PART FOUR

A/N: Sorry about the wait ladies. Exams literally grabbed me by the collar and kicked me in the ass. Statistics, why art thou so cruel? *sobs*

Anywho, a lot has changed in the show since I started this story (and it was meant to be a one-shot), so I'm not following the show's events.

I really enjoyed coming back and reading all the comments. Amazing. Thanks. For the readers surprised/confused about Klaus and Elena leaving, just trust me. It was for a totally legit reason (and not because they are secret Bamon shippers lol). But shoutout to Stefan the Bamon fanboy (tumblr tag)

Oh, boy.

He was serious. This wasn't some joke after all For once, he stopped smirking long enough for her to realize what his true intentions were. Not that they were all that special. She was sure he'd had the same intentions with a lot of other girls over the decades, but why'd he have to choose her? She wanted to tell him something fiery - make him feel like an asshole for even suggesting she spend the wee hours of the morning with him alone in some creepy isolated crypt; for making her want to spend time with him at all. But he was sizing her up with his troublesome blue eyes. Damon's gaze penetrated her thoroughly. It wasn't smug. It was . . . different. It made her feel stripped bare and self-conscious enough to squirm in her seat. She felt her bravado unraveling and goose bumps rise on her arms. The only thing more frightening than putting everything on the line for Elena was the idea of knowingly hurting her.

"I can't believe you got me in this mess."Bonnie cleared her throat when her voice cracked, and continued in a harsher tone. "Elena means everything to me."

"I know," he responded dryly.

"Then stop being an idiot."

"You first."

The second he said the words, Bonnie felt her skin burn hot.

"I'm the idiot?" She swayed to her feet, then slammed both palms against the table with so much force his coffee spilled. Damon hadn't expected to piss her off so easily, but he had to admit he took satisfaction out of the feat. She was always so composed - until someone threatened something she cared about. Sure, she cared about her friendships, but a part of him was hoping that just maybe she was pissed because he was wearing her down.

"I was going to finish that," he said in a mocking syrupy sweet tone that made Bonnie want to do some serious damage. He scooted near the window as the coffee dripped on the cushioned red booth-seat.

"You never think about the choices you make," she seethed.

Judging from the lack of interest from the patrons, he assumed the place was used to a rowdy crowd. Not that he gave a damn if they cared.

"And you have an annoying habit of making yourself the saint." He signaled the bubbly waitress with a flick of his wrist and she pranced over with her coffeepot in tow. He realized he must've really riled the witch up because she didn't wait for the server to leave before she started up again.

"I'm not trying to be a saint. It's called being mature."

"The only reason you're so mature is because you're scared."

Bonnie folded her arms across her chest. "Of?"

"You tell me."

The helpful waitress, who was obviously smitten with a certain vampire, pulled a hand towel out of her apron pocket and leaned over to clean the coffee. Bonnie was telling him that he wouldn't know anything about being mature, but he chose to stare at Debbie the waitress' boobs. After all, it would've been impolite not to. She'd unbuttoned her top a bit just before reaching their table, and he heard her tell one of her co-workers that she was going to slip him her number whether his "girlfriend" liked it or not. Hearing across the room. The many perks of being a vampire.

Besides, he was testing out a little theory.

"You're so disgusting." Bonnie grabbed her purse and walked away from the booth. She didn't think she could get out of that diner quick enough. Gosh, he was a living dead prick. In fact, if The Academy ever handed out an award for best living dead prick, Damon Salvatore was a shoe-in. And as for the waitress, Bonnie wanted to tell her she had more lipstick on her teeth than her lips and more shirt off her boobs than on. But they weren't the most important problem at hand. The real problem was that she had no idea how she was getting home - especially since she couldn't even describe where she was.

She wished she would've grabbed his keys; she wouldn't have a problem driving off without him. She'd find her way back to Mystic Falls eventually. Hell, she wished she would've watched the Lizzie McGuire marathon in her pjs instead of taking Klaus up on his offer in the first place.

Bonnie walked toward the highway. Before she could reach it, she was grabbed by her wrist and spun around so quickly her hair smacked her right in the face.

"Are you out of your mind?" Damon growled. "This place is crawling with shady people."

She was almost certain that no one there was as shady as he was. He was taken by surprise when she lurched forward and went straight for his keys.

"Take me home," she demanded through gritted teeth, her concentration solely on getting the prized keys out of his hand.

"I thought we were having fun."

"We have different ideas of what fun is."

"Obviously."

"Give me the keys," she ordered, trying to grab them, until he dangled them over her head.

If she jumped up, she probably could've reached them, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of moving his hand the moment his vampire reflexes kicked in.

He made the keys jingle above the both of them. "Jealousy looks good on you."

"Jea- what? I'm not jealous." She pushed his chest. "I'm annoyed."

"Because I was staring at her rack?" he wagged his eyebrows, leaned toward her and said, "You have to admit she had a great rack."

She got that familiar look of concentration - the one he admired and dreaded at the same same time. He waited for that head-splitting aneurysm that was sure to come. Instead he felt a force knock him off his feet and send him crashing to the pavement a few feet away from where he was standing. It felt like he'd been punched in the chest by an invisible giant. He realized she wasn't kidding about learning new spells over the weekend.

The clacking of her heels got his attention.

"No, No, No, No . . ." she panted, fell to her knees and stared at the storm drain. "Oh, no."

It didn't take long to find out what all the "no, no, no(s)" were for. He opened and closed his palms. Empty for sure. And judging by the stupid look on the witch's face, he was positive his car-keys went down the drain. What a fan-fucking-tastic night.

Damon laughed - a laugh that made his stomach muscles tighten and eyes narrow to slits. He didn't think it was possible to laugh so hard. Bonnie meant to ask him what was so damn funny, but she had a feeling she was looking at a very rare sight. As she waited for him to gain composure, she was almost tempted to pinch herself to make sure 'Damon the laughing vampire' was real.

"I . . . gave the spare to Elena, and since she probably won't be too happy about coming, it looks like we'll have to stay here for a while."

Bonnie's eyes widened as if he'd given her a death sentence. He'd have her know that outside of Mystic Falls there were people that would've loved to be in his company - uncompelled at that.

She sprang to her feet. "Stefan can pick us up."

"I don't need any lectures."

"Then Caroline can-"

"-No, she can't. She'll bring Elena."

He stood, then brushed the dirt off of his slacks.

"Then Matt or-"

"No."

"So we're supposed to just wait? Here?" she huffed. "Can't you hotwire it or something? I'm sure you of all people know how to do that."

"That hurts," he placed a hand where his beating heart should've been. "Sorry to disappoint you. I had better things to do than learn that skill."

"Like what?"

"Like making sure your ancestors stayed alive," he said. Bonnie could tell that he took pride in saying that. "-And I would've been a lot meaner if I knew what a pain in the ass you'd turn out to be. Beautiful. But still a pain in the ass."

It was her personal belief that the Bennett witches would've gotten along well with or without his help. She'd saved his life far more times than he'd saved hers.

"What are you doing?"

"Walking. It's still a free country isn't it?"

"Walking where?" Bonnie asked, following him.

"Back to the cemetery."

"That's miles away."

"Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. The big bad heels," he said, not bothering to slow his pace. "Too bad you don't have a broomstick."

"I'm not walking back there," she said, wanting to zap him with another spell for even suggesting it.

"Can't you just turn those shoes into a carriage?"

"I'm not just talking about my shoes. I don't want to be alone with you."

"That's obvious. I don't think you could've made that any more obvious to me." Damon meant to sound sarcastic, but instead he came off as bitter. He spun around with a smirk to throw her off, and stepped in her personal space. She didn't stumble back like he assumed she would. He lowered his voice to a throaty whisper that seemed more appropriate for the bedroom. "Then again, you do protest an awful lot and you know how the saying goes."

No comeback. The witch just gave him a strange look until he was forced to ask, "What?"

"Were you like this as a human? All self-assured, entitled, jerky-"

"-And devilishly handsome?" he cut in.

"I was going to say 'rude and badly dressed'."

"Badly dressed?" he frowned until there was a wrinkle between his brows. "You think I dress badly?"

"Well, you do wear a ton of black. It's boring."

"Should I be wearing colors like pink and calling it salmon?"

The thought of him wearing pink was almost as ridiculous as the thought of him with three heads. "No, but you don't have to dress like you're in mourning every single day."

What did she know? Sometimes he wore gray and white, thank you very much.

"It's like, why am I even listening to you," he said, mocking her valley-girl-esque insult. "You're a virgin who can't drive."

Bonnie grinned at that."I see you watched the Alicia Silverstone marathon."

Damon Salvatore ladies and gentleman. When he isn't tormenting the townspeople, vying for attention or just being a prick, he quotes lines from random chick-flicks.

"Hey, I was there for the alcohol. The television just so happened to be on."

"Right."

"I can carry you if you want," he said, changing the subject with so much calculation, Bonnie knew he'd been thinking about saying it for a while. "I mean, the knight in shining armor isn't usually my scene, but i'd play it for a while. Just let the record show that i'd much rather drink a meal than carry it."

And her scene wasn't the damsel in distress. Everything inside of her, down to the very marrow, said no - but her traitorous feet pulled a Bennett-dic Arnold on her. "Maybe just halfway."

He gave her a side-smirk, but decided not to deflate her ego. They both knew that she could barely make it from the car to the crypt so she couldn't make it halfway on her own.

"But if you touch anything you're not supposed to touch, you'll lose what ever you touched it with," she threatened.

"Suit yourself." Before she knew it one arm was behind her back, the other behind her knees and she was scooped off the pavement with supernatural strength. Her heartbeat changed immediately, and practically echoed on the quiet road. Bonnie was as rigid as a board and had her hands clasped together. Some of his victims were more relaxed than she was. All at once he realized a few things. She was afraid of being so close to him, she was warmer than most breathers, and she smelled sweet- a mixture of perfume that appealed to the humane part of him and blood that appealed to the monster in him. Even more surprising, he hadn't noticed how tiny she was. The fiery witch who was always on his case could be snapped in half in under a second. "This would be a lot less awkward if you put your arm around my shoulder."

"I'm fine like this."

"You look like you don't trust me."

"I never trusted you before, but at least you were somewhat predictable. Now - you're doing and saying all this weird stuff. I don't know what to think."

"Well, if I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already so you can relax," he bit, sounding a little offended by her admission.

The rest of the walk was wordless until they reached the cemetery He slipped between the narrow entrance before her. He hadn't had a chance to get an electrician out so the place was pitch black. He told Bonnie to hold onto his shirt and just follow him. She hesitated, but since he knew the place well enough to navigate through the dark, she was forced to oblige. She heard a creaking noise and realized that it was coming from the floor. Damon knelt down to open a door that led to his hideout.

"Get on my back."

Bonnie was really tired of taking orders from him. She wrapped her arms around his neck tighter when she figured out they were going down a ladder. Good thing he didn't need oxygen. Once they were on a flat surface, she slid down his back and waited for his cue. The place was even darker; she couldn't even make out the outlines of his body,

She heard his footsteps moving away from her. It didn't take long for him to light a few candles on the coffee table. The place wasn't as creepy as she thought it would be. It was shabby, though. She couldn't fathom why he'd ever want to run away from a gorgeous mansion to chill out at a literal hole in the ground. There was a bookshelf similar to the one back at the boarding house, but a lot smaller. No windows of course. A sofa, a coffee table, a mini-fridge, a sink, a dresser, an ironing board he turned into a makeshift bar and a bed. She never pegged him as such an avid reader. There were books everywhere: the floor, opened on the bed, on the sofa.

"Think you have enough books?"

Damon floated through his "kitchen" area like a bartender with a happy hour rush, got two glasses and started pouring generously. He didn't answer the question until he walked toward the sofa.

"Before t.v there wasn't much to do down here so if I didn't bring someone back, i'd read," he said. "Now I have too many books for the shelf and someone stole the t.v."

"Why didn't you just get a new one?"

"Turns out there's only so much you can watch before it gets boring."

"How did the person even know about this place?" Bonnie asked.

"It was some girl. She got mad that I didn't pay her and stole a few things."

"This girl, sounds like a prostitute."

"Semantics," he said, patting the cushion next to him. "Sit."

"What did you need to get away from?" She wanted to add that it had to be pretty bad for him to use a crypt as refuge, but she decided against it.

"Depends on which decade you're talking about." That was a typical Damon response. Answering a question without answering the question. "It's not the Four Seasons, but it has charm. And most importantly no one bothers me here ... until tonight."

"Why did you bring me here?"

"I already told you," he said, then took a sip of his drink. "I'm starting to think you're a robot whose default setting is interrogating me."

When he placed the second glass on the table, she ignored it. More for him, he supposed.

"I want a real answer. If what you said was true -Why now? Why tonight? On a night you know is important to Elena. Just stop your games and tell me what you're up to?" she paused to take a breath. "Do you need my help with something? Is Elena in trouble? Are you in trouble? If you need help just ask me. Don't pretend that-"

"I never had a problem with getting your help - threats, blackmail or otherwise," his jaw muscles tightened, and he took another sip to put himself at ease. "Don't try to pin your insecurities on me."

"My-"

"-Sure, you care about your friends. You're perfect. Witch of the year award goes to you. Friend of the century award goes to you. You put it all on the line, but deep down you don't think it's possible for anyone to choose you over Elena. That's why you're so mad at me."

Her mouth fell open, and it just stayed there - air going in and nothing coming out. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what she was feeling, but she felt betrayed by him. He was trying to pit her against her bestfriend to get what he wanted. He'd reached a new low. After a full minute passed, she finally told him, "That's not true and even it was, I would never ask anyone to choose. I don't expect that and I don't want that." But she was feeling venomous now, and a little scathed by his assessment, so she couldn't help but to say "Maybe you were confusing me with yourself."

"I know I can't compete with Stefan," he admitted easily. It was something that he came to terms with the moment his little brother was born. "It doesn't stop me from trying, and it doesn't stop me from taking what I want."

"You got what you wanted."

"I did- partially anyway- but I don't want it anymore," it was his first time saying it aloud - but he could tell from the confused look on her face that he hadn't really said anything. Was reading between the lines a lost art now? Oh, what the hell? There was no one down there but the two of them. If he regretted anything he said or if she tried to use it against him, he could always deny. Looking down at his empty glass, he added, "I don't want her anymore. I guess you can say I wanted her for all the wrong reasons."

Bonnie glared at him as if he'd said something blasphemous. "I don't know what happened between you two tonight, but this isn't you. You don't care about much, but you love Elena more than anything."

"People change."

"That's a lame excuse and you know it."

"Not as crappy as your excuses," he fired, and continued before she gave him yet another confused look as she demanded an explanation. "Come on, Bonnie, give me some credit. I've been around long enough. You've thought about this before. Being with me- alone. No one to bug us with doppelganger murder attempts-"

"You're insane."

"I can hear the way your heart speeds up when I get close to you," he leaned in to prove his point. "It always has. Sometimes it's because I make you nervous, but other times it happens because-"

"Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?" Bonnie cut in, her tone at the highest octave.

She stood, and bumped into the table in her haste to create space between them. Damon was quick. He didn't even have to stand in order to grab a handful of her dress, where the material bunched at her waist a little. She didn't struggle.

"We'll talk about something else. Just sit. Drink," he threw a smirk in to get the light-hearted mood back on track, but she didn't buy it. She sat further away from him.

Witches. Always paranoid, cranky or spastic when it came to vamps.

Damon left her on the couch to refill his glass, and came back with a cream book with gold pages. With his feet propped on the table, dangerously close to a candle, her glass dangerously close to the candle and the book on his lap, Bonnie realized two things. One, he was a walking fire hazard and two, he had no plans to talk to her as long as his nose was in that book. She wasn't sure why the latter disappointed her. He'd just backed her into a corner; she should've been happy that he closed that big mouth of his.

Her dress made a swishing sound as she scooted back to her original spot.

"What's that?"

"A book."

"About?"

"Stuff."

"Like?"

"You're annoying," said Damon, looking up from the book.

"So are you."

They silently challenged each other until one of them folded.

"Poetry from the 1800s."

1 point for Team Witchy. 0 points for Team Vampy.

"I didn't know you like poetry."

"I liked," he corrected. "This one was a gift. I promised to finish reading it ... about 178 years ago."

"What's taking you so long?" Bonnie asked, genuinely interested.

"My aversion to all things boring."

"It can't be that bad," she said. "Who did you promise?"

When he didn't respond, she had a fleeting thought that involved him writhing on the floor in pain. He had to be one of the most difficult people ... vampires ...whatever ... in the world. Instead of resorting to violence, she looked around the room. Which led her to thinking about things like, where would she sleep, what about pjs and her other human needs? Besides, she couldn't spend the night there with Damon. Everyone would think something went on for sure.

"Looking for something?" he arched a brow.

"No ... well, yeah. I can't stay here all night."

"Why not?"

"I don't have a toothbrush, pajamas, there's no food here, only one bed, no bathroom-"

"There's a bathroom," he pointed at a folded screen near the bookcase.

"There's no door. It's just a flimsy screen. No way."

Damon rolled his eyes. Sure, he could be a perv at times, but he wasn't that hard up. Who did she think he was?

"If you need privacy I can go get some air for a while." He hadn't fed all day anyway, and the witch clearly wasn't going to let him feed from her. He gulped the last of his drink.

"Maybe for just a while. Give me about fifteen minutes. And don't go too far."

"Can't stand to be away from me?" he said in a tone that Bonnie was willing to admit was mildly seductive - if one was into the maniac types.

"I don't want to be alone here."

"Again," he pointed to her. "Prodigy witch."

"Just, shut up and come back soon." It was bad enough she had to tell him to come back soon in the first place. The least he could do was not be a douche.

Damon slipped a leather jacket on. "I don't have a curfew. I'll stay out until the sun comes up if I want."

"And I would drive a stake through your heart myself." She knew threatening people wasn't exactly the Queen's etiquette but where were his manners?

"Whatever, Witchy," he dismissed her threat. "I have a few shirts in that drawer. I know I dress badly, but you can borrow what you need. As far as the bed-" He did one of his weird eye things. "Since you're so mature we can share it. You've already proved you can resist me, so you should have nothing to worry about."

He gave her a smile that was anything but friendly, then climbed the ladder.

Jerk.