Protecting At It's Finest || SEQUEL

Eight;

The doors creak as I push them open. It's dark inside, although I was expecting that. Luckily, I'm a vampire, so I have this super-cool ability to see in the dark (and it's not because I eat my carrots, it's more to do with the fact I'm a predator). There's no animal noises inside the barn, only breathing.

Something, or someone, is in here.

I step further into the barn, looking around for any signs of life. The stalls are empty, as are the troughs put out for animal food and water. The hay in the stalls looks decades old, and the whole place smells of rotting wood and damp. Lovely.

My boots make the only loud noise in this place as I walk along the row of stalls cautiously, my eyes examining every one of them to see if whatever's breathing is in it. I stay as quiet as possible so that my ears pick up more sound.

Jesus this place stinks. Why would anyone choose to be in here? How can the outside look so great if the inside smells, and looks, like shit?

I asked myself that question about the boy I dated when I was in seventh grade, Billy Greene. Hot, but a total dickhead. Plus he thought I'd be a good screw — damn was he wrong.

Trying a different tactic, I click my tongue, "Come out, come out, wherever you are." Alright, I know this witch isn't a dog, but I'm not a people person okay?

Everything stays silent, except for the sound of breathing. God, why do people have to make my life difficult? All I want to do is talk. It's not like I'm here to drain her dry and rip out her throat, is it?

Yet the option grows more and more appealing every second the witch ignores me. It's just rude, to be honest, plain rude.

"You have no business here, demon." A croaky, strange voice shouts from the end of the walkway. The figure comes into view, and steps closer.

The witch is in her forties, but her hair is already greying. Her skin is pale, as if she's already been drained of blood, and she's thin. Thinner than the average forty year old. Her clothes are matted and worn, her cardigan has patches sewn onto it. She walks with a slouch as she comes toward me, her face one of contempt.

"Demon?" I reply with a playful grin, "That's a new one."

"There's nothing for you here Blood-drinker." She growls.

I raise an eyebrow at her, "Thank fuck for that, I ate this morning."

The witch hisses, "Leave."

"Funny story," I say, "that's not happening. I came to talk to—"

I'm cut off by a scream filling the air, a crunch of knees hitting the ground, and I think of finding out who's hurt.

But then I realise it's me who's knelt on the ground, me who's screaming, me who's grasping at my temples as if I can rip away the pain. There's an intense pounding in my head, almost like the screech of a banshee. I remember the feeling from when Bonnie flipped shit that time, and made every vampire in a ten metre distance drop to their knees with pain. Just my luck, I was within ten metres.

The pain is searing, and every fibre in my body ignites.

"There is nothing for your tarnished soul here! Nothing for you in Mystic Falls! Leave! Begone!" The witch screeches, before going back to chanting in Latin. Fuck, I knew I should've paid more attention in Latin class.

What is she—

My back hits the side of the barn with a slam, my head snapping backwards to bang against the wood sharply. Almost as soon as I hit the wall, I rebound from it and fall face down to the floor. My bones ache, and my head hurts, and I'm pretty sure my left rib is broken.

I groan, trying to lift myself up. I push my torso from the floor, lean on one arm, and rub my head with the other hand. Fuck, that hurts. What the hell did I do to piss this bitch off?

The intense pain in my head starts up again, and I clench my teeth together. God that hurts. My hearing is empty, and I can focus on nothing but the intense pain in my head.

And then it's gone, and I can hear Bonnie muttering an incantation. I breathe heavily to try and focus, so that I can ease out of the pain. Just barely I can see Bonnie and the witch muttering spells to each other, each occasionally wincing or crying out in pain.

Bonnie starts to look weak, and I panic. If she falls, we're screwed. This is a powerful witch, she has to be to be able to out-magic Bonnie. If Bonnie goes down, then I go down, and then who the fuck is going to sort Caroline's problem out? They'll need a witch, and if Bonnie goes down, this witch will probably kill her just to make sure she doesn't come back.

Bonnie falters.

I move impulsively, using my vampire speed to push myself up from the floor, and end up behind the witch in seconds. In a exactly three seconds after that, my hand plunges into her chest, through her back, and pulls out her heart. The body drops to the floor once my hand leaves it, her eyes still open. My hand, and forearm, are covered in blood, the heart in my hand still trying to pump the blood without a body to pump it to. Her skin, if it's even possible, is more pale than it was before. She looks very thoroughly dead, even if you didn't see the heart in my hand — her heart.

Bonnie looks up at me, nodding a thanks as she pants to get her breath back. She's placed her hands on her knees and bent forward, her hair slightly messed up.

"I suggest we come up with a plan B." I say, my worn out voice attempting to put a playful spin on the catastrophe we just caused.

Alright, maybe it was just me.

Bonnie sends me a strange look, one that clearly says 'what the fuck is wrong with you'.

"Oh," I continue, "and we're going to need to get rid of this." I gesture to the body of the witch on the floor with my free hand.

I kick the dead witch lightly.

"Personally, I suggest burning it," I say, "Give the bitch a taste of her own medicine."

"What is wrong with you?" Bonnie breathes out deeply, "Why is that the first thing you're thinking of?"

"Well the first thing I thought of, actually, was that I need to find myself an O- and drain it."

"Please stop talking."

I grin, "You get rid of the body, I'll get some dinner."

"Shut up."