When A Dove Begins To Fly With Crows [Bamon]

Two Evenings

Fourth Evening

                       The following evening, Bonnie sat down at the window and waited for the crow to emerge from the forests across the front yard but was unpleasantly surprised when it didn't show up. And to her disappointment, it didn't appear the evening after that, either.

As a feeling of dread settled in her stomach, Bonnie sat down at the window every night, fruitlessly waiting for the crow to show up. Every night, she crumbled a biscuit, put it on the windowsill, and left it there, hoping that the crow would return at any moment, but it never did. She even tried to whistle, but the pile of crumbs on the windowsill kept growing and began to decay in a grimy mud mixed with rain.

Her hesitantly lifting spirits lowered dramatically again, and it became painfully clear to Bonnie how important the crow's visits had become to her. Somehow, the bird's silent attention had made her feel as if it were listening to her and comforting her. With its disappearance, another feeling of loss was added to the one she was already carrying, and she cried herself to sleep at night again.

One Sunday evening, Bonnie finally threw open the window and, with one furious movement, wiped away the pile of soggy crumbs and then slammed shut her window.

                        While the crow had deserted her, Bonnie started to notice that Damon Salvatore suddenly had developed a habit of showing up unexpectedly and looking at her from the school parking lot or from across the street when she entered the supermarket. The first time this happened, she had frozen, but he had made no attempt to approach her, only watching her thoughtfully, his eyes intense in his otherwise impassive features. Most of the time she stared back at him, her face contorted in a scowl that didn't seem to impress him. He disappeared when she averted her gaze.

He was there again when she left school after a thankfully-uneventful Monday. She saw him standing in a far corner of the parking lot, gaze fixed on the young witch and, of their own accord, Bonnie's feet changed direction, marching right up to him.

Damon raised his eyebrow but didn't move as Bonnie came to stand in front of him, a little breathless from her sudden action.

"Why won't you just leave me alone?" she growled accusingly, her gaze fierce in dark eyes.

For a moment, a melancholic expression ghosted over his sarcastic features before he grinned indulgently. "You wouldn't want that, little witch."

Bonnie opened her mouth for a heated retort when she realized in shock that some part of her actually acknowledged some truth in his words.

"Oh, won't I?" she countered rather pointlessly, but Damon simply kept looking at her.

Then, with a swiftness indiscernible to the human eye, he grabbed her hand and unfolded it, revealing the partly healed cut. "Paper cut?" he asked innocently while trailing a surprisingly soft finger along the ridges of the scab surrounded by new skin.

Bonnie was speechless. All she could do was look down, her gaze fixed on his almost tender caress of the healed cut. Her intuition warned her that there was something to his question, as if he knew something she failed to see, but the sound of his voice pulled her from her thoughts and she quickly snatched back her hand.

"Splinter," she mumbled, thinking back to her crow in sadness.

"You might want to be more careful, little witch." He lifted his hand. "Your magical blood is very sweet to certain creatures, and we wouldn't want Emily's descendant to be attacked again, now would we?"

His ice blue eyes momentarily filled with longing as his fingers brushed her neck. The sensation made a shiver go down Bonnie's spine. Then he stepped back, patiently, if not a little amusedly, to watch her struggle with a fierce anger flaring up.