three. young love

.

DAMON SALVATORE IS NOT A good person.

Maybe it was because of the fact that his mother died young, or that Stefan was forever the apple of his father's eye or just because he was just born evil ( or maybe it was her ), but regardless, Damon knows he will never know what heaven's glossy gates will look like.

Now, he stands before a girl with brown hair and brown eyes and grief written so plainly on her face that nothing short of death would remove it from her face. Even then, Damon still thinks that the sorrow on her face would leave its mark.

He catches her eyes in his, feels the rush of compulsion, the melody of that ancient power wrought from the stars themselves, the unholy blood that surges through him as he commands her.

"Stay still," he says and the girl goes unnaturally still, her face slack and her pupils so wide they gobble up her whole iris, "Good."

Damon leans in close and his plan unspools in his mind.

He'd made an oath long ago, underneath the stars and with blood on his mouth, that he would make the rest of his and Stefan's immortal existence living hell. Then, he would follow his brother into death and make sure that his body would roll in his grave.

As soon as Damon saw her—Caroline Forbes, whose name is the only thing she truly owns—Damon had baulked. And then he had laughed. Of course his brother had gone after the blonde with the merry laugh and the fiery eyes. Of course, of course, of course.

He'd chased her throughout the day, sent his crow to kick that heartbeat into overdrive, a useful party trick from an old wiccan friend, sickened at how the way the sunlight had bounced off her curls. How innocence rolled off of her in waves so potent it nearly drowned him.

Innocence doesn't belong on a face like that.

"Do as I say," Damon intones and the girl—Elena Gilbert, he thinks—nods and responds flatly:

"Do as you say."

( He's unsure why his stomach drops, why his undead heart twists so. )

He leans in, the evil, sickly plan clear as a crystal in his mind's eye. Then, his lips brush hers and Damon freezes.

( "Just do as I say, my darling. You'll adore what I'll do to you—I promise." )

Elena Gilbert is replaced with golden tresses pinned intricately into a bun, eyes of the sky and a smile that could make beasts cry and angels fall.

A smile that hides the clawed hands and bloodied fangs.

A violent kiss.

Damon rears back abruptly, face leeched of colour and eyes wide and frantic. Panic blazes through him, heart thudding so thunderously Damon is convicted that he's returned to life for a mere moment, and there's teeth and blue eyes and a mouth as red as blood—

( "Why do you run from me so, my darling? You know you adore me." )

Damon gags, sagging against the car as he breathes raggedly, his breath sawing out of him like glass shards—a shattered vase of what he used to be. Of what he could've been.

( It's been a hundred years and her claws still dig deep. )

"Are you okay?" Sweet as a hummingbird, cautious as a gazelle, Damon's eyes snap to Elena Gilbert, standing still as a statue, but her face is pulled down in a frown, and something too much like kindness glimmers in those petrichor eyes, "What happened?"

"Nothing," Damon bites out, pushing himself to his feet, even as his legs shake. In an instant, Damon chokes the panic that rages, stills his breathing. His face is pale. He catches Elena's eyes again and commands, "Forget this. Go home."

Elena's face slackens once more, repeating his orders dutifully before marching off to her car and sliding onto the seat. Damon doesn't wait around, flying for the Boarding House, ducking into the bathroom and heaving the blood he drank that day into the toilet.

He leaves behind a ruined masterpiece of scarlet.

He slumps against the sink, his legs finally buckling, the back of his head rattling against the cupboards as he squeezes his eyes shut, like he can block out the lilac gloves that itched as they ran over his skin and the ache in his neck in the marks she left behind.

Damon Salvatore curls into himself and sobs.

( He vowed to himself a hundred years ago that he would never end up like her. )

( Now look at him. )

MORNING DAWNS ONCE MORE, BUT strangely, Elena doesn't feel as dead as she did yesterday. She wonders if there's something in the air, or she somehow managed to take one of Jeremy's pills in her sleep. She doesn't know quite what to do with her new outlook, but she doesn't question it, in fear it will disappear as abruptly as it appeared.

She knows Caroline and Bonnie notice her shift in mood when she gets in the car that morning, but neither comment on it, taking a path similar to Elena. It makes her smile, however small. It's always nice to know you're on the same wavelength as someone.

It's clear something shook Bonnie up last night, because the whole journey to school, her brows remain drawn low and her mouth dips down in a frown as she argues with Caroline on why Stefan is Not Good Boyfriend Material™.

Elena's relieved when they park, slipping out into the fresh, cool air of September and out of the heavy, tense atmosphere of the car.

"Listen, I'm not saying don't date the guy, I'm just saying take it slow," Bonnie advises as she walks around the car. As soon as she heard that Caroline and Stefan kissed last night, her campaign against Stefan had taken up with a whole new fervour.

Caroline groans, throwing her head back dramatically as she links her arm through with Elena. "What is up with you, Bon? I mean, yesterday you were telling me to go for it with Stefan, and now you're telling me to slow down? It doesn't make any sense!"

"Care, we're seventeen. Isn't everyone telling us these are our golden years? Don't waste them on just one boy!"

Caroline tenses in Elena's arms. "Oh, because I'm so that girl."

Elena steps in before the claws come out and slash and rip with a ferocity only teenage girls can have. "Okay. Let's calm down for a second. Bonnie, Care has a point. This three-sixty doesn't make any sense. I don't see a reason for why you're suddenly telling Care not to go through with this. What happened last night?"

Bonnie's lips twist in a telling frown. "Nothing. Just forget about it."

"Bonnie, c'mon," Caroline coaxes, voice soft like she's trying to calm a startled animal, "You can tell us."

Bonnie hesitates, but she crumbles. "Last night, I accidentally touched Stefan . . . and I got a really bad feeling."

Caroline giggles and Bonnie scoffs and attempts to walk off. Elena strikes like a snake, hand wrapping around Bonnie's wrist and yanking her back. "Bon, hey, c'mon. Y'know Care didn't mean it like that. Did you, Caroline?"

Caroline shakes her head meekly at Elena's tone. "No. Sorry, Bonnie."

Bonnie looses a harsh breath and her eyes fill with black fire and something dangerous and electricity fills the air. "It was bad bad."

Elena swallows past the cotton balls in her mouth. "Is this the witch-mojo thing again?" Even Caroline is quiet.

Bonnie has to notice it, because the fire banks in her eyes and their Bonnie comes back with a blink of the eyes and the teasing smile dancing across her dark lips. "Y'know what? I'm just concerned. This is me expressing concern over one of my best friend's new boyfriend, okay?"

Caroline smiles and tugs Bonnie into a hug, Elena smushed between them. It reminds Elena of her childhood; of pink friendship bracelets, caramel-sticky fingers and pinky promises. "And I love you for it, Bon, but everything's okay. Stefan's great. I'm great. Everything's great."

Caroline says it like she means it, but Elena can't shake the feeling that somehow, everything is not great and sooner or later, it's all gonna come crashing down on them.

STEFAN HASN'T SEEN DAMON IN a while, and that can either mean one of two things: a good thing or a very, very bad thing. He still can't shake the sound of Vicki's screams off when Damon threatened to throw her off the edge of the roof.

It was both a reminder and a warning: Damon has taken to vampirism far more easily than Stefan.

( Bitter are the wars between brothers. )

The gleam of Caroline's golden skin gleaming the sunlight distracts Stefan from gory, sinister thoughts ( and memories ). After Tanner had practically banned him from joining the lacrosse team due to no other reason than a sore ego, Stefan's only option is to watch Caroline—but it's not like that's a burden.

He peers at his shred of sunlight as she dives into the swarm of cheerleaders, seeking out Bonnie and Elena like a moth to the flame.

"Oh my God, Elena!" Caroline chirps, "I can't believe you're here!"

"Yep. Can't be sad girl forever," Elena says, even as the scent of grief clouds her like a fog, "Only way to get things back to the way they were is to do things that were."

He feels the burn of Elena's momentary gaze as her eyes flick to him. He sighs; he knows the look in those sad, sad eyes all too well.

( "O, Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?" )

Caroline giggles, her smile blinding. "This is amazing! Oh, girls, we have plans tonight. Dinner at mine, okay?"

"What's the occasion?" Bonnie inquires, arm slung over Elena's shoulder as she grins—it makes it all the more amusing at how quickly that same smile slides off her butterscotch features as Caroline replies:

"Oh, just so you, me, Elena and Stefan can all get to know one another."

"Care."

"Bonnie!" Caroline whines, her pout exaggerated. Elena steps in with a heavy sigh as the scent of metallic magic slides over Stefan's tongue.

"Oh, Bon," Elena cajoles and the spice of blood and life and sorrow floods his nose, "You have to give Stefan a chance. For Caroline. You know how long she's been planning this June wedding."

"Exactly! C'mon, Bonnie, for me!"

Bonnie's response is flat. "You've been planning the wedding for, like, four days, Care."

"And do you really want those four days to be for nothing?"

There's a pause before all three descend into raucous laughter and the sound of it tugs Stefan's lips upwards and makes his undead heart ache more than ever. God, what he'd give to have that kind of innocence again.

( But he wouldn't give her up. )

"Fine, fine," Bonnie groans, dark skin gleaming like luxurious velvet, "I'll come. Happy?"

"Very."

And with that surrender, Caroline adds another victory to her collection. Stefan would expect nothing less—Cleopatra could never hold a candle to the young Forbes girl.

Practise passes by smoothly after that, with Stefan eventually growing restless enough to test his luck with Tanner once more and finally being able to squeeze himself onto the team. Knocking Matt Donovan and Tyler Lockwood down a peg only added to his winnings.

But Stefan should've known that the moment would pass him by all too soon, because as soon as he steps into his room, his body tenses for a fight at the sight of Damon ( thief, murderer, destroyer ).

"How were tryouts?" Damon greets, feet propped up on Stefan's desk and clasping Stefan's journal like it's his, "Did you make the team?"

Stefan sighs heavily and clenches his fists. Dammit.

"Very Emerson, the way you reveal your soul with so many—" Stefan zips across the room and snatches his journal from Damon's greedy fingers. "—Adjectives."

"What're you doing here?" Stefan snips, fingers running over the cover of his journal like he can ascertain whether his secrets have remained untouched, unviolated.

( There was once a time when these secrets would not have to be read by Damon; they would have been told. )

Damon spins around in the chair and something almost regretful passes over his face. "I've come to apologise. I've been doing some thinking, some soul-searching and . . . I want us to start over. We need to put the past behind us. You're my little brother, and if you wanna live a normal, happy, human life, then I want that for you. Maybe I can do it, too. If I can learn to be a non-living, living person . . . maybe there's hope for both of us."

( There is no hope for either of them. )

For a moment—a single moment—Stefan lets himself believe it. Believe that Damon, somehow, has managed to claw himself from the deep, dark pit vampirism ( Stefan ) had plunged him into, but the sharp, cruel laugh that resounds in Damon's throat crushes Stefan's hopes more brutally than his father's fists.

Damon wanders past Stefan, slapping him on the chest like they've just shared one of the funniest jokes ever told ( and maybe it is ).

"You know, it doesn't have to be this way, Damon." It's an olive tree, a hand, a plea. For all this misery and revenge and death to end—a SOS for the big brother Stefan once knew.

"Of course it doesn't," Damon replies and once again, Stefan is confronted with the person his once-brother has become, "I saw Caroline today, BTW—that means 'by the way'—she was at cheerleading practise. She looked very perky. Good on you, brother."

Something ugly and monstrous and bloodthirsty ( something that comes with you back from the dead ) rears its head and Stefan stalks closers, fingers curling into claws like they're prepared to rip and shred and tear at Damon, but his brother huffs out a laugh at the sight of Stefan. "Simmer down. I didn't even go near her. I'm looking for my own cheerleader, anyhow."

Like everything Damon says these days, it sounds like a threat.

( It also sounds like a cry for help. )

CAROLINE'S ATTEMPT TO MEND THE bridge that fissioned between Stefan and Bonnie is a good one, Elena will admit that. She just struggles to see why she has to be present for it. She's quickly learning that being around Stefan is not good for her bleeding heart and Elena's old enough now to know that if she ever wants to get over Stefan, she needs to stay away.

But, somehow, she just keeps on getting dragged closer and closer to him, and it's driving her insane.

( She can only lose so much blood before she bleeds out. )

It's not like she can tell Caroline, so Elena bites her tongue and heads over to the Forbes house. Liz is out late—some Council meeting that Caroline mutters bitterly about, but doesn't elaborate on—and that leaves the house to three teenage girls and one poor boy.

Caroline had cooked for the night, showcasing her rarely-seen chef skills, which is a relief for Elena, who's go-to is either burnt food or ordering takeaway and slinging it into fancy bowls. Bonnie's mind is on other things, which is somewhat relieving, because if Elena had to be subjected to a night of listening to Bonnie's reasons why Stefan is Not Good, she might scream. She loves Bonnie, but Elena loves her sanity more.

"You explain it," Bonnie insists, setting plates out on the table of the Forbes dining room, rarely used and recently dusted, "Last night, I'm watching Nine-Oh. Commercial break comes and I'm like, 'I bet it's that phone commercial', and sure enough, it's the guy and the girl with the bench, he flies to Paris, and flies back. He takes a picture—"

Caroline scoffs as she takes the lasagna out of the oven, placing it gently on the stove. "Oh, c'mon, Bon, that commercial's on everywhere. I've seen it ten times today alone."

Elena hums in agreement. "I have to agree with Care, Bon. You need more compelling evidence."

"Fine," Bonnie sulks, "Well, how about this? Today, I'm obsessed with numbers. Three numbers. I keep seeing eight, fourteen and twenty-two. How weird is that?"

Elena gasps in faux-disbelief. "Maybe we should play the lottery."

Bonnie's glare is nothing short of withering.

"Have you talked to Grams yet, Bon?" Caroline questions in the aftermath of her giggles, cutting up the lasagna into equal squares, "Has she moved on from her obsession with aliens, yet?"

As Bonnie passes by Caroline, she whips at her back with a towel and Caroline squeals. "No. And she's just gonna say I'm a witch. I don't wanna be a witch. Do you wanna be a witch?"

Despite Caroline's enthusiastic "Uh, duh.", Elena wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. "No, thanks. I don't wanna be a witch."

Bonnie looks relieved to have someone on her side. Caroline says, "Hey, where're the serving spoons?"

"Right drawer one from the end," Bonnie answers without missing a beat, and after a beat, Caroline yanks open the drawer, revealing the serving spoons within. Caroline pauses and the first shard of doubt Elena's seen from Caroline curls around the blonde's shoulders.

"Okay, well, you've been in this kitchen a thousand times, Bon. It doesn't mean you're psychic."

Bonnie's pursed lips tell otherwise, but before Elena can step in, the doorbell rings and it cuts the conversation short. Caroline perks up instantly and Elena imagines the grin stretching across her face must hurt.

At Caroline's turned back, Bonnie scowls.

After Caroline enthusiastically greets Stefan at the door, the lasagna is plated up and dinner is served. Bonnie and Elena sit side-by-side, Caroline and Stefan opposite to them, their hands clasped together under the table.

An awkward silence fills the air and Elena's shoulders wilt under the weight of it, fork picking at the lasagna as she swallows down the agony lining her veins. She looks up and smiles. She hopes it's not strained.

"Did Tanner give you a hard time today?" Elena asks into the silence, scrambling for any fragment of information that could chase away the silence.

Caroline hums, "Oh, yeah, Stefan. I forgot you tried out. C'mon, tell us!"

Stefan's smile is nothing short of adoring. "Well, he let me on the team, so I must have done something right."

"Bon, Lena, you should've seen Stefan today. Tyler threw a ball right at him, and—"

Bonnie cuts Caroline off shortly, "Yeah, I heard."

Silence reigns once more. Elena picks at her food while Caroline seeks for another topic of conversation. Caroline Forbes is many things, but never say she's not stubborn. "Hey, Bon, why don't you tell Stefan about your family? Y'know—the witches?"

"Witches?" Stefan cuts in, "You come from witches?"

"Bonnie's family has a lineage of witches," Elena says as Bonnie remains stubbornly silent, "It's really cool."

Bonnie shakes her head. "Cool isn't the word I'd use."

Caroline cuts Bonnie a heated glare, a reprimand to behave if Elena's ever seen one. Bonnie glares right back, but before the two implode, Stefan jumps in, "Well, it's certainly interesting. I'm not too versed, but I do know that there's a history of Celtic Druids that migrated here in the 1800s."

"My family came by way of Salem," Bonnie corrects, her gaze cool as she peers at Stefan. She's not impressed.

"Really? Salem witches?"

"Yeah."

"I'd say that's pretty cool," Stefan comments, eyes ducking momentarily to Caroline. It's like he can't go without looking at her for more than five minutes. Elena shoves a forkful of lasagna into her mouth to choke down her bitterness.

"Really? Why?"

"Salem witches are heroic examples of individualism and nonconformity."

Bonnie smiles and Elena can tell it's just a little bit forced, but it's mostly pleased. "Yeah, they are."

Caroline hums softly in her throat at her victory, but the quiet, gentle moment is pierced by the shrill ring of the doorbell. Caroline frowns. "Huh. I wonder who that is."

Elena returns her gaze to her meal as Caroline walks to the door, the door swinging open to reveal a chipper call of "Brother!" and a jangle of keys. Elena frowns, swallowing down her mouthful as her gaze travels to the visage of a tall man dressed in black like it's his second skin, a smug smile on his lips that's ever so slightly chilling.

It's a stark contrast to Stefan's seraphic sheen.

Elena blinks, and abruptly, Stefan is out of his seat and halfway down the hallway. He shoves himself between Caroline and his brother, his body tensed like a fight's about to break out. His brother's eyes shift to Stefan and they are not kind.

( Some deep-seated instinct, some forgotten memory, tries to scream. )

"Damon." Stefan's voice is almost like a growl. "What're you doing here?"

Damon's ensuing smile is nothing short of sharp. "Aw, don't be like that, Stef. I was just dropping off your keys since you left them at home. And I also brought some cake."

Caroline ducks past Stefan with a delighted gasp and Elena rises from her seat, meaning to join the group at the doorway, but she's stopped abruptly by something cold and frigid clamping down her wrist. She gasps sharply, eyes ducking down to a pale-faced Bonnie with her eyes locked on Damon.

"Bonnie, what the hell?"

"Don't go near him," she breathes, "Stay away."

Elena's scared enough to sit back down.

"Oh, that's so nice," Caroline chirps, "Thank you! You should come—"

"No, Caroline," Stefan commands and it's so deep it rattles Elena's bones. Ancient instinct pushes Elena to reach out for Bonnie's hand splayed out on the table. It's ice cold.

Caroline frowns and that fierce fire ignites in her eyes—I will show you hell—as her gaze snaps defiantly to Damon. "Ignore him. Come in. More the merrier."

Damon steps over the threshold; human nature shivers.

( Elena has the distinct sense that a predator has snuck into the den. )

It's obvious that Stefan's jaw is tense, even with the distance, his throat working his glower nothing less than venomous as he glares at his elder brother. In contrast, Damon's smile is blinding.

The Salvatore siblings are a paradox of flesh and bone. Where Stefan is golden and godly, Damon is all fire and brimstone—where Stefan is the eye, Damon is the storm.

( Both are dangerous and neither can be saved. )

Elena swallows down her inexplicable fear as the three join the table. She smiles, introduces herself and is not quite sure why she clings so tightly to Bonnie's hand, but doesn't question it—not as Damon's smile falters for a split second as his eyes rest on her.

Caroline swiftly moves the party to the living room, where they recline with warm cups of tea and coffee and pick at Damon's decadent cake. The air in the room feels treacherous: like someone makes one wrong move and they all go tumbling off the cliff edge.

But, Damon seems content to shove them all off with glee.

"The last thing I want to do is bring her up."

Instantly, everything shifts. Elena has a sickening sense that this she ( this woman who can break hearts and shatter souls ) is Dorothy—the girl who Stefan loved so much it nearly destroyed him. Just like Caroline said.

"Her?" Caroline says sharply, inquisitively, body tensing beside Elena where they're smushed together on the sofa, "Who's her? Is this your ex?"

Damon's head tilts. There's something animalistic to it. "Oh, has my baby brother not told you about his ex yet? The one that got away?"

Elena winces.

"Damon, stop," Stefan snaps.

"Don't you think the stunning Caroline deserves to know, Stef?"

"I do, actually," Caroline says, leaning forwards to place her drink on the coffee table with just enough force to describe the heated betrayal and the magma of her hurt. Elena reaches out instinctively, fingers locking together, cinching tighter than chains. She squeezes once, twice, thrice: I'm here, I'm here, I'm here. "So, who is she?"

There's a pause. History hangs in the air.

"Dorothy. Dorothy Vance."

( AKA the difference between life and death. )

THE TREES ARE WHISPERING. THE sound of it grates at Bonnie's nerves and she grits her teeth as she steels herself against the sound, tuning into the mindless buzz of chatter prevalent before the football game starts. She pushes through the crowd, seeking either Caroline or Elena or both and finds Caroline.

She watches from afar as Stefan pulls out a small box and flicks it open and the contents must be something priceless, because Caroline positively melts. Her fingers delve in, pulling out a silver necklace that flashes in the sunlight. The voices are louder in Bonnie's ear when she sees the necklace and she shakes her head aggressively, the voices dissipating.

She has a sinking feeling she's going insane.

Bonnie refocuses on the couple before her. How Caroline turns around and allows Stefan to clip the necklace around her throat and there's something about it that sits on her collarbone that makes Bonnie's skin prickle, because it's just wrong.

But she bites her tongue and turns away.

CAROLINE IS OBSESSED WITH DOROTHY Vance. Ever since she first heard her name, she knew there was a story there. She only became even more convicted last night when Damon turned up and began to hint at the story—the story that Stefan was making painstaking effort to avoid.

Caroline is used to being second-place. But that doesn't mean she likes it.

Dorothy had plagued Caroline's mind all night, haunting her all the time like a terrible ghost. The only time she seems to quiet is when Stefan hangs the heavy weight of his family heirloom around her neck.

She fiddles with it, lovesick smile pulling at her lips as she changes into her cheerleading uniform, argues with Elena about her quitting cheerleading and waiting for the sun to set and fires to ignite before the game can begin.

Stefan and Caroline face opposite one another at the rally, eyes drawing to each other like magnets as people cheer and roar around them. Her heart skips a beat and butterflies swarm in her stomach.

( Ah, young love: what a tragedy. )

"Tyler! Tyler, stop!"

She blinks rapidly as reality crashes into her, coming to the sight of Jeremy and Tyler tussling on the ground, blood on their knuckles, bruises on their faces and snarls on their mouths.

( This is what being a teenager is; this is what it's like to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. )

"Hey. He's down. Enough!" Stefan roars, and Caroline's heart stutters as she realises he's dived right into the middle of the fight, grabbing onto Tyler's arm with a force that visibly bruises. Tyler, still lost in that red haze, switches targets, goes for Stefan instead of Jeremy. Caroline pales and her heart drops to her stomach like a stone.

Tyler swings at Stefan, but Caroline can't tell if it lands or not, because Stefan doesn't even flinch. But how could Tyler not hit him? He's standing right next to Stefan. Fear lances across Tyler's face and ice crystallises in Bonnie's veins.

"Jeremy! Oh my God, Jer!"

Elena's scream knocks Caroline out of her horrified stupor and she watches as Bonnie races for Elena, wrapping her arms around her waist and yanking her back from the fight. Elena's cry seems to pull Jeremy out of the pain, because he grapples to his feet and there's a broken bottle in his hands, points deadly and sharp and fatal. He swings at Tyler, but Stefan shoves him out the way, hand raised.

Caroline can hear how it tears through his flesh.

"Tyler, knock it off," Matt growls and cinches his arms around his best friend, pulling him out of the fight. Jeremy stumbles, eyes wide like he can't believe what he just did and Elena breaks free of Bonnie's grip and races for her brother.

"Are you okay, Jer?"

"I'm fine," Jeremy growls and shakes off Elena's hand. Elena disguises her flinch well but Caroline has no time to comfort her as she bolts for Stefan, worry poisoning her blood and concern flooding her like a storm.

"Stefan! Oh my God, Stefan!" Caroline frets, "Your hand."

Stefan's hand clenches tight as Caroline grapples with it, crimson liquid spilling from between his clenched fingers, only driving Caroline's hysteria to new heights. "No, no, no, it's fine."

She scoffs. "Come on, Stefan—it's clearly not fine. You're bleeding!"

"It's fine, Caroline," Stefan insists.

Caroline ignores him, fighting with him, nails digging into his flesh to yank open his hand. "Is it deep? How bad is it? Come on."

Finally, Stefan relents, and allows for his fingers to unfurl, revealing not a wound torn into Stefan's hand, but a faint red line that disappears before Caroline's eyes.

( Something whispers in her ear to run away. )

"But, I saw it, it was—"

"He missed," Stefan supplies, "It's not my blood. See? I'm fine."

"No, no, no, I saw it," Caroline insists, eyes narrowed as she meets Stefan's gaze, "The glass cut your hand—"

Stefan shakes his head. "It's okay. I'm okay. It's almost kickoff time, alright, so I'll, uh, see you after the game."

He leaves and Caroline lets him.

She knows he cuts his hand. She heard it tear through his flesh, saw the blood that had to be his.

Stefan cut his hand. And it healed.

( "Run away, little bird. Run away before the big bad wolf swallows you up whole." )

"It was bad-bad."

Caroline races through the night, eyes searching for Bonnie and the tension in her unknotting as she finds her. "Hey, Bon! Bonnie!"

Bonnie turns to face her, eyes open and smile soft and Caroline is regretful to wipe it away. "What's up, Care?"

"Can I ask you something? Like something serious, and you have to answer me honestly. No jokes."

"Okay?"

Caroline hesitates for a moment. She has a feeling that the answer will ruin her. "The bad mojo. When you touched Stefan . . . what did you feel? What was your reaction?"

Bonnie waves her off. "Oh, Care, you've won me over with that whole dinner-party-plot. Seriously, there's nothing to worry about."

Caroline holds back a growl. "Bonnie. I'm being serious here. What did you see?"

Bonnie pauses, eyes uncertain, almost afraid. The guilt punches through Caroline like a bullet. "It wasn't clear like a picture. Like today, I keep seeing those same numbers I told you about? Eight, fourteen, twenty-two?"

"Yeah?"

"When I touched Stefan, it was a feeling." Bonnie shudders. "And it vibrated through me, and it was cold, and . . ."

"And what?"

There's a moment before Bonnie's answer and it feels like the end of the world. "It was death. It's what I imagine death to be like."