Disclamer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries, or make any profit from this story.
Summary: After the dramatic events of 3x22, Bonnie seeks to reverse Elena's transition, but fails. The Petrova doppelgänger makes the tragic decision not to become a vampire. Months after, Bonnie has yet to heal. And so has Damon.
Author's Note : I dedicate this one-shot to my amazing friend Kendra, aka xthesebonesx on this site, who is the reason why you are now reading Bamon from me. Please, drop me a line after you read. I'll be eternally grateful. And read Kendra's fictions.
Beneath Your Perfect
Bonnie Bennett sighed to herself as she drove by the old "Welcome to Mystic Falls" sign, wondering if she should magically turn it into a truer version that would read: "Run from this wretched city while you can". She almost slammed on the brakes to turn back as the orange-colored light of the sunset assaulted her eyes. The drive from college had worn her out, and she wanted nothing more than take a long, hot shower to relax her muscles.
She somehow switched to autopilot, and did her best to remain stoic as familiar locations passed her by. She hated being back here, but Caroline's birthday was tomorrow, and although much had changed about Bonnie, she still tried to be a decent friend to the bubbly blonde, who had decided that her birthday was back to being everyone's favorite day of the year.
Bonnie shook her head as she drove past Caroline's house to find that nobody was there. It meant she'd have to spend the evening alone, in a house filled with excruciatingly painful memories, with no other companion than the weight of the past, and a good bottle of wine if her father had bought some recently. She should have been upset, but actually, she wouldn't have wanted things any other way. She needed to be alone for a moment and bury the pain of being in this goddamn town so that she'd be able to wear a smile and have senseless fun with her friends in the morning.
Returning to Mystic Falls, if only for a weekend, required substantial preparation. She immediately started perfecting the stories she'd tell them about this guy – she decided to name him Andrew – she was (absolutely not) dating. They met during one of her Anthropology seminars, and he asked her out for coffee after they spend time cramming for finals together. In fact, she has already thrown a few details at Caroline over their weekly Skype sessions. She didn't even feel bad about it – she was doing it to make her friend's life easier. Lie. Smile. Repeat. Until you forget that you're lying.
Bonnie's car slowed as she identified a masculine frame pacing on her porch. In Mystic Falls, it usually led to no good. The lights inside of the house were off, which meant the visitor was not her father. They spent too little time together, as their schedules rarely matched. She sighed. Next time, maybe. Still, the distant figure seemed familiar as she studied it while she pulled over.
It couldn't be Matt, because he was broader, and there was zero change that Jeremy would wait for her, anywhere, ever. Maybe Stefan wanted to consult with her about the course of action to follow for Caroline's special day. Yes, it was probably Stefan. She relaxed. Nothing to worry about. However, her heart sped up when the "stranger" turned to face her, and she identified Damon Salvatore. You've got to be kidding me.
Bonnie paused for a moment, and considered her options. She could run from her own house to avoid his presence, or she could get out of the car and antagonize him. Or, she could try her "I'm perfectly fine" routine on him. With a forced smile, she decided for the last option. A little practice couldn't hurt, after all.
When she turned off the engine, and walked out of her car, Damon's eyes widened imperceptibly, as he realized that Caroline wasn't being a drama queen when she said the witch was losing her mind.
When the driver's door opened, and her red 8-inch stilettos emerged from the car, he believed he was hallucinating. It's not that he had ever found Bonnie unattractive, but this version of her was something else, entirely. From the vertiginous heels to the curve-fitting shorts and straight-from-a-magazine top, it seemed that she had finally decided to step out of her dull ordinariness to embrace the sleeping beauty in her. Even the way she carried herself had changed. He could only approve.
"I always knew you had potential, Bennett," he said, appreciation obvious in his smirk. "But damn, girl!"
Bonnie rolled her eyes. She turned heads when she walked through the doors, every day. Men continually threw their phone numbers her way, and on the rare occasions she went out for drinks, she got an incalculable number of cocktails that she never accepted. She didn't need Damon Salvatore to tell her she looked fabulous – she knew it.
"I've not been here five minutes and I already wanna leave," she said.
"Oh, come on, Judgy. You know you missed me," he teased.
Damon's blue eyes glinted with mischief as she shook her head, unfazed by his excessive friendliness. It was close to midnight; she was tired, and hungry – there were about a million things she could be doing instead of wasting time, talking to him. Not to mention, the guilt she inevitably experienced in his company was the most unpleasant feeling. She had ruined his life, after all, when she failed to reverse Elena's transition and he was left alone with a broken heart.
"Did you want something, Damon?" she snapped.
Damon hesitated. Caroline had been very specific with her instructions: he could not say a word to Bonnie about the true reason of his presence on her porch before the clock struck midnight. He gave brief look to his watch, and licked his tongue across his teeth. His timing was perfect.
He waited in silence for a while, and Bonnie considered walking past him to get inside. Something about his demeanor caused her stomach to tighten. Just as she huffed and took a step towards the door, he blocked her path.
"Ah ah," he said, shaking his head. "I have something for you."
The witch frowned as he fumbled through his pockets and retrieved a note. He handed it to her with a Cheshire cat grin that only increased the displeasing feeling that was developing in her gut. She quickly unfolded the paper and immediately recognized Caroline's girly handwriting. What was that girl up to, now?
"Read it," Damon instructed, uselessly.
Bonnie rapidly glanced at him, to establish that he was very entertained by this. With a dramatic sigh, she complied.
Hey BFF,
Welcome back! Damon cooked for you, so you're having dinner with him at the lake. You two need to talk. He won't take no for an answer, and neither will I. Keep in mind that you can't deny me anything, because it's my birthday.
See you tomorrow,
C.
Bonnie immediately checked the time on her phone. Midnight – it really was Caroline's birthday. She rolled her eyes. Finding Damon Salvatore on her porch didn't exactly make it to the top 10 of her favorite ways to come home, and the perspective of an entire evening in his obnoxious company made her want to slam her head into a wall. She remained silent as she stared at the note, and tried to figure out where Caroline was going, with this. You two need to talk. She already knew, but she was going to pretend she didn't, for a little while longer.
"I made risotto for you," he offered as an excuse.
"Where is Care?" she asked, her voice detached.
"Busy doing Blondie things, I guess," he suggested. "Let me take your bags inside and we'll get going."
The young woman scoffed at his confidence – he hadn't changed one bit. Damon always assumed that people would bend to his will, in all circumstances. Well, he was going to be terribly disappointed.
"We're not going anywhere," she informed. "I'm going to get inside without inviting you in, and then I'll take a bath while you go eat your dinner at the lake, by your lonesome."
"How predictable. Oh, I forgot to give you that," he said as he handed her another note.
Dear stubborn BFF,
He has permission to drag you by the hair if you don't cooperate.
Love,
C.
Damon smirked with a shrug. He knew that it was the hardest part – convincing her to go with him. Bonnie wasn't stupid: from the moment she read Caroline's note, she'd known what this was about. He felt grateful that she hadn't make him say the words yet, but he feared that she'd shut him down. To be quite honest, he had assured Caroline that Bonnie would give him a severe aneurism and get to bed as soon as he gave her the first note, but here she was, smiling smugly at him. Her emotional walls were tough though, and still unshaken by the perspective that her friends had staged an intervention for her.
"You do realize that I can bring you to your knees," Bonnie said. "Right?"
You don't even need magic for that, he thought as he once again racked his eyes over her body. It would take him some time to adjust to this new Bonnie. He was only hoping that, just like the non-upgraded version of herself, she was very much responsive to his provocations. There was no other way he was going to get her in his car. Except, maybe, if he was fast enough to knock her out before she witchy-migrained him. He'd hear about this for the rest of eternity, he thought, imagining Caroline's anger when she'd hear. Better try provocation, then.
"I'd rather it were the other way around, sugar," he said, deadpan.
Bonnie's jaw dropped at the salacious comment, and the annoyance she felt resonated deep inside her, bringing back memories of a time where this was all she and Damon ever did – provoking each other harmlessly as they worked to keep the town safe from evil. She'd always been immune to his notorious charms, and Damon had never been quite able to accept it.
"Don't be a pig," she said sternly.
"Don't be a prude," he fired back.
Bonnie growled softly.
"I don't have time for this," she said.
"Look, you need to eat, and I have food," he reasoned. "Besides, Caroline will leave us both alone if we just do what she says. You know how she gets."
The young woman paused, and bit her lip when she realized that he was right. She was used to Caroline's funny demands on her birthday – honestly, it shouldn't even surprise her that the Blonde would so something like this, to her. Caroline was the Queen of Interventions.
The surprise was that she had chosen Damon, of all people, to talk to her. Why not Matt, or Stefan? The green-eyed vampire, who'd recently started a timid relationship with Caroline, couldn't deny her anything: he would have been extremely conscientious in lecturing her about the mess she'd made of her life. Why did it have to be Damon?
"I don't wanna be here either," he said, interrupting her brooding. "But it's Blondie's birthday and as a friend, I figured I could take a day off being a jerk, for her. So don't be a bitch, and get in the car."
Bonnie didn't really pay attention to his last sentence, but frowned at the determination burning in his eyes. Two things caught her attention. First, Damon referred to himself as Caroline's friend – which had to be true, since she was dating his brother and she'd sent him here. And second, he decided not to be a jerk for twenty-four hours because of Caroline. She heaved a deep sigh and walked to his car, in silence. He was going to talk, and she would pretend to listen. And let it not be said that Damon Salvatore was a better friend than she was.
—
"You're a decent cook," Bonnie said as she finished her plate of risotto.
"Thanks," he simply said. "Caroline chose the menu."
"Of course, she did," the young woman snorted. "But still, it was good."
Damon accepted the compliment in silence, too busy staring at her, in awe. It was spectacular, really, the way she had changed. Small details that he didn't believe he had noticed about her were gone, like the way she continually looked down when she was being provoked; whenever he tried to titillate her, she squared her shoulders and snapped at him – and it was not playful as before. This was her everyday communication, he figured.
After Elena died, he had withdrawn to a world of his own, neglecting the people around him for months. He had missed on the story of how shy Bonnie Bennett had turned into this over-confident woman, and he was very curious about it. Caroline had given him her version, of course, but for some reason, he was positive that Bonnie's would be more interesting. And far less dramatic.
However, he was not here to satisfy his curiosity. He called to memory the list of topics that Caroline had required him to tackle, and decided to go with the least interesting, in his eyes. The one he'd have no problem handling.
Bonnie had not been seen in the company of a guy since Elena died. Blondie had told him about Bonnie's unsuccessful attempt at getting back together with Jeremy, but since the youngest Gilbert had refused her, she'd kept to herself. Bonnie had had many opportunities to start anew, and she had disdainfully rejected them, every time. Caroline's concern – the reason why Damon was here, tonight – encompassed that, as well.
"You keep boys at a distance," he said matter-of-factly. "Why?"
Damon once again observed Bonnie's choice of clothes, hair and makeup, and internally rolled his eyes. She did it on purpose; she attracted guys, and pushed them away to deny herself a parcel of happiness.
Silence met his query. Bonnie was staring at something in the distance, admiring the light of the moon reflecting on the quiet lake, finding appeasement in the gusts of wind that ruffled her hair and the feeling on the grass under her hands. Nature had always calmed her, but tonight, it was failing.
She faintly wondered how long Damon had been observing her dating habits – or rather, the lack thereof – and mused about the reason for his interest, at all. Why was he actually doing this? He could have simply told Caroline she had refused to talk to him – so why? Her olive eyes met his slowly, and his eyebrows rose impatiently. She contemplated ignoring the question, as this was the last topic she'd like to discuss, but she had a gut feeling that he was going to ask all the right questions, tonight, and that she should answer them.
"Makes me feel good," she improvised with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.
"You could feel a lot better if you didn't," he said softly, with a seductive edge to his voice. "I'm happy to show you."
Bonnie was sitting cross-legged, and her red shorts revealed her long, slender legs. Damon's right hand deliberately travelled to her calf, and he trailed a finger up, ever so slowly. He gave her a side-glance to assess her reaction, and found the girl smiling at him. Emboldened, he continued to go up, to her knee and her thigh, his whole hand caressing her, now.
The witch couldn't suppress the natural reaction from her body, and shuddered. She knew with scary precision how long it had been since a man's hand had come into contact with her, in such an intimate way. Distant memories of Jeremy's hands on her, of Jaimie's arms around her, escaped from a corner of her mind, to torture her once again. What was Damon doing?
His hand halted suddenly, and he groaned. Bonnie cocked her head to the side.
"Is there something wrong, Damon?" she asked melodiously.
His hand stubbornly refused to separate from her caramel skin, forcing him to endure the growing sensation that he was on fire. She was reasserting her strength, sending a message. He was not the one with the power to annihilate the other, here. At least, not physically.
He tensed when she put her hand on his cheek, causing the pain to spread to his face, as well. His breath hitched.
This so-called omnipotence was the core of her issues. She believed that, because of her magic, she didn't need anybody. She fooled herself into thinking that pushing people away would keep her safe from pain. Having lived by these same erroneous principles for decades, Damon felt like it was his duty to set her straight.
He decided not to give her the satisfaction of seeing him in pain. He was doing this for Blondie – the poor girl went through Hell to move on with her life, and he'd be damned if he let Bonnie's inability to face her emotions ruin that. He was doing this for himself, because having a purpose got him out of bed this morning. He was doing this for her also, because he knew he was the only one who could help. He was doing this, lastly, because that's what Elena would have wanted.
Fighting the urge to scream was so demanding that his eyes glazed over. He bit his lip until his sharp teeth drew blood. But he did not flinch. Seconds later, the pain abruptly stopped.
"Impressive," Bonnie praised as she handed him a tissue from her purse, to wipe his mouth.
He didn't accept it, and licked the blood off his lips.
"Is that how you tell all the boys no?" he mocked.
"Keep your hands to yourself, Damon," she commanded.
Damon wasn't delusional: if there ever was a girl who was "out of his league", it was Bonnie Bennett. They had a heavy history of disagreements, betrayals and countless arguments to attest to that. She was, in most things, his polar opposite: selfless and brave, Bonnie didn't let anybody tell her what to do, and he had watched in awe, as she turned into the bravest woman he had ever met. But it would not scare him away.
He lied back on the mat, his hands under his head, and stared at the sky. The immensity of the Universe never ceased to overwhelm him, especially in moments like this, when he was struggling to find a different angle to approach Bonnie. If he had known that he would find himself in this situation, one day.
The young woman grimaced as he laughed. Clearly, the situation was funnier from where he stood. He wore a secret smile, to let her know that she was missing on the joke. But she knew, that the joke was on her. The irony of this evening was not lost on her: she was sitting here, waiting to be lectured by the man who had perfected the "no emotions" lifestyle to its present glory.
"You've just carried on so long," he sighed, as if speaking to himself. "You couldn't stop if you tried."
But I'll make you, he thought.
Bonnie swallowed, and sipped her wine in silence. She refused to follow Damon's poorly-executed plan – she was not going to ask him "stop what". She was not going to send him the message that he should persevere; she did not want to be saved. She was wallowing in misery, and she saw no reason for that to change. She deserved it.
"If you have something to say, Damon," she said coldly, "at least be a man about it."
"Oh, I don't think so, sweetness," he objected. "I tried to be a man, two seconds ago, and you burned me."
She folded her arms across her chest, with a secret smile of her own. She had many other ways to put him in his place, if need be. And she was positive that she'd need to.
"I won't do it anymore," she promised.
Bonnie sensed a fire starting in her heart as Damon gauged her. She was provoking him, and igniting something she would have no control over. She had mixed opinions about this, but she had never once backed down from a challenge, and she didn't want to start now.
"Come on, tough boy," she prompted. "Spill."
He smiled, and shook his head. She was so predictable that he felt insulted. Turning this into a conflict was the only way she could hide between the walls she'd built. In other circumstances, he would have been more than delighted to give her a good fight. But tonight, he would kill her with kindness. Right after he forced her to hear the one word she'd never uttered since.
"Just because Elena's not here to date guys anymore, doesn't mean you have to spend the rest of your life alone," he said bluntly. "She wouldn't want that for you. Nobody wants that."
Bonnie gasped when he said her friend's name. It was a tacit agreement between all of them that this name should never be pronounced in her presence, because it opened a wound in her heart, so wide that she couldn't breathe. Instinctively, she brought a hand to her chest and gritted her teeth together. She wasn't expecting this. It was a low blow, and if she'd had any idea that Damon was going to play dirty, she wouldn't have promised to stop burning him.
"Stop," she warned. "Now."
"Oh no," he said. "You wanted to hear it, now you're gonna listen."
Bonnie averted her eyes from his face, and sought to calm her ragged breathing. Unsurprisingly, she failed and her fingers curled into fists.
"Don't do this, Damon."
The vampire sighed heavily. Bonnie probably thought he was finding some twisted pleasure in this conversation, but she couldn't be more wrong. Saying Elena's name hurt him, too. But he had made a promise, and he was going to keep it.
"I'd be patient if I had the time," he assured softly. "But you're human, Bonnie, you don't have that much time."
"What do you care?"
"Let me ask the questions, here," he dismissed. "Don't you know that none of this is going to bring her back?"
"Last time I checked, this was a conversation about me being single," she said dryly. "So, how about you compel me a boyfriend and leave me alone?"
"Aren't you tired of pretending to be okay?" he asked, stubbornly. "Of keeping it all inside?"
Bonnie felt her anger spiral up, as it became difficult for her to breathe. Incidentally, the blows of the wind intensified, and Damon made a show of rolling his eyes. She felt trapped in this conversation – she was struggling to keep her head above the water, and Damon was the unwelcome hand trying to drown her.
"Talking won't bring her back," she exploded. "It didn't convince her to turn. Talking makes no sense!"
"Not everything has to make sense," he objected.
The teenager snorted. His logic was definitely flawed. Everything made sense. Elena died because she wasn't strong enough to reverse the transition. And it had been twelve months of Hell, since.
Damon's eyes softened as he began to see holes in Bonnie's armor. The peaceful setting around them was slowly changing to a tempest as her emotions influenced Nature, as belonging to a witch. He knew he was doing something right. It pained him to see her like this, but he was going to break her, only to rebuild her again.
"What would Elena say, if she saw you wasting your life like this?" he pushed.
The witch answered with silence, and she brought her knees to her chest. Damon eyed the lake in front of him, and noticed small waves forming on the surface. He had to keep going.
"I don't hear you talking, Bonnie," he said after he breathed in deeply. "You could make me stop, you know."
"I can't," she groaned through her teeth as she started rocking back and forth.
"Because you don't know how to move from the back of a lie," he finished. "Because it hurts more than you can stand to think about her, to continually blame yourself for failing her—"
"Enough," she threatened.
Bonnie angrily wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, causing her eyeliner and mascara to drip over her cheeks. She seemed to realize how far he had dragged her, and immediately decided to put an end to this. She shook her head dismissively, and mentally rebuilt her armor.
"Look what you did," she said reproachfully. "I look like a mess, now."
Damon smiled at her anger; he shifted his weight so that he was on his knees, in front of her.
"No you don't. You look real," he said, suddenly inspired. "Let me see beneath the beautiful, perfect Bonnie."
"No," she scoffed.
They had never been close before, and there was not a single good reason why she should listen to his ramblings any longer. However, something was keeping her immobile and a voice inside her head whispered that Damon was right, that Elena would want this.
"Show me what's inside," he continued. "Beneath the heartless robot you're pretending to be."
"You're not making sense," she dismissed.
"Come on, Bonnie," he encouraged softly. "It's me."
Maybe that's the problem, she almost answered as he brought his hands to cup her face, and this time, she was too busy holding back her tears to fight him. She absentmindedly laid her hands on his wrists, and kept them there. Her resolve was tumbling down.
"You can let go, now," he said.
Bonnie shook her head profusely. This was not how the evening was supposed to go. Damon was supposed to cook her something decent to eat, as an appreciable change from the frozen food she forced down her throat every day; he was supposed to let her feel sorry for herself and tell Caroline he'd tried.
"Drop the mask," he breathed.
She counted on him to be the only one, beside her, who could not recover from Elena's death. He had no right to ask anything of her, let alone to open up her heart. Because if she did, she'd break at his feet.
"You drop the mask," she exclaimed angrily, holding on tighter to his wrists. "You take it off! You think I'm the only one with issues, here?"
Damon inhaled deeply, as the words he had dreaded passed Bonnie's lips. It was only fair that he opened up if he demanded her to, as well. He was surprised that it had taken so long for her to realize that, and bring the attention back to him. The time had come to show her the way.
"Caroline talks to me, too, you know? You let all the girls go," she accused. "You feel like you're not allowed to love anyone, because you can't love her, don't you?"
"I do," he admitted.
Bonnie frowned as he effortlessly confessed, slightly envious of how easy this seemed to him. His blue eyes remained dry while her own face was strained by drying tears. And he had the nerve to call her heartless.
"You've built a wall so high that no one can climb it, Damon," she continued, seeking to break him like he broke her. "Not even your own brother."
"I have," he said with a shrug. "I haven't spoken a word to Stefan in a year, if you must know. So what?"
"So you're in no position to give me advice," she snapped.
Damon nodded in acceptance, and Bonnie turned away from him, taking a moment to collect herself. She could not fathom how they were having this conversation. She and Damon were not friends. They had stopped being members of a team when Elena's heart stopped beating. Why was he so committed to this? It was about more than pleasing Caroline for her birthday.
"Or maybe," he finally objected, "I'm exactly the right person to help you."
The word had been said, finally. His objective was to help her.
"I do not want your help," she spat. "Nor do I need it."
Damon laughed and stared at her like she was properly out of her mind.
"You're good, Bennett," he said with admiration. "I almost believed you."
Bonnie's eyes squeezed shut and she lowered her head onto her knees. Damon was like a rabid dog, never letting go. This conversation was the most exhausting one she had in months, and she was so utterly unprepared for such a heavy load of emotions, that she couldn't help the tears from emerging, again. However, she refused to let him win.
"Do you know what I see right now, behind this entire Broadway show?" she continued, streams of tears flooding her face, and turning her voice into a squeak. "I see a broken little boy, who's lost every single woman who mattered to him."
Damon licked his teeth as her blunt words accomplished their mission, and wounded him. Unlike her, he was prepared for this, but it didn't hurt any less. Especially because she was only speaking the truth. His eyes closed and he focused to breathe evenly.
"Your mother, Katherine, Rose, Andie," she enumerated with clinical detachment, watching as every name caused another wince. "Elena."
Damon celebrated a victory in the back of his mind when she finally said the name. This was something. Still, he couldn't speak in this moment, as the faces of those he had lost – those who had left him – materialized behind his eyelids. He bit the inside of his cheeks as his closed eyes started to sting.
"Your silence is deafening. But you know what I hear? I hear the boy say Please don't hurt me."
Damon exhaled deeply, and made a conscious choice to expose himself to her, at the most vulnerable he had been in anyone's presence for a long, long time. He slowly opened his eyes, and didn't try to hide when the unfamiliar sensation of tears tickled his skin. Bonnie gasped at the forlorn expression on his face.
"I don't want to hurt you, Damon," she said in a breathy voice. "So please, let it go."
"I'm not gonna stop," he warned. "I'll climb your towers until you let me in."
"I don't want to hurt you," she repeated.
The vampire laughed through the tears. He shifted the weight of his body and inched towards her, invading her private space. She avoided his eyes for a moment, and finally accepted to look at his face and trembling lips. The vision shook her to the core.
"Look at me, Bonnie," he said, high-handed. "Do you really think you can hurt me?"
"Damon, I—"
"My mother died when I was a kid," he began, his voice hoarse. "And my father had so much hate for me that he shot me dead. After that, I spent a century and a half missing a woman who was in love with my brother."
"Stop," Bonnie said weakly.
"Then, I fell in love with her doppelgänger, who had enough room in her heart for me," he continued. "And just when I thought that I had finally a chance at happiness, she chose my brother."
"Damon, stop it," she insisted.
"I thought it couldn't get worse," he said. "And then, Elena died."
He paused to compose himself, and Bonnie noticed that, although he was staring right at her, his gaze was distant. He wasn't even talking to her. He was saying this because the words needed to get out. As she watched his creased forehead, and stared, still shocked, at the tears running down his face, it seemed obvious that none of her magic tricks could pain Damon, because he'd suffered so much through his life that he'd become immune to pain.
"You think I don't blame myself? If I had been better, she would have chosen me, and she wouldn't have died because I would have saved her from that car, okay? I get waves of missing her so bad that it wakes me up at night," he said. "So no, Bonnie, nothing you can do or say will hurt me. And I am not letting this go."
His fierce determination finally permeated her soul, as she realized that he lived with the exact same wounds as she did. She looked at him, the same old Damon he'd always been, the obnoxious jerk she'd spent so much time hating and now saw a comrade. She suddenly felt ridiculous for letting circumstances change her so much. She said he was a little boy, but she wasn't the cold femme fatale she pretended to be, either.
"I'm so sorry," Bonnie murmured.
Her voice drowned into a sob, and she immediately broke down against Damon's chest, as she feared she would. He hoisted her into his arms instantly as she held on to his shoulders and felt free to cry, for the first time since they'd buried Elena. Damon made them lie back on the mat as his own silent tears blurred his vision.
Steady tremor gripped Bonnie's entire body and every time a sob shook her, Damon's hold became stronger. At first, she believed she cried because of Elena, but as time went by and the tears didn't stop, Bonnie understood that she was crying for her, and for Damon. For their common loss and their common struggle.
Damon stared at the sky when his eyes finally became dry again, observing the stars. He'd never been one to believe in silly clichés, but if there was such a thing as the afterlife – the actual one, not the one he was living – he hoped that, from wherever she was, Elena was smiling benevolently at him. He had finally accomplished when she had asked of him for so long: he had opened up to someone, with no ulterior motive else than sharing and showing compassion.
He worried that Bonnie would cry for hours, until she didn't have a single tear left in her. Around them, the wind was blowing loudly, causing waves to form on the usually quiet lake, and he felt her shiver. She was emotionally exhausted, and her body felt limp in his arms, except for the sobbing. She was dampening his shirt with her tears, and clutching tightly to him. He'd done it. Step One : check.
When their environment began to return to its peaceful state, Damon believed they could get started with the actual talking. All he had done so far was expose her to who she truly was, but he had twelve months of silence to get out of her. However, just as he realized her eyes were dry and swollen, he felt heavy raindrops crashing against his skin, and the heard the faint sound of thunder coming their way.
"Seriously, Bonnie?" Damon exclaimed. "Cool it on the juju, please?"
The witch looked up at the clouded sky. Somehow, she wanted to say that he had it coming, but remained silent. She felt lighter than she had in a year, after letting go of so much frustration, and sadness. And if a thunderstorm was the price to pay for this feeling to stay, then so be it. Her lips set into a thin line, she shrugged at Damon.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
Damon sighed and broke camp in five seconds, under Bonnie's dull gaze. He grabbed her and sped to his car, but they were both soaked by the time he pulled over in front of the Salvatore boarding house. Bonnie noticed that Stefan and Caroline weren't here, and wondered how much more they had plotted. She knew her friends meant well, but she honestly didn't see how she could ever get better.
Damon turned off the engine, and turned to look at her. What had happened, so far, was a huge victory of its own. Bonnie was probably wondering how she would live through the pain, and the unwanted emotions he had caused to resurface – just like he did, when the annoying bombshell known as Caroline Forbes shoved those same emotions down his throat. He vividly remembered how difficult it was to just keep breathing, after.
"I can't do this, Damon," she said quietly.
"You can do anything," he said. "Except reverse vampirism, of course."
Bonnie gulped with pain.
"You said you weren't gonna be a jerk for 24 hours," she whispered, her throat sore.
"All I'm saying is, the longer you avoid this, the hardest it'll be," he whispered. "Don't make the mistakes I made."
Damon got out of the car, leaving everything except Bonnie's purse in the backseat. Together they ran inside, as the rain was still pouring, apparently following Bonnie wherever she went. The witch groaned as she wet the carpet in the entrance, and her top clung to her skin. Luckily, she hadn't picked the white blouse.
"And toss your clothes in the trash," he said, visibly exasperated. "This, however pleasant to look at, isn't you."
"You don't know who I am," she objected tiredly.
Damon huffed under his breath as he led the way upstairs – even in such a state of emotional distress and exhaustion, she couldn't help herself. For his every argument, she had something to say.
"But you do," he replied. "And you need to go OB."
Bonnie paused in front of his bedroom and frowned at him.
"Original Bonnie," he clarified. "That's where you start."
He pushed the door of his bedroom open, and pointed to a closet.
"You can borrow some of my mine."
—
The dark-skinned teenager exited the bathroom, self-consciously pulling on the shirt she had borrowed so that it would cover her upper thighs. Damon turned to face her, and felt his mouth dry up as he literally checked her out from head to toe. He walked up to her, seemingly in a daze.
"Hey, there," he greeted softly as his hand touched her arm.
Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut at the contact. She felt bare under his burning stare, and not only because she wasn't wearing any pants. She hadn't allowed herself to be seen soexposed by anybody since Elena passed away. Every breath she took made her heart ache, but everywhere she looked, she thought she saw the benevolent face of her lost friend, urging her to give in, and let Damon heal her. How? she wondered.
She opened her eyes slowly, and forced a smile on her lips.
"Original Me," she said with a shrug.
"Welcome back," he whispered. "You've been missed."
As the words passed his lips, he realized that he meant them. They were way past the context of Caroline's instructions, and he felt completely comfortable with it. Except that he had no idea where this was going, at all.
Damon's hand slowly ran down Bonnie's arm, and he watched with awe as he became familiar with the contours of her face again. The unblemished, velvet-like, caramel skin that contrasted perfectly with the green brightness of her eyes, the hair that had returned to its natural wavy state. And the lips. His brain ceased any activity as he contemplated them.
"Don't stare," she admonished weakly. "It's rude."
Damon nodded distractedly – he was being rude, more than words could say. He had kissed Elena in this room, and the fact that he was troubled by one of her best friend, here, was disrespectful to her memory. However, he knew that the brunette wouldn't have objected: all she ever wanted for her loved ones was happiness. And maybe, just maybe, this was the first step towards it. For both of them.
"You're beautiful, tonight," he said.
Bonnie bit her lip at his words, as they seeped into her brain. Thoughts incoherently collided in Damon's mind, spiraling into a foreign sensation of need that left him breathless. He smoothed his thumb over the mark her teeth left on the flesh, and felt Bonnie shudder in response. What was happening?
The witch stood paralyzed as Damon hesitated. His face came dangerously close to hers, his hand cupping her cheek, and the steady beating of her heart became frantic.
Just like it once had, in his presence.
She briefly closed her eyes as her long suppressed crush resurfaced, making her blush. She'd always been embarrassingly envious of the way Damon looked at Elena. The absolute devotion burning in the ocean of his eyes was something she desperately longed for, and as she brought herself to look at him again, she believed she finally saw it. It was the first time ever, for her.
In this moment, she was forced to admit, to herself, that this was all she'd ever wanted. A simple word, a gesture. Someone to call her beautiful. And call her on her BS. If she had to be honest, she would not have bet on Damon. But here he was, touching her and making her feel warm, and she realized: she wanted him to save her, just as much as she had to save him.
Damon watched as her eyes glistened with unspoken words, and his lips stretched into a smile. He was interpreting it as a good sign that she hadn't slapped his hand away, yet. This was progress, and he was hoping to make much more. His prayers were answered sooner than he believed.
For the first time, Bonnie not only leaned into his touch, but initiated one. She raised her petite silhouette onto her toes, and gently nuzzled his neck, the tip of her nose tickling him as she inhaled the musky scent of his skin. She breathed evenly as she brought her lips against his pulse point, and felt him freeze. Her heart stopped accordingly.
Damon waited until she broke the contact and looked at him. Silence between them wasn't heavy, as it could have been. Words were trivial. He answered her mute question by placing his hands on her hips, and squeezed. The witch's lips twitched in gratitude, and she repeated her actions from moments before, breathing him in, and tasting him right after. The sound of Damon's first breathy moan almost made her feel faint.
She was quite inexperienced when it came to intimacy with a man, as she'd only ever been with Jeremy, but she felt empowered to continue, to reconnect with the woman in her. If there was an ideal candidate for that, it was Damon – she'd have no explaining to do, in the morning, when she'd walk away without a word. Her conscious mind made her give up on so many things at this point that she refused to do the sensible thing, tonight. If only for a few moments, she longed to feel normal, like any other girl would feel if she was about to do this. Kiss Damon Salvatore. Even enouncing it in her head caused goose bumps to rise on her skin.
"Bonnie," he whispered.
Damon's hand gently curled up her neck to stop her. It had been too long since he allowed somebody to make him feel this way. His breathing was irregular and he needed to make sure her mind was set about this, before control completely escaped him.
"Are you sure?"
The turn of events was unexpected to say the least, and he faintly wondered if he'd regret this in the morning. The answer mattered little as her fingers tentatively slithered under his black shirt that was still drenched. Both were electrified when their skins came into contact, and Bonnie paused. His intense gaze was more than she could handle at the moment, so she shut her eyes and nodded slowly.
His fingers against her throat were touching her like she's delicate, and oh-so-precious. Bonnie found herself savoring the contact, even more when the sensation moved down her body, igniting a long-extinguished fire. Damon started unbuttoning his own shirt on her, refusing to acknowledge the sexiness of the vision. His own fire began to build up when the shirt eventually fell down to their feet.
Bonnie sucked in a breath. She looked down to witness Damon's foreign hands moving down her chest, to her stomach. He was staring at her, as if never blinking, with a protective daze in his blue eyes that made her heart jump. You're safe, he wanted to say.
"Needs to come off," she said, tugging at his clothes.
The vampire decided to comply, and docilely got rid of his shirt and jeans. As her fingers roamed over his sculpted torso, he felt more sentient that he had since Elena died. With every breath he took came an explosion of life as she explored every inch of his skin.
Bonnie shivered as she felt his eyes scrutinize her body. She had never done it like this, before. So vulnerable, so exposed. But somehow, it didn't matter. Her body was overwhelmed with a fierce desire to be in harmony with another being. With this being.
She intertwined their fingers, walked to the bed, and lied back, waiting. The moment he brought his lips to hers in a tender kiss was the most peaceful moment she had known in months.
The End.
You know what to do, now ;)