Hi everyone! So let me just start off by saying how completely blown away I was by the amazing reviews I got for chapter 9. Haha, I actually thought you guys might revolt after our twosome got so close to reaching that next level. You guys are incredible and reading your feedback has been a highlight of the experience for me. In fact, it is thee highlight.
Now for my first teeny, ridiculous mistake. In writing 20 chapters for this fan fic, I seemed to have forgotten a detail from chapter 9. So proceed as though Stefan and Elena have not actually been sharing blood. He has been blood-free for a while now. I know. Lame. Really, really lame, lol. That being said, humor me. Please! :D
Also, one fantastic reviewer asked about the method to my madness. The truth is, the first ten chapters were posted on Fan Forum. I PM'd them to some of the wonderful ladies and gents there and they gave me the confidence booster to publish it here! So round of applause for them! The remaining chapters I'll be finishing as I go. Chapter 11 will be a real doozy. I promise!
I have a big list of thank yous, so here goes!
RockerChick08, IfYouFindThis, Impress, cherry9021, muff, Lily, dollpartsiam, -'.SmxiiWolfyRosie.'-, Fanaddict15, saderia, sandra, ChaneD, Vampire Lover26, IcyScorpio, pnkrchik, KOF, UrbanWitch, babyshan211, fekinLOVEtea, Mrs. SalvatoreBennett, Raqual88, Oracle42 (I love Grams too!), glasvegas, quizas31, Periodic Brilliance, Tamla Salvatore, CGandJaz
Alright, so this chapter marks a significant turning point for our Scooby Gang. It takes the overall storyline forward quite a bit. It'll encourage you to think back to older chapters and to act as an investigator of sorts. I really hope you enjoy it!
Now for my song picks:
"Strange and Beautiful" by Aqualung
"Starlight" by Muse
"On Fire" by Switchfoot
Chapter 10: Turning Tides
Damon Salvatore paced outside her door like a fierce, predatory beast. His chest was heaving and his gaze was shadowy. He fought to keep his killer instincts at bay.
Hands placed on his hips, legs braced apart, he watched the oak barrier and grimaced at the thought of just how easily his teeth had pierced through her delicate flesh. She had looked so horrified by his transformation. Even though that expression lasted for merely seconds, he couldn't shake it from his mind.
Desire had eroded his restraint and unleashed his inner demon. He could still taste the remaining traces of her B positive on his canines. Damon relished its robust Shiraz-like notes with the tip of his tongue.
Her blood was a wicked potion, concocted to drive him completely insane.
Bonnie with her wide eyed innocence, unyielding loyalty and fierce convictions. Bonnie with her luscious lips and that perfect caramel skin, so soft and supple beneath his icy fingertips.
The blue-eyed vampire pressed his palms against the door and allowed his forehead to rest on the smooth surface. Her muffled sobs were enough to cause him pain. How does she do this to me?
He growled low and took a step back. Damon ran his fingers through his thick, dark locks and sighed. I want you so much right now.
Over the years, he had gone to bed with countless women. Nameless faces. Bodies drained. No regrets. No restraint necessary.
It was different with Bonnie. Hurting her was out of the question. The thought alone made his stomach turn and his handsome features contort with disgust.
The truth was, he had come to feel far more than innate protectiveness for the little witch. He desired her body and coveted the purity of her soul. Was this...love?
Damon heard the floorboards creak nearby and turned swiftly in the dimly lit hallway.
"Hello witch."
Fiona stood silent for a moment, studying the expression on his face. "Lovers quarrel?" she inquired with a knowing grin.
The vampire rolled his eyes in annoyance. Stay out of my head, witch.
He tried to brush past her. Placing her palm firmly against his chest, she stared him squarely in the eyes. "I realize you probably think this is none of my business. Under usual circumstances, you'd be right. But given the fact that my family's been guarding The Prophecy for over 145 years now, I think I'm more than justified in asking what's been going on between you and Bonnie."
"How presumptuous of you," he replied, cocking his head to one side. "Now get out of my way."
"Oh Damon," she sighed, removing her hands from his chest. "I really do apologize."
"For what?"
"For this," she coolly answered.
Nothing could prepare him for the searing pain that shot through his head. Damon was now hunched over, unable to utter a word. Was this some kind of Jedi mind trick, exclusive to witches?
He looked up and found the Irish woman staring back at him, totally unflinching. "Oh what's that Damon? You want me to stop?" she mocked him.
With the flick of her wrist, the agonizing sensation in his nerves receded. You bitch! I'll kill you!
She had already anticipated his volatile response.
His hands were inches from her throat when he felt himself being electrocuted by an invisible force field. "I wouldn't try that again if I were you," she instructed him, completely deadpan. "Now keep your voice down. I only want to talk."
"Well I don't," he bitterly chewed out.
Fiona knelt down beside him and carefully observed the tormented expression in his eyes. "You want to know why you can't touch her without losing control," she surmised, tapping into his emotions again.
I told you to-
"Yes, I remember. Stay out of my head, witch," she interrupted, imitating his furious tone.
Grinning at the sight of him so obviously moved, she placed a hand reassuringly on his shoulder. He flinched instantly at her touch. "You're a vampire. She's a witch. It's as simple as that," she began to explain. "Her blood is like fine wine to your palette and you can never seem to get enough."
Then how, pray tell, are we supposed to have this miracle child?
Relaxing against the deep brown banister, she sighed. Bonnie will be your greatest challenge. For you to be the man she deserves, you must first learn to control your cravings.
He chuckled lightly. Was she for real? You're asking me to suppress something that's second nature to my kind?
I realize it will be difficult, but we often do the most incredible things for love.
Damon quirked an eyebrow in her direction. Who says this is love?
The witch smirked knowingly. It will be.
Are you always so sure about everything?
It took her less than a second to reply. Yes.
They sat in silence for a moment longer. She could hear the steady stream of thoughts swirling through his mind.
I'll hurt her. He shuddered at the idea.
No, you won't.
Fiona gazed at him in his spellbound state. Bonnie Bennett had truly bewitched the elder Salvatore and he hadn't the slightest idea how to handle that.
For the first time, he looked up at her with desperation in his eyes. What do I have to do - to control the hunger?
"That's something you learn over time," his brother's voice chimed in from the staircase.
Excellent. More "time heals all" logic. He had never been a fan of that particular brand of reasoning.
"Well if it isn't Saint Stefan," he mused sarcastically. "Reinforcements for Team Righteous?" Damon continued, his eyes darting back and forth between them.
"As much as I can appreciate a hefty dose of sarcasm," Fiona began. "Your brother's right."
"He always is," Damon replied bitterly.
Disregarding the sibling rivalry, she gestured for Stefan to sit beside them. "Look Damon, Bonnie needs you right now. And try as you might to deny it, you need her too."
I've never needed anyone before.
"You do now," she inserted with a consoling smile. "You two were preordained. Elora wills it to be."
The blue-eyed vampire glanced at her door again and took a deep breath. Being emotionally vulnerable in front of Stefan and Fiona was out of the question. He already felt naked enough as it was in front of Bonnie.
Damon just couldn't bare his soul the way his little brother did. For starters, people usually dismissed the notion that he even had one.
He was dead. Having a child was a scientific impossibility. Yet here he was, with the sudden ability to create life - and he was destined to do it with the little witch.
"I uh...the thing..." Damon Salvatore, typically oozing bravado, was now struggling to verbalize his feelings.
"I never thought..." He paused again. Whatever you do, try not to sound like Stefan. And remember, no forehead brooding.
Sensing his reticence to continue, Fiona picked up where he left off. "You never thought you'd get the chance to become a father."
"Never had much of a relationship with mine," he admitted, a strained expression marring his features.
"What was he like?" she gently pressed.
Damon and Stefan exchanged glances. Immediately their walls went up. "I don't want to talk about him tonight...or ever," he frigidly replied.
The pain was evident in his voice. Giuseppe Salvatore had left an indelible mark on his eldest son's life.
"Never mind then," she smiled reassuringly. "You know, the fates chose you and Bonnie for a reason. All will reveal itself in due time. For now, let's just be grateful for the little miracle Elora has in store for the both of you."
He couldn't quite decide whether having a son would please him more than having a daughter. During the 1800s, it was a general preference among virtually all expectant parents.
For him though, the idea of spoiling his little girl rotten was enough reason to grin like the Cheshire Cat. She would, no doubt, be well schooled in the fine art of 'pranksterism.'
If, on the other hand, he had a son, there would be someone to carry on the Salvatore family name. He would be fiery, bold, self-assured and drop dead gorgeous thanks to a batch of favorable genetics. He smirked mischievously at the thought.
He imagined Bonnie in her pregnant state, belly protruding, green eyes alight with expectation. It was becoming far more difficult to wallow in denial.
"I meant what I said before," Fiona beamed. "Bonnie's a special woman. You should feel very honored that the fates saw you as her match."
"He should," Stefan agreed with a wide, teasing grin. "One day there'll be a little one running around the boarding house. And daddy-"
"-will be putty in their wee hands," she gushed, eliciting an irritated groan from the sapphire-eyed vampire.
"I don'tdo diapers," he inserted flatly.
Fiona leaned closer to Stefan. "Make sure you take a picture of him up to his elbows in dirty nappies. We'll need photographic evidence that your rebel without a cause brother is actually a big softy under that rough exterior."
"Rough exterior?" he scoffed. "Have you seen me?"
"Your ego never falters," she laughed.
"No. It only grows," Stefan chucked in.
"Alright now," she began, trying to reign in their discussion. "The lights in Bonnie's chamber went out some time ago. She'll need her rest, so let's head downstairs. There's somethin' I've been meanin' to talk to you about all day."
They wound up in the kitchen, huddled around the refrigerator. Fiona carefully opened the door and clutched a large brown paper bag. Placing it gingerly on the counter top, she turned to face the young men.
"Stefan," she started, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know any other way to put this, really. So here goes. When was the last time you drank from a human?"
"It's been ages," he began to explain. "Not since...1905, I think."
"Yeah. The last year he was any fun to hang out with," Damon threw in casually.
"Behave," Fiona huffed. She turned her attention back to the brown-eyed teen. "My darling, you will need all the strength you can muster when facing The Three. They were chosen for their posts because they are the most powerful warlocks of their clan. Each Lord possesses his own dagger. It is only by those silver blades that they may perish."
Reaching into the bag, she pulled out four full pint sacks of blood. "I have a friend in town who happens to be a phlebotomist," she continued. "I'm well aware of how significant a moral dilemma this is for you, Stefan. But I will not have you fighting The Fior on a half-assed diet of field mice and deer. The strength that you require cannot be derived from animals."
"Here," Fiona tossed Damon two pouches filled with red fluid. "Drink up."
Her green eyes lingered on the younger man. "You must do this for Elena. It's the only way to save her, Stefan."
For over a hundred years he had avoided human blood. Its scent. Its flavor.
Everything about it was simply intoxicating...and highly addictive.
How could he risk the possibility of relapsing and never being able to ween himself off of it? Then again, how could he not do everything in his power to save the only woman he had ever truly loved?
Damon watched in awe as his brother reached out and grasped one of the sacks. Stefan stared at the crimson liquid and felt his gums itch in anticipation.
Tiny yellow veins sprung up beneath his hazelnut eyes. His canines slid into place, ready to feed.
He didn't wait for Fiona to pass him a pair of scissors to slice open the plastic, nor did he pause for a straw with which to slurp every ounce of fluid from the pouch. He simply tore through the seal with his teeth and lifted it to his mouth.
It coated his esophagus like a thick, sweet syrup. There was no turning back.
He would have to live with the consequences of his actions - if only to save Elena.
***
Damon sat in a brown cracked leather armchair by the roaring fireplace. Fiona had already finished cleaning up the kitchen and Stefan had since retreated to the comfort and silence of his quarters.
The Irish witch observed him from the bay window where she sat against a mound of pillows clutching a copy of Anne Rice's "Merrick."
"Penny for your thoughts," she offered softly.
"Why offer anything at all?" he began. "We both know you can hijack them for free."
"Touche," she remarked. Momentary silence. "Still thinking about The Child, I see."
So what is it that makes this kid the one true hybrid? There are already witch-fairy, witch-werewolf combos stalking the streets everyday.
"Well unlike witches, fairies or weres, vampires have never been able to procreate before," she began to explain. "This type of hybrid is very unique. Your son or daughter will possess powers only heard of in myths, Damon."
"Elora wills it to be," Fiona continued. "The child represents a beacon of hope for the future between Supernaturals and mortals."
"Powers only heard of in myths, huh? What about immortality?" he queried.
"It's not a guarantee," the witch offered. "Regenerative powers, perhaps. Bonnie's foresight - now that's a definite possibility. Superhuman strength - pretty much a certainty."
"Sounds like trouble," Damon chuckled.
"From your side of the family, no doubt," Fiona giggled. "I'd say beauty, grace and courage from mum's side."
"What, no beauty from mine?" he cheekily grinned.
"Why hello there, Damon's ego!" Fiona began imitating her best beauty pageant wave.
She observed him thoughtfully for a long while as the firelight crackled and flickered against his pale skin. Every sentence that passed through his brain seemed to begin or end with 'Bonnie.'
Damon looked up at her again. "Something's happening to me."
"I can see that," she smiled warmly.
"I can see her thoughts...her dreams. It's been happening ever since..."
"...that night in the woods," she finished. "That's what you get for being greedy. It's called a 'blood bond.' Vampires and witches have always been able to communicate telepathically - usually through words or phrases that pass through each other's minds. Your bond with Bonnie allows you to gain access to her most intimate thoughts, fantasies and dreams."
"She's not fully telepathic yet," he pointed out.
"I can tell," she admitted. "Soon enough. Her powers are growing at an accelerated pace. It'll happen any day now. Mark my words."
"I'll hold you to that," he exclaimed. "So, this blood bond..."
"Yes, it helps with the initial attraction," Fiona offered. "But if you're wonderin' whether magic is what's makin' you pine for the lass, the answer is no. You do that all on your own."
***
The musty aroma of old books filled their nostrils. They congregated in a dimly lit nook inside the Mystic Falls Archives.
Tonight The Council had several important matters to tend to. Just yesterday, another batch of bodies had shown up in the woods near Old Fell's Church. Half of the six had been completely drained of blood; the others had been ripped to shreds.
The town coroner was already putting in countless hours of overtime piecing together the circumstances of their deaths.
Unfortunately, Mayor Lockwood couldn't be present tonight. He was "under the weather," according to his devoted wife, who looked Stepford Wife-pretty in an ultra-feminine white floral dress.
"Bodies have been drained and savagely torn apart. It can only mean one thing," Eleanor Fell offered. Crimson curls, a flawless creamy complexion and big brown eyes gave her a rather child-like appearance, despite her 31 years of life experience.
Sheriff Forbes chaired the gathering in the Mayor's stead. She knew it was going to be intense. How could it not be when so much violence had come to pass in only a few days.
"The Supernatural presence in Mystic Falls is growing," she announced. "And to make matters worse, we have reason to believe a third group may be living among us."
"Who?" Godrick Marsh questioned the uniformed officer.
"I'd rather not speak about that just yet. My team is currently in the midst of an investigation," she replied. "I'll have the details ready soon. Which brings me to the next order of business. The list."
"You're really going ahead with the blacklist?" Annabelle Smallwood chimed in.
"I don't see what other choice we have," Sheriff Forbes maintained.
"What does Mayor Lockwood say?" Mr. Marsh inquired, brows furrowed in hesitance and concern. "Has he already signed on to this little display of raging McCarthyism?"
"It's not McCarthyism," she insisted.
"No, it just wreaks of McCarthyism," the young Smallwood woman agreed. "I'm with Godrick. Why should we resort to such divisive, harmful tactics. You're playing with people's lives."
"Why so reticent, Annabelle?" Mrs. Lockwood chucked in. "Do you have something to hide?"
Rolling her eyes at the fashionably attired brunette, the petite blond shook her head in dismay. "No Dayna, I don't. Do you?"
"This is ridiculous," Eleanor Fell remarked. "Could you two please stop bickering at one another?"
"Ellie's right," Elizabeth Forbes exclaimed. "We should be focusing all our energies on the Supernaturals. Lord knows things are getting dangerous out there. I already have one plain clothes officer on the missing list down at the station."
Each descendant of the founding families looked nervously at one another. They were there, at the fine line between rationality and blind protectionism.
"It's the only way to know who we're up against," the Sheriff insisted. "I spoke with the Mayor about it last night. He's agreed to take charge of the list. That means he gets final say over whose name gets added to it. I'll keep logs of information on each suspected Supernatural. For now, we'll need a vow of absolute silence from each one of you. Word cannot spread that we're doing this."
"Do you have anyone in mind as yet?" Annabelle inquired.
Elizabeth gulped. "Yes. It pertains to the investigation I mentioned earlier. We've been watching someone...a woman. We just need more proof. It's out there, I know it is."
***
Damon had insisted on joining her that morning. Bonnie had planned a little small town Ireland excursion. Stop #1: Kenmare Library.
She sat rifling through piles of old books on local ancient witching legends and the history of Kenmare. Her blue-eyed protector sat beside her clutching the latest copy of NME.
"You know, I'll never understand your generation's warped taste in music," he chuckled. "Then again, a bunch of scantily-clad women writhing around on stage definitely makes it more...digestible."
"Would you stop staring at Beyonce like that?" she replied. "You'll burn a hole in that magazine and then we'll both get into trouble for damaging library property."
"Oh yeah? With whom?" he chuckled. "Wee Mrs. Doyle in her grey cardigan and matching pleated skirt? Oh yes, 83-year-old women scare the Bejesus out of me."
Bonnie smacked him hard on the shoulder.
"Ouch!" he yelped, feigning hurt.
Mrs. Doyle looked up from her copy of "The Fine Art of Crochet" and swiftly pointed at the orange sign beside her that read: Silence is golden.
"See what you did?" Damon whispered into the little witch's ear. "You got us into trouble."
"Ugh," she groaned. "Don't talk to me."
"Fine," he smirked, nudging his chair closer to hers. Bonnie shifted her weight to the opposite end of her seat in response.
"Anyway," she whispered. "How do you even know she's 83?"
Because she's sitting there, not really reading that boring-ass book on crochet, thinking 'God, I hate being 83.'
"Just a guess," he grinned. Leaning in closer, he whispered into her ear. "So what ever happened to that plan of yours?"
"What plan?"
"The one where you stop talking to me," he smiled, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.
"It starts now," she furiously replied.
Bonnie turned her attention back to the encyclopedic-length book before her. Flipping through the tan color pages, her eyes were immediately drawn to a particular entry:
The Druids' Circle - Kenmare, Ireland
This impressive stone formation dates back to the Bronze Age and is located relatively close to Kenmare itself. Fifteen stones surround one large boulder. The circle measures seventeen meters in diameter and is believed by some locals to be a sacred site for the Druids.
There are no documents or archaeological findings to define its purpose, but many suppose it was a site where ceremonies were performed. There are also those who believe it was used as a calendar, burial place or sacrificial site.
Anticipation sprung from the pit of her stomach. She felt such an inexplicable connection to the site. Somehow, some way, Bonnie had the strangest feeling she would find herself standing at the center of those stones.
Suddenly an eerie, ominous sensation crept up on her. An icy chill ran along her smooth skin. She swiveled her neck - and found Damon reading the open book over her shoulder.
"Do you mind?" she bit out.
"No, not really." Placing his hands on her slender shoulders, he whispered into her ear. "I'm running off to the little boy's room. Think you can behave while I'm gone?"
"I'm not a child, Damon." Of course he knew that; he just enjoyed getting a rise out of her to no end.
She looked so damn sexy whenever she was mad at him - sexier still when she was hot for him. He licked his lips at the thought of her flawless caramel skin beneath his pale fingertips.
Bonnie watched him saunter away, jutting his hips from side to side on purpose for her viewing pleasure. She rolled her eyes and sighed.
Why did he have to be such a good kisser and such a big ass in one fell swoop? She rose from her seat and began organizing the cluttered mess of literature on the table.
One by one, she returned them to their rightful homes in the stacks. When the final book was in place, Bonnie leaned against the richly hued wooden shelf and took a deep breath in.
Her mind drifted back to the previous night.
His hands and lips had roamed over every inch of exposed flesh. Their hips moved rhythmically against one another. Her heart beat like a drum inside her chest.
It felt so good whenever he was near. It felt so awful whenever he pulled away.
Bonnie looked up again and found a pair of sapphire eyes staring back at her. "Fancy doing it in a library?" he smirked, cupping her cheek.
"Not. Funny." Bonnie stalked off, furious that he could still joke about sex when they had come so close to taking the plunge last night.
Damon reached out and grabbed her arm. She was then flung into his embrace. Allowing his back to rest against the shelf, he brought her down with him.
One hand splayed at the small of her back, the other caressing her cheek, the vampire pressed his cool, velvety lips against her forehead. She felt her defenses wearing thin with him in such close proximity again.
"Let me go," she demanded.
"Not a chance," he replied. "Not until you hear me out."
"Why should I?" she bitterly responded, trying to avoid his heated gaze.
Damon pressed his forehead against hers. They were chest to chest. Breath to breath. And it made her knees buckle.
"You know how I feel," he whispered. "I want you. I said it last night and it's as true this morning as it was then."
"I wasn't the one who pulled away," she pointed out.
"I didn't want to hurt you," he maintained, brushing aside a rebellious lock of dark hair from her cheek.
He allowed his fingers to trail down the side of her neck and felt the tiny indentation his tooth had left behind. It had already begun to heal.
Bonnie shivered in response. "I don't wanna fight with you, Damon. We've got enough on our plates as it is with The Fior."
Taking a moment to inhale her sweet fragrance, the vampire placed his palms supportively on the sides of her face. "I suppose we can call a truce," he whispered. "For now."
"For now?"
"You look incredibly sexy when you're mad, you know that?"
Bonnie reached out, ready to smack him on the forearm when his lips came crashing down on hers. It was a passionate kiss, filled with long-repressed desires they should have been unleashing in a bedroom as opposed to a public library.
Damon backed her up against the shelf and began trailing his cool, wet lips across her throat. He tugged at the ribbon on her black wrap sweater and growled low as it came loose.
His hands explored beneath the fabric of her dark camisole, while his mouth ravaged every trace of supple brown skin. The little witch reached beneath his crisp button-down shirt and felt every delicious contour of his chiseled abdomen.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and moaned involuntarily as his tongue found hers. The vampire laced his fingers together with hers and felt her hips begin to grind against his. It was enough to make his blood boil - in the best way possible.
"Come on daddy, let's find Winnie The Pooh!" a young voice declared enthusiastically nearby.
"Damon-" Bonnie breathed raggedly. "Someone's coming."
"You've got that right," he smirked mischievously.
"No, you pervert!" she replied, rolling her green eyes.
She sighed contentedly as his lips brushed across hers in a featherlight stroke. Reluctantly, he allowed her feet to touch the floor again. "This isn't over, little witch," he grinned.
Bonnie fumbled with the flimsy ribbon. Damon stood casually braced against the stacks, pretending to read up on one hundred of the greatest sonnets ever composed. She quickly plucked a random novel from the shelf.
He read the title aloud: "A Guide To Spirited Sex." Damon snorted. "Why read that when you've got me?"
She was now officially fire engine red. The little "Pooh"-seeking tyke stood five feet from them with his shocked father.
Bonnie shoved the book back onto the shelf and yanked the handsome vampire in the direction of the seating area.
"I'm starving. How 'bout some lunch, pookie?" he teased.
"Ugh, whatever. You're paying," she laughed.
"Well naturally," he stated confidently.
"Chivalry lives," she laughed. Momentary pause. "Well...sort of."
The vampire swung his arm possessively around the witch's waist and offered Mrs. Doyle a parting wink.
***
Another stick to your ribs stew with carrots, potatoes and thick cut pieces of lamb. Bonnie sopped up the sauce with a chunk of fresh baked bread. Not only were the drinks gigantic at Murphy's; the meals were too.
Damon watched her down the contents of the bowl in light speed and was instantly impressed. For such a pint-sized woman, she had an immense appetite. He liked that about her.
Their morning had certainly been entertaining. First there was an awkward drive into town. She had been absolutely furious. He could hear it in her cutting tone of voice and see it in her mind whenever she envisioned slapping him hard across the face.
The real big upside? Nearly getting it on in the stacks, of course. He licked his lips in fond remembrance.
His gaze lingered on her beautiful face as she sat across from him. He wanted to take her right here, right now.
First he would lick the tiny dot of sauce from the corner of her lip. Then he'd kiss every last one of her inhibitions away. And finally, he'd rip off her clothes, clear the table and have his way with her in front of every single patron.
His fiery thoughts were halted by the expression on her face. She looked fraught with worry and uncertainty. Clearly, she was thinking about Elena again.
"Did you dream about her again?"
Bonnie looked up. "Who?"
"Elena," he supplied.
"No." Her shoulders slumped and her eyes became watery. "We have to find her soon, Damon. When I saw her in my vision, she looked so...so..." Her voice trailed off then.
Damon reached out and caressed her cheek. She relished in his nearness. "We'll find her, Bonnie."
Sighing, the little witch struggled to regain her composure. Stay strong for Elena. You have to. You will save her. That's all there is to it.
As she lifted her gaze, the little witch found her attention drawn to a color photograph of the town. Everything looked just as it should. Vibrantly hued buildings, closely situated. Quaint shops, pubs and restaurants lining the narrow streets.
She marveled momentarily at the accuracy of her dream. Murphy's was right where she had imagined it would be. So was the church with its far reaching steeple. The ancient wall dividing the downtown core from the woods was there too.
Her brows scrunched in confusion at one missing feature. "That's strange," she remarked, biting into the warm bread. "No ruins."
"What ruins?" Damon asked, spoonfeeding himself some of the piping hot stew.
"From the dream I told you and Stefan about," she continued, eyes fixed on the framed picture. "It was there...just beyond the wall. There were these great arches. It felt so...real." She paused for a moment. "Guess I was wrong. I mean, I wasn't exactly right about this place," she shrugged.
Bonnie began to wonder if her instant connection to the Stone Circle was all for naught as well. Try as she might, she couldn't shake the overwhelming suspicion that there was far more to the site than what was written in books or on web pages.
There was an energy flowing through Kenmare. She had felt it the moment they hopped off the bus in the middle of the night.
"What are you thinking about?" Damon asked, already knowing full well where her mind had veered off to.
"Just that place I was reading about," she answered, taking a sip of orange juice. "People call it the Druids' Circle."
"Your Spidey senses tingling?" he queried with a smirk.
"Maybe just a little," she grinned. "Or a lot." Bonnie paused. "I just feel like the air is rife with magic here. And that Stone Circle is a key to something."
"Like what?" he wondered aloud, weaving his fingers through hers.
"I can't be sure," she began. "Whatever it is, it's big. I just know it."
Bonnie rose from her seat and felt his arm slide around her waist. "I have to go to the bathroom, Damon."
"Can I come with?" he asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
"No," she replied, pinching him on the arm.
He got out of his seat and placed a searing kiss on her lips. Bonnie's cheeks flushed bright crimson. "Can't wait 'til you get back," he smoothly offered.
The little witch buried her face in his chest and allowed her arms to encircle him. "This feels really good," she whispered, almost breathless.
Bonnie excused herself and ventured off in the direction of the ladies room. She followed an emerald green sign to the back of the pub and found herself standing in a brick walled hallway.
The women's bathroom door had been painted the hue of rich, ripe cherries. She chose a stall and locked the door. Unbuttoning her jeans, she sat on the white porcelain and looked up.
It was either one big coincidence...or something more. Hanging from the bathroom door was a tourism poster with a photograph, showcasing the aerial view of the Druids' Circle. The caption along the bottom read 'Just a hop, skip and a jump away.'
Bonnie's heartbeat began to quicken.
She made quick work of washing her hands. The witch hurried back to her seat. Unaware of just how zoned out she looked, Bonnie finally stirred when she felt Damon's chilly fingertips running along the delicate skin of her arms.
"Can we go for a drive somewhere?" she asked, smiling sweetly at him.
"Mmmm," he began, planting a kiss on her hand. "Roadtrip? Where to?"
Bonnie blushed profusely. Her v-card was splintering into pieces. She could feel it.
She took a deep breath in. "The Stone Circle."
