Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries or anything affiliated with the Vampire Diaries or really much of anything at all in general. The most depressing disclaimer.

Chapter Soundtrack: Muse – Sing for Absolution, Reliant K – Curl Up and Die


This kid had been watching too many of those Saw movies, he realized as the scrawny werewolf yanked on the ropes attached to the spiked wooden collar around Damon's neck. More vervain-soaked binding tied him to the arms and legs of the chair he was seated upon, burning agonizingly on his skin every time he shifted.

The coward gave a bold sneer from his place a safe distance across the room. Around him, the rest of his pack snickered to see the vampire groan in pain.

Even more than the spikes digging viciously into Damon's neck, he dreaded what he knew was coming next. Elijah was going to be the one to waltz in and save him from the rowdy pack of dogs.

He wondered what would happen to the man if he killed him in his dream.

When the mutts began to fall to the floor one by one, clutching their heads pathetically, he sighed. Soon enough, he knew Jonas Martin's looming figure would appear at the entryway.

Irritated, he didn't even bother to watch the door, turning instead with some pleasure to see the collapse of each of his captors.

Citrus, honey, sage. That wasn't Mister Man-Witch or the Baron von Douchenstein.

He looked up as she approached him, the hem of her gown sweeping over the regrettably bloodied carpet. Her fingers grasped the collar wrapped around his neck, carefully undoing it and removing it. She winced as his mangled flesh was revealed beneath, but already he felt it knitting back together. She reached out involuntarily to wipe away some of the blood.

Her fingers swept down from his neck, but she pulled her hand away as if suddenly realizing her own actions.

He had the abrupt urge to reach out and pull her to him, but his hands were still restrained. "Judgy, c'mere."

She looked up to meet his gaze in a moment of confusion. He stared back at her, intent clear in his icy blue eyes.

After a moment's pause, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his.

He seemed to be trying to make up for his inability to touch her with his hands, kissing her back hungrily, possessively. He leaned forward, struggling helplessly against his bonds as she pulled away.

She slid one leg at a time through the armrests, and he watched the hem of her gown ride up to reveal the smooth brown skin. "I'm still mad at you, you know," he murmured, eyes fixed downwards as she straddled him. She settled firmly into his lap as the sliding fabric exposed her thighs.

"Well I still don't like you, so we're even, Salvatore." Her arms wrapped around his now healed neck, and she leaned her mouth into his again, her breasts pressing against his chest. Their bodies were separated by nothing but his jeans and the thin fabric of her gown.

He groaned against her lips, and she seemed to notice as he fought against the toxic ropes. Her lips lingered on the skin of his jaw as her eyes fluttered open, long lashes brushing against his cheek.

"You should untie me," he murmured. He took hold of whatever part of her that he could with his mouth, sucking bruises on her neck and nipping at the lobe of her ear.

She ignored his words. Her hands began to roam, much to his pleasure and torment. Soft fingertips danced across the bare skin of his torso, and he bucked against her when she teasingly traced her way down his treasure trail.

"Is this real?" he breathed against her neck. "Is this really you in my dreams?"

"You talk too much, Damon." Her lips found his again. Her fingers trailed down to hook into his waistband, and she moaned as he ground his hips up into her hot core, feeling his dick straining desperately behind the seam of his jeans.

He felt her gasp, a sharp intake of breath from his mouth to hers. A loud click echoed around them as her grip abandoned his jeans and tightened almost painfully on his forearms. When he smelled her blood, his eyes flew open.

The collar was snapped around her neck, and a fierce tug embedded the wooden spikes into her soft skin, pulling her away from him. She cried out and tumbled to the ground.

Elijah's visage was vague behind her, as the scent of her blood threatened to overwhelm Damon. The Original's mouth was set in a terse, unfeeling line. He was not taking pleasure from his actions but was determined to complete them all the same.

Bonnie's eyes brimmed with hurt and fear, and something unexpected: betrayal. "How could you let this happen to me?" she whispered.

He thrashed in his bonds, the vervain ropes digging painfully into his wrists as he tried frantically, vainly, to free himself. There was nothing he could do.

He had shunned her for over two weeks after the possession.

Not that it was easy to avoid thinking about her. Ironically, now that he wasn't desperately trying to see her, the bond was somehow strong enough that she seemed to appear anytime she crossed his mind more than fleetingly. Which was often.

He saw her in the library on cold afternoons, hovering beside his bed as he fell asleep, silhouetted against the mirror behind the bar at the Grill, and one memorable time standing beside him in the shower, her fingers slapped firmly over her eyes. Every time, he managed to quickly shut her back out, watching with grim discontent as her form flickered and faded away.

But he couldn't keep her out of his dreams, which became incessant in her daytime absence. Every night's rest was interrupted by her face, the hurt and sometimes regret in her eyes eating away at him.

Despite their impasse, he knew they couldn't afford to delay their plans to thwart Elijah. At a loss for how to resurrect Bonnie without using the forbidden spell, he spent his daylight hours researching ways to destroy the amulet, the key to everything else.

He tried smashing it, the uncomfortable reverberations from each impact buzzing through the bones of his arm. The talisman wasn't even dented, though he used his vampiric strength and splintered the handle right off the hammer.

He tried melting it, stoking the dry wood fire in the hearth patiently for hours one night. The soft silver didn't warp in the slightest.

He even took it to the chem lab at Mystic Falls High and compelled the chemistry teacher to dunk it in nitric acid. Ms. Yagoda looked on with glazed eyes as nothing happened.

Finally he glared at the thing in disgust and took the flamethrower to it. Still, no dice.

He was forced to conclude that if magic made it, magic must be the only thing to destroy it. He muttered many a choice phrase about witches that night.

He concealed the amulet again, and without Bonnie's presence he quickly found himself running out of options. Unwinding in the boardinghouse afterwards, he wondered if Zora might know what to do.

"I must say I am surprised to find you here. One really should consider moving to a more secure location when one has Original vampires on one's tail."

Elijah's voice was velvet and silk, resonating from the entrance to the parlor.

Damon didn't bother to even open his eyes, reclined in an armchair with his head tilted back lazily. "I'm not worried."

The Original's eyes flashed with anger. "That's the problem with you young vampires, no respect for your betters."

Damon felt strong arms yanking him up by his shirt, and his back slammed hard against one of the walls. His eyes were now open, and he stared coolly to meet Elijah's gaze.

He felt the point of Elijah's stake digging threateningly into his chest as it had before. To Damon, now seemed an excellent time to gloat. "You won't do it. If you kill me, you'll never find the talisman. No talisman, no Klaus, no touching family reunion."

Elijah's jaw clicked, but he lowered the stake and stepped away. He shook out his jacket and realigned his cuffs. "I realize the Bennett witch is assisting you from beyond the grave. Personally, I find it all rather trite in an unlikely, Nicholas Sparks kind of way, but to each their own."

"Someone's been doing his homework and sucking up to teacher. Would you like a gold star?" Damon sneered.

Elijah ignored him. "I am here to offer you a trade: the amulet for the resurrection of the Bennett witch."

Damon's interest was piqued now. "How would you manage that?"

"I know my fair share of witches, including some rather uncommon and interesting ones who practice darker magic. And unlike you, most of them survive my acquaintance."

A tic in the muscle of Damon's jaw was the only indication he heard the latter statement. "Dark magic. Human sacrifice level dark magic?"

Elijah nodded slightly, his arms folded across his chest in nonchalance. "It will require a human sacrifice, but it will call her spirit back into her body."

Damon wasn't one to wring his hands too much over a little human death, and he seemed to be considering Elijah's proposal.

Suddenly the carpet was on fire.

"Oh cut it out, Judgy. So dramatic."

Elijah arched his eyebrow.

Damon continued, "I'm not stupid enough to actually make a deal with a proven traitor like Count Pomade here. You being alive won't be good for him anyway, so duh it's a trap. Plus the Persian rug is a low blow, you know that." The flames snuffed themselves out, and the carpet was unmarred.

Elijah stared at him furiously. "We only want the same thing, Damon, in the end. To be reunited with our loved ones."

Damon smirked. The Original was at a dead end, and he knew it. "The difference is, unlike you, I have options."

It was still sort of true, anyway.

Elijah ran his hands down the front of his jacket, smoothing the already impeccable fabric. "Think on it for a while, then. But don't take too long, or I will be forced to resort to less desirable measures." In a flash of motion, he was gone.

Damon collapsed back onto the couch. He felt the air rustle beside him, and he turned and saw Bonnie sitting at the other end. He sighed.

When she wasn't shut out after a moment, Bonnie too exhaled.

"Look, I feel bad about the hijacking."

The vampire snorted. "Yeah, so if you ever do that again, I'm going to take Elijah up on his offer, bring you back to life with the darkest dark magic and the most human of human sacrifices, and then I'll kill you myself."

Her mouth twisted unhappily. "I'd like to see you try."

"Don't tempt me, Witchy."

She sighed. "I won't. I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry."

He inclined his head towards her silently. These were new words from her mouth to his ears.

"So what made you finally come to your senses about that spell?"

She was blasé, shrugging. "It wasn't going to work, Aunt Zora was right."

"Oh, was Zora the one stopping you? That's weird, I remember it differently. I think you mean someone else was right, don't you?" He smirked at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't push it, Damon. Anyway, we'll just have to find another way."

"We better find another way fast, then. Elijah surely spends the majority of his day on his hair conditioning routine, but he's apparently still finding time to snoop."

"I'll see if any of the witches over here will talk to me, now that we aren't doing that spell."

He nodded. "And I'll cast my net on this side."

They both settled into their places on the opposite ends of the couch, facing one another. The weight of the tasks ahead was heavy upon them, and the comfortable silence provided an unspoken moment of reprieve.

He was the one to speak again. "What's the first thing you'll do once you're back?"

She took in a deep breath, pensive. "I'll probably run down to the Grill and drink at least three chocolate milkshakes."

He grinned, his eyebrows raised in bemusement.

"You'd be surprised how much you miss a good milkshake when you can't ever have one again."

"Hmm, fair enough."

They fell back into silence. A few minutes passed, and this time she was the one to break the quiet.

"I miss it all, really."

He looked back up at her as she continued.

"I miss Elena smiling at me, and Caroline's spine-shattering hugs. And feeling the sun, and the way the football field smelled whenever they mowed it during cheerleading practice."

The corners of his mouth were tense with a strange, pained frown.

"But now we're back at square one." She swallowed thickly, but he knew she wouldn't cry in front of him.

He had to fight the useless urge to wrap his arms around her, both unsure if she would welcome his comfort and knowing they'd just pass right through her huddled form if he even tried. He realized that Bonnie had held herself with so much poise and audacity that it was easy to forget: at the heart of things, she had always been just as vulnerable as any other mortal girl. It was so easy to forget, in fact, that she got killed before he truly understood.

"You deserved better," he finally said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "You shouldn't have died that night. You deserve a full, happy life. Out of all of us, you should get to do all those Hallmark things, to fall in love and have a family and grow old."

She couldn't help staring at him, surprised by his admission. "I would do it again," she assured him.

"I know you would."

He listened to the silence that remained as he pulled his key from the ignition and the rumble of his car's engine came to an end.

Warm Virginia sunlight streamed through the open windows. It had been a long time since he'd been in Mystic Falls. He made it a habit to check in on all of the Bennett witches over the years, but recalled that Abby was a slippery one to track.

He looked up at the house, and he saw a small figure scurrying in the wooded enclosure off to one side. The last time he'd been here, he'd only had half a moment to wonder about her before he saw the glint of bright green eyes and all but confirmed that she was a Bennett.

He had been confused at the time as to why no one had told him about her.

He focused his hearing and had no trouble picking up the tiny shrill of her voice as she spoke to herself.

"Of course, Ms. Bear. We have your room all ready, in fact. Please, let the bellboy take your things and follow me, I'll show you there myself."

He saw her grab the bedraggled brown teddy bear, carrying it to a separate area within the enclosure. A dense layer of pinestraw and dead leaves crunched beneath her tennis shoes.

She placed Ms. Bear atop a pile of stacked logs. "Here we are, ma'am. It's the penthouse suite. Our restaurant is open now, so feel free to freshen up and come down for some fine dining." She strode back across the enclosure, leaving Ms. Bear to her own devices in her opulent new living arrangements.

Bonnie sat beside an old gnarled stump, methodically stirring a puddle of mud with a stick.

He climbed out of the car and approached her. "Hey there," he smiled.

She looked up with a frown. "I don't know you."

He offered her his outstretched hand. "I'm Damon. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I'm not supposed to talk to people I don't know." She stared at his hand and continued frowning.

"Well you know me now." He held his hands up defensively. "Besides, I'm just here to book a room for the night."

Her frown faltered as a spark lit behind her eyes. "Well, Mr. Damon… I guess if it's business, that's different."

He grinned. "Exactly. And you can call me Damon. What can I call you?"

"I'm Mrs. Flowers, this is my hotel," she proclaimed haughtily.

"Oh, Mrs.? Who's the lucky fella who snapped up a successful young businesswoman like you?"

She jumped to her feet and ran back to the sidewalk, where a pile of stuffed animals were strewn haphazardly. Plucking a faded orange cat from the mess, she brought it back to him. She made a fuss of arranging the creature's bowtie as she said, "This is Mr. Flowers. Mr. Flowers, meet Damon."

Damon solemnly nodded to the stuffed cat. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Flowers. You have excellent taste in women." The cat's beady green eyes stared back at him glassily.

The girl made a face, but continued. "Mr. Flowers and I welcome you to our estambli… our estabish… estambishm…"

"Establishment," he filled in for her, only to be met by a scowl.

"Welcome to our hotel. Would you like a balcony view?"

He couldn't help smiling. "Now that I think of it, I'm looking for someone. Is your mom home?"

She froze. Tears sprang into her eyes, and he remembered it was the wrong thing to say.

"Actually, on second thought, I would like that balcony view."

Heavy, rolling tears began to overflow as she set her mouth in a stubborn frown. She turned away and ran for the house. "Daddy! DAD!"

After a moment, a panicked Rudy came rushing out the front door. "Baby, what's wrong?" She buried her face in his shirt and shook her head.

Rudy looked up and frowned, noticing the vampire. "You."

Damon sneered. "Me."

"Abby told you to leave us alone."

He shrugged. "A guy's got obligations. Speaking of Abby…"

Rudy held up a hand to silence him, before crouching down to face his daughter. "Honey, why don't you go play for a while? I'll handle this from here." He smoothed away the last of the tears streaking down her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. She gulped, nodding.

Bonnie glanced back at Damon only once, her face twisted with a surprising amount of mistrust for one so young. She turned and went to her pile of toys on the sidewalk.

This was the part where he and Rudy were supposed to have a tense conversation about Abby, who had left two weeks prior. She was gone, Bonnie was hurt and confused, and Rudy was at a loss for how to keep going.

But all Damon really wanted to do was go back to Bonnie. He wished then that he'd spent more time checking up on her as she was growing up, that he'd had a chance to know what she was like before she layered on all that armor to fend off the world. To fend off harsh realities like Damon himself.

He turned back to the girl, but Rudy caught his attention again. "Don't you dare. You leave her alone, she's not going to have anything to do with that life." The man glared at the vampire.

Damon rolled his eyes. If only he knew.

He was surprised though as Rudy's eyes widened, staring at something behind him, over his shoulder. "Bonnie! Get out of there!"

This hadn't happened last time. To Damon, with his vampire reflexes and the sudden rush of adrenaline, everything seemed to nearly screech to a halt, proceeding in slow motion.

He turned and saw Bonnie as she went to retrieve a stuffed animal that had somehow made its way into the street. Hearing her father's voice, she paused and looked up. Barreling directly towards her was a van, moving far too fast.

Without thinking, Damon flew to her. His arms hooked under hers and his momentum knocked them both to the opposite sidewalk. The van rushed carelessly past them less than a second later. With a deft twist of his torso, he skidded across the concrete on his back, the girl landing soft and safe against his chest.

As he woke, he could still feel the child's hands clinging to the fabric of his shirt.


A/N: Hi lovelies! Tomorrow's moving day, so I should probably be packing or something, but... I'd rather be here :D

True story, my sister and I played "Hotel" ALL THE TIME as kids. Our hotel had a lobby, a dance floor, a kitchen (we made mud casserole, mud pie, mud cake, basically mud anything you could garnish with pine cones), a dining hall, and rooms for a variety of clientele. There was even a "vault," which was basically a hole in the ground where we buried particularly smooth or oddly colored rocks for safekeeping. I'm just trying to explain that it was the best game ever, and you should give it a try if you never have before.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Not as much action as past chapters, but it laid the groundwork for some shifts in character that I'm desperately trying to segue to.

No guest reviewers this time, so PMs all around! :D

Thank you guys again SO MUCH for all of your amazing reviews and notes and everything here and other places like twitter and tumblr! I'm honestly amazed by all of it! Love you guuuuuys!