Echo
"How does it feel to always be second best?" Bonnie asked bluntly, as she sat up on the cement ground, and looked in Damon's eyes. "How does it feel to be nobody's first choice?"
Damon gulped but he remained silent as he looked over at the witch tiredly, in hopes that this was just one of her routine talkative moments, and she'd shut up when she got bored of antagonizing him.
But it wasn't just a drill and he knew it, as she climbed to her feet, and neared him silently.
They'd been in the Salvatore basement for days, with no real interaction from anyone else, but each other. Stefan dropped by occasionally to leave blood, food, or alcohol, but that was it. He didn't like seeing Bonnie like this any more than Damon did, so he kept his distance.
He had much more to worry about, anyway.
Damon's method to stopping Bonnie seemed to be working slowly, but surely. With her powers still paralyzed, she seemed much more tame, though she was rudely mouthing off to him, sometimes.
She stopped fighting him, but that didn't mean she stopped insulting him, as she looked for continuous ways to belittle him, and take constant jabs at his already pathetic self-confidence.
She longer tried to physically break him, but she wanted to, mentally. She wanted him to lose it; she wanted him to fall apart.
And it was the cruelest of punishments he believed he'd ever endured.
Damon looked up, again, and Bonnie was right before him; tapping her foot impatiently, though he saw a hint of amusement behind her electrifying green eyes. She was challenging him, and just like clockwork, he was accepting.
He always accepted.
Damon stood to his feet, and Bonnie grinned when she looked up at him. Damon's messy dark hair and pale blue eyes had always been his trick to getting any woman that he desired.
But why couldn't he keep them? Why was he so incapable of keeping anything?
"It must hurt," she said flatly, as her eyes never once dropped from his. "It probably really sucks to realize that everyone chooses Stefan, and they never choose you," Bonnie said coldly, and Damon remained silent as she spoke. "Katherine, Elena, and even Rebekah and Caroline- they all chose him, first. You were just... the back-up; the rebound. The one that they all settled with. It's a shame, isn't it?"
Damon cracked his knuckles, and inhaled deeply, as he expertly controlled the fury that was raging inside of his head.
He also held back the emotion that threatened to pour from his soul, as he balled his fists tightly, and finally averted his eyes back to hers.
Two could play that game.
"I don't know, Bonnie, you tell me," he began, and the witch cocked her head as he moved in closely, and lowered the tone of his voice. "Every guy who's ever been in your life has used you. Ben, to help Anna, Luka, to help his father, and even little Jeremy Gilbert; he used you to save him from every mess he got himself into. And his form of repayment? He cheated on you. With a ghost. Looks like you know a thing or two about being second best, as well."
Bonnie didn't reply, as her jaw ticked, and Damon never stopped gazing at her.
Evil Bonnie had a big ego; one that he needed to successfully break through in order to get to her. So, as much as he hated this- saying these things that were unneccessarily hurtful- he had to. He had to hit hard and dig deep- he had to tear her apart, in hopes of bringing her back, again.
"He never told you that he loved you... did he?" Damon continued, and Bonnie remained silent, though she stared at him intently. "After everything that you did to save him- to save Elena- he just... he broke your heart. And you let him, because you loved him. Bonnie Bennett cared about someone more than they cared about her. Color me shocked."
Bonnie remained still, but he watched as he saw a bit of something crumbling behind her eyes. She was hurting; he could just sense it. And he felt like an asshole; a real tool, honestly, preying upon her emotions, and deliberately hitting her hard, and where it hurt the most.
But it was all a part of the plan- the plan to break through Bonnie's dark exterior, and find her light, again. Deep down, she was still here-she was still the girl he once knew, and he prayed with each insult, he was getting closer to that.
She'd gotten into this mess because of her magic; because of her need to help people-especially Elena-and her repayment was far from pretty.
Her road to recovery would be even worse.
"I was too good for Jeremy," she said boldly, as she backed away from the vampire, and resumed her powerful stance. "But you weren't- you weren't better than Katherine, Elena, Rebekah, or Caroline; they were all too good for you. And you got what you deserved, Damon; a broken heart. You always get what you deserve."
Damon tapped his fingers against his thigh, contemplatively, before he pushed him off of the wall, and neared her, in determined calculation.
He watched as Bonnie folded her arms over her chest, but he didn't halt with her hesitation; he walked right back up to her, unafraid. He stood directly before her; he looked deeply into her eyes.
"Maybe so," Damon said, and she stood quiet as he bit his lip, while searched her face, once more. "Maybe they were too good for me; and maybe you were too good for Jeremy, but... we both ended up alone, anyway, Judgey. We both got pushed into the same exact boat, with the same bitter ending, and it sucks, either way. So, maybe we're more alike than we thought. Maybe... we're both just always destined to get hurt."
Bonnie scoffed as she shook her head, and planted her hands on her hips.
"I'm done getting hurt," she stated firmly. "I'm never going to be hurt again."
Damon pursed his lips, and moved in closer, as she inhaled deeply. He boldly placed a hand on her cheek, and he felt his stomach turn, as he looked into her eyes; feeling the very reflection of someone who he considered to be much like himself- Bonnie at her worst was somehow a mirror image of him.
And he couldn't stand it.
She was better than this- she was better than being like him.
His thumb stroked her cheek, and the girl remained still, with vicious eyes that he couldn't help but equate to his own, once upon a time.
He needed to speak to her as though he were speaking to himself; and that terrified him. It always terrified him to tell himself the truth, because while it was always what he needed to know, it was nothing that he ever wanted to hear.
And Bonnie shouldn't have had to hear any of this.
"You can try," he softly, and Bonnie remained plain-faced, as his thumb moved across her jaw, and his eyes penetrated her own. "But you'll probably always be second best. It's all you'll ever be good for."
Damon watched as she blinked silently, and he immediately felt nauseous, as the words replayed over and over in his head; the words that were meant to break her, but were taking a toll on him, instead.
"You'll always be second best, Damon," he repeated in his head. "It's all you'll ever be good for."
Damon stared straight up at the ceiling as he lay down in bed, replaying the painful memories of his words, while the morning sunshine cascaded into his hotel room.
He would always be second best. And in saying it to Bonnie, he was only truly admitting it to himself.
His tactics to help her; they had been crazy, at best, as they successfully wore down not only to the witch's core, but his own, as well. When he took on the task of helping Bonnie, it was much more than he bargained for.
But when he had this random idea to come see her, in New York? Well, that was just stupidity.
She had moved on with her life, and he was foolish to believe that they were, at all, in the same boat, because Bonnie made it clear that she wasn't. She wasn't still that lost, broken soul that he watched shatter into a billion pieces, over the course of that month.
She was brave and renewed, as she dared to put her past behind her and start a new life; one that didn't involve her previous pain, and one that didn't include him, most importantly.
He wished he could say the same for himself; he wished he could just move on.
Damon sat up in bed, and scratched his hair tiredly, yawning as he glanced at the clock.
It was 9:30 A.M, and the time to checkout was approaching quickly. He could have compelled more time, but he didn't want it. He didn't want to be in New York, ever again.
He hopped out of bed, and made his way to the bathroom; all he wanted was a nice, hot shower, and a mouth full of fresh blood.
But in the name of keeping a low profile, he'd have to settle for one of the stupid bags he packed, instead. He'd get to breakfast after his shower.
As Damon turned on the faucet, and dipped himself beneath the showerhead, he breathed in the feeling of the steam enclosing on his lungs, and seemingly melting his trouble away.
With his eyes shut, and his pulse steady, he soaked what was the last of one of his only moments where he truly felt at ease. He lathered the soap over his skin, and tried his best to push out the memories that flared up so frequently in his mind.
He just wanted to push everything aside; he just wanted to be.
When the shower ended, he stepped out, feeling a bit more relaxed, as he wrapped the towel around his waist and headed back into the bedroom, where his cell phone was blinking with a brand new missed message.
Damon slicked his wet hair back, and took the phone into his hand to read the text message on his screen that he had been waiting for all morning.
Any luck?
He scoffed to himself, and began typing furiously, as he breathed deeply, and shook his head.
If you call a glass full of whisky to the face successful, then, yes- it went great. She was thrilled to see me.
Damon waited only a moment before the phone buzzed again, and he glanced at the words displayed before his eyes.
I'm sorry, Damon. I know how much this meant to you.
Damon bit his lip before answering.
But you told me so; and as always, you were right, Stefan... I'll be on the next flight back to Virginia. See you at the airport.
His phone buzzed quickly in return.
I'll be waiting.
Damon sighed at his brother's last words, and placed the phone back on the dresser. His baby brother had been right in his warnings about him going to see a once very volatile Bonnie Bennett, and he should have listened.
Stefan equated Bonnie's dark past to his Ripperdom, and the more Damon looked at it, the more it made sense.
The Younger Salvatore warned him that she would be angry, and unreceptive, upon first sight of him. He told him that she was probably going to lash out, and then walk away.
He told him that Bonnie had the right to be alone, if she believed it was for the greater good of everyone around her, and Damon needed to respect that if he respected her.
And he did; Damon had loads of respect for Bonnie, as he thought about all that she had been through to keep everyone safe, once upon a time, before she flew off the handle.
But respecting her right to ostracize herself? Damon didn't listen to that, because he had a real problem when it came to staying away, and letting people live with their own choices.
Whether he liked it or not, he was drawn to her; both sides of her, and something inside of him screamed anytime he tried to escape her.
He couldn't; he just couldn't leave the Little Bennett Witch alone.
And he never knew why.
It was like some unexplainable force, he felt, whenever he was around her. And whether they were feuding or not, he needed to keep her within his reach.
He needed her to be close enough to be his anchor.
As for her decision to leave? He thought it was bullshit, honestly, and he'd hoped that he could be the one to change her mind about coming back home.
But he couldn't; because he was a failure, just as she had claimed him to be. He always failed; and he never won. It would forever be his curse.
Damon suddenly felt agitated, and it didn't help that there was an immediate knock on the door, disturbing the silence that he so desperately needed, to wallow in his own self-pity.
Also, didn't he put that up stupid "Do Not Disturb" sign on his door, last night? Didn't they know how to read in this fancy hotel? He sure as hell was paying them enough to buy the entire Hooked on Phonics franchise, ten times over.
Damon sighed in annoyance; he was going to ignore it, and they were going to go away.
But when they knocked again, and again, and again, he was sure his fangs were itching to shoot out. He decided the best course in his anger management was to politely answer the door, and tell whoever was disturbing him to kindly fuck off.
Yes. He was going to do that.
Damon rolled his eyes as he walked over to it, wanting to beat the living hell out of whoever was on the otherside as they sang "Room Service" in the jolliest tone he'd ever heard.
"No thanks!" he answered, but the girl continued knocking away.
"Yes, please!" she replied, and he shook his head in disbelief.
She was kidding, right?
Damon ripped the door open, ready to flip out accordingly, but the person standing before was someone very familiar, as her bright smile coursed through his bones, and he sucked his teeth when her eyes met his.
"Laila," he said firmly, and she shrugged, as she moved past him, in her bright red Casadei platform pumps, paired with a pretty, flowing dress, and her hair in long waves.
Was this girl always on the catwalk, or something?
"I didn't know you were room service, as well, what a pleasant surprise-"
"Shut up," she shot back, and his mouth dropped. "I look way too good to be room service," Laila answered, and she smiled purely. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, gee, I was sleeping. Then showering. Then probably gonna get dressed, because, you know, this is my hotel room. What the hell are you doing here? Fifth Avenue is a few blocks over; I heard Barneys is having a sale," he teased, and she nodded admirably.
"I know, just went. I got these," she wiggled her foot, and he rolled his eyes. "I also got this," she said, as she pulled out a small plastic card, and placed it directly into his hand.
He looked down at the name embossed on the American Express card, and narrowed his eyes.
It was his own.
"You left that at the bar, last night. Don't worry, I didn't buy myself shoes with your money," she reassured, and he sighed. "I did get myself breakfast, though; figured I'd pay myself for the trouble."
Damon sent her a glance as he pinched the bridge of his nose, and glared deeply into her eyes.
"Okay, fine, help yourself Laila... But why are you here? Better yet, how? You traced me by my credit card? That's all new levels of creepster."
"Yeah," she said honestly, as she sat down on his couch, and folded her hands. "Would you believe that you're the only Damon Salvatore in the entire city, right now? It wasn't that hard to find you. I'm friends with just about every person at the front desk of every fancy hotel- it's pretty easy to get what you want when you know people."
Damon laughed incredulously, as he ran his fingers through his hair.
"You New Yorkers sure stick together," he replied, and she smirked. "But what if I was shabby? What if I didn't pick a nice joint to stay at?"
Laila scoffed, and rolled her eyes.
"You have a Black Card, I'm not an idiot," she countered, and he winked. "So, in the name of not treating me like one, let's cut to the chase; who the hell are you, and what's the deal between you and Bonnie?"
Damon felt his jaw tick as he looked into her curious eyes, and stroked his chin. This girl didn't waste any time; she cut right to the chase.
"Excuse me?"
"Did I stutter?" she asked bluntly, as she cocked her head, and he didn't answer. "What's your deal? Why do you have my best friend so bent out of shape?"
Damon remained quiet for a second, as he continued to look at the girl, in obvious amusement. She was bold, feisty, and bossy. No wonder they were such good friends.
She may have been a little intense, but Damon at least appreciated her honesty.
Plus, he always gave crazy girls a pass if they were hot.
"So, she didn't tell you about me?" he asked simply, and Laila held a palm up calmly.
"No offense, but she avoids talking about anyone from her past- or even Virginia, in general- like you all have the plague. I was starting to think she was the lone survivor from some apocalyptic village, where you all perished terribly, and she narrowly escaped by the skin of her teeth."
Damon laughed at the seriousness in her gaze, as he rose a brow.
This girl was like Neurotic Crazy Crackhead Caroline, on acid. But he regrettably had a soft spot for Barbie Vampire, and her insane words, and apparently Bonnie still did, too, if her new best friend seemed a bit like her, in this very moment.
Maybe all wasn't lost.
"It wasn't that bad, I promise," he answered, as he sat down on his bed, and scratched his hair. "She just... doesn't want anything to do with me. Crazy, I know," he replied, and Laila frowned as she leaned against her hands, and studied him quietly.
There was a long, passive silence in the room before she said another word, and knocked him out of his thoughts.
"Did you two date?" she asked, and he laughed bitterly, as he folded his hands.
"No," he replied honestly. "I didn't 'date' her, per se. She was... kind of occupied. With somebody else."
"Somebody else... So, you wanted to?"
"It's a lot more complicated than that, Laila. And if she wants to tell you, fine. But... this really doesn't matter anymore," he said, as he got off of his bed, and headed into the bathroom to get changed.
When he came back out, much to his dismay, she was still there, and still in deep thought as she looked up at him, with very serious eyes.
"Something's wrong, Damon," she said simply, and he adjusted his black tee before kneeling down to his suitcase, and throwing in his belongings.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean something is up with her, and I can't figure it out. I-I think you should talk to her, again."
Damon laughed in disbelief as he zipped the case closed, and stood to his feet.
"No can do, Laila. She hates me, and I have a flight to catch. Why would I stay here?"
"Because you want to," she said softly, as she stood to her feet, and walked towards him. "Because... I can tell that you didn't come all the way here just to be defeated," Laila said, and Damon looked down to the ground. "Listen, I don't know what happened between you and Bonnie, but I do know this- she wouldn't have been the way she was last night if there was just 'nothing' between you two. It's the most emotion I've ever seen out of her, and I've known her for a year. Something's not okay, and... I think she needs something familiar to figure it out."
Damon rolled his tongue over his teeth, and looked away, as Laila's eyes burned through him. He didn't want to do this; he didn't want to care about somebody who didn't care about him. He didn't want to drive himself crazy, again, trying to fix her, when she could turn her back on him, just like that, all over again.
"I'm not the right guy for this job, Laila-"
"You're the only guy," she informed, and he shut his lips tightly. "And I think that you know it, too."
Damon stuffed his hands into his pocket, as Laila walked over to his end table, and retrieved the blank memo pad, and a pen. She began scribbling something down, and he sighed when she pressed it hard against his chest, with an unapologetic stare.
He grabbed the pad, and looked down at the words and numbers written so legibly across the sheet.
"That's the address, phone number, and reservation to the restaurant you're taking her out to, tonight. Wear something nice," she informed, and his eyes widened. "And underneath is my credit card number; just in case this all fails. The least I can do is buy you a new plane ticket home."
Damon glanced at the sheet silently, as Laila slung her bag over her shoulder, and he shook his head slowly.
What the hell was this girl thinking? He was going to take Bonnie on a quasi-date, after she'd just told him, last night, to get lost? Did she want him to get a martini thrown in his face, too?
He looked up into Laila's pleading eyes, and he felt defeated. Just by the look on her face, he could tell that she really was just worried about her friend. For some odd reason, she was putting all her faith in some random guy from Bonnie's apocalyptic town, who was stupid enough to leave his credit card at a bar he'd been in for all of five minutes, before getting chased away with whisky like it was Holy Water.
Laila must have been dreaming if she thought he could fix this. New York was the City of Dreams, after all, he supposed.
"You have your credit card number memorized?" he finally asked, as she neared the door, and Laila smiled as she placed her hands on her hips and shrugged.
"How do you think I bought these shoes, earlier?"
"Touché."
Laila had a hopeful, but nervous, smile on her face as she gazed at him, and Damon automatically knew she was one of the good ones; she was one of the ones you could really trust.
"Good luck, Damon. And thank you."
She shut the door behind her, and he exhaled before he made his way back over to his cell phone, and picked it up, once more, to update Stefan about his whereabouts.
His baby brother was not going to like this.
Change of plans, he typed, Looks like I'm staying in New York another night.
"Laila, this is ridiculous," Bonnie said, as she tugged at the blue nylon lace dress that clung perfectly to her body, while she pressed her cell phone to her ear.
The floral knee high dress was beautiful, but she felt uncomfortable in it, obviously, as she garnered more than a few looks of appreciation as she walked the streets of New York City. It was one of Laila's favorites, and she was doing her best not to ruin it, as she tried not to trip in the high, nude strappy sandals around her feet. She was probably going to fail.
"What the hell am I doing here?" she whispered into the reciever.
"You're doing me a favor," Laila replied, as she began painting her toe nails with a hot fuschia shade that she picked up earlier that day. "I don't feel like going on that blind date my mom set me up on, and since I so graciously got you your job back, after you tossed alcohol on a customer, I figured you could take my place."
"It was Damon, he doesn't count," Bonnie bit, as she walked through the gates of the beautiful outdoor restaurant, and gave the hostess the reservation title under Laila's name. "Why didn't you just tell your mom you got sick or something?" she asked, as she followed the hostess across the granite court to her seat.
The stone hedges, the candles, the four string quartet playing in the middle of it all; there was no denying this place was nice. But this just wasn't Bonnie's scene, at all.
"Because I never get sick, she'd know," Laila answered, and Bonnie sighed. "Why are you so worried, anyway? You look hot."
Bonnie groaned at that, as she busily ran her fingers through her longs waves, and sat down stubbornly at the table that put her in direct view of the bar.
Thank God for that.
Laila must not have been lying, because she was seriously getting gawked at by every dude in this joint, as they sent her unapologetic smiles, and even bolder looks of praise.
She still hadn't gotten used to this feeling, to be quite honest.
In Mystic Falls she'd been virtually ignored by the entire male population, until she had that unfortunate situation where the other side of her took over. But she didn't count that- because it wasn't really her attracting all of that attention, at all; it was something darker.
But now that she was in a new town, and normal, mostly, the attention seemed to multiply, as the men, and sometimes women, in this place made her feel as though she was one of the most beautiful creatures to walk the planet.
New York was magical, like that.
New York made her feel like one of the girls she never was in high school. She'd never admit it, but New York made her feel alive.
"He's late," Bonnie announced, as she looked at her watch, and gazed at her freshly manicured fingers that Laila persuaded her into doing. "Five minutes, and I'm gone. I'm serious."
Laila laughed at that.
"He'll be there; it's not like he has any other plans. He doesn't know anybody else. This'll be good for you- you haven't been on a date since... ever."
"Don't remind me," Bonnie replied, as she went to take a sip of water, but she immediately stopped.
Her eyes caught sight of him, and she nearly choked on the contents of her glass as their gaze connected, and he sent her that signature smirk and wave that almost put her in a coma.
What. The. Hell.
"Laila... please tell me you didn't do this," Bonnie whispered, and the girl gasped on the other line, in faux shock.
She clearly did this, and Bonnie was going to kill her.
"Actually... I did. You need to face your past, Bonnie, and until you do, I don't wanna hear anything else."
"But, Laila-"
"Bye, enjoy!" the girl replied, before Bonnie heard a dial tone, and she narrowed her eyes as he continued to walk towards her, never stopping or slowing in his stride.
Damon was dressed in all black suit, with a blue satin tie that seemed to match her dress perfectly, and she hated it. His eyes were perfectly illuminated, and his dark hair was no longer its usual messy, but smoothed back, in such a classy and dashing way.
He was so annoyingly handsome.
"Mr. Salvatore, your table," the hostess announced happily, and he smiled sweetly before she walked away, and he turned to face Bonnie.
She was not amused.
The girl stood to her feet, immediately, and he rose his hands to stop her; she gazed into his eyes coldly.
"Bonnie, give me a chance. You owe me that. And a new shirt, from last night," he replied smoothly, and Bonnie felt her anger swelling in her bones, as he pulled out her chair, once more. "Have a seat."
Without any words, Bonnie sat down, and Damon made his way to the seat across from her, as she looked into his eyes.
Just what the hell was he doing, exactly? She was convinced he was out of his fucking mind.
The waiter came over, and Damon ordered a bottle of wine as she folded her arms over her chest, and tapped her foot impatiently. He caught a few glances of her, as he ordered, and he couldn't help but relish in the feeling in his chest as he watched the light from the fresh sunset channeling down on her.
She looked perfect; and he was doing his best to keep his jaw from hitting the floor.
"Who's idea was it?" she asked sharply, once the waiter walked away, and Damon cleared his throat, and folded his hands.
"Blame Laila for this one," he said. "She's a very sneaky girl, Bon. You taught her well-"
"Why did you need to see me, again?" she cut in. "After everything I said last night, I thought I made myself clear-"
"You did, Bennett. Crystal clear," he interrupted, and Bonnie bit her lip. "But I've come to make myself clear; I'm here to tell you where I stand. So, feel free to listen, why don't you?"
Bonnie watched on as Damon sat up straighter, and she immediately felt the aura of his authority buzzing in his veins. He had something important to say, and whether she liked it or not, she was going to hear it. She was going to listen to just what was on his mind, exactly.
Damon's blunt emotion and even rawer thoughts scared her; this honestly scared her.
"I didn't come all the way here to ask for your permission- to see if it was 'okay'- to check in on you. I did it because I wanted to."
"Great, Damon. You did something because 'you wanted to;' what else is new?" she snapped back.
"And because it was right, Bonnie. Whether you like it or not, somebody had to do it. I voted for myself."
"When did you become such a saint? Because last I checked, you were anything, but," she said flatly, and Damon shut his lips tightly, as she sighed. "I- You see, this is why I can't handle whatever this is, Damon. I'm getting really nasty with you, and I shouldn't be."
Damon didn't respond.
Bonnie tapped her foot anxiously, and crossed her arms.
She regretted a lot of things that happened when her dark magic began to take over, but the one thing she regretted above all was the way things happened with Damon.
He was genuinely the only person to not turn their back on her when she lost it, yet, she manipulated him the most.
Damon, however, clearly wasn't game for a repeat of last night, as he shrugged his shoulders, and clapped his hands together with finality.
He'd had enough already.
"You're right," he said, as he stood to his feet, and Bonnie watched him reach into his pocket for his wallet, before he placed a bill on the table. "I'm no saint, Bonnie, and you've done nothing but remind me of that; remind of why I was never the right person to be there for you."
Bonnie breathed smoothly, and she tried to supress the wave of nauseousness that ran through her as Damon stuffed his hands in his pockets, and began to walk away.
She watched on silently, before she impulsively jumped to her feet, and quickly followed behind him.
Whether she had the strength to admit it or not, Damon was right; he was here because he was making it clear that he cared about her- all of her. And of all the people that she had left behind, Damon was the one to come back for her.
He was always the one to come back.
Whether the distance was across town, or across country, he'd travel it, for her. He would do anything for her, including find a way to keep her alive, at all costs. And until this day, he was still trying to figure out why.
Maybe it was because, like him, she never wanted this life; she never wanted the responsibility or the trouble, but they were both thrown into the whirlwind- they were both made out to be heroes, and do good.
But he wasn't a hero, and she was no longer good.
They were just two broken souls, in search of themselves, but failing miserably just when they thought they hit salvation.
To anybody else, Bonnie Bennett and Damon Salvatore were probably just "two lost causes." Two people who had gotten their hearts broken too many times. Two people who would always feel inferior, second-guessed, and underestimated. Two people who could never fully convey how they truly felt, for fear that they'd be seen as weak, or fragile.
They were similar enough to relate, but different enough to hate each other; things would have been much easier if they just hated each other.
They were two people who understood each other completely, but also, not at all.
"Damon," she breathed as she stopped him by the shoulder, once they hit the sidewalk, but he pulled away.
"If you're following me to tell me how pissed off you are that I helped Laila, save your breath. I don't need a lecture tonight-"
"I came to say I was sorry," she replied, catching him by surprise, and Damon automatically went mute, as he stopped in his tracks to face her.
Damon remained focused as he looked into her eyes, and Bonnie, surprisingly, never turned away, as the intensity grew, and they simultaneously drowned out the sounds of everything that was going on around them.
Including the people that told them to get the hell out of the way.
The last time she looked into his eyes so directly, so fearlessly, was the night he told her she would always be second best, because so was he.
She honestly hadn't looked him in the eyes, since then, and he didn't blame her. The things he said were horrible, even if they were just his way of breaking through.
But it wasn't like she hadn't gotten her revenge with her words, too.
"I'm sorry about last night; hell, Damon, I'm sorry about last year," she said honestly, and his brows furrowed. "If... you wanna go somewhere, and talk, I... I won't say no, this time."
Damon stared at her stubbornly, and she quickly realized that her apology wasn't going to be a cure-all, with him. His had never been with her, so why would he treat her any differently?
"But what if I do?" he asked angrily, and Bonnie swallowed hard. "What if I finally get sick of this shit, and I say no? What if I hop back on a plane to Virginia, and I never see you, ever again?"
"Then I'd regret not thanking you for what you did for me," she said calmly, and Damon immediately seemed to soften. "I'd... also regret not saying that I was sorry for hurting you. And... I'd also be kinda bummed that I didn't get to show you the city."
Damon blinked quietly, and he watched as Bonnie tried to force a hopeful smile, but tears emerged from her eyes instead. He saw a single stream float down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly, as she shook her head.
Bonnie Bennett always had to be brave, and she always had to be strong.
But the moments that regretfully struck his heart were the ones when she was just a girl; just an ordinary, broken, young girl.
"I'm sorry that I shut you out, Damon. I-I did it because I don't like to be weak. I... couldn't find it in myself to thank you because I was just overwhelmed. It's why I had to leave Mystic Falls- I couldn't handle the pressure to be the same ol' Bonnie that everybody knew before, when I knew that I changed. What happened to me... it changed me, so much. So just... give me a chance to soak this in- to accept the fact that you're here, okay?"
Damon ran his hands through his hair, and they began to walk, in silence, as the cool night breeze floated between them. She shivered involuntarily at the air.
Damon took off his suit jacket, and silently placed it over her shoulders. Bonnie breathed and sent him a look of appreciation.
He could be a real asshole, sometimes, but Damon always had his moments when he could be a gentlemen, too. This was one of those moments.
"Why New York?" he asked, after a long silence, as they stood at the corner of the street, and waited for the walk signal. "This place... it's a lot different than Mystic Falls."
"I know," she sighed, as her green eyes twinkled. "I... needed different, Damon. This place, it just... I feel like a number, sometimes, and I actually like it. I like not being at the center of everyone's worries. I like not being at the core of everyone's solutions, too."
Damon nodded at that, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.
"Fair enough," he noted as they crossed the street, and she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "But what about your little slumber parties with Warrior Princess and Barbie Vampire? You don't miss those, at all?"
Bonnie smiled faintly, and he saw the hint of something reminiscent in her eyes, as she hugged his jacket around her tighter. She shrugged.
"People grow apart," she said simply. "And sometimes it's the people you thought you knew best. I've grown to accept it."
"You got that right," he agreed, as they stopped and Damon looked at her gently. Her eyes were cloudy, and full of pain as she looked back at him. "But... sometimes, people grow together, too. The people we least expect are usually the ones to stick around."
Bonnie wiped the rim of her eye with her finger, and he didn't blink at all, as he looked at her.
Giving an actual damn about Bonnie Bennett had been complicated.
When he first met her, she was the girl who was bold, but still a little naive about what she could do, and what she was capable of. As she grew, however, she became stronger, tougher, harder, and more independent- proving to him, and everyone, that she could always hold her own.
Hell, she could hold everyone, and still survive.
But then, something happened, and it slowly changed her into a person who became angry, sad, detached, and bitter, as life continued to wear down on her.
She virtually had no family. She had no love. She had no mentor. She barely had any friends.
But she had her magic; and with that, she solemnly swore to protect what she thought was right; against the advice of the witches, and the sense of herself.
She stopped Jeremy's heart and dessicated Klaus. She found a way to save Klaus by switching he and Tyler's bodies. And ultimately, she turned Elena back into a human.
She stopped Elena from transitioning. And from there, she began to spiral out of control.
Damon personally believed that the spell to turn Elena back into a human was what did her in; the spell to save Elena tore away at Bonnie's psyche, and ultimately drove her insane.
It was no wonder that she changed; that she became cold, dark, calculating, and ruthless. It was no wonder to him, at all, that Bonnie went after Elena the first chance she got, and nearly tore her throat out, in an effort to murder her, in cold-blood.
The New Bonnie meant business. And the New Bonnie hated Elena. The New Bonnie wanted the source of the problems in Mystic Falls to die. And she would have gotten her way if Damon didn't stop her.
He was the only one who seemed to understand why. He understood it all.
This girl had been through a lot, and he couldn't exactly blame her for reacting the way that she did. She'd quite literally lost her mind, trying to keep her friends safe, and she was only paid with a bout of insanity, in return.
They'd been enemies, once upon a time; Damon couldn't stand the witch, and she couldn't give a fuck about him, either, but somehow, things changed.
He became a little more caring; she became a little more sympathetic. He wanted to help her, just like she had helped him, many times before.
He owed her that. He owed Bonnie much more than a simple glance, and a walk away.
Bonnie looked up at the place they stopped in front, and she breathed gently when the illuminated sign warmed her soul in more ways than one.
They were at a Shake Shack.
"How'd you know I like this place?" she asked, with a gentle sniff, and Damon shrugged softly, as he rose his brows.
"Everyone likes this place," he said, with assurance. "Especially girls like you who aren't into hotshot, fancy restaurants- girls who come from towns where the only bar is also the only food joint, too. Girls from Mystic Falls like burgers and shakes," he reasoned.
"So, you're saying I'm simple," she answered, and Damon scoffed lightly at that.
"I'm saying that you like burgers, and shakes. And possibly the company of an overgrown vampire who just wants to catch up with with a chick who used to witchy migraine him, and everybody else, like it was nobody's business. I'm... saying that you look kind of nice, maybe, and those shoes shouldn't go to waste."
Bonnie pursed her lips, but she felt a small smile creep on her lips, as his ocean eyes looked into hers, with a certain familiarity that she had missed for an entire year.
How did she go all this time without anybody who truly knew her for who she was?
"Kind of nice, maybe?... That's... promising," she answered, as he opened the door, with a smirk.
He wasn't sure when it happened, but the comfort between he and Bonnie was back, and the banter, as well. No, things weren't magically better, but he was willing to see how they went, from here. She missed him, whether she wanted to admit it or not, and he regretfully missed her, too.
They meant much more to each other than they'd ever let on.
As Bonnie glanced up at the menu, and he softly listened to her debating between the peanut butter flavored shake, or the caramel.
If somebody asked him why he was so invested in this girl's happiness, Damon would probably flip them off and tell them to go to hell, because seriously, he had no honest answer.
He was a murderous being, with ill-intentions, most of the time, so what the fuck did he give about some college girl, who'd gone loopy, because she'd done a few risky things?
Everything. He gave everything, because in some weird way, he wanted to save her, because she reminded him of himself.
And it was as simple as that; there was nothing more or nothing less to it.
So, as she ordered her food, and he did as well, just for appearance's sakes, he hoped for one thing, and one thing, only: he hoped to keep it that way- he hoped to keep it about saving Bonnie Bennett.
Something told him, though, that he was in for much more than he bargained for.
A/N: Hi, everyone! So I am back with a new chapter, and what did you all think? I tried to show a bit of the flashback with some of dark!Bonnie, and how Damon coped. What do you think about the parallels he drew between them? And Laila, did she do the right thing going to him for help? Also, what about Bonnie's actions in the past, and her (seemingly) making up with Damon? What else is their to her story, or who? And do you really think the darkness is gone for good? As always, thank you SO MUCH for reading. The response has been great, im so thankful you all see potential in this work. Dont be afraid to drop a review with your thoughts/predictions on the way out! It's my birthday, so I compel you all to do so ;) xoxo :)