STEFAN'S POV
"If I didn't know any better," she says before taking another sip from a tall glass whose hilt reminds of a swans neck, "I would say you're trying to get me drunk," her voice jumps every now and then, and words have a hard time leaving her lips, as she's so obviously tipsy.
We're both sprawled on the floor, surrounded by hundreds of pillows. All of a sudden I'm wondering where all these pillows came from, but I push the thought away, like it doesn't belong here.
The room is dark, except for few candles she lit upon her arrival, which only light up a small surface on the cupboards they're placed. The flame from the nearest candle is falling over her face, making it clear, visible. Thanks to it I can see her glassy eyes and upturned lips, her blushed cheeks and exhausted posture as she falls back onto the pillows. Like something knocked her down.
I don't know where she came from, or who brought the wine. I don't know how we got here, or where here is. Honestly, I don't even care, because her body is thrown over the pillows, her dress rising up her thighs. I wish for it to go up up up until it reaches her hips. I want to bury my face inside of her, I want to get lost in the softness of her flesh and inhale every scent her body ever came in contact with. Her fingers are tangled in her loose, silky hair, constantly playing with it. Twirling it around seductively. Her breasts are almost falling out of her dress. I want to rip that small amount of cotton covering her body off of her.
"I would never," I fake innocence, lowering my look down in pretend shame.
She giggles.
It's like bubble bath raising in her lungs. I want to coat her whole body in it - giggles - soft, exciting, fast, frequent.
"Maybe I'm the one trying to get you drunk," she says.
When I raise my look and my eyes meet hers, her lower lip is trapped between her teeth. She moves her legs and her dress falls lower, now baring her thighs completely. I swallow a growl and my throat becomes sore.
"And why would you do such a thing?" I ask dizzily, not sure what had more effect on me - the wine, or her.
She straightens her body into a sitting position and reaches for her glass. Her lips come in contact with the edge of the glass and the wine disappears between her lips. When she puts the glass down, I notice the trace of wine on her lips. I notice how darker they've become. How they transformed from usually strawberry pink to the color of violet dusk. I want to lick those remnants off of her lips. I want to make them clean. I want to cross every inch with my tongue.
When she parts her lips, a leftover drop gets free from the corner and spills down her face. I want to catch it. My body becomes stiff as I watch it slide down her skin, slowly, in slow motion. It feels like hours, when it's actually seconds in question.
My insides harden.
"To take advantage of you, of course," she says seriously.
Which is when I lose it. The next thing I know I'm on top of her, pinning her body with mine against the floor.
Her laughter fills the room, it brings mild wind inside of these four walls and the flames of the candles start dancing around. I press my lips against hers and all I can taste is wine. Wine and the warmth of her insides, sweet scent coming off of her skin. I swallow her non existent heartbeat.
I can feel her body coming closer to mine, she's bringing it off of the ground, arching her back and driving her hips into mine. I can feel her bare thighs, the intensity of her skin is almost too much to handle. I know her dress is around her hips now because when she presses her body against mine, I can feel the cotton of her panties.
She wraps her arms around my neck, holding on to me, lingering in the air, while kissing me back with the equal amount of passion I'm kissing her with.
I don't peel my lips off of hers until they become sore.
"Or maybe," she whispers into the right corner of my mouth, taking my hand in hers and leading it down her body, "Maybe you're going to take advantage of me instead," she lets my fingers slip into the cotton of her panties and when they do, she pants in surprise, like she wasn't expecting my hand to end up there.
Flames of the candles keep flickering over her face until..
..until it's not her face anymore.
It's the girl who keeps appearing in my life, first in my room, then in Elena's.
Confusion must settle in my look, because she smiles mischievously. She giggles, but her giggles sound nothing like Elena's. They're deeper, more evil, less cheerful.
I look her in the eyes, aware that I'm looking at someone else, but I don't care.
I don't care that this girl under me is not Elena. I don't care that she looks different, smells different, even feels different.
Because this girl, I love her, I love her more than I could ever love anyone in this world, or any other world that may exist.
"Hi," she says to me, her beautiful eyes stilled on mine, clashing.
I move my hand from under her dress and move away the hair that got stuck on her face. The strains fall from her cheek right on the pillow beneath her. "Hi," I smile at her.
"Did you miss me?" she asks, waiting for my answer expectantly.
Her question confuses me because I have no memories of her. I know I love her, I can feel it in my bones, I can feel it in every corner of my body. This love I feel, it's too much and too intense that for a moment I think it can't be real. But I have no recollections of the woman I love, no memory of meeting her, or kissing her, or making love to her.
I push those thoughts away and some primal instinct takes over me. I pull her dress down and my head falls to her chest, head down.
She laughs loudly, clearly satisfied by what I'm doing, "I'll take that as a yes."
Stefan.
Someone says my name, but it's silent, distant. Somewhere in the back of my mind. I don't pay any attention to it.
Stefan.
The voice becomes louder, closer. It's outside of my mind now, rather closer to my ear. It keeps repeating my name tenderly and angrily at the same time.
Stefan!
The voice snaps loudly. I open my eyes and everything around me is gone. There's nothing and no one here. No girl, no Elena, no pillows or candles. Just darkness.
Soon enough I'm sucked out of it as well and spit into the real world. I open my eyes and pull myself straight into the sitting position.
I was asleep. It was just a dream, none of that was real, which leaves me more confused than I was before. Who is that girl? And how come she can ignite those feelings in me? How can she make them feel so genuine and real?
My mind falls back to both times she appeared to us and the blanks in my memory when she was there. How I remember seeing her, looking at her, like she's a still imagine, but can't remember anything else. Nothing but that unsettling feeling in my chest after she leaves. Something between missing her and feeling relieved she's gone.
I notice Caroline standing above me with her arms crossed over her chest. She's wiggling her lips at me, looking curiously annoyed.
"I was - " I stop, realizing I don't know what to tell her. I have to figure it out for myself first.
"Having a dream?" she pitches in, her eyebrow raised, "I'm not really interested in the details, Romeo," she says knowingly. How the hell does she know?
I think I blush a little, which makes me lower my look.
"Come on, Bonnie has some new insight."
BONNIE'S POV
Stefan and Elena are sitting on different sides of the room, which is completely unnecessary. You can basically smell their feelings for each other in the air, if you're blind and don't see the way they're looking at each other. How relaxed Elena got when he walked into the room, like everything fell into place. Like he's a missing piece of a puzzle that is her life. How less tense he became when his eyes fell on her, and the way his lips unintentionally formed a shape of a kiss, quietly sending one her way.
I guess they don't want to hurt Damon, they don't want him to know.
But Damon is already hurting and, on some level, he has always known.
When Stefan and Caroline sit down I notice Elena acting more reserved for a moment. Her nose goes up, like she's searching for a source of some unpleasant scent, confusion filling her eyes. Confusion with an extra bit of pain. I see her trying to dismiss it, whatever thoughts are swimming in the pool of her mind.
"So, I did a little bit of digging on that girl you're seeing," I say when Damon so rudely interrupts me, like he often does.
"Why are you even so obsessed with it?" he asks while nursing a brand new bottle of bourbon. It seems like he has an infinite stash of it. "It's not like it's your problem," he states, his voice distant and detached. I can see Stefan flinch upon hearing it.
Maybe it's just my imagination, but it seems that lately all that Damon's been doing is trying to pick a fight with me. Our relationship has shifted over night and he's become cold and mean and a lot of other things I don't feel comfortable saying out loud.
When I expressed my concerns to Caroline, she seemed confused. That's how Damon always is, she said, looking at me like I'm crazy or blind or both. I couldn't believe her words because he was never like that to me, and to think that once upon a time he was like that to me, in a life I can't remember, makes me sad. It makes me sad that he would treat anyone this way.
Maybe I don't know him as well as I like to pretend I do.
I stay calm, because I know he's trying to get a reaction out of me. I don't know how much more I can handle it, though. "Well, you see, it is my problem, since you guys are my friends," he rolls his eyes like I've said the stupidest thing I could have and for a moment he makes me feel like I did, "Even if you weren't, it became my problem from the first time I felt her presence."
"How exactly do you feel her presence?" Stefan asks curiously.
It makes me happy that someone asked that question, because I can't seem to stop talking about my new found abilities. They make me feel powerful. Important. I guess everyone else are used to me being a witch, but to me, this experience is brand new.
I shift my attention from Damon to Stefan. "I guess it's like smelling something really.. gross," I almost blush for my lack of words to explain it in a more eloquent way, "Something evil," I try to stand straight, make myself more presentable, serious, "I don't really know how to explain it because it's obviously something only I can feel," this fact makes me joyful out of some reason, "But it's as simple as smelling any other scent, like lavender, or alcohol," the corners of Stefan's lips go up and stay there for just a second that he makes me think I've imagined it all. He knows I'm referring to Damon, he knows by the way my tone of voice goes up when I say the word, like I'm pointing something out. Or maybe he knows because Stefan seems to know everything other people seem to miss.
"How do you know it's evil?" he asks and for a moment I wonder is this more than sheer curiosity.
"Because it's rotten," I answer his question anyway, "It's consuming, appealing. You know when something smells so bad, but you can't quite place it, so you can't stop smelling it?" I ask even though I don't really expect an answer, I just assume he knows, "It's like that. It makes my eyes teary. The hairs on my arm stand straight, and I get goosebumps."
"So evil is an onion," Damon says behind my back. I'm just a moment away from asking him what's his problem, but I control myself.
Stefan can see that and I think he respects me for it. For not giving Damon exactly what he wants - I'm not letting him win. I wonder how did old Bonnie react to him. Did she get upset like everyone else do, or was she calm to his outbursts like I am?
"Anyway, there's nothing about who she actually is," I say a little defeated when I know I shouldn't feel this way. We know nothing about this girl, so they really didn't give me anything to work with. "But I've read only witches can make their own projections."
"So you're saying she's a witch?" Stefan asks. It seems like we're the only ones communicating, the only two interested in having this conversation. Like only the two of us want to find out who this girl is. I wonder what are his reasons for wanting to find out.
"Most likely," I nod.
Honestly, it makes me feel weary, the fact she might be a witch. The fact that she's the same as me, that we share something, because she holds so much evil. So much resentment and anger and hate, and I wonder for how long have those feelings been building up in her. If her projection holds so much negativity, how much more must her true form hold. I wonder am I capable of those feelings as well. Am I capable of becoming her? Did her power do this to her, or was it something else?
"Can you conjure her projection?" Damon asks, this time serious, "Or maybe the real her?"
"I think I can conjure her projection, but to conjure her I would need something of hers," I say with my back still turned to him.
It takes him some time to ask another question and when he does I'm surprised neither me, nor Stefan, had thought of it sooner. "How does the projection work? Can you touch her?" I can hear him swallow, "Hurt her?"
Last two words send chills down my spine. I've never hurt anyone. I'm not sure I want to.
I furrow my brows, like that's all I need to do to hold my strength. "No, you can't hurt the projection, that's why she's appearing in that form in the first place, I guess. It exposes her mind, but keeps her body safe," my own words give me a thought and in my mind I start turning the pages of my grimoire, "But just like a thought, she can be trapped," I say victoriously, even though I don't show any self condescending traits on my face, "I'm not sure for how long, though, it depends on her power."
"What's the problem then?" Damon asks like we're all wasting his time when the answer has been right in front of us all this time, "We trap her, question her, find out where she is and ding, dong, the witch is dead."
His words are like an open slap to me. My face is burning. My insides are burning as well. No, they're boiling. Would he do the same thing to me if I went the wrong path? Would it really be that easy?
I think Stefan can see my state of mind in my eyes because he shakes his head no lightly, but I can't stop myself.
I can't stop myself from turning around and screaming at him, my chest heaving, "We can't just kill her!"
He frowns, obviously confused by my outburst. He was trying to get a reaction out of me, to start a fight with me, but he obviously didn't think that this would do it. "And why the hell not? You said it yourself, she's evil," he points out.
"Because you can't just go around killing people, Damon," I say, clearly upset, "It's wrong."
"Just because it's wrong, doesn't mean you can't do it," he smiles.
He actually smiles. And when he does, I understand everything Caroline has ever told me. I understand every mean word she has for him. I understand every bad name she's ever called him. I understand why she hates him because in this moment I hate him too.
I hate how speechless that smiles leaves me as well. Powerless. He steals all of my words and all of my thoughts and leaves me with nothing. "You can't," I say it again, I say it like I'm two years old and these words are all I know.
He stands up from his sitting position and comes closer to me, "Funny, because the last time I checked, I can. We're vampires, Bonnie, we kill. When you get upset you break something or eat a can of ice cream, we rip someones throat out. It's what we do, because we're not all that human. We're part human, part animal, and when the animal takes over there's no sense in talking to it reasonably, because it doesn't understand your language. It understands blood."
I'm afraid of him. I'm afraid of the words he's saying. I'm afraid they might be true.
"You want to talk about evil? This room is full of it. Can't you smell it on me as well? Can't you smell it on those two girls you live with? Every person in this room has killed someone, even Miss Sunshine over there," he points his look to Caroline, but I can't force myself to look at her, "Elena snapped few necks in her time," I feel like I'm going to cry. I can feel tears in my eyes, trying to get away. I'm living with murderers. I'm calling them my friends. How am I only now realizing this? Am I a murderer as well? "See my brother over there? The righteous one of us? Well, he's killed more people than all of us in this room combined."
I didn't know that. I didn't know any of this. How did I not know it?
Was I not listening when they were telling me? I saw them drinking blood from the bags and I saw them interacting with humans. They were nice to them, they were nice to me. They never did us any harm. But they told me that's not always the case and I didn't listen because that's in the past, and I thought the past doesn't matter because I don't have it. But it matters, and I have it, even if I can't remember it.
Everything matters.
"And me?" he smiles again and I wonder why he keeps doing that. To scare me? To show me how evil he is? Or because it's easier to smile? "Well, you know all about the people I've killed, BonBon," him calling me that triggers an unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach. My muscles clench and my expression hardens. I feel like I'm going to puke. "All the people you care about, all the people you never met. Your mom. You, on several occasions."
Why do I feel like I'm hearing this for the first time? I know all of this. So why am I this disgusted by him all of a sudden?
Maybe because he's not confirming what other people have told me before him. This time, he's telling me. He's confessing it to me and he doesn't even seem sorry.
A weird feeling I should give him an aneurysm about now appears, but I sink it in. I sink it in the ocean of my mind like it's a silly little raft.
All because I don't want to let him win.
"We can't kill her until we know more about her," I say, trying to compose myself. I catch surprise in his eyes. I'm glad I did, because it was there for a split of a second. "What she wants. If she created more damage than we know. What she's planning. Maybe I can help her," my instincts kick in and I regret them as soon as I hear his next question.
"You mean save her?" he smiles again, but this time his smile is mocking, "You can't save everyone. And not everyone want to be saved."
My expression hardens even more, and I fill my own eyes with determination. "No, Damon, that's just you."
All of a sudden I realize the whole room went extremely quite. No one dares to make a sound.
I can see I have thrown him off of his game for a second there, but he rises fast enough. "So you have finally heard what I, and everyone else, have been telling you?" he sounds triumphantly, but by now I know his face well enough to know he isn't.
"Sure, Damon," I say calmly even though I'm everything but calm, "You have finally convinced me that you're a heartless, condescending egomaniac who's, most of the time, full of shit," I tell him without even flinching.
Neither does he. He smiles, again. "You forgot evil," he says like that's something to be proud of.
When I say the next words, I'm not playing him. I'm not giving in to his masochistic desires. I'm being serious. "For someone to whom being evil comes so naturally you sure do spend a lot of time convincing people you're actually evil," I can't even see his reaction because I'm already walking out of the room.
"Congratulations, brother, you just proved wrong the last person on this planet that had something nice to say about you," Stefan's voice echoes through the house.
Damon's voice is the last one I hear before I shut the door behind me.
"Go to hell, Stefan."
ELENA'S POV
I'm trying to understand why, when Stefan walked into the room, someones else scent replaced his.
And how come that scent is not mine.