Damon waited.
It wouldn't be long now. Three minutes he'd guess, based on experience. Five, tops. She was always right behind him.
The parking lot was empty save for the Camaro, his other constant companion. The motel sign reading vacancy sparked pathetically, flickering in the darkness as a menacing invitation to the boarded up windows and cracked concrete walls. The sound of an approaching car's engine hummed into earshot. Okay, two minutes. He could work with this.
Abandoning his post by the car, Damon easily climbed to the roof of the single level motel and watched, waiting for her to appear.
Hiding from her was useless, not that he was trying. They were both well aware of the abilities she possessed, abilities forced on her by the Armory to hunt creatures like him for the rest of her many unnatural lives. So he stood in plain view.
Her car pulled into the lot and his heart sped up.
Bonnie felt Damon before she saw him. Even without the visions linking them, his pulse always gave him away. Adrenaline pumped through his veins with a quiet anxiety hovering beneath it, and as always, she could feel his heart swelling as she stepped out of her car, boots hitting the cracked asphalt of the parking lot.
Pushing his feelings out of her mind the best she could, Bonnie propped her crossbow on one shoulder, her free hand propped on her hip staring up at this dramatic motherfucker standing on the roof.
Damon smirked. He didn't need a link to her mind to know exactly what she was thinking.
"Seriously?" she called up to him, internally groaning at the levity in his chest at that moment.
She hated this game he played. Running just far enough to stay out of reach then stopping abruptly, waiting for her to catch up, knowing full well what will happen if she ever got close enough.
Bonnie asked him why once, a few months into their extended movie car chase scene, just before shooting him with a wooden bullet. He brushed it off with a snarky comment as he dug it out of his shoulder and while she couldn't remember what he said, she could feel what was hiding underneath his words. Concern for her swirled in his chest, mixed with a painful longing and the desire to see her, one more time. One last time.
Bonnie would never be able to forgive him for making her do this to him. Or be able to fully convey the gratitude she felt for it.
The unwelcome fury boiled in her chest as she faced them in the hallway, clutching her crossbow. Damon watched uneasily at the scene unfolding before him with Bonnie fighting everything her instincts dictated, and Enzo standing in her crosshairs, holding out his hands, pleading. He still believed there was a way to reverse the effects of what they did to her. Bring her magic back. Bring her back.
Tears in her eyes, she took aim with the Armory's grappling hook pistol modified with a new Phoenix Stone and pulled the trigger, shooting forward forcefully, marking her next target.
Enzo landed on the hard floor across the hall with a resounding thud. For a brief moment relief flooded Bonnie's body, but her eyes widened in horror as both she and Damon, who stood where Enzo had been just moments before, stared down at the fresh X etched into his chest that began to ooze red.
The link was immediate. She felt his disbelief at what he'd just done. She felt his petty jealousy of Enzo, watching him, markless. She felt his realization that the only end to this was at one of their deaths and his utter determination that it wouldn't be hers.
The eventual outcome was clear. She was going to kill him.
Eight months of this game of cat and mouse and Damon still managed to elude her. Bonnie followed him across the country, her hunter instincts mingling with the dread of the next time he decided he wanted to stop for a chat.
Bracing the crossbow on her shoulder, she fired up at Damon, the wooden stake embedding in the roof by his foot. The corner of her mouth tugged into a smirk as she felt his surprise and fear kicking in.
Their exchanges no longer require a dialogue. Damon's emotions tugged at Bonnie's mind constantly and she'd already said everything she could put into words.
Their first encounter she yelled at him amidst wooden bullets, railing on him for making her chase him instead of being at home with her loving boyfriend.
The next time, as Bonnie had a stake in her hand hovering over his heart with his fingers gripped desperately around her wrist, she told him at length how stupid he was for letting himself get marked.
Six months in, she thanked him, and the pain that spread through his chest at her gratitude mirrored her own. In taking the mark for Enzo he saved her from having to kill someone she loved. But Damon condemned her to killing him.
Damon used his enhanced speed to climb down the other side of the building and Bonnie pulled a pistol filled with wooden bullets from her hip, circling around to him, where he waited by the vending machines.
It was always the same. In a few moments his heart would sink in his chest and he would considering sticking around, talking himself into finding a solution that didn't end in the inevitable. But he always came to the same conclusion, taking one last, long look at her before disappearing once again.
Bonnie dreaded the day he decided not to run.
To her relief, and her implanted instincts' frustration, today was not that day. Her reflexes itched to hit his heart but her own ached at the thought. Bonnie shot at him, the glass from the vending machine shattering, offering him a distraction to speed away back to the Camaro.
Damon stood just inside the open car door, giving her that look. The pained expression at leaving her again mixed with the perverse comfort in knowing she was one step behind him at all times.
This time the bullet hit the side mirror. Right on cue, Damon slipped into his seat and sped away from the abandoned motel. And her.
As Bonnie climbed into her car she felt Damon's adrenaline ease. The feelings of loneliness and dread swirling in her gut entirely her own, she followed him onto the dark, winding road into the night.