Disclaimer: Please see first chapter.

A/N: Sorry, everyone. Two days overdue - I underestimated how difficult is was gonna be to get inside of Damon's mind, even if just for a couple of paragraphs. Wow, his mind - especially at the start of Vampire Diaries - is a bag full of angry wildcats . . . mad and crazy in all directions! But, finally it's done, so here you are, I hope you'll enjoy what I have.

In other news, because a lot of people have been asking - I've given in - I'm putting out the definitive pairing for Arielle . . . is everyone watching . . . and the winner is . . . Elijah/Arielle/Niklaus . . . who picked it?

Warnings: Minor Language; Minor Religious Themes

. . . Okay, for the Guest Reviewer who asked if the answer to the cliffhanger was Damon . . . well, here you go, you're about to find out :) on with the story!

Chapter 11: By The Light Of The Night

. . . NO!

Ooh, Nimue's knickers! The pain of the strike nearly had her crumpling to the ground as her hand went to grasp the afflicted area in agony, only her pride holding her upright, as the blood rushed to the area and away from her head, leaving her lightheaded and dizzy, as she screeched her shock and pain out into the early evening. She managed to spin around, a wounded animal at bay, staring fixedly at the cruelly amused figure of the savage beast that had injured her so . . .

"Salvatore!" she hissed menacingly, brandishing the syringe in her hand threateningly to ward the vicious predator away. A ferocious, inhuman growl issued forcefully from her throat as he smirked, eyes gleaming coldly in satisfaction, and leaned forward with a calculating sneer twisting the handsome features as the highly evolved, predatory mind behind the human facade rapidly assessed her vulnerability.

"How does it feel on the other end of the strike, Miss Ari?" waving the homemade slingshot victoriously as she flinched at the sight of the cause of the stinging, lingering pain in her backside.

"Damn you, Stefan, you vengeful prick!" she grumbled ruefully, recapping the syringe and slipping it into her pocket to free her hand so that both were now rubbing gingerly at the tender, throbbing portion of her anatomy where the hurled stone had struck with rapid, brutal force. She eyed him blackly. "I used a bloody rubber eraser, you arse-wipe!" she vented indignantly, pouting at the unfairness of it all.

He snorted in resentment. "You aimed at my head. At least my target was padded."

She huffed out in astonishment, wagging her finger scoldingly. "Have you seen your hair, Salvatore? A steel anvil would bounce off of that . . ." muttering direly as her hand returned to its previous task of soothing the much-abused flesh of her rear.

Keeping a wary eye on him, and refusing to turn her back to him for so much as a split-second, she watched guardedly as he slung the discarded bag over his shoulder lightly and then followed him back down to the ground level and out of the undercover lot as he made his way over to her car, shaking his head in disgust. "Honestly, between you and Damon, it's enough to give a guy a complex about his hair!"

"Ever considered the source of our complaining?" she nagged, still glaring at his back as he stopped dead, whistling in awe at her car. He turned back, giving her the beady eye for that comment, before ignoring her entirely in favour of drooling over the sleek lines of the roadster.

He ran his hands caressingly over the sides – he had seen the car before – this was the first time that he'd taken the opportunity to see the vehicle from close up . . . the Cabriolet version of the Maserati Gran Turismo; it wasn't even officially released into the commercial markets, yet! How . . . "How did you get this, anyway?" he turned in wonder, staring at her admiringly as she snarled at him through clenched teeth, clearly still seething with wounded pride, and a wounded . . . well, yeah.

"Bought it," the flat, sullen reply raising his eyebrows as he peered at her sulky countenance . . . so that's how she wanted to play, did she? "Maarit, you traitorous feline, what are you waiting for?" she growled. "Get him!" the bag rippled as they both held their breath in anticipation, waiting. The kneazle poked her head out of the small gap inquisitively, mewing at Stefan in greeting as he peered over his shoulder at her with a grin, before pulling herself free of the bag and bouncing up and over his shoulder into the back seat, where she curled up snugly, completely blasé about her mistress' stupefied annoyance. "OOH!"

He chuckled softly, taunting her with the fact of the first part of his vengeance being completed without any avenues of reprisal left to her. "My family hails from Firenze, Miss Ari, should you be so surprised that I understand the concept of vendetta," he smiled mockingly as she bared her teeth in a baleful sneer. The effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that she was still fidgeting at the persistent ache in her posterior.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!" she snorted, her usual, irrepressible sense of humour finally resurfacing with his unapologetic grin at her shrewish reply. Yeah, he got her good – this time! She'd be ready for him on the next round, she assured herself, she'd have to be – she didn't think her bum could stand up to another sneaky assault like that!

"Come on," he beckoned her over as he opened the driver's side door for her courteously, waving her in, and grinning thinly at her sudden squirm of discomfort as bruised skin descended on the leather upholstery, before crossing to the other side to slide into the passenger's seat. "I half-expected you to take off on me," he commented wryly as she exited onto the road, driving back to the boarding-house.

She tossed her head haughtily at his mistaken assumption of her behaviour. "That would be petty, spiteful, and completely passive-aggressive conduct, Mr. Salvatore," she sniffed imperiously, sticking her nose in the air as he chuckled warmly.

"And, of course, the Miss Ari Parrish Mode of Conduct is: Aggression All The Way, No Passivity Allowed; obviously," was his dry rejoinder as they grinned at each other in perfect accord.

"Ah, he can learn!" she cried exultantly, batting her eyelashes at him mockingly as he sputtered indignantly.

Placing his hand over his heart, he feigned distress. "Miss Ari, you wound me!"

Her snarkiest grin was on full display as she sighed affectedly, and murmured, "Oh, if only!"

He slid down slightly in the seat as he tilted his head back and shouted with laughter, thoroughly enjoying her riotous, uninhibited joie de vivre as he let go of his typical, brooding attitude for now, and just gave in, surrendering to the temptation of following her 'live for now, take pleasure in the moment' advice of the previous evening. He straightened up suddenly, frowning in confusion as he sniffed at the air, before twisting in his seat to peer behind him at the bag that he'd parked on the seat next to a blissfully snoozing Maarit when he'd settled himself into the passenger seat. "I smell . . . I knew I could nearly taste . . ." he muttered, his head nearly buried inside the canvas as he dug around curiously – "AHA!" – waving his plundered prize victoriously as she snorted at his childish glee. ". . . Chocolate!" he crowed, eyeing the clear lid to determine what lay beneath. "Ohhhh . . . Devil's Food Cake – this was why you were picking my brains all through A.P.L.S. today – it's Zach's favourite," he realised, staring at her in surprise.

She hummed in agreement, waiting for it – "You're going to make me ask, aren't you?" he sighed, pouting a bit. "Fine – it's like pulling teeth with you, Parrish – I'll ask . . . what's with the five-star cuisine?" waving the container practically beneath her nose, where she couldn't possibly miss it, before she pushed his hand away with a pronounced eye-roll.

"A bribe – for forgiveness," she claimed, giving him a sidelong smirk as he glared at the succinct retort. "Zachary Salvatore, as a member of one of the Founding Families of Mystic Falls, represented his family as a guest at my welcoming party, back on the first of September," she elaborated, smiling at his sudden close attention to her words. "It was a rather warm day, and the champagne was flowing rather freely thanks to Mrs. Carol Lockwood, the Mayor's wife, as she continually reminded everyone over the course of the afternoon, and we all ended up rather flushed and overheated.

"Zachary was really bad – he was yanking at his tie as though he thought it was going to strangle him, and he nearly did pull it too tight at one stage, before I told him that I had a pool out in the backyard – and so, seeing as everyone else was in the front parlour or the kitchen, he was more than welcome to take a dip and cool off," Stefan was starting to smirk wickedly as he caught the drift of where this was going. "He accepted with rather indecent haste, and barrelled out the back door, stripping down to his boxers and leaping in with a great splash – which was a fatal error, of course, as the noise did attract some attention," she was grinning as widely as he was now, highly entertained by her recollections of that day – Mrs. Lockwood's rather poorly disguised lustful stares at the flustered Zach . . . well, really, who knew that a man could blush so deeply all over, unless you actually saw him stripped down to the bare essentials – Sheila Bennett's and Jenna Sommer's barely restrained hilarity over the whole affair, as well as Ari herself in that moment, her face carefully blank even as her eyes sparkled with impish glee, handing the embarrassed elder Salvatore a towel with which to huddle in, hiding himself from the approving stares of the – clearly – Desperate Housewives of Mystic Falls!

Her vividly detailed and hilarious descriptions of the ensuing chaos had them both in stitches as Ari struggled to concentrate on not driving them off the road, or into another car, while he guffawed in merriment, holding his sides as he pictured the scene in his head – oh, he was going to give his great-nephew, many times removed, some hell over this! Sobering reluctantly, he pulled himself back up in his seat, staring out the windshield as he commented, "Much as I hate to be a buzzkill – there was a reason why we met up in the undercover garage . . . other than my urge to exact due justice away from the prying eyes of the public . . ." trailing off with a grin that faded into a slightly grim stare as he remembered the stated motive for their private conference away from the boarding-house – Damon.

"Yeah, yeah, there is that – and we really do need to talk about it," Ari grimaced a bit, biting her lip in frustration. "Your diet is – pardon the crudity – really fucking with your ability to function effectively as a vampire, Stefan," she looked over as he winced at her bluntness. "I'm not trying to be critical, or judgemental, I'm aware that you have your reasons, the problem is – with your ability to compel humans being a tragic casualty of your lifestyle – Vicki was holding Maarit in the hospital, and fragments of her memory started to come back . . . Stefan," she stared at him seriously, willing him to see the point of her statement. "If something as small as that can trigger a flashback-"

"-What could happen as time goes on, and potentially the Compulsion fades as it apparently only barely took hold in the first place, and she sees something else that sets off a reaction, or – God forbid-"

"-Damon!" they finished in concert, sharing a bleak look – shit! This was more than a little bit not good. "Great!" he groaned, glaring through the windshield. "I can already tell that this is going to be a wonderful conversation . . ."

Damon's attention was half-fixed, half-wandering, as he chatted ever-so-casually to Elena Gilbert – God's grief, she really did look just like Her – smoothly introducing carefully calculated little 'bombs' into their conversation that were designed to drive mental splinters into the oblivious mortal's tender flesh, irritating her, upsetting her sense of complacency about her newly budding relationship with his baby brother . . . and speaking of which – his vampiric hearing picked up on a low, throbbing purr from an engine turning into their street – having seen, and heard of, the British newcomer's 'bomb-ass' car (really?), along with her burgeoning friendship with said younger brother of yours truly, he had little doubt that the throaty rumble belonged to her luxury convertible . . . was that where Stefan had disappeared to today, he mused idly, still gossiping nonchalantly with his newest victim – ah, that is to say, Miss Elena Gilbert.

He was listening to the slight commotion outside – too quiet for mortal ears, as Elena was utterly ignorant of anything other than himself, for the moment – of a playful argument between Arianna Parrish and Stefan, that was suddenly punctuated with a laughing shriek from the girl, as Stefan apparently had the ability to amuse people – who knew – while one deliberate set of measured footsteps paced towards the front door as Miss Parrish giggled madly and ordered her companion to 'set her back on her own two feet, dammit!' while Stefan replied in the negative with a chuckle.

When opportunity knocks, Damon reflected with an inward smirk, get ready for mayhem! Stefan acting the part of an anxious bridegroom, or a caveman, with this new girl, while his prospective girlfriend was already present in the house, would play very nicely into his hands. Damon quickly wrapped up his premeditated and poisonous tête-à-tête with Elena regarding his fatalistic attitude (or so he claimed) towards brand-new, potentially on-the-rebound, relationships actually going the distance, just as Elena heard Stefan's voice through the door as he exclaimed at something Arianna had apparently done in protest of her position as little more than a lugged parcel. The door was manhandled open, with Stefan nearly falling over the threshold as he howled in laughter at the resentful – and loud – objections being issued at the top of the girl's lungs, as she hollered for him to let her loose!

The hilarity died a sudden, painful death as he caught sight of his brother at that moment, with a puzzled, "Stefan?" questioning his abrupt silence as Arianna twisted on his shoulder, futilely trying to see what the problem was. Stefan barely took any notice of Elena's frozen form standing, as though petrified, right next to the subject of his attention, the focus of the icy expression he was now wearing upon his face. A sudden breeze swept through the open door, swirling the air and ruffling Damon's inky locks as he inhaled sharply and froze, the beginnings of dark veins flaring and distending beneath his eyes as the orbs reddened at the very edges, his blood-hunter's instincts coming to life in an instant at that scent – heaven's mercy, how could Stefan stand it?

His mouth watering, Damon had to angle his body slightly away from Elena in order to hide his swift escalation towards his full vampiric visage as his canines tingled with the sudden thirst – unbelievable! How could one person, one young girl, smell so good? Stefan, seeing his explicit, undeniable reaction to the enticing blood-scent from his friend, lifted his upper lip back from his teeth in a warning snarl, his deep-green eyes nearly glowing with rage as his own vampiric instincts were barely contained beneath his skin, the flesh paling and shadows appearing to move eerily across the hard-set features as he struggled to hold back the distinctive shift into raging demonic fury in front of Elena. Silently their eyes duelled, turbulent green clashing with electric blue, from opposite ends of the entryway as the elder struggled not to lose his control, while the younger brashly defied him to make that very mistake.

Barely standing inside the door, his severe declaration was a warning to both his brother AND Ari, "Damon . . ." bringing a startled exclamation from the girl who was still hanging in a fireman's carry over his shoulder, as the dangerous intensity in the air finally faded somewhat at what happened next . . .

Coming upright with a sharp, "What?" she abruptly squalled in pain as the back of her rising head collided smartly with the top of the doorframe. "AIIYEEEE!" she yowled, dropping her head back down rapidly as her hands clutched at the site of her newest injury, whimpering in distress. "Ohhhhh . . . there's the head injury you were trying to avoid last time," she moaned pathetically as Stefan cringed, first from the awful sound of the meaty thunk as skull met timber, and then from her piteous appeals for sympathy – a plea he was more than happy to comply with, he decided – right before her foot swung down and through, driving into his solar plexus as he grunted and hunched a little from loss of breath . . . damn, she kicked like a mule! Her soft calls for compassion had rapidly shifted to a semi-bellow as she ranted at him crossly, "Didja ever think about actually getting inside the bloody door, you flaming moron! Jesus, I nearly brained myself!" wheezing a bit, he shuffled into the house properly, setting her back on her feet as he rubbed tentatively at the slightly enflamed, but rapidly healing, spot on his stomach where her boot had landed.

Grinning like a lunatic, but careful to wipe away any outward display of glee before drawing their attention to where it rightfully belonged – on him – Damon cleared his throat pointedly as the irritated blonde, still holding her head with both hands as though she was afraid it might fall off otherwise, turned to him with an aggravated glare, looking him up and down thoroughly, before snorting dismissively and looking to Elena with a sheepish grin. "Miss Gilbert, sorry about that thoroughly humiliating little scene back there," her dark look was directed at the one upon whom she clearly placed ALL blame for that. "Stefan recently discovered his impulsive side, and we're still working out the kinks before I'm satisfied that he's suitable to go back out in public!" he snorted indignantly at her summation, eyeing her in disbelief.

Disdaining to reply, he darted a glare at his brother, filled with evil intent, before facing Elena fully with a clearly forced smile that looked quite painful on his rigid features. "Elena, I didn't know you were coming over . . . today." Eyeing him sidelong in incredulity, Arianna crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall as she rolled her eyes.

Damon would've been enchanted – if he had actually been the type – he had a feeling that this girl was an über-BITCH, when the mood struck, shades of his iron-willed, vicious, and incredibly sexy mentor, Sage. But at the moment, he was on a mission; sabotaging Stefan was a priority, in order to distract him from his own true purpose here in town, so – "Clearly!" – the comment, seemingly designed to be sotto voce, was loud enough to carry to Elena's ears, as her face fell in disappointment, obviously downcast by all that she had heard and witnessed today.

Gathering herself for another attempt – God, you had to admire her unfailing optimism – at sticking to her guns, she smiled determinedly, walking towards Stefan slowly, saying, "I know, I should have called-"

"-Oh, don't be silly! You're welcome anytime – isn't she, Stefan?" thrusting the knife in as Stefan offered him a particularly venomous stare at the suggestion, one that Elena was clearly going to end up taking the wrong way . . .

Ari snorted inwardly – why, oh why, did it always seem to fall to her? Here she comes, The Saviour, riding to the rescue, ready to save the day . . . she listened with half an ear as Damon Salvatore blathered on about home videos and family albums – yeah, as if! She would have loved to see what he'd have come up with to slither his way out of the hole he was merrily digging for his brother, if Elena had actually pushed for it, she mused wickedly, her lips quirking at the mental image of the silver-tongued vampire suddenly being lost for words as he tried to backtrack on certain key statements that he'd made!

First rule of giving someone else just enough rope to hang themselves, Damon – make sure that the length of said cord wouldn't make for a damned fine noose around your neck, as well!

She tuned back in just in time to hear Stefan mutter a rather curt dismissal to Elena, rapidly deciding that intervention was not only desired, but required, at this stage if anything was to be salvaged from this disaster . . . stretching languidly, with a prolonged, lusty sigh, drawing all eyes to her, she made to pull her arms back down . . . with her left elbow jabbing sideways in a swift, sneaky manoeuvre that slammed the stiffened point sharply into the space between two of Stefan's ribs – the key to taking down a vampire in combat as a mortal, Ari had learned, was not to waste your energy in trying to match them in pure strength, but to exploit their few vulnerable spots: groin, eyes, solar plexus, kidneys, etc. The soft, giving area that lay in between the bony areas of the ribcage being a perfect case in point, as she'd just demonstrated.

Stefan went rather pale, not even breathing for a second, as he tried to absorb the pain – what the? Taking full advantage of his white-faced silence, she stepped into the breach boldly, remarking, "Honestly, Stefanie, I really think that you could be even more awkward about this – I'm not sure how, but I am positive that you would manage it! I told you that he wasn't fit for public consumption, just yet," murmuring the last in a stage whisper to Elena, who wasn't entirely sure whether to wince in empathy at Stefan's angst-filled whine – whether from the ache in his side or in rebuttal of Ari's quip, no one was sure – or to laugh hysterically at Ari's blunt address to, and then blithe dismissal of, the looming elephant in the room.

Damon had no such issues – he was in love! Forget . . . Her . . . this girl was a keeper. A living, breathing golden girl made up of piss and vinegar and sheer balls – Hallelujah! He had to meet her, for real. "We haven't been properly introduced yet, tut-tut, Stefan," the groan this time could not possibly be mistaken as anything other than a very vocal disclaimer of Stefan EVER planning to introduce this pair to each other – oh Lord, the chaos that would erupt! Damon shrugged blithely at his wordless denial of any such intent, and decided to do the honours for himself. "Damon Salvatore, at your service, my lady," as he executed a flourishing bow while she eyed him nonchalantly, Elena's eyes popping wide at the dandyish behaviour, with Stefan muttering dire imprecations underneath his breath as he glared at his brother, to no avail. "And you must be-"

"-Completely uninterested, Mr. Salvatore, but thank you anyway," she trilled brightly, slanting her tawny eyes at him in a fashion that had Stefan standing abruptly upright, the hairs on the back of his neck lifting in eerie premonition, as he stared raptly at the two, their eyes locked in a duel – icy blue and blazing amber – as Damon, far from being offended, grinned wider than ever at her cutting dismissal.

Damn . . . Stefan mouthed the word silently, it was like staring at a twisted mirror-image – where one was dark, the other was light; Damon was as smooth and slippery as oil, while Ari was fierce and fiery – yet they were exactly the same, underneath it all . . . the effortless, lazy charm, and those crooked, utterly infuriating smirks that curled one side of their lips as their eyes pierced through you like they could see inside your soul, the way that they punctuated their statements with those sly, sideways looks, and the irreverent cynicism with the undertones of dark malice in their mocking laughter – and yet the difference was marked . . . Ari was clearly still capable of love, tenderness and empathy for the lives of others. If Lily Salvatore had ever given birth to a daughter, could it have been someone like Ari, Stefan wondered blankly. Could this brazen but sweet, endlessly compassionate, and yet bitingly witty, young woman ever have been the baby sister that he had yearned for all of his life, but for a sad twist of Fate?

"URKK!" he decided to take the part that she had assigned for him, that of rash and impulsive behaviour, and run with it, snatching her into a quick headlock as she grunted and wriggled in shock, offering her the ultimate indignity of a noogie as she squealed in protest, while Elena clapped her hands over her mouth, unsure of whether she wanted to giggle madly or just scream at the top of her lungs at the insanity that was running rampant in this place . . . Ari finally worked her way loose, flushed and panting, patting her clothes back into place as she glared at the sniggering Stefan, his shoulders shaking in mirth as he slumped against the wall.

She opened her mouth to yell, and shut it abruptly as Damon just had to open his mouth and insert both feet, all at once – "Wow . . . the pheromones are getting a bit thick in the air around here – should we leave you two alone?" – he glared blackly at Stefan as the laughter finally subsided. Trading a look of bewilderment with Ari, who blankly mouthed the word 'Pheromones?' to him, he shrugged in confusion before looking to Elena, who was now staring between the two of them with hurt in her dark eyes . . . what . . . pheromones . . . oh no, what the . . . really, Damon?

Just as the realisation hit him, Ari burst out in hysterical whoops, her raucous giggles setting him off as his head fell back against the wall and he sagged a bit, snorting with laughter at the idea. Every time they managed to taper off somewhat, one would catch the other's eye, and the cycle would start over. Finally, Ari calmed herself enough to straighten up from her doubled-over position, wheezing slightly as she tried to catch her breath, and looked Damon straight in the eye, her gaze clear and direct and unflinching as she stared him down. A lopsided smirk curled her mouth as she softly, but clearly, stated for everyone in the room to hear, "I honestly don't know what's wrong with you, but I'm prepared to bet good money . . ." propping her left hand on her hip as she leaned her opposite shoulder against the wall, ". . . Very good money, indeed, that it can be summed up into at least one word that is comprised of a great many syllables that renders it extremely difficult for the average citizen to pronounce." Having offered her considered opinion on the matter, she proceeded to ignore him, turning to look at Stefan as he finally managed to stand upright without supporting himself on the wall.

Curling his lip condescendingly, he slung his arm around Ari's shoulders companionably and, sneering at Damon, backed up her declaration with his own scathing retort, "Damon, meet the newest member of the Salvatore clan – my newly adopted sister, Arianna, sorry . . . Ari – who, while I dearly love her, is really not my type-"

"-Which is all things sad, sweet and brunette!" even as she eyed him askance for the outlandish claim, she couldn't resist murmuring their personal tag for Elena Gilbert in dulcet tones, but not so quietly as to not allow the girl to pick up on it, judging by the becoming pink flush in her cheeks, as her chocolate-coloured eyes sparkled brightly at the thought. Ari winked at her with a conspiratorial grin as she giggled softly, and Damon scowled at the interference with his saboteur efforts – how dare she put aright what he'd purposely set astray!

". . . Don't worry, Damon, I'm more than happy to be generous, and share my new sibling with you – clearly, you're foundering without the guidance of a strong, determined female's influ-" Stefan cut himself off midstream as he cocked his head and listened intently to the faint, clattering sound on the second level of the house and, as they all stopped to listen, Ari heard it as well.

Clapping her hands gleefully, she announced, "Ah, Zachary IS home!" as Stefan's arm fell away when he turned to face the stairs as Zachary rounded the next flight and pounded down towards them, his voice lifted in ire.

"DAMON! I SWEAR, IF YOU HAVE BROUGHT ANOTHER BUNCH OF DRUNKEN SORORITY GIRLS INTO-" stumbling to a dead halt as he caught sight of Elena's wondering face over Stefan's shoulder, his mouth working in horror as he flushed brightly in mortification at his erroneous assumption, stuttering and mumbling as he tried to think of something to cover his previous spate of verbal diarrhoea. "Um – uh – tha' – I – I heard voices – and laughter!" blushing brighter still as he tripped over his tongue while trying to excuse himself.

"Zachary!" deciding to take pity on the poor man as he withered under Damon's icy glare, Ari looked back over her shoulder, calling out cheerfully, "I thought I heard your dulcet tones – how are you?" Zach heaved a deep, heartfelt sigh, seizing on the opportunity to save himself with both hands, as he peered into the shadows where Ari stood, eyes bright, as she smiled at him gently.

"I know that voice – Arianna Parrish!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide as he beamed happily, striding forward to embrace her warmly as she chuckled. "How have you been, sweetheart?"

"Oh, I've had a wonderful time with school, obviously," she rolled her eyes drolly as they withdrew from the hug with Zach laughing softly at her dry tones, "Made some friends, made some enemies, gave my teachers a few new gray hairs – y'know, the usual – how have YOU been?" grinning at him in amusement as he grimaced teasingly.

"Oh, yeah, you know – recovering. I might have actually preferred the intoxicated Alpha Phi Betas, after all," he cracked, laughing heartily as she pulled her hand away and pressed it to her heart, pouting in feigned hurt at his gibe. "At least I know that a bunch of wasted, half-dressed females wouldn't be able to talk me into embarrassing myself by getting into a situation that I knew better than to get into, in the first place!" they chuckled at the memory of his red-faced aggravation as he valiantly tried to muster up the lingering shreds of his tattered dignity in the face of the spirited wolf-whistles and appreciative, wide-eyed gazes from the ladies – yeah, right – present at that infamous party! He clicked his tongue in self-deprecation, still flinching at the reminder of having Carol Lockwood not-so-inconspicuously lurking in his vicinity, all but licking her lips, for the rest of the afternoon, before he could finally politely take his leave of the lazily amused Ari, and escape with his hide still in one piece!

Damon listened in disbelief as all of his fine work this evening was swiftly unravelled by the manipulative, scheming little do-gooder in front of him, throwing her tawny head back as she giggled merrily at Zach's sly little asides as they chattered on – had he actually thought he'd fallen in LOVE? Bah! He hated her, that – that – no-good, sneaky, lowdown symbol of virtue and morality – how could she betray him like this? Sneaking a peek from the corner of his eye at Her clearly inferior little impersonator, he saw her doing the exact same thing to him, the dark eyes displaying her clear scepticism of his earlier allegations and subtle little jeers at Stefan's so-called honour and candour . . . that bitch! How dare she doubt the truth behind his completely and utterly deceitful manipulations! His eyes narrowed on the back of the Hated One as she casually tore up and destroyed – metaphorically speaking – all of his carefully laid groundwork, intended to land Stefan in hot water with his new girlfriend . . . oh, vengeance would be sweet.

"Actually, speaking of, or NOT referring to, that event-which-shall-not-be-mentioned, Zachary-"

"-Please, sweetheart, call me Zach, like everyone else does. Zachary reminds me of my dearly departed mother . . ." Zach quickly crossed himself and kissed his fingers as he gazed heavenwards in honour of one of the only women he'd ever truly loved in his life. Ari politely crossed herself as well out of respect, finishing with a quick kiss of the crucifix that she'd fished from the neckline of her top, as Zach flashed an appreciative smile at her actions, before continuing, ". . . May God rest her sainted soul, and no one else has ever called me that since she passed away when I was seventeen."

She nodded her head in assent. "Zach, then, I have something for you . . ." gesturing to Stefan, and then scowling darkly, as he played ignorant of her meaning. "Stefan . . ."

"What?"

"Hand it over, Salvatore."

"But I thought it was for me," he whimpered pathetically, poking his bottom lip out in a mock-sulk as Elena giggled shrilly from the parlour and wandered closer to the steps, fascinated by their indulgent banter.

"Nope."

"Awwww . . ." Stefan relented as Zach sniggered into his hand, fishing the pack out of his sweater, while Damon sulked conspicuously in the background – his frown deepening when nobody bothered to pay his broodiness the slightest bit of attention – was this how it was to be Stefan on a bad hair day, he wondered. With the container safely in Ari's hands, she passed it to Zach with a smile, as Stefan decided to continue winding her up with his teasing, "There you go, Uncle Zach – your br-" THUNK!

"-A PEACE OFFERING!" she interjected loudly to cover his TMI disclosure, while her foot swung back and then forward into his shin with the pointy toe of her boot, the impact sounding like wood striking stone, as she suddenly flinched at the sharp, shooting pain in her big toe. Peering over her shoulder, she made a theatrical production out of it in a bid for sympathy, screwing her face up in an expression of exaggerated anguish, and whimpering piteously, ". . . Ow?" as Elena simultaneously grinned hugely at her over-the-top performance, and cringed in concern – it HAD sounded like a rather painful blow!

Stefan was leaning idly back against the wall again, one dark eyebrow arched sardonically as he murmured drily, "Really?" as Ari glared at him vengefully and offered him the traditional, two-fingered salute as Zach coughed ostentatiously, struggling to keep a straight face. Seeing her eyes snap to him, he made a show of examining his gift, looking it over as a wide grin split his face.

"Devil's Food Cake? How on earth . . . ?" he beamed as she indicated Stefan with a jerk of her shoulder, both of them smiling at him as he gushed over her present to him. ". . . Thank you!" he cradled it tenderly, like a mother with her newborn.

"No problem, Zach," she murmured. "But, I did wonder about something, before," he cocked his head curiously as she continued, "Stefan and I made a hell of a racket coming into the house today – you didn't hear that?" biting her lip in thought as he shook his head in bewilderment, her face carefully set in an expression of mild curiosity, even as her mind raced over the possibilities of how to exploit this fact, and hopefully shatter Damon's hopes of influencing and manipulating Elena before he'd ever really begun. At the very least, she should be able to minimise any future damage by having Elena ready to actively question, and possibly discount entirely, any snippets of harmful information that she received that could be tracked back to him.

"So, in review," she stated, apparently idly, watching from the corner of her eye as Stefan came alert at the barely discernable edge of triumph in her clear tones, while the burning sensation at the base of her neck intensified, indicating that Damon had picked up on her subtle elation as well – and he DID NOT appreciate it – "Screaming, yelling, arguing and shrieks of torment and anguish seem to escape your hearing entirely – whereas hysterical, frenzied laughter, and behaviour, on the other hand, has you racing down the stairs in agitation, ready to accuse your eldest nephew of all manner of deviant conduct," by this stage, Elena was swallowing hard and wondering why she'd ever bothered to listen to this guy in the first place – no matter the fact that he was Stefan's older brother and, besides that, absolutely . . . ridiculously . . . gorgeous!

She felt a bit foolish, as she began to edge away from him, her foot slipping onto the first step that lead from the parlour into the main entryway, closer to Stefan, and further from Damon, while Ari delivered the final blow on the theme she'd outlined so masterfully, "Damon!" she stared over her shoulder, eyebrows lowered reproachfully over her piercing gaze. "What on earth have you been doing, to have your poor, beleaguered Uncle Zach panicking over people laughing and having fun around here, hmm?"

That look in Damon's eyes generally meant that someone was about to die a sudden, unnatural death; taking careful note, Zach clapped his hands together briskly to dispel the deadly silence hanging in the air as he laughed awkwardly and babbled, "Yes – well – best not to . . . uh, go too far in that direction – if you know what I mean? Especially in, ah, mixed company," his rushed, uptight tone spelling out that this topic was not up for discussion. "Being as this is . . . well . . . a bachelors' household, and all," his tight grin conveying the impression that three healthy, single, relatively young men living together in one house, without any females in permanent residence, could get up to all sorts of shenanigans that respectable young ladies – such as the two currently present in the boarding-house – should not have to hear about!

Ari was nearly tempted to applaud him enthusiastically – if it wouldn't have completely destroyed the effect that she'd been aiming for – at his performance of a flustered, tongue-tied and responsible gentleman, who was struggling not to air his eldest nephew's dirty laundry in public, setting a lovely little seal on Elena Gilbert's brand-new perspective of the seething vampire . . . perfect! Well done, team! And, now that her work was done – and Damon looked as though he was about to burst an artery, whether his own or someone else's – it was time to exit, stage left!

Swivelling to face Elena once more, and entirely dismissing Damon even while he smouldered blackly at her, she smiled ruefully as she clasped both hands together, "Forgive me, Miss Gilbert, one of the reasons for our shock – mine and Stefan's – at finding you here, was the lack of a vehicle sighted outside when we arrived . . . ?" her brow arched inquiringly as the other girl blushed brightly.

"OH! Oh, yeah, no, I – I – walked, I walked from the Grill . . . in town," she stammered awkwardly, fidgeting with the hair at the side of her face before sweeping it behind her ear and fiddling with her necklace as she bit her lip.

Taking pity on her, Ari spread her hands expressively as she smiled. "Well, that explains it then . . . so, do you need a ride back to town, or home, Miss Gilbert?" she asked politely.

"Uh, yeah, I . . . if that's okay?" she stuttered, eyeing Ari anxiously.

Ari just spread her hands wider, as if questioning her hesitation. "It wouldn't be the first time I've been a free taxi service – whether here in Mystic Falls, or elsewhere," she stated calmly, her lips quirking as Elena clamped her mouth shut and just nodded vigorously, obviously figuring that no comment was her safest option.

Stefan pushed off from the wall, standing straight as his gaze questioned Ari's intent as she turned to him. "I thought we needed to set up for our project this semester . . . ?" his brow lifting in question as she ran her tongue behind her teeth in consideration of that point before looking meaningfully to Zach.

Everyone turned to stare at him, even Damon, as he wondered what the hell she was up to now, while she muttered softly, "Somehow, I think school is the least of your worries, right now," twisting back to face an inquisitive Elena, whose eyes widened in intrigue, as Ari leaned towards her in conspiratorial fashion, one hand bracketing the side of her face as she stage-whispered, "I really think we should leave them to it, before Zach loses his cool and starts yelling at his disorderly, rabble-rousing nephews right in front of his unexpected guests!" her eyes flicking to Zach, whose eyebrows nearly shot up in shock before he caught the drift of her intent and proceeded to lower them ominously, doing his best to give off the impression of an aggravated elder, who was simply dying to lay into his disobedient hooligan relatives for their unruly conduct, being held back only by his genteel distaste for exhibiting such behaviour in mixed company.

Elena bowed her head, fighting off a sly grin, at the idea of Damon being called onto the carpet, as Ari shot Zach a subtle wink while he struggled not to smile at Damon's palpable, ever-increasing fury at being outwitted by this shrewd young woman. Ari heaved a great sigh and rubbed at her forehead as she looked back at Stefan. "It really does feel like Karma is out to get us, over this stupid bloody assignment, though," she grumbled, closing her eyes in frustration at having to postpone their preparation – yet again.

"Tomorrow!" he spouted suddenly, as her eyes shot open again to stare at him. Spreading his hands in appeal, he shrugged. "No school – they declared it as a curriculum day on account of the Comet, so . . ." she grinned slightly in realisation. "Unless, of course, you're planning on attending the fête they're putting on in the Town Square-"

"-Pssh!" she rubbished the idea immediately, swiping the air in front of her face dismissively as she rolled her eyes. "All of that stuff is for the kids! Every parent, or at least those with half a brain, will have them running around in that square like little ruffians tomorrow, wearing out their energy so that, when it's time for the Comet to be viewed at night, they'll maybe last a coupla hours or so before they crash and get into bed by about 10 o'clock at the latest," she predicted wisely, eyes gleaming with humour.

Stefan inclined his head, lips tilting in a small smirk. "Tomorrow it is . . . your place?" he queried, as she nodded in acquiescence.

"Oh, I think so. For privacy's sake alone, even if nothing else," she slanted a glance at Damon, before flicking her gaze back to Stefan. "At my place, the only one we've gotta worry about disturbing is Maarit, if you keep her from her naptime, but I'm pretty sure you're smarter than that," grinning at him while he shook his head with a sheepish smile.

"I don't think anyone's fool enough to mess with Miss Maarit," he assured her, even as he turned to face Elena and offer her a farewell, hoping to assist Ari's strategy of a quick exit for the pair before Mt. Damon erupted in spectacular fashion, while also seeking to make amends for his earlier churlishness – dammit, if Ari hadn't been here, he fumed, he'd have made a right royal mess of the whole situation . . . and Damon would've come out of it looking, and smelling, like a rose! If he didn't manage to control his kneejerk reactions to the very thought of having him anywhere near the people he cared about, then Ari was right – Damon had already won. His mouth curled up slightly in an apologetic grimace as he looked into the deep-brown eyes. "Elena . . . I hope that we'll be able to get the chance to talk at some stage, about . . . about . . . I know that while we've talked a lot over the last few days, that, that there are still things that I haven't told you . . . that I need to tell you," he rolled his shoulders tensely, uneasy about what he could actually tell her without revealing things – secrets – that could not be shared . . .

She stared at him for a moment, face blank, as she debated the offer – despite having second (and maybe third?) thoughts about the validity of Damon Salvatore's seemingly casual little stories regarding Stefan's past, he'd still raised some rather compelling issues – Stefan seemed like the ultimate mystery guy . . . and while that was tempting at first, calling to her to him, to try and figure him out, would it be worth it in the end? Would she like what she found . . . could she afford to take this risk . . . she just wasn't sure any longer, all of the certainty and optimism that she'd felt after chatting with Bonnie and Caroline at the Grill, the confidence that had lead her here, seemed to have melted away, leaving her confused and hesitant about the next step.

Mustering up a tight, unconvincing smile, she took the last step to come up into the foyer, facing him as she shrugged lightly. "I know . . . I just . . . can we . . . I need some time, to think," she nodded her head, as if trying to convince herself that she meant what she was saying. "Um, I'm sure, with school, and everything . . . we'll see each other," she mumbled, flushing slightly as she tried to put her thoughts into some kind of coherent order, let alone her words! Giving it up as a bad job for the moment, she rolled her shoulder noncommittally as she walked past him while Ari stepped aside to give her room, muttering a barely audible goodbye as she went towards the door. Stopping next to Zachary, she murmured a soft apology for 'barging in'; even as he waved her off with a slight glare at Stefan's crestfallen face, and an awkward, yet sincere, smile for the dejected girl.

Upon seeing that his smear campaign clearly hadn't been a total loss, Damon perked up again; a cold smile crossed his face as the blue eyes burned with triumph. Stepping forward while Ari shot him a venomous look, he took her hand in his to bid her farewell – for now. "My sweet little sister," he purred, his eyes sparkling maliciously as Stefan growled and Zach's eyebrows shot up, "Oh, yeah, Uncle Zach, didn't Stefan tell you – he's adopted her as our very own, an honorary Salvatore," tightening his hold in warning as she rolled her eyes in disgust and went to slip her fingers free. "He DID promise to share – so, Little Bit, I suppose we must say adieu for the moment." Clasping her hand in both of his, he went to lift it to his mouth before she cringed and snatched it away in distaste, cradling her fingers against her chest defensively, as she played up to the crowd every bit as much as he had.

"Uh – ew – no, I don't think so," she sing-songed in an overbright voice, ringing with distaste, as Stefan resettled himself against the wall with eyes half-closed to hide the anticipatory gleam and his right foot lazily kicked up behind him while he waited for the zinger. "Sorry – so sorry – it's just that I suddenly got this rather stunning mental image, what with poor Zach and his haste in rushing down to break up the orgy he thought was going on before, of where those lips have more than likely been – recently!" backing up a little as she offered him a sickly-sweet grin.

Zach had to turn away to hide his face-splitting smirk while Elena nearly died inside, her stomach cramping a bit at the thought – good grief! She could just see it – it was such an overtly gentlemanly gesture, a sign of good manners, that if he had been moved to say goodbye to her in such a fashion – she wouldn't have even considered refusing . . . more than likely, she would have been charmed by the old-fashioned courtesy!

Spinning on her heel, after briskly snapping off a mocking military salute as a farewell to the slack-jawed – yet quickly recovering, as his eyes narrowed dangerously at her and his teeth clicked together sharply – Damon, Ari trotted over to Zach for a hug as they said goodbye, sharing a devious smirk with Stefan on the way past as he struggled to keep a straight face for Elena's sake. Both girls gave a general wave to the room, as Ari held the door for Elena to exit, chatting idly as she pulled the door shut behind them. Ari was hobbling slightly by now – bloody hell! Her toe was killing her! Elena was three steps ahead of her when she stopped short, and twisted around to stare at Ari with a slightly nervous expression, her eyes flickering past the other girl to judge the distance between them and the front door. Opening her mouth, and then closing it without saying anything a few times, she finally sighed gustily and pulled herself together with both hands. "About . . . all of that . . . in there . . . what . . . ?" she snorted at herself in reproach at the way she was stuttering over the words, unsure of how to frame the questions that she really wanted the answers to.

The tall blonde grinned toothily at her as she threw up her hands in frustration. "Yeah – that was kind of an epic failure in there, on all counts – which part, exactly, would you like to address . . . first?" she flourished her hand mockingly, as Elena gaped at the idea of having to work out where to even begin!

". . ."

"Tell you what – just as a suggestion – why don't you take a seat, settle in, and work it all out in your head first," Ari advised kindly, when Elena just stared blankly for a moment. She nodded briskly, facing forwards again as she went to the car and then spinning back around when she replayed the words in her head – why don't YOU take a seat? What the? Her brows shot up as she spotted Ari walking backwards up the path to the front door, holding up her hands as she saw Elena gazing at her in bewilderment. "It's alright, just gotta see about some unfinished business," Elena eyed her sceptically as she shrugged with a mischievous smirk, "Okay, so I gotta go wring Stefan's neck, then." Snorting with disbelieving laughter, Elena put her hand on the bonnet to support herself as she doubled over in giggles when Ari's expression shifted to resentful self-pity as she gestured towards her foot with a pout. "Dammit, his shins are like steel – I think I broke my toe!"

Opening the door enough to poke her head around the edge, she slanted her eyes at Zach to grin sheepishly at him. "Blabbermouth over here," jerking her head to indicate Stefan, "Was right – the cake is a bribe for redemption," grinning as Zach huffed out a laugh, before swivelling her head to glare at Stefan as she stuck her boot through the door to point at it indignantly. "Bloody hell – it IS broken, just so y'know, you doofus!" He spread his arms wide in mute appeal, even as he grinned lazily at her, as if asking and-what-did-you-expect-when-you-kicked-a-vampire?

She put up four fingers for him to see, before one went down as the other three were pointed at him in mute accusation, eyes narrowed, and finally peered around at Damon, staring back at her implacably with his arms folded over the black shirt stretched tightly across his broad chest. Waggling her fingers mockingly, with a cold-eyed, snarky little jeer, she left them to it as the door closed and they heard her rambling down the path to her car.

The deathly hush in the room continued as they all listened to the throaty roar as they took off, heading away from the boarding-house. Stefan was grinning like a loon as he deciphered the unsubtle message that she had sent him – four injuries, three of which were attributable to him in some way – she was a walking bruise factory, he sniggered mentally. Oh, well – when you play with vampires, Miss Ari, sometimes it gets a bit rough!

What a woman! Damon caught himself at that thought, and nearly choked on the bile that rose in his throat at his perceived betrayal of the woman he loved – how could he? She deserved better than that – it was why he was here, to begin with! Now that the fierce-eyed, spirited, little spitfire wasn't around to muddle his thoughts any longer, his mind cleared as his rancour grew at recalling her goody-goody-two-shoes meddling with his plotting and conniving – damn her. Who did she think she was, that sexy . . . little . . . schemer! He shook himself from his vengeful, and unexpectedly lustful, thoughts regarding the Machiavellian, wily conniver in cahoots with his brother, just in time to see Zach giving him the evil eye from across the room – ah, time to get back to work, he thought gleefully, inwardly rubbing his hands together at the thought of creating a bit more chaos. He hadn't worked out how to get under Miss Arianna Parrish's skin – yet – but Stefan and Zach? He'd figured out their soft spots years ago . . . he wouldn't even break a sweat!

Offering Zach his smoothest, most taunting, lopsided smirk, he waited for . . . ah, there we go! The ever-predictable rolling of the eyes, the aggravated snort of contempt – oh, hang on! What was this? Blue eyes narrowed imperceptibly as he evaluated the new, dismissive gesture as his great-nephew chuffed derisively in his direction, swiping the air in front of his face as if waving away a bad odour and ostentatiously gave him the cold shoulder, turning and strutting back up the stairs and leaving the brothers to their own devices as he held onto the container of dessert gifted to him by the girl . . . the girl! Now he remembered seeing her make that exact same gesture previously – damn it, she was giving these idiots ideas . . . thoughts that they could actually stand up to him, defy his will – the next thing you know, they'll be laying down the law to him . . . ridiculous!

This had to be nipped in the bud, quick smart. And the best way to do that will be to put Miss Arianna firmly in her place, showing her that no one disregarded or challenged his command of any situation – when he said jump everyone else better fall into line, or there would be bloodshed. Of course, that was a given, anyway, but seeing as Stefan hadn't caught on to that little ploy after all these years, why would anyone else? No, he just had to make a few examples here and there, spill a little blood, make a bit of noise, and everything would fall back into place just the way he liked it – with everyone firmly under his thumb, too petrified to confront him, just in case he decided to chuck a tantrum and go on a killing spree . . . it was just too easy these days, it would almost be boring if it wasn't so much fun to see them flinch every time he walked into the room . . .

He caught the movement from the corner of his eye, turning his head to observe Stefan moving slowly, yet purposefully, into the living room to stand in front of him – there was an almost stalking quality to his silent, deliberate tread, a smooth, dangerous awareness that he hadn't seen from his brother in a long while, not since . . . his upper lip curled back over his teeth in a wide grin that was more of a snarl as they confronted each other silently, prowling tiger versus sinuous, coiled cobra as Stefan looked him over condescendingly, a stare that said: just give me an excuse, one good excuse, and I'll finish it, right here and now. Hell, the only time Stefan ever faced him like this was when he was high on human blood! Had the Ripper come out to play?

Bringing his hands together, his mirthless smile widened as he clapped mockingly, in time with his words, "Well, well, well, look who's been keeping secrets! Gotta admit, this might be the best surprise of all, Stef . . . I do like a girl with spunk," eyeing each other with malice and spite as Stefan's face blanched and tightened in icy fury. Yeah, just like he'd thought, Arianna Parrish was the key to all of this; once she was brought to heel the others would follow along behind her like puppies – simple.

Ari was setting the table when the doorbell rang, straightening up quickly, she winced when snapping her head around to look towards the door had the dangling silver chains of her earrings slapping her in the cheek. "Bloody hell! I knew there was a reason I don't wear jewellery," she muttered, peering around the room to make sure that everything was ready. Satisfied, she headed to the door, opening it with a welcoming smile as she saw Sheila Bennett beaming at her through the glass panes. "Good evening, Miss Sheila," she laughed as Sheila wandered in, exchanging cheek kisses while Sheila handed over the wrapped box in her hands.

"Now, don't open that just yet, Arielle," she insisted as they walked into the parlour where Maarit was waiting impatiently to greet her friend. "And hello to you, my sweet little jewel," Sheila crooned, bending down to give the thrilled kneazle a hearty scratch under the chin as she purred loudly. "I hear you've been a right proper heroine, around here, saving that poor little girl out in the woods last night," giving Ari an intent look as the latter nodded with a small smile.

"Oh, yes – and I have the bruises to prove it," she chuckled ruefully, rubbing at the still slightly tender area on her chest, hidden under her top. When Sheila's brow quirked, she hastened to add, "Nobody had any idea, not until Maarit came running out of there like the hounds of hell were chasing her, she jumped at me and knocked me over and took off again," shaking her head in disbelief. "As much as I'd like to think that it won't happen again, those two campers that Jenna Sommers mentioned today-"

"-As long as the Salvatore brothers are in town, we all better brace ourselves," Sheila interjected direly, her dark eyes narrowed on Ari's face in warning, while Ari shrugged indifferently.

"You know about as much as I do, Sheila," biting her lip as they exchanged wary glances. "The Coven sent me here – they told you as much as they thought you needed to hear, and then shipped me out here, telling me that I was perfectly safe – seeing as no vampires, werewolves, or Innates have been spotted around this area for the last fifteen years.

"Then I get to school, and my first class on Monday morning is History, and when I walk through that door, who do I see? Stefan fucking Salvatore – in the flesh and cooling his heels at a damned desk, for all the world like he was ready to be amazed by anything that William Tanner, all-around egotistical dickhead, could teach him about History," rolling her head back to stare at the ceiling in exasperation as Sheila snorted at the accompanying mental image to the words. "And, all of a sudden, I come home ready to righteously slam someone's fingers in the drawer, metaphorically speaking of course, and . . ." leaning forward, eyes glinting darkly, as if they were two schoolgirls having a sleepover and sharing secrets, ". . . Nobody's there. Everybody has suddenly experienced a full electronic and magical blackout, all at the same time, on two different continents separated by the Atlantic Ocean . . . what are the odds?"

Hands on hips, Sheila muttered something highly uncomplimentary beneath her breath as Ari headed over to the mini-bar to select the wine for the evening, grasping the reinforced glass neck as if she were imagining that it was flesh and bone, possibly belonging to one of the mysteriously incommunicado Coven members she'd mentioned. "Oh, by the way," Sheila blew out a breath and braced herself – that overly bright tone didn't fool her one damned bit – the girl sounded like Bonnie when she was trying to pull the wool over her ol' Grams' eyes . . . hah! As if! "I met Damon today – that was a blast!" popping the cork with an emphatic thhhwaack! in punctuation and snagging two goblets to pour it into.

Sheila beckoned her over, grasping for the glass – ho, boy! She needed it! "And I know you got the good brandy 'round here, too, girlie. Get it . . . Grams gonna need a chaser for this . . ." heading into the kitchen/dining-room where she could smell the most divine aroma. Inhaling deeply, she let her nose lead her over to the stove where a large, covered pot rested, Maarit prancing along at her heels, with fragrant clouds of steam billowing out as she lifted the lid. "Oh, yes, and at least two bowls of this . . . now where's the bread, Arielle?" looking over at the bread bin and going to grab the bag before Ari's annoyed hiss stopped her in her tracks. One pale finger pointed at the oven door below the stove as Ari scooped up two bowls from the table and crossed to the stove, standing off to the side while Sheila bent down to open the door, sniffing with delight at the fresh, tangy scent of warm, homemade sourdough. "Girl, if you tell me that you been up half the night cooking just for this," she began, shaking her finger in rebuke as Ari blushed lightly.

"Ah, no, or at least . . . I know her," Ari blurted, setting the ladle down with a slight bang as she breathed in shakily. "Wild Thing – Vicki Donovan – the girl that Damon attacked last night, we're friends," picking up the ladle once more to fill the bowls as Sheila stared at her, paling slightly under her warm, Café-au-lait complexion. "I didn't just find her by chance – Maarit wasn't with her by accident when she was attacked – Maarit came with us to the Falls, and was hanging around with her in the woods for company, when it happened. I couldn't sleep last night – not just the attack – the dreams were just plain weirding me out, so when I woke up, I needed something to do with myself . . . check out my fridge," she pointed as Sheila glanced over, "Tonight's dessert selections were two out of about sixty possible options – more if I really applied myself and got creative with the basic recipes I put together."

This was something Sheila just had to see for herself; on opening the door, she gazed for a moment, and then shut it again, shaking her head incredulously. Ari was carrying the bowls of stew to the table, but before she could head back for the bread, Sheila put her hand up to volunteer for the task; placing the bread, along with a knife, and the pot of stew on the tray and carrying it all over to set it in the middle of the table. Catching the lifted eyebrow, she shrugged. "What? Didja think I was kidding about having at least two bowls?" chuckling as Ari smirked at her. She sighed a little. "Honestly, I do wish that Bonnie was more open to all of this – I blame her father – but then, if she was here, I suppose I couldn't do this," waggling her brows as she clicked her fingers sharply, the candles on the table lighting under the quick snap of power.

Ari smiled, before cringing slightly as she suddenly remembered – "Actually, Sheila, I didn't wanna say anything, and get your hopes up just in case, but I did talk to Bonnie today, and-" the soft shrill of the doorbell sounded at that moment, Sheila's spoonful of stew left hanging halfway between the bowl and her mouth as she sat upright in surprise, and the first stirrings of hope.

"D'ya think . . . ?" she half-whispered, as the doorbell sounded once more. Ari rolled her eyes with a huge grin as she got to her feet.

"By the sounds of it, it isn't just Bonnie – I was talking to Caroline, as well, after school today – I told them that they were more than welcome for dinner, and they didn't have to stay for afterwards . . . with the ceremony," she flourished her hand meaningfully when Sheila recoiled at the thought of having an outsider witnessing the Ritual, and shifted to relief once she knew that Ari had ensured the girls had an exit when they needed one – born sceptics, the both of them – and nothing was ever scarier to a determined disbeliever than the thought of having their cynicism challenged, or overturned, by seeing something that defied belief! "I better let them in," she muttered, snorting as the doorbell was pressed once again, "Before Caroline decides to just hold it down 'til we let her in!"

Wandering over to stand in the archway leading from the front living-room into the entrance hallway, Sheila propped her shoulder on the wall, watching Ari head for the door. "That surely does sound like her," she admitted with a light laugh, even as Caroline, spotting Ari through the glass, did exactly as predicted with a wide grin on her face as Ari shook her head chidingly when she opened the door.

"Really, Caro?"

"Hey, we could smell that food from all the way down at the end of the street! We're starving!" the bubbly blonde squeaked excitedly as she bounced inside, the two blondes hugging fondly as Bonnie smirked at her friend's giddiness.

"Yeah, she nearly floated right out of the car trying to follow that scent," she cracked drily, repeating Caroline's greeting with Ari, and waving happily to her grandmother as Sheila smiled in welcome right before Caroline's excited greeting hug nearly bowled her over as she shrieked excitedly at seeing her.

"Oh, Lordy me! Hello to you, too, Little Miss Forbes," Sheila laughed breathlessly as she returned the fervent embrace. "I've missed you as well, Caroline, it's been a while since you came around to spend time with your Nanna."

"I know!" a sheepish smile crossing Caroline's face at just how long it really had been since she could even remember seeing Miss Sheila, who she'd affectionately dubbed Nanna when she was six years old, for more than a few minutes at a time if they'd run into each other in town somewhere – it just wasn't good enough! No matter what her schedule was like, what with committees and cheerleading and pageant preparations and whatnot, there was always time for family – and Miss Sheila was family. "I've been so awful, Nanna," she pouted regretfully, "But I'm gonna do better, I promise."

Sheila gave her that soft, tolerant smile that she remembered from countless misadventures as a child, along with Bonnie and Elena, telling her that all was forgiven. "Hard as it is for you to believe, I do remember what it was like to be young, once upon a time," she scolded, the playful glint in her dark eyes belying her sternness as all three girls giggled merrily. "And I was a very busy young woman indeed – there were never enough hours in a day to keep up with all my social engagements," she quipped, winking at Bonnie as she flushed a bit – man, had she heard some stories about her Grams' wild, misspent youth . . . most of them from Grams herself!

"Ooh!" she remembered the parcel she held, handing it to Ari who stared at it curiously. "It's a Southern thing," she explained ruefully. "Well, actually, food is a Southern thing but, given that you did warn us about having way too much of that as it was . . . we figured a small gift to say thank-you for welcoming us into your home was the next best choice."

"Oh, alright."

Sheila chuckled softly. "Well, now you know why I told you not to open up my package before, along with everything we need for tonight, there's a little token in there as well," shrugging as Ari tilted her head in curiosity. "It's an old-world custom that we adapted for our own use here in the South – your home was your refuge against the dangers of the world, and when people were invited inside, it was considered a gesture of faith and trust that the sanctity of your house, and the people dwelling within it, would be upheld by your guests – the food was an exchanged promise, a token of respect – it was like saying, 'this is the food from our own table, and we share this so that you will know that you are always welcome in our house as a guest'."

"All of that?" Ari hummed thoughtfully, before waving them ahead of her, back into the dining room. "That stew's gonna get cold, otherwise, so let's eat!"

"Woot, food!" Caroline led the way, following her nose, while they all chuckled at her eagerness. "Miss Maarit!" she chirped, on seeing the kneazle perched on the table, regally awaiting the newest arrivals. Bonnie and Caroline made a fuss over her for a few moments, before settling themselves in at the table and serving themselves from the pot.

"I can't believe I didn't even take any notice of the fact that you had the table set up for four," Sheila shook her head at her own wilful blindness as she sliced up the bread thickly for all of them.

"Just in case," Ari commented as she buttered up the slices when Sheila handed them over. "I hoped they would, so I figured that there was no harm in having everything ready if Bonnie and Caro got permission to come over tonight."

"Well, Daddy was fine with it, seeing as I was going to a schoolmate's house, rather than . . ." Bonnie shrugged, exchanging a knowing look with Sheila, as her mouth quirked downwards in discontent. "I didn't tell him, 'cause what he doesn't know won't upset him!"

Ari's eyes rolled heavenwards in agreement. "There are three golden rules for getting through your teen years without resorting to the premeditated murders of your parents or guardians – Misdirection; Evasion; and Omission!"

"Right on!" Caroline concurred, "Especially if the parent or guardian in question happens to be oh, I don't know, the Sheriff!" Everyone had a good laugh over that, even Sheila, who fleetingly wondered whether she should be encouraging the flouting of parental authority, even if it was only passively . . . eh, what the hell. You were only young once, and this was the best time for them to learn about who and what they wanted to be in the future, by figuring out what rules should be followed, and which ones needed to be bent, as well as the ones that could, and should, be broken without regret or qualms. These young women would be adults soon, out in the world on their own – and even in this modern day and age, the law of the jungle tended to prevail – where only the strong survived, and the weak were prey.

Tuning back into the conversation as Ari playfully tossed a bit of bread at Caroline as the other girl shrieked in giggling protest. "I still blame you, Caro!" pointing her finger accusingly as Bonnie nearly fell out of her chair laughing. "Stefan had the goods on me for the rest of the day – all through Languages, and even in History – he gave me hell about 'contributing to the delinquent behaviour of the elderly'," crooking her fingers in snide little quotation marks for the last part of her statement as she slouched in her chair sulkily.

"Oh, now, I know you not gonna just leave it at that, Miss Ariel-, uh, heh, Arianna!" Sheila stumbled and stuttered a bit as she caught herself before calling Ari by her real name, rather than the assumed name of Arianna Parrish, pretending to cough as if she'd had something caught in her throat to disguise her fumbling. Bonnie looked at her a bit strangely, but Caroline seemed more concerned about patting her on the back briskly to help her clear out any blockage.

"Careful, Nanna," she joked lightly, blue eyes uneasy despite the kidding tone, "This stew is too good to waste by having it go down the wrong way!" Sheila wiped her mouth with the napkin, and cleared her throat briskly a couple of times to continue with the charade, before returning the girl's anxious smile with an easy grin of her own.

"All better now, sweetie," she reassured her calmly, "Though I wouldn't say no to a glass of that red, Arianna, just to wash it all down properly," gesturing to the wine-bottle on the table as Ari assented with a smile, picking it up to pour a glass for Sheila, before looking in question to the others.

"Oh, maybe-"

"I don't know if we really sh-"

"Oh, pish!" Sheila exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "One glass won't do you any harm, and you'll find that it goes very well with this stew, so I say, bottoms up!" she ordered briskly, indicating for Ari to pour them both a small glass. "And don't you think I've forgotten what I was talking about before, either, Missy," wagging her finger at the smirking Ari as she refilled her own glass once she'd finished with the others. "Who you been leading down the trail to Purgatory, then?"

"You, apparently," Ari's casual statement took a moment to sink in, as Sheila sat there, unsure if she'd heard correctly, before she burst out laughing.

Ari wiggled her eyebrows devilishly as Bonnie and Caroline looked at her sidelong, before giving up and continuing to eat and sip at their wine as Sheila just laughed and laughed. By the time she'd calmed down again, Caroline had gone back for seconds, and Bonnie was staring at the pot contemplatively, seriously considering a third bowl even as she knew that she still had to fit in dessert yet – but that stew was so good! She leaned down to Maarit, sitting between her chair and Ari's, with her large eyes fixed upon the table patiently, waiting for any scraps to be handed out. "You'll finish whatever I can't, won't you, Miss Maarit?" she stage-whispered so that the others could hear. Maarit chirped at her eagerly, whiskers bristling in anticipation. "Good girl!" she winked at her with a grin, and hopped up to scoop out more of the rich, thick broth.

"Well, Arianna," Sheila prompted. "How did somebody end up with the idea that I needed anyone to lead me by the hand down that ol' road of temptation?"

Ari snorted. "I might have mentioned that this little undertaking of ours involved the ingestion and burning of certain herbal mixtures, and that the effects were not unlike-"

"-Good grief, child!" the husky exclamation had Ari pursing her lips to hide a grin as Sheila stared her down across the table. "You done gone and told our own Miss Caroline Forbes that we were gonna be sitting 'round gettin' high and holding hands while singing 'Sweet Home Alabama'! And how did this boy, this Stefan, get to hearin' of it?" Sheila demanded, eyeing the grinning face with a narrowed gaze – she knew who this Stefan had to be . . . damn it, out of all the places in the world, why did those boys have to come back now? Every time they were here death and destruction followed in their wake, and things better left in the darkness and shadows tended to awaken and emerge once more, as the town became a hunting ground for supernatural creatures and the humans who pursued them in turn.

She quickly glanced out of the window – no, the Comet hadn't shown itself yet – the last time the great fireball had hung over the town, it was a tragic time in their history; in the final, devastating stages of the War, vampires and werewolves roamed the town freely, feeding at will, until the so-called Founding Families formed the Council in order to round them up and free the town from their influence, making it safe for the ordinary citizens to go about their lives once more. Hopefully, this time around, the Comet would simply pass over without such tragedy . . . but somehow, Sheila doubted that such would be the case.

"Actually," Ari's teasing voice cut into her reverie as she turned her eyes, and attention, back to the room, where Ari was grinning like the cat that got the cream, "It was 'Kumbaya', not 'S.H.A.', Miss Sheila, and Stefan Salvatore got an earful as he was coming over to say hello when Caro decided to get on her soapbox and tell the whole school!"

"I did not!"

"Caro, the only way that you could have been any louder, would be if you announced the whole thing over the school's P.A. system!" Bonnie disagreed emphatically, sniggering as her friend pouted at the perceived betrayal.

"Bon-Bon! You're supposed to stick up for me," she whined, poking her bottom lip out like a sulky child as Ari cracked up, with Sheila smirking at the familiar byplay between the pair.

"No . . . a good friend is supposed to tell it like it is – from The Caroline Forbes Personal Handbook of Friendship, Fashion and Fidelity," she announced, grinning victoriously as Caroline deflated.

"Trust you to remember about that – and then to use it against me," she muttered with a small grin at having her own words tossed back at her.

Sheila propped her chin on her hand as she winked at Ari. "Be grateful they're laughing about it now, when they were kids the arguments could go on for hours as to exactly what the rules and regulations of friendship were!" leaning back and sighing gustily, she looked around at the table, seeing the mostly empty bowls and scattered crumbs from the crusty loaf used to mop up the rich sauce from the stew. "Ooh, I think I went and made a right pig of myself – gonna hafta let it settle a bit before I try that dessert you promised me, Miss Ari," as she patted her stomach in satisfaction. Bonnie nodded fervently, feeling like her stomach had expanded to twice its usual size, as Caroline murmured in repletion. Everyone had managed at least two bowls, Sheila and Bonnie were each on their third, although Bonnie had almost finished hers, whereas Sheila had only eaten about half of what she'd dished up for herself – Maarit was bouncing around at Bonnie's feet, ready to feast.

The groaning and moaning issuing from the parlour was a combination of agony and ecstasy on everyone's part, as they alternately blessed, and then viciously cursed, their greed and the lengths that they'd gone to in order to satisfy their cravings – the desserts were exquisite; a decadent, velvety, dark chocolate mousse with fresh strawberries and cream or, for those desiring something a little lighter after the hearty main course, an old-style key-lime pie with a frothy, golden meringue topping that had Sheila quivering in anticipation as Ari cut a thick wedge for her and gave her a healthy dollop of orange cream on the side – it was food worthy of dying for, they had all agreed, and what a way to go!

Ari was flat on her back on the rug in the middle of the room, staring blankly up at the chandelier, squirming uncomfortably, as her belly quivered and rumbled ominously. The only reason that she hadn't just fallen straight on her face when they had all stumbled in to sag onto the sofas and chairs, as they whimpered and whined in satiation, was the fact that she wasn't entirely certain if her stomach wouldn't end up exploding if she put the slightest bit of pressure on it right now!

Sheila had wandered in, cradling the brandy bottle to her chest like a child might cuddle their favourite teddy, and detoured to the bar to pick out a shot glass as she carefully seated herself into the overstuffed recliner – possibly, like Ari, fearing that any sudden movements might have her bursting like a balloon. She had yet to pour herself a glass of the aged liquor, although she was clearly considering it, as she eyed the bottle and then the glass, trying to muster up the energy to lift and pour.

Bonnie was breathing heavily through her mouth – she felt rather overstimulated and painfully sensitive at the moment, so breathing through her nose had seen her twitching like a rabbit on crack – as she held her belly gently, trying not to move too much, while it twisted and rolled in protest of the work it now had to do to digest the abundant offerings that it had just received. Lying prone, back on the floor, with her bum and thighs pressed up on the front of the sofa and her calves resting on the seat, she was staring up at Caroline, seated on the other cushion of the two-seater lounge, in vague concern as the blonde simply sat there silently, with her stomach doing all of the complaining and grumbling for her as it gurgled and glugged away.

Caroline didn't even dare to open her mouth, for once, in case she actually threw up! Her surrender to the urge to simply indulge would be worth it, she thought, if only the meal wouldn't end up being wasted if she ended up bringing it straight back up. Sliding down on the cushion, and staring fixedly at the wall, she tried to will herself to pull it together. Listening idly to the music drifting from the stereo, that Ari had switched on by remote as she lay there on the floor – oh, for half her energy, Caroline snorted inwardly – her eyes shot wide as a particularly loud rumble from her stomach presaged a sudden urge to . . . oh, no. Hic! she whimpered a little, not the hiccups, not now! Hic! she clamped her mouth shut, as her face went rather pale, the hiccups made her tremble a little, but even a slight amount of movement was enough to have her tummy clench in objection – every time she hiccupped, she was afraid that her gag reflex might finally let her down!

Suddenly, a dark, long-fingered hand was thrust in front of her face; flinching back, she saw that it was Sheila offering her the glass filled with a small amount of pale amber liquid. "Here, girl, you need this more than I do – put some colour in those cheeks of yours," Sheila claimed, pushing the glass at her even as Caroline tried to shake her head in negation without actually moving – it isn't possible, by the way – not wanting anything else anywhere near her mouth tonight . . . that was how she'd ended up in this mess, to begin with. "Take it, you silly child!" the older lady urged her, fighting off a cheeky grin, knowing exactly what troubled the girl. "Trust me, Caroline, it will help.

"It's just to sip, mind you . . . slowly," she warned. "Go easy with it, just a bit at a time, and it'll settle your stomach, and warm up your body, get the digestion going . . . might even jam up those hiccups before you end up following through with what your belly's been threatening to do for the last half-hour," Sheila chuckled, then broke off with a wince as her stomach clenched. "Ooh, gotta remember, no laughing, it hurts too much at the moment," she wheezed, bending forward a little to try and ease the strain.

Caroline relented, taking the glass and staring at the liquid inside dubiously, before tentatively raising it to her lips and taking the barest dribble into her mouth. She didn't swallow, not yet, letting it sit as her tongue tingled and prickled at the feel of the potent spirit. When her tongue went a little numb, she swallowed, feeling the pleasant burn travel down her gullet and hit her stomach which, as promised, seemed to quiet somewhat as the brandy warmed her inside. Reassured, she continued to sip slowly, as her cheeks finally got their peachy glow back, while her restless tummy finally subsided and got to work in digesting her meal.

The final strains of John Legend's All Of Me had faded out as Aerosmith replaced it, the lead vocalist crooning out the lyrics to the rock ballad as he insisted that he didn't want to miss out on spending every moment that he possibly could with his loved one, when Caroline polished off the remaining spirit, handing the glass back to Sheila and standing up creakily, wincing in discomfort, and feeling like a little old lady – sorry, Nanna, but it's true – as she hobbled over to the bar and grabbed three more glasses. She brought them over to Sheila, holding them out one at a time for her to pour, as she swayed slightly in rhythm to the beat.

With all the glasses filled, she slowly went to her knees, careful not to spill as she knee-walked to Bonnie to place her glass next to her hand as Bonnie groaned something that vaguely resembled a thank-you. Smirking a little, she quickly made her way over to sit by Ari, handing her a glass and clinking her own against it in a small toast as Ari struggled up onto her elbows, and saluted the room with the shot. "Here's to excess; the glorious, gluttonous bitch that she is!" throwing back the alcohol with one smooth toss, before succumbing to a coughing fit, as the heady liquor seared her oesophagus all the way down to the pit of her belly, where she felt the familiar flood of heat. Falling back gracelessly, she panted hoarsely, as she waited for her vocal cords to recover from the shock while she heard Sheila cackling and slapping her thigh in hilarity, and Caroline and Bonnie just stared, before deciding not to follow suit – sipping was just fine with them, thank you very much.

"So," Ari's contemplative tone caught their attention as she continued to stare up at the ceiling vacantly, "It might be too soon to ask after our meal, but, who's up for taking a few bowls home for leftovers?" Bonnie cringed – it was a bit too soon for her – as Caroline pursed her lips and thought about it, while Sheila just fell back against the cushions and rolled her eyes at the very idea of thinking about food, just yet.

"I'm in," Caroline decided. "But not yet, 'cause if I so much as look at a crumb right now – well, it won't be pretty," she warned with a healthy swallow of brandy, wincing at the fierce burn.

Ari sniggered softly, lacing her fingers together as they settled on her chest, and snuggled deeper into the rug as she finally felt halfway human again. "Thought I'd get the offer out there, before I forgot," was the justification, while she started to hum along with the music as they all slowly recovered from their epicurean bender.

'. . . You call me lover
And tell me I'm your life
I won't run for cover
I've shown you who I am
And in the darkest night

You touch my hand
I live for you
Because your eyes
They understand
I live for you
In my life
You come through . . .'

Ari closed her eyes to block out the room, as Sheila set the last set of candles in place around the circle. Flat on her back in the centre of the chalked outline, she exhaled slowly and deliberately, emptying her lungs, before inhaling steadily and taking in as much air as possible, and held it for a brief count before releasing it and beginning the cycle over again. She could feel it, the slight buzzing, the faint tension in the air as the Comet appeared along the horizon – it couldn't be seen within the city limits, only if you were camping out to the western side of town at a higher elevation would you be able to catch a glimpse – she didn't need her eyes to See it, the power was throbbing through her like a heartbeat, steady and powerful, as her skin tingled from the energy brushing against her.

Bonnie and Caroline had left, over an hour ago, rushing out amidst apologies and appreciation as they thanked Ari for inviting them, while Caroline babbled about preparations for the festival tomorrow meaning a 5am wake-up call because she was the head of the Committee in charge of setting everything up. Before they left, Ari had opened their gift and gushed and ooh-ed and aah-ed over the pretty crystal figurine in the shape of an angel – an angel with a difference, though – wings flared as she straddled a massive Harley, and her short hair styled in a semi-Mohawk, with chains winding around her slender, elfin form, and brass knuckles on the delicate fingers gripping the handlebars, one eye closed in a mischievous wink as she peered at the world through a wayward tuft of crystalline hair hanging over her face.

Apparently, it had made the two think of Ari when they saw it displayed in a little, out-of-the-way, antique shop off the main street of Mystic Falls . . . well, if it made them happy to think so, Ari had shrugged blithely.

Once they had waved them off from the driveway, Ari and Sheila went back inside to get ready; Ari used the bathroom first, while Sheila started clearing a space in the parlour and setting up all the tools and instruments that they would need, as Ari scrubbed herself as clean as she could before slipping into the simple cotton robe that was she would wear during the rite. They swapped places once she was finished, as Sheila went through the ritual cleansing, and Ari etched the circle, chanting softly as she went. Runes of gathering, of focus, of balance, were quickly marked within and around the circle as she spoke the names clearly, letting a little bit of her Magic flow through her and into the symbols to charge them.

Maarit, having no real interest in the proceedings, had already gone to bed, curling up in her warm, cosy bed in her own private room in the house.

Looking up at the soft swish of fabric against skin, she smiled at Sheila as she stood in the doorway – they were ready . . .

As the radiance finally faded, leaving only darkness lit by flashing dots of colour wheeling across the thin skin of her eyelids, Sheila reeled a little – Lord in Heaven! Her mind raced, wondering if the brightness had died away because the light was actually gone, or if she'd been struck blind, even with her eyes closed, by the sheer intensity of the illumination conjured up by the Spell . . . either way, she mused, it wouldn't matter if she risked opening her eyes – if the light had ebbed, she was safe, if she was blind, then she wouldn't be able to see it anyhow.

Cracking one eye open in a tentative slit, she rapidly blinked both open and breathed a sigh of relief – she wasn't blind, after all! Praise the Lord. Peering down, she met Ari's eyes as the younger woman stared back in disbelief, unable to comprehend what had just happened – were they supposed to get that sort of reaction, the tawny eyes asked her mutely. Did we do something wrong? She petted her hair soothingly, as they both stayed in the positions they'd assumed for the rite; Ari's head cradled in Sheila's lap as they chanted repetitively, invoking the power that they sought, blessing the arrival of the Comet, and offering their solemn vow to use the harvested Magic wisely.

Finally, with stiffness setting in from staying still for a long while, they made to stand, Sheila swaying giddily as she put her hand up to her forehead and giggled like a girl. Ari reached out to steady her, snorting with laughter at the sparkling eyes as Sheila did a little jig, exhilarated, and slightly dizzy, as they toddled into the kitchen. "Whoa, Miss Sheila!" the young woman chuckled, keeping her grip as they made their way over to the dining island so that she could settle Sheila on a stool while she made coffee – not that she thought Sheila needed any, right now! "Are you okay?" she asked as Sheila bounced in her seat, hyper and excited like a kid at Christmas.

"Miss Ari," she announced grandly, "I do declare that I haven't felt this good in years! Why," she bobbed her eyebrows suggestively as Ari pursed her lips, waiting for it, "If I were only twenty years younger, I'd be prancing into the closest bar I could find, looking for a strapping, handsome young man to take me home and work off all of this mad energy," she cracked, sniggering madly as Ari just shook her head with a helpless grin.

"You're certainly one of a kind, Miss Sheila," she murmured, pouring the boiling water into the cup and stirring briskly to mix the coffee. "Here you go," handing it over, and turning to her own mug for her preferred evening drink – hot cocoa! "Sheila," her pensive tone had the older woman looking at her sharply over the bench as Ari fiddled with her mug, "If that's how much Power we gained just from tonight . . ."

". . . What happens tomorrow night when the Comet is directly over town?" Sheila finished for her, sipping at her hot drink as Ari nodded. "Well, that's why we didn't do all of this tomorrow night!" Sheila declared with a small smile as Ari shuddered at the thought. "Don't worry, girlie," she advised sagely, "The process is two parts – all of this formal, dressed-up Witchy woo-woo here, tonight, all of that was simply to get the ball rolling – this was us saying we're ready, we embrace the approach of this Celestial Omen, and we will open our hearts and minds to all that follows such an event. Tomorrow – tomorrow is the final act, the best thing for you to do for yourself is to be in the middle of the Town Square, alongside of everyone else, where you'll be able to see, and feel, the Comet at its peak.

"You don't need any special words or incantations or sigils for that, because it's already done. You're already open – all you gotta do is welcome it into you." They sat there in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts, before Sheila finally grunted in annoyance. Ari's eyebrow arched as she stared at her in mute question. The elder snorted in disgust. "You ain't gonna like this – I don't like it – but if I don't ask, they're gonna be pestering me about it forever and a day," she muttered, grimacing when Ari only looked more confused than before. "The Spirits, girlie, the Ancestors who've passed the Veil . . . they've had a bee in their bonnets over you for the past few days."

Ari leaned back on her stool as she mulled it over in her head – nope, still didn't make a damned bit of sense to her. "In regards to . . . ?" she inquired casually, blowing on her cocoa before sipping it as she eyed Sheila over the rim, as the woman threw her hands up in the air.

"That's what I'd like to know!" pounding her fist lightly on the bench as she glared around her suspiciously, like she was expecting to see something, or hear something. "They bein' all tight-lipped and quiet 'bout it, except the part where they all yellin' and cursin' about you, and how you supposed to be a protector and a Guardian, not a traitor and a thief!"

Ari's face paled as if she'd been slapped, before she straightened slowly in her chair, eyes cold and her features hard and set as she stared grimly at Sheila. "Those are some pretty strong words for a buncha dead-and-gone bitches to get up the moxie to say to me," biting out the words from between clenched teeth as Sheila shrivelled in her chair – she wasn't afraid of this girl, not by a long shot, but damned if she wasn't ashamed and humiliated on behalf of all those foolish witches who were trying to berate the Innate Witch through her! "I don't care to be called names by a crowd of narrow-minded, moralising windbags who don't have the good sense to know when they should keep their long, sticky noses outta other people's business, and keep their damned opinions to themselves 'cause no one wants to hear about it," Ari ranted, pounding her own fist on the counter in punctuation of her statement, much as Sheila had previously.

Sheila sighed, rubbing at her forehead with her hand. "You're preaching to the choir," she muttered, still glaring around the room as she heard the ghostly whispers in the air, indignant murmuring and heated arguments between the unseen Spirits over being berated in turn by the Angry young Witch – something that they clearly weren't used to; the Ancestors held a great deal of influence amongst the living servants of Nature . . . if thwarted, their anger and spite could cost a witch their power, could cause havoc if their fury manifested in the physical realm, glass shattering, localised dust- and wind-storms, plants suddenly withering and dying for no visible reason, were just a few of the examples, and some of the milder ones, too.

"Sheila, do you know how many times I have been moved to apologise; I mean, really, truly, sincerely, apologise, to anyone for anything that I have either said, or done, that has caused harm to somebody that did not deserve it?" Ari queried calmly – a bit too calmly, Sheila thought, seeing the banked fury burning brightly in the depths of those fierce eyes. She chose the wisest course for the moment, not speaking, as she simply shook her head in the negative and waited. Ari didn't answer, either, not in words. Silently, she held up her hand, waggling her fingers in demonstration of her point.

Sheila hummed noncommittally, and shuddered inwardly, as a coldly contemptuous smile twisted Ari's mouth as she leaned forward, her eyes piercing into Sheila's as if she spoke, not to the elder woman sitting before her, but to the Spirits who were not so brave as to face her head on, choosing instead to use this witch as their medium, to chide by proxy – no, thank you! "So, what is it that makes you believe that some sanctimonious horde of nonentities, a faceless swarm of empty space, a gathering of dead magical beings, whose bodies probably turned to dust long before my grandfather was even born, will ever intimidate me?

"Could ever cow me, coerce me, into offering some kind of weak-willed, trembling and wide-eyed apology for unnamed sins, possible trespasses, grievous misconduct – according to all of you – when I see no reason to do so?" she shrugged indolently, leaning back in her chair and lounging there with a cruel smirk curling her lips. "Something that you seem to forget, when you get all up yourselves like this, is that I don't answer to you – no Innate has ever, or will ever, answer to any of you; a band of misbegotten wretches that should have passed over a long time ago, instead of hanging around in this pathetic semblance of Unlife and meddling with things, with people, that you have no business interfering with – your time is long-passed, it ended when you left this world . . . a world made for the living, not for the dead," she declared, her eyes direct and uncompromising as Sheila's eyes flickered and darted around the room, as the hissing and grumbling broke out once more, trying to make out what they were saying.

"They say that you're a hypocrite," she murmured, wrinkling her nose as Ari rolled her eyes.

"And here we go with the insults," she snorted disdainfully, "Without explanation – again!"

Holding up a hand, Sheila listened – this could be it – maybe having Ari giving them a solid rebuke for their unwanted interference was the push the Ancestors needed to spell out their issues with her. Closing her eyes, she focussed, getting as much information as she possibly could before the link broke, and the Spirits were gone. Opening her eyes, she leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table as she made sure that she had it all straight in her head before she began. "The whispers, the first time that I noticed anything, came on Monday . . . I'm guessing that they got their noses outta joint when you saw Stefan – and didn't immediately start setting him on fire, or pointing and screaming 'Vampire' in the middle of the classroom!

"Witches and vampires gettin' along, bein' friendly, that's a big no-no as far as they're concerned. And to be honest," she huffed out a breath as she gazed at Ari seriously, "I don't necessarily disagree with that," holding up a hand again as Ari narrowed her eyes. "It's got nothin' to do with Stefan personally – I'm worried for you, Ari – when witches start getting involved in their world, bad things can happen . . . I've seen it, I've been where you are, thinking that maybe some of them aren't so bad, it can't be a bad thing to make friends, or allies out of a few, help 'em out from time to time," she shrugged helplessly. "I got in too deep – got burned – nearly lost everything that was important to me in the fallout.

"I'm guessing that's their reasoning behind considering you a traitor to all Witches – Innate or otherwise – and a Guardian, seeing as they feel that the witches are s'posed to be a kinda shield between vampires and humans, keeping 'em from getting too far inside each other's world.

"Now, as for the thievin', just remember," pointing her finger at the girl as she muttered direly at the thought of hearing anything worse than the utter bollocks she'd already been treated to, "Don' kill the messenger – apparently, all of that has to do with how the Innates all call you the Chosen One, the Saviour," breaking off as Ari moaned in disgust, rolling her head over the back of her stool and staring at the ceiling above her incredulously. "Yeah, well, like I said, I'm just the messenger," Sheila muttered, indulging in a little eye-rolling of her own – for God's sake, hadn't the poor child given enough to the world already? A war had been fought in the shadows, cloaked from the wider world, a war based on bigotry and hatred founded on the principles of Magic itself – those who had it, and those who didn't, and there were those that believed that they had the right to wield it in any matter that they wished to, regardless of the harm it may cause others, just because they could . . . who was going to stop them?

Apparently, it fell to this young woman, along with her allies, to do just that. In the face of immense odds, fighting against merciless, brutal opponents who had no limits as to how far they would go to strike at those who dared to meet them in combat, to act in defence of others, to protect and care for those that the Dark Innates considered unworthy and undeserving of such. In the end, they stood triumphant, Arielle Potter and her group of ragged, valiant defenders – but at a terrible cost. The death toll, of Magicals and Mundanes alike, stood in the tens of thousands, a horrific price to be paid for peace.

"Anyhow," she shook herself out of the grim musings, "They seem to have this idea that Innates were never meant to count such a person amongst their number – such proclamations and honours of being a Symbol of Great Power and Reverence rightfully belongs to the servants of Nature – only the real witches deserve to wield that kind of power," she summarised briskly, keeping a straight face with great effort, while Ari eyed her blankly, before they both burst out in hysterical whoops of laughter. The tension in the room cleared away as they cackled and rolled gleefully, letting it roll off of their backs – who the hell cared what a bunch of manipulative, domineering drama queen Ghosts had to say about anything? Didn't they have anything better to do than gossip and bitch amongst themselves, and badger the living – who really did have more important things to be getting on with!

Ari curled up under her blanket, shivering at the slight chill in the air – Caroline had been right; the nights were chilly here in the autumn.

The crazed adrenaline rush had finally worn off from the rite, and Sheila had looked downright haggard, even with the chemical boost from countless cup of coffee – concerned, Ari had offered her guest-room for the night, stating that she wasn't comfortable letting Sheila drive home so late with a mixture of alcohol, caffeine, and overexertion to potentially dull her reflexes. Sheila accepted, and sank into the plush, comfy double-bed with a happy sigh, more than ready to get some rest.

Eyes closing, Ari was drifting lightly, a smile curling her lips as she snuggled deeper into the blankets . . . when a sudden burst of sound erupted in the room. Shooting upright, she looked around wildly – where the hell did she put it? It wasn't her alarm – she knew that sound! Hopping up, she thought rapidly, eyes snapping over the tallboy . . . second drawer from the top. Well, well, well – finally, it seemed that she was about to get some answers. Maarit suddenly came pelting through the door, jumping onto the bed as she mewed excitedly, bobbing her head impatiently, like she was urging Ari to grab the stupid thing, and answer it, already!

Digging through the drawer, she lifted up a top to find – yeah, there it was. And only one person was set for that particular chime, so she knew exactly who was calling – probably the only person who was even close to having all the answers; she was also the one person that it was nearly impossible to get a straight answer from . . . it had always been that way.

'. . . We were walking - we were talking
We were laughing about the state of our lives
How our fates brought us together
As the moon was rising in your eyes

On and on the night was falling
Deep down inside us
On and on a light was shining right through . . .'

Tapping the mirror, and calling the name softly, to activate the connection, she waited patiently until the mirror glazed over to show, not her own face, but that of one of her oldest friends. Smiling coolly, she remarked, "Well, this is a surprise. I mean, seeing as everybody else seemed to fall off of the face of the earth three days ago," lifting her eyebrows in demand for information as the serene blue eyes simply gazed back at her calmly, unfazed by her haughty demeanour.

Ari slumped back against her pillows in defeat as the tranquil voice greeted her, "Hello, Arielle Potter, how are you this evening?" supremely nonchalant at the annoyance clearly visible in the tawny eyes as they awaited a reply. Plonking the mirror down on the bed, facedown, for a moment, Ari indulged herself in a brief outburst, punching her pillow fiercely as she screamed violently, face buried in her doona, before she got up and fluffed her pillow back into shape, sticking it behind her back as a rest, as she settled herself against the headboard. Calmer now, she picked up the mirror again and smiled at her friend.

"Hello, darling . . . I don't suppose you're going to be nice to me tonight, and actually tell me precisely what sort of fresh hell you've managed to land me in the middle of . . . ?" trailing off with a toothy grin, as her eyes promised that there had better be some kind of explanation, or else! Magically cursed, or not, she had few qualms in packing everything up, and getting out of here while the getting was good, if she didn't receive a compelling enough reason to bother staying . . .

Picking up on the subtext, the person on the other end of the Enchanted device huffed out in a moment of rare exasperation, before smoothing out their expression to their usual, unruffled countenance. "We shall See what is to be Seen . . ." was the quiet murmur, a mysterious, sphinxlike smile crossing their face as Ari rolled her eyes and snorted inelegantly at the predictable response.

"Yeah, right!" wiggling her back into a more comfortable position as she slouched with her eyes half-closed – the relaxed, casual posture was deceptive – her mind was clear and sharp, waiting to hear everything, make note of all that her contact would offer her . . . the information that she required would be there, she just had to Listen . . . her years of experience in watching how this particular pal interacted with the world warned her – this was going to be a test of her Will, her patience, and her resolve. Who would blink first?

A/N 2: Riddle, anyone? Who is she talking to? I'll give you a hint - that ringtone says it all, so if you can pick the lyrics, you'll know exactly who it is . . . go on, have a guess ;)

I hope you liked it . . . let me know, either way. Oh, also, I don't mean to offend anyone with all of the religious references in this chapter - I'm not a Christian . . . actually, I don't subscribe to any form of organised religion at all . . . which doesn't mean that I don't believe, by any means. I'm just pointing out that these characters have had religious backgrounds - I would imagine that Stefan and Damon, at least, raised in the South, would have been expected to attend church on a regular basis, so Damon would probably use terms like that from sheer force of habit, formed from a young age. That is my only intention - but I do apologise if anyone was upset by it :(

Song in Chapter (not the mystery one)

I Live For You - Chynna Phillips