it live?" Stefan began. "Did you see something?"
"A house," she recalled. "It was big and made of stone. The roof was dark. It looked like it was made out of straw."
"Thatching," the older vampire explained. "Really old school way to build a roof."
"Did you see anything else?" Stefan asked.
"Just trees...and hills," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "My mind went pitch black after that...and then that voice popped into my head. It sounded like...a woman, only really distorted."
"Do you think they have Elena?" he continued.
"I don't know," she answered.
After supper, they went back to the Inn and both of their respective rooms. Damon was busy assembling a bed for himself on the brown fabric armchair in the corner of the room while Bonnie finished changing into her pajamas in the bathroom.
By the time she emerged, she had a white terry cloth robe tightly belted at the waist. The truth was, being in such close proximity to the vampire made her nervous, scared, excited and lustful all at once.
Wanting him one minute and wanting to hate him the next was exhausting. She certainly hadn't forgotten his attempt on her life weeks prior, but there were times when her attraction to him became so great, she had to mentally remind herself of the pain she felt when his teeth sank into her flesh.
Bonnie lifted the sheets and began to fluff her pillows. She could feel Damon watching her from beneath a fan of thick, dark lashes. Reluctantly, she began to loosen the knot she had tied and allowed the garment to run down her shoulders and back until it had been completely separated from her body.
She tugged lightly at the bottoms of her black cotton shorts and straightened out her pink fitted t-shirt. The witch turned to face the vampire and found him watching her hungrily.
He licked his lips involuntarily and began to undo the buttons on his silk shirt. Bonnie thought she might faint at the sight of his bare chest and arms in naked perfection.
Her eyes drifted lower to a set of taught, toned abs and her breath seemed to catch in her throat. She turned away quickly, realizing he was about to remove his pants next.
"Shouldn't you be changing somewhere more...private?" she offered.
"Why do that when I can just stand here and make you go red like a fire engine?" he replied with a smirk.
"I did not go red," she maintained. "I just appreciate a little modesty."
"You could be a prude," he suggested, knowing full well it would irritate her.
"Just because I'm not an exhibitionist like you, that does not make me a prude!" Bonnie chucked a pillow at him angrily.
Thanks to his light speed reflexes, he caught it mid-motion. "You throw like a girl."
"I am a girl," she replied, plopping herself onto the mattress and waiting with open arms as he tossed it back.
"Or as the English say, you're a bird."
"An highly irritated bird with magical powers who can set you on fire anytime she wants to," she reminded him, tugging the sheets protectively up to her chin.
"Touche," he responded, falling onto the aged armchair with a loud thud. "Guess I'll just have to get some rest in this rock hard, back breaking, incredibly uncomfortable chair."
"I guess so," she exclaimed in her most nonchalant voice. "Besides, you're immortal; your back can take it."
"So says the selfish witch who doesn't even consider that I too, might benefit from a good night's rest. Oh, if only there were a little compassion in this room," he offered melodramatically.
"A: You don't need rest. B: This selfish witch was nearly killed by you not long ago. And C: I don't trust you," she shot back.
"You don't trust me?" he began. "Or you don't trust yourself with me?"
Bonnie rose to a sitting position and found the vampire scrutinizing her intently. His shirt was still off, but he now wore a pair of black pajama bottoms. He sat lazily in the seat, feasting upon her with a gaze that made her feel completely naked.
"I felt you on the other side of that kiss," he reminded her. "Do you normally show that much enthusiasm when you're lip to lip with just anyone?"
"Don't flatter yourself," she replied.
"You already flatter me a great deal," he retorted. "You're blushing like a school girl who's just seen a Jonas Brother in person."
"Why do you do that?" she asked, her voice softening a touch.
"Do what exactly?" he inquired, leaning forward slightly.
"It's like a game of push and pull with you. One minute you're all defensive, putting up walls and saying that you don't believe in The Prophecy."
"I don't," he maintained.
"And the next, you're taking to me like we're...like we're..." Her voice trailed off then.
"Like we're what?" Damon leaned forward further so his elbows were balanced on his thighs.
"Something more," she finished in a hush tone. "I mean, are you for real right now? Or are you only being real when we're fighting like a vampire and witch who hate each other?"
His eyes became dark and shadowy. He clenched his jaw in frustration. "You should get some rest."
"Guess the walls are back up," she sighed. "That's too bad."
"Why?"
"Because a tiny part of me actually wanted to learn a bit more about the guy who's been saving my life lately."
Bonnie lay down slowly, but she could still see his lounging form out from the corner of her eyes.
He moved against the fabric of the chair in obvious discomfort. Anyone who even took a quick glance at it would have pegged it for some antique torture device. She could hear him groaning repeatedly.
The compassionate part of her wanted to rise up and say, "Sure Damon. You can have the other side. Just don't touch me." Another side of her wanted to kick him for being such a stubborn ass.
How on Earth were they ever going to have a child together when at times, they couldn't stand one another? Whose idea of a practical joke was this?
Grudgingly rising, Bonnie called his name, her voice heavily slicked with annoyance. "Damon?"
His eyes opened slowly and a side swept smirk appeared on his pale face. "Yes?"
She rolled her eyes instantly at his reaction. "Take the right side."
He leaped out of the chair with his pillows and blankets. After arranging them carefully, he lay back on the soft mattress and turned to face the witch. "Thank-"
"As much as I'd love to hear you finish that," she confessed. "I think I might die of shock if you do."
"Maybe you should start giving me a little more credit," he grinned.
Bonnie closed her eyes and smiled back at him. "Maybe someday...when you've earned it."
Warm in her bed with added protection drifting off to her right, it didn't take the little witch very long to fall sleep.
***
She'd often heard the description "lots of green rolling hills," when applied to the Irish countryside. Apparently there had been more than just a shred of truth in that.
Daylight bled through the thick cluster of clouds. The ground was damp, muddy and doing a number on her leather riding boots.
Rows of majestic alder trees were on either side of her, as she carefully tread down a long stretch of road. Bonnie managed to catch rare glimpses of homes, dispersed throughout the forest.
Her feet continued to move forward; it was like they had a mind of their own and they were guiding her to a destination she knew nothing about.
In fact, she had never even ventured down this path before in her life. It was foreign to her - like this beautiful country.
Bonnie stopped abruptly and felt her mouth open. She began to chant a spell: "Déan na céimeanna seo a thiachóga ionas gur le choimhthíoch riamh a bhí mé anseo."
She watched as each previous footprint she had made began to vanish miraculously. The witch veered into the woods and found that each new impression her boots made in the mud disappeared almost immediately.
A smile of satisfaction danced across her lovely face. She walked for ten minutes until a gentle swell of smoke began to ascend from a chimney that peaked out from between the leaves.
Her feet continued to move until finally she stood before a two-story stone cottage with a dark thatched roof. It was the house from her vision earlier on that evening.
Bonnie looked down at the red mailbox and caught sight of gold lettering on the sides of it: 7 Rivendell Lane. She unlatched the front gate and walked down the narrow pathway up to the blue front door.
As soon as her feet hit the porch, the door began to creak open. Upon a wooden side table sat a brown vase filled with bluebells, golden irises and fragrant orchids. To the left there was an iron framed mirror on the wall.
"Hello?" she called out. No one answered...at first.
There it was again, that distorted female voice with its thick Irish lilt. "It is your destiny!" it hissed.
Bonnie's eyes flew open and her body shuddered. She felt a pang of fear shoot right through her.
Then she looked down and found a cool, pale hand placed protectively on her stomach. She twisted her body just a touch and found Damon lying nearby on his side.
His chest was so close to being pressed up against her back. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, but his eyes remained shut.
The witch sighed, but this time it wasn't out of frustration. His walls were down again, at least for a little while.
