Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, 1:21 A.M.
If there was one item of food in the world that Elena despised, it was peanuts. She loathed them. It didn't matter if they were plain, chocolate-covered, or that damn honey-roasted kind-they made her sick. And just now, as she was gazing down at a foil package she knew to contain the offensive nuts, she was sorely tempted to make use of her airsick bag.
Elena sighed and glanced over at Stefan, who was dozing in the seat beside her. She'd let him have the window seat in a weak and childish attempt to dissipate his angry questions. She would have offered her peanuts to him, they were one of the few foods Stefan would eat, but she didn't want to disturb him. She knew he'd been sleeping even less than she had this past week.
Also, if he was asleep then he couldn't ask her to explain what was behind this trip. The astonishment had been clear on his face when, moments after she'd made her proclamation about Fell's Church, he'd watched her haphazardly pack their bags. From that moment to the present, she'd managed to dodge almost all of his questions, and gave vague answers to the ones she couldn't.
*But, why?* She couldn't understand her hesitation. She wanted to tell him about her dreams, and yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Several times in the taxi on the way to the airport Elena had resolved to tell him, but when she'd opened her mouth to do so, nothing came out. Her mind would cloud over with doubt and fear. *He won't understand. . .he'll think you're crazy. . .he'll leave.* That last thought had been enough to make her mumble some nonsense about wanting to see old friends, and shut up for the rest of the car ride.
*He'll leave. . .* Elena turned to look at Stefan's sleeping form again. He'd been acting so strange lately. Moving to another room, barely speaking to her, never leaving the house. . .and he'd done all this without any explanation. She set her teeth and frowned as she noticed his shallow breathing, and skin that was pale even for him. Had he been feeding?
"Christ," she muttered to herself. *I don't even know that!* Her eyes darted back to his face, but found no answers in his beautiful features. What was he hiding? *Well,* she thought consolingly, *if he can keep secrets, so can I.*
"Would you like a pillow or blanket?"
Elena jumped at the sound of a flight attendant's voice. She hadn't noticed her approach. Elena glanced up at the woman. She appeared to be in her late twenties, and had a very pleasant expression.
"Excuse me?" Elena asked her.
The woman smiled. "You just look so tired, and with your young man asleep already, I thought you might want to get some rest as well."
Elena's body screamed joyfully at the prospect of sleep, but she hesitated. What if she had the dream again? A quick glance to Stefan and back to the blanket the woman was carrying made up her mind. She was exhausted. And maybe if she did have the dream again she would get more information. As it was, she could only remember vague impressions. What she did know was that each time she woke up the urge to return to Fell's Church was stronger.
Elena accepted the proffered bedding from the flight attendant. "Thank you," she replied, and the woman nodded kindly as she continued down the aisle. Elena picked up the package of peanuts as if it were diseased and shoved it into the seat pocket in front of her. She then quickly moved her tray and lowered her seat back.
Once settled, she turned to face Stefan. *At least we're sleeping next to each other again* she thought ironically. She reached out a hand and laid it on his arm. The amount of comfort it brought her was enormous. It was so good to feel him next to her. *I will fix whatever has gone wrong between us, Stefan,* she promised silently as she gazed at him. Drowsiness began to take over and she stifled a yawn.
Stefan stirred in his sleep, and Elena's eyes moved quickly to his face. He didn't wake up, but instead grimaced and furrowed his eyebrows. She was about to shake him, when his face suddenly smoothed out and he relaxed back into slumber.
Reassured, Elena settled back into her seat, but kept her hand on his arm. As sleep set in, she had one more curious thought.
*I wonder if he's dreaming. . .*
* * * * *
Fell's Church, 7:30 P.M.
Bonnie glanced nervously around Caroline's small, but well-furnished apartment, letting her eyes adjust to the dark. She didn't want to risk turning on any lights, trying not to think of the consequences of trespassing on a crime scene. The room was so still, empty. Victoria must have gone to stay with her parents. *I don't blame her.*
She took a deep breath in hopes to calm down, but immediately decided it was a mistake as she inhaled the strong scent of blood. For a wild moment, Bonnie was shocked that it smelled so fresh. Then she remembered that Caroline had been killed less than forty-eight hours before.
*I was with her this time two days ago.* The thought was debilitating. Bonnie felt her control slipping away, but managed to focus on something else instead.
*Damon* His name seemed to strengthen her, and put her back on track. She was here to find out if Damon was involved in Caroline's murder, and, secondly-her own dreams.
*Just get it over with!* She pulled a small flashlight out of her backpack and trained it on the dark hallway she knew led to the bedrooms. As she made her way down the hall, thousands of images of Caroline filled her thoughts. Caroline laughing when Bonnie got stuck with Advanced Botany instead of Astronomy last semester. . .the two of them shopping together. . .Caroline making her buy sexy lingerie to shock Matt. . .hiking together in the Blue Ridge Mountains this past summer. . .Caroline never complaining about broken nails. . .when she and Matt had surprised Bonnie with a huge party for her birthday last December. *She really had changed,* Bonnie mused. She expected the tears to come, but anger took their place.
How many times was she expected to endure tragedy? The pain of losing Elena had nearly killed her, and just as she had started to heal she was hit with the deaths of Sue Carson and Vickie Bennett. Her grief was almost completely relieved with Elena's "return", but her recovery was also largely due to the rejuvenation of her friendship with Caroline and her new-found feelings for a certain blond quarterback.
*See how wrong I was about that* was her bitter thought as she approached Caroline's bedroom door. Apprehension flooded her senses as she stared at the doorknob. Before her fear could get the better of her, she seized the knob and plunged into the room.
"Oh. . ." Bonnie halted in the doorway and quickly clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream she knew was coming. *No. . .oh god, why?*
She'd expected to feel sick, scared, angry, all of the above. None of them adequately covered even a quarter of the emotions she was experiencing.
It wasn't just the blood, although that should have been enough. Every available surface was covered in it. No, it wasn't just the blood. . .it was the fact that what she was staring at was not Caroline's room. Her large mahogany day bed was replaced by a plain double bed covered with a frilly blue bedspread. *Well, it used to be blue.* The blood had turned it a sticky purple color.
Tearing her eyes away from that sickening sight, Bonnie saw that the rest of Caroline's matching furniture was gone as well. The corner where her desk and laptop computer had been now sported a chest of drawers, splattered with red and littered with jewelry and make-up. The treadmill Caroline had insisted she needed was nowhere to be found. In its place were a stereo system and a tall CD rack, both looking like they'd been dipped in red paint.
*I know this,* she realized with horror.
"Goodnight Sweetheart."
She gasped. It was Vickie's room. And there was the window, with the glass broken.
And there was. . .
Bonnie stiffened. Standing outside of the window, *Standing? Three floors up?*, were two people locked in a passionate embrace. The girl, although very short, was not so much shorter than the guy she was desperately clinging to. Through the moonlight the girl's hair was just discernable as a vibrant red, bouncy and curly.
Bonnie reached up to touch her own hair. Longer, and not as curly, but just as red. Surprisingly though, her attention was not focused on the mirror-image of herself. Rather, she had her eyes locked on the familiar leather jacket this other Bonnie was clutching. Her gaze traveled up to take in the equally familiar broad shoulders and night black hair.
"Damon," she whispered.
At the sound of his name, Damon broke off the seemingly eternal kiss and turned his head toward the room. Bonnie immediately felt his eyes lock onto her's.
As with any other time she'd looked at Damon, Bonnie felt her knees go weak. His inhuman beauty was overwhelming. Vaguely her mind registered that the other Bonnie had vanished, and Damon was now alone at the window, staring fixedly at her.
"How-" She realized she had no idea what she wanted to say. This couldn't be real. . .Damon was not standing outside that window.
"Sure I am."
And Bonnie knew that voice. She recognized the shivers it sent down her spine. "No." Was that her speaking? She sounded so distant and weak.
Damon smiled lazily as he folded his arms on the windowsill. "Yes," he replied.
Why was he arguing with her? *Visions don't argue, right?*
"And they don't read your mind, do they Bonnie?"
She nearly fell down when he said her name, managing to stay upright only by gripping the doorframe. "Did you kill Caroline?" she murmured.
His black eyes glittered mockingly. "What do you think?"
Bonnie frowned. This wasn't right. "No," she said again, with more strength this time. "You're not here. You can't be."
Damon's smile returned and he winked conspiratorially at her. "Why can't I Bonnie? I am always with you."
She gaped. "You. . .in my dreams. . ."
"Do you always like to trespass on crime scenes?"
This time she did scream, and jumped about a mile as she realized there was someone behind her.
"Well, I don't usually get that reaction from people."
Bonnie looked back and forth from the door to the window. Damon was gone, and so was Vickie's room. She was surrounded by Caroline's furniture. But the blood was still there. . .
"Damon?" She looked back at the window.
"No, actually. My name's Aurora."
Bonnie turned her flashlight on the figure in the doorway. She couldn't make out much, but it was definitely female.
"Here, let me help." And before Bonnie realized her intention, the girl had flipped on the light switch.
"No-" Bonnie felt her stomach heave as the light illuminated the blood everywhere. Bonnie could now even see the tape outline of a body on the floor in front of the bed. She was standing on its head.
The girl seemed amused as she watched Bonnie scurry away from the body outline. "It can't hurt you," she said.
Bonnie felt her anger returning swiftly. She turned the full force of her glare on the girl in front of her. Upon closer inspection, she realized this wasn't a "girl", but rather a woman. An incredibly stunning woman. She was tall, about 5'10", and extremely slender. She was dressed in black from head to toe, black mini-skirt, tank top, and knee-high boots. Her hair was long and thick, and it tumbled in jet black waves down her back. Full pouting lips dominated her petite face, overshadowed only by brilliant violet-colored eyes. Normally, Bonnie would have found herself intimidated in the face of such beauty, but her fury took over. "Who the hell are you?!" she demanded.
"I told you. Aurora. I was following you." This statement was made blandly, as if it were something she did everyday.
Bonnie paused and counted to ten. "Turn off that light-we're going to get caught," she said between clenched teeth.
Aurora smiled indulgently. "I don't think so." Her voice was silky, but Bonnie detected a hard edge to it. Mad, but curious, she asked, "You have an accent?"
"I'm French," Aurora replied. Then she sighed. "Look, Bonnie-"
"How do you know my name?"
"You told me."
Bonnie shook her head. "No I didn't." She narrowed her eyes and looked searchingly at the tall woman. She caught a quick thought from her.
* Lapis Lazuli *
"You read my thoughts," Bonnie stated grimly.
Aurora chuckled. "You read mine as well."
"Are you a vampire?"
Aurora held up her right hand. Bonnie saw the small blue stone set in silver on her third finger. "Oui, I have been since 1793."
Bonnie took this large admission quietly. "Why were you following me? Were you going to attack me?"
The beautiful vampire looked offended. "Certainly not."
"Then why?"
"Je ne sais pas."
"Uh, what?" Bonnie asked, feeling incredibly stupid.
Aurora was looking around the room. She sighed deeply. "I am sorry. I said, 'I don't know'."
*Okay. . .* This was odd. "You don't-" Bonnie stopped in mid-sentence. *French. . .the hospital. . .*
"Yes, I spoke to you yesterday when you were in the hospital." Aurora answered the unasked question quite simply.
The entire situation was becoming a bit too surreal for Bonnie. She hugged her arms and tried to block the coppery smell out of her mind. "What do you want from me?"
Aurora took a slow step toward her. "I could ask the same of you. Did you call me here?"
Bonnie snorted. "And then, they were both confused," she said sarcastically.
"Pardon?"
"Nevermind."
Aurora continued to approach her. "We're getting no where, you realize. Why don't you tell me why you're here."
Bonnie coughed. "What do you mean?"
Aurora gestured around the room. "It looks as if World War III happened here. Qui est-ce que Caroline?"
Bonnie's gaze reverted to the tape outline. "This is Caroline's apartment." *Was* "She was murdered two nights ago."
She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up. Aurora's violet eyes were full of sympathy. "Je regrette ma petite," she whispered, and Bonnie didn't need a translation for the comfort that came through the words.
"You want to know who killed her," Aurora went on.
Bonnie nodded.
"Bonnie," Aurora began gently. "Who is Damon?"
*Oh, boy. Here we go.*
"Well. . ."
