If anyone were to look up at the sky it would seem the moon had been pierced with the tip of a red-hot sword and bled. The sight of it seemed warped like that of a deflated ball. The clouds were muddy red and black with patches of dark gray. A sign of pollution? A sign of something ominous to come? Dangerous energies congealing? Only a certain kind had the answer.

Bonnie had slept through the entire day, not once waking up to eat or use the bathroom. Typically, sleeping so much led to one feeling more tired and exhausted, drunk on the brain's delta waves. She was lost somewhere in the middle of drowsiness and wakefulness. It was dark in the room but not pitch-black, which told her the sun had just gone down. Bonnie didn't move right away. She acclimated to the silence as images from her dreams faded to nothingness. The sleepy witch couldn't firmly recall what happened to her the day before, yet the funny taste in the back of her mouth said she'd done something she probably wouldn't want to remember.

Groaning, Bonnie reached for her phone to contact civilization. She had only one missed phone call from Hayden. She sighed and debated on calling him back just to say hello, but decided against it. He would ask to see her, and being in this weird state of vulnerability she would cave; however, she was due to meet Dahlia within a few hours. Best not to torture herself with a brief tryst.

Getting up, Bonnie made the bed and then padded to the bathroom. She winced as she turned on the light. Her gaze, for whatever reason, dropped straight to the floor. She blinked, brow furrowed in confusion. What happened to her clothes? Bonnie was sure she had left them there after her bath.

Hmm, the tub was clean. In fact the entire bathroom was spotless.

Bonnie leaned against the wall, a faint smile touching her lips, "Damon."

It wasn't until she was in the shower that Bonnie remembered why Damon would have gotten rid of her clothes and cleaned the bathroom.

She started hyperventilating.

Oh no...

How could she…

Why would she…

MURDER!

Bonnie dropped to her knees, shaking and trembling, impossibly cold despite the warm water pelting her, unable to take a deep, full breath. No, she couldn't go back. She wouldn't.

"I know you're in there, little witch. I can hear you breathing."

Bonnie stood, back pressed along the wall upstairs, biting her fingernail. She wondered if Dahlia would come looking for her, or send someone to drag her kicking and screaming. Hiding and dodging her end of the bargain could be viewed as childish. Bonnie didn't really give a damn how she looked.

She had her own code she wanted to live by and nowhere did it state she would actively participate in the ritualistic murder of an anonymous person. But how anonymous was that individual if she could still feel the warmth of his blood on her hands and arms, felt the speckle of it dotting her chest and chin? Felt the substance of his body between her thighs, and the sickening squish of a knife thrusting in his heart?

Bonnie lurched forward and almost vomited, but quelled it by forcibly swallowing her saliva and breathing through her nose.

"Bonnie!"

She groaned at the sound of Klaus' voice. He wouldn't leave, Bonnie knew this until he saw her and bothered her, and what was he doing here anyways? She had a pretty good idea that he was not here on Dahlia's behest. Bonnie shuddered to think of how Dahlia dealt with those who broke their word to her.

Literally dragging her feet, Bonnie sauntered to the front door, opened it.

Klaus took in the sight of her haggard appearance, the bags beneath the young witch's eyes, her unkempt hair, mismatched clothes.

"Day one and you're falling apart already? I expected more from you."

As expected, his criticism lit a fire within the witch whose once dull green eyes became liquid emerald.

Bonnie made to slam the door in Klaus' smug face but he stopped it with his hand.

"Is that anyway to treat a guest?"

"You're not a guest because I didn't invite your ass to come here. What do you want?"

"I'm here to fetch you, of course. As a courtesy. You're late."

"I'm not going."

Klaus nodded as if he anticipated that response and Bonnie didn't disappoint. He and Dahlia had foreseen her resistance. If there were ever a witch who was moralistically ambiguous when it suited her, but shunned anything that hinted toward her own personal darkness, it was the young woman in front of him. Klaus caught every last one of the tremors she was working overtime to suppress.

He leaned against the doorframe. "I thought you were over this."

Bonnie scowled. "Over what?"

"I thought you were over pretending you have a conscience."

"I never—"

"—I thought you wanted to know what power and freedom tastes like, but I see you're too accustomed to eating and loving shit."

"You son of—"

"But you haven't changed in the slightest. You're still the martyr, still the weak girl you've always been who can only muster up the strength to save her friends but never herself."

"I'm not doing this for them!" Bonnie snapped.

"Really? Could have fooled me. I almost bought your spiel about wanting to acquire power for yourself, but I see now that was bullshit."

"I don't have to explain myself to you. Leave," Bonnie growled lowly, in warning. "I'm not going back. Tell your aunt I said thank you, but her brand of help is not what I need."

At first Klaus had been goading Bonnie for his own twisted amusement, but now his feigned anger was becoming real.

He straightened to his full height, "What exactly did you expect? Did you think I'd connect you with Glinda and the two of you would hop along the yellow brick road singing songs while acquiring friends on your way to Oz? What you're looking for there are but two ways to achieve: kill to get there or die to get there."

Bonnie flinched when he uttered the word kill.

"If you're refusing Dahlia's instruction, tell her yourself. May whatever god you believe in help you," Klaus turned to leave. He got no farther than the end of the pathway before he heard…

"I k-killed someone…last night."

Klaus regarded Bonnie who was staring down at her feet. He figured her cheeks would be wet with tears. There was not a drop present when she lifted her head. He couldn't exactly read her, or knew how to decode her stoicism. Klaus made no sudden moves as Bonnie stepped out of the house and took a few tentative steps. Her gaze drifted toward the night sky.

"I don't know who he was or what he had done or who loved him. I took his life. I can't act like that didn't happen."

Klaus sighed irritably. The witch was asking him to be something he rarely was—the good angel. "No one is asking you to." Big green eyes were on him. "No one is asking you to forget what you've done even if they don't say the words. Condemnation will come when you do something out of character. You feel remorse because you are a person who reveres life—mortal and immortal alike. That is who you are, Bonnie. Not one is asking you to stop being that version of yourself."

"But won't I have to? If I want to be as powerful as Dahlia?"

"Power doesn't always equate ending life. Power can equate sparing life."

Bonnie arched a brow. "I thought you would toot the opposite?"

Grinning boyishly, Klaus said, "I like to have it both ways. Your dilemma is still ongoing. Whether you continue or not…won't erase what's already been done. Death is an ugly part of life, but it's a part of life. Inescapable. Either you will be its slave or learn to be its master. I've chosen the latter. What about you? Be a slave to nothing, Bonnie Bennett."

Interesting choice of words from a former slave owner, she thought. Her mind wasn't completely made up, and the horror of what she did the night before remained ever present. If she gave up now she really had nothing to show for it. That, indeed, was a dilemma.

Stefan Salvatore observed the eight-legged creature try to claw its way out of its glass cage. Seated at the bar at Mystic Grill, he felt as predictable as the spider that he encased in a rock glass that tried valiantly to attack from different angles with no success. No matter what he did, Stefan couldn't escape his place of birth. Mystic Falls was his glass bubble.

And he couldn't figure out what kept him tethered here. It wasn't that his cuisine choices were so epicurean and exotic. Eat one girl-next-door and essentially you've eaten them all. The taste of their ambitions and life experience were the same. After school clubs and binge watching cable network shows, desires of falling in love with their lifelong crush. Repetitive and dull. No one bore the flavor of film noire femme fatales, metropolitan go getters, or hardcore revolutionaries with the free love mentality of the sixties.

He was bored.

"Hi, are you guys hiring?"

Stefan turned slightly at the sound of the accentuated voice. He blinked once getting a good look at the woman who had strolled to the bar standing one stool down from his, addressing the bartender. A Laguna Beach blonde with the body of a statuesque volleyball player who was into cutoff shorts, plaid shirts, and cowboy boots. She smelled of sun, sweat, and passion fruit.

Prayers do get heard.

A slow smile spread across Stefan's face as well as the bartender's.

"Not at the moment, no. We're fully staffed but you…ah…you can still fill out an application so that we have it on file in case anything changes."

The woman frowned a bit in disappointment yet perked up nonetheless, "Sure, that would be great. Thank you."

"I'll grab you one from the office. What's your name?"

"Taryn Reeds," she proffered her hand for a shake to which the bartender eagerly reciprocated.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Steve Stackhouse."

"Any relation to Sookie?"

Stefan snorted and tossed back his drink. Steve the bartender blushed and laughed while shaking his head in the negative. When he disappeared to get the application, Stefan saw his opportunity.

"If you're looking for a job, I hate to tell you Mystic Falls is the worst place to work."

Taryn leaned against the bar, sizing him up, "Oh really? Why do you say that?"

He regarded her, letting her marvel at the chiseled handsomeness that was his mug, which garnered plenty of thirsty admirers in the past. Taryn lifted a brow and inhaled.

"It's the worst place to work if you're drop dead gorgeous like yourself. You'll never get a moment's peace."

Taryn said nothing for a while then laughed. "Trust me, I don't let flattery get to my head and I'm used to it. There's more to me than what's on the outside."

Stefan's pupils dilated as he ensnared her, "Wanna show me?"

They fell into the bathroom kissing hungrily, his hands everywhere, her fingers doing a thorough job of messing up his hair. Stefan chuckled when his back was thrust into the wall. Aggression he liked it, and most notably he didn't have to compel Taryn to go the extra mile. He couldn't wait another second without fanging her, so he brushed Taryn's hair aside, tilted her neck to his preferred angle, struck.

Hot, delicious blood poured down his throat. Yes.

A minute later, Stefan ripped away, coughing and retching but it was too late. The entire orifice of his mouth, throat, and stomach was on fire. He fell to the floor, vision blurred, he knew these effects well. The effects of vervain.

The door to the bathroom creaked open. Boots walked along the tile and then a face was hovering above him.

"You look like you ate something that didn't agree with you, brother."

"Dam…" Stefan panted, clutching his stomach as he fought for lucidly. Lost.

Watching the back and forth motion of her windshield wipers put Bonnie into a trance. She needed to get out of the car, but she couldn't find the courage to do it. Dahlia had given her the chance to back out during their initial meeting. How she wished she'd taken it, but now that the offer was rescinded, off the table, Bonnie knew she had to see this to the end.

Would she recognize herself once it was over?

Her gag reflex fluttered in memory of puncturing a human heart with a ceremonial blade. Dahlia's hard hand had gripped her shoulder and told her step one was done. She was closer to being freer. Free from what? Guilt? Humanity?

Turning off the engine, Bonnie got out of the car.

She was in a different part of the woods tonight. For that Bonnie was a little grateful. She didn't think she could handle seeing that bloodstained rock plinth where she—yes, right moving on. Her footfalls decreased until she came to a stop having caught up to Dahlia.

Let the dreadful games begin, Bonnie thought sulkily. The torches were lit and she crossed its borders.

Dahlia somber and grave said, "You came back…I didn't think you would."

"I wasn't going to." Bonnie wouldn't credit Klaus' little pep talk as the reason why she had a change of heart. She couldn't let that man's death be for nothing, which made the acid in her stomach churn.

A corner of Dahlia's mouth lifted in something of a smile. She had sensed Bonnie's self-loathing from a mile away. The young woman had done the one thing she had criticized others for. The first kill was always the hardest as it threw people into a quagmire of unbelief at their own barbarism. What really unsettled the soul was the fact some found...enjoyment out of it.

Like the day before, she began to circle the Bennett girl, "I know you hate me for what I made you do, and I know you hate yourself for the act you committed."

"Who was he?"

Dahlia dismissed the question with a careless shrug, "Who he was is not important."

"It's important to me!" Bonnie declared. "I wanted help to get stronger, and I don't see how killing someone helps with that."

"That's the issue here. You can't see. You can't see anything because your vision is so occluded by things that are beyond you. I'm not here to coddle you, Bonnie. I'm here to push you. You asked for this."

"I didn't ask for that."

"Semantics. I have no patience for tantrums and indecision. Either you want my help or you're wasting my time. Which will it be?"

Bonnie's chest rose and fell rapidly. She looked away willing her legs to carry her out of the woods, but…balling her hands, she eyed Dahlia with nothing less than contempt. That seemed to please her.

"Smart girl," Dahlia stopped moving, "What have you learned thus far?"

Not to trust you. Bonnie tucked her cold hands in her pockets, "To tell you the truth I don't think I learned anything."

"Indeed. Unlearning is harder than learning. You had to lean on your experiences, generational superstitions, and faulty information and that is quite simply a recipe for disaster. It will take time for you master many things," Dahlia waved her hand in an arc. "We simply don't have it. Time. You think last night was pushing your limits? I'm glad to prove you wrong."

The ground disintegrated as if being sucked into a black hole. A foul odor instantly swamped the area. Bonnie covered her nose and mouth but it she shouldn't have bothered.

Dahlia stood next to her, arms aloft, palms facing the sky. A shape began to rise from the hole, the grave Bonnie ratified as a decomposed body came into view.

Bonnie sucked in a massive breath. It was her. Two years decomposed. The blue of her cardigan was stained with the bodily fluids released upon death, but she saw signs of it here and there. Patches of skin was tight, leathery and blackened especially around her jaw which was barely attached. Calcified bones protruded through bits of maggot eaten flesh. Her lids were at half-mast revealing browned eyes.

"Wh-why are you showing me this?"

"As a reminder for what happens when you wield magic with no understanding of its properties, uncaring of how it will affect you. When I had your blood I saw your memories. I know you as intimately as the knife that was plunged in your belly."

"…stop…" Bonnie's breathing escalated while her blood pressure began to climb.

"That is why you need me," Dahlia said knowingly. "You want to be stronger than him? Then you need to face yourself at your weakest state," she pointed at Bonnie's rotted corpse. "Stare and remember."

Stare she did.

"You don't want to end up as food for the earth then what you need first and foremost is an anchor," Dahlia said.

That word made Bonnie cringe so she substituted it with something else. "A familiar, you mean?"

Dahlia nodded solemnly, "Though I hate the term as it inspires one to conjure a feline to spring to mind. You need something older than a mere animal for your anchor. For the anchor is what will ground you, but also give you the room and freedom to amplify your magic."

"So I'm guessing using a person is out as well?"

"You guess correctly," Dahlia began to assess Bonnie which did not put the younger witch at ease. The taste of Bonnie's power intermingled with that of her fear. It would take next to nothing to strip the Bennett witch since she was holding everything together between two fingertips. And had no idea.

Bonnie ordered her skin to calm down. She felt it pulling and contracting as Dahlia cleaved her apart with her eyes alone; repelled and drawn to her, terrified, and defensive.

"People are of two minds," Dahlia's voice burst through Bonnie's musings. "Two natures. And those two natures are in constant battle. It will do you no good to use a person as your magic would suffer. There are things which cannot change for that is their nature. You must find that element and meld your magic to it."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Bonnie jumped, twitched. "Everything has a cycle, therefore, everything changes."

Bonnie wouldn't say Dahlia smiled at her assessment. She seemed, maybe pleased she wasn't dealing with a total idiot.

"Again, you are right. Cycles happen because renewal must happen. But even in those cycles, the nature of the cycle does not change. For instance: life, death, the sun and moon, they are constant. They cannot cease being what they are. Do you understand?"

"I-I think so."

"Then find your anchor."

Bonnie was pushed into the hole with her corpse. She was not too proud to stifle her screams.

She landed on a hard and grainy surface, concrete. Tentatively opening her eyes the first thing Bonnie saw were tires and the chrome trim of a bumper. A car. Damon's car to be more precise. Dahlia had flung "her" to the boardinghouse garage.

Bonnie pushed herself up and glanced around confused about why she was here and dreading the lesson she was going to be "taught". The test in which Dahlia reached in and yanked out her insides to literally show her what she was made of. Bonnie hadn't stopped questioning if going through all this to learn how to prevent Kai from siphoning her magic was even necessary. He was human. He was not Klaus, Silas, hell, he wasn't Katherine either. Kai was sadistic and cruel, calculating and coldly charming. She had dealt with someone of his ilk before and survived. But…what would come after Kai, because there was always another monster waiting in the wings for its turn to kill you.

At the heart of everything, she wanted to avoid a pyrrhic victory.

Like the possessed automobile Christine, the Camaro's engine fired up. Bonnie jumped away from it. Toxic carbon monoxide and other harmful gases spewed from the exhaust pipe blanketing the floor in a plume of smoke within minutes.

Of course Dahlia would dredge up what Bonnie considered the lowest point of her life. Where she had finally accepted the fact she didn't matter enough to her friends for them to fight to come back and rescue her, that there was no getting out. Stuck. Alone. She couldn't do it anymore. They left her for dead so she might as well be dead for real. Suicide on her birthday was her gift to herself.

Until she remembered what Grams told her and her fight was renewed. Stay strong. Despite how dismal things were she couldn't die in this place.

Now she was back.

Bonnie, petrified rushed to the connecting door that led into the house and couldn't open it. She ran to the garage doors themselves to lift from the bottom but again, they didn't budge.

How was entrapping her going to help her find a fucking anchor?

"Scaring me, that's your big tool to help me discover myself as a witch?" Bonnie yelled at the ceiling feeling pretty sure Dahlia could hear her.

The first rush of gas soaked into her lungs. She coughed violently and within seconds Bonnie was feeling loopy, discombobulated.

The scene around her blurred and she was now facing every single person who used her hollowed shell of a body to cross to the other side.

She remembered Dahlia's warning: it would be cruel.

He glanced up as Elena crept her way into the bathroom. Damon had sent Taryn on her way thanking her for her assistance. His girlfriend… her face was taut and Damon understood the reason for that. Two nights in a row he hadn't come home until the wee hours of the morning, and had yet to offer an explanation.

"Let's get him to the lake house."

"Are you sure now is the time for this intervention?" Elena reached for one of Stefan's arms and yanked until he was sitting up.

"We don't have any other time to get my brother to flip his switch. With Klaus here, the last thing we need is those two teaming up. It has to be now."

"Whatever," Elena grumbled under her breath.

Damon ignored her surly attitude as he hefted Stefan over his shoulder and, sneaking out the back of the restaurant, loaded him in the backseat of his car.

It wasn't until Elena was buckled in the passenger seat did she pose another question. "What about your mother? Who's going to keep an eye on her while we work on Stefan?"

"I called Enzo."

"Enzo?" Elena scrunched her nose.

"As you can see I'm a bit short on vampire buddies who are in the area. Alaric is too human and on his way to being a dad. Matt is too stupid and human."

"And Bonnie?"

Hearing her name out of Elena's mouth made Damon's stomach plummet. He chanced a look at the doppelganger. "Bonnie has her hands full."

"You know that's not what I mean, Damon. You didn't get home until nearly four after the party, not to mention getting in around the same time last night. Were you with her both times or just the one? What were you two doing?"

"Not whatever you think we were doing. We were talking."

Elena turned toward the scenery passing through the window.

Bonnie's words taunted Damon. About his actions putting ideas into Elena's head. He knew what it looked like on the surface. That he was making himself vulnerable to cheating. But to him he could manage his friendship with Bonnie, and his relationship with Elena concurrently on top of getting his real brother back, and stopping whatever drama came next.

And none of that meant he was in love with Bonnie, Damon ruled.

Instead of making a tense situation even worse, the blue-eyed vamp remained mute on the thankfully short drive to the Gilbert lake house.

Within an hour they had reached their destination. Elena unlocked the door, unloaded their bags while Damon took care of strapping Stefan to a chair using the requisite vervain laced chains. She mindlessly followed Damon's instructions to slit Stefan's wrists, which was probably one of the most unpleasant things she's ever done, and stuck small pieces of wood inside the wounds so they wouldn't close. Bleeding him out, weakening him, Elena couldn't see how it would inspire Stefan to turn his humanity on. If anything, it would only serve to piss him off more. And once he learned he was their only subject of emotional subterfuge (Caroline was being postponed to another day), Elena was positive a lot of choice words were going to spew from her ex's mouth.

Inevitable.

Damon sat in a chair in front of his baby brother waiting for him to wake up, which he calculated would be in the next five minutes.

He shifted a bit as Elena perched her derrière on the arm of his chair.

Stefan moaned and rolled his head on his shoulders trying to pull himself away from the effects of the vervain. When he was lucid enough, he took in the sight of Damon, the doppelganger, and his chained up state.

"The only explanation I'll accept for being tied up like this is…you hired me a stripper. If not," he strained his arms testing the strength of his binds to discover he was too weak to move them an inch. Stefan laughed tiredly. "I honestly hate you people."

"You told me to bring you back, Stefan," Elena reminded. "It's it about time that we started."

His heavy head fell backwards and Stefan was dying of thirst. "So what are you going to do? Break up with my brother in front of me and say 'It's always going to be you, Stefan. I've only loved you'," he mimicked in a very bad falsetto before chuckling. "Is that how you plan to cure me, Elena? I'm actually kind of glad to let you know…your pussy may be good but it's not that good."

Damon shot to his feet.

Stefan smirked at the fire beaming from his brother's eyes. "Oh right. Mr. Sensitivity. Doesn't like to be reminded that I nailed you first."

"All right that's enough!" Elena yelled. "You can try to slut shame me all you like, but it won't change the facts you're not getting out of that chair nor out of this house until you turn it on. And in case you think I may go easy on you," she flashed to the blinds and wrenched them open. Stefan started frying. "I won't."

A million hands reached inside of her, gouging, trying to rip out her skeleton and twist her organs into new shapes. Her screams were so loud they made her own ears bleed.

"Any time you want, you can end this," came Dahlia's disembodied voice.

She couldn't think beyond or outside of the pain. Life, death, sun, and the moon. Death couldn't be her anchor because people died in evil ways. Life was too precious to be tampered with. The moon was cold, and other than influencing tides it was honestly a rock in the sky. The sun, the biggest, brightest star in the galaxy. Without it there'd be no life, no warmth, no way to judge day from night. No time.

Could she handle it? The force and power of the sun? She was a witch who died, became the anchor, died again, and came back. Perhaps she wasn't wholly human? Hadn't Dahlia alluded to that? The power of a hundred witches could have killed her. Expression overwhelmed and murdered her. What would anchoring her magic to the sun do?

Only one way to find out.

The sun was incalculably hot. You'd die way before touching its surface. Bonnie's will was to burn. Scorch. Raze whatever touched her to ash. Her heart gave a strange flutter, her blood boiled, and her magic shot out like a geyser. Fire, her constant. It's toxic perfume, the child of a chemical reaction. The sun was fire. A contained ball of fire and gas. She kissed it on the lips and took it into her soul.

But it hurt. How it hurt. It hurt so much that the pieces of herself she shredded something was birthed out of the fragments. And whatever it was, Bonnie didn't understand it. It was formless, conscious-less, but it hungered and ached, shivered. She was going mad.

If you are silent about your pain, they'll kill you and say you enjoyed it.

Bonnie woke up extremely thirsty and groggy. Something fuzzy brushed her nose that she swatted away and, after blinking a few times to see what it was, she frowned once recognizing Ms. Cuddles.

How did she get here? Wait, how did she get home?

Rolling over, Bonnie received her answer. Damon was seated on the floor, one leg bent at the knee, the other stretched out, well-muscled back propped up against the wall. He lifted his head toward her, eyes bright but guarded. They stared at one another searchingly.

Damon was on his feet before Bonnie could even form questions, creeping his way to the foot of the bed. Bonnie tried to decipher the expression on his face, but being mentally and physically exhausted delayed the translation. Yet she forced herself to focus. He was worried. Deeply.

In lieu of talking, Bonnie threw back the duvet in invitation for Damon to join her.

He hesitated for a moment but eventually toed off his boots and lied down next to her.

In the time since living together this was probably the quietest they had ever been. Even while asleep, Bonnie's muttering disturbed his rest most nights, but the sound of her disjointed words had become reassuring. Now with the quiet magnified by his contemplations—that revealing conversation with Dahlia, Damon was hypersensitive to everything. His proximity to Bonnie on the bed, her warmth, her pulse, her breathing shouldn't be as sacred and precious to him as they were, and he felt utterly helpless to stop caring.

"Do you know how long you were gone?"

"No?" Bonnie whispered.

"Seven days."

Her eyes bulged, "Seven days? How?"

"I don't know. I nearly tore this town apart trying to find you. I had Ric stake out this house and he called me to say you finally showed up. What did…"

Bonnie closed her eyes and let out such a tired sigh, Damon ended his inquisition.

"You want to talk about it?"

A moment or two passed and she shook her head. "No," she rasped.

"Just answer this, did she hurt you?"

Damon watched as several emotions ransacked Bonnie. "No more or less than what I've dealt with in the past.

"Bon…"

"Damon," Bonnie cut him off knowing what he was going to say. "I'll be…okay with Dahlia for the most part."

He grunted. "That will remain to be seen. If she starts pushing you too hard I want to know about it."

"And what do you plan to do, Damon? This chick has nine hundred years on you. She's absolutely lethal, and you wouldn't get close enough to tickle her with your pinky."

"You really know how to kick the pseudo hero legs out from under someone. Can I live in the fantasy I'm not as easy to kill as people like to think I am?"

A ghost of a smirk appeared and Bonnie shrugged, "If you must."

"Thank you," Damon replied proudly. He rolled to his back, rose his arms above his head. His shirt rode up revealing that sliver of torso where his abs tapered into that notorious V. From this angle Bonnie could just about make out the outline of his…

She changed the direction of her thoughts by plucking a line of dirt from beneath the nail of her ring finger. Seven days. She couldn't wrap her mind around the fact she had been with Dahlia for seven days when it felt like it had been a few hours.

Did she anchor her magic to the sun? She needed to see. Bonnie flung the covers off.

"Where are you going?" Damon asked as Bonnie sat up.

"I need to see something."

His objection died on his tongue. He sat up quickly with enough speed that brought a wind with his movement that fluttered through Bonnie's hair.

"How the hell did this happen?"

Bonnie twisted to the right and felt a sharp pain that was forgotten once she saw that her best friend's eyes weren't stapled to hers but to something else.

Her shirt had ridden up exposing her back. There was a fading, bluish-purple bruise around her hip. When his cool fingers brushed along the area, Bonnie sucked in a breath.

"I really couldn't tell you how that happened," she admitted.

Damon's brow was puckered, tight with anger and something else he couldn't really put a name to. Unconsciously his fingers slid around to her front and bumped into the two major scars left by Kai.

Bonnie went stiff, held her breath. She waited for Damon to snatch his hand away, but his fingers continued to linger and linger and eventually began tracing the shape of the jagged scar left by the knife, and the depression in her skin inflicted by the arrow. Everything in Bonnie was telling her to get the vampire's hand off of her by any means necessary, yet she faltered. Damon's molars cinched on top of one another as he saw himself pulling the arrow out not really taking into account it would hurt just as much. He had been intent to give her blood, but Kai made sure he never got the chance.

His voice was soft when he offered, "I can reopen them both, heal them with my blood."

The temptation was sweet, light-headedness inducing, but Bonnie declined. "I need them until this is over," she pushed his hands away.

Damon watched her for a moment. "We're going to do something fun today."

"No, we're not. I'm tired," Bonnie quickly shot that notion down.

Undeterred, Damon stated, "Tough titty. We are getting out of here. I suggest you shower and throw on some clothes."

"Damon, when I say I'm tired, I'm not saying it because I ain't in the mood to be social. I'm saying it because it's taking all my concentration to keep my skin on my bones."

The raven-haired vampire looked thoughtful but in the next breath hefted a shoulder, "You missed a week, had to be Klaus' date and were accidentally sat on fire. You need to unwind."

"Don't you have a brother to re-humanize?"

"That's not even a word and you're stalling. Get. Up."

"Damon," Bonnie gritted between clenched teeth.

He flashed a dangerous smile. "You know arguing is foreplay to me. So unless you want me to get an erection, I suggest you make tracks to the bathroom. Please?"

The bathroom…her clothes…the man she killed. Dahlia. Stricken, she stared at Damon who reached for her hand.

"Bonnie, what is it?" he asked though he knew.

"I…"

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please leave some feedback for this tired of the bullshit writer. Love you, guys. Oh, and that line "If you are silent about your pain, they'll kill you and say you enjoyed it" is a quote from Zora Neale Hurston.