I have nothing written for this story. It completely fell off my radar so in order to apologize for not having a proper chapter, I'm including my outtakes for this story. I had originally planned to demonize Damon a lot and not just let him sit back and watch things unfurl. He was supposed to be angry at himself, at Stefan, at Bonnie, at life; because he was cheated. I guess he still is angry but he's a lot better at keeping things at bay? Anyways, while I work on the real update for chapter 7, enjoy...whatever this is.


Her mouth is dry and her palms sweaty; she wipes them mindlessly on her floral skirt. An anger is building in the pit of her stomach and she makes an involuntary sound of protest in the back of her throat.
The dead has risen.

Or never actually been dead...
Bonnie doesn't know if she wants to run into her arms or slap the serene smile off her face so she settles for neither; turning on her heels and walking out the door. It's cruel: tricking someone into grief and it's been played on her.

She walks until her feet ache. Seeing but not seeing. She doesn't stop until the loud honk of a horn scares her out of her own mind.
Bonnie swipes viciously at the tears of anger that escape her eyes with shakey hands before turning to cast her gaze on the 1961 Camaro in blue. Damon's eyes are trained on her, the methane blue unwavering.
She gets in without invitation because she is shaking, not because of the cold but because of a flurry of emotions that has her doesn't meet his gaze again. She just stares at her hands; clenching and unclenching her fists and willing them to stop shaking.
Damon sighs and drives seemingly with no destination in mind. He is refraining from being his usual asshole self and demanding the truth out of her. But, she senses, that will not last long from the way he begins insistently tapping on the steering wheel.
After a while she inhales and he looks at her full lips that she is worrying and she falters; she won't be able to forget this moment where he turns from into her enemy and someone she despises into her confidante because he always listens to her intently; his attention rapt on her as if she has all the secrets of the universe. Ready to divulge at any moment. He will not let this go. She worries that this will mean something to her ,and she fears, everything to him.
Right now she has no universal secrets to share just her own petty problems but she needs an ear and he is willing to lend it.
She is selfish, she should hate him for what he did to Elena but right now she is broken and he is willing to help her pick up the pieces.


Bonnie talks for hours, until she's horse and no more words come to mind, it's dark by that time and he drives her to the Gilbert Residence; he had flinched when she made the request and his face hardened.
The Gilbert residence is shrouded in darkness, a fact that Bonnie does not realize until she retrieves the key from the plant pot that she and Elena had tried growing poenies in and failed miserably because they didn't have the green thumb. She smiles at the memory of two young girls, their brown hair pulled high as they packed dirt into the pot.
Her smile falters when she walks into a wall of darkness. It feels more menacing than usual and Bonnie flinches.
"Elena?" She calls out as she moves to turn on the lights and dispell the shadows.
"Jenna?" She calls after failing to get a reply.
"Jeremy?"
Bonnie walks over to the step so she can listen for a reply but she hears running water.
"Elena?" She calls again, climbing the stairs with fevor. Water is flooding the upstairs hall and Bonnie's heart almost stops beating.
"Elena!" She screams and pushes at the locked door willing it to open. A burst of energy eminates from her and the door pushes back, breaking the lock and splintering the wood. Bonnie rushes in and a unmoving Elena sits in the tub, long gashes donning both hands. The blood drips from the wounds tainting the water pink and making her nauseous. She ignores it and rushes over to her friend, turning off the water and pressing her fingers against the brunette's neck desperate for any sign that she's okay.
There is a flutter under her index finger and she screams in relief. Tears are running down her face and ugly sobs escaping her lips. She pulls out the phone and calls for help, barely hearing her own horse voice as she relayed the address to the EMT. When she's finished she lets her phone fall carelessly from her hand and she clutches her friend's naked body against her.


Her head is groggy from the sedative they had to give her to stop her from bawling her lungs off and clawing and scratching at the doctors so she could stay at her best friend's side.
Her tears, she suspected are not only for the brunette lying in the OR getting stitches for the cuts across the forearms but for her mother, who faked her own death, her Grams who she hasn't seen in months and for herself; the girl who is forever damned to die for love.
Bonnie is sitting in the waiting room, her aching head cradled in her hands and a guard standing a few feet away watching her carefully in case she tries to attack the hospital staff in order to find Elena again.
"Bonnie," A voice has her looking up and for all she has been avoiding him for a week and a half; she's relieved to see him. She's into his arms before she realises she told herself to move.
"Stefan," She breathes and with that breath comes her trembling. She hadn't realized she was cold but it only seems logical because she still dons the damp articles of clothing.
Stefan's strong arms wrap tighter around her and she presses her face into his chest.
They pull away when the racking in her body is too much and her teeth are cleched too hard.
"You have to help her Stefan, please."
Stefan opens his mouth and closes it firmly. "Please Stefan, she's my sister. I can't lose her,"
With that final plea Stefan feels his resolve drop.
He could never deny her anything.


His fangs descend and he tears into his wrist, it's messy and tactless but they're pressed for time. He's mesmerized for a moment by the red pooling on his skin and then his presses the offending appendage to the still slightly blue lips of the pale brunette who looks even paler against the white hospital sheets.
She drinks without cohersion and he feels Bonnie release a sigh.
He watches for several more moments as her skin regains some colour and he can hear her pulse become stronger. One of her hands twitches, the one secured to the bed as standard regulation with all attempted suicide cases.
He takes his hand away from the suction of her mouth and watches the red of his blood stain her lips. Bonnie steps forward; her eyes tired but relieved and he watches as she wipes the blood away from Elena's lips and presses a kiss to her friend's forehead.
"Come on," He encourages and she allows her self to led away from her friend. He can feel all the tension leave her body from where his hand is placed on her shoulder. She pulls his jacket closer around her body and she stops, she places her hands on his shoulder and tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips.


He watches her sleep. He's a starving man being presented an all you can eat buffet, if he allows the goddess in front of him to be described in such crass terms. He takes all of her in, her caramel skin that glowed in the streak of moonlight that shone through the window.
She had been too exhausted to go home and face Abby so she had come to the Salvatore Boarding house to seek reprieve.
It was horrible to trick someone into grieving; it was a pain he had felt before. The first time Bonnie had died and he had spent years distraught and ripping before he turned it off. She was his reasons to turn it back on; his second chance.
He had lost count of how many times he had met her through the years; 10? 20? She was both his salvation and his damnation and he could honestly say the only thing he regretted about their time together was that it wasn't longer.
Sometimes he got years, sometimes mere months.

He wants more, he always has.