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Extended Summary: Damon Salvatore always keeps his promises, and when he promised to keep Shelia Bennett's granddaughter safe from the evil and dark forces that have been hunting the witches family line, he knows this will either end two ways: destruction or salvation. He just doesn't know which one will conquer. But when Shelia dies and the protection spell that had been placed on her granddaughter begins to wear off, Damon has no other choice but to step out of the shadows from where's been hiding these past twenty-one years and face the strongest and last witch of her line, Bonnie Bennett. The only issue with this? Bonnie doesn't know the supernatural exists...well, at least not until it shows up in the form of a pale, blue-eyed, dark haired vampire knocking on her front door.

TWENTY-ONE YEARS AGO

Damon knew something was wrong when he got the twisting feeling in his gut, the kind that made his teeth grind together and his head spin, the world around him twirling in circles. It had happened one night when he was out at bar throwing back a couple of drinks. The bartender stood behind the counter Damon sat at, if it weren't for the fact he had compelled him to keep pouring what was rest of the Bourbon that was sitting in a half-emptied bottle, he would've been cut off by now. But that would only happen if he were human. Which he is not.

When the Bourbon got boring and he couldn't stand the music the band was playing in the corner of the bar, he hopped off the stool, not bothering to pay and decided to find...something more interesting to drink. And he knew exactly what he wanted.

Sitting around in a booth with her friends, was a blonde with her hair tied up high in a ponytail, breasts practically bursting out of the tight, lacy, hot pink tank top she wore under her black leather jacket that almost matched his. Her shirt was matched with a blue jean skirt, that when she bent down, showed off her spectacular ass cheeks. Damon hadn't meant to be looking but when he came back from the washroom, wiping the fresh blood that he had sucked from the neck of one of the band members—the drummer, who had also been junkie (what a waste of a perfectly good body)—covered his upper lip with his hand, he had noticed.

Before even walking over to the table, he had heard with his abnormal supernatural hearing, about how the friends of the blonde kept talking about this guy that she just couldn't stop looking it. And what a coincidence that the description of this particular man happened to match him.

Pale? Check.

Blue-eyed? Check.

Tall, dark, and handsome? Check, check, and oh honey, double check on that last one.

The eyes on all of the blonde's friends faces widen in both shock and excitement, a reaction that Damon was very familiar with—along with terror, sadness, and anger. A smirk pulls at his lips as he asks the entire group, "What are you ladies up to?"

And just like that, they were all putty in his hands. But his attention was mostly focused on the blonde—her name, as Damon had discovered, being 'Jessica'—sitting beside him, the one that had caught his eye. Like he had expected, she twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, leaning forward just enough to where her boobs were grazing his leather covered arm. His eyes gaze flickers from Jessica's baby blue eyes down to his arm, and he couldn't deny the fact that his gums were beginning to ache, the beast inside of him wanting nothing more than to sink his teeth into that pretty little neck of hers.

But before he even got the chance to ask if she wanted to go somewhere quieter his stomach started churning, and Damon knew all too well what was about to come next. Excusing himself from the table, trying not to cause a scene, he pushes his way through the crowded bar, the dance floor flooded with numerous strangers dancing—well, more like stumbling around drunk and wasted girls grinding their ass into the junk of men they probably didn't even remember the name of. The entire bar reeked of booze, sweat, drugs, and the sweet smell of sex. Four things that Damon was very familiar with, and was very, very fond of.

But in this moment, as he trips over his own feet as he exits the bar and has to use the wall of the building to steady himself, a piercing pain is emitted into his skull, spreading throughout his entire body, and causing him drop down to his knees with his hands clasped tightly on either side of his head as, for moment, he thought it might pop off. The churning in his gut that he had purposely ignored, hoping it was just a false alarm, had gone away, but its disappearance had sent a surge of vomit rushing up his throat in its place. Not even a minute later is puke comes spewing out of his mouth, falling onto the ground in a red pile near his knees.

"Fuck," he groans, and on shaky feet, standing up slowly as another wave of nausea hits him and he's bent over with his hands on his knees. He had known this had been coming sooner or later, had heard the news a few months back. Hell, he'd even been trying to keep with up it, calling to check it in and making sure everything was okay.

He just didn't know it was going to be happening right now.

"Son of a bitch," he grumbles, blinking a couple of times to get rid of the dizziness and the black dots that danced in his vision, now just realizing what they meant for him.

Another Bennett witch to watch over.

...That's just great.

And Damon could've just turned around and walked back into that bar, had his way with the blonde, got his midnight snack and gone back to what he'd like to call his definition of 'normal'—if you could even count being a five-hundred-year-old vampire normal. But, even though he was a selfish, manipulative asshole who threw tantrums (or what he liked to refer these...tantrums as 'episodes') he always keeps his promises.

Especially when it came to the Bennett's.

With that being said, he owed one of them, in particular, a gigantic favor.

Though he could come off as stupid sometimes, Damon had enough brains to know not to piss off Shelia Bennett unless he, you know, wanted to be skinned alive. And he wasn't exactly in the mood for feeling the witch's wrath. So, instead of doing what he wanted to do, he marches his ass down the sidewalk and to his blue Camero, jamming the keys in the slot and listening in satisfaction as the engine roared to life.

Here I come Mystic Falls.

He arrives in Mystic Falls, Virginia in little under six hours.

He would've been here sooner if the visions that danced in his line of vision hadn't blocked his view of the road, making it hard to concentrate, he would've got to Mystic Falls faster. But safety first and all that jazz. The closer he got the small town the more the less he saw of the visions. The first one had been one of the milder ones. At first, all he had seen was the concrete road ahead of him, with a light yellow glow due to his headlights flashing, but then, suddenly, out of nowhere is he hit with the image of Shelia's daughter, Abby, sitting on the couch, bent over as she rubs her swollen stomach. Instantly, he knew (and not only from the visions or the vomiting) that Abby was going to labor. No surprise there. But then he had heard Shelia yelling, shouts incoherent, but Damon was able to catch onto a few words and was smart enough to know to fill in the blanks.

Such as: "It's too early!", "She shouldn't be coming yet!", "Let's get you to the hospital!"

He discovered through the visions that Abby was having a little baby girl. Somehow, at the mention of the gender, the corners of his lips twitched. He had always wanted a sister but instead got stuck with an annoying younger brother who had nothing better to do than save people and gel up that golden blonde hero hair of is. Just the mere thought of Stefan made Damon scoff. How come he got to the be the good brother and I get stuck being the bad one?

How come he got to the be the good brother and I get stuck being the bad one?

Damon already knew the answer to that and pushed that thought all the way to the back of his head. This wasn't about him nor his brother. This was about Shelia, her daughter, and the baby girl—and if his last and final vision had been correct, then that exact same baby girl that he'd been seeing for the past six hours would be entering the world any minute now.

And he was just glad that he had enough time to park his car and race through the hospital, not even having to check with the receptionist at the office because he already knew where the two witches were. All he had to do was a shut his eyes for a quick second a and listen—listen for their heartbeats, the sound of their breathing, the sound of—

"Did I miss it?"

Damon didn't even have to open the door, he kind of just stumbled into it and it...opened? He hadn't been looking for any attention, but when multiple pairs of eyes land on him, he suddenly felt self-conscious. There was something called 'too much attention'. Ignoring the stares, he walks over to where Shelia stands at her daughter's bedside, holding her hand. His gaze flickers over to the doctors and nurses who were still looking at him and he narrows his eyes, ordering, "What the hell are you looking? Don't look at me. Look. At. Her."

...Okay, so he might've used just a little, practically a sprinkle, of compulsion to get their head's to turn back towards their patient.

He notices, not even missing a beat, the moment Abby glances over at him. Strands of her curly black hair are plastered to the sides of her forehead, face contorted into one of a mixture of pain and excitement and a hint of fear. She's dressed a blue hospital gown, legs separated and propped up high, and an IV hooked up to her arm. Damon could just visibly see the tear tracks that ran down her cheeks and few that lingered, clouding her vision. None of this surprised him. He had witnessed numerous births before, had even helped his mother back when Stefan was born.

But most, and all, experience had come with the lovely packaged that came with watching over the Bennett witch line. And like many others of her family, Abby holds out her free hand for him to take and he, using a bit of his super speed, flashes over to her left side and grips her hand tight. She squeezes back just as hard as the doctor between her legs tells her all she needs to do is push one more time. But it didn't seem like Abby wanted too, the young, caramel skinned woman too exhausted to even want to consider the option.

His eyebrows furrow together. He heard the doctors words ring in his ears.

"One more push."

Although Damon wasn't a nice guy—everyone knew that—he had a certain soft spot for the Bennett's. If anyone were to something to them, to hurt them, he would snap their necks, rip their heart out. In this situation, you could say he hated seeing Abby in pain like this but knew that the reason wasn't because someone was punishing her, but because she was simply giving birth; bring a new life into this world. He had known Abby for years, having entered her life at the tender age of fifteen. And ten years later, with her lying in this hospital bed, made her twenty-five. She one of the strongest, bravest, and smartest women he knows. Next to her grandmother, of course, whose birth he had also witnessed. It made the old hag—who wasn't actually a hag at all, despite her being in her mid-forties was still as beautiful as the day he met her, which was when she was twenty-seven—grumble, but would soon make her laugh, joking about how he was older than her, and even though immortal, was the ugliest man she's ever laid eyes on. The joke, sometimes, had him laughing as well.

"Come on, Ab's," he whispers into her ear, slipping a wet strand behind it. "Just one more push and you get to see your little girl. Don't you want that?"

She's silent for a moment, breathing heavily, but looks up at him after a minute, her brown eyes, the same color as dark chocolate, lock with his blue ones. Abby doesn't even have to say anything for him to understand, he just nods, giving her a smile.

"You got this," he tells her, planting a soft kiss on her forehead, and feeling the grip Abby had on his hand tighten, fingernails digging into his skin as she lets out an ear-piercing scream that causes the lights to flicker on and off.

And with that scream, follows another, but this time, it doesn't come from Abby's mouth but instead, her daughter's.

The birth of Bonnie Shelia Bennett is symbolized with a strike of lightning that runs a streak across the night sky, thunder crackling and causes the power to shut off for a minute before turning back on. Even if he's seen similar stuff like this happen, it's not every day you get to witness something special happen without even realizing it. Because, without anyone's knowledge that they wouldn't discover until months later, is that the birth of a the last member of the Bennett witch line was born but so was something dark. A dangerous force that was forever tethered to this little baby girl that was curled up in a blanket in her mother's arms and was the only person who could stop it.

A/N: Hello! I hope you liked the chapter. Please leave a review if you did!