Here's the next chapter! Seriously love reading what you guys have to say in the reviews keep them coming! and please enjoy this next bit of story :) -Cheers

The forest is freezing, the spring air falling to an all time low in the dark of the night. I heard her scream, the horrifying sound of my friend in anguish, not being able to do anything to prevent it.

I can hardly see two feet in front of me, but I run towards the sounds of the struggle with everything I have. Branches and weeks scraping at my ankles as I careen through the trees.

I break into the clearing, the flames reaching high, creating a bright, hot circle around her as she lies, convulsing uncontrollably on the forest floor.

"Bonnie!" I hear Elena scream from behind me.

A dark figure, standing beside her, his back turned to us as he leans over her comatose body. He tips his head back, drinking a dark substance from a small flask.

The cure.

"No!" I shriek, my voice cutting through the air, obstructed only slightly by the sound of the flames licking the air, reaching for the trees as branches smolder.

Hannah's old book lying at Silas's feet, Bonnie having dropped it when she hit the ground. I watch as Silas stands frozen, over my friend, watching her life slip away.

I run to the edge of the flames, surveying how high I will have to jump to get over to her, when strong hands grab me from behind, holding me in place.

"No! No let me go!" I scream, thrashing against the grasp that holds me tight against his chest, effectively immobilising me.

"It's done, leave her!" Damon yells near my ear. I lash out at him, trying to free my arms, to no avail.

The flames are hot, drying my tears as fast as they come.

And then, he falls. Silas's legs give out, crumbling to the ground, in a second, he's gone.

With him, the flames dissipate, leaving behind the scent of burnt pine; heavy smoke floods the clearing.

Breaking one arm free, a loud crack erupts between us as my elbow connects for Damon's ribs, causing him to yell and drop his hands from me.

"Bonnie!" I rush to her side, dropping to the ground beside her.

Blood runs from her nose, my eyes are closed, and she is perfectly still.

"No no no, no Bonnie," Elena drops down beside me, clasping one of Bonnie's hands in hers, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

"She did it..." Damon murmurs from a few feet away, staring at Silas's still body.

Elena reaches out, wrapping her arms around me, clinging to me, crying into my shoulder.

I listen hard for any kind of sound.

A breath; a heartbeat; anything.

"Please," I say, to no one in particular. Maybe to her Grams, maybe to the witches in general. I grasp Bonnie's lifeless hand in my own, squeezing tightly. "Please don't take her," I beg, "not like this!"

The silence envelopes us; creeping cold up my spine, Elena's arms turn to stone around me as we both fall into a state of shock and horror...

An immeasurable length of time slips past us, the nights cold wind freezing us to our cores, but we stay. Shaking together, holding each other, Elena's cries never falter, my own causing a steady stream of cold tears down my cheeks.

Please. I beg, my mind buzzing with hate, and rage, and grief. Please let her stay, let her live. She's paid her price, she's saved us all. She did this for us—Let her live.

Silence.

Damon and Stefan dragged Silas's body into the tree's disposing of it the way Hannah's book says to. They now both stand on the sidelines, watching as we crumble apart; failing to keep any part of my brain from slipping into utter angst.

And then I feel it.

Fingers light as feather, twitch against mine.

I gasp, my eyes flying open, my mind reeling and I stare down at my friend, her body cold. But there was no mistaking that movement. It happened.

Elena looks at me, I nod, and she sits up straighter, grasping Bonnie's wrist, feeling for a pulse.

Agonizing seconds slip past, Elena closing her eyes, concentrating on nothing but the heartbeat. And when Elena's eyes fly open, looking at me, hope burns in her eyes.

"Bonnie," I lean over, my voice frantic with tears, I shake her shoulders. "Bonnie open your eyes, Bonnie look at me, you're going to be fine," minutes pass and we sit there, in the dirt, waiting.

"Elena..." Damon whisper from the edge of the trees.

"No, she's not dead!" Elena shouts in his direction.

And as if being woken up from merely a longs night's sleep, Bonnie's eyes open. blinking up at the starry night above her.

"Oh my gosh Bonnie!" I we help her sit up, her hand flying to her head, and she moans.

"Help us!" I yell over my shoulder, and Stefan and Damon are at our sides, lifting her weak body from the ground, her blood dripping into the dirt at our feet.

She's alive, Hannah was wrong—She was strong enough, she did it.

Even as these words play triumphant in my mind, a small part of me feels on edge. In the back of my mind, something lurks there, hiding from my tired mind, quiet enough that I can't sort out what's rational and what're symptoms of tonight's events weighing down on me. But I can't think about that now...

One thing's for sure, as we leave the clearing, I know we weren't alone out there.

Elena's love didn't save Bonnie; and neither did mine. Bonnie didn't save herself; as strong as she is...

I look back over my shoulder, at the charred clearing, watching as the wind carries the smoke up and away.

"Thank you," I whisper, to whoever it is who saved my friends life, I know they can hear me.

XXX

My hands shake as he hands me a tumbler filled with scotch. The sharp scent of the alcohol hits my nose and I flinch. The events of tonight making me jumpy; even the sounds of Klaus's voice made me flinch when he answered the door earlier.

"Caroline," He sounds so worried, watching tears streak down my face. I can't even form words, or begin to explain what happened. So close to losing my best friend, I couldn't breathe. The cure is gone, Silas is dead, the empty, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach; that this thing is not over.

He doesn't press for answers, or even ask me if I'm alright like everybody else. He doesn't make a move to hold me, or tell me everything's going to be okay, he just stands, letting me breathe on my own.

When he can sense I'm in no mindset to form a coherent sentence, he takes the smallest step forward.

"Do you want me to take you home?"

And with that, I fall into him. Wrapping myself round him, he stumbles back a little with my impact; it's rare that I'm able to take him off guard.

"No," I say into his neck, squeezing my eyes shut, holding myself to him, feeling as his arms hesitantly wrap around me, as if he's afraid he'll break me in two. "I want to stay with you..."

I tip the scotch into my mouth, hardly tasting it before I quickly swallow, feeling the burn as the drink slides down my throat. Not even close to what I'm craving.

It's been days since I've fed—it feels like weeks. Months.

I close my eyes, inhailing the smell of the Michaelson's house. Old wood, and books, and Klaus... The fire burning in the fire place brings back the thoughts of tonight's scene in the forest and my eyes snap open; finding his blue eyes on me. Staring cautiously.

He opens his mouth as if to say something. But when I wait, and no words come, I frown.

"What?" I whisper, looking down at my hands in my lap.

He hesitates before taking a seat next to me on the couch, taking my empty glass from me and setting it on the coffee table, before looking at me.

His hand grazes my neck, this thumb easing against my jaw, forcing me to look up and into his eyes.

"I was going to ask you if you were alright," His voice is so soothing, so even, as if it's an anchor holding me in place, keeping me sane. "But I think I know the answer..." His brow furrows a little as he watches me cringe at his words.

I hate what an open book I am around him. I hate that he knows exactly what to say. I hate that with everything going on, I still can't resist melting into his touch, craving his hands on me.

I shake my head a little, reaching up and taking his hand from my neck, holding it in both of mine. I close my eyes and breathe in through my nose; I shudder a little as I smell the blood flowing through his veins. Unlike me, he must have fed recently, maybe in the last hour.

I place a small kiss on the back of his hand, against the base of his thumb, feeling his warmth against my mouth.

I brush my lips down the side of his wrist, inhaling once again.

And then, before I can think; or choose; or decide; or deliberate, I sink my fangs into the soft skin at the base of his hand.

Relief and ecstasy blossom in the pit of my stomach as I close my eyes, feeling the warmth of it; as the blood fills my mouth and glides down my throat, like finally placing ice on something you didn't realise was burning.

Interlacing our fingers together, I hold him close as I drink greedily.

When reason finally breaks through my irrational thirst, I break away, my fangs sinking back into my skull; my breath is shallow and loud. Leaning into him, I rest my forehead against his chest, my lungs burning, begging for air. Tears sting my eyes as I hold his wrist in my hands, watching the flesh around the wound knit itself back together.

I can't remember the last time I let my thirst control me so wholly, so entirely ruled by my vampire instincts.

Hating how good he tastes.

"I'm sorry," I sigh into him, my voice muffled a little against his chest.

He chuckles, it's humorless, and it vibrates through his chest, into me.

"I was beginning to think you had no more vampire impulses left in you... You do such a good job of suppressing yourself." He takes my shoulders, pushing me away enough that he can look into my eyes.

"Too much," He gives me a serious look. "When was the last time you fed?"

I try and think, but my mind is foggy, and exhaustion is setting in. I shake my head, trying to clear it with little luck. "I don't know." I blink away the salty tears that never seem to leave completely.

He bows towards me, bringing his mouth close to my ear; this breath on my neck sends chills down my spine and twists knots in my stomach. He exposes his neck to me, my lips mere centemeters from his throat, his pulse tempting me with its rhythm; drumming just under the surface.

"Go on love," he says, holding my hands in my lap carefully, as if he's still afraid I will bolt from his side at any moment. His lips draw a line from my ear to my shoulder and then back again, laying a trail of heat where ever they touch. "Have at it..."

A/N Do you think Silas is really dead? Do you think Bonnie will ever be the same again? Who do you think was helping from the other side? Hope you guys are excited to find out what happens next! I know I am :)