A/N: Aloha. After much struggle I finally came up with a holiday-themed story though the holidays are more of a prop/backdrop for the overall plot and deals with mature subject matter (and nope for once I'm not talking about smut). This is an AU/AH two-shot gift for my dear friend roplusglam, that hopefully she will love and won't go WTF, Lapis. I've done one edit for this so please excuse any errors, grammar problems etc. I will make changes later. Part II will be up hopefully by the New Year. If you celebrate Christmas—Merry Christmas. If you celebrate Hanukkah—Happy Hanukkah. If you celebrate Kwanza—Happy Kwanza, and if you celebrate nothing at all, Happy Nothing At All. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW Network. No copyright infringement is intended.

December 15th

Over and over she twirled the ornament in her hand looking between it and the tree deciding where it should go, or if she should keep it in the box with the other ornaments not to be used this time around. This was a ritual of sorts, a deep contemplation as Bonnie was forced to deal with her reality. The reality being, she was eighteen living in a single parent home, and her father…

She had a birth father but having an actual father who came home at night, kissed her mother on the cheek or lips before sitting at the head of the table where they shared dinner as a family—Bonnie didn't have that. Lots of people didn't have that so her situation didn't make her special, but a statistic. And with so many strikes against her already, Bonnie did what she could to remain in the shadows.

However, remaining in the shadows in a small town like Mystic Falls was virtually impossible. This place was a modern day version of Mayberry. Her mom was best friends with the Sheriff whom Bonnie happened to be best friends with the Sheriff's daughter. Her mom worked as the office manager of revered Doctor Grayson Gilbert medial practice, and again, Bonnie was close friends with the doctor's only daughter. She couldn't take one step without someone knowing her and ultimately spreading her business around like wildfire. If she stole a piece of candy, her mom would know the second her key hit the lock.

This place Bonnie called home didn't offer much in the form of variety. Gossip, rumors, and a decent party kept this place turning.

Hell, on the day of her birth the world became topsy-turvy.

Abby Bennett had been extremely tight-lipped as to who the father of her unborn child was. Had he been a drifter who rented out one of the rooms in the Bennett household, and he left behind a token for Abby to take care of without his assistance or interference for the next eighteen plus years? Had she reunited with an old flame from college? Was the man a war veteran who had been called to do another tour abroad? No one had any idea and Abby painstakingly made sure no one would ever discover his identity.

As much as she wanted to keep things hush-hush, life and fate had other plans.

Bonnie had been born prematurely and was extremely ill. The doctors didn't think she would survive and the only thing that could potentially save her life was a bone marrow transplant. Of course the risk of surgery to the infant had to be considered since she was so frail, but Abby had been willing to do or try anything to save her child. Getting pregnant at thirty-six put her in the high-risk category though women well into their forties had had healthy children all the time. Abby didn't think she or her baby would face any real complications or danger.

Genetics said otherwise.

"Perhaps the baby's father might be a match," Dr. Lancer said as he stood at the foot of Abby's hospital bed looking pensive. "We could run a few tests, that is, after getting into contact with him."

Abby had swallowed then and briefly looked to her mother who infinitesimally nodded her head. Sheila Bennett was the only person Abby had confided the identity of the father to. Sighing heavily in resignation while closing her eyes in regret, Abby uttered the name visualizing the domino effect that would ensue the second she revealed her secret.

"Contact the mayor."

Dr. Lancer blinked and looked perplexed as if he didn't understand what his patient was saying.

"Contact the mayor? You mean Mayor William Lockwood? He's the father of your child?"

Needless to say, Dr. Lancer turned a bit red in the face having been told the well-liked mayor had been unfaithful to his wife of twenty-three years, and fathered a child with a working class woman…of another race. The doctor tried his best to remain objective and professional, but there was a severe conflict of interest. He and William were golf partners, and Dr. Lancer was even godfather to William's daughters. To learn his best friend had…Dr. Lancer nodded stiffly, turned to leave, but then re-approached the bed.

"I'm sorry, but forgive me, are you absolutely sure Mayor Lockwood is the father? I've known William for years. He would never…be unfaithful to Mildred. There has to be some mistake."

Abby scoffed knowing this was exactly what would happen the minute she told the truth. That no one would believe her because the good Mayor could do no wrong. If only they knew. And of course she was a floozie who couldn't keep her legs together. Dr. Lancer might not have said it but he was definitely thinking it. Abby's lip curled in derision as she had to fight back her tears of humiliation.

"Yes! He's the father but he'll probably deny it, just like he'll deny…"

"Abby," Sheila cut her off.

Heeding her mother, Abby calmed herself and penned her doctor with a withering glare, "My child is dying so he will do his part and save her life. If you want to do a paternity test to get that out of the way, and to prove whether or not your friend for years is a lying piece of shit, help yourself."

Dr. Lancer stiffly nodded again, opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of voicing his opinion. Finally he said, "I'll let you know what the Mayor says and we'll…get the ball rolling. Try to get some rest."

Abby had settled back against her pillows turning her head away from her mother who she knew would lecture her about letting her mouth run away from her. It was bad enough the mayor stepped out on his wife, but what was worse was that the "affair" between Abby and William had not been a mutual endeavor.

"Abby…I know you want the whole world to know what happened and it should know and if I still had my gun…"

"Ma…with all due respect I don't want to talk about him. I don't want to talk about the man who…r-raped me," she swallowed the hot air in her mouth as feelings of repulsion bubbled and crawled over her skin. "I only want to think about my daughter. Let the town label me a whore because you know they will once this gets out. I don't care. The only good thing to come out of what happened to me is Bonnie."

"I understand," Sheila muttered hating the fact there was little she could do for her daughter. That she couldn't protect her though Abby was well over the age to still need her mom to fight her battles. But no woman, regardless of age should ever be violated the way her child had been.

They were quiet for a while before Sheila spoke, "You decided on a name? Bonnie? I think it fits her."

Abby softened, "I think so, too."

Naturally things did not end nicely wrapped with a shiny bow on top. The mayor had been outraged at the allegation he fathered a child outside of his marriage, but nevertheless stormed down to the hospital where he, Abby, and Sheila got into a heated verbal altercation. Hospital security had to be called in to mediate. Reluctantly and after much ass kissing by Dr. Lancer, William agreed to do a paternity test in which the results could be ready in little under an hour.

Abby sat smugly in her bed when the results came back 99.9% positive William was indeed the father to one Bonnie Abigail Bennett. Abby's smugness increased even further when William proved to be a bone marrow match for Bonnie, and she was able to receive a transplant within days of her birth.

For Bonnie's sake, Abby and William came to an agreement he would acknowledge her as his child, put his name on the birth certificate, and help provide for Bonnie financially. He was of course threatened with legal and criminal action should he renege on any part of their agreement that could never become public knowledge.

However, it didn't remain quiet as one of the nurse's from the hospital blabbed about the entire incident. News had spread all over town leaving William no choice but to come clean to what he did omitting a huge fact.

The Mayor publicly admitted his "mistake", said he apologized to his family, and hoped the town would rally around and support him through "his" tough time. He got his wish instead of being asked to resign, and Abby—just as she suspected was treated like a modern day Bathsheba in that she enticed William and led him astray.

If only they knew.

Abby could have pressed charges, could have come forward and told the truth of what actually happened, but Bonnie was her main concern, and in a town as backwards as Mystic Falls, who would believe her? Who would take her word over the mayor's? Those had been Abby's excuses and reasons for why she remained staunch in her decision not to say anything. Besides, she didn't want to add yet another stigma to her daughter.

However that night, the night of Bonnie's conception was never far from her thoughts.

And it was never far from Bonnie's either. She knew the former mayor was her father, had spent a couple of holidays sporadically through the years with him, but she didn't know the ugly, stomach-churning truth of how exactly she came to be.

Bonnie hadn't been spoon fed any fantasies about her parents being desperately in love despite the fact William had been married with children of his own. Bonnie was fairly certain her mother hated her father down to the root of her soul and with every fiber of her being. Tension reigned supreme when William would drop by without warning to do his monthly inspection. Abby would get missing leaving Bonnie to fill him in on everything that had taken place since his last visit. He would sit there, listen, ask questions, get up, dig in his pocket to take out five hundred dollars, place it in her hand, pinch her cheek, and leave.

He never hugged her. Never said he loved her. Never treated her like a daughter of his flesh, but mostly like an inconvenience he was trying to do the right thing by for appearances sake. Yet Bonnie supposed their relationship was better than nothing.

The holidays spelled a division in Bonnie's life. She didn't know where she belonged, where she fit in. She had a tight-knit circle of friends who came from varying walks of life that when they were together Bonnie wondered how they all managed to get along. But their differences made them work. Best part, they didn't care she was illegitimate. Unlike some other people.

In addition to her friends, Bonnie had the love of her mother and grandmother. But when it came to her father…she just didn't understand why they couldn't be as close as he was to her two half sisters and brother.

She went to school with her half-brother Alex who treated her like she was a ghost. Her two older half-sisters were already in college so Bonnie rarely saw them. She had been reared as an only child but she wasn't an only child.

Approaching footsteps spurred Bonnie to get back into action. She sat down the ornament in her hand—a gift from her paternal grandmother. Ms. Betty was the only Lockwood to go out of her or his way to get to know Bonnie. And Bonnie loved her almost as much as she loved Grams.

"I thought you would have been done with that tree by now," Sheila said and began organizing books on the shelves in the living room. "It'll be Christmas by the time you're finished decorating."

Bonnie knew her grandmother was teasing her, but her words got under her skin regardless. "Sorry I'm taking so long. I only have two arms."

Sheila paused in her straightening up, eyebrow slowly rising to her hairline as she looked at her grandchild. "Excuse me with that attitude. I see Scrooge has come early this year."

"I'm sorry, Grams. I just have a lot on my mind. Dad…he invited me to his Christmas party this year. A first. I haven't told him if I'm going." Bonnie waited for Grams to make a comment and when she didn't Bonnie turned around to face her.

Bonnie could always count on Grams to have something disparaging to say about her father that would make the devil's lips tremble before bursting out into tears.

"What?" Sheila retorted.

"You don't have anything to say about me going to my dad's party?"

"You're eighteen, Bonnie. You're old enough to decide how and in what way you want to spend your time. Personally, I don't think you should go 'cause I'm sure some not so open-minded people will be there. People who love to talk about things that happened in the past that should stay in the past."

"You mean the fact the former mayor cheated on his wife and had a baby with his black mistress?"

"Let's get the facts straight. Your mama wasn't his mistress."

Bonnie rolled her eyes knowing it was a cardinal sin to do so before Grams. "Oh, sorry. Girlfriend, then," her tone was cutting and flippant.

Sheila sighed and bit her tongue to keep herself from exposing the truth. Bonnie didn't need to know, and it wouldn't serve any purpose anyways.

"Little girl why are you trying my patience today? The decision is yours to make. He's your father and wants you around. Whether or not you should be there only you can decide that."

"Grams?" Bonnie halted speaking until she had her grandmother's undivided attention. "Why have you never liked my dad? Is it because he and my mom had an affair? He had to have…cared about her, right?"

Sheila nibbled her lip. Abby was at the store running last minute errands before her date with that pharmaceutical rep Rudy Hopkins, so Sheila felt it safe to shed a tiny little light on Bonnie's preconceived notion about her parents. It had been a long time coming and something like that couldn't remain secret for long. Though it wasn't exactly Sheila's secret to tell.

"Baby…I can't speak on how your parents felt about each other…if they felt anything for one another at all," Sheila swallowed the lump in her throat that tasted like a lie. "I don't like your father because…he's done some foul, evil things, things he's never been held accountable for. He doesn't deserve a daughter like you, but you're his child and there's nothing to be done to change that. All that matters is your relationship with him."

Evil? What had he done?

"That's just the thing," the teen lamented and sat down on the coffee table. "I don't have a relationship with him. We see each other enough, I tell him things, but he doesn't tell me anything about himself. I have no idea who he is other than the articles I've read about him in the paper. I'm afraid if I ask questions he'll stop wanting to see me. Since I was about…maybe ten or so I felt like he was hiding something from me. Him and mom. I just want to know what."

"And have you thought that they're not telling you whatever it is you think they're hiding because they know it won't benefit you in anyway?"

Bonnie picked at her cuticle and nodded. "I know I should let it go, and be happy that I do have both of my parents even if they aren't together, but there's this part of me that always feels empty."

The doorbell chose that moment to ring much to Sheila's relief. She hated seeing Bonnie like this which typically happened during major holidays and her birthday.

Bonnie rose from the table, maneuvered her way through the boxes that littered the living room floor, and answered the door. It was a UPS delivery man.

Trading pleasantries and a quick observation about the weather, Bonnie sighed for the package and re-entered the living room. She eyed the box, and shook it as a way to figure out what lay inside.

"Who's that for?" Sheila questioned as she begun working on the tree knowing Bonnie had abandoned post for good.

"It's for mom. I wonder what it is. I'm going to put it in her room."

"After you're done with that can you run something over to the Salvatore boardinghouse?"

Bonnie stiffened on her feet, "Why?" she whined. She hated going to the boardinghouse that resided on the edge of town because the place look haunted. Bonnie had only been inside a grand total of five times and each time she'd leave even more freaked out than the last time she had been there.

Matters weren't helped much since Elena, her best friend, was completely stalking Stefan Salvatore who had moved back into town a few months ago. Stefan seemed nice enough, but he was quiet, reserved, and pretty much kept everyone at arm's length. Bonnie couldn't deny he was hot with a capital H-A-W-T, but looks couldn't make up for a dull or suspect personality.

"Why?" Sheila parroted. "Because I asked you to that's why. It'll only take you less than ten minutes to get there. I know you plan to sneak out later on tonight anyways to meet up with those fast girls, and leave me here to decorate this house by myself. So this is the least you can do."

Bonnie snickered. "Caroline, Elena, and Vicky aren't fast." The first two weren't, the last one…

"I know man-eaters when I see them," Sheila persisted in her theory. "There's a manila envelope on the kitchen table. It's some research information Zach Salvatore asked me for weeks ago. I've been meaning to give it to him but I kept forgetting. Old timers must be kicking in."

"Grams you're barely a day over seventy. You're too young for Old Timers. All right," Bonnie relented knowing she didn't have much of a choice anyways. Once Grams wanted or requested something she usually got her way. "I'll drop it off. Can I borrow twenty bucks?" she presented an ear-to-ear grin.

Pursing her lips, Sheila shook her head. "My purse is in my room. Just know you've subtracted twenty dollars from my Christmas shopping budget. There goes that iTunes gift card you wanted."

"Maybe we can negotiate," Bonnie said hastily.

"Nope, too late the courts are closed. Hurry up before it gets dark. I don't want you on that side of town at night. There's been a lot of car crashes in that area."

Nodding her head, Bonnie dumped the UPS package in her mom's room, exchanged her Timberwolves pullover for her waist-length leather jacket, retrieved the envelope from the kitchen, and doubled back to get the twenty dollars from Grams' purse.

"Okay, I'm out. I'll see you later," Bonnie kissed her grandmother on the cheek.

"Don't you think you should wear your wool coat? It's thirty degrees outside, Bonnie."

"I'll grab my scarf and hat, will that do? That wool coat makes me itch. In case you're curious on what else to get me for Christmas I saw this cute pea coat on the Nordstrom's website."

"I just bet you did. See you later, chile and be safe."

After dropping off the envelope at the boardinghouse which didn't take long much to Bonnie's relief, she had received a call en route to Elena's saying she and Caroline were headed over to Persephone's Coffeehouse, and asked if she wanted to swing by. She agreed to meet with them and told Elena to order her mocha and peppermint frappe, about the only thing good enough to get Bonnie in the Christmas spirit.

Her wood was wet. She couldn't get excited about anything. Not about the possibility of snow that would become more of a nuisance than a thing to marvel at leading to days of back breaking shoveling. Seeing decorations and lights on people's homes, cars, and dogs did not move her to feel the spirit of the atmosphere. The manger outside of the nearby church did little to inspire some kind of reflection on the reason for the season.

Pop holiday music irritated her. Old classic Christmas songs depressed her. And excitable children and their indulgent parents clogging up the aisles while she tried to do her personal shopping, aggravated her!

And she was still on the fence about attending her dad's annual holiday party. Bonnie wondered why he invited her when he had gone out of his way not to in previous years. She had only questioned him once to which he stammered through his explanation.

"It's an older crowd…you probably wouldn't be comfortable."

That translated into: my wife can't stand to look at the product of my infidelity. If Bonnie were in Mildred Lockwood's shoes could she open up her home and heart to her husband's love child? She didn't know and if she were lucky she'd never have to find out.

Parking her car, Bonnie entered the coffeehouse. It was bitterly cold inside, and the young teen had the sneaky suspicion that was done on purpose to prompt customers to keep coming back and ordering refills. Which were not free.

"Bonnie!"

She turned in the direction her name had been called and spotted Caroline waving her arms wildly. Smiling and letting out a tiny laugh, Bonnie strolled by occupied tables until she reached the back of the coffeehouse where her friends had all joined in front of the stone fireplace.

"Hey," Bonnie said before going around dispensing hugs to those who were present. Elena handed her, her drink and Bonnie wasted no time taking a sip. "Thanks."

"Love that jacket," Elena complimented.

Bonnie smiled. "You should. I borrowed it from your closet."

"Now I know why it looks familiar." Raiding each others wardrobe was the norm between them.

"Okay, so I was thinking this year we could have an ugly Christmas sweater party at the Lockwood mansion," Caroline returned to the conversation that had already been in progress. "And whoever rocks the most fugly sweater could win like a gift card or something. I mean, we did the whole reindeer thing last year, and the year before that the theme was elves. We had like a hundred people showing up dressed as Legolas. Seriously, what about 'holiday elf' did people just not get?"

Elena and Bonnie shared a look and laughed.

Delegations continued as those assembled vetoed certain parts of Caroline's nifty ideas, and inserted their own which the blonde spared no punches in letting people know as head of the Holiday Planning Committee—something she made up on the fly so she could assume control, she had the final say.

By the time conversations drifted to another topic, Bonnie's frappucino was gone and warming her belly, and she wanted another one. The twenty dollars she finagled from Grams burned in her pocket.

"I'm going to get a refill. Do you want one?" she asked Elena who shook her head, eyes glued to her phone. Bonnie left her to her texting.

The door to the establishment burst open ushering in a crowd six deep with a lovely flux of bone chilling wind. The wind licked Bonnie's spine and made her shiver. She waited until they passed before falling in line—grumbling she'd have to wait an eternity to place her order since there was only one person working the register.

Right before she dug in her pocket to retrieve her own phone, her current obsession walked through the door cancelling those plans.

She gulped.

Today he had shunned his black leather jacket for a conservative yet stylish quarter length wool coat, navy blue scarf, dark jeans, and a knit sweater. His crow black hair was tousled and wind-blown, his cheeks were ruddy against his pale skin. His best features in Bonnie's astute opinion were his turquoise eyes.

Those eyes were as big as marbles and protected by long lashes under arched, pitch-black eyebrows perched in an oval face. The man Bonnie aptly nicknamed Mr. Smolderhalder stood an inch or two above average height, carried a swimmer's build, and had a baritone voice which did supernatural things to her genitalia.

From what she had observed over the months the man was an avid music enthusiast because his headphones were never far from his anatomy. Even now, he was scrolling through his smart phone, earbuds lodged into his ears. Good, because otherwise Bonnie was positive he, along with everyone else in this joint, would have heard her thundering heart.

He looked up suddenly from his phone, eyes catching hers in the act of stripping him bare, right down to his soul.

Immediately the guillotine of shyness came whizzing down on Bonnie's head decapitating her from her confidence. Her skin superheated and her lips twitched since they couldn't decide if she should smile, frown, or whistle. She faced front but not without blushing horribly.

He stood right behind her in line and Bonnie felt him. Could feel him despite there being a respectable amount of space between her back and his front. Yet she felt him all the same. The man was a physical presence, an incorporeal being capable of touch, and if she didn't know better she'd swear he was purposely affecting her.

Bonnie pretended she needed to scratch her chin on her shoulder, so she turned her head like an owl, peeped at the mysterious man, and met his silver-blue gaze with her green one.

She offered up a tiny smile, he returned the gesture with a smirk that bordered on filthy, and then she moved up a slot since two of the six people in front of her had placed and gotten their orders.

"Crappy weather we're having," the man began without preamble or even being prompted by Bonnie.

She continued to look forward, reading each item on the menu carefully as if she didn't have it memorized while savoring the timbre of his voice. "They say it might even snow on Christmas."

"If it does it means you'd get to stay in and…snuggle."

Her lips twitched. "Snuggling is nice if you have someone to do it with."

"Hmm, maybe I'm being presumptuous, but you don't look like the type that likes sleeping alone. I could be wrong, I could be right. I guess I won't know until you put me out of my suspense and tell me."

"Why do you care if I sleep alone or not?"

"It matters to me a great deal if you do or don't."

A smile slipped, "Then rest easy. Five months ago I preferred sleeping alone…" she purposely trailed off.

"And five months later… now you, what?"

"I've gotten used to an additional body in my bed. Or being in someone else's."

"Hi, welcome to Persephone's Coffeehouse what can I get you?" the barista asked Bonnie who blinked because she hadn't been aware it was now her turn to order.

"Oh, um…can I have a refill of the mocha and peppermint frappe, please?"

"Sure."

Bonnie moved aside so he could step up to the counter and place his drink order. She already knew what he was going to get: an iced black coffee. Like she had come to expect, Bonnie watched the barista undergo a litany of physiological changes in dealing with him—Damon Salvatore—who could make the most stoic woman blush.

The effect he had was universal and crossed all borders. Drew you in and ensnared you. Devoured you and rendered you immobile.

Shifting her weight from foot to foot, Bonnie got a front row seat to how she typically reacted when alone with Damon. Red face, accelerated pulse, tongue-tied, unable to maintain prolonged eye contact. All signs the coffee lady was currently exhibiting.

Bonnie stared at Damon askance.

He was older than her by six years, worked as one of many advisors to the current mayor, and for some strange reason he was interested in her.

They met six months ago at a picnic where Damon thought she was a fellow aide, but she had to unfortunately break the truth to him, especially after he spent a majority of the day flirting with her. Bonnie figured he'd lose all interest once their age differences were revealed—she had yet to turn eighteen, but as she was leaving he walked past her, and slipped his phone number in her hand.

It took a couple of weeks for Bonnie to gather her courage to make the call, and once she finally did, she was hooked on all things Damon. From the sound of his voice, to his mind, even down to the way he brushed his teeth, Bonnie was enamored and smitten.

She hadn't a told a soul about their relationship. If sneaking into Damon's house and hiding away in his bedroom or wherever could be constituted as a relationship then yes, she kept quiet about it. The secrecy of it all made her feel grown up and juvenile at the same time. She knew her mother and grandmother wouldn't approve, and Bonnie didn't want to cost Damon his job.

So they kept their relationship stationed at his house—not the boardinghouse—but his family home he inherited after both of his parents tragically and unexpectedly died in a plane crash. If they weren't at his house, they mostly traveled an hour outside of town to go to the movies, or to dinner. Bonnie could tell Damon was losing patience in keeping their relationship discreet, but she wasn't ready to take things public.

Legally she was an adult, but to those around her they still viewed Bonnie as a little girl needing protection from the big, bad world. They would label Damon as being too much for her to handle. She could confess he was from time to time. He was far from a boy scout but he was leagues away from being a psychopath.

What everyone didn't know was Damon offered Bonnie stability in her sea-tossed thoughts. He kept a smile on her face, her brain humming, and her skin tingling. He provided that strong male figure in her life she had been desperate for from the time she was a small child. No, she certainly didn't look at Damon like he was a stand-in for her father, but he was what she needed: best friend, protector, confidant.

There was one title yet to be tacked on, and Damon did what he could within his power to change it. Bonnie did everything she could to keep things as they were.

Their orders were placed on the counter and they reached for their drinks at the same time. Knuckles brushed along one another. That small contact sent heat rushing up Bonnie's arm and it took a great deal of effort for her to ignore it. All day she had missed this. Missed him.

"Delicious," Damon commented after taking a sip of his drink. "How about yours? Does it satisfy your thirst?"

A smirk lifted a corner of Bonnie's bowed lips. "The second cup is always better than the first."

There was a brief pause. Bonnie knew she needed to wrap things up before Elena and Caroline began sniffing after her scent. They became bloodhounds anytime she got missing for longer than a second, but it was difficult walking away from Damon despite knowing she'd see him later.

"So tonight…should I fluff up a pillow, or go to sleep by myself?"

Bonnie allowed one second of unfiltered and unadulterated eye contact with Damon. No one's eyes should be that piercing or blue. Hot enough to cauterize skin, shrewd enough to keep his secrets under lock and key. They talked every night but there was much Bonnie didn't know about Damon. She knew the basics like: his favorite food, movie, book, color, and that Stefan was his younger brother though they weren't particularly close. But she didn't know that much about his childhood, what he was like as a teenager, or if he had ever been in love.

Maybe those were silly things to know, but Bonnie wanted to know them nonetheless. Damon knew about her being the mayor's love child—everyone knew about that. She had pretty much made her life an open book. Bonnie wanted the same reciprocation.

"Tonight," Bonnie replied. "I'll see you tonight."

Damon winked, pivoted on his feet and walked away at the same time Elena and Caroline approached. They stapled their attention on Damon, both looking far too giddy to cross his path than Bonnie would have liked. Some words were exchanged she couldn't hear, but Elena burst out into laughter whereas Caroline twirled a strand of her platinum blonde hair around her finger and delivered her best saucy smile.

Girls, Bonnie thought.

The stem of a champagne flute twirled between tiny, mocha fingers. Legs enshrined in thigh-high socks stretched across the 750-thread count sheets, while her back arched to the ceiling in a feline stretch. A soft sigh escaped the crack between her upper and bottom lip but was barely heard over the crackling in the fire.

This was the kind of setting Bonnie had read about in her mom's erotic novels she used to sneak into her room during sleepovers with her friends. They would huddle under the sheets as not to be discovered, read passages to one another that described sex in a way no human would ever be able to perform, laughing, giggling, and gagging, but secretly hoping their first time would be just the way it had been described by someone who clearly knew what they were talking about.

Caroline had been the first to lose her virginity at fifteen. Elena at sixteen and Bonnie…

She frowned and fixed her eyes on the ceiling. Hers was still intact though she was hoping to change it at least by Valentine's Day. Not to say she hadn't had opportunities before meeting Damon. It's just…the cutest boys had always shown interest in her two best friends and other girls, and only looked at Bonnie when they wanted someone to give them all the answers to their homework. A couple tried to talk to her behind the scenes to which she shut them down.

Bonnie was glad she waited and was still waiting. Not necessarily for the right moment, but there was something she had to tell Damon first.

Sitting up on her elbows the young woman stared at Damon who stood dressed in only his boxer briefs polishing off the rest of his bourbon. Tilting her head to the side, Bonnie dragged a slumberous gaze over him from top to bottom. Damn, she gouged the inside of her cheek with her teeth. He was…scultura, yes built like a marble statute. She had no business being with a man like Damon—that's what society would tell her. He was a man who should know better and she was a young woman about to embark on the path of finding herself.

Finding herself. Did anyone accomplish that all-elusive journey simply by getting a good paying job, getting married, and having kids? Was that the equivalent of finding oneself? Or was it going into debt and hating every minute of your life? Or living as a nomad doing what made you happy even if it couldn't provide your basic needs?

Bonnie didn't know and didn't care right now. "What are you doing for Christmas?" she asked, suddenly curious about his plans since the major holiday was less than two weeks away.

Damon faced her. "If I had my way I'd be doing you for Christmas."

"Damon," Bonnie reproached but then laughed, "be serious."

"I am being serious. Christmas isn't that big of a deal to me. But…I'll probably pop in on Zach and Stefan, annoy them until they threaten to throw me out, come back here, and wait for you. Why? Did you have something in mind?"

She paused before replying,"My mom usually has an open house on Christmas so if you wanted to stop by…you could."

A dark eyebrow rose in the air and Damon placed one foot in front of the other as he began to march to the end of the bed. "Are you trying to say you're ready to go public?"

"What I'm saying," Bonnie fully rose to a seated position on the bed, "is if you wanted to stop by you can and I could introduce you as my special friend."

Damon mulled over her proposition, grabbed Bonnie by the ankles and tugged her closer. She squealed and then, wrapped her legs around Damon, glass dangling from her hand, her skirt riding up her thighs in the process. His fingers trailed along her ribs before swooping inward to massage her shoulders.

"Special friend?" the dark-haired man tested the phrase on his tongue not sure he liked the flavor. "Do you cause this to happen to all your special friends?" Damon indicated his erection by pointedly flashing his eyes to his crotch.

"Not that I know of," Bonnie deadpanned and slid her hands over his chest. "I want to see you on Christmas and I probably I won't be able to get away at all. Typically I spend the morning and afternoon with my mom and Grams, and then it's over to my dad's house for a hot second, before ending my journey at Elena's for dessert and board games. I just…I just want to see you since this is technically our first Christmas together."

"Hmm, I thought you were having second thoughts about spending time in any capacity with your dad. What's changed?"

Bonnie shrugged. She couldn't put a finger on why this year of all years she wasn't excited or at the very least content with seeing her father. The last time they saw each other was Thanksgiving.

"I don't know," she tried to explain. "I can't help but feel he's hiding something from me and whatever it is I guess I do and don't want to know what it is. Maybe I'm just tired of pretending we have this close relationship when clearly we don't. He asks me the exact same questions whenever we're forced to deal with each other. It's like a script between us and he never deviates from it. Maybe he thinks I might pry into his business and ask why he cheated on his wife with my mom. I can't lie, Damon. I do want to know what my parents were to each other. I want to know why we've never been a family."

Damon had heard some rumors about former Mayor William Lockwood, but he didn't think now was the time to tell Bonnie what he had heard. He would if push came to shove.

"Have you asked your mom?"

Bonnie nodded. "Anytime I try she cops an attitude with me and tries to change the subject. I stopped asking. Grams isn't much better in telling me anything. Do you think…do you think he did something to my mom and she can't forgive him for it?"

"I don't know, Bonnie," that was a partial lie. Now Damon was itching to distract her to get off this subject.

"In my head and this might be clichéd but I think they were in love, or maybe my mom was the only one in love, and he pretended to love her because for him it was just sex. Maybe he promised to leave his wife and marry her, and went back on his word. Sounds like a Jackie Collins novel or a soap opera but it happens more than we think. But my mom doesn't come off as the type who would ever get involved with a married man. And no offense to my dad, but he's not all that good looking."

Damon snorted which earned him a sharp look. "Sorry." It was true, William Lockwood made the Crypt Keeper look like People's Sexiest Man Alive. "I'm glad you came out a beauty."

"You're so shallow," Bonnie wrinkled her nose but smiled.

"Shallow I may be, but right I am," he puckered up his lips and kissed her. Kissed her until they needed air. "If you can't for whatever reason get away, and I actually end up enjoying myself at the dysfunctional House of Salvatore, I should give you one of your presents now."

Bonnie eyes got all big and she quickly sat on her knees and clapped her hands like a seal. "You got me gift? Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie."

Damon stared at her funny but walked over to his dresser, rummaged around in the top drawer, and removed a small box.

"I need your leg," Damon motioned for said object with his fingers.

"Which one?"

"The left since it's connected to your heart."

She couldn't help herself. Bonnie melted. She stretched out her left leg and watched as Damon ran his hand up her limb, concentrating on what he was doing. He curled his fingers between the top of her sock and skin and pulled off the hosiery. Next he reached for the box, slid it open to reveal a rose gold anklet.

"It's beautiful, Damon. Thank you."

"Read the inscription," he passed the anklet to Bonnie.

"It's in Italian. I can't read Italian."

"Sorry, what was I thinking," Damon mocked and then recited, "Tesoro per una donna fenomenale… 'Treasure for a phenomenal woman'," he translated and then placed the jewelry on her ankle.

Bonnie's cheeks were burning as she admired her gift. The rose gold was a perfect compliment against her skin, but the inscription, made her heart swell.

"Thank you…I love it…" her grin faded away as she stared seriously at Damon. He grew a little concerned thinking his gift was too much since Bonnie wasn't looking too pleased at the moment.

In this moment, Bonnie knew she had to tell Damon how she really felt. It was time and she was done holding it in.

"I want to tell you…" her phone started ringing. Bonnie cursed and wanted to ignore it, but it was her mom calling since the theme music from Judge Judy was blaring from the tiny speaker. "I have to go."

"That's what you want to tell me?"

"No," Bonnie kissed him chastely. "It's late and I haven't seen my mom all day. That's her calling. I have to go."

Damon let her escape. Bonnie slid her sock back on before stuffing her feet in her boots and grabbing her jacket and purse.

Right before she made it to the door, he grabbed her around the waist, pulled her flushed against him, and kissed the space behind her ear. "'Your lips are like a strand of scarlet, and your mouth is lovely…until the day breaks and the shadows flee away, I will go my way to the mountain of myrrh and to the hill of frankincense'...Sleep tight, doll, and have lots of dirty dreams about me."

"Check in the box at the bottom of the hall closet. There should be more in there."

Those were the instructions Abby had given her daughter who was still fruitlessly searching for more holiday decorations. Why was everything invariably located in a box in the bottom of a closet? Bonnie wondered as she pulled out old clothes, shoes, everything except that box. She was beginning to sweat in her sweater.

Finally seeing a box, Bonnie pulled it out noting its heavy weight. It wasn't taped shut which would save her time in hunting down a pair of scissors. She opened the box first seeing nothing but her old baby clothes. Maybe what she was looking for was buried underneath, but soon Bonnie realized it was a useless box of junk.

"Have you found it?!" Abby shouted from the living room.

"Not yet. Are you sure it's in this closet and not the one in your room?"

"No, I remember putting it in the hall closet last year. If you can't find it then I'll just have to run out and get new figurines."

Shaking her head at the wasted effort, Bonnie began piling the clothes back into the box but stopped when she noticed a journal. It didn't belong to her because all her journals were stored away in their very own box in her room. Reaching for it and flipping through a couple of pages, Bonnie came to the quick conclusion this was her mother's journal. She was a bit surprised her mom actually owned a diary.

She began debating whether she should pretend she never found it, or maybe keep it, and flip through it. You know, just to get a better understanding of the woman who raised her.

Bonnie may have tarried for a couple of seconds prior to deciding it might be best not to violate her mom's privacy like that. She wouldn't want her kid digging through her things and reading her embarrassing teenaged thoughts. But a few of the dates caught Bonnie's eye. This wasn't a teenaged journal.

A yellowed news clipping was stuck between the pages and Bonnie unfolded it and read the headline. She frowned…and then cursed.

TBC.

A/N: Thoughts? I know, serious subject matter centered around the holidays which stir up a lot of emotions-some good, some bad or a mixture of both in a lot of people. My sincerest apologies if it bothered or disturbed anyone, but I wanted to go in another direction with my writing/storytelling, and though I would have love to do something fluffy and sweet, it just wasn't in me at this particular time. Reviews are wonderful Christmas presents *insert gap-tooth smile* Until next time, love you!