A/N: This is a product of disenchantment with the characterization of Bonnie on the show. She's such a complex character, and I wanted to represent that complexity the best way I know how: fanfiction. Read, review, and enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries, and do not seek to profit from this shining example of fanning.
i.
The sun crystallized the strip. Every color popped. Even the grit had a shine. A breeze shook the palm trees and added to the illusion of balmy perfection. Tourist meandered up and down the sandblasted sidewalks, going in and coming out of hotels modeled after Paris and Rome and Venice. So many people smelling of suntan lotion, sharp cologne and fruity perfume, talking, indulging in the numerous bars spread out every ten yards or so. No one paid attention to anyone, not when the barometer read 94 degrees yet it felt like 75. The hotel bars spilled drink specials right at the feet.
Bonnie slipped on her sunglasses. She had enough of people watching. They were all the same—oblivious to nature and to the terrible dangers of perceived perfection. The lovely young bartender handed her a black leather server book. The bill was a fraction of what it should be for the two drinks, but Bonnie took out a fifty dollar bill and tucked it under the crisp white receipt with a name and number scribbled next to the price.
She left before the bartender returned. Her cell phone vibrated in her purse. One new text message from an unknown number. The code alerted her to the sender, hence the urgency of deciding whether to show or return to her hotel room to soak. She stepped to hail a taxi when a sleek black Cadillac pulled next to the curb. The tinted passenger window inched open to reveal two bloodshot golden eyes. She could make a scene, blow up the car, summon a storm, block out the sun. Anything was possible, now. Anything but the freedom to act instead of react. She reached in her purse for a Black and lit it before sliding into the backseat.
The driver was someone she didn't know. The hybrid in the passenger seat was one of her shadows. She named the woman Leash. Leash was petite, like her. Black, like her. She had braided curls and brown eyes and a more symmetrical face. That's as much as Bonnie cared to remember about her physical appearance. Leash resembled her in every way that counted. Klaus made sure of that.
"I was under the impression this was my week off," Bonnie said.
"It is. This is a favor."
Bonnie blew smoke out the window. "This is a favor." She slipped on her shades and leaned back into the seat.
"Next time you feel like giving favors in my honor, leave me the fuck out of it."
Leash snarled. Bonnie only closed her eyes and savored the taste of cloves on her tongue.
The drive lasted the entire day. The sun set on her face, from hot to warm to cool. They pulled into the parking lot of a third-rate motel, neon sign and all.
"What's this?"
Leash held up a room key. "Your favor waits."
Bonnie looked up at the motel. Suddenly it all felt serious. The rules had changed on her and she wasn't prepared. Fuck. She grabbed the key and stepped out. There were three cars in the parking lot, none of them something he would drive. She started towards the building when the Cadillac revved once and took off. Bonnie watched it go. She didn't have care enough to fear or yell or question. Besides, whatever occupied Room 42 inspired some feeling other than indifference and self-loathing.
She soon found out the even rooms were on the second floor. The ice machine at the top of the stairs made a loud rattling noise. It was the only sound other than northbound and southbound cars. The place smelled like cheap window cleaner and lettuce.
38, 40. Bonnie stopped in front of a tangerine door with a turquoise peephole and '42' in brass numbering. There was a hole where the handle used to be. A long time ago she would have hesitated before leaping. Back when there was a reason to land safely. Staring at the knob-less motel room door, she wished she had a net.
She turned the key in the lock. A blast of heat turned her clothes into a steamer. The room had been renovated in striking iridescent hues of blue and purple and green. It was like living on the surface of a Morpho butterfly. Bonnie hated it. She shut the door, set the bag on an onyx glass side table, and settled into a plush deep purple easy chair. The door to the bathroom was shut but she heard the tell-tale moaning of pleasurable pain. Her eyes went to the black Tivoli table radio, then to the Sony plasma on the wall. She lit a Black and inhaled. The moans turned into a gasp of true fear which morphed into a strangled scream. Bonnie turned on the radio to a classical music station. She sank back into the chair and listened to Requiem Mass in D Minor.
There was a clink near her arm. Bonnie looked up and there he was. He plucked the cigarette from her lips and ground it out in an ashtray. The beginning strains of Stravinsky's Piano Sonata began. He clicked off the radio.
"You shouldn't smoke. It ruins the taste."
Bonnie glanced behind him. The bathroom door stood open. A shapely leg lay curved on the tile. She stood up, bringing her body close to his. He smelled like copper and a signature Bath and Body spray. Blood dripped down the corners of his mouth and stained his lips. Bonnie rose up for a taste. Power lingered there. He gripped her arm but she pulled back and went to the bathroom.
He didn't bother to clean up afterwards. No need to when he had her.
Bonnie supposed she should be thankful every ounce of blood had been drained. The gore would have been too much in this white room. The woman had been ripped into puzzle pieces. She looked at the naked body for a moment. Her life had come to this—an accomplice to murder. The murder of her own kind at that. She covered the body with a towel. One day that will be her on the bathroom floor, in one of these killing rooms. No one will throw a towel over her. No one will mourn.
Bonnie shut the door. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her. Their understanding only existed through their mutual hatred of Klaus. Their mutual helplessness rather. He used to remind her of the past. She held his gaze. The past had died long ago and this was the future. Revulsion furrowed his brow and his eyes went dark. She crossed the carpet to stand between his knees. His head hung low, his forehead brushed the top of her thighs.
"Look at me," Bonnie said.
He did. She slapped him. The contact burned her palm. She did it again with the other hand. Her wrist jarred in the socket. She hit him until her hands were numb, until they were both panting. There were tears in his eyes as he looked up in supplication and she resisted the incredible urge to snap his neck, break off the wooden leg of the dresser and plunge it deep into his chest.
"Why can't I do it?" she asked.
He ran his hands up the back of her thighs to her waist. Her neck flushed. He unzipped the skirt and eased it down over her hips and buttocks until it fell on its own to her feet. He brushed his palms over her skin. He kissed her inner thigh then ran a rough tongue over the artery. Bonnie kept her hands at her sides. There was a pattern. Soon he would rip off her underwear and that tongue would stroke her clit, his lips would suck, and his finger would slowly ease into her. Soon she wouldn't be able to not touch him. Soon she would say his name, whisper it, and he would finish her off with deliberate care. And then they would fuck each other until all their thoughts, all their emotions coalesced into a throbbing hum. They would fuck until they came close to being recognizably human.
He flicked his tongue over the bud of nerves and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. Her arms jerked to his shoulders. The room shifted. Her orientation changed. She was against the wall. Her shirt and bra were gone, as well as his clothes. Tension coiled his muscles, his erection pressed uncomfortably between them. The heat of the room had increased several degrees. Their skin shone with sweat. His hand dropped to her crotch. He watched her face go slack as he thumbed her clit. Her mouth opened and he kissed her. Her mouth filled with blood and cloves. He kissed her until she shuddered.
"Look at me," he said.
She did. He entered her in a thrust. It shook the wall. Her head fell back. He thrust harder. Her arms came to encircle him but he pinned them on either side of her head. She rotated her hips as he pumped. The frenzy had been replaced by purposeful strokes. Their eyes were magnets, incapable of drawing away. The climax came incrementally, coming like a duct tape carefully peeled off skin. She came in a senseless wave. A few more long strokes and his face fell to her shoulder. Their chests rose and collapsed in rapid rhythm.
They were still for a minute in the static aftermath. It had been altered irrevocably. The old selves were gone, lost to them forever. Bonnie felt his palm against hers, her fingers tangled with his. She loosened the grip and eased away. She bent and retrieved her ripped clothing.
"Leave them," he said.
He took the clothes and tossed them in the bathroom, next to the body. They stood naked before the bed. She watched him and wanted him and despised him. She let it show, let her nipples get hard and her eyes glare. He pushed her to the bed.
'I'm hungry."
Bonnie folded her arms beneath her head. "Her blood wasn't enough?"
He gazed at her body for a moment. "Not for that," he said.
He was gone by sunrise. So was the body. Bonnie woke to find the sheets cool and sunlight warm on her back. There was a note and a cup of coffee, still hot, on the bedside table. She left the note and drank the coffee. In the beginning, she mused over these notes. What did they mean, why did he leave them. Now she left them crumpled and unread in a wastebasket. What they meant amounted to nothing. Why he left them—his reasons were his own.
A simple outfit of jeans and a t-shirt were in the dresser drawer. She dressed quickly, avoiding the pristine bathroom. The absence of the body seemed to make it more present. Bonnie wanted to leave the room suddenly. The colors were garish in the natural light, lurid and disgusting like the scene of some subversive carnival show.
She grabbed her purse off the chair. The change of weight alerted her immediately. Inside was a jade green grimoire. Her mind clicked into curator mode. She flipped through the variegated pages, running fingers over watercolors of flora and fauna. The scrawl reminded her of a Victorian lady at a journal. The language certainly had an upper British lilt and though there weren't any dates, there were mentions of the Great Exhibition and sketches of gothic steeples and doorways. Bonnie shut the book and returned it to her purse. Her fingers brushed a set of car keys and a thick envelope. He always left her either feeling sore or feeling cheap. At least he left her a way out for a few days this time.
She left the motel room. Two cars were parked in front: a beat up red Datsun and a wine colored Mercedes coupe. She stopped by the front office. A middle-aged woman sat behind the desk, flipping through a magazine. She looked tired, harassed. Bonnie returned the room key.
"How much?" she asked.
The woman shook her head. "The man paid already."
"No, how much is this place worth?"
The woman inspected her surroundings for a moment. "Not much. I don't know why I keep it running. It's just me and two illegals."
"Maybe it's the décor."
"Maybe," the woman shrugged. "Maybe I'm just waiting for a natural disaster."
Bonnie slipped on her shades. "You know, I think your sign out front says 'No Vacancy'."
"Shit," the woman said. She went outside to look up at the electric sign. Bonnie went to the Mercedes, got in, and lit a cigarette. She inhaled as she shifted to drive. As soon as she hit the highway, the motel exploded. The woman staggered back, covering her face from the blast of heat and light. Black smoke and flames filled her vision. Bonnie smiled and tossed the cigarette. Nothing like a good burn to start the day.
Three hours later she stopped at a diner for a late lunch. Her phone had been off since her rendezvous and she debated the merits of turning it on while waiting for her steak dinner. There would at least be a message from Klaus. It could be important. Perhaps he found someone she cared for he could threaten, or he finally made due on his promise to kill those "Mystic Pizza Pests" and called to gloat. In every scenario, she'd have to call him back within the day or he'd send out his hybrid Pomeranians. Things got ugly at that point.
Bonnie entered her passcode and the phone vibrated with a fever of alerts, texts, and voicemail. The alerts notified her of any changes to her bank account or any unplanned entries to her apartment. There had been quite a flurry of activity on both accounts. Apparently she had a visitor and $150,000 in her savings. The text messages were from Klaus, as well as the voicemail. Except for one.
"Bonnie, it's Alaric Saltzmann. There's no easy way to ease into this after five years, so fuck it. Elena's gone, disappeared. Call me when you get this. Better yet, come back."
The waitress slid the steak in front of her, followed by the sides. Bonnie watched her with vacant eyes. Alaric Saltzmann. The last time she saw Rick, he was dead on the forest floor, his head dented and bloody. It had been quite the night. The night she severed all ties with the past. Five years wasn't long enough to forget. Bonnie played the message again. Elena's gone. Come back.
She thumbed through her contacts. Klaus had to know. It was her duty to inform him the blood bank vanished. Then again, Klaus could go fuck himself. She owed him, but not allegiance. She thought of calling Tyler, but he was in the desert, enticing the few independent werewolves towards hybridism. Besides, Tyler would launch the hounds of hell the moment she hung up in order to win some brownie points. Bonnie inhaled and scrolled up. As much as it pained her, she knew who she had to call. She hated looking at his name.
She hit dial and cleared her throat. He picked up on the fifth ring.
"You're calling. What happened?"
Bonnie licked her lips. "Alaric Saltzmann contacted me today. He requested my help."
"Your help?" Stefan laughed. "He might as well call Klaus."
"And here I am, calling you. What does that say?"
There was a pause. Bonnie could see him staring out into space, his eyes shaded by all those lashes. Suddenly his eyes shifted to see her and she shrank until his gaze disappeared and she was safe, a hundred miles away.
"What are you going to do?"
Bonnie took a sip of ice water. "I'm going to Mystic Falls, of course. I just wanted time to figure out what the B squad is up to before you're compelled to run your mouth."
He was silent for too long. He was dissecting her words, looking for the truth. Even in his purer Vampire mode, probity was the one quality he expected from anyone he encountered. Sniffing out the truth became his special skill. Lying became hers. It just added to the game they played.
"This is about Elena," he said. Bonnie rolled her eyes.
"I never get tired of the breathy way you say her name. Elena," she mimicked.
"I'll take your response as affirmation. And to answer the question you won't ask, yes. I won't interfere."
"Unless I ask you to," Bonnie added.
"Yes, unless you ask me to."
They let his words change to mean something else, and they let it grow between them, expanding until thoughts of Klaus and Elena and Mystic Falls fell away. She listened to him breathing, listened to her heart beating, listened to the soft whispers in the corners of her mind, urging her.
"I have to go," Bonnie said.
"Try not to blow up any more motels."
He hung up before she could respond. Bonnie stared at her steak dinner. Her stomach was too knotted to even consider eating. Come back. She bought a plane ticket to Virginia.
Mystic Falls was in the process of rebuilding. Most of the buildings lining the main thoroughfare showed their charred guts from the fire. Brick and wood and stone took up sidewalks; cranes and steel beams marked the sky. New trees turning brown outlined the roads and glossy green lamp posts stood on every corner. Plastic sheeting billowed in the late autumn breeze. A painter rested beneath one of the few old trees in the town square, his face angled towards the half-finished gazebo. A low clang rang out across the square. Birds flocked from the belfry as the old bells rang three times. It was one o'clock. For all the improvements, the Council forgot to fix the timing of the bells.
Bonnie smiled. The more things change. She blew smoke out the car window and watched the town behind dark brown shades. Mystic Falls maintained the picturesque hue of a postcard even during its reconstruction. People meandered about the square, nodding their hellos as they walked the dog or went to the post office or picked up milk from Carver's Grocery and Pharmacy. The brick siding of Mystic Grille came into sight. Bonnie gazed at the pale bulbs that would shimmer and flicker a bright red come dusk. Memories rushed back, so sharp they stung her eyes. They used to come there to gossip, study, and plan. It was their place, and then it wasn't. Then it never was.
"Slow down," Bonnie told the driver. The car rolled by the entrance. The doors were thrown open. Patrons already lounged at the bar. A handsome man with cropped blonde hair poured a drink and slid it down the bar top. Bonnie sat back when the man looked over.
"Idiot," Bonnie whispered. She lit a cigarette. "School should be out by now."
The driver nodded and they made a sharp turn out of town.
The halls of Mystic Falls High School were as cold and as dark as she remembered. An hour after school ended and the place was empty. No band practice, no committee meetings, no athletic practices. Those activities were too dangerous.
Bonnie walked through the empty halls until she came to the familiar classroom. Alaric sat at his desk, head down and glasses on. The rasp of pen against paper filled the room. He sighed and leaned back. The chair creaked with his weight. The afternoon sun shone on his face. He had permanent lines in his face, and strands of silver in his hair.
Bonnie watched from the shadow of the doorway. Nerves attacked her for the first time in years. Apparently the reality of coming home had attached itself to seeing Alaric Saltzmann dozing in his classroom. She didn't know how to 'come back' when she felt as though she was always gone. How to come back…
"Admiring my figure?"
Bonnie smiled. She pushed off the doorway and walked towards the desk. "I was just thinking that if you weren't some vague father figure, I'd screw you."
Alaric folded his hands on his stomach and snorted. "And she returns with a crude tongue."
"You called, I came."
"Alone?"
"Of course."
Alaric opened his eyes to look at the young woman perched on the edge of his desk. She hadn't simply changed. Bonnie had evolved. He was aware of her potency with a look, instead of a display. The angularity of her face hadn't softened with time, and that made the effect of her wide, green eyes and lush mouth all the more startling. She was peril.
"I haven't changed that much," Bonnie said.
"You have," said Alaric.
"So do we need to do the catch-up thing?"
"Are you still working for, excuse me, with Klaus?"
"Yes."
"Then we're all caught up."
Bonnie nodded. "Good. I hate small talk." She slipped off the desk and went to a large world map hanging on a sidewall. Red and gold pins were in numerous cities. Blue and green arrows flowed from one city to the next. Europe was a mess of colors.
"This could be a map of our war. Mystic Falls would be Europe," Bonnie touched a cluster of pins, "and these arrows show our futile movements against Katherine and Klaus."
"If you remember, the Allies won the war."
Bonnie glanced at Alaric. "We're not the Allies." She turned her gaze on the map. "You said Elena is gone."
The chair creaked. "Yes. Damon and I contacted Duke, her professors, classmates. She went on a historical field study and no one has heard from her. We searched her notes, questioned everyone, and came up empty. The last place anyone saw her was Salem."
Bonnie catalogued this information. It would be useful when she assessed the whereabouts portion of the investigation. For the time being, only one question intrigued her.
"How long?"
The chair creaked again, this time accompanied by a sigh. "Damon's going to kill me." A pause. "It's been nearly a year. We stopped receiving blood three months ago."
Bonnie plucked a red pin from the map. She trailed the keen end down her finger. Elena had slipped her boundaries for a year and not even Klaus knew. The hybrid guard tasked with protecting Elena had to be dead or they had somehow destroyed the sire bond. She would have to find them first. They might know to where Elena absconded. And after that…Bonnie pressed the point into her fingertip.
"How many bags are left?"
"None. We sent the last bag today, as requested."
Bonnie frowned. She was already out of time. Klaus would be notified when the bag had arrived, and then he could decide on when next he'd need blood. If Tyler found a new pack, it could be in the next three days. It could be tomorrow if the urgency was great.
Anger surged through her. They fucked up and now they came to her, like they used to. Always the last to know, always forced out into the darkness to battle the monster. The anger ate away at her compassion. Klaus would make Stefan kill Damon, or maybe he'd kill Damon and Alaric, or he'd ask her to do them both. And she would, just out of the sheer satisfaction of never having to be asked to make the Hail Mary play.
"I didn't ask you to come save our asses," Alaric said.
"No? Then why am I here if not to be your magical Girl Friday?"
The chair creaked and clicked as Alaric stood. The soft clack of a cane sounded as he limped over to stand next to her. She wanted to be petty and kick the cane from him, break it into pieces, and leave him there on the floor, helpless. Alaric was the last person she trusted, the last piece of her past she kept safe, and he had to go and use her like all the others.
"Elena found the stake."
Bonnie pricked herself with the pin. She whirled on Alaric. "You're risking your life on a story, Rick? How many times have we nearly killed ourselves looking for a way to kill Klaus? How many people have to die in order for this white oak stake of destiny to manifest itself?"
Alaric stared at her with an imperturbable look. He stared at her until she looked away. So it was true. There was a way and Elena found it. Now they need her to find Elena. The impossibility of this pissed her right the fuck off. Didn't they know she stopped giving a shit about their cause five years ago? Weren't they present for her absolute betrayal?
"You should have called Stefan." Bonnie flicked the pin back to its home in Berlin and walked to the door.
"Yes, we should have. Damon wanted to. But I called you."
Alaric walked to the desk. He leaned against it with a heavy sigh. "Despite what happened, Bonnie, I never stopped thinking you were good. Something broke in you, like it does in all of us. And we find ways to cope, ways to heal, and your way was through Klaus. But you haven't forgotten what he is, or what he has done." He looked at her. "If you did, Klaus would have ripped this place apart yesterday."
Bonnie hovered in the doorway. The dark inside told her to raise the alarm. And usually she'd listen, as it had stood unopposed for so long. But the gray spoke up, and it told her to trust that disappointment, trust that guilt, and trust these emotions other than irritation and anger. They come from somewhere deep, someone hidden. Trust this hidden self.
Bonnie inhaled. She thought about it on a breath, and exhaled. She rested her hand on the doorframe.
"I can only give this three days. Then Klaus will know and I can't protect you."
Alaric nodded. "I'll take it."
Bonnie shook the driver's hand. "Thank you for everything. I really appreciated it."
"No thanks necessary. It is what Klaus expects."
Bonnie smiled. "And he'd expect to know where I went and why I came. Tell him my Grandmother's house is going on the market. Tell him I left Mystic Falls as soon as this was done and you drove me back to Richmond, to The Jefferson."
The driver shook his head slowly. His thoughts emptied, and her words trickled in, growing louder and louder until it hurt. Then there was static and her words were redundant. Of course he would tell Klaus.
Bonnie dropped his hand and watched him open the passenger door and close it. He opened the trunk and put in imaginary luggage. It was quite comical. Bonnie looked after the car until it disappeared around a corner. She rubbed the spot of blood from her palm, picked up her bag from the sidewalk, and went to the idle gray sedan across the street.
"What did you do?"
Bonnie grinned. "A simple glamour. He thinks he's driving me to Richmond. And he'll tell Klaus I'm there. Most importantly, he'll believe it because it will act as a memory."
Alaric whistled, impressed. "Efficient. It looked like it hurt, though."
"It did. And he'll have headaches and I might appear in memories that I have no business being in. He might go a little crazy."
The car pulled from the curb and made its way down a suburban street not far from the Gilbert house. Alaric turned down Maple Street. Bonnie spotted the house immediately. The lawn was immaculate and the house had a fresh coat of paint. A bicycle rested on the porch steps. Lights shown from the windows, upstairs and downstairs.
"Who lives here?"
"A couple from Florida. They have two kids. I teach one of them. Really bright."
The porch light came on and a girl with long black hair stepped out, laughing on her cell phone. She looked at the passing car and waved. Bonnie almost waved back. It was Elena, but it couldn't be her. This girl looked so young, so naïve. Bonnie blinked and the girl was gone, so was the house.
"It was really hard for her to sell. But she couldn't stay there, not alone."
Bonnie looked out the window at the neighborhood she once knew. Memories crowded around, trying to overwhelm and flood her consciousness. She shut them out, battling back volley after volley until the houses were just houses and Mystic Falls was just a place on a map.
It was dusk when the brick façade and the paved circular drive of the Salvatore Boarding House came into view. Vines crept along the sides of the house. Brown, gold, and red fell from the trees and littered an already cluttered drive. Alaric cursed as he got out.
"Lazy asshole," Alaric muttered. He came around and handed her the keys.
"Go on in. I have to come in through the back, bring out the trash. Dump your stuff in one of the thousand bedrooms," Alaric said. He limped away, leaving her to stare up at the house.
"Well," she said.
The door opened when she bumped into it. The place smelled like wood polish and cologne. It was kept immaculate, as usual. She went to the small library they used as an informal command center. There were books on the tables and sofa chairs, folded newspapers in a basket, letters and bills in a miniature bear trap. Damon's sense of humor. Bonnie dropped her bags on the couch and went to the fire place. It hadn't been used despite the fall weather. She chucked some logs from the wood bin into the pit and took a step back. Flames flared hot and bright. Her cheeks warmed and she smiled. There was nothing she loved more than a fire.
"This is cozy," Alaric said. He tapped her shoulder with a glass of scotch and soda. She took it and they stood before the fire, drinking.
Bonnie recognized this time as the blue quiet before all the white noise. She savored the flavor, the light, the silence. She savored it until the last drop of scotch wet her lips. Alaric moved to refill the glass but Bonnie waved him away.
"Did you know Elena had a protection detail?"
Alaric paused. "No." He drank the rest of his scotch.
Bonnie frowned. "I guess this is where you stop being helpful."
"You asked a question and I answered. Now, ask me the right question…" Alaric raised a fresh glass to her with a smile. He settled onto the couch and pulled his briefcase onto his lap.
"Okay," Bonnie sat on a chair, "would Damon know?"
Alaric pulled out a pile of papers and a pen. "He wouldn't be that great of a stalker if he didn't."
"So where is he? Am I going to have to break up some sad blood orgy?"
Alaric slipped on his glasses and loosened his tie. "It's a Friday night. He's probably at a bar."
"Will he be back tonight?"
Alaric gave her a look.
Bonnie sighed. The best thing to do would be to wait for Damon to return. Alaric was right—Damon knew far more about Elena and her plans than anyone else, and he knew Klaus wouldn't trust him to keep Elena in line. He could have killed the hybrids…Bonnie shook her head. Klaus received reports from them periodically so at least one of them still lived.
Of course. Bonnie reached for her purse. One of them lived. She attributed the cleverness of the plan to Elena rather than Damon. He was reckless and got too hysterical when urged to think ahead. That didn't mean he was clueless.
"Mind if I take your whip?"
Alaric waved a hand. Bonnie took the keys from the side table. "Thanks Rick," she called as she ran to the door.
"Just be gentle—" the slamming door cut him off. Alaric raised an eyebrow. "Just be gentle with him," he finished.
There were only so many bars in Mystic Falls. Bonnie stopped in every one, scanning the stools, the sad wooden or concrete dance floors, even the back or side alleys. No Damon. She toyed with casting a location spell but she didn't have anything of his, and she didn't feel like drawing all vampires in a thirty mile radius. Bonnie parked on the shoulder of the road leading out of town and got out, breathing in the cold, wet air. The woods were lovely, dark and deep. A few miles to the west and she'd come upon one of the underground tunnel entrances. To the east was the vampire tomb, and south was the haunted old lodge of the hundred.
Nascent awareness tickled the back of her brain. Bonnie returned to the car and drove about three miles before she spotted a red hatchback. She parked behind it and turned off the engine, leaving on the lights. The hatchback had South Carolina plates and a bumper covered in stickers asking to save the whales, turtles, environment, boobies, and Tibet. A gold mankei neko sat on the dash.
Bonnie left the car and trudged into the woods. She turned back once to check her car. The lights still shone. She continued in a straight line, weaving through the trees. She smelled smoke before the orange light of a fire came into view. Her steps became more cautious as the odor of burning flesh filled the air. The flames drew her closer and closer until Bonnie stood on the fringe of a ravaged campsite.
Damon stood amid the collapsed tent, the discarded gear, the bloodied scraps of clothing. He had his back to her, gazing into the fire. Bonnie summoned power. The tip of her tongue and the inside flesh of her lips tingled. The wind dropped away. The atmosphere went smoky still and amber tinged.
Bonnie anticipated the lunge before he even turned. She threw him clear across the site. He bounced off a tree and landed on the tent. She stepped towards the fire. There were limbs, a torso, and a head. The flames blazed brighter and higher. The base of it turned electric blue. The heat was intense and pure. It burned the wood and flesh to ash in a matter of seconds. She saw Damon rise and shield his face. The fire roared and then went out.
The last vestige of smoke dissipated as Damon lowered his arm. There was no better reintroduction than a display of power. Damon locked eyes on her. He saw in her face annihilation, heard the thrum of power in her blood. This was not the same witch from years ago.
"You're getting sloppy," Bonnie said.
"I don't care," Damon said.
Bonnie tilted her head. "I should do everyone a favor and end this pathetic cycle of death and self-destruction you enjoy perpetuating."
Damon curled his lips into a smile. "And disobey dear Klaus?"
Bonnie only grinned. The smile dropped from his face. The scales dipped further in her favor.
"You didn't hear I'm autonomous now?" Her eyes glittered. "Would you like a demonstration? Klaus has always wanted your nose out of his business."
Fear never presented itself in a typical manner for Damon. He didn't tense up, his eyes didn't widen, he didn't start pleading. He shrugged and scratched the side of his nose. "Is that what you've been up to with Klaus? Sharpening that dull wit of yours?"
"Among other—"
Damon sped towards her and pressed her against a tree. He placed a hand on her wrist and a finger against her lips. Bonnie glared at him. Budding pain spread across his brain and deep into his skull. He leaned down to whisper, "I should have told you about the werewolf that has been stalking me."
The pain vanished. Her green eyes narrowed. She looked over his shoulder and to the side. A lean gray shadow slinked between the trees. Another growl reverberated through the air. Her eyes met his. He dropped the finger and smiled. Bonnie gritted her teeth. There weren't any werewolves left on the east coast, at least that was what Klaus told her. They were all hybrids now, and they all were linked to him. No hybrid changed unless Klaus ordered it. She spotted the wolf moving closer. It passed into a beam of moonlight. Its muzzle was matted with blood and meat. Its tawny eyes glinted in their direction.
Bonnie glanced up at the sky. It was a full moon, massive and luminous. Werewolves were difficult to control in their animal states. To battle with one under a moon so close to the Earth—she'd have to tap into dark magic. A growl came from yards away. They both tensed. Damon raised an eyebrow. Are you going to abracadabra us out of this?
Bonnie flipped through her mental rolodex of spells. Nothing came to her. She couldn't run as fast as Damon, and he sure as hell wouldn't take off with her. She couldn't kill the fucking beast either. There might be more purebloods out there and this wolf could lead her to them. That left the other option. Dark magic called out in that seductive voice. Fuck it.
Bonnie grabbed Damon and kissed him hard, biting his lip. He yelped and threw her to the ground. The werewolf took the opportunity to lunge at Damon, but Bonnie sprang in its path. They crashed to the ground. Razors sank into the soft flesh of her neck. Steel jaws clamped down and pain exploded to such dazzling effect, she could barely lift her arms to encircle the shaggy body. Through grey and white fur the moon beamed on her. She reeled the moon in and stripped it of its power, bit by bit, drop by drop until a panting naked woman lay on top of her.
"Bonnie Bennett?" the woman said. Her voice sounded dislocated. Her face was blurry, but the red stood out. Bonnie dropped her arms and felt her shirt. It was slick and heavy with blood. Cold numbed her. The euphoric blush of dark magic faded under the pang of dying. Bonnie closed her eyes and swallowed.
Housekeeping: If anyone is wondering about "Undisclosed", I'm right with you. I've hit the wall, and when I say wall, I mean the wall that is impervious to outlining, rereading, editing, and hypothetical situations. So when I update "Undisclosed", just know it was an immense labor of love.