i. three months
Bonnie Bennett is recovering. Some might say that she's resting, but that old saying regarding the lack of rest for the wicked drums through her head, a perfect accompaniment to the pounding of the hammer thundering inside her skull. She may not be the wicked, but sometimes the lines blur. The bed of the truck is cold and hard against her back and she turns her head, blinking, before raising her hand to wipe the trickle of blood away from her forehead with a blood and soot covered hand. It occurs to her that she might have a concussion, but when the city is burning down all around her, that somehow seems to be the least of her concerns.
"Bonnie!" The familiar, concerned cadence of Matt Donovan's voice joins the symphony swelling in her head and from her prone position Bonnie winces.
"Bonnie!" Matt's voice draws closer, louder and the truck bed shakes as he adds his weight to it. The shaking jars her, making the spent witch well aware of the deep ache and pains in muscles and bones that she wasn't even aware she possessed until the latest round of battle with Lily Salvatore's neophyte vampires..
The knowledge is there: if Bonnie wants Matt to stop calling her name and jostling her poor abused body, she needs to acknowledge him. So, drawing a sharp breath that twinges on something that is twisted or pinched inside of her in a way that it shouldn't be, Bonnie does just that. With a wince that she tries to hide, she pushes up on her elbows and blinks her eyes open.
"I'm fine, Matt."
The frown that etches itself into her childhood friend's face and the tightening of the corners of his mouth tell her that he's not buying what she's selling.
"Really," Bonnie insists, maneuvering herself into a more upright position. It's a struggle, and one she doesn't have to undertake on her own as Matt slips a supportive arm around her back and assists. "I'll be fine." Change of phrasing, more fitting to the situation and maybe will replace that overly concerned look on Matt's face with something else.
"Bonnie, you're - "
"Wondering what happened to the last two vampires that were terrorizing the town square," Bonnie interrupts. If it can even be called a town square anymore. Seems that eventually the center of town always ends up looking like a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie.
She can hear sirens in the distance. That's always been their cue to make haste away from the scene of the crime, since the ragtag remnants of the newest reincarnation of the Founder's Council - while inept at fighting the latest menace - isn't particularly lenient or patient with the 'dumb college kids playing hero' putting themselves in the middle of the fight. Never mind that Mystic Falls would already be a stain on the map if not for the 'dumb college kids,' and that they haven't clued in that Caroline and Stefan are vampires as opposed to having really good genes.
Or maybe they have and they're just really good at playing dumb when it comes to someone else fighting their battles, so long as it's not a Bennett and a Donovan, who have no right or claim to any sort of recognition by the Founding Families.
"Caroline went after them," Matt says. He slides into place beside Bonnie, helping her ease out of the truck bed and get her feet onto solid ground.
Bonnie does her best to pretend said solid ground isn't slipping sideways beneath her. "We need to follow her."
"You need to rest," Matt objects. His sweet face turns to stone, firmness etched into his blue eyes. "Look at you. You're injured, if nothing's broken, you probably at least have a concussion. And what about your magic? I saw that nosebleed. You're done." He looks pained, mentally if not physically and pushes on. "Caroline can get help from Stefan and Alaric. Besides, they're on a retreat."
It's instinctive and involuntary, the way her hand comes up to wipe at her nose. She catches herself midway and forces the hand down, clenching it into a fist. It hurts to shake her head, but Bonnie does so anyway.
Stubbornness and determination rear their heads. Bonnie pulls away from Matt, supporting her own weight and meets his firm gaze with a defiant one of her own. "Yes, they retreat and regroup and live on to raze the town another day. We can hardly keep up with Lily's vampire army. Every time we kill one, two more appear. If we can get them to the clearing - "
"That plan's a bust, Bonnie. It's not going to happen, not tonight," Matt shakes his head.
"Then when?" Bonnie's voice is loud, almost shrill to her ears. She's not angry with Matt and he's the wrong person to bear the brunt of her frustration. She knows this and she hates that feeling of uselessness and defeat that bubbles so closely beneath the surface. "When do we get the upper hand? When do we . . ." The words trail off because her body is done pretending that the world is upright and really wants her to accept that everything has a vertical tilt. Bonnie stumbles, listing a little and Matt catches her easily around the waist.
"Looks like someone could use a boost." Enzo stands before them in a space that was empty only the blinking of an eye before. "You're not looking so good, Bonnie."
"Enzo." The name on Matt's tongue sounds like disgust wrapped in ten layers of bitter. "Get out of our way. You're not with us - "
"You keep forgetting, I'm not against you either." Enzo barely spares Matt a glance as he clips off an answer. No one likes Enzo's Switzerland stance on the current state of things in Mystic Falls, but Bonnie isn't up to arguing with the vampire right now.
"What do you want, Enzo?" Bonnie's voice sounds tired to her own ears. Or maybe that's the pain starting to bleed through now that the adrenaline rush is gone.
"You." The answer is simple, though it draws a snort from Matt and a frown from Bonnie. Almost rolling his eyes, Enzo continues. "To come with me. It's Damon."
Bonnie barks a harsh bite of laughter. She waves a hand at the chaos around them, and hates the fact that she can't be more assertive because if she stops leaning on Matt, she'll go face first into the concrete. "I can't believe - look around, Enzo! I can't handle Damon and his issues right now. Your sire's so-called family is out there destroying the town and killing innocent people- "
"Last I saw, Stefan and Alaric had the upper hand. Despite his best efforts, the professor hasn't managed to fulfill his suicide wish yet. So no worries there. However, unless you want the hypocritical Founder's Council to find Damon like this, which will out him for what he really is . . . " The vampire trails off, his gaze pinning Bonnie in place while he allows the words to sink in. "I tried. Now it's your turn."
The days are long gone and past when Bonnie would back down from the intensity of a vampire's gaze. Enzo didn't know her in those days, and she certainly isn't going fall back into old habits. Especially when she's died enough and been to hell and back - literally - to know that there are darker things than staring down a vampire.
"You swear to me Enzo that Stefan and Alaric are all right. That - "
"Yes, they are. You and your little gang of white hats won this battle. The heretics are in a retreat." Enzo shifts his weight subtly, the only sign that he's growing impatient. "If I'm lying to you, I know, you'll kill me."
"I can think of far worse things than killing you," Bonnie promises darkly. While they may share a common thread in their friendship with Damon, she's made it clear how she feels about him taking a neutral stance in all things concerning Lily Salvatore. Even Stefan and Damon - when he's sober and cooperative - recognize the necessity in taking down their mother.
Bonnie waits a beat and twists, turning her face up to Matt's. She sets a hand to his chest, "You should go home. I can handle this. I'll go with Enzo."
The witch is well aware of how much Matt wants to argue, and how much he disagrees with her decision. It's not just his mistrust of Enzo, but his confusion regarding her friendship with Damon. Matt's grievances with vampires haven't vanished or been soothed over; if anything, they've grown more intense in the wake of Lily and the heretics. He doesn't understand the connection she shares with Damon, and has stated more than once that he doesn't trust Damon to not decide to speed up his reunion with Elena. All Bonnie has ever been able to give him is a 'Trust me,' which doesn't stretch nearly far enough.
Though that is precisely what she asking for now, silently. Hoping her eyes plead her case in a way that she won't allow her words to do in front of Enzo. It's moot anyway; Enzo came to her so he knows how strong the tether is that binds her to Damon.
Matt is silent for what feels like hours, but Bonnie knows is only mere seconds. He draws a breath and pushes it out slowly, and gives a carefully measured nod of his head. "Be careful." Whether he means she should be careful of Enzo or Damon, she doesn't know. It's possible that he means both.
Giving her a parting hug, Matt steps away and Bonnie steadies herself with a hand on the back of the truck. She closes her eyes and waits for the world to right itself, and wills her stomach contents to stay where they belong - in her digestive tract. When she opens them, Enzo is unbearably closer than he was when she closed them. His nearness startles her and Bonnie tries to back away, but the truck is behind her and Enzo is in front of her, and there's nowhere to go.
"You really do look a bit peaked," Enzo observes. Bonnie watches as he bites into his wrist and though she sees it coming, she still twists her head to the side when he offers her the bloody wound.
"Don't be stupid. You'll pass out before we get there at this rate and a lot of good you'll be to Damon then." Enzo touches her cheek, and though she fights the urge to assert herself and shake off the touch, fighting is only going to waste energy.
Bonnie takes a breath and sets her mouth to the wound. The coppery tang still makes her want to gag, but there's no rest for her yet. Not tonight.
#
The Salvatore Boarding House is a cross between the set of a bad slasher horror movie and a fraternity house. The fact that the latter brings little in the way of surprise to Bonnie's face and the former only earns a tightening of her face speaks volumes about Damon's current behavior and state of mind. Raucous music greets Bonnie's ears as Enzo sets to her feet just inside the foyer, and a barely dressed coed with glassy eyes and bites on her arms lists toward the pair before half-hiccuping into a giggle and sinking to the floor. The air is thick with perfume, hair spray, alcohol and the coppery tang of blood, and Bonnie catches a glimpse of a young woman in a dress as she moves a few more steps forward.
"You knew he was doing this and didn't say anything?" Bonnie hisses at Enzo. "You didn't try and stop him?"
"Easier to stop the sun from rising," Enzo responds without missing a beat. He cocks a brow at Bonnie. "You were a little busy slaughtering baby vampires, as well, if I'm remembering correctly."
A part of Bonnie is too tired. Too tired for Enzo and his bullshit. Too tired for Damon behaving like a spoiled rich brat who just got his favorite sports car impounded. It's cold and crass to compare Elena to a sports car, maybe just a little, but her well of sympathy began to run low near the end of summer and now it's nearly dried up.
"Get them out of here," Bonnie growls at Enzo, pushing wisps of hair out of her face. She hopes that she can at least count on the vampire to do some clean up. She strides away from him, her footfalls heavy for such a slight person. They're loud and determined, just as Bonnie is, to be heard by vampire senses over the deafening music.
Lifting a hand as she enters the great room proper, Bonnie speaks. Despite her lethargy and the hell of a night that she's had, her voice is clear and seems to carry over Damon's bad choice of party music. "Inturbidis."
As the last syllable leaves her lips, blissful silence reigns. Bonnie breathes a sigh of relief as it gets easier to hear herself think and to focus.
"I might have known. Judgey is here to ruin the party."
Damon's voice comes from up above and Bonnie raises her gaze to look up at him. He's perched on the railing, shirtless with a bottle of wine in one hand. Red covers his mouth and runs in rivulets down his chest, drying to a darker red in some places. It answers her unasked question of whether he is wearing wine or the blood of one of his many meals tonight.
"They better all be alive, Damon." Bonnie speaks slowly, annunciating every word as though she's speaking to a particularly slow and unruly child. It's not a thought that so far off the mark, really.
As though he can read her mind and wants to fit the picture of the petulant child, Damon frowns down at her with a half-formed pout. "Yes, Bon-Bon. They're all alive." He closes his eyes and sways a bit, listening to music that only he can hear. "I hear their heartbeats. I hear yours too. It's a lot faster and louder." Silvery blue eyes open and it's with a twisted, annoyed smirk that Damon gazes down at her. "Your heart is judging me."
"It's not my heart you have to worry about." A breeze whips past her and the passed out, half-naked coed is gone. Bonnie's glad that Enzo can be counted on to do something right. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Can't you tell, Bon-knee?" Damon says her voice in an annoying sing-song manner that makes her grit her teeth. The witch did not come here after the shit night chasing vampires to deal with a drunk, self-absorbed asshole of a vampire of a best friend. Except that he is her best friend, and she knows that she's the only one who can talk him off of whatever ledge he's crawled onto.
"I can tell that you're drunk. I can tell that you weren't out there tonight when we needed you. I can - "
"Needed me to do what?" Damon challenges. He takes another pull on the bottle of wine, tilting it all the way up and his head back as far as it will go. Lowering the bottle, he frowns at it and then looses it from his hand to drop two levels to the floor.
Bonnie jumps back a foot, a hand automatically rising up to protect herself. Even so she speaks automatically, the word forming on her lips before she's processed that she is going to say anything at all. "Gelo!"
The bottle hovers, suspended in mid-air a mere foot before it would have crashed to the hardwood floor.
"That . . . could have been me," Bonnie glares up at Damon. There's a moment where there's a wash of guilt and regret across his handsome features, but it vanishes so quickly that Bonnie wonders if she didn't imagine it and isn't just seeing what she wants to see. What she hopes to see.
"But, it wasn't," Damon so not-helpfully points out, reminding her of the time he told her that he could have killed her but didn't. Which reminds her of the time when he could have killed her or let her die, and that's why they're standing here right now.
Bonnie rubs her forehead. She wants to go home to her warm bed. She wants to take a shower and wash away the grime and the blood, and just sleep for a day. Seldom does she get what she wants anymore. "Get. Down. Here." It's not a request. The witch folds her arms beneath her breasts and taps a foot, waiting for Damon to defy her. They both know that she can bring him down, but she doesn't want to have to escalate things to that level.
Evidently Damon doesn't wish to escalate things either, or he realizes that Bonnie will magically wrestle him to the floor if she must. He leaps down with that uncanny, feline, preternatural grace, landing in front of her wearing his trademark smarmy smirk. The one that always makes Bonnie's palm itch with the desire to slap it off of his face.
"You have great reflexes, Bon Bon." Damon plucks the bottle out of the air and sets it neatly on the mantle. "I knew you'd - "
"Damon. I am tired. I am bruised. I am battered. Two of your mother's new vampire soldiers managed to get away tonight after attacking a party in the downtown green. I don't have time for your bullshit. If you've decided to waste away in here, drunk and gorging on blood instead of helping us protect our town, fine. So be it." As she speaks, Bonnie steps closer to him, her words growing firmer and more menacing with each step. Though instead of increasing in volume, they get lower, softer until they are nothing more than a sibilant hiss that only those with vampire hearing will pick up. "But you will tell me why. You will look in my eyes and tell me why you've decided to give the hell up when every one of us is still putting up the good fight like we always do."
"Because Bonnie, there's no point." For someone drunk, Damon's words are surprisingly clear and unslurred. He doesn't back down, not that Bonnie expected him to do so. He leans into her space, blue eyes that are brighter than those drowned in a bottle should be. Brighter and harder at the same time. "I had one thing to live for and she's gone. I get to live six or seven decades without her, provided you don't decide to get yourself killed again like you have a habit of doing or get lucky and get cancer. So, I want you to tell me: what's the fucking point?"
Bonnie knew before she asks. She always knows. It always comes back to this. The same old song and dance, the same old routine. The constant reminders that Damon saved her life when he could have had Elena. The argument that his life has been put on hold because of her and that her life is an inconvenience. The suggestion that he only saved her because it was what Elena would have wanted.
It hurts. Bonnie would be lying if she said that it didn't. That Damon's words didn't cut her to the quick and twist in her heart a little (a lot.) She thinks back to a time when she didn't care, when what Damon Salvatore thought and felt about her didn't matter. Back when things were black and white, when he was nothing more than Elena's boyfriend, and her frenemy. Before they thought they were dying together. Before the prison world. Before everything shifted and shattered and reformed, and she started thinking of Damon as her best friend.
It hurts, and this is how it should play out like always: Bonnie backs down. Damon sleeps it off or whatever vampires do, and shows up at her house. He makes his damn pancakes and cracks jokes and sometimes will even talk to her through Miss Cuddles. The harsh words and even harsher feelings fade, the cold is replaced with warmth and all is right in the world again.
Not tonight. Maybe it's the repetition. Maybe it's that she's already tired. Maybe it's just time the gloves came off. Bonnie isn't aware of what her thoughts are, not really. Only one rings clear.
Not tonight.
Bonnie doesn't know which of them is more surprised when the flat of her palm finally tastes the pale, cool skin of his cheek. It's hard to determine which of them startles more by the sound of it reverberating in the room.
"Fuck you," Bonnie hisses. "Do you think that you're the only one suffering? The only one who lost Elena? Wake up! We all lost her, all of us! Kai's spell didn't just affect you, it affected every single one of us who ever loved Elena. She is gone, not just from your life but from all of our lives."
Bonnie shoves at his chest. It must be unexpected, or maybe he is still a little drunk because the vampire takes a half step backwards. "Fuck you and your self pity, Damon. You waited one hundred and fifty years for Katherine, and you thought you loved her. It's half that time for Elena and you want to waste it having a pity party when she wanted you to live your life? You want me to feel sorry for living, to feel sorry for you when I'm the one who will never see my best friend again, ever?"
She doesn't want to cry. It's a sign of weakness and Bonnie Bennett is not weak. She angrily blinks away the threatening tears. "We were supposed to be in each other's weddings, and go to each other's baby showers. Our kids were going to grow up together, and we would grow old together and even after she became a vampire, we were going share stories and be there for each other, and she would know all the names of my kids and my grandkids, and yeah we had plans too. I won't ever get to see any of that. But you will, and it makes me sick that you act like it's the end of your fucking world."
"I lost my best friend forever. All you can do is - "
Stepping past him, Bonnie snatches up the bottle of wine and smashes it against the table. It explodes in glass fragments which rain around the room, around her, around Damon. Some settle into her hair, some into her skin. Twisting, Bonnie holds out a hand, a spell at ready and brings the edge of jagged glass to her throat. "Is this what you want? Why did you save me? If you're so miserable and you want Elena back so much, just say the word and you can have everything you want."
A glimmer of something almost like sobriety flashes in Damon's eyes. If not that then the flickers of something nearly alert peeking its head out of the dark hole and blinking into slowly growing light. He frowns and tilts his head, the look reminding Bonnie of what he is. What he really is. Not human, not natural. Supernatural, a predator. It's almost laughable that the stuff of scary stories is having a drunk pity party and the witch that keeps him in line is playing chicken with either bleeding out or catching tetanus.
Damon takes a step towards her and Bonnie holds up a hand. She doesn't cast a spell, the upturned palm is warning enough to make Damon pause in his footsteps no matter how less than sober he might be.
"Not another step," Bonnie says. Her words are softer now, but no less firm. No less sure than they were earlier. Tightening her grip on the bottle, she warns Enzo away with a sharp look and returns her determinedly focused gaze to Damon. "I am sick of your pathos. I am sick of your broken heart. I am sick of carrying the burden of survivor's guilt and sick of you making me feel like this is all my fault. I refuse to feel guilty for being alive and I refuse to bear the guilt of your choice. So, you tell me, Damon, why did you save me?"
It feels like hours but Bonnie knows that it's only a few minutes. They stand there in a suspended state, no words passing between them. Only her question lingering in the air around them. She can hear a clock ticking somewhere, some antique ornate thing that she can't place at the moment. It chips away the seconds with every heavy breath she takes, counting down each moment that brings Damon closer to being reunited with Elena.
"A'right, this is too kinky even for - " A word and a flick of Bonnie's free hand and Enzo is shoved from the room, slamming hard into the wall opposite them.
Twisting her fist and lowering it, Bonnie drops Enzo to the ground. Her eyes never leave Damon's, though his gaze does flicker away to watch Enzo's progress.
"Bonnie . . ." Damon takes a step.
Bonnie presses the glass edge and winces. She can feel the pop of skin, the sting as the shattered, jagged edge presses into her throat. It's enough to stop Damon's progress. Eyes once clouded with alcohol and sorrow linger on her hand, on her throat and come back to her face. She wonders when she learned to read Damon so well. She can see that he's not sure of himself anymore, but hell, she's not sure of herself anymore either.
"Why did you save me?" Bonnie repeats, pressing the bottle deeper.
It only takes the half second between breaths and the world shifts, moving faster than she can comprehend. There are fingers tight on her upper arms, the coldness of the hard wall behind her, her head snapping softly against it. When she blinks, there is the firm press of Damon in front of her, moon pale eyes boring into her own from mere inches away.
"I won't let you die," Damon growls. His hands flex on her upper arms, not enough to truly hurt her, and he could if he wanted to. But enough to let her know that he's holding her there. He communicates in that touch that the tables have turned and he has the upper hand. "I chose you, and you don't get to die. You don't even get to threaten to die. Not on my watch."
Bonnie holds that pale gaze. "Tell. Me. Why."
"Because you deserve it, Bonnie. After all you've done. Everything that you've ever sacrificed for this town, for Elena. . . for me. You died for us and I thought you'd stupidly sacrificed yourself again when you sent me back from that prison world. I'm paying you back. You've earned the right to live."
"Then stop acting like you can't wait to put me in a coffin of my own." Bonnie gives him a shove, and it comes as no surprise when he steps back, releasing his grip on her. The witch reaches up and rubs her arms. It's more instinct than anything else; Damon didn't truly hurt her.
"And stop being this person. I know you, Damon. I know that there's more to you than this. There's a fight going on and we could use you. Not the drunk, blood gorging you, but the hard ass who kicks ass and doesn't take names, even if it might make things worse and fuck everything up."
Bonnie turns from him and makes her way to the door. She can feel Damon's eyes following her, but she's said her piece. She has nothing to add. For now, she just wants to go home and sleep. This will still be there in the morning, for better or worse, and they'll still have to deal with the repercussions and fallout.
But . . . not tonight.
"Give you a lift?" Enzo offers. He's standing at the door with a brassiere and panty-clad co-ed draped over one shoulder. Brunette, slender. No surprise there.
"Enzo . . ." Bonnie stops, takes a breath. Releases it slowly as she counts to three. "Can I trust you?" A part of her wonders when she became this person. The one who lets Damon Salvatore's words dig into her skin and carve away layers of her heart, the one who stands back and weighs human well-being against that of vampires. The one who doesn't see anything wrong with Enzo helping himself to Damon's buffet, so long as he cleans up and doesn't do any further damage.
"Just a taste, and she'll wake up thinking she had hell of a night and probably a few roofies," Enzo promises.
It's good enough for Bonnie. She steps out onto the porch of the boarding house and instantly feels the solid brick of the house at her back. Her feet dangle off the ground and she gropes at the cold, tight hand on her throat. Gasping and struggling for breath, she can't gather magic or the words for her spell. Nails claw and rend at undead skin, the only thought in her mind is 'Damon!'
And just as quickly, she's on her smarting knees, drawing huge draughts of air into her burning lungs. Bonnie sets one hand to the porch, steadying herself as she rubs at her throat and coughs. It's a few moments before she can look up and spot the body of a vampire a few feet from her, a cavern in his chest. From there her gaze travels to a pair of dark shoes, up the familiar form clad in dark pants and a dark t-shirt until she meets Damon's steely pale gaze.
The heart in his hand hits the porch with a deafening splat as the vampire closes the distance between the two of them in less time than it takes for Bonnie to blink her eyes.
"Why?" Bonnie demands hoarsely. Her body is indecisive. Her hands clutch his shirt, one fist pulling him closer and the other pushing him away. He's her best friend, her savior and she wants to take comfort in his presence. He's a loose canon, unpredictable and the witch can't help but wonder when he'll finally decide that his eternal love for Elena is worth more than her mortal coil.
"Bonnie - " Eyes colored silver by the darkness and moonlight search hers and something shifts in them. Something that Bonnie knows but can't put words to, dances and paints itself across his timeless features before it flickers and leaves her wondering what it was that she saw. His arms wrap around her, tugging her close. Maybe it's a sign of how tired Bonnie is, maybe it's the fear just now creeping in that she could have been a victim of one of Lily's baby rippers, but whatever it is, she allows it. She welcomes it, pressing into his embrace and breathing a choked sob, half-relief and half-fear, into his shirt.
It feels like hours that they stay that way, witch and vampire giving and receiving strength and support from one another in the warm night. It's not truly that long, Bonnie knows, but it's long enough that the cold of the porch starts to seep into her knees. Long enough that she shivers when a breeze blows, and just like that Damon scoops her to her feet and deposits her back inside the foyer of the boarding house.
"You're my best friend." Damon's words are quiet in the stillness of the moment. His hands rest on her arms where they held her so harshly earlier, only now the touch is gentle. His gaze is clear. "And if anything ever happened to you, I would lose my mind."
Bonnie stares back at him, then gives him a slow nod.
For tonight, it's enough.
