The tang of pennies permeates the back of Damon's throat, causing his glands to constrict and his insides to eat at him in a need for blood. He presses a latex-gloved finger into the spongy, mangled flesh wound of a fresh corpse, staining the clear glove red and he knows he won't make it long without feeding. He instantly decides once he is done playing CSI with Sheriff Forbes in the hospital morgue, he will request she find a Resident working the night shift for him to compel to fetch several blood bags for him in exchange for his supernatural expertise. She will be sickened of course, but he doesn't care. Besides, it was she who had interrupted his evening of inebriation where he could have bar-hopped until he found a willing snack so he could come to determine if neckline gashes found on a trio of female campers in the woods were from vampires.
Damon steadies the lolling head of one of the corpses, this one a straw-berry blonde with cheeks still flush in spite of her recent acquaintance with death, and Damon almost feels sorry for the girl.
Didn't they know the woods belonged to the dark?
And he wasn't thinking of the supernatural because even in his human life the woods of Mystic Falls were plagued with heinous happenings. It's where escaped slaves were hunted and killed, where women were taken and raped and unsuspecting travelers were robbed and mutilated. It was humans, not supernaturals, who created the lore of evil coming out at nightfall in the woods of Mystic Falls, but that fact was shamefully hidden and long forgotten by its current populace.
The fluorescent overhead light buzzes and casts unflattering shadows under the wrinkles of Sheriff Forbes's face and Damon stares thinking Caroline should be kissing his ass every day that it was his blood that saved her from middle age. His stare causes Elizabeth Forbes to smile awkwardly at him, even though there is a corpse separating them on its steel bed, because she's still a woman, and he's still, well, hot.
She reminds herself who she is and asks with that voice reserved for Law Enforcement, "What's the verdict, Salvatore? Vampire?"
Damon knows that no self-respecting vampire would leave a kill with a drop of blood. He shakes his head and walks over to the brunette of the trio and inspects her wound, "Nope," he pops the 'p' of his one word answer and tilts the girl's neck back and a stream of blood seeps out, "Too much blood left; it's a shame really for someone to be this wasteful when there are starving vampires in Africa."
Sheriff Forbes doesn't blink; she is used to Damon's humor.
Damon runs his hands over the corpse's frame, lifting up limbs, searching for additional bites, "Werewolves," he concludes while continuing with his un-trained autopsy and admitting to his self that he likes playing detective, he was good at it and it broke up the monotony of his day to day existence. And to be honest, even though he would have to have his meal come from a plastic bag instead of a sexy co-ed, he was a tiny bit grateful for the interruption, because it wasn't like he was doing anything exciting. He was at the grill, all alone, nursing his ego after a fight with Stefan over their time-worn dilemma - Elena. The problem was Stefan never learned how to share, and he expected Damon to fulfill on the promise he made to disappear once Elena made a choice, which she did before she did the foolish thing of drowning and coming back as a vampire. Now that she was among the blood-sucking undead, she needed him and he wanted to stick around to help her transition even if he had hopes his effort would convince her of her folly of picking Saint Stefan.
Damon lifts the woman's right wrist and raises a brow at the small ink stamp of a Falcon tattooed across the veins.
"They all have that tattoo," Sheriff Forbes informs him, raising the wrist of the strawberry-blonde one, "And in the same place too; I thought you would be able to tell me what the tattoo means, if anything."
Damon grimaces at Elizabeth, "Do I look like a walking encyclopedia of weird shit to you?" Damon rolls off a latex glove and pulls his iPhone from his jean pocket. "I'm also not big on tats, never wanted to mar something this beautiful," he says with a wink at the sheriff who looks like she wants to gag, "But don't worry, I have someone who will know," He smiles while snapping a photo.
BBBBBBBB
Damon drives his vintage Camaro into the planned subdivision, the loud engine disturbing the quiet behind the gates of its neo-classical houses, with their faux pillars and sweeping drive-ways. He twists his mouth in revulsion because he knows time passing hasn't changed the hearts of these Mystic Falls residents. They were still aspiring to have all the faults of the rich. He remembers from his human life the same area being occupied by Yeoman farmers, the bourgeoisie of his time, who loathed a rich planter's son like him, all the while envying to become exactly what they hated.
He turns down a tree-lined block, leading him to an older part of the subdivision, where the homes don't separate themselves by iron-wrought gates and look lived-in and welcoming as he passes up porch light's belonging to The Gilberts and The Forbeses.
The roar of the engine dies and a pair of keys clang against the dashboard, then there is no noise other than the whistle of wind through the crack of his window and the drone of Bonnie's heartbeat.
He's parked outside her home, wanting to talk to her, but it's three in the morning and she's sleeping like every other soul on her street.
His head falls back over the leather headrest as he listens to the consistent thump and his mind wanders, hypnotized by the beat of the witches' heart. He begins to think of silly things, like if the town knew how crucial it was for that particular heart to beat regularly in order for them to sleep peacefully at night. He exhales air he doesn't breathe as he thinks about the many three a.m. calls he made to her in the past, when things unraveled and he would pull up to this exact curb, and she would be waiting at the edge of the driveway, in thrown on at-the-last-minute jeans and shirt, holding her ancestral cookbook to her chest.
He fingers the phone in his lap, itching to speed-dial Bonnie but he's apprehensive, he thinks she'll send it to voicemail like all the other calls. He knows he was only able to reach her yesterday because he provoked her with breaking into her cousin's apartment and showing up on her porch using the magic words, "For Elena."
Asking for anything he needed from her outside of saving her best friend, he could forget. She wasn't like the rest of the Scooby gang who he eventually wore down with his bawdy charm. She only tolerated him once he proved he could be better. But after Abby, in spite of expressing regret, he deduces she will never tolerate him again.
And it's the 'never' he finds hard to swallow, especially since the heady scent of match sticks being struck is clinging to him, the smell of magic, and he remembers her warmth spooned against him, sucking his blood to heal herself. And even though she bum-rushed his ass out the door after their blood swap, the truth remains she had trusted him when it counted the most and he wants to hold on to that.
He notices her father's sedan is missing per usual, and he toys with the death wish of sneaking into her bedroom as he drums his fingers on the steering wheel. He pictures himself flipping on her bedroom light and pinning her down by her shoulders and demanding to know why it was impossible for her to take a seat next to him for a few lousy minutes, or how hard is it really for her to answer the damn phone when she sees its him or why couldn't she understand that he's so fucking unbelievably sorry for disappointing her that he doesn't even hope for the camaraderie they had before.
He opens his door, his boot meeting the pavement and reality smacks him across his head, because if he does climb up the oak tree with its branches scraping against her bedroom window, she will fry his brain to where his most impressive talent is to drool.
The witch doesn't want anything to do with him and Damon couldn't blame her but it doesn't stop him from being upset with her for only seeing everything at face value and at his self for not recognizing when it was time to cut his losses.
It was his fault actually, for wanting the respect of the one person whose backbone was incapable of bending.
He starts the engine and has intentions on driving home when the inside of his car is flooded with light from a car parking behind him.
Red veins etch from the peak of his cheekbones to his eyes, his mind races to the dead girls at the morgue, and he's stretching his neck to see a figure walking around their vehicle in his rear-view mirror, and he has a hand wrapped around the door handle, ready to fly out and open up the throat of whoever dared to harm the witch. But headlights snap off, and he's surrounded by darkness again as a fist knocks against the passenger window and doe-eyes follow to peek into the glass.
Damon is tingling from anticipating a kill while he and Elena blink rapidly, comprehending that they are looking at one another.
"Damon what are you doing here?" her face is open with concern and relief, "I've been looking for you everywhere," she says, her voice obfuscated by the window.
He leans to unlock the passenger door, "No one likes a stalker, Elena," he teases, smiling up at the doppelganger.
Elena rolls her head and he thinks she'll follow the gesture with an "oh brother," as his car door creaks and she slides onto leather.
She directs her hand and his attention to Bonnie's door, "Isn't that what you are doing?"
That's exactly what he was doing and her calling him out makes him balk, "Can't a vampire wait outside a witch's house at three in the morning without the third degree? He takes his iPhone from his lap and thumbs to the folder titled 'Witch,' to thrust into Elena's smug face, "Some girls were killed tonight, they all had this creepy tattoo and I thought it was right up Bennett's alley."
Elena is silent as she holds the phone in her hands and scrolls over three pictures of the identical stamp on different skin tones.
"How long are you and Judgy going to go not talking to one another because I think you guys' issues are spilling over into Scooby business," He states, blaming Bonnie's reluctance to help him on their falling out.
She whips her face towards him, lashes bowed with sadness, and he back tracks his jab and asks softly, "Why are you two fighting?"
"I could ask the same thing about you and Stefan," She says.
"We're always fighting, " he snorts, "Stefan and I only hear each other when we are beating each other over the head; you think we're being dysfunctional, when he and I are relieved to finally talk," he quips thinking of the lamps and vases broken in the drawing room. He will lament over their irreparable value tomorrow in the light of day.
Elena sighs, "She gave me an aneurysm," her voice raspier than usual from holding off an onslaught of tears, "I was feeding from Matt and I got out of control and…and…"she stammers and doesn't finish because Damon stops her by wrapping a firm hand over her shoulder.
Her shoulders shake and Damon's heart breaks.
"Hey, hey," he coos, massaging her neck in his hand, "Look at me, "he commands. Her chin falls to her shoulder and he can see tears trapped in her thick lashes and he thinks she has never looked more beautiful, "You don't have to be ashamed of what you are Elena, you are learning how to feed properly, it was an accident."
She bobs her head and her hairs swings with it.
"But," her breathy voice cracks, "You know how she feels about vampires and I don't know if she'll be able to forgive me."
If there was one thing Damon knew for sure it was that Bonnie loved Elena, he knew it as sure as he knew the earth was round, hell it was only because of that love he and Stefan were even allowed to stay in Mystic Falls.
He rubs circles into her back, "She loves you, Elena. She'll forgive you."
Judgy's hatred for blood suckers might have been black and white but it had seemed to muddle to gray with her best friends turning into vampires, and he knew the only thing more powerful than the witch's judgment was her capacity for love.
Elena's face is hidden by her curtain of chestnut strands and her chin is cradled in her palm by her elbow on the window. She's gazing at Bonnie's house, 'I miss her."
Damon considers Elena's three little words and he would agree, but that would be unsheathing a vulnerability he's not ready to reveal, not even to the woman he loves.
"Come on, I'll follow you home," he says, patting her thigh, "I need some rest before I have to get up and face McBroody," he quips and Elena smiles.
"You sure you want to go home?" She asks like it might not be a good idea for him to go back to the boarding house.
Damon furrows his brow and his mouth flies open, "I'm not scared of Stefan and I have never slept on a couch that didn't belong to me and I won't start now," He says suggestively.
She steps out the car and bends down, her face still raw from crying, "You won't have to sleep on the couch," She says and he's suddenly intrigued by her offer even if he's positive she meant him not sleeping on the couch was him crashing in his dead best friend's bed. But that doesn't stop him from saying, "Be prepared, I sleep in the nude," he informs, wagging his brows.
She laughs and he's reminded of how she continuously stuns him being so unlike Katherine despite sharing her face.
She leans on the door frame, "I know what you promised Stefan, Damon," She lingers, swaying the door back and forth as he waits for her to make up her mind on what she wants to say, and then perplexes him by extending her open hand back into the car, "I don't want you to go."
He smirks because he doesn't know the customary response to getting something you always wanted, but he reaches for her hand, and presses his palm into hers, and for a brief moment he's convinced he doesn't need Judgy's respect if Elena continues to hold his hand and never lets it go.
BBBBBBBB
Talbot Lockwood was going on and on about it being time for Damon to be with a girl, and how it wasn't fitting for a man of nineteen to haven't known a woman in the biblical sense by now.
"You're taking me to a house of ill repute?" Damon asked, with his body rocking back and forth on top of his horse as they leisurely rode by moonlight into town.
Damon shouldn't have been shocked, it was expected from Talbot. He had known his rambunctious counterpart since he could walk and if it wasn't for their age then they wouldn't have had anything in common, and both young men were better for not having let something silly as shared interests stop them from being the best of friends.
"You sound like an old hen, Salvatore," Talbot chided, shaking his thick head at his peculiar friend, "Are you taking me to a house of ill repute," He mocked Damon in a feminine voice, and threw his hand about like he was waving a handkerchief, "We are going to a whore-house, Virginia's finest whorehouse to be correct."
Damon wasn't happy, he was dressed for a respectable calling, with a ironed shirt and waistcoat, a felt hat and polished boots because Talbot told him there was someone important for him to meet. He foolishly thought it was a prospector since his friend knew he wanted to break out on his own by selling his mother's land and move he and Stefan out west somewhere, one of those territories where people went to start over. Learning it was a brothel they were heading towards made him nervous, if word got back to Giuseppe he was in one, it would only give the man one more reason to hate him.
Crickets serenaded their ride and Damon thought about bowing out of the evening to be with his bedside books.
"Are you holding out for your wedding night with Mary Forbes?
Damon bit the inside of his mouth as he pictured the kind pale grey eyes of his shy betrothed, who his father had hand-picked for him without his consent and he wished Talbot hadn't brought her up.
"You are!" Talbot shook from laughter and slapped his thigh, "Just think of this as practice so you'll be good at it when the time comes," He said, reigning in his horse.
Virginia's Finest turned out to be no more than a clapboard house with peeling white paint and Damon gave Talbot a look in question if they were at the right address and Talbot nodded and swung his legs from around his horse to tie the animal to a wooden post. Damon followed and removed his hat while they waited for someone to answer Talbot's secret knock at the door. He fiddled with the brim, listening to the house creak from the swell of bodies along with a rancorous pounding of piano keys coupled with laughter that floated from the open windows. He couldn't lie, he was intrigued by what awaited behind the door, but he had a palpable fear of Giuseppe Salvatore, and he didn't want to risk his wrath. He placed his hand on Talbot's shoulder, "I'm gonna go back."
Talbot's face fell, "Damon you can't be scared of him for the rest of your life."
This was the constant struggle; Damon wanting to please his cold-hearted father and Talbot trying to convince him not to give a damn.
The heavy door swung open and a grown woman with bright red curls welcomed them in lace knickers and a corset showing more cleavage than Damon had ever seen in his dreams. Talbot patted his back and smiled wide, "We came to the party; we might as well have some fun."
Talbot's words rang in another memory, years later, one where Damon was caked up to his eyeballs in dried blood and mud, and his insides rattled from a bout of dysentery. The boys had lost their company, were stuck behind enemy lines in the Northern Virginian woods, and Damon was discombobulated by his sickness. He couldn't walk more than a few feet with his chin off his chest, which made him no good to combat what awaited them if they dared the crossing over the scorched hill into the Confederacy.
"At Nightfall," Damon hacked, hopelessly leaning himself up with one hand against a tree before crumbling to his knees on the dirt ground.
"You won't make it another day," Talbot spat as he paced back and forth. Damon wanted to sleep so he closed his eyes and was awakened by a slap and the dark brown eyes of his friend who was crouched in front of him.
"We gonna make a run for it right now, Salvatore."
Damon shook his head and Talbot pulled him up to his feet.
"I got a plan. We going to split up. I can throw them off our scent if I go this way and you go around through the woods," he demonstrated with his hands how Damon was to maneuver through the terrain.
Talbot handed Damon his water can and told him they were to meet at a Confederate camp on the other side. He clutched his rifle to his chest, "Don't worry, we'll make it," he stated with conviction, "Remember, we came to the party; we might as well have some fun." He smiled at his childhood friend and headed out over the hill.
Damon made it to the camp barely breathing two days later than Talbot's estimated arrival. He was given a flea-ridden cot to rest which he thought would be his death bed while a doctor checked his vitals and asked if he needed to dictate a letter to a nurse. He thought about writing to Stefan and asking if Katherine was still on the plantation, but first he needed to find Talbot. He grabbed the Doctor's wrist before he moved to the next wailing man and asked about his friend's whereabouts when the doctor flipped through his paper roster to inform him a Union Soldier had blown his brains out.
Bonnie wakes up with her hand over her heart.
She's trembling and frightened by the black shadows swarming on her ceiling made by the oak tree and the moon outside her window. She darts her hand from under her covers and reaches for the lamp because she believes the light will cast out what lives in the dark.
Bonnie had been so proud of herself when she got ready for bed because she thought she would beat the problem of insomnia by popping one of the sleeping pills her father used on his international flights and it had worked for a whole two hours. Under a drug induced sleep she was able to drift off into nothingness, where her subconscious was able to rest until it was drop-kicked awake by Damon's memories. And it's jarring not to dream, but to land on your ass in someone else's life, you can't get your bearings when you are thrust into to a time you have never lived in or in the skin of a vampire you don't particularly like.
Her lips are still quivering, even with the light on now, and it's because she aches over Talbot's death as if he were her own friend; which makes her want to slip on her sneakers and drive over to the boardinghouse to wake Damon because she needs to talk about their friend.
She calls Lucy.
Lucy picks up and Bonnie can hear a rush of loud voices and dance music over the phone.
"Bonnie?" Lucy yells.
"Can you hear me?" Bonnie yells back even though she can hear Lucy just fine in her empty room.
"Hold up," Lucy says and there is a rustling noise and Bonnie thinks probably from the phone jostling around in that big purse of hers and then silence before Lucy picks up again, "Are you okay?"
Bonnie pushes herself up against her headboard and frowns when she looks at her alarm clock, ""Lucy it's 4 in the morning."
"And I'm an adult with a social life outside of answering calls from my favorite cousin."
"I'm your only cousin."
"Still my favorite. Now what's wrong?"
"Damon is what's wrong. I'm seeing too much and I don't think I'll be able to wait it out. Are you sure we can't try a reversal spell?"
"What was too much?"
"A memory of a friend of his, from when he was human. And he died Lucy. He was so sad and I…" Bonnie's voice breaks because she's back to lying on the yellowed cot being told her best friend was killed, but she quickly composes herself, "I don't wanna see or feel anymore."
Lucy doesn't speak right away and Bonnie hopes it's because she's convinced her to help her reverse the bond.
"Bonnie," Lucy says softly, "You are going to have to toughen up. The bond is barely 48 hours old and I promise you, whatever you are experiencing now is nothing compared to what you are about to go through."
Bonnie places a clammy hand on her forehead and groans, "You know I love you right, but you don't ever make it easier for me."
Lucy laughs, "It's cause' I love you too. You know I hate to be the bearer of bad news Bonnie, but I'm speaking from experience and this bond with Damon is going to change you and I don't want you to lose yourself like I did."
Bonnie is on the verge of asking her how did she find her way back once she was lost?
Lucy fills in the dead air, "What did Damon say when you told him? Did he freak out? I bet he freaked out, vampires can't stand for witches to be in their head?"
"Huh," Bonnie wonders if someone has replaced her cousin on the phone, "Why would I tell him? Nobody is telling him anything."
"You have to tell him, Bonnie," Lucy says in her best 'I mean business voice.' "There is no other way around this. You created a bond with that prick and unfortunately you need his help, and the fact that he doesn't know means he probably has you blocked. He's doesn't allow himself to be susceptible to other people's feelings or he wouldn't be such an asshat, so you have to tell him so he can let you in and then you won't have to carry all his emotional baggage for him, which is what's happening right now.
Bonnie snorts at her cousin's speech, "When did you become Dr. Phil?"
"Read your grimoire thoroughly and you would know this Bonnie."
She rolls her eyes, "This is Damon we are talking about. Do you really see me going to him and sitting him down and saying, 'Let's talk about your feelings'?"
"Why not? You didn't have a problem sharing blood with him."
Bonnie's mouth drops open and she quickly spits out, "Do I really need to go over the list of all the shit Damon has done to me? Killing my mom and turning her into a vampire being at the top."
"Something I'm not really mad at him for."
Bonnie squeaks because she can't form words in response to Lucy's admission.
Lucy continues, "Come on Bonnie, if it was going to be for the princess then at least he had the good sense to pick the right Bennett."
"I can't with you right now," Bonnie says, shaking her head.
"Fine, let's get back to talking about you and this bond with Damon because I don't think you comprehend what I'm trying to tell you."
"Uh huh."
"Trust me; as much as it pains me to say this, he's the only person who can make this easier on you."
Slats of sunshine warm Bonnie's purple comforter and she's annoyed that it's time for her to get dressed for school, "I'll think about it Lucy, but you know how he irks me."
Lucy laughs again, "That'll change."
BBBBBBBBB
Bonnie is waiting outside the senior counselor's office of Mystic Falls High. She had almost forgotten she had scheduled this meeting with her to go over switching out one of her electives. She didn't know how she ended up in woodshop and she didn't care, she only knew she was going to get it switched for pottery.
She checks her cell phone for a fifth time since she's stepped into the office and is concerned when she sees her texts to Caroline and Jeremy have gone unanswered.
Caroline wasn't in their first period Gym and she hadn't seen Jeremy's puppy dog eyes waiting for her to love him again from across the hallway.
She notices a new face behind the receptionist desk and she pulls her lips into a smile when she catches the face staring at her.
The young woman returns her smile, "Ms. Stewart will be with you soon; we had a teacher pull a junior in here for a conference," She says to Bonnie like that should explain why she's been waiting for half an hour and is about to miss her lunch.
Bonnie holds back a grumble and looks at the wood-grain nameplate on the woman's desk, "Ms. Benavidez?"
The woman's eyebrows fly up at her name being called. "Ms. Benavidez is my mom, call me Veronica."
Bonnie gets up from the bench and walks up to Veronica's metal desk, "Does Ms. Stewart have any availability later today to speak with me, I skipped breakfast and don't want to miss lunch."
"Let me see," She says scrunching her brow and click clacking on her keyboard, "Your last name is Bennett?"
"Last time I checked," Bonnie answers.
Veronica's hands fall flat on to the keys causing the computer to go crazy, "Any relation to the late Sheila Bennett?"
Bonnie glances up at the school sprinkler system and ponders how fast they will turn on if she has to set anyone on fire.
"She's my gra..I mean she was my grandmother." She says, wary of Veronica, but inching closer anyway to pick up her aura. When she doesn't feel her heart jolt she cancels out vampire. Maybe she's a witch? But Bonnie realizes Veronica could be an entity she's never encountered before, a being she might have foolishly believed from her childhood only existed in horror stories.
Veronica's chair rolls backward as she moves knick knacks out of her way to sit on her desk to be closer to Bonnie. She tucks her jet-black hair behind her ears and gushes, "I wrote my thesis on her occult research in College," Veronica's honey colored eyes light up, "I worshipped your Grandmother," She says putting her hand over her heart, "She was truly a gifted woman."
Bonnie relaxes when Veronica's words of admiring Sheila reaches her flight or fight switch.
"I would love to pick your brain about some of Sheila's work, if you don't mind?"
Their conversation is interrupted by Ms. Stewart's door swinging open and hitting the wall as a tall and lanky boy walks out screaming, "Fuck this school!"
Ms. Stewart looks flustered, her cheeks are red and her shoulder length, white-blonde hair is wispy and looks like she had rubbed a balloon all over her head.
"Bonnie," She says in her small, sweet voice, "I'm sorry you had to wait so long," She presses her thin lips together and extends her arm for Bonnie to take a seat in her office.
"No worries and my issue won't take long." She grabs her canvas bag from the bench and tells Veronica she will talk to her when she's done. She walks into Ms. Stewart's cozy office that smells of the vanilla candles she burns daily.
"What can I do for you, Bonnie?" She says, pulling out Bonnie's academic folder from a filing cabinet and placing it on top her desk.
"I'm in woodshop and I want to be out," She states as Ms. Stewart puts on her thick frames to look over the contents of her folder, "I want to take pottery with Mr. Jones in place of it."
"I think Mr. Jones's class is full but let me check," She rolls her chair to her computer and Bonnie watches every movement in her face for an inclination that her life can be saved from woodchips and dust.
Ms. Stewart sucks her bottom lip in between her teeth and instead of Bonnie thinking she will be stuck making a lamp for a semester, she is immediately drawn into a memory where Ms. Stewart was biting and sucking her lips with her sweaty legs wrapped around the narrow muscular waist of Damon Salvatore.
She's given a replay of the brief seduction.
Mousey Ms. Stewart was celebrating her 28th birthday with a group of friends at the Grill, she was done up wearing a sparkly blue dress and drunkenly fell for what Damon might have considered a smile. She strutted up to him and asked if he was her birthday present and Damon paid for a birthday shot which he poured into her mouth and some of the alcohol missed and streamed down her chin onto her neck and he licked the alcohol up the side of her neck, right where he wanted to…
Bonnie crosses her legs to stop the pulsating between them and frowns because if she knew Damon could be aroused over his hunger for blood then she would have never agreed for him to drink from her.
Damon suggested she ditch her friends and come home with him and she left to hug her friends goodbye. Damon didn't even have to compel her; she got into his car and went home with him without any reserve.
Bonnie wonders what the hell is wrong with the women of Mystic Falls.
Ms. Stewart scraped her short nails down Damon's bare chest to his v-shaped torso and his skin prickled under her touch as he pushed her down and grabbed the back of her thighs to hitch around his waist as he sucked at the hollow of her throat and ground his pelvis into her.
Ms. Stewart made a lot of noise.
Damon slid down Ms. Stewarts' body and captured a blush pink nipple between his teeth and sucked while he took two fingers and rubbed circles over her clit before thrusting them inside of her, making her call his name out.
Bonnie has never had sex like that. Her experiences consisted of being fingered by Tyler in the 8th grade when they both were picked for "7 Minutes in Heaven" at Stacey Culpepper's Birthday party, and what used to be a special night of her first time shared with Jeremy, but after being betrayed by him cheating with Anna, she just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened.
"No interest in fencing?" Ms. Stewart asks and Bonnie shakes her head because if she opens her mouth now it will be to say, "Not you too, Margaret!" She's decided she can't call the woman Ms. Stewart anymore, not when she knows what she looks like naked.
The vanilla candles are making her nauseous and she's stuck thinking about the lyrics from a stupid Katy Perry song and she's worrying over if what Lucy said to her earlier about her changing meant questioning her sexuality, but she stops herself from going into a anxiety ridden downward spiral because she reminds herself she drunk the blood from a 170 year old demon and pissed off nature.
Was she really the only woman in Mystic Falls who didn't find him appealing?
Bonnie would give the women of Mystic Falls, that, yes, Damon is handsome, bordering on beautiful. He has thick dark hair, a body sculpted in resemblance of a Greek god, one of the lesser ones, and bright blue eyes that some, like her, would describe as cold, but when she had expressed this to Elena once, Elena had scoffed at her, and at Caroline for agreeing, and said his eyes were magnetic.
With all that out in the open she could level with the women, that Damon is a gorgeous man, but his outward beauty could not conceal the darkness under his skin and she's dumbfounded by how many people miss the real him.
Bonnie mumbles the beginnings of different incantations, wondering which one will block out the rest of the porn she's forced to watch, when she confesses to herself that Damon wasn't all darkness, mostly when it came to Elena, but there were times, very few times, when she thought he was less horrible than usual.
He had said she had nice eyes once.
It was the first day of spring and she wanted to practice her magic with him outside to celebrate. He obliged her when he finally wore her down to fulfill his repeated request of turning a jug of water into wine when they returned back to the boardinghouse. Their practices involved a dark game of hide and seek. He would hide and she would find him before he attacked. She had did a great job of catching him before he got to her, flinging his body around like a ragdoll against trees until he had to yell for her stop. But right when she declared victory, he surprised her by dropping down from the sky directly in front of her and she stumbled. He straddled her, knee on each side of her hip, pinned her arms down and leaned down to inform her that he wouldn't let her go until she said he was the winner. She threatened him to high heaven, and the zipper of his leather jacket dragged against her chest as he made slow movements like he was getting off of her, but when she rose up, he pushed her back down again and grinned. She glared at him thinking of how funny it would be for his hair to catch on fire when he said, "You know what Bennett?" He started with his face so close to hers she could taste the blood and alcohol on his breath.
"Those eyes of yours aren't half bad." He smiled before following it with, "I bet Baby Gilbert gets lost in them" He said mocking her with a kissy face.
She couldn't hold back her smile as she punched him in his arm and he rubbed his non-existent bruise calling her a violent woman as he helped her up and brushed the leaves from her hair.
That was before Alaric's death and the turning of Abby.
"Bonnie?"
Bonnie finally pays attention to Margaret calling her name, "Yeah?"
"I have you all settled, you can start going to pottery tomorrow," She smiles and Bonnie wants her to stop.
Bonnie can't leave Margaret's office fast enough and bolts for the exit when Veronica comes around her desk to ask her if everything is okay.
"Oh yeah, everything is good," She lies. "And about my Gramm's work, you can ask me anything you want. My number's in my file so feel free to use it," She says.
The bell rings alerting her she has missed her lunch and will have to be in third period soon. She hustles down the hallway, her bag bumping into the back of her legs with each step when she runs into Matt.
She beams, happy to see a friend and to be out of her own thoughts, "At least you're not a wall," She says as they stand in the middle of the hall while people flow around them to get to the row of green lockers or to sit at the windows looking out onto football field.
"Hey, have you seen Caroline or Jeremy?"
He gives her a somber look and puts his hand on the back of his neck which is never a good sign and Bonnie's heart rate picks up.
"Didn't they tell you?"
She loses her smile, "Tell me what?"
"It's Jeremy. Stefan has been trying to get him to complete some kind of vampire hunter's mark and it's making him crazy. He tried to kill Elena last night, Damon was at their house and stopped him before he was able to stake her."
"Oh my god, Matt." Bonnie's bag drops to the floor and her fingers rake into her hair, her eyes search for Jeremy down the hall and she's doesn't know where she is anymore.
Matt picks up Bonnie's bag and gives a disappointed look to the small crowd of kids who lingered at their locker to gawk at Bonnie. He places his hand at the small of her back and ushers her to the window, "Bonnie, breathe," He says with one hand on the back of her neck and the other fanning fresh air to her face."
"Better?" He asks and she nods even though she still can't breathe.
"Is she okay? How's Jeremy?" She rambles.
"They'll be fine," He says out of habit. He grips her shoulder because she's shaking and he doesn't want her to break down in the hallway, not in front of all these people. He pulls her into a hug and whispers, "You did the right thing Bonnie, by what you did with Elena and taking a step back. I don't blame you, why do you think I don't come around as often? He runs his hand over her hair, "Sometimes we gotta love people with a twelve foot pole or they'll drag us down with them."
The tardy bell rings and he tells her he has to get to calculus. But she doesn't hear him, or the squeak of tennis shoes against linoleum, or the bellows of teachers quieting down their classrooms. They are all drowned by the little voices of children laughing outside her Gramm's old house and promising each other they would always be best friends.
