Hello Bamon fans and readers in general! I am so sorry I kept you waiting this long for an update. I've just been really busy and I needed to edit, re-edit and then edit some more before I posted this ridiculously long chapter.

So here we are at lucky number 13 and what else can I say except that it is action packed - and then some! It definitely sets the stage for some other huge moments we'll see in future installments. Speaking of which, I'm capping "Something Supernatural" at 20 chapters in total because if I go past that, I don't think this story will ever end! Haha, as much as I love writing it, this is basically going to be my last fan fic because now I truly understand how much time and effort go into creating these works of fiction.

I have so much respect and mad love for everyone who shares their work on . You guys are amazing - especially you Bamon writers ;). Also, a massive thank you goes out to everyone who has read or commented on this story. Thank you so much!

Alright, so I've got a few song picks for this chapter. I've been watching a lot of Bamon mvids lately and I really must encourage you guys to check out one recent addition - a video done to the song "Different" by Acceptance. That song will likely be featured in another chapter coming up soon.

On another note, I understand there's been some animosty directed at Bonnie since this week's episode of TVD. I just want to say, I still adore her and one day, so will Damon ;).

Soundtrack for Chapter 13:

"Whatever It Takes" by Lifehouse (Because the Bamon mvid done to this rocks!)

"Breathe In Breathe Out" by Mat Kearney

"Resistance" by Muse (So very appropriate for the tone of this story)

"First Floor People" by Barcelona

Chapter 13: The Savior

Vengeance. He would unleash it swiftly and brutally upon the creature who dared to lay a hand on her

Damon tore through the thick brush of trees like a bat out of hell. He growled low in animalistic rage as the branches and bristles carved red scratches momentarily into his alabaster cheeks as he whipped past.

The desperation in her voice had summoned the beast inside of him. "Damon!"

She sounded so terrified and distraught, which only urged his feet to move more rapidly through the maze of alders.

He could feel the transformation taking hold. Yellow veins quickly protruded beneath his gaze, now a shadowy, menacing obsidian shade.

Every feeling inside of her coursed through his veins – yet another consequence of their 'blood bond.'

First he felt the intense rush of fear that swept through her diminutive form. Then there was an awesome surge of rage.

Finally a profound sense of shock and awe overcame him.

Whoever this creature was, the pain they were about to endure at his hands would be nothing short of raw and excruciating. No one was allowed to touch Bonnie Bennett. No one.

What he felt for her transcended the purely physical. He needed for her to be safe – this from a man typically unaccustomed to having any needs at all.

He had an arsenal of cutting remarks and bucket loads of sarcasm at the ready for the rest of the world. But for her, he had...feelings.

They were real and constantly flowing through his mind – and body. Even when he tried to cast her out of his imagination, there she was.

Caramel skin and olive green eyes invaded his dreams and penetrated his every waking thought. Once upon a time, he thought feelings were impossibility for his cold black heart to muster. Once upon a time...

Damon leapt over a fallen tree trunk with the agility of a jungle cat. He was a heat-seeking missile in concentrated pursuit of its target.

The fragrance of her lavender shampoo filled his nostrils and instantly, he knew she was nearby. Within seconds, he had bridged the gap between the cottage and Bonnie.

He stood by her side at the center of a circular formation of trees. They towered around them like the majestic pillars of an ancient palace.

Her cornflower blue sweater dress was slightly torn along the shoulder. The neat up do she had fashioned into place was now a mass of rebellious raven curls.

Her eyes were wide, as though she had just witnessed some shocking, disastrous event. Whatever it was, it left her lips quivering uncontrollably.

Bonnie's stare remained fixated on a particular patch of grass. Damon followed her line of sight and was completely taken aback by what he saw.

Two bodies lay nearby. One was charred beyond recognition, streaks of smoke rising from the creature that had now been rendered a life-sized lump of coal.

The distinctly foul stench of burnt flesh hung high in the morning air.

Fiona was lying face down on her stomach, though the sizable gash on her temple was still visible. Crimson colored syrup continued to ooze from the fresh cut.

Damon could feel his gums begin to tingle involuntarily. The air was rife with witch's blood.

He glanced down again at Bonnie and found her staring back pleadingly. She needed comfort, a reassurance that whatever had transpired was over.

Cupping her cheeks gently with his palms, Damon pressed his forehead against hers affectionately. "What happened?" he inquired.

He tried to soften the tone of his voice for her sake, but the rage he had been running with was still very much alive inside of him. He had every intention of tearing that creature ruthlessly to shreds.

"H-he was going to k-kill her," she stammered, eyes beginning to water. "I had to stop him, Damon. There was no other way."

Bonnie did this? His Bonnie?

Of course, he thought. Damon could still recall the night in the woods when Fiona had given Bonnie her first lesson on how to command the elements.

"Every witch has her forte." Those were the precise words the Irish witch had used.

Suddenly all he could envision was the petite teenager standing at the center of an enflamed circle, looking poised in her prayer stance. There was something so incredibly sensational about that much power residing in the very tiny hands of the woman he lo...cared a great deal for.

A rush of wind whipped past them then. Stefan.

He knelt by Fiona's side and immediately began searching for a pulse. "She's alive," he shouted.

Bonnie and Damon watched as he lifted his wrist to his mouth. "A little something to heal your wounds," the vampire spoke softly.

The transformation took hold in a matter of seconds. His eyes, so typically filled with compassion, were now an ominous charcoal hue.

Stefan licked his lips unwittingly. He brushed aside a rebellious lock of dark hair from her temple and began to stare hypnotically at the fresh cut just beneath.

The blood had begun to flow steadily over her swan-like neck onto the earth. He leaned in and languorously inhaled her scent.

Tilting his head to one side, a thoughtful expression appeared on his boyishly handsome face. Damon and Bonnie observed him with growing trepidation.

The blood of a witch was ambrosial, something meant to be savored. It was also highly addictive.

"What's he doing?" Bonnie breathed unsteadily.

"I...don't know," Damon lied with far less grace than he had intended. He knew exactly where his brother's mind had suddenly drifted off to.

Keep it together, little brother. Damon eyed Stefan boldly.

He was prepared to pounce on him at any second if he leaned forward and did the unthinkable.

The eternal youth growled aloud. The ferocious, predatory sound echoed throughout the woods.

Instantly, Damon felt Bonnie's grip tighten around his hand.

That woman you're thinking of snacking on isn't just some random witch. It's Fiona, Stef. And do you remember what you told me the other night? The brothers stared at one another in total silence for what seemed like an eternity.

You know you can't hurt her.

He seemed so conflicted now. Stefan's facial features were contorted by a whirlwind of emotions.

There was a ravenous glint in his eyes, but great hesitance in his heart. Feeling his frustration reach its peak, the younger Salvatore yelped in pain as his fangs plunged mercilessly into the delicate surface of his tongue. "Fuck!"

"Tsk, tsk," Damon teased. "Someone needs his mouth washed out with soap."

Stefan glared menacingly at his older brother. The thought of lunging at him right now was most appealing, but the vampire refrained.

He couldn't bring himself to hurt Fiona – no matter how great the temptation. She didn't deserve that.

His eyes began to soften again. Now he simply looked like a guilt-ridden, lost boy.

He mentally scolded himself repeatedly. How could he, even for a second, entertain the thought of feasting on the one person who had shown him such maternal kindness?

In such a short period of time, Fiona Reid had managed to affect him in a way he had never experienced before. His own biological mother had perished while giving birth to him, leaving him completely devoid of maternal care in his formative years.

Then along came the quirky witch with her sass and brilliant composure under the most trying of circumstances. She took care of him.

Hell, she even took care of Damon; his temperament alone would be reason enough for anyone to go racing for the front door.

Not to mention, she had nurtured Bonnie's growth as a witch.

He and Fiona did everything a mother and son should do. They set the dinner table together, prepared supper together and she offered him a consoling shoulder to lean on whenever thoughts of Elena being held captive sent him reeling over the edge.

There was no way in hell he was going to compromise this newfound bond just for a taste of blood.

Mustering all the resistance inside of him, he retracted his canines and lifted her from the forest floor.

"We should head back to the house," he exclaimed, offering Bonnie an apologetic smile.

She watched the way the tiny yellow veins gradually receded. Stefan Salvatore was back and for that, she was truly grateful.

"The man – he came from out of nowhere," Bonnie explained, eyes still wide in disbelief.

She sat before the unlit fireplace, clasping a maroon colored pillow. Damon was right beside her, one arm slung around her shoulder, gingerly rubbing circles along her upper arm.

"He said...he..." Her eyebrows were furrowed in sudden fright.

Damon felt her body tense. He wanted so badly to make her fears subside and show her that she would be safe with him.

First there was the little matter of that body in the woods. Stefan and Damon had since disposed of the charred remains the best way they knew how.

They reduced it to ashes and buried the dust beneath the soil in Fiona's backyard.

"What did he say?" Damon urged her to go on.

Bonnie leaned her head against his sinewy shoulder. She shuddered as the words rolled painfully off her tongue. "The Witch must die."

He could count to ten, take deep breaths or attempt any other exercise designed to quell rage, but it wouldn't have worked. The mere thought of anyone harming Bonnie made his blood boil.

Damon tilted her chin up until their eyes met and did his best to reassure her. "No one is going to die. No one. You got that?"

He felt her body loosen up and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. Stefan amusedly observed his brother's uncharacteristic show of tenderness.

So that's how a man who's not in love acts?

Damon rolled his eyes and offered his brother a taunting remark. Men who are in love usually have wrinkled foreheads, furrowed brows and a raging hero complex. You know, the usual sad sap traits that are in all your favorite books.

At least this sap isn't in denial. There was no one Stefan could think of who ever got under Damon's skin the way Bonnie did. There was, of course, Katherine Pierce – now lying weak, crusty and deteriorated beneath Old Fell's Church.

"They fought," Bonnie continued shakily. "He sent a blast of energy hurling toward the tree. It knocked Fiona out cold. Then..." Her voice trailed off then as her mind became flooded with memories of how frightened she had felt witnessing the supernatural duel.

Damon laced his pale fingers through hers. Peering up at him from beneath a thick, dark fan of lashes, she sighed.

"He began to chant in Gaelic. The words – I didn't recognize them – but he sounded so...sinister. It was almost like he was hissing them...like a snake. Then I saw him lower his hands and it was like...like all the energy from her body was flowing into him. I had to stop it."

"Which explains the flames," Stefan inserted, seated beside a still slumbering Fiona.

"They just shot out from my fingertips," she replied. Bonnie stared at the meticulously polished tips, still surprised by the sheer power that sprung forth. "I don't know how, but when I saw him sucking the life right out of her...it was like my body just knew. It knew what to do even before I did."

Fire was her body's natural defense mechanism. The thought alone made him hot and bothered suddenly.

He had gone racing through the woods like some knight in shining armor, plucked straight from the pages of some twisted fairytale where the undead walked among the living. Except this "damsel in distress" was really no damsel at all; she was fully capable of saving herself.

"You're a real force to be reckoned with, you know that, my dear?"

The familiar sweet lilt caused the trio to turn in unison. "Fiona!" Bonnie beamed, reaching out to envelop the Irish witch in her warmth.

"Careful there," she groaned, as their bodies collided.

Bonnie hastily apologized, causing the copper-skinned woman to chuckle. "It's alright, darling."

Reaching out, she stroked the little witch's cheek with her index finger. "You saved my life. For that, I am...forever indebted to you."

"You owe me nothing," Bonnie replied quickly. "You've pretty much been our guardian angel since Dublin. You owe me noth-"

"I think you'll find I'm very old fashioned. And very stubborn," she interjected.

Attempting to rise from the emerald sofa, Fiona placed a hand on her temple and tried to ignore the deeply distressing feeling of the room spinning 'round and 'round. "That rotten son-of-a-bitch," she muttered.

"So the good witch has a potty mouth after all," Damon smirked.

"Good witch, my arse," she responded with a cheeky smile. "This old bat's got more tricks up her sleeve than you can shake a stick at, little tyke."

Bonnie and Stefan exchanged cheerful glances. If there was one thing Fiona did well – aside from casting spells – it was most definitely goading Damon.

They shifted their gazes and found him almost foaming at the mouth. Damon rarely allowed anyone to make a jest at his expense, but it seemed there was a mutual sense of respect between him and Fiona.

Her facial features gradually became sterner, as she cast a glance in Stefan's direction. "There's something you should know, lad." Her brown eyes were filled with such compassion and worry now.

"That man was a henchman of The Fior."

His jaw clenched. "How do you know?"

"The markings on his robe indicated as much," she sighed. "The upside-down clover with a dagger pierced through the center. The lone drop of blood beneath. It's the symbol of The Chosen One. The Fior clansman whose task it is to seek out that which The Three desire most."

"The Witch," Stefan sighed.

"How...original," Bonnie scoffed. "Taking a beautiful symbol like the four-leaf clover and corrupting it for their own twisted purposes. History repeating, anyone?"

Grasping her Nazi swastika reference immediately, Fiona nodded in agreement. "Aye, m'dear."

Damon eyed his younger brother as he sat with his jaw clenched and forehead etched with lines of distress. Every savage thought that ran through Stefan's mind played loud and clear inside of his brain.

Tonight the old Stefan would return – for blood, for revenge and most of all, for the woman he loved.

"That bastard who attacked you and Bonnie," the eternal teen inserted with a scowl. "Was he the one who stole Elena from me?"

"More than likely," Fiona confirmed. "The Three only assign one warlock the monumental task."

"That's stupid," Damon scoffed. "So they leave the monumental task to one inept man witch?"

"Just be thankful that man witch is inept," she reminded him. "Otherwise our fair Bonnie would be..."

She couldn't bring herself to say the words; instead she merely sighed and rubbed the witch's arm in a calming gesture.

Stefan stared intensely at Bonnie then. "You gave that son-of-a-bitch exactly what he deserved."

Though she understood his pain, the little witch was still digesting the reality that she had just killed someone. Magic, spells, the odd potion – that was the extent of her witchcraft education before The Prophecy of Tabitha Bellwain entered her life.

Now the barbaric nature of Supernatural warfare was staring her smack dab in the eyes and all she could do was wield her greatest weapon – apparently fire. Now she just had to harness her powers and use them to save Elena.

Hearing every thought that flowed through her brain, Fiona took a deep breath and with one frustrated swipe, combed through her dark wavy locks with her fingers. "I think it's about time we finesse our little plan of attack for tonight."

"Fiona," Bonnie began, looking incredibly worried. "Are you sure you're alright? I mean, after what happened in the woods-"

"I'll be fine," she insisted, not allowing her to get another word of concern in edgewise. "Look, I can easily brew up a batch of healing serum for the wound and then I'll be as good as new. I promise."

"I can help," the little witch offered.

"Well thank you for the offer, my dear. But if you really want to help me, you should get some rest as soon as we're done mapping out our plan of attack," Fiona exclaimed. "Battling The Three is no small feat. We've got a long night ahead of us."

Nodding her agreement, Bonnie immersed herself wholeheartedly in the task at hand.

There was no way she would allow her best friend to be condemned to yet another painful night in The Fior's dank, depressing lair. She would bring her home – at any cost.

"Ew, I think I just saw a field mouse," Caroline squirmed softly.

Reaching out, she instinctively clung to Matt Donovan's bicep and tried to stifle the panicked shriek that was threatening to work its way up her esophagus. The red-haired football ace smiled amusedly in response and gave her hand a playful squeeze.

"Care, you're 5'4". I don't think a mouse is gonna stand a chance against you," he winked.

Feeling a tad silly, she slowly let go and turned back to find Tyler eying them curiously. The dark-haired teen grinned mischievously; Matt sure was being nice to Caroline tonight – really nice.

They had cautiously tailed Sheriff Forbes from The Grill to the woods near Old Fell's Church for half an hour in Tyler's new black Mini Cooper. Matt's red pick-up truck was just too bright and Caroline's custom painted powder blue Civic was obviously too recognizable.

It was hard enough trying to follow a cop without getting caught, but Sheriff Forbes was a whole other level of cop du jour. It was like she had eyes at the back of her head – and just about every other part of her body.

Caroline scrunched her face in pain as sharp branches scraped across her pale bare legs. It was hard enough walking in three-inch designer heels and a pink summer dress, but as her standby motto went, beauty is pain and pain is beauty.

The only problem was beauty was now becoming a massive thorn in her side – or pain in Matt Donovan's firm bottom... Boy do those jeans fit right. Levi's, you've made a believer out of me.

She couldn't suppress the cheeky smile that spread across her adorable creamy white face. Even though she had known Matt since pre-school, the idea of dating him had been off limits.

His heart belonged to Elena and as far as she or anyone else knew, it still did. That puppy-dog look in his eyes each time she passed by was confirmation enough.

As the tall blades of grass grew shorter and the bushes became less dense, the trio found themselves crawling on their hands and knees through the dark forest. Matt's dark washed denim had begun to develop green splotches, while Caroline's knees had begun to turn an irritated crimson hue with specks of dirt scattered around.

Tyler groaned softly behind them, his brand new fitted Calvin Kleins now dingy with dirt and grass stains.

"Great. Brand new and covered in dirt and probably dead bugs," he remarked sarcastically.

Turning to face his friend, Matt chuckled lightly. "Dude. It's called a washing machine. Use it."

Barely noticing their laundry-centric conversation, Caroline was stopped in her tracks by flashlights suddenly pointed in their direction. "Shhh. Guys, shut up."

They tried to stay as still as possible behind the trunks of elms and small bushes with olive green leaves.

"It's alright. It's me," a female voice called out.

Simultaneously, they breathed a sigh of relief. It was Sheriff Forbes they had been flashing their lights at.

Glancing across the field, Caroline saw her mother kneel down beside something sheathed by a black tarp. The other officers looked understandably fatigued and utterly disturbed.

Officer Rodriguez with his curly black hair, tan complexion and oh so noticeable biceps, was speaking seriously to her mother. No doubt he was filling her in on what they had come across.

Was it another Robert E. Lee teacher? Perhaps another student? Or maybe it was...a Supernatural.

"So what have we got here, George?" she addressed the officer.

"One badly decomposed body," he explained.

"How bad?" she queried, arching an eyebrow.

"I'm guessing five, maybe six months buried beneath the soil. Won't know for sure, though 'til forensics gets their hands on the body," he sighed.

"Who found the remains?"

Officer Rodriguez leaned forward. "A couple of 15-year-olds stumbled upon 'em. They were testing out some contraption for the upcoming science fair at Robert E. Lee."

"Designed to seek out dead bodies?" she continued sarcastically, lifting the tarp just a touch.

"Not quite," he smirked. "Two boys were lookin' for gold."

"But they found far more than they were bargaining for," she added, rolling her eyes. "Where are they now?"

"With Ketchum at the station. Their moms are supposed to pick 'em up soon," Rodriguez offered. "They said the machine went nuts when they reached this patch of grass. Then they got their shovels-"

"And dug us up one deteriorating body," she finished with an exasperated sigh. "Hopefully we'll be able to get a positive ID on the vic sometime soon. Maybe dental records-"

"Yeah, about that..." The discomfort was a little more than evident in the officer's voice. He slowly lifted the edge of the tarp.

Reaching for a pair of latex gloves in her back pocket, she placed them snugly over her hands and began to gently lift the tender flap that appeared to be the victim's upper lip. Elizabeth Forbes gasped at the sight of two extended canines too distinct for comfort.

"Those fangs," she exclaimed, still transfixed by their sharpness. "Keep close tabs on those forensics results. I want them on my desk – ASAP. I want absolute discretion from everyone here. We can't let this little discovery make it onto the 6 o'clock news."

Unbeknown to the uniformed officers, the teens huddled together nearby had heard every last word that fell from their lips. A body...with fangs?

Caroline could feel a searing heat race down her spine. She had a very bad feeling about this "secret discovery."

Who did they find? And why on earth did the people in charge of protecting Mystic Falls suddenly look so terrified?

"Fangs?" Her eyebrows shot up in curiosity. "Like...vampires?"

"Down Buffy," Tyler remarked, rolling his eyes. Of course, he thought. Every girl he knew seemed to have an unhealthy fascination with the ultimate vampire slayer.

Matt placed a warm hand on her shoulder. "Care, I think it's time we get out of here. If your mom finds us here, we'll be in the shitter."

"Seriously, she's not that frightening," Caroline insisted. "It's all just an act she puts on to convey – I dunno, authority or a strong presence or whatever."

"Whatever," Tyler remarked. "She's still got a gun. That's scary enough for me. Let's jet."

"Yeah, me and Tye kinda have this no getting shot policy," Matt threw in with a chuckle.

"Awww, come on guys," she pleaded while batting her mascara-coated eyelashes relentlessly. "This is our first mission together. We can't just run away for fear of getting caught."

"Care, seriously. We can hop in the Mystery Machine some other time," the handsome red-head chucked in teasingly.

"But the body," she insisted, almost on the verge of whining.

"So what? Dude has fangs," Tyler remarked dismissively. "So does Stefan Salvatore. But no goes around callin' him Dracula."

She couldn't help but giggle softly in reply. But boy oh boy did Stefan know how to rock a leather jacket and dark wash fitted jeans.

Caroline suddenly became distracted midway through her naughty thoughts. Matt Donovan was playfully rubbing her arm with one of those dazzling, makes you weak in the knees just thinking about it smiles. .

It took only mere seconds to become utterly hypnotized by the pearly whites and delicious pink lips that were taunting her hormonally charged body right now. Mmmm, wonder what it would be like...Elena was such. An. Idiot.

Entranced by the combo of exposed biceps through his t-shirt and close proximity, she leaned back carelessly and felt her shoe collide with a twig, snapping it in half. Turning her head in an instant, Sheriff Forbes stared off in their direction.

They huddled together more closely now and did their best to stay still, silent and virtually invisible. Caroline mentally chided herself for being so clumsy.

They each held their breaths, almost turning blue by the time Officer Rodriguez's super strength flashlight passed by them. The wide tree trunk kept them well concealed; the tall blades of grass helped also.

By the time the lights went out, Caroline Forbes decided to shut her peach gloss-slicked mouth and get a move on with the boys. There was always time for another mission.

Only this time, she would opt for more subdued tones. Perhaps a little black – or camouflage.

Bonnie lay wide awake in bed. Luminous dark waves strewn around her head like a halo, she stared straight ahead at the ceiling.

The maroon comforter was tugged all the way up to her chin, concealing the thin white camisole and grey shorts she sore beneath.

She had been trying to fall asleep for the past hour, but to no avail. Anticipation, excitement and dread all culminated in the pit of her stomach.

It all made her feel so...nauseated.

Rising from the bed, she began to pace back and forth by the bay window. Stefan and Damon appeared to be immersed in an intense discussion in the backyard.

Wagering a guess, Bonnie figured it had a little something to do with the vamp brother tag team routine they had planned for tonight.

She had never seen Stefan like this before. So vengeful, so...dark.

It was obvious his concern for Elena was consuming him. Anyone who even cast a glance in his direction could tell by his 24/7 defensive demeanor and the distraught poet look in his hazel eyes.

Ouch. The discomfort inside of her stomach only seemed to swell.

Bonnie placed a hand on the window sill for support. A sudden sense of dizziness overcame her.

Must sit down. Need to sit down now, Bennett. Allowing herself to land on the ledge by the window with a soft thud, she leaned against the green cushions Fiona had placed there especially for decorative purposes.

It had been less than 24 hours since she had willingly surrendered her v-card. In truth, she was still feeling a little sore from Damon's impassioned thrusts.

He wanted her – all of her.

Waking up beside him was about as surreal as life could get. Two weeks ago, she would have laughed, cried and then vomited at the mere insinuation that she and Damon Salvatore were destined to get it on and combine DNA for the birth of a little Supernatural Michael Jordan.

Now all she could do was pinch herself because it felt so good being in his arms. When he kissed her, it made her toes curl and her body white hot.

His fingers always managed to end up entwined in her dark wavy locks. His other hand seemed to be driven by mischief; it was always the first one to grab her ass.

Then again, she couldn't deny the immeasurable pleasure of being hoisted up by her bottom into the arms of a devastatingly sexy man.

Thanks to her incredibly vivid vision of Elena, there hadn't been much time to lounge around in bed and reminisce about the way he felt inside of her. Then again, they weren't exactly on a bed to begin with.

Bonnie grinned wide, the spitting image of Damon's Cheshire Cat-like expression. She hadn't paid a visit to the scene of the crime all day long.

Quickly pulling off her shorts and replacing them with gray knee-length yoga pants, Bonnie made her way to the door. Yanking it open, she found Fiona standing with her arms folded across her chest.

"Naughty, naughty," she declared, shaking her head from side to side. "Didn't we agree that you would get some rest before we head out tonight?"

"I...uh...tried?" she stammered, shrugging her shoulders.

"Obviously not hard enough," Fiona retorted with a knowing grin. "You can feel the anticipation swelling at the pit of your stomach, can't you?"

"Along with fear...trepidation...oh yeah, and did I mention that part about fear?" the little witch replied with a sigh.

"You must own your fear, my darling."

"Own it?" the emerald-eyed teenager replied quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Look, you can either learn to control your fear-"

"Or?" Bonnie interrupted.

"Or you can allow your fear to control you," the brown-eyed woman finished.

The dark-haired teen gulped aloud at the thought of her own fear somehow dismantling the intricately crafted plan of attack they had assembled together.

No. She wouldn't let that happen.

Fiona quirked an eyebrow in her direction. "Is that your stomach grumbling like an angry old man?"

"Ugh," Bonnie groaned. "It's been killing me all afternoon. I think Mother Nature might be...not really an appropriate topic of conversation, huh?" She stared sheepishly down at her bare feet.

"It's alright," the older witch replied with a laugh.

Placing a hand over her belly, Bonnie took a deep breath. "Could you just give me a minute?"

The Irish woman watched curiously as the little witch made her way rather swiftly to the bathroom.

Sauntering toward the window, she stared out at the open sky.

A black crow was perched atop her red mailbox, poised to spread its wings and fly. Off in the distance, she could barely make out another dark, tiny creature soaring high. It quickly disappeared into the thick brush of trees.

There was so much beauty in the world, she thought, watching the sunset behind the green backdrop.

"That little shit," Maya McCullough breathed harshly.

Her cheeks were stained bright crimson from the physical exersion of combing through the dark forest for hours. Rufus McCullough was her target.

She needed to find him before he could hurt anyone else. Talk of that high school student, Meredith Richards and her "crazy" ramblings about being attacked by a man with wings near Old Fell's Church had spread fast.

If the mortals only knew, she thought with a frustrated sigh. He has to be around here somewhere.

Clasping a smooth peach colored stone in her palm, the plump fairy scanned every inch of the woods near Old Fell's Church with her crystal blue eyes. She stood beneath the light of the full moon with Tituba Bennett's words playing in her mind like a tape recording.

You and Rufus may share a bloodline, but he's not the same boy you grew up with. He's an enraged, irrational Supernatural with powers that rival your own.

'An Solas.' That was the name Bonnie's grandmother had used for the stone. It meant 'The Light' and it would guide whoever was in need of its services, to the thing or person they sought.

At first, the stone would flicker a bright hue of peach and then it would turn blood red when the object or individual was close enough to be seen. So far, nothing had happened – not even a flash of illumination.

"Where are you, Rufus McCullough? Come out, come out...wherever you are," she spoke aloud.

Only the persistent hooting of owls and chirping of crickets could be heard.

She was nearing the end of her tether now. "Do you really think Emmeline would have wanted you to carry on this way?" If anything was bound to make him stir, the mention of his murdered wife would certainly do the trick.

"Do you honestly think she'd approve of the killings?" Maya continued. "She was a good woman. Pure of heart. If she were here now...she wouldn't be able to stand the sight of you."

"The sight of who?" a familiar female voice chimed in.

Great. Law enforcement. Just what I need tonight. "Sheriff Forbes," Maya began, turning to face the uniformed officer. "Out for a midnight stroll?"

"I suppose you could call it that," the blue-eyed woman replied.

Maya clutched the rock tightly, concealing it beneath her white fingertips. Since the attack on Meredith Richards and her friends, the Mystic Falls Police Department had declared the woods off limits after 12:30am.

The last time a curfew of any kind had been imposed on the town was 145 years ago.

Glancing down at her watch, the fairy mentally chided herself. The past couple of hours had practically flown by in a snap. 12:45am

"Oh my," she laughed nervously. "Seems I lost track of time. I should probably be going."

As she took one step forward, Maya found herself suddenly blocked by a stern looking Elizabeth Forbes. "Mind telling me what you're doing out here this late at night?"

"Well technically it's the morning," the sapphire-eyed fairy unwittingly offered. Uh oh. Not a good idea to correct law enforcement – especially when they're armed. Oh what am I saying?! I haven't done anything wrong. I was...just strolling around. That's all the bitch needs to know.

"Well technicalities aside," Lizzie Forbes continued. "I'm still going to need an explanation. Mayor Lockwood was very adamant about keeping residents away from Old Fell's Church. Did you miss the town hall meeting?"

"I suppose I did," she admitted, staring at the ground. Why on earth is she speaking to me with such an...accusatory tone of voice?

"Oh yeah? Why is that?" The Sheriff proceeded to slowly circle her like a predatory beast often does to its prey.

"Well I've got a business to run, for starters. I'm the only one bringing home the bacon, so that kind of takes precedence," she smiled.

"Oh yes, Georgiana's. Trinkets for the ones you love," Elizabeth exclaimed, reciting the store's longstanding slogan. "You also seem to possess quite a fondness for exotic plants," she casually threw in.

"Uh...yes." Where is she going with this?

"Do you know what happens when you combine a Hibiscus Lobatus with a Chinese Flora and Dried Bluebells?" the short-haired blond inserted, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Potpourri?" Maya answered, suddenly incredibly confused. Seriously. What. Is. She. Playing. At?

Sheriff Forbes paused before offering her a knowing smirk. "But what happens you add the blood of an eel and blessed water?"

"A really foul stench?" This was getting ridiculous. "Look, I've got an early morning ahead of me and I'd like to get some rest. So why don't you just tell me what you're trying to get at so I can be on my way."

The truth was, you'd get more than just a foul stench with those two ingredients; you'd get one potent batch of revenge. Yes indeed, you could exact revenge upon an enemy by simply slipping it into their tea or coffee.

The key was visualizing the punishment you had in mind for your intended while pouring the thick syrup. Then you had to chant a Welsh incantation.

Of course the water could only be blessed by a seasoned witch. Maya steered clear of the dark brews, as they were known.

Revenge was like a disease. If you let it spread enough, sooner or later, you'll find yourself floundering because of it.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," Sheriff Forbes insisted, stopping behind her. "You see, I think you know very well what that little grocery list of ingredients combines to make."

"Are these baseless assumptions supposed to mean anything to me?" the plump fairy inquired.

"Yes actually. They should mean something to you – a woman who flaps her wings when she thinks no one is looking to scour the forest in search of God knows what."

Shit. Shit. Holy shit. "I don't know what you're talking about," Maya maintained quite adamantly, folding her arms across her chest.

"No more lies, Ms. McCullough. We've been watching you for quite some time now. We just needed some more evidence to put the nail in the proverbial coffin and guess what? That's exactly what you gave us tonight."

Bolting into that elm tree was probably not the smartest decision in the world, but how else was she supposed to track another fairy? Rufus wasn't partial to keeping his feet on the ground.

Elizabeth came to stand before her and was immediately drawn to a bright light emanating from the palm of the fairy's hand. Her fingers were tightly laced over the object, but still, little bursts of crimson shot out from in between.

"What is that?" the officer asked, taking a step back.

"He's here." Without realizing it, Maya's breathing had stopped. Her ordinarily full pout was now a thin, determined line.

Her eyes darted from tree to tree. She swivelled her hips, looking for any trace of the tall, lithe man with dark hair and eyes just like hers.

Suddenly the petrified scream of Elizabeth Forbes began to batter her eardrums. She turned and found the blond woman face down on the grass, traces of blood splattered on the blades.

Maya lifted her gaze and found a pair of sapphire orbs glaring back at her in the dark.

"Hello, sis. Miss me?"

The blood red moon hung high in the night sky, casting a mystical glow over the town of Kenmare.

Bonnie gazed at the vibrantly hued buildings. It was almost as if someone had summoned the spirit of Joseph and his amazing Technicolor dream coat.

The sidewalks were bare, not a person in sight along the lengthy stretch of road. There, looming high above was the tip of the church steeple, so gothic and mildly unnerving in the dark.

A sudden chill swept through the streets. The little witch felt her teeth begin to chatter slightly and began taking deep, steady breaths to calm down.

For Elena, she reminded herself.

Dressed in white wrap sweater, dark wash skinny jeans, brown riding boots and a charcoal cropped peacoat, Bonnie was style, sophistication and functionality all in one. Her hair had been swept up into a neat half-ponytail, accentuating her high cheekbones and glorious green eyes.

The Salvatore brothers stood to her right. Never to be outdone, they sported their usual combination of black leather and raw sex appeal.

Fiona wore dark grey trousers and a purple cowl neck sweater with a chocolate hued trench coat, belted tightly around her tiny waist. Bonnie had never noticed how much smaller she was than everyone else before, but it became painfully apparent when they were all standing side by side.

Taking a deep breath, she began to lead the others along the ancient wall in search of the sliver of space she had passed through in her dream. Her heart was pitter pattering inside of her chest at an accelerated pace.

What if they never found the chink in the wall? What then?

Her eyes scanned every inch of the stones, so snugly positioned with thick slatherings of mortar in between. Nothing but slate gray in sight.

She turned her head and found Damon following closely behind. Fiona was not far from them with Stefan trailing her protectively.

Every harsh ridge of aged stone could be felt beneath her smooth fingertips...until all she could feel was a cool swish of air.

Turning swiftly, she found herself facing the sliver of space they had been searching for. Relief washed over her, but with it came a sudden sense of fear and trepidation.

Bonnie felt something frigid slide smoothly into her hand. Glancing down, she found Damon lacing his fingers together with hers.

There was such passion in his crystal blue eyes; they bore into her soul and she felt completely naked. "I'm right here," he whispered reassuringly into her left ear.

Squeezing his hand gently, she made her way effortlessly through the small opening. The brothers and Fiona followed suit, landing with a gentle thud on the grass.

Rolling hills the color of sage stretched out as far as the eye could see. To her right was a tightly knit cluster of alders, branches extending up to the heavens.

Stefan Salvatore tossed a black canvas bag on to the ground and began to retrieve a few supplies. Grasping nine cream colored candles, he turned to Bonnie for further directions.

"Over there," she instructed him, pointing at the precise location of the ruins in her dream.

Carefully, he positioned eight of the wide candle sticks in a circle. The ninth one, he placed at the centre, before striking a match and lighting them all.

"Perfect," Fiona remarked. "Now you boys take a step back and let the girls show you how it's really done," she winked.

Bonnie took a deep breath and did all she could to quell the fear and uncertainty brewing in the pit of her stomach. "Let's do this. For Elena."

Closing her eyes, she joined hands with Fiona. Gathering every ounce of fortitude inside of her, she began to chant vigorously in unison with the Irish witch.

"Iarraimid ort, Elora! Iarraimid ort, Elora! Iarraimid ort, Elora! Iarraimid ort, Elora!"

Their booming voices stopped then. Bonnie and Fiona unlocked their hands from one another and placed their palms together, as if to pray.

Damon swore he could hear a bolt of lightening crackling ferociously somewhere off in the distance.

The witches began the Reverse Phantasm by calling on the wisdom of the East, the spirit of the West, the strength of the North and the heart of the South.

"Eagna an Oirthir, an croí an Iarthair, neart an Spioraid Thuaidh agus an Deisceart. Cearn den domhan le chéile chun a thaispeáint mar chroí na súile le cad atá istigh leis seo."

The candles flickered momentarily as a cool breeze swept through the field. Bonnie's luminous raven locks swirled around her face, giving her the appearance of a Goddess – of supremely Supernatural proportions.

Damon marvelled at the sight of her so determined and bewitchingly beautiful. She could melt even the most obstinate heart – he was living...undead proof.

"Eagna an Oirthir, an croí an Iarthair, neart an Spioraid Thuaidh agus an Deisceart. Cearn den domhan le chéile chun a thaispeáint mar chroí na súile le cad atá istigh leis seo."

Bonnie could feel tiny beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead. Her chest began to burn with urgency and excitement.

She struggled to maintain her balance as the ground began to rumble beneath them. A lone droplet of water landed on the tip of her nose.

A storm was brewing.

Bolts of lightning spread out across the pitch black sky and moments later there came the first resounding boom. Bucket loads of water began drenching them to the bone.

Bonnie's lips quivered as she continued the call with Fiona.

"Eagna an Oirthir, an croí an Iarthair, neart an Spioraid Thuaidh agus an Deisceart. Cearn den domhan le chéile chun a thaispeáint mar chroí na súile le cad atá istigh leis seo."

Their chant came to a sudden halt. The little witch squinted, peering through one eye at a time.

Fiona was gazing at the candles, now fully doused by the pouring water.

"Where is it?" Bonnie shrieked, the realization that nothing had happened, sinking hurtfully in.

"I – I don't know," Fiona stammered, looking equally as baffled.

Before either could continue, Stefan began to shout. "Guys, look!"

White mist began to slither from the ninth candle. It moved around them slowly, brushing against their cheeks with its exceptional heat.

The earth began to tremble again. Bonnie was seconds away from slamming onto the forest floor head first, but Damon's strong arms were around her in an instant.

He held her close and reached out to steady the Irish witch. Stefan raced toward them swiftly and held onto Fiona.

"What's happening?" he shouted, against the powerful gusts of wind now ploughing into them with such force.

The mysterious mist had already traveled back to the candle and now, swelling over top of them was a giant white orb. Bonnie was immediately reminded of the massive explosion of energy at The Stone Circle...and then in her dream.

"Shield your eyes!" she yelled, placing her arm protectively over her face.

It happened within a mere second. The explosion of light was strong enough to render a person completely blind.

By the time it had come to an end, she moved her arm and found thick plumes of smoke masking everything around her. Don't panic. Remember how it was in the dream. Don't panic.

"Guys!" she called out. "Are you there?"

The first voice she heard was Damon's. "I'm here. You okay?"

"I am," she replied, feeling relief wash over her at the sound of him so close by. "Stefan? Fiona?"

"I'm alive," the Irish witch shouted.

Stefan's voice rang out next. "Still undead and loving it."

"Awww, you made a little funny, Stefan." Damon chuckled, as the mist began to recede and the other three came into view again.

Their mouths were completely agape. As soon as he followed their line of sight, he knew exactly why.

The ruins stood before them now, arches stretching out beyond the tree tops. Bonnie had described it to a tee.

Stone burial tablets lined one end of the old cathedral, denoting the presence of bodies buried beneath. Remnants of the pews were on either side with intricate carvings etched into the wall of stone where the priest would have stood, reading his sermons. Although, Damon had serious doubts has to whether or not a priest would have consented to setting foot inside of this place at all.

There was something far too sinister at play here to house any positive sentiments.

He observed the terrified expression on Bonnie's face, marring her delicate features for a brief moment. He slipped his hand into hers and began to walk in the direction of the doorway. Half of it was missing and the rest had been severely cracked by age.

Fiona and Stefan were right on their heels. They were instructed to look for any symbols or mysterious markings that might suggest a possible passage way to the lair of The Three.

Damon scanned the pews, while Stefan tended to the aisles. Fiona circled the ancient structure for any possible clues.

Bonnie stood by the altar, observing the discoloured shards of stained glass that remained attached to the window frame overhead. There were statues on either side of her, the bodies of cherubs with the faces of little devils, snarling as if enraged by their very presence.

They sent a chill sliding most uncomfortably down her spine.

Suddenly she was jarred by the sound of Stefan Salvatore, yelling in frustration. "Fuck!" He was pounding his balled up fists repeatedly against the stone wall, about to lose his mind over Elena.

Tilting his head skyward, he sniffled. It sounded to Bonnie like the vampire was doing his best to contain a fit of tears, threatening to cascade down his cheeks at any moment.

"We need to find her, Bonnie." He looked so broken.

He was mad as hell. All he wanted was Elena and now somehow, the fates had conspired against him. He was the good brother. He was the dutiful son.

Elena was goodness too. She was kind, loving and so tender with him. And yet she was trapped in some dank, depressing place, being held captive by three men who were bent on hate and brutality. This wasn't fair.

Slamming his fist back into the wall, he cried out in anguish. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"This is not the time to lose your cool," Damon declared in a gruff tone. He grabbed his brother's shoulders and pushed him against the wall.

Stefan shoved him with all of his might and sent him flying across the cathedral. The blue-eyed vampire rose swiftly, dusting off his Italian leather jacket and growling. "You think this is helping Elena?"

"I need to find her," Stefan replied through gritted teeth.

"We will find her, Stefan." Bonnie's voice came out as a muffled sob. "I'm so sorry they took her. It should have been me."

"No," Damon breathed. "Stop it. This is madness."

"No, it isn't," she sighed. "It's the truth."

All he wanted to do right now was gather her in his arms and kiss her passionately until her body felt enflamed and all the negativity in the world became a distant memory that couldn't terrorize her anymore.

He was about to leap to her side when suddenly the ground gave way.

Bonnie and Stefan ran to the spot where he had been standing mere moments before and called out to him. "Damon! Hold on, Damon!"

It was a pitch black portal that had suddenly stirred to life. Something had provoked it, but what?

The teenage witch gathered all the courage she could muster. She had to save him!

"No, Bonnie!" Stefan yelped, holding her in place firmly. "You can't go after him just like that. You could be walking into a trap. Let me do it."

"But Stefan-"

"No buts," he ordered. "That son-of-a-bitch is my brother. If anyone should go after him, it's me."

"But I-" You what, Bonnie? You like him? What?

Stefan smiled and leaned in, whispering into her ear. "It's alright. I know."

With those final words, the younger Salvatore disappeared into the sea of black with Bonnie watching after him fearfully.

She turned to find Fiona stumbling in just then. "Bonnie! Where are the-"

Her breath hitched just as she arrived by the little witch's side. "So this is where they've been hiding."

"Damon fell through and I tried to go after him, but Stefan went after him instead. He told me to stay here," she rambled frantically. "But I can't. I just can't. I need to know they're alright, Fiona. Please. Help me help them."

"You know I will," the witch eyed her seriously. Fiona leaned against the wall, preparing to charge at the portal. Then, in a split second, it vanished.

"No! Wait! What happened?" Bonnie shouted. "Where did it go?"

She got down on her hands and knees and began bashing the ground with her fists, nearly drawing blood. "Damon! Stefan!"

The older woman leaned forward, yanking her off the floor. "No Bonnie," she said, tilting her chin up. "We'll find a way to open it up again. We can't be hysterical right now."

Fiona held her close, stroking her back reassuringly. Bonnie leaned her chin on her shoulder and stared at the spot where she had been standing just a moment before. Damon was standing precisely...

"There," the green-eyed witch exclaimed, suddenly experiencing perhaps the greatest epiphany she had ever had in her life.

"There? What are you talking about," the copper skin woman asked, releasing the young girl from her embrace.

Bonnie approached the wall and found a piece of stone jutting out from beneath the window frame. It was attached to an image that had been carved into the wall, except one part of it had fallen off.

Observing the shape clearly, she realized the protruding piece was the stem of a four leaf clover, now reduced to two and a half leaves thanks to the less than stellar preservation of the ruins.

She applied pressure on the stem, but it wouldn't budge. Then another thought occurred to her.

Stepping slightly to her left, she lifted the stem and instantly, the portal reappeared. "Oh my God," she gasped. "They were fighting. Stefan threw Damon and Damon landed against this. That's how he fell through."

"So it seems their married couple bickering is good for something, after all." Fiona smirked slightly.

"Guess so," Bonnie chimed in. "I just hope it doesn't get them killed."

The two women knew what they had to do. Fiona gestured for the little witch to move back.

"Me first. Then you," she declared. "We need to keep you safe."

"Ugh, fine," she groaned impatiently.

Fiona leapt from the ground into the portal. It resembled a swirling vortex of black pen ink, only a greater viscosity.

When her petite form had finally disappeared from sight, Bonnie inhaled deeply...and jumped. She fell forever in a sea of nothingness.

She was alone and getting dizzier by the second, being dragged along by the suction of the gateway to lord knows where. Holding her head in her hands, she somehow managed to get her body into a fetal position.

Soon after, she landed with a resounding thud against the sand. Bonnie yelped softly and placed a hand on her temple. No blood. Thank god.

Physically, everything appeared to be in place. Her arms were still in their sockets, so were her legs and her neck was still remarkably intact.

Portals were such strange methods of transportation. It made her wonder what the one at The Stone Circle would be like, should they ever get the chance to use it.

Bonnie surveyed her surroundings. The walls were made of hard, damp rocks, covered in moss and there before her were three tunnels.

No sign of Damon, Stefan or Fiona. She was alone again.

There were torches placed along the wall, offering her at least some light to gauge the hole in the ground her boyfriend...er...Damon had stumbled into quite literally just minutes ago. They had to be somewhere.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. Three possibilities. Three assholes who want me dead. Three friends missing. Coincidence much?

I guess settling this little dilemma with eeny meeny miny mo probably isn't such a good idea.

Bonnie took a deep breath and opted for the one on the left.

She allowed her fingertips to brush against the ancient moss-covered stone and felt droplets of water trickling down periodically from overhead. She had memorized their plan of attack to a tee.

Fiona had taught her a great deal about transfiguration in the brief time they had spent together. She told her that many witches were capable of taking on the appearance of objects or other persons, but often, it took them a great deal of effort and energy.

Bonnie, on the other hand, could sop up all the details of a person's physical features with just one glance and reproduce it on herself within seconds. Another fascinating fact about The Chosen Witch.

She could still remember sitting on Grams's lap as a child while they read books about witches, wizards and fairies. Back then, of course, she was under the very inaccurate impression that they were all kind, rosy-cheeked and friendly to kids.

So much for that little misconception. Then again, Auntie My was literally a good fairy. She was a good witch and so were Grams and Fiona. Now wizards...Harry Potter, maybe?

Her feet began to ache. So much for choosing the right tunnel.

Bonnie wondered how the others were doing. Did anyone else happen to choose door number one – or was she the only idiot who decided to accept the first offer instead of shopping around?

Unfastening the pins that held her hair in place, she ran her fingers through the thick, wavy mass. Boy had the rain done a number on it.

She glanced down at the sand and gravel beneath her boots. So far, everything about this place reeked of dinginess.

Then again, what else could you expect from Team Evil? Obviously not good taste.

She kept moving, her heart beating faster than it had been inside the cathedral. Still no sign of the others. This was far more than just a little concerning.

Picking up the pace, Bonnie did her best to ignore the searing pain at the ball of her right foot. She needed to get inside that lair. Elena's life depended on it.

As she charged forward, a set of cold hands locked her in place. One hand was clamped down over her mouth, while the other gripped her waist.

Bonnie bit down on their fingertips and tried to wriggle her way out of their grasp, but it was all for naught. They were unrelenting.

"Shhh," a familiar masculine voice soothed. His cool breath caused goosebumps to spring up along the side of her neck. "It's me. It's Stefan."

He slowly removed his hand from her lips and chuckled lightly as she threw her arms around him in a warm embrace. "Stefan. I'm so happy you're alright. Where's Damon? And Fiona – I haven't seen her either."

"I don't know," he sighed, eyebrows furrowed with worry. "But if there's one thing I know about my brother, he knows how to survive. I'm sure we'll find them soon, Bonnie."

"I really hope so, Stefan. I can't lose him. I won't."

"No. You won't," he reassured her. He paused for a moment, looking more serious now. "I think we need to come up with plan b."

Elena Gilbert could feel Death, cradling her in his arms until she closed her eyes and fell asleep for good.

Her vision had become severely blurred and unfocused. The emptiness in her stomach had conjured up the most intense pain she had ever felt.

The metal restraints around her wrists had already drawn blood. She had reached the point where the world and all of its infinite possibilities ceased to exist. She would never be able to see daylight ever again, she supposed mournfully.

In her heart, she knew Stefan would never abandon her. He would turn the world inside out to find her, but when he did, would it be too late?

Sometimes she dreamed about him. He held her close and they danced – her in a floor-length white satin gown and him in a tuxedo, her dashing savior.

She kept her eyes shut most of the time now. Each time she opened them, it was like waking up to a nightmare over and over again.

No light, only darkness. A single tear trickled down her pale cheek as she pondered another night here in this place.

She could hear The Three, speaking in a language she couldn't understand. Like always, they huddled around their precious fountain.

When they weren't vigorously searching for Bonnie, they were communicating with other members of the clan through the waters. They had already been in contact with the warlock, Rudyard Duke.

He was their Chosen One. From what she could surmise by their booming laughter, they were getting much closer to Bonnie.

Elena could still recall Rudyard's devious face and those beady little eyes that shot darts of hate right through her. His nose was long with a decidedly pointy tip and his smile was even worse than his scowl.

Since her arrival, The Three taunted her daily. At least for a moment or two, she would have some peace.

She could hear them again, carrying on like children in their foreign language. They laughed maniacally and pounded their fists against the ledge of the fountain.

She could hear everything, including the distinctive squeaking of a bat. Sometimes they ventured down this way, small, mysterious creatures that they were.

Often, Lord Everett, the eldest of The Three, would twist their heads off and toss them into the waters to conjure up some unsavoury spell. These men were merciless – even to other creatures of the night.

The truth was, Everett frightened her the most. His dark eyes were like charcoal, likely the color of his heart. He was ruthless and he had been the one who forced her to drink from the fountain.

The word "Duine" was still etched into her forehead, but now the wound had begun to heal somewhat. It had begun to clot, leaving each letter covered with dark, rough patches of dried up blood.

His skin was snow white and his lips were thin with wrinkles all around. He had not aged well on the outside, but what he lacked there, he made up for in strength and deviousness.

Lord Atwater towered above the rest at 6'5" with graying chestnut hair and powder blue eyes. He would have been a handsome man, had it not been for the extreme ugliness in his heart. He was second in command.

Then there was Lord Davies and his devious green gaze. He bore an alabaster complexion with crow's feet extending from his eyes over his cheeks. Such a foul temper on that one.

Elena allowed her head to hang, unable to fight the drowsiness that weighed her down. She wanted so much to be in Stefan's arms right now – somewhere far, far away from this place.

"My Lords." The familiar masculine voice caused her to shudder violently.

"Do you have The Witch?" Lord Everett questioned.

As she raised her head, the brunette felt an awful sense of dread overwhelm her. It was him – the sinister stranger who had ripped her body from Stefan's grasp the night of the dance.

His devious violet eyes bore into her for a moment and all she could think to do was run, but shackled in place against the walls kept her well within his view. He observed her closely – probably drinking in the sight of her so completely stripped of hope and light, she thought.

"'Tis a monumental day for our kind," Rudyard Duke declared, leaving the cave momentarily. When he returned, Elena's heart sank to the pit of her stomach. "I give you The Chosen Witch."

He dragged her into the lair by her long, dark locks. Bonnie yelped in pain, as he punched her in the stomach.

Her hands were bound by rope and tears streamed freely down her cheeks. "Elena!" she shrieked.

The two girls locked eyes, wanting so desperately to run into each other's arms and never let go. "Bon-Bonnie," she cried out weakly. Her voice was cracking so often now and she was severely dehydrated.

"Isn't this lovely?" Lord Davies scoffed. "One witch and one bitch. Which one gets to die first?"

"I say we kill 'em together," Rudyard threw in cruelly. "I'd like to relish the sounds of their screams simultaneously."

"Excellent idea," Lord Everett concluded.

"What say you to a good beheading?" the sinister stranger queried with a disgusting glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

The Three pondered his request for a moment, licking their lips in anticipation of the historic moment about to unfold in their homestead. They snickered at the thought of inflicting such agony on the young women.

Blood curdling screams, fresh blood, a Prophecy dismantled – what more could they ask for?

"Alright, Rudyard. I suppose since you were successful – after much difficulty, mind you – excruciating death by beheading sounds very good, indeed."

"Bring The Witch. I'll get the girl," Lord Davies instructed him, his blue eyes fixated on Elena.

"This is the end, young one," he sneered. He unlocked the restraints holding her captive and immediately, her body fell forward.

Her legs were so numb; it was almost as if she no longer just instinctively knew how to walk. Her body collided with the ground so harshly, she felt as though her bones would break.

Carelessly, the warlock flung her over his shoulder and chuckled at her expense. "I take great pleasure in watching you crumble to pieces. Your death will be most pleasing."

He placed her on the ground beside Bonnie, the witch's hands still bound. Elena tried to sit up to embrace her best friend, but her body simply felt too weak. Every small movement hurt so much.

Bonnie reached out and grasped her hand. "How touching," Lord Atwater scoffed.

"I suppose it's only fitting they die together," Lord Everett chuckled maniacally. With that, he fetched a sword from the racks that hung along the stone wall.

Bonnie gulped aloud at the sight of the glistening steel. "May I do away with the frail one?" Lord Davies chimed in eagerly.

"I'll do away with The Witch," Lord Everett reminded him.

Davies positioned himself to strike fast and hard and as he began to move forward, that mysterious little bat flew into his robes. Rolling his eyes, the warlock prepared to zap the creature into oblivion.

Elena struggled to see what all the commotion was about, but when the blurriness began to subside, all she could see...was a dagger ripping through Davies's body from his navel to his throat. The next thing she knew, Stefan Salvatore emerged from inside the robe, his face splattered with the warlock's blood.

The brown-eyed vampire licked the blade clean before slashing the man's throat violently. Then in an instant, he was by her side with his arms wrapped protectively around her body.

Lord Davies's mutilated corpse fell to the ground, landing with a loud thud. He was dead – by the blade of his own dagger.

Lord Everett snarled at the sight of the vampire and readied himself to unleash hell on the creature who dared to interrupt his little slice of heaven. He looked down to where The Witch was waiting and decided to get rid of her first. Above all, The Prophecy had to be stopped.

He was about to swing his sword when a bolt of electricity stung him in the back. He collided with the wall of the fountain, leaving him with an open gash on the forehead.

Turning his head swiftly, he glanced irately in Rudyard Duke's direction. A traitor in our midst?

But what he found shocked him even more. Rudyard Duke was not Rudyard Duke; it was The Chosen Witch in disguise.

By the time his gaze shifted back to the girl he was about to decapitate – the one he thought was Bonnie Bennett – he found an older woman with copper skin, freeing herself from the rope that bound her wrists. She did it with grace; she did it with magic. It was Fiona.

Stefan lifted Elena's fragile body into his arms and tried to get her away from The Three. Anticipating the vampire's next move, Lord Atwater closed his eyes and began to summon the most incredible headache the younger Salvatore had ever experienced.

Unbeknown to the warlock, Fiona Reid was already on her feet standing behind him. She was well schooled on how to provoke an aneurism with steady concentration.

Deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine, she sent the most intense, searing pain she could conjure into his brain, attacking every last nerve she could find. The sound of his guttural cries pierced Elena's eardrums as she held on tighter to Stefan.

Somehow he had managed to keep her locked in his embrace, despite the head-splitting agony he had just endured. Swivelling his neck, he watched in horror as Lord Everett charged at Bonnie with his silver dagger drawn.

"No!" he yelled. "Bonnie, watch out!"

Eyes wide, mouth agape, Bonnie turned to find Damon and Lord Everett colliding combatively in midair. They landed hard on the sand and gravel, both groaning at the initial impact.

The sapphire-eyed vampire climbed on top of the warlock and proceeded to deal blow after enraged blow. "No one,' he grunted. "Touches her. No one," he breathed. "But me."

Leaning in close, Damon unleashed his canines viciously on the man's throat. Lord Everett's body convulsed beneath the unrestrained beast, as he feasted on his aging flesh.

Miraculously, Damon's body was flung across the cave. Everett had managed to focus enough of his energy on freeing himself and now stood, braced to attack the little witch at any moment.

It was then that Fiona leapt protectively in front of her and shouted a command Bonnie had never heard before. "Beir!"

Within seconds be was encased by a transparent dome. Bonnie's eyes were wide with confusion and gratitude.

She watched Damon as he lifted himself off the ground and immediately ran to his side. "You need to leave," he declared. "We can take it from here."

"No," she replied adamantly. "I'm not leaving you."

"You need to stay alive," he insisted, gripping her arms.

"I'm not going anywhere!" she shouted in her loudest tone.

"The Prophecy is nothing without you!" he reminded her.

"We're in this together," she passionately replied.

He reached out with such quickness that it caught her off-guard. Bonnie gasped, as she was suddenly hauled against him. "Don't you understand? You are everything."

His lips came down hard, plundering hers until she moaned in sheer bliss. It felt like more of a declaration than a mere kiss.

Reluctantly, the vampire pulled away. Though he was devoid of a pulse and his skin was alabaster in color, his cheeks had somehow become stained a vibrant cherry hue.

Bonnie gazed intently into his ocean blue orbs. Gone was the boyish indignation she had come to expect from him; in its place was genuine adoration and something that resembled the feeling she could have sworn had begun to grow inside her heart.

"Damon!" They turned simultaneously at the sound of Stefan's strained yelp.

Lord Atwater was no longer grasping his head in his hands. He was now charging full steam ahead at Damon with nothing but pure abhorrence in his crystal blue eyes.

"Now you die," he raged on.

Shoving Bonnie protectively out of harm's way, Damon prepared himself for a duel to the death. He growled fiercely, baring his canines for the warlock. His gaze became shadowy and obsidian in hue, as he beckoned the Supernatural forward with his index finger.

He raced forward and braced himself to make contact with the warlock midair when Stefan swooped into the battle instead. Damon had never seen his brother this vengeful and blood thirsty in all their years together.

He tore into Atwater's throat with monstrous savageness and spat out delicate pieces of flesh. His mouth was filled with blood, dripping red syrup all over the floor of the cave.

His actions may have rendered the man weaker, but nothing could kill a Lord of The Fior but their own dagger. Stefan tried to sneak his hand inside Atwater's gray robe, but the warlock anticipated his next move and sent a bolt of lightning surging through his body, causing him to shudder violently in response.

That gave Damon enough time to transform. He spread his wings and flew as close to the ground as he could. When he reached his feet, the crow flew inside of the warlock's robe and searched for the shiny blade.

Noticing a glimmer of sliver to his right amidst the darkness, he shifted back into his human form and grabbed the object, thrusting it barbarously into the man's chest repeatedly. Blood spewed forth, splattering all over his beautiful face.

Damon licked the cherry colored fluid from his fingertips and leapt out from beneath the garment. He watched as the pale-skinned man collapsed onto the floor in a pool of his own blood.

Lord Everett was still encased in the dome. Stefan and Damon were more than prepared to destroy him as well and end this nightmare, but they were stopped in their tracks.

"No," Fiona commanded them. "This has to end. Even if you slay him, this place will remain. There are dark powers within this portal – in such quantities the mortal world should never know. Lord Everett will die tonight – by my hands. For my mother."

"There's something else you're not telling us," Stefan exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed with worry. "What are you keeping from us, Fiona?"

"This place must be permanently sealed. In order to do that, a sacrifice must be made. Only the blood of a royal can accomplish that," she explained, her voice trailing off near the end.

"The Bellwains weren't just Guardians of the Prophecy, were they?" Bonnie questioned her.

"They were the Kings and Queens of The Witching World for many years before Tabitha's time. As the last living descendent, the onus falls on me." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "The truth is, we Bellwains have been searching for this place for ages now. Thanks to you, Bonnie, we can finally see to the destruction of it."

"But there has to be another way," Stefan stated adamantly. His eyes were beginning to well up with tears, as he held onto Elena.

"Oh Stefan," she sighed, placing a hand on his cheek. "You'll never truly understand how much I have grown to adore you. If there were any other way, I wouldn't hesitate to leave with you lot."

"So that's it? You're just gonna stay here?" he asked, his voice on the verge of cracking.

Wrapping her arms around him, she whispered into his ear a vision that had come to her in a dream and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Your mother would have been very proud of the man you've become."

She stared up at Damon thoughtfully. "You know, I didn't like you much when we first met."

Try as he might to maintain his cool, on the inside, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness. "Yeah, that was pretty evident. I've gotta say, you aren't a very good actress."

"Who says I was tryin' to hide it?" she replied saucily.

"Touche."

"You're a good man, Damon Salvatore – whether you realize it or not." For a moment, she grappled with the idea of hugging him. He would undoubtedly squirm in her embrace, but what the heck did she have to lose now?

Throwing her arms around him, Fiona felt him awkwardly patting her back. He watched her with a rather peculiar expression on his face. She couldn't help but chuckle in amusement at his inability to accept affection from others.

By the time she stood before Bonnie, the young woman was already a complete mess. Her cheeks were damp with fresh tears that had begun to stream uncontrollably. "So this is it," she remarked.

"Aye." Fiona brushed aside a lock of dark hair from her temple. "It has been an honor, my dear. My Queen. The courage you displayed tonight was nothing short of extraordinary."

Leaning forward, she placed a kiss on Bonnie's forehead. "Do me one last favor, will you lass?"

"Anything."

"When this place crumbles, you must head to The Stone Circle as quickly as you can. You must leave Ireland and return to your loved ones back in Mystic Falls. A storm is brewing. I can feel it."

After one final embrace, Bonnie stepped back and watched as the transparent encasement disappeared. It had drained Lord Everett considerably, allowing Fiona to pummel him further with her witchcraft.

She plunged the dagger into his chest and instructed them to leave. After seeing the devastation on their youthful faces just moments prior, she couldn't very well allow them to see her make the ultimate sacrifice.

That night, beneath the town of Kenmare, Fiona Bridget Reid stabbed herself in the heart.

R.I.P. The last remaining Bellwain.