Clean of You

"So, how'd you do?" he asked, as he stood in front of the brunette—her long brown hair cascading down her back, and her bright blue eyes shining.

"He drank whatever I gave him—didn't suspect a thing," she said, and he smiled.

Finally—a human who did not fail—not like the last one.

"Seems like you did a good job," he replied as he studied her.

"Yeah, and now it's time for you to pay up," she said with a grin as she placed both hands on the tight waist of her tiny denim shorts.

He eyed her bare midriff that was shown off by her flannel shirt, and his eyes wandered over her lean, tan legs that seemed to stretch on for miles.

He smiled as he moved in closer towards—closing in the gap between them as he aggressively pushed her up against the wall and pressed his body against hers, while she looked into his hypnotic green eyes longingly.

"You're right, I promised," he whispered with a smirk, and a satisfied smile spread across her full red lips as she awaited his next move.

His hands moved to her waist, thumbing the button on her shorts.

He suddenly bared his fangs, and bit into his wrist, and the deep red liquid dripped from it slowly. He placed the wound to her lips, and she sucked his blood swiftly—letting it intoxicate her more and more with each pull.

He finally pulled it away from her mouth, and she licked her lips.

"That's it?" she asked huffing, and he let out a laugh as he ran his fingers through the long brown locks.

She gazed into his eyes as he ran his hands up her shirt, grabbing all over, as his lips crashed onto her cheek, collarbone, shoulder, and then neck. He inhaled her scent, and his eyes instantly turned blood red as he did—he was craving the taste of this girl, and being this close was sending him into a wave of euphoria.

He ran his tongue along her neck and she sighed as she ran her hands up the back of his shirt. Without another sound, he finally let his teeth that grazed her skin pierce her and she let out a bit of a scream before he muffled her mouth with his palm.

"You wanted this, right?" he asked fiercely, and she nodded quickly, as the blood dripped down her neck. "Then no screaming," he whispered into her ear.

She nodded in compliance as nuzzled his face into the crevice and licked the blood that dripped down her shoulder.

He sunk his fangs into her again; this time much harder, probably to show her—to teach her—that it could get much worse. She gripped onto him so hard that her sun kissed hands turned a ghostly white while he began to drain her of all of her blood. He held onto her waist, and her breathing became shallower by the second, and he sucked her completely dry.

He dropped the lifeless body onto the ground, and wiped the remnants of blood off his chin as he looked down at her.

"Have fun transitioning," Stefan said lowly, as he walked out of the back room of the bar with a smile on his face.


Bonnie awoke in her interim bedroom bright and early the next morning, and she looked at the clock—it was 8 A.M—way too early to be up in her opinion.

But she wasn't tired—after Damon opted for going to bed so early last night, she did the same. She didn't want to go out exploring NOLA by herself, and there was nothing left to do but sleep and think.

She did a lot of thinking.

She tossed and turned as she wondered how things were back home—Caroline had called her while Damon was out last night.

"Elena's down, Jeremy's down—everybody is so freakin' depressed," The Blonde exasperated, and Bonnie sighed. "What are you and Damon not telling me? Why'd he tell me to look after Elena?" she asked.

"Elena and Damon… they're not getting along, I guess he just wanted you to be there for her. And Jeremy is… all wrong right now, Care. I had to get away from him." Bonnie offered.

It was all that she could say without giving away everything. She didn't want Caroline to freak out.

"Are you sure that's it, Bon?"

"We'll talk more when I come home," Bonnie ended.

She didn't know when she would actually be going home, but it made her nervous. She'd still have the Jeremy problem to deal with, and Damon would have his Elena problem. This expedition that they were on to save Stefan was somewhat of a vacation from their normally scheduled program.

Being around Damon, despite what a mess he was last night, was refreshing—she needed to be around someone who wouldn't let her wallow in her self-pity, although he clearly showed her he wasn't as strong as he looked last night.

It hurt to see him like that—she was used to seeing Damon drunk, but last night, he was all torn up and she couldn't help but feel some sort of empathy towards him. Damon was there for her after she had gotten hurt by not one, but two guys, and she was really beginning to feel indebted to him. Damon was emotionally a prisoner to his failed relationship with Elena, and in Bonnie's eyes, it was just as bad as getting physically abused.

She hugged her pillow one more time, and got out of bed. She slowly walked to her bathroom and washed up—she might as well get ready for the day.

She finished up and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

She was so far gone from the person who she was—the person that she had been for seventeen years of her life. Tomorrow, she'd be eighteen and she'd be starting an all new chapter. She didn't know what would happen next, but she promised herself that she'd be strong for herself, for Damon, no matter what.

She walked down the hallway towards his room—he must've been awake, considering he needed nothing more than an hour or so of sleep to survive.

She walked up to his bedroom and saw that the door was slightly ajar.

"Damon?" she called, as she pushed it open, and she caught sight of him, shirtless as always, but still in bed, and eyes shut.

She turned to leave, but she heard him whisper something, and she stopped.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked under his breath.

"Doing what, Damon?" Bonnie asked, confused as she walked back towards the vampire.

"Stefan, please stop—I can help you… I can," he pleaded gently and her eyebrow rose.

Damon was dreaming—or having a nightmare, depending on what was happening.

Bonnie shut her eyes delicately and placed her hands on his head, as she began concentrating on him, while the vampire continued his rambling. She needed to know what Stefan was doing inside of his head and this was her best chance to find out.

Bonnie reopened her eyes and realized that she was no longer standing above Damon at his bedside—she was in a dark forest, standing behind a tree, surveying the greenery of her new surroundings. This place didn't feel familiar, and she had no recollection of it as she gazed around at the huge trees that encircled all around her, and the moon up in the sky.

She breathed slowly as she began to walk, and she heard the crunching of autumn leaves beneath her feet.

She finally saw them.

Damon was standing before his brother, no more than 50 feet away, and she quickly hid herself behind a large oak as she observed them.

They both seemed to be dressed from another era, as the blue eyed vampire wore a ruffled white button-up, brown cap, and gray knickers. Stefan was dressed quite similarly, but with one huge difference—he had auburn blood dripping down his chin.

"You don't have to live like this," Damon urged and Stefan let out a bellowing laugh that was probably heard all throughout the forest.

"But this is who I am now, brother. This is what I will always be—a monster, an animal; I will always be everything that you are not," Stefan said coarsely. "You left me, Damon, because I didn't act the way you wanted me to—you thought I'd never find you, but alas, here I am. Reunited with my older brother, once again," Stefan grinned demonically.

"'Tis true, Stefan. I came here to escape you—"

"And now they will all die because of your foolish mistake. Starting with her," Stefan said as he glanced directly at Bonnie.

Bonnie let out a gasp as her eyes met with Stefan's—how was he seeing her right now? She looked down at her clothes and realized that she wasn't wearing her gray t-shirt and black shorts—she was in a beige frilled dress, with lace gloves, and a bonnet—she was in 1864.

Stefan stalked towards her with lightening speed, and she felt everything inside of her shaking as he stood right in front of her with deep red eyes and a devilish smirk.

She pushed her palm towards him and he was instantly propelled backwards as she breathed heavily with wide eyes. Damon ran over to her and looked into her eyes, then at his brother as he lay on the ground, already getting back up and snarling at the witch.

"She will die," was the last thing Bonnie heard before she opened her eyes and found herself in Damon's bedroom again, panting as she held onto her chest.

What the hell just happened?

Damon was instantly jolted out of his sleep as well, and their eyes met one another's and he stared at her. Bonnie looked down and realized Damon's hand was gripping her own. He slowly let his fingers fall away from hers as he sat up. There was silence between them.

"You shouldn't have done that, Bonnie," Damon said as he hopped up, and began to walk out of the room.

"Why not, Damon? I had to know what he was doing—"

"Why?" he yelled as he turned around and stared at her. She grew quiet as his eyes widened and he stared at her. "What difference does it make, Bonnie?" he asked as he began to walk away again.

"Because I know how he's doing this," she said, and Damon stopped in his tracks. "He has a witch, Damon. It would explain why he took the grimoire," she said.

He stood there, speechless, but he was shaking. Shaking because he didn't know what to say, think, or do anymore.

"Is there a way to find out who this witch is?" he asked and Bonnie nodded.

"Yes—I can channel them, I can see who it is and maybe stop them," she said slowly.

Damon sighed and Bonnie placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We're going to figure this out, Damon—"

"And what if we don't? What if he kills you—"

"He won't. Now that I know it's on his mind… I'll stop him," Bonnie said confidently.

Damon glanced into her green eyes and he instantly believed her; it was as if something had changed within Bonnie after getting into Damon's head and facing Stefan. She didn't seem as fragile as she had been the past few days—she seemed strong.

"Where do we begin?" he asked and she sighed.

"I thought you'd never ask."


"A Voodoo Museum? Really Bonnie?" Damon asked as they walked around the building that was nestled in the French Quarter very closely to Bourbon Street.

Damon and Bonnie wandered the eerie halls of the attraction as he gazed at the paintings, books on the shelves, and voodoo dolls that were ever apparent.

"Well, since Emily is still holding a grudge, I thought I'd find the next best thing," she said as she walked and he rolled his eyes.

"Well this place is freaking me the hell out, so let's move it along," Damon urged and Bonnie continued to study everything. "What do you really need to here anyw—"

Bonnie said as she pressed her finger to her lips when they entered a vacant room and she shut her eyes.

She could feel the spirits swirling around her as she just stood there, and it was pretty cool in her opinion, that they had such a presence.

Damon quietly watched as Bonnie stood there with her eyes closed. He glanced around at the skulls on the tables, and he shuddered. This was way too freaky—even for him. Bonnie's eyes suddenly opened, and she stared at him.

"What? Did they give you a little doll to take with you?" he asked, and then he looked down at her hand and saw a small bottle as he raised an eyebrow.

"How did you—"he began and she stuffed it into her pocket before a museum attendant walked in.

The blonde with green eyes stared between them suspiciously as she arranged things on a shelf.

"Are you two holding up okay?" she asked and Damon grinned.

"We are just fantastic," he offered.

"And we were just leaving," Bonnie added as she grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the door.

They walked down the halls quickly, and when they got to the front desk, Bonnie stopped.

"Excuse me, how would I go about getting in touch with a practitioner?" she asked.

The woman at the desk handed Bonnie a list, and she took it graciously.

"Thanks!" she called as she and Damon walked out.

Once in the street, he stared at her with wide eyes.

"What the hell happened in there?" he asked and she sighed.

"I was able to get in touch with a spirit… Marie Laveau," she said and he looked confused.

"Who the hell is that?" he asked as they walked.

"She is the Queen of Voodoo. She's a legend and probably the biggest part of history when it comes to magic… she's the one who gave me this," Bonnie said as she took the small bottle out of her pocket.

He took it out of her hands and examined the blue liquid as it swirled around.

"What is this?"

"A gris-gris—it's going to help us. As soon as I find a practitioner, they'll tell us what to do with it," she said as she looked at the list, picked an address, and continued walking. He sighed. "What?"

"You really think this'll work, Bonnie? A magic potion thingy from some voodoo spirit—"

"Do you have any other ideas?" she asked, and he shrugged. "I think we'll stick with this," she said and he nodded.

They walked up to the address a few minutes later and Damon looked around at the estate.

"I guess voodoo doesn't pay very well," he commented and Bonnie hit his arm as she rung the doorbell.

Before he could yell back, a woman opened the door and stared at the two, with deep brown eyes and skin a bit tanner than Bonnie's.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I, uh, got your address from the museum. I was hoping you could help me—us," Bonnie said gesturing between she and Damon and the woman stared at them for quite a while without saying a word.

"Told you this was stupid," Damon whispered, but Bonnie still smiled hopefully.

"Come in," she said and Bonnie exhaled a sigh of relief but Damon didn't.

"I'll wait out here," he said and the woman shook her head.

"No, you won't. Come inside, Damon," she said and he froze.

How did she know his name?

The vampire reluctantly followed Bonnie into the house, which was much nicer on the inside than he would've expected. There were plenty of hues of pinks and purples, as well as gold statues and pieces that decorated the living room.

"I don't think that I got your name, I'm Bonnie and this is D—"

"Damon, I know," the woman said glancing at him as he sat down. "I'm Marla."

"Nice to meet you Marla," Bonnie said with a hint of astonishment in her voice as they sat down.

"What can I help you with?" she asked as she sat down across from them.

"We went to the Voodoo Museum, and I… got in touch with a spirit… Marie Laveau… she gave me this," Bonnie said holding out the bottle, and handing it to Marla.

Marla studied it in her hands, and then looked up at Bonnie and Damon.

"You have somebody after you?" Marla asked, and Bonnie gulped.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that—"

"Give me your hands," Marla said and they both complied as they each lent a hand to her, and she held onto them.

She shut her eyes for no more than five seconds before she looked at them again.

"The gris-gris is supposed to remove a hex that was placed on you," she said looking at Damon.

He swallowed some air as he looked at her.

"Come again?"

"There is an evil coming after you Damon. The spirits gave you this to protect you—to render the one who has control over you powerless," Marla said.

"Who is the one who has power?" Bonnie asked and Marla opened the small bottle.

"As soon as Damon drinks this, you will know."

Damon stared at the potion, a bit taken aback—they wanted him to drink this weird blue shit?

"Damon, please. I can channel them once you do it," Bonnie whispered, and he sighed as he took the bottle from Marla.

"Here's goes nothing," he said as he held it in the air, and then took it back in one shot.

The taste was like nothing he could describe—minty but raw as it slithered down his throat, almost forcing him to upchuck it—but he didn't. He finished it off, regrettably, as stared at Bonnie quietly.

"Go ahead," Marla said as she looked at Bonnie and the witch inhaled before she placed her hands on Damon's cold shoulders and shut her eyes.

She was instantly met with the face of another witch that she had never met before—she had long brown hair, and light gray eyes. Bonnie felt as if she was watching her in real time, as the book she read from looked like Bonnie's grimoire... with Klaus by her side.

She reopened her eyes and stared at Damon as he looked back at her hazily.

"Her name is Angela… she's one of Klaus' witches," Bonnie said softly.

Bonnie turned around and faced the practitioner.

"What next?" she asked.

"Nothing's next—you've removed the hex. Whatever she was doing won't work on Damon anymore," Marla said.

"That's it?" Bonnie asked and the woman nodded.

"Sometimes, it is that simple."

Damon sighed—that meant no more nightmares about Stefan; he almost jumped for joy at that. He watched as Bonnie sighed with relief and they both stood up.

"Well, I'll be outside," Damon said as he neared the door, eager to get out of there. "Thank you," he said softly, and Marla nodded at him as he walked out the door.

"Thank you so much for this, I can pay you-" Bonnie began and the older woman stopped her.

"A real practitioner never accepts payment," Marla said and Bonnie smiled as the woman looked back at her. "I can tell you something this practitioner has never seen though," she began and Bonnie turned towards her to listen. "I have never seen two people who were more made for each other than you two, in denial about their feelings," she said and Bonnie's mouth dropped.

"Oh no, Damon and I—we're friends. Kind of—we're on our way to being friends," she said and Marla let out a little chuckle.

"I see a little more than meets the eye," Marla said and Bonnie shook her head in protest and went to reply, but the woman was gone.

"Marla?" she called, and she got no response.

She began to walk down the hallway towards the door, and she felt something in her hands.

It was a piece of paper, folded up very crisply. She opened it slowly and was surprised by the words that were scribbled ever so gently across it.

"The vampire is falling for you, Bonnie. And you are falling for him, too."

"What's that?" Damon asked, and Bonnie realized she had walked outside and was now standing next to the him right outside the front door.

She folded up the paper and placed it in her pocket with a nervous smile.

"Just Marla's phone number," she said, before they both walked away.

Bonnie and Damon spent the rest of the night back at the house, playing Scrabble, and drinking homemade Sangria in the living room.

"I can't believe you're beating me this badly," she said as she studied his word arrangement.

"I've been alive a long time, Bonnie. I'd be an embarrassment if I wasn't beating you," he said and she smiled in agreement.

Since the gris-gris, Damon was a lot more relaxed and Bonnie was grateful that they had solved one part of their problems. Granted, they had much more to go, she was happy about the progress that they made today.

"Rematch?" he asked as he stared at the Scrabble board, realizing that Bonnie had no more moves and she nodded urgently.

"Yes, please," she said and he hopped up after he placed his glass down.

"One second," he said, as he walked out to the kitchen and Bonnie sat there, waiting, and sipping her drink.

Damon walked back in and Bonnie felt like her jaw hit the floor as he neared her with what was the most beautiful cake that she had ever seen in her life; decorated with purple swirls, and white frosting. Her eyes widened as he placed it on the table—the green cursive on the front read "Happy Birthday Bonnie" as it was donned with eighteen candles that were aflame.

"Damon, when did you—"

"I have my ways," he said with a grin and she smiled as she stared at him, and then back to the cake. "Well are you going to make a wish? it just turned twelve," he said gently, blue eyes shining so brightly.

"Only if you sing 'Happy Birthday.'"

"Not a chance," he said and she frowned. "I'll do you one better," he added, as he ran over to the record player, and began a song that sounded like an old jazz singer doing their own rendition of the famous tune.

"You are so lazy," she began and he laughed.

"I'm sure you meant clever," he said as he walked back over and she sighed.

"Thank you, Damon—for this," she said.

"Blow out the candles, Bonnie," he urged and she smiled as she shut her eyes and took in a deep breath.

When she let it out, she reopened them and Damon was still staring at her, glass in hand.

"What'd you wish for, Judgey?" he asked as she looked down at the cake, then back at him.

"I'll never tell," she smirked and he smiled back.

I wish to know the truth about Damon Salvatore.

A/N: LONG chapter, but I hope it whet you Bamon appetite! R&R with your thoughts and comments! TVD in 14 DAYS! :D