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Another Bloody Romance - TVD (Izzy325 x Traveler)

Traveler

Traveler

Pulsar
Joined
Feb 5, 2014
Location
PST
th


The door swung open and let in the bright streams of light, the squawking cars, and the bustle of the Bostonians going about their business on this post-holiday Friday. The crazy rush of Christmas had faded into New Year's, which now was thankfully past news, and now everyone seemed to have hearts and chocolates on their mind. Damon Salvatore scowled, his handsome face looking something like a tribute to Elvis as the sneer turned to indifference and his bloodshot blue eyes took in the selection of booze behind the bar.

Bourbon. That was what he had come in here for. Yes...

He moved like a man who had just gotten off a ship for the first time in years. The ground seemed to be shifting beneath his feet, yet he always seemed to land on the right side of up. He straightened the collar on his black leather jacket and winked at a few college-aged hotties as he made his way across the floor and deposited himself on a stool. "Hey... bartender," He waved at the back of the man tending bar. In his mind they were all interchangeable. Bartenders, taxi drivers... they were little more than food and fun, in that order. "Give me a bottle of Bourbon, will you? Maker's Mark if you have it."

He grimaced and turned around on the stool to survey the scene. Mostly it seemed like locals. People who worked here, college kids, a few disenchanted middle aged couples... and himself, a vampire who couldn't find the right witch if she bit him on the ass. He sighed and turned back around, deciding to try to compel whoever was tending bar to give him the bottle on the house.
 
A chill passed through the bar as another patron entered briefly the nosies of the bustling city could be heard before the door closed slowly on it's own. A look around the bar informed Bailey that tonight at the local pub would be no different from any other night here. He would deal with the same drunk frat boys who bar hopped around the city, the annoying creepy men and women who would hit on him, and the alcoholics who didn't know when it was time to call it quits. But then again that was essentially their problem.

He couldn't wait to just get back to his apartment and sleep for the next two days. Well until he had to show up at work again.

Behind him he heard the voice of a man ordering a Bourbon. That was the kind of drink someone had when they were going through something. He could hear it in the mans voice. "Sure thing man..." It took him a moment to locate the bottle but Bailey pulled out a glass and poured the man a drink. "Rough day?" He asked the gentleman at the bar as he put the bottle away. But one look at the newcomers face and he put the bottle right back on the bar. Something told him there would be several drinks in this man's future.

Bailey finally got a good look at the man who downed his drink in three seconds flat. Without waiting for the word he already had the drink refilled. The out of towner was actually one of the most handsome men he had ever encountered. If he had been hanging out at the bar he would have no doubt hit on him. The likely hood of the man being gay was slim to none. Bailey wasn't that lucky.
 
He smirked at the bartender when he asked if he had had a rough day. "You don't know the half of it," he responded, his smirk working up one side of his face and making his blue eyes look more mischievous than saintly. He swirled the liquid in the glass and then downed it, his throat appreciating the slow burn as the bourbon slid down. His eyes smiled at the bartender as another glass was poured.

And I didn't even have to compel him.

He raised the glass to toast his bartender. "To Boston," he declared. He fixed his gaze upon the young man and tried to compel him to his will, not realizing that the man, though not hopped on vervain, was one of the few people he could not compel. "Have a drink with me. We're doing the opposite of celebrating." His sapphire eyes drank in the man before him. The guy was good looking and clean cut, much too pulled together for a downtown dive of a bar. He had to be some kind of a student with bigger plans ahead. If he was a student then he knew people at the university, and as he was the bartender he knew people in town.

"You might be able to help me, though," he leaned over the bar and gave the guy a tight smile. "You know people, right?" He watched carefully to see if the man would pour himself a drink or ignore the compulsion. "I'm looking for someone named Beatrix Holmes. You heard of her?" His long fingers tapped at the counter impatiently and he kept his intense gaze on the young man, daring anyone else to compete for his attention.
 
The smirk on the man's face spoke of nothing but mischief and trouble. Despite having that feelings Bailey couldn't help but smile back at the overly confident man. There was something about him that just screamed fun and danger. Sadly for Bailey that was his favorite combination in a man. "Actually I try not to drink on the job...it's lead to some bad decisions." He chuckled slightly before shaking his head no.

"But to Boston." He nodded his head once more in agreement as he started to tend to the bar once more. A patron tried to get his attention but the bartender was far more focused on the man. "Beatrix Holmes....that name sounds awfully familiar but I don't know who it is. If you'd like I could ask around for you."

As night started to fall the bar became more and more crowded with rowdy college students looking to blow off steam from a full week of classes, internships, and work. "My name is Bailey by the way. You clearly aren't from around here. What's your name?" He asked sticking his hand out.
 
When the bartender casually declined Damon’s compulsion to drink, the vampire knew that he was either dealing with someone who was full of vervain, or a witch. Which, in retrospect, was interesting. He happened to be looking for a witch. Not this one, obviously, but a witch… and they all traveled in covens so it was likely that they would know of each other. If not, he might be able to tell Damon where to find her.

Of course the name would sound familiar to a potential witch. The Salvatore brother smiled at the bartender as he seemed to busy himself with bar tasks. “I’d like that,” he said in response to the offer to ask around. “It’s a matter of life and death.” Notably, his life, and maybe her death if she refused to help.

He stayed and nursed the Bourbon as the bar filled up. If he had an idea of what this Beatrix looked like he would have been looking harder, but for what it was worth he was just killing time. The bartender served other patrons and then came back over and casually introduced himself. Smooth…

He figured that if Brandon was a witch he’d be wanting to figure out what kind of person was looking for the other witchy witch. With a smile that was just a shade above a grimace he turned and shook the young man’s hand. “Hey Bailey. I’m Damon. Damon Salvatore.” His eyes met the young man’s and he tried to hold his gaze and gage his reaction. Some witched could tell just by touching him that he was a vampire. Others weren’t that in tuned with their skills and might just get a reaction that was….off. “So, what time do you get off tonight?”

As he talked to the bartender a bunch of the college guys were messing around, Indian wrestling and trying not to spill beers. One of the men, a burly guy with a sports jersey and a thin goatee, backed into Damon, causing him to turn and glare at the offender.

“What you looking at?” snarled the jock.

Damon slowly shook his head. “Take it somewhere else, Meathead. Your tart over there will thank you for it.”

“Who you calling tart?” The man steadied his stance and pushed up his sleeves. The cheering and encouraging catcalls from his friends weren’t helping his case any.

The vampire narrowed his eyes. Did he really want to cause a scene on his first day in town? “Go back to your girlfriend, sit down, and drink your beer. Leave me alone.” His eyes grew focused and he forced his will onto the jock. Reluctantly the man backed off and did as he was told, much to the chagrin of his fellow partiers.

Damon turned back to Bailey. “Now… where were we?”
 
The name Beatrix bombarded his mind the moment the name left Damon's lips. He knew of no one with the name but he couldn't stop thinking about it. Perhaps with all of the people who milled in and out of the bar the name had been mentioned once or twice. She had to live somewhere close by if someone had uttered her name in the bar. She could have been a small business owner seeing as many of them frequented the bar often for happy hour. For now Bailey pushed the name out of his mind. He clearly didn't remember anyone with that name and it wasn't going to do him well to dwell on the name.

He brought his attention back to the handsome man in front of him. Their hands touched for a brief moment as they introduced themselves to each other. The feeling that traveled through Bailey's body made him pull his hand away quickly from Damon's grasp.

It wasn't that her was fearful of the man sitting at the bar but the jolt that quickly and suddenly ran through his body warned him to be cautious of him. Something was off even if he couldn't put his finger on it.

The rowdy group behind them looked as if the party had started a little too early. They cheered, yelled, and knocked into the occasional customer but the moment it happened to Damon Bailey's breathe caught. Like before the feeling was brought forth. Damon's entire being screamed to be left alone. He seemed like the type of man who knew his way around a bar fight. Before Bailey could end the fight the college student was on his way. As Damon turned around Bailey was at a loss. How could it have ended as quickly as it started. "You asked me what time I got off....that generally depends on how late people stay here. If they're customers then I stay. But nice to meet you Damon. How long are you in Boston for?"

He looked back towards the boy who was now again with his friends partying the night away. "How did you get that boy to walk away? Usually those type of boys will do anything for a fight. I'm impressed."

Bailey cleared a few glasses that littered the bar as he waited for an answer. He pulled out a glass for himself and poured some Jack in it. "I know I said I don't drink on the job but I need it tonight. Hopefully people clear out of here soon." He mumbled as a few patrons slowly exited the bar.
 
“I’m in Boston until I find the person I need, and I get what I want.” He plucked an olive from the garnish tray and fed it to himself, taking time to suck the juice from his index finger and then his thumb.

His eyes strayed to Bailey's as he gave the pad of his thumb a last lick. “And… sometimes people do what you ask them to, if you ask nicely enough. Maybe Mr. Meathead just liked the way I asked him to leave.” He was leaning over the counter and he smiled at the bartender as he clasped his hands loosely together. His lashes were dark and lush, and when he glanced down they brushed his cheeks. He glanced over his shoulder as Bailey took a drink of the Jack. The brouhaha was just starting, it seemed, and the party had turned up the volume. Damon didn’t blame the bartender for taking a drink though it still irked him that the compulsion didn’t work. “So… you stay as long as they do?” He indicated the partiers with a nod of his head. His eyes raked over the crowd as he considered his options. He could wait for the stupid beer guzzlers to wind down and fade away, or he could burn them all up and send them home.

He picked the faster option. A wicked smile spread across his face as he abandoned the bar counter and sauntered towards the crowd gathered around the pool tables. His hands trailed over the backs of chairs as he passed them by, and it was quite obvious that he was looking to start trouble. There – he saw a bunch of bulky, muscular, and drunk guys, their hats on sideways and their pants hanging much too low to cover their underwear. Classy.

Damon scoffed. Fashion victims. He noticed the groupies hanging near the jocks, their sultry eyes and pouty lips covered in too much Maybelline to be enticing. Some of the girls eyed him with interest as he approached. Their boyfriends watched him as if they could sense another predator approaching, but that just made the vampire smile wider.

“Hey, can we ‘help’ you?” One of the more outspoken of the crew put a hand out towards Damon to stop his advance. His other hand held a half-full beer. “This is a private party.”

“Yeah, well, this is a private bar, and it’s time for you all to clear out and to take your monkeys with you.”

“What? Who are you calling monkeys?” A mulatto jock, his hair dyed blond and his eyes light blue, took immediate offense. His buddy, the first one to address Damon, picked up a pool cue to use as a weapon.

“You don’t want this circus of yours to get ugly. It is your circus, right? And these are your monkeys?” Damon stood with one leg to the side, his demeanor relaxed and arrogant. “The girls might get your blood on their dresses.” He winked at one of the blond babes and blew her a kiss. “Right, honey? Kind of a downer to be all bloody. It makes the late-night booty call that’s coming less exciting.”

A man behind him threw the first punch, and with a wild grin Damon dove in, his reflexes and strength making the fact that he was playing with them seem overly unfair, but laughable. Girls screamed, bottles flew across the air, and blood was being spilled, but the bar was starting to clear out. Finally.
 
"You strike me as the type of man who always gets what he wants. I'm not entirely sure if that's intriguing or scary." Bailey poured himself another drink. He knew he was breaking all of his rules tonight but something told him he would need this drink.

This time Bailey savored the taste of his drink as the liquor was swallowed burning his throat on the way down. "Why do I have the feeling that you don't generally ask "nicely" when you want something. Bailey looked around at the crowd as he tried to make sure no one was getting too rowdy. While it was to be expected with the bar being so close to a college but his boss would not be happy. He turned his bright blue eyes back on Damon and smiled. "Yes sir. As long as there are people inside of this bar I cannot leave. But I don't mind it usually." His piercing gaze looked over to the group in the back They were starting to get a bit wild but that was to be expected. As Bailey cleaned up the bar and picked up more stray bottles and cups when he realized Damon had left his seat. He looked around before he heard yelling from the back of the bar.

Slowly the young college student turned around and witnessed a sight to behold. Damon was clearly physically fit but he couldn't understand how the man moved so quickly. The college boys were burly and huge. It didn't make sense that none of their punches landed on him.

"Hey cut that out! You all know the rules. No fighting. You're all out of here."

One of the football players turned to Bailey and started walking over towards him. "Hey there big guy...why don't you just head on out of here and we can call it even."

He growled and stepped closer to Bailey. The Witch stuck his hand up in defense and pushed against the strong chest. A tingling sensation shot through his arm and into the boy. Instantly he could feel the wind around him pick up and the boy in front of him crumpled to the ground groaning in pain.

Bailey backed up as he looked at his hand in disbelief. That couldn't have been him could it? He shook his head as he watched the group run out. The guy on the floor in front of him moaned before getting up slowly. "This isn't over you little bitch." He took one look at Damon before he ran out of the bar to catch up with his friend.

"Well it looks like you cleared the bar out." Bailey chuckled softly as he started to clean up the mess.
 
Damon watched the bar clear out, both the trouble makers and the few who had simply lingered to long fled, happy to have a reason not to leave a tip. He shook his head and picked up an abandoned bottle of rum to carry with him as he sauntered back to the counter. "That guy is wrong about you, you know. You're not a bitch." He took a long drink from the bottle. "You're a witchy witch." He smirked and raised an eyebrow suggestively.

"So is that how you know Beatrix? Is she part of your coven?" He leaned his elbows and regarded Bailey. "Don't worry - I have a lot of friends who are witches. Albeit, there are a lot of witches who would like to see me staked, but hey; we can't all be perfect, can we?" He watched Bailey wiping down the tables and shook his head. "This is going to take too long." He noticed a couple who were slow to leave and waved them over. "Hey! Yes you - come here. Bartender's got some free booze to give to you."

It was a lie, of course, but what was a lie or two among friends?

He smiled at the two. "Well, aren't you both just adorable?" They looked like they had sneaked in with fake IDs. Damon caught their gaze and held it. "Clean the bar. Make it im-pec-a-ble." He put the tips of his fingers together and emphasized each syllable. "Once you're done take one bottle of whatever you want, go back to your room, or 'a' room, and fuck each other's brains, out. Got it?"

They both nodded, the smiles on their faces widening. The girl's nipples hardened beneath her sweater, and it was evident that the young man was having a similar reaction. He was just hoping to get a kiss; fucking was a bonus.

"Good." He turned to Bailey. "Let's go. You don't have to worry about the bar. --Oh!" He turned back to the couple. "Turn off the lights and lock up before you leave." Then he smiled invitingly at the bartender. "So... you gonna introduce me to Beatrix or what?"
 
The look that crossed Bailey's face showed exactly what crossed his mind. "Excuse me? Did you just say what I think you said?" Bailey shook his head and turn around as he continued to clean up. "I'm just going to pretend that you didn't just say that." He watched Damon grab the rum bottle. Part of him wanted to object but he knew the man wouldn't put the bottle back so he sighed and kept cleaning. That is until Damon command the couple who stayed behind to clean up.

"How did you get them to do that?" He watched as both the girl and boy became visibly aroused which only surprised the witch even more. "I honestly don't understand what's going on right now." Bailey was utterly confused by the events that occurred that night. Why couldn't he just have one normal night in this shit town?

"Coven? Staked? Damon no offense but you sound crazy..."

Despite how crazy Damon sounded Bailey still wanted to spend the night with him...whatever may come of that at least. "I told you I think I know who that woman is. I'm not apart of a coven for several reasons. Witches don't exist so therefore covens do not either. Even if witches existed I'm not one." He grabbed his peacoat and threw it on quickly before he lead Damon out into the bitter cold.

"Are they actually going to clean up the bar and close down for me? I need that job..." He couldn't understand his need to follow Damon not that he minded much. They walked a bit with Damon drinking most of the way without a care in the world. "I think she owns one of those mom and pop stores in the older area of Boston." Bailey lead them close to the freedom trail before taking a turn onto an older road paved with cobblestones. The pair stopped at a shop to which Bailey turned around and looked at Damon. "I think this is where is works and most likely lives. Many people who own stores on this street seem to live and stay here."

Bailey looked through the glass window but couldn't see anyone inside. "I'm not sure if she's home though." He knocked on the window softly hoping she would be around.
 
“I’m crazy like a fox,” Damon had said as he took another long pull from the bourbon bottle and smirked at Bailey from across the counter. “Sure – they’d do whatever I tell them to do. You really are a baby witch, aren’t you? Don’t you have a clue what I’m about?” It was a big joke to him, though. He liked seeing the perplexed way the bartender’s brows knitted as he tried to figure out what his customer was carrying on about. It was rather fetching.

He stood on the cobblestone and looked up at the building. It was old, probably one of the older buildings in this part of town, and Damon felt like he had been there before. In his 400-odd years it was highly likely. “Are you worried you’ll wake the dead?” Bailey’s knock had been tentative. It was almost as if he didn’t want anyone to answer the door.

Damon stepped closer and rapped on the door loudly. “Beatrix Holmes! Wake up! I need your help!” His voice rang down the street. He pounded on the door again. “Beatrix! Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

A window slid open upstairs and the greyed head of a black woman stuck out. She shined a light down at the two, then cursed. “Damn you, Damon Salvatore. What are you doing at my doorstep?”

Damon’s smile was wide. He spread his arms and grinned up at her. “I need you, Bea. Come on, let me and my friend here come in.” He slipped an arm around Bailey’s shoulders and pulled the young man against himself. “Come on, you don’t want there to be any bloodshed, do you?”

The woman glared at Damon. She looked at Bailey, all innocent and unknowing, and cursed. “I’ll be down. Don’t do anything foolish Salvatore. I swear—“ she slid the window shut with a bank and the window’s light went on.

Damon released Bailey. “See? She’s home.” He smirked at the bartender and held out the bourbon. “Want a drink?”
 
Bailey silently cursed himself and Damon. What had he gotten himself into? The man and old woman were probably sadists who wanted to kill him. What had possessed the young bartender to actually accompany Damon on this trip. "Clearly I don't know what you are talking about. I'm sure Beatrix will shed some light on how long you've been out of the insane asylum." The young witch grabbed the bourbon from Damon's hands and took a swig. Hopefully it would help to calm his nerves.

The store door flung open without any warning which in turn made Bailey almost choke on the drink. The older witch looked at them before making a motion to come into the store. "Hurry up it's fucking freezing. And don't track any dirt in here." Beatrix commanded before walking back into the store.

The pair quickly hurried inside with care as to not disobey her orders. They followed her inside which lead to a small back room with a couple of chairs, a table, and various nicknacks littered the room.

"Well on with it Damon. I know whenever a Salvatore brother comes snooping around trouble is soon to follow. And you who are you?" The witch narrowed her eyes as she looked at Bailey.

He jumped not expecting to be in the line of fire. "I'm Bailey...I bartend a couple of streets over." Beatrix stood up as she stared the boy up and down studying him. "You're a witch." Saying that only made Beatrix more observant of him. She was clearly suspicious of the man.

"But judging from the look on your face you neither knew nor believe it. Is this why you came here tonight? To have me train a newbie witch?" She asked clearly annoyed with Damon.

"I'm not a witch and clearly you both aren't thinking clearly. Damon is obviously drunk and I don't know what your damage is but you both need professional help." Bailey stated as he slowly backed away from the pair.
 
"You heard her, it's fucking freezing." Damon smiled as if the whole thing was a joke. A big, icy-cold, fucking joke. Waved Bailey in first, then tentatively stepped through the threshold. It was a shop but it was also the front of Beatrix's residence, and that made it a grey area in terms of whether or not he could freely enter. The old witch noticed his caution and chuckled at him before leading them both deeper into the back.

Damon was enjoying Bailey's confusion. He never got tired of seeing an uneducated newbie discover his true self. "Ah, Bea, you can train him if you want to," he eyed the bartender, "though I'd think that a little S&M might do him some good, if we're talking 'real' training." His smirk was sexy and buzzed, and he punctuated most of his sentences with a drink from the stolen bottle. "Listen, he's going to run any minute, and you know what they say about predators..." he turned to look at Bailey, "we are programmed to chase things that run. Don't do it, boy."

"Do not threaten a witch in my home!" Bea threw up her hands and Damon immediately grabbed his head. The bottle of bourbon fell to the ground, forgotten, as he was driven to his knees by the pain.

"Argh! Stop it you bitch!"

"That's witch!" She closed her hands into a fist, which made him scream out in pain anew. "You hurt him, Damon, and I swear I will find a way to make you wish you'd never been born." She released him and he fell to the ground, panting. Beatrix sneered down at him. "Stay there, Salvatore. I need to speak to my new student." Her attention was turned to him, now. Despite her silvery-white hair, her blue eyes were piercing and her focus was intense. She looked like she was nearly eighty, but her eyes... they were from a twenty-year-old.

"Bailey, you and I need to talk. Don't worry about him," she motioned towards Damon, who was still fighting off the residual effects of her grasp on his soul. "Come. Do you like tea? Let's do a reading while he gathers himself. He'll find us when he's ready."
 
Bailey watched the two supernatural creatures interact. His eyes widened not only in shock but fear. While obviously Bailey knew nothing of his ancestry or of his powers it was clear that Beatrix was a witch not to be trifled with. Damon was brought to his knees within seconds of Beatrix sticking her arm out. Although the young witch was more than grateful for Beatrix's help he never wanted to be on the receiving end of her wrath. While Bailey was sure if Damon had really wanted to bring him harm he would have done so already. He had already shown he could control people.

Bailey turned to the more experienced witch and followed her further back into an even smaller darkly lit room. Oil laps littered the room with a small wooden table covered by a heavy purple cloth. Beautiful tapestries of many different colors draped the walls. Candles cluttered the room. "Incendia" Beatrix muttered igniting all of the candles; a fireplace slightly hidden erupted in flames following the candles.

Bailey stood in awe as he watched and more importantly felt the magic around him. Never in his twenty odd some years on this earth had he imagined this would be possible. His mind was racing as his sat down robotically. What had he gotten himself into? Was this some sort of cult and they were going to kill him as soon as his guard was down?

Beatrix laughed as she sat down across from Bailey. "You should see the look on your face. Nothing excites me more than a newbie witch who finds out about their powers. Now I don't suppose you know who your parents are correct?" Bailey shook his head before saying "No ma'am. I was adopted as a baby. I've never meet my parent's." Beatrix grabbed the kettle on the fire place and everything else needed to serve the tea. "Well how about we try and figure out where you come from. All witches come from a a coven. Although it is rather unusual for you to not have a family. Nature tends to deal with witches who abandon their offspring."

Bailey thought about his family. The orphanage couldn't tell him anything about where he came from. No record of him existed anywhere it was as if he appeared out of thin air. He had long ago given up on trying to find his family. "Here Bailey give me your hands. I will channel the spirits and see where you come from." Bailey couldn't help but become nervous. Was he ready to deal with knowing where he came from? He had long since forgotten about it. Slowly the young witch reached his hands out and clasped hands with the skilled older witch.

Beatrix started to chant in what sounded to be latin. "Spiritus ex alia parte . Auxilium eu hac figura ex quo nuper reperta est" Bailey couldn't understand what she was saying but it roughly translated into the silver haired woman asking the spirits to help her. The wind around them picked up as she continued to chant. The flames around them exploded. Beatrix's eyes opened widely before they went completely black. A force ripped Bailey and Beatrix apart flinging them across the room.
 
Damon fought to catch his breath, even as his brain felt like it was being liquefied by the last remnants of her power. Witches were a scourge; he would get rid of them all, except that they were so damn useful. Well, and then there was Bon Bon. He'd grown attached to her in a 'bratty kid sister' kid of way, but there had been many times when he would have been just as happy to have snapped her neck and left her dead. This power that they had was the main reason - they could just wiggle their little wormy fingers and spew out some kind of nonsense, and suddenly you were puking out your guts and your brains were leaking out your nose.

Fucking witches.

He struggled to his hands and knees, and when he finally felt like the world had stopped spinning, he fought his way to his feet. He had taken it a little too fast and had to put a hand against the wall to steady himself. Nearby he saw the shattered remnants of his stolen booze and he shook his head. Why did she have to ruin his night by breaking the booze too?

He staggered through the shop, each step bringing him closer to clarity and to Beatrix's voice as she chanted one of her witchy incantations. He shook his head and rubbed achy fingers against his eyes in a vain attempt to clear the blurriness from them. He knew that if he would just wait his body would heal on its own and he'd be clear-headed and clear-visioned once again, but his stubbornness made him want to speed up the process in any way possible. By the time he reached her glowing, candle-filled death trap, she was uttering the last few words.

"...reperta est-" and then the room seemed move with some kind of ungodly power. Damon felt the wind picking up and he felt like something didn't want him there, but he forced himself to the doorway and peered in. The myriad of tapestries and the flames flickered and cast the illusion of spirits in the room. Then the flames all exploded and he flinched. He jerked his hand away from the doorway just as Beatrix opened her eyes. Then he felt his ears pop, and Bailey and Beatrix were flung to opposite corners of the room.

"Damn it!" He didn't know who to check on first, the witch he had sought out first, or the one who had been on his mind all night. He chose the former and rushed to the older witch's side. "Don't die on me now, Crone. I went through a lot to track your ass down!"
 
Bailey groaned softly as he struggled to get up from his current position. He had never felt anything like that force in his life. Small trinkets littered the room as dust and paper settled down around him. The witch struggled to keep his eyes opened as he looked around the room trying to figure out what exactly had happened. One moment Bailey and Beatrix were sitting at the table the next moment they were flung across the room by some unseen force.

Bailey climbed over the chairs and random debris that scattered the room. As he searched the room for Beatrix. The young man noticed her and Damon at the far end of the room as he made sure she was ok. Bailey shurgged off the last of his confusion before he hurried to the witch who laid unconscious on the floor. "Has she made any nosies? Or moved at all?" He asked as he kneeled next to the old witch and the probably even older vampire.

At that moment Beatrix moaned before slowly opening her eyes to see the worried faces of Bailey and Damon peering over her. Her frail arm which was surprisingly strong pushed both of the men back onto the floor. "Get the hell away from me. I'm fine and I don't need you two to help me." Bailey couldn't stop himself and let out a laugh as the old woman get up off the floor. She stood up brushing herself off as the other two waited for her.

"What the hell happened here? I've never felt anything like that. One second we were at the table and the next..." He trailed off as he surveyed the room again. Beatrix watched him as she regained her composure. "I could sense you were powerful but not this...this is something I haven't encountered in years."

With a small wave of her hand a chair pulled up beside her so she could sit. Her eyes followed Bailey as he moved closer to her. "So a random boy in boston who doesn't know his lineage...or the fact that he's a witch." Bailey blushed a deep red as her probing eyes stared at him with questioning eyes. "You are from the Dark Rose Coven. It's a name I thought I would never hear or more like feel ever again."

"Who or exactly what is the Dark Rose Coven?" Bailey asked confusion clear on his face. "My dear they are your family...and they are coming to collect you."
 
Damon stepped back, his irritation at the situation evident in the way he scowled at Beatrix as she struggled to her feet. "Don't tell me that you thought I was going to help you. You're supposed to help me, not the other way around." He brushed off his shirt where she had pushed him away. Bailey's confusion was evident in the desperation in his voice. The young bartender looked both confused and excited. It was an intriguing mix of emotions that flickered across his face, and the vampire found himself studying him in a new light.

Beatrix's assessment caused Damon to raise a dark brow. He smirked as the looked from the bartender to the old witch. "So. I found a good one." He turned to the woman and waved a hand negligently. "Consider your service to me in return for my finder's fee. I found you a..." he glanced at Bailey, "Dark Rose Coven warlock, whatever that is, and you make me immune to werewolf bites. Good trade." He smiled widely. "So let's do it."

The witch sneered back at him. "You fool! Don't you understand anything, Salvatore? This isn't some frolic in the fields." Her eyes narrowed. "What makes you think that I know how to make you immune, anyway? The bite's poison is nature's way of balancing the powers. Why would I seek to help one such as you?"

"You mean aside from my dashingly handsome face?" He gestured towards himself. "What about the fact that I brought Bailey to you? He had no clue who he was." Damon looked over at the young man. "He still doesn't. Look - I really need you to help me. I'm willing to do almost anything to get that cure." He swayed his shoulders slightly as he considered his options. "I could always threaten to kill you and the little baby warlock over there, but I'm feeling generous. What would it take to convince you to help me?"
 
Bailey watched as the supernatural creatures argued as if he wasn't standing their. They spoke of him as if he was trophy that had been won and now the two were debating about what their prize would be. "Hey you guys I'm standing right here..." The two continued to talk seeming as if they were the only two in the room. "HEY GUYS...." Bailey felt a surge of power as several things erupted in fire. Beatrix only raised an eyebrow before muttering "Ector."

"You're more powerfully then I previously thought." Beatrix's knowing eyes turned to Damon. "How about this...I'll granter wish and make you immune to the wolf's bite but in return you need to protect this witch. If any harm comes to him I'll have your penis hanging in my shop window. Understood?"

Bailey looked back at Beatrix ashamed of how his anger got the best of him. Clearly the shame was on his face as Beatrix turned to him. "Child....someone put a spell on you. It's why your magic is is only appearing now. And someone has lifted the spell. This is not good." Once again she turned to Damon. "Protect him until I can teach the craft. If even one hair on this boys head is missing it'll be your ass. Now leave. I'll get in contact when his training should start."

The pair left as Beatrix's face grew grim. She knew a terrible war was coming. The Dark Rose Coven always came to collect what was theirs. And Bailey in their eyes belonged to them. She closed the door behind them and prayed she would be able to teach the new witch how to control his powers if he is to beat them.
 
Shit, fire? Damon glanced over his shoulder at the flames and then raised an eyebrow at Bailey. "You did that? I know a witchy witch you gotta meet. She's all about fires too." He turned his attention back to Beatrix, and as she gave her demands he could only press his lips together and nod in agreement. After today's display he had no reason to let this young witch out of his grasp; being 'ordered' to do so only sweetened the deal.

He smiled and did his signature shrug. "Hear that Bail? We gotta get out of here and you have to stay with me." He grinned. "Like glue." He sauntered out of the witch's house as if nothing of import had happened, but inside he was wondering who had put the curse on Bailey and who had taken it off. He glimpsed to the side at the lad as they walked. "Don't worry. You're in good hands," he held out his own hands, palms up, to demonstrate. "There are quite a few people who would die to be in your shoes. Literally."

He bumped Bailey as they walk. "Why don't you invite me home? I promise I'll be a good guest. I'll even lift the lid." Damon smirked. "Don't look so worried, kid - If I'm protecting you then I'm not eating you, so you're safe from me. Could be worse."
 
All Bailey wanted to do was go home to his apartment and forget that this night had ever happened. He went from college student to newbie witch in the matter of two hours. The thoughts that flew around the young witches head lead him to believe he had gone slightly crazy. Surely when he woke up he would realize this was all a dream. But the sweet and teasing voice of Damon brought him back to reality.

"Great then maybe one of them would trade places with me so that I can get my life back." The unlikely pair walked down the deserted street as Bailey and Damon made their way back to his apartment. The young man processed what Damon said before chuckling a bit. "Wait that myth is actually true? So if I don't invite you into my apartment you'd have to wait for me outside."

They turned corners and finally made their way up to Bailey's walk up. "What if I don't invite you in? Beatrix won't hold her part of the bargain." Bailey just wanted to give Damon a taste of his own medicine. He seemed like the kind of man who enjoyed teasing people. Bailey opened the front door and walk up the three flights of stairs to his home. "I guess I'll see you in the morning." Every part of Bailey's body wanted Damon inside...of his apartment that is.
 
Damon raised an eyebrow at his question. "The 'myth', as you so eloquently put it, is true." He pressed his lips together and turned to Bailey, one hand pointing a lazy finger in the young witch's direction. "But if you decide to be a prick and keep me out of your apartment just remember; you have to come out some time, and I'm immortal."

He smiled smugly. "Yep. That myth is true too. Know what else is true?" He flashed a toothy smile. "Grumpy vampires tend to be mean vampires... and you don't want that. I can be a bitch."

As they approached the apartment the bartender called 'home'. Damon paused outside the apartment and put a hand on the wall above his head, stretching a little as he listened to Bailey teasing him. "You're not going to... hey! Beatrix won't hold up her part of the bargain," he said, watching Bailey's back, and backside, as he sauntered up the stairs. "You're going to want me inside if the other coven comes for you." He leaned against the door jamb and glanced in. Slowly he tested the boundary with a foot.

It was sealed. "Bailey!" His eyes narrowed. "You don't want to make an enemy of me. Let me in!" He growled in frustration. "What is it with you witches?"
 
Bailey couldn't help but laugh softly as he heard Damon out in the hallway. He wondered if he should keep him out there longer or just save them both the headache. He pondered for a moment if he actually wanted to deal with the annoyed vampire after pissing him off. Luckily Bailey decided against it. "Chill out Damon...I invite you into my home."

Bailey walked into the kitchen to get a drink of water. Although he felt more at ease with the passing hours he still felt queasy. First he finds out that there is a whole supernatural world out there and he was apart of it. He had supernatural abilities and now a powerful coven was after him for some unknown reason. Part of him wished this was all a dream and the other part just wishes he never left the bar earlier that night.

"Would you like something to eat or drink?" Bailey froze for a moment before turning around to look at Damon. "Not that I was offering myself as dinner because I'm assuming you drink blood for food." He tried to laugh it off but he couldn't. Beatrix told Damon to keep him safe. If Damon wanted too he could probably overpower Bailey and feed from him.

He could tell the vampire was assumed by his slip in words. It was only fair after all of the teasing. That didn't make it any easier to deal with. "Wipe that smirk off of your face. OR I'll have Beatrix teach me how to magically remove your crowned jewels." He stated looking down at the vampires groin. "I'll bring you a blanket and pillow. I'm sure you don't mind sleeping on the couch right?"
 
Finally! Damon tested the boundary and found it gone, and so he stepped through. Once inside he felt much better; there was something about being allowed inside a human's space that made him feel more powerful. Maybe it made him feel... human. He watched Bailey walk into his kitchen and pour himself a glass of water. At the witch's little faux pas the vampire smiled smugly. "Are you offering?"

He strode into the kitchen, his confidence inflated, and began to look through the cabinets. "Don't you have any good bourbon in here? What is it with you bartenders? You should have the good stuff." He turned and slid a sly glance Bailey's direction. "I 'eat', if that's what you are asking. I just need blood to survive." He shrugged, then turned around to look through the rest of the cabinets. "Bourbon helps to stave off the cravings..." his eyes found the witch once again as he noticed the pulsing in the man's neck. It looked very inviting.

"You don't want to mess with my 'jewels', as you call them," Damon retorted. "Witches can be bitches, but vampires can ruin much more than your night." The offer of a blanket and pillow made the man scowl. "Are you really putting me on the couch? Seriously? You don't have a guest room or something civilized like that?" Damon sighed dramatically. "I'm reduced to babysitting a witchy baby and sleeping on the couch. What other insult has Beatrix got planned for me, hm?"

There was nothing worth drinking (in a bottle) in Baileys home. You'd think he'd at least have his namesake, but noooo. Damon was feeling restless. He needed something to quell the thirst an the anxiety that was threatening to make him throw caution to the wind.
 
Bailey watched as Damon look through his cabinets in search of bourbon which clearly could not be found in the apartment. Part of Bailey wanted to send the man off in search of a victim but he couldn't bring himself to help him kill a human being. A thought crossed his mind as he noticed the way Damon eyed him. Like a piece of meat just waiting to be devoured. What if he offered himself as food? Surely he wouldn't kill him....at least he knew Beatrix would avenge him in death. He just prayed she would never need or have the chance to avenge him. He was perfectly happy among the living.

He pushed those thoughts aside once Damon began complaining about his new living arrangements. "Oh right how about you take my bed and I'll take the living room. I'm a college bartender. I clearly don't make enough money to get a bigger place. You would always chip in a bit considering we don't know how long you'll actually be here. If you'd like you can share my bed with me. But if I see even one fang..." He warned although they both knew Bailey wasn't strong enough yet to use his magic.

Without another word Bailey made his way to the back of the apartment to his bedroom. After this day he wanted nothing more than to just lay in his bed and let the world fade away. He could hear the vampire follow behind him. Bailey undressed quickly leaving his briefs on and putting on a t-shirt.

"You can come in whenever. I'm just going to head to bed..." He trailed off before thinking about Damon and his hunger. "Although if you'd like perhaps...um maybe you would like to feed a bit. That is if you can promise you won't kill me." He laughed nervously. He was about to let a vampire basically dine on him. He wondered if he'd even taste good or not.
 
It had never occurred to Damon that he might be here long term, 'long' being an objective word when it came to the life of someone who couldn't die. Or at least, not by conventional means... he narrowed his eyes at the bartender as the prospect of sharing a bed was mentioned. "I prefer the first option. I take your bed, you sleep on the couch," he started to smirk but then he thought of the people who might have occupied that bed. Maybe the couch would be ... safer.

He watched the young man pulling off his clothing as he walked to his bedroom. The man's back to him as he moved away. Well shit, this is going to be one bitch of a night if I have to starve - His thoughts faltered when Bailey offered to let him feed on him.

Damon's eyes widened briefly. Then he sped up and appeared in front of the witch as if he had teleported. "Wait," he stated, his finger raised for emphasis, "did you just offer to let me feed on you?" His eyes narrowed. "Are you crazy? Or are you one of those 'vampire groupies'?" He shook his head slightly.

"Don't answer that." With a quick raise of his eyebrows he grabbed Bailey and drew him into an embrace, his lips grazing across the man's neck hotly as his eyes darkened and red-blue veins puckered beneath his eyes. His teeth grew sharp and long, and as the pulse in Baileys' neck beckoned to him, he sank razor teeth into the warm, virginal flesh of the bartender. The hot, tangy blood filled Damons mouth like air to a suffocating man and the vampire drew in a long, sensual gulp that nearly made his knees week with the desire to drain the man until his heart stopped.

His lips locked around the slightly salty flesh and he drew in another long, thick swallow of the metallic elixir he had been Jonesing for the entire day. Bourbon was good... but it wasn't what he really wanted.

A few satisfying swallows later and he was clear-headed enough to remember to stop. The man had to live - it was essential to getting what Damon wanted, really wanted, and for some reason it was part of Beatrix's demands.

He drew his mouth off of the young bartender's neck and stepped back, wiping his mouth off on the back of his arm. "Thank you," he breathed heavily, like one might after a short sprint...

...or sex.

Good sex. "I needed that."
 
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