We're Not Friends
Damon hadn't seen the witch in three weeks.
He hadn't seen her concerned brow, sandwiched between Stefan and Caroline on his red chesterfield couch, offering reason 'No. 180' to Elena on why she should give the 'bunny' diet another go; he also hadn't heard her habitual exasperated sighs at the Scooby-gang meetings when he shocked no one with his hyperbolic resolutions of eating Baddies causing havoc on the town, and a very welcome relief was he hadn't felt the sizzle and pop of his blood vessels when he overstepped whatever human moral line she held his un-beating heart to in over a month.
Out of sight, out of mind.
In Damon's defense he would've argued he was preoccupied with finding 'the cure' business, killing a hunter business and overall 'bad-ass' vampire business.
But anyone with two eyes would say he was preoccupied with the fleeting business of bliss.
Elena needed him.
The doppelganger was flailing as a vampire and it appeared he was the only one who made sense to her. He was the only one who could talk her from the ledge and guide her into accepting her vampiric nature; much to the chagrin of Vampire Barbie and Forehead McGee.
And because the baby vamp was unable to tap a compelled vein or tie her converses without his approval; he found himself consumed with mentoring her and to his pleasure being free from reproach to orbit her as the earth does the sun.
The universe had even thrown him a bone; for no problem arose he couldn't easily handle while he was enjoying his idyllic vampire-training time with Elena. There were no baddies too bad, hunters became the hunted and his doe-eyed dark angel was even feeding without blubbering all over her human meal about how much she missed being one of the blood bags.
Stefan even got lost for a weekend and Damon and Elena were able to bond over bottles of bourbon and what exactly constitutes second base. All was starting to be right within Damon's world; until Stefan returned smug from visiting some shaman about the cure in some desert, in some country, he was pretty sure was in the midst of a revolution.
Elena catapulted into Stefan's arms and peppered his face with kisses for going to the ends of the earth for her; while Damon slow clapped and asked his heroic brother what happened to them following Klaus's lead in New Orleans; what the hell happened to them doing this as a team.
Stefan's muffled voice came from under Elena hanging from his neck, "We don't need Klaus anymore; we've got this." He stated trying to hold Elena up around his waist with one arm while handing Damon a folded up piece of paper from his back pocket.
Damon furrowed his brow and snatched the unassuming piece of paper from his brother's extended hand, "What is it?"
"The cure."
Damon snorted as he unfolded the article under a desk lamp, "If a cure exists," he glanced over his shoulder to see how that hit would fall on his brother's face but saw it landed on Elena's, turning her beautiful mouth sour. Stefan massaged Elena's shoulders and cooed in her ear that Damon was wrong; vampire cures and unicorns were real.
Elena rolled her shoulders from Stefan's hands, "You're not on board? She whispered in a conversation with herself before flopping down in an armchair; she ran her fingers into her chocolate strands, "I can't do this without you on board." Her voice wavered as she waited for Damon to speak.
Damon and Stefan exchanged concerned glances.
Damon swallowed his skepticism and recanted, "I just don't want to get our hopes up if this turns out to be a hoax," He offered, pressing his pointer finger onto the desk to demonstrate his stance, "Plus, I happen to like Vampire Elena," He stressed; suppressing a slight smile as he felt the death glare of his brother in his peripheral. "But," Damon shrugged and his mouth mirrored, "If the cure is what you want, then the cure is what you will have."
Elena smiled wide and there was no longer a need for the lamp.
Damon – 1, Forehead - 0.
He turned to his brother and wagged his brows, "To the victor go the smiles."
Deflated, Stefan dropped his duffle bag on the floor and occupied an armchair on the opposite side of the grand parlor. He rested his elbows on his thighs and intertwined his fingers together as if in earnest prayer, "We all want what's best for Elena."
"Sure we do little brother," he smirked, "Now let's see what you've brought us." Damon examined the heavily creased paper and his mouth parted and closed with confusion.
It was nonsense.
Complete and utter nonsense.
"Is this a joke?" He practically snarled; holding up the cure.
Stefan scoffed into his praying hands, "That happens to be a language that's over 2,000 years old, Damon, it's not nonsense."
Elena silently rose from her seat to pull out three glasses. She divvied out the ice, making sure each brother had the exact amount of frozen cubes and poured Damon's fine scotch to the brim; even though he had shown her how to properly consume the aged liqueur, she knew by the tone of their voices that "pouring only enough to cover the ice" was not going to cut it.
Damon let the paper fall from his hands and float onto the desk, "Did the witchdoctor you got this from happen to decipher this into English for you before you left?
Silence.
"Not even a nifty decoder?" Damon gushed with the false excitement of an over-eager Boy Scout.
"Damon," Elena chastised.
Damon thought his brother was getting his comeuppance for trying to be Elena's sole hero and not including him. Stefan diverted from weeks of plotting and dinners badly spent entertaining Klaus to get information. But, Stefan had to be the one to ride in on a white horse and in doing so bungled it by showing up with a cryptic spell from a Bushman, and now doe-eyes were looking to him to fix it.
Damon's anger grew. They had a plan, dammit. Who did he think he was? Him?
"No big deal, I'll go to the university tomorrow and compel the head of Ancient Linguistics to translate the cure. Problem solved," he assured the room.
He would meet up with a linguist at the university in the morning, crack 'the cure' code by lunch and have hot celebratory sex with Elena by nightfall.
Elena had yet to give into his advances, but surely giving the girl back her life would at the very least make her pause before mechanically dismissing his ardor.
Stefan accepted the cocktail from Elena and walked over to the bar, "Sorry to say Damon, a compelled professor won't be able to help you," he stated downing the drink in one go," In fact," he continued, refilling his glass and turning to face Damon with a sly grin, " Only a human with inherent magic can translate it."
Damon wondered why Stefan was smiling; he hadn't revealed anything clever.
The cure required a witch, figures. Still a piece of cake.
Damon worked up his mouth to say, "Ya hear that, witch" as he instinctively looked over his shoulder expecting to see an exaggerated eye roll from his begrudging sidekick; instead he was greeted by Elena pushing a fresh cocktail under his nose.
He eyed the tall and lithe vampire up and down.
Nope, not the witch.
"Thank you," he muttered, waiting for Elena to move from his line of sight. When she didn't move immediately, he smiled up at her and leaned back in his chair to look at the settee in the corner; certain he would see a heart-shaped face with their bottom lip caught between their teeth.
No one put the witch in the corner.
Elena raised one eyebrow and placed her hand on his shoulder, "Are you okay?"
Okay?
He wasn't okay.
He took Elena's slender hand in his, "I'm fine," he brushed his lips over her cool fingers, "More than fine actually."
He was bothered.
How it was possible for him to have not noticed his pint-sized 'pain in the ass' had gone AWOL until now?
Maybe she slipped by him because even with her obvious absence, he felt as if she was there, on his heels with a retort, ready to dole out punishments.
"You call those morals, Salvatore. You disgust me; now drop and give me twenty."
Damon tugged at Elena's arm, making her angle her head down and shroud them both in her hair, "Sweetie," he purred, reaching for the curve of her cheek , "Where the hell is Bonnie?" He finished with his tender expression morphing into one of befuddlement.
Stefan made his presence known by dropping more ice into his glass. "Did a light bulb go off, brother?"
Elena avoided his stare and pulled her arm from his grasp, "I don't need her," she cracked," Can't we use another witch?"
Damon knitted his brows into one, "There is no other witch," he stated as a matter-of-fact.
Elena backed away from him and wrapped her arms around herself as she climbed the stairs to head for the privacy of her bedroom.
"Did I miss something?" He asked his brother.
Stefan genuinely smiled, shaking his head, "Not at thing."
So it was then and there, that a problem finally arose Damon couldn't handle, one completely out of his depth; one requiring the help of a judgmental eight-teen year old witch whom his love expressed with teary-eyes was off limits for the asking.
But when did Damon ever listen to Elena?
"Fuck," he whispered, sipping his drink.
Despite whatever teenage drama brewing between the girls; the fact remained they needed a witch and he didn't want the headache of finding another self-righteous 'Servant of Nature' when her best friend was THE 'Servant of Nature' to top all servants of nature.
Elena may have wanted to convince them that the witch wasn't needed and maybe for her- at this tumultuous time in her life - it was true, but for Damon…
He needed Bonnie.
DBDBDBDBDB
Saturday evening – when all the teenage girls were at the movies whispering 'Not here," while pulling their dates hands from inside their jeans, or being cheered on by jocks while doing keg stands in the woods, or in living rooms, donning clay masks, daydreaming with their other loser friends about the day they too would have a hand down their pants while drinking cheap beer – there was one teenage girl who was doing none of the above.
Bonnie Bennett was freshly showered, clad in cotton pajamas and ready for bed as soon as the street lights came on. She padded around the empty home in her furry slippers; turning appliances and hall lamps off before sitting down at her hand-me-down desk to spend one more hour searching in her grimoire for an answer to her problem then she would end the night with an episode of Girls on her laptop before passing out. She sipped her lukewarm "cleansing tea", a gift from Lucy in hopes it would release any negative energy from her aura and flipped through a rarely used section of her ancestral spell-book.
Sometimes she laughed at herself for having serious conversations about auras, crystals and blocked energy.
When her cousin told her to try to read the tea leaves at the bottom of her cup after she was done drinking because it would reveal a sliver of her future, Bonnie snorted, waved her hand over the mug as if it were a crystal ball and with a fake Jamaican accent yelped, "Call me now."
Of course after three years of being a tried and true witch; she knew the importance of such things as divining tea leaves, cleansing auras and blessing quartz, but in the company of a fellow conjurer she liked to crack a joke or two for her own sanity.
Lucy had come to see her every day for two weeks after Bonnie alarmed her cousin by texting her something was wrong; she couldn't do things like she had before; her balance was off.
They practiced every afternoon and Bonnie never floated a feather.
Three Little Birds– her ringtone for Caroline and Elena- strained to be heard underneath Bonnie's comforter. Caroline was calling again; trying to invite her out; trying to see her; trying to reach Bonnie. Her fingers tapped against the wood of the desk as she thought about answering her friend's daily call because cabin-fever was starting to set in and the idea of throwing on some clothes to gossip with Caroline, play pool with Jeremy and grab a bite with Matt sounded more therapeutic then any tea could provide, but she kept her resolve until the song died because a part of her felt as if it would be a form of betrayal for her to hang out with them when she was on the outs with Elena.
This was the longest the girls had ever gone without speaking to one another.
Elena would try to convince everyone including herself that she and Bonnie just hit a little rough patch; as sometimes sisters do. Bonnie's a witch and she was a vampire now, it was going to take some getting used to.
But Bonnie thought if they truly were sisters, it wouldn't matter what they were.
The erosion of their friendship became apparent when Bonnie had to blast Elena with a surge of white, hot energy to get her from draining Matt.
Elena was hurt; she never thought Bonnie would use her magic against her. Bonnie was hurt; she never thought she would have to.
Elena crouched in the kitchen, eyes pools of ink and fangs drawn, "What's wrong with you?!" She hissed.
"You could have killed him!" Bonnie yelled with her hands tingling and outstretched, ready to deliver another gust.
Matt's hands were on her shoulders; murmuring, "I'm okay, Bonnie," "Don't do this, Bonnie," "It's Elena."
Elena was a gulp away from making him a handsome corpse but all was quickly forgiven because it was Elena.
Elena's eyes resumed their deer in a headlights shock and she slowly rose from the height of the cabinets, approaching Bonnie with caution, "I didn't mean-
Bonnie closed her open palms and dropped her fists to her sides, "I don't wanna do this again; not to you."
Anyone but you.
"You can't check out now, Bonnie. I need you," Elena's upper lip made a familiar quiver; "I would never want to harm you, or Matt or anyone else."
Bonnie sighed; she felt older than her eighteen years, and tired, like she could lay down on the linoleum and nap, "You can't help it, Lena. It's what you do."
She was drawn out of her trance by the vibration and default ring of an un-special caller. She interrupted her studies to see who hadn't got the memo she was now a recluse. Her eyes widened at the display of his full name spelled out, she liked to keep things formal when it came to him.
"Ugh."
She hadn't seen Damon since waking up over a month ago at the boardinghouse after an exhausting night of fighting werewolves. Disoriented, she blinked slowly until she focused on his satisfied smirk. He had startled her from sleep by kicking the couch where she rested because he wanted to talk. He wanted to try to explain Abby.
Anger still clouded her memory and full sentences were lost in an indescribable void but there were words, words so stark in the fog that meant absolutely nothing out of the context of their argument but defined the complexity of their battle.
Words she hurled at him like, 'Re-united', 'Collateral damage" and 'Coward' and him tossing words back at her like, "Abandoned," "Essential' and lastly, a simple and succinct, "Sorry.'
Her fingers hovered over the screen; she bit into her lip toying with the idea of answering his call.
What if it was an emergency?
It's always an emergency. And even if it was she had nothing to offer the gang; she had no more juice; she used it all up, for now at least, according to Lucy her body was recuperating; metaphorically speaking it was resting during the death of winter to be able to blossom and flourish in spring.
Spring was months away.
Bonnie listened to the chime of a waiting voicemail as she flipped another page.
Beneficia Lamia Sanguis
(The Benefits of Vampire Blood)
Bonnie cocked an amused eyebrow and wondered which one of her cheeky ancestors added this page to their legacy.
Her hand maneuvered through her collection of snow globes cluttered on a hanging shelf above her, replicas of cities encapsulated in water, New York, Japan, Los Angeles -places her father traveled for business- or Paris, London, Rome -places she wished to visit- she thought about how far she would go after graduation as her hand clasped over a sought after globe tucked in the back, a tacky and scratched snow globe of Disneyland that she got on a trip when she was eight.
She shook the tschockthe with both hands, watched a flurry of plastic snow swirl and settle over 'The Happiest Place on Earth'.
DBDBDBDBDB
Damon promised Elena he would find another witch and despite his track record with promises, he always kept his word when it came to the brunette.
He would pay a friendly visit to Lucy Bennett and have her take a gander at the incantation and after following through on his promise to all intents and purposes, he would drive over to 321 Peachtree where Lucy's little cousin and Elena's best friend lived to guest star in Mystic Fall's version of Charmed.
He never promised Elena he wouldn't also pay Bonnie a visit.
The vampire felt vindicated in his executive decision because his younger sibling couldn't give a better reason other than, "It's Elena's choice "and the doppelganger reasons were to produce big fat tears at the mention of her name. Between the three of them, he figured he was the only one thinking clearly and if going to see Judgy made him the bad guy, also known as, 'the one who gets shit done', then so be it.
When he finally tracked down Lucy after have had missed her when he broke into her apartment , he learned three things, well four things, first being she wasn't too thrilled by him popping in on her yoga class while everyone was in downward dog, bellowing, "Now, this is my kind of party", second, she was taller than he had remembered from the Masquerade Ball, like three inches taller and she wasn't even wearing shoes, third, she had no intention on helping him and last and most important, Bonnie had fallen off her broomstick.
"What do you mean she can't do magic?
Lucy laughed at him like he was dense, "You vampires did what you do best; you sucked her dry."
Lucy's insult sliced into Damon with all the severity of a spork and made him seriously ponder how she was related to Bonnie.
Damon slapped Lucy on the back for her effort, "Did you think of that all by yourself? "He asked as if he were talking to a five-ear old. Lucy's mouth became a hard line as she stepped back from the vampire to return to the stretching women but he placed his cool hands around her arms and pulled her back to him, "Let's be serious, "he warned, tightening his grip, "What does your cousin need?"
Lucy hated that her heart rate picked up because of Damon. She watched as the vampire's eyes narrowed into slits as he waited for her to tell him how to fix his genie. She almost considered telling him what her little cousin needed, for Bonnie's sake of feeling adequate again, but then she concluded that Bonnie would never learn and end up back in this same predicament.
Lucy leaned into the vampire and told him what her cousin needed.
"For you to leave her alone."
He left Lucy to finish her sun salutations and drove with a heavy foot back to Mystic falls but when he was about fifteen minutes from his destination he wondered why he was in such a hurry to get there because, really, what good was a witch who didn't have her magic.
Bennett was down for the count and they needed a heavy-weight in order to knock out this spell.
Damon's foot didn't lighten up from the pedal though, not even as he questioned his sanity and his love for boxing references.
He was aware the witch wasn't his BFF, fact was, they barely tolerated each other outside of Scooby business and at present she hated his guts, but he was experiencing an odd emotion, an emotion that kept him headed for Peachtree street, an emotion some people might even call concern, which he would have promptly denied and drained a jury if accused.
So what if his logic was screaming he should be doubling-back to the occult book store and bribing witches left and right because the one he was barreling towards was as helpful as a doorknob.
Damon didn't care.
Because for one of the rare times in his life, he couldn't drown out the questionable angel on his left shoulder, with its nagging and finger-wagging that Judgy was a part of their rag-tag group and if she was on the mend, he had to be there for her.
Besides, he reasoned, even without her magic she was still useful. The girl could be annoying as hell with her turned up nose and personal digs, but she was smart; smart and resourceful. He actually could have used her non-magical help with assisting in baby vamp training when Elena's whining became less and less adorable, or she could have been at the boardinghouse recommending to him what solution to use to get blood stains out of his designer shirts, hell, he would have even endured hearing her accurate predictions on what was to come between him and Stefan if he continued to be in love with his girlfriend.
The point was Bonnie -with or without the ju ju – wasn't down for the count. Not to him at least.
Damon parked his 69' Camaro behind Bonnie's sticker laden Prius, reading each of the many colorful stickers that practically covered her trunk and as he walked up the porch steps he figured it was just like her to care about the freedom of Tibetans or the protection of baby seals.
He knocked three times and concentrated on her heartbeat.
She swung the door open and her heart-shaped face fell into a harsh question mark at the sight of him on her porch.
She was all cat eyes and loose waves, drowning in a dark blue pajama set, making her look all the more child-like and innocent, until she knitted her brow like a worried mother and stomped out past him to see who else was in her driveway. She turned her face back at him, her brow depicting less worry and more anger, "Why are you here?"
For a moment Damon wanted to excuse himself to dial up Amazon Lucy and ask her what kind of games was she playing because magic emanated from Bonnie.
The honey-colored glow cast warm rays from under her taunt skin, warming him up from the inside and tantalizing his fangs to break into her smooth flesh like a human would do a peach.
That's when Damon realized as he basked in Bonnie's – not supposed to be there- glow that he called Bonnie a lot of 'B' words, some he said to her face like, Bossy or Bennett, some under his breath, like Bully or Bitch but there was one he never uttered even though the word was definitely one he didn't deny she was along with the others, and it almost escaped the tip of his tongue as he stared at her longer than he was comfortable with.
He smiled without teeth and rocked on the ball of his feet with his hands behind his back, "I came to see my favorite witch."
Bonnie's face said, 'then why are you here', but she placed a firm hand on her jutted hip, "Look, Lucy already called me and told me what you did, Damon, just when I think you can't get any slimier, you go and break into Lucy's apartment."
He suppressed a smile at her chastisement. Had he missed this?
"She should have thought about what could pop up at her home when she decided to keep Katherine's apartment," He said with a 'know-it-all" smirk.
Bonnie's mouth closed with frustration because she didn't know why Lucy held on to the vampire bitch's apartment and she never asked. Her cousin even went through the pain of seeking the power of three to cast a spell to shield the home from all other vampires when she could have simply moved to avoid them all, but she wanted to stay and with it came the possibility of Katherine coming and going as she pleased and unfortunately also the ones she sired.
Bonnie acted like she didn't hear the truth out of Damon's mouth, "Do you know she is headed to the police station right now to report you?"
Damon scrunched up his face at the stupidity of the elder witch, "Pfft, I'll just compel the police, besides whether she likes it or not, I'm a welcome guest.
Bonnie rolled her eyes, "You are never a welcome guest; you obnoxious creeper."
He laughed.
Bonnie shook her head, "This is serious; I had to talk her down from spelling your private parts off."
Damon scrunched his brows and pressed his lips with faux fear before opening his mouth, "Well, while Lucy was threatening to have my cock fall off, dashing millions of women's dreams mind you, did she also tell you she told me you were hiding out because you were having trouble with your magic fingers?" He asked wiggling his fingers to demonstrate.
Bonnie took a very deep sigh and wished her cousin hadn't shared with the very vampire who could make her feel worse than how she already felt about her wavering magic.
"No, she didn't." She said lowering her voice.
Damon took a seat on the rusted green glider, "Why didn't you tell us you were spent? He asked looking out onto the street and the cars that happened to pass now and again.
Bonnie wanted to tell Damon to get his ass up from Gram's old glider but as he rocked back and forth, the familiar squeak made her heart ache. "Why? Because Damon, you only needed me for my powers, now my powers are gone, voila," She expressed, gracefully extending her hand out from her chest, as if she had just unveiled her greatest magic trick.
Did he just need her for her powers? Obviously not or he wouldn't be sitting on a porch with her, he'd be enticing a red-headed witch named Sabrina with his charm and hefty pockets. He had no explanation on what it was that brought him to her now because Damon never did anything out of the kindness of his dead heart, but as he watched a little boy and girl fight over a jump rope across the street he thought it might be because right before Abby's turning, Bonnie had grown on him, like a fungus, and he considered that fungus rather steadfast, like so many fungi are, and unfortunately he didn't recognize what she was in the grand scheme until after the fallout from a flip of a coin.
He listened to the soft chatter of Bonnie's teeth and the rustle of the cotton as she rubbed her shoulders. He spoke softly, avoiding her eyes, "Maybe we should continue this conversation inside, you're freezing."
She snorted, "That's not happening," she placed her hand on the back of the rocker, forcing him to stay still and look up at her. Deep blue eyes met the depth of green, "Damon, you shouldn't be here, not after Abby."
Damon wondered if she was always going to be sad.
He clenched his jaw, annoyed that she wasn't ever going to let this go, "I tried apologizing to you about Abby but you walked out on me."
Bonnie's mouth fell open as she padded in front of the glider to hover over the vamp, "Are you six?" she jabbed her pointer finger into his chest, "You turned my mother into a vampire and you think telling me you're sorry fixes everything?
He let her drill her finger into him until his back was flush against the glider. He let his head fall back to meet the malice that was awaiting him in her eyes, "What do you want from me, Bonnie?"
Bonnie quickly removed her finger and Damon thought if he wasn't a vampire there would definitely be a bruise.
"This is what I want, whenever you and I have to deal with each other," she indicated between them, "Abby is off limits, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes."
"Okay then," she exhaled and rested her elbows on the railing, "Did you tell Elena that I don't have my powers?"
Damon relaxed into his self now that they were off the subject of Mother Dearest. "No, why would I do that when she would say something ridiculous like we could do this without you, "He paused as he realized Elena had already said something like that, "What's going on between you two anyway?"
He noticed Bonnie failed to laugh at his jokes, not even a smirk.
"I'm not discussing that with you either," she said, teeth chattering.
Before she could move her mouth to protest, he draped his leather jacket over her shoulders.
She grimaced like she had been doused in cold water but he held the lapels of the jacket firmly together, "Humor me, will you?"
When he thought it might be a Mexican stand-off, he suddenly felt her relent and she titled her head slightly as to say, 'this once.'
Damon took his seat and she found herself able to speak now that he wasn't in her personal space, "How is she?"
"That's why I'm here." He gestured for her to look in the pocket of his jacket.
She unfolded the paper, "What is it?"
Damon mimicked the movie trailer voice, "The cure for vampirism."
He finally got a smirk.
Bonnie forgot about Damon being the murderer of her mother and took a seat beside him, "How… how did you find this?"
He could hear her impressment and for the second time that week he had wished he was the one who found it.
Damon rose and paced the length of the concrete, "Elena wanted it. Stefan got it. None of us can understand it. I need your help." Damon spouted off, dramatically holding up a finger for each statement and turning to her on the request.
She quickly scanned the spell, "But you know I can't do magic, why did you bring it to me?" She questioned, wondering if this was his way to take a shot at her.
He glanced down at the little witch swallowed by his leather jacket and wondered if he would one day tell her she possessed more power in that damn finger she bore into him than any of her ancestors that preceded her.
He resumed pacing, "I came to you to find out what we need to do to get your powers back," He said, looking over his shoulder to wag his brow suggestively.
Bonnie smacked her lips but stopped short of neck rolling, "We?
"Yes. We. Witchy," He informed, offering her an impish grin," I've been the guardian of many Bennett witches and it's my duty to get you back on your broom. So what do we have to do, eye of toad? Pick a root at midnight? Kill a chicken?" He rubbed his hands together, eager for her to give him a task.
She gave him side-eye and he threw up his palms, "No judgment, I'm not like you."
Bonnie caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, "You seriously want to help me with this?"
Damon leaned against the wooden post and stuffed his hands into his pockets, "I'm here aren't I?"
Bonnie knew what she needed from him. But what if he rejected her? She would claw out his eyes if he rejected her; it was bad enough she had to ask him for help. But this act couldn't take place on her front porch under the glaring porch light. The last thing she needed was nosey neighbors whispering about her more than they already were
She slowly stood and watched her very own hand reach out to open the front door to step inside so she could welcome the vampire creeper.
If the girl who was safely up in her room thirty minutes ago met the one who was about to let a psychopath into her home, she would have slapped the hell out of her.
Damon's eyebrow arched inquisitively as he observed Bonnie mulling over whether to let him in or not, "You gotta invite me in, Judgy, "he said, his voice low and full of anticipation.
"Damon won't you plea-
His Italian leather shoe inched to the metal threshold before she blocked him with her petite frame, she pressed that dangerous finger again into him but this time on the underside of his chin," Can I rescind my invitation of a vampire at any time?" Her words were supposed to be a question but Damon felt the threat.
He stretched his lips into a smile, and narrowed his eyes, "Yes, witchy. You can make me go bye-bye like that," he snapped his fingers near her face, "As soon as you say the magic words."
She knew she was going to regret saying these words but she heard herself saying them anyway.
"Damon Salvatore, won't you please come in."
DBDBDBDBDBDB
The vampire crossed over the protective barrier - Bonnie so graciously lifted- into her home, and as they stood uncomfortably together in what he considered a miserable excuse for a foyer with his icy skin warming under the manufactured heat from the ceiling vent, he was affected by a want; a want to be a first.
"Am I the first vampire to be in your home?" He blurted.
She stared at him like he grew an extra head.
"Of course not," she said, handing him his jacket, "Caroline was the first and after tonight she will go back to being the only," She informed, waving her hand for him to follow her up the staircase.
Duh, he should have known Vampire Barbie, her other bestie was invited in but…..
He shrugged into vintage leather, "But", he lingered," Stefan has never been here?"
She glanced back to see the vampire had not budged from the bottom of the stairs, "No," she said, turning to the empty hallway before her.
Damon basically bounced up the stairs two at a time, feeling lighter with the knowledge he was the first of the Salvatores to be invited into her refuge, and as he broke stride so he could poke fun at the gallery of Bonnie in different awkward stages of adolescence, his lightness moved somewhere around the vicinity of privileged; it was rare that anyone trusted him before his brother.
Bonnie cracked her bedroom door open, shifted her eyes both ways in the hall and rolled her hand for him to hurry up.
"Where's Daddy Bennett?" He asked, knowing they were the only two beings in the house as he brushed against her chest through the door way.
She closed the door and locked it, "Business trip," she said without thought.
"Then why are you acting like you are sneaking a lover in your room? He teased, catching the age-old buzz of fear radiating from her pores, making his own skin prickle with excitement over doing something they weren't supposed to, he let the thrill roll around in him because it had a been a long time, a very long time since Damon was anxious over being caught doing anything.
Bonnie's eyes widened at his choice of noun; and she thought about kicking him out and telling him she didn't need his help but decided to play with a sassy comment, "Old habits die hard, I guess."
His upper lip quirked to say 'yeah right' and he took in the purple explosion which was Bonnie's room.
All shades of purple fabric and paint surrounded him and he felt as if this is what drowning in grape soda would feel like because on top of the nauseating use of the same color was the syrupy sweetness of frilly, lacey accents on curtains and pillows. Her – once upon a time- lilac walls were littered with scuff marks and soot smudges from candles; postured 'picture day' 8x11s' and candid polaroids with her arms draped around necks belonging to Elena and Blondie Vamp; dried school dance mums and corsages; any space absent a photo was cluttered with school award ribbons and tacked old concert tickets. Furniture was covered with dog-eared paperbacks, melted candles, empty perfume bottles, wrinkled love letters and mismatched jewelry; all kinds of knickknacks teenagers saved to lament over their leaving childhood could be found in Bonnie's room.
But the piece de resistance was an overstuffed fuchsia gorilla with a sneering red mouth stashed in the corner.
His hand grazed over the dusty fur of the primate, "You live here?" He was amazed how bad it was.
He looked over at Bonnie who pressed her lips together in her day-old pajamas and he knew she understood what he meant; she no longer fit the room, the room was for a girl who no longer existed.
She placed a firm hand on her jutted hip, "Yes Damon, I live here, does it not meet your architectural digest standards?"
He fingered a paper-mache lamp and shook his head, "Not even close."
Bonnie lowered the curtains and blocked out all light. Luckily for him, he was a vampire and had perfect eye-sight for a predator.
He sat on the edge of her bed and toyed with the dead rose petals on her nightstand, "So are you depressed about your ju ju playing hide and seek?
She fluttered about her room with a matchstick in hand and he knew it pained her little perfectionist heart to have to light each candle when there was a time she would merely think of fire and cause a 'five alarm.'
"Why do you ask that?" She asked, stopping her task, suddenly so very self-conscious.
His eyes honed in on a hint of racy red cloth hanging from her top dresser and he pushed off the bed to feel the material, hoping for satin instead of cotton, "I dunno, maybe because it's three in the afternoon and you're still in your pajamas?"
She turned her back to Damon and quickly lifted her arms to smell if she was overdue on a shower, "It's Sunday, I had plans on staying in them all day, Damon, ya know bum around the house and watch re-runs of Law and Order.
Satin.
He brushed his fingers over her lingerie when he felt something squishy and of tell-tale length right underneath it, Damon ran his tongue over his teeth as he wondered if the little witch liked to play with toys but when he pulled at the flimsy top, unraveling the surprise, his stomach dropped.
"Damon! Get ou-
Damon thrust a miniature hand-sewn doll in her embarrassed face, "Witch, tell me this is not what I think it is? He warned with his voice cold and just below a growl.
Her eyes zipped between Damon and the doll with the mop of black hair and bright blue buttons as eyes. For added drama; the doll had comical blood drops poorly painted at the corners of his fanged mouth.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and bit her lip before explaining, "It's old; I haven't touched it in almost three years."
Damon let his body drop onto her mattress, holding the doll with both hands, "I'm not dreaming here," he asked looking up at Bonnie, "You really have a voodoo doll of me." He said to himself, eyes darting back to the doll. He held it back up for her to take notice, "Why do you have a voodoo doll of me?"
She straightened out her spine and with a confidence she wasn't sure she should possess when she had a pissed off vampire in her bedroom said, "I think you know the answer to that."
He shouldn't have been so surprised with the voodoo doll, he was sure there were many women from his past who punished an effigy in his likeness in hopes of reeling him in, but from his recollection and body parts still being intact, none of them had been a witch and he was sure, more like hoped, none of those dolls had the disturbing sight of countless pins stuck in what would be the doll's heart.
Damon scrunched his brow as if he was feeling the stab in his own chest, "Can we take some of the pins out of the poor guy?"
She shook her head, patting him on the shoulder like a sitcom doctor telling the waiting family that there was nothing they could do, "We can't."
"Why?"
Bonnie 's words came out fast and jumbled, "It was a stupid spell to open your heart; be more compassionate, when I realized my spell wasn't working, I stopped caring so I haven't exactly looked up to see what happens when we take the pins out."
Damon affected his face in horror, "You cast a spell involving my heart as a pin cushion and you left it like this because you got bored?!"
She lifted her shoulders in unison, "I like quick results."
Glancing down at the stick pins in the doll's heart, he was reminded of her last attempt to open his up.
It was when his best friend died.
Alaric had kicked the bucket on a Tuesday and Damon stayed inebriated until the following Tuesday until he had had a flash of sobriety, it was an inopportune moment, stuck between whether to allow himself to feel another loss or opening up another bottle when the realization struck him, he hadn't killed a human for the sake of being able to do so in 730 days, 15 hours, 26 minutes and 3 seconds and at that particular instant as he stared at an empty glass, he wanted nothing more than the seductive taste of destruction.
Stefan tried to be there for him with his heart to hearts but they revealed too much and Elena tried to comfort him with lingering embraces and butterfly kisses but there was no release.
He went out looking for something to sink his grief and fangs into and when he walked out a bar with a statuesque blonde at his side, he saw Bonnie's Prius parked across the street.
She was curled up in the back seat fast asleep and he snorted at the absurdity of this girl being the guardian of Mystic Falls. He knocked on the window and when she rolled down the glass with sleepy eyes he asked her what was she doing out past her bedtime. She answered she was making sure he didn't do anything stupid. She was watching him. He rolled his eyes at her naiveté, informed her he could easily go to the town over, leave it a ghost town with streets red with blood, or he could stay and drain Mystic Falls while she was in gym class or sleeping in parking lots.
She was just a punk kid witch.
He told her to go home, dismissed her with a flip of his hand and as he commenced to walk back to the waiting blonde, she said something that stuck to his insides, "I'll follow you every night, Damon. I won't let you hurt anyone or yourself."
After their confrontation, he went out every night for a month, searching for his release, and every time he stumbled out after last call - she was there.
Her commitment to his towing the Bennett Line reminded him of the first women he loved, his mother was a woman who was quick to dole out kisses to his forehead if he warmed her heart and switches to his legs if he did anything to pain it, but as he grew into a young man he understood she only punished him because she loved him, and although he knew it was preposterous to think it was a love for him that
motivated the witch, it was nice to know someone cared enough to try because they felt he was worth it.
"Open your hands," he ordered and before Bonnie questioned, he placed the doll in her slender hands.
"Just don't stick anymore pins in him."
DBDBDBDB
Bonnie's shadow was frozen in the candle-lit room as she held the make-shift doll in her hand. She was so sure Damon was going to demand to keep the doll and having him give it back without a fight threw her for a loop.
She moved to return the doll to her lingerie drawer and Damon smirked thinking at least it had a nice home.
An awkward silence fell between them.
She racked her brain over what his actions meant while picking up random items here and there and arranging them with care on the carpet.
Damon pretended to occupy himself with her bookshelf, avoiding any and all conversation while he contemplated if her stupid spell had any effect. Giving her modest library a cursory glance, he had expected to see Spells for Dummies or Twilight, but was impressed to see she was a voracious reader of classics such as Moby Dick, Heart of Darkness and A Farewell to Arms, speckled among the works of Austen and Bronte Sisters, typical reads for a reserved girl like her. He lightly touched the binding of her books; all packaged in new slick covers, so unlike his age-worn first editions in his library. He ticked off the author's names aloud to her and stopped when he saw a tome of Edgar Allen Poe's work.
He slipped the book out, "Poe? Really? I thought I would find Jewel's collection of poems in here but not Poe."
She rubbed the side of her neck wishing he would stop poking around in her room. She took the book out of his hands and slid it into place among the others, "The macabre can be beautiful," she said, defending her choice of literature.
Her admission arrested Damon's gaze and she fidgeted under its weight.
"Let's get started," she whispered, motioning her head to the customary circle of burning cream candles on the floor.
Witches loved their circles.
Actually, when he really thought about it, circles held an importance to everyone, not just to witches, mathematicians, and kindergartners.
Damon crossed one leg over the over and leaned against her closet door and concerned himself with the significance of circles in his own reality.
The sun and the moon are circles.
Really, Damon? The sun and the moon? Don't pat yourself on the back for that one, buddy.
Damon rubbed his thumb against his ring finger and smiled with recognition.
His day-ring is an important circle.
Yes! Yes it is! And a necessary and magical circle at that. Speaking of magic…
He used his foot to push himself off her door and coughed for attention, "Bonnie are you gonna fill me in on what it is you need from me to get you back in to fighting form?"
Again with the boxing.
The witch glared into him.
Bonnie's eyes are circles.
Judgy, moss-filled circles.
She ignored his question and folded her legs under her like a yogi and began to chant.
"…..maxime supremum placere exaudi orationem meam"
Damon had seen the witch perform magic numerous times. Her forehead would wrinkle and her upper lip would moisten with blood, an unfortunate circumstance for her and a tantalizing one for him, and even though he saw her do the same thing over and over, he never got tired of it. Maybe it was because when she was in her element of magic, she glowed with confidence; she commanded attention and respect; respect from humans, respect from the spirits and respect from Damon.
"…..maxime supremum placere exaudi orationem meam"
White thick smoke danced in the air from the center of the candle-made ring and enveloped them both. He blinked until he allowed his vision to soften on the chanting witch while the smoke of myrrh choked all rational thoughts.
"…..maxime supremum placere exaudi orationem meam"
He engrossed himself with the way her lips opened and curved around each word.
"Damon, are you ready?"
He smirked. He had found another one for the books.
"Damon, can you hear?
Bonnie's mouth is a circle.
A luscious, pouty circle.
"Damon!"
Her voice pierced through the fog, and he whispered, "Yeah," before coming closer to her, "As long as it doesn't involve me having to accept Jesus as my Lord and savior, I'm game." He said, attempting at a joke, but it fell flat with his distracted delivery.
Bonnie patted the space of carpet next to her, "Sit."
He eyed the witch, suddenly suspicious of what she was going to ask of him and suspicious of how he secretly hoped she was going to say the ritual required for him to slide on top of her supple frame because it required him to take the blood of a virgin, the virgin being her because he doubted Jeremy was ever able to get past first base with this girl.
And to spur his secret fantasy, Bonnie like magic, lifted her tresses up and tied her waves into a messy knot at the top of her head, showing off her naked, unblemished neck.
Her mossy-green eyes searched for something in him and he almost made a smart aleck remark to break the intensity but she reached for him and he felt her warm hand squeeze against his, "We are not friends," She said as a matter of fact.
Damon thought she had an acute talent for ruining the mood.
He nodded to show solidarity, "We won't be gossiping and braiding each other's hair anytime soon."
Her thumb pressed into the center of his palm, "We are not friends," She reiterated with her eyes lowered," But," she paused, meeting his eyes, "I appreciate you wanting to help me."
He genuinely smiled at her sincerity.
Yeah, so she still loathed him, but she was still able to show some gratitude because he was going to help get her juju back, even if he still didn't know what the hell she needed. He motioned his hand for her to continue, "Spit it out, Bon-Bon, you are killing me with the suspense here. What do you need me to do?"
"I need your blood."
He thought she said she needed his blood.
"Come again?"
She exhaled air and continued slowly, "Damon, I need for you to offer me your blood. My powers are lying dormant because of the stress I have put my body under and your blood will give them a supernatural boost, your blood is like red bull for witches."
Damon stood immediately, "Wait, what?"
She huffed, "I thought you said you wanted to help me."
Damon ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the nape as he processed what she was asking, "I thought it would involve me having to go find something to throw in a cauldron, I didn't know you were going to ask for my blood."
Bonnie's face turned up to him in agitation, "Why are you being so weird about this? You act like I've never had your blood before!"
"That was different!" he yelled, "You were about to bite the dust and I'm impulsive, if I had more time I probably would have taken you to a hospital or something," He flung his arms around, "And that time was in a dirty crypt, it didn't involve all of this," he said, motioning his hand towards her and then the ambiance of the room.
He was rambling like an idiot.
Damon didn't like to think about the night he found her mewing like a little kitten, draining magic out of her gaping neck all over the dirt floor. He had bit into his wrist and saved her life and he would do it again so she could live to complain another day, but giving her blood now would be different from giving her blood on her death bed, this would have different results.
Giving her blood now would be giving her a part of him.
Bonnie shook her head, "Fine, Damon, fine," she said standing up to her entire petite height, "If you don't want to help anymore, fine."
He wanted to pace but her room was too small. He felt caged as he ran his eyes over Bonnie's butterscotch neck.
Bonnie stared down at the wasted circle and tapped her pointer finger against her chin. She turned to him with all seriousness," Do you think Stef-"
"No." he said as a reflex at the mention of his brother, "You are going to get my blood witch," and her eyes widened with surprise, "But I would be remiss if I didn't use this opportunity to state what I want in return," he said with this lips tight, trying to hide a peek of his fangs that extended once she said she wanted his blood.
"Getting me to cast the spell for the cure isn't enough?"
In order to get Elena breathing again, the witch needed his blood, but Damon wasn't an altruist, if he was going to give up something then so should the witch.
He bit down on his bottom lip to stop from salivating over the possibility of his fantasy coming true, "Blood for blood."
Bonnie's face went from confusion to realization to revulsion. She quickly reached down for one of the candles burning on the floor and blew it out, "That's it. I'm sure by late spring my powers should be coming around."
He snorted at her predictable response and stopped her from going to blow out the other candles. He gripped her arm," Oh so it's okay to drink my blood but it's not okay for me to drink yours? That's not fair, Judgy; I thought you were all about balance."
She batted his hand away, "I'm not trying to drink your blood for enjoyment."
"Who says you won't enjoy it?" He wagged his brows and grinned, earning him her signature eye-roll, "Come on, Bennett, it's an even trade, I'll be helping you rev up your witchy power and you'll be helping me with my ...um...uh... appetite."
"Don't you drink three bags a day?
Hearing her talk of his lust for blood made his face tingle and he had to think of images of maggots and Jersey Shore to stop it from transforming.
He didn't want to frighten her but it was hard to stop the lust when she was so delicious to him with her heart beat thumping with fear and skin reeking of magic. His fangs itched to sink into that creamy neck of hers and blot out his knowledge of vocabulary.
He swallowed something that seemed to be lodged in his throat, "I like it from the vein." His voice had dropped an octave; the predator was trying to take control.
She blew out air through her full lips and left the bedroom to return back in a flurry holding a razor blade over her thrust wrist. "So I slit and you drink and then you slit and I drink, deal?"
Damon could feel his blood lust waning at her suggested method, "Give me that," he ordered, holding out his open palm, "First Judgy, you might cut yourself too deep and force me to over serve you to keep you alive and it would defeat the purpose of helping your magic, and I'm insulted you would offer me an already open vein, "He shook his disgusted face as he circumvented her ring of fire on the floor to place the razor blade on her desk.
Her small voice spoke to his back. "I don't want you to bite me."
He had bitten her before.
More like tried to kill her, but that was like a million years ago and he had completely got over wanting to kill her. But what he hadn't gotten over was how she tasted and it was his palettes memory that caused his fangs to run out to their full length despite her present fear.
His tongue brushed under his incisors through a closed mouth before saying softly, "It won't be like that."
He glanced at her over his shoulder. Her pajama sleeves ran long, making her hands disappear and she looked vulnerable as she rubbed her shoulders, anxious over the moment.
He crossed the space between them and reached for her chin which she quickly jerked from his fingertips but he gripped her face again and lifted her chin to see him as he took in the tender curves and soft angles of her face. "Lay down."
She curled up her lip and tried to push him away from her, "I am not having sex with you," she spelled out.
Witchy, you wish.
He rolled his eyes and held her squirming body still, "I'm not having sex with you either," he pointed out, "But in order for us to do this and it not bring up old memories, I need you to lie down."
She stopped wriggling from him and clenched her jaw. She looked down at her bed and he saw her mentally run through how far she was willing to go to get her magic back and rescue Elena from vampirism.
She inched down on the bed and moved back against the pillows; her eyes never leaving his.
"Face the window."
"Why?"
Always with a why.
He didn't answer her while he removed his leather jacket and hung it on the back of her desk chair. He began to un-cuff and roll up his sleeves, "Face the window," he ordered, twirling his fingers to demonstrate for her to turn.
She shook her head.
He couldn't control the transformation anymore and red veins began to etch from his temples to his eyes filling with ink, he didn't want her to see him like this when she was trapped in the memory of his last bite.
Bonnie's heart pumped faster as she scrambled off her bed to take flight from the vampire.
She ran into his chest as he blocked her escape. He held out his arms wide, "I'm not going to hurt you, I don't want to hurt you, but as you and I are both aware of, this is what happens when I'm hungry." He stated as a matter of fact, "Not just when I'm about to kill," He said softer, he didn't tell her that it also happened when he was incredibly aroused.
She opened her mouth to speak but, Damon pressed his finger up to her lips, resisting the urge to run his own lips against their pillow softness, Face the window, please."
They moved on the bed together, pulling back sheets and throwing decorative pillows across the room. He pulled her by the waist, being careful not to spoon her because he didn't want her to feel how excited his lower half really was about drinking her blood. He had her lift her head briefly so he could cradle her neck in the crook of his elbow; he met his own wrist with his mouth, feeling her warm breath do nothing to stop his excitement. He tore into his veins and nudged his dripping wrist to her mouth, "Drink," his lips moved on the tender shell of her ear. She hesitated but followed through on her earlier decision and covered his bloody wrist with her mouth and began to lick.
He prayed to whatever Bonnie prayed to that the moan building in his lungs wouldn't escape but having her suck gently and flick her tongue felt so fucking good.
He nuzzled the back of her neck, and made a small noise that he wasn't going to call a moan because he wasn't supposed to be desiring to do anything more than drinking blood from the young woman. He gave himself a break when he reasoned that he would be horny if any decent looking woman was sucking on his wrist, it wasn't because she was a gorgeous witch who didn't mind setting his ass on fire when he was out of line.
Damon nearly let his tongue slip through his teeth to lick the curve of her neck but caught himself with great strength of will and focused on the task at hand.
When he lowered his mouth down into the nook, she instinctively flinched, slamming her shoulder to her ear and releasing her suction on his wrist.
Her terror of his impending bite almost made him reconsider his part on an even trade. Almost.
"Bonnie, "he purred in a voice he didn't recognize as his own, "I know the last time I was here," he wriggled his chin to her neck, "I started that very long list of yours on reasons to hate Damon, "he offered a weak smile she didn't see. Her breath was ragged and her lashes fluttered as she waited for him to finish. "What I'm trying to say Judgy, is I hope one day I do something for you to stop hating me, because I don't hate you. Far from it."
He felt her tense body go limp in his embrace and he cooed into her ear, "Keep drinking, don't stop until I tell you to," and he felt the relaxed tug of his blood resume.
He pressed his lips against the vein without kissing her, he told himself he was simply placing his lips where he should sink his teeth; marking the spot; have you.
When he discovered where he wanted to drink, his lips sat there, feeling the humming of her blood racing through the vein and his incisors bore down into her neck, making her wince and dig into his wrist and suck harder.
Her blood rolled over his tongue and exploded into a thousand droplets of magic inside of him.
He could feel her.
They were connected though their giving and taking, blood moving in harmony from him into her and her into him.
They were a circle.
A blood-sharing circle to be exact.
Somewhere in the reluctant sharing of blood, Damon thought it was a shame, a terrible crying shame, that he and Bonnie weren't friends.
THE END