Hey Bamon fans! I've got another update for you. It's a huge one, but I have to say, I really enjoyed writing it. Five more chappies to go!
Thank you again to all the phenomenal readers and reviewers out there. I always appreciate hearing your thoughts on what I'm putting out there, so keep 'em coming.
I absolutely love the songs mentioned below and I think they go beautifully with our pair, so enjoy!
P.S. I do not own the characters or storyline represented in TVD - show version or book version. They remain the property of L.J. Smith and the CW Network.
"Don't Wait" by Dashboard Confessional
"Wicked Game" by H.I.M.
"Show Me Your Teeth" by Lady Gaga
"I'd Come For You" by Nickelback
Chapter 15: Deeper
Streams of sunlight bled through the partially drawn maroon curtains. It blanketed their naked intertwined bodies in a sheet of gold.
Damon could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest against his ribcage. Her eyes were still shut and her lips were curved into the most angelic smile.
What he wouldn't give to just lay here like this for an eternity.
Her long raven locks were a tousled seductive mess and as he leaned in to inhale the sweet lavender of her shampoo, he wondered if his little confession last night had really gone unheard.
Damon Salvatore rarely fell into anything. He either went willingly or not at all. Yet somehow, he had fallen in love with the little witch slumbering peacefully in his arms.
She looked radiant beneath the warm glow of the sun. He drank in the sight of her naturally pink cheeks and the enticing butterscotch hue of her skin.
In this lighting it was hard to tell where she began and he ended. They were intricately tangled limbs on sheets of luxurious silk.
Damon fussed with his unkempt midnight locks until the feel of soft wet lips on his chest garnered his attention. Glancing down, he found a pair of bewitching emerald orbs gazing affectionately up at him.
Flashing his trademark side swept smirk, he playfully squeezed her bottom. "Morning, green eyes."
"Very good morning," she yawned, attempting to sit upright for a quick stretch. His hand remained splayed at the small of her back, holding her firmly in place. "You look like the cat that just got the cream," she remarked, stroking his cheek gently with her fingers.
After a night like the one they had just shared, he had every reason to be sporting the wide toothy grin that stretched from one pale cheek to the other. Damon leaned in close until their lips were inches apart. "Meow."
Bonnie pinched his chest teasingly. "Naughty," she sighed.
She knew exactly how to coax the most delicious moans from him. Placing another searing kiss on his abdomen this time, she watched as he responded to the way her tongue traced slow, purposeful circles around his navel.
"You love me when I'm bad," he exclaimed breathily.
Before she knew it, she was being flung onto her back and pressed securely against the firm mattress. Damon was braced on all fours over her body like some fierce predatory beast might do to its prey.
He wanted to devour every mouthwatering inch of her body all over again.
The sounds of those sexy little whimpers that emerged from her full lips were like heaven for his ears. Their bodies stirred in unadulterated lust while their lips became fused together in pure bliss.
With his body now resting fully on hers, Damon leaned in and nuzzled the delicate heated flesh of her throat. "I have an idea," he whispered, allowing his fingers to flick simultaneously over her milk chocolate nipples. "Screw the world. People suck anyway. How 'bout we lock ourselves in here for all eternity, leave that whole saving the Supernatural world bit to Stefan and Elena and just focus on what's really important for a change?"
"Such as?" Bonnie queried, feigning complete innocence with a shrug of her shoulders and a naive expression in her eyes. She knew exactly what constituted "important" in that deliciously wicked mind of his.
"For starters," he smoothly exclaimed, taking a moment to nibble lightly on her earlobe. "This." He was certainly skilled at eliciting sounds from the little witch she didn't even know she was capable of making.
Bonnie cooed into his ear and arched her back in response. The feel of his steadily protruding arousal against her stomach made her entire body feel like it would burst into flames.
Spontaneous. Sexual. Combustion.
The midnight-locked vampire allowed one cold hand to slither down her warm abdomen before resting mischievously between her thighs. She quivered momentarily against him.
Bonnie drank in the sight of him, all sinewy strength braced above her with such astounding tenderness and seductiveness mingled together in his clear blue eyes.
"Now this," he whispered against her lips. "This is a matter of the utmost importance."
Damon began to stroke her sensitive inner walls with his index finger. The warm moistness he felt there was telling enough. She wanted him – badly.
Bonnie gasped when he inserted another finger, this time tending to the swollen nub beneath those soft folds of flesh. She raked her nails down his muscular shoulder blades and felt herself begin to flex around him involuntarily as he continued his sinful assault on her body.
Damon claimed her lips with an aggressive grunt, prying her lips apart with his darting tongue. She moaned into his mouth, consumed by the euphoric, desirous feelings coursing through her veins.
She ground her hips against his thrusting, capable fingers repeatedly. Then in one final determined motion, he shattered her walls and sent her reeling toward ecstasy.
"Were you a pianist in another life?" she breathed raggedly against his mischievously upturned lips.
"No," he smirked.
"You should've been," Bonnie exclaimed, feeling her cheeks grow red with her slightly corny recognition of his ability to 'tickle the ivories.' In this case said instrument was nestled between her brown thighs and the maestro had just given a rather extraordinary performance.
Damon chuckled against her cheek. "Mmm. Is that your way of complimenting me?" he inquired with a boyish smirk.
"So long as you don't let it go to your head," she returned with a grin.
"Which head?" he whispered into her ear with a teasing smile.
Bonnie smacked him playfully on the upper arm and rolled with him across the mattress until he was beneath her naked form. With his arms outstretched above his head, she laced her fingers through his and held him securely in place.
He was fascinated by her for a number of reasons – boldness ranking high on that list. A flicker of pure delight danced around in those hypnotic baby blues.
"We should probably get out of bed," she sighed, feeling his cool silky lips brush languorously against the side of her dangling breast.
They had many tasks ahead of them today and the more they prolonged the inevitable, the more tiring it would be to accomplish their goals. Still, Damon Salvatore was having none of this talk of common sense. Not when they were connected so intimately to one another – on his bed, no less.
Pulling her body back onto his, Damon tightened his hold on her waist. "Must we go through the pros of staying in bed with yours truly for an eternity again, young lady?" He wiggled his eyebrows tauntingly.
Trying to quell desire when those sapphire orbs were staring into your soul wasn't easy. Yes! Yes! Yes! That was the only reply racing rapidly through her mind.
"As much as I'd welcome a repeat performance," she beamed down at him. "We still have a Supernatural world to take care of."
"I'm a Supernatural," he offered with droopy puppy dog eyes. "I need taking care of. Doesn't that count for anything?"
She stared at him thoughtfully for a long while. Once upon a time Damon Salvatore used to make her seethe with fury. Now he made her laugh until she could barely breathe.
Pressing her lips tenderly against his forehead, she whispered into his ear. "You count for a lot."
Damon could have sworn his unbeating heart just skipped a beat.
"So do you," he admitted, brushing aside a rebellious lock of raven hair from her beautiful face.
That brief statement was enough to elicit a heartfelt smile from her. She was more moved than she could express verbally to him.
"Blue," she whispered, kissing him lightly on the cheek.
"Blue?" he scoffed.
"My new nickname for you," she proudly declared. "Unless you prefer 'homicidal vampire'," she laughed.
"I kinda like the last one," he smirked. "Has a nice ring to it. The other one just reminds me of a sappy love song."
"Well get used to it," she replied adamantly, framing his face with her hands.
"Why?" he whined almost childishly.
"I like your eyes," she conceded. "That's why."
Damon batted his dark lashes in reply. "Is that all you like about me?" he inquired, staring intently into her sage tinged irises.
It was almost unnerving, the way he seemed to stare right into her. It was like her soul had been stripped of its armour and was now on public display for the world to see – only Damon was the world and she wasn't entirely certain of what he saw when he looked at her.
It was obvious enough that they were sexually compatible; they could barely keep their hands to themselves. Then there was that emotional bond that had developed so quickly between them.
But how could it be defined. How could they be defined? Were they even definable yet?
Frankly, it was mindboggling that they were even able to feel so comfortable in each other's company, given their rather sordid history. But the way she felt right now went beyond simple "comfort."
She felt – in a word – safe.
"I like a lot about you," she admitted more shyly than she would have preferred to sound.
"Is that so?" he grinned cockily.
Bonnie felt her cheeks flush. If she had a mirror right now, they probably would have been stained bright crimson, she surmised.
"Yes," she admitted, burying her face in his chest.
She could feel the vibration of his vocal chords as he chuckled in response. His fingers were gently entwined in her silky locks as he mustered the courage to at least voice a fraction of his true sentiments.
"Ditto."
"Ditto?" she repeated in partial disbelief, her face still pressed against his chest.
Bonnie slowly lifted her gaze and found him grinning devilishly at her. He knew exactly how to get a rise out of her.
"Ditto," she uttered again. "And here I was expecting a poetic verse or some monumental declaration of 'Bonnie, I don't hate you anymore. Bonnie, I'-"
"I never hated you," he quickly inserted, sealing her voluptuous lips with his index finger. "That was something you assumed. As I explained before, I was only mad at Emily the night I attacked...attacked..."
Damon Salvatore was at a loss for words again.
Here he was – a vampire nearing 170 years of age and yet somehow he managed to become singlehandedly silenced, humbled and totally bewitched by a 17-year-old. Her eyes bore deeply into him and for the first time in his afterlife, he felt stark naked.
Then again, he was stark naked. And so was she.
"It's okay, you know?" Her words came out in a hush tone as she caressed his cheek with her palm. "You don't have to wallow in guilt for the rest of your life because of what happened before."
"Why not?" he wondered aloud, pulling her closer so their lips brushed as they spoke. "Most people think I'm the devil incarnate...and maybe I am for all the things I've done."
"Maybe you are," she offered.
Damon eyed her curiously. He wasn't exactly expecting her to leap into agreement with him.
"You hurt a lot of people over the years," she continued in a soft reflective tone. "I suppose the 'sane' thing to do would be to just hate you."
"It would be rather 'sane' of you," he commented.
"The thing is," said Bonnie, her gaze fixed on his. "I don't. I don't hate you at all."
"Now I'm really beginning to question your sanity," he teased.
Shifting her body, the little witch lay on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. Damon followed her movements, cozying up by her side with his arm flung possessively across her bare stomach.
Bonnie turned her head so their eyes met and grasped his hand firmly. "This is going to sound crazy," she prefaced her next revelation.
"You don't hate me. Can't get much crazier than that," he chucked in.
Smacking him hard on the shoulder, she couldn't help but giggle in reply. "Guess I should be committed for that alone," she responded. They observed each other in silence for a while.
"I used to think I would die young." The words escaped from her lips far too easily for his taste. Damon gripped her hand more securely – reassuringly.
"Why would you think that?" he queried, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"I used to have this recurring dream as a child," she explained. "One minute I'd be racing through the woods near Old Fell's Church and the next, I'd wind up lying in a pool of my own blood."
Damon shuddered at the gruesome thought as it filled her mind before entering his own. The sight of her lifeless body on a mound of grass with an open wound at her stomach gushing blood made him sick.
"I've never told anyone about that before," she revealed in a tone barely audible to mortal ears.
"Well I'm glad you told me," he replied, feeling genuinely baffled and uncharacteristically moved.
Bonnie pressed her forehead gently against his. "I just feel so safe...with you."
The sapphire-eyed vampire gathered her lithe body in his sinewy arms and held her so close it felt like they had literally become one. He needed her to know that absolutely nothing bad would happen to her.
Whatever twisted notions may have plagued her dreams as a child, they would never come into fruition – not in this lifetime and certainly not if he had anything to say about it.
The delectable aroma of scrambled eggs, crisp fatty bacon, toast and freshly ground coffee wafted through the living room from the Salvatore kitchen. Bonnie inhaled it deeply before nudging open the oak door.
Elena beamed up at her from the kitchen table with such childlike bliss that Bonnie immediately had a flashback to the first day they met. She was 4-years-old when a pint-sized brunette with a round nose approached her giddily.
They bonded over an afternoon of moulding Play-Doh, navigating every twist and turn of the jungle gym together and building sand castles – which Tyler Lockwood and his then band of snobs quickly quashed.
So much had changed since those simple days when life could be chalked up to spending a day with your buds and the only glare you received came from the sun.
"Bonnie!" the statuesque teen shrieked uncontrollably, leaping up from her seat beside an elated looking Stefan Salvatore.
"Elena," the little witch breathed into her thick chocolate locks. "I missed you so much."
They embraced for what seemed like an eternity – but even that wasn't long enough. They had already been through so much and the mere thought of letting go of one another was out of the question.
With both girls clearly on the verge of tears, Stefan approached them clutching a pink box of Kleenex.
"Impeccable timing, as usual," Bonnie giggled, plucking one feather light sheet and dabbing at the corner of her eyes. Elena sniffled as she swiped at the cascading fluid on her rosy cheeks.
"I do what I can," he smiled, leaning casually against the richly hued island with his arms crossed and a warm smile plastered on his youthful face. It overjoyed him to see Elena in the arms of her best friend again; it was in such stark contrast to the broken girl he had lifted from the floor of the underground cavern the night before.
"Glad to see the terrible twosome reunited again," he teased, referencing his little term of endearment for their sacred sisterhood.
"That's right," Bonnie replied.
"Better watch out, Salvatore. We're a force to be reckoned with," Elena threw in with her fists balled up playfully in front of him.
"Hah," a familiar male voice chimed in amusedly from the doorway. "Leave it to Saint Stefan to get his ass handed to him by a couple of girls."
"Damon." Elena regarded him with the same frigid tone she had reserved specially for him.
"Elena." He replied in a similar tone, dripping with hostility. "Glad to see Stefan's got his old ball and chain back."
"Funny, I was always under the impression that was your role," she retorted crisply, offering him her most sinister sneer.
"Turns out you're my lacklustre replacement," he returned with a shit eating grin she wanted so badly to claw from his unnaturally handsome face.
"Damon," Bonnie inserted in a reprimanding tone. "Please. Just be nice."
"It's okay, Bonnie," Elena replied calmly. "We all know there's no point in asking Damon to do something he's clearly incapable of."
Her eyes darted uneasily from her best friend to the man who had unexpectedly begun to feel like her legitimate boyfriend. She gulped aloud and caught Stefan gazing sympathetically at her.
If anyone knew what it meant to endure a Damon and Elena hate fest, he did. Getting them to tolerate each other for even five minutes was equivalent to the type of stress one might endure while attempting to frame sensible U.S. foreign policy.
They detested each other. End of story.
Then again, thought Stefan rather profoundly. Bonnie used to hate Damon with the fire of a thousand suns. Yet now, they were so close.
Love, he chuckled inwardly. Damon is in love with Bonnie Bennett. Hmmm. Wonder if he's said anything to her yet.
Damon caught his last string of thoughts and rolled his eyes in annoyance. That would be what the French call 'none of your goddamn business.'
Stefan shook his head in irritation. Stop using the French to justify your stupidity.
Go brood in someone else's face already.
Their silent argument would have escalated if not for the onslaught of thoughts swirling through Bonnie's mind.
What the hell am I going to do about them? Shit. Good job, Bonnie. You just had to go and fall for Damon Salvatore, didn't you?
The blue-eyed vampire's lips curved into a smile of absolute satisfaction. Don't blame yourself, green eyes. Blame your great, great, great – shit. How 'great' is Emily again, Stef? Oh well. Blame her. Tabitha too.
Clutching his chin reflectively with his thumb and index finger, Damon smirked like a schoolyard rascal as another thought stumbled into his brain. Then again, with luscious lips like these and a six pack worth writing home about, who could blame sweet Bonnie for giving into her white hot desires?
Stefan eyed him incredulously. Cocky much?
You have no idea. Damon flashed him a cheeky grin.
"Damon," Stefan began aloud in a serious tone. "Maybe we should give Bonnie and Elena some alone time. They deserve it, don't you think?"
"He doesn't, actually," Elena replied full of disdain for the blue-eyed vampire. "Thinking requires effort and consideration. Something else your egotistical, self-indulgent brother is highly incapable of."
Bonnie noted the raging bull expressions on both of their faces and sighed exasperatedly. Please Elora, if you're listening, get them to stop fighting!
"We'll be in the backyard," Stefan replied, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Damon, let's go."
He watched as the dark-haired vampire slowly sauntered toward the petite witch. Snaking his arms around her tiny waist, he leaned in and placed a searing kiss on her lips.
Elena grimaced at the sight of her best friend exchanging saliva with the same jerk who once tried to take a chunk out of her throat. The lithe brunette could still recall the day Stefan's sleaze bag of a brother tried to put the moves on her in the parking lot outside Robert E. Lee.
Needless to say, he left Bonnie standing there completely breathless with fully flushed cheeks. On the inside, the dark-haired Supernatural was screaming 'Run after him! Grab him, yank him into the nearest closet and get it on!' Yet on the outside, she did her best to remain calm and composed.
Damon, of course, had access to her brainwaves. Her last idea caused him to turn around and wink rather suggestively in her direction.
Bonnie blushed profusely again, while her best friend fired daggers at him with her eyes. Asshole, Elena shot at him mentally.
Stefan caught her insult and silently hoped his brother would refrain from retaliating. Don't even think about it, he thought, channelling the words into Damon's head.
Then you might want to muzzle Saintlena, he returned.
Who are you – the thought police? She's entitled to think whatever she wants about you. Stefan shook his head irritably.
The younger Salvatore clenched his jaw and gave his brother a light shove to encourage him to move in the same direction he was heading in. Damon growled. Hands off the Versace.
Bonnie breathed a sigh of relief when they were finally alone. Needless to say, she had a lot of explaining to do and Elena was waiting with her hands braced on her hips, ready to read her the dating riot act.
"So?" the mortal teen queried impatiently. "What the hell has been going on between you and Damon while I've been gone?"
Here we go, Bonnie groaned inwardly. "Why don't we sit down first?" she suggested, reaching out to grasp Elena's hand. Reluctantly, the fuming young woman agreed.
"Okay. I'm sitting. Now spill," she demanded in an icy tone she rarely ever used with the petite witch.
Nervously pretending to smooth out the wrinkles on her strapless sage hued summer dress, the green-eyed Supernatural silently said a prayer to the Witch Goddess. Please help Elena understand. It just happened. Things changed. He changed.
"So?" the mortal continued. "I'm waiting."
Bonnie stuttered as she strained to recollect the precise moment where the tides had truly begun to turn. "The night of the dance," she breathed. "We kissed."
"You what?" Elena's eyes widened in a mix of shock and disgust. "But you were there with Matt."
"Matt was my date," she admitted. "But we weren't really there together. Not like a couple. Matt knows that. He knows we're just friends."
"It makes no sense, Bonnie. He tried to kill you. He hurt Caroline, turned Vicki, terrorized Stefan for years, hit on me – you're best friend – not too long ago and let's not forget the real clincher. He's a coldblooded killer!"
She shuddered in remembrance of all the heinous acts Damon Salvatore had committed without remorse. Yet somehow, in the run up to prophesied Supernatural warfare, he had emerged a far more complex man than she had anticipated.
Damon did feel remorse for some of the things he had done. That much was obvious each time he winced painfully at the memory of her body lying on the forest floor the night she had destroyed Emily's amber amulet.
"I haven't forgotten any of the things he's done, Elena. I know what he was. Now I know who he is," she said simply.
"And who is that, pray tell?" the brunette questioned her, taking a sip of her piping hot coffee.
"For starters, he's not the same homicidal freak show we used to make fun of," Bonnie grinned, reaching for a slice of honey wheat toast slathered in butter. "When you were kidnapped, he really came through for me and Stefan. And you too."
"Me?" she replied in total disbelief. "How?"
"Stefan was a wreck after you were taken by The Three. He wallowed in self-deprecation. He blamed himself for not being strong enough to save you, Elena. Damon was there to support him – every step of the way. He never once hesitated about boarding a flight to Dublin to save you."
The lanky brunette was too surprised to speak. Tucking a silky lock of chestnut hair behind her ear, she sighed deeply. "It wasn't Stefan's fault. They were too strong. They shot him, Bonnie. Over and o-over again. One wooden bullet after the next."
Her voice cracked mid-way. Elena was now caught up in reliving one of the most intense moments of her life – the night of her swift capture.
Bonnie reached out and grasped her hand reassuringly. "But he's okay now. Stefan's fine. Part of that is because of Damon. He stayed by his side through thick and thin...the same way he was with me."
Elena glanced up at her again and listened intently. "I was really thrown when Grams told me about The Prophecy. In a split second, my entire world had gone...topsy turvy," the witch explained. "Me and Damon? That seemed about as likely as me and – I dunno, George Bush."
The wide-eyed mortal chuckled lightly in response. "Damon is a weapon of mass destruction," she grinned, reflecting on the rather controversial years of Bush's reign.
"Sometimes," Bonnie smiled. "But he protected me in Ireland. I mean, you saw him in the cave last night. He literally flung his body in front of mine like a shield every time one of The Three tried to attack me... And there's something else."
"What else could there possibly be?" Elena wondered aloud, arching her brow inquisitively.
"I drank from him."
"You what?" she balked.
"While we were in Ireland, I became possessed a few times. It took a lot out of me, so Damon-"
"Sliced open a vein for you? How profoundly romantic," she remarked sarcastically.
"Elena," Bonnie replied more seriously this time. "I know you hate him. And I know you have your reasons. I had my own reasons. But when we were in Ireland things began to feel...different. His walls came down and all of a sudden, I got to see the loyal, fiercely protective side of him. And if I'm totally honest with myself and you, I think I'm..."
"You're what?" Elena observed her with a mix of curiosity and fear. Was Bonnie in love with Damon?
"I think I'm...in love...with him." There it was – the revelation the little witch had been keeping to herself for the past few hours.
She peered up at her best friend meekly, hoping the long haired brunette wouldn't burst into another tirade about how undeserving Damon was of love. She had already told him that herself – the day before the dance when she had paid him an unexpected visit at the Boarding House.
"Have you two...you know," Elena uttered suggestively. While one part of her desired to know the truth, the other part was busy grimacing at the possibility of the word 'yes' slipping from her best friend's lips.
"Twice." Bonnie felt her cheeks grow warm immediately. "And then again...this morning."
"Damon Salvatore was your first," the mortal teen dismally exclaimed. "Wow. I don't know what else to say."
"You can be my best friend and ask me how it was," Bonnie suggested with a gentle smile.
"Okay. How was it?" Elena queried in a stilted fashion.
"It was incredible," the raven-haired witch gushed. "He was so...tender."
"Tender? Damon?"
"I know. I wasn't expecting that either," she agreed. "But the moment I told him it was my first time; he slowed down and made me feel like I was the only person that mattered in the world."
"Caring, attentive Damon. I think Hell hath frozen over," Elena flatly stated, much to her best friend's chagrin. Biting her lips, she felt her emotions beginning to overwhelm her. "B, you know I love you. You're family as far as I'm concerned. I just don't trust him."
Bonnie didn't know whether the hot tears that threatened to cascade down her cheeks were due to the realization that the two people who mattered most to her – besides Grams and her dad – might never get along or because Elena had a point. Her common sense and her humanity were warring with one another; give Damon the benefit of the doubt or condemn him for every savage act he's ever committed.
Common sense was losing this battle – by a landslide.
Then Elena raised the one subject that had managed to go unmentioned throughout their conversation. "I want what's best for you, but Damon Salvatore is far from that. He has issues, Bonnie. Issues that need to be resolved before he can ever be what you deserve. I won't accept any less for you. I'd sooner stake him myself than allow him to use you and your powers to get inside that tomb – for her."
"Katherine." Bonnie's voice quivered as the name of his past lover slipped from her trembling full lips. Her restraint had worn away just enough to allow a single tear to trickle down her cherry-tinged cheeks.
Elena moved forward at the sight of her friend's obvious pain and wrapped her arms protectively around her as if to shield her from the storm that would soon rage on around them. "I'm so sorry, B. I didn't mean to make you cry. I just don't want you to get hurt. You know how long he's been waiting for her."
She knew. But both vampire and witch had been far too immersed in their growing affections toward one another that the narcissistic, pretty little thing had gone completely unreferenced.
Releasing the little witch from her grasp, Elena stared intently into her emerald eyes. "Ask yourself this question and answer it honestly. How certain are you that he doesn't love her still?"
Try as she might to simply erase his more than century and a half of pining, the truthful answer hurt like hell. It felt like someone was driving a wooden stake through her heart.
"Elena," she whispered, feeling more streams of wetness glide along her face. "I d-don't know for a fact that he doesn't still feel for her. I only know how I feel when I'm around him. It's something I've never felt before. At first I was so conflicted. I had every reason to turn and run, but I didn't. When I look into his eyes now, I see...I see the most incredible passion and intensity. I see all of the things I imagined I would see in the eyes of the man I wanted to be with."
"But does he love you?" the brown-eyed mortal persisted.
If only she had been awake during his late night revelation. "I-I'm not entirely sure. I think so. I get this rush of elation that just swirls around in my stomach. It feels like butterflies – only more intense."
Deciding to back off a little, Elena led Bonnie to the window and wrapped her arms around her again in a sisterly embrace. "I love that he makes you feel that way, B. You deserve that and more. I guess I just need him to step up – even more. I need to see that he's really become the man you say he has."
"What does Stefan say?" Bonnie wondered aloud, wiping away the trail of tears along her cheeks.
"I actually thought I'd entered the Twilight Zone when Stefan told me about you and Damon. I couldn't believe it...until I heard it from you," she admitted, leaning her chin on the witch's shoulder. "I know it was prophesied and on some level, I should've been expecting this...but I guess a big part of me was hoping Grams would be able to magically reverse everything. It still throws me for a loop. "
"Understatement of the year," Bonnie laughed. Momentarily silence. "I love you, Elena. You're my best friend and what you think matters to me. I want you two to get along someday. "
"When worms have ears," Elena chuckled.
"Elena!" Bonnie replied with a girlish giggle. "Come on. I gave Stefan a chance. So give Damon one."
"Stefan and Damon are entirely different," she adamantly stated.
"Maybe not," the witch returned. "Maybe they're more alike than you think."
"I don't know about that," the brunette responded. "Look, this idea you've got – me and Damon getting along – it isn't gonna happen overnight. I'm not just gonna head out to some random bar, chug brewskies with him like we're instant buds, reflect on life and forget that he nearly killed you."
"I'm not asking you to forget. I just need you to try."
Nodding her head slowly, Elena took a deep breath. "Can I ask you something else?"
"Of course. Anything."
"Should you two be having sex yet?" Elena queried, one eyebrow arched as the girl's stared out the window and into the backyard where the brothers seemed to be immersed in a little chat of their own.
"Don't worry," Bonnie sighed. "No bun in the oven yet. I've got killer cramps right now, which tells me that Mother Nature's little curse is on its way."
"But how? You two are supposed to bear this unimaginably amazing super kid."
"Unimaginably amazing super kid?" Bonnie eyed her friend teasingly.
"Yeah, I know. Descriptive overkill," Elena giggled. "Seriously though, what gives? You still had sex with him anyway? Do you want to be a teen mom?"
"I don't really have much of a say when it comes to the timing of it all," the petite butterscotch-skinned woman began to explain. "Fiona-"
"Stefan told me all about her," Elena interrupted. "Sounds like she was an incredible woman. Just wish I had been able to meet her. She meant a lot to Stefan."
"She was, in a word, 'extraordinary.' She became like a real mom to Stefan and even to Damon – to some extent. She was my mentor and she told me all about the prophesied birth."
"What did she say?"
"A nochtadh," Bonnie replied. "That's what she called the sacred night of procreation. It means 'The Revelation.'"
"Why 'The Revelation'?" Elena questioned.
"Because the child I'm going to have with Damon will be just that – a revelation to both the Supernatural and Mortal worlds. He or she will be the only one of their kind – born into a vampire-witch hybrid existence."
"But when? When does it happen?"
"When the fates decide our love is...just right," Bonnie revealed.
"Just right?" Elena asked, eying the loathsome vampire.
"Fiona mentioned that there would be certain tests along the way," she began. "Tests for me and for Damon. When the requirements have been fulfilled, the timing will be just right."
"So really, you could choose not to have this kid," the leggy brunette inserted. "You could...flunk the requirements?"
"Sure. I guess. If I want us to relive another cleanse, be burned at the stake while Stefan and Damon are punished beside me. Yeah, I guess I could fail the tests on purpose and see the Supernatural World fall to its knees. Warfare – what's not to love about that?"
"Point taken," Elena replied, slouching further into her seat. "So what do I call your kid anyway? A vampwitch? Witchvamp?"
"Witchvamp? I don't think so," Bonnie laughed uncontrollably. "Damon already gave me his blessing for the term 'vitch,' though. He told me and Stefan that if it's a girl, she'll sound like a real badass that way."
"Why am I not surprised?" the human teen responded with a grin. Sighing regretfully, she unlaced her fingers from Bonnie's and took a quick swig of java. "Okay. Time for school."
"What? Why?"
"Because if you and I show up together for our first day back everyone will think we've been playing hooky," Elena smirked. "Stefan's coming with me. Says he doesn't want me to be alone right now. He's insisted on escorting me everywhere. Maybe even the ladies' room," she threw in playfully.
"Not a bad idea, Stef," a distinctly self-assured male voice chucked in. "Go on. Live a little. Boldly go where no teenage boy has gone before."
"As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll pass," the younger Salvatore returned. "See, I believe in this thing called 'respecting a woman's modesty.'"
"And I believe that you've gone and lost your cajones," Damon replied, shaking his head.
"And I believe that if Damon doesn't shut up, we're going to be late for first period," Elena threw in, grabbing her black leather jacket and lacing her fingers through Stefan's.
With that, the leather-clad duo made their way for the door. Turning to offer Bonnie a warm glance, Elena mouthed sweetly: I love you, B.
By the time the door slammed shut, Damon was waiting full of witty repartee. "She loves you," he mimicked. "Hmmm, do I have some competition for your affections?" the vampire teased with a wiggle of his brows.
Balancing herself on her toes, Bonnie wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in close. "Maybe you do," she teased, offering him a wicked wink.
Smirking against her lips, he gave her derriere a playful squeeze.
"Saucy," he remarked, giving her a light peck. "Seductive." His mouth brushed over hers more languidly this time. "And best of all," he offered, stroking her cheek with his fingertip. "So...sexually attracted to me."
"Didn't we have a chat this morning about certain things going to your head?" she queried, beaming up at him.
"Certain things going to my head," he remarked in a reflective tone. "I like those types of conversations best."
Deciphering his naughty meaning, Bonnie shook her head and tried to unwind herself from his embrace. She needed to gather her thoughts and her belongings before heading back to Grams' place.
She made it about half-way there before a pair of sinewy strong arms were encircled around her slender waist. "Damon," she groaned, thoroughly enjoying the way his body was pressed so intimately against hers. "We need to get ready."
"Oh, I'm ready," he responded with his trademark Cheshire Cat-like grin stretching from one ivory cheek to the next.
"For Grams?" she questioned with a chuckle.
"Oh, that's right. Why?" he recalled, whimpering like a child at the realization that he would now have to meet with Ms. Tituba Bennett instead of frolicking around in the land of fluffy pillows, silk sheets and spirited lovemaking for the rest of the day.
"I need to see her," Bonnie insisted, turning to offer him a probing stare. "You know I do. I've missed her so much, Damon...and I'm sure, on some level, she'd like to see you too."
"Because she loves me so much," he chewed out sarcastically.
"She will," the green-eyed witch replied assuredly. "Someday. Hopefully sooner rather than later." Resting her head against his chest, she felt him weave his fingers through her silken midnight locks. "So...you wrote Stefan a sick note?"
"Yup," he smiled somewhat sinisterly. "Big brother Damon wrote a nice long explanation to Principal Rogers about how Saint Stefan came down with an unfortunate case of mono – which Elena Gilbert was responsible for. I tried to pin it to his jacket so he wouldn't lose it, but then he started whining about what it would do to the leather. Such a baby," he jested with a roll of his ocean blue eyes.
"Mono?' she laughed, smacking him on the forearm. "How creative."
"Nah," he began to confess. "Since your Grams has been phoning in every morning pretending to be Jenna, I opted for her excuse. You, Stef and Elena all came down with a bad case of food poisoning...I liked my explanation so much better."
When they were like this, it became more difficult to recall why they had ever possessed feelings of animosity toward one another. Bonnie couldn't help but be totally astonished by the immense warmth she could feel while being held in the frigid embrace of a vampire.
"Hi mom," Caroline Forbes spoke into her pink smartphone. "Just calling to see how you're doing. Didn't see you this morning when I came down for breakfast...or last night when I got home. That's not really like you. Anyway, give me a call when you get this message."
She sighed exasperatedly, wondering where on earth her overly protective sheriff of a mom had run off to without bothering to inform her first. It was strange, this feeling inside. It was like a complete role reversal had suddenly taken place and now she was the one left with her hands braced at her hips, pacing back and forth in frenzied contemplation.
Elizabeth Forbes had never done this to her daughter before. The pretty blond raked her pale, slender fingers through her shiny flaxen locks and tucked her phone into the side pocket of her backpack.
Okay. Just breathe. She'll call you. Everything is going to be just fine.
As she turned to face the crowded quad, her gaze was immediately drawn to a familiar twosome sitting side by side at a picnic table nestled beneath a vibrantly hued elm tree. How sweet. No phone call or email or text and you two just waltz back in here like you never left me high and dry for the history assignment? No 'Hey Caroline, we're really sorry for ditching you so unexpectedly.' And where the heck is Bonnie? Best friends, my ass.
Taking a moment to straighten out her powder blue summer dress and white shrug, she took a deep breath and sashayed toward the pair with equal amounts of confidence and 'Bitch please!' ferocity.
Elena was about to take a bite out of her tuna on rye when a distinctly perky voice tinged with condescension filled her ears. "Hey there, strangers."
Tilting her head, she met Caroline's cool gaze and defensive demeanor. It wasn't as though she didn't understand where she was coming from; she had no idea what had happened in Ireland and trying to explain that to her would do far more harm than good.
Caroline wasn't aware of the Supernaturals currently prowling in the woods or meandering along city streets. It would be way too much for her to digest.
So Elena did the only other thing that came to mind. She rose from her seat and hugged her friend as tightly as she could. "Caroline," she breathed into her hair.
Taken aback by the warm gesture, the petite blond slowly wrapped her arms around the lithe brunette. "It's not my birthday," she chuckled awkwardly.
"Does it have to be for me to bear hug you until you turn blue?" Elena beamed, releasing the girl from her grasp.
"What happened to you guys?" Caroline asked, her gaze darting back and forth from her friend to Stefan.
All of a sudden Elena felt her mind swept up in a trance. It was almost as if she was still down there – in that place with no sunlight or even a grain of positive energy.
She could still remember being hoisted up against the wall by a Supernatural force she had never encountered before – perhaps the same force the warlock had used to toss Stefan across the green the night of the dance like a rag doll.
She had memorized their cover story to a tee and yet somehow, her lips were frozen. Stefan could hear her thoughts and immediately spoke up. "One really bad case of food poisoning," he answered. "We were okay enough to come back today. Bonnie's staying at her Grams' place 'til she feels better."
Words could not explain just how odd it was calling Tituba Bennett 'Grams' – especially when you had over a hundred years of life experience on her. Truth be told, Stefan had missed his old friend while they were off in Ireland.
"Oh yeah," Caroline recalled, taking a seat on the bench while Elena returned to Stefan's side. "She told me her dad would be out of town visiting relatives in Salem or something. We were planning a girls' night at her place – manis, pedis and True Blood, seasons one and two," she smirked mischievously.
True Blood, Stefan thought amusedly. It was amazing how much love the vampire lore was receiving again. If only the mortals knew it was actually real – not the whole sparkling in the sunlight bit, though. That was just too ridiculous for words.
Not to mention, it was highly doubtful that unknowing mortals would take too kindly to the revelation that vampires actually existed. Not everyone could react unrealistically calm a la Bella Swan.
Hysteria and absolute pandemonium. Yup, that was more along the lines of what he had been envisioning. Now with The Prophecy at hand, the idea of a second Cleanse didn't seem so far-fetched.
"Hey, maybe I should pay her a visit tonight," the sweetly smiling blond continued.
"No," Elena replied a little more adamantly than she should have.
"And why not?" Caroline regarded her quizzically, a certain glint evident in her blue eyes.
"Because she needs all the rest she can get," Stefan quickly inserted, snaking an arm around his girlfriend's tiny waist. "We had planned on seeing her tonight-"
"But Grams said it might be best if we waited a day or two," Elena finished, grateful for Stefan's verbal heroism moments before. "So...did Mr. DeWitt give you a lot of trouble over the assignment?"
"Actually no," Caroline stated somewhat begrudgingly. "Because no one knows where he is."
Their ears immediately perked up. "What do you mean?" Stefan queried, lines of concern etched into his forehead.
"He disappeared," she continued to explain. "A lot of people have lately. Other teachers, students...I mean, just a few days ago, that junior Meredith Richards and her friends were out in the woods near Old Fell's Church and two of them were abducted. And totally on the DL," she exclaimed, nudging them forward with her index finger and lowering her voice. "I overheard my mom and Officer Rodriguez talking about how Meredith said a man with wings attacked them. Can you believe that? A man with wings. Impossible, I know."
Stefan and Elena exchanged awkward glances. If only she knew.
Still, the vampire couldn't shake the thought that another one of Mystic Falls' oldest secrets had somehow managed to resurface in their absence. Had the fairies really returned? Or were they here all along simply hiding beneath the cloak of relative "normalcy," whatever that was.
He had known only a handful of fairies, some incomparably good and others ready to slit throats and commit acts designed to torture and enslave. Fairies were powerful and certainly nothing Disney ever portrayed.
They could brew potions, perform a limited amount of spells compared to witches and they could indeed fly – nearly as high as he and Damon could as the mysterious brotherly bat and crow duo. He remembered how Katherine had coveted their gifts, purchasing a vast array of brews meant to bewitch.
There were no other Supernaturals the little temptress prized more than The Witches. They possessed such a profound sense of inner strength – a great driving force when it came to performing complicated incantations...and tomb sealing spells.
Stefan could still remember the day he and Damon were shot by the townspeople. They tried so desperately to free Katherine Pierce from the burning church, but to no avail.
It was not truly love that coerced the younger Salvatore into pummelling the wooden door with enraged fists or taking an axe to it in order to rescue the seductress of a vampire who had used him and his brother. No. It was Damon.
The heartbreak was evident on his brother's boyish face. He needed Katherine. He couldn't handle another loss – not after their mother. No woman of consequence had managed to stay in their lives long enough to bond with them – until the little narcissistic fanged one entered the seemingly idyllic picture.
As they battered the door, two gunshots were fired into the blackened sky. By the time they turned their bodies toward the hoards of irate townspeople, it was too late.
The bullets had pierced through their chests, wounding them fatally.
Preoccupied townspeople that they were, the rioting masses continued to hunt every Supernatural they could find. Even those simply suspected of dabbling in the mystical arts were arrested and eventually killed before a sickeningly enthusiastic crowd of onlookers.
This provided Emily Bennett with the perfect opportunity to scoop up their lifeless bodies and carry them to safety. She and her cousin lay them down beneath the shelter of an abandoned home nestled within the eerie quiet of the woods nearby.
Stefan had no idea about the deal Damon had already struck with Emily. All he knew was they had somehow managed to miraculously cheat death – until the witch explained it to them.
Katherine had been compelling Stefan to feed from her. Damon, on the other hand, required no such compulsion; he acted most obligingly toward the undead vixen.
Now they had a choice. Feed or die.
Neither of them wanted to at first, but the hunger pangs were far more intense than anything a mere mortal could understand. It felt like someone was tugging on your intestines with deliberate slowness or gnawing away at your arteries until you gave in.
The bloodlust was raging. One thought would creep into their minds, only to be swiftly replaced by another more sinister one.
Crimson viscous syrup with the tartness of cherries and at times, the exquisite finish of a finely aged port wine – it was all they craved that day.
Emily knew very well their situation was dire. She also knew that if she and her cousin stuck around for much longer, they could end up on the menu. After all, Stefan and Damon could buckle under the immense pressure at any moment now.
So she left with parting words for each brother. Stefan remembered the way she lightly stroked his cheek. "There's such goodness in your heart. I knew it was wrong, what she was doing to you both. I just didn't have the strength to stop her. Forgive me, Stefan."
He stood before her, his white shirt drenched in blood. "Will I be as monstrous as the others?"
"No," she answered simply, brushing aside a strand of unkempt chestnut hair.
"How can you be so certain?"
They remained shrouded in darkness, only the softest candlelight flickering in the background of the old house. The wallpaper had begun to peel away, revealing years of wear and tear on the abandoned abode.
Gazing pensively into his eyes, Emily leaned in close. "Do you know what captivated Katherine most about you?" He simply shook his head from side to side. "Your heart."
"My heart?"
"Do not take that lightly, Stefan. Though she may look no more than 17, Katherine Pierce has been around for 500 years. Her taste in suitors is highly discriminating and though she enjoyed Damon's enthusiasm, her greatest prize was you. She coveted your innocence, for she had long since abandoned hers. You represented everything she could not be – the ultimate form of intrigue for a creature such as herself. If you decide to turn, you will not be a monster in the truest sense. You will not murder without remorse because your heart refuses to turn black."
"And what of Damon?" he softly questioned, staring down at the petite witch. The large petticoat she wore seemed to overwhelm her diminutive figure.
"Damon will follow his own path."
"Is that all you can tell me about my brother?" he asked seriously.
"Just know this, Stefan. Everything happens for a reason."
She spoke to Damon next, leading him into another room so they could be alone. Stefan had never been privy to the details of their conversation.
After that, Emily and her cousin mounted the horses they had travelled on and returned to Mystic Falls. When Stefan tried to talk her out of that decision, she said only this: "A greater purpose awaits me back home."
Now it all made sense. She had to go back – to set The Prophecy into motion.
That night Emily was burned at the stake beside Tabitha Moira Bellwain.
"Stefan?" Elena waved her hands playfully in front of him. "You okay?"
Blinking his eyes repeatedly, he tucked the memory of that night away and focused his attention on the two girls staring intently at him. "I'm sorry. What were you two saying?"
"I was just telling Elena that my mom's gone completely MIA on me," Caroline explained, her shoulders slumping instantly.
"For how long?" the handsome vampire inquired.
"It hasn't been 24 hours yet, but still...it's not like her. She didn't come home last night, wasn't around for breakfast this morning and she didn't even bother to leave a message."
Elena grasped her hand supportively. "Maybe she just got really tied down with an important case. I mean, like you said, she's a busy lady. She practically runs the town for Mayor Lockwood. Don't tell Tyler I said that," she laughed. "Look, I'm sure she's fine. She'll call and then you can yell at her for nearly giving you a heart attack and anything else parents like to do to us when we've missed a curfew."
"I hope you're right," Caroline breathed. "Guess I'll just have to stop by the station after practice today."
"Wanna hang for a bit after that?" Elena offered.
"Sorry. Wish I could, but I've already got plans," the pretty blond replied.
"Oooooh, do I know his name?" the leggy brunette chuckled.
"Actually, you know them both," she answered.
"Ooooh la la!" Elena yelped as her boyfriend chuckled beside her.
"I'm meeting up with Matt and Tyler at The Grill."
"You're hanging with Matt and Tye?" Elena repeated.
"Yeah. Why do you sound so surprised?"
"I'm not," she lied. "It's just that we haven't hung with them since elementary school when you went through that awkward paste-eating phase."
"Geez Gilbert, why don't you just Tweet about it?" Caroline sneered; feeling embarrassed by that little revelation being made in front of Stefan Salvatore.
"Shit. Sorry Caroline," Elena replied.
"Anyway technically that's not true," she pointed out. "We hung out all the time – when you and Matt were an item."
Silence lingered in the air for a moment as both girls eyed one another. "My bad," Elena remarked. "Anyway, maybe we can hang next time. You, me, Bonnie...Ben & Jerry?"
"I'd like that," the blue-eyed mortal replied, reaching out to embrace her friend. "Alright lovebirds, Algebra calls...sadly."
Bonnie took a deep breath and squeezed Damon's hand tighter as they stood before her grandmother's royal blue front door. Turning to face him, she smiled sweetly. "Be good."
"Always am," he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. "You know, we could just head back to the Boarding House."
"Damon," the petite witch groaned, smacking him in the ribs. "We already went through this in the car. I need to see my Grams. She's probably been worried sick since we left for Ireland."
"Just consider the options,' he began, quirking an eyebrow suggestively at her. "We can either sit around drinking tea with Tituba – which I think deserves a resounding 'Booooo!' from the peanut gallery – or we could head back to my place and do the horizontal mambo 'til the springs in my mattress buckle and break."
"Hmmm," Bonnie sighed, grinning from ear to ear at the sinful thought. "Sounds incredibly tempting," she continued, balancing herself on her toes and wrapping her arms around the vampire's neck. "Today though, I think I'll pass."
Leaning in for a quick peck, she felt him give her body a gentle squeeze. "My little vixen," he whispered into her ear.
"I attribute all of my recent bad behavior to a certain shady vampire," she winked.
"Shady?" he scoffed, tilting his head to the side. "Did I rob the Quickie Mart or something? I'm deeply offended, Ms. Bennett. You'd think that after a century and a half of terrorizing mortals and behaving most maniacally, I'd be worthy of a more...sinister title."
"Alright," Bonnie smiled with childlike mischief. "But first," she whispered, leaning her warm cheek against his glacial one. "I need to see them."
To anyone else, this sudden request would have seemed like a strange twist in the flow of their already scandalous conversation. Damon, on the other hand, knew precisely what she meant.
It just drove him mad...with unadulterated want.
He felt the thin yellow veins descend like miniature bolts of lightning beneath his shadowy gaze. Two lumps of coal replaced the sapphire irises Bonnie loved so much. They bore into her hungrily as she watched, completely enthralled as his fangs broke through the surface of his gums.
He pressed her up against the door and kept his back turned to the rest of the world. "Enticing enough for you?" he smirked against the feverishly warm skin of her throat.
"Always," she breathed raggedly. Her body quivered as he gently raked his fangs across her shoulder and within a few more seconds, Bonnie found her fingers tangled in his unkempt mass of midnight locks.
"Not here," she whispered quite adamantly. "Later. I promise."
Damon gathered every ounce of restraint he could muster and released her from his grasp. As he turned his head, he noticed two young boys staring curiously up at them, as though they had just committed an act of public indecency.
"Get a girlfriend. You'll understand," he hollered at them from across the street. Their mouths remained agape in pure shock at such an intimate sight taking place in public.
They appeared to be around 13 years of age. One had the shaggiest dark hair – irritatingly similar to Justin Bieber's eyebrow concealing, famed super coif.
Kids these days, Damon sighed inwardly. He glanced down at Bonnie and found her blushing profusely with a wide toothy grin spread across her enchanting face.
She peered up at him beneath a dark fan of feathery lashes. "You just said 'Get a girlfriend.' Is that your way of saying...I'm your girlfriend?"
He licked his lips involuntarily and stared thoughtfully at the diminutive witch by his side. How could he answer that question without bearing...his soul? That would mean compromising the "edge" he had worked so tirelessly to achieve for nearly 170 years.
He didn't do overly romantic drivel; that was Stefan's bag. He didn't write in a journal, make poetic declarations or admit to romantic feelings.
Love sucks. Love drains and abandons. Love erodes the soul and clouds judgment.
It also made him wildly protective over Bonnie Bennett; more so than he had ever been with any other woman in his existence. It all boiled down to this: Damon Salvatore wanted to give her everything so she would never want for anything.
As he nervously contemplated the next few words to say, the blue door swung wide open. Tituba Bennett leaped forward, wrapping her lithe arms around her granddaughter.
"Oh Bonnie," she breathed, relishing the signature lavender fragrance of the teen's raven locks. "I've missed you so much, baby girl."
"Grams," Bonnie sighed contentedly against the older witch's cheek. "I've missed you too. It's so good to be home again."
Reluctantly unlocking themselves from their warm embrace, the two women stood in silence for a moment, observing the leather-clad vampire in their presence. "Damon," Tituba acknowledged him dryly.
"Tituba," he returned in a similar fashion. His lips curved into a frolicsome smile. "Miss me?"
"Terribly," she sarcastically replied. "I almost didn't know what to do with myself."
"See, Pooh Bear," Damon chuckled, giving Bonnie a playful pinch on the shoulder. "And you thought I needed a pulse to get her approval. Your Grams adores me. Isn't that right, Tituba?"
Pooh Bear? She must've misheard. Then again, he did call her 'Pookie' in Ireland. Bonnie silently supposed there were no boundaries Damon would not cross to get a rise out of her grandmother. That sentiment seemed to go both ways.
There seemed to be an intriguing tension between them. It was like watching a stern school teacher trying to discipline the student who craftily covered the chalkboard with ravings of "School sucks!"
The ivory complexioned vampire prepared himself for some witty scathing retort, but when none came, he found himself at a complete loss for words. Extending her hand to him and peering intently into his cornflower blue eyes, she simply said "Thank you."
Was this a joke? Damon gulped aloud. For what? Is this one of those things where if I shake your hand, I'll die?
Sadly no. Tituba raised her eyebrow at him. "You kept your promise and brought Bonnie back home safe and sound. I am truly grateful."
So you're serious? He questioned her mentally, still wondering what on earth she was playing at.
As a heart attack. She couldn't contain the amused smirk that spread across her face at the sight of him so awkward and unable to accept public displays of gratitude.
Stefan won the acclaim; he garnered abhorrence. At least that was how their father viewed them.
"You're welcome," he replied, gripping her hand uneasily. Shifting his gaze toward Bonnie, he stared into her emerald orbs. "I say what I mean and I mean what I say. I was raised during a time when a man's word was as good as gold. That hasn't changed for me."
He didn't know why he felt the overwhelming need to make an utterance like that, but in her presence he found himself doing a lot of things he couldn't rationalize the old Damon doing.
Tituba studied the expression on his face as he spoke so passionately to her granddaughter. There was not an ounce of dishonesty in his tone – that much was evident.
Within his eyes she glimpsed a flicker of something so astoundingly beautiful. Something incredibly transformative had happened to Damon Salvatore in Ireland.
The witch smiled knowingly to herself. "Come inside, you two. We've got a lot to talk about."
Bonnie and Damon sat on the beige sofa, while Tituba slunk into the comfort and softness of a newly reupholstered accent chair. Maya had it restored for her birthday and the Greek God of a deliveryman had brought it to her humble abode this morning.
It was the color of reddish-brown leaves – the kind you'd find scattered on the sidewalks during autumn. The elder witch relaxed against the butterscotch pillow and cast a sideways glance at the sunlit neighborhood she had lived in her whole life.
Things were going to change. It was as simple as that. For better or for worse.
"You found Elena," she exclaimed with such regal poise.
"Yes," Bonnie beamed with childlike bliss. "But how did you know?"
"Stefan called me this morning," the petite brown-eyed witch told them. "Sounded like a little boy unwrapping presents on Christmas Day."
"And Elena's his little angel on top," Damon remarked in jest.
"For lack of a better expression – yes," Tituba replied, rolling her eyes at him. "He told me about Fiona."
Bonnie felt her heart sink at the mere mention of the Irish witch. Memories of her distinct lilt, infectious laughter and warm chestnut eyes flooded her mind.
"She taught you a great deal," the elder witch continued. "I can feel the power radiating from you."
"She...sacrificed herself," Bonnie sniffled, trying desperately to quell the flow of tears that threatened to cascade down her rosy cheeks.
"So that you may live," Tituba offered. "She knew just as well as I do that your child will be the bringer of peace. You will bestow upon the world the most monumental gift it has ever received."
"Don't you mean you two?" Damon threw in, arching his brow. "It takes two to tango."
"And one vampire to annoy me," retorted.
"I won't let you talk about Stefan that way," he responded, balling up his fists in pretend fury.
Stifling the mildly uncomfortable urge to laugh at his joke, Tituba rose from her seat and left the room. "That was rude," Damon pointed out, twirling a lock of Bonnie's hair around his index finger.
"If it's not you and Elena, it's you and Grams," she groaned in frustration.
"What did I do?" he questioned, staring innocently into her emerald eyes.
"You talk too much," Tituba flatly replied, walking into the room with a maroon hardcover book held close to her chest.
Damon sneered at her from across the room. She sat before them again and busily flipped through the encyclopaedic length piece of literature. "Here it is," she announced.
Bonnie and Damon leaned forward, trying to decipher the meaning behind such a complex illustration. The edges of the book were black, almost as though they had been singed by fire.
The little witch allowed her fingers to graze the rough ends and observed at great length the black and white drawing before her. Five symbols were placed in a circular formation.
The first image was of a child. A baby wrapped in layers of sheets, peering up at the night sky beautifully illuminated by a generous smattering of starlight.
Second came the effeminate looking figure sitting beneath a tree. Her hands were clasped as if to pray and a halo floated atop her wavy mass of hair.
Image number three was a jewel shaped similarly to the one that dangled from Bonnie's bronze chain. Sparks flew in all directions around it.
Fourth in the circle was a fist-sized organ. A heart with a blade plunged into the center, causing its crimson contents to escape in the form of sizable droplets.
Finally they reached the fifth drawing. A woman sat beneath the light of a full moon, her curly voluminous hair blowing in the wind. He eyes were shut, hands raised into the air, her arms and legs encrusted with jewels.
"An Turas Prophetic," Tituba announced. "It means 'The Prophetic Journey.'"
"Whose book is this?" Bonnie inquired, feeling Damon's hand splayed comfortingly at the small of her back.
"It belonged to a woman called Annabelle Purefoy," the brown-eyed witch exclaimed. "She lived in Salem many years ago – when your ancestor Nyah was alive."
"Nyah?" The Supernatural teen eyed her grandmother quizzically. "The woman my dad refuses to talk about?"
"Your father was just being a stick in the mud," she replied. "He got that from your grandfather's side of the family. You haven't met in-laws from Hell until you've met mine."
Bonnie chuckled at the mention of Grandpa Joe and Granny Rutina. "Were Annabelle and Nyah friends?"
"Lord no," Tituba balked. "Annabelle Purefoy was an ignorant, spiteful old bitty who gave every non-white person in Salem hell just for breathing."
"So she was a bigot?" the little witch surmised. "We've been running into a lot of those recently."
"Baby girl, Annabelle may have been a bigot," Tituba exclaimed. "And if I had been alive in 1692, I probably would've decked the bitch. But she was also one of us."
Language, Bonnie thought. Profanity amongst teenagers was an everyday occurrence. Hearing your grandmother threaten to go "Foxy Cleopatra" on some old slave owner was priceless.
"What do you mean she was 'one of us?'" the petite caramel-complexioned witch inquired.
"She was a witch," Tituba confirmed. "A skilled practitioner of The Craft. She used to have...visions. Sometimes when they were truly intense, she would document them."
"Was this from a dream?" Damon asked, gesturing toward the book.
"A series of them," she stated.
"Well if she was a bigot and treated Nyah like crap, how did you get the book?" he queried.
"Nyah stole it."
Bonnie flinched in response. "She stole it? How?"
"Little old Annie was accused of witchcraft by the townspeople," Tituba offered. "They seized her most prized possessions – including this book. Nyah knew there were a few entries about her in it. If anyone caught sight of 'em, it would only be a matter of time before they came knockin' at her door. So she snuck into the sheriff's office one night and took it. It's been in the family ever since."
"And then she came to Mystic Falls," Bonnie surmised. "She came here to flee hate and intolerance...and now I'm swimmin' at the epicenter of it," she sighed.
"Do you recognize any of the illustrations?" her grandmother asked gently.
"Baby's a no brainer," Damon replied, smiling at Bonnie.
"The jewel seems pretty obvious too," the petite witch added. "I'm wearing it right now."
"What about the woman sitting beneath the tree?" Tituba prodded her further.
Bonnie studied her peaceful stance, palms glued together as if to pray, eyes shut tightly. It reminded her of a pivotal moment that had taken place one night in Ireland.
She could see it now. Fiona stood at the center of a circular formation of trees with her palms pressed against one another. She was preparing Bonnie to "bring the rain."
"It's Fiona," the green-eyed young woman blurted out. "I know that pose...those trees. She was our savior."
"Which explains the halo," Tituba chucked in. "Now what about the others?"
Bonnie's eyebrows became furrowed. Damon chuckled inwardly at her Stefan-esque pose. "Not a clue," she finally concluded.
"There's something else you should both know," the elder witch began to explain.
"What? There's no such thing as Santa Claus?" Damon threw in jokingly. "Say it ain't so. Stefan's gonna be pissed."
"Smartass," Tituba muttered under her breath. "As traumatic as I'm sure that revelation would be – for a 6-year-old – what I have to say is a little more important. "
What she wouldn't give to wipe that smug smirk off of Damon Salvatore's ridiculously handsome face. "The police have been up to their ears lately – in dead bodies."
She watched as Bonnie's amused grin transformed into wide-eyed shock and fear. "And judging by the injuries, I'd say we've got ourselves one Supernatural smorgasbord."
"Excellent," Damon sarcastically remarked. "So what have we got?"
"A dazzling array of Nazi fairies, witches and weres," she answered. "And it's only a matter of time before even more extremist witches make their way here."
"So let's kill 'em," the vampire exclaimed determinably.
"It's not gonna be as easy as 1,2,3," Tituba emphasized. "This is more than just a few enemies making their presence felt. They'll be arriving – in masses soon enough. This is all-out warfare. We'll need to call in for reinforcements."
"From the likes of whom?" the vampire questioned.
"For starters," the witch exclaimed. "Gabriel Purefoy."
"Annabelle's descendent?" Bonnie threw in.
Tituba nodded. "Believe it or not, her family holds great sway in a considerable number of Witching Circles the world over. Gabriel has not been involved in The Craft for a number of years, but he is very much like Bonnie in some respects. There is enviable power surging through those veins – untapped power. To defeat our enemies, we will need all the help we can get – starting with him."
Persistent knocks sounded at the front door, causing their heads to turn simultaneously. Tituba excused herself for a moment and re-entered the room seconds later with a surprise visitor.
"Stefan," Bonnie beamed, wrapping her arms around him graciously.
He offered her his most endearing smile, but narrowed his gaze angrily at Damon. "Your window was open, Tituba. I heard everything. You can't send Damon to find Gabriel."
"Why not?" Bonnie inquired.
"Because Gabriel's greatest love in the world was Alexandra Jamieson." Stefan's voice quivered at the mention of her name.
"Who is she?" the green-eyed witch queried, flashing a curious expression in Damon's direction.
Stefan's chestnut eyes began to water. "You and Elena knew her by another name. "
Damon's eyes widened at the realization that his past indiscretions may have just screwed him monumentally. He turned away from Stefan's strained, accusatory glance and spoke.
"Lexi."
